#plaster range hood | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

joemama-2 · 15 days ago

Text

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 10.4k tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation a/n: eek series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

i mean, im not that surprised he’s sexy as hell

that’s actually crazy

imagine hiding your son for five years 😶😶 how can you be ashamed of that

doesn’t he literally have a girlfriend?? himari nakamura??

↳ yep for almost two years now

↳ wonder how she’s holding up i’d be pissed, unless she knew

rich people are always shady as fuck

You don’t even know how many comments you’ve read. Staying up practically the entire night, busying yourself with the endless scrolling of people who have not a single clue of how your life actually is. Meddling in your business and acting like the shit they’re spouting on the internet is okay.

They ranged from positive (sort of) to extremely personal and negative.

i bet she just did it for the child support

i wonder if he’s actually the dad, women like that lie and lie just cuz the dad is rich as fuck

i feel so bad for that boy

Bad? Why would they feel bad for him? You’ve given everything you can and then some to ensure Koji’s safety and innocence. You’ve never put him in harm’s way, difficult situations, hit him, nothing. Of course you’ve raised your voice, but every parent does. Why are these reasons suddenly acting like they know a fucking thing or two? This is insane.

The only positive ones you see are praising your son for how cute he is, how much he looks like Satoru, and how he’ll probably get everything he wants. That’s not true, you’re not going to spoil your kid and you’re sure as hell not letting Satoru do it either; he’s humble, that’s how you want him to be. Still, you do feel uneasy at strangers on the internet for talking about your baby like this, in reference to a photo none of you knew was taken.

And you still don’t know who took it.

That’s what infuriates you the most. Because who in their right mind would do that? Who thinks they’re that fucking entitled to chime in on your personal business—your family.

When you find them, you swear on everything you’re punching them.

Your head hangs low, the hood of your sweatshirt pulled tight, shielding your face as you step into the café. You keep your gaze down, avoiding the eyes of the baristas and patrons scattered around. The familiar hum of the espresso machine feels deafening today.

Maybe no one will notice. Maybe no one cares.

But you know better.

That damn image, plastered across every TV screen and newsfeed yesterday, is still burned into your mind. Why do people even care this much? You’re beyond pissed off. Who in their right mind thinks they have the right to invade your personal life like that? To turn your family into fodder for the public?

Maybe no one will say anything. Who even watched the news anyway?

More people than you think, actually. You keep moving, but Hana has other plans.

“Y/N!” Her voice cuts through the noise like a whip, and before you can react, she grabs your forearm, dragging you into the storage room in the back.

“Hey, what the—” you start to protest, wincing as her grip tightens, but she doesn’t care. She whirls around to face you, her expression a mix of shock and disbelief.

“What the hell is going on?!” she demands, gesturing wildly with her hands. “You were on the news yesterday!”

Your stomach churns at the reminder, and your jaw clenches tightly. You pull your hood down, resigning yourself to the conversation you were hoping to avoid. “I know that already,” you snap, folding your arms across your chest.

“Koji’s father is multi-billionaire Satoru Gojo?!” Her voice rises in pitch, and she looks at you like you’ve grown a second head. “Is that for real? You’ve been hiding this?!”

You take a deep breath, counting to three in your head. “Yes, Hana. It’s real. Koji’s father is Satoru Gojo. Can we not do this right now?”

But Hana doesn’t back down, her wide eyes searching your face for answers. “Are you kidding me? Of course we’re doing this right now! You’ve been sitting on this—” she throws her hands up, “—while the rest of us thought you were just, like, a regular single mom? What the hell, Y/N?”

“Because it’s none of anyone’s business!” you hiss, your voice rising then lowering, not wanting anyone else to overhear. “Do you think I wanted this to come out? Do you think I wanted his world to invade mine?”

Hana softens slightly, her eyebrows knitting together in concern. “Okay, fair. But you should’ve told me, at least. I mean, I’m your friend.”

“I didn’t tell anyone for a reason and I don’t owe anyone anything,” you mutter, running a hand through your hair. “And now it’s everywhere. Do you know how terrifying that is? For me? For Koji?”

Hana sighs, leaning back against the wall. “Okay, okay. I get it. This whole thing’s a mess. But what are you going to do now? I mean, the story’s out. People are gonna talk, Y/N. A lot. Especially if it involves a man like him.”

You swallow hard, the weight of her words settling heavily on your shoulders. “I don’t know,” you admit quietly, your voice trembling. “I just want to protect my son.”

Hana nods, her expression softening further. “We’ll figure it out. But you’re gonna need a plan. And.”

“Hana, I—“ you’re really trying not to snap at her, really. But she’s pushing every button you have right now and your patience is running extremely low. Don’t snap, she’s just worried. “I know what to do, thank you. But I’d appreciate it if you didn’t meddle in my business too. We’re friends, yes, but understand right now that I’m going through a lot of shit and don’t need to be told what to do and when to do it. So get off my back.”

Hana blinks, a little caught off guard by your sudden announcement. Her mouth slightly agape, clearly not having expected your outburst. For a moment, she doesn’t say anything, her expression shifting between hurt and something close to understanding. She straightens, her arms falling from where they’d been crossed over her chest. “Y/N, I wasn’t trying to—” she begins, her voice softer now, but you cut her off.

“I know,” you say, your voice quieter but still firm. “I know you’re trying to help, Hana. And I’m grateful, I am. But right now, I need to handle this on my own. I need space. Can you give me that?”

She nods slowly, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Okay,” she says after a moment. “I get it. I’ll back off. Just—if you need anything, anything at all, I’m here. You know that, right?”

You exhale, some of the tension easing from your shoulders. “Yeah. I know.”

Hana offers you a small, tentative smile before stepping aside, giving you the room you so desperately need. As she moves to leave, she hesitates at the curtains, glancing back at you. “For what it’s worth, Y/N…I think you’re handling this a lot better than you think you are.”

You don’t respond, just nod in acknowledgment, and she disappears back into the front of the café. Alone in the small back room, you lean against the wall, closing your eyes for a moment to gather your thoughts.

Better than I think, huh? You shake your head, rubbing at your temples. It doesn’t feel that way.

You’d be lying to yourself if you said this probably won’t be that bad; not a big deal. But hell, it was huge. You hate unnecessary attention, especially attention from hundreds, if not thousands of random strangers. You’re recalling the incident from earlier when you dropped Koji off at school. Mr. Ito stopping you once more and confessing his surprise to you. In his words, “I didn’t know Koji had such an…esteemed father.”

You held back a slew of insults, keeping it classy, as always. But as the days go on and the more shit that seems to be happening to you, you’re getting this close to breaking that. It’s the way he, everyone else, and even Hana seems so…shocked. The lingering glances from other parents at drop-off, the whispers in the hallways. It’s the way their surprise feels so…palpable. You get it, in a way. Satoru Gojo is larger than life—powerful, wealthy, and untouchable in a way most people only dream of. But still, the shock in their eyes stings more than it should. Did they think you weren’t of caliber to bag a man like Satoru? Did they think a man like that wouldn’t even dream of having a child with a woman like you? It feels a tad bit insulting. Actually, scratch that—it feels like a slap in the face.

The implications gnaw at you, poking at insecurities you’d rather not acknowledge. This is exactly why you hate social media. You’re already growing too conscious of the comments people are making—caring too much and it was just revealed. And the worst part? You can’t even fully blame them. Satoru’s world is one you’ve never truly belonged to. You’re not the glossy, magazine-cover type, and you don’t have the pedigree or connections his circle would expect. But that doesn’t mean you’re less than, and it sure as hell doesn’t mean Koji is any less precious because of it.

You sigh, rubbing at your temples. If only these people could see you for who you truly are—if they could see the strength it takes to raise a child on your own, to hold your head high even when the world tries to tear you down. But no, all they see is the scandal and the drama, their curiosity morphing into judgment. Sure, you made mistakes—big and bad ones. But you’re doing all this in order to make up for those mistakes. And sure, Satoru doesn’t 100% forgive you—you’re not sure he ever will—but you don’t think he would agree with these kinds of comments being made. Right?

You huff. Let them talk, you think bitterly, though the tightness in your chest betrays the confidence you’re trying to muster. Let them all talk, they know nothing.

The minutes feel like hours. Unsure of how long you’ve exactly been here. Equally nervous about looking at your phone to check.

“Oh my god, look. It’s her.”

“Shhh! She’ll hear you.”

“I wonder if she’ll give us pointers.”

“You’re insane.”

The conversation doesn’t fly over your head. t’s like they want you to hear, voices loud enough to penetrate the usual clatter of the café. You swear, they’re practically aiming their words right at you. Your grip tightens around the rag in your hand, knuckles going white as you scrub the already spotless table. The motion is a little too aggressive, the poor table bearing the brunt of your simmering frustration. Your jaw clenches, brows knitting together as you try—desperately—to keep your temper in check. Jaw clenching and brows knitting together, you’re counting down to ten and back.

One…two…three… you recite in your head, attempting to steady your breath. It’s an old habit—one you learned a while back from you’re therapist, one you’ve relied on in situations like this, but today it feels like it’s barely working. Four…five…six.

You glance up, just for a second, and immediately regret it. The group of girls sits near the window, leaning into each other as they giggle, their eyes darting your way. They’re not even trying to hide it anymore. One of them, a blonde with an annoyingly perfect smile, nudges her friend and whispers something, sending the others into another fit of laughter. Your fingers flex around the rag, itching to throw it across the room. Breathe, you remind yourself. Just breathe. They’re not worth it. But it’s hard to ignore the knot tightening in your chest, the sting of humiliation creeping in despite your best efforts. Because you know exactly what they’re laughing about, what they’re whispering about. It’s not just idle curiosity—it’s judgment, plain and simple. And maybe, just maybe, if this were any other day, you’d let it roll off your back. But today? After everything that’s happened? After seeing your son’s face plastered on screens and hearing people dissect your life like it’s a soap opera? You toss the rag onto the table, standing up straighter as you look their way. They immediately quiet down, eyes widening like they’ve been caught red-handed.

“Can I help you?” you ask, voice calm but carrying just enough edge to make them squirm.

The blonde fidgets, her confidence faltering under your gaze. “Oh, um, no, we were just…”

“Enjoying your coffee?” you finish for her, forcing a tight smile. “Good. Let me know if you need anything else.” Without waiting for a response, you turn on your heel and walk behind the counter, the satisfaction of their stunned silence doing little to ease the weight in your chest. Nine…ten… You exhale slowly, trying to let it go, but the anger simmers just beneath the surface.

It’s going to be a long day.

—-

The walk back home with Koji feels like you never want to use your senses again. It feels like a marathon you never signed up for, every step heavier than the last. The pounding in your head has escalated into a full-blown migraine, the sharp pain clawing at the edges of your skull. You clench your teeth, trying to hold it together, willing the tears pricking at your eyes to stay put. Koji chatters beside you, his small hand in yours, his voice a muffled hum against the overwhelming throb in your head.

So much has changed within just the span of a week and none of it feels good. You like change, but not like this. Not the kind of change that’s so spontaneous and out of nowhere that it makes you dread the littlest things. The kind of change where you feel like every way you turn, it’s a dead end. Every thought spiraling into another reminder of how much you’ve lost control, or of how much you never had it to begin with. The kind of change that you never fucking asked for in the first place. The kind of change where you feel like a ticking timebomb. A simple walk home feels like an obstacle course. The sound of Koji’s innocent laughter, once a balm to your soul, now feels like a weight pressing down on you, a reminder of how fragile your balance is.

This change doesn’t come with warnings or instructions. It doesn’t let you adjust, and doesn’t give you the chance to prepare. It just dumps its baggage on your doorstep and forces you to deal with it, whether you’re ready or not. And right now, you’re not.

The last thing you want to do is blow up on someone who doesn’t deserve it, especially your son. You glance down at him, his bright eyes scanning the world around him with that endless curiosity only a child can have. His tiny fingers grip yours with a trust that makes your chest ache. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t understand the storm brewing inside you. And he shouldn’t have to.

“Mommy, are you okay?” Koji’s voice is soft, his head tilted as he looks up at you with concern.

You force a smile, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I’m fine, sweetheart,” you manage, squeezing his hand gently. “Just tired.” He nods, seemingly satisfied with your answer, and resumes his animated recount of the day’s events. You let him talk, his voice a small distraction from the noise in your head. One step at a time, you tell yourself. One breath at a time. For him, if not for yourself.

You wonder to yourself how many more times you can continue repeating that phrase to yourself, like a broken record spinning endlessly in your mind. Shouldn’t you be allowed to do some things on your own? Something that isn’t tied to the constant grind of making sure Koji has everything he needs, of shielding him from a world that feels more hostile every day? Everything you do is for him—every decision, every sacrifice, every moment of biting your tongue when you want to scream. It’s all for him.

But what about you?

The thought is bitter, curling in your chest like smoke. It feels selfish even to entertain it, but the exhaustion is suffocating. How long has it been since you’ve done something just because you wanted to? Since you’ve allowed yourself the luxury of thinking about what you need, instead of what everyone else expects of you? Is it selfish? Is this not how a good mother thinks?

The doubt gnaws at you, persistent and sharp.

Not like you’d know the answer to that question. Your mother—a woman you rarely ever want to think about—never gave you the guidance for situations like this. You have no inspiration, nothing. You’re doing everything free-handed. She didn’t leave you with blueprints for moments like these, no voice in your head to tell you what’s right, what’s wrong, or even what’s okay. She was a void, an absence, and that absence shaped you more than you’d like to admit.

And now here you are, trying to be everything for your son that she wasn’t for you. But it feels like you’re fumbling in the dark, building something fragile with trembling hands. There’s no instruction manual for this, no map to follow. You’re doing everything on the first try, improvising as you go. Every decision feels like a gamble. Did you do enough today? Did you do too much? Did you make the right call, or are you setting him up for something you can’t even see coming? The uncertainty is exhausting.

You glance at Koji, his small hand still tucked safely in yours, his voice cutting through the haze of your thoughts. He’s so blissfully unaware of the turmoil raging inside you, and that’s how it should be. He deserves that innocence, that security. But the weight of always being the strong one, the reliable one, is starting to crush you. How much longer can I keep this up? The question whispers in your mind, and you hate it. You hate that you’re even asking it, hate that it makes you feel weak. But the truth is, you’re tired.

And you don’t know how much longer you can keep pretending that you’re not.

You focus on Koji again, his small frame silhouetted against the afternoon light of the day. He trusts you implicitly, and looks at you like you’re the answer to everything. And the weight of that trust makes you want to cry and scream in equal measure. How can I possibly live up to that?

They never said motherhood was easy. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself. Maybe this is what being a mother really is—second-guessing everything, carrying the weight of your own past, and still showing up every day, trying your best.

You don’t know if that’s enough. But it’s all you have.

It seems like you’re in for a surprise every second of the day.

Satoru, much to your own dismay and confusion, is perched against your apartment door; waiting for you again. Like a magnet, Koji runs into his lower half, hugging his father with all the strength his five-year-old body will allow.

“Hey, little man. I’m happy to see you.” Satoru smiles wholeheartedly, patting Koji’s back with gentle ease.

“Hi, Papa! I missed you.” His voice is muffled by Satoru’s clothing.

The older man laughs, relishing in the moment for another second, before opening his light azures. His eyes look like they’re darting all around you, as if making sure you’re okay. Standing up, he shuffles his hands in his pockets.

“What are you doing here? You didn’t tell me you were coming,” you mutter, walking up closer. Arms crossing.

