#What else is he to do when the love of his life collapses in front of him?

[mashtatosworld]

eyes on me (3)

summary: after the scandal shattered your world, Daesung is there to pick up the pieces. until the truth is revealed.

You lost everything.

Your career, your reputation, the love of your life - all gone in a slow, public collapse that made front-page news.

Every morning, you woke up waiting for the next headline. For the next article or tweet to twist your name into something even uglier.

GDragon’s Ex Leaks Tour Footage Producer Turned Traitor Insider Betrayal Ruins Big Bang Legacy

You’d long since been let go from your job. The word “liability” now echoed in every rejection email. Even when they didn’t say it outright, you could feel it hanging there.

A shadow on your shoulders. A stain you couldn’t scrub off.

The apartment was suffocating in its silence. Iye was gone. The shelves were dusty. The bed too cold. You moved through your days like a ghost, wrapped in oversized hoodies, waiting for a cease-and-desist letter to arrive at your door.

And it never came.

Until he did.

A soft knock on your door. You hesitated, unsure if it was someone from the press - until you peeked through the peephole and saw him.

Daesung.

A quiet smile and a Lego set tucked under his arm.

You stepped aside, wordlessly letting him in.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

You sat cross-legged on the living room floor, the pieces scattered between you like a puzzle of the person you used to be.

Neither of you spoke for a long time. The clinking of plastic bricks filled the silence. And then:

"How are you, really?" he asked gently.

You didn’t look up.

“I’m waiting for his team to sue me,” you said, trying to make it sound like a joke. It wasn’t. “Every time I check the mail I think, ‘This is it. They’re finally going to destroy me completely.’��

Daesung sighed, his hands stilling. “They tried.”

You froze.

“But Jiyong stopped it,” he continued. “He refused to let it go forward.”

Your throat tightened.

“He still cares,” Daesung added quietly.

“Not enough,” you whispered, your voice cracking at the edges.

Your hands trembled as you tried to snap a tiny blue brick into place. You blinked fast, but it was no use. The tears came before you could stop them.

“I’m so alone,” you said, barely a whisper.

He reached out and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest.

You sobbed quietly against him. And he didn’t let go. Not once.

“I miss everything,” you mumbled. “The job. The apartment. Him.”

“I know.”

You pulled back slightly, your cheeks damp, your eyes swollen.

And then… there was a moment.

A long, still breath between you both. His hands still rested gently on your arms. Your face inches from his. And for a second, you thought he might -

But Daesung withdrew. Slowly. Carefully.

“I'm sorry,” he said softly. “You're still hurting. And in love with Jiyong."

You laughed bitterly, blinking back fresh tears. “Yeah, pathetic, isn't it? God, I need to move on already. I'm sure he's already onto the next."

“Don't say that.” Daesung said. "You're Jiyong and y/n... I don't think anyone could imagine you two with someone else. Even Jiyong."

You looked down, pulling at the cuff of your sock.

“Well, before you became a couple at least,” he mumbled quietly, turning over a Lego piece in his hand.

You looked up, staring at him.

“I liked you,” he admitted. “When we first met. I wanted to ask you out. But then…” he trailed off.

“Timing,” you muttered.

He smiled sadly. “Yeah. Timing.”

You leant back, letting the silence return. You stared down at the half-finished Lego structure. It was messy, crooked. Like you.

“I’m going to get better,” you said suddenly. “I have to. I’m tired of feeling like this. I need to… move on. From him. From everything.”

Daesung nodded. “What do you need? Whatever it is, I’ll help you.”

You hesitated. "I just want to feel something other than this. Something other than sad, angry, tired... disappointed.”

He was silent for a moment. “Well... I have an idea. It always works for me.”

You blinked at him, suspicious. “Should I be worried?

He just smiled. “Get your shoes.”

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

The heater in Daesung’s car was a little too warm, and the air smelled faintly of the watermelon gum he always kept in the cupholder.

You were curled in the passenger seat, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, staring at the streetlights flicking by.

“Dae,” you groaned, eyeing the dashboard clock. “I really don’t want to do karaoke right now.”

“We’re not going to karaoke,” he said, as he rolled the windows down. All the way down.

The wind hit you instantly, cold and sharp and shocking, and then he cranked the radio up, volume climbing until the speakers buzzed.

The intro of Since U Been Gone came on, that familiar guitar riff slipping into your chest like it had been waiting for you.

“This is not better,” you laughed, voice barely cutting over the music. “What are we doing?!”

Daesung didn’t answer. He just turned the wheel, merging onto an open stretch of road, city lights melting into streaks around you. He grinned like a man with a secret.

“This,” he shouted, “isn’t karaoke.”

You stared at him.

“Now sing.”

“No.”

“SING.”

“Dae - ”

“COME ON,” he yelled, already launching into the chorus with so much conviction you were startled. “And all you'd ever hear me say - !”

You stared at him, torn between horror and hysterics.

“Is how I pictured me with you!” he continued, dramatically pointing at you. “That's all you'd ever hear me say - ”

You broke.

You cracked right open.

And then you screamed the lyrics with him - loud, raw, desperate.

"BUT SINCE YOU BEEN GONE!”

The wind whipped through your hair. Your voice tore out of your throat, carried with the cold air like a release.

You stuck your head halfway out the window, breath catching, eyes burning, the cold wind like a shot of adrenaline.

You couldn’t stop.

Every line of the song felt like it had lived in your ribs for years, waiting for this exact night.

You and Daesung were practically screaming, gasping from laughing between lyrics, your voices ragged but real.

The car flew through the quiet city, past midnight streets and blinking lights, with you two as the only chaos left awake.

When the song ended, he didn’t say anything. Neither did you.

The gentle quiet that followed was calm and not suffocating.

He glanced at you out the corner of his eye and saw your cheeks flushed from wind, lips curled into something like a real smile - not the practiced, hollow one.

The real thing.

“Better?” he asked, quieter now.

You looked at him, chest rising and falling fast.

For the first time in weeks, maybe months, you weren’t numb. You felt the burn in your lungs, the sting in your eyes, the ache in your jaw from smiling too hard.

You felt everything.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Better.”

You couldn’t remember the last time you felt like that - not good, not healed - but free.

Alive.

You turned back to look at Daesung and he was watching the road, eyes glassy with the wind and something else - that soft warmth that always came with him. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

And maybe nothing had changed. But something in you had.

The slump you’d been trapped in felt a little looser. The grief, a little lighter.

You looked over at him again, heart thudding a little steadier.

“Thank you,” you said softly.

He reached over blindly and took your hand, squeezing it.

“Anytime.”

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Your life looked different now.

There was no camera crew chasing you, no curated social feeds, no extravagant tour buses or flashing lights. Just a tiny café near your new apartment and a simple routine you’d grown to love.

You poured flower-shaped foam into cappuccinos and listened to the hum of radio music under soft morning light. You still missed the old world. But it was a memory now - faded, fragile, and far away.

Now it was just you, Y/n from the café.

And Daesung.

He still came by often. Always with a crooked smile and something ridiculous to say. He’d sit by the window, sipping the coffee you made for him - always with a little heart drawn in the foam - and wait for your shift to end so he could walk you home.

On Thursdays, he made you dinner. It started casually, when he realised you barely remembered to eat. Now it was a ritual.

It was the best part of your week.

No talk of the past. No talk of him.

Until today.

Your phone wouldn’t stop ringing - five, six, seven calls in a row.

Your manager gave you a raised brow from the register. “Either answer it or switch it off, hon.”

You chuckled under your breath and pulled the device from your apron pocket.

And froze.

Ji 🖤

The name blazed across the screen like a ghost risen from the dead. You hadn't even changed his contact name since he blocked you. A photo of him holding a tiny, fuzzy Iye haunting you.

Your fingers trembled. You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

The ringtone kept playing like a slow taunt. Your heart slammed against your ribs. You stared at it until the call ended - only for it to start again a second later.

Eventually, you powered it off.

“Didn’t want to answer?” your manager asked, concerned.

You shook your head slowly. “It’s nothing.”

But it wasn’t.

A chill followed you the rest of the shift, even as the café filled with the comfort of clinking cups and low chatter. You were wiping down tables when the bell above the door chimed again.

Daesung.

But he didn’t smile this time. He didn’t order a drink or tease you about your latte art.

He just sat by the window, biting his nail, leg bouncing anxiously.

You knew something was wrong.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Your shift ended.

He carefully helped you into your coat, and the two of you walked together in silence.

The sky was a deep grey, the air crisp with the promise of winter. You tried talking - anything to break the tension.

“So what do you want to cook tonight? I bought those mushrooms you like - ”

“I need to tell you something,” he cut in gently.

You stopped walking, pausing in front of your apartment.

“There’s been a development in the case. Your name’s been cleared.”

You blinked. “What?”

“They found out it was someone at your old company. They impersonated you, hacked your credentials to access the footage. It’s all confirmed.”

You turned away, pulling your keys from your pocket and unlocking the door. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Y/n - ”

“It doesn’t,” you said sharply, stepping inside and heading straight to the kitchen. “At least now I won’t end up in court. That’s something.”

He followed, watching as you set out the cutting board and knives.

“Maybe you should go to court and sue whoever it was,” he said quietly. “Make them pay.”

“Let Jiyong sue them. He’s already having his legal team handle it, right?”

You began unpacking ingredients from your fridge. Daesung hesitated.

“He is,” he admitted.

You let out a soft, humourless laugh. “He couldn’t believe me until he had cold, hard evidence. Not a phone call. Not a conversation. Not even a question. Just silence.”

Daesung started chopping in your place, the kitchen filling with quiet sounds of preparation. A kind of peace.

Dinner was simple and warm - a spicy stir fry and soda, your new usual.

Then his phone buzzed on the table.

Jiyong.

He looked at you. “Should I answer?”

You scoffed. “Sure. Let him know you’re having dinner with me.”

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “He knows, y/n. I told him I’ve stayed in touch with you. We fought about it. For a couple weeks. Then he stopped bringing it up.”

“Too tired to fight anymore?” you murmured.

“Too scared to lose anyone else.”

You didn’t reply. Just stood and fetched the bottle of wine. You poured two glasses and handed him one.

“I thought you stopped drinking,” he said gently.

“I did.”

He raised a brow.

“This is a celebration,” you said, forcing a smile. “I’m no longer the world’s favourite backstabbing bitch.”

He accepted the glass, and you clinked yours gently against his. The wine tasted sharp. Almost sweet.

The two of you curled up on the couch and started a movie, horrors were your favourite.

And he never said a word in protest, but you were starting to suspect that maybe, despite his assurance he was happy to watch too, he was less of a fan. You'd occasionally catch his eyes squeezed shut or feel him jolt at the jump scares.

When it got late, you glanced over at him, voice soft. “Will you stay?”

He looked at you for a moment and nodded. “Yeah. I will.”

You turned off the lights and pulled the blanket over both of you. His arms found you naturally, curling around your waist, anchoring you in the moment.

And to him.

Just before sleep stole you, you felt his lips brush against your hairline.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

When morning came, the sun peeked softly through the curtains. The room was still. Warm.

And Daesung was gone.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

i fear i would have picked up...

also dae singing kelly clarkson? let's not question it and live in fantasy land together ok? great 🤣

taglist: @petersasteria, @mirahyun , @allthoughtsmindfull , @gdinthehouseee , @infinetlyforgotten , @redhoodedtoad , @kathaelipwse , @lxvemaze , @loveesiren , @sherrayyyyy , @getyoassoutthetrunk , @shieraseastarrs , @ctrldivinev , @xxxicddbr88 , @onyxmango , @tryingtolivelifeblog , @tulentiy , @bettelaboure , @breakmeoff , @emmiesoverthemoon , @rafesbunniebby , @ricecake9999 , @fleabagspurplewife , @sylviavf , @ldydeath , @wonyluvi , @deliciousmagazinequeen , @heartubeatusalon , @imminsugasgf

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

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[ratatoastwrites]

Victoria’s secret

Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

nsfw, 18+ MDNI

a/n: munch spencer, we all say in unison 😫 i wrote this cuz i was bored at the mall lol, does that count as public indecency? haha jk, but that is lowkey what this blurb is about ✨😮‍💨 also special challenge, take a shot every time i use the word lace lol

cw: oral (f receiving), tiny bit of fingering, bit of rough kissing yum, lingerie (obvi), umm kinda public indecency tbh lol, borderline exhibitionism ig but it isn’t really mentioned just subtext ig, uhhh what else, oh yea friends to lovers kinda (or fwb if u fancy, it is kinda vague), no written aftercare cuz again i just couldn’t be bothered, also this is an unedited & no beta & english is my second language mess as per usual mwah 🧚‍♀️

also also special shout out to @apple-pie-and-impala for never getting annoyed with me about the way that 90% of our text msgs revolve around this man 🤭 love ya, my little enabler 🫶

When you first asked Spencer to go lingerie shopping with you, he didn’t think much of it

He honestly believed that it was just going to be a normal hangout between two friends, because really, there wasn’t anything inherently sexual about the prospect of an adult person wearing underwear

Well, that thought lasted until about five seconds after he stepped into the store with you

It was hard not to let his thoughts wander as he watched you running your fingers across the lace fabric of a matching lilac set, his breath catching in his throat as he imagined you actually wearing it

He watched you pick out a few sets, his heart hammering in his chest as his head filled with more and more sinful thoughts

So when you coyly asked him if he wanted to accompany you to the back (your excuse being that you didn’t want to get bored all alone back there), he didn’t even hesitate before nodding vigorously

As he sat in one of the chairs just outside the fitting room you were in, he contemplated that this might be his purgatory

He could hear the rustling of your clothes, and he knew that you were wearing those torturous sets of lace, and yet he couldn’t do anything about it, forced to sit tight and listen to your chatter through the curtain, trying to will away the painful hardness in his pants

“Spence, could you come in here for a second? The straps are a little loose, and I can’t quite reach the clips.”

He froze for a moment at your seemingly innocent request, before standing up on shaky legs and pulling the curtain to the side just enough for him to slip inside the small, closed space next to you

When he finally turned to look at you, he almost collapsed on the spot

You were wearing a white set with intricate lacing that left hardly anything to the imagination, your hands cupping your breasts to keep the bralette from slipping down, the straps hanging loosely over your shoulders

As soon as your eyes locked together, the air seemed to crackle between you, and he wasted no time pushing you against the nearest wall and kissing you like his life depended on it

He was a needy mess in just a few seconds as his hands glided across your skin, mapping every inch of your body that he could reach, while he familiarised himself with your taste

Your hands pulled on his hair as he sunk to his knees in front of you, and you had to bite down on your bottom lip as you watched him pull the dainty panties you were wearing to the side, his puppy eyed gaze making you weak in the knees

You gasped as you felt him press a tentative kiss on your clit, having to slap a hand over your mouth as he immediately followed it up by lapping at your wet folds enthusiastically

He had you shaking in a matter of minutes, eating you out like your pussy was his ambrosia and he had been starving for years

You had to balance yourself on the wall as he put one of your legs over his shoulder, his tongue exploring your insides, the new angle making his nose nudge against your clit with every move

He replaced his tongue with two of his fingers, his lips wrapping around your clit, sucking on it like it was his favourite dessert in the world

You gripped his hair tightly as you came with a loud gasp of his name, rutting against his face, the vibrations of his whimpers making your eyes roll back in immense pleasure

His tongue worked you through it all, licking up your juices languidly, until you had to push his head away when your eyes started tearing up from overstimulation

It was safe to say that you ended up buying that set, walking out of the store hand in hand with Spencer, before leaving the mall to go back to his place, eager to return the favour

[4linos]

the stranger you loved.

lee minho x fem!reader

synopsis: you don’t know him anymore. but minho knows you, every laugh, every tear, every promise. and he’s not giving up.

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, car accident, amnesia.

wc: 2838

It was supposed to be an ordinary evening. Nothing out of the norm, at least, that’s what Minho thought when he laced up his shoes for dance practice, falling into the rhythm with the others as they cycled through choreography and light-hearted banter. You were always on his mind, of course, he’d checked your last message, smiled at whatever silly thing you’d said, and pocketed his phone again with no real expectation that something could go wrong.

Until it did.

Halfway through their dance routine, Minho’s phone buzzed on the speaker dock. It was odd, he never got calls during practice unless it was urgent. He didn’t recognize the number, but something in his gut told him to answer. And from the moment he pressed the phone to his ear, everything stopped. His heart. His breath. The world.

“Are you Lee Minho?” a firm, professional voice asked. “You’re listed as an emergency contact for L/N Y/N. There’s been an accident—”

His blood ran cold. “What?”

“A car crash. They’ve been transported to the emergency department. We need you to come to the hospital immediately.”

The rest was a blur. Minho’s breath caught as his knees went weak. He didn’t even say anything to the members at first. Just turned pale, hands trembling as he stared at the floor. Hyunjin called after him as he stumbled toward his bag, but Minho didn’t answer. Didn’t have it in him to form words. Only when Chan caught his arm did he choke out the most haunting, broken sentence:

“It’s Y/N. They were in a crash. The hospital—they said it’s bad. I need to go—right now.”

No one questioned it. Minho was already halfway out the door, running like his legs had minds of their own. His chest ached, every step a scream through his body. He didn’t even feel the rain when he made it outside, didn’t feel the way his hands fumbled with his keys as he jumped into the car. All he could think was please, please be okay.

When he arrived at the hospital, he didn’t have to ask for directions. The expression on his face was enough to have the front desk nurse standing immediately.

“Where is she?” His voice cracked as he rushed forward. “Where is Y/N?! Is she okay?”

“She’s—she’s in surgery. Please, sir, you need to calm down—”

“Don’t tell me to calm down! Just tell me what’s happening! Is she going to make it?! What happened?!” His voice was ragged, on the edge of shattering completely. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. His hands were shaking uncontrollably.

“We don’t know the extent of the damage yet. She suffered significant trauma, especially to the head. They’re doing everything they can.”

That phrase “everything they can” echoed in his skull like a death sentence. They didn’t know. Which meant he didn’t know. Which meant you could be—

He collapsed into one of the stiff hospital chairs, gripping the edge like it could anchor him to a reality he no longer trusted.

It wasn’t long before the rest of the members arrived. They looked just as shaken, frantic, and unsure as he had. Chan found him first, gently placing a hand on Minho’s back. He’d never seen him look so lost, so fragile. Not Minho, not the one who held everyone else up when things got hard.

“Hey,” Chan whispered. “She’s strong, okay? We’re gonna get through this.”

But Minho didn’t respond. He couldn’t. All he could do was stare at the surgery sign above the double doors. Waiting.

Time was meaningless in those moments. Could’ve been hours. Could’ve been years. His phone had long since died, and he hadn’t even noticed. Nothing mattered except that damn hallway, and whether or not someone would come through it with good news, or the worst news of his life.

And then, finally, the doors opened.

A surgeon approached with a face that gave nothing away, and Minho stood so fast his chair screeched backward against the floor. The others stood too, holding their breath.

“You’re here for Y/N?” the doctor asked.

Minho nodded, his voice gone.

“The surgery was successful,” the doctor said, finally offering the first sliver of light in hours of darkness. “There was significant head trauma, but we were able to control the bleeding and reduce the swelling. She’s in the ICU now, sedated, and stable. She’ll need to stay for a few days for observation and recovery.”

