#she can afford to think about the realities

[the-fourchette]

"Because you weakened me"

I tend to over analyse too much but aren't those two scenes a parallel ?

1/ Mel's position

In both frames Mel is positioned to the left of her interlocutors (Ambessa and Jayce). In both pictures, she's the vulnerable one, she's barely listened to and her words have "no weight" (but the contexts are important!)

2/ Context

In the first situation, Mel advocates for the mercy of the young heir of a conquered nation (I guess)

As a result, Ambessa banished Mel because of her softness. Her mother needed her to be far away from her so she could accomplish her bigger missions. She literally said that she couldn't look at her in her eyes because Mel weakens her resolve to do what's necessary for her family (i.e conquering lands through wars but also protecting her family, and more precisely protecting Mel from the Black rose).

In the second situation, she explains to Jayce that her whole life had been a lie and she can't control it because of her family and powers.

Jayce listens and coldly leaves Mel to fulfill his greater mission : saving the world from his "misdeeds". He gives her a dull but meaningful pep talk. And, he, too as a hard time looking at her in the eyes. Jayce knows Mel and he knows that she needs to feel approved and validated, he genuinely loves her and believes in her strenght and intelligence. I think that's why, besides her revelation, he specifically chose those last words to encourage her (i.e "You are not a passenger").

I don't know if I am reaching but it seems like in a teeny tiny moment, they want to hug but both refrain from it. Almost as if they are restraining themselves to have physical contact. Mel has to cross her hands. Their posture is unnatural and awkward, the perfect opposite of how they usually behave around each other.

Jayce usually let himself be soft and vulnerable with Mel, she's his confidant, but this time he couldn't afford to do that for the greater good. There is a deep sorrow in his eyes when he manages to look at her (is he also ashamed because he weaponized hextech when she fought not to ?). He knows he couldn't count on her help and comfort this time. He couldn't cave in and melt into her arms (or lap). He can't be "weak". Maybe, Jayce knew she would weaken his firm resolve.... So that's why, like Ambessa, he has a hard time looking at her.

3/ "There is no force in this world that can control you"

He's also resignated and defeated because he knows that he's definitely a passenger. (And he doesn't want that for her, I suppose...). He's in pain and he knows that he's risking death (or he's already dying because of his hexcorized arm).

Feels like this line is almost a jab to Mage Viktor who, in hindsight, dictated/manipulated his whole life.... He says he's confused about a lot lately, that's the sentence of someone who discovers that his whole life was a "lie". But he also feels responsible for all the bad decisions he made and he's determined to fix it. Little does he know how much Mel and him have in common : kidnapped and tortured in alternative/future worlds, and controlled and coveted by people who needs them for what they could bring to them (Mage Viktor and the Black Rose).

Anyway, Jayce never told Mel what happened to him so the poor woman must feel so unworth and unloved, again. In reality, Jayce was protecting her and the city from an apocalypse and her mom was protecting her from the black rose.

She seems quite done but unfazed after Jayce's speech, seems like a familiar feeling to her. She's used to be cast away at this point, right ? As an empath, I'm pretty sure she's devastated but she can't be "weak" too (that's why she was exiled after all). She also knows that they are going to war, so no time for self pity.

This scene is so frustrating because I can understand why Jayce is so cold and distant, he's pained, he knows he's risking death. But at the same, he feels so OOC (which is not that stupid because it's not everyday that he had to face an apocalypse...)

I don't know, I'm just trying to make sense of this scene. But maybe I'm just reaching and it's not that deep (because season 2 is a parallel fest, so much parallels just for the sake of "parallelling"....)

[top-pleng]

Anin... the ring is such a great romantic gesture but what exactly is the plan for when someone asks Pin why she is wearing a bigass engagement ring 😭😭😭

like if she was someone else it could work as a way to ward off suitors but she can't exactly lie and come up with a convoluted story about a fiancée or husband who is away.

[bluinary]

Mixing and matching Ren Fest Fionna looks :) I think I'm going to go with # 1!

[rawan-soso]

As the adults struggle to find food and keep a roof over everyone’s heads, the children of northern Gaza also have their own struggles. Their mental health is in a horrible state.

I hesitated to talk about this. I don’t want people to think we have so many donations that we can afford to buy my sister toys. It’s not that we can afford it. It’s just that sometimes we have to skip a meal to buy something for her because the boredom is making her even more depressed. She has severe trauma, she has seen bombs dismember people, she has escaped multiple massacres with us. But now the other kids in the building keep breaking her toys while playing and we can't buy a new one immediately, because there are more urgent things. The cheapest thing in northern Gaza right now is makeup, because no one needs it, so I bought some. I apply it on myself and Soso to make her happy, but I don’t always have the energy or time to play with her. I’m exhausted, sick and malnourished, and I still have to do chores and spend hours at the market looking for the most affordable food, clothes, and hopefully medicine.

We have many expenses that we don’t talk about because people won’t see them as vital. Phone chargers (only used ones that die fast, because new ones are insanely expensive). A fee for the neighbors who have the internet router. Phone bills and data. Toys for the children. School books and private tutors for students.

You’re right, it wouldn’t be vital if the war had only lasted for a week. But it’s been more than a year. Our children’s mental health is destroyed, especially children as young as Soso who is only 4 years old and whose brain is developing in a genocide. Students can’t just stop studying for all this time. My other sister missed her entire last year of high school, but she wants to take university entrance exams. Dropping out of university because of the war has killed everything in me. I can’t let her experience the same kind of loss, so I pay for her books, for paper and printing, for private tutoring classes.

I had to buy three phone chargers in a month. The first one was $70. Days later, it was $100. Two days ago, a neighbor fried the second charger, and the new one was $200. I cried that day, because it wasn't even my fault. The prices of everything keep going up and I feel like I’m going insane. Even our landlord tried to increase the rent. It’s okay if I sacrifice meals. I’m used to hunger. But I have three younger siblings and I can’t watch them lose even more than they already have. I want them to study and play. I want them to eat and stay warm.

Please help me. When all of this is over, I’ll get my degree, find a good job, and I’ll never ask for anything again. But as long as the war keeps going, I need your help. I promise your donations don’t go to waste. Food and rent will always be the priority. Soso and my grandmother are the first beneficiaries. We always think carefully before buying anything. I hope we can reach the final goal soon, and that it will cover all expenses until the war ends, because I’m so tired of relying on strangers. I hate asking for money. I’m eternally grateful to anyone who helps, but the guilt won’t fade, because I wanted to be an independent girl and help my family myself. I'm exhausted and depressed.

My campaign is vetted! ✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #347 )✅️

Forgive me, you shared before and it helped a lot so I ask you to please share again @kerosene-saint @andnowanowl @omegasmileyface @4c-aperture @bahrmp3 @dhmiss55-blog @woodesnake @original-character-chaos @revalentinee @rapogirl13 @gorillawithautism @xerxestexastoast @kyoukainokanata @rabiesrabiesdog @rainyrebloggin @ok1237 @isummonedadragon @pro-pin-prinny @boxheadpaint @rukafais @butcklinkle @earlysunsetting @ceeberoni @strangeauthor @the–pony-box @blurrycow @nabulsi @90-ghost

[somehowukook]

(On going) Jungkook fics that totally worth the wait. PT. 1. *:･ﾟ✧

I decided to share some ongoing FFs that I’m completely obsessed with.

Minors under no circumstances can interact with my posts.

Hi guys,💕

(I usually wait for authors to finish posting so I can hyperfocus, disappear from reality, and binge-read everything in one go—but these are so good that waiting for each chapter is totally worth it).

Let’s go!

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Teach me how to love by @kookooluvr

fwb2l, slow burn

Jeon jungkook, a fellow professor at yonsei university, is your friend, co-worker, and secret bed buddy. you have rules set in place to make sure there are no misunderstandings in your little arrangement. the #1 rule is as clear as day; no catching feelings. simple, right? wrong. let's see how un-simple it gets when a certain economics professor falls for an emotionally unavailable political science professor.

I love how we get wrapped up in the story, how the OC has walls up, and how JK breaks them down so gently. He’s so sweet, so soft, and so sure about his feelings—his patience is top-tier. And when he’s in bed… damn, a whole different side comes out. That duality hits me hard. I need one of these for myself. 😮‍💨🔥

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Wounds we never show by @smartkookiee

E2L

You and Jungkook have always at each other's throats, bound by a mutual disdain that runs deep. You both would rather step into traffic than be alone together. But when a chance encounter at a wedding leads to an unexpected and forbidden arrangement, the lines between enemies and something more begin to blur.

This is one of my all-time faves! I love a good E2L, but the way this one unfolds… you don’t really know how it started—you just piece it together through flashbacks while they’re getting real close with some 🔥 scenes. Seriously, chef’s kiss! 😙👌

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Fuck me up! by @jungkoode

E2L , RoomatesAU

A story about ruined expectations & reckless decisions ˎˊ˗

When your search for affordable NYC housing leads you to apartment 6B, you think you've hit the jackpot. That is, until you realize your new roommate is the guy from that one wild night on January - the one who ruined you for anyone else. Now you're stuck sharing walls with the living embodiment of your worst mistake, and the sexual tension is thick enough to choke on. Between his emotional damage and your trust issues, this arrangement is a disaster waiting to happen.

But hey, at least the hate sex is phenomenal.

What can I even say about the story that introduced me to my fairy godmother of ffs? Kiki is brilliant, and I love how she interacts with us! But about the story- imagine getting stuck in an apartment with the most unbearable roommate... who also happens to be the best sex of your life. Not sure if it's E2L or Enemies with Benefits— your call, haha. Either way, it's amazing! The best part? It's total crack (but also no) but still unfolds so well, and I just know l'll be left face down on the floor for hours.��🫠🫠

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2U ⭑.ᐟ by @numinousher

E2L, roommates. SMAU.

The two of you become roommates after being cheated on. how will you and jungkook handle your new life together when one blasts sad music and cries their heart out until they don’t have anymore tears, and the other watches rom-coms movies and cries about the life they could’ve had?

It’s a mess, but this JK? Walking green flag. Absolute sweetheart and so protective… ugh, I’m in love! 🩷 And i love the way he gets her vocabulary haha giiiirl

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Bloodlines entwined by @spideyjimin

WerewolfAU, pregnancy

Having a baby alone was supposed to be easy. but an accidental twist of fate pulled you into a hidden world of werewolves, and ancient bloodlines. navigating your already complicated life becomes even harder as you uncover your past; one tied to a legacy you never knew existed. and in the middle of this chaos stands jungkook, the werewolf king… and the father of your child.  

Look, I'm not really into werewolf stories. I read them, enjoy them, love the possessiveness and all, but for some reason, I've never really gotten hooked. At least, not until this one. Damn, my dream is to acidentally get pregnant by this wolf king right here, haha! WOOF WOOF 👀 🐺

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Colour me in by @taegularities

Fwb, fake dating, college!au

Jungkook's door only opens for you when there's a barter: a trade of lust and haze. But today you knock for something more, as intriguing as it is frightening – and you hope it doesn't close his door forever.

Rid starts with a solid fake dating plot, and before you know it, all your emotions are scattered across Tumblr. For me, this FF is one of the all-time classics of Tumblr. It’s one of those to frame, read, and re-read. I’m telling you, so many scenes made me go back and read them again. When I found CMI, I was find on chap 5 and had no idea what was going on, but it was written so well I couldn’t stop the chapter, then I started from the begining. NOBODY IS GOING TO REGREAT READ THIS. In one scene i was so inspired, that i painted a giant canva.

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This is the pt.1.

Please lmk your thoughts!!!!

Soon I’ll be back with more. Kissus kissus! Beijooooo 💕💕

[spacelazarwolf]

a year ago, i was celebrating simchat torah when my rabbi interrupted the services to let us know there had been an attack on israel. we didn’t know how bad yet, but we prayed everything would be alright. the rest of the service went on as planned, but there was a chill in the air, like we knew something had changed. something big. but we didn’t quite understand it yet.

a year ago, i watched people i’d followed for years celebrate a gruesome massacre of over a thousand human beings before we even really knew what had happened. i watched anons pour into my inbox, demanding i condemn israel even though israel hadn’t even retaliated yet.

a year ago, i talked to my nonna on facetime for her birthday. she was in her 90s and wasn’t as present anymore, and i could barely focus because my thoughts were thousands of miles away. i promised her i’d call her the next day but my next day became scrolling past horrific photos and videos i didn’t want to see, posts celebrating the attacks, posts telling people that if they didn’t celebrate the attacks that they were bad people. she died two weeks later and the same people sharing the posts celebrating the massacre sent me messages telling me it was good my nonna was dead, or extremely crude and disgusting messages about what they wanted to do to her dead body because she was “probably a zionist.”

a year ago, i worked at a synagogue that started getting dozens of calls and emails from people, across the spectrum from neo nazis to evangelical christians to radical leftists saying the most horrific things, telling us it was our fault, that we had to do something, that it was on us. we were responsible. an anon told me i was a zionist because i had a zionist language on my blog (hebrew) and worked at a zionist institution (synagogue).

a year ago, i started losing friends one by one after many of them started to share posts justifying or celebrating the massacre or memes created by neo nazis, some of which didn’t even bother to sub out “jews” for “zionists” but they shared them anyway. i was pushed out of an activist group after months of begging them to stop using antisemitic language because i had the audacity to tell a white gentile in the group not to say racist things about a black indigenous jew behind her back, and said gentile told me he didn’t have to listen to me and that he could “claim” the holocaust too because his ancestors were from eastern europe.

a year ago, i watched in real time as the world i thought i knew, the world in which jews had a future and safety in the united states, crumbled day after day. people that previously went out of their way to take care of me and support me decided that because i didn’t feel comfortable marching alongside pictures of hitler i must be a zionist and therefore no longer belonged. the person processing my government aid didn’t want to approve me because i worked for a synagogue part time and argued that the synagogue should just pay me more because “they can afford it.” my synagogue, which has been involved in social justice since its founding several decades ago, along with its rabbis who have been just as involved, were abandoned by the communities they had put their blood, sweat, and tears into advocating for when they had the audacity to grieve for the dead of october 7th.

a year ago, i learned the hard way that we are not special in this time. antisemitism is a river that has ebbed and flowed for thousands of years, and i felt like a fool for thinking a dam could be built overnight.

a lot of people say that every day of this year for them has been october 7th, but for me every day has been october 8th. the day after the initial shock, when reality started to sink in. the realization that all the people who had shared “happy rosh hashanah” posts or complimented my kippah or pretended to care about harry potter goblins were quickly dropping the facade. that my token minority card had expired and now having a jew in their group didn’t look diverse, it looked “sympathetic toward israel.” every day has been a painful reminder that no one else is grieving like we are, and a large number of those people are angry that we are grieving. they don’t understand that we’re not just grieving the lives lost and the hostages. we’re grieving for the world we thought we knew, a world where we might have a chance to thrive like we did in the golden age of spain. but those golden years are ending. and that is one of the things we are grieving.

a lot of people also say that they wish they could go back to who they were on october 6th, but i don’t. i’m glad the illusion was shattered, that i can see more clearly who will stand with jews even if they face backlash, who will challenge their antisemitic biases and do the hard work to unlearn them, and who did not have to be asked twice to share literal nazi rhetoric if it meant feeling like a hero. i’m glad the masks are coming off because it means you can’t gaslight us anymore and tell us it’s all in our heads. we can see you for exactly who you are now. and we will not let you break us.

i don’t want to be living forever in october. i don’t want the blissful ignorance of october 6th, but i also don’t want the bitter anger of october 8th. i want to stand up for what i believe in, to celebrate my culture and my people, and no amount of intimidation or harassment will keep me from loving my jewishness. you have shown me i can no longer live in october 6th, but i refuse to let you keep me in october 8th.