He nods. “I know, I–I should’ve told you. But this was urgent and I knew you were busy at work.”

A hum is all you offer, unlocking your apartment door and stepping in. The semi-warmth envelops you like a worn blanket. Finally, in the comfort of my own home. Even if it is just for a little bit before you’re off again.

“Call off his babysitter.”

You look back, watching him close your door and lock it. “What? Why?”

“Because I’m here.”

Koji runs off to his room, presumably to play with his toy collection. Leaving the two adults alone. Biting your lip, attempting to come up with something to say—or what to say first. Luckily, he beats you to it. “I want you two to spend the night at mine, don’t go to work. I’ll pay you whatever you miss out on. I know you saw the leak and I’m working on figuring out who the hell did it. But until then, I’m a little concerned for your guys’ safety, so stay at mine until we figure things out long-term.”

You stare at him, caught off guard by the resolute earnestness in his voice. The Satoru you know isn’t usually this serious, this concerned. It’s disarming—attractive, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. “This is my home, Satoru,” you finally say, your voice quiet but firm. “I can’t just up and leave because of a leak. And I can’t run every time something like this happens. That’s not a long-term solution either.”

“I get that,” he says, stepping closer. “But this isn’t just about you. It’s about Koji. Someone took that photo, and I don’t know who, or how, or what their intentions are. Until I do, I can’t take chances.”

“And I get that, but I can’t just—sleep at your place.”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s just…weird.”

“Fuck, Y/N,” he exhales out. “You think something’ll happen? It won’t. I'm doing this for Koji and you because I care. Not because reviving something that’s long-ended is my priority.”

“It’s not about that,” you snap, your voice rising before you catch yourself. You close your eyes for a second, exhaling sharply, trying to rein in your frustration. “It’s just... complicated, Satoru. You showing up like this, offering to fix things with money, with solutions I didn’t ask for, for problems I never wanted—it’s overwhelming.”

He takes another step closer, his presence filling the small entryway. “You think I don’t understand that?” His voice softens but carries an edge of urgency. “Y/N, I’m not trying to make this harder for you. I know this is all... messy. But I can’t sit around and pretend I’m okay with you and Koji being here while someone out there is bold enough to invade your privacy like that. I’m trying to protect you. You can’t keep pushing me away like this, you said you wanted to make things better.”

“I know, but—”

“Then stop it. Stop arguing, complaining, whatever. You’re not going to keep me out of Koji’s life any longer, or yours. They already posted another damn picture of you today at work.”

What? You blink your eyes, widening them. You don’t even want to see the photo evidence, gulping down the weird lump that forms in your throat. What the fuck is going on with my life right now? You hesitate, biting your lip. His words chip away at your defenses, but the walls you’ve built don’t crumble that easily. “And what happens if we go to your place? What’s next? You swoop in, play hero, and then leave us when this blows over?”

His jaw tightens, the faint hurt flashing in his eyes almost imperceptible. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

“Isn’t it?” you counter, arms crossing tightly over your chest, a weak attempt to shield yourself from the weight of the conversation. “That’s what you always do, Satoru. You show up when it’s convenient for you, and when it’s not, you disappear.”

The words hang heavy in the air, stinging both of you. For a moment, he doesn’t respond, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I’m not leaving you this time,” he says quietly, lifting his eyes back to yours. “Not until I know you two are safe. I’m not running, Y/N. Not from this. But you have to stop trying to keep me at arm's length, I’m trying my best to help.” His eyes lock onto yours, pleading yet determined. You hate how convincing he can be when he’s like this. How he makes you question your own resolve. “Please,” he adds, his voice dropping. “Just for a little while.”

The conviction in his voice is startling, and it makes something inside you waver. You’re tired, too tired to keep arguing, too tired to keep carrying everything on your shoulders. It’s true, you’re feeling yourself pushback on him. He deserves this—time with Koji, protecting him, and more. It’s just so hard breaking from the fragile bubble you built for your son and you. Satoru’s presence is like a sharp knife, waiting to just poke through it with ease, to get to his family.“Fine,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “But just for tonight. Koji and I will come to your place for tonight.”

Relief washes over his features, but he doesn’t smile. He nods, stepping back to give you space. “That’s all I’m asking.”

As you turn away to gather what you need for the night, you catch a glimpse of Koji peeking out from his room, his eyes wide with curiosity. You put on a smile for his sake, but deep down, you can’t shake the unease settling in your chest. This isn’t just about staying at Satoru’s place. It’s about what this means—what it could mean—and the part of you that still isn’t sure you’re ready to face it.

The inside of Satoru’s Mercedes is spacious, but asphyxiating. Koji in his car seat in the back, watching something on his tablet. This is the first time you’ve been in the car with Satoru since way long ago. It’s nostalgia, but sickening at the same time. You remember how he would place his hand on your thigh, squeezing it lightly. Or how he likes to rest his hand on the gearstick, or his elbow on the middle console.

Your skin prickles with goosebumps when he brushes against your arm as he reaches for the temperature controls, adjusting the heat. It’s a small, thoughtless gesture, but it sends an involuntary jolt through you. You glance out the window, pretending to admire the blurred city lights instead of acknowledging the memories flooding back. The hum of the car engine fills the silence, an uncomfortable contrast to the weight of everything left unsaid. Koji giggles at something on his tablet in the backseat, his innocence a stark reminder of why you’re here and why you can’t let your emotions take over.

“You okay?” Satoru’s voice breaks the quiet, calm yet cautious.

“Fine,” you reply quickly, too quickly. You keep your eyes glued to the window, your arms crossed as if to shield yourself from the proximity.

He stops at a red light, leaning back in his sight. He’s a pro at side-eyeing you as you’re faced away. Seeing the way your hands ball into small fists. Nervous. Your foot is tapping on the floor. Thinking. And if he looks closer at your chest, he’ll notice how it’s rising up and down a little more quickly than normal.

Oh.

He clears his throat, looking forward as the light turns green. Focus on driving, focus on driving. He doesn’t push, but you can feel his gaze flickering toward you now and then, like he’s reading every shift in your posture, every flicker of hesitation. It’s infuriating how well he knows you, even now. You glance at Koji briefly before turning your gaze back to the window, watching the city lights blur into streaks as the car moves. The nostalgia you felt earlier morphs into a bitter taste in your mouth. You hate how easily Satoru slips into the role of a doting father, as if the years of his absence never happened.

You need to get a better hold of your jealousy.

“You’re quiet,” Satoru says, breaking the silence.

“Just tired,” you reply curtly, not bothering to look at him.

He hums, his fingers drumming lightly against the steering wheel. “Long day, huh?”

You roll your eyes. “You could say that.”

His gaze flicks to you briefly before returning to the road. “Look, I know this isn’t ideal. But I’m glad you’re coming with me. It’s the right thing to do.”

You let out a dry laugh, finally turning to face him. “The right thing to do? Since when have you ever cared about the right thing, Satoru?”

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he doesn’t respond. Then he exhales deeply, gripping the wheel a little tighter. “I care now. Now that you’ve granted me that option,” he says quietly.

You want to scoff, to throw his words back at him, but there’s something in his tone that makes you pause. Something raw, unguarded. The way he gets out those snark remarks angers you, but only further solidifies the weight of your actions, and the fact that things will never be the same.

The rest of the drive is spent in silence, both of you lost in your own thoughts. When the car finally pulls into the underground garage of his penthouse building, Koji’s excitement is palpable.

“Wow! This place is huge!” Koji exclaims, his eyes wide as he looks around.

Satoru chuckles, stepping out of the car and opening the back door to unbuckle Koji. “Wait till you see the view, buddy.”

You follow them, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. As you step into the elevator, you can’t help but feel like you’re being pulled back into a world you thought you’d left behind—one of complications and heartbreak. Satoru presses the button for his floor, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “Relax, Y/N. It’s just for one night.”

You don’t respond, staring straight ahead as the elevator begins its ascent. But deep down, you know it’s never just one night with Satoru.

“No running.”

“Sorry, Mama.”

You place Koji and your bags on one of the chairs in the kitchen, watching your son rush to his father’s living room. Satoru follows him, hands on his hips. “Hey buddy, bought some toys for you. Do you want to play with them? You like Spiderman, right?”

If possible, Koji’s eyes light up even more with excitement. Gasping and squealing, nodding his head furiously. “I love Spiderman! Mama threw me a Spiderman birthday last time.”

Satoru hums. “Wish I coulda seen that.”

You freeze at Satoru's words, your hand halfway to unpacking one of Koji’s bags. His tone is light, almost wistful, but it feels like a loaded statement—one that stings more than you’d like to admit. You glance over at him and Koji, your son practically bouncing on his toes as Satoru kneels to pull out a neatly wrapped box from a hidden cabinet. “Here you go,” Satoru says, handing it to Koji. “I think you’ll like what’s inside.”

Koji tears into the wrapping with glee, revealing a Spiderman action figure set. He gasps, clutching the box to his chest like it’s the most precious thing in the world. “Thank you, Papa! This is so cool!”

Your heart twists at how easily Koji has taken to calling him that. It’s like Satoru’s sudden presence is a gift he didn’t realize he’d been missing. And yet, for you, it’s a reminder of the years of absence—of the birthdays and milestones Satoru missed. “Please, don’t spoil him too much,” you mutter, finally unpacking Koji’s things and setting them on the counter.

Satoru looks over his shoulder, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “What’s wrong with a little spoiling? He deserves it.”

You exhale sharply, not bothering to mask your irritation. “What he deserves is consistency.”

His smirk falters, standing back up to his full height and coming over to you. Keeping his voice level calm, in case Koji decides to listen in. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head.

Satoru narrows his eyes slightly, his expression unreadable as he watches you busy yourself with Koji’s things. “Doesn’t sound like nothing.”

You let out a humorless laugh, refusing to meet his gaze. “It’s exactly what it sounds like. Don’t read into it.”

His lips press into a thin line, but he doesn’t push further—not yet. Instead, he leans against the counter, folding his arms as he observes you. “Y/N, you can’t be the angry one in this situation. I thought you understood that.”

“I’m not angry.”

“Then what are you?”

“I’m just—” you let out a big breath, looking up at him once more. “I’m tired. Forgive me if I’m not overly happy right now.

Satoru’s gaze softens, his posture relaxing slightly, though the tension in the room lingers like a heavy fog. “I’m not trying to add onto that, I’m just trying to be here for my son.”

I know that. I don’t know why I’m snapping. All you can offer is a nod, reaching into your bag, and grabbing a change of clothes. “I…I’m gonna go shower, watch him please.”

Satoru nods, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before shifting to the living room where Koji is engrossed in his toys. “Of course. Take your time.”

You offer a small, tight-lipped smile before retreating down the hall, clutching the clothes in your hands like a lifeline. Once you’re inside the bathroom, the door clicks shut behind you, and the weight of everything crashes down. Leaning against the counter, you grip the edge tightly, your knuckles turning white as you take slow, measured breaths. The mirror reflects a version of yourself you hardly recognize—tired, frazzled, and barely holding it together. The faint hum of Koji’s laughter echoes down the hall, grounding you for a moment. At least he’s happy. That’s what matters.

The shower is a welcome escape. The hot water cascades over your skin, washing away the grime of the day and the lingering tension from your conversation with Satoru. You let your head fall forward, droplets sliding down your face, mingling with the tears you didn’t realize had started to fall. You didn’t mean to snap at him. He’s trying, you know that. But the past doesn’t let go so easily, and the overwhelming mix of emotions—anger, fear, hope—leaves you feeling unsteady. And you feel angry at yourself for letting your emotions slip through, getting the best of you. You’re surprised Satoru hasn’t been more outwardly rude to you, short, or even snappy. It seems like he’s taking this all better than you are, and once again, that bitter jealousy of yours is shining through. How he can just handle things so smoothly—at least that’s what it seems like. But he’s used to all this: the spotlight, public eye, attention. You just wish things could’ve been handled…differently.

Everything feels like a domino effect, starting all with that dreaded day at the grocery store. How so much has changed.

By the time you step out, you feel a fraction lighter, though the knot in your chest remains. You towel off, change into your clean clothes, and take a moment to steel yourself before heading back into the fray.

When you return to the living room, you find Satoru sitting cross-legged on the floor with Koji, holding up a miniature Spiderman figure. Koji is giggling, animatedly explaining an intricate story about how Spiderman saves the day. Satoru glances up as you walk in, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Hey. We’re just working on a top-secret mission over here. No big deal.”

Koji looks up too, beaming. “Mama! Papa’s playing Spiderman with me! He’s really good at the voices.”

You can’t help the small smile that forms, even as your heart aches a little at the sight. “Sounds like you two are having fun.”

Satoru nods, his expression soft. “We’re a good team.”

You stand there for a moment, watching them, the weight of everything pressing down on your shoulders once more. Maybe this is what Koji needs. Maybe this is what you need. But trusting him again…that’s the hardest part.

That night, eating dinner at Satoru’s long dining table, the same one where you faced his parents, it all feels strange, to say the least. The clinking of cutlery against porcelain plates echoes faintly in the vast dining room, filling the silence between the three of you. Koji hums to himself as he picks at his plate, occasionally glancing at his father to tell him some small details about his day or ask about the toys he’d gotten earlier. Satoru engages him with ease, his tone light and playful, but you can see the flickers of something deeper behind his smiles—guilt, maybe, or a desperate need to make up for lost time.

And then there’s you, sitting stiffly at the other end of the table, your appetite wavering as your mind keeps drifting back to the last time you sat here. That memory is sharp and vivid, like an old wound that hasn’t quite healed.

But Koji’s laughter brings you back down to Earth. Looking up from your plate of food to the sight before you. Father and son, son and father, family. They look so alike, you don’t think you can ever get over the blatant resemblance. Satoru’s genes are just very strong. You wish Koji could’ve inherited a few more things from you. You place a hand on your lower stomach, as if a physical touch will make the strange abundance of butterflies flying around in there to go away.

It’s strange, this setup. Domestic in a way you never thought you’d experience with him again. But it’s also…nice.

It feels whole, like this is how things should be. Would’ve been had you not held your tongue for so long. And you’re starting to think to yourself how much you like this sight. How it’s making you feel at home.

But this isn’t your home. However, you think you can pretend for just one night.

“You’re not eating much,” Satoru says, pulling you out of your thoughts. His voice is casual, but there’s an undertone of concern.

Your eyes widen at him, realizing you’ve been caught staring and quickly looking back down. “I’m fine,” you say, forcing a small smile. “Just sleepy, I guess.”

“I bet,” he says, and while his tone is conversational, his gaze lingers on you, searching for something beneath your calm facade.

“Yeah,” you reply shortly, stabbing at a piece of vegetable on your plate. You don’t want to talk about your day or your worries or the mounting anxiety sitting heavy in your chest. Not here, not now.

Koji interrupts before Satoru can press further, his voice bright and full of excitement. “Papa, can we watch a movie after dinner? Mama too!”

Satoru grins, lightly pinching his cheekbone. “Of course, buddy. What movie are we watching?”

Koji claps his hands together, listing off a couple of titles before settling on one of his favorites. You manage another smile, this one a little more genuine, as you watch the way Satoru effortlessly makes Koji light up. For a moment, the tension eases, and you let yourself focus on Koji’s joy. Maybe this is enough for now. Maybe that’s all you need to get through the evening.

But as you glance at Satoru across the table, his eyes catching yours for a brief second, you’re reminded of how fragile this truce feels. Of how much history lies between you, threatening to resurface at any moment.

