#((feels nice to know this fandom is still kicking))

[galacticlamps]

actually ascension needs its own post since that's the one with the most details to speculate over and im starved for soho talk so i will talk to myself if need be

First the cover again, because I kinda can't get over it:

my only thing is that I had been hoping we might get Lizbeth on a cover again since she's never been on one of the boxsets before, despite being the 2nd person credited on all 4 of them (even if that's just alphabetical, still, she's the only one of the four main characters who never makes the cover)

But letting that go...

I know we already kinda knew the brief for this one but damn I didn't expect it to go quite this hard. Maybe that's just because the Parasite & Ashenden covers were (comparatively) similarish to each other and I was so pleased with Unbegotten's, and then got so used to it as the placeholder for Ascension while they kept postponing it, I wasn't expecting anything this colorful or detailed or with what I can't help but register as Fun New Outfits even though these are still like, pretty damn basic as far as costumes go. Still, it's a different vibe from everyone in suits and trenchcoats on every cover, technically. (Oh the woes of being an audio fan such that two characters owning sweaters actually does qualify as new information)

On top of just being visually delightful though, I know we knew religion was gonna be a fairly big part of this one, but I didn't actually expect to get quite this much of it - though I'm glad of it for a number of reasons. The BF twitter already made the ineffable joke so I don't have to, but also yeah I did very much spend all of season 2 episode 4 of good omens half convinced Samuel Barnett & Dervla Kirwan were about to pop up around any given corner (if you will go around being gay supernatural and horrible at your messy bureaucratic jobs in midcentury soho then I'm sorry, this is where my brain's gonna go) - so, fuel to that fire. But in terms of actual important things, at least one of my Soho wishes looks to be being granted because we have a Rev Edward Folgate on the cast list, which must mean we're finally meeting Norton's father, even if his mother & brother don't appear (which they could, technically, I've definitely seen BF not list all the doublings on their cast tabs before). Religion, domesticity, and the nuclear family are all things that absolutely fascinate me when it comes to Norton's character, so getting any amount of story involving his father & his church is something I've been actively hoping for for a long time now.

(I will say I'm a tiny bit bummed Saffron Coomber isn't on the cast list to play Mia again, but I kinda figured she wasn't going to be since Greg Austin's Armitage, who's making his first recurring appearance after originating in Unbegotten, was listed ever since the boxset was announced - presumably if she was also returning, that would've been handled in the same way. But since Unbegotten ended with Lizbeth and Mia going on a date, I still held out hope. Who knows though, maybe things did go well for them and Lizbeth just has a better work/life balance than Norton so she can date someone without them getting dragged into every scifi plot. I know that's not a very common accomplishment for any Torchwood agent, but a gal can hope)

At this point I know I'm completely in the realm of speculation & even wishful thinking, but I'm really really hoping we get some more clues as to Norton's overall timeline in this one, and I have a feeling that even if there's nothing as direct as dates given, the events of a plot like this one are going to heavily influence my personal interpretation of it.

To say that life & death are major themes for the soho crew feels wildly reductive, but even by Torchwood's standards and taking into account its origins as a piece of media with Jack Harkness & his newfound immortality at the heart of it, the living/dead status of this bunch has always been fantastically up in the air to me. Obviously Ghost Mission introduced Norton as kind of a ghost before revealing more obvious ghostly characters later on to which the title might have been referring, but his being from the past did beg the question of his survival into Torchwood's present era all the same, which Outbreak later alludes to much more directly, and his habit of showing up via hologram in multiple stories only further obfuscates any certainty we might have about where & when he definitely can be said to be alive and well. Then you've got Lizbeth and Gideon both being effectively 'brought back to life' via paradoxes that prevented them ever having died in the first place. Again, they are very very far from being the only Torcwhood characters this happens to (for a sprawling EU, it's really rather impressive how often & in how many different ways Torchwood as a whole manages to circle back to being about like. chaotic undead queers at the end of every day. though I suppose that consistency is part of why I keep falling in love with its different iterations again and again). That's without even getting into the question of Norton's dubious fate in God Among Us - and I say dubious because I know some people take that to be his ultimate death, but I personally think that reading something as vague as that as having any kind of finality rather goes against the spirit of this whole world/series, not just because I want him to live. (There are obviously other ways to make him survive/reappear, but I don't see this as a River Song scenario where we can safely assume one of his earlier-released adventures had to happen at the end of his personal timeline). But wherever God Among Us falls for him, he does very much meet God in it - or at least, a god, since the sentinel in Unbegotten is also described as a god of sorts, and even if he doesn't ultimately have the status of the god Jacqueline King is playing there, Unbegotten is still full to bursting with ghosts/undead/came back wrong/echo characters to continue underscoring that life/afterlife theme.

So all things considered, even allowing for the fact that we know Norton's twin hobbies are lying about himself and abusing time travel to suit his own ends/ever-shifting alliances, I find it difficult to believe we could get through a whole 6-part boxset about religion & death without something providing some kind of compelling evidence about where this adventure fits in among his other run-ins with apocalypses and gods and ghosts and dead-but-still-here characters/creatures, so I'm very much looking forward to any further exploration on that front.

And lastly, and least intellectually, I really want to know what the hell 20th-century Torchwood's obsession with Reginalds is. Reading through the cast list, I had to do two separate doubletakes over the character 'Sir Reginald Peebles' - firstly, because I had Reginald Rigsby on the brain, this being Soho (and the other Troughton brother being so active on BF's releases for this same month) - and secondly, because reading this in conjunction with the announcement for the July monthly adventure in which the new main Torchwood guy of the 20s is apparently called Sir Reginald Dellafield, there was a brief moment where I took that monthly release to be a tie-in with Ascension. I don't expect it to be, but damn. was it really so popular a name?

anyways, catch me thinking about those stained glass windows for the next couple months I guess (and knowing Torchwood Soho, for a long long time after it comes out as well lol)

[mantisgodsdomain]

i just wanna say that you're 100% right about Vi, i also wish people wouldn't just toss her aside like that, she's just as important to the team. like, she has depth dang it! she's more than just Funny Bee Who Likes Berries! also you're super right about people trying to squish Team Snakemouth into little nuclear family shaped holes. that's all, just wanted to give you a high five for complaining about stuff that also annoyed me

We've been chattering about it for... more than a year now, we think? Not necessarily via public venues, since this fandom's close-knit enough that stepping on toes is a major issue, but Team Snakemouth is a TRIO, not a duo, and trying to squish the relationship down to just "two dads and their baby kid" really just seems... reductive. Exhausting.

Vi's one of our favourite characters in the game, and it gets really tiring to see her treated as a third wheel. Even beyond the infantilization that's utterly rampant in this fandom, Vi, more than everyone else, gets things... sanded off, or just ignored. Either she's a bratty little kid who doesn't know better, or she's a background object, and that's just... taking a big chunk out of the team dynamic. She's got complexity! She's part of the team, not some random kid that Kabbu and Leif are dragging along on their adventures! She's a valuable part of the team, and she should be treated as such!

[hello-universe-lovers]

Sooooo...I was going on a nolstagia binge of BBB and saw this on my dash.

One thing lead to another, so have my rendition of your Runo. This legit saved me from art block so thank you

i go without finishing a drawing for months and then i churn out a runo drawing in a day it is what it is

[streetlamp-amber]

never ending night

bruce wayne x femwife!reader

word count: 1.7k | divider by @saradika | requests are open!

CW: pregnancy, pure fluff NOTES: hello hi i’m ailís and i’ve been meaning to start a blog where i can post some one shots that i’ve been thinking of as a way to motivate myself to finally write down my ideas so this is it. i’ll be double posting my stuff on ao3 (which you can find in my bio) and will eventually make a masterlist as well as a navigation post with a list of fandoms/characters i write for. also, english isn’t my first language.

It was close to three in the morning when Bruce finally joined you in bed after a long night of patrolling and fighting bottom of the barrel criminals all night. He showered in the bathroom on the first floor of the manor to avoid making too much noise and waking you up, but when he finally walked in your shared bedroom, you were already awake, sitting up against the headboard.

“Darling, what are you doing still up?” Bruce asked you as he reached his side of the bed.

The room was dark par for the moonlight filtering through the gap between the curtains, meaning your husband had yet to notice the state you were in.

“Dick had a nightmare,” you answered, voice barely above a whisper due to how tired you were. “It took me two hours to get him to fall back asleep and when I finally came back here, this little one started kickboxing me and keeping me awake for another hour,” you continued rubbing your round belly in hopes of soothing your baby to finally catch some sleep.

“I’m sorry I wasn't here to help,” Bruce apologised, planting a kiss on your temple as he held you close to his body.

“It’s alright, Gotham needs you,” you dismissed, not at all angry.

“Still, you’re six months pregnant. You’re growing our child inside your body, you need all the rest you can get,” he softly argued. “I would've come home earlier but all the amateur criminals came out tonight.”

“Bruce, it’s fine,” you brought your hand up to his cheek and he leaned his head into your touch. “You’ve already been cutting your patrols shorter since we found out about the baby. As long as you keep coming back home to us, alive, then I’m not mad.”

Not knowing what to say – his gratefulness for having someone so accepting of his duty as Batman was almost overwhelming, even after all those years – Bruce kissed your palm while staring at you with the same look full of love that he has been sporting since the first time he met you six years ago.

“How’d I get so lucky to fall in love with the most understanding and selfless person I know?” He asked while grabbing your hand on his cheek, wrapping his fingers around yours and squeezing them gently.

“Now that’s a lie,” you rebutted, a loving smile on your lips, lowering your joined hands on the bed. “You’re more selfless than I am. You’re the most selfless man in the world.”

“Let’s not start this never ending argument again,” Bruce chuckled, now his turn to hold your face as he brought you in for a kiss.

You happily sighed against his lips, the feeling of home that overtook you every time you tasted them was a nice welcome in this interminable night. But the kiss was cut short as you felt your baby kick again and you let your head fall back as you groaned.

“She’s still kicking?” Bruce asked you, he couldn't see the movements under your skin due to the darkness of the room and your hand on your belly.

“We don't know it's a she,” you reminded him instead of answering. You had both decided to wait until the birth to know the gender.

“And I’m telling you, I know it's a girl,” your husband repeated for what could be the hundredth time.

You also secretly hoped it was a girl, but Dick really wanted a little brother. Bruce and you were still in the process of warming him up to the idea of a little sister and it was slowly starting to work.

“As long as she doesn't come in my room,” your eight year old son had said last week, with his arms crossed over his chest and a pout on his lips.

“I doubt she’ll be doing that for the first few years, chum,” Bruce reassured him, fighting off a slightly amused grin.

“And the baby will have its own room with its own toys,” you added.

“Will I still be able to play with the baby?” Dick asked after a moment, uncrossing his arms and a hopeful look filling up his blue eyes.

“Of course you will, bubs,” you said, your fingers threading through his black hair that fell over his forehead.

“But only with her toys at first, some of yours are not suited for a baby,” Bruce pointed out, ever the overprotective father.

Bruce had lowered himself down under the blanket so he could be laying head levelled with your belly, his hand now replacing yours over the bump.

“Hey trouble,” he whispered to your child and the baby kicked again, making him smile lovingly at the movement he felt under his hand. “You shouldn't be awake this late at night, you know.”

“You're one to talk,” you commented, tone almost reprimanding.

“She doesn't know that,” Bruce looked up at you as he defended himself before his gaze fell back on your belly. “Mommy is really tired,” he continued talking to your baby, his hand now rubbing soothingly over your round stomach, “and she needs her rest to do all the work so you can come out all healthy and beautiful. Well, you're definitely gonna be the most beautiful baby if you end up looking like your mother, but that's not the point.”

You smiled at the cheesy comment and your fingers found their place in Bruce’s hair, brushing through it and nails occasionally scratching his scalp.

“Your brother Dick can't wait for you to come around,” he carried on. “Said he will teach you all sorts of acrobatic tricks once you know how to walk. And he asked Alfred if he could help paint the nursery when we finally decide on a colour.”

“And I keep telling you we should do soft green,” you argued.

“I’m not changing my mind from primrose pink,” he told you with a sly grin.

“The room won’t be pink, even if it’s a girl. And that’s final,” you firmly said. Your husband will not be winning this one argument, no sir.

Bruce sighed, rolling his eyes before focusing back on your belly. “I hope you’re not as stubborn as your mother,” he whispered to the baby, as if he was having a private conversation with them and that you weren’t there. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s one of the many reasons why I fell in love with her, but I won’t be able to say no to you even when I have to, so it would save me a lot of reprimanding from Mommy if you’re not as tenacious as her.”

You smiled to yourself as you continued listening to your husband talk to your unborn child as you threaded your fingers through his hair, enjoying the softness it had after a shower. Bruce usually gelled his hair to appear more professional when he was working in the day, and then it would get all mixed up with his sweat under his cowl when he was working as Batman. When he would come back to you after the day was over, you would refuse to touch his hair until he had showered, the texture of the gel and sweat too gross on your fingers for you to ignore.

As Bruce continued talking to your baby, his voice started lulling the two of you to sleep. The baby hadn’t kicked in over almost ten minutes now, and the peace you had waited for so long to arrive made you aware of how heavy your eyelids were. You slowly lowered yourself down the bed, getting in a comfortable position with Bruce’s help where you could finally lay your head on your pillow and it didn’t take long for sleep to catch up on you.

At the sound of your soft, barely audible snores, Bruce turned his head away from your bump to find you asleep with your free hand raised next to your head on your pillow, the other one still tangled in his hair.

He planted a soft kiss on the exposed skin of your belly, eyes closed as he took a moment to absorb the fact that a baby that was half you and half him would be joining your world in a little more than three months. Bruce wasn't known to cry, the only time you ever saw him cry was as you walked down the aisle at your wedding, but tonight, a lonesome tear rolled down his cheek and fell on your stomach, where your child was growing, because Bruce never believed he would ever get to experience again the amount of love he hadn't felt since he was eight years old.

As he observed you, sleeping soundly with his child coming to life inside you, after you comforted Dick back to sleep, Bruce, for a moment, felt overwhelmed by all the love in his life. When he became Batman, he crossed out the idea of ever having a family (other than Alfred), of settling down with someone he loved and who loved him back.

But somehow, the universe put you on his path, as a miracle or a guardian angel or simply as an anchor to life outside of Batman, he didn't know. You walked into his home, into his life, to remind him that he, Bruce Wayne, was also deserving of love, of family, of happiness. Then Dick came along, rather unexpectedly but still no less welcomed, and Bruce started entertaining the idea of having children with you. He definitely wasn't opposed to it, but it wasn't something he wanted to jump right into, especially with Dick having just entered your lives. You were both young, he in his early thirties and you in your late twenties, you could allow yourselves a couple of years just the three of you (four with Alfred) before expanding the family.

So it was rather shocking when two months after you and Bruce had officially adopted Dick that you found out you were pregnant. It both took you by surprise but after talking through it together, you couldn't be happier. And the two of you haven't stopped being happy about this new little addition ever since.

Bruce rose up from his position next to your belly, your limp hand fell from his head as he did so, and he laid on the bed next to you. He delicately kissed your forehead, then your nose before falling back on his pillow and whispered “I love you” as he curled around your body, his hand resting on your belly as he fell asleep.

[griffonsgrove]

omg hello!! I saw you post those vox headcanons and wow I was literally kicking my feet and giggling LOL. I also saw you take requests right now! (at least that’s what it said in your rules) and I wanted to request something : D

could I request general alastor headcanons with a GN! Reader please ? :D

Thank you!

General Dating Headcanons | Alastor

a/n: Of course my dear!! I love how Alastor is portrayed in the series, he’s easily one of my favorite characters! I’ve been wanting to do these for quite a bit, so thank you for the request!

