#and I will carry this rage in my heart and do my best to once again foster an enviornment of spiteful love on my unit

[redrobin-detective]

This is an announcement and a promise: if you are a bad nurse, I am coming for you. If you are rude and judgemental to patients, deny them basic human decency you will face my wrath. If you take shit care of them, think you know better than not only the patients and your coworkers but the whole medical team then you cannot hide from me. I will find you and I will go toe to toe with you bc even the worst human alive deserves care and respect and I will beat that lesson into you and maybe make you grow a heart.

[risuola]

ENTRY #10 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU // You make my heart do things it's not supposed to do.

contents: arranged marriage!au, teeth rotting fluff, nothing else — wc. 1000

a/n: expect me to drop few entries very quickly because they are all finished in my drafts <3

series masterlist

It still flustered him.

Satoru never, not once in his 28 years of life, felt more confused, than right now. Why was his heart doing backflips in his chest? He sat there, on the wooden chair frozen and thankful for the furniture that held his weight because if suddenly it’d be taken away, he would collapse to the floor, meet the cold kitchen tiles and melt against them into a puddle of mess. He was there, stuck in time with his head empty and heart racing in his chest, rumbling against the cage of his ribs while you were going about the day without a care and attention to his pathetic state. A state you reduced him to.

It’s been few minutes already and Gojo sat there in silence, watching your back as you were washing fruit in the sink, snacking on the juicy strawberries he grabbed for you earlier that morning — a gesture foreign to his own body but he wanted, for once, to be the person who made you smile and not only experience the effect of someone else’s doing. He woke up earlier that day, before the sun even peaked above the horizon line and with his thoughts racing and stomach full of butterflies, he went on a very special mission.

It was a tiny market, way outside Tokyo but with the loveliest sellers. He found a booth he eyed once when on the job in the area, a stand full of little hand-woven baskets, each of them brimmed with fruit. The strawberries were red, some very bright and some very deep in color, glistening in the early sun with the morning dew that scattered across the surface looked as if little crystals were adorning the harvest. Satoru smiled and the old lady smiled as well.

“How can I help you, young man?” She asked, spreading her arms invitingly and Satoru could tell, by the look of her calloused hands, stained in juice and dirt, she was working hard every day to make a living.

“My wife loves strawberries,” he began, catching himself on the ease with which the word wife left his mouth, “but I don’t know much about picking the best ones. Could you help me with that?”

“You came to the right place, son!”

Just few moments later, Satoru was walking slowly towards his house, after warping back into the city. In his hand, a bag hung hooked over his fingers, full of those little baskets and their contents. He might have gone overboard with the purchase, but the joyful tears that welled in the eyes of that old woman when he paid her for fruit — definitely much more than it was worth according to the prices — he had no regrets. In result he carried the bagful of not only strawberries but also some apples, raspberries and sweet cherries — all of which he was forced to take, despite his initial plans of getting only the red ones you like so much.

“There you are, right on time,” your beautiful, melodic voice greeted him the moment he swung the doors open, and he swallowed the lump in his throat. He could’ve bought you flowers as well, he planned to do so, but he had to evacuate himself from the grasp of that one seller lady, because as lovely as she was, if he stayed a moment longer, she would pack him her entire harvest of that morning. “I thought you went out earlier, but I made breakfast for you anyway.”

“I went for a little walk,” he said, trying to sound as nonchalant and at ease as he could despite the rageful whirl of butterflies in his stomach. Why was he so nervous? “And I bought you these.”

A soft thud barely made itself apparent above the cacophony of clinking plates and cutlery, but it was enough to catch your attention. You looked at him, curious, and somewhat carefully reached into the bag now rested on the kitchen table. Your face brightened up, your eyes glimmered and you smiled — and Satoru could’ve sworn he’s never seen something more beautiful. You reminded him of a child that got a toy it dreamed of. Pure happiness washed over your features and he wondered if it was always that easy to bring joy to your otherwise calm self.

“Oh my god, Satoru–“ you gasped out, fishing out one of the berries and after a short rinse under the water, you popped it into your mouth and melted. He was told by the woman in the market that the type she was growing on her fields was exceptionally sweet, with the right amount of tang and a lot of juice.

“Tasty?” He asked, watching how you savored the flavor with pure pleasure.

They were tasty. He found out himself, because when your lips pressed to his own, he forgot how to breathe and the only things on his mind were the plushiness of your mouth and that sweetness. His body moved on its own, his hands found their place on your hips, pulled you in, as if it was a natural reaction for him to bring you closer.

And then, before he managed to secure his grip on you, you were gone from his proximity, leaving only the lingering taste of strawberries on his lips and a growing confusion.

I love you.

He heard that right, a gentle whisper against his mouth. You said it, this time you said it for sure, this time he was sure the words actually were spoken, not read between lines.

“Sit down, Satoru, eat your breakfast,” you sing-sang happily, as if you didn’t stop the entire globe just now. As if you didn’t just alter the universe he was in, shifting the rhythm of the muscle in his chest permanently. As if you didn’t just tell him you love him.

But he sat down, afraid to not lose his balance and absentmindedly shoved a piece of a pancake into his mouth.

taglist: @kinny-away @anan-baban @lotomber @netflix-imagines @kawliflo @nishloves @ghostfacefricker6969 @thejujvtsupost @yozora7154 @cherrycolabarbedwirebedpost @stuckinmoilalaland@ae-mius @ropickle @chokesonspit @lansy-4 @mo0sin @just-pure-trash @foliea @bakarinnie @big-booty-joe

[bellbery]

— [P1] The Heart That Remained (Vander x f!Reader)

Summary: A monster, once a beloved protector, now haunts the tunnels of Zaun. The creature is revealed to be Vander, twisted by pain and rage, leaving his daughters Vi and Jinx to grapple with the truth. As a battle unfolds, past memories and present dangers clash, forcing a choice between saving Vander’s humanity or ending his torment. Love, guilt, and hope intertwine in this intense, emotional confrontation.

Word Count: 5.2k (im a jerk for angst)

Content/Warning: Angst to Fluff, less mention y/n until the ending, a bit bloody?, AND VERY ANGSTY

🖋️ Author’s Note: AS I PROMISED I WOULD MAKE A ANGSTY FIC ABOUT VANDER, and i promise you its worth the while i did my best to put into detail of the character’s personality and the places. It took me 3 days and i’m very happy how it turned out! Before yall read this maybe someone you haven’t watched S2, there will be spoilers obv— and i recommend yall listen to Dead Island Trailer Theme song while reading this cause personally it juST MATCHED THE SCENE IT- i hope yall enjoy my writing this is my 2nd fic! Please comment your feedback and simply support me by like and reblogs! Thank you very much yall!<3

After the chaos of the Piltover Council meeting, guilt gnawed at you like a relentless, suffocating force. Deep down, you knew Jinx—Vander’s daughter—was the cause of the devastation that had torn through the heart of the city. You couldn’t escape the weight of the promises you’d made long ago: to protect Vi and Powder when they were still just children. Those vows now felt like shattered glass, each piece embedded in your soul. You had failed them. And now, hidden behind the mask of an investigator, you carried your shame like a cloak. It was the only armor that allowed you to survive, to push down the searing ache that never seemed to go away. Months passed, and you thought you had found your rhythm in the cold, distant monotony of your work. Then Ambessa hired you. The aftermath of the beast’s rampage in the prison—the blood, the carnage—shattered that fragile peace. It was the most grotesque thing you’d ever seen. The nightmare still burned in your memory, its horrors etched into your mind like permanent scars. The beast, its monstrous presence a cruel reminder of the violence lurking in every shadow, had torn through the fragile walls of your life, dredging up the dangerous ties to the past you couldn’t outrun.

“How could this beast come out of nowhere?” You whispered, the question hanging in the air like a death sentence. Ambessa’s gaze locked onto you, icy and unyielding. The weight of her authority pressed down on you, suffocating. She leaned forward, her voice low, controlled—laced with quiet menace. “You’re asking the wrong question,” she said, her words like a blade. “It doesn’t matter how it got here. What matters is that it’s here now. And we don’t have the luxury of waiting for answers. We deal with it. We don’t waste time wondering why or how—it’s already cost us too much.” She paused, her eyes narrowing, a flicker of impatience cutting through her otherwise steady demeanor. “If you want to stay in this game, you’ll find out who—or what—created this monster. And you’ll do it fast. Before it costs us more.” You nod, the weight of Ambessa’s words settling heavily in your chest. Without a second thought, you move past the cells, your gaze flicking over them with practiced detachment. You push down the swirling thoughts threatening to overwhelm you, focusing on the task at hand. But as you walk, something pulls your attention—a cell, its door locked with an unnerving sense of finality. Something about it doesn’t sit right, a tension building in your gut.

Before you can step closer to investigate, the soft, rhythmic chime of the elevator cuts through the silence. The doors slide open, and out steps Commander Caitlyn Kiramman, her posture rigid, her face set in the same steely expression you’ve come to recognize. She doesn’t glance at you immediately, but when she does, her eyes flicker with a mixture of curiosity and caution. “Commander,” you murmur, your voice steady but carrying the weight of the unspoken. You can’t help but wonder if she’s here to speak of the very thing that’s been gnawing at your thoughts—the beast, the violence, the past that refuses to stay buried. “How is your investigation?” Caitlyn’s voice was steady, her usual sternness masking the exhaustion you knew she carried. Her sharp blue eyes flicked over you, searching for any hint of progress. You hesitated, your gaze drifting back to the closed cell. “It’s… ongoing,” you replied, the words clipped, as your unease bubbled beneath the surface. She followed your line of sight, noticing your fixation. Without waiting for an invitation, Caitlyn strode past you, her footsteps purposeful, echoing in the silence as she approached the cell. “What is it about this one?” she asked, her tone even, though her curiosity was evident. You didn’t answer immediately, the heaviness in your chest growing. “It’s locked,” you said finally, the words feeling too small for the weight of your unease. “But it’s too quiet. Too… deliberate.” Caitlyn reached out, resting her hand lightly on the cold metal bars. “Let’s open it,” she said decisively, her command leaving no room for argument. The tension in her voice betrayed her own unease, though her face remained calm and unreadable.

As the cell door creaked open, the air grew heavy with an acrid, chemical tang. There, sitting upright in the dim light, was a figure that made your breath hitch—Dr. Reveck. His sunken, hollow eyes locked onto yours, recognition flashing briefly across his face. Then came the cold, calculating glare of someone who had already weighed and dismissed your worth. “You’re persistent,” he murmured, his voice low and rasping, as though it hadn’t been used in days. “But persistence doesn’t make you immune to mistakes.” His lips twitched, a ghost of a smile that never reached his eyes. “What are you here for? To make another mistake?” Before you could respond, Caitlyn’s sharp footsteps echoed through the corridor, her tone cutting the tension. “Dr. Reveck,” she began, her words laced with authority, “you’re going to answer for what you’ve done. Whatever experiments you’ve been running—whatever monsters you’ve unleashed—it ends now.” Reveck’s expression didn’t waver, though his gaze shifted to Caitlyn with a disconcerting calm. “Answers,” he said, almost mockingly. “The only people who demand them are those too weak to seek the truth themselves.” The sudden clang of metal doors opening at the end of the hall signaled Ambessa’s arrival. Her towering figure filled the space, the weight of her presence silencing any retort Caitlyn might have had. Her eyes swept the scene before resting on Reveck. “This is the man responsible?” she asked, her voice an authoritative rumble. Reveck tilted his head slightly, observing Ambessa with a detached curiosity. “And you are?” he asked, his tone clinical, as though dissecting her existence. Ambessa took a step closer, her imposing frame making the cramped cell feel even smaller. “I’m the one deciding whether you’re worth keeping alive,” she said, her voice unwavering. “And right now, you’re not making a good case.”

The tension in the room was palpable, your pulse pounding in your ears as you stood frozen, caught between these forces of will. Caitlyn glanced at you, her expression tight, as if silently willing you to act or speak. Dr. Reveck finally turned back to you, his gaze sharper now, as though seeing past your mask of authority to the pain you’d been carrying. “Tell me,” he said softly, almost conversationally, “are you here to find answers, or are you just running from your own failures?” Before you could answer Dr. Reveck’s cutting remark, the sharp clink of handcuffs broke the silence. Caitlyn had stepped forward, her features stern as she clasped the restraints over Reveck’s thin wrists. “You’ll answer for your crimes,” she said coldly. “But your cooperation might still buy you a sliver of mercy.” Reveck barely flinched, his pale eyes darting between Caitlyn and Ambessa as if calculating the odds of survival. He let out a low, humorless chuckle. “Mercy,” he echoed, his voice dripping with disdain. “A curious word coming from Piltover’s enforcers. Tell me, Commander Kiramman—how does mercy reconcile with the blood already on your hands?” Caitlyn’s jaw tightened, but before she could reply, Ambessa’s voice rumbled from behind her. “Enough.” Her tone brooked no argument as she stepped into the cell, her towering figure filling the cramped space. “Your investigation isn’t finished here,” she said, her eyes locking onto yours with a commanding weight. “You’ve uncovered the man, but not the monster.”

Reveck’s lips curled faintly, a reaction as subtle as it was unsettling. “The beast,” he murmured, as though savoring the word. “You think you’re hunting it, but it’s already closer than you realize. Closer than any of you would dare admit.” Ambessa ignored him, her gaze still fixed on you. “Find it,” she said firmly. “Before this trail goes cold and more lives are lost.”

Reveck’s smile widened slightly, his voice taking on a cryptic edge. “And when you find it,” he said, his tone almost taunting, “you might not like what you uncover.” The weight of his words hung heavy in the air as you exchanged a brief, tense glance with Caitlyn. Without another word, Ambessa turned and walked toward the cell door, her presence commanding the attention of everyone in the room. Caitlyn followed, her hand lingering on her holstered weapon as if still on edge. You stayed behind for a moment longer, your gaze locked with Reveck’s, searching for something in his unflinching expression—a hint of truth, or maybe just an answer you weren’t ready to face.

You stepped out of the cell, the cold air biting against your skin. The echo of Ambessa’s commanding words and Reveck’s cryptic warnings swirled in your head, mixing with Caitlyn’s sharp presence. Every step away from the cell felt heavier, the pressure of what you’d just witnessed settling into the pit of your stomach. Reveck’s words wouldn’t leave you. “You think you’re hunting it, but it’s already closer than you realize.” They repeated in your mind like a haunting refrain, twisting your thoughts into knots. What did he mean? And why did it feel like there was more truth in his taunts than anyone cared to admit? The sterile prison corridor seemed darker now, its shadows crawling up the walls like something alive. A prickle of unease traced up your spine. For a moment, you paused, glancing back at the dim outline of the cell. It felt as though something—or someone—was watching. The air was too quiet, heavy with an unsaid warning. You shook your head and looked down, trying to steady your breaths, but your heart stopped cold. There, lying on the cold, stone floor just ahead of you, was a strand of blue hair. It glimmered faintly in the pale light, its color unmistakable. Powder. Your knees threatened to buckle, but you forced yourself to stay upright. A rush of memories flooded back—her laughter, her wide, curious eyes, the promises you made to her and Vi. And then the explosion, the chaos, and everything that came after. Your breathing quickened as you knelt down and gingerly picked up the strand, its texture soft but alien, almost too delicate for something so steeped in blood and tragedy. How did it get here? And why now?

The corridor seemed to stretch endlessly before you, the walls pressing in tighter. Your pulse thundered in your ears as a hundred questions screamed in your mind, all vying for answers. But one thought rose above them all, clear and sharp as a knife:

She was here.

And if she was here, then what had you missed? What was waiting just beyond the next shadow? You clutched the strand tighter, a knot of fear and determination tightening in your chest. You couldn’t let this go. Not now. Not after everything. With trembling hands and racing thoughts, you turned and walked toward the exit, but every step away from that cell felt like stepping deeper into the unknown.

You pulled your coat tighter around you, the cool night air biting at your skin. Your feet moved again, this time carrying you toward Zaun. If there was even the faintest chance she was there, you had to follow it. Whether you were ready or not, the path ahead was clear. You had to find her. And this time, you couldn’t fail. You had been at it for hours—no, days—piecing together fragments of evidence that felt more like whispers in the dark. Each lead took you deeper into Zaun’s underbelly: a blood trail smeared across cracked pavement, scorch marks that didn’t belong, and the eerie testimonies of those too afraid to say much at all. The closer you got, the more everything started pointing to one place. You’d seen the tunnel marked on old maps of Zaun—a forgotten artery deep within the district, barely mentioned anymore except in hushed tones. Something had happened there, something people were afraid to talk about. Standing at its mouth now, you could feel the weight of the place pressing on you like a physical force. The green chemfog swirled thickly, the heavy air carrying a stench of rust, decay, and something faintly metallic. It was quiet, unnervingly so, the usual hum of Zaun’s machinery conspicuously absent. You stepped forward cautiously, every instinct screaming at you to turn back. But the faintest trace of blood along the ground caught your attention, leading you further in. Whatever had been here—or was still here—wasn’t human. And yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t just a hunt for a monster. This was something personal, a shadow from your past reaching out to drag you back. As you stood at the edge of the tunnel, Dr. Reveck’s voice echoed in your mind, his words heavy with warning.

