#he's using his street smarts to figure out whats going on and he manages to track down izuku

[soruset]

GENIUS IS FALSE BUT THANK YOU I

????? IDK WE COULD DO THIS.............

i can either write or draw if i have the time 🥲

GUYS I DID A THING AND WANT TO SHARE

[nomsfaultau]

Dark sbi where Tommy accidentally kidnaps Philza, not knowing he’s a crime lord. And he swears it was an accident! He just, you know, panicked. Tommy and Tubbo were just minding their own business slapping graffiti on a building (practicing their art skills, you see) when a cop started screeching at them, apparently not an appreciator of the fine arts. And since Mrs. Innit would KILL him if he got arrested, Tommy panics and takes a hostage, shouting at the cop not to take a step further or he’ll kill the random civilian he’s ducked behind so he can’t get shot.

Meanwhile Philza isn’t entirely paying attention, and realizes there’s suddenly a small child sheltering behind him from a cop. He gives the cop the nastiest look imaginable, which causes them to back off enough that Tommy thinks his plan is working. Once the negotiations start Philza is baffled by who would have the gall to kidnap him, and so poorly at that. Frankly it’s an umbrage to face the work of an amateur.

Well, till the abductor asks his name. “…do you not know who I am.?”

Tommy squints at the guy. His suit looks kinda fancy? Is it better or worse for him if he managed to randomly capture some Wall Street schmuck? “Hell no,” he hisses. “And I don’t care. I’m a dangerous guy alright? You don’t know what I’ll do to you.”

Philza’s laugh causes the cop to advance, wagering the situation isn’t intense. But because Tubbo’s ‘Yes And’ game is a force to be reckoned with, he casually pulls out a nerf gun (painted to look real for a prank on Ranboo) and trains it on the cop. Philza is positively delighted as he realizes just how amateur his abductors are. Oh this will be a riot to watch.

With more bluffing than Tommy knew he had in him, promising the hostage 20 bucks if he pretended to go along with it, the pure manic chaos bleeding from Tubbo’s eyes and ample gun waving, and creative use of spray paint in the eyes of the chasing cops, Tommy and Tubbo somehow manage to book it. For some reason the hostage keeps up with them instead of escaping. Huh. Can you develop Stockholm syndrome that fast? Tommy would ask, but he’s panting from sprinting. And as they live in an unjust world, hostage guy isn’t even breaking a sweat despite the three piece suit.

“You’re not going to get far on foot,” Philza murmurs. As corrupt and useless as the cops are for most things in this city, he doesn’t imagine there’d actually be that much fuss over a random man being kidnapped, but he wonders what they’ll do if spooked a little more. It’s been amusing thus far. The boys bicker, then elect to force him to drive as neither have licenses. They don’t ask him to drive to their homes, instead some secondary location. Smart, albeit Philza will definitely know both addresses within the hour.

While Tommy is busy ‘threatening’ Philza about the consequences of not getting them there, Tubbo just leans over from a bag of chips he’s munching on and offers them to Phil. Tommy rounds on him, less for showing exploitable kindness to the hostage and more for eating the Doritos that were meant to be his. Philza almost chides them for revealing each other’s names, but decides it might just be easier to hand them notes at the end of this. So far they aren’t getting a passing grade in abduction. But he has to admit it’s far more entertaining than the ‘business’ meeting he was planning to attend.

(Techno, meanwhile, hasn’t heard from Philza and is going BALLISTIC trying to figure out who kidnapped him. From the police report Phil just kinda went along with it, and looked terrified after a private exchange with the abductor, which has to mean the threat is ungodly to convince the Angel of Death to submit. Techno’s about to have a panic attack imagining the unthinkable horrors happening to his best friend, and is only holding it off by doing atrocities about it. This is the THIRD secret criminal organization he’s ripped apart in the last two hours and PHILZA ISNT HERE EITHER!?)

Philza has decided he likes his kidnappers. They’re not experienced in the slightest, but they make up for it with bravado, determination, and a certain lack of rationality that is necessary in the line of business Philza is in. Yes. They’ll do nicely if given a little guidance.

It’s half an hour before either of them notice Philza is driving aimlessly and they don’t recognize the city around them at all. “Hm? Next time I don’t recommend you give the hostage control of the vehicle. I could have immediately driven to the police station.”

Tommy frowns, almost more nervous at the implication the obvious blackmail would go unused. “…why didn’t you?”

“There’s no love lost between the cops and I. And even more importantly, you amuse me. I like your…potential.” He grins at the soft click of Tommy covertly trying the handle and finding the car doors locked. “Getting out at this speed is almost always fatal, Tommy.”

Tubbo lifts the muzzle of the fake gun towards him. “Let us go right. now.”

Philza leans over, ruffling Tubbo’s hair. The teen gulps at the glimpse of the holster Philza’s jacket was hiding, sharing a wide eyed look with Tommy. “I’m not exactly scared of foam bullets, mate.” He chuckles lowly at the tension freezing both of them. “Relax. You’ll be home by dinner. After you went through all the effort of kidnapping me to avoid trouble with your parents, I don’t intend to ruin it. I like you two; you have spunk I don’t see often. After all, it takes a lot of guts to kidnap the leader of the Syndicate.”

[majesticarlette]

Enemies

Adrien Agreste/Chat Noir x Ladybug!Reader

"Surrender your Miraculous, Chat Noir!" You shouted as you glare at him from above on top of the Eiffel Tower.

"Dream on, Ladybug." He smirked and fires multiple Cataclysms in your direction. You used your yo-yo as a shield to protect yourself and fled the Eiffel Tower.

The city of Paris is once again troubled by a megakuma and after you just de-evilized the butterfly, a wild Chat Noir appeared. It's exhausting to deal with two birds with one stone but it's worth it. He was able to expand his powers, making the fights between you more difficult. He could fire multiple but limited cataclysms now. If he expanded his own powers, you sure also did. It's only fair to fight a lion if you're also a lion.

Chat Noir followed you as you escape the Eiffel Tower. Fortunately, he isn't as sharp as a knife, and with your street-smarts, you were able to lose him.

"This is taking too long, I have a date later." You groaned and you activated your second lucky charm, and it gave you a superglue. At this point, you're not going to question how it is used, but to figure out what to do about it fast.

You came back to where the fight was and scanned the environment, and you didn't spot anything to use the superglue with.

"You sure ain't good at hiding, huh, Ladybug?" You turned around and saw Chat spinning his baton, and you finally knew how to end this thing at once.

"Eh, you didn't even catch up to me given your cat abilities. Lame." You rolled your eyes trying to provoke him. He charges at you, and you two get into a fight worse than a catfight.

You love angering the cat in front of you, and the way he's slowly losing his cool from you dodging his scratches satiates an itch in your brain. You don't really hate him in the beginning, you actually wanted to cooperate with this kitty but something about the two of you just don't click. He doesn't plan his punches, he's impulsive, arrogant, doesn't like getting told what to do, and claiming he's a solo flight in fights.

Even actual cats don't behave this way, they won't exert much energy for this crap. Ugh!

Chat Noir growls and starts exerting more strength in his moves trying to bring you down.

"Oh... I see sweat, Kitty. Are you having a hard time? You think you're the only cat who's gonna lose to a bug?" You laugh earning a yell of rage from him. At this point in the fight, you're just dodging his offenses and waiting for a sign to use your lucky charm.

"You think you're all that?! You can't even defeat the megakuma by yourself!"

"Please, you think you did anything? You acted like a cat who broke a glass and thinks he did something great. In short you made it way worse!" He managed to scratch your suit earning a clean incision on your arm. You flinched at the sensation and let out a gasp.

Distracted, Chat Noir took this advantage to reach his staff from behind. He extended it to knock you out of the fight.

You flew from the impact and held onto his staff. You groaned from the pain and checked yourself from any more damages. As you were standing up, Chat Noir used his extended staff to knock you out of your balance, once again falling on your ass.

He chuckled at your state retracting his staff. "You think highly of yourself--"

"And you don't?!--" You hiss

"Shh! I'm talking!" He glared at you. "This is why you're so hard to deal with, you're so stubborn!" As he was about to rant his troubles about you, he saw you wiping blood from your injured arm. His eyes grew wide, did he cause this? If he did... Why would he even care? You deserved it! You don't believe in him! Is it deep, though? It might get infected...

He shook his thoughts and tried to put his staff back but it won't budge. He furrowed his eyebrows and held onto the other end to try and get it off the other but both ended up stuck. He groans in annoyance while putting much force to get it off, yet no luck.

You laughed at the scene and stood from where you were. "I told you, you don't plan ahead. I guess curiosity really killed the cat." You used your yo-yo strings to wrap around his ankles and yanked him up on the street lamp.

"Admit defeat?" You held up the super glue you used on his staff and pinched the cheeks of his upside down face. He only furrowed his brows further. "You know your face could get stuck on that expression--" As things were getting your way, beeping was heard from the two of you. "Not now!" You retracted your yo-yo from him. "This isn't over!" You ran away, leaving him on his own.

You let out a sigh after de-transforming back to your civilian self. You were exhausted from fighting two people today. Why can't Chat Noir surrender his miraculous so you can give it to the person who deserves it, like Marinette! Why did Master Shifu give it to him to begin with?

Your thoughts were interrupted when your phone was alarmed. "Oh, no! I totally forgot!" You really need to have a hero/life balance, how will you get to know your other half if you always prioritize hero duties?

You ran your heart out to the park to meet your date today. Panting, you scanned the area to see any signs of him but he was nowhere to be seen. Yeah, he already went home, it's really rude to make your date wait for a while, he might've felt embarrassed.

Sighing for the second time, you turned around and decided to walk home. "(Y/n)! Wait!" The familiar voice alerted you and looked around for the source, and there you saw him, Adrien. He was running towards you.

"I'm sorry, I was late! We hid from the megakuma and only stepped out when it was clear." He panted, catching his breath. Yeah, you and Chat Noir really contributed to his lateness.

"Are you okay? Were you hurt from the villain?" He cupped your cheeks checking you for any injuries.

"N-no! I'm fine, really!" You tucked your hair behind your ear, feeling flustered by his presence.

Little did you know, Adrien noticed your arm injury. It's really identical to what he did to Ladybug.

Yeah, you did not only forget one thing.

[gavisuntiedboot]

Just Pretend (Gavi x reader)

Part 7

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Epilogue

Warnings: oh boy okay so Angst! profanity! Violence! Mentions of blood! Injury! Abusive-ish behavior!!! MARTIN!!!!!! Ferran! Blackmail!! Just shitty behavior!!!! pls don't read if you're not comfortable!

Word Count: 14.1k (fun fact! If you've read all 7 parts, you've read 87 pages single space!)

A/N: Guys this is one of the chapters I had planned out from the beginning. I really have poured a lot of my own soul into this, so I hope y'all enjoy! I'm actually so ready to read the reactions to this one lol. GIF by @rubendiasatl

You thought you had met the love of your life in college. He appeared to be perfect. He was the captain of the swim team, rumored to get a national championship that year in the 100m freestyle. He was the secretary of Phi Pi Delta, the largest business fraternity in the region, set to work on Wall Street making $200k right after graduation. You two were the perfect couple: Ryan, with his perfect hair and perfect smile, the sexy, sporty Spanish girl on his arm. You were conquering medicine as he ruled the world of finance. Sometimes on your walk to class, you would daydream about what your wedding would look like.

You did everything that was required of you as "Ryan's girl". You were an academic badass, but in a completely different field, so he could have a smart girl that would never be his competition. You worked as a sports manager, showing that "Ryan's girl" was a powerhouse on her own that commanded respect, but turned into a shy little lamb around her man. You worked hard and played harder, going to every PPD event and mixer. You always drank to show people that you weren't a prude, but you were never the girl hunched over the toilet losing her innards. You were good at beer pong, but only when Ryan was your partner. You played 7 minutes in heaven, but were so cold and intimidating that everyone left with blue balls and a muttering of "what a bitch". For 8 months of your senior year, you were "Ryan's girl", and you were the absolute best at playing the part.

It was a tiring job, but one you balanced with all your other actions. You learned how to get him and his friends basketball tickets mere hours before tipoff. You were an expert at covering hickies, but also enhancing them when he wanted to prove to the guys at a rival frat that he wasn’t soft. You killed your complaints and your gag reflex, knees growing used to the rough carpet of the frat house. You never asked for his location, and never made a face when other girls talked about how much they wanted your man. You never bored him with talks of your futures after graduation. You were perfect.

You looked perfect the day you walked into the frat house, hair pulled back in a slick ponytail to show off the piercings in your ear and the tightness of your polo shirt. Your khakis hugged your thighs, Jordan’s pristine as you slipped them off before heading upstairs. The basketball team had offered you a full time position; you could stay for the next several years if you so chose. Everything was perfect. The sky was the perfect shade of blue. The air was the perfect temperature with a perfect breeze. And as you opened the door to your boyfriend’s room, you saw a bare figure on top of him, connected at their cores, with her mouth shaped in a perfect “O”. And one perfect tear ran down your cheek as you silently walked back down the stairs, ignoring the yells about it not being what it looked like, and left Ryan behind forever.

You hadn’t thought about Ryan in years. But his memory came back to you as you pulled up to Martin’s house and found his car parked out in front of his door instead of it’s usual place in the garage. The Benz stared back at you, looking so different from that first date. It had been bright and welcoming and joyous that very first time it rolled up in front of your building. Now it was different, the blue taking on a more hue, feeling ominous and serious. It was the color of midnight - the color of fear. Why was the precious Benz parked out front? Martin wouldn't even let some valets park his car for fear of it getting scratched. His tires were still turned. The Benz was crooked in the driveway.

You walked up to the door, and you thought about Ryan again. You thought about the countless texts he sent you afterwards, telling you how much he loved you and how he would never do it again. And you read every single one, waiting with baited breath for him to say what you needed to hear: that he regretted it. That he had made a terrible mistake when he was out of his mind and he hated every second. But it never came. He wanted you, but he never regretted that moment with her. He never felt remorse about the moment he decided she was more important than you were. It didn't make you sad or angry - just empty. It was like a hold had been carved out, and it was another reminder that it would never be filled. You would never be the first choice. You would never be that girl that was above it all. You would always be a pretty good girl that needed to be supplemented by someone else.

The hole within you had not been filled, but it started to be covered by some good people in your lives. Your friends at your physiology program made you always feel competent and capable in what you were doing in school. Angelika and your other university friends gave you comfort, covering the emptiness with warm feelings. And now, you had the boys at Barca had worked to cover that hole with positive affirmations, reminding you that you were just as much a part of the team and how much you were valued. And there was a bit of the hole that started to close, one centimeter at a time, every time you looked at your phone and saw that Gavi was checking up on you.

You felt that hole fill with butterflies as you wrote out your Christmas card to him. You hadn't wanted it to come across as cheesy or desperate, despite you reassuring yourself that you couldn't be desperate if you were in a relationship. You had begged the media team for any photo of you and Gavi, knowing how much the sentiment would mean to him. One thing you had noticed during your two brief appearances in Pablo's home was his appreciation for the few pictures he had. They were taped to the wall beside the door: photos from his youth at his La Masia matches, his family on vacation, and a polaroid with a few of the Barca boys. A part of you hoped you would make it onto the wall.

But with each knock on Martin's door that went unanswered, the butterflies disintegrated, filling you with smoke and ash and bile, the hole in your very soul aching. As you turned the doorknob, you felt it give way easily - the door was unlocked. He had come home, car parked haphazardly, with the door remaining unlocked. You braced yourself, not exactly sure for what, and entered the house.

You should have seen it coming. You should have known from his demeanor and the way he spoke to you when you were with him versus when you were away. You should have listened to the whispers on the internet and in the locker room. But you ignored it all, believing that people were inherently good and caring. And now your naivety had all culminated and led to this moment: you standing in Martin's entryway, staring at his hideous brown couch, a trail of clothes leading from your feet to the naked girl perched on the dark fabric. The two of you locked eyes, and her mouth dropped agape. She grabbed the closest piece of fabric to cover her bare form, her pale cheeks turning scarlet from embarrassment.

"Bonita, hurry up so I can call my girl-"

Martin's eyes locked with yours, stopping dead in his tracks and freezing as his girl on the couch did. You waited for either of them to speak. With baited breath you waited for the feminine screams of "you have a girlfriend?" and the begs to provide an explanation. But the air was heavy with nothing but guilt and the disappointment of being caught. As your breath grew heavier, the nausea settled into your stomach. You tried to muster a tear, deciding it would be less embarrassing to cry than to throw up on the tile.

"Bonita, it's not what it looks like. If we could just talk-"

"How are you going to use the same pet name for the both of us?" You asked, patience finally snapping. The emotions from the last four months came flooding through, boiling the blood in your veins. You had cut yourself up and torn your very being apart to please this man. The things you wore and said and did and ate and enjoyed were all altered to fit his impossible standard. You were playing a part again. You had sacrificed so much of yourself for one crumb of affection and security, and once again you weren't enough.

"Just calm down an let me explain."

You tried with every fiber of your being to keep the tears at bay - you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he hurt you.

"All I ever did was try and be a good girlfriend. Do you realize that? Through the stupid dinner dates and your rants about football, I tried to be patient and fun and understanding. I never complained, not once, about your lack of support or how everything you did made it clear you didn't like me. I dealt with all of your cold fronts, your unfounded jealous, your below mediocre sex - all of it, because that's what you do when you're in a fucking relationship until someone finally cuts the cord and frees you both. But you didn't have the decency to pretend." You spat the words out at him, no longer caring about if you cried.

"The least you could do was not fuck anyone else in the house that you asked me to move in to."

Everyone on the room had gone silent, from Martin to his mistress. How could he retaliate? Where could he start? The flood gates had been opened, and the realization of how much this man made you hate your life was flowing freely.

"Goodbye Martin." You turned and walked out the door, your keys in hand, ready to go home and lose consciousness. Tomorrow you would wake up and be as you were - single and free of the burden this relationship placed on you.

"Come back here." You heard Martin's voice shout behind you, before a hand reached out and grabbed you by the wrist, ripping your keys from your hands, cutting your palm in the process. As the red fluid pooled in your palm, you looked up at Martin in shock and fear. He looked back at you, then at your outstretched hand still pooling with blood.

"Shit, I'm- I didn't mean to do that. But you can't just drive away until you let me speak. I won't let you."

"As if you're allowed to decide what I can and can't do. Give me back my keys before I call the police."

"You're not calling anyone or doing anything until I speak to you." Martin said, lunging at you and grabbing the sleeve of your shirt. You cried out and struggled against him as he tried to pull you towards the house, hoping to prevent a scene in front of the neighbors. Martin's side piece stood at the door, now fully clothed, watching silently as the two of you struggled by the entryway.

"Get off of me you cheating sack of shit! I don't want to hear anything you have to say, let me go!" His grip loosened as you pulled away, unable to restrain you with both hands for fear you would take your car keys back.

"Bonita, I'm not trying to hurt you, I love you and I-"

"Bullshit! And stop calling me fucking bonita." You tried to reach for your keys again, but Martin's hand came and wrapped tightly around the collar of your shirt.

"No. You don't get to abandon me without hearing what I have to say. All I have ever done is try and look past how difficult you are to love and be around," his grip tightened on your collar, the fabric now bunching to restrict your airway slightly. "And now that I've made one mistake you think you get to just run? You're not going anywhere until I say you can. If you know what's good for you, you'll just listen."

The bile started to rise in your throat as your heart beat faster. For the first time in your life, you really felt like you were in danger. The sting of your palm was hard to ignore now, the blood nestling into the lines on your palm, dots littered across your pant leg. Once you felt Martin's grip loosen lightly, you put all your weight behind you and shoved him as hard as you could, causing him to fall backwards. You bolted for the door, keys forgotten as you ran at a speed you didn't know you were capable of.

The fall did not deter him for long, as you heard your name in Martin's deep, agitated voice carry to your ears on the night air, accompanied by heavy, fast footsteps. You were being chased. Heart racing, your feet slammed against the pavement, trying to put as much space between the two of you as possible. Your throat started to tighten with anxiety, fight or flight now in full control. You didn't even know where you were going. You took whatever turn felt natural, willing yourself not to turn around.

Martin realized with every step he took that it was too late to turn back. There was now street camera of him chasing you shirtless through the streets of a Barcelona neighborhood. He wasn't even sure why he had done it. By it he meant the chasing - not the sleeping with other women. That part was quite simple. He was 24 now, and it was time he was photographed with the same girl more than once. His club going days had become the topic of every family dinner and every call with his mother.

"Martin, when are you going to stop going to the club every night and actually bring us a nice girl? You're ruining your reputation by taking all these different girls home."

He was nothing if not a boy that wanted to make his mother happy. When he say Angelika in the club that day, he sensed he had been getting close. She was funny and outgoing and actually had a job that didn't involve her sponsoring Bang energy on the internet. But she was still at the club on a Tuesday night, and had flirted her way into the VIP section. Too high maintenance. But then as he left the club, pretty young drunk thing slung over his arm, he got to see you.