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Wordcount: 1991

Cw: Hazbin Spoilers, minor violence, mentions of death, murder

(PLATONIC):

Ah so you managed to capture the attention of the infamous Radio Demon? You should be honored he even considers you worth his time! Not most demons have that luxury, they never live long enough to see.

Al strikes me as the kind of guy who knows everyone, he’s very observant and has eyes everywhere (his shadow friends extend throughout the entirety of the pride ring). He’s got connections in just about anything. He’s bound to have at least seen you once.

That being said, he views other sinners as inferior to him, if you don't have any power, he doesn't really see you as much of a threat (let’s be honest even if you did, he still wouldn't feel threatened)

He’s quite intrigued when he sees a frail little thing like you walk through the hotel doors. You're here on your own free will, seeking redemption? Oh, this will be quite entertaining.

You’re well aware of who he is, having been in hell for quite some time, even before his 7 yearlong disappearance, you knew to be wary in his presence.

It often left you being timid or skittish around him at first.

The deer demon had a knack for popping up at the most inconvenient of times, out of nowhere it seems (perks of being able to shadow travel). He would scare the daylights out of you nearly every time. Whether it was intentional or not, it always got a good laugh out of him.

And that smile…He was always smiling, you can't ever recall a moment where he wasn't, not even a falter. It's definitely an intimidation tactic you think. After all, you're never fully dressed without one!~

Despite this, he’s a charmer. He has this flare about him that oozes confidence whenever he speaks with you, to anyone really. He’s able to talk his way into and out of anything. One of the many perks of being a showman. Alastor is witty, charming and entertaining to say the least. Life is never dull with him around.

And if you happen to be from the same time period?? It’ll only want him to be around you even more! Finally, someone he can relate to in this cesspool.

This man is quite the chatterbox. He looooves to reminisce about the good ol’ days, always talking about how things were in his radio days. He could talk for literal hours and not break a sweat. You’ll often have to politely interject when he rambles on for too long, not that he minds.

Did I mention he can cook too?? Really well, surprisingly. He claims he learned from his dearest mother. He had to put a name to her famous Jambalaya recipe! When you tried it for the first time your socks were nearly blown right off from how much cayenne pepper he put into it. He likes a little spice.

He's!! Always!! Humming!! The man loves to sing, he often finds himself absentmindedly humming old tunes from the 20’s as he goes about his day. Whether he’s out for a stroll, enjoying a nice cup of tea, or running around the hotel, he’s humming.

This has been stated before, but Alastor is not big on physical touch from others unless he's the one initiating it. There have been many times where he’s pulled you into a little dance or twirl while he explains something. It never fails to surprise you each time.

He’ll often use his microphone staff to push or touch something, more specifically someone. He doesn't like to touch sinners that often, God knows where they’ve been. You’ve seen him whack Angel upside the head with it before, the spider tried getting a little too close for comfort. But for you he’ll make an exception.

Very well groomed!! He puts a lot of effort into his appearance, and cares about how he projects himself to the public eye. His hair is always neatly styled to perfection, shoes shined, and is always dressed to the nines. I mean did you see how mad he got when Pentious ripped a part of his coat off?

As the two of you begin to spend some more time together, you find yourself often having little meetups, the both of you would chat, share a cup of tea and just enjoy each other’s company. He liked to sit on the patio, he had a little table, and everything set up for you two.

Alastor makes sure to keep an eye on you regularly. He may have his shadow sneak around and stalk you while you're out. He’ll use the excuse that ‘Hell is a dangerous place!’, He can't have some low-life sinner trying to harm you, that would make him a terrible friend!

Undeniably has a soft spot for you that he’ll never admit aloud, he genuinely enjoys your company and likes having someone around that will humor him and listen to his stories. Grandpa.

Overall, Al is quite a good friend to have, you feel like you can confide in him at any point, he’s surprisingly a wonderful listener. The more time you spend together only strengthens your little friendship. Even to the point where you both will grow to have a mutual respect for each other. He initially scared you at first, given his reputation, but underneath all the ruthless chaos is a true gentleman.

(ROMANTIC):

My man is sooo conflicted at first, He’ll spend hours in his den thinking about his feelings. (We’ve all seen the inside of his room, literally half of it is a swamp). The scenery can only soothe him so much as he contemplates on what to do.

This is probably where you will begin to less and less of him for a time being as he works out his inner turmoil.

But, once he finally comes to terms with these undeniable feelings, he decides to confront you privately, away from any prying eyes. Ahem Angel…

Very old-fashioned, this is where he will properly ask to court you. 

You’ll never know this but he was actually kind of nervous, he was worried you’d reject his offer, but imagine to his surprise when you said yes!! He kind of felt giddy.

Congratulations! You now have a cannibalistic deer overlord as your boyfriend

He’s such a gentleman, I literally cannot say it enough, the man was raised right and he respects you! 

You literally never have to open a door with him around. He holds your chair out for you, always walks on the outer side of the sidewalk, pays for every meal and is constantly giving you compliments left and right. And they say chivalry is dead.

Alastor loves to gift flowers to you. Every few weeks or so he’ll give you a new bouquet. They're different each time, some have a meaning while others he simply thought you’d enjoy. You have a special place in your room where you keep them.

Now that you’re in a relationship, the two of you are basically joined at the hip. Wherever you are, Alastor is not far behind. He doesn't want to admit it but the overlord is kind of clingy. He doesn't like being too far from you.

If there’s ever a reason he has to be away from you, he’ll often have a few of his little imp dolls watch after you. You always thought they were cute little fellas anyways.

The both of you aren't exactly private about your relationship, but at the same time you’re not screaming it out from the rooftops either. Alastor is well aware of the dangers you could possibly face due to his status. He’s made a lot of enemies in his time, and doesn't want to see you get hurt on his behalf.

That being said though, no demon in their right mind would try to threaten you.

God forbid they touch you either. They’d be ripped in half before they could even get another word out. 

He's fiercely protective over you. He tries to play it off as nonchalantly as possible, but you know he cares about you immensely, it’s rather sweet really.

Now about physical affection. Things will go very slowly in the beginning, as said before he's fine with things as long as he's the one initiating it. If you two are out for a stroll you’ll have your arm gently looped with his as you walk down the chipped sidewalks. You’ll have to be extremely patient with him, he’s not used to this “love” and “affection”

If you’re ever having a bad day however, he’ll slip out of his comfort zone for you, and allow you to hold onto him for as long as you please, in the privacy of your own room of course.

One of his favorite things to do with you, is to slow dance. There's something so intimate and special about it. It could be late into the evening, when everyone else had gone to their respective rooms for the night, If you listen closely though, you’ll hear the soft hum of music coming from Alastor’s den, he has you in his arms, the both of you gently sway in a slow waltz across the room to the quiet love songs emitting from his radio. It’s here that you truly savor these private moments with him.

Speaking of music, Al loves to sing to you. Oftentimes it may be a ballad or love song, and if you join in with him? He’ll fall for you even more. 

Cooking! He loves to whip up all his favorite dishes just for you, oftentimes you’ll help him in the kitchen, even if it’s the smallest thing. It's become an annual thing you two like to do together. He makes sure that you get only the best meat that this side of hell can provide.

He’ll often call you a mix of different pet names, here's a few of his favorites: Cher, Darling, Beloved, Dearest, Love, Mon Amour, Doll

Which btw on the topic of meat, Al is canonically a cannibal, he’ll often eat demon meat in his meals, and will have you try it at least once.

Admittedly has gotten slightly jealous of his own shadow. The mischievous thing was always trying to steal your attention away from him, oftentimes it would work, you would always give in and humor him, saying that ‘Even his shadow needed some loving too!’. With a strained smile, Alastor shoots a glare at the inky mass of himself, who just looks at him with a smug grin.

Will have you meet Rosie at least once. She’s one of his other closest friends, and a real sweetheart. At first she comes off as really scary and intimidating. but the more you get to know her, and she's for certain that you wont hurt her friend, she’s much more friendlier. 

You two actually bond together somewhat, having little chats about Alastor occasionally, or about her business.

It’s safe to say that this man would kill hundreds if not thousands for you. You have him wrapped around your little finger. If you ever have someone bothering you, they might as well already be dead, because this man will hunt them down like prey. And eat them too.

Honestly, Alastor as a lover is nothing short of wholesome. He’s so attentive and caring when it comes to you. Which is so refreshing to see, especially coming from one of hell’s most feared overlords. Things will most likely start of slow, but if you’re patient with him, all the hard work will be rewarded tenfold. He had initially thought the Princess of Hell’s Hotel was one of the biggest jokes of the century, but what he wasn't expecting was you to be one of the best things to come out of it. You both were cast down to suffer an eternal damnation in hell, but at least now you can endure it together <3.

[jasonswhitetuftofhair]

“Come at me, Baby”

Characters/Pairings : Jason Todd (Red Hood) x female!reader.

Synopsis : Jason and Reader spar and after training things get steamy filthy.

Content Warnings : SMUT. Slow burn. Poor writing. Lots of plot. Training/Sparring (reader learns combat). Curse words. Pet names. Overstimulation. Multiple orgasms. Protected sex. Size kink (barely noticeable). Oral (fem rec.). Fingering. Dry humping. Use of object as toy (Jason uses a muscle massage gun on you). Vaginal intercourse. Light bondage (Jason ties your hands w/ resistance bands). Reader insert (sorry). Aftercare.

Fandom : DC, Batman.

Word Count : 5202

Author’s Notes : First fic I’ve written. Like ever. Also, this is a repost; I originally posted this for the first time in October 23’ but I deleted it in December 23’ due to insecurity.

This week had been tiring. Multiple meetings, a lab breakout scare, a few late night patrols all on top of studying the material you’d been given had started to add up. All you wanted was to retire for the night, go to your room and take a nice, relaxing, long, hot bath. Gorge yourself with junk food and put your show on, and then sleep like the dead. But no, tonight called for an evening training session with your training instructor.

Jason. Jason Todd. Before you had entered the gym, you weren't sure if you would be up to train tonight. But watching him enter the double doors with his hot-as-hell all black tactical pants, skin tight athletic t-shirt and combat boot ensemble quickly made you reconsider. As if it was hard.

Ever since Bruce had finally gotten Jason to accept his proposal of conducting training sessions with everybody, you’ve been feeling like a sitting duck. You had been trying to hide your feelings from the older vigilante for a while now. A while as in since you first arrived at the manor. Nearly eight months had you been stumbling around whenever he was near, barely making eye contact and feeling like an idiot because of him. And you had been succeeding, too! Barely, but still. He didn't know anything and now with your new arrangement, how could he not pick up on the vibes you were sending out? It was only a matter of time before your feelings were compromised and you were left heartbroken and feeling like a fool, your friendship with him long gone.

It wasn't so bad, though. You had always been good at adapting and Jason wasn't necessarily bad on the eyes. It was kind of fun, too. His little dry humored remarks, shared inside jokes and just…him, made him good company. After all, he was your friend. You haven't known him long, but it still felt like you’ve known him forever. But that was the problem. Your friendship with him was too much of a treasure to have it be risked just because of a little crush. You’d rather be plagued by the overwhelming melancholy of your predicament than not have him at all. If the only way you could allow yourself to indulge in the feel of his hands on your body was when he was training you in combat, then that was something you were okay with settling for.

“Earth to Y/N. Um hellooooo, you there?” Jason’s equally teasing and concerned words pulled you from your trance you hadn't even realized you’d fallen into.

Your embarrassment quickly appeared on your face and didn't go unnoticed by him. “Yes! Sorry, I’m here.” Having been snapped out of your thoughts, you noticed that Jason had you held against him mid-air. You threw a punch at him, but he of course dodged it so you did what you first thought next. You tried to kick him in his side but he quickly grabbed your ankle and gently but strongly twisted it so that your body changed direction. Before you could lose balance and fall he grabbed your other thigh and caught your body against his, holding you to him. You didn't react at all, though, and his initial thought was that he crossed a line he didn't know of and did something to upset you. He called your name and you didn't answer the first time so he paused the lesson and brought you back to him.

He was a little worried, honestly. He knew you to be like this, often catching you staring off into space and likely daydreaming or stuck in deep thought. It was your expression, though. The mild sorrow, a little bit of adoration shining in those pretty eyes he loved so much, too.

“You sure? We can take a break if you need it,” he offers, gently smiling at you, “is everything okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?” he asks worriedly. Gazing into his eyes, your heart almost swells up. He looks so genuine, like it would hurt him if he hurt you and you let yourself pretend it's for other reasons. “Yes, I’m fine, promise. Just have a headache s’all.” It's enough to relax him just the slightest but he doesn't believe you. Your body language is just not convincing enough. He finally puts you down and lets his eyes skim all over you. He tells himself it's to check for signs of discontent or injury, but he knows he can't lie to himself. Youre just too fucking beautiful. He shakes himself out of it before the blood rushes south and gets back to the lesson.

“So. You really need to get out of the habit of kicking. It can't be your first instinct, sweetheart. You're exposing an entire limb to the enemy and you're not skilled enough yet to counter whatever it is they plan on doing. I know it's hard, but you need to really start implementing your upper body strength,” he explains to you, occasionally letting his fingers linger on your skin when showing you what the enemy could potentially do to you. You truly appreciate how gentle and accommodating he is when it comes to teaching you. You’ve seen him train with the others and sometimes his harsh tone is enough to make you jump even when his words are directed to someone else. He’s been so patient with you and the thought of him going out of his way to train your aversion-to-fighting self makes your heart flutter. You nod along with him, letting him know you haven't gone off to La La Land again.

“Alright. Come at me, honey,” he orders while positioning himself in the default defense stance. Legs strong, but ready to move. Arms by his side ready to catch and balance. Core strong and taut, chest puffed. Eyes on you, just as he likes it. He finds it adorable how clueless your little expression is. Eyes wandering all over the place, arms trying to find a good way to support yourself and legs waddling to their correct position. Like a baby deer learning how to walk. He hears your little words of encouragement to yourself and watches your eyes, watching the gears turn in your brain. While his focus is stuck on your pretty face, he doesn't notice your left hand curling behind you while you spin yourself around, pressing your back to his front. He grunts and catches your right hand before it can land around his bicep. You quickly move your feet backward and jump behind him, putting all your strength into kicking his back hamstring, but he’s already several steps ahead of you. He turns around before your foot can land and grabs your ankle, destabilizing your legs and grabbing your wrists, holding them tight in his right hand.

This of course leads his mind to other things, things that would involve this very position. You curl your leg around his stretched leg and twist your body around, landing you on top of him. Your legs straddling his abdomen and palms resting on his waist. He doesn't mind at all, though and senses a pause in your movement. He notices your tired expression, your flushed face and neck, the sweat on your hairline, neck and brow. You jump, as if just now realizing the position you had him in. You move to sit next to him and he moves into a sitting position, no longer back to floor. You flash him a cheeky grin, happy with yourself for winning this time.

“Did I do good?” you ask him excitedly and he chuckles, your pretty little smile having caused his heart to skip a beat. ‘Did I do good?’. That phrase would be on repeat in his brain for a little while, he could tell. The way you seeked his approval caused his groin to stir and he stood up, quick to distract himself.

“You did. I’m proud, that was much better. We’re gonna focus on your upper torso, now, okay?” He guides you to stand and places his hands on either sides of your shoulders, guiding you to stand in front of him. “I'm gonna throw at you, and you're going to block them.” He playfully wiggles his fist in front of you and you grab onto it giggling. Oh how he adores that sound. He sneakily aims and his fist appears next to your collarbone, you move your body out of the way. He does it again, this time it comes next to your left shoulder. You grab his wrist with both hands and block it. He doesn't miss the way you needed both hands to wrap around his wrist. He moves again, fist to the right of your face. Your eyes widen and he shushes you and you relax. You both know he wouldn't make a move to successfully cause you harm.