The air left Minho’s lungs all at once. His knees nearly gave out again, this time from the release of tension.

“She’s okay?” he asked, like he couldn’t believe it. “She’s really… okay?”

“She’ll need time. But yes. You can see her now, she’s still resting, but the nurse will take you.”

He looked to the members for half a second, eyes wide and glassy, searching for something. Support, maybe. Permission.

“Go,” Seungmin said softly. “She needs you.”

“Go,” Chan echoed. “We’ll be right here.”

Minho didn’t wait. Couldn’t. He followed the nurse like a man possessed, heart pounding, limbs stiff from sitting so long or maybe just from the terror still coiled in his chest. The hallways were too long, too sterile, too cold. But when the nurse opened the ICU room door, everything stopped again.

There you were. Pale. Motionless. Tubes running from your arms, wires monitoring your heart, your head bandaged carefully. You didn’t look like yourself, not completely. But your chest was rising and falling. And that was enough.

Minho moved to your side like he was afraid you’d disappear if he blinked. He sank into the chair next to your bed and reached for your hand careful, so careful like you were made of porcelain.

“You scared the hell out of me,” he whispered, his voice barely more than breath. “Don’t ever do that again.”

Tears slipped down his cheeks before he could stop them. But he didn’t care anymore. You were alive. And no matter how long it took, he’d be right here. Every second. Until you woke up. Until you knew he was here. Until you knew just how much he loved you.

Minho didn’t leave your side.

Not when the nurses dimmed the lights in your ICU room.

Not when visiting hours officially ended.

Not when the staff gently reminded him, again and again that you were sedated, and it could be hours, maybe even days, before you woke up.

He sat by your bedside, hand tightly wrapped around yours like a lifeline. Your skin was cold. Too cold. And you still weren’t responding. You hadn’t moved once since they brought him in. Machines beeped softly beside you, every sound too loud and not loud enough.

The nurses told him, kindly, that they’d watch over you, that he should go home, rest, eat something. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He’d never forgive himself if you woke up and he wasn’t there.

“I’ll sleep here,” he murmured once, half a promise, half a plea.

But he didn’t sleep. Not really.

He dozed off once or twice in short bursts, head slumped against the edge of the bed, still gripping your hand like it anchored him to the world. Every time he started to drift off, he forced himself awake again. What if you woke up and needed him? What if the first thing you saw was a stranger in a white coat, and not someone who knew you, loved you?

He couldn’t bear that thought. So he watched you. For hours.

Even when the hospital’s midnight quiet stretched unbearably long, and the only sound was the occasional shuffle of rubber soles in the hallway or the soft exhale of your breathing. He watched you, eyes burning, body aching, emotions worn thin and raw. He whispered to you sometimes. Just little things. Stuff you liked. Songs you loved. Memories you shared. He told you over and over again how much he needed you to come back.

“I should’ve been there,” he whispered once around 3AM, forehead resting against your hand. “If I had just called earlier… if I had told you to wait, or picked you up myself—”

He shook his head, tears threatening again. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Eventually, the first hints of morning light began to creep through the slats in the blinds. His body ached. His throat was dry. But his fingers were still laced with yours.

He hadn’t moved.

Not even once.

He couldn’t.

And then, just as the exhaustion began to drag his eyelids down again, your hand moved.

Just a twitch. A slight shift in his grasp. But it was real.

Minho jolted up like he’d been struck by lightning, eyes wide, heart hammering in his chest.

“Y/N?” he said, voice cracking. “Hey — hey, are you—?”

Your eyelids fluttered, slow and heavy. Then they opened.

For a second, he just stared, stunned, overwhelmed with a flood of relief so sharp it nearly knocked the wind out of him.

“Oh my god,” he gasped. “You’re awake—you’re finally—”

His hand fumbled for the nurse call button and pressed it hard, exactly like they told him to. He leaned in immediately after, lips brushing your forehead, then your lips soft, desperate kisses.

“I missed you,” he murmured against your skin. “I was so scared. I thought— I thought I lost you. You have no idea how worried I’ve been, Y/N. I should’ve been there. I should’ve protected you. I’m so, so sorry you had to go through all that. I love you—”

But then you blinked.

And stared at him.

And didn’t say a word.

The moment lingered, too long, too still. Minho’s heart began to slow, unease clawing at his chest.

“…Y/N?” he said again, softer now, trying to meet your gaze. “It’s me. It’s Minho. You’re safe. You’re—”

“Who… are you?”

Silence.

It crashed into him like a sledgehammer.

He blinked, sure he misheard. Then he let out a short, nervous laugh, too high, too forced.

“What? What are you talking about?” he said, trying to play it off. “Stop messing around, babe. It’s me.”

But your eyes didn’t change. There was no spark of recognition. No teasing smile. No warmth.

The door flew open and nurses poured in, followed by a doctor who immediately checked your vitals, looked over the machines, started asking you questions.

“Y/N, do you know where you are?”

You shook your head slowly.

“Do you know what day it is?”

“…Wednesday?”

“It’s Sunday,” the nurse said gently.

The doctor leaned forward. “Can you tell me what year it is?”

You tilted your head. Your eyes darted to Minho, as if maybe he’d help you guess right, but your voice came out unsure.

“...2022?”

Minho’s stomach dropped. It was 2025.

“No, no, no—” he whispered, voice hollow. “Please…”

He took a step back, like he could physically distance himself from the weight pressing down on his chest. Like that would make it easier to breathe.

But it didn’t.

The doctor’s expression turned serious. They asked you a few more questions, simple ones your name, your birthday, the name of the current president. You got most of them wrong. They explained, softly, that you’d suffered a severe head trauma, and memory loss even temporary wasn’t uncommon.

Temporary.

That word clung to Minho’s hope like a thread. But right now, it felt anything but temporary.

Because you were looking at him like a stranger.

Because everything he knew, the life you shared, the love you built wasn’t reflected back in your eyes.

Minho couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. He just stood there, his world crumbling quietly around him while nurses continued their checks, their soft reassurances doing nothing to stop the sharp, slow break of his heart.

He had stayed awake for you. Waited through hell and back.

And now you were here.

But you didn’t know who he was.

It felt like the world was playing a cruel trick on him.

You were right there, alive, breathing eyes open, heartbeat steady, but it was like you were someone else entirely.

Minho had never known a silence so loud, so suffocating, as when you first said those words.

“Who… are you?”

They were innocent. Unassuming. A genuine question from someone waking up in a haze.

But for Minho, they were a dagger to the chest.

Still, some part of him, the part that loved you more than he’d ever loved anyone clung to hope. Maybe it was the drugs. The trauma. Maybe you were still foggy. It wasn’t over. It couldn’t be over.

So he tried again.

He waited until the nurses had finished checking your IV, gently adjusting the machines monitoring your vitals. He slowly stepped forward, each step feeling heavier than the last. He kept his voice quiet, as if saying it softer might make it easier for you to remember.

“Y/N…” he whispered, carefully reaching for your hand. “It’s me. Minho. You still don’t remember?”

Your hand twitched in his.

And then you pulled it away.

Like his touch burned. Like he was a stranger.

The nurses exchanged a quick, sad glance, their movements slowing around the bed. One of them gave Minho a soft, regretful look, but it didn’t make the ache in his chest any less sharp. He felt cold all over. His fingers curled into his palms to stop them from trembling.

“No, no, it’s okay,” he said quickly, eyes locked on yours, voice cracking. “You’re just tired. You’ve been through a lot. I’m sure it’s just temporary. Just… please try. We live together, remember? We’ve been together for years. You love me. You—”

The doctor cleared his throat, cutting him off. “Let’s just run a few more cognitive tests. I want to get a clearer idea of the scope here.”

“What does that mean?” Minho snapped, his voice rising now. “You said she was okay! You said the surgery was a success. So why—why can’t she remember me?!”

“Mr. Lee,” the doctor began gently, “this kind of head trauma—”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid!” Minho nearly shouted, stepping forward, his composure hanging by a thread. “You said she’d recover. You told me everything was going to be okay!”

“I understand you’re upset, but this isn’t uncommon with traumatic brain injuries—”

“Then fix it!” His voice broke entirely now, breath hitching as the tears finally came. “Please… just tell me she’ll remember…”

You flinched slightly at his raised voice. And then, in the quiet that followed, your own voice trembled into the space between you.

“…Can he please leave?”

It felt like time stopped.

Minho froze, every bone in his body turning to ice. Your voice wasn’t angry, it wasn’t cruel. It was confused. Frightened. You didn’t know who he was, and his grief looked like a threat.

You were scared of him.

That realization split him down the middle.

The doctor gave a small nod to the nurses, who gently approached, but Minho shook his head. He backed up slowly, holding up his hands.

“No. It’s okay. I’m going,” he whispered. “I don’t want to scare you.”

He turned without another word, walking stiffly out the door, and the moment it clicked shut behind him, the weight hit.

Minho paced the sterile white of the waiting room like it was a cage, back and forth, fists clenched, unable to sit, unable to stop his thoughts from racing. The same words kept echoing in his head on a loop.

She doesn’t know who I am.

She doesn’t remember me.

She asked me to leave.

When the door opened again, he nearly tripped over his own feet rushing to meet the doctor.

“Well?” he demanded, desperate. “What’s happening to her? Why doesn’t she know me?”

The doctor gave him a solemn look and sighed, folding their arms. “She’s suffering from retrograde amnesia. It’s a condition where the brain, due to trauma, forgets information that was stored before the incident. In Y/N’s case, we’re seeing significant memory loss, personal memory, especially. She’s retained basic facts, but she doesn’t remember her relationships.”

Minho went still. “You mean… me.”

The doctor nodded.

“For now, she doesn’t remember you.”

Minho felt like the floor disappeared from beneath him.

“What do you mean, for now? So she might? Or she might never?”

“There’s no clear timeline for recovery. Sometimes memories return gradually. Sometimes not at all. It depends on how the brain heals and that’s something we can’t predict. I’m sorry.”

Minho backed up a step. Then another. He slumped into one of the cold plastic chairs, burying his face in his hands.

He had stayed all night. Kept vigil like it would bring you back to him. He’d whispered promises to you in the dark, kissed your hand like it was sacred. He had pictured you waking up and crying tears of relief, pulling him into a hug and asking where you were. He had begged for this moment.

And now that it was here… it was worse than anything he’d imagined.

You were alive.

But you were gone.

//

masterlist.

[gay-dorito-dust]

I see him in the back of my mind, all the time.

This fic came to me in a dream, woke up crying.

You couldn’t help but feel abandoned, left behind to deal with the onslaught of emotions all by yourself as your eyes remained firmly on where Viktor once was before the arcane consumed him whole.

The war was over but the hollow feeling within your chest only grew stronger when seeing loved ones reunite in fits of hysterical tears and bone crushing embraces, the lump in your throat got worse as the ache in your heart had something missing, someone missing that made it beat faster than normal. There was nothing Viktor left behind of his existence besides from his cane that you kept tightly clutched within your hand, mimicking the way he’d love tap the ground with it, as though you were trying to prove to no one in particular who cared that he still exists.

Silent tears seemed to flow endlessly down your cheeks as you wandered through the hallways of the Academy, and yet you felt numb, cold like you were already long dead and didn’t know it just yet as even your fingers felt cold to the touch, but you didn’t know whether that was from the biting cold wind or something else entirely. You didn’t care either as your reason for caring and for loving every aspect of life was taken away from you, taking your beating heart with him as he did and you didn’t know whether to hate him or love him even harder for giving you the best moments of your life, memories that seemed to all play out before you as you entered the now empty laboratory.

You could still hear the laughter and the scolding echo as though the walls with complex equations scrawled upon them had harboured the essence of the people who once worked diligently to the point of physical exhaustion. Your throat clenched again you delved deeper into the lab with one place in mind like you were being pulled towards it by an unseen force; Viktor’s workbench that had now upon closer inspection had a fine layer of dust settling over it, something he would’ve never let happen despite the tendency to leave his things scattered everywhere he pleased but still become cutely annoyed when he couldn’t find them.

However there seemed to be one thing that the dust refused to touch, a broach. Your brows furrowed as you looked at it confused, what was a broach doing in a place like this? It looked like it was made a while back but yet had a polish to it that made it seemed like it was made only recently. You knew Viktor didn’t wear broaches so seeing such an item on his workbench specifically was leaving you more questions then answers, questions that were soon answered when you noticed a small note underneath it, scrawled with Viktor’s usual chicken scratch writing;

‘For my dearest muse, for I will always be with you, always - Viktor.’

You clutched the cane tighter now as the pain within your chest almost made you collapse on the floor. This broach was for you. Viktor made it for you and never had the chance to give it to you, or perhaps he was waiting for the right moment to do so, but fate decided to be cruel and change the trajectory of your life for the worst; the common con when you happened to fall in love with a scientist determined to make a change. You sighed unevenly as you reach for the broach, your fingers closing over the cold metal of it while gingerly lifting it off the workbench, holding it up to your face so that you could take in the details of Viktor’s most beautiful creation.

The broach had a decent weight to it, not too light where you could easily crush it within your hand, but not too hard where it was proven difficult in your hand for prolonged periods of time. It was beautifully done as on the front of the broach was a an intricate design of a mechanical Blue Jay bird. You ran your thumb across the bird to feel the engravings that made it beneath your finger tips. The bird began to glow a vibrant blue, making you jolt a little, and the broach opened up to show it’s insides to you as a soft melody began to play from some hidden component within the broach.

The moment the first notes of the soft melody hits your ears the tears that had stilled in you moment of curiosity began to fall once more, this was the song that you had told Viktor once upon a time ago was your favourite, and so for him to make you this broach with your favourite bird on the front and your beloved song on the inside, you’ve never felt more loved by a man such as him. Yet you couldn’t run to him and kiss him senseless, not anymore, which made the broach itself a reminder that even if he was long gone you were the last thing on his mind.

‘Oh Viktor.’ Your voice came out weak as a sob broke from your lips as memories resurfaced as the melody continued its tune just for you.

…

‘Viktor!’ You burst in the lab, making him jolt as he looked over at you with what he wanted to be conveyed as annoyance but came across as a cute pout in your eyes.

‘My dear how often must I tell you not to burst in here so abruptly and without warning, what if something went wrong and you had gotten hurt.’ Viktor scolds as you merely shrug and moved over to his side to look over his shoulder, trying to see what he was working on, only for him to move it slightly away from your line of sight.

‘We’re both alive aren’t we?’ You said sarcastically and Viktor sighs as a small smile graced his lips as his amber eyes looked back at you with the warmth you always use to being greeted with. ‘You truly fear nothing my love but the next time you pull sometime like that you’re banned from entering the lab for the rest of the week.’ He says warningly as he points his wielding tool at you to emphasise his point.

You leaned over to kiss his forehead. ‘Duly noted my love but can I see what you’re working on? Or is it a secret for me to find later?’ You then ask as you once again tried to see what he was making, and once again Viktor move it away from your curious eyes, making you pout once more as you looked at him pleadingly.

Viktor sighs, your curiosity was never ending and while he would indulge you on his creations, he couldn’t do so for this one. This broach was his most ambitious project thus far and it was a project he has dedicated to you a long time ago the moment you both sat at the docks, hearing a harmonious melody within the wind as you admitted that it was your favourite.

It was that moment where Viktor decided to make something that you could keep on your being forever and thus project blue jay broach was underway. He was halfway done with it, all he had to do was finished wielding some components on the inside that would play the melody the moment the broach was opened, then he would move onto engraving the blue jay on the front as a final touch to a months long work in progress. ‘Practice your patience and you shall find out what it is soon enough my muse.’ He says softly as he kisses the back of your hand.

‘Alright keeps your secrets, I’ll find out sooner or later.’ You said as you crossed your arms over your chest.

Viktor raised a playful brow. ‘Is that a threat or a promise my muse?’ He asks.

You shrugged your shoulders. ‘Why not both.’ You said and Viktor laughs which makes you smile in response, feeling your chest warm as you looked at him, vowing to treasure this beautiful man for the rest of your life.

…

‘I know it’s not much but I wanted to make you something…I know it’s not the best but-‘

‘I love it my muse.’ Viktor starts as he takes the gift off of your hand, cradling it within his own as he looked over the amateur wielding and more so at the love and effort you’ve put into making this just for him.

You looked between him and the bird that you’ve made for him on a whim one day, wanting to repay him for loving you as he did in a way he’d recognise, even if you weren’t familiar with it you’d give it a try just to see him smile that gorgeous smile of his that made his amber eyes seem to brighten.

‘Really? You mean that?’ You asked and Viktor brushed his hand against your arm softly, stopping to hold your hand and squeeze it reassuringly.

‘Unequivocally my love. It possess a uniqueness that is undoubtedly yours and yours alone.’ He replies while pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

‘That’s a poetic way of saying that it’s made by an amateur who can barely wield shit without almost hurting themselves.’ You muttered under your breath as you rested your head against his shoulder. Viktor chuckles as he puts aside the mechanical bird on his workbench in order to hold you against him as he rests his head atop of yours.

‘If it’s any consolation it’s a well made creation for an amateur wielder.’ He says, smiling to himself when he hears you muffled groan. He wishes to stay like this forever if he could, just have you in his arms for all of eternity until that eternity fades to nothing, and it was just you two locked in the moment in the blanket of never ending darkness.

‘I hate you.’ You say.

‘I love you too my muse.’ Viktor replies as he presses a kiss to the side of your head.

…

‘Viktor?’ You asked.

‘Yes my love?’ He replies, looking at you.

‘Do you think we’re together in every universe?’ You then looked at him, finding him more beautiful than any star that hung in the sky before you.

Viktor makes a face full of thought before letting his hand find yours, squeezing it as he presses a kiss to the back of it. ‘Of course my love, for what would I be without you to be my muse, my confidant and my anchor.’ His face then becomes one of seriousness as he leans so that his forehead touches yours. ‘Do you believe that we’re together in every universe?’

‘Without a doubt.’ You answered back, kissing his lips. ‘I don’t think I could live in a reality where you don’t exist my beautiful Viktor.’ You add as you started deeply into his amber eyes, watching them soften in relief as Viktor reciprocated your kiss with one of his own.

‘What a coincidence I was thinking the exact same thing my muse.’ Viktor whispers softly to you as he kisses you once more. You held the back of his head to keep him close as the stars watched you both display your love for one another in the most innocent way possible.

…

Mel wondered down the hallway but as she was about to pass the lab, she heard the soft melody coming from it and stopped to peek through the open doorway. Sat fast asleep on Viktor’s chair, body splayed uncomfortably across his dust covered workbench, was you and she couldn’t help but smile sympathetically for you, after all you had just lost the love of your life before your very eyes and with no plausible way of getting him back.

What was making the melody Mel did find as her eyes landed on the open broach within your hand, Viktor’s final gift to you as it hummed the melody for the fifth time. It was a beautiful song Mel thought to herself as she moved next to you, resting her hand over your shoulder as she heard you softly mutter in your sleep. ‘I’m sorry Viktor. I love you.’