“You think you’re hunting it, but it’s already closer than you realize.”

The memory of his cold, detached tone sent a shiver down your spine. You tried to brush it off, focus on the task at hand. But it wasn’t easy. There was something about the way he’d looked at you, almost pitying, that gnawed at your resolve.

“You might not like what you uncover.”

The blood trail led further into the shadows, growing thicker, fresher. Each step you took seemed to confirm the truth of his cryptic warning. This wasn’t just a trail—it was a trap, a path carved by something that knew you’d follow. Despite yourself, fear clawed at the edges of your mind. You gripped your weapon tightly, the sound of your own breathing loud in the suffocating silence. If Dr. Reveck was right, if it was closer than you realized, then maybe—just maybe—it wasn’t the beast you were hunting anymore. Your heart pounded in your chest as you ventured deeper into the tunnel, every nerve on edge. The oppressive darkness seemed alive, pressing down on you as if the walls themselves wanted to swallow you whole. Then, breaking through the suffocating silence, you heard it—a voice. A familiar cry echoed through the hollow passage, carrying a name you hadn’t heard in years.

“Powder.”

Your breath hitched, and without thinking, your feet carried you toward the sound. The cry was raw, desperate, and unmistakable. It clawed at the memories you’d buried deep—days spent in the smog-filled streets of Zaun, promises whispered in the dead of night. You turned a corner, and there they were. The sight stopped you cold. Vi was locked in a brutal struggle, her movements sharp and relentless as she fought the towering monstrosity before her. Jinx—no, Powder—was nearby, her chaotic energy radiating even in the chaos, her laughter twisted with something between joy and pain. The beast, its hulking form both animal and something far worse, loomed over them. You stood frozen for a moment, unable to reconcile the scene before you. The two sisters you had sworn to protect were here, together again, fighting a nightmare brought to life. This wasn’t just a fight—it was their fight. But as the beast’s roar shook the walls of the tunnel, you knew you couldn’t just stand there. Not this time. You swung your electro-baton again, sending a crack of electricity through the beast’s thick hide. It staggered back, growling low, but you were ready to strike again. Then, a voice you hadn’t heard in what felt like ages cut through the chaos, sharp and frantic.

“Y/N?”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you turned, breath catching. There, standing in front of you with wide, shocked eyes, was Jinx. But it wasn’t just her surprise that caught your attention—it was the frantic energy radiating from her as her gaze flickered between you and the monster. Before you could even process the situation, Vi’s voice rang out, filled with desperation. “Get out of the way!” she yelled, her eyes locking onto the beast just as it made a move in your direction. The words barely registered before you heard the guttural growl of the creature, its monstrous form lunging toward you, faster than you could react. Your instincts kicked in just in time as you dove to the side, pushing Jinx out of the way and out of the path of the beast. In the chaos of the moment, you felt a sharp pang in your chest—Jinx’s face, twisted with a mixture of fear and resolve, flashed in your mind for just a second. She wasn’t ready to lose him again. But the situation was slipping further from control, and you couldn’t afford to wait any longer. Before you could strike, a hand shot out, gripping your arm with surprising strength. You whirled around, heart pounding, only to find Powder standing there. Her eyes were wide, frantic, pleading. “Stop!” she cried, her voice desperate, barely above a whisper. But it was enough to freeze you in place, your pulse hammering in your ears. The world seemed to slow as Powder’s frantic cry echoed in your mind.

“It’s Vander.”

For a moment, you couldn’t breathe. The name hung in the air, shattering everything you thought you knew. Your heart pounded against your ribs, memories of Vander flooding your mind—his hands, strong yet tender, holding you close during the darkest times. His laugh, the warmth he exuded when the world around you seemed so cold. He had been your everything. You had loved him with every fiber of your being. But this thing, this beast, it was not the man you had known. This creature, with its bloodshot eyes and twisted form, was not Vander. It couldn’t be. Your hands shook as you tightened your grip on the electro-baton, but it felt wrong—so wrong. The memories of him, so vivid and painful, clashed with the grotesque beast standing before you. You felt sick to your stomach, a wave of guilt crashing over you. You had failed him. Failed to save him. And now, you couldn’t even bring yourself to end the nightmare he had become. Your breath hitched as Powder stepped forward, desperation in her voice. “Please, Y/N, stop. I know it’s him. I can feel him in there. I won’t let you hurt him again.” Her words were a plea, a fragile hope in the storm. But your heart twisted with doubt. You could still hear the screams, the way the beast had ravaged everything in its path. And yet… something in Powder’s eyes, something in her raw desperation, made you falter.

The beast—Vander—lurched forward, its eyes locking onto you with an intensity that nearly paralyzed you. Every memory you had ever shared with him felt like it was being ripped from your chest.“Vander,” you whispered, the word slipping from your lips before you could stop it. The weight of it crushed you. You had spent so many years believing that Vander was lost, that the man you loved was gone. But here he was, in some twisted form, and it was as if everything you had been through had led you to this moment. Powder’s voice trembled as she pleaded once more. “Please, Y/N. Trust me. It’s him. Don’t hurt him. He’s still in there.” The battle inside you was unbearable. Every part of you screamed to fight, to destroy the beast before it could hurt anyone else. But Powder’s face—the vulnerability, the fear—held you in place. Your heart ached for her, for the girl who had once been Powder, the girl who had believed so deeply in the man who had been Vander. And for a long moment, you did nothing. Your body, your mind, were paralyzed by the weight of it all.

You wanted to believe her, wanted to believe that Vander was still there somewhere beneath that monstrous exterior. You swallowed hard, the tears threatening to break free. Slowly, shakily, you lowered the electro-baton, letting it fall to your side. It felt like an eternity, the weight of the decision heavier than any battle you had ever fought. The beast—Vander—let out a low growl, and for a split second, it seemed to hesitate, its glowing eyes softening. And then, before you could process what was happening, it lunged. In a split-second, you shoved Vi out of the way, your body reacting faster than your mind could follow. You felt the beast’s claws rake across your shoulder, pain searing through your skin. The world blurred for a moment, your vision flickering as you stumbled backward, feeling weaker by the second. And then, amidst the chaos, the word tore from your chest.

“Vander…”

The sound of his name was a raw, guttural cry, one that echoed through the tunnels, through your soul. The pain hit you harder than any wound could. Vander, that name, those memories—they tore you apart. You had vowed to protect Vi and Powder, to keep them safe from the horrors of the world, yet here you stood, helpless. The love you had for him, for both of them, never faded. But now? Now you wondered if you'd failed them all. Could you ever undo the damage, or was it too late to save any of them? This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t be this. But here he was, and you couldn’t turn away. Not now. Not after everything.

As the beast—the twisted, monstrous form of Vander—pins you to the ground, his massive claw digs into your shoulder, a searing pain that nearly overwhelms you. Your body is trembling, pinned beneath his weight, but you find the strength to cry out. “Vander!” The word escapes your lips like a prayer, a cry full of pain, longing, and grief. For a fleeting moment, the ferocity in his bloodshot eyes falters. There’s a flicker of something, a split-second recognition that makes your heart ache with hope, even as your breath hitches in terror. The claws dig deeper, and for a second, you wonder if it’s all over. The beast’s heavy breaths rattle through your chest, but you can’t stop. This has to be the moment. This has to reach him. With what strength you have left, you lift your free hand and place it gently on his massive claw, the very one that could end your life. You speak the words that have haunted your thoughts, words full of both love and desperate sorrow, knowing they might be the last you ever speak to him.

“It’s me... your sunshine.”

The words hang in the air, fragile and raw, and for a heartbeat, time seems to stop. The beast’s gaze flickers—just for a moment—as if the sound of your voice stirs something deep within him. There’s a trembling hesitation in his claw, as if he’s hearing something buried beneath the rage and the pain, something that reminds him of who he was. In the chaos of your heart, you realize your words are more than a plea. They’re a lifeline thrown into a sea of darkness, hoping that some part of Vander will catch it. For a heartbeat, you feel the world shift, the crushing weight of the beast’s form loosening as something human flickers in the depths of his eyes. His growls soften, his body stills, as if struggling against the flood of memories. Then, as if through a fog, his voice—gravelly, strained, broken—rumbles from the depths of his throat, just a whisper but heavy with a history that neither of you could erase.

“Y/N…?”

The name feels like a weight lifted off your chest, like the first breath after drowning. His voice is there, faint, but real. Vander is still in there. You can feel it—the man you loved, the one who had promised to always protect you, the one who had once held you close during the darkest nights, is right here in front of you. Tears blur your vision, and your body trembles, caught between the raw pain, the disbelief, and a flood of emotions you never thought you’d face again. With a trembling breath, you whisper, “It’s me, Vander… it’s your Y/N…” In that moment, his once ferocious red eyes flicker. A slow shift begins, and your heart seizes in your chest as you see something break through the fog—a glimmer of blue and green cutting through the fire. For a single, fleeting second, you see Vander there, in his eyes. The man you loved. The protector who had once carried you through the worst storms. It’s real. He’s still in there. The grip around you tightens, not with violence, but with a deep, consuming desperation. His body trembles with something far greater than rage—something more human. His chest releases a low, guttural breath, the growl that once shook the air now softened, trembling with the weight of all that he has become, all he’s lost.

He’s no longer the man you remember, not entirely. But he’s not the beast either. No longer fully consumed by it. It’s somewhere in between, and in that space, you cling to him like you’ve never clung to anything before. You feel his hands, so monstrous and terrifying in their size, holding you close— holding you. He pulls you in with a desperation that makes your chest ache, his form trembling as if he’s afraid you might slip away again, as if this might all vanish in an instant. The sheer weight of him, the warmth of his touch, releases everything you’ve buried deep inside—the fear, the questions, the pain, the grief. Every memory of him, of what you lost, surfaces and consumes you. Your sobs come, raw and uncontrollable. The sound fills the air between you, as you let go of everything you’ve carried alone all this time. And in the grip of this agony, in the midst of your sobbing breaths, you feel Vander—the man who once loved you—is still fighting to hold onto you, still fighting to be the protector he once was. His arms, still massive, still deadly, are now filled with tenderness. He doesn’t need to speak, not yet. His embrace says everything. He’s still here, he’s still fighting, and he hasn’t forgotten you. In that moment, you realize that the beast, the rage, the monstrous form—none of it can take away who he was, who he still is to you. Tears blur your vision even more, but you no longer try to stop them. You let them fall freely, because in the midst of the devastation, the pain, and the years you spent wondering if this day would ever come, you know— he’s here. Not just in body, but in soul. And you’ll hold on to him, no matter what form he takes. You’ll fight for him, just as he fought for you.

As Vander’s gaze shifts toward Powder and Vi, his monstrous form trembles slightly, and the flicker of recognition in his eyes softens further. Despite the beast he has become, there's a tenderness in the way he moves, his massive arm opening wide, offering a place for them to find solace in his embrace. The look in their eyes is a mix of agony and hope, the weight of everything they've endured written across their faces. It’s clear they’re torn between fear of what he’s become and the desire to believe that the father they once knew is still inside.

Without a word, you reach out, your voice quiet but full of emotion.

“Go to him. He’s still your father. He’s still here with us.”

The words are simple, but they carry the weight of years of grief, the ache of a lost family and the hope of its fragile restoration. Powder’s eyes fill with tears, and Vi, standing beside her, slowly steps forward. The two of them move together, drawn toward Vander’s open arms, like a long-buried longing finally being met. They collapse into his embrace, and the world around you seems to pause. Vander, in his monstrous form, holds them close, his massive arms gentle yet desperate, as though he’s afraid they might disappear if he holds them too loosely. The pain, the fear, all of it melts away in this moment, replaced by something simple—love. He’s still their father, still the protector who had raised them. Even now, with all the darkness and the destruction surrounding them, Vander is here, alive, and for this moment, whole.

And you stand back, watching them hold each other. The tears in your own eyes sting as you witness the reunion, knowing that, despite everything, the heart of the man you loved is still present. He is their father— your Vander—and for that, you are thankful.

[illyrianbitch]

Worth It

Pairing: Reader x Bat Boys

Summary: It can be hard to remember why you’ve put up with your best friends for centuries-- until they remind you why they're worth it.

Warnings: irritation cause of males? perhaps? friendship fluff. boys being boys aka bat boys are immature male dummies and reader is fed up.

Word Count: 3.4k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

“Are you guys idiots?”

Your voice was a loud bellow as you made your way into Rhysand’s office. From the look on your face, the three males quickly realized that their dirty little secret had been exposed– something that they were all expecting, Azriel being the first to mention that they hadn’t done a great job at hiding it. 

Sure, it was a silly idea for them to keep an ancient cursed object. Rhysand didn’t think it was real, when Cassian came running home and claiming he won it in a bet. The person seemed awfully enthusiastic to get rid of it, Cass had said, told me that it would change my life forever. Weird guy. It only took one interaction for Azriel’s shadows to instantly skitter from the small gold thing, whispering into Azriel’s ears like scared children. Cursed, old, evil, run. 

Rhysand was going to tell you that they kept it, to get a better idea of it, that's all, and that it just so happened to be sitting on the table near your room. He was. At least, he planned on it.

It was Cassian who made the first move, leaning to the side and lowering his head slightly to Rhysand. “This feels like a trick question,” he attempted to whisper, but the sound was loud enough to carry through the room.

You ignored him, instead glaring at the violet eyes that held your gaze. 

“You didn’t think to tell me about something this dangerous?”

“I just thought-”

“Thought what?” You asked him, mouth agape, “That you’d just lie to me about living with a deadly object?”

“We didn’t lie, we just didn’t tell you,” Cassian clarified innocently. He regretted his input once your stare met his and he quickly muttered out a small apology, looking to become as small as he could make his large form to be. 

“And thats better?”

Rhysand let out a deep breath. 

“Y/n, just calm down.”

Your head snapped to face him at a force that made him question how you hadn’t broken it. Rhysand’s eyes widened as they met yours, a sense of rage now flickering in your gaze. Azriel instantly grimaced at the words of his brother, his gaze meeting Cassian’s, whose eyes were wide as his mouth formed a small “oh.” Both males took a cautionary step backwards.

“Calm down?” you repeated, slowly stalking towards Rhysand with an icy calmness that made him instantly shrink.

“Well,” he started putting one palm out towards you, “I just mean that we should sit down and think rationally about this.”

“Think rationally?”

Rhysand looked over his shoulders in an attempt to seek some backup, but Cassian averted his gaze and Azriel simply shook his head. You’ve done it now, was what Azriel’s gaze seemed to say. His shadows curled around him, slithering up his body until they were peeking over his shoulders, alert and ready to watch— in amusement, it would seem.

Rhys nervously laughed.

“Can we start over?”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Compared to the others, your bedroom was extremely large, adorned with its own fireplace and seating area. But with the three Illyrian males standing around you, it felt quite cramped. You watched as they wandered around your room, picking up your stuff and throwing it to each other. This was your fault, of course, since you’d specifically asked for them to come. 

“Guys,” you said, “can we focus, please.”

The three males turned around to face you, all looking at you with wide stares and raised brows, as if they had been caught doing something they weren't supposed to be doing. 

“Right,” Rhysand said as he balanced a small porcelain heart in his hand, a Solstice gift from Mor. He quickly glanced down at the object, eyes widening slightly before he turned his head and threw it in the air, effectively tossing it off to Cassian, who caught it with parted lips. 

“Dude.” 

You groaned, rolling your eyes as you walked forward.“Give me that,” you said as you ripped the item out of the males large, calloused hands. 

“I need one of you to help me make Landon jealous.” 

“Not it,” Rhys said, the words quickly tumbling out of his mouth as his hands flew up in surrender.

You stared at him blankly, your lips forming into a tight line.

“What?”

The line quickly turned into a scowl as you held his stare, a look of innocence on his beautiful features. 

“Am I truly that hideous you don’t want to help me out?”

“Oh, please,” Rhysand said with a dramatic scoff, “You know you’re hot. We know you’re hot. But It’s not my fault you can’t flirt normally. This is a perfect night for me to get some, so, I can’t.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms carefully, the porcelain heart safely in your grasp.

“Were the two guys from last night not enough?”

Instantly, a smug grin found its way onto Rhysand’s face. 

“Oh, c’mon,” he said, his voice low and sultry. A sense of pride clung to him. “I’m a growing male, I have a healthy appetite.”

From beside him, Cassian nodded with a grin, putting his knuckles out for Rhys to give him a fist bump. Azriel simply let out a small laugh and shook his head, eyes trained on you as you grimaced, your nose crinkled with a frown.

“You make it sound like you're eating them.”

Somehow, the grin grew, his pearly white teeth gleaming at you.

“Aren’t I?”

“You’re gross,” you responded, “I don’t want your help anyways.”

Rhysand let his mouth fall open in feign offense and you seized the moment to flip him off– a vulgar gesture that he instantly returned. Azriel and Cassian exchanged a glance.