Initially, you didn't make a huge impression. Boring looking and kind of loud - not the girl he would usually go for. He was still a little hazy from the club air, sweat and tequila still lingering in his lungs. He had just handed Angelika off to you, before he took a look at the back of your car. A few stickers were there, displaying the name of your universities, and a bright blue one that read 'ask me about ACL tears!'. It sparked his interest - not only that you could afford the car, but that you were obviously decently intelligent to be touting all these universities. It prompted Martin to ask for your number, just as a backup in case finding a "good girl" was harder than he thought.

It was, in fact, much harder than he thought to find a girl to bring home to his mother. All the smart girls tended not to give him the time of day, either taken or too busy. Pretty girl were too expensive and high strung - not what he needed. And those sweet girls that he found at the supermarket and the park? Most of them were ready to live the football WAG life, wanting to go public with him immediately. If there's one thing Martin was sure of, it was that he wasn't ready too commit to just one screw for any period of time. He had a rotation of girls in and out of his bed, shower, car - he couldn't just cut all of them off.

That's exactly what was on his mind when he saw Angelika in line for the club again. She was cute enough to take home that night, but girls usually didn't open up without some conversation. He can't remember how the topic turned to you, but Angelika gushed about how much she adored you.

"But she's just so busy. She's always so focused on work that she doesn't have much time to even process what's going on around her."

Getting you was quite easy after that. He had listened to girls long enough to understand how to keep them happy. It was the lack of instant sex that really hurt his pride. This was not the 1940s - he was not going to wait 3 months, taking a girl out and showering her with love, just to get some pussy. He would just supplement with other women. Ferran was often the person that would help him get girls, as they usually recognized the young Barca bench boy before they realized who Martin was. So they worked as a team: Martin supplying money and alcohol, and Ferran supplying girls.

It was when Gavi started to enter the picture that he, for the first time in his life, felt the angry weeds of jealousy take root in his throat. No matter what he did behind closed doors, you were his, not Gavi's, and it would be a cold day in hell before he let a love-sick teenager take his girl. Now he was chasing you down the street, 10 days before he planned to introduce you to his mother at Christmas, willing all the neighbors to stay away from the windows and ignore the eventual screams they heard from the street.

Your eyes focused, the adrenaline fog leaving your brain as you wildly scanned the street: this was Gavi's neighborhood. Identifying the houses, you made a sharp right turn and ran towards his house at end of the street. You prayed that he was still awake as you got to the door, banging as hard as you could, and yelling out his name.

"Pablo! Let me in! Get the fuck away from me!"

You watched as Martin slowed down, walking towards you cautiously with his hands in the air. He moved his lips to say something, but your heartbeat was in your ears, tears streaming down your face as you kept banging on the door. The slit across your palm seared with pain, and every pang circulated more fear through you. Martin was capable and willing to hurt you.

The door opened, and you caught a glimpse of Gavi's face. That was enough reassurance for your legs to give out from the effort, sobs still shaking your entire being as you fell into his chest. Your palms grabbed at his shirt, needing anything to ground you in reality. Gavi was not a large boy; Martin had 5 inches and 6 years on Gavi, which would make any betting man wary of the outcome if a fight were to break out. But none of that mattered to you. Gavi's arms were around you, holding you up and against him, and you felt safe.

Gavi tore his eyes away from Martin, who was shirtless and frozen in his walkway, to look at you. As he pulled you away from his chest slowly, he felt a warm wet spot spread across his shirt. It was too large to be tears. He wished he hadn't looked down to see the red spot darkening his t-shirt. Grabbing your wrists, he looked at the jagged cut on the skin there, still bleeding freely. Gavi hugged you closer into his chest, one hand around your waist and one by your head, hiding you in his shoulder as you continued to cry.

"What did he do?" He asked, voice tight and strained. You shook your head, crying harder, trying to gulp down any air to stop the light-headedness. You could not see or think straight, the questions too overwhelming.

"Pablito, just let me talk to my girl, and go back inside." Martin instructed, walking towards the two of you slowly, as a hunter would approach a deer. You clung onto Gavi tighter, a shrill 'No!' yelped against his skin, sobs coming back in full force. Gavi couldn't stand it. The blood in his veins grew hotter the longer he held your fragile form. He was quick to anger, but this was different. You had run to his house crying and bleeding because of the vile man you had been dating. On an average day, he was ready to go to blows because of a stray leg in a football match. This was more serious - more sinister. He had hurt you in ways Gavi couldn't fathom a man hurting any woman, let alone you. He turned over the idea of manslaughter in his head as he tried again.

"Please, y/n. Please tell me what he did. Because at this rate, I'm going to kill him. Y/n, please."

Gulping down breath after desperate breath, you muttered out what had happened to Gavi in the best way you could. You knew there was nothing you could say to get Gavi to just walk away, but you couldn't stand the idea of Pablo doing irreparable damage to his future on your behalf.

"Found him... cheating... took my... k-keys.. that's why m-my hand. But I'm-"

"Don't you dare tell me you're okay." Gavi put you down on the ground, resting your back against the wall before he stood. The edges of his vision were dark and red, and in that moment he swore he could have killed Martin with his bare hands. When would this man have taken enough? Martin had snatched you off the market, keeping you hostage in a crumbling, decaying relationship while Gavi fawned over you. Martin chipped away at you soul, dimming the once radiant light that enamored those you encountered. Martin made you insecure and self-hating, all while keeping a line of girls wrapped around his bedroom to fool around with as you chased your dreams. Martin had taken everything Gavi had loved about you and poisoned it, leaving the ashes of a bright young woman in his path. Now he would pay for it.

"Martin, give me her keys and get the fuck away from my property before I make your mother regret the day she lost her virginity." Gavi was seething, You looked up at his squared shoulders and tight face, and couldn't tell if the wisps of smoke emanating from him were real or not. You wanted to stand, block the warpath Pablo was on, and prevent the violence you knew was about to ensue, but your head and eyes felt heavy, keeping you firmly planted to the ground.

"Ay, Pablito, no need to be vulgar. Don't you think it's silly for you to be involving yourself in a little lover's quarrel at this time? Go inside and let me take care of my girlfriend." Martin took a step with every word he said, now less than a meter from Gavi, whose fists were curled and strained.

"Lover's quarrel? She's bleeding and had to run from you screaming. You've stolen her keys and now you want me to let you harass her further? Give me her keys and fuck off, before my patience runs out. Because I've been eager to bash your skull for weeks now."

Martin took another step forward, now on the same plane as you and Gavi. He locked Pablo's vision as he pulled your keys from his pocket, tossing them at your feet. You flinched at the noise scared to look up at Martin. Just the sound of his voice sent ripples through you.

"There, bonita. You have your keys back. Now enough of this nonsense and come with me." A fist curled into your hair and pulled you upwards, causing a scream to release from your throat. Gavi watched all of this happen in slow motion. He took two steps towards Martin, vision now fully red, and connected his closed fist with Martin's lower jaw. The accompanying CRACK could probably have been heard all the way in Madrid. The grip had disappeared from your head, and you used your last bit of strength to push yourself from the floor and run into Gavi's house, keys firmly in your grasp for protection. You peered through the window, catching Martin spit out a large glob of blood, more crimson dripping from his mouth like a dog drooling.

Martin wasn't provided much more time to recover as Gavi grabbed his collar, pulling him in once again, and again cracking him hard right beneath his eye socket. The delicate skin there split, and more blood oozed from Martin. It didn't bring Gavi disgust or joy. There was no space in his entire being to feel anything other than the need to protect you. Moving his grasp from Martin's collar to his hair, he hit him one final time, a bone split and a scream polluting the otherwise silent air of the Barcelona night. You thought to yourself, rather ironically, if the naked girl in his living room knew how to set a broken nose. Pablo pushed Martin to the ground, the older landing on his face sprawled across the concrete of the pavement.

"If you get up and you're not running, I'll break another bone."

Martin struggled to breath, the blood running away from his body in rivers, dripping onto the street.

"You little piece of shit! Just wait till I call the police! You'll be in jail until you're 70. You little cunt." Martin wailed, on his knees gripping his throbbing fractured nose. Gavi approached Martin, picking him up by the collar once again. It was quite a sight to behold: the younger and smaller boy lifting Martin off the ground, blood dripping from a broken nose on to Gavi's tensed forearm, as his hazel eyes conveyed murderous intent.

"In case the blood has already left your brain, allow me to remind you: the cameras saw you chasing a woman through the street. There is a decent amount of her blood on you and at your house. Everything from that moment on is self defense. And I can absolutely afford a better lawyer than you can, little boy. So best run and put some ice on that nose before you become more permanently deformed than you were originally." Martin was thrown to the pavement once again, cries of pain bouncing between the stone of the buildings. He picked himself off the ground, not daring to glance over his shoulder, as he hobbled back home.

Gavi took a deep breath, looking down at his hands in the light of the street lamp. It had been a long time since his anger was allowed to run wild. Usually there was a player (or 6) holding him back from blows. But that was football. Nothing was ever that serious in football. This was different. It was you. And as he entered his home, locking eyes with your huddled form by his couch, the thought appeared in his mind clear as crystal: you were someone he would kill for, and someone he would die for.

But now wasn't the time for such a confession. It was the time for Gavi to step up as your friend and provide you with comfort and support. He walked into the house and started to head for the bathroom before you called out to him.

"Pablo? Where are you going?" Your voice was small and fragile, like that of a scared child when the thunder got too loud. Keys still gripped tightly in shaky hands, you pushed yourself off the floor, and Gavi rushed to meet your stride, helping stabilize you as you stood. You were not close to fainting anymore, but the fear still pumped through you, making it harder to walk at more than a snail's pace. Eyes locking with Gavi's, you brought a hand up to rest on his bicep, squeezing it lightly to provide him with some reassurance that you were okay. Hand trailing down, you wrapped your fingers gently around his wrists, turning his hands over to look at his knuckles. The skin had cracked and burst from the impact against Martin's skull. Bruises bloomed on the high points, droplets of blood - owner unknown - littered his fingers and hand, the scarlet a contrast against his warm tan. As you ran a thumb over one of the open cuts, Gavi hissed, trying to pull away from your touch. You looked back up at him with tears welling in your eyes anew.

"You're hurt." You croaked out, not wanting to continue crying in front of him. He grabbed your hand, holding it against his as he rubbed over the drying cut through your palm.

"So are you. But we'll be okay." He smiled at you, and you could have sworn that there was an actual fist squeezing your heart in your chest. He pulled you towards the staircase with him.

"Come on, we need to wash our hands. You've taught me enough about infections to know we shouldn't wait much longer."

"I obviously haven't taught you enough, because for open cuts like this we need rubbing alcohol and hydrogen peroxide, not water."

Gavi stopped on the stairs, still gripping your wrist as his smile broke out, returning warmth to his face. Even when he had hit Martin, you hadn't feared Pablo. You knew the anger was residual, and he would never turn this harbored rage your direction. It had brought a few baby butterflies to your stomach, knowing that Gavi had thrown his tranquility and caution to the wind just to defend you. But this was the Pablo you liked the most: the one that smiled for you in a way that seemed to appear only when you were around.

"There you go, doctora. Putting that degree to use. I think I have a first aid kit in my room. The medics gave me one to keep after I got my second black eye." The statement, not meant as a joke, allowed a laugh to run through you, cutting through some of the lingering heaviness. You wondered if this experience would forever trauma-bond you to Gavi forever. But you knew subconsciously that Pablo was already bonded to you. You would never be able to look at the Barca crest or the dew on the grass or the chocolate milk in the store without thinking of Pablo. You would never be able to choose anyone else's contact at 2am to send a random text to, because you need Pablo to be the one to send the response. You knew in that moment that Pablo was going to be in your life forever.

Walking into his bedroom, Pablo peeled his blood-stained shirt off, tossing it onto the bed.

"You should..." Your sentence trailed off as Pablo faced you, shirtless with sweats hanging low on his hips, waistband of his boxers tight against the V of his torso. You had seen attractive men shirtless before, but something about it being Pablo, and the two of you being alone in his bedroom, made everything seem more charged and, for lack of a better term, sinful. He tiled his head in questioning, prompting you to finish your sentence. Clearing your throat, you looked at the shirt instead of Pablo and continued.

"You should put peroxide on that shirt now to get the blood out so it doesn't stain."

"I think getting some peroxide on your open wound is more important right now." He said, returning to his dresses to rummage around for his first aid kit. You stood awkwardly against the wall, unsure how to proceed. You didn't feel comfortable enough to sit on his bed, and though it would be weird to seat yourself on Gavi's floor. He turned back around, watching you scan the room and calculate if you should sit or stand.

"You're covered in blood." He said. You looked down at your shirt. You definitely had some splotches, but you wouldn't use the word covered.

"It's fine, I'll change when i get home..." You trailed off again. Your car was outside Martin's house, and there was no way you could possibly bring yourself to go back there tonight. Maybe Gavi would be kind enough to walk over with you in the dark.

"You're spending the night here. There's no way I'm going to let you be by yourself tonight. Let me get you something to change into." He said, moving past you towards the closet.

"Oh no, Pablo, it's fine. I should really go back to my place-"

"Why?" He asked, abruptly turning to face you. He walked towards you, and your heart rate picked up as he stood within your air space.

"Why do you need to go home? We are on international break for the season. I don't start training until next week. You just finished your finals, so you don't need to do anything tomorrow. And, more importantly, the only way to get to your house is to either go get your car from your psycho abusive ex and drive home at this time of night, which is not happening. Or for you to take a taxi home, which is also not happening. I'm not letting you out of my sight." He turned back to the closet, rummaging through his clothes before pulling out a pair of sweat pants and a La Masia t-shirt. Placing them in your hands, he turned back to his mission to find the first aid kit.

"The bathroom is through there. You can go and get changed and wash up. What's mine is yours."

Nodding, you shuffled towards the bathroom. The door was quickly shut and locked behind you, and you stared at yourself in the mirror. You definitely looked worse for wear, mascara smudged under your eyes, which were red and puffy from sobbing. You washed your face with your non-injured hand, thanking Pablo silently for owning a decent face wash. As you stripped off your dirty clothes, you couldn't help the images that flashed in your mind, and the thoughts that seeped through your subconscious. You remembered the daydreams you had for several weeks, bursts of his eyes and lips and hands, and thoughts of all the ways they could touch you. Your cheeks burned as you grabbed a washcloth, running cool water onto your skin to remove the sweat and grime lingering. You thought of that day on the couch, when you had finally entertained the idea of seeing Pablo in a sexually attractive light. Bumps raised onto your skin as you fully wrapped your head around the situation. You were in your underwear in Gavi's bedroom, only a bathroom door separating the two of you.

A part of you wanted to open the door - to present yourself to Pablo, physically and emotionally bare, and tell him your feelings. But what were your feelings? You felt safe with Pablo, supported, and able to be your authentic self. Was this a friendship that you had over committed to? Was Pablo treating you any differently to how he would treat Pedri or one of the boys? You pushed those feelings aside, slipping on his clothes, breathing the scent of his detergent in deeply. You took one last glance in the mirror, reminding yourself that you had a tendency to spontaneously combust when it came to relationships, and you wouldn't allow yourself to do that with Pablo. He was going to be in your life for a long time - you wouldn't accept anything otherwise - but maybe the role he was meant to fill was that of a close friend and never more.

You walked out and saw Pablo rubbing his bare chest with an alcohol pad, cleaning the excess blood from his chest. He had changed into some clean shorts, and turned to face you when he heard the door. His eyes scanned you from top to bottom, taking in the sight. His shirt hung off your shoulders slightly, draped over your frame and covering your form in worn cotton fabric. His sweats hugged your hips, sliding precariously low on your torso and lose in the thighs, just small enough for them to not pool at your ankles. Gavi's mouth went dry as he stared at you. You crossed your arms over your chest, covering yourself with your folded dirty clothes. Gavi caught a glimpse of your bra in the pile. He had no moisture in his mouth whatsoever.

"What are you staring at, Gavi? Close your mouth you'll catch a fly." You said, trying to come across cool and unbothered despite the situation. He swallowed hard, trying to form a single sentence.

"They fit. I'm surprised." That was all he could muster.

"Me too. I thought everything would be too short on me." You teased, and he rolled his eyes.

"Low blow, doctora. come help me with these bandages."

He sat on the floor with the first aid kit, and you joined him on the soft rug, protecting from the chill of the tile in December. You grabbed the different solutions and began cleaning his hands. His hands were rough and calloused to the touch, and you made a mental note to get him some lotion as a late Christmas gift. You moved slowly over each knuckle, cleaning the blood and bruises, gently moving your fingers across Pablo's skin. You heard gentle hisses at the burning sensation from the alcohol, but he kept his protests to a minimum as you worked.

It was easy for Gavi to distract himself from the pain when you were the one sitting in front of him. The burn of his hands was basically forgotten as he traced the curves of your face with his eyes. That familiar look of concentration settled into your features, warming Gavi's heart. You were coming back, in short bursts and fleeting moments, but everything he loved about you was still there. Try as he did, he could not prevent his eyes from moving lower, settling on his shirt draped over you. It was one of his most well-loved shirts - the one that he had gotten when he began playing for La Masia's senior team. This is when he started to bulk up, biceps and pecs stretching out the shirt, creating the baggy look he currently saw on you. The colors had faded from dozens of washes, and it was now pilling and threadbare - really something that should never see the light of day.

But here you were wearing it, and suddenly there was no article of clothing that had ever made a woman look sexier. The baggy fabric moved with you, and when you turned behind you to gram more gauze, it tightened against your bare chest, and Gavi willed himself not to focus on it. He couldn't - not right now. No matter how much he tried to rationalize it, he couldn't describe what about it made the shirt look so good on you. It was just the fact that it was his shirt. You were in his house, in his bedroom, wearing his shirt. You were merging with his space, and in a way, becoming a part of his home. It was the closest you had ever been to being his.

You finished bandaging his hands, looking at your work, and making sure that everything was secure so he wouldn't lose the dressings in his sleep. Engrossed in the moment, you leaned down and kissed the top of Gavi's knuckles, pulling back before realizing what you did. You both stared at each other, mutually deciding it was best not to comment on what just occurred. You quickly cleaned and dressed your own cut, with Gavi's assistance, and once the bandage was secured, a wave of exhaustion washed over you. All the boxes were finally ticked - you and Gavi were safe and clean and dressed, and now your body felt relaxed enough to crash from the exhaustion of the day. Pablo noticed your eyes drooping, and moved off the floor, helping you stand as well.

"Let me go get an extra blanket." He said, moving towards the door. You followed him out of the room, and he turned to you, confused.

"Where are you going?" He asked, arm against the wall and blocking your path.

"The other room?" You said, phrasing it as a question.

"The guest room doesn't have a bed in it yet. My sister is helping me pick one out since she visits the most often."

"To the couch, then." You said, and Pablo's eyebrows scrunched together in frustration.

"You're not sleeping on the couch. You've had a stressful day to say the least. You're going to sleep on the ridiculously expensive mattress and get a good night's rest."

"Then where are you going to sleep?" You asked, heart skipping a beat at some of the possible answers.

"The couch. I want to give you your space. Let me go get that extra blanket - the top floor gets cold in the winter."

You grabbed his arm stopping him from continuing down the staircase.

"You're not going to destroy your back by sleeping on the couch again. You're about to get called up for the national team, and their physios suck. They will replace you with a 3rd tier player before they help you fix a dorsal muscle strain. You have to sleep on the bed Pablo."

"I don't actually have to do anything. This is my house."

You both stared at each other, the two of you unmoving on your position, and both ignoring the obviously solution to your argument. After a minute, it was Pablo who was brave enough to make the suggestion.

"We could always just... both sleep on the bed. If you're comfortable with that. We can made a divider in the middle and everything."

Blushing, you looked at the floor before responding.

"Wouldn't be the first time."

Gavi got into bed, shirtless in a pair of shorts, and beckoned you to join. You walked slowly to the other side of the bed, crawling in and pulling up the covers, body stiff and muscles tense.

"I forgot to get the lights." You whispered quietly, making a move to get up. Suddenly the lights switched off, leaving the two of you in complete darkness, a weak ray of light filtering in from the half-moon.

"Expensive houses have a lot of pointless features, but this one is actually useful." Pablo said quietly, mentally kicking himself for making small talk about a light switch. He curled on his side away from you, uncomfortable but wanting to give you your own space, and let out a deep breath. You peered at Gavi, and then curled the other way, also in discomfort, but too scared to face him while conscious. It was too much. He was so close: enough to hold in your arms, to exchange body heat, to listen to his heartbeat and be lulled to sleep. But it was too much of a leap to take. It was too far out of your comfort zone, and you couldn't risk the delicate relationship with a desperate and ill-timed proclamation of... whatever it was you were feeling.