This goes on and on for what seems like forever. Your stamina has dwindled down a while ago and he can tell how tired you are. He thinks about cutting training early, but for his own selfish reasons he decides against it. He doesn't want your time together to end. Still, you're barely putting in any effort and you're certainly not trying to hide it from your instructor. His eyes haven't left you since the session began and he was very pleased with all the intel he’s received. Your short, panted breaths. The way your cheeks and neck flushed with that pretty shade of pink that suited you so well. Your wide eyes, how they seemed to sparkle under the annoyingly bright lights of the gym. How they seemed to water whenever he stared into them for too long. Your wobbling lip whenever you got a little too into it. How you went out of your way to put both of your hands on him, regardless of if it was beneficial or not. The way you didn't even move out of the way of his punches anymore. You just watched the muscles of his arms flex and wished they were around you instead.

“You gotta put in some more effort for me, princess. I know you can do it,” he tells you, cooing at the way you whine at him, silently wishing he would end training early. He chuckles. “C’mon, block em’, sweetheart.” You roll your eyes and try to muster up whatever strength left in your exhausted body. Your hands meet his and successfully block a hit. He doesn't forget how you rolled your eyes, though. What he wouldn't do to have you bent over his lap for that. He finishes with the punches and leads you to the equipment.

He stands you in front of the power rack looking thing, gripping your waist and holding you up, waiting for you to grab onto the handles on top. “Chin-ups. Fifteen of em’,” he tells you and you groan. He knows you hate chin ups. “Tsk, tsk. C’mon, princess. Don't make it twenty. These help with your shoulder and bicep strength. Use an underhand grip, palms facing you.” You sigh and get into position, starting what he told you to do. You made sure to be as dramatic as possible, though; you were too tired to keep the brat in you at bay. Jason, on the other hand, doesnt try to hide the way he is blatantly staring at your ass, thighs and waist. He burns the image in his mind and moves closer to you, holding onto your waist to make you feel secure.

You huff and sigh out, hoping he’ll give into you. Throughout the entirety of the session, his hands have been on you. His breath has been on your neck. The feel of his body on yours. Him in your proximity. It was frustrating. Having him so close, but far away. Little did you know he felt the same. His hands move to rub encouraging circles into your hips and you whimper out loud, to your embarrassment. He doesn't even try to hide his smirk, though. Once the exercises are done, he holds onto you, purposefully moving his big hands to rest on your ass, bringing you down. You’re done with his teasing and turn around, pressing your palms flat to his chest and keeping him at bay. You signal with your eyes that you’re not in the mood for the teasing and he coos, holding your face between his two hands. “Is there something you want, baby?” you whine and cry out for him trying to hide your face into his chest but he only lifts your chin back up so he can see you. “Come on, sweetheart, if you want something you have to ask for it.” “hmph! I want you to stop teasing me, Jason!” He smiles wickedly and lets you go. “Training is over,” he states simply and you sigh contentedly, walking to the locker room.

Before you can open it, though, Jason’s hand wraps around your wrist and you turn to him. “You didn't actually think I was done with you, did you?” he asks but doesn't wait for an answer. He opens the door to the locker room and guides you into it before locking the door. In an instant you're pressed against the door, cold wood on your back, and Jason’s mouth on yours. It's not much of a fight for dominance, his tongue having beat yours instantly. It feels heavenly. Not just the feel of his tongue in your mouth, tasting yours, but finally all this pent up tension leaving your body. You sigh into the kiss, Jason’s hand comes up behind your neck to grab the hair at the base and you mewl against him.

You were losing oxygen and his kisses traveled from your lips, to your chin, to your jaw, the sweet spot on your neck. His big hands wrapped tightly around your waist and the feel of his open-mouthed kisses on your neck has your jaw slack and breathing uneven. He smiles at the way you look like a puppy with your open mouth and panting, practically drooling.

“This okay, sweetheart?”

You were practically soaking through your panties by now and the tenderness of his words and low pitch of his voice certainly wasn't helping. You nod a yes and throw your head back at the feel of his harsh sucking on your neck and collarbone. He growls and spanks your bottom, “I need words, Y/N,” he commands and you whine out loud yet again. “Yes! Please, need you, Jason,” you tell him and that’s all he needs to hear.

Carrying the two of you, he picks you up and holds you against him. Your legs wrapped against his waist and he sits down on a bench, you still on his lap. His kisses don't stop and the feel is euphoric. His hands haven't stopped roaming your body. The feel of his big hands groping at your soft, supple flesh through the clothing separating you from him combined with just…him, was damn near enough to make you go crazy. You were tugging at his hair and pressing your face against the crook of his neck, desperate to smell his pheromones and your soft lips pressing kisses of your own against his neck had him hard against you already. When you felt his hardness against your tummy you gasped and tugged on his hair a tad bit harder and he moaned against you. Little curses left his mouth and you were seeing stars. Nothing had barely even happened and you were already this close to being admitted into Arkham Asylum.

Suddenly his hands paused their movements and his tone became one of seriousness. He grabbed your chin and forced your face towards his. Your pretty little glossed over eyes shining up into his had his breath hitch and for a split second he forgot what he needed to do. He could see the curiosity on your face, your teeth tugging your lower lip and he had to avert his eyes.

“Fuck, Y/N. I need to tell you something. I-I like you, Y/N. And not just in a friendship way. I understand—” he started but you cut him off, lurching towards him even more and grabbing his head between your hands, kissing him with a force you didn't know you could possess. He could feel you smile into the kiss and he let you have control this time. Not for long, though. He grabbed your hair into his fist and you gasped. “I-I like you, too, Jason. Have for a while now,” you mumbled against him and he grabbed your plump bottom with both hands, bringing your body flush with his. This only fueled the fire, though; his rock hard cock straining against his pants feeling your core against him had him clenching his jaw and closing his eyes, trying to control himself a little bit.

“I like you a lot, Jason. A lot a lot,” you whimpered against his lips and he smiled. You could see the genuinity in his eyes and the softness in his smile. He placed a gentle kiss against your forehead and then one on your nose and finally one on your lips. “I'm glad, sweetheart. Very glad,” and with that he grabbed your hips and shifted your legs a little bit. He forcedly rocked your clothed cunt against his hardness and your eyes closed, head tossed back. It was almost too much, too fucking much. You had been teased all night long and with all this foreplay you weren't sure if you would last. You tried to paw his hands off of your hips and stop your movement, but you just weren't strong enough. His devilish grin staring up at you, his pretty girl, had you whining and grow the ache in your pussy. “Stop, ‘s too much, stop, please, Jay,” you begged against him and all he could do was smile. “Stop? You want me to stop? But I’m not even doing anything, baby,” he teased. He knew he was teasing the damnit out of you. Even as you begged for mercy, there you were, still riding his clothed dick. You couldn't help but follow his lead though, your hips couldn't help but relish in the feeling of his hands tight on them, guiding you back and forth. Even if you wanted to you weren't sure if you could stop. God, it felt so good. Nothing you had ever felt like before. His hands on your hips and his mouth abusing your sensitive skin. The hardness of him grinding directly onto your clit. It was all so amazing.

He could tell you were close. He’s never had you before but he already knew all your tells. Your panting and labored breaths. The way you couldn't keep your eyes open. The stuttering of your hip movement. How you tried to get closer to him, even though you were flush to him. Gasps and whimpers leaving your mouth. Your hands tried to paw his hands away yet again. Think you’d learn the first time. His mouth went right back to sucking marks into your skin and he cooed at you. “C’mon, babygirl. You can do it. I know you need it, sweetheart. Just let go and cum for me,” he softly commanded. Hips following his words, your pace quickened and he ground you down onto him. His own hips jerked up and his cock spanked your core. Within moments the climax unraveled and you let out a screech. The white hot bliss greeted you and the power of your orgasm could be felt in every nerve ending of your body. You shook for a good thirty seconds and your vision went blurry. You slumped against him tiredly and he chuckled. His soothing hands rubbing circles into your back and sweet nothings helped calm you down and your high rode out. You lazily started unbuckling his belt and he grabbed your wrists, stopping you. Oh how you liked the feel of his hands grabbing you like that. “Tsk, tsk, Princess. ‘M not done with you yet.”

In an instant he was untying your shoe laces, kicking them off your feet and forcing your pants down to your ankles. His hands ripped your panties off and you were exposed. The brisk air was biting against your wet cunt and you gasped slightly. He raised you up against the lockers and wrapped your legs around his head, hands planted firmly on your ass holding you midair. The smell of your arousal and the previous orgasm dripping everywhere had him painfully hard. “Tell me if it's too much, baby, and I’ll stop, okay?” You whispered a ‘yes’ and he finally satiated his desire to have your cunt in his mouth. His mouth went straight for your clit and you shrieked at the feeling. His light little sucks on the nub had you rolling your eyes back and jerking your hips. Continuous moans leaving your mouth only encouraging him. He licked a stripe straight up and down the length of your pussy and his own moans left him. You tasted fucking delicious. Like everything he had imagined. All those times he imagined how you’d feel and he was finally fucking seeing for himself. He felt like a kid on goddamn Christmas, his hands tightening his grip on your ass. You were sure there’d be handprints in the morning. His thumb went to rub rough circles on your little bundle of nerves while he thrust his tongue in and out of your weeping hole. You started to cry out for him, hands pushing against his head and fingers gripping his hair attempting to pull him off of your pussy. Absolute the fuck not. He looked to his right and to his luck there was a set of resistance training bands hanging from a hook. He smirked and looked up at your fucked out face and he chuckled to himself. Holding you up with one hand, he reached to his side and grabbed a cable band. You watched his movement and saw what he was doing and your eyes widened. The kinky bitch. “C’mon, princess. Give em to me. Since you don't know how to keep your hands to yourself, I have to take em away from you,” he teased playfully condescending. He tied your hands together behind your back with the workout gear and he hummed satisfied with himself before resuming his meal. He was fucking merciless with his tongue and you soon learned your crush was a borderline sadist. His mouth wrapped around your clit and his sucks were harsh and unforgiving. Like a man starved, he ate you like you were the last source of hope for his soul. His finger started fucking you, too. He started with one but your drenched hole quickly accommodated for more. Soon enough you were on the brink of another orgasm and he forced it from you roughly. “Again, sweetness. You can cum again, cant you? Give me another.”

The orgasm brought tears to your eyes and you wouldn't stop shaking. Your thighs were quaking around his head and your back arched off of the cool metal of the lockers you were propped against. Toes curling, head thrown back, continuous moans and screams leaving your lips. Your second climax of the night arrived and you screamed into the locker room, little sobs leaving your ruined body. He let you ride out your orgasm against his tongue until he was fully content and gently brought you down, placing one last kiss against your lower body. He sucked his fingers that were just shoved inside you, not breaking eye contact with your tired eyes. He placed his forehead against your own and wiped away your tears.

“You okay, baby? Was that too much?” he asked worriedly. He didnt want to fuck up his first time with you and feared he lost control of himself. You smiled tiredly against him and shook your head lightly. “‘M okay, promise. Jus’ need you, Jason.” He smiled and shuffled you towards the mirror and sinks. He took off his shirt and laid it on the edge of one of the sinks he was about to bend you over. You realized it was for your comfort and smiled up at him, feeling your heart swell up. Even when he was about to absolutely obliterate your cunt, he still managed to be a gentleman. He unbuckled his pants and finally his cock sprung up. He sighed, finally feeling relief. He watched you stare at his size through the mirror, seeing your eyes widen and your teeth tug on your lip. He lightly guided you into the position he wanted you in and you sighed contently, feeling comforted by the thought you would finally be fucked by him. Watching him pull a condom out of nowhere and rip it open with his teeth had you on the edge of your seat. He sheathed himself with it and made sure everything was ready. “Ya’ ready for me, sweetheart?” he asked while lining his tip up with your entrance, smearing your wetness all around his head. You gasped and shouted a little “yes” and he chuckled, sinking in. Even with two orgasms loosening your little cunt up for him, he was still a little much to adjust to. Both of your heads tossed back in sync and you closed your eyes, sighing for him. You worked your hips against him, wanting to feel more. He grunted and grabbed you by your hair, bringing your head up to look in the mirror. “Keep your eyes up here, baby.”

Once you were fully adjusted to his size, he slid almost all the way out and then re-entered your warm, wet heat. It felt so good. He set a pace and it was so heavenly. You could cry with how good it felt. You both needed this, needed this release for all the pent up frustrations in your lives. Sounds of flesh smacking against flesh and his grunts and your little sighs filled the room and the smell of sex was heavy in the air. His hands were on either side of your hips and his eyes met yours in the mirror. It was fucking exotic. Seeing your eyes perfectly, watching the pleasure unravel on your face. Pleasure he was giving you. His pace quickened a hair and you gasped. Your hips moved backwards against him, in time with his thrusts. You felt him deeper and the perfect rhythm of his cock repeatedly hitting that spot inside you almost hypnotized you. He smirked a little bit as he watched your fucked out face in the mirror. No thoughts, head empty. It was clear only pleasure was what you felt.

You didn't even notice him reaching above the both of you and retrieving something from the cabinet. Only when you heard the familiar buzzing noise did you wake up from the transe you were in and see what he had in the mirror. A muscle massage gun. For a moment you were a little confused, why was he hurt? Then you felt the big spherical head of the gun against your clit and your eyes rolled to the back of your head for the umpth time that night. He smiled and cooed at you from above. Yeah, he was definitely a sadist. He angled the gun a little bit to the left, wanting to overstimulate your abused little button. His thrusts hadnt ended and it was too fucking much. His pace was faster and harder and deeper now and had you both moaning up a storm. Your hands were finding themselves gripped onto the sink counter and you were struggling to keep your eyes open and in the mirror. He moved the massage gun setting higher and kept it firm against you. Your thighs were shaking and you were glad you were being held against the sink by him. You weren't sure you would be able to keep yourself up if you weren't.

“C’mon, pretty girl. Give me one more, please. I know you can. Cum for me, sweetheart.” You closed your eyes, feeling bliss about to erupt in you again. He quickly corrected you, though. His hand not being used to hold the machine to your clit came up to your throat, squeezing lightly on the sides. Not enough to cause genuine pain or prevent oxygen into your blood, just enough to give you that lightheadedness and in an instant you came on his cock. Your final orgasm was so intense and pleasurable—not surprisingly—and it lasted nearly thirty seconds. He removed the massage gun and returned both hands to your waist. His brutal thrusts as he chased his own orgasm helped you ride it all out. That blissful feeling that lasted longer than your orgasm did. All the stress leaving your body. Finally his sputtering hips stilled as he emptied his hot load into the condom and you whined, half wishing he was emptying himself into your wet little cunt instead. One day.

You both sighed and felt content again. You were sated and had finally gotten what you wanted. His loving palm rubbing circles into your lower belly, soothing you. He peppered light kisses on your skin and slowly slid out of your heat. He turned you around and kissed your forehead. All this loving kissing of his was making you wanna cry, it felt so good. Not just to be fucked right by him, but to have him, too. He was yours, now. And you were finally his. He grabbed your face between his palms and gazed lovingly into your eyes. “You okay, baby? Was that good? I didn't hurt you did I?” You smiled softly and nodded, “Yes, Jay. I'm perfect. You were amazing,” you reassured him with a blush.