‘I know he loves you too.’ Mel replied as she reached over and closed the broach in your hand, seeing the mechanical engraving on the cover as she did so before pressing a kiss to the top of your head, wanting nothing more then let you sleep and be with Viktor in the land of dreams as she moved to walk back out the door. Mel looks back at you once more and in a moment of nostalgia overcame her she saw Viktor sleeping in that very chair instead of you. He was clutching his cane the same way you did and in that moment it looked as though your hands were touching; together intertwined in the smallest of things.

Viktor would always be with you, always.

[irndad]

Hi, I’m so sorry, I searched for request guidelines and must be missing them so if this isn’t something you write I apologize-

Flower prompt heliotrope with Spencer where reader sacrifices herself/or gets shot to save Maeve so Spencer can be happy, even though she’s hopelessly in love with him. 🥹

Little angst, little fluff. You can decide if reader fully sacrifices or just gets really badly hurt and how Spencer reacts.

my dear!! there are no rules yet- i have things i won't fill but thus far the onus has been on me to clarify. i had so much fun writing this- thank you for requesting it!!! requests r open :^) wc: 1.1k

“Is Maeve okay?”

It’s the first thing she says when she wakes up from her hospital bed. Spencer’s shaking, a little woozy too. It turns out that they have the same blood type, and she lost a whole fucking lot of it. He’d been happy to give it to her, although ‘happy’feels like the wrong word to use in this situation. 

She had internal bleeding, and collapsed harshly from the gunshot, scuffing her forehead so badly she needed stitches. Comparatively, it’s the least of her worries, but still- Spencer can’t stop staring at it. She’s literally marred by the choice she made to protect him. 

Maeve is okay. She’s in the same hospital, but Spencer’s spent about ten minutes with her- the rest of the last 12 hours of his life were spent oscillating between donating blood and praying to a deity he’s not sure exists. 

She’d survived. They’d both survived. He should feel relieved- why doesn’t he feel relieved?

It’s a stupid question that he keeps asking himself. Two of the most important people in his life are alive, but still in the moment, her blood spilling over him- the gasp of her breath when the bullet hit her- He’s going to remember the sound of it forever, what it sounded like for her to almost die for someone else. He hates that she’s the type of person to do it. To jump in front of a loaded gun for a woman she’s never met before. 

He’s mad at her. He has no right to be- he gets a chance with Maeve now, and that’s all due to the choice she made. And yet- he’s so, so angry at her. Because she could be dead right now. He could never, ever talk to her again. She made a choice that meant that he might have never been able to hear her voice, do a magic trick for her, ever, ever be near her again. How the fuck could she do that to him?

“Yes,” he replies, “she’s okay.”

She nods agreeably, before wincing at what appeared to be an intense ache at her temples. 

“My head hurts,” she says, her voice low and endearing, and his heart roars with protectiveness. “Do you think I could have a juice box?”

She’s so sweet- he wants to laugh, in a sad desperate kind of way. This is his favorite person in the world, sitting up shakily and asking for juice, clearly groggy and so endearing. He almost lost her. 

“You’re okay too,” he says, “If you’re wondering. You scared us. You had internal bleeding and a concussion. You lost a lot of blood.”

It’s only then she frowns. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” she pouts, trying to sit up and speak to him. “But it all worked out, Spence. She’s okay.”

“It didn’t all work out!” Her eyes widen at his outburst, and he feels like scum. Yelling at her when she’s in a hospital bed, taking a bullet so he’d have a chance at romance. 

“You said she’s okay,” she says back, slowly. “I don’t understand.”

“You lost blood. You almost died. That is not it working out. You have to tell me you understand that.” He doesn’t know why he’s being so harsh, but he also doesn’t know why he has to explain this to her. 

“I know,” she sighs, “I know. But this is the job, and I didn’t have time to get a vest on!”

“Then you wait. You wait. You don’t just burst in-“

“And you would’ve lost the love of your life!”

“What makes you think she’s the love of my life?”

A nurse shuffles by the room and Spencer takes a deep breath. He doesn’t want to be kicked out of her room, and on some level he knows how crazy it is to be yelling at a gunshot victim. He pinches his nose, eyes winced in frustration. 

She’s been his favorite person by a wide margin for an incredibly long time. She joined the team as a consultant and he remembers the first time he did a card trick for her- the first time he’d fallen asleep on her shoulder. He was so grateful to know her. Still is. In this moment, knowing feels like time slipping out from an hourglass- like it was almost numbered. Their time was almost finished. 

Maeve was lovely. Maeve listened and she was kind and Spencer really did like her. He’s glad she’s safe, now. But his best friend, his coworker and favorite person- Spencer thought everyone could tell that he’s been in love with the team consultant since the first week he knew her. 

Everything he liked about Maeve reminded him of her. 

And she’d jumped in front of a bullet for someone she thought he was in love with. And fuck, maybe he did love her in some way- but whatever ‘in love’ meant with Maeve, this sorrow, the pain of knowing she’d almost been someone he’d have to remember was far, far deeper. 

“You’ve never mentioned anyone to me romantically. I’ve known you for years, Spencer. She’s important to you.”

Maeve is. She was. It’s all so confusing now. He has liked someone for years, though. He couldn’t tell her, though. Maeve was a welcome distraction from a love he thought was wholly impractical and impossible to love him back— a love that now he has to witness languish in a hospital bed. 

Morgan knew. Morgan would tease him every time Spencer drew a smiley face in purple marker on her coffee cup. He would tell him to just ask her out, and it had always felt so improbable. She’d never go for someone as lanky and uncharismatic as him. 

“You’re important to me.” 

She has no idea how much. 

Her eyes soften at that, and not for the first time, he wants to curl into her arms. He wants to lay next to her in the hospital bed, and feel her pulse beat against bare skin. Feel her pulse and with every beat know that she is alive. 

“I know that, Spence,” she breathes out.

Even though it’s not kosher, not necessarily the right thing to do when your not-girlfriend/girl you went on one date with is in the same hospital, but when his best friend opens up her arms for a hug, he ends up doing exactly what he wanted. 

The team finds her asleep in her hospital bed, with Spencer asleep in her arms. It feels voyeuristic to look at, but Spencer really, really couldn’t care. 

He resolved to tell her that he loves her as soon as she’s healed. With the way Morgan side eyes him every time he ‘helps’ her walk across a room by holding her waist, he’s not sure he’ll last that long. 

[akira-dulbar]

The Life You Left Behind - Part 1/3: Discovery

part 2 part3 part4 part5

Summary: Before Jason died, he had a relationship with a classmate. Years later, Damián is struck by the resemblance a child has to his brother Jason.

Warning: Mentions of teen pregnancy, breaking and entering, slight mention of caffeine addiction, swearing, mention of religion. (I honestly don't know what else to add.)

----

Damian was a warrior. From birth, he was trained to face everything and everyone, and not surprise anyone in the process.

But that child…

When Alfred picked him up from school that day, nothing seemed strange. It wasn't until they stopped at a red light that Damian realized there was a kindergarten a few blocks from his school. The place was fenced (for the children's safety), the building was red, and had a flower arrangement of all kinds (which didn't surprise him). He could see the children running back and forth. But what caught his attention wasn't the racket those children were making, but rather the fact that there was one sitting further away from the rest, facing the road with his legs crossed on the grass and a book resting on his lap, seemingly very focused on whatever he was reading.

Now, there was nothing unusual about a child reading during recess, or about the child being isolated from the rest; that was everyone's taste (he did it too, rather than waste his time in unnecessary conversations), but there was something about that child that disturbed him somehow.

Normal people would try to ignore it, but then again, Damián wasn't normal. He was raised for greatness. His father was the best detective in the world, and therefore, he also considered himself the best, better than Drake (although he was a worthy opponent, he would deny it his entire life). So, he stared at the child, trying to figure out why he was so disturbed.

Is it the way he sat? No. The way he dressed? That doesn't make sense. Is it the way he furrowed his eyebrows while reading? He had to admit it reminded him of someone, but it was still strange.

Before he knew it, the light had already changed, and he still hadn't figured out the root of the concern. It wasn't until Alfred was about to set off that the boy decided to raise his head and…

"Oh my God," Damian said, "so now he wasn't religious, just like the rest of his family wasn't. But when electric blue eyes looked at him, he felt like someone from above was playing a trick on him. And it wasn't just the eyes, no, it was also the way she looked at him and how identical he was to his brother… Damian just stared at one point, his head full of questions.

"A clone? Probably, but if he was a clone, it wouldn't make sense for him to be in kindergarten." But Damian knew something wasn't right, since a clone was identical to a person, and even though this boy was identical to his brother, there were still things that didn't fit, like his nose and mouth were different from Jason's.

"Young Master Damian, is something wrong?" When he realized, Alfred was holding the door for Damian to come down, looking at him with concern and warmth. Damian knew not responding was disrespectful and that he should answer the butler (also his father's adoptive father) calmly, but all Damian could do was blink several times.

"Are you okay? Is something hurting?" "Yes, something is wrong." No, nothing hurts, but that's not what he's going to tell Alfred now, not until he resolves this. Besides, he'll surely find out somehow in the end. It's Alfred, for God's sake.

--------

When Tim woke up this morning, he thought it would be like every other Wednesday: going to college, solving a case, and drinking coffee until his body thought it had had enough for today and collapsed, or he'd stay awake until someone (mostly Alfred) forced him to get some sleep.

But what he didn't expect was his younger brother Damian (with whom he has a love/hate relationship) in front of the Batcomputer, looking at images and websites from a kindergarten a few blocks from Damian's school.

"May I know what you're doing?" Tim hoped it wasn't that Damian had gotten into a fight with a kid and was now seeking revenge. Because if that were the case, he'd have to talk to Bruce and Dick once and for all.

"None of your business, Drake." Damian continued to flip through group photos of several kids in the kindergarten, stopping at one and then opening another tab, without even glancing at it.

"God, it's too early for this," Tim could only think, needing an extra-strong black coffee and a new, preferably more pleasant, younger brother (though deep down he knew he'd miss this bat-child demon). He had every intention of leaving when something on the screen caught his attention.

"Are you looking for birth records?" Tim prays that Damian isn't thinking of kidnapping a child; they've already got enough with Bruce's adoption tendency.

"It's good to know your eyes aren't failing you, Drake." Tim wants to strangle him, but he didn't want another scolding from Dick (or Alfred). Anyway, this couldn't be left like this.

"If you're thinking of kidnapping a child, I'll call Bruce." Please don't let that be it.

"I'm not going to kidnap anyone. There's no need to call anyone."

"Then enlighten me. What are you doing looking for birth certificates, because what I think is you're going to make someone disappear?"

"Nobody cares about your way of thinking, Drake."

"I'll call Dick." Tim watched as Damian remained silent for a few seconds, then looked back at him (perhaps checking if he was capable of doing it) and sighed. He then turned back to the batcomputer and started opening more tabs.

Tim was about to pick up his phone and have a serious chat with Dick about Damian's behavior. Until he said, he turned to him and pointed out a specific photo out of many.

Tim leaned closer to look at the photo, realizing it was a group photo of several kindergarten children that Damian had previously had on the screen. He honestly didn't know what he was looking at because they were just the typical photos the kindergartens posted on their social media from each year with different grades. Oh, that's what he thought until his eyes fell on the image of a boy with a book in his hands, clutching it to his chest and looking at the camera with a smile.

"A clone?" That was the only answer Tim could have come up with because, as far as he was concerned, there was no other explanation for a six-year-old (maybe five?) boy looking so much like his older brother (with whom he also has a love/hate relationship, damn it), and he doubted Jason was even in kindergarten at that age. (The photo also showed the date it was taken, so it was impossible for it to have been taken now since Jason is 21.)

"No," needless to say, Tim didn't like that answer at all.

"What do you mean, no? We're seeing the same thing, aren't we?"

"Tt, it can't be that your eyes are failing, Drake. Even the worst detective would realize he has to look at the entire screen." Okay, Tim was offended by that because he knew beforehand that he was still in second place in that category, and it was Damian who told him to look at the photo, not the entire Batcomputer screen, so where he's concerned, he's a good detective.

In any case, he looked at the screen again, and there were several photos (as he noticed earlier), but not all of them were from kindergarten. Some were, but from years past, where the boy was getting younger and younger. He also noticed that in some of them, a young woman, not quite in her twenties, appeared with the child in her arms. In this photo, the child was closer to the camera, and his resemblance to Jason was even more striking.

Tim felt that the conclusion he would reach would turn his stomach. He didn't want to look any further, as he felt like he had opened Pandora's box (although it was Damian who opened it). It wasn't until his eyes looked at three photos that he felt his heart leap out of his body. On the left is an older photo from school with the same woman as before, but much younger (damn, she looked younger than Tim, and he's 17) and with his damn undead brother.

Tim is surprised that Jason, before and after his death, doesn't look so much like the same person, since in the photo he looks thinner and smaller than he does now, where he looks like a damn elephant (thanks, Lazarus Pit).

In any case, in the photo they're both smiling and holding hands, looking very happy. Which is fine, normal when you're with your girlfriend and you're as happy as a clam. But the other two photos are what make Tim reconsider his decision to not have slept when Alfred told him to, because otherwise he wouldn't be having to look at these images, but instead he'd be snuggled up in his bed and at peace.

In both photos, you could see the same young woman from the previous one, but something had changed. One photo was holding an ultrasound (God have mercy on Tim), and in the other, she was disheveled in a hostel room with a baby in her arms (a baby… a fucking baby, for God's sake, Jason, what did you do?). Now Tim understands Alfred and his need to keep giving the "talk"…

God, he feels so tired… And he still hasn't even finished his sixth cup of extra-strong black coffee of the day.

"When was the baby born?" Tim could only close his eyes as he asked. It could still be a dream, right? Faith is the last thing you lose (although no one in this family was religious).

"7 and a half months after Jason's death." All Tim could think about was how old Jason was at that moment.

"So, at 15, he got a girl pregnant a month and a half before he died?" When Tim saw that Damian was about to answer, he interrupted him.

"No, Damian, it wasn't a question… The damn thing," Tim decided, deciding that the next time he saw Jason, he would strangle him just like Homer Simpson would do to his son Bart…

"There's still a chance…" Tim looked at Damian in disbelief and saw that Damian was looking at him calmly and gently, as if trying to calm him down (which is nice to know the little devil cares about him).

"Which one?" Okay, denying the child might not be the best idea, considering all the evidence that yes, it could be Jason's son (Tim feels his mouth go dry after thinking of the child as his brother's son), but they can't blame him; this alone is bad enough.

"A DNA test. We need something from the child to compare with Jason's DNA." The Batcomputer had DNA from everyone in the family in case something happened and it was needed. So, trying to get Jason's DNA was already solved. However, Tim feels there's still a small chance that the child wasn't Jason's, but it's a possibility that will be embraced with open arms.

"Where does he live?" Okay, Tim. One step at a time. First, an extra strong black coffee, and then we'll get to work.

--------

Again, when Tim woke up that morning after passing out from exhaustion the night before, he didn't think he'd find himself trying to break into a kid's apartment to steal some DNA and test if he was his brother's son (who, if found, would strangle him for nearly having a seizure). If someone had told him that, he'd look at him like he was crazy and try to prove he was under the influence of something.

But here he is, opening the window to the kid's room and going in to prove he's not Jason's son (again, Tim feels his mouth go dry)…which is great!…

It wasn't difficult for Tim to get into the room (which is worrying because it's not very safe), and the first thing he saw was the large shelf full of books against a wall (which, for his own peace of mind, he tried not to look at). There were also a bunch of dinosaur toys, some Superman figures, and a number of Wonder Woman figures and statues (which I also ignored, for his own good).

He went to what seemed like the window display to see if he could find a comb with the boy's hair so he could get out of there. But it seemed God wasn't on his side because when he found the comb, he realized it didn't have a single hair of the boy's (which was great for him). Tim could only frown and sigh because again, nothing had gone his way.

When Tim felt something moving, he quickly turned around to check the threat, but realized the boy in the bed had rolled over to lie on the other side, leaving his hair in place. Without further ado, Tim approached him so he could cut a few of his hair without much force so as not to wake him and be able to leave.

Now, since he entered the apartment, Tim didn't want to look at the boy so as not to confirm the truth that he might be his brother's son, making him his nephew. So he quickly ripped out two pieces of hair and then went straight to the window to leave, when he was about to leave, for some strange reason he felt he had to turn around, there was no going back if he turned around, he would be confirming something he didn't want to know, so without further ado he went out the window back to the batcave with two pieces of hair for the DNA test.

--------

Well, it turns out it doesn't matter whether you turn around or not, because it still came back positive, which made Tim's stomach churn.

"So now?" Tim felt like he needed three extra strong black coffees to get this over with.

"I have to say, even though it wasn't what we planned, the result seemed pretty obvious."

"Haha," Tim could feel himself about to throw up, and he didn't want to imagine when Jason found out…

"Wait…"

"Oh God," Tim had just realized something.

"Oh God, how are we going to tell him??"

"Drake…"

"How are we going to tell him?!" Tim started pacing, getting louder and louder.

"Drake…!!!" Tim didn't seem to see how Damian was tense in the Batcomputer chair.

"HOW ARE WE GOING TO TELL JASON HE HAS A SON?!" Tim yelled desperately at Damian, who in turn kept looking behind him.

"What?" Tim tensed when he recognized that voice, Dick.

"Hey, replacement, what are you talking about?" Tim turned around and could clearly see three figures: Batman, Red Hood, and Nightwish. The first one still had his mask on and kept staring at the Batcomputer with a frown, while the other two were staring at him and Damian.

"No, wait…" Tim couldn't think of a congruent response, considering the Batcomputer still had everything about the boy, along with three DNA tests (yes, three, because the third time's the charm), and they approached the Batcomputer after not receiving a response, which Tim knew was over. (The good thing about this is that he let Damian explain, after all, he was the one who opened Pandora's box.)

-Red Robin report- yep, let Damian explain everything to Batman (and his brothers). After all, he's already done enough and urgently needed three more strong black coffees to relieve this tension he's feeling.

-Oh God, Jason, what did you do?- he watched as Dick stared at Jason, who was still staring at the Batcomputer screen and looked like he was going to die again, but this time it wouldn't be the Joker's fault.

-!!!!!…- And when he heard something (or rather, someone) collapse to the floor, fainting (Jason, probably after seeing the evidence), all he could do was sigh.

-(It's going to be a long night)-

-------

I have this 3-part mini story in Spanish, but I'm missing the English one, If I see that you like it, I will upload the other two parts, if not, then here it is. anyway, I don't know English.

[mint-8]

Platonic Yandere Show-Off!

Yandere Mother vs. Yandere Father x Child! GN! Reader

Content/Trigger warning: Mentions of death, torture, and pregnancy. Please read as completely platonic.

- United in an arranged marriage, neither Yandere Mother nor Yandere Father are particularly pleased with their current situation. Both are enraged due to their respective family's tradition of marrying into money and improving business respectively, and are already planning on how get to get rid of the other one so they can live a happy single life, preferably with all of the remaining assets from having their spouse die in 'mysterious' ways.

- Yandere Mother and Yandere Father are tasked with having at least 1 child so they can inherit the entire family business. Their gender doesn't matter. They need to make an heir. Yandere Mother is disgusted at the idea of having Yandere Father inside her, and so does he, but after avoiding the inevitable for a couple years, they finally spent one quick and uncomfortable night together to get it over with.