“I got you, Y/n,” Cass finally said, walking up to you to wrap his arm around your shoulder. He pulled you into his embrace, looking down at you with a large, wolfish grin. You held his eyes for a moment, thinking about how well Cassian fit into your plans. A subtle sense of doubt crept into you, and once Cassian wiggled his eyebrows, you were done for. Your eyes instantly flickered to the last of your best friends.

“Az?”  Your voice was a soft plea, accompanied by a small, unsure smile that had Azriel sigh in defeat.

Cassian scoffed, pulling apart from you in an effort to see your entire face. “What? Why him?”

You gave a sheepish smile, your gaze bouncing between the three males before settling on him once more. “I love you, Cassian, but you won’t make him jealous.”

“And why not?”

It was Azriel who responded with a small snicker, “Because you’re easy.” 

Cassian’s mouth was open in shock as he registered the statement, his eyelids falling in soft blinks before he let out another scoff. 

“Well now I’m offended.”

“Don’t be,” Rhys said from across the room as he fell down on your couch, propping up his legs on the arms of it. “It means you’ve got a good game. Think about how many people you’ve fucked thats gotten you such a title. I mean the amount of puss-”

You let out a loud groan, pushing Cassian off you with a soft shove.

“Oh my Gods, we get it. You guys are slutty. Can we get back to me now? Please?” 

Your words were only met with a round of laughter. 

“And get your dirty shoes off my couch, Rhys.”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

“What the fuck happened to my cake?” You seethed, the words coming out bitter and sharp. The door slammed behind you as it collided with the wall, the impact of your entrance causing a dent in the surface. 

The boys visibly recoiled, Cassian flinching at the roughness of your voice, a voice that was usually comforting and soft. The three males exchanged wary glances, and then Rhysand was lifting his chin.

“I-” he started, only to be interrupted by a cough from Cassian, “We don’t know what you’re talking about,”

“My powdered sugar pound cake, Rhysand. I know you guys did something. Where is it? Did you eat it? Destroy it?”

Another beat of silence. You were sure your teeth were bound to break with the force of your clenched jaw, your teeth gritting harder with every minute spent looking at their avoiding eyes. 

“We didn’t touch your cake, Y/n.” 

You glared at Rhys, the apparent dedicated spokesmen of the three, and let out a harsh exhale. 

“There is powdered sugar on your hands!” You said, shoving an accusatory finger at them. "Right now!”

The males all simultaneously looked down at their hands, Cassian gasping in feign surprise– a sound so exaggerated you resisted the urge to hit him on the side of the head for the act alone. Rhysand was a bit more subtle, bringing his hands up to his face, examining them, and then tossing a casual shrug your way.

“This is completely unrelated powdered sugar.”

With a flare of your nostrils, you turned your head to face Azriel, who met your gaze with a small smirk on his face, of all things.

“And what's your excuse, Az?”

He shook his head. “Don’t have one.”

“So you admit you guys ate it?”

“I didn’t admit anything.”

You clenched your hands into fists, your fingernails digging into the skin of your palms. 

“Yes you did.”

Azriel’s eyebrow quirked, and then he was narrowing his eyes at you.

“Did I?”

“Yeah, Y/n, did he?” Cassian echoed, putting his hands on his hips.

Your nostrils flared as your gaze bounced between the three males. You wanted to take all three of their heads and knock them together, hope that one of them would produce a module of maturity. 

They braced themselves for an outburst, for you to run up to one of them and hit them in the face, if anything, but nothing came. Instead you looked away and shook your head. 

“Fuck you, guys. You suck. Gods.”

And you left. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

You came to a halt as you turned the corner, now staring into the living room where your best friends stood shirtless next to one another, a determined look on their faces.

"What the hell are you guys doing?"

Rhys looked up with a grin. "We're settling a debate," he said, gesturing to the tape measure in his grip. "Gonna find out who's got the biggest wingspan."

You raised an eyebrow, bringing your finger up to your lips as you laughed.

"Want to place a bet?" Azriel said as he rolled his back, a small smirk on his lips.

Cassian flexed his wings behind him, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he shook loose pieces of hair out of his face. "I'm pretty sure it's me," he boasted.

Rhys shook his head, his wings unfolding slightly as he stood up taller. "Not a chance," he countered. "I think you'll find mine's larger."

"What does wingspan really determine?" You asked incredulously.

You watched as all three males blinked, staring at you as if you had spoken in a tongue different than your own.

"Uh," Cass said, lifting a finger, "Absolutely everything, my dear, Y/n."

You rolled your eyes at him, but began walking to them in spite of yourself. When you found yourself in front of Rhysand, you looked up and put your palm out.

Rhys frowned, eyebrows furrowing at the outstretched hand.

"Well?" You said, raising your eyebrows. "For a proper assessment, you need a fair judge."

He grinned, enthusiastically shoving the tape measure into your palm.

"Alright boys," Rhys said, turning around to face his brothers, stretching his hands out as his wings extended behind him-- almost hitting you in the face. "Let's settle this."

One by one, your friends approached you, Rhysand with a grin, Azriel with a smirk, shadows pointed at the edge of his wings, and Cassian with a cheeky wink.

After all three had been measured, you stepped back, trying to hide your grin. "Looks like we have a winner."

Cassian puffed out his chest triumphantly. "I knew it!"

You raised an eyebrow. "Actually, Azriel's wingspan is slightly larger."

Cassian's face fell as Az let out a loud laugh in victory, shadows surrounding Cass like a mocking audience. He swatted them away with his hands.

Rhys chuckled, clapping Cassian on the back. "Looks like you'll have to concede this one, Cass. Being last place isn't so bad."

Cassian frowned. "Azriel cheated! His shadows held his wings up, I swear."

A snicker in response.

"Yeah, yeah, you're a sore loser."

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

"Why do you look like that?"

You gasped in surprise, your hand flying to your heart as you turned to the source of the voice. Cassian stood in your doorway, casually leaning against the doorframe as he bit into an apple.

"Cassian!" You scolded, pushing your hair off your shoulder as you walked towards him. "You can't just come into my room and scare me like that!"

"Why not?" He said, mouth filled to brim with chewed apple bits.

You stared at his mouth with a frown, lifting your hand so that your nail could slightly scrape off a piece stuck to the stubble on his chin. Cassian gave you a smile as he finished chewing, wiping off his mouth with his free hand.

"Gross," you muttered. You shook off your hand before looking at him again, "And you just can't."

"Well I'm here, so, seems like I can."

You rolled your eyes, but Cass only smiled at the reaction.

"So why are you dressed like that?"

You frowned. "Like what?"

"Good. Like, hot.”

"Gee, thanks," you deadpanned, your head tilting to the side as you gave him a blank stare "You sure know how to make me feel confident."

Cassian let out a laugh, placing a soft, large hand on your forearm. "No, no, you always look good. But where ya going?"

You felt a blush creep onto your cheeks, but before you could respond, Rhys appeared behind Cassian, curiosity written all over his face.

"What's happening?" He said as walked in, throwing himself onto your bed. He frowned as his eyes scanned you. "You look pretty. What's going on?"

You let out an exasperated sigh, realizing you were about to have an audience.

"Guys, get out," you said firmly. "I'm going on a date."

Cassian and Rhys exchanged a quick glance before both of the males broke out into large grins.

"Ooooh, a date?" Cassian teased, brushing past you to sit next to Rhysand on your bed.

"Yes, now get out."

You walked towards them, attempting to grab their hands and pull them up with the sheer force of will. Between your futile attempts, Azriel's voice sounded from the doorway. "What are we all doing in your room?"

You let out a loud groan. "Where do you guys keep coming from?"

You turned around to face him, hands on your hips and an annoyed frown on your lips. Just as his brothers did, Azriel's eyes scanned your appearance.

"You look good," he said. His shadows curled around his body, a few around his ear as the corners of his lips turned upwards. "You're going on a date?"

From behind you, Cassian and Rhysand broke out into a sound that you could only describe as a giggle, the grown males turning to one another to make theatrical kissing sounds.

"You guys are so annoying. Get out."

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

There was a soft knock at your door.

You groaned, slipping yourself further into your covers.

The knock came once more and you closed your eyes, hitting the back of your head against your pillow. "Leave me alone!"

Much to your dismay, your protest was met with the sound of your door opening and a heavy set of footsteps approaching your bed. It only took a few seconds before your beige covers were being lifted off your face. You squinted at the light that met your eyes.

"Well, look who's alive."

You scowled as your eyes met Rhysand's violet ones, a large smile on his face as he hovered over you. There was a softness in his eyes that made you feel guilty for the expression, and the scowl quickly turned into a small frown.

As you pulled yourself upright, Rhysand made himself comfortable at the edge of your bed. "How you feeling?"

Your knew your eyes were puffy and sensitive from the crying you'd done all night. You were grateful it was Rhysand who sat in front of you, someone you weren't embarrassed to be seen in such a state with.

"I just got cheated on,” you murmured, rubbing your face with your hands. "How do you think I'm feeling?"

He sighed, a small frown on his lips as he urged you to scoot farther into the bed, making room for him to situate himself next to you. As he maneuvered, you caught sight of your bedside table, now decorated with a large bouquet of multicolored flowers, delicately wrapped in with a white bow. Next to it sat a small bear, its fur a white and blue pattern that perfectly matched that of the ceramic heart gifted to you from Mor.

"Are those for me?"

Rhysand quickly glanced over before giving you a nod.

"Yeah," he said, "The florist gave me a whole explanation for every flower. I told her that I wanted to g-"

Rhys stopped as he noticed your staring, eyes wide as you looked at him, lips curled down. "What?" he asked.

You felt your lip quiver, a small burn in your chest as you looked at him. Realization quickly flickered in his eyes--- realization that you were about to start sobbing.

"Don't make it a thing," Rhys said, staring at you blankly. But as your eyes began to well with tears, his facade quickly broke and he sighed, putting an arm around you and pulling you in. "I had to take care of my best girl, okay?"

Your nose tickled as the corners of your eyesight became blurry, a sudden pool of tears now at the corners of your eyes. "Thank you," you told him, as you burrowed yourself further into his embrace.

You closed your eyes, taking a moment to bathe in the comfortable silence. But a second quickly passed, and both you and Rhysand jerked at the sound of your door slamming into the wall.

"I'm here!" Cassian's voice boomed.

You blinked at the sight in front of you, Cassian's hair messily tied together atop of his head, his hands barely containing a pile of food assortments. His chin rested against 2 tubs of ice cream haphazardly stacked on top one another, his palms desperately grabbing onto a variety of chocolates, candies, bags of chips, and fruits.

His eyes met yours, instantly softening at your appearance. He gave you a smile. "Hey, beautiful. Nice to see ya."

"What you got there, Cass?" Rhys said, his head tilting as he closely scanned the pile his brother clutched to his chest.

"I got everything," he responded, eyes darting between you and Rhys. They settled on you as he continued, "I didn't know what you'd want."

You let out a laugh, your cheeks suddenly straining from the impact of your smile. Your face fell as you examined his haul, your brows furrowing as you pointed to a small plastic bag.

"Are those... pads?"

Cassian attempted to look down, but the ice cream containers beneath his chin constricted his movements. "I'm not sure, the lady at the store said you probably needed them with everything I was buying."

Rhysand let out a snort at this, his hand affectionately rubbing up and down your bicep. You smiled as Cassian shuffled to your couch, carefully dropping the ideas on your cushions, and then moving to place the rest on the table.

"Hey," you said with a frown, "Wheres Az?"

Rhysand and Cassian exchanged a glance.

"What?" You asked, looking between the two males. "Where is he?"

Cassian gave you a sheepish smile and then Rhys was laughing, a deep sound that you felt as his chest moved beneath you.

"Where do you think? He's beating the shit out of Landon."

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

oh how nice it would be to live with the batboys with the vibes of new girl 😌 (until they do something stupid)

a/n: i’m slowly getting all my drafts and requests out 🫶🏻

[suguru-getos]

Hi En I had an idea which I can’t get off my mind it’s eating me alive it’s making me pounce on my pillow and screech wildly. Hear me out- bully Getou with a who did this to you moment 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

oh my goddd ‼️ 🥵 this sounds like such a good idea, especially with bully!geto 🙈

-> who did this to you? — geto suguru

summary: bully!sugu notices you were also becoming a target for others & kicks ass for you x (comments and reblogs are appreciated)

just because suguru thought he had free reign over you, so did another brat from his class. you were his junior after all and only satoru knew that he actually doted on you. suguru was getting restless for the day, he hasn’t seen his pretty little babygirl today. sure, he loves the look when your eyes try to evade eye contact from his stern gaze. when he says you need to be put in place for looking so delectable. when he teasingly calls you a little whore for suguru’s attention.

you deflected him so many times but his persistence has led to your ignorance. though he can’t find you anymore. his best friend satoru is quick though, “she’s near the store room hallway.” he hums, shrugging. why were you there? were you trying to run from suguru? he scoffed, pouting a little and ushering towards the known location.

finally, what he saw made his heart clutch a little. it’s december, you’re shivering from cold because someone had drenched your white shirt, your red bra is visible from it instantly and you hug yourself. you want to cry but you know that wouldn’t really help you. so you just sit there, shivering and spasming and knowing you’d catch a fever soon.

the echoes of his footsteps distract you instantly, you turned back, watching him and wanting to kill yourself. suguru would make such fun of you for being so miserable & looking so miserable. so weak and pathetic. “you think i did this for your attention too? yeah i did it, now leave me alone.” you managed to croak with your chattering teeth.

he hums, cupping your face and blood boiling when he found you cold. “let’s get you a blanket first, then you will go to the infirmary and change it. you’ll catch a cold and fall sick & we don’t want that do we? we have our exams soon, little girl.”

you can’t help but nod in affirmation, feeling a little taken cared of by him. though you think it was done by suguru… “yeah, don’t act like you didn’t ask your classmates to put ice cold water on me.” you were glossy eyed and felt pathetic. “you’ve let others joined in your-”

“who did this?” suguru was stern, almost unrelenting with the way his brows furrowed and his jaw tightened. you wince at the demeanour change and looked up at him, pouting with your glossed eyes.

“stop pretending-”

“i asked you something little one. who did this?” he asked once more, a little tender. “who did this to you?”

you parted your lips to finally mumble that you infact, don’t know who these people were. you have seen them around satosugu and hence you know they are his classmates. suguru sighs, his rage knew no bounds. his pretty little girl only he could bully, was taken lightly because of his behavior. he hums, carrying you princess-style, as a statement that you’re not to be fucked with. the most popular guy in school was whipped and carrying you as if you were his prized possession. the school saw it, everyone saw it. you… saw it.

you had time to change and when you were done, satoru brought you hot chocolate, smiling and headpatting you. “yer going to be fine little girl. i know suguru wouldn’t let anyone irritate ya! only us!” he grins, sitting beside you.

“now, he’s gone to bring all the bastards and bootlickers around us, so you can recognize them and let us deal with it, easy? no?” satoru smiles, giving you some comfort as you nodded. “mm, yeah…”

and suguru did bring them, the people who did this to you looked terrified, the same way you felt around suguru in the beginning. only suguru never really gave you any reason to… you thought he’d hit you for rejecting him but he never did. never raised a voice on you. but yes; loomed around you, commented on your body, your face, everything… suguru was a piece of shit with morals. yeah — that’s how you’d label him.

you pointed at the guys who gave the mere explaination before getting their ass brutally whopped in front of you that they thought suguru did it, which gave them a free pass to. while their noses bled and they mumbled apologies from suguru’s kicks and sickly behavior of - “sorry, she can’t hear you.”

you heard him mumble, “she’s mine to toy with, you fuckers can’t touch her or i’ll rip your hands and legs out.” suguru geto was indeed, a piece of shit with morals.

[hedwig221b]

Not the same anon but your fav jealous and possessive Derek fics? I’m talking toxic possessive, Stiles always in sight and scented and being touched cuz Derek just CANNOT STOP 💞💞💞😌👆🏼🙂‍↕️

Hi, hello, here you go 🔥💖 (p.s. we need more obsessed borderline toxic Derek pleek)

As it Should Be by KuroKitty (HaleYes)

Stiles comes home from his 18th birthday party at the bowling alley to find a surprise waiting for him in his room. Or, the one where Derek has no chill.

Assume I'm just An Asshole by mannersmakethmine

the pack always finding Stiles and Derek in coupley situations and assuming they're fake dating because there's a new threat in town, and Stiles and Derek because the shits that they are just go along with it.

Deflowered by astrugglingstoic

In which there is a prince, a knight, sequential sword fights, and an anecdote about pressed flower petals.

Feral Formalities by Aleandri

"There was silence as no one seemed to breath at the table. Derek had just gifted Stiles, an unmated Omega, with food. Right in front of another Alpha. Who he was on a date with. To discuss being heat partners…." In which, Stiles presents as Omega, and everyone wants a piece of the alpha-baby-making ass!

five times derek is protective of stiles and one time it's the other way around

Yeah, okay, so maybe Derek was a tad too protective of Stiles. So what? Sue him for worrying about his best friend, whom he totally does not have a raging crush on. Okay, so maybe he does. Shut up.