He picked you up and sat you on the edge of the counter and got a washcloth from a basket, wetting it under the sink. He wiped the sweat and cum off your body and gave a kiss to each spot after it was clean. He helped dress you and by the time he was carrying you making his way to your room in the manor it was late. He opened your door and locked it behind him, leading you both to your attached bathroom. He undressed you again and turned on the shower. He lightly coaxed you in, seeing as you were so drowsy from all the night’s activities. He undressed himself and got in, lathering your body wash on a loofah and cleaning you. He wanted to make sure his baby was clean and cozy and content. When he was done washing you, he washed himself and enjoyed smelling like you a little too much. He carried you out of the shower and dried you off, clothing you in jammies and then put on some clothes you had stolen from him a while back.

He held you in his arms and you two cuddled each other all night long. You were his now and he couldn't be happier.

[cburambles]

Depending the timeline, degree of closeness & knowing how he goes re-assure Pamela & Judd in the caves while showing confusion & not knowing that he's feeling empathy, has his first line in TKAA being about how Elena feels & catering to her need ( while standing around despite his leg pain before going back to sit in his wheelchair) & how he gets angry at Evan for not looking strong & confident in front of Kyrie ( which is I think is a mix of toxic masculinity/projection)

One of Rufus main problem is how his suppressed empathy is also linked to the way he walks to the beat of his own drums & how insensitive he can be in gen. He doesn't pay attention how Tseng feels when he talks about Aerith in 7R & TKAA, he almost get killed in CoS by one of Kylegate's men as he made him feel belittled. However you also see a caring & more respectful side slowly him resurging too when he start to get attached or when the problem is put in front of him or someone is willing to stand up to him.

So with someone like Elena, who doesn't have a filter & is rather strong-willed & vocal about how she feels or the situation they end up?

I guess he would panic a bit while trying to act confident but fumble a bit due to years of isolation, problem solving side & how he usually tend to behave in a rather buisness like manner. But that's also what he might need to grow. Sometime people need to be sad for the sake to feel better & you can only just be there for them while they go thru that. I also imagine the goofiness resulting of his first awkward attempts to be there for her.

Heck I can even see him admiring her for it because yo, you let yourself show that vulnerable side of you without fear to be belittled for it or yelled at for it & you just bounce back from it?It would also mean a lot to Elena too, knowing how her own emotionnally neglectful family tend to behave toward her for any flaws she might show.

Added to that Rufus was never shown rejecting his own emotions or those of people around him too & a part of him seemingly knows people have to be comforted. It would be fun to see him putting in the work to learn to be & how to be emotionnally avalaible on a personnal level.

I'm using Elena for this example because it seems most fitting but how does Rufus deal with a woman who suddenly starts crying? Like, Elena seems like the type who just goes and goes and pushes herself until she's so tired she bursts out crying. But is completely fine five minutes later and ready to kick ass again (learning ur limits comes with age, its ok).

Does he panic? Leave? Get disgusted and demand she stop?

[spacedace]

So I've seen a lot of "Jazz works as a therapist at Arkam" in the dp x dc fandom, and while I like the concept, I also feel like Jazz would take one look at the place and immediately be like "what the absolute fuck" at just the everything of the place.

Like, she either nopes out after the tour during the interview or quits not too long afterward starting there, not because she can't take it but because she's so appalled by what's going on there and can smell the corruption rolling off the place and knows no one sent to there is ever actually going to get the help they need.

So Jazz decides to open a private practice instead while still being absolutely determined to work with the various rogues in the city, she is here to help and nothing is going to stop her.

So she just starts showing up at known hangouts of rogues and during their heists/schemes/sprees, and even fights between them and the batfam, just like

"Hi! It’s so nice to meet you! My name is Dr. Jasmine Fenton/Nightingale/whatever last name she’s using and I was hoping we could talk!"

Casually kicks a baterang away without looking because she's being polite and professional!

"I understand that your experience with therapy through Arkam has been nothing but atrocious and that you are rightfully -"

Kicks Batman away without breaking eye contact or a sweat.

"Suspicious of attempting therapy again, and Idon't want to force anything on you, therapy should be on your terms after the experiences you've had but -"

Grabs Robin out of the air as he leaps at the rogue she's talking to and tucks him under her arm, ignoring his feral hissing and all attempts to break her hold.

"-I really think that you'd find it beneficial, even if I'm not the right therapist for you."

The rogue in question is having the time of their life and takes Jazz's business card - and a few extra to pass around - not really intending to actually ever book a therapy appointment with her but way too entertained and excited to share this madness with everyone else.

But then one of the rogues actually looks up Jazz's website and sees all the various safe guards she’s put in place to ensure that any villians that come to her will be protected while seeing her - soundproof therapy room, regular sweeps for listening and tracking devices, the most insane firewalls and protections anyone has ever seen on her network, and ooh she provides snacks and drinks!

So someone finally books an appointment with her, half convinced she's either going to turn them in or is a villain herself intent to experiment on them, but then it’s actually really nice??? And they feel a lot better afterwards?? She doesn't even say anything to indicate that she wants them to stop being villains, she just wants them to be okay??

So more and more rogues start going to her, and Batman was already losing his mind about this woman before - Oracle can't hack her system?!? And her background check shows a totally normal Psychiatrist?? - but now half of Gotham's heavy hitters and a dozen or so other minor league villains are seeing her regularly and every time he tries to get info on any plans the rogues might be scheme via her office it fails utterly. Nightwing got knocked out with something called a creep stick and when he tried to break in himself to get answers she just appeared out of no where and gave him the most scathing lecture about doctor-patient confidentiality before bullying him off her property and threatening to sick her brother on him if he tried again?

And because she's become such a figure in the Gotham underworld, she gets the attention of Joker.

And everyone, rogues and Bats alike, are terrified that she’s going to try and take him on as a patient like she has so many other villains in the city and that's just a recipe for tragedy.

But then the Joker is on his way to the hospital with two broken legs and the fear of god beat into him babbling about eldritch nightmares and whenever anyone asks Jazz what happened she just shrugs and just says things like "I refused him as a patient, he's not my problem." Or "My brother doesn't like clowns." And just, does not elaborate.

Batman is losing his mind over it all. Jazz is just happy to be able to actually help the rogues. Arkam is less happy about how she absolutely destroys their reputation.

[tesscourtes]

saw you had asks open, not a drawing request but wanted to know if there was any more story to your human bill’s punishment-for-weirdmageddon-is-to-turn-weak-human au, I really like it (sorry if you explained this a while back, I only just watched gravity falls😭I’m a late-comer to the fandom)

it’s just superepiccool to me, how are dipper and mabel about him being human now? Soos n Wendy, Stan and Ford? What was it like for them (especially Ford) when he just turned human? What was it like for Bill?

oh hey don't worry, I haven't really talked much about the details of the AU like ... ever. I just started reviving it because I got my partner into the show (they are also a new fan! yay, new fans! Funny enough I had no idea TBOB was coming out so the timing was mad exquisite.) and they have just been an amazing help shaping my messy thoughts and coming up with new, fun plots! It's also nice to know there's someone out there interested in it, so thank's for asking! Now that I read TBOB I want to change the premise a bit, but the core is still the same.

Let me tell you this AU is silly. I'm aware Billford is toxic and there are many corners to dive into to picture their messy relationship. But I kinda wanna keep the spirit of the show here and make it equally as fun as it is disturbing. Given that Bill canonically is trapped in endless Therapy gives me even more food to work with, he just out there being toxic and people repeatedly telling him to cut it out.

I'm not gonna go into too much detail because I'm actually working on the first comic chapter for this AU, but regarding the characters: Each of the Pines, as well as Wendy and Soos, are not happy seeing him, but individually grow more accustomed to him and with him. I guess going from "most accepting" to "least accepting", Mabel took it the best. I wouldn't say she was quick to forgive, but quick enough to give the guy a chance. And I honestly have to say that, although this is 100% a Billford AU, there's so many plot ideas for just Mabel and Bill and their amazing, chaotic shenanigans. Put these two together and the stories basically write themselves. Wendy is pretty similar, and the most chill in actually helping Bill figure out human stuff.

Naturally, Ford took it the hardest. I'm aiming for slowburn here, haha. They got to figure out some stuff that I'm so ready to put onto pages... Ford is a lot of emotions. Confused, angered, curious... Meanwhile Stan is Bills biggest hater. (There is a lot of bullying in this AU) He just keeps up with it because his Family makes him. He's very protective and tries to kick Bill out several times. Soos sticks with Stan, but he's also Soos and has a big heart, so in Bills eye, he's very gullible and a target he can mess with easily.

Dipper is not a fan either, he has a hard time adjusting to the triangle just getting to ... be there. He's suspicious for the most part and Bill has to try hard to get on his good side. But honestly he might be more upset with Mabel (and later on Wendy) for making friends with Bill so easily, even though he knows that's just their nature. I just recently started thinking about Gideon and how I'd like to include him, but nothing worth mentioning so far yet.

With Bill himself, one my favorite parts trying to portray so far is how he's dealing with his new mortality. He adjusts to the body fine, he knows how to navigate flesh, but he has a hard time accepting that it's his body. His new prison, essentially. If it's gone, he's gone. If he treat's it like shit, he feels like shit. Then we add the psychological aspect of things. And more importantly, we add Ford to the equation. When I tell you, that demon is experiencing psychological damage here, and it's fully his fault. TBOB really pointed out to me that I need to dive into his obsession with Ford. How do you even get a man you fumbled so bad, to even acknowledge you again?

I love yapping about this AU, thanks again for giving me the grounds to do so anon! I'm an insecure writer so it'll probably take another hot minute to choose which script feels best to draw out, haha. But I'm glad you seem to be up for the ride!!

[bunnys-kisses]

hi bunny can I get tiramisu, shortbread cookies, a bagel and chai with Daniel Ricciardo please?🙏🏽

bakery menu!!

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! thank you to all of those who have submitted orders, i am working tirelessly to get them all completed!! they have been a pleasure to write though, so thank you!! i love that the daniel ricciardo fandom is still going strong! i've received a tenfold of requests since he got the boot! so i hope ya'll love this <3

tiramisu: “my little slut to ruin.” + shortbread cookies: "and who does this belong to?" + bagel: “gonna paint you with my teeth.” + chai: biting/hickies served by daniel ricciardo (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, biting & hickies, dirty talking & praise, doggy style

pearly whites. the kind of smile that made most weak in the knees. daniel ricciardo was the epitome of the sun. bright and inviting, smiles that could light up rooms. even at his worst he was still smiles, he still could make anyone swoon with them. it was like welcoming the sun into your home.

however, most of all, you loved those teeth most of all in your neck.

daniel wasn't a controlling lover. he cared too much about you and your autonomy to really feel a need to control you. you were your own woman, you were allowed to make your own choices. it was only fair.

but that didn't mean the word 'mine' wasn't thrown around. especially when he had both of his hands up your t-shirt. he groped your breasts while his lips were on your neck. you could feel your heart pounding with lust as he felt you up.

"you're mine." he said, "my little slut to ruin." he licked at the nape of your neck while his grip on you tightened. it almost turned your knees into jelly as pleasure shot through your body.

"danny."

he chuckled, "shh, shh. i know. you know that i know that i'm right." he licked you once more, "i've got you all figured out, beautiful. how much you need this. how much you love when i touch you. i know exactly how to do it, to turn you on till you can't think of anything but, my cock."

"you've ruined me for other men." you whined.

he yanked you as close as he could to his chest and pulled away to look you in the eyes. his eyes carried lust and were beautiful. he grinned as he said, "good."

you ended up in your shared bedroom with daniel determined to get your clothes off. he pushed up your shirt while he walked behind you to the bedroom. eventually that was off before you even made it to the bed.

"danny."

he chuckled, "so beautiful." he got your bra off and eventually your sweatpants you had been in most of the day. he got himself undressed as well and took a moment to admire you. he cupped his hard cock through his briefs and said, “gonna paint you with my teeth.” the idea of you with his marks excited him before the two of you were on the bed and both fully naked.

you gasped loudly when he bit into your neck. your nipples went hard and your back arched. you held onto his shoulders as he left a massive hickey on your neck.

his cock dripped pre-cum onto your stomach as he went in for another series of hickies. he made a little pattern down to your breasts where he bit at your nipples until you were practically kicking out your legs.

"paint you nice and purple with my teeth." he groaned as he rubbed his cock up against your stomach, "you always look better with my marks. now i have to know, who does this belong to?" then reached down to drag his fingers across your achy cunt.

"yours, danny. always."

he just smiled once more before he played with your nipples and left little bruises across your pretty tits. you wouldn't be wearing low cut tops for a good while.

you ended up on your stomach with your hips raised. he admired your backside and wondered how much he could mark up your pretty skin. he pushed himself against you, watching your hips raised a little and admired your beauty.

"you drive me crazy, beautiful." he said with a smile before he started to leave a few dark marks on your backside. he swore he could feel your rapid heartbeat from your back. he rubbed his scratchy beard up against the bruises he left on you.

your back arched and you moaned. the noises only got louder when he sank his cock into your sweet, wet pussy. you held onto the pillow under your head and whined into it.

"danny." you moaned as you felt the pleasure in your gut. your skin ached a little from your lover's hickies. but it left your core feeling warm. you loved it, the same teeth he flashed the cameras were dug into your soft skin.

"i love you, honey." he said as he fucked you. he thrusted his hips and watched your ass shake from the movements of his hips. he could feel the warmth in his gut as he moved against you. you looked beautiful in every way he could have you.

from expensive clothes to one of his t-shirts to nothing, it was all beautiful and it only riled daniel up more as he pleasured you. he groaned a little bit, accompanied by your sugary sweet moans..

"daniel. fuck." you whined as you tried to grasp onto the covers for some leverage. you were so easily moved by his body. he large hands and strength moved you as he saw fit.

but he was never a greedy lover, he made sure his woman came first. he made sure you got your pleasure. he groaned a little bit, "so fuckin' pretty." he chuckled a little bit, "don't you agree? my woman is beyond pretty, even beyond beautiful." daniel laid the praise on thick when he fucked you. but you loved it, you loved when he called you all manner of lovely names.

you were his little slut to ruin, but in the sense that no other man could ever compare to him. he was just simply too perfect. even when he left a messy trail of hickies across your neck.

his pace started to stagger and you felt the pleasure curl in your gut. his whined spurred you on as he fucked you deeply. he wanted to make sure that you took all of him. you felt like a perfect dream around his cock as you panted wildly.

"beautiful girl." he purred, "so fucking beautiful."

you whimpered and arched your back a little bit. you felt the thrum of pleasure in the back of your mind. you clung tightly to the pillow and moaned. with a few more heavy thrusts of his hips, you came around his cock. you felt him bruise your softest areas as you finished.

he came soon after, heavy thrusts that left you seeing stars. it was hot for you and both of you were left breathing heavily. you whined a little bit when he pushed his cock into you once more before he pulled out. a gooey string of cum connected your cunt to his cock. and that made daniel shudder.

he pulled out and you laid in his arms. he kissed at your face tenderly and you felt the warmth of love throughout both of you. you smiled against his kisses and he just beamed at you.

a bright smile with all teeth, you cupped his face lovingly. those pearly whites were just on your neck and took sweet bites out of your delicate skin. his smile was blinding and his bites were bruising <3

[silverstar70]

Fandom: Criminal minds Character: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Author's note: English isn't my first language, I apologize for any mistakes.

Summary: During a training session, the tension between Hotch and Y/N grew stronger

Warnings: 🔞‼️ new relationship, smut, sexual tension, fluff moments, friends to lovers.

Words count: 4,579k Hope you like it and let me know what you think! Enjoy it!

Something new pt.1

Training session

The BAU training gym buzzed with quiet energy as agents filtered in and out, focusing on their workouts or sparring sessions. Aaron Hotchner, known for his discipline and dedication, was no stranger to this space. However, today, there was an unusual tension in the air, a palpable electricity that seemed to emanate from the presence of a single individual: Lieutenant Y/N L/N.

