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strwberri-milk · 2 days ago

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Good morning, Berri. I'm back with another LADS request. You can consider this request a continuation of this: https://www.tumblr.com/strwberri-milk/780182378558767104/good-morning-berri-im-back-with-another-lads May I request: You bring the LADS men to your family's Christmas reunion party held annually at your grandparent's place for the first time. It didn't take long for that one flirtatious cousin to hit on your boyfriend. What happens?

i dont think ive done this before but also, just a heads up these are going to be shorter bc of the fact that youre asking for all of them - please remember that if you want more detailed requests to cap it at three as my rules state.

He won't take it at all. He doesn't respond to any sort of flirtatious comment that is being directed at him, no matter how subtle or overt the comment may be. He makes it very clear that he's only interested in you and nobody else, and just because it's family doesn't mean he's going to be nice. He wants to set down clear boundaries and make sure that nobody thinks he's going to do anything behind your back.

Zayne is the most polite of the group at least. He rebukes any sort of affection with a firm nod and a gentle push in the right direction - physically too, if he must. If they try to touch him or get too close he'll redirect by moving their hand by the wrist or gently pushing against their arm and putting his own around your waist.

At some point it'll just become very awkward for them when Zayne decides to just start giving them a cold stare. They'll say something, call him funny and try to touch his bicep again and everyone's watching because they've been seeing this rejection over and over again. He'll simply tell them that if they try to touch him one more time he'll be leaving because he feels like they're acting highly inappropriate with him. He'll level them with a pointed look and now they're forced to acknowledge their actions.

If they try to deny it then he'll drop it but if they try again then he'll simply ask to leave, the two of you slipping away as Zayne doesn't want to put up with it anymore. If they finally apologise then Zayne is going to make it clear that the apology hasn't made things "okay", avoiding them for the rest of the night in a more pointed manner and making everybody gossip and whisper.

Xavier will just avoid their touches. It doesn't matter how awkward it might be for him to literally jump away from them but he'll do it if he has to. He's already attached to you by the hip so it's not like you're going to be too far away for him to grab at. They'll laugh awkwardly, telling him that they don't bite and that he doesn't need to run away so viscerally. He doesn't bother replying, just turning his attention back to you and keeping close to you.

If they keep trying then he'll just turn and tell them to leave him alone. He isn't interested and he won't ever be interested. That, paired with the death glare he gives them makes it clear that even if Xavier looks passive and chill, there's no way he won't act on a perceived threat to his relationship - which is what they're presenting as. He'll make the message clear by just asking you if the two of you can go home and Xavier won't show up at any future events if they're present.

Rafayel doesn't respond well at all. Similar to Xavier, he has no problem acting out. He's known as difficult for a reason and he will pull out every diva card he needs to. The first statement is flatly ignored, Rafayel looking at them like they're the dirt on his shoes as he asks them what they're trying to do. He isn't a fan of what they're insinuating and he makes it clear, rolling his eyes and treating them unkindly.

He'll maintain a cold attitude throughout the entire event, making it a point of walking away or straight up laughing at them if the statement calls for it. He finds it highly offensive that they think hitting on him in front of you would work on him even if the two of you weren't together. If he gets bored of actively belittling them then he'll start ignoring and making it clear he wants to go home. He's even clingier than usual, and nobody's going to really like him after this event but he doesn't care, citing the flirting as the main reason why he's going to be mean and he has no problem doing so.

Sylus is also quite cold. He'll only humor it once, raising a brow and asking if they think now is really an appropriate time to be making such comments about him. He'll look around pointedly, arm around your waist as he draws attention to them attempting to flirt with a man in a clearly committed relationship. Then, he'll turn to you and say something in your ear while looking at them - it doesn't matter what he said but he'll laugh and you'll smack at his chest. The way he's acting will of course make them think it's about them and have everybody else whispering about it which will definitely ruin their day.

If, somehow, they have the guts to keep flirting with him he'll just tell them to shut up and leave him alone. He doesn't want to hear them talking to him nor have them think he'd even entertain the thought for half a second. His voice is harsh and maybe even a touch cruel but they probably will finally leave him alone afterwards.

Caleb is generally a very friendly guy but any advances that are given to him are just...bounced off if it's family or someone close to you. He doesn't want to be fully rude so he'll just develop selective hearing and ignore anything that he doesn't want to hear. It doesn't matter what they say or how they try to convey it - if they're trying to flirt with him he won't respond. It'll get to a point where they look desperate for his attention, clearly trying to flirt and failing so miserably as he shows them photos of you that he loves for the nth time.

If a stranger/someone not close to you tries to flirt with him all they get in response is a firm "no." No explanation, no other conversation, just a no. He won't say anything to them at all after the fact if it's clear the only intent was to try and get his number or something, making it clear he's in a loving relationship and that he has no want to entertain their advances.

#love and deespace x reader #l&ds x reader #lads x reader #zayne x reader #l&ds zayne x reader #lads zayne x reader #l&ds xavier x reader #lads xavier x reader #xavier x reader #rafayel x reader #l&ds rafayel x reader #lads rafayel x reader #sylus x reader #l&ds sylus x reader #lads sylus x reader #caleb x reader #l&ds caleb x reader #lads caleb x reader

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thinkingoutlouddblog · 1 day ago

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doctor doctor - s.r.

pairing: casual sex!Spencer Reid x fem!reader

summary: on the way to the hospital you call the only doctor you know (and the only person you want to see) - though you may have misunderstood what kind of doctor he is, exactly

word count: nearly 4k

masterlist // this is a continuation of 'the agreement'

contains: florist!reader, mugging, violence, allusions to potential SA attempt (no actual attempt made), allusions to smut, two cuties who are down bad for each other but refuse to admit it to themselves, they really don't know that much about each other's lives, mentions of no contact with family, reader refuses to put their own safety first and Spencer isn't living for it

Spencer has never known you to contact him during the day.

In fact, he’s never known you to initiate contact, only ever reply to his texts. These messages consist only of logistics. Your place or mine? What time? That kind of thing.

So at first, his expression is that of confusion as he reads your text.

BABY: What hospital do you work at ???

Spencer thought back over your first ever conversation. It was the only time you had ever discussed his work. He supposed he had only referred to it in an abstract sort of way. It wasn’t a leap that you would have assumed that Doctor Spencer Reid was in the medical field when he spoke of being unable to shake the memories of those he couldn’t save.

Beyond that first encounter, the point of your arrangement had been that it was an outlet for him to forget his work, so Spencer had never brought it up again and you had never pushed him to share.

Spencer’s chest tightened. He considered the probability of you asking him this question innocuously. Given past instances of casual text conversation (zero), he knew the chances were not good.

“Spencer, are you with us?” Hotch asked.

Not at all, he nearly said.

They were at the tail end of a case briefing, everyone’s eyes trained on Spencer as he stared at his phone. It didn’t take a profiler to know that a technophobe staring that intently at their phone spelled trouble.

“I need to step out for a sec.”

Spencer didn’t wait for a reply, already halfway out of his seat. He wouldn’t have even heard it if one came, his thoughts altogether consumed by you.

You picked up on the second ring. Spencer’s stomach dropped. He could hear the ambulance sirens loud and clear through the phone.

“Spencer?”

You sound slightly out of it. He ran through the potential reasons within a nanosecond. Pain, shock, blood loss, painkillers, a blow to the head.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you slurred slightly, unaware of the panic in his tone. “It’s just a scratch. They’re just being cautious.” If that were true, there would be no sirens for you to raise your voice over, but Spencer doesn’t say as much. “His knife was just very sharp. But I’m going to be okay, they told me so.”

The room tilted. His knife.

“You’re going to be okay,” Spencer knew he was reassuring himself more than he was you, but he hoped you didn’t notice. “What hospital are they taking you to?”

“Um,” you thought for a long second, “I don’t know.

“What hospital?” you asked someone other than Spencer. You repeated what the paramedic told you, though Spencer had already heard.

“Okay, I’m going to be there really soon, okay baby?”

“That would be nice,” you hummed.

The team emerged from the conference room as he hung up the phone.

“Wheels up in thirty, Reid. You with us?” Hotch asked.

“I need to take some personal time. I’m not sure how long yet. All of today at least.”

Spencer’s feet itched to be on the move as he stood and explained himself to his boss. Every second spent not on the way to you was a waste. If he did not consider these people his family, he’s not sure he would have had the restraint to stand here and have this conversation.

“Of course,” Hotch nodded, understanding and unquestioning. “Let us know if you need anything.”

Spencer turned to leave, yelling a quick, I will, over his shoulder.

“Reid!” Garcia called as he left.

Spencer didn’t stop walking, heard her heels clacking and figured she would catch up.

“Is your mom okay?”

“She’s fine,” he didn’t look up as he grabbed his bag from his desk. A thought occurred to him. “I might need some information from you later,” he said, the words his knife echoing in his mind with every move he made.

“I’ll await your phone call,” she told him, earnest.

Spencer didn’t even think to thank her, already running out of the office.

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It had been a rough morning for you.

You were in the worst point between Spencer visits. The glow of the orgasms had faded, the memories of the sex becoming further from the front of your mind. More difficult to hold onto with clarity. It would be several days yet until you could expect a visit from him again, thus the thrill of anticipation seemed miles away. You were in the middle period, left with one thing and one thing only: frustration.

You found yourself becoming crabby during this period. If you weren’t enjoying the sex so much, you would find it embarrassing. Your mood had become dependent on the frequency of visits from a guy you were seeing casually for sex. (You refused to acknowledge the fact that the influence was perhaps not exclusively the sex but the company you were enjoying and at this moment, missing).

You tried not to let your bad mood dominate your day, but it certainly infiltrated your enthusiasm for work, or rather created a lack thereof. You dragged your heels through your morning routine, spending more time than you should daydreaming about what (or who) you would rather be doing and found yourself running to make the train on time.

Normally, you would never cut through that alley to get to the train station, but you did so out of sheer necessity to catch your train.

It was broad daylight, you told yourself. It would be fine.

It was decidedly not fine.

You heard them before you saw them. Her cries. His harsh and low, “Hurry up, bitch.”

His back was to you, so much larger than her that you couldn’t even see her behind him.

You didn’t think, just reacted.

You don’t even remember running up, just the moment you yanked his shoulder away from her, towards you. He spun with the force of it. You hadn’t checked to see if he was wielding a weapon, barely even saw the flash of the knife as it sliced up your arm in the scuffle.

He was young. Maybe nineteen.

Luckily for you, your bold move was enough to spook him. He didn’t hesitate for a second before he took off running.

Your damsel in distress was around your age, shaking and still with her open bag in hand.

“Are you okay?” you asked, not yet seeing the blood dripping down your own arm.

She didn’t say anything. Didn’t even look in your direction. Just stared after her retreating assailant. Despite the mounting distance between herself and danger, her shaking took on a more ferocious edge as shock set in. The girl’s back hit the wall behind her, in a second she was on the ground and folding in on herself.

You bent down and reached for her hand. That was when you saw the blood. It had slid down your arm and covered your hand already. Your stomach lurched at the volume. You steeled yourself and looked beyond it, focused on the girl’s face.

“You’re okay. Don’t worry, lovely, it’s over now,” you gripped her hand as best you could as you plied her with assurances.

The throb of your wound registered like a kick in the gut as your adrenaline began to crash. Your butt hit the cement with a thud. Your vision started to swim but you tried not to think about it but rather the girl in front of you. She needed you to hold tight just a little bit longer. That much you could do.

“What’s your name, lovely?”

Her teeth clacked together but she managed to tell you, “Grace.”

“Grace, I need you to take a deep breath.” You led with an exaggerated inhale, and to your relief she followed your example.

She settled some after three deep breaths together. Shakily, you used your good arm to pull your phone out of your pocket. You passed it to Grace and asked her to dial 911, unable to make out the numbers as your vision blurred. As you listened to her on the phone you couldn’t help but think again of the doctor who had been on your mind before your morning went to hell. Your doctor.

Despite everything, you huffed a laugh. You might see Spencer sooner than you thought.

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Of course you hadn’t anticipated him dropping everything to come see you.