[zorosangell]

zoro and his girl who are always bickering and fighting and breaking up and getting back together again. atp, the other straw hats are used to it now. I can also imagine zoro NEVER apologizes and his idea of getting back together with his girl again is just acting like buisness as usual (just going back to her and sitting with her, throwing his arm around her shoulder, kissin her cheek, acting like nothing ever happened, etc) and usually, she’s receptive to it. Because even though she’s as stubborn as zoro (maybe even more), she hates arguing (and loves him too much).

but imagine during one of their arguments, Nami drags her out to go shopping at a island they stopped by, and she sees all these happy couples holding hands and being affectionate and just being sweet and soft with each other. she realizes…zoro is never sweet and soft with her. and he NEVER says I’m sorry (I imagine maybe she sees an arguing couple in the market, but the guy comes with flowers and an apology and it makes her wonder). She makes up her mind, she won’t take him back until he says those words, no matter what. I know this isn’t so descriptive, but I’d love to see you take on this! ❤️

⛥ﾟ・。 pit

synopsis: time and time again zoro has forgotten about your outings, leaving you dressed up and alone on several occasions. but after nami witnesses it in person, she finally puts her foot down... and you finally confront your swordsman.

cw: angst, very little comfort, happy-ish ending (left up for interpretation), zoro's kind of an asshole, nami's a girl's girl, reader is better than me.

a/n: listen to promise by laufey or casual by chappell roan if you want the full experience. i've never written a trifling zoro before this was crazy

"Why don't you stop wasting my time and give me a real discount?" Nami asked, firmly slamming her fist on the counter.

"Please don't be angry! I'm doing my best!" the cashier apologized, "But, c'mon, I can't take fifty percent off no matter how much you buy. They're marked down enough already!"

The man looked to be on the brink of tears, and you couldn't help but snicker.

"Nami, leave the poor man alone..." you smiled, feeling a little bad for him, "He's just doing his job. And besides, it's not like you can't afford it."

"Nope," she denied, popping the p as she grabbed another humongous pile of clothes. "It's the principle of the matter, (y/n). If I have the option to pay for something half-off, why would I pay full price?"

"They're not half-off!"

"Besides..." her gaze drifted to your outfit, a small pout settling on her lips as she looked you up and down with saddened eyes. "I can see that you are clearly trying to out-glam me, so I gotta glam back!"

She turned to the cashier, placing down the new pile.

"You drive a hard bargain. I'll buy these, too. But I want ninety percent off."

The man nearly fainted and you laughed, surprised by Nami's playful rivalry.

"Nami, you've owned more clothes than I've ever worn. I think it's safe to say that between the two of us, you're the one that's out-glamming me," you assured, resting your cheek in your palm as you leaned on the counter.

"But look at you!" she playfully whined. "Your outfit is killer! And your hair is on point, too!"

Though, just as quick as she examined your outfit, she realized that it was really good.

Too good to be shopping in.

"Wait, (y/n), were you supposed to be going somewhere? Why are y—"

The moment your face fell, the glimmer in your eyes dimming at the memory, reality finally donned on the navigator, hitting her like a sea train at top speed.

He did it again.

Anger rushed through the woman's veins like wildfire, her face not even attempting to conceal her fury as it twisted into an expression of absolute rage.

You knew it all too well.

"Nami, ple—" "I'll KILL HIM!"

The clothes on the counter were suddenly a thing of the past as the red-haired woman drew her Clima-Takt and stormed toward the exit of the boutique, the dangerous aura she was emanating sending a shiver down even your spine.

Like magnets, everything began to click for the woman.

The beautiful outfit.

The done-up hair.

The glum look on your face.

'That bastard stood her up again!'

That's why you had been wandering around town aimlessly.

You were waiting for him.

This scenario had become commonplace over the past several months you and the green-haired swordsman had been dating, much to Nami's severe indignation.

It was always the same.

You and Zoro would plan a date.

Zoro would get caught up training, or get caught up drinking, or just plain, old fucking forget.

You would end up alone, having gone through all the trouble and embarrassment.

She would have to console you, and you would have to keep her from bashing his head in.

Then you'd have to face the jerk the next day, who, instead of apologizing, simply acted like nothing ever happened.

As if the entire ship see how utterly crushed you were.

And then the whole cycle would repeat the following week.

Nami was sick of it.

'This shit ends today.'

"Nami, please! It's not worth it!" you ran out the store and after her, grabbing onto her arm. "It's not gonna change anything!"

"The hell it isn't!" she barked, brows cinched tightly together. "(y/n), I won't stand for this anymore! This is what?! The twentieth time?!"

"Twenty-third... but I'm not counting..." you corrected, meekly.

"(Y/N)!"

"I know! I know!" you sighed, plopping yourself down on the curb, defeated. "I don't know what's wrong with me..."

"There's nothing wrong with you! There's something wrong with him not realizing just how much of a fucking catch you are!" she groaned, exasperatedly, as she threw her hands in the air. "Twenty-three times, that bastard... I oughta chip his swords twenty-three times."

"I guess... I just don't get why..." you mumbled, looking down at your lap with glassy eyes. "Is it me? Am I doing something wrong?"

Nami turned to you, heart aching at your saddened form.

"Don't think that for another second!" she denied, quickly moving to take a seat next to you, pulling you into a small side hug. "You've done absolutely nothing to deserve this. Zoro's just being a real jackass."

"But there has to be some reason," you attempted to rationalize, tone rising. "Does he not care? Am I just that insignificant that he can't even waste an hour or two to spend time with me? His girlfriend?"

"That's what I've been saying!" Nami agreed, loudly, calling the attention of some passersby. "(y/n), you've given him chance after chance after chance, and he still hasn't cleaned up his act."

She gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, flashing you a sincere smile.

"I'm not saying you have to break up with him, unless that's what you want to do, but I'm saying that you really need to realize just how amazing you are, and hold him accountable for his actions."

Shooting up from her seat, she stood before you, pointing a manicured finger at your chest.

"You're the prize, girl! You're strong, smart, kind, compassionate, and drop-dead gorgeous! What guy wouldn't want that!" she turned to a few of the men passing by, a smile on her face. "Right?"

"YES!" they cheered, eagerly.

Your face burned with embarrassment.

"Nami!"

"You get my point!" she laughed, resting her hand on her hip. "You deserve someone who will treat you like the princess you are. Whether that's Zoro or not is up to you, but know that his track record begs to differ..."

Taking a moment, you let her words sink in, your confidence rising slowly but surely.

Maybe you were that great...

Maybe you did deserve more...

Maybe it was time to start anew...

"Y'know what... you're right! It's time for a change!" you smiled, slowly standing up from the curb. "No more tears!"

"Nope!" Nami cheered, proudly.

"No more excuses!"

"None of 'em!"

"No more pretending!"

"Not around here!"

"From now on, I'm gonna start living life for me! And if that means going out clubbing tonight and getting drunk to forget my problems, then so be it!"

"Y'know what, I'll take it! Let's go!" Nami squealed, the two of you quickly charging back into the boutique.

You couldn't fight off your smile, your shoulders feeling like an insurmountable weight had been lifted off them.

For the first time in a while, things didn't seem so bleak.

"Ooo, I think I saw the perfect revenge dress for you, (y/n)! It's gorgeous!"

Walking out of the girls' quarters, you felt like a million bucks—and were probably wearing it too with the amount of money you and Nami spent in town.

But price be damned, the result was phenomenal.

The provocative dress.

The decadent perfume.

The glittering jewelry.

The leg-extending heels.

You were absolutely breath-taking.

Not to say that you weren't before, but just significantly more so.

The dress itself was just the right amount of short, and helped carve out your curves deliciously.

Your hair was done courtesy of the ship's archaeologist, its style elegant yet loose to fit the club scene you were going to.

And your skin was practically glowing thanks to the oils Nami had picked up in the market.

So, it was safe to say you were at least a quadruple threat.

Looking down at yourself, you smiled, feeling like the prettiest woman in the world.

No longer concerned with the feelings of others, or the wrong-doings of yourself, you felt freer than you'd ever had.

And you had Nami to thank for it all.

'For finally knocking some sense into me...'

Sensing someone's presence, you pulled yourself out of your thoughts, only to see your swordsman standing right before you.

His eyes dragged over your body, almost analytically, a grin rising to his lips.

It seemed he finished his training early...

"Where are you goin' all dressed up?" he smirked, his hand coming up to rest on your hip, pulling you closer. "You look good... an' smell good, too."

Quickly, you pushed yourself out of his grasp, your legs pressing forward to stride across the balcony, leaving the him to stand there, surprised.

You had never pushed him away before, much less ignored him.

'What the hell?'

"What's the matter with you?" Zoro's voice lowered an octave, brows furrowed in confusion as he followed after you.

You didn't answer, keeping your gaze trained ahead as you pressed on, heading toward the stairs that led off the Sunny.

"(y/n)," he tried again, voice slightly firmer, as he grabbed your arm, stopping you in your tracks. "(y/n), what the hell's your problem? Where are you going?"

Harshly, you flung his hand off, brows slowly beginning to crease at his audacity.

He was acting like nothing happened.

Again.

He knew exactly why you were fucking upset, but was making the choice to completely ignore it in favor of acting stupid and playing in your face.

Your jaw set tight, all your thoughts grinding to a screeching halt.

For the first time ever, anger and resentment began to claw at your chest, your hand itching to rise up and slap him right across the cheek.

Enough was enough.

"Don't fuckin' touch me," you spat, voice dripping with venom as you went back to walking. "I don't wanna see you right now."

"See me?" his brows furrowed as his finger pointed toward his chest, now even more confused. "The hell did I do?!"

Or maybe he was just fucking stupid...

Either way, you finally cracked.

"IT'S WHAT YOU DON'T DO, ZORO!" you roared, whipping back around to face him, the man flinching at your volume. "FOR GOD'S SAKE, IT'S ALWAYS BEEN WHAT YOU DON'T DO!"

The leak in the dam of your heart had finally turned into a full-on flood, and you were now outpouring months upon months upon months of pent up anger.

"You stand me up! You forget our dates! You make it abundantly clear that you would much rather spend the day nursing a sake bottle than with me!" you scoffed, throwing an exasperated hand in the air. "Do you even remember what we were supposed to do today?!"

The swordsman paused a moment, scouring his brain for recollection of the event.

"Hey, Zo'," you piped up from your spot in the corner, shutting the book Robin had loaned you. "I'm gettin' kinda hungry. You wanna grab lunch?"

He nodded, grinding out another squat as he lowered his knees to a ninety-degree angle, somehow perfectly controlling the two ton weight on his back.

"Yeah, you go on ahead," he grunted, holding the position. "I'll catch up. Gonna finish up this set."

"'Kay," you nodded, flashing him an eager smile. "I'll meet you at that sushi place we saw in town."

Zoro's eye shot wide, a sudden sense of dread sinking in his stomach as he finally remembered.

"Oh, shit..."

"Yeah... Oh, shit," you scoffed, turning to head off the ship. "I'm done with this..."

"Woah, woah, woah, wait a minute," he grabbed your arm once again, pulling you back. "(y/n), it was an accident... I didn't mean it."

"How the hell am I supposed to know that?! You never fucking apologize!" you yelled, jerking sharply away from his grasp. "At least that way it could seem like you're at least trying to pretend you care about me!"

"Of course, I care about you, (y/n)!"

"YOU CERTAINLY DON'T ACT LIKE IT!" your voice cracked.

He halted, expression falling and chest tugging with pain as a few stray tears fell down your cheeks.

You were hurting... bad.

And it was all his fault.

All of the times he left you hanging, all of the times he screwed up.

They were all coming back to haunt him, each one doubling the weight of the sinking pit in his stomach.

How could he have not seen?

You had been so patient with him—never raising your voice, never holding a grudge—and he supposed his mind had unconsciously took that as the green-light to proceed.

Granted, he never forgot anything or stood you up out of malice or actual lack of care.

It just... slipped his mind.

Though, in that, he could see where his thinking was flawed, and where you could find a problem.

"Am I... just that forgettable to you?" you asked, voice suddenly small.

Zoro snapped himself out of his thoughts, eye wide at your tone.

It sounded so distant.

"Of course, not, (y/n)," he quickly denied, lurching forward to hold you out of instinct. "I—"

But you stepped back, avoiding his grasp as your arms raised to hug yourself, hoping to keep everything together.

"Every time I look at you, I feel more alone," you continued, letting out a few sniffles. "I'm always, always reaching out to you, always down for whatever you want to do. But you just... never reach back... and you don't even bother to apologize..."

Glancing out at the sunset, you fought off the wobble of your lip, hugging yourself even tighter.

"Zoro... I can't be with someone that doesn't care about me..."

That's when everything suddenly came to a screeching halt.

Zoro felt like the words cut right through his chest, tearing through his heart and opening it up like force hell-bent on making him see.

He'd rarely felt this feeling, but he knew what it was instantly.

Fear.

"(y/n), don't do this," he started, panic slowly spiking in his veins. "I'm sorry for being such an idiot... but we can work this out. This doesn't have to be... it doesn't have to end like this..."

"But it does," you countered, quickly. "It isn't like this is your first time doing this, Zoro... or your third... or your tenth... or even your twentieth."

You scoffed, half-laughing at the situation.

"If I hadn't said anything, you probably would've made it to thirty."

Zoro's chest stung at the comment, the man almost letting out a wince.

It was harsh... but not without truth.

"I'm freeing myself of all of this, Zoro. I deserve better," you stated, firmly, slowly regaining your confidence as you turned away, heading for the stairs. "This conversation is over. And thanks to you, I'm late."

The swordsman looked just about ready to shit his pants, the finality of your words scaring him more than any enemy.

You were his girl.

His best friend.

His ray of sunshine.

Seeing you so upset, so jaded, because of his actions?

He felt like shit.

And, in that moment, he honestly wanted nothing more than to hold you.

To shower you with a thousand apologies.

To make it up to you in any and every way he could possible conceive.

But you were slipping through his fingers like smoke, blowing father and farther away.

"(y/n)... please..." he tried one final time, voice softer than you'd ever heard it before as he carefully grabbed your wrist.

And you nearly broke, the sound of his voice pulling a sharp string on your heart, nearly making you take everything back.

But Nami's words from earlier replayed in your mind, and you fought the feeling, pulling your arm away.

You had to stay strong, for both your sakes.

"We're done, Zoro," you finished, finally descending down the steps. "I'm moving on."

The swordsman watched as you disappeared in front of him, now suddenly feeling as if you were worlds away.

He'd finally done it.

He'd pushed you over the edge.

And rather than feeling angry or upset, or even sorry for himself, he felt empty.

Truly and utterly empty.

The rest of the crew watched from cracked doors and open windows as the man stood there, staring at the place you had once stood like he was in a trance.

Nobody wanted things to turn out this way.

It was clear as day that the both of you loved each other a great deal... but Zoro needed this.

He needed the wake up call.