Koji picks Spiderman, of course. You’ve watched this movie at least a hundred times now, maybe more. You can practically recite the lines perfectly. The movie plays on, the familiar dialogue flowing like background noise to your swirling thoughts. You’ve seen this scene so many times—the hero’s triumphant swing through the city, the bad guy’s dramatic monologue, the moments of comic relief Koji always laughs at—but tonight, it feels different. There’s an added layer of tension sitting heavy between you and Satoru.

The living room feels unusually cozy, the dimmed lighting casting a warm glow over the space. Koji wiggles in his spot, clutching a Spiderman plush as he stares at the screen with unblinking eyes, thoroughly engrossed. You, on the other hand, are trying not to let your exhaustion bubble over. Koji sits between you two, Satoru’s arm over his little shoulders. Satoru’s arm rests casually behind Koji, but every so often, as he adjusts his position, his fingers graze your shoulder—a light, fleeting touch that feels far too deliberate to be accidental. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, but he seems entirely focused on the movie, his face relaxed, a small smirk tugging at his lips during one of Koji’s excited reactions. So, you ignore it. But you do shift slightly, creating just enough distance to break the contact. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

Koji laughs out loud at a particularly funny scene, leaning against Satoru’s side. “That’s so cool, Papa! I wanna do that someday!”

Satoru chuckles, ruffling Koji’s hair. “Maybe we’ll get you a Spiderman costume, and you can be the hero of the city.”

Koji beams at him, his excitement is contagious. For a brief moment, you allow yourself to appreciate this dynamic, the way Satoru fits so naturally into Koji’s world. You hate to admit it, but this is what Koji’s been missing—what you’ve been missing, too, in some small, buried way. Satoru’s hand once again brushes your shoulder during his next adjustment, that buried part of you is quickly overshadowed by the reminder of why this dynamic fell apart in the first place.

Luckily, Koji is already showered and dressed for bed in his matching red set. So as the movie progresses, nearing its end, so does his sleepiness. You along with him. Koji’s head begins to droop as the credits start to roll, his little body leaning further into Satoru’s side. His eyelids flutter with each blink, his earlier excitement now replaced by the slow pull of sleep. Satoru’s about to make a remark, before looking over at you and seeing your body slumped over on the other side.

The scene feels peaceful in a way he hadn’t anticipated—a rare moment of quiet amidst the chaos that’s been your guys’ lives lately. Koji’s soft breathing grows steadier, his small body completely leaning into Satoru’s side now, one hand clutching his Spiderman plush while the other hangs limply at his side. Satoru glances down at his son with a faint smile, brushing Koji’s hair out of his face with a tenderness that makes his chest ache. He looks over to you next, ready your head resting on your hand. Your expression is soft, lips parted slightly as you drift into the kind of sleep that only exhaustion can bring. Satoru looks at the clock; 9:00pm.

For a moment, he just watches you both. Koji, who looks so much like him it’s almost uncanny, and you, the woman who’s somehow always managed to throw him off balance without even trying. He sighs softly, shaking his head at the scene before him. For a split second, he feels a shadow—a ghost from the past appears beside Koji. A baby girl who would’ve been seven by now.The baby girl who never got the chance to grow up. In that fleeting, haunting moment, he imagines her sitting there too, nestled beside her brother, giggling at Spiderman’s antics. He can imagine her features. She would’ve looked so much like you, it’s painful.

His chest tightens, and he has to look away, focusing on a random corner of the room as he fights to steady his breathing. It’s not fair—to her, to Koji, or to you. And yet, here he is, caught in the what-ifs and the might-have-beens, unable to let go of a past that feels like it happened both a lifetime ago and just yesterday. The glimpse is gone as soon as it comes, to which he’s thankful for because he is not crying right now. With a small grunt, he stands up and carefully moves Koji into his arms. Adjusting the boy and making sure he’s not waking up, he walks him over to the spare bedroom.

Satoru moves quietly, his footsteps soft against the floor as he cradles Koji in his arms. The boy’s head rests comfortably on his shoulder, his small body relaxed and completely unaware of the careful handling. The weight of his son in his arms, the warmth of Koji’s tiny form, is a stark reminder of everything he’s been missing. He pushes the door to the spare bedroom open gently, trying not to disturb the silence of the house. The moonlight filters through the curtains, casting a calm glow across the room. Satoru places Koji carefully on the bed, tucking him in with the same gentle movements he’s always used. He watches for a moment as the boy shifts slightly, a soft sigh escaping his lips before settling back into a peaceful sleep.

For a second, Satoru just stands there, hands lingering at Koji’s side as if unsure of when to leave. It’s as if the past week—no, the past years—are catching up to him in this very moment. He never thought he'd be here, standing in a room like this, watching his son sleep under a roof that used to feel so distant. His chest tightens, but he refuses to let himself feel the weight of it. Not yet. Not with Koji so close. With one last look, he slowly pulls away, stepping back into the hallway and quietly closing the door behind him. The house feels colder as he moves through it, but this time, it’s not because of the empty spaces or the lingering tension. It’s because, for the first time in years, he’s truly trying to figure out where he fits in all of this.

And it’s a lot harder than he ever expected.

He walks back to the living room, your body now completely lying on your side. His lips purse as he stands before you, unsure if he should wake you or move you himself. Would that be okay? Is he crossing some boundary of yours if he touches you fully and intentionally?

Satoru stands there for a moment, studying you as you sleep. The soft rise and fall of your chest, the way your body curls slightly into the pillow, creates a sense of peace in the room, but also a sense of tension in him. The pull to reach out, to make sure you’re comfortable, is strong. But he hesitates, his mind racing with thoughts about boundaries, and the last thing he wants is to make you uncomfortable, especially when everything already feels so fragile between the two of you. He watches for a few more seconds, the quiet of the room making everything feel so... still. He doesn’t know how he got here, standing in the middle of the room, feeling so torn. Part of him wants to just go ahead and make sure you’re properly tucked in, like he did with Koji. But that other part of him continues to wonderf if that’s overstepping, if his presence, even now, feels intrusive. Satoru exhales slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. Finally, he decides to attempt to recreate his actions for Koji; it’s the least he can do.

He bends his knees slightly, hands reaching out. But just as his fingertips graze your bare arms, you’re jolting up and awake. Head swiveling around, eyes barely open and bleary. “What’s happening? Where’s Koji?”

Satoru freezes, his fingers hovering in the air as your voice cuts through the stillness. His eyes flick to you, wide and disoriented from the abruptness of your awakening. "Y/N?" He murmurs, his voice low and hesitant, almost as if he's unsure whether you’re fully awake. "Koji’s in the other room, he’s asleep."

You sit up, rubbing your eyes, still trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. Your thoughts are jumbled, disoriented from the deep slumber you’d just woken from. “I— I didn’t hear him... when did he go to bed?”

Satoru, still crouched by your bedside, lets out a soft sigh, his expression softening. "I put him down a few minutes ago. He was out before the movie ended." He pauses for a second, watching you carefully, his hand still lingering awkwardly in the air as if unsure whether to touch you or not. "You were really tired, so I thought I'd handle it."

You blink, the fog in your mind barely beginning to clear. Slowly, you nod, still trying to process everything in the haze of your exhaustion. “Thank you.” The words come out quieter than you expect, but there’s something in your voice that surprises both of you.

Satoru’s gaze lingers for a moment, a mix of concern and relief flashing in his eyes. He stands up, backing away from the bed slowly. “I didn’t want to wake you,” he says softly, hands running through his hair as he takes a step toward the door. “But you should go to bed. You can sleep with Koji or um—in my bed if you want.”

You stare at his figure, the weight of the situation still pressing down on you. There’s so much

happening, so much you didn’t expect, and yet… for some reason, having him here, like this, almost feels normal. You rub your temples, trying to stave off the headache forming.

“I’ll sleep out here, of course,” he quickly adds on, realizing the small, but accidental hinting.

You raise an eyebrow at his quick backpedaling, a small, almost reluctant smile tugging at the corner of your lips. It's been a long time since you shared any sort of space with him—especially under these circumstances. But the way he’s stumbling over his words, trying so hard to make things comfortable, it makes you wonder if maybe he’s not as composed as he likes to act. “Thanks,” you murmur, rubbing your temples again. The migraine's intensity is growing, and it's all you can do to keep your emotions in check. You hadn’t expected this—any of it. Satoru’s presence here, offering you comfort in his own odd way, only complicates everything more. You never asked for this kind of help, but you can't deny the relief it brings. “I’ll sleep with Koji.”

Satoru’s eyes linger on you for a moment longer, his expression softening as if he’s weighing his words carefully, trying not to overstep. He knows you’re not the type to ask for help. Hell, you hardly ever accept it when it’s offered. But tonight is different. Tonight is full of a thousand unspoken things. The lingering tension, the awkwardness of it all, and the confusing emotions between you two. It’s all too much, too quickly, and yet you feel the pull of something familiar—a bond you haven’t felt in years. “You sure?” he asks, his voice low. Almost like he’s waiting for you to give him some kind of permission or reassurance, something that lets him know you’re okay. His presence, his concern for Koji, it’s all so overwhelming in its own way.

You hesitate, swallowing the lump in your throat, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickens just having him this close, even if it is just in the same house. “I’ll be fine,” you say, your voice a little softer than you intended. The last thing you want to do is drag him back into your life fully. But he’s already here, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you're too tired to argue. "You don’t have to stay out here." The words hang in the air for a beat.

You take this moment to rise from the couch, wiping your eyes once more. “Where is he?”

“Spare room,” he points.

You nod, more to yourself than to him, and retreat to the spare room. The migraine pounds in the background of your mind. Mind still riddled with sleep, you accidentally bump your shoulder into the wall, footsteps faltering. He moves faster than you anticipated—expected, his hands finally making contact with your upper arms; stablizing you. His touch itself feels reminiscent.

His grip on your arms is steady, firm—just like it used to be. You catch your breath for a moment, not expecting the familiarity of his touch to feel so grounding. For a split second, you’re taken back to moments from the past, the memories of simpler days when his touch brought comfort instead of tension. You want to pull away, to remind yourself that things aren’t the same anymore. But you’re too tired, too worn out, and for a moment, you let yourself lean into the stability he’s offering without question.

"Careful," Satoru’s voice is quiet, but there's a soft edge to it, like he’s genuinely concerned. His hands stay on your arms, not pulling away immediately, as if waiting for you to give him a signal that you’re okay.

You blink, the haze of sleep making everything feel just a little more surreal. "I’m fine," you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper, but it lacks conviction. Your body feels heavier than it should, and your mind seems to be swimming in fog.

He doesn’t let go right away. Instead, his fingers give a slight squeeze, a small, unspoken reassurance. "You sure? You look like you’re about to fall over."

"I’m just... tired," you say, the words slipping from your lips before you even realize. You wince internally, but it’s too late to take them back now. There’s no point.

Satoru nods, his expression unreadable in the dim light of the hallway, but the way his eyes linger on you makes something in your chest tighten. It’s like he’s still trying to figure you out, still trying to read you after all these years. He always was good at that. Without saying much more, he gently guides you to the door of the spare room, a hand hovering above the small of your back; his touch still light but firm. He’s not pushing you, just there, a quiet presence in the storm. "Get some rest. I’ll be nearby, just in case."

You nod, feeling a strange mixture of gratitude and frustration well up inside you. "Thanks," you murmur, finally able to pull away from his grip and step into the room.

Before you close the door, you glance over at him, standing there in the hallway, his figure outlined by the soft glow from the living room. "Good night," you add, your voice a little softer than you meant it to be.

He doesn’t respond immediately, but there’s a flicker in his eyes that you can’t quite place. After a beat, he says quietly, "Good night, Y/N."

And then, with one last look, he walks away, leaving you alone in the quiet darkness of the room. The door clicks softly behind you, and for the first time in days, you feel a small sense of peace—fragile, uncertain, but there all the same.

Satoru has taken the liberty of getting Koji dressed and ready for school. Shushing his son with quiet murmurs so you won’t wake up. He’s a little surprised, but you must be that tired. Satoru usually wakes up earlier than most, having went to go check on you two, but getting shocked to see his son using the bathroom instead and saying something about how “Mama’s still sleeping, I have school.”

He’s a smart kid—a very smart kid. He guided Satoru the entire ride, remembering the name of his school and which streets to use. You raised him well. He parks his car in the lot, it stands out like a sore thumb among the civics, corollas, and trucks.

Carrying Koji in his arms towards the boys classroom. “Excited, buddy?”

“Mhm!”

Satoru smiles and kisses his cheek. “I’ll pick you up, okay?”

“Okay, Papa. Thank you.” Koji gratefully responds.

“No need to thank me, Koji. It’s my job.”

Satoru can feel the lingering stares and hushed whispers as he walks down the hallway to his son’s class. Ignoring it like a pro and focusing on one thing and one thing only. As they approach his room, Mr. Ito is standing outside like usual. As soon as the man sees the two, his eyes visibly widen before playing it off with a cough of his throat. “Good morning, Koji. Gojo.”

Satoru remembers the guy as the one from the cafe. That one. He nods in understanding, setting Koji down and crouching with him. “Have a fun day, I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, Papa.” Koji kisses his cheek and rushes inside happily.

"Morning," Satoru replies coolly, standing tall as he watches Koji run off to join his classmates. "I trust Koji’s been good?"

"Of course, of course," Mr. Ito replies quickly, his smile tight, the words coming out a little too fast. "He’s been a delight to have here. Very bright."

Satoru nods, but his eyes never leave Mr. Ito’s. "Glad to hear it."

There’s an awkward silence that stretches between them, but Satoru isn’t in the mood for small talk. He could read the teacher’s discomfort, and he’s not about to play into it. After all, it’s not like they’re friends, or even acquaintances. Mr. Ito shifts on his feet, and Satoru can tell he’s trying to think of something to say, something that will smooth over whatever awkwardness hangs in the air. “So, where’s Ms. Y/N today?”

Satoru’s brows tick, arms crossing. “At home.”

Mr. Ito nods, clearly trying to gauge whether there’s more to the story, but Satoru doesn’t give him any openings. He’s not in the mood to entertain questions about you, not now, not here, especially not from someone like him. "Ah, I see," Mr. Ito mumbles, his voice trailing off as he shuffles his feet again. "I just thought... well, with everything that’s been going on, I expected to see her here, too."

Satoru’s eyes narrow, though his expression remains calm, just a hint of warning in his tone. "She’s handling things on her own. We’re both doing fine. You don’t need to worry about it. You have a class full of children to teach."

The other man hides his displeasure behind a stiff nod. “Right, right. Just wondering, that’s all.”

“Don’t have to, she already has a man for that.”

Satoru wonders why he’s being do damn weird right now. Possesive almost. You two aren’t together, but the way this guy is asking about you, it’s slightly setting him off. Who does he think he is worrying about you?

Mr. Ito falters, his smile fading as Satoru’s words hang heavy in the air. "Right, of course," he mumbles, clearly taken aback. He shifts on his feet, his eyes darting to the ground before locking back onto Satoru. "Just asking, I mean… it's just a lot going on, you know?"

Satoru’s gaze hardens, the protective instinct that rises within him catching him off guard. He takes a slight step closer to Mr. Ito, his tone deliberately neutral but carrying an edge. "You don’t need to worry about her. She’s got it covered."

There’s a flicker of something in Mr. Ito’s eyes—something that hints he’s about to say something else, but he swallows it down, nodding stiffly instead. "Yeah, of course." He quickly looks away, clearing his throat. "Well, I guess I’ll… I’ll get back to the class."