Having transferred from the Navy to the FBI for a joint task force operation, Y/N had become a familiar face at Quantico. Her strong leadership and tactical skills were undeniable, but it was her long-standing friendship with Aaron that intrigued the team. They shared a history, one that extended beyond their professional interactions.

Y/N had known Aaron before his time at the BAU, back when he was still with Haley. She had always harbored feelings for him but chose to distance herself when she realized he was happy. Now, years later, fate had brought them back together under different circumstances. Haley was gone, and Aaron was a different man—hardened by experience and loss.

Among the agents, Aaron Hotchner stood tall, clad in a fitted black t-shirt and matching athletic pants, his presence commanding even in a casual setting.

Across the room, Y/N tightened her ponytail, adjusting her workout gear. She glanced at Aaron, feeling a slight flutter in her stomach. They had always maintained a professional relationship, but there was an undercurrent of something unspoken between them—a tension she couldn't quite place. Or maybe she could but tried to ignore it.

Today, the BAU was conducting a mandatory self-defense training session. The agents paired off, leaving Y/N and Hotch as the only unpaired duo. He watched as Y/N adjusted her gloves, her movements precise and measured.

She looked up at him, a small, confident smile playing on her lips. "Ready to get your ass kicked, Hotchner?"

He chuckled, a rare sound that softened his otherwise stern demeanor. "We'll see about that, Lieutenant."

They circled each other, assessing, waiting for the right moment. Aaron made the first move, lunging forward with a quick jab. Y/N sidestepped effortlessly, grabbing his wrist and twisting it behind his back. He felt the controlled strength in her grip, a testament to her training.

"Not bad," he grunted, spinning out of her hold. They continued the dance, a series of strikes and counter-strikes, each testing the other's limits.

As the session progressed, the gym seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them. The sound of their heavy breathing filled the space, mingling with the faint echo of their footfalls on the mats. Aaron couldn't deny the thrill he felt—her agility, her focus—it was exhilarating.

Y/N went for a high kick, aiming for his shoulder. Aaron caught her leg, pulling her off balance. She fell back, but not before hooking her free leg around his waist, dragging him down with her. They landed on the mat, bodies pressed together, the heat between them undeniable.

For a moment, they stayed like that, breath mingling, eyes locked. Aaron's hand rested on her waist, fingers brushing against the exposed skin beneath her shirt. He could feel the rapid beat of her heart, mirroring his own.

"Nice move," she murmured, her voice low and husky.

He swallowed, struggling to keep his composure. "You're not bad yourself."

The tension was thick, a live wire crackling between them. Slowly, Y/N disentangled herself, rolling away and standing up. She offered him a hand, pulling him to his feet. As they stood facing each other, Aaron felt a surge of desire, a need to break the unspoken rules they both adhered to so strictly.

With each move, each counter, they seemed to communicate on a different level—silent yet profound. Aaron grabbed Y/N's arm, attempting to pin her again, but she twisted out of his grip with a fluid motion.

"You've gotten better," Aaron remarked, slightly breathless.

Y/N smirked, "You haven't seen anything yet."

She lunged, feinting left before shifting right, catching Aaron off guard. He stumbled back, but quickly regained his footing, a glint of admiration in his eyes. He countered with a swift move, sweeping her legs from under her. She hit the mat with a soft thud, Aaron's body hovering over hers, his breath warm against her skin. The proximity was intoxicating, and for a brief moment, time stood still.

"You've always been a formidable opponent," Aaron said, his voice low, almost a whisper.

Y/N looked up at him, her heart pounding. "You never knew the half of it," she replied, her voice equally soft but carrying an undercurrent of something deeper.

The air between them crackled with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. Aaron's gaze flickered to her lips before he quickly pulled back, extending a hand to help her up. She took it, her touch lingering a fraction longer than necessary.

They continued the session, but something had shifted. The sparring became more intense, their movements more precise. It was as if they were testing the boundaries of their own control, pushing each other to the brink. The gym seemed to grow warmer, the air thicker with the unspoken tension between them.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Aaron called for a break. The gym door creaked open, and JJ poked her head in. "Hey, we're wrapping up. You two coming?"

Aaron cleared his throat, stepping back. "Yeah, we'll be right there."

JJ nodded, shooting them a knowing smile before closing the door.

Y/N grabbed a towel, dabbing at the sweat on her brow. "That was a good session."

There was a moment of silence, thick with unspoken words. Aaron knew he should step back, and put distance between them. But something kept him rooted in place, his eyes locked on hers.

Y/N shifted, biting her lip. "You know, we should do this more often. Training, I mean."

He raised an eyebrow. "You think so?"

She shrugged, tossing the towel onto a bench. "Yeah. It was...fun."

Aaron's gaze softened, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Fun, huh? That's not a word I hear often."

She tilted her head, a playful glint in her eye. "Maybe you need to loosen up a bit, Hotchner."

He chuckled, a warm, genuine sound. "Maybe you're right."

Standing there in silence, close yet distant from each other, the room felt small. The air between them cracked with electricity, Hotch lost himself looking at her as a shiver ran along his body and a feeling, he hadn’t felt in years began to spread in his chest. Every muscle tensed at the strange feeling; his stomach tightened, his breathing hitched in his throat and his heart seemed to beat out of his cage.

Y/N felt his eyes on her penetrating her soul, like he was trying to read what was going on in her mind. If only he knew.  “What?”

Her voice brought him back to reality. “Umm, nothing.”

Eager to get up from there, he grabbed his gym bag ready to rush out the door, but Y/N turned towards him at the same time he moved. Face to face, the distance between them was almost nonexistent, she could feel his hot breath on her face.

Driven by some invisible force, Hotch reached out, brushing a strand of loose hair from her face. His touch lingered, fingers trailing down her cheek.

Y/N's breath hitched, her eyes darkening. She leaned into his touch, her hand coming up to rest on his chest. "Hotch..."

He swallowed, his thumb brushing against her lower lip. The sound of his name on her lips sent a rush of heat through him. "We shouldn't," he whispered, even as he leaned in closer.

He hesitated, the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him. But in that moment, all he could think about was her—the feel of her skin, the warmth of her body. With a quiet groan, he closed the distance, capturing her lips in a fierce, desperate kiss.

Y/N responded instantly, her arms wrapping around his neck as she pulled him closer. The kiss was a clash of need and restraint, a desperate attempt to quench the fire burning between them. Aaron's hands roamed her back, pulling her against him as if trying to merge their bodies.

The world outside the gym ceased to exist. There were no rules, no consequences—only the two of them, lost in a whirlwind of desire. Aaron kissed her deeply, tasting the salt of her sweat and the sweetness of her lips. He felt her hands slide under his shirt, fingers tracing the muscles of his back.

They pulled apart, gasping for air. Aaron rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. "We should stop," he murmured, though his voice lacked conviction.

Y/N nodded but made no move to step back. Her eyes were glazed with desire, lips swollen from their kiss. "We should," she agreed, her voice breathy.

They stood there, caught in the aftermath of their shared moment. Aaron's heart pounded in his chest, a mixture of exhilaration and fear. He knew they were treading dangerous waters, but the thought of pulling away felt like a betrayal of everything he wanted.

With a sigh, Aaron gently cupped her face, his thumb stroking her cheek. "We can't let this happen again," he said, his voice firm yet soft.

Y/N nodded, her eyes holding a mix of disappointment and understanding. "I know," she replied, her tone resigned.

They pulled away, the loss of contact a cold reminder of reality. Aaron took a deep breath, steadying himself. He offered her a small, rueful smile. "Thank you for the session. It was...enlightening."

She returned the smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Anytime, Hotchner."

With one last lingering look, they turned and walked out of the gym, the air between them heavy with unresolved tension. As they stepped into the hallway, the sounds of the bustling FBI office reminded them of their duties, their responsibilities.

Aaron glanced at Y/N, who was already putting on her professional mask, her expression unreadable. He admired her strength, her ability to compartmentalize. But he couldn't shake the feeling that they had crossed a line, one that couldn't easily be redrawn.

As they rejoined the team, Aaron felt a pang of regret. He knew he had to be the responsible one, to maintain the boundaries. But as he watched Y/N interact with the others, a small, rebellious part of him wondered what it would be like to break the rules, to give in to the undeniable chemistry between them. A small part of him wished he wasn’t so strict with rules.

As the days passed, Hotch and Y/N fell back into their professional roles, maintaining a careful distance. The BAU team, ever perceptive, seemed to sense the undercurrent between them but chose not to comment. Work carried on, cases came and went, and the tension between Hotch and Y/N simmered beneath the surface.

One evening, after the team had finished a particularly grueling case, Y/N found herself in the conference room finishing some paperwork. Hotch noticed her and quietly entered the room, not wanting to disturb her.

He couldn't help but admire her. She was focused, her brow furrowed in concentration as she studied the files. Despite the exhaustion etched on her face, she radiated a quiet strength that Aaron found both admirable and alluring.

She looked up after a while, her heart skipping a beat when she saw Aaron standing there, his eyes filled with concern.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice a soothing balm to her frayed nerves.

"Hey," she replied, her tone guarded.

He stepped closer, his gaze never leaving hers. "I wanted to check on you.”

"I’m fine. It’s just being a long day," she muttered, more to herself than to him.

Aaron nodded, watching her carefully. "Yeah, it was. You should get some rest."

She looked up, meeting his eyes for a moment before looking away. "I will. Just need to finish up a few things."

Aaron hesitated, feeling the familiar pull toward her. He knew he should leave, and give her space, but the urge to bridge the gap between them was too strong. He took a deep breath and closed the distance, his footsteps echoing in the empty room.

"Can we talk?" he asked, his voice gentle yet firm.

*

When the team noticed Hotch and Y/N in the conference room, they exchanged curious looks. Around Reid’s desk, everyone was trying hard to avoid gazing towards the conference room, keeping in mind the promise to never profile each other. Rules they broke repeatedly.

Of course, they notice the change in behavior between their boss and the Lieutenant, the tension filling the room every time the other walked into the room, and the stolen glances when they thought no one was watching. 

Truth be told, they hoped something would happen between them. They were so alike, workaholics, strict to the rules but ready to break them to save one of their own, authoritative and well-respected figures. Legends in their environment.

Hotch needed someone like Y/N at his side, someone who could understand the long hours. They never blamed Haley for the divorce, they knew this job took a lot from the people around them too, and wished that Hotch would stop blaming himself for what happened.

As the agents started gathering their things, Emily spoke with a mischievous glint in her eye. "So, what's the deal between them?" she asked in a low voice, just loud enough for the team to hear. "They seem... closer than usual."

Derek leaned in, whispering conspiratorially. "You think there's something going on between Hotch and Y/N?"

Spencer blinked, his brow furrowing in thought. "They do seem to have a strong rapport," he mused, tilting his head. "But it could just be a mutual respect for each other's skills. They're both highly trained professionals, after all."

Derek chuckled, shaking his head. "Always the rational one, aren't you, pretty boy? But come on, did you see the way they looked at each other? There's definitely something there."

“Whatever it is, it’s not our business,” Dave spoke, interrupting the arguments.

*

Before she could respond, her phone buzzed on the table. She glanced at it, her eyes widening. “I’ve got an emergency,” she said abruptly, grabbing her phone and standing up. "I need to go."

Hotch’s heart skipped a beat. "Is everything alright?"

She shook her head, not elaborating. "I’ll explain later. I have to go."

Without waiting for a response, she turned and hurried out of the room, leaving behind a trail of unanswered questions. He watched her leave, his brow furrowing and a feeling of unease settling in his gut.

She rushed out of the room, walking past the team to head to the elevators. The team exchanged glances; their curiosity piqued by the sudden change in Y/N’s behavior.

“Y/N, is everything okay?” Dave shouted from Reid’s desk, seeing her in a hurry.

“Work emergency.”

Aaron’s gaze followed her as she walked out the glass doors. He could sense that something was off, but he had no way of knowing what the emergency was. He sighed and returned to his office, desperately trying to avoid the team’s question looks.

Hours later, the office was quiet. The team had left for the night, and the building was nearly empty. His thoughts were consumed by Y/N; her sudden departure, the unspoken words between them. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was unresolved, and he needed to figure out what it was.

Hotch headed to the gym with a determined stride, hoping to clear his mind. The gym was dimly lit, with only the occasional beam of light cutting through the shadows. He changed into more comfortable clothes and started placing meticulously the bandages on his hands.

He started punching the bag with a force he didn’t even know he had. All the frustration, all the tension, was drifting out of his body, slowly, too slowly. Y/N occupied all his thoughts, every time she came to his mind, he felt something strange in his stomach. That kiss was wrong, so wrong and yet he couldn’t stop thinking about it, about her.

Later that night, when Y/N came back that night, the gym was deserted. Or at least she hoped so. Already in her gym clothes, she was greeted by the rhythmic thudding of gloves hitting a heavy bag. The sight she met with was Hotch with his shirt soaked with sweat, punching the bag with intense force, his muscles rippling with each powerful strike. His face was a mask of concentration, brows furrowed and jaw set as if he was trying to punch away whatever demons haunted him.

Y/N stood in the doorway, watching him silently, not wanting to intrude. But the magnetic pull she felt towards him was too strong to resist. The shirt perfectly hugging his chest and arms, the sweat scrolling down his face, the grunts he made every time his fits touched the bad, did something to her.

The familiar feeling she felt when they kissed, was growing stronger in her stomach. The sight of him made her heart race, a fire started to spread in her chest, and a sense of admiration filled her. She had seen him in countless professional situations, always composed and in control. But this was different—this was raw, unfiltered Aaron Hotchner.

She leaned against the wall, her eyes never leaving him as he pounded the bag. She could see the sweat glistening on his skin, the way his muscles flexed and strained with each movement. It was a sight that stirred something deep within her, a longing that she had tried so hard to suppress.

The intensity of his workout mirrored the intensity of their earlier encounter. It was clear that he was using the physical exertion to work through his frustrations, perhaps his own confusion over their charged moment.

After a few moments, Aaron paused, wiping his face with a towel. He looked up and saw her standing there, her presence startling him. For a brief second, their eyes locked, and the weight of the evening’s events seemed to settle between them.

“Didn’t expect to see you back here,” Hotch said, his voice rough from exertion.

Y/N stepped further into the gym, her gaze steady. “Didn’t expect to see anyone here this late.”

She walked over to the bench and set down her water bottle, feeling his eyes on her every step of the way. The tension in the room was palpable, a living thing that wrapped around them, drawing them closer together.

"Mind if I join you?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

He shook his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Not at all."

He watched her as she carefully wrapped her hands and moved closer to him, his eyes scanning her face. "You seemed pretty rushed earlier. Is everything okay?"

She let out a sigh, her gaze dropping to the floor. "It was just some work-related stuff. Nothing to worry about."

Hotch wasn’t convinced but didn’t push further. He kept scanning her trying to catch any sign of discomfort. Once she was done, her gaze met his, and for a moment, he saw a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes.

She took a deep breath, her shoulders slumping slightly. She knew that look. "Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” he asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“Like you have any right to be worried.” She said sharply.

Her words hit him like a train. His features softened as he felt his heart broke in his chest at the pain. “Y/N. Of course, I’m worried. We’re friends.”

Friends. Odd choice of words, she thought, the word echoing in her mind. Friends didn't kiss like that, didn't share the kind of moments they had. But she knew why he said it, why he needed to draw that line. Still, it stung.

"Friends. Right," she repeated, her voice flat. She quickly brushed off her thoughts and changed the subject, not wanting to explore more of his assumption. “Want to go a few rounds?" she asked, her tone casual while heading to the mats in the center of the room.