And now that he was presented with all the necessary truth, he could finally work toward remedying the situation; and, by the will of the Gods, making up his dizzying amount of transgressions against you.

It would be hard work, and for the first time in his life, he would have to be completely vulnerable.

But the crew believed in him.

And the crew believed in you, too.

The both of you would come back from this stronger than ever.

And Zoro would come back to the crow's nest with a calendar hanging front and center on the door.

Courtesy of the ship's navigator.

[rayroseu]

Always wrecks me up that Meleanor is as forgotten as Knight of Dawn is, that even her son doesn't remember her.

Just like Silver, Lilia didn't inform him of his identity as a Silver Owl so that Silver can live without guilt of the atrocities his original kingdom did.

But, I think, in Malleus' case, Lilia and Maleficia (I think) didn't inform him too much about Meleanor's demise, not so much because they don't want to guilt Malleus about her sacrifice to him, that's a part of it, but I also think it was more so that his hatred for humans wouldn't go deeper. Especially since he was raised in the castle with only the Senates and pure faes who has limited interaction with humans, so naturally he grew disliking humans too (until he met Silver).

As we know, Malleus is very attached to his past, that's why in Book 7, he's having a hard time to let go. Even his interests mirrors his tight attachment to the past, i.e his fascination on history, ruins, antiques, abandoned places, etc.

I think in an alternate reality where he had knew about every detail that happened on Meleanor and Levan and the faes on Wild rose Castle basically, his view on humankind would be even more negative. He might even reject his invitation on NRC just like Gen. Lilia did. And, unlike Lilia, since Malleus always attaches to the past and not on the possible future, he might even never give chance that he can get along with humans.

I know its popular analysis that Meleanor and Malleus are different, but to me, they're fundamentally the same person, just raised in a different environment. Meleanor was never given a chance to see a good side of the humans, Malleus was like that for a bit, even in NRC, he still held his deep rooted belief that he really doesn't believe that humans would understand faes as Lilia hopes (Dorm Uniform Vignette). Malleus and Meleanor are the "same person" but Malleus just "had the chance to not know" the entire history of it, so that he can form his own opinion about it as he grows up.

Even if he grew up knowing it, it would be immature to stay on his hatred for humans for so long (I think Malleus would do this considering his trait of being attached to the past) and I think Lilia and Maleficia didnt want Malleus to grow up like that,, they must usher him to a better future yk.

Its just that its tragic that for Malleus to grow up and take a chance towards a better future, he has to forget major things about his mother and all the sacrifices that his family made, just so he wouldn't be "stuck with it. "

Maybe in a reality where Malleus does know every detail of his history, but just that, it would take a long time for him to let go of his guilt and hatred, that by the time he's ready to forgive humankind, Lilia might not be there to guide him anymore.

I think I read an analysis back then (or was it a legit line in game?? lol) that Malleus shouldve been in Briar Valley for just a bit longer instead of suddenly transferring to NRC where there'll be too many culture shock for him, he's just not entirely capable yet of balancing his feelings and power, but I think Maleficia/Lilia couldn't afford to have that much time to emotionally grow Malleus in Briar Valley, for the reason that by the time Malleus would be in control of his power and feelings, Lilia wouldn't be there anymore to guard him in NRC and guide him about human culture. (He says his magic weakens over the years)

I feel like Maleficia only agreed to take Malleus to NRC bcs Lilia will be there, he's the perfect guide for Malleus to have with in NRC, he's strong so he can physically protect him while also being a wise person that can teach Malleus about understanding humans while still upholding his fae values. Other guards wouldn't be suitable. Silver and Sebek are not fully trained, Baul is an advisor now not a soldier and he wouldn't be a great guide to have in human society lol So, she has to take that chance while Lilia is still here, even if Malleus is just "too young."

side note: what if thats also the reason why Maleficia let go of Meleanor to Wild Rose Castle alkfdklsd She trusted Lilia and Levan would protect her and they did yet even so.... 😭😭😭 I feel like its so tragic that everytime Maleficia let go of Meleanor/Malleus, they're always leading into a danger where she cannot reach and help them (on Meleanor's case, the communication on Black Scale and Wild Rose was disrupted bcs every envoy that Lilia and other soldiers sent to inform Maleficia that Wild Rose was besieged was all killed by the Silver Owls, so Maleficia knew too late. On Malleus' case, it would be too risky for her to just suddenly show up on Sage Island, it would leave Briar Valley in a very vulnerable state with no Draconia residing in their land, STYX is calling her to meet Malleus but I think many faes would disagree on their plan bcs that's exactly the type of situation that cornered Meleanor years ago, Levan/Malleus is lost and in danger so Meleanor/Maleficia has to save them, if you think about it in Briar Valley's view, it feels like a trap lol. It's not an easy decision to just let go of their only Draconia ruler to a human territory and on top of that, they're on the verge of losing one(Malleus). I wish they create a scene of the Briar Govt in the book, I'm sure the Senates are in ruins and regretting that Malleus went to that school or something, like its always STYX when its equally intriguing to know Maleficia and the Senates reaction to Malleus' overblot.

I find it really depressing that Malleus, like Silver, was born out of so much love from their family, yet they never knew the full scope of it (until now). 😭😭😭

[kroosluvr]

january 9

ok i have a lot of thoughts. erm. buckle in

im sure everyone agrees that the joker vs sumire fight on jan 9 was so nothing..... so i wanted to raise the stakes. UP THE ANTE.

so to make it more intense life-and-death situation, in my head sumire basically tosses her own life away at joker in a "one of us is gonna die here and honestly? i dont care which way the cards fall"

"either i die here -> sumire doesn't have to live anymore. or, i kill you and i get my true reality (and sumire doesn't have to live anymore.)"

joker notices this immediately, by the wild way she fights all of a sudden. however crow doesn't notice bc i think he sees sumire as inexperienced and just assumes joker will win by default (like he does in canon. nothingburger fight.....)

but joker is too damn cautious, knowing one wrong move might result in her demise or his downfall...

i think here he only deflects with his melee, doesn't even try to summon his personas. crow notices smth is off and then sumire manages to get a deep hit on him w cendrillon+her sword

which activates crow bc. at this point he dgaf abt sumire BUT he doesnt want joker to die.

(ironically, crow's selfish goal to Help Joker helps sumire bc she then realizes that she's being irrational/hurting one of her dear friends (akira).. she didnt really think abt how this choice of the ideal reality would affect him (or goro)

also i always thought crow just walking away frm that fight was kinda lame so. just the idea of akira Faltering... about to let himself get killed.. in a way Giving In to the Wrong Choice of the ideal reality.... yeah that'd piss him off BIG time

(though, if i framed it in the way this comic does, crow walking away at first to let joker handle it is so real. bc hes like i cant be wasting time on this, just let akira handle her and then we can go back to figuring out how to conquer this palace and maruki etc. Sumire is small potatoes rn)

also akira being too compassionate/sensitive abt her emotions to fight her directly bc he can see how shes barely hanging on by a thread.. ough ough ough.....

but also sumire being so angry and desperate that she dgaf if she hurts akira rn. OHHHH OUCHHH OWIE

also this is the scene i showed in the bg of this comic! (sorry twitter link im lazy

"she'd rather die at our hands than her own" implying if she lost here and didnt die, she'd kill herself upon returning to the True reality bc she cant live with "sumire" anymore. okkk.. yeah

"This is the only way. I know you know that too, Joker" -> the only way back to our reality as we know it. we can't afford to be soft if it'll kill us. if this is truly sumire's choice, then we HAVE to fight. we can't back down here.

(and, also, this is the only way to show sumire that we're serious: we won't let her live as kasumi, she has to face herself, she can't run off to some dystopian ideal reality - this is the only way!!!!!)

Dying's easy. we already know sumire would die to become kasumi, to become a better gymnast, to not be sumire anymore. But would she kill for it. Who would she kill for it

[p0orbaby]

Forty Winks Would Be Just Priceless

summary: your kid only sleeps when being driven, the diva that she is

warnings: none !

a/n: if someone could drive me around to get to sleep that would be great

word count: 1.7k

-

It’s 2:47 a.m., and you’re sitting in the passenger seat of a car that you didn’t even know Leah could operate at this level of exhaustion. You’re wondering if she’s siphoning energy directly from the Devil, because that’s the only explanation. The car smells like a combination of McDonald’s fries, stale coffee, and something unidentifiable that you’re hoping isn’t some sort of roadkill under the bonnet. Your wife is behind the wheel, white-knuckling it like she’s doing 90 on the M25. In reality, she’s going 15 miles per hour around your parish.

Again.

“Is this the fifth lap or the sixth?” you ask. You’ve lost count. Somewhere around lap three, you started dissociating. The glow of the streetlights is the only indication you’re still on Earth.

“Does it matter?” Leah responds, glancing over at you with an arched eyebrow that you recognise as the look she gives opponents who try to muscle her off the ball. Leah has three moods: sweet, commanding, and “I could end you without lifting a finger.” You’re currently dealing with the third. The funny part is, she’s only this intimidating when she’s wearing a hoodie over her messy hair, dark circles framing her bloodshot eyes, which she insists is the result of “just a little” caffeine.

You eye her warily. “Maybe not,” you admit, slumping lower into the seat. You glance over your shoulder into the backseat, where Eden, your two-year-old sleep terrorist, has finally succumbed to the soothing vibrations of the Mercedes. Eden’s head is lolling to one side, mouth slightly open, and you’re just about convinced she’s auditioning to be the next exorcism case.

Leah’s been driving for about an hour now. You’re on your third consecutive night of the same routine: dinnertime is war, bath time is a ceasefire, and bedtime is a full-blown, special-ops mission with all the difficulty of invading a heavily guarded country. Eden has the upper hand. Eden is always ten steps ahead. And the only way to win is to retreat—to the car.

“I feel like we should get a second car,” you suggest, half-serious. “One specifically for these midnight missions. Maybe something with better fuel efficiency”

Leah gives you a side-eye that says, “You’re joking, right?” But you can tell she’s considering it. “Or we could teach her to fall asleep like a normal child. In her bed. At bedtime”

You snort. “Teach her? Are we raising a human or a feral cat?”

Leah doesn’t even have to respond to that. Eden is a force of nature. You’re just two unfortunate souls caught in her tiny hurricane.

“And what do we do when she grows out of this?” Leah asks, but it’s more like she’s thinking out loud. “Do we drive her to school every day just to get her to wake up?”

“Let’s just worry about surviving the next hour,” you say, looking at the clock. You remember reading somewhere that car exhaust fumes can lull a person to sleep. You briefly wonder if that’s what’s happening to you right now.

Leah clicks her tongue in thought, turning onto the next street, where a dog that clearly suffers from some kind of psychological trauma is barking at nothing. “When I was little,” she begins, “my mum would drive me around to get me to sleep, but we lived in the countryside. There were no barking dogs, just the occasional sheep”

“Well, that’s why you turned out so well-adjusted,” you remark dryly. “If Eden grows up thinking the only way to fall asleep is to go for a drive, she’s going to need therapy. Which we can’t afford, by the way, because we’ll be spending all our money on petrol”

Leah chuckles, but it’s the kind of laugh that’s a little too high-pitched to be real. “We’ll add it to the list of things she’ll blame us for when she’s older. Right next to ‘Mum used to make me eat vegetables’ and ‘Mama never let me play with knives’”

Eden lets out a little snore, and you both freeze, staring at the rearview mirror. Leah’s foot hovers over the brake pedal as if any sudden movement might wake the tiny monster in the back. You can practically hear both of you holding your breath, waiting for the inevitable cry of protest that’s sure to come the second the car stops moving.

But it doesn’t come. Instead, Eden’s snore deepens, becoming the kind of sleep sounds that suggest she’s off in dreamland, probably riding unicorns or setting fire to imaginary villages.

You relax a fraction, and so does Leah, though she’s still gripping the wheel like it’s her last lifeline. You wonder if she’s ever used this level of concentration on the pitch. You’ve never seen her miss a tackle, but this is an entirely different ball game.

“So, when do we stop?” Leah whispers. You can hear the exhaustion in her voice now, thick and sludgy like she’s been awake for a week.

You consider this. “We could keep driving until sunrise. Then she’ll wake up with the sun and think it’s a new day. Maybe it’ll reset her sleep schedule”

“Or we’ll just be perpetually exhausted and still sleep-deprived, except now we’ve got morning traffic to deal with,” Leah counters. “You know, if we were living in a different era, this could be considered some form of witchcraft. Driving around in circles at night to get a child to sleep. Someone would’ve burned us at the stake by now”

“Wouldn’t that be a relief,” you mutter, then immediately regret it, because even though you’re joking, you’re too tired to be sure.

Leah sighs. “I love her. I really do. But sometimes I wonder if we’re the ones being trained here”

“There’s no wonder about it,” you reply, deadpan. “We’re definitely the ones being trained. She’s got us figured out. We’re puppets. Eden pulls the strings, and we drive”

Leah smiles at that, though it’s more of a grimace of acknowledgment. “You know, when I said I’d do anything for her, I didn’t realise it included nighttime rally racing in a residential neighborhood”

“Should’ve read the fine print,” you say, then yawn so hard it hurts. “But hey, at least we’re doing this together, right? Quality time”

Leah glances over at you, and this time, her smile is real. It’s small, but it’s there, and it makes you feel a little less like a zombie. “Yeah,” she agrees softly. “I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else”

You reach over and squeeze her hand, and for a moment, there’s peace. Not the kind of peace you’ll ever find in a parenting book or one of those sanctimonious mommy blogs, but the kind that exists in the trenches, where you and Leah are currently wading through knee-deep toddler warfare.

As you turn onto yet another street that looks identical to the last, you finally admit defeat. “Let’s call it,” you say. “She’s out. If we keep going, we’re going to end up in Scotland”

“Good idea,” Leah says, already beginning the slow process of easing off the gas and pulling into your driveway. She parks with the kind of precision that makes you think she missed her calling as a getaway driver.

You both sit there for a minute, basking in the silence that only comes when your child is finally, blessedly asleep. You’re in no rush to move, because you know the second you do, Eden will sense it and all this work will be undone in a matter of seconds.

But Leah is braver than you. She quietly turns off the engine, unbuckles her seatbelt, and with the precision of a bomb squad technician, she turns to the backseat. You watch as she gingerly unbuckles Eden, cradling her like she’s made of porcelain.

And somehow, miraculously, Eden stays asleep. Leah manages to get out of the car, Eden still snoozing in her arms, and you’re right behind her, ready to perform the hand-off should things go south.

The two of you tiptoe through the house like burglars, careful to avoid every creaky floorboard. You’re halfway to Eden’s room when she stirs, and you both freeze in place like deer caught in headlights. But then she just shifts in Leah’s arms, sighs deeply, and snuggles closer into her mother’s shoulder.

You finally reach the cot, and Leah lowers her in with the gentleness of a saint. The transfer is seamless. Eden doesn’t even flinch.

The second the cot rail is up, you and Leah back out of the room like you’ve just completed a high-stakes mission, which you basically have. The door closes with a soft click, and you both stand there, wide-eyed, disbelieving.

“She’s asleep,” Leah whispers, like she doesn’t dare believe it.

“She’s asleep,” you echo, equally stunned.

And then, without warning, Leah lets out a sound that you can only describe as a half-crazed giggle. It’s infectious, and you start laughing too, because it’s either that or you’re going to cry, and honestly, you’ve done enough of that in the last few days.