- While Yandere Mother is busy dealing with the pregnancy, Yandere Father makes sure to put aside enough money for his child's education, entertainment, health, and anything else they might need. Look, he might hate his wife, but he is not going to hate an innocent creature that had no choice to be born to such a horrible woman, he is going to do his best to raise his child right, but might leave most of the heavy duties to the mother. And speaking of, Yandere Mother is excited for having a child. It will be HER child and no one else's, and is very happy that her piece of shit of a husband is going to leave most of the kid's upbringing to her. She will make sure her baby grows with only the best of the best, and of course, only loving their mama! Your sperm donor will only appear for publicity reasons.

- Yandere Mother and Yandere Father who are surprised when your birth occurs a bit earlier than expected, but nevertheless rush your mother quickly to the best hospital in the country while your father waits outside of the operation room. Partially because it will look good for the press and partially because he doesn't want to be like your deadbeat grandfather who skipped his birth so he could drink with some investors. Yandere Father, at least, wants to be there for you. Meanwhile, Yandere Mother is screaming bloody murder in the other room. The pain is horrible. Even when the doctors gave her strong medications for the delivery, she still feels the first complications of motherhood. But even with all the difficulties, she bears through it all and gives birth to what will become of her and her husband's future adoration and obsession, you.

- The first to meet you is, of course, Yandere Mother, who held you as soon as the nurse's finished washing off all the blood and liquids, and who couldn't believe her eyes when she first saw you. Even when you were wet and crying after experiencing breathing for the first time, you still looked like the most adorable of little angels. Yandere Mother couldn't help but cry and weep from the incredible amount of love she felt in the moment, while a warm smile grazed her face, as she protectively held you, hearing your heart beat in unison with hers. She even refused to let the nurses and doctors check on you until she pretty much collapsed from the exhaustion of giving birth.

- Yandere Father meets you after the hospital staff gave him the clearing after running some tests. To say he fell in love is an understatement. This man fell to his knees when he first saw you at the maternity ward, peacefully sleeping with a soft blanket covering you. He couldn't help the tears that fell down his face, or the clear adoration in his eyes. He just... loves you much. His baby, his little angel. The adorable and cute baby in existence was right in front of him, and you were all his! He made you, after all! Oh, how excited he was to get you ot of here and buy you dozens of toys, and clothes and-

"They are beautiful, aren't they?"

"Like an angel..."

"If you hurt them in any way, I'll make sure to hire an assassin to torture you to death"

"I can say the same to you, dear"

- Yandere Mother and Yandere Father spoil you rotten through your childhood. Especially Yandere Father, who can't spend as much time with you as he would like because he has to take care of the family conglomerate, but always sends you hundreds of gifts your way, which are always meticulously chosen and discarded by Yandere Mother, who makes sure to spend every moment that you are awake by your side. She will make sure to raise you into the most innocent, polite, and kind little one in the entire world. She might love you with all her heart, and is more than willing to frame someone for a murder she committed if it came down to it, but she won't neglect you by letting you grow as you please! Oh, no! Proper etiquette classes and lectures about being responsible, respectful, and kind are very prevalent in your busy schedule and educational curriculum.

- Yandere Mother chooses homeschooling with only the best of the best private teachers and tutors to foment your growth! And no complaining or pressure from her extended family will change that! Yandere Father also supports this plan, with the added clause that you need to participate in extracurricular activities outside for your fortified home. Yandere Mother was going to cut your father from suggesting such dangerous activities to fragile, innocent you, but quickly changed her mind when he explained that he wishes to have photos and memorabilia of each and every one of your achievements, specifically those in which you absolutely crush the pathetic competition.

- Yandere Mother and Yandere Father attend every competition and event you compete or participate in, cheering you on from the audience and celebrating with grand parties and banquets for every success or failure. They love making everyone in the world know about their perfect little prodigy and are not shy in the slightest to prove it! Although, if you ever felt uncomfortable or annoyed by such displays of affections, no sweat! Yandere Mother and Yandere Father will completely understand and will keep your celebrations inside of their home, protecting your privacy if you so wish.

- Yandere Mother loves spending time with you to show her affection, being an active and involved parent in pretty much everything you do, always showing support, financial or emotional, for every single one of your hobbies and aspirations. She is also very touchy and cuddly, she specially loved to hold you close to her when you were a baby, giving you kisses and waking you up with more kisses and giggles. She loves to embarrass you with all the photos and loving memories she has of you!

- Yandere Father prefers to shower you in gifts and delicious treats whenever he is free. He especially loves going out to trips to your favorite mall or shops, lets you browse through the different sections, and buy everything your little heart desires. He tries his very best to be strict and teach you about the importance of money, but you give him your 'puppy eyes'™️ and he becomes weak once again. He also loves complimenting you and giving you praise whenever you succeed, as well as helpful tips and advice in the cases you lose or are in need of some support. He especially loves when you come to his home office or during meals and ask him anything and everything you might have in your mind. Your Yandere Father is very well educated after all (and so is your mother!) and is very eloquent when explaining topics and talking about how the world works. He has so many fond memories of little toddler you waddling to his office, asking silly questions and him calmly and sweetly responding as you fall asleep on his shoulder.

- Yandere Father and Yandere Mother loves you so much, little pumpkin. They know that you will grow to become an amazing person, but can't help but worry about others potentially hurting you! So, they make sure to background check anyone that you could possibly have an interest in (romantic or otherwise), to be 100% sure that they will appropriate companions for you. Very few people make the cut, with the many undeserving of your love and attention being quietly taken care of. Not necessarily in a brutal way, but Yandere Mother sure misses her time as queen bee of high-school when she would destroy the lives of those trying to take her down, and Yandere Father has such a vast collection of weapons that it would be a shame not to use them every once in a while!

- Yandere Mother loves you with all her heart and would do anything to protect your smile. Yandere Father loves you with the entirety of his soul and is more than willing to commit war crimes to protect your happiness. The two of them hate each other deeply for always keeping your attention off the other, but work surprisingly well in raising and taking care of you, so they toughened it up and simply focus on your safety and well being. They don't care who they have to hurt, kill, torture, or incriminate. They will do it and make sure you never find out. You are their adorable sweetness. You don't need to know about the atrocities in this world =)

"You are the absolute most, my little star. I love you ♡"

"I'll love you even if you kill me, dear. You will always be my little angel ♡"

[mixolya]

hello ! can i request a fake dating trope with rin? i'm loving fake dating tropes these days and thinking about it with rin is just 🤭 THANK U

ᓚᘏᗢ — rin itoshi: just for the weekend !

synopsis: in which your best friend pretends to be your boyfriend to save you from your family’s matchmaking schemes.

rin itoshi x reader ⭑ fluff / childhood best friends to lovers / mutual pining / fake dating / only one bed + likes & reblogs are appreciated <3

notes: my first request omg !! (i actually have two of them from nensi in my inbox but i wanted to post this one first LMAOO sorry nensi)

wc: 2202

you and rin had always been inseparable - childhood best friends, always together, always at each other's side. your parents were best friends too and every family gathering was filled with warmth, laughter and the unmistakable feeling of family.

it had always been that way. summers spent running through sprinklers in the backyard. winters with mugs too big for your hands and blanket forts collapsing around your laughter. he was just rin, your constant, the one who didn't need explaining. he didn't ask why you cried when no one else noticed, and you never asked why he stayed quiet when the room felt too loud. you just understood each other.

so it was no surprise to anyone that you showed up to the family dinner together. it was tradition: rin arriving with his hands in his pockets, you trailing after him with a plate you promised your mom you'd return later. it was safe and familiar.

until it wasn't.

"y/n", your mother said, out of nowhere, her voice light and casual like she was just asking if you'd eaten yet. "when are you going to get a boyfriend?"

you almost dropped your plate.

there was a sudden hush at the table. your parents, rin’s parents, even rin himself turning to glance your way. you blinked, unsure if you’d heard her right.

"what?"

"you heard me," she teased, taking a sip of her drink. "you’re not getting any younger, sweetheart."

"she’s eighteen," rin muttered under his breath.

but the damage was done. your aunt joined in next, then your dad, and soon it became a full interrogation.

"you’re always with rin," your dad mused, sipping his beer.

"maybe too much," his mom added with a smile.

"are you hiding something from us, y/n?" your mom teased. "someone special, maybe?"

you felt the panic rise in your throat. you looked at rin, silently begging him to say something, to pull the spotlight off you, to change the subject - anything. but he just stared back, eyes wide, looking just as caught as you felt.

and then your sibling said it. "wait… are you two dating?"

you didn’t have time to respond. because rin nodded. just a small, quiet nod. like it was nothing. like it was true.

your breath caught. "what.." you started, but your voice was too thin, too late.

"i knew it," your mom gasped, delighted.

you were spiraling. your face was burning. rin, meanwhile, had the nerve to just sit there, composed, cool, like this hadn’t just shattered the careful order of your entire life.

you turned to him, eyes wide. he shrugged, like what else was i supposed to do?

you mouthed his name like a curse, barely managing to keep your expression neutral in front of the crowd still celebrating your non-existent love story. under the table, you kicked his leg, not hard, but enough to make your point. he didn’t even flinch. typical.

and just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse.

"oh! this is perfect timing," rin's mother chirped, clapping her hands like she just witnessed the engagement of the century. "the hotel rooms for sae’s wedding were finalized this morning. i’ll let them know you two will be sharing one."

"i- what?" you sputtered.

"well, you’re dating," she said, as if you were the crazy one for questioning it. "it’s more convenient, and besides, it saves space. everyone’s going to be there. it’ll be fun!"

"yeah, fun," you echoed, dead inside.

rin, of course, said nothing. he just sat there, sipping from his water like this was an afternoon stroll in the park and not the start of a complete emotional collapse.

when the gathering finally ended and you were walking out to his car, you grabbed his arm before he could slide into the driver’s seat.

"what the hell was that?"

he looked down at you, lazy-eyed, unbothered. "damage control," he said simply.

"you nodded. you could’ve said something. anything else."

"you looked at me like you wanted me to save you," he replied. "so i did."

"by turning us into a couple?"

"by turning us into a believable lie."

you gawked. "what part of that was believable?"

he unlocked the car, slid inside, and leaned his elbow on the steering wheel. "the part where you didn’t deny it."

you paused, mouth half open, because- well. okay. maybe you had frozen. and okay, maybe you hadn’t helped the situation either.

but that was beside the point.

"we're cooked! we’re not even good at lying," you said suddenly.

"i’m decent."

"oh, sure," you scoffed, whirling around in your seat. "you lie with your face. you’re built for emotional manipulation."

"thanks?" he blinked, turning onto the main road.

"that wasn’t a compliment."

another hum.

a long silence stretched between you, filled only by the low hum of tires on pavement and the slow thudding of your heart trying to process the madness you’d just agreed to.

"you’re taking this really well," you said, side-eyeing him.

"you’re taking this really dramatically."

"this is not dramatic. this is objectively terrifying. do you know how serious wedding atmospheres are? the dresses. the speeches. the mothers crying."

"you crying."

"i’m not going to cry." you narrowed your eyes. he raised an eyebrow.

you paused. "...probably."

he didn’t answer, but the corner of his mouth twitched again, and that only made you sink deeper into your seat, arms crossed like a petulant child.

you had no idea how you were going to pull this off. pretending to love rin itoshi like he was your boyfriend, when you’d spent your whole life pretending you didn’t.

⭑

the hotel was stupidly pretty. all ivory pillars and glowing chandeliers, the kind of place you’d imagine someone proposing under, the kind of place that smelled like roses and money and high expectations.

you hated it already.

your suitcase thudded onto the polished floor as you stood in the lobby beside rin, both of you silent as your parents chatted at the front desk, confirming the rooms. your name was on the list. his name was on the list. and next to both?

room 143. one room.

you shot rin a look. he didn’t even flinch. didn’t even blink. just stood there like the most normal thing in the world was fake-dating his best friend and sharing a hotel room for the weekend.

you, on the other hand, were pretty sure you were going to faint.

"we’ll head up first," your mom said sweetly, handing you the room key like this was a romantic getaway. "your father and i want to check on the reception hall."

rin nodded. "we’ll get settled."

we.

you glared at him. but you followed anyway.

the elevator ride was quiet. too quiet. you stood in opposite corners like awkward middle schoolers at a dance, pretending not to look at each other, pretending not to feel the weight of the moment, or the fact that it was getting harder to breathe with every passing floor.

ding.

the room was big and luxurious and way too suitable for a couple. one massive bed sat in the center, white comforter perfectly fluffed like it had never seen sin. the window opened onto a garden below, fairy lights already flickering in anticipation of the wedding.

and still ...only one bed.

you stood in the doorway, suitcase still in hand. "we could ask for another room."

"too suspicious," rin replied, already kicking off his shoes. "they’d start asking questions."

"they already asked questions," you hissed.

he sat on the edge of the bed, palms pressed into the mattress. "then we’re answering them."

you stared at him. and he just stared back, eyes half-lidded, calm as ever.

and for a second, just a second, you wondered what it would be like if this were real. if the hand he propped behind him was there to tug you closer. if the bed really belonged to you and him, not just two people stuck in a lie spun out of awkward nods and mothers with dreams of romance.

you blinked the thought away like it was smoke. this was rin. the same rin who used to put leaves in your hair and blame the wind. the same rin who’d walked you home from school even when you lived in opposite directions. the same rin who never told you what he was thinking, but somehow always knew what you were feeling.

best friends!

not someone you were supposed to share a bed with. not lovers.

"i’ll take the couch," you said, reaching for the armchair in the corner even though it wasn’t even long enough to fit your legs.

"there is no couch," he pointed out.

"then the floor."

"you’ll freeze."

"then i’ll die dramatically, and you can tell our parents you tried your best."

he sighed, leaned back on the bed with all the ease of someone who wasn’t currently spiraling. "we’re not ten," he said, voice low. "you can handle one bed."

you stared at him like he’d just suggested sharing a toothbrush. "it’s not about handling it."

he raised a brow. "then what is it?"

you opened your mouth. then shut it. because what was it? that your heart was acting weird? that his voice had dipped into something softer than usual? that the idea of falling asleep next to him made your brain short-circuit and your hands a little clumsy?

"it’s just weird," you mumbled finally, eyes flicking toward the window.

he was quiet for a beat. then, "only if you make it weird."

you turned to glare at him, expecting some kind of smugness, but his expression was serious. and maybe a little tired, the way he always looked when the day had gone too long and he didn’t have the energy to pretend he didn’t care.

"fine," you muttered, dragging your suitcase to the other side of the bed. "but no cuddling. no touching. and no talking in your sleep."

"you talk in your sleep," he said.

"do not."

"you said ‘don’t take the duck!! noooooo!! it’s mine’ once."

you froze. "you remembered that?"

he shrugged. "it was a weird night."

you blinked at him. and then, without meaning to, you laughed. just a little. the sound slipped out of you like light through a crack, and for a second something eased.

he looked at you then. properly. like he hadn’t been avoiding it all night. and your heart, the traitor it was, skipped.

rin looked away first. pulled the covers back, climbed in, and turned to face the window. "turn off the lights when you’re done panicking," he said.

"i’m not panicking."

"okay."

"i’m not."

he didn’t answer.

you turned off the light. slid into bed. the silence between you was thick with everything you weren’t saying. the room was too warm. the space between you too small.

and still, you didn’t move away. and neither did he.

⭑

the wedding was unbearable.

not because sae looked good in full black (he did), or because the ceremony was stupidly picturesque with doves and flower arches and a string quartet playing something that sounded like heartbreak in disguise.

it was unbearable because you were standing next to rin. and pretending was getting harder.

"stop looking at me like that," you whispered, clutching your glass of sparkling cider, eyes fixed somewhere between the bride’s veil and the horizon.

"like what?" he said, not looking away.

"like you’re in love with me or something."

"i’m acting."

"you’re too good at it."

he hummed, sipping his drink. "maybe i’ve had practice."

you turned to him then, startled, but he wasn’t looking at you anymore. his gaze was somewhere else, lost in the lights or maybe in thought. he always did that. dropped things like they didn’t matter, like they didn’t echo.

you opened your mouth to say something, but were interrupted by the sudden flash of a camera.

"awww!" came the voice of someone’s cousin, you couldn’t remember whose.

"you two are adorable," she cooed, leaning in. "can i get another? rin, put your arm around her waist!"

you blinked. "you don’t have to-"

but his arm was already around your waist. casual. practiced. like muscle memory. like he’d done it a hundred times before.

you didn’t breathe as she counted down.

"three, two, one-"

click.

you were doomed. the photo would be cute. you knew it. you could feel it in your bones.

"thanks!" she said, already skipping off.

rin didn’t move. neither did you. and his arm stayed where it was, heavy and warm and dangerous.

you turned to him slowly, voice low. "you can let go now."

"can i?" he asked, and when your eyes met his, something in your stomach flipped.

"rin."

"what?" he murmured, and the way he was looking at you, soft, and a little wrecked, it made your pulse stutter. "we’re supposed to be pretending, right?"

you nodded. but your hands were shaking.

"then why do you look like you want this to be real?"

your breath caught.

"i-"

"because," he said, stepping closer, voice almost a whisper, "you’re not that good of an actor either."

and the worst part? he was right. you never had been. not with him.

© mixolya 2025. do not copy, remake or edit any of my works.

[pellucid-constellations]

Hello, absolutely love your writing - Drabble

Something based on time traveler’s husband, but the reader is the time traveler and she can end up in bad places or beautiful places (you choose), Azriel all worried maybe, fluff and angst?

Sounds kinda long for a drabble, i don’t know haha 🤍

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Word count: 1k

Warnings: Angst, references to trauma

a/n: Hi! :) I made this sooooo angsty lol oopsie

Masterlist♡

____________________________________________

Never in Azriel’s life did he think it would come to this. 

He held you against his chest as sobs wracked your body, your fingers gripping his leathers with so much force he was surprised the material didn’t rip.

It had been a long one this time. 

Three weeks ago, you were sitting with him on a bench by the Sidra, a small bag of feed in your lap as you spread it out for the animals along the water. He had looked away, only for a moment, but when he turned back the feed was emptying on the ground and your body was gone—lost to a time and place he would not know of until you returned. 

Only, you did not return as you usually did. 

Most of the time, you were gone for a few hours, days at most. Azriel would spend the entire unspecified allotment with a pit in his chest and an inability to swallow, too inundated by preemptive grief and fear that eating and drinking and breathing felt impossible. But slowly, after being mated for some years, the time became more expected, more manageable. You would return exhausted but safe, and Azriel would give you a day before expecting a story. 

But this time, this time, you appeared before him as you always did—your home base, you had called him—and you collapsed into a heap of tears and gasped sobs.

Azriel had tried to parse out what was wrong. He had started with words—simple, easy-to-understand questions, but when it became clear that you weren’t even aware that he was speaking, he moved to touch. He pressed his hands along your back and hair, trailed his lips across your cheeks and dried the dampness there with his fingers. He held you, gods did he hold you, because you were in front of him and alive and every day felt as if that truth would be ripped from him. 

But you still cried. 

You cried to the point that Azriel was sure your head ached. 

“What about Rhysand?” Azirel stressed, eventually resorting to anything else that could help you. “Cassian? Mor? Who would help, angel?” 