Satoru stands still for a moment, his posture rigid, a sharp edge in his expression as he watches Mr. Ito retreat. He doesn't know why it bothered him so much. The guy wasn’t even doing anything wrong, not really. But the way he was asking about you—like he had any right to—made something inside Satoru twist uncomfortably. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this man didn’t belong in your world, that he had no place prying into your life.

Satoru finally exhales, shaking his head. Whatever. It was just a teacher.

With one last glance at the classroom door, he turns and heads back to the school doors. There's no reason to overthink this. It’s just… odd. He can’t let it get to him.

You wake up that day to a lone bed. Groaning to yourself as the sunbeams spray across your face and momentarily blind you. Hand reaching out for the space next to you. Instead, you see a note saying: dropped koji off, i’ll be back around noon to grab some lunch. sleep up

Instantly, your eyes widen, springing up out of bed. Reaching for your phone, the time reads 11:30pm. “Shit!” you curse to yourself, rushing out the door and to your bag still on the chair from last night. You dig in for your work clothes, changing right there and then and praying to the gods that Satoru doesn’t walk through this door. Brushing your teeth, hair, washing your face, putting some moustirzer and sunscreen on, all of it takes way too long. By the time you’re done and messily putting your shoes on, it’s twelve. Four hours after you were supposed to be at work. Hana’s going to kill me.

Grabbing your bag with rough and rushed movements, you’re sprinting to the door at this point. Out of breath and already conjuring up a sorry apology for Hana. you reach the doorhandle, flinging it open. But as soon as you do, you come to an abrupt stop.

Because standing before you is a woman, a woman you’ve seen before on Satoru’s lock screen. The same woman who kissed the lips that you used to. Arms crossed and a nasty scowl forming on her face as she eyes you up and down in a criticizing way.

Finally, she scoffs out.

“Do you know who I am?”

a/n: they so cute

taglist is now closed

taglist: @celestialforce @theclassbookworm @tbzzluvr @uhenivid @ofkilljoysandslytherins

@sadmonke @bunheadusa @shartnart1 @lady-of-blossoms @itsinherited

@duooy @ari-sa @dakotali @mew4-ever18 @iv-vee

@devils-blackrose @a-girl-with-thoughts @bitchycloudstrawberry @tiffyisme3760 @iheartshopping

@chiara-hotel @uriahs-barn @celloccino @roronoazorosbxtchh @pseudophyllus

@ratedrrrr @m1gota @tojideckmuncher @yigaclvn @sukunaslve

@eiizabeth-torres @cherrythiccums0 @satorustorm @zoeyflower @username23345

@i0313z @gourdlorddgubes @partypoison00 @quinnyundertow @sorilyae

@redzscare @aldebrana @nycmagi @s4ikooo1 @dreaming-lis @gigiiiiislife

@boothillglazer @miss-dior @miakxn @rjreins

538 notes · View notes

analogveins · 2 years ago

Photo

Salt Lake City Great Room

#Open concept kitchen - huge transitional l-shaped dark wood floor and brown floor open concept kitchen idea with a farmhouse sink #raised-panel cabinets #dark wood cabinets #granite countertops #gray backsplash #stone slab backsplash #stainless steel appliances and two islands custom range hood #gourmet kitchen #venetian plaster #custom cabinetry #deer valley #white kitchen

0 notes

escapistpainter · 4 months ago

Text

So since batman has flooded my Tumblr, I'm making fics based off of scenarios I've seen. Thanks to @everwalldigan for the idea, I hope I do you justice🙏🏻

The air of the warehouse was thick and muggy in the late summer evening. The sound of muffled conversations, grunts, and the sound of rope rubbing against metal filled the area. "You really got connections, huh boss?" A gruff voice boomed through the empty building, belonging to a large man with a cocky grin plastered on his lips, a syringe in hand. The man a bit further away responds, albeit, quite unintelligibly. Squatting down in front of the man they had tied to a pole who's looking at them with with a deadpanned, almost annoyed expression. "Y'know, since we got you here, why don't we have some fun, eh bats?" A snarky chuckle rang through the room before he takes the syringe and stabs it into Batman's arm. The man let's out a groan through gritted teeth while it sinks deeper into his flesh before the man before him injects the unknown substance into his body.

"Let's start it simple...are you and red hood connected?" It was a random question for sure, though it would clear some things up. Before he can stop himself, Batman speaks. "Yes." Shit, truth serum, of course it is. He shouldn't be surprised at this, so many others have done this before. It's just a nuisance. The tall man's smirk only grows. "This is gonna be fun. I could get you to reveal yourself, but what fun is that?" He flashes a cocky smirk, "Well, since you have SOOOOO many of these 'sidekicks', who's your favorite bat-vigilante?" The man was just acting childish now and Batman couldn't help but roll his eyes but he still couldn't control his words. "I don't have a favorite. At least not currently."

The man readjusts his position, staring at the hero bound in front of him with a raised brow. "And what does that mean?" "Well, it depends on the circumstances. So if red hood doesn't kill someone this week, he gets placed higher on the list, he steals the batmobile and crashes it, least favorite until he makes up for it. Usually Orphan is in the lead, she doesn't talk back, she finished her duties in a timely manner and sometimes makes me origami cranes that I arrange on a shelf to display." The man looks at him, confused and surprised at his response. "That's a lot more indepth than I thou-" His sentence is cut short by Batman beginning to speak again. "Nightwing gets off pretty easy with just coming over to visit every now and then to have dinner, but those points get lost when he has a sling." The man found it hard to look away or cut him off as he was explaining, only motioning for the others to come closer, as if wanting to show them something.

"Red Robin gets the silent treatment if hacks into the county servers and decides to Rick roll everyone and only starts being spoken to if he helps me wrangle Robin and stop him from strangling Super boy. That gets Robin to need to go on longer patrols and doesn't get to go on missions with me as a punishment but I take that back if he prepares dinner, which he almost never does. I can't do anything to control spoiler, she just does what she does and I can only hope it's not a war crime, the less awful it is, the less she gets punished, though if she decides to spray pepper spray all over the inside of my mask one more time, I'm taking her girlfriend privileges away." *No one knows when but he's now holding a white board to display the charts of his favorites and everyone just assumes he has it just in case? It's Batman, who knows.

A voice blares over his comm system and into his ear. "B, we've tracked your location, we're almost there, do you copy?" Several minutes of silence went by as he shouts again, "B, do you copy?!" And a groan ring out before his comms beeped off. "The signal," Batman continued, "is similar to orphan in the sense, he doesn't get into trouble so he's always very high, but it hurts when he ignores me so I put him just a tad lower for hurting my feelings. And Oracle, well, she's not good, but she's not bad, she kinda just... Exists outside of missions, sometimes she sends me cat videos and I like that so she gets a few points ahead. And if all of my kids suck, then super boy gets the title of favorite, he's so much better than what I have to put up with. But if he runs away and has Superman start riding my ass more than normal, straight to the bottom and either bathound or batcow take that title."

Once he finishes speaking, the room is filled with eery silence while the criminals look at each other like he just gave birth. No one had expected that to be the outcome of the simple question but they're all brought out of their contemplations when a loud crash echoes through the warehouse, causing the men to spring to their feet. "What was that!?" One of the men shouts as the other see a dark figure appear behind him. "Me bitch." As soon as the man turns around, hard knuckles crash against his face and he falls to the ground. It didn't take long for the others to start getting picked off as well until the last guy is collapsed on the floor unconscious.

"You could've taken them down yourself B." Jason remarks, hauling the men into a pile. "They asked a question." Bruce exhales, feeling slightly disappointed in himself for just staying there. "And you know I don't like when you swear, further down you go." "What?! Not fair!"

153 notes · View notes

lyfeofbilly · 2 months ago

Text

Old Thing Back

warnings: angst, angst, angst!

summary: due to riri's infidelity, the two of you have been divorced for months. what happens when unresolved feelings surface?

author's note: this was saurrrrrrr fun writing, maybe a LIL trifling but fun writing. i been thinking about this for a week before i actually wrote it. now i don't condone cheating or taking cheaters back but ya'll know i love angst! enjoy pretties.

taglist: @koffeesfancy @bubbleblowinggirl @pvnks0ul @solanaszn @onyxstones-world @blacksapphhicmaddonna

"You gotta be fucking kidding me bro!" frustration ran through you as your car refused to crank for the sixth time this week. You ran a hand down your face before grabbing your phone and pressing on the contact of the last person that you wanted to hear from, Riri. Although the two of you were recently divorced, the woman was a damn good mechanic, and spending an unfathomable amount of money on your vehicle was not appealing.

The phone rang once before she picked up, the sarcasm in her words irritating you further, "Oh so we back on speaking terms now?"

You sighed, God knows how much you'd rather sit naked on a hot grill than talk to her, but being stubborn wasn't going to fix your problems. "Ri I'm not in the mood for this right now, can you come look at my car real quick?"

"Damn I'm only of use if it's about your car, that's fucked up." The woman feigned hurt.

You rolled your eyes at the statement, letting her get all the jokes she had out now knowing you wouldn't be in the mood for banter when she arrived at your house. After a couple more seconds of silence she finally agreed to help you, "I'll be over, just give me fifteen minutes princess."

The line hung went dead and you cringed at the pet name she called you. If Riri had one thing it would be some nerve. As if her infidelity being the reason for the fall of your marriage wasn't enough, she would always find some way to try and weasel back into your good graces. The affair lasted for three months- with some woman who she had serviced before. You beat yourself up for months for not figuring it out sooner, not noticing before, but there were no signs to pick up on. You were still woken up to sweet kisses every morning, taken on dates often, and overall taken care of. She was still the same woman you married all those years ago.

What felt like an eternity your doorbell finally rang. Beyond the door stood Riri, cornrows draped down her back and shoulders while she sported her greased stained t-shirt and jeans that she worked in. A smirk was plastered across her face as she held up her toolbox, "You rang sweet thang?"

"Took you long enough!," you turned to head towards your garage. "What happened to fifteen minutes?"

The shorter woman kissed her teeth as she shut the door behind her and followed you, "Aight, maybe I got a lil' backtracked, no need to yell." As you two walked further into the house she took time to admire how the home you two once shared looked completely different. "Like what you did with the place too, you always had a thing for decoration."

When it came to settling the divorce, Riri agreed to you keeping the house. It was your absolute dream home. A two story, Victorian style house with a wrap around porch, and the biggest backyard. The day you two closed on it was a dream come true. When the affair was revealed to you, you had the nagging thought of them fooling around in the house you shared. No matter the amount of cleaning or reassurance Riri gave you that nothing happened between the walls of your home, you couldn't believe a word she said. Nine months and thousands of dollars later, the entire space was transformed. Carpet swapped for shiny hardwood floors, the wood for the kitchen cabinets and counters were changed, and every room had a fresh new layer of paint.

"I called you to look at my car, not my house."

She shrugged you off and began to do what she did best, immediately popping the hood. You took this time to go back inside and try to dead the strange sensation in your gut. There was no doubt in your mind that being in the same vicinity as Riri made your skin itch, but some part of you still felt safe in her presence. No matter how much you tried to shake it, there was still this longing feeling that lingered inside you.

An hour had passed before Riri strolled back in, covered in even more gunk that she arrived in, "It'll get you going, but c'mon ma, you gonna need a new car sooner than later."

She was right, the old jeep wrangler that you drove was on its last leg but you couldn't bring it in you to buy another one.

"I wish you would stop calling me that." You took time to glance at her attire, "And you dirty as hell, don't touch nothing."

She held her hands up in a defensive pose and chuckled, "Well can i at least shower here? I don't want all this oil on my car seats."

The question hung in your mind for a few minutes. Having Riri in your house wrecked your nerves enough, but deep inside you didn't want her to leave. You knew having her stay longer than her intended stay wouldn't be a smart decision at all. Alas, you allowed your once lifetime partner this one favor.

"Fine, but make it quick."

You sat at your vanity, finishing up your skincare routine when the door to your connected bathroom opened, revealing a half naked Riri. The big towel you gave her sat on her hips, giving you a clear view of her chiselled v-line. You couldn't lie, the sight was a heavenly one to say the least. Her braids that draped over her shoulders were now tied in a bun, and droplets of water dribbled down the valley of her breasts. The tattoo of your name that was placed just under her left one on display. Seeing it was a shock, after everything was settled you got yours lasered off. Eight sessions later and the tramp stamp that once said 'Rianna' was gone.

"Yes i still have it, you?" Riri's voice snapped you out of your trance.

"That tattoo is the least of my worries." You plainly stated.

A chuckle escaped the woman's lips, "So you still enjoy seeing me naked?"

You turned to face her, "Please don't flatter yourself, but if you must know, I got it removed months ago."

"That's crazy, I never wanted to get rid of mine."

You pursed your lips, "Yea, let me know you fucked another bitch with my name tatted on you, that's exactly what I wanna hear."

The idea of even getting matching tattoos was your idea, the placement however was Riri's. The two of you made the decision after one too many drinks on your honeymoon.

She started to dress in the old sweatpants and tank top that you let her borrow, "Aight I deserved that- that came out wrong."

"You deserve a lot actually."

"Like what?"

"My foot up yo' ass for starters." You snapped.

Throughout the divorce process you did your best to stay calm and graceful even though you had the right to lash out in every way possible. Resentment and anger festered in you for months as you never had a proper outlet for them. Thoughts of bleaching clothes, keying her car, and causing Riri physical harm crossed your mind plenty of times for a number of days. In the end, you could never bring yourself to act on them.

It grew quiet between you two, the tension in the air growing by the second. Riri stood in place, a guilty expression sprawled on her face. From the moment you found out about the wretched affair she tried her best to prove that it was a mistake. Constant calls and texts of her professing her love for you, flowers getting sent to your doorstep, and frequent attempts to try and smooth things over. If you let your heart take control of things, you would have taken her back. Every bone in your body so desperately wanted to pull her into your arms and believe that she meant it, believe that she regretted the choice she made.

"I was wrong, I know that but baby it was a mistake. You know I love y-"

You held your hand up, "Don't tell me that. Just don't." Your fists balled at your sides, the emotions that you never wanted to display in front of her threatening to spill over. "You don't.....you don't get to cheat on me and tell me you love me. Dead that shit right now."

Riri ran a hand down her face, her eyes meeting yours. Deep down she was sorry, and she beat herself up about it every day. "I do though."

Tears began to well up in your eyes. Your skin grew hot with anger and embarrassment. The emotions you were feeling felt like a whirlwind stirring inside of you. "You so full of shit. You dont cheat on people you love Rianna."

And there they were, the salty drops that you tried to hold back finally cascaded down your cheeks. The lump in your throat grew as sobs filled the room. At the moment you didn't care about being vulnerable, or seen as weak.

"We were together for six years! We made vows, bought a fucking house together!" Your voice cracked as more tears fell, "H-how.....how could you do this to me? I fucking hate you!"

Riri stood in silence, the outburst you were having hit her like a truck. Your feelings never went farther than your journal. All the obscenities, yearning for her, and blaming yourself for her infidelity. The guilt she was feeling made her stomach knot up, seeing you just standing in front of her bawling your eyes out made her feel terrible. "I know you do baby, I know you do."

Without skipping a beat, Riri took you into her arms, engulfing you in a warm embrace. It felt so familiar, so warm, as much as you wanted to resist you couldn't do anything more but melt into her arms. Your head rested on her shoulder letting the tears hit her skin. The moment made you feel so nostalgic, and you couldn't muster up the strength to snatch away.