Just like you hadn’t anticipated the somewhat drunk, woozy feeling blood loss would create within you. Without it, you were sure you wouldn’t have texted him at all.

You didn’t have anyone else to call, so you hoped you would just happen to be headed to the hospital where he worked.

The paramedics on scene seemed very serious about your injury. You thought they would maybe just stitch you up on scene. They wouldn’t even let you walk to the ambulance, demanding you lie down (and remain) on a gurney. It overwhelmed you, and in a moment of weakness you reached out to Spencer.

But you were secretly glad you had done it.

When you saw his face as he burst into your room (rather, your curtained off bed), you smiled despite the needle going into your arm.

He was frazzled, hair an unkempt mess and slightly out of breath. There was relief in his eyes as they locked onto yours. Then he clocked the doctor stitching up your arm. In two quick strides he was there, eyeing both the injury and the doctor’s handiwork.

Spencer could see the way the blade had swung out, slicing you first shallowly in your lower arm and catching some air above your elbow before slicing deeper into the flesh of your upper arm, creating a long broken line up your arm.

“Did the laceration on the upper arm nick any arteries?” he asked the doctor, all business.

“Luckily not, but your girl here was sitting in the cement bleeding for a while before the paramedics got there,” your doctor replied smoothly, unbothered by Reid’s probing. “Once I finish stitching her she’ll receive a transfusion. She’s a bit loopy from the blood loss right now.”

On cue, you pout at Spencer. “You’re not wearing your scrubs.”

He peeks at your displeased expression and he is overwhelmed by a desire to plant a hundred kisses all over your face. He releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding to see you talking and okay (well, half a breath, he’ll release the other half when you get your blood transfusion and stop looking so ashen).

Distracted by another thought, he only half looks at you as he says, “I’m not that kind of doctor, angel.

“What was the ambulance response time?” He asked the doctor.

“I would have to ask to find out the exact time but I don’t believe it was longer than normal. I heard from the nurses that she scared a mugger off from some poor girl. Didn’t call an ambulance until she could get the girl calmed down some.”

The doctor turned to you.

“Just remember next time, Supergirl, that paramedics can settle down people in shock too. Leave something for the rest of us to do,” the doctor winked at you.

“I left the arm for you to stitch, what more do you want,” you joked, but your eyes were half shut.

They opened quickly as a thought registered. “What kind of doctor are you then? A psychiatrist?”

The doctor’s brows shoot up, obviously wondering as to the nature of your relationship with Spencer if you don’t even know what kind of doctor he is.

Spencer is surprised by the itchy feeling it gives him inside. It had given him pleasure to be perceived as your person, the one you count on. He didn’t like this new perception the doctor would have of your relationship. That you didn’t really know each other. Even if it was a lot closer to the truth.

Spencer’s pleased to be spared having this conversation in front of the doctor as he finishes up the last stitch and says, “I’ll be back with a nurse to set up the transfusion in a minute.”

Spencer thanked the doctor and pulled up a seat beside you, no longer needing to supervise anyone’s medical handiwork. He sat on your good side so he could hold your hand without causing any discomfort.

“How are you feeling, honey?”

“Confused.”

Spencer rolled his eyes. “How does your arm feel?”

“It’s fine, Spence. They gave me the good stuff, I promise. Now tell me what kind of doctor you are because I’m feeling silly.”

It occurs to Spencer then that you may share a commonality. Neither of you enjoy being wrong. Surely that is the explanation for the crease between your brows and the downturn of your mouth, something he is so unused to seeing.

“You’re not silly. You made a reasonable deduction based on the information you were provided.”

“The wrong deduction.”

“Well, yes,” he concedes.

“So?” You look at him expectantly.

“My doctorates are in mathematics, engineering and chemistry, but I work for the FBI in the behavioural analysis unit,” he explained.

You stared at him blankly. This new reality was perhaps too much for your brain to comprehend so soon after a traumatic event.

“I catch killers by creating profiles of who these criminals would likely be based on the behaviour of known offenders,” Spencer attempted to simplify. “Well, not just me. Me and my team.”

“Sure,” you snorted.

Spencer just looked at you. Waited a beat for you to process.

Realisation dawned upon you. “Oh. You’re serious?”

“I’m not exactly well known for my jokes.”

You laughed. “That’s true.”

You sat back in your bed and sized him up, considering him within this new context. Reshuffling the picture you had formed of his life outside of your dalliances.

“Maybe it’s the drugs or the blood loss but I can actually kind of see it.”

It was Spencer’s turn to snort. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I might still ask to see your credentials later. I’m not sure I would know the difference if you handed me your driver’s licence at this point.”

“I don’t have my driver’s licence.”

You shuddered. This is who we’re entrusting the safety of the public with?

“Hey!”

Oops. You hadn’t realised you were talking aloud in your hazy state.

“I’ll take you for a driving lesson one day okay? If you can figure out a way to have so many doctorates you can figure out how to drive under my tutelage.”

Your eyes started to droop shut as you spoke, and your voice took on a sort of dreamy quality as you pictured the two of you in a car park somewhere driving around in circles. The thought made you feel warm and cosy inside.

“Come on, baby, stay awake just until they hook up the blood transfusion for me, please?”

You did as you were told with a pout.

“You and I need to have a chat about your vigilante behaviour.”

“Ah, Mr FBI is here to tell me off. Sorry, Doctor FBI.” You attempted a wink at him, trying to keep the mood light, but all you managed in your exhausted state was a kind of exaggerated blink.

Spencer would remember the moment later and smile, but right now he was too focused on the issue at hand.

“Baby, I’m serious. What were you thinking? Your life isn’t worth someone’s wallet.”

You grimaced. You wished he had just taken a hint and dropped it. “I didn’t think, okay?”

“That was obvious.”

Spencer’s clipped tone caused his words to land across your face like a blow. He wanted to stuff them back into his mouth as soon as he said them. You withdrew your hand from his.

“I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that. I just- I got so worried when you called me from the back of that ambulance. Scared me half to death. Now I’m scared half to death that this won’t be the only time you go looking for trouble.”

“I didn’t go looking for trouble, Spencer. I stumbled across them and I thought,” you sighed and looked away from him. “I thought he was going to take more from her than her wallet, and I just reacted, okay? I didn’t go looking for trouble. It found me.”

You sat in silence together for a moment. Spencer could feel some history behind your words and the heaviness in your eyes. He wanted to ask. Wanted to know. But he knew now wasn’t the time or the place.

“That makes sense. I’m sorry I didn’t think. Didn’t try harder to put myself in your shoes.”

“Didn’t you just tell me that was your whole job or something too?” You teased, trying to break the ice that had frosted over between you.

“Kind of.”

Normally he would dive into a spiel about the exact ins and outs of the process of behavioural analysis but he is interrupted by a nurse.

“Knock knock,” she chimes.

Spencer stands, allowing the nurse access to you. She works quickly, and with expert ease, unfazed by Spencer’s watchful eye.

You go quiet as she works, the events (and injury) of the morning catching up with you. Spencer kicks himself internally for not letting you rest. He should have waited to bring up his concerns. Asked about it in a more delicate manner. The panic had a tight hold on him though, and he is unsure there is any version of events in which he would have been able to keep his mouth shut.

The doctor stops by to check in and make sure you’re good to go, and then Spencer can finally breathe a (full) sigh of relief as your blood transfusion is underway.

“Can I nap now?” Your voice is small, your eyes barely open.

“Of course,” the doctor says, but you’re looking at Spencer. He’s never seen you look so young and vulnerable before.

Spencer nods. “Let’s get you comfortable, baby.”

He fusses over you, fluffing your pillow and tucking you into your blanket. Once satisfied, he sits back down and reclaims your hand in his.

“Is there anyone else you want me to call for you?”

Embarrassed, you shake your head no. Sliced open on the street and the only person in the world you have to call is the guy you’re having casual sex with.

“No family?”

Spencer kicked himself for asking such a sensitive question. Your agreement not to discuss personal issues was in direct opposition to his innate curiosity about you. He supposes today was a special incident though, and for the duration they might be able to exist slightly outside the boundaries of the agreement.

You had held strong through the whole ordeal, showing little signs of being rattled by the violent altercation of which you had been a part of. But you gave Spencer a watery smile at his two word question.

“You’re not the only one with things to forget, Spencer.”

He brushes the tear off your face as soon as it falls. “Then let me help you forget.”

“I think they frown upon you doing those kinds of things in a hospital room. Particularly one where the walls are just curtains,” you joked.

Spencer refused to acknowledge your lewd comment. “Tell me what book you want me to read to you. One of those romances that you love so much. But one of the classics, otherwise I might not know it.”

You might not know what he does for work, but you know him well enough not to doubt his ability to recite novels to you.

You drift off to the steady timbre of Spencer’s voice, reciting Austen. He doesn’t start at the beginning, jumping rather to your favourite part so you can fall asleep to something that he knows will make you happy. Spencer doesn’t realise of course, that his presence alone will bring you enough joy to fall asleep peacefully.

When he is sure that you are well and truly asleep, Spencer steps out to make a phone call. Garcia, despite working an active case, picks up on the first ring.

“Everything okay, my love?”

“Everything’s fine, thankfully. Listen, I need a favour.”

“I can’t find that info for you until the case is over,” Penelope interjects.

“I know, that’s fine, this is something else.”

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You awake to find two bunches of flowers beside your bed, a card in each one. Curious, your eyes are barely open before you’re sitting up and reaching for the cards. The first identifies the sender as your damsel in distress, Grace, the second identifies the sender as ‘Spencer and the BAU’.

“Really they’re mainly from the BAU’s tech analyst, Penelope,” Spencer tells you as he re-enters your arm, catching you in the act of reading the card. “She doesn’t really understand the concept of personal boundaries.”

He hands you the water he had evidently gone to fetch you before reassuming his post by your bed.

You gulp down the water thirstily and ask, “What did you get me if those aren’t really from you then?”

You’re teasing, not actually expectant of anything, but he nods toward your arm.

You look down to see your injured arm is no longer propped up by a pillow, but by the softest, sweetest teddy bear you’ve ever seen. He’s a gorgeous shade of chestnut brown, with chocolate eyes and a red bow tie. You lift your arm to get a better look and see he has a bandage on his arm to match your own. You melt.

“I know you’re a florist so the idea of picking flowers that would meet your standards overwhelmed me and I thought maybe they wouldn’t be as special to you somehow? And you’ve been so brave through this whole thing I figured you deserve something special. Maybe you think it’s childish but I thought it would also be useful for keeping your arm elevated so if you don’t like it-”

“Spencer,” you interrupted.

“Yeah?”

“I love it,” you grin.

“You do?”

“I do. Thank you so much.” He finally cracks a smile at this, the first you had seen on his face all day. The room becomes all the brighter for it. You are overwhelmed with gratitude for him at that moment. You can’t imagine how sad and lonely this whole ordeal would have felt without him (even the mere thought of him, the anticipation of seeing him) to get you through.

“And thank you so much for being here, I know this isn’t what you agreed to. Being someone’s emergency contact isn’t exactly casual,” you laughed, trying to make light of your own guilt.

“I don’t mind. I’m just glad that you’re okay. That’s the most important thing.” Spencer took your hand then.

You hummed, but you were not entirely convinced.

“Besides, just because we’re getting to know each other a little better doesn’t mean we can’t keep things casual. You know what kind of doctor I am, and I know you’re Batman, doesn’t mean that I’m your boyfriend.”

You laughed a proper laugh then. Spencer has never been one for comedy, but he sees its appeal for the first time as he basks in the glow of being the one to evoke that sweet sound.

“Okay, so maybe we… rethink the terms of our agreement?” You pray the hope in your tone (and your eyes) don’t betray you.

“I think,” Spencer paused, gave your hand a squeeze, “we do what feels right as we go along.”

You agreed, knowing full well you were throwing yourself headlong into getting your heart broken, because while Spencer wanted casual, the only thing that felt right to you was pulling him closer.