Pablo's heart hammered in his chest. Though it had been his idea, he had never actually thought it through. You had fallen asleep on his shoulder before, and he had survived, so he figured this experience wouldn't be that much harder. He was so sorely mistaken. The fact that you were laying an arm's length away from him kept his nerves on fire, and he couldn't even keep his eyes closed for more than a minute as the time. Despite the winter chill, his body was on fire, and the lack of clothing didn't help. You had just been attacked by your ex boyfriend, and Gavi wanted to hold you in his arms and protect you from the entire world. Patience wasn't his best trait, but he knew that it wasn't the time to ask you to be his. He needed to wait. He needed to be there for you right now

"Pablo?"

An hour after the two of you had settled, lights off and room quiet, you called out for him. Sleep escaped the two of you, and he turned over almost instantly when he heard you whisper his name. Turning to face each other, your eyes adjusted so that you could look at his features in the dark. He was beautiful. There was no denying how conventionally attractive Pablo was. But there were so many little things that enhanced his beauty, only visible from this close. You wished the moon would shine a little brighter so that you could look at the flecks in his eyes, and count the lashes fluttering above them. His features were relaxed, lids drooping and lips slightly puffed out. The scars and moles on his face were the only markings on the smooth skin, and you longer to run your fingers through his hair, brushing it away from his eyes.

"Can... can we do something? To help me sleep? But then promise you'll forget about it tomorrow?"

Pablo swallowed hard for the nth time that night. He hesitated. There was no way he could promise to forget a single moment of this night with you, but he could control himself from speaking about it, and that was all he really needed to do.

"Anything."

You sat up in bed, moving quickly before your confidence evaporated completely. You moved in to the center of the bed, prompting Gavi to do the same. He moved slowly and warily, sitting shoulder to shoulder with you in the middle of the King-sized island.

"Lay down," You said, voice shaking slightly. You were terrified, but you knew that was the only way you would ever find rest before the sun came up. Pablo laid down, stiff as a board, half expecting you to make a desperate dash for the couch. You let out a shaky breath, closing your eyes before you laid down beside him. You turned on your side, resting a hand on Gavi's chest. Pablo's eyes widened as he finally processed what your request was. He raised his arm, draping it over your shoulders, allowing you to cuddle even closer into his side. Your head now laid on his bare chest, his hammering heart loud in your ear. He brought his other arm around you as well, resting his hand over yours on his chest. The two of you held each other close, seemingly for dear life, and finally sighed out in belief.

There was no way to describe this feeling. The feeling of you resting against Pablo, arms and legs tangled together, with his head rested above yours. Your hands together, occupying each others' air. There was no way to describe it except for right. There was no awkwardness or strained breathing anymore. There was relaxation and comfortable silence enveloping the two of you. The rest of the world faded away, and in that moment, Pablo could have sworn that he had ascended to heaven.

"You saved me Pablo." You whispered out against him, needing to tell him someway, somehow, how much you appreciated him.

"Anyone would have interfered, doctora." He whispered back, being bold and caressing the skin of your arm that he encased with his.

"Not just today. In general. Since I met you, Pablo, you've made my life better. I just wanted to let you know. Good night."

Gavi tensed so hard it set off a headache. He couldn't cry, not while you were in his arms. He had always been seen as an asset because of his skill, always being told how valuable he was in that respect. But you saw him as a person, and not only did you tolerate it, but you cherished it. You made him proud to be himself.

"You too, in ways you can't even imagine. Good night, y/n."

~

Despite the way it started, the international and Christmas break was rather uneventful. Your little "sleepover" with Gavi saw the two of you sleeping in until 1pm, a rare occurrence for the both of you. Usually you both had too much going on, both on the schedule and in your minds, to sleep for such prolonged times. Wiser minds might have stopped and questioned why being in each others' arms brought a wash of such immense peace, but alas. There was no such reflection. Only waking up in the middle of the day, exchanging awkward smiled before getting up to change. Gavi had awoken with your leg draped across him and half an erection, causing him to bolt for the bathroom when you turned to check your phone. He wanted to say something - anything - about the night before. But he had promised to "forget", sealing his lips until further notice.

He turned the shower to the coldest setting, trying to stay silent as he killed his hard-on in the least loving way possible. You took the opportunity to slip into your sweats from the night before, and putting Gavi's t-shirt back on. Yours still had bubbled blood from the events and peroxide of the previous night. As you sorted out your hair, Gavi emerged from the bathroom, towel slung around his hips, showing off his toned chest and deep V once again. You lifted yourself and turned to face the wall, looking up at the Lord through the ceiling and asking why you were being faced with such temptation.

"Don't look." Pablo instructed, and you heard the towel thud to the floor. It make your cheeks burn and you crossed your legs tightly. You tried to think of anything else to stop yourself from taking your medical history with Gavi and constructing a complete mental image.

"Pedri is going to ... do you want a clean shirt?" Gavi asked, now in a clean sweatshirt and jeans. There was something about seeing you in his clothes that made him borderline insane. He couldn't tell if he needed you to stop, or needed you to do it every day.

"Oh, no, this one is fine. Thanks again - I'll wash it and return it as soon as I can."

"You can keep it." Gavi replied, turning back to his closet. The last thing he needed was to become aroused whenever he saw the folded shirt in his house. He grabbed a sweatshirt and tossed it to you as well.

"Are you donating clothes to me now? My salary isn't that bad, Pablo." You laughed out as you caught it.

"It's December, doctora. You should know that it's not great to go out in the cold. Your hoodie is still in your car, so wear this for now. Speaking of - Pedri is on his way over. He's gonna drive your car back to your place, and we'll take his. That way you never need to go near that dick's house again."

You slipped the green sweatshirt over your head, and were instantly attacked with the smell of body wash and cologne. Gavi had worn this recently. You brought the sleeves up and took a deep breath again before rushing downstairs to follow Gavi. It was a one time occurrence - you wouldn't allow yourself to get close to Pablo like this again. You were coworkers, first and foremost.

The two of you climbed into Pedri's car, you in the driver's seat and Gavi in the passenger, fingers trembling as you took the familiar turns. You stopped about a block away, dropping Pedri off, and driving off to the café the three of you had agreed to meet at to avoid any chance of being followed. You made idle conversation with Gavi, the two of you feeling the obvious tension. Pedri brought you your car, and you left the boys, giving them both a quick hug goodbye before going home to process the insane 24 hours you just had.

The boys were headed back to Gavi's to pack before heading to Madrid for national team training. On the way home, Pablo bounced his leg, biting his lip and furrowing his eyebrows more than usual.

"Hermano," Pedri started, "whatever you need to say, please just say it."

"But I'm not supposed to."

"Then stop with the fucking anxious ticks! Either speak or stay silent, but don't drive me crazy. It's a long day." Pedri ended his scolding with a light laugh. He knew Pablo better than anyone, and could tell it was only a matter of time before the younger boy started to spill his guts. Gavi wanted to stay strong, holding the promise he made to you extra close to his heart and his honor, and picked up his phone to pass the time. He opened up his twitter, refreshing the feed.

"Oh fuck. I'm in trouble."

Yes, the break was rather uneventful. You filled your time with studying, revising medical plans, and watching the international matches on TV. You tried your best to stay inside to avoid seeing anybody. You were still mourning the end of your relationship with Martin. Despite the confirmation that Martin was borderline clinically insane, it still weighed heavily on you, day by day, that you had once again been cheated on. That you had once again molded yourself into the absolutely closest thing to perfection, and had again fallen short. The winter weather also made you more lethargic, less keen to go outside and interact with others. And finally, you were terrified of anyone on the street recognizing you.

In hindsight, you should have made Pedri just walk and get your car. Or you should have waited until you knew Martin wasn't home and done it yourself. Because the thing about Pedri's lush green mini Cooper was that is was one of the most recognized cars in Spain, and so girls would flock to every single one they saw. His car had been posted enough for the most dedicated to have the license plate committed to memory. So driving around in such a recognizable car with the most sought-after footballer in Spain might not have been the best idea - especially during the day when the window tints weren't as effective. It took less than an hour for you and Gavi's pictures to be circulated around fan accounts, with people commenting on everything. The fact that you were driving, the hoodie you were wearing, the way that Gavi looked at you- the list was endless.

It took another 4 hours for people to figure out who you were. @gaviraconcubine on twitter had thankfully recognized you as one of the physios from game clips, and informed the rest of the rabid mob. Some had been satisfied with the answer, while others believed this an even more damning piece of information.

@gaviraconcubine: ok so the girl Gavi was with in the car is one of the barca physios - all the squad follows her + some shots of her on the field ! Gavi nation we're safe ;P

4,788 Likes 2,003 Retweets 834 Replies

@barcabarcabarca : guys shes literally a staff member???? gavi cant talk to female staff now wtf

@mrspgavira : if he ignored all of us to fall in love with the first ugly ass girl he bumped into at work ill take a swim with a toaster

@88rizzing : so she just started w barca this szn and got gavi? alexa play mastermind

@loonastansbrazil : more drivers for gavi!! she too old to be his girl

Barca staff were on public record, and so by the end of the day, your social media, school, and entire life history had been published on social media for people to scrutinize. It had sent you spiraling, suddenly being at the center of extreme amounts of attention from teen girls and 45-year old Barca stans alike.

[Pablo]: hey

[Pablo]: im rlly sorry about all the stuff online

[Pablo]: it should all die down soon. will be done at 9pm and I can call you

So that's what you did. Cook, clean, study, watch football, and get in disguise if you ever needed to go out. You spent your evenings chatting with Gavi. First it was about the media circus that you two were going through.

"It'll die down eventually. I'll stand too close to another girl and then everybody will leave you alone."

"Or accuse you of being a cheater."

"Has enough time passed for us to make cheating jokes?"

But as your fears started to ease an your mentions dried up, the conversations went back to the casual, playful tone that always filled the air whenever you and Gavi conversed. It was easier to talk to Gavi than it was with anyone else. You still spoke to your other friends, checking in on Angelika periodically over text, but no one could fill an hour FaceTime call like Gavi could, making it feel like mere minutes. Often, the two of you were both lounging, you on your couch and him in whatever hotel bed the national team had provided. As the days went on, you grew more comfortable answering the phone sans makeup, showing the most natural parts of yourself to who was shaping up quickly to be your closest friend.

Returning to work after the break may have been harder than the break itself. The office was abuzz with the rumors about you and Gavi. For the first few days, you ignored all the chatter. You had seen enough online to know that not knowing was always better. You didn't care what anyone said about you, as long as you proved you were an asset to the team. That is until Antonio came into your office one day with a sealed envelope. He was finishing up with some loose ends in Barcelona, before making his way to the UK to start in Manchester after the January transfer window had closed. He walked into your office, a large manila envelope in hand, and placed it on your desk.

"What's this?" You asked, peering at it from behind your glasses. Antonio was not one to make jokes or pull pranks, so it confused you to see him now, giggling in your office like a school girl.

"Oh this? Nothing important. Just a backup plan. Now it's my turn to ask the questions." He said, coming around and sitting atop your desk.

"Is it true that you're sleeping with Gavi?"

~

It had been a long time since you had seethed with this much rage. First, shock and embarrassment flooded your veins, freezing you in place, leaving you like a deer in headlights before the question. Antonio's ringing laugh is what pulled you out of your trance. You quickly denied the rumor, stating that you and Gavi were friends, but everything remained strictly professional.

"We heard you went to his house after the last home game before the break, and didn't leave until the following day, and wearing his clothes as well! You don't have to lie to me, I won't tell Dr. G or Xavi. So how was he?"

You promptly instructed Antonio to get the hell out of your office, and you made a move to head to the practice field. How dare Gavi: tell people you slept together when you did nothing of the sort. Well, you did something of the sort, but not in that way! Your job was already in jeopardy as it was, and it didn't help your case to be allegedly sleeping with one of the players. Talk about acts that increase favoritism. As you turned to corner to head to the field, you were met with a hard chest instead. Looking up, you saw the one face you had been trying to avoid all week: Ferran.

"My favorite little nurse. I haven't seen you since before the break. How have you been?" His arms were crossed over his chest, smirk and arrogance across his face. He blocked your path, and you sighed before responding.

"I don't have time to chat, Ferran. I was headed to the practice field to speak to-"

"Gavi? Yeah, I don't think so. My hamstrings need work. You're coming with me."

You followed closely behind, annoyance bubbling in your throat as you followed Ferran to your office. He laid on the examination bed as you closed the door, using the small sink to wash your hands, and donning a pair of clean gloves as he rolled up his shorts and laid on his stomach.

"So sad to hear about you and Martin, y/n. You two really did make a cute couple. I saw him at the end of the break - he's really looking quite worse for wear."

Uncapping your athletic salve, you started working the mixture between your fingers before moving to Ferran's thigh.

"Yeah, well, that's what happens when you're a cheater. Usually quite a deal-breaker in a relationship."

You had resolved no to speak to the striker on your table, knowing that everything he said would only egg you on further, creating more opportunities for you to slip up and be unemployed. But there was something in you that Martin had broken, no, stolen, that made staying silent astronomically more difficult than it had been. So your tongue release from your cheek quicker than you could process, and you steeled yourself once again to work on his legs. What were his legs even tired from? It's not like he was playing regularly.

"You know that there's more than one way to cheat on a person, right?" Ferran questioned, folding his arms to get more comfortable on the table. You shifted your eyes to look at him, one brow raised in confusion. Your lip curled up in disgust, and again your found yourself speaking without intention.

"I don't want to hear about all the different ways he cheated on me. I know you two are friends or whatever, but I'm not interested in the rest of his dirty laundry."

"I'm not talking about Martin. The other cheater in question is you."

Movements slowing, you locked eyes with Ferran, who held your gaze with confidence - like he was holding all the cards, and you were none the wiser.

"I didn't go around sleeping with other people while I was in a committed relationship." You deadpanned, not enjoying how the morning was progressing.

"Right, that was Martin - how unoriginal if you both did the same thing. He went around and slept with a couple other girls to satisfy his base desires. It's bad, but what you did is much worse, little nurse."

You tore your gaze away from Ferran, working his legs with new vigor, restraining yourself from just grabbing onto the flesh and squeezing until he screamed out in pain.

"This is not a professional topic of conversation and you shouldn't bring it into the workplace." You replied, but your voice had started to waiver.

"Oh yes it is, because it revolves around one of your coworkers. While Martin was out working and training an doing other things - or other people - you were also being unfaithful. Sure you didn't sleep with someone, but you were in a 'committed relationship', as you put it, when you started to fall for Pablito."

You pulled your hands away from Ferran like he had spontaneously combust, running from the flames. The look of bewilderment was not one you could suppress in that moment. Your throat had gone completely dry, but you knew the longer you remained silent, the more Ferran would interpret it as a confirmation of his theory.

"That's - it's not true. Gavi and I are coworkers, friends if you really want to push it. It's highly inappropriate for you to assume otherwise. Look I know you want me to lose-"

"Lose your job?" Ferran laughed callously. "Oh no, hermosa. I love seeing you run around here in those tight scrubs, hair pulled back - you're like my own personal masseuse. I just hate when some people get special treatment. And you and Pablito haven't exactly been subtle."

"There's nothing going on between-"

"Bullshit. What kind of employee is willing to come in early and work unpaid hours for just another member of the squad? He's the only one with your personal number. You drive him home after practice. Everyone knows that those hours he spends locked away after national team training, he's talking to you. For fuck's sake, you hadn't even been broken up with Martin for a day before you spent the night at his place!"

Eyes locked with the floor, your breathing quickened as Ferran's words too root in you. Did everyone think this way? Was it a common assumption that you harbored "special feelings" for Gavi? He continued without allowing you to recover.

"So you can get on your high horse and spew your woes about how your boyfriend slept with someone else. But you let little Pablito get access to the deepest, most intimate parts of your soul, and despite having a boyfriend, you let yourself love him. You let yourself love Gavi the night you watched him throw up outside the club, young and stupid and delirious, and yet you let Martin think he had a chance to be your man, your one, your soulmate. That's what most people would call emotional cheating. And it still makes you a shit person."

Your temples pounded, headache coming on from the lack of air in your system. You couldn't do anything, couldn't move, couldn't process the information being thrown at your brain. Had Ferran been present that first night at the club half a year ago? Had someone else remembered you, recounting the details to everyone involved? Did Gavi know that you were there, and had seen him in that state? Antonio's question from earlier flashed in your mind, and though you had assumed Gavi's lips had gotten loose, the real culprit was sitting in front of you buttered like a turkey. Everything else would have to wait - because you might lose your job if you didn't get this question answered.

"Have you been telling people I slept with Gavi?" You asked, the pain in your voice clinging to every word.

"I haven't been telling people anything that isn't true. I may have mentioned to a couple of the second-team players that you and Martin had broken up. I may have also mentioned that when I went to console my physically and emotionally battered friend, I watched you and Gavi leave his house, together, and you were in his clothes. Well, I didn't really need to provide that one, did I? The pictures are everywhere. And maybe there was a thing or two about how Martin has always been wary of Pablito, who seemed to always go out of his way to be at your beck and call. People connected their own dots."

"What the fuck is your problem with me?" You asked, voice desperate as you ripped of your gloves, coming around the table to face the slippery eel that was Ferran Torres directly.

"Why can you not stand the sight of me so much that you need me to lose everything I've worked for my whole life?"

The smirk was glued to his face, and the mal intent in his eyes burned brighter than ever.

"Just because I like watching you squirm. And if they fire you, it's no worry to me at all. The team managers are already embracing this 'diversity' thing, so another bubbly, bouncy little thing in scrubs will be in swiftly to take your place."

Ferran got up, readjusting his training uniform and making his way to the door. You couldn't speak. All you wanted to do was curl into a ball behind your desk. The entire staff thought you were sleeping with Gavi, and the thoughts spiraled onward. Did they think that's why you hadn't gotten fired after Ferran's complaint? Did anyone think you were qualified beyond just a toy for one of the players?

"I would steer clear of Gavi, hermosa. No more late drives, no more sleepovers. Rumor has it, word's gotten all the way up to Xavi. Would hate to have to give him confirmation that you two are more than friends. Because then you'd be looking for physio jobs in the village football teams."

"But we're not." You replied, voice strained and broken.

"Then keep it that way."

~

Since Pedri's nonexistent project with Adidas had ended, he was back to giving Gavi rides. It's not that he minded - the younger boy was always talkative and good company. But It was the waiting around that made Pedri want to scream. For the entire time they had been on international leave, you were the only thing Pablo thought about and spoke of, filling any silent moments sending messages to as a precursor for your nightly calls. Pedri was mistaken in thinking this teenage lovesick behavior would cease once they returned to Cam Nou.

Every day after practice, Gavi would move at the most glacial, snail-like pace just to time his exit with yours, accompanying you on the walk to your car. Today was no different. As Gavi took his time in the locker room doing Lord knows what, Pedri caught a glimpse of you speeding down the corridor. He wanted to greet you, to ask if you were okay, but he couldn't get the words out before you rushed past him. He turned into the locker room and yelled at his passanger.

"Hurry up hermano! She already left!"

[6 Missed Calls]: Gavi

You ignored the buzz of your phone on your table as you curled into yourself, tears streaming down your face. It was beyond what you could bear. You had sacrificed so much throughout your life to get the "dream" you were supposed to be living now: perfect life in a perfect city, with your perfect job and perfect friends. But all of it had been set ablaze. Your apartment had never felt lonelier or colder, as you looked at the chairs that had never been used, the floor that only you walked on. Since leaving America you found yourself with few to no friends. You never went out or saw anyone, dedicating yourself to excelling in your program. The only friend you ever had over was Angelika, and even she had not graced your home for weeks upon weeks. You had isolated yourself from everyone to make sure you were perfect at work - never tired or hungover, never a thread or hair out of place. Now you were friendless and single, curled up on your couch, cursing every decision you had ever made.

The last person you wanted to see or speak to was Pablo. Pablo, who had entered your life so suddenly, and taken up residence in your brain and heart, was the sole common thread between everything crumbling around you. You willed yourself to be angry with him. You tried your hardest to blame him for every misfortune that had come your way. Your lack of friends, many of whom distanced themselves when you started working for Barca under a perception that you were "too good for them". Your waning relationship with Angelika, which began when Pablo started to tunnel his way into your life, consuming more and more of your time. Your failed relationship with Martin, which was perfectly stale and stable before Gavi showed you what it was really like to be made a priority. The current precarious state of your job, it was his fault, because of his consistent fighting with Ferran, which provoked him to file his empty complaint.

You wanted to curse Gavi and the day you had met him, but you couldn't do it. You couldn't bring yourself to even have an ill thought about Pablo. All you could do was curse yourself. You had known deep down for so long how you really felt. From that night you spoke to him in the club, identity yet unknown, but all his vulnerability on display, you had known that there was something pulling you into his orbit. You had known that the hoops you jumped through for him were special, and not inconveniences you would shoulder for anyone else. You had known when you searched for him on the field, in your contacts, in your subconscious that no one would ever bring you this much peace. His eyes, his words, the energy that radiated from him were rarities, seen once in a lifetime, and often squandered by those to late to grab them. And so you sat on your couch, tears pouring down your face as the realization enveloped you, too great to hide any longer: Pablo Paez Gavira was your best friend, and you were heart-achingly, soul-crushingly in love with him, but you would never be able to do anything about it.