"I hate how I still miss you, how much I feel safe in your stupid arms." You choked out, lifting your gaze to meet hers, "I hate how much I still love you." You never thought you'd see the day that you would ever admit that you still loved Riri. The thought ate at you inside, racked your brain every way to Sunday trying to figure out how and why those feelings were still there.

Riri's thumb swiped across your cheek, wiping away the stray tears that wet your face. Neither one of you were sure of a way to properly respond to your newfound confession. You'd put on this tough facade for so long, resisting any and everything that could put you in a position like this with her again, but here you were.

"We both still love each other, why can't we try again?"

"I wanted.....I wanted to take you back so bad Rianna." You bit your lip hesitantly, "But I knew if you did it once you'd do it again."

Riri took your chin in her hand and brought your face closer to hers, "Well forget allat for a second, what's your heart telling you?"

Your faces got closer and closer, lips centimeters from brushing one anothers. Your body grew hot all over, the pit that formed in your stomach was a sinkhole by now. And as much as you wanted- needed to feel her lips just one more time.

"Ri I can't promise what'll happen if you kiss me." Her lips got even closer before you put a hand to her chest, stopping her. "But what I can promise is that I won't let you hurt me like this again. You need to leave."

The look of hurt and disappointment that flashed across her face did satisfy you a bit, but you knew going through with it would open an entirely new door of confusion and disappointment yet again. Her bottom lip was trapped between her teeth as she nodded, understanding your sentiment. She loosened her grip on you and collected her things before heading towards the door, but not without taking one more glance at you. A desperate glow filled her eyes, almost as if she wanted to tell you one more thing. As the front door shut and the headlights of her car faded off into the distance, you couldn't help but think about what being with her again would feel like.

#riri williams #riri williams x reader #dominique thorne #ironheart x reader #ironheart #dominique thorne x reader #riri williams fanfic #riri angst #riri williams angst #billy’s books 🦦

83 notes · View notes

queff-boi · 29 days ago

Text

Sandwiches at the DX

(Platonic Steve Randle x reader, romantic Sodapop Curtis x reader)

………………………………………...................................

The midday sun beat down on Tulsa, relentless and bright, as you stepped out of your car, a small cooler balanced on your hip. The DX station loomed ahead, with cars pulling in for gas and two familiar figures darting around, chatting with customers and working on engines.

Sodapop Curtis was wiping his hands on a grease-streaked rag, that trademark grin plastered across his face even as he worked. Beside him, Steve Randle was bent over the hood of a car, muttering something about spark plugs. The sound of your car door shutting caught their attention. Soda’s head whipped up, his eyes lighting up like fireworks.

“Hey, doll!” he called out, tossing the rag onto the counter and jogging over to meet you. His smile stretched even wider when he saw the cooler. “What’s this? You bring us somethin’?”

“Lunch,” you said with a grin, holding it up. “Figured you and Steve could use a break.”

Soda’s laughter rang out, warm and bright. “You’re an angel, you know that?” He leaned in, brushing a quick kiss against your temple before grabbing the cooler. “Steve, get over here! We’ve got food!”

Steve popped up from behind the car’s hood, his face smeared with grease and his expression skeptical. “This better not be one of those health nut lunches,” he teased, wiping his hands on his jeans as he made his way over.

“It’s not,” you promised, opening the cooler to reveal sandwiches, chips, and a couple of sodas. “Thought you’d like something simple.”

Steve let out a low whistle. “Now you’re talkin.” He grabbed a sandwich, flopping down on the steps of the station with an exaggerated groan. “I was about two seconds from passing out from starvation.”

Soda plopped down next to him, already unwrapping his food. “You’re always two seconds from starvation,” he quipped, bumping Steve with his shoulder. Then, turning to you, he patted the spot beside him. “Sit with us, will ya?”

You joined them, Soda immediately slinging an arm around your shoulders. “Best part of my day,” he said, taking a bite of his sandwich and grinning around the mouthful. “Customer service is overrated. This, though? This is livin’.”

Steve snorted. “You’re hopeless, soda.”

Soda shrugged, pulling you closer. “Yeah, but I’ve got good company. Can’t beat that.”

The three of you sat there, sharing stories and jokes, the grease-stained afternoon forgotten for a while. And if Soda’s smile seemed a little brighter as he looked at you, well, that was a secret just for the two of you.

52 notes · View notes

fortheloveofwonderland · 5 months ago

Text

Rusty | Chapter 20 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N - this chapter gets dark. Spencer is suffering from a full on break and grows suicidal. Please proceed with caution. This one ends on a cliffhanger, sorry not sorry.

Summary - While you set out on a mission to help Spencer, despite the personal risk, Spencer spirals further into darkness.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - strangers to friends to lovers | angst | smut minors DNI

Warnings - extreme dissociation, swearing, drinking, mentions of past rape, brief mention of oral (m receiving), vomit, blood, self harm, suicide attempt.

WC - 6.4k

Nearly two hundred and fifty some miles and four sweaty buses later you found yourself in a nondescript alleyway sandwiched between a bodega and a dry cleaners on the outskirts of Las Cruces, New Mexico.

Despite the heat you pulled the hood of the sweatshirt you’d purchased higher over your head, obscuring your face as much as possible. The wanted posters were everywhere, you couldn’t be too careful.

You’d bought supplies and treated your arm wound as best you could and it had at least stopped bleeding. It was one less thing to worry about.

It was some eighteen hours since you’d watched Spencer, or whoever he was at the time, leave the barn in the middle of the desert that you’d been hiding in to continue his hunt for you.

You could have kept running, you no doubt should have kept running. But you knew leaving Spencer this way would result in his complete and utter spiral into the blackest depths of destruction. You couldn’t just leave him to his own demise.

Despite it all, you loved him. It wasn’t his fault these things were happening to him, it wasn’t a testament of who he was as a person. It was a manifestation of a lifetime of trauma and you needed to get him some help.

And there was only one person for that job.

It wasn’t until you were almost an hour outside of Tombstone that you even realised you had Spencer’s phone. There were only a handful of numbers saved to the device and one in which you knew could be the answer to his problems.

However, if you were to help Spencer you would ultimately need to sacrifice yourself.

You’d weighed up the pros and cons religiously on one of your bus journeys. You’d known for some time you would do just about anything for Spencer, the fact you’d stuck around after he hit you was proof enough of that.

But did you love him enough to put him before yourself? Because in order to help him, you were effectively ending your own life.

In the end the decision had been a relatively easy one. Spencer would no doubt end up dead at his own hands if you left him like this and no matter how far you ran you would never outrun that kind of guilt.

And so here you were now, ready to surrender yourself in return for Spencer’s well being.

At first when you’d called that number in his phone it hadn’t rang, simply beeped each time you’d hit the call button. After a few attempts you realised the number had been blocked.

Once you’d gone through his settings and unblocked the number it rang five times before a frantic voice answered.

“Spencer? Oh my god Spence!”

“Uh, not exactly…listen I need your help and I don’t know who else to ask. I'm a…friend of Spencer’s and I think he’s come off of his meds. He’s in a bad way. I need your help.”

You hadn’t had to go into detail, hearing Spencer was in trouble was enough for them to come running.

You’d chosen Las Cruces as a meeting place as it was far enough away from Tombstone that should they not help you and you managed to get away, you wouldn’t compromise the little safe haven.

Their flight arrived an hour ago, they’d text you on Spencer’s phone and you’d given them the meeting spot. They should be here any minute.

You held the revolver in your hand, hoping to not have to use it but knowing you’d need some leverage. As soon as they saw your face, the one plastered on wanted posters across the country, they’d be ready to drag you in.

But Spencer was the priority here, you needed them to hear you out before slapping you in cuffs.

You heard a car roll past and soon come to a stop. Then the sound of a car door opening and closing. You held your breath when the sound of footsteps entered your ears and levelled the gun towards the entrance of the alleyway.

He appeared like an apparition, shrouded in an almost ethereal glow from the sunlight streaming in behind him.

His footsteps were heavy on the ground as he started towards you, back stiffening when he saw the gun in your hand.

Your face was obscured by the hoodie, pulled closely round your head. You needed to make a few things clear before he knew who you were.

His hand went to his holster, palming the butt of his own firearm but not drawing it. He dared to step closer, out of the light and his image came into view.

Luke Alvez stepped towards you, his brow furrowed deeply and his lips puckered. He stopped a few feet in front of you, eyes trained on the revolver in your hand.

“You called me,” he spoke, one hand still on his holster, the other in the air in surrender. “Do we need the gun?”

“For now, yes.” You replied stiffly. “I need you to make a deal with me before I can put it away.”

“What kind of deal? I’m here for Spencer.”

“I need you to promise me you will help him first and arrest me later.”

Luke’s frown deepened as he tried to focus on your face beneath the hoodie to no avail. He gave you a cursory once over before his eyes landed back on the gun.

“Why would I arrest you? I don’t even know who you are.” Luke shrugged.

“Yes, Agent Alvez, you do.” You took a step closer, using your free hand to finally tug down the hood of your sweater and waited for Luke’s reaction.

It happened almost instantly. His eyes widened, almost bulging out of his head. His mouth fell open and the colour seemed to drain from his face. He drew his gun now, pointing it back at you in one swift move. You noticed his hand was shaking a little.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” he croaked, absolutely dumbfounded. His mind travelled back to Spencer’s Bandera ranch as he stared at you in disbelief.

“Is this the woman? I only saw her from the back. She coulda changed her hair? Is this her? She escaped from a max security facility a few weeks ago. Phil called me.”

“No. I’ve never seen this woman before.”

“You wouldn’t lie to me would you, Spencer? Because this woman is dangerous, and if you’re lying to me, that’s harbouring a fugitive. I don’t need to tell you that comes with a prison sentence.”

“I’m telling you Luke, I don’t know this woman. I’m sorry, I can’t help you.”

“Right, I’m just being paranoid I guess.”

Your lip twitched up at the corner in a wry smile and you stared him dead in the eye, not allowing him to see your fear. You swallowed down your nerves over all the ways this could go wrong and when you spoke, your voice held nothing but conviction.

“Hello Agent Alvez,” you clicked your tongue. “It’s so good to finally meet you.”

***

Spencer Reid had finally lost his mind, of this he was certain. The last thing he remembered before finding himself in his library surrounded by hundreds of trashed books, was standing in the stable opening Luke’s gift.

He was bleeding, there was no surprise there. His shotgun was on the floor and there were three bullet holes in the wall.

His books had been torn from shelves, pages ripped from their spines and shredded to confetti. He found Copper in the bedroom and he cowered away from Spencer when he entered the room.

But you and his cell phone were nowhere to be found.

Judging by the time he’d been out for over half a day, his longest dissociation by far. Images came to him in flashes but he wasn’t sure if any of it was actually real.

A sprawling desert. Shotgun blasts. An abandoned barn in the middle of nowhere. Blood.

But the most disturbing part was the extremely distinctive voices of the ghosts in his head conversing with him as though it was perfectly normal.

“It was God’s will boy, don’t you ever forget it.”

“We were just protecting you, Spencie. She’s no good for us.”

“You were too weak to protect her, just like you were too weak to look after your mother.”

“You couldn’t save Maeve from me, what makes you think you can save her from yourself?”

“She would have made a much better sacrifice than you. Cyrus would have loved her.”

“Shut up! Just fucking shut up!” He yelled, hands flying to his head and eyes closing against the onslaught.

“She was cute, I’ll give you that. But she’ll never be me. Does it make you sick that after everything I put you through you’d still fuck me given half a chance? I saw it in your eyes when you had me up against the wall, it turned you on.”

“No, no! That’s not true. You make me sick, I’d never-”

“He would have let me too, if he thought it would save his previous Maeve. He let me kiss him, I always wondered what else he’d let me do.”

“That’s not true. I would not have crossed that line. I loved Maeve, I was just trying to protect her!” He rocked back and forth on the edge of the bed, clutching his head tightly.

“But you couldn’t protect her, the same way you couldn’t protect Y/N. Because you’re a goddamn weakling, Spencer! It’s why I left, I couldn’t stand what a pansy of a son I had.”

“Fuck you, dad. I’m not weak, not weak. You were the weak one. You left because you couldn’t handle moms illness.”

“You were pathetic and weak just like Tobias. It’s why Charles and I had to teach you a lesson. Both weak and both sinners.”

“No! You’re wrong! I’m not weak and I’m not a sinner! I’m nothing like Tobias!” He screamed to try to drown them out.

“Cyrus was so wrong about you.”

“No, please. Just leave me alone, please!” He whined, opening his eyes to a barrage of tears cascading down his cheeks.

“You did this to yourself, son. You’re just like your mother, thinking you know better than the doctors, coming off the medication that is meant to help you.”

“What have I done? Fuck, Spencer you’re supposed to be a genius!” He threw himself to his feet, ignoring the ache from the open wound in his thigh he’d yet to address.

He stormed back downstairs to the upturned library and the bottles of whiskey he kept in a hidden cabinet in one of the shelves. He grabbed one and unscrewed the lid.

“Once an addict, always an addict. Just like Tobias.”

“I’m nothing like him.” He whimpered, raising the bottle to his lips and taking a long sip.

“Just replacing one vice for another. Do you feel it, Spencer? Do you feel your cells dying as you decide to give up? You’re only proving my research.”

“I don’t want to die. And even if I did, your research was flawed. You used your parents as test subjects, your sample was biased.” He took another swig.

Where is Y/N? What happened and where did she go?

“She left your sorry ass just like everyone else.”

“Fuck you dad!” Spencer screamed into the void. “And fuck you Cat, Diane. Fuck you Merva. Fuck you Raphael, Tobias, Charles…whoever you are. Fuck you all! I need to find Y/N.”

“She’s never coming back, you scared the life out of the poor thing, Spencie.”

“I didn’t do anything! That was all you. What did you do to her?”

“We drove the devil away.”

“She wasn’t the devil!” Spencer spat, taking another, longer sip of the whiskey in the hopes that if he was drunk he wouldn’t hear their constant assault upon him. “Why is this happening? Why is this happening to me?”

“You’ve never been strong enough. You weren’t strong enough to fight me off were you?”

The new voice entering the fray caused Spencer to still, his heart skipping at least several beats. This voice was a thick Spanish drawl, husky from too many smokes. That particular voice haunted Spencer’s dreams and most of his waking moments too.

It was the voice of the ringleader, the aggressor and instigator in Spencer’s prison rapes.

Spencer’s whole body trembled, almost dropping the bottle on the floor as more tears scored harshly down his cheeks.

“P-please,” he whimpered. “Please not you too.”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy what we did to you. We all saw how much you enjoyed it, cariño.”

The use of Luke’s old nickname in the voice of his rapist caused Spencer’s legs to buckle. He collapsed on the shredded paper on the floor, the whiskey bottle rolling from his hand and spilling its contents across the ripped pages.

“D-don’t call me that.” He cried, on his hands and knees in the destruction of books. “Please don’t c-call me that.”

“What’s the matter cariño? You always liked it when he called you it.”

“Because I loved him. Because when he said it, it was caring and kind and not evil.”

“What would you prefer, cariño?” The voice was overwhelming, casting all the others away. “Mi corazón? Mi Vida? Querido?”

Spencer sobbed, his whole body quaking. At some point or another Luke had called him all of those things and hearing them from the mouth of the man who destroyed that relationship was causing Spencer to spiral further than before.

“Te amo, Spencer.”