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authors note: low-key put my whole chest into this ngl

I have so many ideas for these two sweeties I started like four fics about them at once which is why this one took so long. Let me know what you want to see from these two!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut #casual sex!spencer #dr spencer reid #masterlist #bau fanfiction #bau x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #dr spencer reid imagine #dr spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fan fiction #spencer reid fanfiction

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axxxx13 · 3 days ago

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Theo is Liam's anchor, okay? It's basically canon, right? But can we talk about how absurd the reason is?

I mean what happens is literally this: Theo, after basing his entire life plan on triggering Liam's rage, comes back from hell, looks at Liam, looks at his IED, looks at the pack having trouble controlling him and is like "well maybe continuing to push violence on a kid who's been abused his whole life isn't the way to control his violence" and surprise, surprise, HE'S RIGHT.

Like, that's pretty much Liam's story.

1. We don't know much about his childhood but it's likely that he was abused by his biological father (seriously how often do we see Liam interact peacefully with a grown man? Maybe Coach and partly David but nothing more).

2. There are several things that suggest that Liam has always had social/relationship issues: it is clear that he had behavioral issues well before the diagnosis (the fight with Hayden) and that he was often excluded (his only friend is Mason) and maybe even bullied (his comfort zone is literally a team sport made to vent aggression in a healthy way and at the same time bond with other people).

3. Brett. Briam or not, whatever happened between them is as toxic as Chernobyl: can we talk about how tragic the zoo scene is? It is literally physical, psychological and emotional violence all together in the only space that Liam considered safe, which was lacrosse.

4. The management of his IED. This is probably a detail but I have always found the risperidone thing absurd because usually this kind of disorder is treated with a lot of psychotherapy (especially in young subjects) and drugs are a kind of safety/stabilization net. From the way it is told in the series instead it seems that Liam went to a psychiatrist who gave him a sheet with a diagnosis and a blister of pills and Liam spent weeks (the time of transfer from one school to another) like a zombie. They really literally inactivated him as if he were a bomb.

5. Liam's transformation was perhaps one of the most traumatic (of those we see). When he tells David that it was his fault that Scott broke his ankle? The scene on the roof? When they trick him into going to the "party" at the lake house? When he says that his parents will see him as a monster? When Mason tells him that he is ignoring him and Liam can't tell him why? It is so heartbreaking that I could cry.

6. After the transformation Liam doesn't have a second to rest or understand what he has become and how to deal with it: first he literally develops a form of PTSD because of the Berserkers with nightmares and hallucinations (AT 14 YEARS OLD) then he is put on a list where his death is worth 8 million dollars (the printer scene is horrifying) and finally he is thrown into a well by one of his teammates (another crack in his "safe place") with the knowledge that he has a wound that will kill him. ALL THIS WITHOUT HE BEING ABLE TO TALK ABOUT IT TO ANYONE BECAUSE MASON DIDN'T KNOW ANYTHING.

7. Theo (and yes, unfortunately we can't rule it out). Theo turns Liam into the monster he's afraid of being, literally, and if Liam doesn't kill Scott it's just for a series of completely random circumstances. And obviously the consequences of this are devastating both for the treatment he receives from others (justifiable of course) and for his own mind which obviously doesn't help him process what happened.

8. In all of this what everyone does to block his fits of rage is using further violence (which could be linked to having actually suffered physical abuse). Scott and Stiles push him into the shower multiple times (and we clearly see him hit his head), Derek picks him up by the neck in the locker room, Brett tackles him on the field, Theo knocks him out at the zoo (5 times), etc...

Liam has lived in a spiral of endless violence practically his entire life and Theo after TWO times of seeing him have one of his outbursts (the Brett shirt scene and the scene with Nolan at the zoo) understands that violence does not calm him down or help him but is only a temporary defuse that actually adds to the spiral. Theo watches Liam TWICE have a tantrum and then manages to calm him down only by talking to him about how to cover up a murder.

Theo literally knows nothing about the world except death and fear and violence and yet he goes to Liam and manages to give him an ALTERNATIVE. Theo goes to Liam and is like "just because violence is what you're used to doesn't mean it's your only option". Theo is the only one who somehow manages to find a flaw in Liam's system that pulls him out of that spiral of violence instead of pushing him into it. Theo who is literally the apotheosis of violence in all its forms is the only one who manages to treat Liam with kindness.

Theo is the only one who can always treat Liam as if he were someone fragile instead of something unstable.

#Liam just need a hug #My baby 😭#thiam #teen wolf #liam dunbar #teen wolf thiam #headcanon #character analysis #theo reaken

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angellily920 · 2 days ago

Text

Sideline Hearts (Ch.1)

Pairing: John Walker x reader (College AU)

Word Count: About 1k

Warnings: None

A/n: I'm actually SO excited to write this series. Hope you like it!

Chapter 1

The shower head sputtered, a few drops of water shooting out before just giving up. You groaned and fiddled with the knob, hoping, praying the shower head would work. Nothing. You groaned and leaned against the wall. You really needed a shower before going to your photography interview. Taking a deep breath, you decided your best bet would be to ask your neighbor, though you haven't actually met them yet, you hoped they would be nice. You couldn't exactly score the best housing while in college, but it was better than living on campus. Throwing some things into a bag, you went over to ask your neighbor if you could use their shower...Nothings's awkward unless you make it awkward, right?

Nah, it was totally awkward, because when the weathered blue door of your neighbor opened, you would have never expected it to be John. Freaking. Walker. He looked tired. His dirty blonde hair was a mess, as if someone had run their fingers through it a little too much. And knowing Walker, it definitely wasn't his hands. His blue eyes fell on you, and you wanted to make a run for it, but his smooth voice came out before you could.

"Hey...we have calculus together, right?"

"Yup, we do." You tighten your grip on the bag strap slung over your shoulder.

He hums and leans against the door. "Thought I recognized you. And what did I do to receive the honor of your presence?"

"Oh, I was just..." You huff and decide to just go for it. "My shower isn't working and I was wondering if I could use your shower real quick."

John's eyebrows raise for a moment before his lips twitch and he starts to smirk. "So you wanna use my shower, huh?"

It takes everything in you not to roll your eyes. "Yes, that's exactly it."

"Okay princess." He stands up straight and opens the door more. "Be my guest."

When you entered his apartment, you expected it to be a mess, but it wasn't. Everything was neatly organized, and even the books on his shelf were color-coded. Neat freak? You didn't care to mention it and followed him to the bathroom. He told you how everything worked before stepping outside the door.

"If you need any help, don't hesitate to call my name." He winked, and you threw him a fake smile and two thumbs up before shutting the door.

~~~~~

You exited the bathroom just as John exited his bedroom, sporting a pair of sweatpants and a white t-shirt that seemed a size too small, causing you to stare at his chest a moment longer than you intended.

"You coming to the game this weekend?" He asked as you quickly shook your head.

"I wouldn't be caught dead at one of the games."

A soft chuckle rumbled through his chest, and his eyes seemed to sparkle. "Oh really? And why's that? Afraid you'll enjoy it too much?"

That elicits a scoff from you. "I have no intention of watching a bunch of guys get sweaty and tackle each other for some leather ball."

He hums and steps closer to you. "So you'd rather guys get sweaty and tackle people for other reasons?"

"No thanks." You make your way toward the door. "But thank you for letting me use your shower. I seriously appreciate it."

"Anytime princess." He walks you to the door and opens it. "You really wouldn't be caught dead at a game? Even just once?"

"Not my style."

John stands there for a moment, his eyes studying your face. He taps the door frame and lets out a breath of air. "Well, I think if you came to a game, you'd change your mind."

"Don't you have like a hundred fangirls in the stand already?"

That causes him to smile. "I am pretty popular. But the more the merrier, right?"

"Dream on, Walker."

His tongue juts out to wet his lips, and he hums again, soft and melodic. "Oh, I will. See ya around, princess."

You mock salute and shake your head as you turn around to head back to your apartment. Who would have thought you'd have a run in with the campus's hotshot football player? Well, you'd have to make a mental note to avoid him because you'd heard nothing but trouble where he was concerned. Best not to interact with him. You sighed and went inside to go finish up getting ready for your interview.

~~~~~

"Well, we do have an opening."

"Really? That's great!" You sat a bot more forward in your chair. "When can I get started?"

The woman behind the desk clinked a few things on her keyboard. "Well, it looks like they need a photographer for the football team this season. They have a game this weekend. You could start then."

You tried to hide your disappointment. "The football team? But I thought this interview was for the theater photographer position?"

"Do you want a job or not?" The woman didn't make eye contact and typed away on her computer.

"I...yes. I do."

"Perfect. I'll put you down as the football teams offical photographer."

"Great." You slumped a bit in your chair as she finalized it. Though it wasn't what you wanted, you did need the money, and a job was better than no job. Even if it was taking pictures of the sweaty football team. Now, all you had to do was think of something to say when John would inevitably comment on you being at a football game. You got this. What could possibly happen?

A/n: I'm used to writing Bucky so go easy on me! But I hope I can do John some justice.

Chapter 2

#john walker #john walker x reader #john walker fanfic #john walker positive post #john walker x reader college au #college au #marvel #x reader #wyatt russell

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fleurdeserre · 2 days ago

Text

Artist Turned Muse

Fandom: 恋与深空 | Love and Deepspace (Video Game) Category: F/M Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Main Character/Qi Yu | Rafayel; Qi Yu | Rafayel/You Tags: One Shot, Crack Fic, Mild Hurt/Comfort, POV Third Person, POV Rafayel, POV Second Person, Light Angst

Summary: Rafayel knows you're lying to him but he doesn't know what the reason behind it is. So the best logical conclusion he comes to is that you are seeing someone else.

A/N: disclaimers: - english isn't my first language, so sorry for any potential mistakes - this is a crack fic written purely for funsies with a pinch of angst (cause it's Rafayel), don't take it too seriously - the fic begins with Rafayel's POV and then it changes to reader's POV

you can read the fic here or go to ao3 (hyperlink in the title)

Rafayel knows his girlfriend has been up to something as of late. He just couldn’t figure out what exactly it was.

At first, he ignored it. Well, no, he didn’t actually ignore it, more like he just pretended it didn’t bother him—a tactic he was very well-accustomed to.

How did he know something was off, you might ask. Well, first of all Rafayel knows his beloved, thank you very much, so it’s no surprise that the first thing to tip him off was her lying to him. He knows she couldn’t lie to save her life—unlike himself, of course.

So, naturally when he asked her what plans she had for the weekend and she pulled out a half-assed excuse about some kind of reading she needed to catch up to, he knew immediately it wasn’t actually the case. This girl is so bad at lying, Rafayel has no idea why she still even tries. The birthday preparations she tried to make in secret should’ve been proof enough to discourage her from ever trying to lie to him again.

Rafayel, guided by that logic, has tried jogging his memory to remember if there were any anniversaries or other special occasions worthy of celebration and came to the conclusion that there were none. That realization frustrated him to no end because that meant he had no clue what was actually happening with his girl.

Days, then weeks kept going in that same manner with her always making excuses and disappearing for several hours, not answering her phone and keeping her text messages short. He thought he did something wrong and she was just pissed at him but that also wasn’t the case because there were no indications of that apart from her disappearing all the time.

Then it finally hit him.

She must be seeing someone else. The betrayal he felt the moment that thought settled in his head was like no other. It was way worse than her forgetting him back when they first met because, here she is now clearly remembering him, being with him and yet still disappearing on him several times a week. Oh, this is unbearable.

What will he do if that’s truly the case? What can he do, really?

It’s not like Rafayel isn’t giving his all to this relationship. What more could she possibly want and why wouldn’t she simply ask it of him?

If we’re being completely honest, Rafayel is having a full-blown breakdown over this.

Like, if she wanted someone else to spice things up a bit, she could’ve just told him. Sure, Rafayel would’ve probably cried over it but at the end of the day he’d suck it up and do whatever she wanted hoping it was just a phase. If, on the other hand, it was the worst-case scenario and she fell in love with someone else…

Well, that’s not something Rafayel wants to consider. If push comes to shove, he’ll just improvise like he always does praying for the sea to have mercy on him.