Your cries mellowed some, but they were still awful, painful hiccuping breaths that tore a hole in Azriel’s heart. He collected your face in his hands and held you there, a panic in his gaze as he stared at your swollen eyes—at the redness that he had missed when you first fell into his arms. It looked inflicted and unnatural on your face. 

“Are you hurt?” he asked. “Where did you go, my love? Tell me.” 

You turned in his grip, eyes brushing over his fingers as they rubbed soothing lines into your face, and then you cried harder. 

It was all Azriel could do to hold you against him. 

When another sound started to leave your lips, Azriel strained his ears to catch it. Over and over. A repetitive loop that he could not make sense of. He leaned you away from his chest and the words became clear.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Azriel. I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” 

“My darling, what?” he begged, shaking his head along with his words. “My love, darling, please. What could you possibly be sorry for? Where did you go?”

You took in a harrowing, shaking breath. “It took me there. To that time.” 

It, you always called it, because you never got to choose what point in time you went to. Something else dragged you along at its whim, and that was why the act always filled Azriel with so much dread. He had feared this—whatever you had seen to render you so inconsolable. 

“To where?” he all but whispered, afraid that you would lose yourself again. 

“Your hands, Azriel. For weeks I watched—” Azriel stared back in horror as you clutched at the material of your shirt as if it burned. “I watched and I—I couldn’t do anything. You were so small and I screamed and fought but there was nothing I could do.” 

Something in Azriel fractured that he never thought would heal. 

Before him, his mate grieved a past he hoped would never fully be revealed. You lived through it and were made to watch, whatever power that sent you away cruel and vicious and unrighteous. A lick of anger flamed through him, but something stopped him from feeling it fully. 

“No,” you breathed out, staring down at your arms. “No, Azriel, I can’t go. I can’t—not right now.” 

Your fingers and hands and arms slowly morphed into a hazy glare, and Azriel stared down at them with as much desperation as you did. He reached for you, but his touch went through your limbs and he had to catch himself on the floor beside you. 

There was nothing he could do—absolutely nothing. He and Rhysand had enlisted the help of the Day Court not too long ago, and the entire curse-breaking legion hadn’t found a way to keep you from this fate. 

So, Azriel knew what came next.

He knew that this broken rendition of his mate was fading and he didn’t have the time to pick up the pieces. 

His breath came out in fast puffs as he gathered you into his arms and spoke low by your ear. “It’s going to be okay. I’m going to be right here when you get back. I’ll wait right here and you’ll be back so soon, okay?” 

You nodded against his shoulder, but Azriel felt the tension in your body as you went to speak. “Okay, yes. You’ll be here.” 

“I’ll be right here, my love. I’m safe here. You’re safe and you’ll come home. I love you. So much. 

“I love you—” 

Azriel’s arms dropped.

You were gone.

[leaawrites]

Please Please Please (OB3)

Ollie Bearman x fem!reader

Summary: The internet can be a cruel place, especially when no one knows your boyfriend is taken, and rumors seem to be loved by the f1 community.

Warnings: allegations of cheating, cursing, crying, alcohol,

Wordcount: 1.5k

Masterlist, Short n'Sweet Series

“Holy shit.”

Y/n looked from the dance floor to her friend, who was sitting opposite of the table they were all gathered around in a club way too fancy for a simple night out. She was just filming a video of her other friend, Kasey, dancing with her boyfriend; liking to capture any moment of life possibly.

“What?” Y/n asked, stop recording in case something terrible has happened. You never knew who would see those videos one day.

She watched Lily, the one who spoke first, look up at her, her eyes filled with guilt. A guilt she could see was growing into pity by the second. Y/n furrowed her eyebrows together, looking at the other two around her to find answer in them, but she didn’t. It was all just a single feeling. Pity.

“What happened?” She asked again, fear and panic creeping up her spine.

Lily turned her phone around, showing her the screen in front of her. There was a photo of someone who looked like her boyfriend, dancing with another girl. Tears threatened to leave her eyes, the make up on her face scolding her for crying over something so stupid.

She didn’t even know if it was him

It could just be a friend of his he hadn’t introduced her to yet. (she couldn’t really blame him, he knew her friends barely too. They were only dating for about 3 months now and with his job as a future F1 driver, the media went crazy over him at the moment.)

He promised her, he would always be there for her.

Kasey stumbled over to the table, clutching her boyfriends hand and giggling. The alcohol in her blood rushing her heartbeat to a new high. She bent down, leaving a kiss on Y/n’s cheek, who was still sitting as if she was paralyzed.

Sinking down on the chair next top her, she said, “I saw you filming. Thank you for being the best friend anyone could wish for. Ollie’s really lucky to have you.” Her voice still boomed over the others, but the music was a bit quieter than on the dance floor. They all heard her, loud and clear.

Y/n started picking at her nails at the mention of his name, the phone still in her hands. Looking down on it, she felt a tear slip past her eye and down on the screen. His profile facing her, not looking at her. He was looking at her. The girl he was so close with. It couldn’t be him. It couldn’t. He would never do something like this, right? He would never hurt her like this. This wasn’t him. It couldn’t be.

“What’s wrong, love?” Kasey asked, sensing the strange behavior of her friend. Y/n’s body collapsed into her arms, tears streaming down her face. She put the phone on the table, clear for everyone to see.

Please, please, please, don’t let it be him.

“That motherfucker,” Kasey cursed him, watching the screen, sobering up rather quickly now that the anger flooded her veins instead. “Who does he think he is? A red bull driver? No, he’s with Haas.”

Lily took her phone back, dialing his number, ready to call in case Y/n wanted to. Kasey rubbed the girl’s arm in comfort, looking at her boyfriend to tell him to get the car ready outside the club. She wanted to go home, so much was clear.

“It’s probably just his British nicety shining through,” Lily tried to make him seem innocent. She knew how shitty it was, but she also knew that the internet lied about most things. Y/n didn’t know the truth, she shouldn’t be too quick to assume anything.

The group was hesitant about Ollie from the beginning, wanting to protect Y/n from future heartbreak or problems like these. The internet and how people felt bigger through it. Putting their opinion higher than anyone else’s, because there no one truly knew them. They knew she would get hate for dating him, they knew he had the ability to make her feel like the most worthless person to ever exist. But she loved him and so they watched the tale unfold with suspicion.

“You wanna go home?” Kasey cooed, making the girl nod and wipe her eyes.

With her head low, she walked as quick as she could, avoiding the crowd like she was a fallen soldier. Holding back the evidence of failing in fear of seeming weak.

Ollie made sure they were staying between them, not showing her off to the public and seemingly being single to the fans, just in case they would ruin what they had. As it seems, he could do it all by himself.

" I need to talk to him,” she mumbled as the stumbled out of the club, holding on to Lily’s hand in fear of tripping in her state. The girl only handed her her phone, the number already ready.

Excusing herself to a more secluded place, Y/n walked over to the other side of the small parking lot beneath a street light so that they could still see her. Kasey explained to her boyfriend what she was doing.

Y/n took a deep breath before exhaling and waiting for a second until her voice seemed stable enough to talk to him. It rang three times before he finally picked up. The music in the background fading as he answered and walked further away to hear her more clearly.

“Lily?” he asked.

Right, she thought, it wasn’t her phone.

“Is everything alright? Is Y/n okay?” he continued asking, sounding slightly panicked.

“I’m fine,” the girl answered.

“Y/n?” Ollie asked, surprised to hear his girlfriend’s voice on the other side of the line. “What is going on? Do you need my help? Did your phone die again?”

“No, uhm, I actually wanted to talk to you about something,” she said, her voice wavering and eventually breaking.

“Hold up, let me get out of here so I can listen to you properly.” Y/n waited, legs trembling, while the music was completely gone after a door closed on Ollie’s side. “What is it? Did you cry? You sound like it. Did you hurt yourself or anything?”

“If you don’t want me, you should say it before I fall even more for you, you know?” She said, tears falling again.

“What?” Ollie was shocked. She imagined his eyebrows creasing together, his eyes filling with panic, his heartbeat picking up. She wanted him to hurt when she did too. It were his own actions in the end after all. “I don’t understand what you mean? Not wanting you? How could you even say something like that? Of course I want you.”

“Do you also want her?” It was now or never, and if she had to get the truth out of him, she might as well make it quick.

“What? Who?” he asked again. Confused. Trying to wrap his head around where she got the feeling from that they weren’t serious.

“The girl in the photos from tonight?” she continued talking. “I saw them, OK? You don’t have to lie anymore. Please, Ollie, please tell me the truth. Please.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said honestly.

“Lily showed me photos of you in the club tonight with a girl. You seemed cozy. Close.” She bit her lip from crying even more. Now that the words left her mouth, they felt more real too. More threatening.

“What did she look like? What did I look like?” He had to make sure she trusted him and that was by showing her that whatever she saw, wasn’t real.

“You looked normal?” she said, confused as to what he wanted the answers for. “White shirt, brown hair. I don’t know, Ollie, I don’t know what she looked like, I couldn’t look at her.” She started sobbing again, hand over her mouth to stifle the pathetic sounds coming from her. “I just couldn’t have it be real. I couldn’t.”

“It’s not,” he said, assuring her. His heart broke at the mere thought of hurting her. Hiding her was his way of protecting her, but maybe it wasn’t the best way to do it. Maybe that only made it worse. “What you saw, it was not real. I know what you’re talking about, I know about the pictures. Arthur showed them to me a few seconds before you called. I wanted to call you, I really did. You were just the first one to do so.”

“It wasn’t you?” she asked to make sure. A burden falling from her heart at the relief of not losing him like this.

“It’s not me,” he said. After a moment of silence he added, “I’ll pick you up, okay? We’ll get home and talk about everything, alright?”

“Yes.” she nodded even though he couldn’t see her. Smiling at the knowing of the truth. “I love you, Ollie.”

“I love you too.”

[ssentimentals]

second chances {jeon wonwoo}

pairing: jeon wonwoo x fem!reader

prompt: time loop (going back in time to fix mistakes)

warnings: angst with a happy ending

wonwoo thinks you never looked more beautiful than right now, standing next to the altar in a wonderful wedding dress. it looks stunning on you, you look stunning and he carefully puts down his glass of whiskey out of fear that he might break it with his grip. your smile is radiant and there are a lot of unthinkable things he's ready to do to have it directed at him. but no, your radiant smile, your sweet voice, your gentle touches - they are for another man, who's standing next to you in a nice suit, face beaming with pride. wonwoo knows he would've been beaming with pride too if he were to marry you.

mingyu taps his shoulder empathetically. 'you good?'

wonwoo snorts loudly, not bothering to dignify this stupid question with an answer. no, he's not good. he's attending wedding of his best friend, who he always loved more than his own life. he's standing next to all other guests instead of standing next to you, all because of his own stupidity and fears. this is what breaks wonwoo the most - the thought that he could've had this. the knowledge, this deeply rooted confidence, that he really could've had this if only-

'slow down, wonwoo'. mingyu tries to snatch another glass of whiskey out of his hands. 'you'll be drunk in no time.'

'sounds good.' wonwoo mutters, swatting mingyu's hand away from his drink. 'i won't survive this without getting drunk.'

mingyu's eyes soften. 'hyung.. don't do it. she just-' mingyu turns to look at you and then back at wonwoo. 'right person, wrong time. you know? or- i don't know, hyung, what's done is done. let it go.'

wonwoo loves mingyu, but he wants to kill him right now for saying all this stupid shit. let you go? wonwoo doesn't know how to do that. he fears he won't be able to let you go even if he tried. how does one let go of your person? of everything you ever dreamt of? wonwoo doesn't know how, so he downs one more glass and signals waiter to bring him another one. he needs to get obnoxiously drunk to be able to look at you in that dress, knowing full well that you're not marrying him. and he follows this plan dutifully, getting so drunk that standing is not an option. for whatever weird reason his head doesn't hurt though; he just feels like something died in his mouth. his heart stopped beating at the same time you said 'yes' in front of all other guests, in front of god and - wonwoo is not okay. he wish he could just cry it out, but he can't. his fingers tremble when he latches for huge bottle of - scotch? vodka? whiskey? - something and pours it into his glass. he's pretty much alone here, everyone else is on the dance floor, enjoying the night that killed wonwoo. or maybe this night didn't kill him? maybe all these others nights, when he didn't make a first step towards you, when he was too afraid to ruin your friendship - maybe all these nights killed him? you two never really got to the point of being single at the same time, can he blame everything on this? can he blame you too, maybe? you surely knew what he was feeling. you surely felt the same, wonwoo knows, he motherfucking knows. but what's the point of it anyways? you just married another man, a man wonwoo will never be and now you'll never be his too. he drinks whatever is in his glass and closes his eyes. if only he could had a second chance. if only.

===

wonwoo wakes up with a gasp. everything about him feels wrong, his head is about to be split in two and his lungs feel like they are about to collapse. breathing in and out in large gulps, wonwoo sits up, clutching at his chest in panic. it takes him full ten minutes to calm down, for his whole body to stop feeling like he's about go in a kill mode. blinking, he looks around and reality kind of doesn't make sense. he is in his room, surely. but he is in his room from five years ago. wonwoo remembers this stolen from minghao's room chair, remembers those posters on the walls and surely remembers this dying lemon tree on the corner of his desk. he pinches himself hard and for a good measure runs to the bathroom to splash some water on his face. nothing changes. when minghao barges into his room, looking like himself but five years younger, wonwoo thinks he's going crazy. minghao, however, looks at him like he's the one who's crazy: 'dude, we're late. why you're still not dressed?'

wonwoo looks down at his old pjs - fucking hell, the ones he wore throughout his whole university - and almost screams. 'what?'

'it's our last year, woo, we talked how we can't fuck this up,' minghao shakes his head and starts furisouly typing on his phone. 'two minutes to get dressed, you know dr.hermos will be on our ass for being late!'

wonwoo dresses automatically, trying to make sense of whatever is happening. it takes him one lecture to figure out in what year and semester he is, two talks with mingyu and minghao to understand general situation and everything is too real for it to feel like a huge prank. wonwoo, somehow, moved five years back. no one else has memories of the future, no one else knows what's going to happen in five years and most importantly-

'woo?' you call his name, waving. 'come to lunch!'

you are here. of course you are, you are his best friend, you two are on the same course, you- wonwoo breathes out. you are single. he knows this for sure, because he remembers this one short time in the span of all these years, when you two were single at the same time. just for one week, but still. wonwoo holds his breath. he doesn't know how he's here, but if this is it, if this is his chance, if universe somehow decided to bless him... wonwoo swallows. he remembers vividly night before - him drunk out of his mind on your wedding. he remembers it. he never wants to experience it again.

'you alright?' you step closer to him, frowning. 'you look kinda out of it.'

wonwoo shakes his head. how can he tell you that he can't believe that you're standing right here in front of him? not married, not taken by a man who's not him? 'didn't sleep well,' he mutters, trying to smile.

'why?' you step closer, worry etched in your features as your hand reaches out to touch his elbow. 'migraines again?'

the thing about going back five years while keeping your memories of all these five years is how wonwoo can't help but feel incredibly stupid. how could he not propose to you within all these years? how could he be so stupid? how could he ever think that someone else will ever make him feel the way you do? 'nothing to worry about,' he assures you, gentle and soft as he always is with you. 'let's go eat.'

it's weird to come back to the last year of university. wonwoo knows it all, sure, but it also feels foreign. being student felt like a distant memory to him and now he's back to discussing lectures and professors, he's back to - wonwoo freezes. he's back to walking you to your dorm, back to eating dinners with you, back to always spending his time with you. his heart speeds up at this realization. wonwoo has no idea how much time he has: this day, this week or even just few hours, but he has to make most of them. he grabs your wrist right when you enter cafeteria, stopping you shortly: 'can we go outside?' he asks hurriedly. 'i need- can we just go outside?'

you look confused but nod, following him outside. wonwoo doesn't hear a thing apart from his own heart beating loudly. what if this is a weird dream? what if he got so drunk that he literally died and this is some kind of limbo in which he stuck before going to heaven/hell? wonwoo shakes his head, breathing out. he can't think about that now. whatever the hell it is - a dream, hallucination, a divine intervention - wonwoo is not going to waste it. if this is his last chance - fuck, he will risk to ruin your friendship. he will take you never speaking to him again, he will risk it all to never again be on your wedding as a guest.

'you wanted to talk about something important?' you ask after a lapse of silence, turning to him.

your shoulder brushes his arm. wonwoo presses closer, tongue-tied. why is it so hard to form sentences? 'yeah,' he finally croaks. he realizes that he's leading you towards the park where you both met for the first time. 'i...need to say something. important. yes.'

'you're kinda freaking me out, not gonna lie,' you say jokingly with a hint of nerves. 'but take your time. tell me when you're ready.'

how can wonwoo not love you? how can he not when you're this considerate, this sweet, this caring? wonwoo is helpless. he chuckles and shakes his head. your sincerity disarms him and makes it easier to be honest too: 'i'm such an idiot.'

you frown, looking at him questioningly. 'what? no. you're not, woo.'

'i am. i have been in love with you for the last four years and never said a thing. doesn't make me an idiot?' he stops, making you pause too. your eyes are as big as saucers, but you're not running away so it's a good sign. 'i feel like we're always in some relationship with other people and i- it doesn't feel right. i never said anything cause we're friends.'

wonwoo wants to add that he knows where it got him, knows how the future goes in the case when he doesn't say a thing to you. wonders if he should tell you that, but then thinks better of it. you look shocked, but there's hope glimmering in your eyes and wonwoo presses on: 'what if we tried? you and i. just one chance. that's all i'm asking for - one chance.'

you lick your lips. 'you think it'll be good? us, i mean.'

'i think- no, i know that i will regret it my whole life if i don't try.'

and this it, isn't it? that's the main point - wonwoo knows how he felt on your wedding day. nothing can be worse than that, surely. you bite your lip and wonwoo takes your hands in his, giving them light squeeze. 'just one chance,' he repeats, slowly. 'we can be so good together.'

when your lips slowly transform into a smile, wonwoo feels like he can breathe again. 'one chance,' you repeat, shyly looking up at him. 'let's make most of it.'

wonwoo wants to scream. jump up and down like a kid. instead he grabs you by the waist and spins you around. your laughter rings in his ears like the best melody and when he hugs you and you hug him back, he silently prays for this to not end. prays for anyone to not take this away from him. you giggle and he presses a kiss on top of your head, sighing. he will hold on to this one chance and he will never, ever, let you go.

a/n: time loops are my favs! hopefully you liked it, let me know! <3 - nini

my other seventeen works are HERE

[ikeuverse]

criminal love | psh

pairing: killer!sunghoon x rich!fem!reader genres: angst, smut, maybe fluff wc: 4.6k+

꒰ 𝅄 warnings ꒱ : weapons, drink, drugs, swearing. mention and execution of murder, blood, fights (physical and verbal). unprotected sex (the details of the sex parts i'll add as i post the chapters), but there are more than two, for sure. lmk if i forgot anything else.

꒰ 𝅄 synopsis ꒱ : paid to kill people, sunghoon finds himself in the biggest dilemma of his life. getting paid the most money his profession has ever given him to kill a woman. but he can't do it because it goes beyond his principles, who has never laid a finger on a woman. what will he do when the twist is right in front of his eyes?