He sighed, noticing her attempt but didn’t say anything. “Sure, why not.”

The challenge in her eyes was unmistakable, and Hotch felt a familiar thrill. He joined her on the mats, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. They stood facing each other, the air between them charged with unspoken tension.

"Alright," Aaron said, his voice low. "Let's see what you've got."

They began slowly, testing each other's reflexes with light jabs and evasive maneuvers. As the intensity increased, so did the closeness of their movements. Every block, every dodge brought them closer, their breaths mingling in the confined space. It was a dance of skill and desire, each touch igniting a spark.

Aaron's eyes were locked on Y/N's, the heat in his gaze mirroring her own. He feinted left, then moved in quickly, pinning her arms behind her back. She gasped, their faces inches apart. For a moment, they stood frozen, the sound of their heavy breathing filling the gym.

"Got you," he murmured, his voice husky.

Y/N smirked, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Not quite."

In a swift move, she twisted free, using the momentum to sweep his legs out from under him. Aaron landed on his back, the air rushing from his lungs. Before he could react, Y/N was on top of him, straddling his hips. She pinned his wrists to the mat, her breath hot against his skin.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Lieutenant.” He said with a smirk on his face.

She leaned in closer, her lips hovering just above his. “You too, Agent,” she whispered, her tone teasing.

They stayed like that, locked in place, the weight of their unresolved feelings pressing down on them. Aaron could feel the heat of her body, the rapid rise and fall of her chest. His pulse raced, a mix of adrenaline and desire coursing through his veins.

The space between them seemed to shrink, the air thick with anticipation. Aaron's resolve wavered, the boundaries he'd set for himself crumbling under the intensity of the moment. He could feel her breath on his lips, the intoxicating scent of her skin. It was a temptation he couldn't resist any longer.

With a low growl, he surged upward, capturing her lips in a fierce, hungry kiss. Y/N responded immediately, releasing his wrists to wrap her arms around his neck. Their kiss was a clash of passion and pent-up frustration, each trying to pour all their unspoken feelings into the embrace.

Aaron's hands roamed her back, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss. He could feel the warmth of her body, the softness of her curves against him. His evident desire was strong under her, sending shivers along her spine. The world outside the gym ceased to exist; there was only her, only this moment. Their kiss grew more desperate, more urgent, as if they were trying to make up for lost time.

Y/N broke the kiss first, gasping for air. She looked down at him, her eyes dark with desire. “This is highly unprofessional,” she whispered, though her voice lacked conviction.

Aaron cupped her face, his thumb brushing over her swollen lips. "I know," he replied, his voice rough with emotion. "But I can't stop."

She closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. "Me neither."

With a shuddering breath, she leaned down, kissing him again. This time, it was slower, more deliberate. Hotch's hands slid down her back, tracing the curve of her spine. He felt her shiver under his touch, a soft moan escaping her lips.

As their kisses grew more heated, Y/N pushed against his chest, could feel his heartbeat. He ran his hands through her hair, his lips trailing kisses along her jaw and down her neck. The taste of her skin was intoxicating, each touch sending a jolt of electricity through him.

One of her hands slid under his shirt and Aaron's breath hitched as her hands touched his bare skin, her touch both tender and possessive. She leaned in, pressing her lips to the crock of his neck. He groaned softly, his hands tightening on her waist.

They paused, breathing heavily, their foreheads pressed together. Aaron looked into her eyes, seeing the same mix of desire and uncertainty reflected in them. He knew they were crossing a line, again, but in that moment all he wanted was her.

With a soft growl, Hotch captured her lips again, pulling her even closer. Their kisses were frantic, their hands exploring each other's bodies with a desperate need. In the heat of the moment, Hotch rolled them on the mats, ending on top of her.

Pulling apart, their eyes locked again. Dark and filled with desire, it was like looking into each other's soul. Aaron rested his forehead against hers, his heart pounding in his chest.

Y/N was the first to speak, her voice playful but barely above a whisper. "Crossing the line again, Hotchner?"

He sighed, caressing her cheek with his thumb. "I know," he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. "But I don't want to stop."

She nodded, her eyes filled with a mix of hope and pride. "Neither do I."

They stayed like that for a while, holding onto each other, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment. Hotch knew they had a lot to talk about, a lot to figure out. But for now, he was content to just be with her, to enjoy the warmth of her body and the softness of her touch.

Eventually, they pulled away, their breathing steadying. “We should probably get going,” she murmured, a hint of a smile in her voice.

Aaron chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "Yeah, probably."

Reluctantly, they separated ready to get up. As they recollected their belongings, they felt a sense of peace. Taking this step forward, not knowing where it would lead was a jump in the dark and neither of them was used to having things out of their control, but this time it felt different. It felt right.

As they left the gym together, Aaron reached out, taking Y/N's hand in his. She looked up at him, a surprised but pleased smile crossing her face. He squeezed her hand, a silent promise that whatever came next, they would face it together.

The night was cool, the stars faintly visible above the city lights. They paused by Y/N's vehicle, and Aaron found himself reluctant to let her go.

He glanced at her, his dark eyes searching her face. "Y/N... Come home with me?" His voice was soft, the question hanging in the cool night air. It was an invitation and a challenge, a step into the unknown. “Jack is with Jessica.” He added

Y/N looked up at him, her expression unreadable. For a moment, she seemed to weigh the gravity of his words. Then, with a slight nod, she smiled. "Okay," she replied, her voice steady despite the tumult she felt inside.

A smile spread wide across his face and for the first time in a long time, Aaron felt hopeful. They walked to his car hand in hand, ready to explore those feelings they tried so hard to ignore over the past few weeks.

Tag: @sweetbearcolorgarden

Read part 2 here

[katz-rambles]

hello! proud member of the arcane fandom here, can confirm we are alive and well ! may i suggest a little something with ekko and a gn (or masc) reader? perhaps comforting ekko after the bridge incident of episode 7- thank you ! and take care <3

Yess! I js finished rewatching Arcane today, and the bridge scene is still one of my favorite fight scenes! Take care, as well, Anon!!

1k words, so it's a little on the short side.

(fluff, gn!reader, reader has some medical knowledge (but I don't, so I apologize if this is inaccurate), Ekko's a tease, illusions to sex but nothing actually happens.)

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰

It's safe to say that the day didn't go as planned for either of you. You're waiting at home, pacing around the room. You had a bad feeling about the whole ‘going to topside’ thing Ekko told you about. It's the day after, and there's still no sign of him. Even Scar hasn't heard from him. All your mind does is go to the worst. Could the enforcers have killed him, you don't know, and you're not sure if you'd want to know.

You were hoping that by the time you woke up, he would be there. You spend the whole morning pacing and panicking. You try to take your mind off it by getting out and seeing some of the other firelights.

It works. Talking with them and then playing with a couple of the kids helps. I'm mainly playing with the kids, though. It's fun. They convince you to play house with them, and one of them hands you a little doll. It reminds you of your childhood, and it makes you happy knowing that they get to have a somewhat normal childhood.

There's suddenly a lot of voices and clamoring when the entrance opens. So you go and check it out, it can't hurt to. You have to ,gently, push past some of the small crowd to get to see what's actually going on. “Hey, sweetheart,” Ekko groans and stumbles, and you're quick to wrap your arm around him to help stabilse him. When you look down, you're met with an odd sight. You can check having a councilor inside the fireflights base now. He clings to your side and lets you help him get up into your shared room so you can assess the damage.

You let him sit down on the bed, and he sighs, resting his head back on the headboard. You scan him for any big injuries. There's one that catches your eye, a bleeding wound across his stomach. “It wasn't supposed to go this way,” he starts, helping you lift up his shirt so you have access to the wound and the continuing, “it was just supposed to be, I go across with Vi and the other girl. Give them the stone, and then everything would be better. But no.” He winces when you pat some of the alcohol down on it, cleaning it so you can stitch him up. “I know, I'm sorry.” You sigh and press your free hand on his cheek. One of his hands covers yours, and he leans into your touch.

“This is going to hurt like a bitch, you know.” You warn him and grab a pair of tweezers when you notice the small pieces of metal lodged inside the wound. He lets out a shaky breath and nods, one hand grabbing onto the sheets of the bed. You can hear him wincing and groaning when you start to grab the metal, slowly pulling it out, trying not to hurt him too much. You drop the metal on the nightstand and stand up to grab the stapler. You dab some of the numbing cream around the wound in hopes that it won't hurt too bad when you close it. While you wait for it to kick in, you get on your knees and take a look at his ankle.

“It's not broken. Nothing a splint won't be able to fix.” You say as you feel his ankle for swelling or a broken bone. You grab the wooden splints from the nightstand, glad you grabbed them just in case, and place them on either side, securing them in place with a nice layer of bandages. You grab the stapler and Ekko groans in protest, “oh fuck, is that part really necessary?” You scoff and shrug. “I could just knock you out and do it,” You offer, pulling out a vial of anesthetic from the kit. You laugh when he stares at you like you just grew another head, “besides, I've already numbed the area, so this is the best it's going to be.” You say and press the stapler to his skin, internally wincing every time the sounds of it goes off and Ekko moans and groans with each staple. You thank whoever's listening that you didn't have to do too many staples. You don't think you could handle any more of hearing him in pain before you gave in and actually knocked him out.

“There.. all done.” You smile at him and rub the side of his leg. He nods, and you grab the bandages, wrapping it before you go and grab a new shirt for him to put on and take the old one. “Come here, please?” He asks and grabs your hand, pulling you towards the bed. Who are you to deny him, so you give in and crawl into the bed beside him, careful of his injuries, and lay your head on his shoulder. “Thank you,” he mumbles and kisses your cheek, leaving smaller pecks on your nose and forehead before he kisses your lips, “what would I do without you?” He mumbles against your lips, and you laugh. “I don't know.. staple yourself and probably miss.” You tease, and he scoffs, giving you a glare before he kisses you again. You're just glad he made it home in one piece, and so is he.

“I guess this means I'm on bed rest for a bit, huh?” He mumbles, and you roll your eyes. “When have you ever complained about bed rest?” You scowl, and he laughs, a real laugh, not a fake one to make someone happy, a real one. You kiss him again, and he rests his hands on your waist and pulls you closer to him, his hands going lower until they rest on the curve of your hips and you smack his hands away. “What part of bed rest did you not understand?” You groan and push yourself back, hearing him laugh and rest his head on your chest. Finally resting. You're glad he's here.

[inoreuct]

would you agree that we all need more Sanji getting nosebleeds over Zoro in this fandom?

YES *pelting down a hill waving the proposal for this in my hand like a madman* YESSSSSS

the first time sanji gets a nosebleed over zoro is his clue-in that oh. i’m not straight, am i. the swordsman’s doing a bench press (shirtless, as always) as sanji walks by (and sanji sneaks a look, as always, because who wouldn’t?) and when he glances over the plates he has to do a double take because what the fuck. zoro’s pressing more than twice his body weight. zoro’s repping more than twice his body weight. he’s just registered that maybe he’s stared for a bit too long when he feels something warm and wet on his upper lip, iron dripping over his mouth, and he books it for the galley.

he slams the door shut and presses his back against it before he slides to the ground and screams into his knees because what. the fuck. it’s not even that he’s getting hot and bothered over a guy; it’s just that the guy’s zoro. he’s not supposed to get nosebleeds over zoro.

but he does.

and it gets worse.

zoro walking around shirtless on deck? nosebleed. zoro re-tying the sails and just hanging on with his legs around the mast? nosebleed. zoro strutting out of the shower door, damp with steam and hair dripping wet and a towel around his waist? nosebleed. zoro tsking irritably and grabbing all of sanji’s food and packages from him to haul the whole lot over his shoulder? NOSEBLEED.

and not even that. he starts getting breathless around zoro and his chest hurts. he kicks zoro back while they’re sparring one day and the swordsman grins, feral and unrestrained and all challenge and teeth, and sanji’s heart spasms so hard that he actually wonders if he’s about to go into cardiac arrest. he’s barely twenty, he isn’t ready to die— much less because of some stupid marimo. chiselled abs and a nice set of biceps are only worth so much of sanji’s dignity. he twists and smashes the sole of his shoe right into zoro’s pretty face.

still, it gets so, so bad that he’s elected to just. avoid zoro completely. he’s sneaking around corners and running across open expanses ducked low like some kind of goofy thief and he knows it’s so fucking stupid but he doesn’t. he doesn’t know if zoro likes— no. he doesn’t even think about it. there’s no way, and if he gives himself false hope he’ll just break his own heart. he doesn’t know if zoro likes men, or anyone, much less him; nobody in their right mind would, not really. he's nice to have but not to keep and he's come to terms with it.

…until zoro corners him in the galley and demands to know what the fuck’s going on.

sanji stays facing away, slowly washing the dishes even as his heart pounds so hard it hurts. he is painfully aware of the way zoro’s seething like an over-boiled kettle in one of the chairs behind him, arms crossed over his stupidly broad chest and stock-still because he never, ever shakes his leg even though sanji knows he wants to.

his sponge squeaks across ceramic. the water’s warm against his fingertips, and his eyes flick up to meet his own reflection in the porthole window; he looks… well, he doesn’t know. scared, maybe. nervous. his mouth is thin, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, a shudder running its fingers down his spine even as his heartbeat thumps between his ribs and god, fuck, it aches. and he knows. he looks himself in the eyes and he knows that somewhere along the line nosebleeds had turned into falling in love and he was the stupid idiot who had just let it happen because he was too weak to pry zoro out of his thoughts.

his gaze flicks down sharply when he hears the sudden scrape of the chair, and zoro spits, “look, i can’t fix whatever i did wrong if you don’t tell me what it is.”

sanji’s heart throbs. “what?”

he can hear zoro’s scowl. “what, what? i obviously did something. you’ve been avoiding me like the plague.”

the cook almost laughs. he bites it down and swallows his words, salty-sweet at the back of his throat. guilt nips at him; zoro’s his rival and and his personal annoyance and a blockhead but he might also, maybe, just maybe, be sanji’s best friend. and sanji hasn’t been very fair to him lately.

he swallows again, clears his throat silently. “you didn’t do anything, marimo,” he murmurs to the plate in his hands, trying for airy and getting more somewhat vaguely strangled. he coughs. “just forget about it. sorry i’ve been weird.”

sanji will deal. he will, somehow; he’d been careless and careless is dangerous and for perhaps the first time in his life, he has too much to lose. he’ll squash his heart into a box and lock it down tight like he always has and it’ll hurt, but when does it ever not? he mentally declares the matter done and dusted as he shakes off the plate and gently sets it on the drying rack.

his lungs hitch as a callused hand cups his elbow.

zoro pulls him around. he’s too weak to resist. the edge of the sink digs into his hip as stormy grey eyes scan his face and zoro looks tense, his jaw set in the way it only is when he faces off with a particularly vexing foe.

“did i not look happy enough at dinner?" he asks, and it could be mockery but it isn't, not with that edge to his voice; not desperation, but damn near. like filter paper burning its way to ash. "was it my clothes on the floor? my boots on the bed? what?”

sanji can't stand it anymore. he looks away, tries to twist out of the invisible bonds zoro has him trapped in, but fingers looped around his wrist are all it takes to make him stay and fuck, fuck, he's so fucked.

"sanji, what did i do?” zoro breathes, brow furrowed, voice too near and too damn earnest, and sanji's throat bobs as he digs the heel of his palm into his eye.

this isn't how it's supposed to go. zoro isn't supposed to care. zoro isn't supposed to be standing here in the galley saying his name in that tone of voice. a hand carefully pulls his own away from his face, and zoro doesn't fucking let go, and sanji feels too much like he's been stripped down to the bone.