Gavi had given up after 6 missed calls and 18 unanswered text messages. He knew that you would call him when you were ready to do so, but the anxiety gnawed at him nonetheless. He couldn't stand the thought of you upset, and would move heaven and earth just to make sure you were doing fine. He was currently checking his phone for notifications ever 30-45 seconds, leg once again bouncing - much to Pedri's dismay. The two of them, accompanied by Alejandro and Eric, were at a restaurant catching up with some friends. Gavi paid no mind to anyone. He was too preoccupied to engage in idle conversation. Rather, he just wanted to hear the sound of your voice -no , your breathing even, to calm his worries.

He felt a tap on his shoulder, tearing his gaze away from the screen. A short blond stood before him - one of Eric's friends - and she spoke directly to him, asking questions about his age and if he also played for the club. Unhappy with the interruption, Gavi gave quick and curt responses, trying to avoid a prolonged conversation. This did not deter the girl, who introduced herself as Jacinta, from getting Gavi's undivided attention, as she sat beside him, legs pressed against each other, and rested a hand on his thigh. Before he could react, he heard the gasp of his name, swiveling around to find several teenage girls huddled by the front of the restaurant, phones out and whispering to each other. Gavi had lost his appetite, excusing himself and taking a taxi back to his, checking his phone frequently as he prayed for you to give him any indication that you were alive.

Your phone rang once again, and the tone echoing through your apartment was one you welcomed eagerly: Angelika's. You had not heard from her in the last month, trying to give her enough space to do her work, while still reminding her you were there for support.

"Angelika! It's so good to hear from you."

"I'm moving to Paris."

Your face fell as you turned the words over in your mind.

"You're...what?"

You sat up on the phone, listening to Angelika explain how she had impressed her colleagues, being promoted to their Paris office to work on more couture and avant-garde looks. She gushed about what an amazing opportunity it was as you tried to stop yourself from throwing up. How was it that you were losing everything in your life all at once.

"That's so amazing, Ange."

That was all you could muster, deciding to be a good friend and leave your worries and fears to the side, letting her bask in the triumph of her accomplishment. You responded with how proud you were, how much she deserved this, and how you knew she would do amazing things.

"Does Gavi have a girlfriend?"

The sudden mention of Gavi's name alone was enough to knock the wind out of you, but the context of the question really threatened to have you spill your guts on the rug.

"Not that I know of." You said, the feeling of dread dripping into your gut like tar.

"One of the Barca fan pages just posted a pic of him with some girl at dinner. Look I just sent it. I didn't know he was old enough to be getting girls like that. You two are friends, right?"

Your eyes were instantly drawn to the blonde girl's hand on Gavi's thigh. She wasn't his girlfriend. If anyone were to know that Gavi were in a committed relationship, it would be you. But this knowledge didn't help the wounded feeling that settled into you. You were home, pining after this little footballer, as he effortlessly flirted with other women. You were once again in pieces over a man that did not think of you the way you thought of him.

"Yeah, we're friends, I guess."

You would never be more than Gavi's physiotherapist and someone he occasionally sent Tiktoks to. Gavi was a deity in his field, a name that struck fear and respect in the hearts of the opposition. He was a symbol of the next generation of football royalty, and a man that could have any woman at his feet with a lick of his lips and a wave of his hand. This is what he was destined for: days in the spotlight, photographs with mysterious beauties, and a loyal fanbase that worshipped his every move. None of that involved you: an employee. Why would he want you? There was nothing you could give him that didn't come in a prettier package. He would never look at you as more than a friend, because you walked with the common crowd, and he was among the elite. Gavi could have any girl that he wants, and it was obvious he didn't want you.

You moved from the couch and walked to your table, waking up the computer that sat upon it. You glanced at the envelope Antonio had slid to you earlier, and thought about his offer. What did you have left? You typed a quick email to Xavi requesting a brief meeting the following morning, before heading to bed, trying to sleep away the suffocating feeling that clung to you.

~

Gavi was at your office door when you walked in the following morning, despite you arriving 20 minutes earlier than usual. His arms were crossed, face scrunched in worry, but his features relaxed when you walked to the door. He tried to help you with your belongings, but you refused. You exchanged a dry good morning before entering your office, avoiding his gaze. He asked how you were feeling, and if anything had happened the previous day. Eyes glued to your computer, you responded shortly, informing him that everything was fine and that you had a meeting with Xavi you needed to prepare for.

"Doctora, did I do something?"

You finally looked at Gavi, taking in his pained expression. It hurt in ways medicine understand for you to be freezing him out like this, and yet, all you could do was think about the image of Gavi coupled with Ferran's words. Was it worth it to risk everything for someone who would never be yours? You shook you head, informing him again that everything was fine. Everything was far from fine: you felt like you had been thrown off a cliff, your sense of purpose and direction and meaning in life shattered. But you didn't want to burden Gavi with this knowledge. So you stood and collected your folders, lips pursed tightly. You would just have to pretend that you weren't desperate to confess to Pablo that he was the reason that you breathed air, and that you were focused on your meeting and nothing else.

He was not satisfied with your answer. Gavi searched for your eyes, trying to understand what he could have possibly done wrong to get you to change on him so quickly - to become so cold. But you refused to meet his gaze, and he was left to his own theories. Had the rumors of you two together repulsed you from him? Were you unable to look him in the eye now that someone had put the thought in your head that you two could be more than friends? Had you finally decided you were too mature and good for him? He had chewed his lips and inner cheek all night pondering these possibilities.

"Please, y/n, if I did something, let me make it right."

"Gavi." Bad sign. You never called him Gavi when you were happy with him. Gavi was his official name in the team, the professional term you addressed him by. His stomach sank, and everything in him screamed to take you into his arms, not letting you go until he once again heard the sweet sound of "Pablo" drip from your lips like honey.

You wanted to grab him and shake him, scream at him, and cry into his shoulder. You wanted to tell him that there was no way for him to make it right, unless he was ready to have you, wholly and completely, never letting you go no matter the consequences. You wanted to tell him the only thing that could fix it was the one thing you could never ask for: his love.

"I need you... to stay away from me for a while."

Gavi could swear e felt his heart crack in two. What could he have possibly done? What heinous crime had he committed that made you need such a high degree of separation. He had been right there: he had you in his arms, laid on his chest, and heartbeat synching with his own. Now, everything was slipping through his fingers like fine sand, and he was watching you disappear before his very eyes.

"Not because I'm angry with you, but I just... need space."

Gavi could do nothing but stare, mouth agape, begging every power that be for this to be a cruel joke. But you continued to shuffle your papers, and the punchline never came. Before he could form a response, a knock resounded from the door, and Xavi walked into the office.

"Gavi, you're here early." He said, eyebrow raised at you in suspicion. The young footballer swallowed this hurt and his pride, clearing his throat to speak.

"Yeah, just came to get some more medical tape. Doctora y/l/n told me we have some in the locker room. I'll be going now."

Gave left your office, shutting the door behind him, but he could not move. He leaned against the wall, trying to fill his lungs with air, but the breaths he took didn't feel like enough. Tears pricked at his eyes, and he was reminded of his childhood, when the other boys would bully him and push him around the field. That was the last time he properly cried of pain. It was happening now, for the first time in 11 years, but this was a different kind of pain. There were needles pricking every inch of his skin, and he could do nothing except let the pain overtake him. What could he have possibly done to push you away?

He was taken out of his thoughts by the sound of Xavi's voice through the door. He knew he shouldn't have been listening, but he needed to hear you. He needed to listen to you speak, hear the normalcy in your voice, if he ever wanted to move from that God forsaken spot in front of your door.

"-a little late notice. You should try and schedule further in advance for coming meetings." Xavi said. It was unusual for Gavi to hear you be scolded. When had you asked to meet him?

"I apologize, mister, but it was all some very late occurrences, and I didn't want to delay."

"Alright then, go ahead."

"As you know, we are about 10 days into the January transfer window, and while players are getting offers from all over, this is also the time when clubs try and change staff."

Pablo put a hand over his mouth to cover any sounds he made and prevent himself from vomiting. He didn't like where this was going.

"Yes, I'm aware." Xavi responded. "Antonio is leaving us during this window."

"Exactly. That's actually what I wanted to speak to you about. Antonio, as we all know, is a very talented physiotherapist and sports medic, meaning he got offers from a number of clubs. He received a position as head of physiotherapy at Chelsea, which he had to reject obviously to join Man City. Yesterday, he graciously got the offer forwarded to me."

"Miss y/n, please clarify your intentions. I am not very good at understanding subtext." Xavi laughed out.