꒰ 𝅄 notes ꒱ : i had this initial idea for jay, but i don't know why i thought i'd write it for sunghoon. i've modified a few things and i'm thinking of making it a story with a few chapters. i hope you like it!

TAGLIST: i don't know if i'll do it, but…

꒰ 𝅄 masterlist | prologue | part 1 | part 2 [...] ꒱

None of this was new to Park Sunghoon. The eyes stared at him in fear, shining with a pair of panicked features as they begged for their lives. His index finger against the trigger of the gun before he asked to speak his last words and then fired. Seeing the body slowly collapse in front of you, the eyes losing life and the blood dripping through the fabric of the clothes and onto the floor. This was a very familiar scenario, even more so as a hitman.

If anyone ever asked him why he lived this life, the answer would come quickly: easy money.

Sunghoon got used to being on the streets in search of a job to maintain his almost miserable life after the death of his parents. His grandfather, an alcoholic who barely stayed at home, was the only living relative he had. And the only person who could give him a roof over his head at fifteen.

Wandering the streets in search of something solid led Sunghoon to meet all sorts of people and ways of making ends meet. He worked with a bit of everything until he found the job he had settled into today. It was through Jake, one of the first people he befriended, that he learned what it was like to kill for money. His friend's father had a scheme and paid him well enough to eat, dress, and live in his grandfather's house, which he barely saw.

Jake and his father became a family to Sunghoon, even if it was in the worst of environments, but it was the only thing he could get close to that bordered on a good feeling. The boy couldn't call it love because he'd never heard it from any of his friends, although they could say that they respected and cared for each other, but love, for Sunghoon, was too strong.

Who would say about love when, in fact, he was hired to kill? Often people from his own family and for financial reasons. So how could he believe that love existed when his job showed otherwise? Of course, everyone had family problems… Look at him! Sunghoon wasn't the greatest example of this, but come on, he would never have his grandfather or anyone else killed in his own home. It was bizarre, but unfortunately, that's what he dealt with most of the time. And that's what filled his pocket and made him change his life.

Moving into his apartment after his grandfather died, having more contact with Jake and his father about the business, and even getting on a bit more when things started to expand. This was all thanks to Sunghoon's skill and eye for instigating Jake's father to think bigger. It was risky for him to try to suggest that they think big, such as killing some CEO in debt or someone high up.

You've got to be crazy, he heard Jake mutter once, at an informal meeting they had after a successful case. Sunghoon could be crazy, but when it came down to it and money, the highest cases paid well. And that's what he asked Jake's father about until they had their first diplomat client. The amount to be paid was so high that they had never thought of having it in their bank accounts.

"We need to kill about four people to get that" Jake muttered after looking at the amount. A sigh left his father's lips before he agreed.

And so began the great social affair between Jake and Sunghoon – along with Jake's father – for bigger cases with fat sums in their money accounts.

It was dangerous, but Sunghoon lived for it. He didn't have anyone else, he didn't have anything to think about except his well-being and how he could have what he wanted more peacefully after living in poverty for years. He didn't want to go through the insecurity of not having anything to eat, or having to wander the streets looking for something to do or somewhere to stay so that he wouldn't have to be alone in a house where he didn't know who would come back. But now, in his apartment, he shared the peace of knowing that everything was his. Every little thing in there had been earned by him, even if the money wasn't in the cleanest way, but someone had to do that kind of work.

And it wasn't as if Sunghoon would kill just anyone either, he had strict criteria about this that he made very clear to Jake and his father before things got as strong as they are today. Like killing people who had only done some kind of harm to those who had asked for it. Like women who had been beaten by their husbands, or someone in particular who had physically or mentally hurt whoever was hiring the service. Or that person posed a risk to the society in question and they knew that no authority would do anything about it. So they did. And the most important thing of all was that under no circumstances would Sunghoon lay a hand on a woman.

But the universe seemed to play tricks on him that morning, arriving at the office and seeing Jake's eyes light up. It would be pointless to ask why, considering that he was one of the first to receive clients and their proposals, so someone had probably come to Jake to talk to him and give him a huge sum of money.

"Dude, I think we're rich" he threw himself into the leather chair that initially belonged to his father. But as long as the older man didn't arrive at the office, Jake took possession of it until that happened.

"What do you mean?" Sunghoon held back a laugh as he walked a little further into the office, throwing his body into the small armchair opposite the desk Jake was sitting at "A client with good money?"

"Better than that" he sighed, throwing his head back "This client wants to hire our services for two people, but the price is—"

"Jake, spit it out" Sunghoon said quickly.

"Bro, she'll pay two million" he looked directly at Sunghoon. That amount would cheer the boy up if he hadn't heard it before, or even been paid for it "For each of us, and for each of the two people we're going to kill."

Wait, that was new to Sunghoon. Two million for each of them, totaling two people to kill, so… Four million for him, and four million for Jake?

"Man, that's…"

"Insane, I know" Jake interrupted him as if he already knew what his friend was going to say. But something seemed a little off because he didn't have that much energy to say that amount. Normally Jake would have been bouncing around the room literally like a child, totally losing his hitman pose as he commented on the four million that would be playing around in his bank account for the next few weeks.

"What's wrong?" Sunghoon asked at once, noticing the change in his friend's mood as the seconds passed. Jake now looked a little uncomfortable in his father's chair and shifted his body a few times to try to find a comfortable position, opting to lean his elbows on the table and tilt his body a little.

"You know it's four million each, right?" he asked, watching Sunghoon agree "And that the percentage we give my father on each client is very small because, well, he already has a lot of money…"

"Speak up, man. You're stalling on something." Sunghoon wasn't out of patience, but he knew that Jake tended to talk too much when he was nervous. What could have happened to make him like this?

Jake nodded in agreement and continued to lean on the table, leaning towards Sunghoon, who settled into the armchair and imitated his friend's position on the other side. Leaning his elbows on the table and looking at the boy in front of him, who was now looking at his hands.

"A woman wants us to kill her brother and…" Jake slowly closed his eyes "Her niece."

Sunghoon felt a ringing in his ear and then his whole body tensed up. He couldn't explain why he had that reaction, but just mentioning that there was a woman for him to kill made everything seem completely out of place to him.

"You're kidding me, right?" Sunghoon asked.

"I really wanted to, man, I swear" he whined, watching Sunghoon's withdrawal appear little by little as he slid his arms off the table and leaned back in the armchair.

"And what did those two do to make her want to kill two people at once?"

"I don't know" Jake shrugged. "She hasn't told me yet, she's arranged a meeting and my father wants to go along. It's too high…"

"You two do it" he stood up, walking to the middle of the room before he heard Jake calling after him. Without turning around, Sunghoon closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He waited a few seconds before finally turning to his friend.

"I can't do this without you, bro. You know we've been working together forever" Jake began.

"But what are my conditions?" Sunghoon asked, and for a moment he saw a glimmer of regret in Jake's eyes. For mentioning or even thinking that his friend might do this kind of thing. Maybe the money had messed with his head a bit and he wouldn't deny it, but Jake knew Sunghoon well enough, he just wanted to try until he couldn't anymore. Even though he knew it would come to nothing because Sunghoon would never accept.

Silence was Jake's way of responding, not knowing exactly what to say because he knew Sunghoon's terms well. Everyone was aware and in agreement, so why change their minds at that moment?

"I just need your help, then" he said after some quiet time.

"I'm not putting my hands on either of you, be warned," Sunghoon said, a little angry about the whole situation until he saw Jake nod silently, implying that he had nothing more to say.

Then, as if on cue, he left the room and walked around the building in search of something to clear his mind of what had just happened. It was an unimaginable amount for him, but Sunghoon wouldn't go against his principles for it.

For the first time, he had refused something that Jake had asked of him. And he felt immensely awkward about it.

You could feel the migraine invading you little by little. The side of your head ached like never before, while your eyes stung and you tried your best to pay attention to people and their words of condolence.

It had been a week since your grandfather's death, and the only sincere tears you had seen – apart from your own – were those of your uncle. He was the closest thing to real family you had after your father's death a year ago. Having him around was comforting, especially as your family was driven by money and scandal. Everything revolved around social and financial status. Your grandfather's company was the focal point of all that arrogance in the family members.

But now, with his death and the will read, you had to assimilate that the only beneficiaries were you and your uncle, the one who was still crying over his father's death and trying to understand how it had all happened. And then there was him, a well-groomed gentleman who eschewed the stereotype of the rich old man and business owner who walked around with a glass of whisky in his hand. On the death certificate, his grandfather had died of cirrhosis, but you were surprised. Even though he wasn't a health professional, you could assume that this would be different, to say the least, since the old man had never drunk a drop of alcohol.

“This is terrible for your health” he once said. “Try never to drink more than necessary. And at parties, I promise to serve you the best natural juice.”

Those words always lingered in your mind because your grandfather was serious, in his own right, but he was very loving. You became so attached to him that you took an interest in the affairs of your grandfather’s company with a genuine gesture of helping him, which he appreciated.

Maybe that was what had made him put your name on that paper, inheriting half of the family fortune. While your uncle got the other half.

Millions and millions, or should say billions? It was so much money that you swore you would die and the amount would continue to yield in your account even though you used it almost every day. That was why you knew that some people who had always been there for your grandfather’s money were now furious because they couldn’t enjoy a single cent of it.

“We are so sorry for the loss of your father, Yvone” someone’s voice took you out of your thoughts, making your eyes dart around the people around you. A well-dressed woman with a tired expression was greeting your aunt. She didn’t have a trace of sadness on her face. That stranger seemed sadder than your aunt over the loss of her father.

“I’m sure you are too” she tried to fake a sad voice that you recognized from afar. Your stomach almost churned as she hugged the other woman.

Suddenly, your embarrassment became even greater, because your aunt's gaze was immediately on you. She seemed angry, with something bad inside her that immediately wanted to be directed at you. Your gaze soon turned away from her to try to find your uncle who was desolate.

Your steps through the environment were fast and precise, the sound of leather shoes against the devastated floor was inhibited by the sound of other people's voices and laments. You weren't running, but the things inside your body said very well that you seemed to be in a hurry.

Your eyes quickly spotted your uncle a little further away, sitting on a bench alone outside. You walked a little calmer towards him until you sat next to the man. He didn't need to look up to know that the only person with compassion in that family was you.

"I wish this nightmare would end" he said quietly, a sob breaking out of his voice when your uncle raised his head and continued to look ahead.

"I still can't believe it" you sighed. Your eyes are locked on the events in front of you. Some people were coming and going from your grandfather's mansion with small flowers in their hands or pieces of paper, like written notes of thanks. Of course, he wouldn't read them, he was dead. But it was a way of thanking everyone he knew, and the reading would be up to you and your uncle. The only ones who cared about the sentimental side of things.

"Do you think Yvone hates us now?" your uncle asked, finally looking at you. His eyes looked like they were going to pop out of their sockets and bloodshot from his eyeballs, they were so red. You swallowed a sigh and just nodded.

"For the reading of Grandpa's will? Of course" you laughed humorlessly, listening to him accompany you.

As if summoning a haunting, just saying her name out loud made your aunt's figure appear in the doorway of the mansion. She welcomed people by trying to look sad or convincing whoever was arriving. Her eyes quickly fell on you and your uncle, further away from the house and sitting on a secluded bench. She didn't show any reaction but took her cell phone out of her pocket to do something you didn't even care about. Her attention was on the man next to her.

“I can’t be happy knowing that my father left all this for me and you” he ran his hands through his hair, almost pulling it out if it weren’t for your hands stopping him. You held one of his hands and kept it in your lap.

“It’s okay uncle, I’m not happy about this either” you said. “Money won’t erase anything that’s happening to the two of us, you know that.”

Of course, he knew. You and your uncle could sometimes say that you were born into the wrong family because you were the only ones who didn’t count on money. Even though you knew that your whole life revolved around it. Even though every interaction you had since the day you were born was driven by money. It wasn’t your fault for being born into a family like that, but you could deal with it and think about how you spent what you had.

“How about you come in and get a drink? I bet you’re thirsty” your uncle said quietly, making you look at him after some time of contemplation while still watching people entering and leaving the mansion.

“I think I’ll go in a little while, I want to stay here a little longer” you smiled sadly at the man as he stood up and just waved in your direction. Just as you knew when he wanted some time alone, your uncle was also able to understand when you needed it.

Leaving him and going back into the mansion, you saw him disappear among the little people who had now gone inside the house. You remained there, looking around that immense land that your grandfather owned. One of them, to be more exact. You remember playing with your uncle and your father to guess which was the largest land your grandfather had in his name. Of course, the two older men always let you win, even though it was a rather unfunny game. But it was one of the few moments when the three of you were together, aware of the money you had and trying to make good use of it.

Your body slowly shrank with a small gust of wind, indicating that the weather was changing from sunny to something colder and almost rainy. You looked up at the sky, noticing the clouds beginning to darken. Rain was the last thing you wanted, but maybe you needed it. To wash away all that heaviness you've felt since your grandfather died. Rain could help wash away the dirt that remained beneath your feet and wash away all the bad feelings and burdens you would face in the days to come.

The decision to go back inside wasn't so difficult as your body shrank a little more, curses spilling from your lips as you missed a coat or a blanket that could cover your arms. Just a tank top and silk pants weren't a suitable outfit for the moment, but it was the first thing you could think of to wear when your aunt summoned the whole family to pay homage to your grandfather at his mansion.

You got up from the bench and stretched your whole body, trying to shake off some of the day's exhaustion and thinking about how you wanted to go back to your apartment and take a shower. Get all those sticky, fake hugs off your body. Those words buzzing around in your head lamenting what had happened. No one there really cared, so you at least paid attention to the fake tears in front of you.

You walked in slow steps to the front door, trying to avoid walking in with anyone who might greet you. You didn't want to talk to anyone anymore, just to be there long enough to leave. But your steps were quickly stopped.

Feeling a hand around your waist, you looked up to find your aunt standing in the doorway just as something covered your mouth. It all happened too quickly. Your vision began to blur as you struggled against a body that seemed much bigger than yours. Your hands were useless at grabbing any kind of skin to scratch because the arms holding you were covered.

You don't remember much, but the only thing that didn't leave your mind before passing out was the cynical smile of the woman right in front of you.

“What did she ask for?” Sunghoon was exasperated, pacing back and forth as he looked at your unconscious body on the other side of the room.

“To torture her and get a video of her saying she wants to pass everything on to her aunt…” Jake began.

“First of all, I never agreed to this” he interrupted his friend, controlling himself as much as possible so as not to scream and wake you up. They had just taken off the masks and all the equipment when they laid you down on the small mattress with almost no foam.

“My dad just asked you to help me bring her in, I know.” Jake sighed. “I don’t want to do this either, but—”

“Dude, listen” Sunghoon looked at him. “We can deny this and say fuck you to those four million. Seriously, there’s no way we can continue.”

The desperation in his voice was completely real, Jake could feel it. He was also desperate about all of this, although it wasn’t something new for either of them. But the cruelty in how his aunt was making requests of them without even knowing them or having finished the job. How demanding she was and how she wanted everything to be done as quickly as possible. Sunghoon never had bad feelings about his work, he just went there and killed whoever was necessary. But as soon as he looked at his aunt through the gap in the mask and noticed her smile, the way she behaved in front of the people who were entering the house, without even noticing that he and Jake were carrying her to a black car with no license plate.

He didn't know what he was doing, he didn't know why he had accepted all of that. Sunghoon was breaking one of his biggest rules and all because of money? Four million wouldn't pay for his principles even if his job was one of the worst possible. He already had too much blood on his hands, but that didn't matter when you had a woman unconscious and almost ready to be killed by Jake.

Arguing with Mr. Sim was out of the question, he had already tried since he received the offer and saw the man's eyes light up at the amount. Even though he knew that Sunghoon's biggest criteria were at stake.

"If you're not going to kill her, at least help Jake bring her here" was the only thing he said after finishing the little discussion he had started. He couldn't win this one, he couldn't deny something that he had at least managed to keep going.

Now here he was, pacing back and forth and going over what your aunt wanted Jake to do to you.

For one lousy moment, Sunghoon felt a twinge of regret and compassion for you. Your calm countenance while you were unconscious and the way you seemed harmless, something clicked in his mind telling him that you weren't as bad as the woman said you were. Maybe she'd done the worst kind of propaganda just to make you look bad enough for them to kill you.

"Sunghoon, hey" Jake called out quickly, taking off his black glove and throwing it on the table "What are we going to do?"

"I already told you," Sunghoon sighed once again, stopping walking and feeling his throat irritated because he had already shouted at Jake the whole way "Let's give up that four million, it's not worth it."

"Is that all I'm worth?"

Sunghoon looked in Jake's direction and they both froze. Eyes wide, breathing almost labored as they searched for something to cover their faces. But it was too late. As soon as Sunghoon crossed the room and focused on you, there you were. You were sitting with your back against the wall, your hands tied by the ribbons perched perfectly on your lap. Your hair was completely messed up, but he could still see every detail of your face. How, even so, you looked very beautiful.

"Shit" Jake cursed softly, turning away while Sunghoon stood there staring at him. He felt his friend pull him a few times so that you wouldn't stare so hard at his face that you wouldn't recognize him if something went wrong. But Sunghoon simply couldn't move.

"It's okay, I've seen you. I've been awake for a few minutes" your voice was hoarse, perhaps from lack of use, and because you tried to scream before Sunghoon put the cloth over your mouth to force you to faint.

Jake hesitated to turn around but did so when he saw that his friend wasn't moving at all.

"If you say anything—" Sunghoon made Jake look like he was speaking rudely when he landed a weak punch on his arm. He didn't know why he was defending you like that, not least because that was Jake's role, to be rude at first and gradually hurt whoever was in front of them.

Knowing this, Sunghoon already sensed that he would start being rude until Jake's hands were on you to hurt you. And he didn't want that.

"What did you hear?" Sunghoon addressed you for the first time. His eyes still glazed over at your completely weak and staggering figure in front of him.

He noticed that your eyes were bright, maybe watery, and if you blinked a little more, tears would fall like waterfalls. He was already weak just knowing that he had done this to you, seeing you cry would do what to him? Sunghoon didn't want to know. That case was getting too emotional.

"Just the four million part" you moaned a little in pain as you moved and felt your back crack. That mattress was terrible and you assumed you'd been on it for a long time, but it wasn't important. Your mind was elsewhere and on how you were here, so before you could even think of anything, you asked "It was her, wasn't it?"

"Her who?" Sunghoon and Jake asked at the same time.

For a long minute, you were quiet, just thinking about the little interactions you had with the woman who was supposed to have done this to you. Your heart ached, that wasn't possible. You never thought she could do that.

"My aunt told you two to kill me," you tried to keep your voice steady, "did I?"

It was the turn of the two boys to be silent right in front of you. Jake moistened his lips and tried to find the words to answer you, pondering whether or not to be rude to you. Not least because he didn't want to be punched again by Sunghoon. He swallowed dryly and looked away a few times, wondering whether or not to tell the truth.

"I triple it."

"What?" Jake raised his voice, echoing throughout the room as he looked in your direction and then at Sunghoon.