"i know," zoro continues, gruff like he doesn't know how to be anything else, "that i upset you. so would you please tell me what i did so i can fix it?" he bends lower still, ducking to try and catch sanji’s line of sight but sanji just can't look at him. "i'll fix it, i—"

"you can't fix this." the words are out and in the air before he can stop them, and a bittersweet smile curves his mouth. "there's nothing to fix, so you can't fix it. just let it go, alright?"

zoro wants to argue. sanji can tell. but the swordsman lets out a measured exhale after a long moment and pulls back, face carefully neutral. "at least tell me what's going on, cook."

sanji looks down at his feet. "...i can't."

"like hell you can't," zoro replies immediately, and it's such an abrupt reminder of their normal banter that it wrenches a rough noise from sanji's chest. "i was the one who held your hair back after you had, like, seven margaritas too many. don't think you could tell me anything worse than the experience of trying to stop you from falling into your own puke."

"oh, jesus fuck," sanji swears on instinct, then laughs. it's unfortunately hollow. "that was one time, asshole."

"one time too many," zoro hums, raising an eyebrow. "so you gonna tell me what's going on, or do i have to make it a captain's order?"

sanji grits his teeth.

"i will drag luffy in here, i don't care—"

"fucking—" he holds his breath, flipping around to white-knuckle the edge of the sink and letting it out slow. "fine. you ever loved someone, marimo?"

"sure." zoro shrugs easily, crossing his arms as he looks out the window. "kuina, but i think i learned to love her memory more than anything else. luffy, nami—" a near-unnoticeable flutter of thick lashes. "you."

sanji exhales through his nose as he rocks back on his heels. squeezes out air till it hurts. "you know that's not what i meant."

"what did you mean, then?"

he turns to look at where zoro has settled lazily against the counter, the moon turning his eyes to silver. "I mean the kind of love that makes your blood race. that makes you want more even when you know you'll never take more than you're allowed. the kind that makes your heart hurt so badly you feel empty without it."

the swordsman's face is unreadable as he tilts his head slowly. "i did say i love you."

it hits sanji like a bullet. he sucks in a sharp breath, and his throat burns as he turns away and tries to stop his shoulders from heaving up. "don't fuck with me, zoro. not about this."

it feels rather like a cruel cosmic joke. he's so near yet so far, just one step away with a gauzy curtain between but he can't touch it. he won't. he's got too many things on the line and yet he can't even name one of them.

"hey."

he squeezes his eyes shut against the burn of salt that shouldn't even be there, and look at that. little sanji's gone and broken his own heart again.

"hey," zoro tries again, more insistent, one hand hovering in the space between them and sanji feels the pull of it like a magnet.

he doesn't turn away as it cups his cheek. doesn't run as fingers slide through the short hairs at his nape, a thumb behind his jaw. his lashes are damp. it is everything he wants and everything he cannot have and he can't—

"look at me."

"i can't," he breathes, lungs rising fast and shallow. he's afraid to open his eyes. he's afraid of what he'll see.

"yes, you can." zoro shifts closer and another hand joins the first. it's big and rough and warm and he holds sanji's face like he's the moon herself. "look at me, curly."

he can't.

he does.

zoro's gaze is almost painful to meet straight-on with how intense it is. he seems to realise, face softening as he leans closer, closer, posture loose enough that it would be no problem for sanji to shove him away. "you love me," he breathes. "yes or no?"

sanji's heart stops. his tongue is clumsy in his mouth, his brain a mess of yesnoyesyesnoiwon'tican’tido—

"don't think." zoro's voice cuts through the haze as he shakes his head slowly; a sword through smoke, silver-bright, singing in the air and leaving silence. "don't think. you love me, yes or no."

the galley swims around sanji as his vision blurs. he feels his tears spill hot down his cheek, knows the way zoro aches to brush them away and yet stays still. he opens his mouth and it feels like stepping out of the only shelter he's ever known; he is an open fucking wound and he's raw and everything hurts, everything but zoro. zoro. zoro. "yes."

just one word, three simple letters, and still it feels like damnation; if he'd never said it he could deny it but now it's real. the swordsman relaxes, shoulders dropping enough that his forehead brushes sanji's, and sanji tracks the way his throat bobs. the way steel-grey eyes flicker over his face, molten in the light of the electric lamps and the moonlight spilling through the window, gilding zoro like something out of a dream. a fairytale sanji read as a child until the edges of the pages fitted familiar to his thumbs as his little hands reached for a happy ending that was never meant to be his.

he shakes, now, as zoro reaches up to run tentative fingers through straw-pale hair. "let me love you. yes or no."

"i—" the sound that twists from his mouth is cracked jagged down the middle, unpolished as a common pebble picked up off the damn street. "you don't—"

"yes or no."

"i'm not what you want," he gasps, his face wet.

"yes or no."

sanji wants to break apart. because zoro sounds like he's begging, and he cannot fathom anybody possibly wanting him that much. he wants to scream and cry and claw at the walls until his nails break. he wants to shatter into pieces all over the floor without having to worry about putting himself back together. he wants. he wants, and zoro's looking at him with the closest thing to reverence he's seen in his life, and even that isn't enough for him to believe it. "i'm not what you want."

he can barely look at zoro. he can barely look at himself. the shame is clawing a pit into his stomach, and he lets it, feels every inch of it, because what kind of person doesn't know how to be loved? his breath catches wetly as zoro cups his jaw in both hands, tilting his face up, and once again sanji is too weak to pull away.

"you are everything i want."

the words are so fierce, so sure, and sanji is cracking apart at the seams. the stitches pulled tight by his own hand are unravelling and he can't stop it—

"yes or no."

zoro's breath ghosts warm across his mouth, fingertips in his hair, just far away enough for sanji to see the way his eyes are blazing and yet he waits. his thumb on sanji's cheek is the gentlest thing sanji has ever known.

"you'll get tired of me," he tries weakly, one last time for good measure, and zoro just shakes his head. the resolve in his expression does not waver even once.

sanji breaks.

"yes." the word scrapes itself out of his throat seconds before arms are going around him, and he sobs. lets the swordsman bring them both to the kitchen floor as he curls up in zoro's lap, fingers clawing into his white shirt, numb with how hard he cries because nobody, nobody has ever stayed. not without him getting hurt in the process. he pushes them away when he gets scared and they let him and then it becomes his fault when it all blows up in his face, but zoro's not leaving, and it's so foreign to him that he's shaking so badly and he can't stop.

a warm, heavy palm smooths over his spine and he lets himself be shifted closer, settles sideways as zoro wraps an arm over his shins and rocks them until his breathing evens out. the embarrassment hits like a gut punch; he knows he looks like a mess, face blotchy and hair everywhere and eyes puffy as hell, but zoro cards his bangs out of his eyes and looks at him like he doesn't care, and sanji turns away.

he feels... fragile. like he's made of tinted glass and spun sugar, like he'll cave in at the slightest touch. there is something melting in his chest and it drips down over his ribs; pools fresh as a river in spring, offset by the grounding presence of zoro's hands on his skin. "don't say i didn't warn you," he mumbles, masking his very real fear behind a layer of watery bravado as he hides his face in zoro's shoulder, and of course, of course zoro sees right through him.

the swordsman's thumb traces the swirl of his eyebrow before zoro rests his chin on top of sanji's head. "i don’t listen. you know that."

you know me, is what goes unsaid, and sanji doesn't deign to reply. he buries his face into zoro's chest and breathes in the smell of steel and sword oil and— he sits up slightly, eyes narrowing. "you've been stealing my deodorant, yes or no." the way zoro stills momentarily is a dead giveaway, and he yelps when the swordsman flicks his forehead.

"would you rather i be stinky?" zoro scoffs, rolling his eyes gently as sanji settles back down with a huff.

"you still are stinky. if we're gonna be together i'm expecting you to shower at least once every two days—" zoro groans, and he powers through, raising his voice, "—and if you aren't fussy i'll let you shower with me."

the way zoro instantly stops complaining cracks a laugh out of him. it's weak and watered-down, but it's a start. zoro's hands slide back into his hair and he hums as he lets his eyes fall shut.

the moon's full tonight. their ship rocks gently, and sanji gets comfortable; zoro's warm and solid and happens to make a perfectly respectable pillow. the thought that he can have this now sends a thrill through him.

he's not a fool. he's not optimistic when it comes to this. when it comes to love.

but with zoro's thumb rubbing mindless circles against the side of his thigh and a kiss pressed to the top of his head, he's got a pretty good feeling about this time around.

[albertdabuttler]

Masked Adversary | D.L.

MASTERLIST

this fics masterlist

fandom: Kick-Ass

pairings: Dave Lizewski/Kick-Ass x F!Reader

WARNINGS: cussing, suggestive thoughts?? mentions of kissing 👅👅, angst and overthinking cause im a hater. SLOW BURN :P

summary: You and Dave have lost a childhood friendship. The circumstances have made you grow to despise one another, until KickAss has no one else to turn to but you, causing him to develop a small crush. The only problem being that you don't know it's him.

WC: Like 3k idk

Guys lmk if I ate…

———————

You had just finished showering when you heard your mom calling your name, telling you there was someone at the door for you. Thankfully, you were dressed and had finished drying your hair already. “Coming!” Opening the door of your steamy bathroom, you were met with Dave walking past to your room.

“I already sent him up!” She called from downstairs, far too late.

“Hey,” You spoke in a rather awkward tone, slipping past him towards your room as he followed. “Uh, sorry if it’s a little messy, I was gonna organize it before you got here but you got here already so… Yeah.” You picked up everything from your desk, taking your things to your bed to study comfortably.

Dave stood there awkwardly, not sure if he should also sit on your bed with you or… Anywhere else.

“Come on, dude,” you scoffed in amusement, patting your bed to get him to sit down. He laughed nervously, setting his bag next to your bed and taking his notebook and pen out. He sat down across from you, at the end of your bed while you sat by your pillows.

“Nice shirt,” he said, seeing the Robin shirt you were wearing and remembering he had drenched it in his blood. You looked down at it, smiling to yourself. “I found it in my closet yesterday and… I—I just washed it.” Dave himself was just wearing a tee and sweats.

“Okay, so I was able to get half of my stuff done after you dropped me off earlier, but I still have this part to finish.” You pointed at your laptop, showing him what you still had to write and continued to talk about what else you had to finish.

It was a project for science. The two of you had to put together a presentation on some animals or something.

“So…” you tapped your pen against your knee.

Finishing writing a sentence, he lifted his eyes to look at you, “Yeah?”

Was it just you or was he actually starting to look… Good?

“Um…” You looked to the side as you thought of an ice breaker. “You had any girlfriends yet?”

He blushed and smiled awkwardly, “Uh…” Scoffing at himself, he looked around as if an answer would pop into his view. “Not really… Why…?” He squinted at you.

“Hm. Still a loser I see. Glad to know you haven’t changed.” You teased. He only rolled his eyes, looking back down at his paper.

“You’re so annoying. Didn’t you get dumped like three times?”

“Unbelievable,” you watched him, rolling your eyes. “When you get a girlfriend you can talk shit.”

He smirked. “You’re not denying it.”

You glared at him. “I dumped them.”

“Right.” He looked back down at his notebook, trying to hold back a smile.

You glanced up at him again, taking in his features, the way his glasses slowly slid down his nose as he looked down, the way his bottom lip was caught between his teeth in concentration.

Before you knew it, he was looking up at you with a curious look. “…What?”

You blinked, hiding the flustered feeling you got from him catching you staring.

“You’re also not as incredibly nerdy looking as I remember.”

He can only glare at you. “What’s that supposed to mean?” But alas, he hoped it meant you were attracted to him. At least almost as much as he was to you.

“Nothing you just… Don’t look so bad after all this time.”

He quickly looked back down at his notebook, unsure of how to feel from the so called ‘compliment.’ Although his heart was pounding through his ribcage, he decided to tease.

“You think I’m cute?” He gave you a smolder.

“Oh hell no.” You scoffed at the stupid face he made.

“Maybe.”

Even if you had whispered that last part, he still heard it.

You had spent almost an hour working on your project before you heard your dad knock at your door. You had no time to answer before he opened it.

“Dinner’s ready.” He said, smirking at Dave. “Keep the door open.”

You rolled your eyes. “Dad, you know it’s not like that.”

Dave and your father had a very good relationship before you had stopped being friends. There were even times where your dad would go out of his way to invite Dave and his dad over for dinner. They even had their own inside jokes.

“Don’t worry, sir.” Dave shook his head, “I’m way out of her league.” He had a smug look on his face that made you want to shove him out of your house.

“Up top,” said your dad, holding his hand up as Dave stood up. You knew your dad loved you and was just teasing, but it still annoyed you.

“You guys suck.” You said, pushing past your dad and meeting your mom in the kitchen while they laughed.

If it was any other guy, like your last boyfriend, your dad would have beat his ass for saying something like that. But it was Dave, and Dave was like the son your dad never had.

“Love you, hun.” Your dad called after you but you didn’t reply.

You set the dinner table quickly, sitting down as your mom set the food down.

Your dad sat at the end of the table with your mom across from you, Dave’s usual spot had always been next to you and that didn’t change.

“Where have you been? We missed you, kid.” Said your dad, already digging in.

Dave gave you a look, wondering why you hadn’t told your parents your reason for not being friends.

“I dunno… Just been busy, I guess.” He said quietly.

“Why haven’t you come over?” Your mom asked.

Dave and you looked at each other for a second, “We just didn’t really talk much after freshman year ‘cause we didn’t have any classes together.” You told her, which wasn’t really a lie. You and Dave didn’t have any classes together freshman year.

“That’s sad,” she frowned, “you two were always inseparable.” She smiled at Dave fondly.

Dave only poked at his food, “Yeah,” he said, smiling to himself.

You had finished eating, everyone continuing to converse here and there with their on food still on their plates when you felt Dave’s knee touch your thigh. He didn’t pull away, and neither did you to see what he would do. He only kept talking to your parents, completely ignoring the fact his body was touching yours.

Of course he actually did realize this. In his head he had done it on purpose just to see how you’d react. You tried to stop thinking about it for the rest of dinner.

You weren’t mad or uncomfortable, of course it had happened before, but it felt different somehow. Familiar.

“So have you guys gone on any dates yet?” Asked your mother, out of nowhere.

You froze, staring at her. Dave choked on his drink, coughing over and over again, trying to catch his breath but he didn’t seem to tone it down. His face was red because of this. And other reasons.

“Sorry.” Your mom hid a smile, seeing Dave’s reaction gave her more than enough answers on his part.

She gave you a knowing look and you sent her a look of disgust.

"Gross." You said, repeating Dave's words from earlier that day. Dave finally cleared his throat of whatever he choked on and tried to back you up. His knee wasn't touching you anymore, you noticed.

"What she said," he pointed his thumb at you, voice hoarse.

"You've never even thought about getting together!?" Your mom looked surprised. At this, you couldn't help but do exactly that. What it would be like to go on a date with him, maybe getting a coffee at Atomic Comics, maybe watch the Avengers movie that was about to come out in theaters. What it would be like to hold hands at school, how surprised everyone would be since you guys seemed to hate each other so much. What Cleo would say, what Todd and Marty would say.

What you would have to tell Kick-Ass if he climbed into your window again.

'Hey I know I patched you up and stuff and kinda stopped you from bleeding out, and I know we kissed like three times but guess what?! I have a boyfriend and I can't talk to you anymore.'

And what it would be like to kiss Dave. If he would be any good at it, or if he still hasn't gotten laid because he's too much of a pussy to talk to girls. How it would feel if he had his hands all over you, his lips brushing yours, how it would feel if he was kissing your neck softly—

"You guys have much in common." Your dad smiled slyly at you two, snapping you out of your daydream.