He tries not to overthink all of this but it is getting more and more difficult with each passing day with each excuse and lie even though when she’s with him, she’s no different than she’s always been. She’s loving, teasing, and caring. She cuddles with him like she used to, makes sure he doesn’t starve to death while working on a new piece, and makes love with him like it’s their last day on Earth.

Rafayel loses sleep over the predicament he’s found himself in. And worst of all, he can’t even paint—he can’t put his emotions into art, the one thing he’s always praised himself for being good at. Every time he tries, he just stands there for a while with the paintbrush held mid-air, unable to make the first stroke. Then when he finally makes himself move, do something—anything—he is left with a bitter sense of disappointment.

It’s all just…not right. He truly feels like a fish out of water (pun intended).

Not only is she blatantly lying to him, she also hides stuff from him now. She never used to do that before and Rafayel is oh so ready to start ripping off his hair if she continues whatever it is she’s doing now. He’ll go bald at the ripe age of twenty-four. It’d be plastered all over all sorts of billboards too… “An artist gone bald: the downfall of the infamous Rafayel’s hairstyle” or something like that.

Okay, dramatics aside, it is weird. A few days ago, she was on her phone and he dropped onto the sofa right next to her. The moment his head touched her shoulder she locked her phone and put it aside. She thought she was being so nonchalant about it too, but Rafayel isn’t crazy, it wasn’t his imagination playing tricks on him. When he asked her what she was doing she said she was making a list of groceries. Rafayel obviously wasn’t dumb enough to buy that because she wasn’t even typing.

Maybe she was reading someone’s messages? was all Rafayel could think of that sleepless night.

There was that other time, a week ago, when he went to visit her unannounced just because he felt like it and was around the area (not really). He had to wait for her to open the door for two minutes! He knew she was home—the lights were on—but she still made him wait outside the door to her apartment. When she finally let him in, she said, “Oh, sorry, I was making a smoothie when the blender’s lid malfunctioned and the contents were all over my shirt, so I had to change into something else.”

Sounds valid but here’s the catch. When he went to the kitchen it was perfectly clean and the blender was full. It didn’t look like even a drop of its contents was spilled. Weird.

Also, she didn’t let him go anywhere near her bedroom. It’s not like they usually have a habit of hanging around there when her living room is way cozier and much more spacious. It was still weird…