Hung The Moon by BurnItAllClean (nrnyx)

Slowly Stiles got control of himself again. His heart calmed. His breathing evened out. The anger was gone. In its place, a bone-deep weariness settled. He couldn’t do this. He wouldn’t survive this.

Might be a Predator by churkey

Derek's mom once told him they were predators. It never occurred to him to ask, 'If werewolves are predators, what do we hunt?'.

Oblivious Misadventures, and Other Such Tales by Little Spoon (JaydenNara)

Going to college was exciting and new, a chance for new friends and a fresh start, and the best part was, there was a supernatural fraternity on campus, meaning Scott finally had the freedom to be himself. Then he met the resident human who came with a stalker alpha. What was the point of a supernatural fraternity if he still had to pretend to be human. And seriously, did Stiles ever fall asleep somewhere normal?

of gods & monsters by Dexterous_Sinistrous

“I’m not the best at conversation. I’ve been told I have no finesse for it.” Stiles took a step closer to Derek, pushing the billowing silk out of the way. “And what would you say if you looked at me now?” Derek looked up, startled for a moment when he realized he was now looking at Stiles’ unveiled face. He was silent for a beat, taking in Stiles’ features for the first time, convinced he would never see such beauty unveiled for him alone.

Oh my (let me look at those eyes) by Gorgeousgreymatter

A few months ago, he might’ve been able to solve this with some force—a little man-handling, a snarl, a glimpse of teeth. But he looks at Stiles’s broken face, knows he’s seen too much horror and blood and evil, the whole Big Bad Wolf routine is just going to fall flat. Because Derek looks at Stiles and he doesn’t carry himself like a teenager anymore. He carries himself like a soldier.

The Alpha and his Spark by sandyde03

Stiles is pregnant. Derek is perpetually horny and possessive. Stiles is confused. Not by Derek sexing him up. He loves that. It’s the fact that ever since he started to show that he was with pup everyone has been avoiding his eyes.

The Boy Is Mine, You Bonkers! by frownypup

It turns out that the words ‘a painfully smart and brave unclaimed human who is stupidly unutilized in Beacon Hill’s pack’ became the hottest gossip in werewolf underground. Yes, what the hell. Stiles’ existence has changed from a plankton to a rising sun. Derek Hale has something he needs to say about it.

Three Little Words by Chloepioneer

“Oh god,” he whines, slapping a hand over his mouth to quell the vomit that boils the back of his throat. “Derek, is that the mailman?” or Derek has a bad habit of killing people that take an interest in Stiles. Stiles might like it a little bit.

won't you torture someone else's sleep by redeyedwrath

I love you, Derek thinks, but he doesn’t say it, just watches Stiles throw his head back in laughter that isn’t for him and never will be. I love you, I love you, I love you. Maybe if he thinks it hard enough, Stiles will hear him.

you are an obsession (i am your possession) by EvanesDust

Once Derek catches that tantalizing scent, he can’t stay away. Stiles. Derek’s completely enthralled by him. Obsessed. But all he can do is stand in the shadows, watching and waiting. Until he can make Stiles his, that is. And when that happens, Derek will never let him go.

Pack nights are not for getting laid by igotdamn

Stiles goes out clubbing, Derek doesn't like that very much.

Obsession by Rae666

Derek gets hit by a witch's curse and is confined to his loft as his uncle searches for a cure and Isaac stands guard. But as the curse grows worse and Derek's obsession with a certain pale skinned person becomes increasingly intense, how long can the team keep Derek and Stiles apart, especially when Stiles decides to take matters into his own hands?

Other fic recs: pack mom!Stiles | angsty fics | historical AU | baby/mpreg | outsider POV | smut | mafia | hurt/comfort | magical!Stiles | Stiles gets kicked out of the pack | BAMF!Stiles | omegaverse | witch!Stiles | creature!Stiles | bad friend Scott | unrequited love | werewolf!Stiles | dark sterek | single parent!Stiles

[ryomens-vixen]

GrievingSukuna! HEADCANONS

Summary: You passed away from an incurable illness that plagued you almost your entire life, and even as his favorite concubine, his most cherished, hell his only one left since he had disposed of the rest. The one thing he liked, that her genuinely cherished was now withering away in his arms.

⚠Warning⚠ Minors dni, mentions of death, Sadness, idk what else to put.

GrievingSukuna! Who has never once said "I love you" to anyone not even you. The thought of those words ever leaving his lips made him want to gag except right those words meant everything.

GrievingSukuna! Who listened to your frail voice reassure him that your time spent with him was a joyous one, and that your were just another concubine, that he shouldn't mourn the life of someone who was merely brought to his temple over a year ago for his enjoyment alone.

GrievingSukuna! Who silenced you with the most tender, loving, heart stopping kiss to ever grace your soft yet dry lips as he just could not bare to hear another word. You chipped away of his walls, held his cold heart in your warm hand, and yet you had the nerve to utter nonsense? You had become his pride, the air he breathes, almost his wife, and possibly the barrer of his supposed heir.

GrievingSukuna! Who listened to you final goodbye to him after one last kiss to which he finally spoke those three words...

"Oh, Lord Ryomen, Serving you was..was the best thing that life could have ever given me. Every moment I spent serving you.. I spent without regret, my only regret now is being too weak to serve you any longer. What kind of concubine am I? Heh, forgive me..please forgive me, I- I-..."

You had spent all your energy speaking this blasphemy to him. If he could he would have scolded you right then and there, but there was no time that. All he could was catch your fallen hand that reached for him in an attempt to hold him one more time. You didn't have enough energy left to finish your sentence yet he finished it for you in those last moments he uttered for the first and final time.

"I Love You, (Y/N)... You foolish woman."

He said it, he finally said it, those words from him you would carry into the afterlife with you, A tear fell from your beautiful (E/C) eyes. But these words were only meant for your ears, not even his servant that stood outside his chambers could hear him whispering those three words into your delicate ears.

GrievingSukuna! Who's world came crashing down once your chest rose and fell taking your last breath. Oh the heinous things he would do, the sacrifices he would make, the blood he would give to just hear your sweet voice once more. This hurt him, this pain.. It petrified him, it was like no pain he had ever felt before.

GrievingSukuna! Who after hours of holding your cold corpse, finally allowed his servents to come in and ready you for burial. His face was unreadable to them, but on the inside he was ready to explode with rage, he was ready to curse the heavens and hell for taking what was his away.

GrievingSukuna! Who stayed locked away in his chambers for the next few days leading up to your burial. Oh how you wounded him worse than any man or woman ever could. This wound wasn't something he could just easily no, no, this wound would forever be etched into his mind, body, and soul for as long as he lived.

GrievingSukuna! Who's face remained unreadable during the ceremony, you had no family to join him, just his loyal servents who had grew quite fond of you once upon a time.

GrievingSukuna! Who quickly storm away once your casket was lowered into the ground, he felt his eyes were burning... What was this? Tears!? Never in the beginning of time would Sukuna ever shed a pathetic tear, but he heart could not deny the human emotions that came with once being human. He wouldn't dare let anyone see such an ugly sight, him experiencing sadness.

GrievingSukuna! Who's sadness was quickly replaced with pure, unadulterated rage, every village in 100...No a thousand mile radius was fucked. If he couldn't have the one thing he cherished more than anything in the world then why should everyone else?

GrievingSukuna! Who would go days without returning to his temple until he's had his fill of bloodshed, maybe this was his new found way of coping with the loss of his concubine?

GrievingSukuna! After days of slaughter he would return home to your grave absolutely drenched from head to toe in the blood of the innocent and lay at your grave.

GrievingSukuna! Who would stay at you grave for hours, cursing you to the heavens for leaving him in disarray, for not ripping his heart out his chest to take with you so he wouldn't have to FEEL this pain any longer.

GrievingSukuna! Who would soon slaughter all that were loyal to him as he would rather live in solitude, then to be reminded that he has no one to share the servitude of his people with. Sukuna would rather be alone than to enjoy the finer things without you by his side.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Bonding

Summary: You and Javi just brought your daughter Lucy home from the hospital. While the two of you couldn't be more in love and excited at the addition of your newest family member, it doesn't mean that you both aren't feeling some of the nerves of being first time parents.

Word Count: 2.4K (She's reasonable, your honor)

Pairing: Dad!Javier Peña x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n, reader's nickname is Osita)

Warnings: This is honestly just pure, sweet, sickening, fluff, mentions of body insecurity postpartum, worry/anxiety about being a first time parent, Javi snuggling a newborn baby skin on skin (it needs a warning fr), Javi being the cutest dad ever to exist, Javi is in full on dad mode, ladies and gents (gn) 🫡

A/N: This was inspired after reading @kteague adorable post about Frankie carrying his daughter in a baby sling, and I couldn't help but picture sweet Javi as a first time dad cuddling with his baby girl 😭🥺 and to @endlessthxxghts for being a bad influence 💀Y ou know for a fact that Lucy's got Javi wrapped around her finger from the moment she's born, and picturing the adorable bond these two have makes me want to melt into a puddle 🫠 also I have a raging case of baby fever, but let's pretend that wasn't entirely the motive to write this or that I'm not projecting at all WHOOPS

Part of the Forever and Always Series!!

From the moment you had found out you were pregnant, you had no doubt that Javi was going to be nothing short of the best dad you could have ever hoped for. Before your daughter was even born, Javi had completely flipped the switch into full Dad Mode, spending the past 9 months coming with you to every single doctor’s appointment, baby proofing every square inch of your home, and checking out (and re-checking out) every parenting book he could get his hands on at the library. 

So it was safe to say, that once you brought Lucy home from the hospital to start your life together as a family of 3, if Javi hadn’t already been full force into Dad Mode, he sure as hell was now, and was going to do anything and everything he could to make sure that the two most important girls in his life were showered with every ounce of love and affection he had. 

It was also safe to say that even though he wouldn’t admit it, Javi was also an absolute nervous wreck at the reality that he was now actually a dad to a tiny newborn daughter that had been brought into the world. 

“You think that her diaper is snug enough? Should I get a bottle ready just in case she gets hungry? Different pajamas to sleep in before we put her down?” Javi asked, carefully cradling Lucy against his chest as you passed her off to him, planting a soft kiss on her head, gently bouncing her up and down. 

“Javi,” You laughed leaning in to give your sleepy daughter a kiss on the messy tufts of hair ruffled on her head before looking back up at your husband, “I’m going to take a shower, not leaving for war. I’ll be quick, so that way if she needs me then I’ll-” 

“Hermosa,” he paused, raising an eyebrow at you as he smiled, “take as long as you need, okay? I’m just asking to make sure so I don’t have to bother you. Take an hour, hell, take 3 hours for all I care, you deserve it, Momma. I can’t imagine how exhausted you are. Me and Lucy Goosey will be just fine, won’t we, mi amor (my love)?” 

The two of you smiled as Lucy quietly cooed, your grin spreading even wider watching Javi’s face light up with joy as he looked down at his daughter, your heart practically bursting at the seams with how in love he was with her. But even through the pure bliss in Javi’s eyes, you couldn’t help but sense a nervous twinge in his voice, knowing that in the short day and a half that you’d been home from the hospital, even though you were only a room away, this was the first time that Javi was in charge of Lucy all by himself. And because you knew your husband better than you knew yourself, you knew that despite the fact Javi was probably better prepared for parenting than you were, he was secretly terrified he was going to do something that would hurt his precious baby girl, and the thought of that? That scared the shit out of him. 

“Javi?” You said again, gently rubbing your hand against his arm, forcing his gaze to shift on to you and your tired smile. “Honey, you know you’re an amazing dad right? But, I can guarantee that even though we would do anything and everything for this stinker, we’re gonna mess up at some point. You love her so much, and that’s all that matters, okay? I love you, Jav.” 

You could feel some of the tension begin to ease from Javi’s body, looking back down at Lucy before back to you, taking in a deep breath, and softly nodding his head to himself. 

“I know, it’s just- She’s so perfect. I wanna give her everything. I just, I just wanna be a good dad. I just want her to know that I love her so much.” 

As if you weren’t already an emotional mess, watching the tears well in Javi’s eyes as he gazed down at Lucy, looking at her like she was the only thing the world that existed, had your hormonal heart bursting into a million pieces, now trying to wipe your own wetness streaming down your cheeks. 

“Javi, I don’t think it’s possible for you to love that little girl anymore than you already do.” You sighed, stepping in to press a kiss onto Javi’s lips before another onto Lucy’s head. “Okay, I’m gonna go shower before I become even more of a hot mess than I already am. You sure you’re gonna be okay?” 

“Thanks, Osita. We’ll be just fine. I love you.” 

“I love you too, Jav.” 

“And hey, you’re not a hot mess, just hot.” Javi smirked, making you roll your eyes as you gestured to yourself and the undeniably disheveled state you were in. 

“Javi, I look like I just rolled out of a dumpster. I am literally wearing an adult sized diaper.” 

“And no one’s ever made an adult sized diaper look hotter, Hermosa.” 

You couldn’t help but let out a snort, shaking your head at your husband as you finally turned to head out of the nursery, giving Javi and Lucy one last wave before disappearing out of the door frame and into the bathroom for a much needed shower. 

“Alright, it’s just you and me, pollita (little chicken).” Javi smiled, rocking Lucy against your chest, taking a deep breath of reassuring confidence, feeling more self-assured about his time alone. “Let’s get you into some pajamas, huh?” With another kiss on Lucy’s head, Javi carefully laid her down on her changing table, reaching into one of the drawers to pull out a tiny onesie covered in pink flowers and strawberries. 

He couldn’t help but laugh to himself at how absolutely tiny the pair of pajamas felt in his hands, shaking his head in disbelief at the fact that all of this was real- for so long, Javi had been convinced a family of his own would never be in the cards for him, and for as much as it hurt, he’d come to accept it. But when you had come into his life and given him the second chance that he had so desperately longed for, he still couldn’t quite believe how he had deserved to find himself here with a beautiful family, a wife and daughter he loved more than life itself, and how he couldn’t have been happier to be dressing his newborn baby girl into a pair of tiny pink pajamas. 

Checking Lucy’s diaper and tossing her clothes into the hamper, Javi zipped her up into her pajamas, noticing that she was starting to get squirmy and fussy, he quickly picked her back up, pressed against his chest as he made his way over to the rocking chair in the corner of the nursery. 

Despite the steady movement back and forth and the gentle rocking, Lucy’s cries only started to become louder, Javi trying his best to keep calm despite the fact his heart was racing, thinking he had already done something wrong to upset his daughter in the few short minutes they had been together. 

“Hey, hey, hey, shhhhhhh, it’s okay bebita, it’s okay.” Javi cooed, gently patting Lucy’s back to try and soothe her. “What’s wrong, huh? It’s not your diaper, Momma fed you before she got in the shower, I wonder if it’s-” 

Before Javi could finish the rest of his mental checklist outloud, he was looking down at his shoulder to see the little dribbles of spit-up drooling from Lucy’s mouth onto his shirt, quietly laughing to himself at the mystery that had seemed to solve itself. 

“Alright, well that was easy. Let’s get you cleaned up, messy miss.” 

Standing up to bring Lucy back to the changing table, he laid her down to reach into another drawer to grab one of the many burp cloths that had been stored away to wipe up Lucy’s little face before he was back to the pajama drawer, pulling out another pair to change her into. But as he tossed Lucy’s second outfit in 10 minutes into the laundry, he couldn’t help but notice the giant spit stain drenching his own shoulder. Not wanting to have to lay Lucy back into his damp shirt, he stared down at his daughter in nothing but her diaper, thinking back to the advice from the plethora of parenting books he had consumed and a few days ago after Lucy’s birth, where the nurses had been adamant about making sure both you and Javi spent plenty of skin on skin time with the baby. 

Trying to fight off any self-doubt or need for reassurance, Javi took a deep breath as he stared down at Lucy, still restless and crying on her changing table before stripping his own shirt and tossing it in with the other tiny items of laundry that had quickly accumulated throughout the day. 

“Okay, c’mere mi amorcita (my little love), it’s okay, I’ve got you. Shhhhhh, I’ve got you, baby girl.” Javi cooed, carefully cradling his daughter to his bare chest, feeling the heat of her tiny body pressed against his as he sat back down in the rocking chair, resting her head on his shoulder. “Don’t cry, pollita, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” 

After a few seconds of whispered reassurances and gentle rocks back and forth, Javi let out a quiet sigh of relief as Lucy’s cries began to lessen, slowly fading from wails to muffled tears against Javi’s chest. 

“That’s it, see, it’s okay, baby girl.” Javi softly smiled, pressing a tender kiss into Lucy’s soft hair before reaching over to the small bookshelf next to the rocking chair, pulling a well loved copy of “Goodnight Moon” into his lap, trying his best to maneuver it open to the first page with his one free hand. “You never got to meet your Grandma Lucia, but that’s who you’re named after. A long time ago, this was Daddy’s favorite book to listen to her read. This is his book when he was a little boy, and now I’m so happy it gets to be yours.” Almost as if little Lucy knew, her crying began to calm even more to listen to her dad as he began to read. 