“No, no please stop it. It’s not fair!” Spencer wailed. “I loved him so much but I couldn’t be with him because of you! Because of what you and your goons did to me!”

He was crawling around on the floor with no destination. The voices all started talking at once, muttering and mumbling to each other, to him, and he couldn’t keep up.

The voices weren’t just in him, they were him. And he was them. Spencer was no longer a singular entity. He carried pieces of his ghosts, his abusers, his tormentors. He was one with them now.

There was no coming back from this. He may as well just lean into it.

***

When Luke Alvez’s phone bleated for his attention that morning he’d assumed it was the BAU trying to drag him away from the first blissful day off he’d had in weeks.

He’d been in the midst of receiving one of the most earth shattering blowjobs of his entire life, swaddled in the plush goose down duvet on Grant’s unnecessarily comfortable mattress.

His boyfriend - yes that’s what he was - lived in a little apartment a few blocks from Luke’s own although they spent all their free time together. It may have only been six months but Luke was already considering asking Grant to move in with him.

As long as he brings this stupidly comfy bed.

He’d been moments away from his orgasm when the ringing device rudely cut through his haze of pleasure.

It wouldn’t be the first time the BAU had demanded his attention while he’d been in the middle of sexual euphoria with Grant.

His head had been so foggy with his impending release when Grant came off of him with a little pop he had to blink a few times at the phantom name on his phone screen.

For a moment he was so bewildered by the sight of the ghost's name displayed in front of him that his whole body froze in abject horror.

Grant watched him curiously from the other side of the bed while his boyfriend paled a sickly colour. He knew it wasn’t the BAU.

“Spencer?” Luke breathed as he put the device to his ear. “Oh my god Spence!”

“Uh, not exactly…listen I need your help and I don’t know who else to ask. I'm a…friend of Spencer’s and I think he’s come off of his meds. He’s in a bad way. I need your help.”

The stranger using Spencer’s phone had gone on to ask him to come to Las Cruces, New Mexico, practically begging for his help. When he hung up he didn't know what to think. He’d ended the call by saying he didn’t think he could get involved.

Grant had moved to DC for him, Grant had moved to DC because even after one night together he’d decided Luke was worth that to him. But Spencer had easily been able to toss him aside after two years together.

He’d made a decision after Grant came to the east coast that he was finally done with Spencer. He was giving himself over entirely to his new fledgling relationship and he was going to stop pining over Spencer once and for all.

But then some mystery woman called him and he found himself thrown into turmoil.

Grant had been incredibly understanding and if it wasn’t for his insistence, Luke might not have gone.

But Grant had pointed out that it would only play on his mind and he would never forgive himself if something happened to Spencer. And although Grant wasn’t thrilled about him springing into action to help his ex, he knew it was something Luke needed to do.

So he’d called Spencer’s phone and spoke to the mystery woman once more saying he’d be on a flight as soon as he could. And then he’d called Emily.

Emily was equally as understanding as Grant, letting him take a few days to go and check on Spencer.

And so now here he was, in New Mexico, face to face with a woman he’d been obsessed with catching.

“You need to put the gun down right now. Come quietly and maybe I’ll see if I can cut you a deal for handing yourself in.”

You had your guns pointing at each other, neither of you relinquishing.

“I’ll be the one making deals, Agent Alvez. I need your help. Spencer has come off his meds and his brain is fracturing. I’m fairly certain he’s dissociating into multiple personalities. You are the only one who can help. Please?” You begged and you saw Luke falter a little.

“Why should I believe you?” He corrected himself. “This could just be some kind of trap.”

“What on earth would I have to gain by drawing you out like this? You didn’t know how to find me, you had no idea where I was. Why would I put myself in danger like that?” You scoffed.

You saw the cogs turning in his eyes, making sense of your words.

“Why would you put yourself in danger for Spencer?” He cocked an eyebrow at you.

“Because I love him.” You shrugged. “Getting him help is more important to me than my freedom. So if you come with me and you help him, I will go quietly. I will let you bring me in and I will spend the rest of my life behind bars. As long as Spencer is okay.”

Luke narrowed his eyes on you, scrutinising you in disbelief. It was understandable, you expected his scepticism.

“I swear this isn’t a trick.” You continued. “But I need you to help him before I cooperate with you. Let me take you to him, please? I don’t know what else to do.”

He was profiling you, you could only assume. He saw nothing but genuine care for Spencer in your eyes. You were here, prepared to give up your freedom so Luke would help Spencer.

But Luke was bred to be a cynic. If his time in the Rangers and as a fugitive hunter had taught him anything it was to trust no one.

If you did have an angle however, he couldn’t foresee what it would be. If you wanted him dead you would have shot him the moment he entered the alley, before he’d had a chance to draw his weapon.

But if Spencer really did need his aid, and Luke agreed to assist, what was to say you wouldn’t kill him after? Or at the very least make a run for it.

If he wanted to, he could shoot you in the arm, disable you long enough to cuff you and call Phil to help him extract you.

But the begging look in your eyes told him that Spencer really was in trouble. And he’d never be able to forgive himself if he turned his back on him.

“You’d do this for him? You’d really hand yourself over and go back to prison just so I’ll help him?” His hand holding the gun faltered.

“I would.” You nodded. “Luke, you know all about the magic that is Spencer Reid. I have no doubt you would have done anything for him too, am I right?”

“Yes.” He replied without hesitation.

“Then you know what I’m saying is true. He means more to me than my freedom.” As if to prove this point you cautiously lowered your gun.

You hoped the second you did so Luke wouldn’t be on you with cuffs. But the look on his face told you he believed you and you were sure he was going to help.

You tucked the firearm back in your waistband and held your hands up to show you posed no threat. You nodded at his own gun, silently telling him to do the same.

Luke’s jaw clenched, you saw the way it pulsed. His fingers flexed around the weapon before he slowly lowered it, carefully tucking it back in his holster.

For a moment the two of you stared at one another, a quiet understanding passing between you. You were both willing to put aside this forced vendetta between you for the sake of Spencer. For a brief window, the two of you were on the same side.

“Okay,” Luke huffed out after a few minutes of silence. “Where is he?”

“Tombstone.” You rolled your lip between your teeth.

“Arizona?” He baulked.

“You really think I was going to bring law enforcement to our doorstep before I knew I could trust you?” Your lip twitched at the corner.

“Ay dios mio.” He muttered under his breath. “I guess we better get going, that’s a long drive.”

“About four hours.” You nodded.

“Mierda.” He spat with a roll of his eyes. You could only assume given the conviction for which he said it that it was a curse word.

“I don’t speak Spanish but, sure.” You shrugged. “Shall we?”

Luke nodded his head, motioning for you to pass him first, probably so he could keep an eye on you in case you tried to run.

He led you to a black Escalade parked a little ways up the street which he unlocked from the button on the rental keys. You slid into the passenger's seat and Luke in the driver's side.

He started the engine and nodded his head towards the GPS display in the middle of the dash. You leant forward in your seat and tapped in the zip code of the ranch in Tombstone.

“This better not be some kind of trap.” Luke grumbled as he put the car in drive.

“Agent Alvez with all due respect, please just fucking drive.”

Luke huffed out a breath, hands clenching around the wheel but he did as you said, flicking the blinkers and checking his mirrors before pulling out onto the sleepy street.

You fell into silence and he switched on the radio to combat the awkward quiet. You stared out the window, only partially wondering what the fuck you were doing.

***

The thick and heavy scents of vomit and blood assaulted his nostrils before he’d even opened his eyes. He didn’t remember falling asleep, or being sick for that matter.

He peeled his face off of the floor, a rogue book page stuck to his cheek which he removed and tossed aside.

He blinked as he sat up, rubbing his eyes and taking in the annihilated library around him. His memory came in broken flashes but he couldn’t decipher what was real and what was imagined.

What he did know was there was a puddle of dried vomit near where he’d been laying, mostly bile as he hadn’t eaten much of anything since…well he had no idea how long it had been.

He wore only his boxers and t-shirt, his jeans were crumpled nearby in a pile of books of torn paper. Pulling his legs out in front of him he noticed several cuts of varying sizes littered all over his left thigh, covered in crusty blood.

The way his head throbbed told him he’d drank a lot, again, no surprise there.

And then he remembered with startling coherence that you were gone. He’d let his demons out to play and they’d driven you away.

A shotgun. A dry desert. Glass shards. Heavy breaths and violent heartbeats.

“I will find you princess, mark my words. I will find you.”

Silence hung heavy around him and for that he was grateful. The rush of voices were quiet for now, for the moment at least he was alone.

He’d kept a lid on those monsters that lived inside of him for so long but he knew now that they’d escaped they would be back sooner rather than later. He’d dealt with so much evil in his life but those six hellions were the ones with whom he’d suffered the most.

William. Tobias. Diane. Cat. Benjamin. And the man who had incited his prison rapes, who’s name he couldn’t even say inside his head.

He’d become them, and they him. They were so deeply sewn into the fabric of who he was as a person that they were now coming to life. He’d given them life. He fed them, nurtured them and he couldn’t just let them go. He’d brought this on himself.

It was an inevitable outcome of years of trauma combined with suddenly withdrawing from his meds and heavy alcohol consumption. He’d given them the tools to break free and he couldn’t be surprised that they’d done just that.

For now all he could do was relish in the quiet before they all came back at him full throttle.

Eat. Shower. Try and clean up this fucking mess. And then…

Then what? The obvious answer was to try and find you, figure out where you’d gone and if you were ever coming back. But how did he go about that? He couldn’t find his phone and you could have gone anywhere.

One thing at a time, Reid. Clean up the vomit. Clean up yourself. Food. Cleanse. Before they return.

He pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the way his new cuts howled as he moved. He forced himself towards the kitchen for cleaning supplies.

He barely made it to the sink before he felt an itching in the back of his head. No, not his head…his brain.

And then the voice made itself known, although he struggled to ascertain exactly what voice was assaulting him this time. He supposed it didn’t really matter.

“You can’t run from us, Reid. We’re a part of you now. We all took pieces from you that you’ll never get back. This is your life now. You’re stuck with us. Until the bitter end.”

***

Luke drove at a frightening pace, his foot hugging the accelerator. His hands held the wheel in a white knuckle grip, monopolising the far left lane and overtaking almost every car on the road.

Aside from the radio station filtering into the car, the two of you were silent. You could see the internal battle waging within Luke, the good versus evil debate.

You were evil, you knew that’s how he saw you. But you were trying to do good by Spencer and because of this, Luke didn’t know how to feel towards you.

You felt bad for dragging him into this. From the little you knew of him he seemed like he was a nice guy, a guy who would clearly do anything for the love of his life, who was also the love of your life.

But he would get his reward in the form of getting to take you in, he would be the one to arrest you once Spencer was safe from himself. It was a sacrifice you were willing to make to keep him from harm's way.

After miles of highway landscape zooming before your eyes, you sucked in a breath and turned to Luke in your chair.

“So, uh, how are things with your cowboy?”

Your words caused him to stiffen more so than he already was. His fingers somehow gripped tighter against the wheel.

“Grant. His name is Grant.” He replied, his voice monotone.

“Right,” you smiled to yourself. “My question still stands.”

“Why do you care?” He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye.

“We’re gonna be stuck in this car for at least another three hours, maybe less given the speed you’re gunning it. But I thought I’d try and make conversation.” You shrugged.

Luke chewed on the inside of his cheek, weighing up his options. He knew you were right, as much as he didn’t want to engage you. It would be an incredibly long journey trapped in silence.

“It’s, uh, it’s good. He’s great, he makes me feel like I might finally be able to get over Spencer.” He confessed, unsure why he was telling you this.

“And, ya know, he’s super easy on the eyes.” You chuckled, only just refraining from saying what a good kisser he was. That would have no doubt caused Luke to swerve off of the road if he found out that tidbit of your past.

“He really is.” Luke relaxed a little, a small smile playing on his lips.

“I only know the bare bones about your break up with Spencer, but for what it’s worth I know he still thinks about you. I know he loves me, but I also know a part of him will always love you.” You sighed.

Luke tensed again, his jaw set and his back stiffened against the chair once more. He squared his shoulders like he was gearing up for a fight.

“I don’t think I needed to know that.” He huffed. “I’m crazy about Grant but if Spencer told me tomorrow he wanted me back I would drop everything for him. Kinda like I did when you called and said he was in trouble.”

“Don’t beat yourself up over it.” You spoke softly. “He’s a force unto himself. He’s magnetic, irresistible. Hell, I’m willingly letting you arrest me when this is all over just to ensure his safety. It’s kinda infuriating how he makes it so easy to fall in love with him.”

“It kinda is.” Luke agreed with a wry smile, giving you a sidelong glance again. “Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“Twelve times.” He swallowed. “You shot him twelve fucking times.”

“I did.” You nodded, rolling your lip between your teeth. “And I’ll tell you something, Agent Alvez, I’d do it again too. I’ll admit twelve shots was excessive but if I hadn’t killed him, he would have killed me. He put me and my mom through hell and he deserved what he got.

“Tell me something, Agent. If you could get your hands on the men who abused Spencer in prison, would you hold back? Despite the oath you took, would you be able to steal yourself if confronted by them? Because I don’t think you could. They hurt someone you love and I think, like me, you’re fiercely protective of the people you love. So tell me, would twelve bullets even be enough?”

He felt your eyes on him, heavy and imposing. He swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing beneath his flesh. He didn’t owe you the truth but he gave it to you anyway.

“There wouldn’t be enough bullets in the world if I ever came face to face with them.” He confessed, his jaw tight as he did so.

“I know you hate me, I know I’m some kind of thorn in your side. But I think that animosity stems from the fact that you understand why I did what I did, and it pains you to think that way because you’re an officer of the law. You vowed to protect and serve, to uphold the laws of this country and ensure justice. But justice isn’t always rewarding.

“I could have called the cops on Sayers, I could have testified and had him put in prison. But as long as he was breathing it would never be over. The same way that while Spencer’s rapists are still alive it will never be over for you. I get that you have a job to do and as promised, if you help Spencer I will go quietly into the good night. But you know you agree with what I did, and that’s why you’ve let my escape consume you.”

You were right and it was proven by the tight pulse of his jaw and the squeezing of his hands against the leather wheel. He didn’t speak to confirm it, he didn’t need to.

The truth was, and Alvez knew it well, that we all harbour a darkness inside of us. He’d kept his well hidden for the most part, but it had come clawing to the surface after Spencer’s incarceration and his face off with Mr Scratch.

When he found out of the true horrors of Spencer’s time in prison, it was impossible to swallow it down again. Ever since it had ebbed just below the surface, ready to be unleashed at any moment.

The very same way yours had when you’d confronted your step father.

As much as he wanted to blame you for what you’d done, he couldn’t because that would make him a hypocrite. You’d taken your revenge on the man who’d hurt you in the same vein Luke wished to seek justice on the men who had raped Spencer.

Of course, he didn’t admit as much out loud. Instead the two of you fell back into that terse silence as you continued on your way to find Spencer.

He only hoped the younger man hadn’t succumbed to his demons in a way that would make it impossible to cloy him back from his own treacherous darkness.

***

The gentle caress of the too hot water tingled his fraught limbs and provoked his open wounds. His sensitive flesh groaned beneath the heat that threatened to encompass him.

The weightlessness of his body sunk deeper in the watery folds, allowing it to rise above his ears in an attempt to cast himself into silence.

It didn’t work. You couldn’t quiet the voices that lived in your head.

“This is a coward's way out. I always knew you were weak.”