Today is the day he puts an end to all of this. He can no longer live like this. If there’s something she doesn’t want him to know about so as not to hurt him, he needs to know what it is because staying in the dark hurts him even more. He’s starting to second-guess every single interaction they are having these days.

~~~

It wouldn’t be a lie to say that these past few weeks have been a lot: with all the wanderer fighting you had to combine with spending time with Rafayel as well as working on your secret project. Still, you’re proud of yourself for putting your mind to doing this. And it’s going pretty well if anyone asks you; you were expecting it to turn out way worse.

It’s been a while since the thought first came to your head. It happened when you were finally able to convince Rafayel to show you his true form: tail, scales, and all. He was absolutely mesmerizing, it felt as if you were witnessing the eighth wonder of the world. Quite frankly, you were stunned and unable to find words for a good minute. His tail was such a beautiful rich shade of blue and sparkling with droplets of water that it felt downright criminal he was keeping it a secret for so long. Still unable to voice anything coherent you ran your hand down the scales in wonder.

“Do you think I’m a monster now?” he asked when the silence stretched for too long, with a level of uncertainty that broke your heart.

A monster? You couldn’t believe your ears weren’t deceiving you.

“Rafayel, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” you said with no hesitation.

This silly man, you thought to yourself. He has no idea how truly amazing he is inside and out in any and all his forms.

You had to show him just how stunning and gorgeous he was. And just like that your mission under the code name “Artist Turned Muse” began.

Then came his drawing lessons…

You asked Rafayel to teach you because of an assignment for a work-related event that you totally didn’t make up. It was all a lie, of course. However, you soon found those lessons to be counterproductive and your teacher quite distracting. So, you had to find some other way to make it work.

A friend of yours who frequents all kinds of workshops has been recommending to you quite a few of them for a while now. When she started listing them all, one of them hit close to home.

“That’s it!” you exclaimed, then hummed to yourself. Paper mache was something you could work with; you were pretty good when it came to working with your hands. Though, it’s been a while since the last time you did anything of the sorts, so you were probably really rusty. That’s why you decided to go to that workshop your friend suggested.

Fast-forward four weeks later, you’re very close to finish and the mini merman Rafayel seems quite close to how the real one looked. You’ve spent quite some time on research, buying materials, and crafting and painting, of course. Additionally, you somehow managed to keep it all a secret from Rafayel, which, truth be told, was the most difficult part of this but you really wanted to make it a surprise.

One day he even showed up at your place uninvited; your hands and clothes were all covered in glue and you had to change and wash up as fast as you could. When he dramatically asked why it took you forever to let him in, you made up an excuse—the first thing that came to your mind—Rafayel seemed to believe it though, because no additional questions came.

Now you’re looking at your creation, it’s almost done, only some finishing touches left. You trace the prominent fleshed out scales of the tail with your fingers. It probably needs some glitter, though using the glue gun to make beads reminiscent of water droplets was a great idea. The goofy little smile you drew on mini Raf’s face makes you huff out a laugh.

That’s when you hear the door to your apartment open. Right away you jump off the chair you were sitting on. There are only two options here: either someone’s breaking in to rob you, or it’s Rafayel who has keys to your apartment, and at this moment you’re not sure which one is worse.

In case it’s really a robbery—which is highly unlikely given that it’s still daytime—you pick up your gun before stepping out of your bedroom. Seeing Rafayel with his hands crossed across his chest in the middle of your living room, you exhale closing the door behind you and putting your gun aside.

“Hello? What happened to knocking?” you try to lighten up the mood with a joke but Rafayel is still frowning for some reason.

Rafayel heaves a deep sigh and says, “I know you’ve been lying to me for weeks. And I know what you’ve been doing behind my back.”

Oh-oh. How did he even find out? That doesn’t matter right now. What matters is he’s upset, like, really, really upset. You weren’t expecting him to take it this badly, though.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t really mean to lie to you…” you say looking at your feet guiltily. Man, surprises are truly exhausting, you’ve spent so much time and effort to keep it a secret and now you’re being reprimanded like a kid for it.

“But you did. I hate it when you lie to me, I’d take a knife in the heart over a lie to my face any day,” Rafayel sounds serious, like never before.

He’s being a bit too dramatic considering the circumstances, in your opinion, however it is true that he’s very sensitive, so it hurts to hear him this vulnerable. “I know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone behind your back.”

Somehow, Rafayel looks even more hurt after those words leave your mouth. “So, you weren’t even considering the option of not doing it in the first place?” He looks like a puppy that’s been repeatedly kicked in the gut and you’re starting to regret every life choice that has led you to this point. This little project of yours was supposed to empower him and make him feel accepted and loved by you but he just looks like he’s witnessed the biggest betrayal of all.

“I—I didn’t think you’d be so against it, to be honest.” The guilt is swallowing you whole at this point; you just want to hide your head in the sand.

“Why—how could you think I wouldn’t be against such a thing? I mean, I probably could deal with it but at the very least you should’ve said something to me beforehand!” And he’s angry again, huffing and puffing. His cheeks are flushed and you’d say he looks cute if not for the hurt etched into every inch of his face.

“Can we at least talk about it honestly now?” he sounds resigned. “Can you tell me the whole thing from the start?”

“Okay,” you nod and finally get closer to him sitting on the sofa beside him, so that you’re face to face. “I first thought about doing this when you showed me your tail,” you start and hear Rafayel’s breath hitch. He looks teary-eyed—though not a single tear falls—and more vulnerable than ever. Oh God, you knew he was very self-conscious and insecure about his lemurian form, you should’ve never tried anything like making a replica of it. “I’m sorry, Rafayel, I should’ve asked you if you were comfortable with me doing anything like this, it was stupid.” Considering how much of a touchy subject Lemuria is for him and how for centuries humans have been using lemurians for all sorts of purposes.

“So, you decided to find someone else because I’m not human?”

What?

No, that’s not right.

“WHAT?” That’s more like it. You sound absolutely appalled at the idea. How—where did this even come from—

Oh.

Oh no, this is a disaster. A complete disaster.

“Rafayel, please tell me what exactly you thought I was lying to you about?”

He still looks distraught as he tries to say, “That you were…” inhale, pause, exhale, “seeing someone else?” his voice uncertain now.

Oh hell no.

“Of course, I wasn’t,” you say as you cup Rafayel’s cheeks. He looks into your eyes and your heart breaks all over again. This silly man thought you were cheating on him and still didn’t say a word until today? And he said he could “deal with it” if you warned him about it? Oh, you need to put an end to this right now.

You don’t even care that the figurine isn’t quite finished yet, you take Rafayel’s hand and lead him into your room. “Ta-da,” you jokingly half whisper, motioning your hand towards the mess that is your desk and workspace in general. The mini Rafayel proudly laying in the middle of it all.

“What’s this…” Rafayel looks around the room, probably still expecting another man to jump out of the closet.

“I was making a paper mache figurine of you, you silly man! There was no other man I was seeing,” you say reassuringly and then add a little sly remark, “Well, if you don’t count this little fishie as one.”

And finally, there’s a glimmer of life in Rafayel’s eyes. “So, you’re not having an affair?”

“Of course, I’m not,” you say one more time, squeezing his hand tighter.

“Thank goodness!” Rafayel exclaims, scoops you up and spins you around, a yelp of surprise escaping your mouth.

“How could you even think I’d be interested in anyone else when I have you?” Your head spins a bit and you can’t stop a little giggle from coming out because, honestly, this whole interaction and misunderstanding is ridiculous. “I don’t need nor do I want any other man when I already have the one I love,” is what you choose to say instead of mocking him. (Though you absolutely will tease him relentlessly and will never let him live this down)

“Yeah, I know…” he says, avoiding your gaze. But does he really?

“I love you, Rafayel.”

“I know,” he repeats.

“No, you don’t. I love you. I am in love with every version of you, in every way, shape, and form you come,” you say because he needs to hear this. “I love you yet I feel like that word can’t even come close to what I feel towards you. It’s so, so much bigger than what words could convey. Please don’t ever doubt that.” You peck his lips to emphasize your point.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” he says but he doesn’t look guilty, in fact, he finally looks like himself, grinning from ear to ear and pecking you in return.

“Don’t be,” you reply. “But…”

“But?” Rafayel lifts one of his brows up.

“Don’t you wanna say something in return?” you teasingly drawl the last word.

Rafayel smirks and clears his throat before saying, “Oh? What could that possibly be?”

“I don’t know, maybe something that would correspond with what I said to you earlier?” Your fingers creep up his arm to his shoulder and then flick his nose.

“Ooooh, you mean that,” he articulates exaggeratedly. “Yeah, sure, cutie. I love me, too.”

You playfully slap his arm and pinch it hard.

“Ouch! That hurt!” he exclaims but that doesn’t deter you. You keep pinching him, then start tickling him all over his body, as he falls onto your bed and wheezes. “Okay, fine, I yield!” A pause. “I love you, too.” He’s holding both your hands by the wrists, so you can’t keep tickling him. Then his breathy laughs stop, his eyes growing softer, more sincere. “I have loved you my whole life. And not just this one. I’ve loved you in every lifetime before this one and I will keep doing so in every following one.”

Now it’s your turn to hold your breath. Sometimes he just says the corniest, cheesiest, most romantic things in the world out of the blue and you’re just left there to pick up the million pieces it shatters you into.

You’re fiercely blushing, so you clear your throat and try to joke your way out of this. “Can you maybe pretend to forget about the mini fishie over there until I finish working on it?”

Rafayel laughs out loud and kisses your forehead. “No problem, cutie. Sorry I ruined your surprise,” he says. “But you should probably stop ever trying to lie again, you really suck at it.”

#my fanfiction #love and deepspace #lads #lnds #l&ds #rafayel love and deepspace #lads rafayel #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #rafayel x mc #qi yu #qi yu love and deepspace #fanfic

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omgfangirlland · 22 hours ago

Note

I random Idea suddenly appeared in my head (I was about to sleep but this is more important). Originally I had two Ideas but I thought.. Why not combine them? My first idea was a neglected reader who can see ghost.. Like, one day she just developed this abilities. Imagine how it would go if Thomas Wayne and Martha Wayne were still in the mansion and looking after the batfam. They can see how Bruce Wayne is threatening his daughter and stuff.

The second Idea was a more realistic neglected reader where she's really neglected and I don't mean birthday is being forgotten or what not.. I mean real neglect where she had to work for money and her own food.. Where she has to learn how to cook for herself and learn how to do things at the very young age. I want to see her actual struggle for survival where there are times she barely makes money so she had to go hungry for some days.. Sometimes she resorts to stealing foods just to eat.

I wanted to combine these two but I'm too sleepy to continue two peace out ✌👉

-🔱

The sudden burst of creativity right as you get in bed is such a serious problem- like pls- I had like 10-12 hours where I could have done all of that- why at 3am?😭😭

When I first read this, it was way so late, and I was like "cooking her own food and working isn't neglect-" and then I realized I am in fact poor, and due to the necessity of my parents needing me to be somewhat independent my view of that point is skewed- also the reader is going to be quite young at the start of being in the family so really, a five or 10 year old shouldn't be operating the stove without supervision or finding jobs to pay for necessities-

Reader is the oldest sibling(I love the forgotten oldest daughter trope) in this for various reasons(angst) and I am so keeping ghost!Thomas and Martha btw-

CW - postpartum mental breakdown/psychosis turned into attempted infanticide via drowning, miscarriage/suicide/drugs mentioned.

My thoughts on how this MC came into Bruce's care come down to three options: Bruce and her mom were actually lovers and married, but after Reader's birth mama either left, had a postpartum breakdown, and is now rotting in Arkham, or she died. I personally prefer the Arkham route, but dying during childbirth is also quite angst filling. (Let's all ignore how I keep fridging Reader's mom, pls)

----

Martha and Thomas were by your mother's side as soon as she walked in with you in her arms, Martha almost crying at the sight of your scrunched up face, still wrinkly and flushed. They were both so happy when Bruce found love, both were so sure he'd die alone in some alley, and when the news of the pregnancy came, they were right there, celebrating with their son as if they were still alive.

But Bruce got busy, too busy with both Wayne Enterprises and being Batman. And while your mom had her friend and Alfred, she needed the reassurance of her husband. Martha was the first to notice the cracks.

They both noticed how you'd look at them as if they were right there, so they'd interact with you. Playing with you, making sure you wouldn't bump into anything when you started crawling five months later- but while Thomas would teasingly crawl after you, Martha couldn't help but keep close to her son's wife.

She tried her best to soothe her, trying to give her some warmth from beyond the veil. She knew what was happening- well... to some degree. Martha, too, went through post-partum depression, however, hers stemmed from losing Bruce's unborn brother. Martha hoped to be there for her daughter-in-law before she tried something she'd regret- The dead woman thought your mom would put herself at risk, try to take herself out. She feels guilty that she hadn't seen it earlier.

Your mom would sometimes stare at you for hours, and while it worried Alfred, he brushed it off as the woman simply admiring the bundle of joy she created. He, like Bruce, had other things to attend to. He was sure everything was fine, your mother simply loved you too much.

None of the living expected what happened, mainly because of their own willingness to ignore the clear changes, but Martha and Thomas did. They stuck around even after nightfall, so when at three in the morning your mom walked in and took you out of your cradle, they were hot on her trail.

Obsessive thoughts about your baby, paranoia, sleep problems, hallucinations, and delusions were all symptoms of postpartum psychosis, easily confused with the similar symptoms of postpartum depression.

It'll be easy that everything went to shit quickly- but it didn't. Martha and Thomas watched with pure confusion as your mom filled the bathtub, the thought that she may harm you not even crossing their mind as she held you close, swaying side to side while humming some lullaby. It was a slow build, but when she did submerge your head under the water and firmly held you there, it sure felt like a hundred years passed right through Martha.

She doesn't know how she did it, but Martha was screaming her lungs out as she and her husband pushed the woman away, making her slump against the opposite wall, but neither could pull the plug out, leaving you fighting to keep your head above the water.

Alfred ran as soon as he heard the yelling, a chill passing through him for a moment as he thinks it sounds way too familiar, and your wailing, pausing just for a second to look at your mom, shaking in the corner as she mutters to herself, before he had you in a tower in his arms. Both of the dead Waynes dropped next to the bathtub, clutching at their unbeating hearts and shaking