“In the great green room, there was a telephone, and a red balloon and a picture of…” 

As Javi began to read each page, Lucy became quieter and quieter, and by the time they had said goodnight to kittens and mittens, and clocks and socks, Little Lucy was sound asleep on Javi’s chest, her soft snores rumbling on his skin. 

“Goodnight stars, goodnight air, goodnight noises everywhere. And goodnight my sweet Lucy Goosey. Daddy loves you so much.” Javi cooed, gently rubbing his thumb in circles along Lucy’s back as he tilted his head against the back of the rocking chair, the back and forth and weight of his sleeping daughter on his chest slowly just enough to the weight of his eyelids droop to a close right along side Lucy’s. 

After a long, hot, and much needed shower, you had changed into some new pajamas, throwing your still damp hair into a towel as you headed down the hallway towards the nursery, surprised and slightly concerned by the lack of noise coming from the room. 

“Hey baby, I’m all done with the shower if you want me too- Oh my god.” Before you could even make it all the way through the door, you were stopped in your tracks, covering your mouth with your hand to try and cope with the cuteness overload that was in front of you. 

There, in the corner of the room sat Javi and Lucy in the rocking chair, the pair sound asleep and snoring as Lucy lay against his bare chest, “Goodnight Moon”  half open and slipping out of Javi’s lap from what you assumed had to have been the book he was reading to her before they clonked out. 

Your footsteps down the hallway must have been enough to wake Javi to the point that his eyes began to blink open, scrunching his face in a half awake yawn as he recognized your frame in the doorway, quickly shaking his head to bring himself back to full consciousness, immediately looking down at his chest to make sure Lucy was still there before looking back at you and the lovestruck grin spread between your cheeks. 

“You two having a good nap?” You giggled quietly, making your way over to stand next to the rocking chair, gently running your hand through the dark curls of Javi’s messy, sleep ridden hair, kissing his forehead, admiring your tiny daughter perched on your husband’s chest. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, hermosa. I didn’t even realize I fell asleep.” Javi whispered, steadying his grip around Lucy as he sat up straighter. 

“Javi, don’t apologize, baby. I’m glad that you were able to get her to sleep for you. Did you read her “Goodnight Moon”? Glad to know it still works like a charm. I think she must already have it memorized at this point.” You smiled, picking the book up off of Javi’s lap, turning through the well worn pages, knowing how excited Javi had been to finally read it to her as he held her, despite all of the times he had read it to your belly while you were pregnant when it was the only ways to bring you some relief from the constant kicking in your last trimester. 

“Yeah we did, didn’t we, sleepy girl? Although I didn’t realize that “Goodnight Dad” was the last page of the book I must have been missing all this time.” Javi laughed, readjusting Lucy as she let out a tiny yawn, stretching her little body against Javi’s. 

“Well, if every time you read “Goodnight Moon” to this little cutie, you end up shirtless with Lucy asleep on your chest, I don’t think that I’ll have anything to ever complain about again, except for the fact I’m gonna die of cuteness. God, you two are so adorable. You have a good time with your Daddy, baby girl? I hope you know that you’ve got him wrapped around your little tiny finger, Little Miss. He loves you so much.” 

“God, you’ve got that right. Have you ever seen anything so perfect? She’s perfect, Osita. I love her more than anything. I love our family so much. Thank you.” Javi whispered, trying to fight back the tears welling in his eyes. 

“Thank me for what, Javi?” 

“For giving me everything I’ve ever wanted.” 

Taglist

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild @copperhalfcent @pedr0swh0r3

[girlkisser13]

hiii!! could you please write an angry love confession with jason todd? i love your writing by the way. <33

a/n: hey girl! the way i literally had this idea in my drafts already??? anyways i hope you like it. <33

the streets of gotham were as unforgiving as ever, shadows lurking at every corner. you and jason maneuvered through the night with practiced ease, your senses on high alert. the two of you had been tracking a particularly dangerous gang for weeks, and tonight, you planned on ending their reign of terror.

"stay close, y/n," he whispered, his voice barely audible through their comms. "this gang isn't to be underestimated."

you rolled your eyes, your stubbornness shining through even in the heat of the mission. "i can handle myself, jason. i've done this before."

jason suppressed a sigh, knowing that arguing with you would only waste time. the two of you had been tracking this gang for weeks, and tonight was your best chance to bring them down.

as the both of you moved deeper into the abandoned warehouse, the sound of muffled voices reached your ears. jason signaled for you to stay back, but you ignored him, slipping ahead with your usual reckless abandon. you moved swiftly, taking down a thug silently and moving towards the main group without waiting for backup.

jason's heart raced as he watched you. he admired your bravery, but it was your lack of caution that terrified him. he followed you, keeping a close eye on your movements.

suddenly, chaos erupted. gunfire rang out, and you found yourself surrounded. you fought valiantly, but the odds were against you. jason sprang into action, his guns blazing as he fought his way to your side. but it was too late; a bullet grazed your side, and you cried out in pain.

"y/n!" jason shouted, his voice filled with panic. he took down the remaining thugs with brutal efficiency, his rage fueling his attacks. once the area was clear, he rushed to your side, his heart pounding in his chest.

"i'm fine," you gasped, clutching your side as blood seeped through your fingers.

"like hell you are," he growled, scooping you up into his arms. "we're getting out of here."

ignoring your weak protests, he carried you to his motorcycle and secured you before speeding off towards his apartment. the ride was silent, the tension between the two of you palpable.

once inside his apartment, he laid you gently on the couch and hurried to retrieve his medical supplies. he returned to find you attempting to sit up, your face pale from the pain.

"stay still," he ordered, his voice rough with concern. he knelt beside you and began cleaning your wound with surprisingly gentle hands.

"you didn't have to carry me," you muttered, wincing as he applied antiseptic.

"yes, i did," he snapped, his frustration evident. "i can't leave you alone for one second without you hurting yourself, can i?"

you winced in pain and said, "i mean, i'm fine so it's okay—"

"no, it's not okay. not when i feel like i'm going to go batshit fucking crazy, thinking about you getting hurt." jason's voice rose, his anger boiling over. "you could have been killed, and for what? to prove you can handle yourself?"

your eyes softened slightly, your stubbornness giving way to a rare vulnerability. "i can't just stand by and do nothing, jason. i have to help."

jason's hands stilled, his expression torn between anger and something deeper. "i know," he said quietly. "but it kills me to see you hurt. you mean more to me than you realize."

you looked at him, your breath catching at the intensity in his eyes. "what are you saying?"

"i’m in love with you, y/n," he said, his voice breaking. "and it terrifies me because i can't protect you from everything. i can't lose you, y/n. not like this."

tears welled up in your eyes as you reached out to touch his cheek. "i didn't know you felt that way," you whispered. "i love you too, jason. i just didn't want to be a burden."

he shook his head, his anger melting into a mix of relief and tenderness. "you're not a burden. you're everything to me. just... promise me you'll be more careful. for both our sakes."

you nodded, your tears spilling over as you pulled him into a gentle kiss. "i promise, jason."

as he held you close, your hearts beating in sync, he knew that despite the dangers of gotham, the two of you would face them together.

[foggieststars]

if you're interested, can i request 15 for landoscar? just so curious to read your take on it and so delighted you're doing this!! 💕💕💕

15. sexual slavery

ok i got a bit carried away with this i will admit. in my defence i'm rereading an old fav fantasy series rn and well...... it all got a bit much.....

tw for like. non consent. dark themes. etc <33

-

The boy - Oscar, Jenson had told him, thrusting the chains into Lando's eager palm - doesn't look much like their usual captives. He's too pale, for a start. Most rebels that get brought in have tanned, weather-beaten skin, from a life spent tending the fields.

His hands are another tell. The skin on them is soft and callus-free, no scars to point to years spent on battlefields. Not a warrior, then. Interesting and disappointing in equal measure. Lando likes breaking soldiers most of all.

He doesn't speak to Lando, during the days that follow. Not entirely unexpected. The creatures the king keeps in his war camps are enough to turn even Lando's stomach, and their slaves spend most of their time carrying out their chores in a dazed, frightened silence. Still, they usually crack after a week at most, begging for their freedom, for Lando to put an end to their misery. He sells those ones off pretty sharpish, once they reach their breaking point.

Oscar's different. Lando gets the sense that he's not been scared into silence, so much as he is opting for silence. Lando can't have that. It betrays a wilfulness of spirit.

Lando's not an idiot. He knows he's only here as a favour from Lord Jenson to his father. He will remain on campaign for as long as Jenson's favour holds. The eagerness with which Jenson had welcomed Lando into his bed notwithstanding, Lando needs to prove his usefulness. He can't do that with errant slaves wandering around the camp, rage in their hearts and defiance in their eyes.

When Oscar drops a tray of crockery helping out in the kitchens one night, Lando seizes his chance. He has him strung up on the whipping post, five lashes for insubordination.

When he's cut down, Oscar's breathing is ragged and hitching, tears rolling silently down his face. When he looks Lando in the eyes, the rage in them is nearly unfathomable. Lando leaves him lying there in the grass, lets the other slaves bring him back to their quarters. They'll patch him up as best they can, with what little they have to offer. He'll be lucky if he doesn't die of infection. One less problem for Lando to deal with.

Later that night, undressing in Jenson's tent, Lando frowns at the flecks of dried blood on his boots. He'll have Oscar clean them, when he can walk again. Scrubbing his own blood off the supple leather might teach him a thing or two about pointless displays of resistance.

Oscar's even quieter after that, ducks his head low when Lando returns from scouting missions, goes about his chores in quiet, throbbing silence. Lando has him assigned to his own tent, so as to keep a closer eye on him. The lashing doesn't seem to have broken him, as Lando hoped it might. If anything, Oscar stands even straighter after it. Though maybe that's just to avoid tugging on the still-healing scar tissue.

Fortunately for Oscar, he's not the only slave Lando's assigned to look after. Following a particularly successful raid on a rebel camp in the north, the slave quarters are full to bursting. Like a fool, Lando lets it distract him. He breaks rebel after rebel on the whipping post, forgets to take note of Oscar's ghostly presence in his chambers.

Until, that is, one night. Jenson had been summoned to the king's tent after dinner, and shows no sign of returning soon. There's talk of rebels gathering under the banner of a boy king in the south, a pretender to his executed father's throne, in a kingdom which no longer exists. Lando won't be needed in Jenson's quarters tonight.

When he steps through the flaps of his tent, Lando catches Oscar in the act of rifling through the correspondence he keeps on his desk. Oscar straightens up coolly, pretending to be merely neatening the piles of letters on Lando’s desk. If Lando had been a mere moment later, he’d have thought nothing of it. But he’d clearly seen those slender hands clutched around a letter, affixed with the seal of the king’s hand. 

So that's what he is. It explains the pale skin, the lack of calluses. Not a warrior. A spy. 

“Find anything interesting in there?” Lando asks, his first words to Oscar. 

Oscar looks at him askance, continuing to neaten up the piles. 

Lando prowls closer, practically tasting fear in the air. “You’d have been better off examining the letters from Lord Sainz. The king’s hand has many eyes, but few that stretch as far south as Max Emelian’s territory. Supposed territory.” 

Oscar speaks, voice cracking with disuse. “I don’t know what you mean.” 

He’s got an odd accent, Lando thinks. From the very southern territories, perhaps?

“That is what you were doing, no?” Lando asks, tilting his head. He’s always been one for playing with his food. “Searching for information. About the pretender to the southern throne.” 

Oscar’s a good spy. His face betrays no emotion, other than the slight flare of his nostrils when Lando says the word pretender. 

“Yes, I think you would have found that much more interesting than whatever is in Lord Alonso’s letter. Though how you planned to smuggle it out, I don’t know. I do intend to find out.” 

Oscar’s mouth thins, likely as a result of the implied threat to his anonymous allies. Lando wonders who he’s working with. Other slaves, most definitely. But all of them, like Oscar, spend their days wrapped in chains. Their quarters are guarded by the king’s beasts. Someone else then, with money and power. A nobleman. 

Lando can see it now. The glory he’ll win, as the one to root out the rats in the camp. 

To do that, he needs information. Information he won’t be able to glean if Oscar does what Lando would do in his place. Find the nearest nobleman to offend, have his head removed from his shoulders. Anything to protect his powerful ally. 

“Or…” Lando offers, shrugging a careless shoulder. The very picture of a spoiled nobleman’s son. “There is another way.” 

Oscar’s eyebrows quirk up, betraying his interest.

Lando breathes out, slow and steady. “Kneel,” he says, and Oscar does. 

Slumping into the seat behind the desk, Lando undoes the ties of his breeches with a deft, practiced hand. He’s not had servants to dress him whilst on campaign, and with how in demand Jenson is, Lando’s had to learn to be pretty quick about getting naked. 

Pulling his cock out, Lando watches Oscar take it in. Quick, desperate little breaths, the only sign of Oscar’s clearly rising panic. 

“You know what to do with this, or do I need to show you?” Lando asks. 

Oscar’s eyes shut tight, and then open. His face empties of emotion as he shuffles closer, wraps his hand around Lando’s cock. It’s an effort not to groan at the stimulation. “I know what to do,” Oscar murmurs. Lando takes him in with assessing eyes. Pink lips, deep brown eyes, that mop of unruly hair. It’s no surprise that someone’s bent him over long before this. 

Oscar leans forward, prepared to take Lando’s cock into his mouth, when he’s stopped by the pricking of a knife at his throat. Lando smiles down at him lazily, turning the knife in a lazy motion. It makes the skin at the base of Oscar’s throat whiten. 

“No teeth,” Lando commands. “Or I’ll slit you throat to anus, and your little friend on the inside, too.” 

Oscar nods, breath warm and trembling as it hits the head of Lando’s cock. Lando pulls back just enough to let Oscar move without cutting himself open, but not so far as to let Oscar relax. It’s a struggle to maintain the position when Oscar swallows his cock to the base in one, smooth movement. 

Oh, yes. Oscar’s definitely done this before. 

Lando hitches his hips up, hits the tight ring at the base of Oscar’s throat, listens to him gag. Credit to him, Oscar takes a steadying breath through his nose, swallows around the intrusion in his throat. The wet heat is incredible. He wonders if Oscar would be so pliant on his hands and knees, too. If the warmth is in any way comparable. 

Oscar hollows his cheeks and swallows, taking Lando deeper, until Lando can see the bulge of his cockhead in Oscar’s throat. It can’t be comfortable, especially not with his collar of iron. He’s talented with his tongue, pulling back to press delicate little kitten licks to the head, pumping with his hand what his tongue can’t reach. 

“Harlot,” Lando hisses, at a particularly damning twist of Oscar’s wrist. Where had he learned to suck cock like this? Did the rebels pluck him from a brothel, decide his talents would be of more use elsewhere? 

Oscar glances up at him, eyes wet with unshed tears. He doesn’t look quite so self-possessed anymore. In fact, there’s nothing except pure desperation shining in his eyes. Whoever it is that Oscar’s trying to protect, he clearly cares for them very much. Enough to debase himself like this. 

The chains between Oscar’s feet clank on the ground when he moves. It’s taking embarrassingly little time for him to bring Lando to the brink, that sinful tongue, the slick heat. It’s all too much, too fast. Unlike the other heirs, privileged enough to be chosen for the king’s campaign, Lando doesn’t get to slink off to brothels after the endless meetings are finished for the night. Jenson requires servicing, and he’s not much of one for reciprocal lovemaking. It’s the way of the world. Lando has no doubt that in twenty years, he’ll be doing much the same with his own ward, given to him for training and protection. He doubts he’ll stoop to what Oscar’s doing for him now. 

There are tears leaking down Oscar’s face by now. Lando wonders how much of it has to do with the physical discomfort. The tears are what does it for him, pushing him over the edge. Lando comes with a broken cry, something to be embarrassed about in front of a suitor. Lando doesn’t bother to pretend in front of Oscar. He likes the way Oscar shudders as he swallows the load, the way his eyes screw tightly shut, brows furrowing on his forehead. The little trembles of Oscar’s hands as he cups his own elbows, drawing his arms tight against his body, like he’s trying to protect himself.

“That’ll do for now,” Lando says, tucking himself away with careful, measured movements. 

Oscar, kneeling still, slumps slightly. Shoulders curling in on themselves, he wipes at his mouth with a desperate air. He doesn’t get it all on the first go around, pink tongue darting out to clean the rest of Lando’s come from his lips. 

The fierceness radiating off him, the rage in his eyes - it’s gone. It takes all Lando has not to preen with victory. 

He breaks them all eventually. 

“Have your belongings moved to my tent,” Lando informs him, revelling in the way Oscar’s shoulders stiffen. “It should give me a chance to keep an eye on you.” Keep him so busy bouncing on Lando’s cock he won’t have time to slink away for a secret rendezvous with his man on the inside - until Lando wants him to, that is. 