Why had you let your mind wander that far?!

Dave stared at his food, his face an obvious red.

"Okay, that's a wrap..." You cleared your throat, pursing your lips. You excused yourself from the table, picking up your dish and Dave followed, “Thanks for the food,” Dave smiled at your mom as you took your dishes to the sink.

"Sorry about that," you spoke as you approached the top of the stairs.

"I—It's fine." He brushed it off, sitting down on your bed as you shut the door.

It was silent for a few moments as you scrolled through an article on your laptop, Dave reading from his drafts.

"Have you even had your first kiss yet?" You questioned out of the blue.

His eyes shot up, hesitating for a second before regaining his composure.

"Yeah. Sixth grade, remember?" He said proudly. "Have you?"

"Yes, dumbass. You know this." you scoffed.

"With who?"

"Remember Freddy? The brunet guy that called you a nerd in second grade and you never got over it? He was my first boyfriend."

"Lame." He rolled his eyes. "Smart-mouth like him I bet it was the best kiss you ever had." He shot.

"Wrong. Best kiss I ever had was with Kick-Ass." You crossed your arms sassily.

It was safe to say that Dave was flattered. "Oh really? You don't even know him though, so it doesn't really count."

"Maybe I don't know who he is, but I do know that he actually likes me. I just have to find out who he is. He’s probably hot or whatever…”

Dave blinked in awe. "He might not like you… He could just be using you. Why are you kissing random guys anyway? Are you really that desperate…?”

“No?! He just made it obvious, okay? And why are you getting all weird? Are you jealous…?”

“Me? Jealous of him? Fuck no, I’d rather be stitched up by a damn chimp than you with your terrible needle skills.”

You paused. “How did you know I needed to stitch him up…?”

He was able to answer before hesitating, “Cleo told us when you left for fourth period.”

“Fine whatever. Just piss off dude, at least I talk to the opposite sex.” You huffed.

He stared at you for a moment and you laughed at his expression, himself joining you soon after. A few moments later you noticed yourself looking at him too often. Like you were expecting him to say something.

“…What?” Dave slowly looked up at you from his notebook, noticing your lasting gaze.

“I—“ you thought for a moment, figuring out a way to explain yourself. Suddenly, you sat closer to him, pulling his glasses off his face before putting them on yourself.

“Holy shit, you’re blind.” You teased.

“Shut up.” He scoffed, “you’re exaggerating.”

You took a moment to look at him, noticing the big difference without his glasses. Dave watched you expectantly.

“You look weird with glasses.” A smirk threatened to creep up on his lips. You only scoffed.

“And here I was thinking you looked cuter without them.”

He blinked, losing his words and you began to notice a pink upon his face. He laughed nervously, swallowing whatever was in his throat as he looked away at his notebook, trying to pretend like he didn’t hear you.

You smiled, feeling a sudden urge to tease him in a flirty way. “Did you hear what I said?”

Dave looked back up at you. “What?”

“You should wear contacts. You have really pretty eyes.” You looked at his lips for a moment, licking your own, picturing yourself kissing Dave.

“Um… Thanks…” His heart rate began to quicken as he tried keeping his gaze on you, noticing how you looked at his lips. All of a sudden, he grew bold, looking at your lips too.

“What are you looking at?” He asked curiously.

You blinked and looked up at his eyes, adjusting the glasses on the bridge of your nose. “Nothing.”

“You know… I had a crush on you in eighth grade.” He whispered.

You laughed, “What?”

He chuckled, “Yeah, I don’t know how my taste was that terrible at any point in my life.” He tutted.

“Fuck you.” You laughed softly. “You’re such an asshole, you know that?”

He held back a smile, tracing his eyes over your features.

The two of you stared at each other for what felt like an eternity until you felt yourself being pulled closer to him. He leaned towards you as well until his face was just a few inches from yours, his hand resting next to your leg to hold himself up.

Finally, he began closing the distance, trying to ease into it as if not to scare you. His lips barely made it to yours before you pulled away, removing his glasses from your face and placing them back on his with a smile.

“We should finish this…” You sighed.

His face was noticeably red again, especially from the embarrassment of you pulling away. He felt like an idiot, thinking you actually wanted to kiss him. He didn’t question you or anything, but he still wanted to understand why you’d lure him in like that only to rip it from his grasp.

"Oh fuck, it's already ten past nine," spoke Dave, putting his things away.

"I would say you could sleep over like you used to, but I don't want my parents saying shit like that ever again. Plus Kick-Ass could come over and I don’t want him to think I’m with a nerd or whatever.” You teased.

Giggling, he stood up with his bag in hand, you followed him to the front door.

"Thanks for having me," he smiled as he walked past your parents in the living room. He opened the door for you, stepping out after you.

"Thanks for studying with me... And dinner." He spoke softly, giving a small smile.

"Yeah..." You stood in front of him, admiring his features as he towered over you. He had a strong jaw, soft plump lips, a cute nose, perfect eyebrows (for a guy), and beautiful blue eyes behind his glasses. His curls fell over his forehead—were you looking at him too long? You felt like a creep for just staring at him for what felt like hours. You knew it had to be weird. But what you didn't know was that he was admiring you too.

He was standing so close, close enough for you to right hook him. You looked at his eyes 'til you caught him glancing at your lips. He wanted to kiss you again, like he did yesterday, but he knew he couldn't. Not as himself, at least.

For some strange reason you moved closer to him, not knowing why or what your motive was.

"See you Monday." He took a step back, pursing his lips with his hands shoved in his pockets.

"We—You can come over tomorrow if you want...?" You tried, but to do what? Why did you want him back here again so soon?

"Uh—I have stuff this weekend... But I'll text you if any plans change..." He slowly walked backwards onto the sidewalk. He felt bad for lying again. He couldn't keep this up much longer.

———————

SLOW BURN MUTHAFUCKAS 🗣️🔥🔥

TAGS BC YOU ASKED!! @iliterallydontexistlol @esmestarz @pernandofalonso @lizzxoxo @real-sharena-h @iheartdilfs01 @friendlyneighborhoodhottie @popejar

[rileyglas]

okay here me out… what about alastor, Lucifer and Adam and their s/o meeting their fandom counterparts cat alastor, cat luci, and tiny Adam? Just a thought have a good day! 👍😁

Love this! Thank you for my first ever request!

Meeting their Fandom Counterparts Alastor, Lucifer, and Adam x gn!reader

Cat Alastor

“Ew - what the actual fuck is that?” you ask, looking cautiously over the shoulder of the Radio Demon. A small red thing stared up at you with a smile that looked eerily similar to your husbands. “I - I think it’s a cat, my dear. He followed me home from Rosie’s and I just couldn’t help but feel attached.” Alastor hums in amusement, bending down to pick it up. The cat blinks each eye separately before nuzzling into his coat. “Uhm - I don’t think you should -” you try to warn but the cat hisses with a hint of audible static. A few tentacles burst from its back and flailed in a show of anger. 

“Oh wow…that’s….that’s somethin’.” Angel Dust chimes in from the couch. Alastor gives a few soft pats on the cat's head, carefully minding the tiny antlers between its ears. “Now, now, be nice. They will learn to love you just as much as I have already. Oh you are just the most darling thing aren’t you!?” Alastor coos and mumbles. The sight is enough to make even the cutest of demons nauseous. 

You and Angel look at eachother with matching faces of disgust and apprehension. He shrugs, “Hey, s’long as I don’t have to sleep with that thing, do whatever you please.” Angel walks over and places a hand of pity on your shoulder, “Good luck with that toots.”

Back in your shared room you kick off your shoes and attempt to plop onto the bed. Before your butt hits the mattress a loud yelp makes you jump back to your feet. There’s that damned cat again and this time, it’s four times its normal length, stretched out over your side of the bed. “Hey shoo - fuckin’ menace!” Your attempts go ignored much to Alastor’s delight. You shoot him a glare, “Your cat, deal with it.” 

Alastor rubs the cat's stomach, “Awe dear don’t be jealous. He just wants some cuddles.” The cat purrs and shrinks back to its usual small size. It jumps down and hides under the bed. You huff, “I’m going to go take a shower.”

Mid way through your shower, a scream of pure terror interrupts your peace. You run out in a towel to see what all the noise was about. “Hey I heard a scream, what happ - Unholy fuck WHY DOES HE HAVE A KNIFE?” you yell to Alastor who sits smugly on the edge of the bed. 

The red cat sat next to him with a knife in its mouth. Head cocked to the side with the same smug grin your husband doted. Alastor chuckles, obviously very happy with himself, “I sent him down to see Lucifer. Sweet music to my ears. I think this cat is a wonderful addition to the hotel.”

Still dripping wet you roll your eyes, “Uhg whatever, just don’t let him keep the knife.” you mumble before returning to the shower. 

Cat Lucifer

You sit in the lobby of the hotel with a small white cat in your lap. It purred loud enough even Husk could hear it from the bar, “You gonna try and keep that thing?” he asks. You pat the cat's head, “Of course! I think he looks just like Lucifer! Don’t you?” Husk rolls his eyes at your cutesy voice, knowing damn well your boyfriend wasn’t going to buy it. 

When Lucifer returns from his tower he greets you then freezes seeing the cat, “My love…w-what do you have there?” his face twists in a look of repulsion. You dangle the cat in front of his face, “THIS is Luci - isn’t he adorable! He looks just like you!” The cat stares at Lucifer but its eyes look empty as some drool dribbles down it’s chin

“Eh are you sure he’s…uh - a good fit for us?” He takes a step away from you, “Look I know I’ve been working a lot but getting a cat might not -” the cat jumps from your arms onto the top of his hat, playfully pawing at the snake wrapping around the base. Cute chirps leave its mouth making Lucifer melt. “Aweee I guess he is just a cute little thing isn’t he?”

You gracefully remove the cat from his hat, rubbing its belly in your arms, “Soooooo can we keep him?” you continue to pat his belly and hit a spot that causes the cat to sprout six tiny red wings. “Oh my!! Look dear!! He even has adorable angel wings! We HAVE to keep him now.”

Lucifer glares at the cat, its eyes still empty as if not a thought was behind them. He sighs in defeat when he sees how happy you are. “Alright. You can keep him on one condition, you have to change his name.” 

You squeeze the cat tightly in excitement, “Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!” As you rush up the stairs Lucifer turns to Husk, “That thing looks nothing like me…right?” his voice drips with desperation for an answer. Husk looks at him with a cocked eyebrow, “Do ya really want me to answer or would ya rather just pretend I did?” 

Little Adam

Adam’s office was a spacious one. Large enough you were able to have your own couch to lounge on and read while he did his work. It was a usual afternoon of quiet reading and listening to him mumble to himself when Lute knocked on his door. 

“Sir there’s a situation.” she announces. Before Adam can stand something small darts in under Lute’s legs. You leap back onto the couch and scream, “Jesus Mary Joseph it’s a rat!!!” Adam swiftly bends down and picks it up, “Holy shit! It’s a little me!” he exclaims with more excitement than expected. 

“Hey hon maybe we should be cautious with this - thing.” you try to reason with him. Lute looks to you with an agreeing side eye, “Sir he has been causing complete chaos. Would you like me to ‘take care’ of him?”

Adam coddles the thing in his hands, gasping at the idea, “What!? Get rid of this handsome little shit? Absolutely not! I’m going to keep him as my own little dude. Aren’t I Little Adam?” Little Adam squeaks incomprehensible nonsense and gives a tiny fist bump before taking a seat on the real Adam’s shoulder like a picturesque angel. 

Lute scoffs, more than annoyed, “I don’t think you understand sir, he tried stabbing St. Peter before hiding in Sera’s dress like a roach. It would be best if -” 

“Bitch keep your hands off him!” Adam yells, holding a protective hand over his shoulder. “He has feelings too…I mean - I think?” He looks questioningly to Little Adam who crosses his arms and nods smugly. “See!! Now leave us. I’ve got…big…important angel..shit to do or whatever.” he waves her away without another look.

“Good luck!” Lute growls to you. She slams the door on the way out. You walk over to the desk where both Adams now sat reeling over paperwork. Little Adam looks up to you and begins making obscene gestures, humping the air, and flicking his tongue. “Uhg - he IS NOT coming home with us.” you recoil in disgust. Adam raises an eyebrow, “Awe common sugar, he’s adorable. Just like me! You can’t say no to that face!” 

You roll your eyes, “Nope. Not a chance. He stays here. I’ll go get him a hamster cage or something.” 

[pruneunfair]

Rating female leads in manhwa.

Navier

6/10, I absolutely hate her writting and has devolved into a mary sue who only reacts to everything around her while her mass of supporters never shut up about great she is. Her synopsis claiming her as someone who loves all her subjects gets contradicted when its shown she doesnt really care about the slaves.

BUT in season 1 she wasn't bad, I liked her resolve and it was when she actually cared for her people, I feel like if we got to see a clear backstory beyond "she wasn't allowed outside when she studied to be empress" I would understand her total apathy more.

Ariande

7/10, I adore villains, especially villainous protagonists and at first I liked the idea she wouldn't be any better than her family but still had a soft spot for Arabella, she loses a few points because it turns out she's excused for killing people before in the name of "love" and is viewed as someone who can do no wrong.

Adelaide

10/10, she's like Navier but better, she has more noticeable flaws and while she is a kick ass warrior during the tower arcs she still is human and can't always take it alone without consequences, she acknowledges Diane's struggles and makes an effort not to be her enemy and is proof that you dont need to make FL overpowered gods to be strong women. A beautifully made FL in a underrated story

Robellia

1/10, She doesn't divorce her husband despite the title literally being "I will divorce my tyrant husband." But that's more of a problem in most other manhwa. She's too much of a perfect epic goddess for me and most of all she does the whole "buying all the slaves but giving them a home." to make her look even better, what is with manhwa and inserting slavery for no other reason other than to make the FL look better?

Arianna

0/10, there is nothing good about her. Other than being a mary sue and a personality that only revolves around the latest sexy man, she legit forces another guy to join her haram by threatening diplomatic war on his kingdom and bodyshames her fiance but all of a sudden wants him more than ever when he loses weight, it took a random chick being inserted with a 🍇ist persona to make her look "better."

Yerenica

6/10, in any other story, this girl would've been despised by the fandom for being a homewreaker/pick me. She gives me so much second hand embarrassment but she's not terrible, I actually really like her design too. Not a fan of the kidnapper-hostage relationship she and the ML have though.

Pereshati

10/10, the best one here. She feels so much more human than the others on this list, she's got flaws, a relationship with the ML Therdeo that has both realistic progression, blunders, but overall healthy love, she also has relationships outside of her husband which I really love, I actually get scared for her when shes in danger instead of the usual "oh great, heres the typical kidnapping trope", a great motherly FL

Hestia

5/10 I will be easy on her since I just started reading my derelict favorite but I've only heard bad things about it through spoilers so I don't have much hope, also girl, please acknowledge that just because your favorite character did it for love doesn't mean he's absolved for murdering 2 people, thank you

Edith

9/10, my 3rd favorite on this list. You do not know how happy I was when instead of immediately viewing Rhyse as a rival to defeat, she was actually nice to her and the chapters of them were so sweet, she even acknowledges that it isn't anyone's fault for acting out but the author who is pulling the strings.

Layla

8/10, I feel so bad for this poor girl. For some reason I noticed on reddit and tiktok that she's getting hate for not standing up to herself or just not being the usual "girlboss" protagonist, did it not occur that she cant do much to a duke!? Layla deserves so much better and she needs to be far away from Matthias, I don't care if it's "dark romance" he is torturing her for his own pleasure.