“What’s the matter, Spencie? Can’t handle a few little ghosts?”

“And to think we thought you’d be our ultimate sacrifice.”

He descended deeper, the water covering his eyes, barely reaching his nose. He took a few breaths, readying himself for the end.

“Ohh you think Maeve will be waiting for you on the other side? Pur-lease. You’re a sap, I don’t know what I ever saw in you.”

“We broke you good, didn’t we? Shame really, even under duress you gave great head.”

“Shut up, just shut up.” He whined, his own voice distant in his water logged ears.

He slid lower with one final breath, letting the scalding water submerge him, maybe even cleanse him. Little bubbles formed on the surface as he instinctively tried to breathe.

Don’t fight it, Reid. Just let it happen. Death has got to be better than this.

He opened his eyes beneath the water, blurry visions of his ceiling would be the last sight to meet his eyes.

His uncontrollable breathing forced water into his lungs, burning his chest, like a flame ripping right from within him. It was shredding, tearing him apart as his brain instinctively fought for a breath he wouldn’t allow.

“Sinner, I told you so. Suicide is the ultimate sin. You will endure his wrath, boy.”

It was a similar breathlessness he’d grown all too accustomed to in his life. When his dad left and he became responsible for his mothers care. When Tobias literally killed him only to bring him back to life.

When Diane Turner took her life and Maeve’s in one single bullet while Spencer could do nothing but stare in abject horror. When he came face to face with Cat again after his release. When Merva held his blade to his throat, readying Spencer to be his three hundredth victim.

When that man and his cronies crept into his cell and forced him to his knees time after time.

The oxygen was fleeing his brain rapidly, everything was becoming hazy around the edges as though looking at the world in soft focus.

Thoughts and voices coalescing, drifting, fading. Soon it would be dark, soon the sounds would disappear entirely and he would finally be alone.

You won’t win, I won’t let you. I would sooner die than walk among you for another second.

An eerie yet peaceful smile pulled at his lips. Any minute now and it would all be over.

“You think killing yourself makes you a martyr? You think this means you win? Jeez for a so-called genius you really are dumb, huh Spencie?”

“Are your cells giving up? Can you feel it?”

“Walk towards the light, join us in our sacrifice.”

“And you said I was the weak one? What the fuck would your mother think of this?”

“The one who sins is the one who will die. The child will not share the guilt of the parent, nor will the parent share the guilt of the child. The righteousness of the righteous will be credited to them, the wickedness of the wicked will be charged against them.”

Ezekiel 18:19 verse 20. I told you I could recite the bible.

“Such a shame to waste such a skilled and pretty mouth.”

Shut up. Shut up. God-fucking-damnit you can all just shut the fuck…

His consciousness was waning, his brain cells dying. It wouldn’t be long before he suffered irreversible anoxic brain damage. Death was upon him, his fiery talons reaching from the depths to come and take him away.

Yes, please. P-please. This has to e-end. I’m ready for t-the end.

Seconds before Spencer Reid surrendered to the ethereal glow of death, something flickered in his blurry field of vision.

Moments before everything turned dark he swore he saw a figure appear above the haze of water. But before he could register it, the lack of oxygen closed in around him and he let himself fade away into the abyss.

@kalulakunundrum @katrina0-0 @bakugouswh0r3 @prettyboyandthefangirl @zooni92802 @babyspiderling @pleasantwitchgarden@ @djsjjsjsjsjsnsnsns @bringitonhomejohnb

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

66 notes · View notes

kelcemenow · 1 year ago

Text

Drive Me Crazy - Chapter 1.

Pairing Travis Kelce x Reader

Words 682

Warnings Nothing at all!

Huge thank you to the Anon who sent this in! They had such amazing words to say about my writing which I massively appreciate and then to top it off, had an incredible request for me! I only have experience with mechanics in the UK, so I've tried my best with this one! "I just recently got interested in Travis K. X reader stories and wanted to let you know, I read all of yours as quickly as I could. They are so well done and I couldn’t help but laugh/giggle and feel through each word you typed out. You’re doing amazing and I’m so glad to have stumbled onto your page. If you have any space for a request, I’d be curious about what Trav would think about having a military (like fighter pilot) or engineer or mechanic girlfriend. I see a lot of stories with him paired with models/singers/social media individuals (which are phenomenal!) but just wondering how he would be with a more tomboy like girlfriend!"

CHAPTER 1

You wiped the beads of sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand, grabbing your water bottle with the other and slowly gulping down the cool liquid. Taking a deep breath, you closed the hood of the car and gave Jordan a nod of your head to signal that you were finished.

"Thanks, Y/N." He said as he made his way towards you, "I knew you'd figure it out."

"Don't sweat it. You almost had it, bro." You smiled, wiping your hands on the towel that hung from your waistband.

"You're the best." He grinned as he got into the car and started up the engine with ease.

The purring of the motor combined with the sounds of the drills and hydraulics pierced through your ear and although you were used to them, a slight headache was looming. You headed to the small garage office, massaging your temples on the way.

The office door was battered and covered in grease from years of being pushed open by dirty hands, and as it swung open, you were greeted by a smiling face.

"Hey honey!"

"Hey Dad." You said wearily as you pulled open one of the drawers of the desk.

"Oh dear." He groaned, "What's up? That Chevy pushin' against you?"

You shook your head gently as you picked up the bottle of Aspirin, "No, no...I finished it."

"That's my girl."

"Just...I didn't sleep great last night and I got a migraine coming on." You tipped out a couple of tablets into the palm of your hand before popping them into your mouth.

"I'll steer clear of you today then...I wouldn't want to poke the bear." He joked as he opened the door, disappearing onto the shop floor.

"Ha ha." You said flatly, swallowing the Aspirin with a mouthful of water.

The bell above the front door rang and you turned around, plastering a fake smile on your face.

"Good mornin', sir. How can I-"

"Yeah, can I speak to a car mechanic, please?" His eyes were stuck to the phone screen in his hand.

You quietly cleared your throat, clearing away your immediate frustration, "Well, lucky for you, sir, I am one."

The man in front of you looked up and paused, blinking a couple of times before his mouth dropped open, "Oh, I'm so sorry, ma'am."

"Happens all of the time." Your lips curled slightly into a smile, "What can I help you with?"

His eyes darted across your dishevelled appearance, almost narrowing with curiosity as he looked at you. Your hair was pulled back and a colourful scarf was covering your hair as best you could. You were wearing one of your Dad's old band shirts, grease and oil stains adorning any space they could and your navy blue coveralls were pulled down and tied at your waist to relieve you from the blistering heat. You blew a rouge piece of hair away from your face and waited patiently as he reached for his keys and gently placed them on the desk in front of you.

"My uhh...car. I was driving down the highway and...it just-" He stumbled.

You slid the keys closer to you, "I'll take a look."

He ran his hands through his beard, "Thank you. And can I please apologise for what I said? Today is not my day and I just-"

"Honestly, it's really not necessary. Like I said, it happens all of the time. Mechanic isn't really a 'typical career' for a woman." You bent your fingers in the air as you spoke, reciting words that you had heard many times before.

The man exhaled a laugh, his eyes gentle yet piercing, "I gotta say, it's pretty impressive. I'm useless when it comes to stuff like this."

You smiled, an uncomfortable silence filling the room.

"So, if I could take your number and I'll call you later today?"

"Uhh yeah." He mumbled, jotting the digits down on the pad positioned next to your hand before turning back to the door. "And I'm sorry...again."

"It's fine..." You glanced down at the pad, "...Mr Kelce."

______________________________________________________________

I know I said that I was going to carry on with requests before diving into another series but this one was too good not to make into a little series so I'm doing it and no one can stop me! This first part is just setting the scene really so I hope I've piqued your interest! If you want to be included in my Taglist for any future chapters, just let me know!

Taglist @rd14 @dandelionwrites8 @keiva1000 @fantasywritersstuff @caelipartem @anacarangel @she-lives-in-her-dreams @kkrenae @kristencochefski1125 @countrygirl120983 @charmed2000 @nouis-bum @cixrosie @delicateearthquakellama @wordsaresimple-imnot @amylouwho9 @queenisa17 @talicat713 @luvvtrent @purecinnamonextract @savaneafricaine @caelipartem @beyxgrande @caitdaniels @ezgirl1108 @vir-tual @lightsoutstyles @macey234 @s294749w @kelcemesoftly @calirindo @livinginmyfantasies @bernelflo @secretmywritingfictionlawyer @killatravtramp @there-goes-thefighter @unicornblueberry @calirindo @tjkelce87 @kristinamae093 @kmc1989 @ajbird18 @triski73 @ctn26 @kgcaputo07 @abby-splace @bobthe-turmpetman29 @cedricbitch @jmamas92 @bellstwd @killatravsworld @marchmaiden @chimchimmarie @blackstabbath6 @fanficfanatic15 @jessiemariebarnes @mmb219 @vanwritesfan-fiction

#travis kelce x reader #travis kelce imagine #kelce x reader #nfl imagine #original story #travis kelce fic #travis kelce #travis kelce fluff #nfl fluff #travis kelce smut #travis kelce angst #nfl smut #nfl angst #nfl fic #kelcemenow requests

227 notes · View notes

samgirl98 · 1 year ago

Text

Wail of the Silent 3/?

Prev | Next

Danny took out his phone to see where he ended up.

“Park Row?”

He put away his phone to shield it from the pouring rain and took in the ambient ectoplasm in the air. The area he was saturated in corrupted ectoplasm. The shades and spirits here were darker and full of pain. It made the other areas of Gotham seem downright sunny by comparison.

Danny couldn’t pinpoint the spirit that had let out that ungodly wail, but he was determined to find them and help. Nobody deserved to be alone with those emotions ready to burst.

Now if he could only figure out which way to go…

“What the hell is that?”

In the distance, Danny saw a glowing purple shadow. Out of curiosity, and because he’s Danny, he followed it. Danny couldn’t get closer to the shadow, no matter how much or fast he flew.

Eventually, he ended up in front of an old building that seemed abandoned. There was a horde of spirits around the building. All the spirits turned at the same time to look at Danny.

They all used their core at the same time.

Help him, the cores hummed; he’s the avenger of the dead. He protects the living. Help him move on like he’s helped us.

All the spirits disappeared, and the street got eerily quiet. Danny stared at the building. The building was full of gloom and despair, even with the other spirits gone. Danny took an unneeded grounding breath and entered the building.

In complete contrast to the outside, the inside of the building was new and clean.

The feeling of despair was stronger, and Danny gagged at the corruption around him. How did any ghost survive this way?

Danny didn’t talk out loud. He let his core hum and project feelings of reassurance and acceptance.

(The spirit felt lonely and rejected.)

Danny floated to the second floor and looked around the rooms. The first one had a bunch of computers and wrappers strewn all over the floor. Danny floated into the next room and found it empty except for a bed and closet. He went into the closet. He found a secret door and went through it. Danny found a bunch of weapons that ranged from guns to swords and knives. There was also a red helmet that looked vaguely familiar, a suit that had a red bat on it and was made of a rigid material that was obvious protection.

It suddenly clicked. This is what Red Hood, one of the Bats, wore. Fuck!

Danny turned invisible and left the hidden room. He was about to leave when the feelings got even stronger. It felt like he had been suckered punch. Danny curled into himself and tried to keep himself from crying. How did anyone, human or spirit, deal with this? It was making Danny feel like he was going crazy!

Even though Red Hood was human, he was definitely feeling these negative emotions that were probably driving the man insane.

Danny stayed invisible and decided to let his core hum.

I’m here to help, it said, where are you?

Lonely, pain, I’M SO ALONE, the spirit yelled out.

Danny followed the screams and ended up in a living room. He saw a broken China cup on the small kitchen floor, a brown liquid cooling on it.

Danny followed the pain to the couch. He was shocked back to visibility.

Before him was another halfa. How? When? Why didn’t they know about this halfa?

The other halfa was crying. For some reason, he wasn’t making any noise. Honestly, if it weren’t for the pain coming from his (stunted, corrupted) core, Danny wouldn’t know what the man was saying.

A hum came from the man’s core. The hum was full of anguish, and Danny felt his heart and core go out for the other halfa.

Danny picked up the man and put went to the bedroom. He put the other halfa down and studied him with a critical gaze.

The man was wearing a thin pair of sweatpants and a black T-shirt. He had black hair with a white streak through it. His hair was plastered to his face, from tears or sweats, Danny didn’t know. (Maybe it was both.) His eyes were an ectoplasm green that was glowing with pain. He was tall but still shorter than Danny. He had muscles that spoke of training and strength. What got Danny’s attention were his scars.

His body was littered with them, but the one that angered Danny was the one on his throat. It had obviously been a deep wound and the likely reason the man didn’t make a sound even as his mouth opened in silent cries.

He was young, maybe the same age as Danny’s twenty years. Maybe a little older or a little younger. Danny didn’t know, but even without the other halfa’s core broadcasting the pain deep in the man’s soul, Danny could tell he had been through a lot.

Danny started humming through his core, making it as loud as possible.

Safe. I’m here. You’re safe.

The other halfa responded, tired, scared. Alone, so alone. Pain, pain, pain, PAIN!

Shh, he answered, I won’t leave.

Danny started chirping, hoping the melodies he was producing mixed with the humming and feelings of reassurance he was emitting would be enough to help the other halfa down. Danny stood there, keeping sentinel over the other halfa, chirping, and humming.

The other man would answer back, and eventually, his face relaxed from his pain.

The man looked at Danny in disbelief.

Pretty, he chirped, angel?

Danny wanted to laugh. Him pretty? An angel? Never!

Friend, he chirped back.

The man signed something, but Danny didn’t know sign language. ‘What a pity,’ he thought to himself.

The man stared at Danny, and Danny stared back.

Jason was dreaming. It was a good dream. The anguish he was feeling had calmed down some. It was more bearable. And he had an angel looking over him.

The angel had white hair that defied gravity and soft, glowing eyes. He knew he should be scared (they were the color of the Pits.), but the man was emitting chirps and hums that calmed Jason down. He had light blue skin and pointed ears. There were glowing freckles on his face that reminded Jason of starlights. They even twinkled in and out of existence like the stars in the sky. Jason didn’t know if he was imagining them, but it also looked like the freckles were clustered in the shape of constellations.

‘Are you an angel,’ he signed, ‘you’re very pretty.’

“Sorry, dude, I don’t know sign language.”

Jason felt a hum surrounding him like a soft blanket.

Friend, it said, safe. I hear you.

How? He asked. Jason was mute. How did the angel understand him?

Like me, he answered back, we’re the same.

Jason gave a silent snort. He was far from being an angel.

Jason heard a chirp and looked back at the mysterious being.

Rest, he chirped, I’ll be here to keep the nightmares away.

Please, Jason chirped back, I’m so tired.

Close your eyes. Sleep.

Jason let his eyes slide shut to the feeling of safety surrounding him.

Avenger, the spirits had called him. Protector. But who was here to avenge and protect the other halfa? No one. Well, Danny was going to fix that.

Miles away, still in Gotham but far from Park Row, Crime Alley, Batman was not having a good time.

First, the Penguin had been able to see him even as he hid in the shadows. Then he was hit by a few bullets. They didn’t pierce his armor, but they hurt like hell. Then the rain started pouring. Thunder boomed, and lightning danced in the sky, wiping away any evidence Batman could use on the Penguin.

(Lady Gotham was furious at the moment. Jason’s pain was making her fuse short on her Dark Knight. Batman wouldn’t die, no, but he would be punished.)