"I say I'll triple that amount" you moved again, trying to find a more comfortable position on that shitty mattress that was making all your muscles ache "If you don't kill me."

Jake laughed. Nervously, perhaps, but he tried to look a little more cool as he walked towards you and bent down right in front of you. Knees bent enough to bring him close to your face. If you were in the best condition, you could lift your leg and kick him in the knee, only to stagger and fall backward. But you just wanted answers.

"Do you think we're open to negotiations, princess?" he shifted his gaze between your eyes and your mouth but remained in your gaze, which was still sparkling. Jake didn't want to seem arrogant, but that's how he'd been taught.

That's how he learned to deal with that kind of situation, listening to everything and every possible appeal before doing his job. But he never received a counter-proposal, especially one as high as that.

"I don't think you'll even get paid that four million, actually" you looked at him, your voice becoming more and more shaky, "but since the whole inheritance is with me, I'll triple it if you don't kill me."

For a second Jake looked back to Sunghoon for support at that moment. He knew that his friend would probably accept because it would give him the chance to never lay a finger on you.

"Instead, I want you to kill my aunt."

That turn of events was making Jake and Sunghoon's heads spin. Hearts pounding as you let a single tear fall down your cheek. You tried to look convincing and strong talking to two guys who were about to kill you.

But being able to protect yourself was one of the few things you learned because it wasn't the first time someone had approached you out of interest. So why not use the money you had to your advantage? You never thought you'd be able to do that kind of thing, but you'd try anything to make sure no one killed you.

And if the case was to have those who wanted you dead killed, then you'd start with that.

© ikeuverse, 2024. do not copy, translate or steal my stories.

[gavisuntiedboot]

Cherry on Top

Gavi X Physiotherapist! reader (birthday special!)

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: suggestive content!

A/N: I am back once again with more self indulgent fics for my baby boo thang's birthday !!!

~~~

"Doctoraaa! When are you coming home? I'm withering away from boredom and loneliness."

You could practically hear his pout through the phone, imagining him sprawled out on the couch with his feet in the air.

"Gaviraaa I am studying so that I can graduate on time! Or do you want me to keep making a student salary forever?" You held the phone between your ear and your shoulder, still furiously typing away at your sample notes for your advisor.

"What are you even studying? You basically run our whole club's rehab program by yourself. What else do they need to test you on?"

That was actually an excellent question. It was coming up on the two year anniversary since you had become a Barca employee, and you had almost fully taken the reigns. Dr. Gonzalez had checked out, waiting for you to get your degree so that he could finally retire. Nicolas was a good assistant, but was still heavily lacking in his ability to make quick decisions, so he was stuck doing basic PT most of the time. The show was essentially yours to run.

"This last year is testing my leadership ability and teaching skills. When I graduate, I will start running the intern program at the club, and so they have to make sure I can correct staff mistakes."

Your typing was getting progressively louder as you continued angrily editing the note in front of you.

"Take this idiot Aaron. He has not written a single coherent note since he got assigned as my mentoring project. If he were an employee he would have been fired weeks ago. But since this is a "training and learning" opportunity or whatever, I have to fix all his notes and send him the edits so he can learn."

You heard shifting on the other end of the line, and then a soft thud followed by some whispered profanity.

"Pablo please don't injure yourself."

"Maybe it will bring you home faster. Oh no my other ACL!"

Despite his giggle, you went quite on the other side of the line. The day of Pablo's injury had been one of the worst of your life. He had been playing for the national team, so you had no choice but to stare at your TV through glassy eyes, utterly and completely helpless. One of your friends literally had to prevent you from collapsing (though to this day you maintain that it was dehydration, not hysteria). He had called you from the sideline, and the pain in his voice just made you break further.

"I need you."

You had been waiting at the airport to receive him, official team gear on in an attempt to distract fans from the fact that you were fully embracing him and crying into his shoulder. You had almost gone insane in the lead up to his surgery, triple checking the credentials of everyone involved. You stayed by his bed for his entire stay, spending most days and night making sure he wore his brace and didn't make any stupid decisions. It was on one of these nights, when you were once again complaining about not having your favorite undereye cream at his house, that he once again asked you his favorite question.

"Why don't you just move in?"

As usual, you brushed the comment off. Gavi had been asking you to move in weekly for over a year now, always unfortunately dead serious. There was an innocence and simplicity in the way Pablo say the world that you wished you could emulate. He liked you, he was comfortable around you, and he wanted you to live with him. Simple, right?

But it terrified you. You loved Gavi, probably more than anything else in your life. But long withstanding trauma lives up to its name of being long withstanding. That feeling that the expiration date of your perfect relationship was approaching? That never went away. It was like the more time you spent with Gavi, the more you were terrified that he was going to figure out what was wrong with you, why no one could love you until this point in time, and run for the hills. Your apartment was the one space you still had to be irate and disgusting and genuinely yourself without being afraid of scaring him. And it would make it much easier when he eventually broke up with you to date a pop star or a model or Pedri.

"I'm being serious, princesa. You're here every night. You spend more time here than at your own place. You barely sleep in your own bed because you're just obsessed with me and want to take care of me all the time."

"Pablo, we've talked about this..."

"Yes," he said, sitting up and opening his arms in a gesture for you to come cuddle with him. "We have. Back when we had only been together for only three months and we didn't know if you would be able to put up with me."

"Hey!"

"Let me finish." He hugged you closer to his chest, resting his chin on your head and rubbing slow circles into your skin. It was hard to maintain your composure when you were like this, feeling the warmth radiating off his skin and the pressure of his lips kissing your crown every so often.

"We've been together for a year and a half now. I've seen you in bad moods, heard your yelling, plucked your chin hairs-"

He restrained you from getting up, giggling at your embarrassment. He really was the most adorable little thing on the planet.

"I've seen you at your lowest points. Which, admittedly mi amor, were not that low. I saw a tiktok of this guy who had to pull out his girlfriend's tampon. This could be much worse. Hey, look at me."

You turned over, your chest pressed to Pablo's as he brought his hands up to cup your cheeks. You had learned how to do this in the last year, how to steel yourself under his intense gaze. Pablo Gavi looked at you like he was in the presence of a divine being, eyes big and soft and filled to the brim with adoration. He looked at you like just your image was all he needed to keep breathing.

"I love you. So much that sometimes I don't know what to do with it. I want you to move in so I can take care of you, and so that it's easier to let you take care of me. I want to annoy you with my morning training alarm and make you coffee and maybe mess up your laundry when I try to do the washing."

"This is not a convincing argument so far, baby."

"I just want to live with you. And be around you. And hold you like a weighted teddy bear while I sleep."

"What if you get tired of me being around all the time?" You asked between smooshed cheeks, finally losing your ability to maintain his stare.

Gavi refused to even dignify the question with a verbal response, instead letting go of your face to lift the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it over your head. Your cheek was practically burning up pressed against his abs, still defined and solid despite days of immobility.

"Doctora, this is how close I want you to be. At all times. I am about to sew you to my torso. So will you please move in?"

And it was then that you agreed to it. Now the house was littered with so much merch on the walls and shelves it looked like a sports store, but it was yours. A home. You spent months taking care of Gavi, from driving him to appointments to at-home physiotherapy sessions. You took every opportunity to place a gentle kiss on the scar on his knee (ya know, when you were down there ;) ) and avoided all clips that showed him in pain.

"Come on, Doctora. I'm okay."

"I know, I know... it's just not a memory I can bring myself to joke about. Not while you're still in recovery."

"I'm sorry, amor. Can you come home and scold me about it?"

You groaned again, resisting the urge to slam your head into your keyboard. The progress notes were really terrible.

"And besides, you need to finish packing."

This was true. In about 6 hours, you and Gavi would be on a plane for his birthday trip to Ibiza. He had been buzzing with excitement about his birthday trip for months now, eager to take you someplace where there would be nothing to distract the two of you. Just perfect sand and perfect sea for a perfect weekend. He had talked about going farther than Spain this year, maybe Italy or at least Portugal, but injuries have a great way of canceling travel plans.

You reluctantly agreed, telling Pablo you would be home in about 30 minutes, before you began to tidy your workspace. You sent a polite yet pointed email to Aaron (with the head of department CC'ed) explaining that the work was too terrible to be corrected, and he should clear up some time in September to train with you before the season began in earnest and you would be too busy to teach him how to spell "bradycardia".

It was always a humbling experience to pull into the driveway and park your beat up little car next to Gavi's team-sponsored beauty. You were dreading the day he upgraded to something nicer - the neighbors would start thinking that someone was there to rob him. He was already standing at the door smiling wide when you pulled in. He walked up to your door, grabbing all your bags and ushering you inside away from the heat. This had become a regular for Gavi - tracking your location to greet you the second you arrived - so there was really no need to question it anymore. You leaned over and kissed his cheek, eternally grateful for the gentleness he showed you. After a quick yet heated rant about the incompetence of some of the students in your program, you headed upstairs to continue packing.

"Pablo, you think I need to pack more than two dresses?" You asked, looking over the satins and crocheted pieces that your friend ensured you was "totally in".

"I don't think you need to pack any dresses. Or even clothes for that matter."

You raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend, who was leaning casually against the doorframe.

"Am I supposed to be naked for the whole trip?"

"Not the whole trip. Just pack some bikinis for during the day and some cute underwear for the night. The outfit you wear to the airport should be more than enough incase we ever need to leave." He walked over to where you stood in contemplation, arms wrapping tightly around your waist, and his head resting on your shoulder in the perfect position to kiss your neck.

"Be serious, Pablo. What if we want to go for a nice dinner for your birthday? I can't go in a thong or in my plane sweats."

He didn't stop his attack on your neck for an instant, addicted to the warmth and taste of your skin on his tongue.

"Mi amor, mi sol, mi vida - at the risk of being vulgar, I have to say that you will be the nice dinner on my birthday."

Your eyes went wide at this statement, and suddenly you were glad for his arms there to keep you upright.

"I don't even think I have more than one bikini that still fits."

At this, Gavi released you, running to the closet with your yells to slow down behind him (if you had a euro for every time you told him not to run in socks, you could pay off the club's debt). He came shuffling back out with a large black bag, which he promptly dumped out onto the comforter. There were at least ten swimwear sets in various colors and prints, ranging from polka dots to stripes to... was that cheetah print?

"I picked these out the other day. Well, actually, that's a lie. I sent your size to Aurora, and she placed the order online and I just picked up the bag at the store. Can you imagine what Instagram would do with pictures of me buying lingerie?"

"But there's no lingerie here?"

"Fuck." He scampered off once again, returning with another bag to repeat his previous actions. This time the contents were much more sultry, with dark silks and satins staring back up at you. Mainly reds and blacks littered the pale covers.

"Pablo, you shouldn't have. This is too sweet! But we are only going for three days. There's like a month worth of stuff here."

"Are you planning on never going out again after this trip? Just pick your favorites for this weekend. The rest will be waiting for you when you get back, just in case we ever go to the pool or you want to surprise your football star boyfriend by wearing these to work."

You couldn't even be mad at his words when your heart was so full from his gesture. Pablo was always buying you things - that was nothing new. But you had been worrying for days about not looking good on this trip, not having anything new to wear, and he took that burden off your shoulders.

"So I can pick any of these? They look expensive."

"Ay Doctora, don't upset me. Nothing is worth more than your happiness. I do have one request though."

"Yes, mi amor?"

"You have to wear this one on my birthday," he said while reaching past you to pick up a white bikini with red cherries printed all over.

"Why is that?"

"Because you're like the cherry on top of my birthday cake. You always look good, but I want you to look irresistible."

"Okay, let's relax that's a lot of talk for a- oh my God." Your eyes widened, and you grabbed Pablo's face with a dropped jaw.

"Are you okay?"

"Oh my God."

"You said that already."

"Pablo!"

"Yes, princesa?"

"An adult. You're going to be an adult tomorrow. As in not a teenager."

"We arrive at like 11pm so it's more like I won't be a teenager anymore tonig- are you crying?"

"I'm not going to have a teenage boyfriend anymore!" You threw your arms around him, hugging him so tightly there was a fear of his ribs cracking.

"I feel like I should be offended by this statement."

~

"3...2...1... Happy 20th birthday Pablito!" You said softly, a single cupcake with a lit candle on the top held before the birthday boy. It was the same as the previous year (iykyk), but this time with a red and yellow swirl to match the Spanish national team.

"Thank you, mi vida." He closed his eyes, deep in thought regarding his wish, and blew out the candle. He scooped up a dollop of frosting, placing it on your lips before kissing it gently away.

"I can't believe I get to spend another birthday with you," he whispered out, scared that anything louder would destroy the gentle atmosphere around the two of you.

After sharing more sugary kisses, you fell asleep on Pablo's chest, soothed to sleep by his slow heart beat and rhythmic breathing. You woke before him, placing a kiss on his forehead before getting up to dress, snickering quietly at his snoring. The poor boy was so exhausted. You put on the swimsuit he had picked for you, the material fitting you stunningly. You looked at yourself in the mirror and couldn't help but smile. The white and red complemented your skin, your hair framing your face still bare and slightly puffed with the remnants of sleep. Gavi's necklace dangled between your collar bones, the metal cool on your skin. Everything on your body was an expression of love.

Stepping out of the bathroom in your bikini and wrap around skirt, you found the bed suspiciously empty. There was a light breeze coming from the terrace, where you found your boyfriend leaning shirtless on the railing. As if sensing your stare, he turned over his shoulder and wave you to join him. The sun was starting to shine in earnest, the smell of the ocean filling your senses. There was no place you would rather be.

"Good morning, beautiful. I know I asked you to wear that, but I almost want you to take it off. You look too good - I'm scared I'll have to beat every other man away with a stick."

He took a seat on one of the deck chairs, and you took your rightful place on his lap, arms around his neck.

"Good thing this strip of beach is private then."

Your lips found his in a deep kiss, fingers traveling to play with the short strands at the nape of his neck. It was an intoxicating thing to kiss Pablo Gavi. His plush lips molded perfectly to yours, bringing you in impossibly closer. He was always so eager, gently nibbling on your bottom lip whenever he could catch it, soft breaths and little whines spurring you on. Neither of you could bring yourselves to stop, tongues tangled like high schoolers as you made out in the early August sun. His hands were firm on your hips, more for his benefit than yours. He was eager to drag you to the sand, but knew neither of you would leave the room if he allowed your hips to act on their own accord. He relaxed back, allowing you to take the lead, and whimpered a little louder when you bit his lip. It was your giggling that broke the kiss, and you rested your forehead against his, breathless and chest heaving.

"Big Bad Gavi likes having his lip bit. Who would've thought?"

He whined again, finding the column of your neck and to town, nipping and sucking, unwilling to not have his lips and tongue occupied by you just yet. When you started digging into his biceps, he released you, admiring his handy work.

"Pablo people are going to see." You said, pout on your lips and big eyes trained on your boyfriend. He kissed your jutting bottom lip and lifted you off him.

"Like you said - good thing this beach is private."

~

Pablo had so many moments with you where he thought "she could never be more beautiful than this". The first was the first night you fell asleep on his couch, face peaceful with sleep. The next was under the stadium lights, as he thrust a trophy in your hands and lifted you above his shoulders. Then it was in some French hallway, in a ballgown with no heels as he kissed you senseless, finally brave enough to take what he wanted. In coffee shops and grocery store aisles and on his mattress, he always thought there was no possibility for you to be more stunning. But as you lay stretched out on the sand, eyes closed and muscles relaxed, he had the thought again. The sun tinted your skin slightly, making you gleam like a goddess that had just emerged from the sea. The bright white against your skin had Gavi tingling, wanting to remove the pure material and access what it was protecting.

Your hair was soaked, and you laid on your stomach in the sand to gain some color and dry off after the exertion of swimming with Gavi. The sun was phenomenal on your damp skin, and you had never been more at piece. You felt a hand creep up your back, and suddenly your chest wasn't as supported as it should have been.

"Pablo! Did you just undo my top?"

"I'm just unwrapping my present."

He brought you to sit on his lap once again, your loose top fighting to remain around your neck.

"How private is this beach?"

"You think I would let you go topless if there was a chance another soul would see?"

You felt like a teenager again, embarrassed and looking around frantically for someone who would catch you in such an act with your boyfriend.

"I heard beach sex sucks and I'm not eager to get sand in my vagina."

"We're not going to have sex on the beach. I may be more grown up, but I still like seeing boobs every once in a while."

"So you just want to look at them?"

"Among other things. You want to see my checklist?"

You wrapped your arms around his neck once again, kissing him deeply as he fully removed the fabric from your chest. He brought a hand to your back, pressing you against him, your breasts flush against his chest. It was a thrilling sensation, being topless and against your boyfriend with the sun beating down against you both.

Gavi laid back on the sound with you atop him, unclipping you hair to allow it to fall down your back. In your current situation, you were still covered enough to not face public indecency charges. He played with the strands of hair, weaving his fingers into the locks as his teeth caught your bottom lip and sucked on it like his favorite hard candy.

"I'm going to have sand in my hair."

"Guess we'll just have to take a bath together so I can wash it for you."

You kissed him again, his fingers trailing up your torso and brushing the sides of your boobs, sparking electricity in their path. It was so high school: topless on a beach, making out with your boyfriend. But made you stir low in your stomach, a mix of desire and the deepest form of love. You loved Pablo Gavi. You loved his little antics, you loved the pleasure he brought to every aspect of your life.

"Enjoying your birthday so far?" You asked, reluctantly pulling away from his lips, chest heaving against his. Gavi took the opportunity to grab your breasts and squeeze lightly, playing with them like it was his favorite activity in the world.

"More than I can even express."

He brought you against him, arms around you and bodied pressed together, and laid back down.

"So you just wanted to feel me up while we make out?"

"I want to feel you against me, mi amor. I want you to feel how hard my heart beats when I'm around you. I want to do everything that comes to my mind with you. Being topless on the beach. Ordering everything on the hotel menu. Skinny dipping at midnight. Every experience in my life is better when you're in it. I want to make every memory with you, so that when we're old and hold hands in our matching wheelchairs, I can say "Hey remember when we were hot and young and topless making out in Ibiza?" I want to do everything in the world with you."

You pressed your lips to his again, a deep kiss that winded the both of you.

"I love you, Pablo. Happy birthday."

"I love you more, Doctora."

~~~

Okay here it is!! Happy birthday to the love of my life, the light of my soul, Pablo Gavi. I love this boy more than I can express, and he represents so much good in my life. I hope his 20th year is filled with every happiness in the world.

As usual, please like, comment, reblog - all the good stuff. If you like this dynamic, I have a full 10 part series of these two idiots in my masterlist. I also have an ongoing Pedri series! Check that out if it's more your speed.