Bruce is left depressed, traumatized, and with a baby who keeps crying. This wasn't how it was supposed to go in his mind. They were supposed to be happy, the it couple with a sassy baby to boot, they were supposed to grow old, he was supposed to hand over the Batman mantle to you.

Now the responsibility of caring for you fell on Alfred, Bruce being unable to care for himself, let alone a baby he couldn't look at without bursting into tears. And Alfred did his best... for maybe three years.

As soon as you started walking on your own, Alfred started pulling away, redirecting his attention to his usual work. By the time you were three years old, you barely knew of the existence of Bruce. Not because you actually saw the man, but because his parents tried to tell you about him.

You were a quiet toddler, mainly due to learning that if you cried, only Martha and Thomas would show up, and they really couldn't do much. Hell, they barely taught you to speak, but oh, did they love to hear your little transatlantic accent in the few sentences you could make.

They were indulging themselves, really, especially when you'd call the mama and papa- "No, MArtha! I'm not crying, you are, my dear-" They both were tearing up the first time it happened. They were indulging themselves with you, because if their focus wasn't on you, it would be on Bruce, and both were so disappointed in him.

They tried at first, exhausted themselves trying over and over again to nudge their boy towards his daughter- typing on his laptop, writing in the mirror, leaving her toys where he'll find them- nothing worked.

So they redirected their attention to your education- they were terrible at it, but Alfred sure as hell didn't seem to care- so they did their best. You could read perfectly, however, your writing isn't the best, and your speech was stuttered most of the time as you preferred to be mute. There really wasn't anyone to force you to speak, your father's parents unable to get much out of you, especially if they pushed. Teaching you sign language was the best course of action.

For the early part of your life, Alfred still cooked enough to leave leftovers for you to munch on, but sometime along the way, he stopped. Martha and Thomas were stumped. They were raised with buffets and golden spoons glistening in foods they didn't even think about how they were being made.

There was also the problem of you being too short to reach the stove top. Your newfound diet consisted of toast, sandwiches, salads, and the occasional baked potatoes and meat. As you grew older, you got better at cooking, mainly due to sneakingly searching the internet and quickly writing down recipes.

Sadly, the problems keep piling up. The more you grew, the more you needed new clothes, new shoes, sanitary stuff from pads to toothpaste- Bruce couldn't be bothered to be a presence in your life, so you tried to talk to Alfred. With no avail. The old butler was simply too busy, moving past you with more speed than you could keep up with. But you needed money, so despite Martha's protest and Thomas's worry, you went outside the manor.

At first, you did meager jobs that people gave you out of pity. Washing that, trimming the lawn, throwing away this, helping the old lady with carrying bags. It didn't pay well, honestly, it was mostly trading, some clothes or food for a bit of help. Until a goon of the Penguin stopped you.

You weren't stupid. You knew the package was drugs, but the amount he was willing to pay was simply too much to refuse. You guessed that was the perk of the public thinking you were dead, no fear of being kidnapped for ransom.

You became a familiar face among them, and while most were ticked off by a kid being involved, there were a few who threw in a few extra bucks. Martha and Thomas hated it. But you started having clothes that fit, food that wasn't burned, and even had a few extra to buy yourself treats, so they held their lips shut. You usually just put the extra money away.

By the time you turned thirteen, you just wrote Bruce off as a man incapable of love. But then Richard "Dick" Grayson came along. And then Jason. And Tim. Despite Martha and Thomas trying to tell you that it wasn't you, that they loved you- Bruce was just-... They couldn't justify it.

The more time passed, the more you thought those two were hallucinations your mind made up to stop you from going insane. You stopped talking to them. You stopped even acknowledging them. By the time Tim fully settled in, you had left.

There was nothing for you there, you took care of yourself for so long, you didn't need Alfred or Bruce- no matter how much you cried at night, wishing for an ounce of the attention they give the boys- and threw yourself into the crime world. There wasn't anything else you could do. You had no school, could barely write, let alone speak- but you were a good mule, and if someone picked you up and decided to train you to be a weapon, you were fine with that.

When John Constantine first set foot in Wayne Manor, the first thing he saw was the bat's dead parents glaring at him. He expected a lot of things when Bruce called him in need of help, angry grandparents who were worried for a runaway granddaughter, who had been missing for years, and that Bruce forgot even existed, wasn't one of them.

----

This took quite a lot of hours to write- kinda rushed towards the end.

Other thoughts:

If Reader did get picked up by a rogue, it'll be funny for them to be either Uncle Two-Face or Slade... It'll even be funny if it were Talia or Ra's after Jason left.

I strongly believe the Reader wasn't even sent to kindergarten.

I also think Martha and Thomas may have lied and told the MC that her mom is dead instead of institutionalized.

If there is supernatural shit, trust, John Constantine will make an appearance.

It'll ALSO be funny if Reader came to terms with her being able to see the undead, so she also becomes a mage/hunter on the side, kinda like the Winchesters. So when John finally connects the dots, he's just like- "Oh. Oh no. We have a bigger problem here."

Dick at first thought Batsis was a helper. So did the others until they were corrected by Alfred. Nobody cared to ask for further info, except for maybe Jason, who asked once why she isn't eating with the family, and it made Alfred pause for so long that Jay just assumed she's mean.

#anon ask #🔱 anon #neglected reader #batfam x neglected reader #female!reader #fem!reader #thomas wayne #martha wayne

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itsaspectrumcomic · 3 days ago

Note

hi, sorry, feel free to completely ignore this, i don’t know if i am overstepping as this is a bit of a vent i guess but i just don’t know what to do or feel

so i was fairly confident that i am autistic (and very maybe have adhd too but not too sure about that one) so with my parents, because i am still 17 (i also went through the child diagnosis), i tried to get a diagnosis and today we got the results. turns out according to the assessment i am neither autistic nor do i have adhd but only possibly a social phobia and emotional stress. this is very upsetting to me, i really thought i would get the diagnosis for autism

and it took so long for me to be comfortable to call myself autistic even without the official diagnosis and now i am having doubts again. maybe they are right and i am actually not autistic and just like that without, i don’t know, a real ‘reason’? i know that sounds bad but i can’t help thinking it.

can i just continue on like i never tried to get diagnosed? because it literally says that i was wrong. i’m so sorry for just dumping this on you, i just don’t know what to do

I'm so sorry you didn't get the answer you were hoping for, it must have been very distressing to be invalidated like that.

It's possible the assessors were wrong, especially since you had to go through a process aimed at children despite being 17. Children can display and are assessed pretty differently to those who are older, and if you're high masking it could easily have been missed. It's also possible the assessors were basing their diagnosis too much on stereotypes, which can be common depending on where you are and who assessed you. It might be worth trying to get a second opinion, although I know that isn't easy and you still might not get diagnosed.

If you still feel you relate to a lot of autistic traits and find accommodations aimed at autistic people helpful, then personally I think it's perfectly OK for you to continue to self identify. If you haven't already taken the RAADS-R (a short version is usually given during assessment, but not always) it might help you understand yourself a bit better: https://embrace-autism.com/raads-r/#test

It's also possible you aren't autistic after all, and what you're experiencing really is just social phobia and stress, or it could even be something else they missed instead, but that doesn't mean your experiences aren't real and valid. Don't feel like you have to stop using accommodations you find helpful. You're still welcome in this community.

Obviously I can't say whether you're autistic or not since we don't know each other and I'm not trained in autism assessment, but that's how I see it. I hope you feel better soon ❤️

#actually autistic #ask #anon ask #autism assessment #self diagnosis #advice

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thatstrangegiiirrlll · 3 days ago

Text

Choke Me Out

“He liked the edge of passing out. She liked taking him there.”

The atmosphere in the restaurant is laid back and soothing, right up Seongjes alley. But in this moment, he is anything but laid back.

“It’s really good,” you say softly, loud enough for only Seongje to hear. Your eyes search his face curiously, worry settling in your stomach. He hasn’t touched his food.

“Baby,” you whisper, leaning into the table.

His tense and agitated face softens almost immediately at your sweet voice. You are the only one, genuinely the only one that could bring out that calm and soft side of him.

He turns his face from the direction he is looking in and looks at you. His face is saying a whole book of things. You’re just lost as to which page he’s on.

“Let’s just take this to go,” he says, waving down a waiter to get the check and some to-go boxes.

You pout slightly. What's going on?

“Seongje, talk to me — what is happening right now?”

He gives you a smile and a chuckle you know all too well. He’s livid about something.

“I’m trying to avoid killing someone right now. That’s what’s happening.”

You follow in the direction of his eyes, which leads to a table of men boring holes into your skull.

Some of them even dare to have women accompanying them.

Oh.

You know exactly how your boyfriend can get and you want to avoid that at all costs. You keep your focus on him, scooch back in your seat, and stand up to grab the to-go boxes — fingers fumbling nervously.

Seongje's chair scrapes loudly against the floor, startling you. He nearly launches from the seat to stand behind you, concealing you from wandering eyes.

You’re wearing a pair of your favorite jean shorts. Seongje hates them. Not because you don’t look ravishing in them, but because of all the attention they get. His stone-cold glare is chilling the entire room.

He follows closely behind you until you’ve both made it out of the restaurant, being certain they can’t steal another look at you.

The car ride back to his place is heavy with emotion. Quiet but suffocatingly loud with things left unsaid.

Seongje isn't angry with you — not at all. But his emotions have a way of grabbing a hold of everyone around him.

You sigh quietly, eyes focused on his fingers, tight around the steering wheel. His jaw is clenching and unclenching — eyes still manic.

It’s a small gesture, but you place your hand around the back of his neck, thumb caressing back and forth lovingly. Grounding him.

His body responds to the affection well — huffing out a deep breath as some of that strain wears off.

He doesn't say or do anything, just continues driving.

—

Once you arrive, he makes a beeline for the balcony, a cigarette already carefully placed between his lips.

You slip off your shoes and place your bag on the table. You follow behind him, not too closely, but within reason.

He turns unexpectedly, racking his pockets wildly for his lighter — uttering a disgruntled fuck under his breath. He looks around in an attempt to spot one but is essentially unsuccessful.

You stand in front of him now, removing what he’s desperately looking for out of your pocket. He could never keep up with his lighters. If it weren’t for you, he’d buy a new one every day.

“Looking for this?”

The look in his eyes melts into a thankful “what would I do without you” one as he goes to grab it. But you swiftly hide it behind you, giving him a shy but challenging stare.

He smirks, irritated but amused. He stands directly in front of you, eyes glaring down at you.

Your attempt to keep yourself composed is so clearly failing, especially with what he does next.

“Take it,” you dare, eyes darting back and forth, eye contact never breaking.

He reaches around at the small of your back and tries to pry it out of your hand, but you place it taut in your other one.

Big mistake.

Without warning, he grabs you between your legs, — not harshly, but with enough pressure to take your breath away. The lighter slips through your fingers and to the floor.

Fuck, he knows exactly how to make you crack.

You stare ahead, a small gasp stuck in your throat as he bends down to retrieve it from the floor. Seongje — you bastard.

He lights his cigarette and steps back out, leaning against the balcony. He focuses his eyes on the blue city as he smokes.

You ease your way beside him, slowly peeling the cigarette from his lips as you inhale it in deeply.

You regret the action as soon as you do it, a violent cough ripping through you. Spoiler: you don't smoke. And never have.

“What in the entire fuck are you doing?” Seongje scolds, rubbing and patting your back to help bring some relief.

He takes the cigarette from you and puts it out, giving you time to catch your breath.

“Trying to get your attention,” you finally reply, eyes and face red from nearly choking to death. “I think it worked…”

“Yeah, no shit,” he snaps, dragging his feet toward you. His tall figure towers over your frame. “Don’t do that again.”

Some emotion starts to stir in your chest, a mix of frustration and longing.

“Then just talk to me, Seongje,” you plead. “About literally anything. Don't get all quiet and stuff like you do.”

His chest expands with air as he breathes in deeply. You know how hard he tries, and you love him for it. But you always feel like he’s holding back.

“Touch me,” you say, voice hushed like you're confessing a secret, like you’re too scared to demand his touch; to be hungry for it. “I’m yours. No one else’s. So, please…”

His eyes flicker up to you in an instant and the look makes your heart stutter. You’d never spoken to him like that before, and it threw him. Your normally shy and innocent shell is cracking.

He uses his pointer finger and thumb to hold your chin in place as he French kisses you intensely. His mouth moves like he’s trying to consume you — wild and hungry.

You make small, meek sounds into his mouth and he growls against yours, hand sliding up your body and around your throat.

He bites your bottom lip and then starts making out with your ear — licking, sucking against it.

You grab his arm, knees bucking. You can hardly stand anymore.

Seongje guides you to his bedroom where he undresses, throwing his clothes anywhere.

Your mouth waters at the sight and size of his dick and it twitches at you like it’s waving you over.

He sits down on the bed and pulls you to him by a belt loop on your jean shorts.

Your breath hitches when he tugs them down — rough, bitter, and fast, like he's been dying to get rid of them all night.

It’s the piece of clothing that had so many eyes on you, making his blood boil. Deep down, he knows you’ll get attention no matter what you wear. You're perfect from head to toe.

Still, the action makes him feel somewhat better.

You hold onto his shoulders for support as he removes your clothes. He analyzes every part of you that becomes bare in front of him, fingers tracing into your warm skin.

You blush a deep red like it’s the first time he’s seen you naked. You don’t think you can ever get used to the way he looks at you like he can see everything you’re thinking.

He trails sweet kisses down your tummy, lips hovering over your pussy. He lays his tongue wide and flat against your clit, teasing you.

You grab a handful of his hair out of reflex, body shuddering violently.

He hums on your pussy, placing a gentle kiss there. When he pulls away, his soft, pink lips are glistening from your wetness.

He takes his glasses off and presses his back against the headboard. Your stomach lurches, clit throbbing painfully when he motions for you to sit down.

“Come here.” the way he speaks is yearning, but assertive.

You sit on top of him, thighs on either side of his. His pupils are dilated with an animalistic thrill as he watches your every move.

“Spit on it,” he demands, the tone in his voice gives your belly butterflies.

You do as you're told, letting the spit fall slowly from your wet mouth to his restless dick. You take him in your palm and tug up and down sensually.

He rolls his head back and groans, then grabs your wrist firmly to stop you.

“Put it inside you,” he orders again, flickering his dark eyes between his aching cock and your pretty face.