“We did it,” you say between breaths, leaning against the wall for support. “We actually did it”

Leah pulls you into a hug, and it’s warm and comforting, and it feels like a reward for all the hell you’ve been through tonight. “We make a good team,” she murmurs into your hair.

“The best,” you agree, letting yourself relax into her embrace.

But as you’re standing there, holding each other in the hallway like the survivours you are, you both hear it: the unmistakable sound of Eden stirring, a tiny whimper that promises to turn into a full-blown cry in about three seconds.

You look at each other in horror, and without a word, Leah grabs the car keys.

“You can drive,” she says, already heading back towards the front door.

You don’t even argue. Instead, you grab your the keys from her, knowing full well that this battle isn’t over yet.

And as you both head back to the car for yet another sleepless night, you can’t help but think that one day, years from now, you’ll look back on these nights with some kind of twisted fondness.

But for now, all you can do is keep driving.

[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Chpt. 1 - Not Quite An Isekai

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

You awake to the sound of your phone ringing. You slap to the edge of your couch, aiming for the rickety side table. Your wrist smacks against the corner, and you hiss in pain. It’s a few inches too high, and wood, not metal. Seems you somehow got to your bed during the night, but you didn’t remember it. Still, you get your phone. Through squinted eyes, you find the screen, its 3:15, far too early for your drunken suffering- Wait no, it’s mid-afternoon. Still, you feel tired, and you want to sleep.

You answer the phone anyway, putting it on speaker and resting your head back against the pillow. Your head doesn’t hurt that bad anyway. God was smiling down on you today.

“Miss, are you awake?” a man’s voice rings through your apartment.

Who was that? Who called you Miss of all things? Your boss didn’t remember your name sure, but he just called you ‘intern’ instead. You’d been an official employee for six months now. Right, conversation, paying attention, replying like a normal person.

“Hm, yeah, I’m awake,” you say, fighting back the urge to yawn.

“You don’t sound very awake, Miss,” the man replies, his tone familiar.

“Who is this?”

He sighs, “Miss, are you being sarcastic?”

“What? No, I’m serious,” you confusedly answer.

“…This is Alfred, Miss. Now, Master Wayne has asked me to-”

“Master who now?” you cut this Alfred off, doubly confused now. Wayne? Like, the Wayne family? The rich, philanthropist one?

He sighs again, “I understand the relationship between the two of you is quite strained, and this is a personally difficult day for you, but he insists on seeing you. Your birthday gala starts at 7, as I’ve told you, and your assistant will be over at 4. I ask that you unblock both their accounts, as I would much rather I didn’t have to talk to you when you’re like this.”

“What?” you repeat, like the idiot you are.

“Good day, Miss. And happy birthday.”

He hangs up. You blink down at your phone. And then you roll your eyes, because oh my god are Molly’s pranks getting ridiculous. You never should have told her about your weird fascination with the Waynes, she was getting back at you hard for your drunken mistake.

You make a lot of those. Well, life goes on. You’ll put glitter in Molly’s car’s vanity mirror or something.

You turn off your phone, and let your face slam right back into your pillow. For a while, you try to go back to sleep.

…Something about this isn’t right. You, like the freak you are, take a deep inhale of your pillow. It smells like you, like the laundry soap you use, but it also smells like… Well, you don’t know. All you can think about is your new boss’s wife and her awful perfume that swallows the office space like noxious gas.

Your pillow… kind of smells like that. Your first ungodly thought is that, somehow, you spent a torrid night with your boss’s wife. The second is that Molly needs to die for her crimes.

You let your crusty, bleary, stinging eyes blink open.

Hm. Why is there a chandelier in your bedroom? You shoot upright in the bed, silk sheets falling to your lap. Silk sheets you can’t afford. You look around the room, eyes widening at the space. The bed is king-sized, while you had barely been able to afford your twin-sized mattress. The living room isn’t in the same space as the bedroom. You can’t see the kitchen and the bathroom to your right has shining marble tiles. And even then, the decoration’s are luxurious and clean, compared to your livable chaos.

You look to your left, and your mouth drops open.

A floor-to-ceiling window, showing the Gotham horizon with the morning sun. Fog and clouds twist around spiralling gothic towers, reaching down to the people down below. You’re looking out over the bay, and you can see the Narrows barely peaking through the mist, desperately clawing for any sunlight.

The sun rises on the right of your building, not the left. You don’t have a view, you’re on the fourth floor and there’s a brick building directly across from your window. You live in the Narrows.

You live in the Narrows. You press your face to the cool glass and look down. Oh my god, you can’t see the streetside. You’re too high up. You’re somehow on the opposite side of Gotham City.

Stumbling away from the window, you do your best not to touch anything, because you know it’s all too expensive for your peasant hand. Let’s start thinking… whatever was happening to you, through. Molly might kidnap you for a joke, sure, but she was barely any richer than you, and that was just because her boyfriend lived with her. She could not afford this level of fuckery.

So… so… is this, what? A big joke from the universe? Did someone else kidnap you? You have to have been kidnapped, right? Why the fuck would someone kidnap you?

Did the Joker kidnap you? Was he coming to finish you off? End your family line?

You reach down and pinch yourself hard enough you yelp. When the dazzlingly perfect apartment doesn’t disappear, it’s much harder to force yourself not to panic. Okay, okay, okay. It’s fine. This’ll be fine, and it could still be a dream. That whole pinching thing was a myth, right? Argh, maybe you should’ve listened to Molly when she was trying to get you into astral projection.

Wait, Molly!

You go back to your bed and pick up your phone.

It’s… it’s not your phone. What was this? The iPhone 27? You didn’t keep up with those sorts of things, but it looked expensive. Everything here looked expensive.

You think you’re going to go into anaphylactic shock. Wait, no, it’s hyper-something. What was it? Argh, you can’t do this right now!

You press your thumb to the ‘on’ button, and luckily whoever this phone belongs to is not worried about their privacy because there's no password. Stupidly, you look for Molly’s name in your list of contacts.

BLOCKED - ‘Bruce Wayne’

BLOCKED - ‘Damian Wayne’

BLOCKED - ‘Dick Grayson’

BLOCKED - ‘Tim Drake’

‘Alfred :)’

BLOCKED - ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’

You drop the phone. Because the floors, even in the bedroom, are marble, it shatters like glass. You make a sound like a dying chicken as you watch the piece of technology make a bouncing break for the bathroom. It slides to a stop against the giant hot tub, and you pick it up and cradle it between your palms like a newborn.

The screen still works. Even if it’s cracked to high heaven and takes multiple attempts to turn it on, it still eventually does. Thanks God, won’t forget this. You hiss as you open the contacts again, pricking your fingers against the sharp edges.

As fate commands, you click on the ‘Bruce Wayne’ contact. The description is very simple.

‘Massive dickhead. Hope you jump off a building and fall like a rock.’

You go back. Click on ‘Dick Grayson’.

‘Massive dickhead’s beloved firstborn. Most annoying man on earth congrats.’

Again. ‘Damian Wayne’ this time.

‘Massive dickhead’s massive dickhead. Demon? Grinch? Somebody kill it with fire please.’

And finally, ‘Tim Drake’.

‘The only acceptable one.’

…Well, at least your kidnapper liked one of the Waynes. Maybe they kidnapped you because you were their opposite or something? You definitely wouldn’t call Bruce motherfucking Wayne a massive dickhead. Or maybe they wanted to kill you.

The Molly prank idea was becoming more sound. Maybe she won the lottery and didn’t tell you.

You click on ‘Alfred :)’. He’s the one that called you earlier and also called you ‘Miss’, for some reason.

It’s just a bunch of heart emojis. Coherent, sure.

You go back, and click on the final of the list, ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’.

‘Don’t listen to Alfred. She wants to eat you.’

She wants to what?

A knock at the door has you jumping a foot in the air and nearly banging your head on the bathtub’s lip. You hear someone call your name through the door, and you freeze. Who… how? They call your name again, this time their voice louder. They bang on the door.

You creep over to the door.

“Ma’am, if you don’t open this right now, I’m quitting! We both know Alfred contacted you this morning, and he’s going to be very upset if I do so. There’s only so many assistants in this city!” from this close, you can recognise the voice belongs to a woman. She rattles the doorknob.

You lean down, peering through the peephole. The woman has a harsh face, a perfect pencil suit and her blonde hair in a pretty updo. Her makeup is impeccable. You get the feeling this woman is also more expensive than you can afford, despite her calling your name.

Bewildered, you open the door. She slams through like a battering ram, strutting 6-inch stilettos into the space.

She huffs, and then turns around. You can see very clearly she’s trying to keep her calm, but you did leave her at the door for like five minutes. It wasn’t your fault, you thought you were hallucinating or something.

“Ma’am,” she stresses the word, “Please unblock me.”

You blink at her, “Uh, sure.”

She waits, her hands clasped together in front of her.

“Oh- oh, right now?” you stutter, pulling the phone out from your noticeably lavish pyjamas.

Wait had someone changed you in your sleep? What the hell was going on? Maybe you should be more concerned about that, honestly. Still, you do as she commands.

She watches you like a hawk as you stare at the cracked phone. Your eyes flick up at her, and then back down at the screen. Slowly, watching for her reaction, you unblock ‘The Wicked Witch of the West.’ She nods, not even commenting on what was apparently her name in ‘your’ phone.

You were still slightly concerned about the ‘She wants to eat you’ thing, but she seemed… alright. Kind of scary. But not cannibalistic.

Still, this was Gotham after all. A healthy dose of fear was what kept people like you alive.

“Ma’am, did you just wake up? It’s already 4 o’clock,” she gives you a subtly disapproving look, and your shoulders sink like you’re being scolded.

“Yeah- yeah, sorry about that,” you stammer, embarrassed for some unknowable reason. This really was just like a dream. You could tell something was very obviously wrong, but you were still going along with everything like it wasn’t. Everyday life.

You were going to focus on that, this had to be just a dream. Just go along with… this, and then you’d wake up. And if you could manage to get over the uncanny valley-ness of the very obvious wealth surrounding you, maybe you could enjoy it.

You had always wanted to be rich. This was just your brain spewing out random information. Better than the nightmares you usually get.

You’re abruptly pulled back into focus when the woman clears her throat loudly. Ah, shoot. Had she been talking? You definitely hadn’t been listening.

“We need to get you ready, Miss,” she says like she’s repeating herself. You nod, because yes, of course, getting ready.

Ready for what? You think if you ask her she’ll yell at you. So when she grabs your arm and tugs you along, you follow. She pulls you into the bathroom, sitting you down in front of the mirror on a stool. Because this bathroom has stools in it. You stare at your reflection warily, before glancing up at her behind you.

“The stylists will be here in about forty minutes, and the makeup artists in two hours,” she pauses, giving you a strange look, “I appreciate you being so cooperative today. I understand this is all a delicate matter, but I am under Mr. Wayne’s orders first and foremost.”

“Wayne… like Bruce? Bruce Wayne?” you ask, even though there’s really no one else it could be. Still, you have to check.

Because it’s impossible. Even if it’s a dream, it still feels completely impossible. There was just something inside you that said ‘that can’t be right’, even if you knew none of this was real.

You realise, quite late, that you don’t even know this lady's name. ‘Wicked witch’

“Yes, Ma’am. Bruce Wayne of Wayne Enterprises,” she answers you, pulling out her phone and flicking through it. She doesn’t even respond to what you have to assume is an inane question. Maybe ‘dream you’ often asks stupid questions.

‘Normal you’ certainly does.

“Oh… okay…” the conversation drifts off, and she makes no attempt to fill it. Aren’t P.A.s supposed to… you don’t know, fix that? Or maybe she’s not your personal assistant, just an assistant. Silly you, making assumptions.

This bathroom deserves assumptions. You wonder if the gold frame of the mirror is, y’know, real.

The blonde woman walks out of the room without speaking another word to you. You think maybe you should follow her, but instead you just sit there with your hands on top of your knees. Your leg bounces up and down, and you glare it into submission, ignoring the way your muscles jump.

You look at yourself. You look… different. The bags under your eyes are worse than usual, and your gaze sunken into your face. Your hair is sad and oily, knotted in places. Your skin is almost waxy.

You look sick. You look like… you remember, you look like…

In the light of the day, you refuse to think about it. You’re not allowed to, you’ll break if you do.

You just don’t. Even if your reflection just confirms that you have to be dreaming.

Instead, you turn your gaze to the tub. You raise your hand to your hair again. Back in your apartment, you’d had a shower. It was a surprisingly good shower because you’d invested in a showerhead with better pressure. Still, it wasn’t a bath.

You missed bathes. You get up, close the door, lock it, and sink inside the tub. You take off your silky pyjamas inside the bath, and then you toss them on the floor beside you. Sitting there, you watch through the giant window at the world down below. At the ravens and pigeons that fly through the fog, at the few people you can see through the windows and balconies.

You press your cheek against the glass. It’s cold. You’re cold.

You’re sitting in an empty bathtub naked. What are you doing?

Rubbing at your eyes, you reach over to what you think are the controls. They all look very complicated, but there’s a switch that goes from blue to red, so you turn that. It takes another button press for the water to start flowing out. Steam fills the room, and you let out a sigh of contentment.

“Ma’am! Ma’am, the stylists will be here in ten minutes, and you need to get out. Ma’am? Ma’am!”

You shoot up in the bath, splashing water over the overflowing sides. Blinking, you turn your head back and forth and then sink back down. Oh. You’re still here. You went to sleep, but you’re still here. Maybe it’s one of those dreams where you think you wake up, but you haven’t. Or, ah, something similar.

You feel so tired. You really, really didn’t miss this feeling.

Quickly, you wash your hair and body, scrubbing furiously at the oily sweat on your skin. You stumble out of the bath on shaky legs, dry yourself off, and almost trip in your haste to get out the door. Showing off your negligible intelligence, you only realise you’re still wearing just a towel till she manhandles you towards the closet.

A walk-in closet, because of course it is. You think it’s bigger than your apartment. It has a flat bench in the centre because evidently all the walking around you’ll be doing will require a fainting couch.

The woman gives you, horrifyingly, a set of lacy, racy underwear. When all you do is just gape at her, she sighs, takes them from your hands and gives you a simple black set with no frills. You look down at them clasped in your wet hands. They’re clean, and they seem to be your size.

Still, this is a bit…

“Are these… new?” you ask, because there’s no tag or anything.

“Yes, Ma’am. But if you want, we do have some sets still unpacked at the back of the closet,” she says, going along with your weirdness. Even if she was a bit scary, you were grateful for that, at least. You guess celebrities were usually quite eccentric, so maybe this wasn’t out of the ordinary for her.

“Yes, please.”

She gives you a pair of Victoria’s Secret bra and underwear, plain beige and still in their plastic packaging.

“Cool, sweet, thanks,” you say, and she shakes her head just slightly.

She puts a white bathrobe down, and leaves the room, closing the door behind her. You lock it, and then you put on the underwear that you did not buy. The whole experience is strange, but still, you just go along with it. You’re a go-along-with-it kind of person.

You were… you were starting to not like that all of a sudden. Still, out of your depth in an odd dream is no place to start doubting your entire personality. You put on the bathrobe too. And the fluffy slippers that are tucked under them, with great pleasure.

You hear the many voices before you open the door. When you step through it, you feel like you’ve stepped onto the set of a movie. Or well, the backstage at least. Women and men are flittering about the chic apartment in the sort of rush you’d only seen working at BatBurger.