As Batman stared out at the city of Gotham, he couldn’t shake the feeling of despair he was feeling. He couldn’t go home yet; something big was going to happen.

(He didn’t know his son was close to losing his sanity.)

He had to protect his city.

(Gotham was too angry at Batman to appreciate her knight.)

In Crime Alley, Jason, a newly discovered halfa, slept for the first time in a long time with no nightmares. Hums filled the air around him. Finally, the silence was broken.

#wail of the silent #dc x dp #dp x dc

289 notes · View notes

turbotaxevasion · 8 months ago

Text

Psych, it's angst!!!

You guys have given me nothing but joy in creating this >:) Enjoy this little drabble giving Bernard even more issues!

As always, if you enjoy, you should check out my Ao3 :)

It wasn’t Bernard’s first time at a Wayne gala, having attended as a “friend” of Tim’s more than once. But it was the first time he was attending as Tim’s boyfriend – and he was loving it. Tim wouldn’t leave his side, a real, wide smile plastered on his face. And Bernard kept their arms looped together at all times, pressed against his boyfriend’s side. The night was going so well.

…

Too well.

…

It had to end eventually.

Gunshots rang through the air. Bernard was shoved to the ground behind an overturned table. Tim pressed up against him, hiding the two. He was breathing heavily.

“We need to go.” He sounded panicked. Not for himself, but for Bernard.

Bernard knew why. He knew all about Tim’s nightly activities. He shouldn’t have to be in that kind of danger outside of the suit.

“I’m staying.”

Tim whirled. He stared at Bernard. “What?”

“I’m staying. These people will need an EMT.”

“Yeah,” Tim agreed, “one on the clock. You’re off tonight!” He could barely be heard over the screaming and gunfire.

“I’m. Staying.”

Tim was silent for a moment. Only a second or two. And then…

“Fine. But so am I.”

“... Okay.”

No sooner than Bernard had said it, a shot was fired. Tim jolted forward with a stuttered cough.

“Urk!”

He squeaked as he fell forward into Bernard’s arms. The blonde saw red blossom from Tim’s gray suit jacket, near his right shoulder blade. Bernard looked up. The muzzle of a gun met his gaze.

The masked man squinted, peering down at the young man in Bernard’s arms. He yelped as he was shoved to the side, gun spinning across the floor. A large man in a red helmet stood in his place, shielding Bernard and his boyfriend. Bernard stared up at the Red Hood with unseeing eyes. He was almost in a trance, cradling Tim’s very still body against his own.

The Red Hood glanced back at them and swore. The words were distorted through his helmet’s voice changer. Bernard could hear the words, though he felt he was underwater.

“O! I need an extraction!”

He was quiet for a bit, pointing his gun in the direction of the other attackers.

“No, it’s Tim. He’s been hit. Not in uniform.”

He holstered his gun, the screaming having gone quiet. The sound was lowered to a murmur, though Bernard hadn’t noticed until then. He was too preoccupied. He glanced back down at his boyfriend’s limp form. He squeezed just a little bit tighter, afraid Tim would fall to pieces if he let go.

Tim groaned. Bernard sighed, shoulders slumping low as he bent forward over his knees. Tim rested stomach down across his lap, the blood from his suit jacket still flowing. Bernard pushed Tim off to lay on the firm floor before ripping off his own suit jacket to apply pressure to the wound.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I’m so sorry.”

A rough gloved hand rested on his shoulder. He looked up, not letting up on the pressure of his hands.

“Nothing to be sorry for, kid.” The Red Hood looked down at him, eyes of his helmet glowing bright. “Hang tight ‘til your squad gets here. O called ‘em in.”

Bernard could do nothing but nod.

As he looked down again, he could hear nothing but his own thoughts. Red Hood’s words meant nothing when they weren’t true.

He had been the stubborn one.

He had insisted on staying.

It was his fault.

The flashing red of ambulance lights illuminated the walls. A wailing siren pierced the night.

“My fault,” he whispered.

#comics #tim drake #dc comics #batfam #bernard dowd #dc batman #dcu #fanfic author #fanfic writing #fanfic

24 notes · View notes

hayleyservatius · 2 months ago

Text

Our client’s original kitchen just wasn’t hitting the mark—it felt cramped, lacked storage, and didn’t quite fit their style.

Their wish list? Sophisticated lighting, a larger island, more pantry space, and a modern, clean-lined aesthetic.

Challenge accepted! 🙌

The space received a total refresh—adding a waterfall edge to the oversized island, a pantry that now has storage for days, and an open layout that flows effortlessly into the family room and casual dining space.

We also added custom cabinetry, sleek hardware, contemporary lighting, paneled appliances, and a stunning plaster range hood.

The whole design came together with a beautifully curated palette that’s chic and functional. ✨

What was once a cookie-cutter kitchen is now a bright, modern, and storage-packed hub.

#home interior #interior #interior design #interior decorating #interiors

8 notes · View notes

dracarialove · 8 months ago

Text

📄 F it, I'm posting my finished fics here, too 📄

*Check the 'rouge's heart' tag if you haven't read previous chapters

[Chapter 5: Violence]

Blaze was clipping up her hair in her signature ponytail when the doorbell rang; before she could call out to Silver, he was already telling her he would answer it. The white hedgehog opened the door and greeted Rouge, inviting her inside.

"Lookin' sharp," she said, pointing to the teal blazer and black bowtie he was wearing.

Silver tightened his tie and smiled. "Thanks. Blaze should be out in a minute."

They chatted briefly until the lavender cat walked into the room, her slim figure presented in a knee-length magenta dress with a single ruffled strap crossing over to one shoulder. Red strappy heels covered her feet, and she had applied a nude gloss to her lips.

"Wow, Blaze!" Rouge exclaimed, impressed. "I've never seen you so stylish."

The princess shot her a sly look as she slipped one gloved hand around Silver's arm. "It's not often that I get dressed up. Besides, we're not all like you, hoarding outfits for every occasion!"

The bat rolled her eyes and swatted the air, grinning as she turned back toward the door. "You guys ready to go?"

The couple followed, Silver grabbing his keys. "Let's hit the town!"

***

Shadow's stint at the coffee shop was almost over, the grumpy hedgehog having worked a rare morning shift. His mood was sour as he and his coworker blasted through a rush of customers. The hour of repetitive labor left him irritated and ready to clock out, continuously checking the time once his coworker had gone outside for a short break.

He let out an aggravated sigh when another customer walked in only a few minutes after the rush had subsided. The red echidna stomped his way over to the counter, a steamed expression plastered on his face.

Shadow's eyes narrowed slightly as he watched the angry patron approach the register. Knuckles stopped at the counter, staring across at Shadow with an unflinching frown stamped across his tan muzzle.

Hyper-aware of the echidna's hostile body language, the neutral hedgehog remained on his guard as he held eye contact, then dully mustered a customer-friendly phrase. "Can I help you?"

"Stay away from Rouge," Knuckles growled.

Shadow responded with the furrowing of his brow and a quiet scoff. "You're looking for trouble, threatening me. I don't care who you are – if you think you can scare me, you're sorely mistaken."

"I'm not trying to scare you, tough guy. I'm warning you. You back off of my woman if you don't want a problem!"

Knuckles raising his voice set off Shadow's growing frustration, the dark hedgehog refusing to accept the disrespect. He replied in a sharp tone, "You're the one who needs to back off. You must have a death wish – or maybe you're just stupid – to challenge someone whose capabilities go beyond your comprehension."

The echidna started to ball his fists, the two men staring each other down. Shadow continued, "Besides, if Rouge is 'your' woman, and she's taken a liking to me, what does that say about your inability to keep her interest?"

He didn't know if it was true, if Rouge really was in a relationship with the angry stranger in front of him; but he hated being talked down to, and had easily pegged Knuckles' weakness when it came to insults. The redhead's frown turned into a toothy scowl as he suddenly raised his fists and swung.

"Chaos Control!"

***

The telekinetic hedgehog was the driver for their night out, all three of them hopping into the silver Camaro that boasted two bright teal stripes down the hood. They headed downtown, soon being surrounded by countless bars, clubs, and restaurants – all brightly-lit with energetic music pouring from the windows. Per Blaze's suggestion, they pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant bar, Silver scooting his car into an empty corner spot.

A human hostess met them when they walked through ruby-colored double doors, then led them past a number of tables filled with a mixture of diners; some human, some Mobian, all enjoying their meals and drinks with their personal groups.

She sat them at a booth near the back, Blaze and Silver sitting on one side while Rouge took the other. The woman handed them menus and offered to provide a pitcher of water for the table, which they graciously accepted before she left them to decide on entrées.

"The salmon sounds good," Blaze commented, drawing Silver's attention to her menu, "but it's kind of expensive."

He skimmed the price and smiled up at her. "Get whatever you want – it's a special occasion. I think I'll have the pasta salad. See anything you like, Rouge?"

"Hmm..." the bat wondered, tapping an index finger against her chin. "Maybe fettuccine, that's always a safe choice. Although, it might be worth it to try the grilled chicken."

Blaze perked up as she closed her menu. "Oh! I can vouch for the chicken. Certainly worth it."

"I'll take your word for it, then," she responded, snapping the menu shut with one hand.

When the waitress came by to place their pitcher of water on the table, the triad put in their orders and each poured a glass for themselves. The uplifting orchestra music playing through the restaurant's speakers coupled with the soft orange lights to set a positive mood for their evening, even as Silver brought up a subject that was still considerably sore.

"Hey, so, I know it just happened," he started, addressing Rouge, "and you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to... but I wanted to ask how you're holding up since the whole debacle with Knuckles."

Blaze lightly slapped his arm, but the strong-willed bat was determined not to let the breakup get to her; if she was going to get over him, she did need to talk about it. No amount of crying alone would help her completely heal from the pain, so Rouge smiled and made eye contact with Silver.

"You know, it still stings – and maybe it will for a while – but I think I'm coming more to terms with it as the days go by."

"I don't think I've ever met another woman as emotionally strong as you," Blaze commented, picking up her water. "Already starting to get over Knuckles, when Amy bursts into tears every time Sonic doesn't answer her calls!"

Silver chuckled and Rouge shrugged. The bat didn't want to mention her new love interest just yet, thinking it would be better to get her frustrations out first. She could save the good news for last and close out their dinner with happier thoughts.

So, while they waited for their food to arrive, she recounted the hurtful events while sprinkling in complaints about both Knuckles and Julie-Su. A cathartic experience, it allowed the treasure hunter to fully enjoy her meal once their waitress came around with the dishes and drinks.

***

Time was frozen, Knuckles' balled fist hovering in the air above the coffee shop counter. His mouth was agape, canines exposed in a display of aggression, fierce eyes alive with rage. The powerful hedgehog walked around the counter, trying to remember if he'd seen the echidna before.

The only instance he could pull forth was a mere possibility; a red BMW speeding down the street as he and Rouge enjoyed warm beverages outside the shop. Although it could've been anyone driving such a vehicle, it was the only conclusion he could draw, as there hadn't been anyone around the first time he'd spoken to her.

"Pathetic," Shadow mumbled to himself as he rolled along his skates to stand behind Knuckles.

As time began to speed back up, the Ultimate Lifeform hooked one foot under the echidna's legs and pushed them out from under him. Knuckles dropped, the forward momentum of his punch slamming his jaw onto the countertop as he fell. He let out an agonized shout as he tumbled to the floor, then clutched his muzzle and grabbed the counter to pull himself up.

Shaking, the echidna's eyes watered and he continued to groan in anguish. A splitting headache shocked through his skull and he remained kneeled on the floor while Shadow stood away from him, his baritone voice cutting through the otherwise quiet coffee shop.

"Get out of here. I don't want to have to expend any more energy on you."

Knuckles turned and glared up at him, attempting to speak but immediately clutching his mouth again before finally standing. Shadow remained on the defensive as the echidna chose to leave, his crimson gaze following the attacker until he was out the door.

He watched Knuckles climb into the same BMW that he had seen the evening before – initially invisible as he had parked in the farthest spot from the entrance – and made a mental note to speak with Rouge about the enraged echidna.

***

As the three of them were eating their respective meals, Blaze prodded Rouge about where she had run off to the previous day. "You said it would be good, so let's hear it."

"I met someone interesting the other day," the bat answered, trying to keep her smile from turning into a grin.

Silver's eyes widened a bit. "Woah, already? I knew you were quick about picking up new guys, but that has to be a record."

"Hey!" she retorted playfully, stabbing a piece of chicken with her fork. "This one doesn't count, okay; probably the first time I wasn't trying to find a lover after a breakup."

The hedgehog argued through a mouthful of pasta salad, "Well, it's extra impressive, then."

He covered his mouth when Blaze made a disgusted face, using his telekinesis to pull a napkin from the dispenser. The lemon-eyed cat turned to Rouge and said, "So, tell us about him."

The bat swallowed her food as a faint pink shade flushed across her cheeks. "He's this hedgehog who works at a coffee shop in town; small place, never been, so I'd never seen him before."

"Right, because you only go to clubs," Blaze interjected, chuckling.

"Exactly," Rouge smirked. Her gestures became more expressive when she started describing Shadow. "Anyway, he's kind of mysterious and moody – has 'grump' written all over his face. But he seems like a quiet guy, sort of reserved. Black hair with bright red highlights, the most striking cherry-red eyes I've ever seen; and handsome like you wouldn't believe!"

"Aw," the princess piped, her expression softening as she placed a hand on Silver's arm. He continued eating and nodded along to Rouge's story.

"I met him right after I dumped Knuckles. Just stopped at a random shop for a cup of tea." She purposely lowered her energy and took a sip from her champagne glass, then chuckled a little. "He made the most awkward small talk while I was sitting there; just had my heart broken, and there was a guy I would've never expected to approach me, talking so calmly that I actually felt like the world was slowing down. He had invited me to go back, so that's where I went after Knuckles picked up his stuff."

"Sounds like a connection to me!" said Blaze, returning to her meal. "Are you going to see him again?"

Rouge couldn't stop herself from grinning while she stabbed another chunk of chicken. "We have a dinner date tomorrow. It would've been tonight, but I already had plans with you two."

"Well, Rouge, you could've gone out with him tonight!" Blaze protested supportively. "We would've completely understood."

The bat shrugged and rolled her eyes in lieu of a response, her mouth full. Silver took the opportunity to cut in with a comment of his own.

"I'm glad things are looking up so quickly for you. You really deserve it, after the shit Knux pulled?" He shook his head. "Man, I'm just glad he got double-dumped."

Blaze laughed, making the hedgehog smile and chuckle as well. Rouge thanked him earnestly, then the three of them finished the last bits of their meals. They decided to order dessert, and the jewel hunter shifted the conversation over to Silver and Blaze. They discussed new developments over tiramisu, talking about the renovations they were making to their home, as well as a trip they were planning.

At the end of the night, Silver brought them home again and made sure Rouge was alright to drive. Her single glass of champagne hadn't impaired her enough to crash, so they said their goodbyes and the bat drove home with the window down. She enjoyed the rushing wind flicking through her hair as the radio played a smooth jazzy beat accompanied by inspirational lyrics; and when she arrived home, she pulled out her phone and quickly deleted every picture of Knuckles from her gallery.

#sonic fanfiction #ship fanfic #rouge's heart #rouge's heart chapter 5 #dracaria fics #shadouge #shadrouge #anti-knuxouge #rouge the bat #shadow the hedgehog #blaze the cat #silver the hedgehog #knuckles the echidna #silvaze #writing

10 notes · View notes