It’ll be easy. Plant just enough information in official-looking letters that Oscar gets desperate. Until he takes the first opportunity possible to meet with his informant, unaware that Lando will have arranged it all. Lando can catch them in the act, throw the traitor at the king’s feet, and be awarded a kingdom’s ransom for the privilege. And until then, he’ll keep Oscar by his side. 

Perhaps after that, even. 

[slashersidewhore]

Slashers! HC S/O nearly killed by a victim

Slashers!Sinclair brothers x gn!reader

Includes Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Lester Sinclair

Requested? Yes

Warnings: max angst, lots of self deprecating thoughts from the slashers, blood, mentions of gore, lots of violence, happy ending (you survive!)

Bo Sinclair

You weren’t supposed to be at the house, Bo was sure you were out getting groceries, you told him you were

You placed the several brown bags you could carry from the pickup onto the kitchen counter, used to the silence that filled the dimly lit home

Turning to make your way back outside, you froze in your spot when merely a few yards away stood a man, face twisted in agony, blood covering the lower portion of his body, it looked like he’d been stabbed by Vincent’s sheers, so why was he upstairs?

“You’re one of them”

The man seemed to only grow in size from the sheer mass of his clear anger, chest puffing to reveal a stutter in his breath, as if he was using borrowed time

You weren’t sure if saying anything would help, you were bringing in groceries, of course you were one of them, there was no way to free yourself from this situation

Glancing over at the knife block, wide eyes switched back to the man who had seen the subtle movement, brows furrowing, and then he charged

“They killed my girlfriend!”

The stranger snarled as he gained on you, hands reaching out to grab your arm, your neck, whenever he could reach in his rage fueled attack

Slipping on your heel to get to the knives, the recently mopped floor proved to be a disadvantage, only giving the man a better angle to grab the collar of the back of your shirt, pulling it back, before slamming you into one of the counters

The impact against your stomach wasn’t pleasant, you could feel the bruise already forming as you were dragged back, grabbing anything you could as pitiful noises left your lips

Throwing the salt and pepper shakers, a clean plate, anything at him you could get your hands on, nothing seemed to faze him as you threw you against the adjacent cabinets

Forehead slamming into the sharp edge of wood, red filled your already blurring vision, your weak yelp for anyone nearby that could help fell deaf on the empty corridors of the house, where the hell were the guys?

“You sick bitch, you’re all sick”

The man spat in your face, spit hitting your cheek as he did so, then he was once again lifting you from where he’d tossed you like a rag doll, this time letting your body fall rather limply to the tiled floor

“You’ll get what’s coming to you, if it’s the last thing I do”

You could hear the slight motion of the man reaching over your body, plucking a knife from the block a few feet away and kneeling over your aching body

His legs were at either side of your hips, arms raised high as he didn’t think twice before lowering the weapon

A shout echoed from the near distance, heavy footsteps on the wooden floor, in a last ditch effort with all the remaining strength to could muster, you lifted a knee to the mans crotch, resulting in a deep howl of pain, and a burning sensation as the knife landed deep in your shoulder

Then the man was off of you, ripped from your body by someone far stronger, the shouting picked up again, the enraged, bellowing noises bouncing off the walls as you figured the escaped victim was being rightfully dealt with

Right as the man’s shadow was gone, another more broad figure appeared over you, this time at the side of your injured body.

“Oh baby, oh fuck,” It was Bo’s voice, his tones drawl making your heart flutter, or was that the stab wound? It felt as if the room was spinning in its axis, turned upside down and steeping your body in darkness, “Shit, I thought ya were outta the house.”

Vincent was hovering in the distance, gauging the wound from the distance he stood before rushing off the gather the proper items to best help you. Bo was at a loss, wanting to lean down while also warning himself that his touch would only cause more pain. Why were you home? Why didn’t he check the house first? Why did he just assume you would be out for hours? This was his fault, he left you vulnerable and alone, in a place he knew could bs unsafe when they brought, “guests”, home. Your weak whine of his name drove his stomach to lurch forward, bile trying to climb him throat, body hot to the touch with panic and his eyes swam with guilt.

“I’ve got ya now, nothin’ll hurt ya anymore,” Bo fell on his ass to get closer to you, lifting your upper body carefully before laying it steadily in his lap. Your pained wince at being moved to any extent shot right through the man’s heart, his body folding over yours slightly, almost as if trying to protect what was left of you from the outside world. Your delicate cries as blood seeped through your clothes only drew the man further from rationally, mind racing at what he would do to the dead body mere feet away when he was done tending to you, “Vincent! Get yur ass in here!”

“I’m here baby, don’t ya worry, I’ve got ya.”

Vincent Sinclair

You were never involved with the victims, as much as Vincent trusted you, he didn’t trust any stranger within a mile of Ambrose, the thought of someone full of fear or anger anywhere in your vicinity made his skin crawl beneath his usual wool sweaters

Luckily for the town over, there weren’t three deranged brothers causing havoc, in fact it was odd being in a populated area where no one even knew of Ambrose’s happenings, or the men beneath it

So when a van full of curious, college aged boys came strolling through the, “abandoned”, streets, you had made the choice to go out for the day, visit that nearby town where Vincent knew you would be safe for the most part

Which lead to the present, where you were calmly walking back to Ambrose along the two lane, quiet, wooded backroad, wicker basket in hand with various items you deemed interesting enough to take back

Although the snap of a branch caught your ear, a man no older than you stumbling along the path, if the splatters of blood along his body weren’t an indicator of where he’d left, the thick globs of wax painting his left arm did

“Miss? Fuck, help me!”

The man called to you, clearly desperate in his current predicament, there wasn’t much you could do, you didn’t have a cellphone, you’d already been walking for a half mile, what could you possibly be able to help him with?

“There’s these crazy guys that tried to kill me! We need to get away from here!”

Before you could even summon a response, the staggering stranger that had since gotten closer paused, face pursing, lips tight as a look of realization crossed his face

“Your face, there were drawings of your face in that basement”

“I don’t know what you mean, here, let’s-“

You didn’t get much of a sentence out before the man was pushing you to the ground, intentions clear as he kneeled above you, planting your lower body to the gravel side of the road before punching aimlessly at your face

“Please-“

“You’re with those sick bastards aren’t you? You must be fucked in the head too, after all the bodies I saw!”

The punches kept landing, your nose surely broken by the onslaught, blood draining down your jaw, by your ears, into your mouth

The heavy smell of iron palette-able as another swift hit was served to your mouth, bottom lip busting open with thick, red spilling out

The man just kept screaming in your face, spit flying as he did so, it was as if his rage fueled attack would never cease, maybe he hadn’t gotten hurt all that much and his adrenaline was through the roof

Either way it was as if the beating was only getting worse as the minutes ticked by, you felt lucky he didn’t have an actual weapon on his person

As if some kind of saving grace had heard you, the rumbling of what sounded like a familiar old pickup roared in the distance, getting louder by the second

Right as the shriek of tires echoed across the otherwise silent road, your tired eyelids fluttered shut, allowing the all consuming haze to take its place in your body

Some time later

“How the hell should I know when she’s gon’ wake up?” That voice was familiar, the low timbre of an accent you knew all too well. It was buzzing through your head, and although you were thankful to even be here to listen to it, there was one thing you wished was present as well.

“Hey, her eyes are opening,” And that’s when you heard the shuffling, heavy boots on a concrete floor, when Bo’s agitated voice once again striking your growing headache, “alright, alright! I’m goin’.”

An all too warm, fuzzy feeling filled your chest when Vincent’s head popped into view, hair tied back loosely with little bits of wax here and there. Although lumbering over you, his movements were cautious, slow and steady as you could make out his eyes scanning your form meticulously. It felt as though you were one of his pieces of artwork, carefully watched over to make sure you wouldn’t melt.

“Vince, are you okay?” Your whisper of a question caused the man’s head to drop into the crook of your neck, whether overwhelmed or still worried it just seemed he needed a moment to process all that had happened. It was only minutes ago you were still out cold, laying on one of his work tables as Bo stood with a disapproving look. Art supplies strewn, chairs overturned, even the most delicate wax sculptures he’d done were crumbled on the floor. The man hadn’t been able to contain the absolute ice that ran through his veins upon seeing Lester carrying your lifeless form into the house, especially considering he didn’t even know if you were still alive.

Large, rough hands shaking like a kitten, the man leaned back to run his fingers over the side of your injured face, the touch gentle, barely there. The soft tilt of his head told you he was fine, seemingly still stressing about your current state. As you became more aware of your surroundings, you realized one of Vincent’s wood sweaters covered a portion of your upper body, like a makeshift blanket. Fingers weakly knocking into his elbow, the masked man took notice and immediately intertwined them with his, palm warm against yours. His free hand reached up to caress your jaw, without words but as if to say,

‘You’re safe now.’

Lester Sinclair

Lester wasn’t ever particularly involved in the murders, in fact he felt his best work was cleaning up the eventual aftermath

That being said, you were usually by his side at all hours, both day and night, keeping him and Jonsey company

“Be right back darlin’”

Lester flashed a toothy grin in your direction, sitting on the hood of the trunk while he hoisted a large, dead dead over his shoulder

This had been majority of the day so far, you enjoying the shady sun while he hauled carcasses of roadkill over to the designated dump sight

“I’ll stay right here!”

You chuckle, watching the red dusting over his ears fade as he continued to walk further down the slope

Glancing down to where Jonsey was laying, you did a double take when the little lady had somewhere vanished, head whipping side to side, yes she was an independent dog but that doesn’t mean you didn’t worry sometimes

Barking in the distance cut through your immediate panic, somewhere off to the left in the densely wooded forest

“Jonsey?”

You called as you hopped off the cars hood, jogging towards the sounds origin as it only continued

It didn’t sound like her normal bark though, it was vicious, angry, maybe she’d run into a squirrel or other wild animal of some kind that had gotten her all up in action

“There you are girl!”

You exclaimed as your turn around the tree revealed the dog, facing away from you, as your eyes left the furry creature it landed on a man not much older than you, standing before you and Jonsey with a knife in hand

“Sorry about my dog, she can be overly cautious”

You tried to reason, deflecting from the chance he may know more than you hoped, and unfortunately his fist only clenched further around the blades handle, face pulled in a snarl

“Yeah, the same dog I saw in that auto shop, with that guy who killed my girlfriend”

“Listen, I don’t know what you’re here to do-“

Before you could even finish your statement he was already on you, knocking you back with a heavy hand before slashing towards your stomach

Thankfully you were able to dodge the first swing, although he wasn’t stopping anytime soon, in fact your fear only seemed to spur him on as he swung again, and again

Unfortunately he had backed you into a tree, another aim at your body immediately ripping through your (Lester’s) shirt, blood leaking from ripped skin, another across your forehead, red spilling into your waterline as your thunderous scream of Lester’s name left your quivering lips

“I didn’t kill your girlfriend”

“But you’re chummy with the bastard that did”

His final strike ended with him aiming down and up, the smooth surface of the knife gliding into your skin like butter, the sob it ripped from you was pitiful, as was the way you fell to your knees

Then a gunshot rang out

“Darlin’?” There stood Lester, rusty, old shotgun in hand that was still aimed at the now fallen body, lowering it too glance over at you in panic. His rushed footfall crunched leaves, his quick footing hit a root and nearly tripping him if his objective wasn’t so focused on. Dropping to your level, the man held his hands to where you were gripping your wrist.

“Show me, how bad is it?” The concern and fear tainting his voice was almost painful to hear, pulling your palms away to reveal a river of crimson. Hissing as he lifted the edge of the shirt you had stolen from him this morning, to reveal a bloody but shallow wound. It looked as if the guy had missed, only slicing at your side, not your gut as he most likely planned.

“Hurts,” you mumble as your body begins to try and lose consciousness, the adrenaline now leaving your system. Lester caught on, leaning you into him before lifting you against his slim body, careful to not press into any of your injuries, “Lester”.

“I know honey, I’ll get ya all patched up, don’t ya worry.” The man shouldered your weight, holding a tough facade despite the way his heart was slowly crumbling inside his chest cavity. If he made it one second later, you could’ve been gone forever. The thought felt like ice water poured over his head, sinking into his veins. Next time he would have to watch over you better, keep you safer. No, there wouldn’t be a next time, he would make sure no one could even attempt to get near you.

“Ain’t ever gonna let that happen again”

If y’all would like to see other parts of this either others slashers list their names in the comments or in my inbox!

As always requests are always open!

[writingsbytee]

HIDDEN PT. 3

TERRY RICHMOND x BLACK FEM READER

WARNINGS / TRIGGERS: Violence, death, reader gets traumatized

SUMMARY:  Things get real when Raul spots Daphne. Will Terry come to her rescue?

TROPES: grumpy x sunshine ; “touch her and die”; slow burn;

AUTHOR’S NOTE: OH MY GOD. Y’all I’m so sorry this took so long. When I say life has been whooping my ass I mean that shit. And I’m having the birthday blues. But please enjoy this installment of ‘HIDDEN’ . I hope it was worth the wait. 

WORD COUNT: 2K +

PREVIOUSLY ON HIDDEN: 1 , 2

*Please do not plagiarize, repost, or steal my work. This doesn’t count for re-blogs!*

DAPHNE

My heart is pounding, my ears are ringing, and all I can hear is the whoosh of the blood rushing through my veins.

I try to take a calming breath before I speak, “Raul?”

Rafa’s younger brother Raul sits back in his chair eyeing me appreciatively. His lips curve into a devilish grin. If I thought Rafa was bad, based on what he’s told me he doesn’t even compare to his younger pyromaniac of a brother.

“Pretty, pretty Daphne last time I saw you, you were at the end of my brother’s fist. Good to see you’ve really leveled up,” he finishes sarcastically, motioning toward Terry. My eyes shift to my right where Terry’s standing and he looks pissed! Gone was the sweet, playful man rubbing my neck 15 minutes ago. The man standing before me was scar personified.

Eyes narrowed with a permanent scowl in place.

“My brother will be glad to know that I’ve found his little dove,” Raul says, a mischievous look glinting in his eye. My pulse thunders in my ears as rage blurs my vision. Before I know it I’m across the table in Raul’s face.

“You limp dick piece of shit! You tell Rafa where I am and I’ll tell the cops about October 4th”. Threatening a sociopath probably isn’t my best moment, but I’m just so pissed off at men feeling like they can take what they want when they want without consequences. Raul’s smirk vanishes and his eyes darken. 

I barely blink before his hands are around my throat, “You stupid fucking cunt! Open your mouth and I’ll fucking kill you. You think you can threaten me, I’m fuck-”.

Whatever he said was cut off by a bullet piercing the side of his head. His blood splattered against my face as he dropped like a sack of potatoes. My eyes frantically search for the source of the shooter. My breath catches when I see Terry placing his gun back in his waistband.

“Never liked that motherfucker anyway,” he said looking at Raul’s lifeless body. I stare down at him in shock, eyes lifeless. I blink hard and take a deep breath hoping I can wish it all away. My dreams prove futile when I open them and he’s still there dead on the floor. Terry’s timberlands come into my view and I look up to meet his eyes. 

“Daphne, are you ok? Talk to me!”, he says, shaking my shoulders. I open my mouth to speak but no words come out. 

“Look at me Daph, shit. Mario!” Terry’s right in my face shouting, but it feels like I’m in the bottom of a well. I’m lifted off my feet and a scream leaves my lips. 

“Shh, shh, it’s just me,” Terry says carrying me towards his office. Once we’re inside he sets me on a couch and heads towards his desk. My trembling hands reach up to wipe the blood off my face. Terry grabs my hands, placing them back down at my side.

“Let me,” Terry said, bringing a baby wipe up to my face. He gently scrubs all the blood and makeup from my face. I look up at Terry, our eyes finally meeting after all the chaos that occurred. 

“You’re blurry. Why is your face blurry?” I ask.

I hear a deep sigh come from Terry, “Daphne, you’re crying.” As many times as I’ve helped people dealing with their own trauma’s, I can’t even identify my own. I wipe the tears and take a deep breath. I can’t believe Raul’s dead, well I can based on everything Rafa’s told me about him. You can only lie, cheat, kill and rob for so long. He wasn’t a good person, but that doesn’t mean I wanted to see him shot in front of me. 

“I’m sorry, I’ll get out of your hair soon,” I say, getting up from Terry’s couch. Terry pushed me down by my shoulders shaking his head. 

“No, you’re not going anywhere. I had Mario drop your car off at home,” Terry said, moving around his office. 

“What are you going to do to me?” the tremble of  my voice audible in my question. 

“I’m taking you to my place, we need to talk about what happened. I know you have Lexi, but I want to make sure you’re okay,” Terry said, moving to sit next to me on the sofa. 

“You just shot him Terry, I’m still just trying to process everything,” I was rubbing my hands up and down my arms with anxious energy. Terry took notice and went to grab his jacket, placing it around my shoulders. I took a brief inhale, finding comfort in the bergamot scent that surrounded me. 