Please also take a moment to check out the links on my pinned post to help families in Palestine. If you don't have the money to donate but still want to help, every comment with a watermelon emoji under my pedri posts = $1 I donate on your behalf. I think that's all I have to say. Love y'all <3

xoxo, GUB

[lolasangelz]

https://www.tumblr.com/lolasangelz/780844333377208320/small-words-big-impact

Can we see one of the times when Gigi gives birth and Rafe tells her he loves her

Graysons birth

w/c: 699?

warnings: giving birth?? idk i feel like i should disclaimer that but its not detailed just contractions

a/n: just realised i spelt grayson the american way but oh well, also ive mentioned before that there was complications with the third pregnancy/child so i will write a little bit on gigi having ppd unfortunately :(

drew as a baby is so adorable

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

the room was quiet, except for the steady hum of the monitors and georgia's breath, ragged and heavy as she gripped the edge of the bed.

her skin was slick with sweat, and despite the cool air, she felt as though she were burning up from the inside. the pain was relentless, each wave of contraction crashing into her like a wave that wouldn’t break.

rafe stood beside her, his expression tight, his hand clasping hers with an intensity that said he wasn’t sure what to do but wasn’t going to let go. he hadn’t wanted this—this third child. gigi knew it, had felt it, even though he’d never said the words directly. he was distant, still caught in the weight of their complicated marriage, the responsibilities of fatherhood pressing down on him. and yet, here they were, in a sterile hospital room, the sounds of gigi’s labored breathing echoing off the walls.

"rafe," she gasped between breaths, looking up at him through tear-filled eyes, "i need you."

he looked down at her, his gaze filled with a mix of concern, guilt, and something else she couldn’t quite place. he squeezed her hand tighter, his voice shaky but determined. "i’m here, angel. i’m not going anywhere."

she could see the flicker of emotion in his eyes, something softer than the hardness he usually wore. he wasn’t good at showing vulnerability, at letting her see the cracks in his armor. but in moments like this, it was impossible to hide.

"just breathe," he whispered, his voice low. "we’re almost there."

the tension in the room thickened, a stillness hanging between them as gigi concentrated on breathing, the pain almost unbearable. her body felt as though it was being torn apart. and then, with a final, frantic push, the room filled with the sound of a baby’s first cry.

it was over.

gigi collapsed back against the pillows, exhaustion flooding her, the weight of the world pressing down on her chest as the nurses cleaned up the newborn. her gaze drifted to rafe, who was watching the scene in front of him with wide eyes. he was still holding her hand, but there was something different in the way he was looking at her now.

grayson, their third child, was placed in her arms, and for a moment, gigi couldn’t breathe. the baby was small, squirming in her arms, but it was his face—his features—that caught her breath.

he looked exactly like rafe.

she felt tears stinging her eyes as she gazed down at their son, her heart swelling with an emotion she couldn’t explain. the love, the overwhelming sense of connection that came with this new life.

rafe stepped closer, his voice quiet but steady. "he looks like me."

gigi nodded, swallowing hard, still unable to stop the tears that now blurred her vision. "he does. he’s… perfect."

rafe, who had been so distant, so unsure of this child, now looked at their son with a softening expression. the walls he’d built, the distance between them, seemed to crumble away in that instant, replaced by something deeper, more profound.

gigi felt a shift in him—a change that she hadn’t expected, one that took her by surprise.

he looked at her then, his voice thick with emotion, as he finally said the words she’d longed to hear. "i love you, gigi. i never… i never said it enough. but i love you. and i love him. i’m here, i’m all in. i swear."

her breath caught in her throat as she looked up at him, her chest tight with a mix of relief and love. for a moment, everything else faded—the fear, the uncertainty, the tension. all that mattered was this moment, this new life they had created together.

"i know," she whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of his words. "i know, rafe. i love you too."

rafe leaned down, brushing a gentle kiss against her forehead, his hand resting on their newborn son’s tiny head. the room, once filled with tension and unease, felt different now—warmer, more grounded.

for the first time in a long while, gigi felt like maybe, just maybe, they were going to be okay.

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

[gibberishfangirl]

Hello~ Congrats on 100 followers!! You really deserve, it means writing is your AESTHETIC. Anyway, leaving the references aside... I'd like to request Furin boys, Togame and Endo (if it's ok with you) reacting to the reader getting stabbed in their place (the reader protects them) in a fight. You decide whether the boys will see this when it happens or on the way back home with the reader walking much further behind and everything, trying to hide it from the boys. Stay well and stay hydrated, CONGRATS ONCE AGAIN 💚

WIND BREAKER | worth the sacrifice

Characters ✰ Haruka Sakura, Hajime Umemiya, Hayato Suo, Akihiko Nirei, Mitsuki Kiryu, Toma Hiragi, Jo Togame

Contains ✰ sfw! violence, blood, reader gets injured, fighting, angst, comfort, guilty feelings, angry feelings and behavior, content of the boys reacting differently to the incident

★ a/n <3 : hiii! thank you so much for the kind words it means a lot! :) i did a mix of some characters finding out in the moment vs later. i didn’t include Endo, simply because im not confident enough in my skills to write him yet, sorry :’D </3★

★ feels enormous guilt, didn’t realize in the heat of the moment. realized you were hurt after it was over on your way home. blames himself for not protecting you ★

-> Haruka Sakura ᡣ𐭩

there weren’t enough words in the world to describe the amount of fear and heartbreak that struck Sakura in the moment when you collapsed on the walk home. Sakura was usually fearless in most situations, always confident in his own abilities but this time was different. he couldn’t help but feel lost, not knowing what to do besides picking you up and running to the nearest hospital as his mind was going insane.

he drowned in his own thoughts the whole way there and even after. ‘when did it happen? where was i? how did i let it happen?’ the man who usually was overflown with confidence felt weak.

Sakura would never be able to live with himself if you were to get a life changing injury under his protection. he felt responsible for everything. he felt pathetic, how could he ever be the strongest when he couldn’t protect you? the person he loves the most. ‘you were okay now but what if something happens again? what if things don’t work out next time? next time. there shouldn’t be a next time. there shouldn’t have been a this time to begin with.’

the incident changed Sakura in a way. he hadn’t been the same since that night at the hospital where he cried for the first time in front of you. where he sobbed into your arms crying “i can’t do this without you. i can’t be here if you aren’t, i need you here with me.” Sakura vowed to himself that he’d never let you or anyone else he cared for be put in that position again. he won’t let it happen again.

Sakura knows how much you love him as you tried to be strong for him. the way you smiled and said it was nothing once you woke up. the way you never flinched or showed fear when you had to stitches. he admired it and wants to do the same for you in return. he considers you to be one of the strongest people he knows and you gave him a new meaning to the word “strong”.

-> Akihiko Nirei ᡣ𐭩

Nirei wouldn’t have expected this is how the night would’ve ended. he feels terrible as he was sitting next to your hospital bed on a spare chair. he spent the night with you while you were sleeping. he hasn’t been able to sleep or eat since the incident. he can’t help but just keep beating himself up. if only he had been stronger… how did he realize so late? the two of you were walking home when he wrapped his arm around your waist and felt the blood gushing out from your body while you winced in pain.

“Nirei? You still there?” the sound of your voice quickly snapped him out his thoughts. your eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, the small lamp beside you was the only source of light. he looked terrible, his eyes were swollen, face covered in bruises, dried blood on his busted lip, not to mention his eye bags were horrendous. his eyes looked so sad, the way he looked so defeated made you feel devastated.

“hey, are you okay?” even though he looked far worse than you, appearance wise, he was still more concerned about you instead of himself. the feeling of starvation hadn’t even hit him since you were at the top of his mind. he hadn’t even bothered to get checked up on himself.

“yeah, i’m fine. are you okay? have you gotten checked? you’re covered bruises,” you were cut off mid ramble by him embracing you. he hugged you so gently it was almost as if he was scared you’d break by the slightest amount of pressure.

“don’t do that ever again. i can’t lose you. i promise ill be the one to protect you next time— just don’t... i want to be the one you can lean on.” Nirei couldn’t stop the tears from coming before breaking out into sobs as you hugged him back. you couldn’t stop your own tears in time. you were more scared than you realized. you stepped in front of him without thinking, it hadn’t registered how scary the situation was until you were on the hospital bed getting rushed into a room. despite how scared you were you couldn’t imagine how much scarier it would’ve been to not have Nirei here with you now.

★ noticed too late, tried to prevent it from happening but fails. he couldn’t stop it in time and is very upset about it. incredibly irritated by the whole situation. ★

-> Hayato Suo ᡣ𐭩

Suo knew something happened. however, wasn’t exactly sure what that something was. the most he knew was that you were ‘fine’. he could’ve sworn he saw you get hurt but apparently not? every time he asked you if you were okay or tried to check on you, you’d back away and insist nothing was wrong. he couldn’t help but feel worried, mainly because he knew something was off. he quickly turned around when he had seen that guy sneak up behind him and you ran over to protect him. he tried to pull you away from any chance of getting hurt. he assumed he had succeeded when you didn’t have a physical reaction to any pain. a month and a half passed quickly as the whole incident continued to chew him up inside. since it was winter, it made things easier for you to hide the scar due to amount of gloves you wore. as the season quickly came to an end so did your excuses on covering up your injury. Of course Suo immediately noticed the scar on the palm of your hand. the sight of it immediately made him frown. you could feel your own nerves building up from just watching him examine your hand with a straight face. he gently grazed over the scar with such soft caring hands. it was rare to see your smiling boyfriend be so serious with a sad expression.

“why didn’t you tell me? i asked you about it… you could’ve told me the truth you know?” Suo’s gentle voice broke the awkward silence that consumed the air. his tone wasn’t angry, it was rather soft with a hint of sadness to it. did you not think you could trust him with this information? he could’ve been there for you. you wouldn’t have gone through it alone, he would’ve been there. it’s all he could think of while trying to understand why you wouldn’t tell him.

“m sorry suo, i didn’t want you to worry. you’re always taking care of me… i just wanted to show that i could also take care of you.” you felt bad looking at his expression. you assumed you were doing the right thing by keeping it from him. he always worried so much about you. you thought this would’ve made him more stressed out than he needed to be. you can see now by the way he looks that wasn’t the case. maybe you should’ve just been honest from the start.

“i don’t want you to take care of me if it means you’ll be the one to get hurt in return.” Suo couldn’t help but raise his voice a little as he blurted out the words before thinking. he immediately regretted saying it when you responded with a hurt expression. “wait! no, i mean. i don’t want you to get hurt because of my own mistakes. i should’ve seen it coming, im glad to know you care for me that much. i just don’t want you to get hurt. next time, let me take it.”

“no.” the small word casually left your lips. you know if you were to go back in time you would do the same thing all over again. Suo knew that as well which is why he responded with a small smile. he didn’t want to encourage this behavior but he knew you well enough to know that you’ll never stand by and let the ones you care about get hurt. you were thankful that your boyfriend was so understanding and knew your character so well. he simply sighed in response to your word with a “what am i gonna do with you?”

-> Toma Hiragi ᡣ𐭩

Hiragi felt himself wince at the sight of you getting hurt. he was helping out an underclassmen from getting beat up when the other guy tried to catch him from behind. he let out a yell to warn you while running over to you but it had been too late. the guy had already landed a swing at you with the knife before Hiragi grabbed his arm back knocking the weapon out of his hand. Hiragi couldn’t care less about the guy while you held your arm in pain. He did the most logical thing he could think of which was shoving the guy away from the two of you and making his way to the hospital with you on his back. ever since the two of you started dating, Hiragi made you a priority. he wasn’t planning on breaking that anytime soon. he’d deal with the situation later all that matters right now is you.

“wait! Hiragi- it’s really not that bad! i’m okay. we don’t need to go, you should go get him. i’ll be fine.” you tried to protest against his decision while holding onto him tightly. he was running so fast you were almost scared of falling off. keyword: almost. your boyfriend was incredibly strong and you knew the chance of him dropping you were slimmed down to a zero. Higari ignored your protests as you sighed in defeat. he didn’t leave your side for the rest of the day as the doctor checked up on you.

“Hiragi. I told you i’m fine, you should go back and see if everyone’s okay. you should go update Umemiya while you still can.” your words have fallen on deaf ears since the two of you have gotten there. Hiragi was completely ignoring your words, at least that’s what you thought. in reality he heard you loud and clear but he just simply didn’t care. he didn’t care about anyone else except you in this moment.

“i’ll call Umemiya as soon as i know you’re okay. don’t worry about it.” is the only response he gave to your rambling. you knew he had more to say but you didn’t know how to ask or bring it up. “i’m sorry. i should’ve been more careful with you being around. i didn’t think anything was going to happen tonight.”

Hiragi was genuinely apologetic. he had promised to take you on a date like good boyfriends do but the night went downhill fast. he felt terrible for dragging you into that mess involving his own duties. he often struggled with balancing his duties and your relationship with him but he always tried to make things work. “it’s okay, it’s just another excuse for you to take me on two date nights now.” you smiled focusing on the bright side of things. “of course, i would never say no to that.” Higari always did wonder what he did to get so lucky to have you.

-> Mitsuki Kiryu ᡣ𐭩

Kiryu cursed himself in his own head. he always went out of his way to keep you safe from any danger. so far, he had succeeded until now. he failed to react in time and pull you away. Kiryu wanted to pummel the guy who hurt you but he knew you needed him now more than ever. he hated the fact that anyone managed to hurt, let alone scare you, especially if he was there.

“hi love, are you okay?” with the way your boyfriends tone remained so loving and soft you would never know how angry he was inside. “i’m okay, doesn’t hurt too bad.” you blushed at the feeling of his hand caressing your cheek. your boyfriend grew irritated by seeing your beautiful skin bruise where the scar was starting to form. you caught a glimpse of your boyfriends eyebrows furrow up as his eyes stayed on your scar. the look in his eye sent goosebumps to your body.

Kiryu wouldn’t consider himself to be an aggressive person but he’d be lying if he said he’d never been more tempted to chase down a man and make him regret their decision in his life. Despite all these emotions Kiryu always put you first and stayed by your side. Even if he couldn’t help but wonder what he could’ve done differently to prevent everything from happening.

The way Kiryu always had the ability to manage his emotions was amazing. it’s a skill not most people have and you’re glad he’s one of the few who do. However, he can’t reassure you that he’ll be able to hold back on the day he runs into that guy again. honestly, for everyone’s sake that person better pray they never see you or Kiryu again. Kiryu’s kindness should never be seen as a weakness. that man is a lot more capable than he often leads people to believe.

★ angry at the world, feels so much anger at everyone. blames everyone, himself, you, those around you. slightly mad at you because he would’ve preferred it be him instead. can’t fathom why you would do that ★

-> Hajime Umemiya ᡣ𐭩

Umemiya was horrified at watching you get hurt and being so helpless at the moment. he felt so useless, so many relied on him and he managed to fail the one he loves most. he was angry and was having trouble holding it in. he sat there in anticipation waiting to hear if you were okay. he felt like such a failure as he continuously beat himself up. he slapped his face against his hands as he facepalmed. the moment was a consistent replay eating him alive. Higari had tried to convince him to leave to go get changed or showered or to go eat but Ume insisted he needed to stay with you. just in case. you needed him, he couldn’t be there for you when it happened but he’s here now. that counts… right?

Ume didn’t bother sleeping as he watched your restful state sleeping in the uncomfortable hospital bed. you didn’t deserve this, you’re the sweetest person he’s ever met. he was lucky to have you. he didn’t deserve you, he knew that much. how could someone ever do something like this to you? yeah it was his fault but who hurts such an innocent person? you were just there at the wrong time… and it was his fault you were even there to begin with. his body jolted up as he noticed your eyelashes fluttering as your eyes opened. “hey.. how are you? want some water?” his tone was soft and quiet since it was still the middle of the night. he didn’t want to startle you as he went up to you and softly caressed your face. you didn’t respond besides just holding his arm and tugging him towards you.

he let out a small sigh before getting into bed with you since you made some space for him. you instinctively cuddled into him and held him tightly. you quickly relaxed into his chest as he stroked your hair. “i’m okay Ume.” you finally responded trying to reassure him after hearing the way his heart was pounding. fortunately, hearing that come from your sweet voice relaxed him as he felt a new sense of relief that he never felt before.

“why would you do that (y/n)?” Ume finally built the courage to ask you the question that he had been wondering since everything happened.

“because you’re worth it Ume, i love you. id do anything for you as long as you’re safe.” you answered it so casually as if he was already supposed to know that. he felt his own heart melt from your response. typically Ume was always the one putting himself in front of danger for others. he’d never been on the other side of this experience, it made him feel oddly safe. all that previous anger he felt towards himself vanished at your reassurance. “i love you too (y/n).” Ume wanted to do everything he could to his ability to prevent something like this happening again. he was glad he could rely on you, that doesn’t mean he ever wants to see you in this state again.

-> Jo Togame ᡣ𐭩

pissed doesn’t even begin to describe the amount of rage Togame feels. he hates the fact that he even feels that way. his knuckles have turned white at this point with how tightly he was gripping the wheel. you had just gotten released from the hospital and you haven’t heard a peep come out of your boyfriend. the moment kept flashing in and out of his head of it all happening. the two of you were around so many people, how did no one step in? how couldn’t he stop it? why would you even get involved after he specifically told you not to? unfortunately the emotion of anger was seeking out of both of you. the tension was so thick, it was bad whenever the two of you matched energy in this way.

“i don’t get why you would do something so stupid. i told you to stay back for a reason. how many times have i told you? do not get involved. stay out of it.” Togame’s harsh words broke the silence quickly. you were more angry at the fact that he was the one who broke the silence instead of you being the one to do it. a small part of you was shocked that he was even angry at you but you saw it coming. he did tell you to never get involved if the situation ever escalated.

“excuse me?? well i’m sooooo sorry that i didn’t want you to get stabbed???!!!” you couldn’t stop the painful sarcastic laughter from leaving your throat while you ‘apologized’. you didn’t stop there, you couldn’t. you were the kind of person where once you got started there was no going back. surprisingly the two of you shared that annoying quality. “i can’t believe you’re actually mad at me. what was i supposed to do? you can’t expect me not to do anything! if it were the other way around you would’ve jumped in the way. why is it so different when i do it? it’s not.”

“it is, there’s a huge difference. i can handle it. you on the other hand, aren’t supposed to handle anything. so don’t bother to next time. i should be able to have you around me without having to worry that you’ll just casually walk in front of a weapon. who does that? i can do that. you can’t.” god sometimes you hated the way he thought. “no. i can, i will and i already have so there’s no changing that.”

“i just don’t get why. there’s no point in doing something like that. i’m not worth saving (y/n). you are, you’re worth everything to me. you can’t just sacrifice yourself for anyone. what if things had gone differently? what if you weren’t okay? what do i do then? what am i supposed to do without? i cant live without you so don’t put me in a situation where i have to even imagine that possibility.” Togame’s outburst caught you off guard. you knew he was angry but you hadn’t expected him to get so vulnerable. the look in his eye changed completely, they didn’t hold anymore anger. they held the feeling of sadness more than anything.

“don’t say that, you are worth saving. don’t ask me not to do it again. i love you, i wouldn’t let anyone hurt you. i’m sorry i worried you but im not sorry for doing it. i care about you. try to see it from my perspective, the feeling of losing you scares me just as much as it does you.” your words stuck with Togame as his expression softened. the feeling of being loved was still new to him and he had some difficulty accepting it at times.

★ a/n <3 : SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONGG </3 I really hope you enjoy this! it took me awhile to write because i wanted to make it as diverse as possible and include as many characters as i could. i wanted to make their reactions differently and have it happen in different ways. i hope i didn’t disappoint! thank you all for reading and being so patient. i appreciate you all! <33 ★