The woman from before spots you and you feel like a rabbit under a hawk's gaze when her brown eyes narrow on you. She strides over to you and then, once again, clamps her grip around your wrist and drags you over. You wonder as you stumble after her if she’s got some meta-human in her because no slim, perfectly put-together lady should be this damn strong.

She pulls you towards a set of three people. You can immediately tell they’re the heads of the operation, with an aura that squashes you like a pancake. Two women, one man. They’re all dressed to the nines, in their own unique ways.

They all look at you with assessing glances. You fear you do not measure.

“I’m surprised, Jeanine. You actually got her this time,” a woman with a black bob and a rocker look comments, her red lips twisting into a grin. You realise, with a start, that the blonde woman who was not incorrectly nicknamed ‘The Wicked Witch of The West’ was actually called Jeanine.

Lovely, you were getting the hang of things.

“Yes, she was very agreeable this afternoon. I’d like to apologise once again for any past issues,” Jeanine says, all business. You still have no idea what’s going on, and definitely no idea what they’re talking about. But what you assumed was the jist of it… was that ‘dream you’ wasn’t a very harmonious person.

Lovely, lovely, lovely. This was a bit of a personal nightmare for a people pleaser like you. Actually, it was a literal personal nightmare. Lovely.

“The disrespect I’ve faced is immeasurable. But, Monsoir Wayne pays exceedingly well. Still, it’s nice to actually have our dear client before us,” the other woman says, appraising her french tip nails. Which, considering she said ‘monsoir’ and the whole accent, would make a lot of sense. She’s closer to a classic beauty than her punk rock friend, with brown hair coiled and beautiful pearls across her neck.

“I don’t know, I thought I’d be getting paid for doing no work tonight. Ruins my plans,” the man teases, and you’re relieved at the kindness in his gaze. He’s wearing a suit with a dazzling but trendy red tie. His tie has an odd metallic sheen to it, a fabric your peasant mind couldn’t place.

If Molly were here, she’d jab you in the stomach with an elbow and whisper “One of those homosexuals, me thinks” even if she was bi herself.

You wish Molly were here.

“Yes, well, I’d like it if we could all work together tonight. And get to it quickly, the drive to the Wayne Tower isn’t a quick one with the evening traffic, so, if you’d please.”

And that was that. No introductions, no extra pleasantries. You were swept away in a whirl of fabric and hair products.

They stuff you into a gorgeous evening gown, its colour reminding you of a sparkling midnight sky. Rhinestones dot down the sides, coalescing at the bottom. You hope they’re not real diamonds. Gloves, a bracelet, a necklace, and dripping pearl earrings. It was all impeccably put together, and you felt uncomfortable with such items on you. You didn’t dare ask how much it all cost, despite being desperately curious.

They slip towering 6-inch stilettos on you despite your protests, cake your face in enough powder to make you sneeze. Dramatic liner and eyelashes that felt heavy on your face, a lipstick that had to be coated twice because you chewed on your lip with nerves.

And then you’re done, dizzy and confused but thoroughly made up.

You get one quick look at your reflection before Jeanine is pulling you up and out of the seat.

They’d gotten rid of the signs.

You ignore the part of you that desperately wants them back and follow Jeanine out into the elevator.

Despite the fact that it is, in fact, a very long drive to the Wayne Tower, she does not seem inclined to say a single word to you. The ride is awkward and quiet, broken only by the sound of you pressing buttons in the back of limousine, and even that stops when you get an unimpressed look from her.

So you just sit there, vibrating at frequencies unseen by man.

When you finally arrive at Wayne Tower, the crowd shocks you. There are so many paparazzi, nearly overflowing the flimsy barricades and onto the carpeted marble entryway. The tower itself is a display of outrageous wealth, towering over the rest of Gotham City easily. You think for a while it’d been the tallest building in the world, but you couldn’t remember your elementary school education all that well.

It wasn’t like this information would’ve been useful at any point in your life. You still don’t think it will be, as this is all a very vivid dream.

The door opens, and immediately you’re overwhelmed by the camera flashing. You hunch away from the lights like a vampire, but Jeanine pushes you forward.

“We’re already very late, Ma’am. No time for faffing around,” she says from behind you, hand placed squarely against your back.

What? But all you’d done was rush around all afternoon! You know, if you’d just taken one of the trains or even the Skyrail you’d have been able to avoid this. Still, you’re out the door, up the steps, not given a moment to react to the questions thrown at you.

“Miss! Miss, are you here to celebrate your birthday? Don’t you think it’s a bit callous to ignore the tragedies of today?”

“Miss! Is it true you’ve been disowned?”

“Miss, miss, about your family…!”

Oh, well, even if what they’re saying is awful, it’s a relief. It’s your birthday again. You think the guy who had called you said happy birthday. That meant none of this could possibly be real. See? It had to be a dream. Had to, had to… You decide to ignore literally everything else they say, letting the words float through your very hollow brain.

Life’s a lot easier when you play it a little stupider.

The heels and the stairs are an awful combination, and if it wasn’t for Jeanine’s herculean strength you’re certain you’d be tumbling down them right now. Your assistant… secretary… lady is careful not to let that happen, however.

Maybe you judged her too quickly. You appreciated anyone who made sure you didn’t fall flat on your ass. It was a good quality for a person to have.

You don’t get to appreciate the Wayne Tower all done up. You don’t get to stare at the lights and flowers strung into the art deco rafters. You don’t get to stare and gape and look like an idiot, because Jeanine wants you to look like an idiot elsewhere.

In the middle of all these fucking random rich people you don’t know. Hurray!

You’re shoved into a group of people, with Jeanine at your back. She starts rattling off names and titles and relations, and you can’t make heads or tails of any of it. You turn to look at her with what must be a genuine deer-in-headlights fear, and she stops and then starts speaking slower.

Thank God for that. Well, since she’s making an effort, you do too.

“This is Lianne Jenkins, wife of Senator Jenkins,” Jeanine whispers into your ear, and you nod. You knew him, you’d voted for him, in fact. How the fuck were you here talking to his wife? She’s not looking at you, instead talking to someone beside her. She turns, and you put on the best smile you can.

The socialite physically startles when she sees your face. Great.

“Oh- oh my!” her voice stutters over your name like she can barely even remember it, “I didn’t know you’d be here tonight, it’s a pleasure to see you!”

It… it was your birthday party, right? Your name was on a giant banner at the back of the room, so you had to assume it was. Dream logic. Just- just blame it on dream logic.

“Oh, look it’s Gerald! I’m sorry my dear I really have to-”

And she just ditched you. At your birthday party. You blink at the space she just evacuated and then turn around to Jeanine. You probably give her some sort of weird Kubrick stare, and she winces. She then looks around for someone else for you to talk to. From the growing despair on her face, you can assume she doesn’t find anyone.

“I don’t want to be here,” you say.

“I said I’d quit, remember?” she replies. You think she’s lying to you. She looks about as desperate as you feel, which is a lot. You were seeing a lot of sides of ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’ today. She seemed less wicked and more generally insane. Hey, at least the two of you had something in common.

You turn away from her, eyes roving over the party. You recognise some people, because you know, they’re all rich and famous. That guy over there was in a movie you pirated recently. The one on your right seems to be someone important in online tech spaces. You think he did NFTs or something, which made you sad because you did not want that sort of person at your birthday party. Oh, the woman on the other side of the room eating canapes is an Instagram influencer, you think. The fantasy of a Wayne party gala is fading fast, falling out of the sky like a comet of fire to bring doom and death to mankind.

You are so out of your depth.

You turn back around to Jeanine.

“I really, really don’t want to be here,” you repeat, and Jeanine, shocking you, grabs your hands in hers.

“Please stay. Just for thirty minutes, please,” she begs you, her dark eyes pleading. And because you are the living personification of a doormat, you sigh.

“Alright. But only for thirty. And I’m getting very, very drunk.”

“Thank you, thank you. I’ll be right beside you the entire time-”

You decide, oh so kindly, that you are totally ditching Jeanine, too. Spinning in your dress, you make a grand effort to get away from her, but she dogs you loyally. The goliath-like heels you’re wearing don’t make it any damn well easier. Still, you don’t stop trying to outrun the tiny, control freak of a woman. Because while she definitely seems to desperate to stay near you, you are also very desperate to not be near her.

Your hand itches. Randomly, it itches quite a lot. You don’t know why you only notice what must be a bug bite inside the gala, but you do. Awkwardly, you scratch your palm with your other hand, staring down at the skin. It doesn’t look red yet, but it honestly it’s getting kind of annoying.

You sigh again, and turn to ask Jeanine if she had any lotion or something, because you assume that’s what stalking personal assistants are for and… she’s not there. Somehow you lost her, without even noticing.

You throw your arms into the air. Yippee! Now, it’s time for alcoholism, as is the answer to all problems in life. It’s what the loving and maternal arms of Gotham had taught you, after all.

You stumble your way to a wall where there’s a set of food, and a server with a silver platter carrying a bunch of champagne glasses. You stop the guy before he moves again, your hands in the air like you’re trying to soothe a scared animal.

You point at the tray, “I want that.”

He looks at you with mild horror. You thought rich people were weird, like he’d be used to something like this. It wasn’t like you were asking for the shirt off his back or cocaine or something. If it wasn’t obvious, you really didn’t know anything about what rich people did.

“It’s my birthday. It’s totally cool. I asked Bruce myself,” You bald-faced lie, like you’d ever even met the man. Like a predator, you watch the man carefully put the tray down next to the rest of the food, and then he slowly backs away from you. Well, okay, you could admit that was kind of weird. This night is getting to you. God knows this loud-as-fuck party was more overstimulating than anything you could usually stand. And so bright. What a shitty fairytale ball.

You grab one of the flutes of champagne and swirl it, sniff it, and then once you’ve gone through the polite checklist of drinking you throw it back like it’s a shot of vodka. There were people watching after all. Wait, they’d probably seen you corner that poor server boy.

Hmm, this requires cake. You choose a random slice that looks like it might be strawberry something, and dig in eagerly. It tastes fucking fantastic. The cream is sweet and soft, and the jam has a pop of flavour you totally weren’t expecting. And the cake itself was a lovely, spongy texture.

Grand. Maybe if you just sat here like a wallflower and ate food and drank liquor you could handle this. It wasn’t any different from how you behaved at Molly’s college parties.

So, you decide to work your way up and down the buffet table. Most of it’s delicious, but when you try things you can’t quite recognise, there’s a twenty-percent chance it’ll be disgusting and you’ll have to spit it out to avoid poisoning. You’re careful not to try the caviar, despite your own curiosity. You’d heard that it just tasted like salty water, and that didn’t mix well with whatever you were currently putting in your stomach.

You look down at your hand. It’s another piece of the sponge cake, wedged between a napkin so your dirty fingers didn’t touch it and you didn’t have to bother with another plate. You giggle, because it really is that good.

Ah, this is great. You could do this forever, screw thirty minutes. You eye the entrance the servers keep coming in and out of, and wonder if Jeanine would get mad if you tried to follow them into the kitchens. Probably, probably…

The question was, was it worth it? You’re debating the merits when the sound of someone's shoes stops next to you. You think it’s a man, and you consider barking at him to get away from the buffet, but decide you’ve tried everything and can probably share again. It takes great strength, though. You decide you deserve some more champagne for the kindness.

It’s after a moment that you realise he’s not taking anything.

“Oh, so you actually showed up? Colour me surprised,” a familiar, calm, masculine voice speaks from behind you. Your mouth drops open, and you spin on your heel. If you hadn’t been clinging to the table cloth you’d have fallen over, but still, you drop the champagne flute, and it bursts in a spray of liquid and glass against your dress.

It also splatters on the dress shoes of one Tim Drake.

First the phone, now the delicious drink. You really wished you’d stop dropping things.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

[its-avalon-08]

can you write for max or carlos a fic where the reader is a billionaire and max or carlos is just a normal person with a 9-5 except that they don’t know reader is rich until she leaves her bank account open on her laptop or something similar? ❤️

money money money must be funny (cs55)

✦ pairing - carlos sainz x female!reader

✦ genre - carlos!not a driver, romance

Carlos Sainz wasn’t the type to snoop. He respected Y/N’s space—her home, her things, her boundaries. But today, as he casually walked into her apartment after work to wait for her, something caught his eye. Her laptop was on the kitchen counter, lid slightly ajar, and the screen had gone dark, but the faint hum of the device meant it was still on.

He didn’t mean to look. He really didn’t. But as he reached over to close it, a notification pinged, revealing her bank account summary. The number on the screen wasn’t just large—it was staggering. It looked more like a jackpot figure than an average person’s savings account.

Carlos froze. His thoughts swirled like a whirlwind. Was this even real? Had she won the lottery? Was Y/N secretly a crypto genius?

A loud buzz from his phone brought him back to reality—Y/N had texted that she’d be back in an hour. His first instinct was to laugh it off. She was probably just babysitting some wealthy CEO’s account or something. But the more he thought about it, the more the pieces started to fit.

That expensive bag she’d said was “on sale”? The first-edition watch she gave him for his birthday? And the sleek new car she drove, claiming it was a "company lease"?

He shut the laptop and paced around the apartment, fighting the urge to overthink. Why hadn’t she told him? Did she not trust him? Was she afraid of how he’d react?

When Y/N walked in, all smiles and carrying takeout, Carlos decided to play it cool.

“Hey, cariño,” she greeted, setting the bags down on the counter. “Hope you weren’t bored waiting for me.”

“Not at all,” he said, forcing a smile. “How was your day?”

“The usual. Meetings, emails, surviving on coffee. Yours?”

Carlos shrugged. “Not bad. I ran into something interesting, though.”

“Oh?” she asked, unpacking the food.

“Yeah,” he said nonchalantly, leaning against the counter. “I was browsing online earlier. You know, just random stuff. Came across this site that sells luxury bags. That brand you have—you said it was on sale, right?”

Y/N’s hands froze for a millisecond before she quickly recovered. “Uh, yeah. Got lucky, I guess. Why?”

Carlos tilted his head, pretending to think. “Just curious. Even on sale, they’re pretty pricey. Like… really pricey.”

She chuckled nervously. “Well, it was a one-time splurge. A treat-yourself moment.”

“Hmm,” he said, letting it drop—for now.

Later, while they were eating, he casually gestured to his watch. “You know, my coworkers keep asking me where I got this. I mean, it’s not every day you see something like this.”

Her cheeks flushed slightly. “Really? Well, you deserve nice things.”

“True,” he said with a small smirk. “But I don’t think I could ever afford something like this on my own.”

She looked down at her food, her fork hovering mid-air. “Carlos, I—”

“You know,” he interrupted, trying to sound playful, “you never told me how you got it. Or that car. Or… well, a lot of things, actually.”

Y/N’s eyes darted up to meet his. “What are you trying to say?”

Carlos leaned back, giving her a pointed look. “Nothing. Just making conversation.”

She laughed nervously, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Well, I guess I’m just good at finding deals.”

“Right,” he said, dragging out the word. “Must be a talent of yours.”

The rest of the evening passed in a strange tension. Carlos didn’t push further, but the weight of unspoken questions lingered between them. Every now and then, he’d make an offhand comment—about the high-tech gadgets in her apartment or the exclusive restaurants she “managed to snag reservations for.”