“He was strangling you Daphne, he would’ve killed you. I couldn’t let that happen,” Terry said looking down at me with an intensity that I’ve never seen before. 

“You saved my life and I can’t thank you enough for that Terry. But this is too much I feel like I can’t even get my head on straight,” I was spiraling. The ringing in my ears intensified along with my breathing. This was the start of a panic attack, a bad one.

TERRY

Shit! She’s about to have a full blown panic attack, maybe I shouldn’t have shot that little shit in front of her. I just didn’t think, I reacted which is something I rarely do. I squat down in front of her to make sure that we’re eye level. 

“Daphne, look at me sweetheart," I say with an even tone of voice. Her deep set brown eyes meet mine frantically. She’s looking at me but I might as well be a lamp with the way she’s looking through me. I placed my hands on either side of her head, I can practically feel her thoughts. Her breathing is still erratic, if she keeps this up she’ll pass out. 

“Daph, you need to breathe, c’mon honey just breathe for me,” I say, moving my hands to rub up and down her arms. That seems to snap her out of it when her eyes refocus on mine. 

“There’s my pretty girl you think you can breathe for me?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady. She tries to take a few deep breaths, but they come out choppy, like she’s on the verge of tears. 

I try to stand, but her hand reaches up and she grips my collar.

“You - You can’t leave me in here. Please don’t go.” She looked up at me with those doe eyes and I started to feel things. Things I shouldn’t be feeling, like wanting to protect her from everything. 

“I’m not going anywhere, but we need to leave, my guys need to start cleaning up. Can you stand?” 

Daphne takes another shaky breath before she stands. I adjust my jacket on her and turn to grab my keys off my desk. I wrap my arm across her shoulder and begin to lead her out.

“Is this okay? My arm around you like this?” I ask, sneaking a peek down at her. She nods her head and we head out of my office.  

“Wow, your place is beautiful, “ Daphne says, her eyes darting around my loft. A small smirk reaches my lips, and I say a quiet thank you. I direct her to the spare bedroom and bring her some spare towels, and some clothes of mine for her to change into.

While Daphne’s in the shower I go to do the same. Jesus today has been a fucking day. So much for trying to ease her into the lifestyle. Was is messy to shoot Raul in the middle of my establishment with witnesses? Yes. But do I regret it? Fuck no. But knowing that Daphne’s ex is Rafa changes things. 

Rafa and I used to be thick as thieves, running these New Orleans streets. Until he got greedy, he wanted to step into some dark web type shit and I wasn’t for it. We parted ways and I assumed we could just leave it at that. But now I see we’ll have a reason to chat again. That reason being 5’2, beautiful and thicker than 2 day old grits. I hop out of the shower, moisturize and spray a little cologne on before throwing on a plain white tee and gray sweats. 

Making my way towards my kitchen I can hear Daphne on the phone with someone. I slow my steps so I can be nosy and hear what she’s saying.

“Lexi, I’m fine I promise. He just scared me.” I hear her say and my heart drops to my ass. I figured I scared her a little bit but I hope it doesn’t deter my plan. My ears perk when I hear my name being mentioned.

“I’m at Terry’s place… he didn’t want me to be alone after what happened with Raul. He’s being nice, that's all. He couldn’t have one of his bartenders too traumatized to move,” she giggles at something her sister says on the other side of the phone and my heart warms at the sound. 

“You dirty little slut I am not doing that!,” Daphne whispers into the phone. I figure this is a good time to make my presence known. Her eyes lock with mine when I round the corner to the kitchen. 

“Lex, I’ll call you later. Love you. Bye,” Daphne says, shooting me an apologetic smile.

“Sorry about that when I didn’t come home Lexi got worried,” Daphne said, wringing her hands together nervously.

“It’s all good mama, if you’re not too wiped by today I think we should talk,” I gesture toward the living room. She nods slightly a small smile on her lips as she makes her way toward my living room. My eyes get stuck watching the way her ass moves in my shirt. No way this woman is real. We settle into the love seat and I stretch, a lame attempt at trying to bring her closer to me. A small smirk forms on my lips as Daphne inches closer to me. My shirt rides up against her  plush thighs revealing that she’s not wearing the boxers I gave her. This woman is going to be the death of me and she doesn’t have a clue. 

“Look, I just want to start by saying I’m so sorry Daphne. I don’t regret shooting the motherfucker, he was hurting you and I don’t stand for shit like that. I just hate that I traumatized  you in the process. I’m not usually that violent, but like I said he was hurting you, and I’d do it again,” I’m a little out of breath at the end of my rant. My eyes meet Daphne’s and I can’t help but get lost in them. They’re mesmerizing.

“Terry, can I hug you?,” she asks, scooting closer toward me. A small chuckle leaves my lips before I open my arms wide, inviting her in. 

“C’mere pretty girl,” I pull her to me and wrap my arms around her. She fits perfectly in my arms, like she’s meant to be there. A content sigh leaves her lips, her lips brushing against my neck in the process. After a few moments, she pulls back and our eyes meet. 

“Daph, can I kiss you?” 

Another cliffhanger?? I know I know, don’t beat my ass. I hope you guys liked this one more to come soon. I’m really happy I could get this to you guys today, it’s my birthday and I couldn’t keep y’all hanging any longer, sorry this one is a little short the next part will be longer!

if i forgot to tag you please leave a comment

Until next time

TEE <3

TAGLIST

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[brittle-doughie]

Taking a break from angst-time for some good Ole fashion family drama!

I'd like to request a scenario where a matriarch relative from Y/N's family roping them into an arranged marriage with an upper-class cookie (whoever it is up to you)

Said relative is introduced coming to the kingdom where they try to take y/n cookie to their would-be-fiance, only to notice a plethora of cookies either following, stalking, or budding in on their "familial reunion."

P.s. Hope your having a safe belated new year, brittle-doughie! Your the best

- 🥀 Anon

Forced Connections

Much appreciated, my dude. Arranged marriages pretty much spell disaster for the would-be spouse if you run a kingdom!

Crowned Cupcake Cookie, that was the name of the cookie in the photograph sent to you, the one you were apparently meant to be wedded with for the sake of “keeping the doughline pure”, as Sugar Cane Cookie, your family’s matriarch, would put it.

AN: Many thanks to Runebrave for massively carrying with the design, as you guys may know, I don’t have a single creative bone in my body lol

Your mother, Molasses Cookie, couldn’t be any more embarrassed that her side of the family is meddling with your personal life, wanting you to choose how you want to live it, wanting you to choose who you want to be with…but Sugar Cane Cookie insisted.

She was expected to arrive with Crowned Cupcake Cookie soon, which means having to break the news to your Cookie Kingdom before they did. They deserved to know…

You opened the door to your quarters to see Financier Cookie standing by, she gave a small bow to you.

“Y/N Cookie, I see that you are alright today. It gives me relief knowing that you haven’t gotten hurt.”

And it helps to know that a cookie like her is always keep watch over you, when she makes it to the schedule at least. Quite a number of cookies are always gunning to make your bodyguard spot such as Caramel Arrow or Raspberry Cookie, had to break up a few scuffles on occasion.

But that’s a topic for another day, you’d rather you give her the news of what’s to come..

You tell Financier Cookie to be ready, for your kingdom will have…important guests arriving soon..

“I’ll be sure to be on my best behavior and that will go for the other cookies. May I ask who these guests are?”

It will be your family matriarch, Sugar Cane Cookie…and your soon-to-be fiancé, Crowned Cupcake Cookie-

You see Financier Cookie stop in her tracks, a thousand yard stare straight ahead, as her grip on her sword shakes.

“….What?”

Now now, you know that sounds like a big shocker already, but it’s being forced upon you and you really can’t-

“A forced marriage…as if the circumstances can’t get any worse…”

You asked for her to please settle down, this was beyond your control once it was made known to be an order in your family!

Financier’s grip on her sword tightens up as she takes deep breathes, indicating the hidden rage that was boiling inside her

“Don’t worry about it, self-discipline is something I need to practice for anyway…just don’t expect me to be cordial with this…fiancé of yours if she steps out of line…”

If Financier could get like this, there’s no telling how the others will be…

———————————————————————

Jealousy is hitting Kouign-Amann Cookie when she learns of the news. What kind of cookies were your family to try and set you up with something arranged?! As opposed to..what your heart wants..

She can proudly boast that her skills as a Paladin exceeds what this visitor can do for you, anything crossing your path can just meet her sword! What can this visitor do? Because they probably won’t be able to do as much compared to Kouign!

Not giving up is also another part of being a Paladin! Nothing this newcomer can say or do will deter her at all, even if it ends up in a fight! Because Kouign is more than willing to put this cookie six feet under if they push their luck…

———————————————————————

Almond Cookie is on the case. Not only was this arranged marriage done without an agreement on your end, but you weren’t even on a first name basis with this other cookie? This has gotten him on high alert that required a whole lot of coffee, he’ll need it if he’s to dedicate his time to this problem.

He’ll be right there with you for when your arranged spouse has entered the station. The safety of the Cookie Kingdom’s ruler is of the upmost importance to everyone, including him. Especially him. He felt like being your barrier, the wall of protection that you can count on!

And..just reading on whatever files he can scrape on up on this Crowned Cupcake Cookie…he’ll definitely need to be on guard for whatever she has planned or would be ready to do. He’s more than happy to slap her in cuffs if she so much as LOOKS suspicious..

———————————————————————

Did this mean you won’t be able to come to her picnics anymore? You’ll be giving all your time to Crowned Cupcake Cookie?

It was a pretty unfortunate realization for Cherry Blossom Cookie, she felt like what you and her had was going pretty nicely. It just felt like a pain to her heart to suddenly lose that connection to a cookie she’s never heard about.

She can’t just deny your future spouse a picnic though. In fact…she very much would like to invite her to the best picnic! She promises to make Cupcake’s food R E A L S P E C I A L to commemorate the occasion. She’ll make it so good, it would be to D I E for…

———————————————————————

Your cookies could only internally cringe when Crowned Cupcake arrived on the train and was already hovering around you. She went on a long speech about the fairy tale romance of a princess meeting the one she loves being a reality for her. Financier’s self-discipline was TESTED with how much Crowned was putting her hands on you.

Almost as if she sensed it, Crowned Cupcake started to giggle, her back towards the envious crowd of cookies. She turned back towards them, with wide eyes and creepy smile, her right eye twitching.

“Oh? Am I sensing objections between me and my dearest being together…? If that’s the case…”

She put away her staff…before slowly pulling out a sword from behind her, with dry strawberry jam staining the blade, her smile growing more deranged.

“I’m more than happy to settle any differences. Dungeon or execution..? Hehe…”

[blackgirlwhowrites2k23]

Wusyaname? - Pablo Gavi

Summary: You were beauty personified; He just had to get your name.

A/N: Uploading multiple stories at once because I'm not on here as much as I want to be. Anyways, made it to med school! Sorry for taking so long, but the bills had to be paid😭. DC @cisqueenin

Trigger warning: Usage of Y/N 💀 --------------------------------------------------------------------

Camp Nou was alive. The rumbling, raging chants of "Barça! Barça!" roared through the stands, thunderous in a way that shook the entire stadium. Gavi jogged off the pitch, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. The air was electric, buzzing with the energy of all their fans celebrating Barcelona’s decisive 3-0 victory. He was basking in the glory of it all—three points secured, one thanks to himself, his team soaring in the league.  

But something was off.  

He felt it throughout the game, but now he could focus more on finding the source. 

As his teammates jogged ahead, laughing and slapping each other on the back, Gavi found his thoughts drifting. It wasn’t like him. Usually, he was so so laser-focused after a game, replaying key moments in his mind or thinking about how he could improve. Yet, as he neared the tunnel, something tugged at him—a strange, unexplainable pull that made him turn around.  

His eyes wildly scanned the stands, now a sea of red and blue with flags waved high, their vibrant colors flashing under the floodlights. Fans shouted, their voices hoarse from screaming all the screaming they were doing. He was always so grateful for the support he received; he literally bled red and blue and thankfully, so do they. Some leaned over the railings, the rails seeming to mold under the force of the fans,  while others snapped pictures to immortalize the night.  

And then, he saw her.  

She wasn’t waving or calling out, yet he still felt like she demanded his attention. Instead, she stood in the midst of the crowd, near some familiar faces, her laughter carrying over the chaos. It was a deep, uninhibited laugh that sent a wave of electricity through him as she playfully shoved the shoulder of a friend beside her. Her radiant skin seemed to glow in the sunlight, and the way she carried herself—calm, seemingly untouched by the frenzy around her—grabbed his attention and left him a little breathless. More so then he was after playing a 90 minute match, if you would believe it. 

She wore a Barcelona jersey (thank God!) that draped casually on her body, paired with some equally loose fitting jeans that she wore amazingly (simple; but Kounde would be proud). She wasn’t trying to stand out, but somehow, she was the only thing Gavi could see. Her smile lit up her entire face, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she tilted her head back in amusement.  

Gavi blinked, completely caught off guard. He wasn’t the type to get distracted—especially not by strangers in the stands. It was rare that he even paid attention to the crowd at all. But there was something about her. Something different. Cliche, yes. But man was it true.  

His chest tightened, and he felt an inexplicable need to keep looking, to memorize the curve of her smile, the way her hair framed her face like a halo. She seemed so... alive, so full of energy and joy. So- 

“Yo, Gavi!”  

Balde’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Gavi blinked and turned, his heart racing as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. It’s not illegal to look. He has eyes, he planned to use them.

Balde jogged over, a grin already forming on his face. His gaze followed Gavi’s line of sight, and the smirk deepened. “Ah, can’t say I’m surprised. That’s my girl’s best friend. They practically grew up together”  

“What?” Gavi’s cheeks heated instantly, and he quickly looked away, trying to act casual as he brushed the hair out of his face and then placed his hands on his hips. Real casual like. “I wasn’t staring.”  

“Sure, man.” Balde chuckled, his tone laced with mirth as he looked over Gavi. He clapped Gavi on the shoulder, the gesture light but teasing. “You’ve got good taste, though. My girlfriend is amazing, and you know what they say: birds of a feather flock together." He pauses to send Gavi a look as he rubs his chin, "I wonder what it says about me that we hang out together.”

Gavi rolls his eyes so hard that they almost roll out his skull. Maybe if they fall near her, she’ll help him put them back. “Ale, you’re hilarious. I’m surprised football is what you chose as a career and not comedy.”

Balde gives him a bright smile before he gets serious again. “She’s really cool. Not as cool as my lady, but her name’s [Y/N].”  

Y/N. The name lingered in Gavi’s mind, rolling around for a bit before settling into the back of his mind for later.  

“She’s not...” He trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence without sounding like he was definitely staring.  Which he wasn't.

“She’s single,” Balde answered, clearly reading his mind. “And no, she’s not like a crazy, obsessed fan, if that’s what you’re worried about.”  

“I didn’t ask that,” Gavi muttered, flustered.  

Balde shrugged, still grinning. “Come on, we’re heading out tonight. You should join us. We have an amazing win to celebrate.”  

Gavi hesitated. He wasn’t usually one for post-game outings, preferring to recharge alone after the intensity of a match. But it’s not like he had anything better to do. 

“Yeah,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “Okay.”  

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

The next evening, Gavi found himself sprawled on Balde’s couch, a PlayStation controller balanced in his hands. The apartment was a whirlwind—conversation echoed off the walls, the soft hum of music played in the background, and the faint scent of takeout wafted from the kitchen.

Balde and his girlfriend, Nia, were cozied up on one end of the sofa, a blanket draped over their laps as they shared whispered jokes. Every now and then, their quiet laughter would bubble into something louder, making Gavi sigh dramatically.

Going out the day before hadn’t been as eventful as he had hoped. He had hoped to run into a certain someone, but of course he wasn’t so lucky. 

“Man, every time I hang out with you two, you guys make me feel like a third wheel,” he said, tossing the controller onto the couch seat next to him with a huff. “It’s like you’re doing this on purpose.”

Nia  tilted her head innocently, though her grin gave her away. “What do you mean? We’re just sitting here, minding our business.”

Gavi shot her a pointed look. “Oh, sure. Yeah, yeah. Can you maybe try a little harder at looking less in love,” He gestured vaguely at the two of them. “You’ve got a girlfriend, Pedri’s got a girlfriend, even Fermin is seeing someone. Meanwhile, I’m over here just... existing. Is it too much to ask for you guys to practice social distancing sometimes? At Least while your wonderful, single friend Gavi is over?”

Balde smirked, clearly enjoying his friend’s irritation. “You sound jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” Gavi shot back, sitting up straighter. “I’m just stating facts. Being the only single one here is starting to feel like a full-time job.”

Across from him, Balde’s girlfriend laughed, nudging Balde playfully. “Poor Gavi. Someone needs to get this boy a date before he loses his mind.”

“Don’t look at me,” Gavi said, throwing his hands up in mock defense. “You’re the ones rubbing your picture-perfect relationship in my face.”

Her grin widened, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well,” she said slowly, dragging out the word as if she were revealing a secret, “since you brought it up, I might actually know someone.”