"Yes sir. I'll be direct then: I am considering leaving F.C. Barcelona at the end of the transfer window."

~~~~~~~

A/N: guys pls don't kill me I'm sorry for the end (not rlly lol). I hope you all enjoyed what is officially the longest part of the series to date!! Got close to my 15k goal, but not there yet - maybe in the next part. My hands are actually cramping from all the writing this is borderline self-inflicted torture lol. Did y'all catch the subtle title/ lyric references? As usual, please leave thoughts, feedback, predictions, etc. in the replies - I love reading all of them so much!!! Esp watching the way people think the story is going to progress because sometimes y'all are spot on and sometimes y'all are wayyyy off and I'm like "wait that would actually be a great plot for another series". Anyways love you all and hope you enjoy!! Part 8??? She's gonna be intense y'all.

Also please comment if you want to be added to the taglist ok bye

*~*Taglist*~*

@l0verl4ne @vibinwkay @anastasia-nova @mxgvmiii @mads-grace4 @bubblebeep69 @katluckybear @scuderiabarca @alwaysclassyeagle @simpingmyassoff @grlwithprblms @lqvesoph @pink-manz @graziemille @xxenia14 @nngkay @icedlattewithextracaramel @gyusrose @vip-access @julianalvarez9 @lavie3nrose @ge0rg1ewaa @i8yul @lovefordilfs271 @remuslupinluver @thattaylorswiftobsessedbitch @chaotic-taco-collector-blog @kaismybabe @notanenthucutlet @fullsun9890 @venomwh0re @renaissancewhxre @gaviandgrizisgirl @altgojo @urmomdotcom5678 @eliseline @invidia-of-alhambra @pixwls @stell4rrrs @80sloverry @car1no-xx @mrsgavira @888bear @kylianmbappee @ivyhrry @gaviypedrisbride @grlwithprblms

[veryace-ficrecs]

Gravity Falls Fic Recs

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)

and only a history of fallen stars to lead us by A_comet_burning_up - Rated G

Dipper used to be so invisible you'd think him a wall decoration, and Mabel used to have a head full of glitter. All that gives away what changed over the summer are mentions of a tiny Oregon town named Gravity Falls. or, the school year starts after the twin’s crazy summer at Gravity Falls and people notice the changes.

The Pines Paradox by BrownieFox -Rated G

“And why should I-” Ford begins to say, anger building ever hotter, before somehow Stanley manages to shock Ford once again. Stan reaches behind him and pushes a kid forward from where he’d apparently been hiding just out of sight. A kid. A child, really. A kid who looks a little familiar. Something about the shape of his nose. It reminds Ford of his mom, in a way. And the hair reminds him of his dad. And Stanely has this kid. That is with him. Right now. On Ford’s porch in Gravity Falls. “Stanley,” Ford says, in a rush that screams he should’ve finished drinking his coffee before answering the door, “You have-” oOo Ford's research is interrupted by his estranged brother showing up on his doorstep with a kid who claims to be time traveller. Meanwhile in the present, Stan and Mabel try to figure out how to get Dipper back to the right time. There will be secrets revealed, old wounds readdressed, and above it all a one-eyed demon watches with interest. (Previously titled Twins Across Time)

Compass by LogicalBookThief - Rated G

Mabel and Dipper’s first day back at school has a few setbacks, but nothing the Mystery Twins can’t handle together.

Unidentical Twins by Yevynaea - Rated G

When they’re eleven, Mabel cheerfully coins the term ‘unidentical twins’ and Dipper can’t deny it fits.

More Than Just the Spare by LogicalBookThief - Rated T

It wasn’t that Stan was dumb. He just wasn’t as smart as his brother. But when you’re constantly being compared to your extremely gifted twin, there’s no silver for second place.

Say You're Sorry by JusticeHawk - Rated G

Robbie jokingly calls Dipper a girl and Wendy reflexively punches him in the face. Apologies all around.

Five Minutes Older by thesnadger - Rated T

Mabel ends up trapped in 1979, without her brother and with a broken time machine that she can't fix herself. Luckily, her Grunkle Stan is there. Of course, he's a lot younger now…he has a mullet, he's living out of his car and he doesn't know he's her Grunkle. But he's not planning to let this weird, sparkly little girl end up alone on the streets.

A Simple Process of Elimination by Winter_S_Jameson - Rated G

Dipper and Ford are going through some college catalogues when Ford notices there isn’t one from West Coast Tech. When he asks why, he’s totally surprised by the answer he gets.

[goaskangel]

bookie!

journalist!reader x business-man!hakari

cw...NSFW, slight manipulation, mention of intox, use of "mister" "sir" "doll", dumification, degradation, all the usual smut stuff LOL

word count...4.8k

a/n...this is my first fic ive posted publicly EEEK lowk nervy but i've read like 2 good hakari fics on this mf website and i js figured i might as well do it myself. my writing here IS NOT MY BEST, i plan to indulge into how i usually write. smut is a little harder for me to write so be patient AND NICE PLZ. mdni!please understand what kind of media you are consuming and be smart about it.

just the way hakari presented himself, it felt as if even if you didn’t suspect anything from him, it was obvious he was a secretive and cocky man. from how he dressed with his constant change between pimpy-fur coats and vulgar tanks with his ever-changing colored hair between purples, blacks, and blondes, it was no surprise he must’ve lied his way to the top. 

and even with this assumption, you couldn’t deny the offer of living with him and your company's team. not necessarily living with him but staying in a private luxury hotel, and sure, maybe your job here wasn’t very important as a journalist but your boss insisted on you attending. 

what kind of moron would pass on the opportunity of possibly breaking through one of japan’s wealthiest and slyest business men anyway?

something about interviews but mostly projects, maybe even a documentary went in your ear and out the other when your boss spoke to you about the expectations on this “trip.”

after being stuck on a reserved bus, you finally manage to push through and make it to a not very deserted place. matter of fact it was right in front of a busy street in the busiest city. you stretched your legs, cracked a few fingers, and headed to the entrance of the tall—what seemed to be marbled—hotel. if you could even call it that. seemed like a resort more than anything. you were told your bags full of equipment for work and clothes for the three day project would be handled by security. the front of the building were two big guards protecting any outsiders. pretty confidential for just a few days. it stays on brand with hakari’s whole attitude, a whole ass hotel in the city only allowing a few people with specific identification. 

inside it looked like everybody from every corporate office in town had been messily dragged in.  heavy steel tables were set randomly with even heavier bags and briefcases on top, open with papers and documents spilling out. 

the man himself was sitting at one of the sturdy desks, his head down.

before you noticed that he decided to go purple, left his black blazer on the shoulders of the chair he sat on, you watched as his hand shook carefully on a paper given to him by the lady standing nearby. 

his hot pink eyes dart back and forth across the page. you assume he was looking for another place to sign because he handed it right back to her after examining. hakari returns back to a binded notebook, the pen still in his fingers. he scribbles words down vigorously. part of you wonders what he’s got going on. another part wonders where your room will be. 

you observe the rest of the lobby. you glance at your boss finally coming through security, the dumb, happy guy starts a conversation with almost everyone as he came. he calls hakari over as if they’ve known each other since the dawn of time, and he follows. they greet one another and you go blank on the rest until your name is called. quickly, you turn to face the men again and walk towards them.

"if the interview goes well—which i'm sure it will—perhaps the documentary could follow up.” your boss explains, still turnt to hakari.

“mhm oh yeah man i’m sure of it, yep.” he agrees, mooning. his white button up hugging him perfectly. 

scrunched up sleeves, pen marks on his forearms. a few buttons undone from the neck. 

“this young lady right here is the foundation of the writing department.”

“oh yeah. so i’ve read.” 

he reaches a hand out, “took you a while to say hi.” 

“you seemed busy, signing shit n’ whatnot.” you smile politely and firmly shake his hand. he cheeses a toothy grin, blue and silver gems shine back at you. 

“pardon her words, man. you know how writers are—can write page upon pages yet their mind goes blank when they have a chance to speak—hah.” your boss shines his own nervous smile. 

“ya, know what they say about business men, can talk for hours and hours, spill what seems to be almost everything, and still have secrets.” he darts his eyes to yours before closing and laughing richly with the older man. 

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

you spend the rest of the night cozying up into your hotel room and lazily journaling down ideas, even scraping up an idea against hakari. you stretch your arms after tossing your notebook shut, you glance over at the alarm on the desk,

11:24 P.M. 

it would be a good time to grab a snack, now that everyone should be asleep. at least you hope so as you walk out in casual clothes. 

you toss the room’s card from hand to hand and pass quiet rooms until turning left to the snack bar. you were told earlier that food would be available for the company whenever, so you figured it must be open now too, with all the staff asleep or at their posts. 

there was an incredible aroma of columbian brew with a dash of vanilla dancing with something hot, something fresh out of the oven. you’re greeted with his strong back. shaped tightly, almost too tight, was a simple white tank. on caramel skin, his wide shoulders flexed as he took a small spoon into his mug, tossing sugar packets and singles of liquid creamers into a trash bin. but it doesn’t really phase you. what were the chances of somebody being here? let alone hakari. it’s ironic and mostly awkward. 

you could’ve left but the pastry before you was calling your name. how awkward could it really be?

you walk towards the counter he was just at, he who was walking back to a two-chaired table. 

“it’s almost midnight.” he speaks and you freeze as if you’ve been caught. obviously, you haven’t, so you quickly grabbed a floral napkin and the pastry. 

“writers stay up late, i know that. but they’re usually alone.”

“well how was i supposed to know somebody else was gonna be up? it is almost midnight.”

“you’re the one writing stories about me and talking shit, i’d assume you’d know everything about me.” he grins as he pulls a chair out, sitting in it and slowly stirring his coffee. steam swirls up from the cup. “take a seat.” 

you walk to him and pull the other chair out, sitting quietly. you break apart the food in your hands and eat it piece by piece, examining the table subtly. 

he’d been sitting there for a while; papers closed a binder with a few pens spilt around. an empty chip bag, a few crumbs near the bottom of the coffee cup, his hands warming up around it. 

his hands were nice.

you swallow casually and look back at him. “you read my stuff? which one of your little employees do you have search for works written about you, huh?” 

“i find ‘em myself, ‘nd you're lucky i don’t report them. can’t have nasty stuff circulating around me, whether if it’s true or not.” 

“—or should i call them workers instead?” you ignore him. 

“your writing is admirable.” 

something about that made you lose track of what you were saying. 

you lay back in your chair and mumble an okay. 

you watch as he takes a sip of his sugared coffee, the steam cupping his face gently and flowing up. 

“so when do you sleep?” 

“i’ll go in a couple,” he says, cracking his knuckles. “schedule’s got all fucked ever since i got here. my manager—and don’t tell her i said this—doesn’t understand the concept of time, or maybe she’s fucking with me. how can i get three hours of paperwork done, meetings between each pile, ‘nd make phone calls back to back, but can’t stay up late?” 

“damn, you’ve even got your sleep schedule sorted?” 

“gotta sneak out here like some goddamn teenager. it’s no big deal, she’s knocked out at 10. jus’ gotta keep kissing her ass and thank her for taking such good care of me. she won’t suspect a thing.” 

you giggle at the irony, “might as well be your girlfriend.” 

“god, more like my mom.” you can see the outline of his tongue grazing his teeth as he grins. probably feeling the gems on his smile, you cross your legs at the view. 

funny and handsome. 

speaking of closing your thighs—you remember you have to get back to your room. 

“we’ve got just three days,” you say as you stand from your chair, “i’m sure we’ll have to work our asses off tomorrow.” hakari looks up at you.

“hmm nobody tell you wha’s happening either?” 

you shake your head and carefully bite the inside of your lip. 

“m’kay. have a good rest of your night, then.” he nods back down and sips his coffee. his tone indicated he practically knew you weren’t sleeping immediately. to enjoy the rest of your night. 

“yeah, i’ll make sure of it. goodnight.” 

as happy as you were to receive a half-vacation, half-business trip at a hotel – the benefits of not having to wake up early just to drive almost an hour to work everyday, the entire company just being outside, your hands would not suffice. you thought to yourself earlier, how great it’d be to stay in a nice, cool room and wind down from a long day. keeping dirty fantasies in your head and just when you thought the tight, small circles on your heat could master an orgasm. but the thought of him kept interrupting. 

a hand crawling up your neck and the other circling underneath your panties. closing your eyes as you concentrated on silver-haired men kissing your breasts, guys who stunk of cigarettes and coffee making out with your clit, god anybody willing to run their hands on your body. you jolt at the sudden twitch of your cunt, your back arching slightly. you groan. the man you’ve been practically stalking and have to work with is now appearing in your head while you masturbate. you switch the bedside lamp off and take off-white sheets over yourself. 

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

on the second day, you pass new people while walking down narrow hallways. each person looking more tired than the one before. you notice just how many people could fill up the lobby and snack bar. as enticing the syrup from breakfast smelled, you keep your distance from everybody else. carefully, you lick the inner of your lips and taste the lipgloss you applied earlier. 

now popping your lips, backing up slowly, still examining the room until you feel what seems to be a pillar or wall behind you. 

“hey… you got a light?” behind you. tall, peeping over you – was that a fur coat? hakari watches everybody else almost as intently as you were. 

you stutter before reaching into your coat’s pocket, “yeah.” he takes it and quickly lights the now-appeared-cigarette of his mouth. 

“a smoke for breakfast? that can’t be healthy.” you cross your arms as he flips the lighter in the air. 

“it wouldn’t have been, hun, we had breakfast this morning already. don't you remember?” he exhales smoke that passes your jaw, making you shudder. 

“here, sounds like you need it.” he says the last part through his teeth, pinching the end of the cig and lowering it to your mouth. you glare to your side and lean in to wrap your lips around it, inhaling. you pull away and spew smoke out much more discreetly. he takes another, blowing it out, licking his lips, “tastes like bubblegum.” 

after set-ups and mic-checks in steel stools and numerous questions, you’re sitting in front of a laid-back hakari. his legs man-spread and his hands fixing his hair every other second. a very specific rage comes back to you. the same anger that you felt staying up to post blogs about complicated, but evident-filled, theories and what you truly think is the truth about the man sitting in front of you. the feeling is nostalgic. your nerves are overfilled with different emotions – since when could a man controlling so many industries, controlling so many people and still handle an underground fight club while acting like a semi-normal person? but normal people don’t wear fur-fucking-coats on the regular, let alone keep illegal ranges where people fight like bears just to be bet on like horses. 

two cups of steaming coffee are placed in the high-wooden table between you and hakari. 

“this part of the interview will be audio-presented. the second part will be videotaped.” the host of the section stands above the recorder, the rest of the crew standing around or still finishing breakfast. “etiquette for the tape is pretty simple – ‘ms and mr’ is usually set and the rest is self-explanitory.” 

you nod kindly and look at the man, meeting his eyes, ones that perhaps never left you. 

easy, almost-boring questions are asked but it hadn’t prepared you for what was going to come. the questions slowly make less and less connection and stay focused on hakari. “ethicality is mentioned within businesses and is no exception to your work, ms l/n.” before being asked the repetitive question, the topic being how many times can we make hakari look like a god in one tape, you interrupt the host. 

“morals are nowhere to be found in such work. there’s – again – no sense.” now slouched, hakari responds, “tell me, when searching for a job that pays well, were you interested in the pay or how many hours you had to work? ‘s there something you w’na say about being able to survive or how comfortable you are?” 

“sometimes it just boggles me to think about how one person needs more than one business. is it for fun, mister?”

“is what for fun, girl?” 

“is being a con-man to violent people and making them believe knocking each other’s teeth out will help for fun?” 

the host stutters and gets shushed, “well, you’re very right. that wouldn’t be ethical at all.” he smiles very faintly. too faintly for you to lash out and not make it seem like you’re crazy. 

“untruthful about being a bookie and fight-promoter. does gachinko ring a bell?”

“any more questions? how about all my employees' salaries? wanna know my salary? how’s about ‘you busy after this?’” 

the recorder falls off the foldable table after being shaken, “for the love of god.” your boss yells and stops. scrunching his fat nose and pinching the bridge. “that was the fourth time. i just… you know what, we’ll continue tomorrow morning. kinji you’ve got a meeting we’ve, i’ve, been trying to hold off but it seems like everybody’s in the mood for a break.” he walks to the exit of the lobby, followed by some of his crew. hakari gets up, exhaling and cracking his fingers and wrists. 

“almost as good as your writing. but writers always gotta fuck up while speaking.” he picks up the recorder from the ground and tosses it to the full cups of coffee. 

“are they going to post it?” 

he shakes his head. 

“then what?” 

“might do it all again tomorrow. a little more strict, too. it’s not like it was a bad tape either. just like you know, i can’t let shit spread around about me. i would never allow it.”  

you scoff and watch him walk off, cursing under your breath.

it’s the evening when he comes back, bringing a few drunk men through the guards. you nod your head back and forth between your open laptop and the men that find their wobbly way to the lounge's couches. you tune out their slurred talk and how hakari’s joking gets belly-laughs from them. he cackles with them, clapping his hands bluntly. he sighs, tears in his eyes, as he walks past the random suitcases and desks spread-about. 

you type away at your slightly dull keys, clumsily taking your gel-pen and drabbling a note down. 

“workin’ hard, i see.” you feel a heavy hand land on your left shoulder and glance over to the other side of the desk, hakari’s ringed-fingers tapping away at the steel. 

“what’re you writing down…” he mumbles and leans over obnoxiously. you lean back in your chair, looking at him looking at your notes. 

“god, are you drunk? didn’t you just have a meeting?” 

“drunk? nah, i don’t get drunk.” 

“i can smell the whiskey from your breath.” 

“ah-ha, you knew i drank whiskey, huh. looks like even an overworked girl like you knows how to have fun, too.” he looks at you with literal joy in his pupils. face tampered with blush while smiling like a hyena. “anyway,” he stands back up, the grip on your shoulder falling to your bare-arm. “even your handwriting is nice.” 

“uh-huh…” you press your thighs together, feeling the cold metal of his jewelry on your skin. his hand so big compared to your arm. part of you hopes his long gaze is down your blouse. 

it is.

“ya look good.” he speaks through the rasp in his throat but all you hear is a mutter, he gives your arm a squeeze before patting it and walking toward the corridor of rooms. 

you let out a shaky sigh and feel yourself burn up, staring at your yellow-notepad. hakari strides to his room, the last room of the hallway, stretching his arms. he takes a gold card out and shoves it into the slot. 

he lets out a serene moan when his back hits the bed. tossing his keys, phone, and whatever junk out of his pockets onto the nightstand. his large coat following. he groans and kicks off his shoes. something still bothering him. he reaches his hands down to his belt and unravels it, throwing it down. unbuttoning and zipping to comfort the ache below his stomach.

god, how hard could a guy get from one conversation? his slit brows raise as he grins, taking his weeping cock and holding the base.

thinking about all the things you’d say, 

you’re so vulgar. not enough action recently, huh? what stress’ll do to ya…

“yeah, baby, stress.” he takes his other hand and taps the underside of his cock in his palm. closing his eyes and imagining your sweet self between his legs, those same tits in his view. your pink tongue lolling out for him. “finally shut that smart-ass mouth up… use her for something fuckin’ useful.” he groans, stroking himself. 

what makes him throb is how dumb you’d gotten when his hands were on you. how fucking sweet and quiet you went when his fingers stroked your arm, weren’t you exposing him just a couple of hours ago? what a desperate girl. he swears out as he jerks spurts of come onto his clothed shirt. “yeah, hmph god, yeah, that’s good..” he pants like a dog, eyes going heavy. 

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

another day passes and you haven’t come. guilt swats your hand away everytime you try, anyway. you start to get sick of the syrup and eggs roaming the air. you sit at the same spot from last evening and observe the room.

half of your company is eating breakfast or still passed out on the couch. the others, probably asleep or dealing with tech. your boss walks towards you and places a cup of coffee down in front of you. 

“we oughta work on you, huh? hah!” he stirs wood in his own cup. 

“you’re not hungover? i’m surprised you’re up this early.” 

“gotta stay professional, ya know…i only had one shot. maybe a couple. this coffee’s really good, drink some.”

“right because drinks on the second day of a work-trip is highly professional.”

“hey, come on.” he frowns and drinks a sip of his obviously too hot roast. “where is everybody? hell, where’s kinji?” he drifts off to a new group of people near the snackbar. 

the lobby fills again with the occasional technical difficulty, yet no hakari to be found. you wish you could throw it off and be so disconnected that you didn’t even realize the star wasn’t here like some of your colleagues, but you kept your eyes on that same corridor. the loud bitch from the room on the tallest floor went through your ear and out the other. you didn’t even realize the fly that was constantly buzzing had been trying to get your attention. 

“do you know where kinji is?” she was beautiful but still his assistant, loud and fussy like a bad mom. if she didn’t know where he was, how were you supposed to know? you put on a concerned look with a little smile, “might be in his room.” you get up and begin walking to the hallway, how the hell did they not check his fucking room? you swear your eyes roll so far to the back of your head, that if you didn’t have ears to hear the bitch’s loud heels clacking, you could’ve seen her behind you. you turn to the last door on the right and knock, remembering how many men had to carry luggage upon luggage inside. 

“hello? mister, we’re waiting on you.” you knock faster than time. “hakari?” the door swings open and your hand is met with another. before you can say anything, he shushes you and looks around, pulling you into his room and says, “give me a’minute. take a seat.” he leaves. by seat he probably refers to his bed, the entire room cluttered by stuff. you sit on the edge of his bed and sigh, taking a moment to collect what just happened.  

he was shirtless. the bathroom door being open and light on explains why, he’d taken a shower. the mirror was still foggy and the towel hung on the door’s hanger. there was a faint smell of vanilla and something floral. you would’ve been pissed to be in a messy room like this but you figured it was better than being out with everybody else. 

the door opens again and a calm hakari walks in, closing the door and locking it. 

his hair is damp but you only notice how he’s clothed in a towel. one that hangs low at his hips. 

“everybody’s waiting, and you’re not even dressed yet.” 

“s’fine, y/n. i bought us some time. these people, they’ll listen to whatever i say.” he says with a smile, and you look back at him with confusion.

“but the interview…?” your mouth drops gently when his hand comes to hold your face. 

he sighs and looks up and away. your legs are shut and you swallow the sudden pool of saliva in your mouth as your eyes are fixated on his sharp, shaved jawline and how his adam’s apple flexes as he speaks. “this job’s real tough, i know it is, ‘nd you want a break. doesn’t everyone?” he looks back down at you, his eyes filled with what seems to be.. lust? you furrow your eyebrows and nod slowly. he carefully puts some hair behind your ear and leans down to whisper against your skin, “w’na be a good girl and take some of that stress away from the both of us?” he kisses a part of your jaw, “my good girl?” 

oh god. 

did you write half of your career on this greedy man just for him to be licking your ear? leading a hand to your button-up and slowly undoing the pearly clasps? 

his hand now on your bare leg, going up and up your mid-pencil skirt. you feel yourself get dizzy from the thought of him feeling your lacy panties, holding a hand on his strong shoulder, his skin slightly wet. did you wear them on purpose? you can’t think. he stands back up, his hand slithering and rubbing the back of your neck. breathing heavily, you start to undo the rest of your shirt’s buttons. “yeah, there ya go.” he encourages you until your laced bra is exposed. 

he hooks a finger on the side of your panties and tugs them off, you reach under your skirt and tug the other side. he takes both sides and peels away, “mhhm, always liked a matching set.” your skin burns at embarrassment, not from what he said but how wet the middle of your core was and how drenched the crotch of your panties were. 

“a lil’ kissin’ got you this soaked, huh? you want this? ain’t you just sweet, doll.” he throws it to the corner of the bed and hums when you nod. “s’quiet when you’re needy.” hakari pushes two fingers at your lips just when you thought you could finally say something. “open.” he demands gently and grins when you comply. they find their way to the middle of your mouth and you can’t help but suck softly. “mhm that’s good, suck ‘em good. cost about’a milli’ each, heh.” he takes them out and pushes you slowly onto your back, spreading your legs, holding one up with a burly arm. 

“fuck.” is the only thing you manage to let out when he bunches your skirt up to your waist.

“be quiet f’me now.” he spits a glob onto his two fingers and presses them to your clit. you gasp at the content. 

“so wet.” he mumbles.

circling tight, slippery rounds on your aching bud. the guilty friction you’ve been craving finally went through. a sudden warmth and pleasure take over your pelvis. heat rises to your upper body, your hands slightly shaking and your ears burning, god, what were you doing? you watch and feel his dirty mastered hand bring you shame. your entire career faltered just for your fulfillment, the guilt so heavy, it makes you moan out. 

“huuh, mister – shit, i need it.” you speak whispers breathlessly. 

“yeah? you need it, baby?” he brings his focus to your pathetic expression, pushing and curling two fingers into your cunt. you moan out and watch, feel, as his fingers pump in and out of you. his hands are skilled as they break you open little by little. “sweet girl with a needy cunt, must’ve hit the fuckin’ jackpot.” your clit throbbing as you watch him grope himself and ease his own ache through the white towel. 

“c’mon, please sir.” you tap the side of his waist with your heeled foot. 

“patience, girl.” he pulls his fingers out and pats your vulva a few times before pulling your body close to his. his hand finally, finally pulling down the towel. the thing that kept distracting you from nights of sleep now dripping pre just above your heat. he gives himself a couple of strokes, long and heavy as your body begged, driving yourself closer ‘til your ass was almost off the bed. 

“shh shh.” he rubs his wet tip against your folds as you start begging quietly, your slits sloppily kissing. he groans when your cunt flutters, pushing himself into the first tight muscle.

you writhe at the sudden burn, making you mewl ever-so quietly. 

“be a good girl f’me.” he presses a hand on your lower stomach in comfort before moving his hips forward with no intent of stopping until he’s bottomed out. you moan long whines and grind your body down to try and get more, the stretch already burning. “fuck, goddamn it.” the warmth you bring him is unmatched, all he can think about is how hot you feel.

“fuck me – wan’ more.” you clench down and get a moan out of him. his hands hold down onto your plush thighs as he rocks back and forth into you, your folds swallowing him whole everytime. your throat burns at the way you choke out whimpers, drool seeping from the sides of your plump lips. “what’s your company g’na think of you now, hmm? director of the – fuckin’ writing department– their smart girl’s gotta fuck it all up cause she couldn’t resist some cock.” his hips start to fasten and he keeps a tight grip on your legs, your pretty, fucked out, face stays red. “‘s okay, pretty. you ain’t gotta say nothing, jus’ take it like the dumb girl you are and i’ll forget about all the mean little things you said, mhm?” 

“uh-huh.” your head’s spinning from the grinding he’s now doing, the underside of his cock rubbing back and forth and back and forth on the rough spot inside of you. your thighs tremble as you feel yourself getting close. you get louder and hiccup about how good it is.

“ya – yesyesyes please awh fuck,” your hands groping at the back of your neck and the hard nipples of your breast as you arch your back off of the white sheets, “coming – oh god kin’ i’m gonna come, come. thank you thank you…!” the hard waves of heat and fuzziness take up what seems to be your entire body as you cream all over the base of his cock, hakari still pumping himself inside, riding your release out. “god, fuck, baby. stay still.” eagerly, he takes his hard-on out and jerks himself above your mound before coming straight, hot lines of cum onto your stomach. 

he pants, “you wanna talk to me about my morals?”

“jesus fuck. shut the fuck up.” 

[anaslair]

Hiii, I wanted to give the match ups a try cause why not. I go by she/her and prefer to be matched with a male character, I’m also underaged. Oh and I’d prefer to be a demigod, personally I think I’d be the daughter of Hestia or maybeee Hephaestus or Apollo, idrk 😭. Anywaysss, about me. I loveee music/art/film, really anything creative, like I have a deep appreciation for them and artists. I actually used to go to a performing arts school. I also love nature and appreciate that as well. Like, I love going on hikes when I can and even just looking at the beauty of the nature wherever I am. I’m not really much of a sports person, like I love playing but I wouldn’t do anything professionally. I do martial arts though, which is definitely a biggg passion of mine. As a person, although it doesn’t necessarily feel like it to me, sometimes I’m pretty sure I’m fairly outgoing, at least more than other people I know. But I’m also the type of person to really open up and become more social and talkative the more you get to know me. Oh and final thing, I think I’m pretty books smart but not very streets smart, if you know what I mean. 😀 Anywayssss thanks for reading all of this if you did, it’d be really cool to hear back from you!! 🫶🫶

OKAY HEAR ME OUT!! HEAR ME OUT ON THIS ONE!!!!!!!!!!!

So, it’s not that well known, but Hestia is actually one of the virgin godesses of Olympus (like Artemis and Athena). But!!! We COULD pretend she has kids like Athena does 👀 ✨just because she wants to✨

Like, Athena’s kids come from her mind… maybe Hestia’s could come from her heart? Like figuratively maybe? She’s the goddess of hearth & home so it could kind of make sense? Pls bear with me this will go rlly well with who I’m matching you with so let’s just go with it 🤓

Also the nature thing UGHHH, I always had this head cannon that Percy became a bit of a nature activist after witnessing Pan’s death 😩😩😩 Anyway let’s get to it, I really hope you like this 🫶

Tysm for requesting!!! Have a great day <3

I match you with…

Percy Jackson!!

-Disclaimer-

The requester is a minor and so is Percy at this stage of the books!!

After the second titan war ended, Percy started to value some things way more than he did before it all went down

Not to say he was an ungrateful person, far from it. Percy really did have a heart of gold and often put his loved ones above his own personal needs. Loyalty was his fatal flaw after all

But there was just some things he felt he didn’t pay much attention to before the war, like Hestia for example. The goddess practically lived on camp grounds and he barely even acknowledged her before she saved him when he needed it the most, reminding him what was most important when everything was falling apart during the war

Or Pan. the god of the wild had practically died in front of him, telling him and his friends that the future of nature, of the world they lived in was actually in their hands. Everyone had to do their part for it to survive

He had to pay them back somehow, honor them

So that’s why he was THRILLED when the first Hestia kid arrived on camp after he made the gods promise they would claim all of their kids and send them to camp Half Blood, where all of the gods would have cabins for their descendants

This was his chance to pay back Hestia for her help!! So he promptly asked Chiron to mentor the new girl and teach her what she needed to know about self defense and sword fighting, since she was practically his age and had to survive until now with the mortals without proper training

In fact, how did you manage to do that anyway?

He didn’t really know, but he felt he was the best man for the job. His sword fighting skills were unmatched, only bested by Luke’s

So, not gonna lie. He was kind of waiting to show off his skills on your first lesson and help you with whatever you needed

He told you he would first show you some hand to hand combat moves before y’all could move on to sword fighting, to which you shrugged it out, being cool with it

Too cool even, you seemed super comfortable with it 🧐

“Okay. First, I’ll come at you slowly and you can try and stop the blow however you feel is right. This will be kind of a warm up to start things off. But don’t worry, I won’t actually hurt you, if you feel uncomfortable in any way, please let me know okay?” He said, smiling kindly at you while taking an offensive stance

You nodded, waiting for him to start

He slowly swung at you, being careful to not scare you out

Imagine how completely and utterly bamboozled he was when he found himself lying on the ground, the arm he swung at you now twisted and pressed on to his back, just enough to keep him on the ground

He was like 🧍‍♂️

And you were like 😄 so what’s next?

Bro what the fuck

That was honestly so impressive that when you offered a hand to help him get back to his feet, his cheeks where slightly flushed

He cleaned his throat, fixing his camp Half Blood necklace back into place

“Okay so I guess you’ve got that part covered” He said, giving you his signature sarcastic smirk

You let out a small laugh in response, explaining to him that you actually loved martial arts and that stuff came easy to you

He was completely fascinated, asking you to help him better his hand to hand combat skills after you guys finished

That was the start of a kind of chaotic friendship between the two of you. You helped him better himself in your area while he gave you sword fighting lessons

You weren’t really a fan of it but Percy was so talented and so patient while teaching you that you were winning sparring duels in no time

Y’all were a power duo in capture the flag for sure. You knocked people out and Percy wouldn’t let anyone get even slightly near you with riptide

You knew some strategies in theory from some books you had read and Percy knew how to put them into action

Iconic

You quickly developed a strong bond, getting closer and closer to each other every day

You always ranted to him about art in general, he didn’t really understand most of the things you told him but he always listened attentively, even memorizing some of your favorite artists to get you stuff related to them when he went home for the school year

You often hanged out by the lake, you absolutely loved how it looked when the sun hit it just right, with the trees reflected on it

One time, Percy took you to the bottom of it, putting an air bubble around you both so you could see how beautiful it was underwater

Your eyes shone bright at the view, but you frowned as soon as you saw a couple of plastic wrappers at the bottom

You asked Percy to lower the bubble so you could collect them and properly throw them out at the surface

That made Percy stare at you with such intensity and admiration that you wondered just what the hell you had done to get him looking at you like that

You avoided his eyes, ears tinted red

It was no secret that you had developed feelings for him, he was so sweet and kind

You wondered if he felt the same

Suddenly, his warm hand met yours as he slowly interlaced your fingers together

You looked at him, eyes wide

The smile on his face made his intentions pretty clear

[mister-mickey]

Descendants two time 😈

Okay so new characters!

Tim Hook, Angela Hook, and Curly Hook! Captain Hook had three annoying brats, hated them so so much, and then eventually was kicked off of his own damn boat by them. Luckily he managed to traumatize them before that so they’re crazy lol. Tim’s lost an eye, Angela lost a HAND and has a hook, and curly is just a bit crazy perhaps

Also, lady Tremaine’s grandchildren! M&M and Cathy who help run her hair salon. They’re both chill, but M&M is so desperate to live in auradon. He can’t help but dream about it. Cathy has other things in her mind. Namely, a certain lady pirate. Angela is mean as hell but Cathy knows she can control it I guess. There’s someone for everyone.

So basically, everyone is kind of used to auradon at this point. Darry and Paul are slowly developing their relationship, twobit and Marcia are getting to know each other (not dating yet, they can’t seem to have that conversation yet). Belle and Adam have kind of adopted pony, soda, and Darry atp because Darry is dating Paul. (And because their dad sucks)

Everyone is doing pretty well, Darry is a bit insecure in his relationship with Paul because of who his father is basically. He wonders if he is somehow not good enough for Paul. He wonders if Paul also secretly thinks this and looks down on him. This is made even worse because of the cotillion thing (Darry has never even been to a formal event before so he’s freaked)

Everyone is doing okay despite that, except for Dallas. Dally (unlike mal in the movies) doesn’t care about what auradon thinks of him. What he DOES care about however, is his friends. His friends are all acclimating to Auradon and he doesn’t exactly fit in with them anymore. Dally is a bit insecure in his own way, and wonders if maybe he’s stunting them somehow and preventing them from being fully happy in Auradon. He’s dramatic and sneaks back onto the isle with his spell book.

Ofc, the second the gang realizes Dallas is GONE TO THE ISLE they freak out. He’s their family!!! they’re worried about him!!! So the gang plans to go after him.

Then Cherry joins in. Cherry is worried about Dallas. She barely even likes him, but she is committed to making the isle kids feel welcome in auradon. Cherry is under the impression that Dallas thinks he isn’t good enough for auradon (when really he thinks he isn’t good enough for his friends). She makes them take her

Meanwhile, Dallas is chilling! He stops by Tremaine’s hair salon first to try and cause problems now that he’s back on the isle. This is where he sees M&M and Cathy, Lady Tremaine’s grandchildren.

Somehow, he feels bad about stealing from them so he doesn’t and instead lets them cut his hair for him. He’s MAD about the fact that he has a conscience now.

Then Angela comes in, steals their money, and leaves (cue the gross gun scene because Angela has a hook and Cathy has gum. Toxic yuri!!)

M&M is very sad about this and dally figured he belongs in auradon more than he does.

With the rest of the gang and cherry, they’re struggling. They find Dallas, but none of them can get him to come back to auradon! They’re all very sad, cherry especially because she thinks she’s failed. They don’t keep a very close eye on her and she gets snatched up by Angela and curly lmfao. Dallas is pretty annoyed at his gang because wtf did they lose ALL of their street smarts?

Now Dallas has to deal with gay ass Timothy Hook and his gang of (two) pirate siblings.

Ofc, Tim wants fairy godmothers wand and manages to beat Dallas in an arm wrestling content for it. Dallas feels very stupid.

They all go BACK to auradon, gets Steve to make a 3d printed wand, get caught by Marcia who wants to help save cherry!! They run into Paul on their way out, who is a little suspicious of all their sneaking out. Darry tells him they’re camping and gives him a peck before running off.

Back to the isle.

Cherry is trying to convince Tim that he should let her go. Tim says he will NOT be letting her go because he wants to see Dallas squirm while he threatens his gf.

Cherry is grossed out and says that she is NOT DATING DALLAS. Tim is annoyed. Cherry came to the ISLE for Dallas surely there’s something. Cherry fake gags.

Cherry still tries to tell tim that he and his siblings can come to auradon. Tim is getting mad now. Luckily, the gang comes to take Cherry back.

They do the wand/cherry swap and get the hell out of there after a battle between the different sides. What they don’t know is that they were in too much of a rush to leave the isle, dropped Dally’s spell book, and didn’t check to make sure nobody followed them out. Dallas was so caught up in escaping with everyone else taht he forgot taht he ran away lol. When he realizes he’s back in auradon he’s embarrassed. They’re all so happy to have him back and safe and he almost feels bad for running away.

They’re back in auradon, having a blast. Darry is still incredibly nervous about cotillion, but Dallas might be even more nervous than him because Dallas isn’t even close to ready. They help each other lol

Twobit and Marcia are both feeling confident because of the fight with the pirates and confess to each other. They’re now dating!

At cotillion, Darry waits for Paul to come so that they can dance. Paul comes WITH TIM!!!! Paul introduces Tim to everyone as his new bf. Darry..

Darry doesn’t fall for that for even a second. He suddenly knows how ridiculously unrealistic this is. He KNOWS Paul is crazy for HIM AND HIM ONLY and realizes that Paul has been spelled. He stomps over, elbows Tim out if the way, kisses Paul to break whatever dumbass spell him out on him, then throws tim off of the boat.

Everyone is a little silent. They look overboard and they don’t see Tim. The auradon fellas all think Darry just killed Tim, but the isle kids know that there’s no way Tim would die that easily. Because Darry is dating Paul, he doesn’t face consequences but it certainly does make people wary of him.

They’re all waiting for Tim to show up and kill them in their sleep or something

Anyway just wait until the sketches come 😈

[hopefulromances]

roy kent and 26 <3

#26 All American Bitch by Olivia Rodrigo

"I don't get angry when I'm pissed I'm the eternal optimist I scream inside to deal with it, like, "Ah" Like, "Ah" (Oh my fucking God)"

You were everything Roy Kent wasn't. You were smiley, giggly, full of joy and optimism. You were the new coach for the AFC Women's Team and you were everything someone could want in a figure head. You were great with press, always knew when to smile and laugh, great with fans, always taking time with each person, and great with the girls, you were fucking smart.

He couldn't figure out how you could do all of that and still be so fucking smiley. He thought he would hate you. Keeley kept insisting that he should go out with you, that you would surprise him but Roy just didn't get it.

Then he walked in on you in the boot room.

"FUUUUCCCCKKK," You screamed throwing boots across the room. "GODDAMNIT. FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK."

After a moment, you took a breath, picked up the boots you'd thrown, and turned to leave.

"Well, that was a lot," Roy grunted, quirking an eyebrow.

You yelped when you saw him, throwing a hand over your chest. "Jesus Christ, Kent, you scared me."

Roy threw up his hands. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. Was just- Doesn't matter, are you okay?"

"What me? Oh yeah, great, me, just fine," You chuckled humorlessly. "Just another press conference with stupid fucking questions."

Roy nodded understanding. He hated doing those press conferences. He hated them even more now that he was head coach. He didn't know how Ted did them so easily and how he made the press like him effortlessly.

"I mean who really wants to know what brand of athletic wear I'm wearing, like is that something people truly care about?" You continued, shaking your head.

"Fuck no," Roy agreed. "I don't know how you manage to keep all that-" he gestured to the general area "in all the time."

Now it was your turn to quirk an eyebrow. "I mean have you tried? Roy thought about it for a second. No, he hadn't. Never had to, it was encouraged for him to mouth off to the press. "That's what I though. Here's the thing Coach Kent, if I said half the shit you said to the press, I'd be painted as an ungrateful bitch."

Roy suddenly admired you so much. That smile, that optimistic attitude he'd come to hate was your way of protecting yourself. Roy never had to do that. He couldn't imagine being forced to smile all day every day.

"Sound fucking awful."

"s'fucking stressful is what it is," you agreed with a smile. But this was a real smile. Not the fake one you used for the press but a genuine smile that reached your eyes. Roy liked that smile. "But, anyways, I won't keep you, the boot room is all yours."

You moved to walk past him when he reached out and stopped you.

"If you ever want to, you know, fucking, destress together, I know a great kebab place down the street," he said. Fuck he sounded stupid. But however stupid he sounded you must have liked it cause that smile was back and Roy was practically blinded.

"Sounds like a date, Coach Kent," you quipped. "After training today?"

"Yeah, sure, of course," He answered readily.

"Then I'll see you there."

And you were gone and Roy was left wondering what the fuck had just happened.

[intheticklecloset]

Spirit of the Season (Bungo Stray Dogs)

Primary Universe

Summary: Atsushi stumbles upon Akutagawa while he's out Christmas shopping for his sister and decides to help him get back into the right mindset for the job.

A/N: I wanted a Shin Soukoku Christmas fic really bad, so I wrote one. Tada! This is fic #3 of 4. Enjoy! <3

Word Count: 1,377