Your pussy is so dripping wet that he slides right inside as you take him in, the most cathartic sound leaving his mouth. His eyes go white for a moment before he speaks again:

“You’re mine?” He looks at you with a drowsy expression. He says it more like a reminder than an actual question. That quick flash of weakness that he has drives your crazy. Its small — the reassurance he needs to know your his. “Tell me again. Tell me you’re mine while you ride me.”

By this point, you’re salivating. Drool comes out of your mouth and you fail to even notice it. You’re so turned on, it’s beautifully vulgar.

“I’m yours,” you croak, rolling your hips into him — gradually, deeply, wanting to feel every part of him inside you. “I promise I’m yours and only yours.”

Seongje uses his thumb to wipe the drool off your chin, bringing it to his own mouth to suck it off.

“Look at how you drool for me,” he says, teasing you. He smacks your cheek — not harshly, but in that way that you like it. Enough to leave a sting that makes your pussy ache. “Slut.”

He puts his thumb inside your mouth.

“Suck,” he says sharply, tracing his fingernails on your side as you continue to ride him.

You clasp a weak hand around his wrist and suck his thumb, swirling your tongue around it as you lock eyes with his.

He is dangerously turned on by the gorgeous mess you are in front of him. He can't believe what he's witnessing.

“Holy fuck,” he groans, breath quivering and unpredictable. He slips his thumb out of your mouth and uses it to rub your sensitive nipples.

Your body forces out a broken gasp in response to touching you there. It's your weak spot. Touching your boobs alone could make you cum.

You bite back whimpers as he guides your hand to his throat. Seongje loves to orgasm with a lingering effect. He wants to feel it for the next several days. Whenever he thought of it, whenever he saw you or smelled your scent on his sheets. Reminiscing it will be bliss.

“Squeeze,” he insists. The neediness as he says it nearly shatters you. “Choke me while you fuck me, y/n.”

He's thrusting faster, the tightening of your hand on his neck heightening his pleasure. It feels like his pent-up anger from earlier at the restaurant is being pounded into you through his hips.

You can't even keep up as your pace becomes weaker, stomach filling with that explosion soon to come.

His hands remain on your chest, rubbing circles around your buds and massaging your breasts in handfuls. You become more undone. More overloaded by sensations out of your control.

You cover your mouth and look away, muffling your sounds into your palm. He quickly removes your hand and lightly taps your cheek to correct you.

“Don’t you look away from me,” he warns, giving you a serious but loving smile. “Stare in my face when you fuck me. Look at me when you cum, sweet girl. I mean it.”

You whimper, hand still firm around his throat but you can hardly keep your heavy eyes open.

“I can’t.” Your voice is so small he almost doesn’t catch it. Your hips cease to roll, fatigue taking over you. “I can’t, baby — I’m coming, God, I feel it…”

“Just look at me, hm?” He encourages, grabbing your hips and giving everything he’s got to these final thrusts. “Keep your eyes on mine. I’ve got you.”

You place a hand on his chest to help keep your body stable. Hes fucking into you with so much desperation, but tries to keep it together. But you know him; you know his body. And he's crashing down just like you are.

Your whole body bounces — the sounds of your soaking wet pussy slamming down on him. Over and over. Seongje's mouth hanging open and his semi-wet eyes send you over the edge.

Your release comes, knocking the air straight out of you. Your mind goes blank as a scream ripples through you.

You struggle to find your breathing again, a small panic surging through you as you grab your chest to try and breathe.

Seongje is so skilled at satisfying your body. It both scares the fuck out of you and thrills you.

“Seongje,” you call out his name, gaining some strength to help him finish off.

You bring both your hands around his throat now, knowing how much he likes to be close to damn near passing out when he cums.

The fact that choking him turns you on so much, makes you feel dirty. But you can't help it. He's so fucking beautiful.

You are determined to give him a mind-altering orgasm, despite your own worn-out body. Even though his pounding beneath you resumes, nothing compares to you bouncing on his thickness.

Nothing can compare to the intimacy that grinding into him while he digs you out brings. It's chaotic and raw.

It screams “I want you as much as you want me. Maybe even more so.”

It's not long at all before he tips over, thrusting hard one more time. His stomach flexes in and out as he spills deep inside you — eyes rolling back like something taken over him.

He holds himself there inside you, guttural moans and breaths coming from the deepest places within him. Watching him climax makes you blush in heat. You're extremely close to coming again, simply by the sight of it.

Your face is stuck in adoration when he brings you down to his lips and kisses you; soft and tender.

You lay your head on his chest, his heart beating rapidly in your ear. He wraps his arms around you and shuts his eyes tight, still needing time to come down from the high. He might act cool and unbothered, but the truth is, you fucked the shit out of him. And it wore him out.

He manages to find the energy to gently flip you over on your back with him on top of you. He rubs your sensitive clit and kisses your cheek then your lips.

You moan against his mouth and try to stop his hand between your thighs. Your body can't handle it.

He smiles against your lips, finding your whimpers of protest adorable. He kisses your forehead before going to retrieve a warm cloth to clean you up with.

Seongje may not be the “mushiest” guy ever, but he always takes care of you. He dotes on you.

He is your caring, loving, very psychotic (for you), overly protective boyfriend. And sometimes he needed to be reminded you’re his and no one could take you from him.

— ✦ —

a/n: Writing for him was so fun 😚 I cannot wait to write more.

#weak hero #seongje smut #seongje x reader #kdrama smut #weak hero class two #mdni #oneshot #slow burn #choke play #jealousy kink #sub x dom #subby men #favorite fics #smut #obsessive and possesive #requests open

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luneariaa · 3 days ago

Text

⋆˚࿔ — I CAN TELL YOU'RE EXHAUSTED, SWEETHEART ; ➢ ; ROBERT 'BOB' R .

☁︎ — fell in love and adore bob sm while watching the movie,, :(( english isn't my first language so there might be some grammatical errors; ooc bob 🫶💜 !! wrote this as a part of me to vent,, dividers by @/cafekitsune.

unedited .

SILENCE. PERHAPS, you've gotten used to the silence way too much to your own liking. And yet, you couldn't even prevent it— couldn't stop it from happening—

— because deep down, you know, that you deserve it.

Others could just live their own life the way they want it to be, but not you— never will be you. You don't believe in any of it any longer, you're used to this kind of thing.

Working from nine to five everyday, you barely know what you truly wanted in life itself. You believe that this will continue on for years to come; or maybe, forever. The mere idea did scare you every once in a while, but what other options do you really have?

Eyes scanning over to your other friends, who seem to be interacting with one another and not bothering to even sneak any sort of glances at you, hurts you silently, yet so deeply.

Who would've blame them, for maybe it is your fault to begin with.

Around the store's closing time, you brought a plastic trash with you to throw it away, as per usual. That's when your attention is averted towards something— or someone, to be exact.

"Bob..?"

His name would escape past through your lips easily without any second thoughts; your gaze remaining upon his temporarily unmoving form as he stood before the bulletin board being displayed in front of him.

But what really caught your attention further, is the two cups of takeaway drinks within his own hands at the very moment.

Upon hearing his name being called with the familiar voice of someone that he deeply have grown fond of, he eventually turned around— a warm grin immediately plastered upon his handsome features.

"Hello there..!" He managed to do a small wave at you, his gaze staring downwards onto the two cups of drinks that he has been holding.

"Love, hey!"

You rush over to him without any ounce of hesitation present, all while being careful as to not make the drinks fall. "Did you wait for long?"

The simple term of endearment causes for his cheeks to warm up by itself, his grin remaining there as he starts to feel a little giddy; shaking his head at your question.

"No, no I haven't.. I just got here, you don't have to worry."

He lifts up the two cups of drinks within his hands afterwards, "And look— I got these for us!"

"You do..?" Just by his simple gesture alone, it manages to lighten up your mood even more than before.

"Mhm!" He seems so proud and happy that he's actually able to get you something, "I got your favorite too!"

You nodded and accepted the drink with such natural ease, completely missing the fact that he has been staring at you with a mixture of admiration, and even a hint of longing within them.

He silently hopes you know that he misses you a lot, truly.

In this sometimes dreadful place, or even world— he knows he have you, and you have him as well. You two got each other, that's what he keeps reminding himself every day, especially when the days are starting to get a bit too tough to handle.

He wanted to hold you so badly, yet he can't do it just yet. He couldn't. He's afraid in doing so.

But what is he afraid of, exactly?

"Thank you, Bob."

"I hope you know that this means a lot to me.." it truly touched your very own soul to know that someone out there is so willing to do this for you— even if the gesture may seem so simple.

Perhaps, it's one of the reasons as to why you adore him so much.

He never even expected for you to gradually give him something to hold onto— made him actually feel wanted, safe— the moment you fell into his very own line of vision.

But his smile eventually falters as he notices your current expression; your eyes, specifically. You're facing him, that's for sure— but your eyes, it's not entirely focusing on him at the moment. They look a bit.. detached, dare he say; mixing with your own untold exhaustion.

"What?"

You attempted to grin, gazing back into his own eyes. But the moment you did, you weren't even sure if he's able to see that you are truly weary, both physically and mentally.

"Sweetheart," by pure instinct, Bob moves a tad bit closer to you as possible, eyes not leaving your own just yet— pushing his own nervousness away for your sake. "Are you okay?"

"Hm?"

Admittedly, you're a bit caught off guard by his question, especially by the seemingly simple term of endearment. You don't really know what to think as for right now, but—

— you would be lying if you said that you didn't internally melt upon his words alone, despite the current situation.

You didn't even realize that you've been unintentionally avoiding his currently watchful gaze— looking elsewhere and anywhere instead of him.

"Sweetheart..?"

Bob's tone is quite soft, almost inaudible to be heard, as if not wanting to scare you off. He's clearly trying his best to coax you in a way.

One of his hands would automatically reach out to hold onto yours with such delicacy, his thumb would caress your palm and even the back of your hand— silently hoping that it might be able to soothe you, and even getting your attention back to the present.

"I.."

"Sorry, are you—" you finally managed to regain your focus, looking up at him after. "—are you gonna stay here, for the night?"

"Never mind I said that. I understand if you're busy or something with the team." You brush it off with a chuckle, walking backwards slightly while shaking your head to yourself, didn't want to hold him or even anyone back if they wanted to leave to do their important tasks.

How selfish of you for doing such a thing.

"I'm sorry, maybe I just needed a nap." You kept on apologizing for no reason. It saddens him deeply.

A sinking feeling immediately courses through him, concern for your well-being rising sharply—he's already fully aware that something is definitely wrong, more than what you've let on.

"No, no.." Bob shakes his head, holding onto your wrist not so tightly, preventing you from backing away even further. "It's all good. I'm not busy anyway."

His statement made you visibly huff out a breath of relief, and admittedly relaxed than before. As if sensing your state, he dares to gently pull you towards him even further— embracing you comfortingly, and closely, as if wanting to shield you from the rest of the world and from any potential harm.

You never truly asked to be held— but he did, nonetheless. But it feels so nice; you're unable to pull yourself away from him, you wouldn't want it in any other way.

He may not mention it as much, but he's so glad that you stayed, didn't make any efforts to pull away from him. Even his frame feels less tense now, visibly more relaxed upon your actions alone. Bob understands if you didn't want to talk about it, as long as he's able to hold you and comfort you.

For the first time in many uncountable years, he's not afraid to do something worth like this. If he could, he would've taken all of your existing pain away, and throw it elsewhere, where it doesn't come and find you back again.

"I'm sorry.."

"I'm just tired, and don't know how to say it.."

"Can you just.. hold me? Like this?"

His gaze softens upon your words, nodding without any hints of hesitation.

"You don't have anything to apologize for, my dear." His hands would be moving their own— to do the gentle ministrations by combing his fingers through your hair so lovingly, and the other would still hold you close, securely. "Of course I can.. anything for you."

It's still low-key amusing on how he's able to call you several, sweet nicknames by now so freely, and yet, you never once complained. It's a nice change, and it makes you happy.

"I will keep holding you, as long as you want me to."

Sometimes, a part of him is terrified; but he wouldn't ever dare to say it out loud, that you might see him as a potential danger, or something akin to it.

And yet, moments like this kept him grounded in reality—knowing you would never do something like that.

He makes you feel so safe with him; you make him feel wanted and safe with you.

#written by aria 💌#luneariaa 💫#sfw 🗡️#bob reynolds #bob reynolds x reader #bob reynolds x y/n #bob reynolds x you #sentry #robert reynolds #robert reynolds x reader #thunderbolts #thunderbolts*#marvel #marvel thunderbolts #marvel fanfiction

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ssentimentals · 3 days ago

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hellouu nini🤗👋🏻 it's me (again hihi, hope you aren't sick of me yet) can i request no 20 with jihoon and dokyeom? like... poly :) their personality got switch or something and then reader was like really confused, idk... yeah. Thank youuu and have a nice day💜💜

hellouu my dear! not sick, never sick of returning followers 💜 i've never written poly before, so apologies if this ends up being bad :( hopefully it isn't!

prompt: 'personality swap'

you blink, your gaze swapping from jihoon to seokmin and back. 'is everything...alright?'

you think it's a rather fair question to ask, considering both of your boyfriends are acting off. you have never seen jihoon act this enthusiastic about anything in his life and seokmin looks like he's hitting mid-life crisis for no apparent reason. so yeah, you think it's a very reasonable thing to ask. seokmin sighs in a totally jihoon kind of way, rubbing at his face furiously before pointing his finger at jihoon with loud: 'it's his fault!'

jihoon, to your utter shock, starts sputtering and speaking in a high-pitch tone, all animated and angry: 'mine? you're the one who took the first sip!' he then turns to you, pouty and dejected: 'sweetpea, i swear it wasn't me!'

it would've looked comical if only- 'sweetpea?' you repeat, staring at jihoon with a raised eyebrow. 'you never call me that. you always call me 'love' and 'sweetpea' is-'

'seokmin's way of calling you,' seokmin finishes for you, sighing again.

'why are you-' you pause, realization hitting you like a truck. 'oh my god. you- did you drink that green vial i left on the table?' their guilty faces make you want to smack both of them. 'idiots, both of you. you swapped bodies?'

'bingo!' jihoon lets out, throwing his hands in the air and then instantly grimacing: 'shit, do you not take care of your back? why does it hurt so much?'

seokmin only glares. 'i take care of it fine enough, you're just overstretching!'

it's- well, you guess it should be very concerning, but in reality it's hilarious. the effect from the potion should wear off in a day so you're not too worried; you tell your boyfriends this, who both only roll their eyes in response. to watch seokmin act like jihoon and vice versa is unsettling at first - seokmin's face is never etched in a frown and he never is this...quiet; jihoon never has this spring in his step and never talks that much. it is weird but you very quickly realize the opportunities this little situation presents to you. with an unhidden glee you jump on the couch and loudly call: 'seokkie, let's cuddle!'