By the time Y/N excused herself to shower, Carlos was left alone with his thoughts again. He wasn’t angry, not really. But he was confused. Why hide something like this? Did she think he’d judge her?

As the sound of running water filled the apartment, Carlos sat on the couch, staring at his watch. He traced the edges of it with his thumb, his mind racing.

He loved her—he truly did. But for the first time since they’d been together, he wasn’t sure he fully knew her.

--

Carlos’s birthday started like any other day—quiet, unassuming, and, as far as he was concerned, just another regular weekday. But when he walked into Y/N’s apartment that evening, he realized how wrong he’d been.

The entire living room was transformed. Gold and black balloons floated in clusters, streamers lined the walls, and a massive “Happy Birthday, Carlos” banner stretched across the ceiling. The dining table was set with a feast fit for a Michelin-starred restaurant—complete with candles, a perfectly plated cake, and his favorite wine.

“You did all this?” Carlos asked, his eyes wide as he took it all in.

Y/N emerged from the kitchen, beaming, wearing a sleek dress that looked straight out of a fashion magazine. “Surprise!”

Carlos couldn’t help but smile. “You didn’t have to go this far, cariño.”

“Of course, I did,” she said, walking over to him and planting a kiss on his cheek. “You deserve the best.”

He took a deep breath, overwhelmed by the effort she’d gone to. But the gifts sitting on the table caught his attention—each one wrapped immaculately in expensive-looking paper.

“Are those… all for me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She grinned. “Open them and see.”

He started unwrapping them one by one. First, a designer leather jacket. Then, a limited-edition pair of sneakers he’d mentioned in passing months ago. And finally, a watch—sleek, elegant, and undoubtedly expensive.

Carlos held it up, speechless. “Y/N… this is—”

“Do you like it?” she asked, her voice hopeful.

“Like it?” he said, shaking his head. “This must’ve cost a fortune.”

“It’s worth it,” she said softly. “You’re worth it.”

Carlos pulled her into a hug, his mind racing. As they swayed gently, his voice was low but teasing. “You know, between the jacket, the sneakers, and this watch… you’re starting to spoil me. I might get used to it.”

She laughed nervously, her face buried in his chest. “Well, it’s your birthday. You deserve to be spoiled.”

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his hands still resting on her waist. “Y/N,” he said, his tone light but inquisitive, “how do you afford all this? I mean, between the car, the gifts, and—well, everything. It doesn’t exactly scream ‘9-to-5.’”

Her smile faltered for a second. “I… budget well,” she said, avoiding his gaze.

Carlos tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly but still kind. “Budget well? You’re buying things most people would save for years to afford. That’s some serious budgeting.”

“I just… know how to find deals,” she said quickly.

“Deals, huh?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Like the kind that let you buy a car worth more than most people’s houses?”

Her laugh was more forced this time. “Carlos, come on, it’s not like that.”

He didn’t push, not yet. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her again, holding her close. “You know,” he said softly, his chin resting on her head, “I’ve been thinking a lot lately. About how generous you are. How thoughtful. How you somehow always manage to outdo yourself.”

“That’s just because I love you,” she murmured.

“And I love you too,” he said, his voice warm. “But you don’t have to go overboard, you know. I’d still love you if you didn’t get me a watch that probably costs more than my rent.”

She tensed slightly in his arms, and he felt it.

“It’s just…” he continued, his tone deliberately casual, “I can’t help but wonder. You must have some serious savings to pull all this off.”

“Well, I—”

“Or maybe,” he said, a hint of playfulness in his voice, “you’re secretly a billionaire.”

Relaxed she went, “Yeah, exactly.”

The words slipped out before she could stop them. Her body went rigid, and she immediately pulled back, her eyes wide with panic. “I mean—wait—no—”

Carlos’s brows shot up. “Oh.”

“Carlos, I didn’t mean—”

“Y/N,” he said gently, placing his hands on her shoulders. “It’s okay. Just… take a deep breath.”

She did, her hands trembling slightly. “I-I didn’t mean for you to find out like this.”

“So it’s true?” he asked softly. “You’re… rich?”

She hesitated, then nodded, her eyes brimming with uncertainty. “Yes. But it’s not like you think. I didn’t want it to change how you see me.”

Carlos’s expression softened. “Cariño, why would it change how I see you?”

“Because… people treat me differently when they know,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I wanted you to love me for me, not for my money.”

He cupped her face, his thumbs brushing her cheeks. “Y/N, I fell in love with the woman who makes me laugh until my stomach hurts. The one who listens to me ramble about football and surprises me with my favorite snacks. Not the size of your bank account.”

Her eyes searched his, still uncertain. “You’re not mad?”

“I’m not mad,” he assured her. “A little surprised, sure. Maybe a bit hurt you didn’t tell me sooner. But I get it.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice cracking. “I should’ve told you.”

He smiled, pulling her back into his arms. “Just promise me one thing.”

“Anything.”

“No more pretending your gifts are ‘on sale.’ You’re a terrible liar.”

She laughed, the tension finally breaking. “Deal.”

--

The living room was bathed in a warm, golden glow from the lamps as Carlos and Y/N cuddled on the couch. Her head rested against his chest, and his arm was wrapped securely around her shoulders. The cake sat half-eaten on the coffee table, alongside empty plates and glasses.

Carlos pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his voice soft as he broke the comfortable silence. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Y/N murmured, tracing patterns on his shirt with her fingers.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he asked, his tone gentle but curious. “About… everything?”

Y/N stiffened slightly in his arms but relaxed when he gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. She sighed, her breath warm against his chest.

“It’s not that I didn’t want to,” she began quietly. “I just… I’ve had bad experiences before.”

Carlos frowned, his hand moving in soothing circles on her back. “What kind of experiences?”

She pulled back slightly to look at him, her eyes filled with a mix of vulnerability and sadness. “People have used me for my money, Carlos. Pretended to care about me just because they wanted access to my lifestyle, my connections. It’s happened more times than I’d like to admit.”

Carlos’s expression softened, his heart aching for her. “Y/N…”

“It’s not just romantic relationships,” she continued, her voice trembling slightly. “Friends, too. People I thought I could trust would suddenly start asking for favors, for loans they never intended to repay. Or they’d make comments, subtle digs, like I didn’t deserve what I had because I was born into it.”

Carlos tightened his hold on her, resting his chin on her head. “I’m so sorry you went through that. You didn’t deserve it.”

“I started to feel like no one saw me, you know?” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “It was always about what I could give them, not who I was. So, when I met you, I just… I didn’t want to risk it. I didn’t want you to see me differently.”

Carlos was silent for a moment, his thoughts swirling. Finally, he tilted her chin up so she could meet his eyes. “Y/N, I’m not those people. I don’t care about your money, or what you can buy, or any of that. I care about you. The person who makes me laugh, who’s always there for me, who’s just… you.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she gave him a small, shaky smile. “You don’t know how much that means to me.”

He wiped away a stray tear with his thumb, his gaze unwavering. “I know it’s hard, letting someone in. But I want you to know, you don’t have to hide anything from me. Okay?”

She nodded, her smile growing a little stronger. “Okay.”

Carlos leaned down and kissed her gently, pouring all his love and reassurance into the moment. When they pulled apart, he gave her a teasing grin.

“Although, I do have to say, I feel a little cheated. All this time, I’ve been paying for dinner when you could’ve been spoiling me instead.”

Y/N burst out laughing, swatting his chest. “Oh, so now you want to be spoiled?”

He chuckled, pulling her closer. “I mean, I wouldn’t say no to the occasional fancy dinner. But honestly? I’d take ramen with you on the couch over anything else.”

She smiled, her heart swelling with gratitude and love. “You’re too good to be true, Carlos.”

He kissed her forehead, his voice soft. “So are you, cariño. So are you.”

[00valentina-writes00]

How about sevika with a terminally sick gf. I really loved the one you wrote for vi

♡♥︎Sevika with a terminally ill girlfriend♥︎♡

♥︎ Sevika doesn’t show much, but she’s absolutely destroyed when she finds out. There’s a crack in her usually unflappable armor, a flicker of vulnerability she tries to bury beneath her usual hard edges.

♥︎ She doesn’t talk about it much, but she starts keeping tabs on doctors, researching treatments, and trying to get her hands on any illegal or experimental cures she can afford. She won’t let you give up, even if you’re already resigned.

♥︎ Her usual harshness turns into something colder. She doesn’t waste time with anything unnecessary. If she’s going to help you, it’s going to be in the most effective way possible. No sentimental words, just straight to the point: “I’ll fix this. You’re not dying on me.”

♥︎ When you start getting weaker, she gets more demanding. She pushes you to eat, to stay awake, to fight. She’s relentless because if she doesn’t see you fight, it breaks her apart

♥︎ There are nights when she stays up late, arms crossed, staring out at the dark streets of Zaun, thinking about ways to make you better. Even the shimmer she injects into her system doesn’t offer any comfort when she watches you fade.

♥︎ She spends hours researching obscure treatments, bargaining with shady figures, doing whatever it takes to extend your life, even if it’s just a few more weeks or days. It doesn’t matter how much it costs.

♥︎ At some point, she starts finding herself hovering at your side all the time. She doesn’t want to leave. Not even to sleep. It becomes a strange routine for her, a kind of forced comfort where the silence between you is full of things neither of you are brave enough to say.

♥︎ If you’re awake enough, she’ll push your hair out of your face, but she won’t look you in the eyes. She doesn’t know how to handle the emotions you bring out in her, and it terrifies her.

♥︎ She never asks you how you’re feeling or if you want to talk about it, because she’s afraid you’ll say that you’re giving up. She can’t handle hearing it from your lips, even though she knows deep down you’re right.

♥︎ She starts to get more agitated, snapping at people who are just trying to help because nothing feels like it’s good enough. If anyone says something remotely positive about your situation, she shuts them down hard. She can’t pretend like there’s hope when there’s none.

♥︎ When you can’t leave the bed anymore, Sevika starts bringing everything to you. Food, water, medicine, books to distract you—anything to keep you from slipping further into the darkness.

♥︎ She never shows her tears, but sometimes when she thinks you’re sleeping, she finds herself staring at you, face etched with raw pain, her jaw clenched tight to hold back the wave of emotions that threatens to drown her.

♥︎ Her temper is worse than usual. She’s quick to lash out at others, mostly because she’s so incredibly fucking scared. Scared of losing you. Scared of not being able to save you. And she hates herself for not being able to fix it.

♥︎ She makes herself scarce around people when it gets worse. She’s quieter, more brooding, because the weight of her guilt and helplessness is too heavy to share. The only place she feels even a little bit in control is by your side.

♥︎ On the nights you’re too weak to speak, she holds your hand with a tightness that borders on painful. Her touch is demanding, like she’s afraid you’ll slip away in the blink of an eye.

♥︎ She doesn’t let you see her fear. Every day is a reminder of how much she’s failing you. And every time she sees that spark of hope in your eyes, it drives her mad because she knows she can’t keep it alive forever.

♥︎ As things worsen, she starts avoiding the topic of your death. It feels like a betrayal every time someone mentions it. She ignores the reality, pretending there’s a chance things will magically improve.

♥︎ When you do finally die, it feels like she’s been hit by a freight train. The finality of it leaves her in a state of shock, unable to process it. She doesn’t cry in front of you, not even when she closes your eyes for the last time.

♥︎ Sevika keeps busy after your passing. She throws herself into work, into anything that will distract her from the empty space beside her. She stops sleeping, drinking herself into oblivion, until her body can’t keep up with her broken heart.

♥︎ There are days when the memories hit her in waves. She can still hear your voice in her head, your laugh, the way you’d complain when she pushed too hard. And every time, it feels like a weight she can’t shake.

♥︎ People stop asking her how she’s doing because it’s obvious. She doesn’t need words anymore. The silence speaks for her. She’s the same outwardly—cold, distant—but internally, she’s unraveling, a mess of emotions she doesn’t know how to deal with.

♥︎ She tries to convince herself it’s better this way. You aren’t suffering anymore, and she can’t deny that you were getting worse. But she also knows she’ll never be the same again. That part of her is gone, taken by something she could never control.

♥︎ In the long run, Sevika doesn’t let anyone get close to her again. The wound you left in her will never heal, and she doesn’t think anyone could ever fill the hole you left behind. Not that she’s ready for that anyway

♥︎ But every now and then, when she’s alone, she lets herself think back to you. To the time you spent together, how you made her laugh, how you made her feel alive again. And she lets herself grieve the woman who was once hers.

[lynnuvo]

୨⎯ Long Gone Princess ⎯୧

Characters: Yan!Thief x (Y/N) reincarnated as Rapunzel A lot of you guys enjoyed the Cinderella version, so why not make a Rapunzel version? Very much considering making this a Yan!Fairytales Series.

Stowed Away

When you first awoke in your tower, you panicked for days. There was literally no way out, no matter how much you clawed at the bricks. It didn't take long to figure out where exactly you were. Who else would paint a mural of herself, seriously long-haired, gazing at floating lanterns?

Meeting Mother Gothel was the most anxiety-inducing thing you had to push through. You pitied the real Rapunzel for falling victim to her sugar-coated, poisonous words. As much as you internally cringed at them, it wouldn't serve you well to raise suspicion. After all, you have nowhere to go.

Whenever Mother Gothel was gone and you finished tidying up the tower, you emptied one of your chests full of female paraphernalia and stuffed some "safety equipment inside." Hopefully, Mother Gothel wouldn't notice a missing pair of scissors. Or a few darts.

Your now abnormally long hair was disturbing, to say the least. It was pretty, but now that you were living her life, you wandered how Rapunzel managed to put up with the hair strands scattered around the house, washing the heap of keratin proteins for hours in just ONE day, and sleep knowing there was at least some hair flowing to the floor. And let's be real: you were not going to spend most of your day braiding it just to remove your work whenever Mother Gothel came back.

Unfortunately, you couldn't afford to cut your hair--not just because it'd give Mother Gothel a heart attack but because it might help you. It did have magical healing powers. The only huge problem was that you were not skilled enough to maneuver your hair like Rapunzel. In addition, if you were to leave the tower, how would you return? Until you found the secret entrance amongst all the brick, you needed a backup plan.

One day, you gathered the courage to ask Mother Gothel for more fabric to sew a beautiful wedding dress, one that was colorful and very long. Of course, you left out the part where you wanted it to be long enough to reach the bottom of the tower (it'd be a lot of work, but what else were you going to do to escape?). She was skeptical about the idea behind the dress, but you reassured her that you just wanted something like those girls in the fairytale books you had in your room. After her lecture about the dangers of the world, she agreed to get you fabric.

My Savior

One morning, while you sowed your dress, you heard the sound of metal jabbing into something growing closer and closer. In a panic, you shut off your sewing machine and tied up as much as your hair as possible. There was no way you could capture Rapunzel's beloved thief the way she did. You vaguely prepared for what to do when he arrived, but you hadn't expected it to be that day!

At last, he fell into the tower and froze at the sight of you. He glanced behind him and turned back around, stepping away from the window with hands up. "Uh. I am so sorry for breaking into your home."

You pointed one of your scissors (used to cut fabric earlier) at him with a glare. "I'll forgive you if you hand me that bag you have."

"Listen, miss, I think we can sort this out without--"

"The bag or I'll throw you back down."