~~~

“Can I not walk the streets of Yokohama without running into you of all annoying people?”

The way Akutagawa slowly turned his head to give a wide-eyed glare to Atsushi made sneaking up on him and delivering that line totally worth it. The weretiger bit his lip to keep from laughing out loud at the expression.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” he managed after a moment, pulling himself together. “What are you doing all the way out here?”

Akutagawa blinked at him, then turned his gaze back to the dark, glittering ocean and clear, starry sky above. “Christmas shopping.”

“Really?” Atsushi glanced around, making a show of not seeing anything at all except the scenic overlook they stood on. “I didn’t know there were shops this far away from the street.”

“Quit being a smart aleck,” the darker man snapped. “I’m reconsidering my approach.”

“To Christmas shopping?” Atsushi couldn’t keep the humor from his voice, then frowned as he realized his rival was being serious. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Who…um. Who are you buying for?”

“My sister.” The ‘who else?’ was implied.

“Oh, right. Well…what’s the problem?”

Akutagawa didn’t answer right away. Atsushi took the opportunity to admire the view the mafia executive had sought to use as inspiration. It really was beautiful out tonight. It was cold but not freezing – just enough for them to see their breaths puff out before them. The stars were shining, there were colorful lights all over the city, and a kind of uneasy calm settled between him and the man who’d sworn to kill him one day. Under literally any other circumstances, Atsushi might find it almost romantic.

He shook that thought right out of his head.

“Gin has grown to be a very beautiful young woman. I’m not sure how to buy for someone like that.”

The bluntness of the statement surprised the weretiger. “She’s still your sister, though, isn’t she?”

Akutagawa let out a heavy sigh, turned on his heel, and leaned against the railing of the overlook, shooting a weary glance at the detective. “I can’t believe I’m talking to you about this.”

“I’m just trying to help.”

“Lately she has been seeking ways to feel more feminine in her off time. She never used to. Buying gifts for her has always been easy because she’s an assassin, and I know what assassins like in their arsenal. Especially hers.” The mafia executive blew out a huff of air and looked to the sky. “Now I feel the need to encourage her on this new path, yet…I don’t know how. I know nothing about women or what they like.”

Atsushi took a moment to digest the fact that Akutagawa was speaking to him so openly about his family. “Maybe jewelry?”

“My first thought as well. Yet what I get her should be practical. There’s no use buying her diamonds when she spends most of her time fighting and would never wear it.”

“Right.”

There was silence for a moment before Akutagawa asked, “What would you get Kyouka?”

Atsushi hummed thoughtfully. “Well…I guess I don’t know. She’s younger than your sister, so I’m pretty sure she’d still like stuffed animals and things like that. Maybe. It’s a little different.”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

The detective glanced at his rival, observing how genuinely contemplative and serious he looked. It was clear that he wanted to do something special for his sister, and that warmed Atsushi’s heart on her behalf. He leaned against the railing as well. “You’ll figure it out. Try not to worry so much.”

“I don’t need your pity.”

“I’m not pitying you! I’m telling you you’ve got this. It would probably help you to cheer up a little bit, though. I find it hard to go Christmas shopping when I’m in a bad mood.”

Akutagawa rolled his eyes. “I’m not in a bad mood. I’m trying to take this seriously, weretiger.”

“You can take things seriously and still smile about it,” Atsushi replied, feeling emboldened by the moment they’d just shared without trying to kill each other for once. He reached over and poked the darker man’s ribs.

Akutagawa gasped sharply and jolted away, suddenly standing up straight and glaring full force. “Do not even think about it.”

“It’s not like you can hide it from me now.” The detective flashed him a little smirk. “I know you’re ticklish. You can’t take that away from me.”

The way Akutagawa’s cheeks blossomed red at the accusation surprised Atsushi into silence. Thankfully that stillness also afforded him the sharp perception he needed to realize the man was lunging at him, one fist drawn back and ready to strike.

Atsushi ducked under his punch and grabbed onto his sides, squeezing hard. “Gotcha!”

Akutagawa sputtered and grabbed a fistful of the weretiger’s hair just before he was lifted off his feet and thrown unceremoniously over Atsushi’s shoulder, fingers still wiggling in his sides and forcing deep, raspy giggles from him that he would deny until the end of time.

“This ought to get you into the Christmas shopping spirit, Akutagawa!” the detective giggled along with him, pinching and digging and squeezing in quick succession, enjoying every yelp and squeal and kick he got for his efforts. “Tickle, tickle!”

“Put – puhuhuhut me down! Weretihihihiger!” Akutagawa demanded through growling chuckles, pounding a fist on his captor’s back, kicking his legs to try and throw him off-balance.

Atsushi laughed. “Aww, someone’s a little too ticklish, huh? Quit squirming! I want to get to your ribs. That was a good spot last time.”

“Dohohohon’t you dahahare!” Akutagawa barely had time to voice the protest before those tickling fingers wiggled their way up to his lowest ribs, making him choke on his words and bark out a loud laugh before he could manage to slap a hand over his mouth, kicking even more wildly now. “Off! Gehehehehet off!”

“You’re the one over my shoulder, remember?”

“Puhuhuhuhut me dohohohown! I swehehehehear – weretiger! No, dohon’t – quit thahahahat!”

“What’s that? Don’t quit?” Atsushi finally managed to get his fingers into the groove between Akutagawa’s bottom ribs, more than a little satisfied when the man froze in his efforts to escape, laughter bursting out of him beyond his control at the tiniest hint of pressure. “There we go. Does it tickle bad here, Akutagawa?”

“WERETIGER!!” The mafia executive’s tone had shifted into something resembling pleading now, his fist pounding weaker against Atsushi’s back, turning more into a kind of tapping out gesture. “STOHOHOHOHOHOP!!”

Atsushi decided he’d probably pushed his luck enough for one day and relented, gently setting Akutagawa back on his feet. Akutagawa immediately shoved away from him, arms curling across his torso as he dissolved into a coughing fit.

It was only then that the weretiger realized he wasn’t just coughing to cover up any leftover giggles, as he’d suspected the first time. He’d genuinely had trouble breathing being tickled like that, and with his condition…

Before he could begin to feel badly about it, Akutagawa straightened again and clenched his fists, glaring daggers at him. A beat passed, then he thrust his hands into his coat pockets and started walking, brushing past Atsushi without a word, and the detective was positive this particular interaction was over.

But then Akutagawa stopped in his tracks and muttered over his shoulder, “You can follow if you want.”

Atsushi couldn’t hide the way those words made him beam from ear to ear if he wanted to.

By the time the night was over and they parted ways, Atsushi got to witness one more holiday miracle besides actually having a civil conversation with Akutagawa and getting to tickle him without dying afterward. In the third shop they visited, he watched as Akutagawa’s eyes suddenly lit up and he went straight for a simple pendant with a violet dragon etched into it – something that seemed very fitting for Gin, even to Atsushi.

It was jewelry, but practical. Something that could be worn under her work clothes without fear of shattering at the tiniest movement.

Akutagawa was satisfied, and Atsushi was happy to have been able to help – even if that help was simply getting his rival back into the spirit of the season with something as straightforward as a little laughter.

[spacedace]

Here, have a snippet of the Jason & Steph sibling bonding portion of the DP x DC AU I wrote 10k words for since last night in a haze of post sickness/burnout creative burst, featuring some Anger Management because of course it does lol

(I call it a snippet but it’s like...3k words lol)

Trigger Warnings because most of this snippet focuses on them running around Crime Alley and shit that goes down in it: references to drugs, overdoses, domestic abuse, child endangerment (if I miss anything let me know and I’ll add it). Nothing expliciet or details but they are things mentioned as happening because, well, Crime Alley.

-

Spoiler shifts subtly from foot to foot on the rooftop, hands open and ready at her side as she split her attention from watching him and checking the street below for signs of trouble. Her gaze was sharp on the girls working the corner, tracking for any hint that the man talking them up was making any of them uncomfortable even as she made sure Jason didn’t suddenly dart across the ten feet between them to strike out at her.

“George Conrad.” He said, satisfied that his sudden breaking of the silence didn’t make her jump though did catch her attention fully, fingers twitching warningly towards her belt. He nodded his head down to the street and the large man rummaging through the bag he brought with him. More of the girls had huddled up around him. “Not a john. Not even from Gotham.” He explained, shifting to walk over to the edge of the roof, giving her his back as he did. “His son Kyle ran away from home while George was oversees and ended up working the streets. George tracked him down once he was back in the states a few years ago but by the time he made it here Kyle had been killed.”

She moved to join him at the ledge, still leaving space between them but not enough for his guns to be as effective. Smart, vigilant, but still with a soft enough heart to stop and listen to one of the many tragedies that played out in Gotham’s darkest streets.

“What happened?” She asked, eyes softening on the big man in question as he started handing out ziploc bags. Jason knew very well what they held, and wondered if Spoiler could make out the finer details from the distance they were at. Sandwiches, granola bars, water bottles, condoms, clean needles, wet-wipes, little travel sewing kits, over the counter pain meds. Anything and everything George had ever been told would be appreciated or useful by the sex workers he spoke to.

“Overdose.” Jason answered, grateful that the distorter built into his helmet disguised the tightness of his voice. Memories of a cold body on the floor, stiff and waxy with distant glassy eyes. “Got mixed up with the wrong person. Boyfriend. Not a big player but,” He shrugged and knew that Spoiler would understand. It was how a lot of people got mixed up in sex work when they wouldn’t have normally. Boyfriend that promised the world, the painful fall into being pressured to sleep with said boyfriend’s friend, then another, then another. “One of Daisy’s boys was a neighbor and figured out what was going on, Daisy helped get him out but it was too late by then.”

Below one of the girls, younger than the rest - an adult, because he wouldn’t allow anything else in his territory, but still new to the scene - surged forward to wrap her arms around the old man. George gave her a gentle pat on the back, pushing her back gentle to dig out a card from his pocket. A list of numbers for her to call, shelters and organizations that could help, his own number in case she ever needed anything. “They chipped in for a funeral for him. Gave George somewhere to go and mourn. He’s been here ever since, trying to look after them all. He works as a bouncer at Daisy’s these days but he always does the rounds when he isn’t working.”

“People never get this part.” Spoiler mused, voice going soft and distant. “They always think the Alley is just…” She waved a gloved hand, “Trash and monsters. They can’t seem to get that there’s more. Just…people. Some really good ones even.”

He smiled behind his mask. There was a reason she was the one of the whole Bat Clan he’d decided to trust with this.

“Come on.” He said, waving her after him as he began an easy run that’d let them both move easily from rooftop to rooftop. Spoiler hesitated a moment, but at length followed, quick and quiet as she darted from shadow to shadow in his wake.

They spent the following couple of hours meandering around Crime Alley at an easy clip. Squat roofs and rusted fire escapes, narrow streets and dark corners. Pausing to jump in and handle anything that popped up or at particular spots of interest where he’d point out places and people. The chop shop run by the ragged gang of teens and children some of the gangs had been angling towards that needed looking after. The homeless encampment nestled between the grimy apartment building Daisy O’Neil had taken over to run her business out of and the tiny, almost forgotten pauper’s cemetery. The usual roosting spots for the drug dealers, the gambling dens, the little family owned cafe that had the best Tantuni at midnight and even better Turkish coffee at the crack of dawn.

It was as they perched on top of this last one, tucked back in the shadows away from view as Spoiler devoured the freshly made Lokma that Mrs. Solak insisted on making fresh for them when they stopped by that the question finally came.

“So what exactly is all this?” Spoiler asked, popping another of the sugary, honey covered Lokma in her mouth. He’d shoved the container Mrs. Solak had given to him over to her after eating only a few, knowing she was going to try to steal them anyway if he didn’t. “When you said you needed my help with something in Crime Alley, I was expecting…I don’t know, drug runners or something.” She popped another golden dough ball in her mouth, cheeks round as a chipmunk and voice muffled as she said, “Not a tour of the place.”

Jason let his head fall back on the brick of the rooftop entrance behind them, eyes scanning the glittering horizon of the Gotham skyline, trying to sort out his answer. He had talked about how he was going to do this with Jazz, practicing what he was going to say, what he wanted to reveal, what outcomes he could expect from the whole thing. When he left he’d felt confident about it all, riding high on the warmth of Jazz’s kiss and the fluttering thumps of little legs kicking against his hand. Now that he was here though he felt lost as to how to begin.