jihoon stumbles into the living room like an eager puppy, gladly cuddling up to you and peppering your face with sweet kisses. you giggle, grabbing tv remote to pick something, when seokmin enters the area, sending you an unimpressed glare. 'i know what you're doing.'

'you never like to cuddle when it's this hot outside, i gotta use my chances,' you stick out your tongue at him, huffing when seokmin crosses his arms on his chest. 'stop frowning, you'll give seokmin wrinkles.'

real seokmin, who's trapped in jihoon's body, happily pulls you close, not minding the heat one bit. he lets you lean his head on his shoulder and starts playing with your fingers, smiling when you propose some old comedy to watch. real jihoon though, who's trapped in seokmin's body, truts over, sulking. he gingerly sits next to you both, chewing on his bottom lip. 'do you really hate it when i tell you that i don't want to cuddle cause it's too hot?'

you blink, sensing that this is important. turning to face him, you reach out for his hand. 'of course i don't hate it, jihoon. i can never hate anything about you, baby.'

seokmin nods, also reaching out for him. 'it's a pity but we get it. it was just a joke.'

it's weird to see jihoon's emotions reflect on seokmin's face. you lean in and gently tug your other boyfriend to join cuddling session. 'just stay here, yeah? it's all that matters.'

'with us,' seokmin adds, smiling softly at him. 'we just want you close.'

'such saps,' jihoon grumbles but obeys anyway. he walks to another side and leans his head on seokmin's shoulder, taking your other hand in his and giving it a light kiss. 'let's watch this movie.'

you grin, hitting play. it's unsettling to have their personalities swap, but it's incredibly heart warming how nothing really changed in the way they both showered you with love and put you first in the middle of their relationship. smiling, you interlace your fingers with jihoon's and pat lovingly seokmin's hand that's wrapped around your torso. tomorrow they will come back to themselves and you still are sure that tomorrow you three will be in the exact same position on the couch like nothing changed.

a/n: i kept getting confused omg i'm never writing personalities swaps again :D let me know what you think! - nini

request your own here

my other seventeen work is here

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dnarez · 1 day ago

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Fanfic idea!!!

Xreader (because I love it so much)

Reader is a orthopedic(bone doctor) (there isn't enough of that) and she looks perfect, appearance, smile, relationship everything, but is a complete closeted geek (I know I know, but cliches are overdone for a reason) Reader has almost exclusively mental issues and has a soul with multiple fractures (one kinda looks like horrorSans skull fracture)

they start talking with someone on the internet about anime, specially Mew Mew kissy cutie (yes it's alphys), and after a few gaming sessions the friend invites them to watch the next episode, claiming being lonely since their girlfriend's locked up.

You agree, but you both agree to meet on the grocery store first, so that you both can get some junk food and meet on a safe place.

When you arrive on the parking lot you are greeted by a yellow lizard like monster, they aren't news, they have been roaming around for around 5 years, so you go to them and you both squeal and hug at finally meeting, you are about to go in when your new friend Alphys, stops and shrinks on herself.

Before you ask what's wrong you are meet with a big and terrifying skeleton, who has a crack on his skull, one eye light huge, he's frowning at Alphys, you step between them before they can say anything to your new friend.

You cross your arms and wait for him to say anything, Alphys's claws tug on your shirt trying to get you to stop the staring contest, but you refuse, not allowing the first friend that actually knows about your interests outside of your profession and dance school, be threatened by someone almost wice your size.

The skeleton huffs and looks at Alphys behind you "careful, lamb chop, that one loves to back stab, the closer you are, the bigger the chance" before you can say anything, you blink and he's gone.

When you turn around your new friend is having a mental breakdown, fully panicking saying "sorry" and "my fault" while scratching the hell out of her own neck and arms.

Só you ignore that bonyass words, and focus on helping her calm down, she looks tired after it and you two just go to your house, where you don't ask what was that or who was him, just watch different anime together,

He was kinda cute... For a skeleton

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

Enemies to lovers, horrortale but Alphys didn't off herself or was turned into a vegetable, undyne took the blame for all humans deaths that were caused by monster's hands. Sans was pissed and amazed that someone was numb enough to go against him, mostly a small and fragile looking human(she isn't, just looks like it), he hates Alphys and undyne for what happened with him and papyrus, also isolates himself as much as possible. Reader is now obsessed with the idea of skeleton monster and is thinking of ways to heal that huge crack on Sans

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graveyardhorror · 1 day ago

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TERROR TWINS yandere!headcanons

TERROR TWINS MASTERLIST ★

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

-prepare for trouble and make it double because you are royally fucked if you think you could ever escape these two; originally hated each other when they both find out how much they both

-were fully prepared to fight each other to the death despite being best friends, just to not have to share you with each other; only reason they didn't do this was because they overheard someone mention how cute you were and how they wondered if you were single (spoiler: that person is no longer with us lol)

-somehow became close and told each other about their stalking schedules, turns out they never ran into each other when following you around because they had completely opposite schedules/times; never noticed their yandere behaviors towards you because they were to caught up staring at you like you put the stars in the sky, they both now pay extra attention to your surrounding especially other people

-the way this dynamic works is rhea is the one who's always attached to you like a leech (sorry lol) and will actually growl at anyone who gets near you (with romantic intentions) who isn't her or damian; meanwhile damian is the one who acts semi-normal until he notices you get a paper cut or trip on your feet, becomes worse than rhea though more emotional

-since they are under different shows (rhea's on raw; damian's on smackdown) they get to have days where one of the has you all to themselves and they take full advantage of it; prepare yourself to become a human plushie because that's how they will treat you

-do not like dates that involve being in public, but if you really want to they will rent out an entire restaurant or theme park so they don't have to deal with stares or potential threats to your relationship; they aren't insecure just territorial

-not necessarily a polyamorous relationship since they aren't attracted to each other, but they are willing to share you between themselves

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

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untitledriot · 13 hours ago

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Ummm RJG HC bc I said so teehee

Most of my silly lil AUS take place when they're just a little bit older mb

Mitchell doesn't even know what his plan is gonna be once he finds out Jet is an alien tbh. Lil bro just wants to be right soooo damn bad.

Jet is very smart intellectually but street smart? Nah someone save him PLEASE.

Mitchell has canonically tried to "poison" (according to Jet and Mindy) Jet with ice cream at least ONCE. Stella did not take this well. (I like to think she does care about him and his friends and may even be a little protective of them)

Idk how I came up with this one but Zerk and Stella have MAJOR beef for some reason.

Carrot should just stick with baking bro's cooking is NOT it.

Ummm the Bortronians may or may not be immune to Earth weapons teehee.

If Stella loses her ship or her the thing she keeps it in the crash out will be BADDDDDDDD. She's turning the entire planet upside down looking for that sh (Either Mitchell or Lillian snatched it.)

"Isn't that Stella's….?" - Mindy as the entire planet is up in flames

"Whose?"

Jet would be the first one to die in a horror movie I'm sorry..

Zerk doesn't really get the earth hype and suggests that Jet visit him on Bortron instead.

Stella's hands MUST always be occupied. Whether it is with a fidget, hand gestures or something.

That's all for now teehee

#pbs ready jet go #jet propulsion #sydney skelley #sean rafferty #stella singularity #mindy melendez #ready jet go #ready to kms

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delusionalbitchinthehouse · 16 hours ago

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Guess in who's bed Alpha woke up this morniiiing ? I love putting this ghoul in Situations.

The first thing Alpha notices when he wakes up is not the warmth - he is a fire ghoul after all - but the silky feeling of too expensive sheets that simply cannot be his. Then the weight of an arm around his waist registers, as does the distinct one of someone laying on top of him. Alpha’s eyes snap open just as painfully familiar scents fill his nose.

His heart stops as the dimly lit room comes into his focus. The full blackout curtains, fancy tapestry and comically huge four poster bed are far from what he’s used to wake up to, but what really has Alpha hoping for a spontaneous earthquake to open up the floor below him and send him straight back to the Pit is the undeniable fact that he is being cuddled by Terzo Emeritus, Omega draped over the both of them like a living weighted blanket. In the Third’s own bed.

Alpha needs to scream. His fight or flight kicks in, except he can do neither ; no one to fight but two beloved slumbering figures, and too much entangled limbs to flee the scene. He still tries, to no avail. Omega's tail is wrapped around Alpha and Terzo's calves, the man clinging to the fire ghoul with his head on his chest like one would to a giant teddy bear. And that's without counting Omega's full weight pinning him down.

There is no way for Alpha to get out of this situation until one or both of them wake up. The thought fills his stomach with dread. Omega will want them to talk about it, and just the idea is already giving Alpha a heartheadache.

What is there to talk about anyway ? There is no excuses. Neither of them were drunk, when insomnia dragged Alpha to Terzo's bedroom door, under the denial-fueled pretense of only looking for Omega, who was sure to be found here. Tiredness isn't nearly enough to justify the way Alpha sank into the former Papa's gentle, concerned touch as he lead him to the bed with only the purest of intentions, the need to make sure his fire ghoul was alright. Alpha only has himself to blame for the way he fell into Omega's reassuring embrace, for the way he clung to him. For the way he slotted his mouth with the quint's own.

He remembers the spike of guilt, remembers pulling away almost instantly, nausea threatening and ears pinned to his skull as he mumbled a string of apologies. Casually kissing Omega was one thing, one they had long established everyone was comfortable with, doing so on his lover's bed, right in front of said lover, was an entirely different one.

Except Terzo only smiled, shushing Alpha while tenderly smoothing his hair back. The softness in his eyes might have been the reason why the fire ghoul leaned in, a momentarily slip of his mask, the lid of secret desires cracked open just for the night.

All he knew at that moment was that Terzo was as good a kisser as he claims to be.

From here on, the damn had been opened. All the gentleness, all the soft touchs and loving whispers Alpha silently craves were fed to him bit by bit, stretched over the silent hours of the night, moonless sky blanketing them with secrecy. The unspoken longing gnawing at the fire ghoul for once satiated.

Alpha exhales shakily, body tingling with the shadows of hands, lips and tongues. The dull ache where his neck meets his shoulder is undeniable, a reminder of those hours where he shed all the layers of denial he usually shrouds himself in. It will not fade quickly. (Alpha hopes it doesn't fade quickly)

His heart squeezes painfully as he realizes just how comfortable this all is, with Terzo's impossibly soft hair tickling his skin, Omega's cooler body temperature keeping Alpha from turning the bed into a furnace, the faint sound of their breathing strangely soothing. Eyelids starting to droop again, Alpha absently notices even Terzo's mattress is obscenely comfortable, what the fuck. He knew the man had a taste for luxuries, but now he's starting to understand why. Despite last night's activities, Alpha doesn't remember when he last slept that well.

His back doesn't even hurt that much, which is quite the fit, given the position in which Omega had him in only a few hours prior-

Lucifer, Alpha absolutely cannot keep on lingering on last night. Even if Terzo's taste still lingers on his tongue. Even if the feeling of his hand wrapped around his horn to pull him closer, the sound of his soft sighs and the hazy look in his mismatched eyes are now burned into Alpha's memory. Even if Omega handling him like Alpha was made of crystal, delicate and oh so precious is too heartbreakingly sweet a feeling for him to ever forget it.

Anyone with half a braincell would be scrambling for a way to get out of this situation, but Alpha's tired, the bed is warm, the bodies pressed to his peaceful, morning bustle has yet to fill the hallways, and it feels strangely right, to simply savor the quiet contentment while it lasts. To pretend either of the two figures flanking Alpha waking up won't be the first crack in his soon-to-shatter heart.

It takes longer than the fire ghoul expected for it to happen, but just as he feels about to fall back asleep, lulled into a false sense of security, Alpha feels Omega stirring. The fire ghoul immediately freezes, adrenaline flooding his system as he keeps entirely still, until he feels about to buzz out of his own skin.

"I know you're awake, Al," Omega hums, voice raspy with sleep. The bastard sounds so unfairly fucking hot, it makes something swoop in Alpha's abdomen. Uh. Probably organ failure.

"'m not," he grunts back, the weird but not entirely unpleasant feeling in his stomach immediately turning into a knot of apprehension, even as a soft kiss lands on his ribs.

Omega rubs his face against Alpha's stomach with a sleepy groan, earning a yelp as his stubble scratches gently against unprepared skin. The fire ghoul half-heartedly tries to bat him off, but Omega's grinning now, threatening to start a full-on tickle war. Though it makes Alpha chuckle and momentarily relax, it also has the very infortunate effect of rousing Terzo as well.

Omega's reaction to waking up alongside Alpha didn't concern the fire ghoul much - wouldn't be the first time - but Terzo's... Well, they are navigating uncharted waters there. So it kind of comes as a shock when the man only tightens his hold on Alpha, grumbling.

"Will you two stop wiggling around, some of us need their beauty sleep."

"It's definitely too late for sleep to be anything else than indulgence at that point," Omega comments as he pushes up to his elbows to press a quick kiss to Terzo's lips. That would be Alpha's opening, just enough space to slip out if he writhed hard enough, except the second he so much as twitches, Omega's eyes fly to his, mouth falling down into a frown.

"Don't run away. Please."

Alpha sinks a fang in his bottom lip, shoulders drawn. Terzo props his chin on his hand, unbearably casual with his mussed hair and the imprint of the sheets creasing his skin.

"Stay with us a little bit ?"

Curse them and the hold they have on Alpha. He sighs, melts back into the sheets as he tries to ignore the relief flooding him. No heartbreak for today, apparently. No "you should go now", no "last night was a mistake", and- no "last night was a one time thing" either. Just soft pleas for him to stay.

Apparently reassured that Alpha won't try to make a run for it, Terzo sloppily pecks his lips and flops back down as well. Hopefully he can't hear the thumping of the fire ghoul's suddenly frenzied heart. Though if Omega's smirk as he reajusts his position to hold them both at once is anything to go by, the quint did.

Alpha sticks his tongue out at him, but now that the anxiety has settled, now that the storm he thought was approaching faded into nothing, now that he can fully appreciate his situation, he cannot pretend to truly be annoyed.

For the first time in a long time, Alpha feels at peace.

#look at this dumbass pining for the both of them #i kinda love this dynamic tbh #i usually write either alpha/omega or terzo/omega #with a side of unrequited alpha/omega for the later #but i wanted to try my hand at omega/alpha/terzo #and I reeeeeaaaalllly like it turns out #alpha ghoul #omega ghoul #terzo #papa emeritus iii #nameless ghouls #the band ghost

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