Gavi froze, immediately wary. His eyes narrowed. “Oh no. Whenever either of you gets an idea something always goes wrong. I don’t trust this. At all.”

“Relax,” Balde chimed in, leaning forward to grab his drink from the coffee table. “She’s cool. And I know you’ve already seen her.”

“What?” Gavi’s brows knit together in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Balde’s girlfriend leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm as her grin turned downright devious. “The girl you just couldn’t stop staring at last night. You know, the one in the stands at Camp Nou?”

Gavi stiffened. His heart skipped a beat, and a flicker of embarrassment crossed his face. “I wasn’t staring,” he said quickly, his tone defensive. 

“Sure, Gavi,” Balde said with a knowing laugh. “We believe you. Totally.”

Gavi gives him a heat glare. “ And I can’t believe you told her I was staring.”

“He didn't have to tell me. I saw your love-struck puppy eyes from where I was sitting. You know, right next to her,” Nia corrects.

“ Yeah they were kind of hard to miss,” Balde adds, nodding sagely.

Ignoring Balde, his girlfriend continued, her voice warm and teasing. “Her name’s [Y/N]. She’s a good friend of mine. And, fun fact, she thought you were cute.”

Gavi blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “She... what?”

“She thought you were cute,” she repeated, her grin widening. “When I told her I knew you, she might have mentioned you seemed... interesting.”

“I’m not interesting,” Gavi muttered, though his attempt to brush it off lacked conviction.

Balde’s laughter grew louder as he draped an arm over the couch he and Nia shared. “You’re making this too easy. Look, just come out with us tomorrow. We’re all going to that spot downtown. No pressure or anything. Just a chance to hang out, get to know her.”

Gavi hesitated, chewing the inside of his cheek. He wasn’t sure if it was nerves, curiosity, or a mix of both, but the idea of seeing her again stirred something in him.

“I don’t know,” he said slowly. “What if it’s awkward? What if she’s nothing like what I’m expecting?”

“Then it’s awkward,” Balde’s girlfriend said with a shrug. “But I don’t think it will be. She’s great. You’ll see.”

Gavi groaned, leaning back against the couch as if the weight of their suggestion was too much to bear. “Fine,” he said after a long pause. “But if this goes horribly wrong, I’m blaming both of you.”

Balde grinned triumphantly. “You’ll thank us later.”

Gavi wasn’t so sure. But as he sat there, pretending to focus on the video game in front of him, his mind wandered back to Camp Nou, to the girl with the radiant smile and carefree laugh. Maybe—just maybe—this wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

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

The trendy bar in the heart of Barcelona was alive with energy, its dim lighting and pulsating music creating an atmosphere that was kinda relaxing. But Gavi was anything but. He trailed behind Balde and his girlfriend as they weaved through the crowd, the mingling scents of cocktails and cologne filling the air. Despite his usual confidence on the pitch, he felt a twinge of nerves creeping in. His palms were sweaty. Knees weak. Something about Mom’s spaghetti. This wasn’t a stadium full of fans or a post-match interview—this was different.  

“There she is,” Balde’s girlfriend murmured, tilting her head toward a corner table.  

Gavi followed her gaze, and for a moment, his breath hitched. You were even more stunning up close. You sat with an effortless grace, your fitted blue dress hugging your figure and accentuating your skin. Your curls framed your face in perfect harmony with your glowing smile, which lit up as you laughed.  

“Annnnnd, you’re staring. Nia, I think we lost him, babe,” Balde teased in a low voice, nudging Gavi.  

“Shut up,” Gavi muttered, his face warming.  

“Come on,” Balde’s girlfriend urged, pulling him forward with a grin that said she wasn’t going to let him back out.  

As they reached the table, the laughter faded, and you glanced up. Your eyes met Gavi’s, and for a heartbeat, the bustling bar seemed to melt away. There was a spark in your gaze—a warmth that felt both inviting and disarming.  

“Y/N, this is Gavi,” Nia said, beaming.  

“Hi,” You greeted, your voice smooth and confident, carrying just enough intrigue to make Gavi’s pulse quicken.  

“Hey,” Gavi replied, feeling uncharacteristically tongue-tied. He extended his hand, and your grip was firm yet soft, grounding him in the moment.  

Her lips quirked into a teasing smile. “You play for Barça, right? Small club or something?”  

Gavi chuckled, the icebreaker easing the tightness in his chest. “Yeah, something like that. You’ve probably never heard of it.”  

You laughed, a sound so genuine it sent a strange flutter through him. He heard it being caused by others. But now it was caused by him. He definitely wanted to hear it again.

They settled into seats, the initial awkwardness dissolving as the conversation began to flow. To Gavi’s surprise, you weren't just witty—you were sharp, quick on your feet, and unapologetically yourself. You asked him about his career but didn’t linger on it, seamlessly shifting the topic to music, travel, and your own passions.  

Hours passed like minutes. The hum of the bar became a distant backdrop as they found themselves engrossed in their own world. At one point, you tilted your head and smirked. “So, do you always stare at girls from the pitch, or was that a one-time thing?”  

Gavi felt his cheeks flush, his laugh betraying him. “I wasn’t staring,” he protested weakly, though his grin gave him away.  

“Right,” you said, your tone dripping with mock disbelief. “Well, either way, I’ll take it as a compliment.”  

Your playful confidence was refreshing, and Gavi found himself smiling more than he had in weeks. With you, he didn’t feel the need to impress or filter himself. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt seen—not as Gavi, the footballer, but as just Pablo.  

—-------------------------------

As the night wound down, the energy of the bar mellowed, and the group began to disperse. Gavi instinctively offered to walk you to your car, feeling reluctant to let the evening end. The streets outside were quieter now, the cool night air carrying a hint of the sea as they strolled under the glow of Barcelona’s streetlights.  

“Thanks for tonight,” You said as you both stopped beside your car. Your voice was softer now, yet still laced with that same effortless confidence.  

“No,” Gavi said, his sincerity catching even him off guard. “Thank you. I’m really glad I came.”  

You smiled, your gaze lingering on his for a moment longer than felt casual. “Maybe we’ll see each other again?”  

The hope in your voice mirrored the flutter in his chest, and Gavi found himself nodding, a rare shyness creeping into his expression. “I’d like that.”  

As you climbed into your car and drove off, Gavi remained on the curb, watching the taillights fade into the distance. A small, unshakable smile tugged at his lips. For the first time in a long while, he felt a new sense of anticipation—like he’d found something worth chasing, both on and off the pitch.  

[deathbxnny]

So we know that Boothill had a daughter but what is he had a S/O that also was killed but their consciousness was put into a robotic body(?) and they work for the IPC. Not having any memory of what the IPC did to their family and they meet Boothill again after a long time. Maybe they didn’t even recognize Boothill. Just angst.

ʕ •̀ ω •́ ʔ congratulations on 1000!!!

Oooh, I really love this request, Anon!! I've been craving something angsty and tragic, so I hope you'll like this and thank you for the request!!<33

Content: Reader is similar to the Androids from "Detroit: Become human", spoilers to Boothills past!!, past romantic relationship, heavy angst, hurt/no comfort, swearing, reader kind of is hinted to have a southern sounding accent, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!!

((Not proofread))

"You promised your next life to me." (Boothill x Gn!Reader)

"That was close-" "-Too close! I told ya not to shut the gates too hard! The damned hens nearly got us killed when they woke up!" A young Boothill hissed to you, although there was no malice in his voice, only a playful tune of amusement. You grinned, biting into one of the apples you had stolen. "But we're alive right now, aren't we?"

The sun was slowly peeking out from beyond the mountains, painting the skies above you in soft blues, pinks, and oranges. You leaned against the tree you were both hiding in, trying your best not to fall out of it or make too much noise, lest the swearing and enraged farmer nearby heard you. It was just supposed to be a little early morning fun, in which you both hopped your neighbors fence to get some of his freshly harvested apples.

Some may call it stealing, but you often liked to call it "borrowing". Served the old man right anyway. He always sold them for too high of a price at the market!

"God damn you, brats! Once I get my hands on you, you'll never think of crossing my damned fields again!" The farmer yelled, loading his shot gun, before he seemed to trip over the pots you had accidentally run into on your way to the tree. Both of you snorted at the cursing intensifying, your hands pressing against your mouths to weakly muffle the laughs that threaten to bubble out of you.

A door creaked open in the distance, the disgruntled old wife hobbling out in annoyance. "RANDY! WHAT ON GOD'S GREEN EARTH ARE YOU DOIN'? IT'S NEARLY 5 AM!" She yelled, the farmer quick to scramble up and pull on his hat with a gulp. "Those damned kids are back!-" "-I don't care! Get your ass back in here, or so may the Aeons help me!" The man only reluctantly did as told, trudging back inside in sizzling rage, yet decided that for today, the little rats could escape him just one more time again. He'll get them next time.

You two waited for a while after the door slammed shut before you finally let out a relieved giggle. "That's what he gets! Old man Mr. Roger had it, comin'!" You slid down the tree, skillfully landing on your feet, before you ran towards the cornfield you came from. "Let's get back to the horses!" You called out behind you, making the young boy follow after you quickly, albeit slower due to being the one carrying most of your "borrowed" goods. You had always been the braver one. The one with the most energy and the most strength to do things. He looked up to you in moments like these, nearly admiring you when you jumped over the fence with no difficulty. He struggled alot more than you did before he too finally reached your horses on the otherside.

"That was really fun..." Boothill trailed off as he helped you load up your half of the apples onto your mare, that was attempting to take one for herself. You hummed in agreement, thanking him right after whilst he helped you onto your saddle. "It's always fun when you're with me." You commented with a shrug, not understanding the weight of your kind words that made his heart beat faster. You rode next to eachother in silence for a while, your eyes glued on the sunset before you, and yet the boy found you more interesting to look at. He bit his lip nervously when the sun hit your eyes just right, making them glow.

"I'm gonna hit the bed the second I'm home... but we'll meet later today again, okay? See ya!" It wasn't a request in Boothills' mind. No, it was simply a natural demand, a requirement to be there, to see you. He watched you ride on the opposite path back to your home, wondering when he too could be braver than you and spill the words that were on his mind for his best friend.

--

That was one of the only memories of Boothills childhood with you that he could remember anymore now. It was odd to think that you two were once nothing more than little troublemakers ridding through the early morning hours together. Only years later however, you'd see eachother every day through marriage.

Your home was a small cottage near the oceanside, miles of fields and meadows surrounding it, in the distance, unexplored forests and mountains. It was your idea to move there as it was still close to his family, and he couldn't have been more grateful. Especially with the small bundle of joy he one day found whilst he was out checking on the cattle during a strong thunderstorm. You were resting at home that night, your fingers moving quickly as they crocheted a blanket you had been working on for a while, ears strained to listen to the music over the static that played through the radio. The fireplace was warm, eyes beginning to drop shut from the exhaustion of a busy day on the farm, when suddenly the front door creaked open and in came your husband, soaked to the bone.

You sat up, watching carefully as he set down his dripping hat and pulled off his boots with one hand clumsily, the other tightly wrapped around something you couldn't see from the dimness of the room. "Come here, honey. Look what a sweet little thing I've found out there." He chuckled gently, holding out the wrapped bundle to you, whilst he pulled away some of the cloth to show the face of a small, sleeping infant. You gasped in surprise, eyes widening, as you were quick to take her out of the wet cloths and wrap her into your own warm arms. "Oh she really is so little!" You whispered in awe, and Boothill could see the love you had for what would soon become your adoptive daughter from the start.

She was your everything ever since that fateful night, you two lovingly calling her "Lavender" after the fields her father had found her in. She was a lively, easy child, so loving and sweet, that your heart couldn't help but be filled with her the moment you met her. Boothill found alot of purpose in raising her with you, often times taking her on horse rides around the land he owned, or taking her out to fish, whilst you taught her how to garden and crochet things herself.

You and Lavender were his sweethearts, his everything. All that Boothill lived for... until eventually, you weren't.

--

The day came in which the devil's from above, also calling themselves members of the "IPC" came down to slaughter you all senselessly. No one survived, no one but Boothill. Your daughter was dead instantly, her small daughter hidden under the heavy rubble, never having stood a chance against the bombs.

He could never forget the relief he felt when he found you, even if it was short-lived. You were fatally injured, breath labored and short, as you tried to hold on for just a moment longer. His arms wrapped around you, tears in eyes when he saw the fear for the first time in yours. No amount of bravery could save you now. "(Y/N)... you... please, you can't die." He chocked out, unable to comprehend the agony he was in. Yet you couldn't hear him over the ringing in your ears, your hand reaching up to grasp his shirt tightly with all the strength you had left. "I'll... I'll find you. I swear I will. In my next life. I promise... I..." Your arm dropped, the fear relaxing into nothing, as your breathing came to an end, the only thing left being the crackling of flames around you.

.....

....

..

"Mr. Boothill? Are you... alright?" Dan Heng awkwardly nudged the now Cyborg man, his head tilting in confusion. Aventurine raised a brow, his arms crossing as his gaze met your rather unamused one in thought. "My... he only seemed to malfunction once you arrived, (Y/N)!" He grinned teasingly, making you roll your eyes and cross your arms. "Can we please continue? You claimed we didn't have any time to waste." The blonde raised his arms in faux surrender, knowing he shouldn't bother you any more than summoning you here has.

A high-profile IPC android like you surely had better things to do after all than to deal with a failing country, but here you were.

Boothill, meanwhile, blinked a couple of times, his head hurting and throbbing in agonizing pain. Just how was this possible? Just how were you alive?

Why did you not recognize him?

"... I... sorry, they look really familiar." He said, trying to compose himself when you gave him a sharp, uninterested look. Your eyes always held so much kindness for everyone. How could you forget even that? Pulling down his hat to cover his eyes, he sighed and shook his head. He supposed both of you had changed beyond recognition in one way or another.

"Anyways... let's get goin'... that nice, wing-headed Mister ain't gonna go down on his own..." He continued, trailing off for a moment, before he simply turned and left to fulfill his part of the plan. He heard you scoff lightly, obviously unamused by whatever seemed to have angered you so much before coming here.

His soul ached for you in ways he couldn't ever utter out loud again. And whilst you did keep your promise of seeing him again, this is not the life or the way he had preferred.

At least you weren't a liar, he supposed bitterly with a cold chuckle.

Alrightyy... I finally found the time to write this, and I'm unsure how I like it... BUT it's done, and I hope it was okay for you, Anon!! Thank you again for the request!!<33

[heartfullofleeches]

Loser catboy reader with cc???? Crackpost of them pls

[The ending is a bit crack, but I got a lil carried away and did a full mini fic. Hope you enjoy-]

Yan Incubus + Catboy [G.N] Reader

-

A new donation.

"Heyyyy, Bestie- Check out my new mix. Pretty sure it's my best work ever and comes from the heart - xoxo"

That guy again- And people call you lustful. You can still feel his hands around your waist and his breath on your neck. Your thighs and back are proof of his clinginess after your last encounter with him left you riddled with nail marks. It didn't surpise you much given his flirty persona to the public, but the sting almost made you feel bad for all the times you've used someone's face as a scratching post. Almost.

Adjusting your headphones, you click away from the game on stream - pulling up the chat room where the sound file had been sent. As in your face as he was, the demon was still one of your top members and a pretty big name in music and influencer spaces. Gained some new followers and a fair amount of pocket change just by posing for a few pictures with him and liking every comment he left on your posts. The guy was a pro at baiting fans with an alleged relationship. Even changed his status to taken with a cat emoji and a sea of hearts next to his name.

Right as you click on the file another message pops up on screen.

"You listen to it yet?:p"

"Just turned it on. Chill, it's been like three seconds."

"KK-ily. Call me when you're done. I'll be waiting~;)"

"Yeah, yeah....whatever." Moving your tail into your lap as you recline, you prop yourself against the back of your chair as the melody slowly fades in. The flow is more mellow than the house vibe the DJ is known for. You find yourself swaying - ears switching as vocals ease into the mix. A faint whisper barley audible over the thumping beat. The voice hitches, strained and breathy as another joins it. Your fur stands on end as a familiar chuckle plays through your ears - his voice as clear as the lip gloss coating his lips when he kissed you.

"You have no idea what you do to me... I need you.... say that you're mine.. Say it."

"I'm.... I'm yours, just - just shut up and kiss me again."

Rage floods your eyes. You throw your headphones across the room- quickly joining the video call C.C had been waiting for you in. His shit eating grin makes you want to send your monitor to the same fate as your headphones. He waves

"Hiii, baby. What's wrong? You look tense- Need me to come over and make you feel better?~"

"Did you fucking record us making out and put it into your song?!"

"Just thought it's about time we put those silly rumors to rest and come out as proper couple. Pretty obvious to everyone that we have something going on. I'll let you know the results in a few hours once it finishes uploading."

"C.C!"

"Buh-bye, hun!"

C.C waves goodbye, blowing a kiss at the call abruptly ends. Using him as a scratching post sounds like a great idea, but something tells you he'd enjoy that.

"Fuck."