“I’m hanging up the mask.” He finally said. It wasn’t quite like the first time he’d said it out loud, in the privacy of his apartment, curled in bed with Jazz, only brave enough to whisper it in the dark. There wasn’t that rush of anxiety and relief that had hit him at finally saying what had twisted over and over in his head for weeks leading up to that moment. Now there was just the settled feeling, the certainty, the surety of being on the path he wanted to be on. “I wanted to ask if you’d look after my territory me when I do.”

Spoiler gaped at him. “Wait, seriously?”

He almost laughed, he settled on giving her a lazy smile. “Seriously.”

With her masked pulled down so she could eat her treats he could see her wide eyed, disbelief on her face easily. “Why?”

He gave a shrug, aiming for nonchalant. “This used to be your territory for awhile, right? You’re from here, you know the Alley and the people and how it all works.” He felt his smile go softer, “I trust you to be able to keep it safe.”

Spoiler’s - Steph’s - expression softened at that. “That’s…thank you.” She glanced out the same way he had before, face caught in something bittersweet. “I…I hated this place growing up. I still do, kinda. I think everyone that lives here does. But I still missed it, it’s still…still home.”

“Yeah,” He agreed, mind turning over his childhood. The constant fear and hardship. Living rough even when he did have a roof over his head. His father’s heavy hands. His mother’s slow wasting. Crime Alley was a complete shit hole, one where the worst of the worst tended to gather. But it wasn’t all monsters. There were good people too, just trying to scrape by. Old George wandering the streets handing out necessities to working girls and boys. The Solak family and their little shop, giving out the left overs to the street kids and homeless. The Nightingales, crammed into their two bedroom apartment, just trying to get by. “I knew you’d get it.”

They sat in silence for awhile. Steph chewing over his request and her Lokma, Jason lost in memories of the past and wistful dreams of the future. At length the blond next to him bumped his shoulder with hers, head tilting at a questioning angle. “I…I really appreciate what you said, about why me.” She said, awkward and touched in equal measure. “But…I was actually wondering why you were stepping back.”

He was ready for that question, he was. He’d initially just wanted to leave it at none of your fucking business but Jazz had - wise as ever - pointed out that he was asking her a favor, and a big one at that. He might not be comfortable with the rest of his family knowing everything - or anything - but Steph at least deserved an explanation as to why he was asking her to take over his territory.

“You tell anyone this, and I will kill you.” He started and then cringed internally because that had not at any point been something that had come up in his practice conversations with Jazz. Oh well, any more ooie-gooey feelings talk and Steph probably would have thought he was replaced by a pod person or something. “I’m seeing someone.”

The faintly alarmed look the blond vigilante beside him had melted away in an instant, replaced by a sly, mischievous grin. Hellion. One whiff of gossip and that’s all it took. “Ooooh, Big Bad Red Hood has a heart after all.” She crooned, ignoring her earlier reticence to get too close and leaning dramatically against his side. “Who is it huh? Anyone I know? Ooh, is it someone in the Outlaws?”

He was reminded of before he died, suddenly. Of teasing Dick over his latest crush over a beautiful red head that could kick his ass like a proper annoying little brother. In an echo of that moment so many years ago, he shoved Spoiler off in the same way Dick had done to him, rolling his eyes at her dramatic squawking as she nearly dropped her treat to disguise the small smile that wanted to curl at his lip. He swiped at the container lazily, a feint at stealing it back that resulted in a brief scuffle that ended with him popped a few of the Lokma in his mouth as she tore the container - that he had given to her in the first place - away, holding it close to her chest like a precious treasure.

“No, no one you know.” He answered at last they finally settled down. He paused for a beat, gaze turning back to the city as he added. “She’s a civilian.”

Spoiler looked considering at that, chewing at one of the last of the Lokma thoughtfully. “So what’s going on then? You do a face reveal and she asked you to quit the vigilante business?”

“No.” He said, taking a small, steadying breath. Better to just rip off the bandaid. “She’s pregnant.”

Spoiler went still beside him, laughing eyes shuttering and face falling into a neutral mask as she stared at him. After a long, long moment she gave a small, unreadable little, “Oh.”

Jason fought the urge to fidget. Oh. It could mean so many things. Oh shit. Oh no. Oh how nice. Oh boy I can’t wait to tell Bruce about this. That last one, admittedly, was unlikely. Spoiler was on good terms with most of the Bats and Birds but she and Bruce had long had something of a rocky relationship. No where near as bad as what he and the old man had, but still enough that she was probably the very last person to willingly go hunt Bruce down to share all the details of Jason’s private life unless she thought it particularly necessary.

The silence stretched on. And Jason knows what silence does to a human brain. Four seconds of quiet during a conversation after saying something registers as rejection, caused feelings of anxiety and apprehension, even caused the same signals in the brain as physical pain. Prolonged silence and steady attention at the same time caused an urge to fill the quiet, to speak and keep speaking until the other person says something. It was something Bruce taught him, guiding him along in his Robin days on how to perform interrogation and get the person they were questioning to spill their guts.

He was taught too how to outlast that silence in situations where he was being questioned. Both by Bruce and by the League - though the interrogations that he was meant to resist under their teachings had far more than long awkward silences to contend with. He knew how to clamp down on that instinctive drive to keep talking when faced with stillness like this.

And yet, somehow he could stop himself.

“I just…I think about being a kid and my dad going to work,” He said the word with appropriate amount of vitrol, “And then never coming back. Him dying in jail and it just being me and my mom trying to scrape by. Or…or with Bruce. Knowing that I was always going to place second to the Rogues and the city. I just…” His head dropped back on the brick behind him, eyes closed and throat tight. “I can’t do that to my kid. I’m going to be there. I’m going to make sure they’re safe and happy and that they don’t ever have to worry about if their old man is coming home or not.”

It was a nightmare he’d been having, since the morning he and Jazz crowded over a couple of pregnancy tests and saw the results. Dying out in the gutter and shambling home as a ghost to see the grief he left behind. Jazz crying, a child who’s features he could never make out standing in the doorway the way he would stand at the entrance of the cave when he was too injured to go out with Batman. Waiting in painful silence and burning tears to find out that his father was dead.

“I’m not…I’m not cutting out of the life completely.” He said, trying to focus past the squeezing in his chest, trying to force the conversation back into a conversation rather than him just pouring his bleeding heart out to a blank wall. “I’m going to talk to Babs, see if she’d be alright with me helping with some of what she does, or get something similar setup solely for the Alley. I’m going to keep tabs with my guys on what’s going on and work with them that way. And if there’s anything big, obviously you guys can call me in, I’m not just going to sit back if there’s a city wide threat or worse, I just - “

There were arms around him, suddenly. Warm and strong as they wrapped around him, a face pressed into his shoulder, his nose tickled by blond hair.

He sat there, frozen for a long moment before slowly, lifting his own arms to return the hug. Steph gave him an encouraging squeeze. “I get it.” She said, voice whisper soft and almost lost as she spoke into the leather of his jacket. “I think…I think if I’d been older, if I was more able to keep her…I think I would have done the same thing.” There was a faint sniff as she finally pulled away. She wasn’t crying, but her eyes were bright with tears. “I’m happy for you.” She moved to gently head butt him, “And I’m honored to take over watching over this shithole of ours.”

Jason gave a watery laugh, not even caring that he was crying as he scrubbed away some of the tears that had burned down his cheek. “Thanks Blondie. Steph.”

She rocked back on her heels, arms crossed as her expression turned suddenly serious. “I do have one condition though.” At his look the seriousness melted away into an exuberant grin. “I want to meet this mystery woman of yours. Wait!” She brightened, “Two conditions! I want to be there when you finally tell B and the rest! I am not missing the look on their faces when you tell them!”

He rolled his eyes and shoved her, sending her tumbling into the container of Lokma and sending the remaining fried dough balls rolling across the grungy roof. Steph squawked, dropping to her knees before the thoroughly ruined sweets as dramatic as if it was her one true love laying dead before her. “They were so young, so innocent!” She wailed, throwing her head back as if to howl at the sky in mourning before snapping back to him, finger pointing at him accusatory. “You! This is your fault! I will have my vengeance!”

The rest of the night was spent darting from rooftop to rooftop in an echo of the game of tag he used to play with Dick and Babs years ago. Tackling each other and fighting without actually aiming to do real damage. Only pausing to jump down to the street or through a window here and there to knock some heads together.

By the time he was heading to the Dead Man’s Hand so he could walk Jazz home - or whisk her off to his safehouse, if he was lucky and she was able to duck her siblings for the day - he felt lighter. Steph would look after the Alley, the people he protected. He’d work with her over the next few months, get her integrated with his lieutenants and make sure she was familiar with the ins and outs of his little slice of Gotham, make sure she was as ready as she could be to take over for him.

[princelylove]

My Prince,

If it would be to your liking, would you share your personal intelligence rankings, which you spoke of in the tags of a previous request, to the court?

Thank you, Your Highness.

Intelligence is classified by your ability to apply things you already know and the skills you already have. You can be bright but slow, or a quick thinker but lack experience. There's many things to take into account when talking about intelligence. This may not make sense, as I am a bit loopy from switching meds recently.

Loosely:

Giorno is obviously at the top. I think it's criminal that his intelligence is listed as a B on his stats. Giorno doesn't slack in any of the things I understand intelligence to be, he applies absolutely everything he has and somehow never misses. Giorno spent his entire childhood figuring social etiquette out the hard way, he's hard wired to figure out what to do and not to do as quickly as possible. To Giorno, survival means being the best of the best. Has he always been absolutely perfect? No. Has he always bounced back? Yes.

Trish is fairly young, it's a bit unfair to put her up against grown men. She takes after her father in many ways- one being how clever she is. She may not understand stands yet, or why she couldn't just stay home and never go out again, but she's very quick to adapt. Trish did well in high school, she had a high gpa and did lots of extracurricular activities, which just means that she's a hard worker. Her ability to adapt and her natural curiosity is what leads me to believe that she's on the higher end, it's just that she lacks experience pre canon. Post canon, she's a force to be reckoned with. A Trish that understands how to fully use her stand, how to do what her father did and make someone disappear entirely, and how to manipulate the public so they think her kidnapping victim lovely darling is on tour with her is a very dangerous Trish indeed. If this is strictly pre-canon, bump her down to the middle-lower end.

Some people may not like Guido being in the top three, but I'm fairly firm on it. Guido's a quick thinker and has managed to stay alive for this long. Does he understand things like infections and germs? Not really. Could he, if you explained it to him? Sure. Guido's street smart- he never went to college, but he reads a lot. He's a curious guy! If something interests him, he'll look into it. He's got great instincts and a ridiculous amount of luck, which isn't intelligence, but often will help him figure out what's going on. He checks for Sale's shadow under a truck, he yells at Narancia for not telling him the stove was on and it wasn't safe to fire his revolver. He knows what he's doing, even if it seems like he's just fucking around until something clicks. That's kinda scientific theory, isn't it? Fuck around and find out? Yeah, he gets it.

Pannacotta... the author Her Highness does not believe in IQ tests, as most people who claim to have a high IQ got it off of some online test made to stroke the quiz taker, but I believe Pannacotta is very intelligent. He's just not socially intelligent, which bumps Trish and Guido above him. He left behind his prissy, rich lifestyle in favor of being homeless for a little while before Bruno found him- he's left behind most manners and forgotten most unspoken rules. In this case, Trish and Guido outdo him. What worth does purely academic intelligence have if you cannot apply it, and it has nothing to do with the situation? Pannacotta is intelligent, but he isn't creative enough to apply what he has. Who makes a vaccine on the spot like that?????? If he wasn't so in his head all the time, he'd probably be a lot scarier. I mean, who thinks to put capsules in things you're not supposed to be touching anyway?

I think it's a bit silly to put Bruno so low when he is, in fact, an adult with a fully developed prefrontal cortex. I don't think Bruno is unintelligent at all, he's a man of average intelligence for his age. He's only so low because everyone above him is not average, even if they pretend to be. An older, more mature Pannacotta would have him in too many categories for comfort. Guido has him in reaction time and blind instinct, and while some may argue that isn't intelligence, it's applying what you've got. Bruno can be a little slow at times mentally, but never in combat. He pauses to make decisions that would take Giorno a split second. He makes mistakes that, although he makes up for later on, he still makes in the first place. He's formidable- he has experience and knows how to use it, but he's not very creative.

Narancia's not all there all of the time. It's not fair to say Narancia's stupid because he isn't good at math or academics in general, you can be smart and have weaknesses. But not Narancia. He's a little lacking. He doesn't try to make up for it at all, but he's figured some things out that he definitely shouldn't have before, saving him from dead last. Narancia has some crazy instincts, but he doesn't really know what to do with them. Instincts don't equal intelligence, but it helps. He'll take credit for anything you're willing to blame on him- FUCK yeah he figured out you're trying to escape 'cause you left some shit on the table. (He felt it in his tummy and got anxious that you're leaving him.)

Leone went through some schooling, but he barely passed. You could always argue that he was too depressed to do his work, but I personally don't believe so. Leone's slow and prone to picking the hard way- not because he's a masochist, but because he's been living off of going "Well, one of these is right." for the past three years. He's just happy he finally got a stable job. His instincts are terrible, his reaction time is shit, he has very slow realization in general- the list goes on. Does that mean you're getting off easy? Nope. He's still taller, and stronger. Doesn't take a lot of brains to pin someone, especially when it's muscle memory. Leone can bump himself up over Narancia eventually, but only because Narancia is emotionally stunted. You have him in the emotional maturity (aha. Leone and emotional maturity?) category, and what else? Get a grip. Leone knows how to do more- makeup and cosmetics is a skill, so is media literacy- but Nara's got him in reaction time, realizing that dots do in fact connect, and learning how to put you in your place at a faster rate.

[dreamerfms]

[ … ] ❀ you’re not from around here , are you? i figured because you totally just missed { cassius alder } walking by. don’t tell me you don’t know who { he/himm } is ? they kind of look like { callum turner } and i could be wrong but i think that they might be { thirty-three } years old right now. they’ve been living in palmview for the last { six months }. and i don’t know if anyone has ever told them this before but they kind of remind me of { patrick verona } from { 10 things i hate about you }. if you stick around the town long enough you might catch them in action working at { - } as a { construction worker }. you see this town isn’t really that big of a place, some folks like to call them the { broken compass } of palmview! they took a liking to the name too after a while, go figure. oh crap, they must have heard me yapping. they’re coming this way. i got to warn you though, rumor has it they can pretty { reactive } at times. i wouldn’t take it too seriously though, from the times i’ve spoken to them they seemed pretty { protective } to me. we see each other all the time since they live in that { 2 } apartment beside me over in { mango bay }. i better leave you to it.

full name : cassius alder birthplace : chicago, illinois date of birth : november 15th, 1998 parentage : lennox alder, catriona young sibling(s) : younger sister occupation : construction worker relationship status : single gender identity : cis male ( he/him ) sexual orientation : pansexual faceclaim : callum turner

BACKGROUND

TRIGGER WARNINGS : ABUSE, VIOLENCE, DRUGS AND SUICIDE, please avoid reading if this triggers you in anyway <3

cassius grew up in the gritty neighborhoods of southside chicago, where survival was a daily struggle. his parents never married, and by the time he was old enough to remember, they’d already split. he had one sister, three years younger, and despite the chaos surrounding them, cassius managed to stay out of trouble— at least for a while. he lived with his mother until he was fifteen, but when she moved in with a new boyfriend, everything changed. cassius never got along with the guy, and the feeling was mutual. up until that point, cassius had been a good kid— smart, driven, with a future that seemed promising. but when he moved in with his father, things took a turn. his father, a well-known drug dealer with a violent reputation, quickly pulled cassius into his world. what started as running errands for his father — driving him to collect debts — soon escalated. cassius found himself selling weed, cocaine, and sometimes harder drugs. the money was fast, but so were the consequences. his grades dropped, and with it, any hope for a future outside of the streets. what had once seemed like a promising path now felt more like a trap. a few weeks before his high school graduation, cassius discovered bruises on his younger sister. it didn’t take long to realize her stepfather was the cause. filled with rage, cassius confronted the man. the situation ended with him arrested for aggravated battery, and he was sentenced to three years in prison. this was just the first of many run-ins with the law. this stint in prison would prove difficult for cassius. whilst he kept mainly to himself, his fathers name brought as much unwanted attention as it did useful connections. during this stint, his cellmate would also take his own life. cassius would be the one to find him. the image and feeling like he could have done more has haunted him terribly ever since. after prison, cassius had little to rely on. no diploma, no skills, and nothing but his father’s business to fall back on. he went back to the game, this time handling bigger operations. but at 25, he was arrested again, this time for possession of a class a drug— something he’d been holding for his father. his time in prison gave him a chance to reflect. he used it to build skills, learn a trade and plan for a way out. after his release, he got a job in construction, but took on side gigs as a getaway driver to make extra cash. eventually, he realized he didn’t want to be part of that life anymore, because it had never been his choice in the first place. at thirty-two, cassius thought he was done with the past. but life had other plans. he got caught up in a bar fight, blamed for it because of his criminal record, and landed back in jail for a couple of months. this was the final straw. he was determined to change, to get out for good. now, approaching his thirty-fourth birthday, cassius has relocated to palmview, florida, to live with his cousin and make a fresh start. palmview isn’t unfamiliar to him— he had spent several summers there as a kid, visiting family to escape the chaos of home. it was a peaceful place, far from the streets he’d known. now, it feels like the opportunity he’s been waiting for. a place that offers a chance to rebuild, but cassius knows that the shadows of his past will follow him no matter where he goes. still, he’s determined to leave that life behind. for the first time in years, he has hope that this time, he can make it work.

headcannons

during his stints in prison he developed a love of reading, and discovered he's rather talented artistic-wise, often finds himself sketching to pass time and quieten his mind.

cassius is an extremely skilled driver.

despite the trouble being his fathers son has caused him, the two are still extremely close. cassius loves his dad, but knows for his own sake distance is necessary. being around the other makes it too easy to slip back into old habits.

cassius doesn't speak to his mother at all, but he hopes one day she'll see sense and leave her boyfriend. his door is always open to her.

it takes a lot for him to be loyal to someone, but once he is nothing will break it. if he has your back, he'll have it forever.

wanted connections

his sister — I’ll eventually get around to putting this as a wc on the main. but this is by far the most important relationship in his life, and her thriving makes everything he's gone through worth it to him. his cousin — they're his best friend, the one person that really knows him. bonded since childhood, they're the main reason he visited palmview for so many summers in a row. reoccurring fling — so far there is nothing more to it than two people looking for temporary distraction. due to some of the things he's seen in prison, cassius can often suffer from night terrors, this person could potentially be aware of this. past summer fling — a summer romance that lasted the span of his summertime visits, this person would have had to have been in palmview for at least twenty years and be of a similar age to him. ex — we'd have to figure out the when and how, as it would not have been in palmview, but i would love someone who loved him even when he was going down a wrong path, and who he genuinely tried to be better for even though he wasn't capable of following through at the time.

anything and everything <3

c

[yet-another-heathen]

Invasion, Pt. III

1,165 words. Original Work: Luca and Garcia.

<< | Masterpost | >>

Kyle tries to figure out how to stay alive. Part three of a 'choose your own ending' mini-series, feat. one of Liliholm and Page's most notorious whumpers.

Special thanks to @paperprinxe, whose recent interest in the series inspired me to continue! Your enthusiasm is contagious <3

TW | aftermath of dog attack, whumper deciding whether or not to murder a 19 yr. old, plus sized whumpee, broken bones (graphic), aftermath of hand whump, nausea, severe injuries, preparing to fight back against your whumper even though it might be the (second) stupidest thing you've ever done in your life

The Girls sat politely, watching him as he paced back and forth. Their faces were still slicked with gore, smears of red painted across the floor beneath them.

He scrubbed a hand through his hair. What the hell was he going to do? It was bad enough to think that some kid was gonna die because they'd signed up for someone else's dirty work. But this one was just some boy off the street. Some chubby little punk who had no clue what he'd been getting himself into.

Fucking hell. Talk about one stupid decision that gets you killed.

But Garcia couldn't just let him go. He made his living doing very, very illegal things for a very important man. One whose name and reputation was everything to him. Anything that could even theoretically get traced back to Mr. Garterrit would land Garcia in deep water. Even telling him that he had a body to get rid of would be enough to earn scrutiny, regardless of whether he had already tied up all loose ends. Leaving someone out there who knew where he lived wasn't even on the table.

Even if the kid was smart enough not to go to the cops, he knew his type. Poor. Overconfident. Desperate to prove himself to anyone and everyone who would listen—especially to the kids who had grown up on the street rather than just on the edge of it.

No. He might be smart enough not to go to the Uniforms, but that didn't mean he'd stay quiet for long. Then not only would this safehouse be compromised, but eventually someone would get wind of what had happened. You didn't do what Garcia did for a living without making yourself enemies. And when they found the kid, they wouldn't hesitate to tear straight through him on their way after Garcia. The boy would end up with a far worse sort of death than he could give him.