He gulped and reluctantly threw you the bag, begging you to please return it to him afterwards. The shock he had at your nonchalant expression while pulling out the most sparkly crown you've ever seen was laughable. In reality though, you were in awe. You quickly snapped out of it, though, and threw it behind you. You both cringed at the clanging it made as it hit the floor.

"I need you to listen to me," you started, gripping your scissors and your dress. "I need your help."

You didn't hesitate to cut to the chase. You explained that you were kidnapped by a woman claiming to be your mother and trapped in the tower by her. Although it may backfire on you later, you shared that you were reincarnated from another world. He was in disbelief until you told him his full name, his criminal history, the companions he had who would soon betray him, and the small cottage he visited along with many more criminals or outlaws. He challenged that you just did your research, but then you told him what crime he had just committed: stealing the missing princess's crown, which was--by the way--you.

After some back and forth, he agreed to help on the condition that you return the crown. You agreed to return it on the condition that he not only help you escape but also help you live in safety.

Together, you both clawed at the bricks on the wall until the secret backdoor was found. He helped you come up with a way to hide the new backdoor again whenever Mother Gothel returned.

You found a pattern in the earlier months leading up to then on Mother Gothel's pattern of visitation. She comes back every three or four days in early evening. If she didn't return by the time the sun disappeared, she wouldn't be back at all. That day was one of those days she wasn't going back. You suspected she wouldn't return for a while since she had just left the day before. Although hesitant at the idea of a new roommate, you demanded that Yan!Thief spend the night in the same room as you. He balked at what he thought was an implication, but he soon found himself sleeping on the floor (you dropped a blanket for him). How were you sure he wouldn't use the secret backdoor while you slept? You boobietrapped it before bed, making sure he stayed in the room so he wouldn't see under the threat of murder.

Steal His Heart

Your new routine was a scary turn but also surprisingly relieving. Yan!Thief would leave the tower in search of a new home for you (and him too) and would return in the afternoon only if a piece of purple fabric hung outside the window. Otherwise, it wasn't safe to come back.

Although your relationship started off rocky (who's to blame him with how violently you approached him?), you two soon warmed up to each other. He sometimes returned with small goods that you sometimes got a clear answer for how he retrieved. That chocolate he got for you both to try? He pickpocketed it. That ripe fruit that tasted like mildew spring? He dodged all of the questions.

Eventually, you gathered the courage to leave the tower with him. Your activities differed from there. Sometimes, you both ventured a little ways from the tower to discover the terrain and help find a new home. Sometimes, you both would spend the day walking around, learning more about each other and chatting away.

With no other companion, it came as no surprise to Yan!Thief that he developed romantic feelings for you. You didn't want to admit that you did too. At least, not until you both were in a safe place.

At last, Yan!Thief found an abandoned shelter. It was rusty, but it was closer to the kingdom than the tower but sheltered away like the tower. With a pounding heart, you gathered as much as you could from your tower into a backpack that Yan!Thief had brought over and left forever. In the shelter, you cut your hair, rendering it free from its power. Yan!Thief initially didn't want it to happen due to your great abilities, but one look at your determined face told him that you knew better.

The next couple weeks was spent in paranoia, you in fear of Mother Gothel and him in fear of guards. Luckily, you two went as far as making it into the kingdom without getting caught.

One day, you brought up the idea of revealing your identity to the king and queen while fidgeting with your crown. You reassured Yan!Thief that you'd vouch for his safety and freedom for as much as possible. It took a while for him to warm up to that, but you two finally made your way towards the castle.

Everything went surprisingly as planned. The kingdom rejoiced at the return of their princess, Yan!Thief was spared of a prison sentence and was even given a home and job as a prize for bringing you back, and the dead, rotten body of Mother Gothel was found not far from the shelter you and Yan!Thief had found.

Life was a fairytale.

MY Princess

Until it wasn't.

See, although you and Yan!Thief seemed to start opening a romantic chapter, that soon closed. With your newfound title came new responsibilities, friends, and much to his worries, a possible new love interest.

He tried his best to remain just a friend to you, but it was unbelievably hard. He couldn't believe that you were slowly forgetting him, your savior! Why must you abandon your knight in shining armor?!

He did feel guilty for not appreciating his new life more. Any other criminal would probably fight tooth and nail to be in his position, but he just wasn't happy if you weren't there with him.

Once his selfishness began to boil over, he devised a plan he wasn't sure if he was going to regret. He paid a visit to your room in the castle (you had given your dear best friend special permission) and chatted with you a bit. You apologized for being so distant as of late; royal duties had been keeping you at bay. He accepted your apology more readily than he had expected. It was hard not to with your bright smile and the cute way you pushed your hair behind your ears. He asked if you had time to visit the old tower for memories sake, and you happily agreed. The kingdom had yet to find the tower (you insisted to him that you wanted it kept secret in case you needed to run away again), so you simply told your guards you were heading out for a stroll.

Once at the tower, you two ventured inside and reveled at how dramatic your lives had changed. You even reminisced your life before being reincarnated. As the sun fell, you got up and suggested that you both should head back before it gets dark.

"Yan!Thief?" You peered at his gloomy expression. "Is everything okay?"

He nodded. got up, and hugged you. You let out a gasp before embracing him back. When he left go, you caught a tear slipped down his cheek. Your hands shot up to cup his face. "Yan!Thief?! What's wrong? I'm here. Did something happen?"

He sniffled and brushed a hand over your cheek. "I'm so sorry."

You were about to demand an explanation until you caught a glimmer shine from a blade in his other hand.

When you woke, you found your ankle chained to your bed--not your bed in the beautiful castle you were meant to be in but in the tower you had escaped from a year ago.

Yan!Thief came in the room and apologized with tears streaming down his face, exclaiming that you were just too irresistible to give to any other man or even the kingdom. He promised to take care of everything.

No matter how much you screamed, threw items in a fit of rage, or revealed that you only had romantic feelings for him all this time, he wouldn't budge. It was only until he bought a longer chain that he freed you from the bed. Your heart broke when you discovered he had discarded the wedding dress you had worked hard on and abandoned in the tower long ago, and even more so when you saw that he had built a new door in front of the original secret entrance.

You were back to square one, only this time with no way out and betrayed by the one person you truly trusted in this universe.

[sirfrogsworth]

The Anger Returned

This is probably the most hurtful and infuriating paragraph I've ever read...

"As for taking care of dad. We offered many times to find a place for you and dad to live closer to us so that we could take dad to his appointments and have some skilled care available. He didn't want to leave you at the house alone, so my wife searched high and low for a place that could take both of you. Dad was open to moving closer to us and had said he would have done so on several occasions but you were unwilling to give up the house and ultimately dad said no based on your opposition to moving and that you both would remain at the house. You make it sound like you were taking on this burden to relieve the pressure off me, but in reality this was the only way to retain the house for you after dad's passing. Because if you were unable to care for Dad the current situation would be very different."

That is one of the last things my brother said to me way back in August of 2023.

I don't understand how two people can be so oblivious to what is involved in taking care of a dying person.

Taking him to his appointments was probably the easiest part. And that is what they were willing to personally contribute.

And "skilled care"? What does that mean? A nurse? House cleaning?

Within my dad's budget, we could have maybe afforded someone to come a few times per week. That would have been almost no help to me at all. Plus, they could have sent "skilled care" to this house. Why was that dependent on moving closer?

It feels like they think appointments and having someone come over for a few hours here and there is all it took to care for my father.

But accusing me of wanting to stay put so I could "retain the house."

I still don't know how to process that anger.

It repeats in my head in a loop. Sometimes I will forget about it for a few weeks. Maybe a month. And then tonight it just started looping in my head again.

First, my dad lied. He kinda screwed me. He probably didn't know he was screwing me. But he did not want to leave this house. He was surrounded by my mom's things. He thought her spirit was still here. He talked to her at night when he was trying to fall asleep. I don't think he knew I could hear him.

Oh, and he threatened to kill himself if we tried to move him out of this house. So there was that, too.

But he lied and blamed it on me so my brother would stop pressuring him to move. I get it. But it gave my brother an excuse to blame me. A way to justify away his guilt. Sure, he was only 45 minutes away. But if he were only 5 minutes away, that would have somehow solved everything.

My dad couldn't go to a nursing home because he was neglected so badly in rehab (which is a nursing home) that he had to call the police on them. He said "I'll die before I go back to one of those places."

And the fact they were even considering that just shows you how out of touch they were with the situation.

And, yes, I didn't want to move. That is true. But it had nothing to do with "retaining the house." I thought the stressful process of moving would kill my dad. And I asked the doctor what moving could do to my dad's health and he said, without hesitation, "Oh yeah, that would have killed him."

Beyond that, they had no plan. They didn't say how we were going to get our belongings out of the house. How were we supposed to handle the realtor or open houses? It took me months to configure this place to my dad's needs. Were they going to help me do that in a tiny apartment? Were they going to find my dad new doctors and a new pharmacy?

I built an entire infrastructure around this house to take care of my dad. They talk about all this work they did googling apartments but they did no research or planning on how to actually move us. Was that up to me? Was I supposed to figure all that out while giving him 24/7 care?

I was watching a new show called The Pitt and it had a woman taking care of her elderly mom. And she was so overwhelmed she abandoned her at the ER. And I started crying because that is so real. Taking care of a dying person is nonstop stress.

I had to watch my dad go to the bathroom every single time to make sure he didn't fall. Which meant I never slept through the night.

Not once.

I slept on a mattress on the floor next to the hallway so every time he got up, I would wake up. And if he fell, I would pick him up. In the final few months he could not tuck himself back into bed. So 4 times per night I had to get up, watch him pee, arrange his pillows so they supported his back, pull up the covers, and then tuck them under the pillows so they wouldn't move. He was so uncomfortable all the time and that was the only way he could fall asleep.

And those were the *easy* days.

The hard days involved cleaning up pee and poop. Sometimes blood. Sometimes mystery fluids. Before I got the special lifting device, if he fell, I had to literally drag him to his electronic reclining chair so we could use the footrest to help get him up again. I once had to drag him through two rooms and hurt my back for a week. I probably should have called EMS, but I didn't know my back would go out until it was too late.

And then there were the delirium days where he talked and didn't make any sense. How do you take care of someone you can't communicate with? He had a dead toe that needed lotion applied. Nearly made me puke every time. And then there was the time the urologist had to open up his urethra. With a metal spike. My dad screamed so loud I nearly had a panic attack. Every person in that office heard him scream.

But I think his depression was probably the hardest to deal with. He had a son that never spoke to him. Never visited. And a granddaughter he only met a few times. He cried himself to sleep so many nights. Sometimes it was so bad I had to lie with him in bed and just rub his back until he fell asleep. He was so lonely without my mom. And I tried to be good company, but I was often too tired to give him any attention beyond his care.

When things were hardest he would get suicidal. And considering his quality of life, I didn't blame him. Sometimes I regret keeping him alive as long as I did. He was ready to go as soon as he lost his wife. But we both held out hope my brother would wake the fuck up and realize there was not much time to make amends. To say goodbye. To install core memories of my dad in his daughter's mind. So she'd at least have one grandparent to remember.

It never happened and I feel guilty for letting him live so long in misery when deep down I knew that hope was foolish.

That's the kind of shit no one knows or thinks about when it comes to caregiving. The easy days are hard and the hard days are impossible and you feel awful for feeling overwhelmed because you aren't the one miserable and dying. Dialysis is nearly barbaric.

For over a year, I barely slept at night. And the only time I could get uninterrupted sleep was when he was at dialysis. So the only time I ever had to myself, I had to use sleeping so I wouldn't burn out.

Hiring a "skilled worker" does nothing to help me with that. And no nursing home is going to give him that kind of care.

Only love can give someone that kind of care.

My brother doesn't think I saved him from any burden by taking care of my dad. I just wish I could figure out a way to show him just how incorrect that is.

If I refused to take care of my dad and left it all in my brother's hands, he would have put him in a nursing home and burned through all of my dad's money in a few months. Then he'd either have to pay for his care or take him in.

Was he going to watch my dad pee 4 times a night and tuck him in?

Those who have never taken care of someone like this... have you ever thought deeply about what is involved? Does your common sense tell you it is a little more than driving to appointments and hiring a "skilled worker"?

Why does my brother (and my uncles) think so little of my efforts?

I honestly thought it was common knowledge that taking care of a dying person was super duper hard.

It was the hardest thing I will ever do. And the thing I am most proud of accomplishing. And for some reason I still want my brother to say thank you. I don't know how to find closure without that gratitude. And I'm pretty sure it will never happen.

[afictionalwhor3]

Hitting the Books

IceHockey!Cregan x Tutor!Reader

Summary: Cregan has to get tutoring after being put on academic probation, but he doesn't expect to fall for his tutor

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, cursing, a small amount of angst

Word Count: 4.3k

"Yeah Jace I'll talk to you later I'm about to walk into the tutoring center now," Cregan says with a sigh as he holds the door open for someone and walks in.

"AHAHAHA I forgot you had that. Bye loser have fun" Jace laughs in his ear before hanging up the phone.

"Dickhead" Cregan grumbles under his breath walking up to the front desk to check himself in, "Cregan Stark. It's my first time here. My session is supposed to be at twelve" He tells the man sitting behind the desk. He watches him type something in the computer and thinks about the series of decisions that landed him here. He knew he was slacking in school, not going to class, not turning in assignments. But in his defense with hockey season starting all those things seemed irrelevant. He found himself in an increased role this year and the team looked better than ever. He was ecstatic about the season and would go as far as to say this could be the year they win the conference. After coming so close in the past, he felt like this could be it. Now he watched as the best thing in his life could be taken from him. His coach brought him into the office to let him know he was on academic probation until further notice. This included spontaneous class checks, weekly academic checkups, and tutoring at least twice a week. He was one wrong step away from not just getting kicked off the team but kicked out of school all together. That was something he could not afford. 

"Y/n is gonna be your tutor she is at table six" the man behind the desk says and he nods his head walking to the back and finding multiple tables placed around the room. Spaced out far enough to grant each one some respective form of privacy. The large windows that surrounded the room allowed plenty of light to illuminate the area and granted views of campus. The view was beautiful and had Cregan momentarily entranced. Coming back to reality he looked around, seeing a few people scattered across the room when he finally saw a table labeled with the number six on it. He began walking towards it where a girl was currently sat. She appeared to be deep in thought with headphones covering her ears and typing quickly on her laptop. 

"Excuse me," Cregan starts as he approaches "I'm looking for Y/n, I'm here for tutoring" He states plainly watching as you take off your headphones, smile, and stand up extending your hand towards him,

"You must be Cregan. Nice to meet you I'm Y/n" You say as he takes your outstretched hand shaking it and giving you a tight lipped smile. You sit once again moving your laptop to the side and putting your headphones away "Twice a week for two hours is our schedule right?" You ask and Cregan nods his head with a sigh. He could think of approximately a hundred other places he would rather be than here. You weren’t an idiot and you could definitely pick up that vibe from him. You also knew who he was, one of your friends had a boyfriend on the hockey team so you had seen him around. And the only time athletes came into the tutoring center was when they were about to be academically ineligible to play, so you knew why he was here. Determined to make the best out of the current situation you smile and ask, "What do you want to start with? It can be anything you might be having trouble with," You ask while watching him slowly take out a laptop and notebook. He sighs again turning it on,

"I guess my calc class? That and my writing class are probably my worst grades right now," He says as he shows you what he is learning and you begin to explain it to him. 

And that is how it goes between the two of you. Cregan always shows up on time, polite despite being disinterested, and your conversations revolve solely around academics. Not that it bothered you too much. He was never rude but you could tell when your words were going in one ear and out the other. You were getting paid regardless, and he if wanted to flunk out of school despite your help that was his business. You sometimes thought in different circumstances you may try your luck with him. Because despite his indifference, there was no denying how attractive he was. Those stormy grey eyes that only got prettier as the weather got colder, chestnut locks that he sometimes likes to put in a bun at the base of his neck, and a tall lean build he often hid beneath hoodies and sweats but you could still make out. Contrary to his teammates you hadn’t heard much about him sleeping around, but you had to assume a man on his level got his fair share. It was week three and you were sat next to him at the tutoring center trying to help him work through a question while these thoughts floated around the back of your head. In the middle of explaining he cut you off going, 

"Wait I think I get this. All I have to do is," He starts and works out the rest of the problem on his own. You laugh slightly in disbelief. Maybe beneath acting like he was too cool for this, he was actually paying attention and learning. You nodded your head as you double-checked his work, 

"Wow exactly. Good job," You say smiling proudly and looking at him. For the first time, he returns the smile giving you a genuine one as he inputs the answer in his computer. You notice a notification fall across his screen as he does so,

"Oh shit my essay was graded," He says and you watch him quickly click around so he could pull the grade up. 

"The one we worked on last week?" You question and watch as he nods in response. The tab loads and you watch him scroll down and the grade on the screen reads, 74. You watch him visibly deflate as he sees the grade. Despite having to force it out of him you knew he put his all into that paper. You also knew it was the first assignment he was proud of and you did not like the cold and sad feeling that ran through you seeing how disappointed he was. You put what you hoped was a comforting hand on his shoulder while he looked at you. "Well, it’s not completely terrible. It’s around the class average so at least you know it isn’t just you. What have you been getting on essays this semester?" You ask and he shrugs

"Honestly? This is the first one I've submitted in a while" He says sheepishly a small smile pulling at his lips and you sigh trying to contain your own smile.

"Well, then this a great starting place. Don’t be disappointed. I’ll have you producing A-plus essays in no time,” You say and at this, he scoffs and then rolls his eyes.

"I appreciate the confidence, and you’re a pretty good teacher, but I'm not an A student. I live more in the low to mid C range," He states and you proceed to pinch him making Cregan flinch away from you rubbing his shoulder.

"With that shitty attitude, I can see why. You just said I’m a good teacher, therefore I’m gonna get you to an A, at the very least a B-” You say confidently staring him down. He leans back in his seat feeling hot under your intense gaze.

"Alright, alright. I’m just letting you know it won’t be an easy feat,” He says and you shake your head.

“To this day I have yet to turn down a good challenge,” You say smirking and open up the assignment to see the comments his teacher left.

You considered that day to be the turning point in your dynamic. From that day on Cregan began to open up considerably. He was more attentive during your sessions and you could see how much he was progressing in all his classes. He started arriving earlier and earlier spending the time before your session talking about anything but school. You learned he had a half sister and he lived up north so he grew up playing hockey. The more you got to know him the more you began to like him which was doing terrible things to your body. You found yourself growing increasingly nervous in his presence. Every time he laughed or teased you, a swarm of butterflies seemed to take flight in your stomach. Just the sight of him was enough to send your heart racing. Previously when you would see him around campus he pretended he didn’t see you and increased his pace. Now he waved and if he wasn’t on his way somewhere, stopped to talk to you. You had no idea what these new feelings would mean for you going forward. Your friends told you that you should say something but the last thing you wanted is for the feelings to be unreciprocated. He would probably get a new tutor and above all else, you were incredibly proud of his progress and wanted to continue to watch him grow. It had been six weeks since you started tutoring Cregan and the two of you exchanged numbers in case he had questions when you weren’t together. And occasionally he sent you a tik tok or two. You were sitting in the library working on homework when you got his text,

Cregan: Y/n

Cregan: Wya? 

You: Main library… why? 

Cregan: Second floor in the quiet spot in the back? 

You: Yea why what’s up? 

Cregan: Okay stay there I’m coming rn

Cregan: Gotta show you something urgently

His last text had you in a cold sweat. What the hell could he possibly have to show you. The thoughts ran rampant in your head. Above all else you hoped he was okay because of the urgency of his text messages. You did your best to refocus on your work but couldn’t help but nervously pick at your nails until you saw him walking down one of the rows of shelves. You stood up as he walked towards you, his steps quick and smile wide. “What is up with you?” You ask confused as he gets close enough and pulls a paper out to show you. When he gets close enough you take it out of his hands and look it over realizing it’s his last math test. At the top circled in red reads, 92. 

“Holy shit a 92?!” You say loudly and then remember where you were as he nods his head picking you up easily and spinning you in a circle. You gasp laughing while he spins you around. “Cregan put me down oh my god,” You say in between laughs as he brings you back to the ground softly a big smile on his face. 

“This is all because of you. I could have never done this without you,” He sates and you shake your head, 

“Absolutely not, I may have pushed you in the right direction but you put the hard work in. I’m so proud of you. I told you I’d make you an A+ student now let’s get that writing grade up,” You say with a smile and comfortable silence falls over the two of you as Cregan admires you. He had always thought you were pretty, but now it was as if the world had sharpened into focus, and he was truly seeing you for the first time. You had a blush on that made your cheeks look adorable, your smile was bright enough to illuminate the room, and your lips looked soft and so kissable. About two minutes go bye before he realizes he has been staring at you for longer than socially acceptable. 

“Well I have to get practice, it’s at six, but I wanted to show you my grade first. I knew you’d be proud,” He said and you smiled back at him and then quickly checked your watch the time reading 5:55. 

“Cregan you have five minutes and the rink is on the other side of campus,” You say and he nods his head in understanding and shrugs. 

“Yeah I know. I still wanted to show you.” He says and you feel your face heat up at his admission. “Oh and I wanted to invite you… and your friends to the hockey house this Saturday. We have off so we’re throwing if you’d like to come. I would personally like you to be there. We can celebrate our big achievement,” He says hopefully trying to gauge your reaction. 

“Well if you personally want me there, and I do love celebrating accomplishments. I think I’ll see you there,” You smirk looking at him and watch as he fist pumps the air and starts backing up to leave. 

“Awesome. It starts at 10 I’ll see you there,” He says and you wave and watch as he runs out of the library. He ended up being twenty minutes late to practice and did sprints for every minute he missed. It didn’t matter though because you were coming to his party Saturday. 

~~

“Y/n you look great c’mon…. It’s already 11,” your roommate says standing at the door with your two other friends you were going out with. You sigh playing with your hair one more time nervously and double checking yourslef in the mirror before you walk over to them and you guys begin the trek from the dorms to hockey house. 

“Yeah y/n you look hot I’m sure Cregan will be alllll over you when he sees you” your friend teases running her hands over you while you push her away and everyone laughs. 

“Oh shut up all of you let’s just get there it’s cold,” You say wrapping your arms around yourself. Your jeans did the work of keeping your legs warm but the shirt, which you could barely call a top with how little material it was, had you freezing in the January air. The hockey house was in sight with people hanging outside and music blasting out of it. You walk inside with no problems and are immediately greeted by the hot, humid environment. Your friends smile at you, they loved a good party and you smiled back. It has been a while since you went out and you were thankful for the reprieve for how crazy school had been. You guys grab some juice and make your way back to the dancing area. You see Cregan’s friend Jace behind the DJ stand as you and your friends get lost in the music. 

After a while your roommate leans over to whisper in your ear so you could hear her “Where is Cregan? I haven’t seen him,” She says and you look around curiously. Between the pregame and the jungle juice you had a nice buzz going as a smile took over your face. 

“I’m gonna go get some more juice and look for him I’ll be back,” You say as she nods and goes back to dancing. You find the kitchen to refill your cup and hopefully find Cregan. You walk into the space and look around the people in the room when your cup falls out of your hand. Tears burn at your waterline as you see Cregan and a girl pressed against the counter. Her arms are wrapped securely around his neck while his hands rest on her hips. You clench your fists tightly trying to prevent yourself from crying as you storm away to find your friends. 

Cregan pushes the girl away as she looks at him confused while he shakes his head “Sorry I’m not really into this. I’m looking for someone,” He says walking away and going back into the main room looking for you. You find your roommate whispering in her ear, 

“I’m ready to go. I need to leave,” You say and she looks at you confused but the glossy nature of your eyes has her nodding her head and taking your hand. Your two other friends stay as you two make your way back to the dorm and you explain what you saw. 

Despite being able to see over most of the people there it doesn’t help Cregan find you. It was almost midnight, you should have been here by now. He goes up to the DJ stand to ask Jace, 

“Did you see Y/n tonight?” He asks and Jace looks out at the crowd where you once were and sees only the two other girls you came with. 

“She was here with those girls over there but it looks like she’s gone,” Jace says going back to spinning and Cregan deflates. It looks out at the crowd defeated before he pulls out his phone text you. 

Cregan: Hey, you still coming tonight?

He waits and waits for a resposne but nothing. You see his text and choose to ignore it. When you don’t answer he finds it hard to find fun in this party deciding to call it early. You don’t answer any of Cregan’s texts all weekend and Sunday you send him a text

You: No sessions this week. 

Cregan reads the text waiting for an explantion that never comes. 

Cregan: Okay… is everything okay? 

You: Yup. Not feeling the best 

Cregan: Oh ok. Feel better 🙂

Cregan once again waits for a response that never comes. During the week he sends you a few tiktoks that remind him of you, and a couple questions about his class work. However, every one is left on delivered. Whatever bug you caught must have got you good. After practice Friday Cregan wanted to stop by to check up on you but suddenly realized he had no clue where you lived. Remembering Benjicot’s girlfriend was a friend of yours, he asked him to ask her for your building information. In the meantime, he went to the store to grab your favorite snacks, candies, and then employed the help of his sister to find out what else would make a sick girl feel better. By the time he gets back to his car, Ben has sent him your info which makes him smile. A short drive later Cregan finds himself standing before your door and suddenly paralyzed by nerves. What was he doing here? Sure you two had gotten closer in the last few weeks, but that didn’t mean you wanted to see him. You also hadn’t responded to him all week, maybe there was a good reason behind this. Maybe what you had was extremely contagious and he was compromising himself. This had to be one of his stupidest ideas yet. All of a sudden the plastic bag in his hand felt like a ton of bricks. But this whole week he’d missed you in a way he didn’t think possible. Without realizing it, you had gently woven yourself into Cregan's heart, becoming someone he cherished more than he ever thought possible. Before he had a chance to talk himself out of this anymore, your door opened and your roommate stood before him. She gulped before yelling over her shoulder, 

“Y/n! Someone’s here for you!” She fixes the bag on her shoulder before walking by him “Good luck,” She says walking away. Cregan looks at her confused then back through the door watching as you walk out your room. You didn’t look sick, maybe a little bit sad, but still gorgeous in his eyes. The door was beginning to close so Cregan stepped inside despite not being entirely invited in. He smiles as you get closer holding up the bag but before he can speak you hold up a hand cutting him off, 

“Why the hell are you here? I told you no sessions this week. Did your coach not get the email I sent him?” You ask as he looks at you confused. 

“Yes I know and yes he did but you said you were sick and you weren’t answering your texts. I figured you were really sick and I wanted to come check up on you and make sure you were okay. You seem fine and well I brought your favorite snacks,” He says trying his luck again holding up the bag with a smile but getting nothing but a glare back from you. 

“You really shouldn’t have. Like really shouldn’t have. You can take yourself, and your bag, and get the hell outta here,” You say and Cregan is now completely confused. You have never been this brash with him, even when he was sort of a dick at the beginning of your tutoring sessions. He drops his arm in defeat and tilts his head while looking at you, 

“Y/n what is going on? I’m starting to get the sense there is something more going on here,” Cregan says stepping closer to you. You laugh dryly looking at him, 

“No shit. I know you were pretty dumb but you have to be smarter by now,” You say and watch as Cregan takes a step back and you watch hurt immediately fill his eyes. Now you feel your heart wrench. You should not have said that. That cold feeling wraps around your spine the same way it did all those weeks ago at seeing the sad look in Cregan’s eyes. Despite how much you might be hurting that was a blow too low and you knew deep down you didn’t mean it. You pinch the bridge of your nose taking a deep breath “I’m sorry Cregan. That was- fucked up. You aren’t dumb I promise I’m just. I don’t want to speak to you,” You say looking at him again as he rests the bag on your coffee table. 

“Okay… Can I ask where this is coming from or are you going to call me dumb again?” He asks and you sigh suddenly feeling like the one that’s the dick. You cross your arms across your chest and let yourself speak without thinking, 

“Maybe you should ask the girl whose tongue you had down your throat. I’m sure she has all the answers you’re looking for,” You say snarkily while rolling your eyes at the image. Cregan feels his eye twitch because since the door opened he has only gotten more confused. He closes his eyes so he can think hard about what you’re talking about and then remembers on Saturday there was this random girl that kissed him. But he doesn’t know how you could have seen that because it lasted no more than thirty seconds. He did not want to kiss her, maybe you but you left before he could find you. 

“That random girl from the party? She kissed me first and it didn’t last very long. Why would you even care about it?” Cregan asks the big picture to all of this still lost to him. Y/n puts her head in her hands laughing before looking at him once again,

“You cannot be serious right now. You must be joking. Like this is some big prank right?” You ask as Cregan shakes his head no. “I like you stupid. Holy shit I fucking like you. A lot more than I should and I know this is what I get for liking an athlete and especially one of you hockey guys. All you do is play girls and break hearts and that’s what I get for liking you. Fucking stupid I am to think you would like me back. You’re right I don’t know why I would care about you kissing some random girl all I am to you is a means to an end. On that note you know how inappropriate this is because I literally tutor you so-” you are cut off by Cregan pressing a searing kiss to your lips. His large hand grips your hip while the other cups your face. After about a minute he pulls away to look at you. 

“Sorry, you were rambling. Y/n I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I know the reputation of the guys on my team. I’m here to tell you I’m not like them. At the moment that probably isn’t believable, but I promise I’ll do whatever it takes to prove you otherwise. I’m not here to break your heart, I don’t do that. Especially to a woman like you. You are truly one of a kind. I kissed her, but it ended almost as quickly as it began—because at that moment, I knew she wasn’t the one my heart truly longed for. That day in the library I should have told you this, but I was scared. I’m not scared now though. I don’t like you being mad at me, at all. Whatever by laws we are breaking by being together, fuck it. You are worth indefinite academic probabtion. I don’t wanna speak for you but I would like to see where this goes. Me and you. A relationship outside of you being my teacher.” He says with a smile at the end as you look at him smiling and then slap him softly which takes him by shock. 

“If I ever, ever catch you kissing another girl I’m cutting your dick off and I’m not fucking playing.” you say and Cregan thinks about laughing but your glare levels him and he nods his head quickly. Now it is your turn to smile and pull him to press another one of those searing kisses to your lips. It was everything you imagined it to be and more. You pull away to catch your breath and hold him close, “I hope you know this doesn’t mean I’m letting up on you at all,” You say and Cregan smile reflects yours. 

“I expected nothing less. I hope you know this means I will be accepting kisses as rewards for good grades. And maybe a little more later on.” he whispers pinching your butt and making you giggle before pressing his lips against yours one more time.