There wasn't a choice. Not really. Doing away with him now would save them both the headache. He already knew what he had to do.

So why the hell was he hesitating?

---

Downstairs, Kyle was mindless with pain. The bite wounds were crashing through him in wave after wave of agony, hands already swelling almost to the point of being unable to move. He sobbed as he finally rolled onto his side, and managed to get his broken arm out from underneath him.

As soon as the pressure was gone, his vision went white. He came to gasping and coughing and drooling blood against the dirty concrete floor, weeping so hard he could scarcely breathe.

Fuck. He was gonna die here, wasn't he?

This man was a fucking giant. Kyle stood about as good a chance of beating him in a fight as he did of digging his way out of this basement with his teeth. And yet he still found himself clinging to a refusal to die.

Unless it had fallen out in the dog attack, he still had his switchblade in his back pocket. The only problem was that his hands were so ruined that he wasn't sure he could even hold it, let alone make any use of it.

But he had to try. He had nothing else.

Every single increment of movement was pain. He slowly reached one hand behind himself, fumbling along the seam of his jeans trying to find his pocket. His fingers were so raw and torn that he couldn't feel properly, and at least one finger was bent at a sickly angle where it had been broken during his fall.

Kyle let out gasping, stifled whines as he finally found the lip of his pocket. He managed to work the tip of his finger between the tight layers of denim before remembering he was fishing around in the wrong pocket. The realization made him want to faint. It was on the other side, where he normally would have used his broken arm to reach. He was going to have to work his hand all the way around behind his back to get to it from this angle.

He let his good hand slump to the floor, taking a few long moments to let himself sob. He didn't even bother trying to do it quietly. He'd never been in this much pain in all his life.

He listened to the floorboards creak as the man upstairs paced. Whatever he was, whoever he was, Kyle was so far out of his depth that he couldn't think. Would anyone even find his body? Or was his gran'ma just going to think he'd run off and left her like she'd always been so scared he would?

The thought brought on another blinding wave of tears. He sucked in a few breaths between his teeth, then tried again to reach.

He'd always been a big kid, who carried most of his extra weight around his middle. He'd never cursed those extra few inches more than he did now. After a few more moments of straining to reach without moving his shoulders, he realized he had no choice. He took one hesitant glance down at his broken arm.

It was rotated around itself at a sickening angle, elbow and hand both facing the wrong way. He inhaled sharply and instantly turned away, squeezing his eyes shut. Blood rushed in his ears. His mouth tasted sour. And now that he'd seen it, the pounding, dull pain was even more impossible to ignore. It was all he could do not to throw up.

But he had to. He had to.

So he reached around and positioned his wrist under his broken arm. A few sharp inhales as he tried to gather himself, then he screwed his eyes shut and picked it up.

It was only a short trip to his lap, but every degree that the bone rotated was agony. He nearly dropped it halfway, fumbling it with fingers that couldn't properly close. But he managed to get it the rest of the way into his lap, letting it slip off his wrist with one final twinge.

It was only after he'd finished that his own guttural sounds of pain finally faded back into focus. Dark spots swam around the edges of his vision. His breaths came wet through clenched teeth. And more useless fucking tears were streaming down his face, burning where his left eye was already swollen shut.

Fuck. He didn't want to die down here.

There was another creak just outside the basement door. His heart gave a sickening jolt. It was louder. Closer.

He didn't have time to think. He twisted around, and reached. The handle at the top of the steps turned.

There! He could feel the bulge of the knife through the denim. He crammed his fingers into the pocket, heedless of his injuries, and grasped for the hilt. His bloodied fingers slipped off once. Twice.

Footsteps on the stairs. With one last surge of adrenaline, he got his fingers around the knife hilt.

next | >>

-----

Tag List | @ink-and-salt @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @whumpsical @redwingedwhump @lave-whump @castlehillwhump @sideblogformindtrash

@burtlederp @fanastywhump @whump-in-the-closet @sunshiline-writes @kixngiggles @suspicious-whumping-egg

Love you all <33

[daifukumochiin]

Summary: Sasuke's orderly life at elite Sairiumu Academy is disrupted by the arrival of Hinata, a timid transfer student whose obvious crush on him, a young man dedicated to his craft and his current relationship, stirs unease. (Initial SasuSaku with SasuHina endgame, modern Norse myth AU, high school, angst, romance, photography, postmodern-ish fic). Rated T

LIGHTS,

BOWS, and

MISTLETOES

an entry for SasuHina Month 2024, Day 27 : Forget and Remember

(for peachy-hina, since December)

@sasuhinamonth

ffnet: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14369143/1/Lights-Bows-and-Mistletoes

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57030778

Part 1: Lights

go to Chapter List>

iii

It wasn't a baseless assumption.

Sakura wanted to ride the train home that day. For a magnate's princess like her, the commuter's daily struggle was a novelty.

"Let's hit the rush hour!" she said, eyes gleaming.

Sasuke huffed. "Don't wanna. The last time I was with you during rush hour, you left me at Hashirama’s bridge in the rain, remember?" 

"Oh, come on. That was different. We're taking the train. Forgive and forget, okay?" She pinched his nose playfully. "Don't you love what we have now? Isn't this better than before?"

Sasuke thought about the apartment she got for them. She broke up with him in a fit of rage after losing at an inter-high kyudo tournament. Now they shopped together, visited convenience stores late at night, and went to school holding hands.

"What about the car?" Sasuke asked.

"Park it near the station. We'll get it tomorrow."

Sasuke nodded, impressed. "Getting street smart, are we?"

"Of course," Sakura smiled, poking him in the ribs. "Learned from the best."

"But wouldn’t it be smarter to just drive? I have a lot to do. Plus the laundry—" He didn't mention her lack of help around the house, how that meant he had to squeeze in doing house chores for the both of them amid schoolwork and his creative projects.

"Oh!" Sakura smacked her glossed lips. "Make me one of those omelet rice you made last Sunday!"

"Were you listening?" Sasuke could only sigh and protested no further.

While they waited for the train at the subway station, Sasuke passed the time by observing the other commuters, the play of light and shadow across faces, making diagnoses which club camera he'd use, which lens, and the camera settings. Then a figure briefly caught his attention—a flash of dark indigo hair that stood apart from the muted tones of the crowd.

Hinata Hyuuga.

How had she managed to track them down here?

No Sairiumu student would normally be found in subways mingling with common people.

How long does she intend to keep stalking him?

He has a girlfriend—shouldn't that deter her enough?

Does she know where they live?

He’s had the worst experience with stalkers that do and his parents didn’t even know. They left messages on his window sill and inside the flower pots on his balcony, and he always felt like he was being watched everywhere.

Suddenly, Sasuke's fight-or-flight response went haywire. His pulse quickened as questions swirled in his mind, his fingers turning cold.

"Take one like this."

Sakura's voice snapped him out of it. She embodied a sultry pose with the subtle tilt of her head towards the direction of the incoming train, her eyes appearing soft and drowsy, her lips not fully closed.

"Or perhaps this?" She adjusted her hair, fingers combing through it to the side.

Sasuke looked around but couldn't see Hinata anymore.

"What's the matter?" asked Sakura.

"Nothing."

"You looked spooked."

Sasuke shrugged. "No way."

"Well, if it's nothing, don't miss this chance. Who knows when I'll be in the mood to come down here again? Come on, take a photo." She motioned towards herself.

Sasuke pulled out his phone, adjusting for the best lighting and how shadows fell across Sakura's face as he framed the shot. While he scanned over the details in the background, she hadn’t been noticeable, blending into the bustling crowd waiting on the platform. Only when he zoomed in did he spot Hinata, partially obscured behind Sakura, her presence almost ghostly against the backdrop of the arriving subway train.

More people rushed onto the platform as the rails clattered against the weight of the incoming train. 

Sakura grabbed his phone. 

“Wait—!”

"Not bad. Needs a little editing." Sakura made a face. "Post this on your Dinsta."

"No," Sasuke answered abruptly, regretting it immediately.

"Are you saying it's ugly?" Sakura asked, irritated.

“We need to go."

He grabbed her wrist as they joined into the sweep of the crowd boarding the train. 

The doors shut, the cubicle crammed on every side. Sakura's bright, electrifying peach perfume mixed in with the various other human odors assaulted his nostrils.

"Isn't this romantic?" Sakura giggled, her body fully pressed into him.

"Too hot and too crammed is romantic now?" Sasuke smirked.

The train suddenly jerked, causing Sasuke to step back and unintentionally bump into someone behind him. When he glanced over his shoulder to apologize, he froze—it was Hinata Hyuuga. The indigo dome of her hair brushed against his scapula, faintly emanating an unexpected blueberry scent.

So that's what she smelled like... Tenderly sweet—fruity, with a hint of tartness that lulls one into lowering defenses—clean and crisp, like the freshness of morning dew on flowers when he'd camp out for landscape photos in the prairies of Mist region. The blend of natural sweetness and subtle floral notes was almost comforting in its familiarity, and he felt an immediate easing of the tension in his nerves.

It’s a well-known fact that scent influences animal perception and behavior, and Sasuke couldn’t help but think: what a sly, underhanded girl.

Did she deliberately choose this scent to disarm him?

Was it her strategy to make him perceive her as kind and harmless, despite her stalking?

He almost wanted to laugh.

He'd hate to break it to her, but such tactics wouldn't work on him. 

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[walker-extended-universe]

Sammy Reborn, Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Relationship(s): August Walker & Dean Winchester, August Walker & Cordell Walker, Cassie Perez & Cordell Walker

Tags/Warnings: Kidnapping, Drugging, Investigations, Delusions, Obsession

Written for @medwhumpmay Day 4- Sedated

Summary: In which August tries to make a move and Walker tries to keep his wits about him.

Taglist: @theladywyn, @ihavepointysticks, @klaatu51, @itsjessiegirl1, @neptunium134

------

Cordell stumbled into the ranch house at around 4am, got a couple hours of sleep, then made his way to the family breakfast table to break the news to his family. 

He and Cassie had spent hours looking through traffic cam footage the night before and hadn’t had much luck. They did manage to identify the car most likely used by the kidnapper but the license plate they pulled from the footage was fake and tracking the car had proved to be almost impossible since the driver mostly used side streets away from the cameras. All they knew was that they were looking for a black 1967 Chevy Impala (which they put the APB out for before leaving) and that whoever did was long gone.

Not exactly great news.

He hesitated before the doorway and took a deep breath. He couldn’t put this off any longer.

“Mornin’ everyone….” He tried to smile but he wasn’t sure it was convincing. “I…I have something to tell you. Something important.” He didn’t wait for his mama’s concerned questions before barreling through it. “Last night, August was kidnapped while taking out the trash at the Side Step. We don’t know who took him or why. All we have right now is the vehicle the kidnapper was driving and we’ve got a state-wide ABP out on it right now-”

“Wait, what? Last night?” Stella turned in her stool, breakfast forgotten. “Why didn’t you tell us as soon as you found out?”

“Why don’t you ask your boyfriend?” Cordell muttered. “Colton’s the one that called it in. And after that….. I needed to know what we could find out. I wish I had better news but at this point there’s not much we can do. We’ll have to wait for someone to report the car and that’s honestly the best we can hope for. Until then, all we can do is investigate things here, try and find out if anything suspicious has been happening around August lately. I’m not dragging all of you in for interrogation but we’ll need to have a talk about what he’s told you -if he has- and we’ll need to track down some of his school friends too.”

He watched as his family slowly absorbed the news. There was a long silence before anyone said anything.

“He didn’t mention anything strange to me,” Liam said slowly. “Stel?”

She shook her head. “No, but I know some of his school friends; I can talk to them and see if they know anything.”

“Do you know if he kept a journal?” Bonham asked. “He may have put something in there.”

He shook his head. “Not one that I knew of but it couldn’t hurt to look. But I’ve got to get to work, see if there have been any updates.”

“Cordi, honey, it’s been one night. You can at least get some breakfast before you go,” Abby insisted.

“But-”

“If there’s a big update, they’ll call you. And you won’t do August any good collapsing on the job. Eat.”

Sighing, Cordell sat down and started eating. He knew better than to argue with that tone.

—-------

August woke up with a groan. His head hurt and the loud music wasn’t helping. Why was Stella blasting Led Zepplin anyway?

“Oh, sorry. Did I wake you Sammy? Here, let me turn that down.”

The lowered volume did help August’s head but that voice didn’t help his nerves. It was the same voice from the alleyway. The guy that jumped him and knocked him out.

“You wanna stop at the next exit and get something to eat? I’m a little hungry myself. I bet you are too. You gotta get something besides a salad this time though. I know you’re on a health kick and all that but you’re too skinny.”

August made himself sit up and open his eyes. He wasn’t sure what this guy wanted or why but he figured it’d probably be smart to play along for now. Just until he could find a way to contact his family. “Where are we?”

“We’re just coming up on Texarkana. I’m good on gas for a bit but I think we need fuel for us before we go much further. I know I’m starving.” The guy took the next exit but he was going too fast for August to see where it was.

August was feeling hungry too, but he didn’t think he could trust anything this guy would give him. But maybe he could use this to get some more information. “I’m not that hungry, actually. Thanks though, Mr….?”

His captor laughed. “Sammy, I know you’re hungry. And don’t call me that. I know I’m older than you, but come on, I’m just your brother.”

August had so many arguments he could make but none of them seemed like a good idea in a moving car. “Fine. Where are we going?”

“Just a little diner I know. You’ll love it.”

August very much doubted that but, again, he didn’t think it was a good idea to get into it.

It was another half an hour of his captor singing off-tune before they pulled into the diner parking lot. It was a grungy place that looked like it had been open a few decades too long- then again Gramps swore up and down those places made the best food (besides Mawline’s, of course). And August actually was a bit hungry, not that he felt like admitting it.

“Yeah, I know it doesn’t look like much,” the man said, unlocking the doors. “But I’m sure they have some kind of salad for you. But I am gonna order you a burger; you’re too damn skinny, Sammy.”

August wouldn’t mind a burger. It would give him the energy to run away if nothing else.

And being here gave him some options. He didn’t have his phone anymore, but there were people here. If he could get away from this guy for just a second, he could get someone to call his dad. That would have to be good enough until he could find another way to talk to his family.

“Well, howdy Dean!” The waitress standing behind the counter greeted them with a blinding smile. “Been a while since I’ve seen you. A few months at least. And who’s this fella?”

The man, Dean, returned her smile and pulled August into a one-armed hug. “This is my little brother, Sammy. We’ll have my usual, Debbie.”

They were given a table near the front window while they waited for whatever Dean’s usual was. August spent his time looking around the diner. There was a decent crowd, not so busy that he wouldn’t be able to get a waitress’ attention for a few seconds but busy enough that he could do it without drawing Dean’s attention. Hopefully.

“Alright, here ya are!” Debbie plunked two plates in front of them. Dean’s “usual” was a heart attack on a plate- a greasy bacon burger with an overwhelming side of fries.

Normally, August would dig in with glee. He was a growing boy and while the Walkers weren’t exactly health nuts, something as greasy as this was definitely a rarity. 

But, normally August hadn’t been kidnapped by some weirdo. So that killed his appetite a bit.

“Come on, Sammy, eat up,” Dean said around a mouthful of food. “We gotta hit the road if we wanna be home by sundown.”

August ate some fries and looked around the diner, waiting for the right opportunity. If he could just get a waittress’ attention….

He saw one of the young ladies in a uniform going into the restroom area. Bingo.

“Hey, uh, I gotta hit the head. I’ll be back in a sec.”

“Sure thing, Sammy,” Dean muttered, entranced by his burger.

August quickly dashed to the back of the restaurant. There was a “No Entry- Cleaning” sign on the door but he opened it anyway. This was more important.

“Didn’t you see the sign?” said a very annoyed voice.

“I- Yes, but this is important.”

“I don’t care which burrito you ate, I’m cleaning.” A very annoyed woman poked her head out of one of the stalls. “You can wait five minutes.”

“I really can’t. It’s- I don’t actually have to use the bathroom but….” How was he supposed to explain this?

The woman’s face softened a bit. “Are you okay? If you ate the Dynomite blaster-”

“It’s not that. It’s- You know that guy I came in with.”

She nodded. “Yeah, Debbie said he’s your older brother.”

“He isn’t. He’s not my brother at all. I don’t even know him.”

Her eyes widened with understanding. “Do you need to sneak out the back?”

He shook his head. “No. I don’t think that would work. That guy is…. Scary. And I don’t even have my phone on me. But my dad’s a cop and I know the tip line for where I live. If you could just call and tell them I was here, that would help a lot.” He could just play nice with Dean until his dad rescued him.

Right?

“Uh, well… I don’t-”

“I’ll be okay, I promise. Just- Let me give you the number.”

She handed him her order pad and he quickly scrawled the number for the Ranger tip line and his name. Hopefully he wouldn’t be stuck with Dean much longer.

He thanked her and quickly went back to his table. Feeling slightly better now that he had a plan in place, he went straight for the burger. He didn’t know if it was actually a good burger or if he was just hungry, but it tasted like the best thing he’d eaten in months.

“Woah, slow your roll, Sammy. I don’t need you getting sick in the car.”

August rolled his eyes. “I haven’t eaten in hours, I’m starving.”

“Suit yourself.”

As soon as they finished eating, Dean threw some cash down on the table and motioned for August to get up. He did and immediately felt queasy. Maybe he shouldn’t have eaten that burger in less than a minute after all….

—-----

It took longer than Dean thought for the drugs to knock Sammy out. He’d made the dose smaller so it wouldn’t hurt Sam by accident. He’d have to adjust it for next time, but it did the job for now.

Sam fell asleep about 30 minutes into the car ride and Dean turned the music down for him. “Sweet dreams, kiddo,” he murmured, stroking his hair. “We’ll be home soon.” It was a 10 hour drive, but with Dean at the wheel they’d make it in 5.

He hated to drug Sam for the ride. He wanted to sing along to the radio with his brother rolling his eyes at him the whole way. But Sammy was still confused and Dean didn’t want to risk losing him again. He just needed some alone time with Sam and then things could start getting back to normal.

It wouldn’t be an easy transition for Sammy- kid always was stubborn. But, just like when Dean got him back from Stanford all those years ago, he would eventually come around. He’d stop having all those big dreams about leaving Dean behind and living a “normal” life, whatever that meant. 

And it would be better this time. There would be no Dad to drive him away, no Jessica to keep him away, no Ruby to poison his mind, no Lucifer to claim him, not even Castiel to ruin him. Sammy would be all his this time. Just like he should be.

And if his other “family” tried to come after him, to take what isn’t theirs anymore, Dean would take care of it. Just like he always did.

—---------

Cassie rewound the traffic cam footage again, just in case she missed something. Even a taillight would be something more than what she had. And she had to give something to Walker. She had to.

She glanced over at the conference room where he was staring blankly at their- equally as blank- caseboard. She would bet anything he was currently running through the stats on survival of a missing person versus how long it took to find them. She certainly was.

Her desk phone ringing jarred her out of her thoughts. “Texas Rangers,” she answered.

“Uh, is this the anonymous tip line?”

She sat up straighter. “Yes. What do you have to report?”

“Uh…. God, this is gonna sound weird….”

“Nothing too weird for the tip line, believe me. What did you see?”

The woman sighed. “God, this is dumb. I shouldn’t’ve let him go. I shoulda told him to sneak out the back and just called the cops right then. What was I thinking?”

“Ma’am, I can’t help you or him unless you tell me what’s happened.”

“Right, right. Uh, well, these two guys came into the diner earlier. The older one called the younger one his brother and he ordered from Debbie. But then the younger one came and found me while I was cleaning the bathroom and told me they weren’t actually brothers and told me to call this number.”

“Right.” Cassie grabbed one of the report slips and started scribbling down information. “Can you tell me anything else.”

“Well, the older one is a regular. Debbie knows him well. His name is Dean I think. He called the younger one “Sammy” but then the kid told me his name is actually August Walker. Said his dad was a cop and that’s why I had to call this number.”

“Thank you. Is there anything else you can tell me about the man August was with?”

“Uh, well he’s older. I’d say in his forties maybe? He’s white, he’s got green eyes, and I’d say he’s about six feet tall. He always pays in cash, he drives one of those classic cars- a black one- and I think he’s from somewhere in Kansas? I think that’s what Debbie said.”

“That’s great. And can you tell me the address of this diner?”

“Oh, right! I forgot.” She gave up the address and Cassie did her best to keep all the details straight. “They were here about half an hour ago. I couldn’t call sooner because we were busy; this was my first chance to take a break.”

“That’s still helpful. Thank you.” She hung up and picked up her report slip. She smiled as she read over everything again. This was good. This was a lead. This was a chance. They could bring August home.

“Hey, Walker,” she said, rushing toward the conference room. “We just got a tip on August. A waitress in Texarkana called in about him. Whoever took him stopped for lunch and August was able to get away long enough to get help.”

His head snapped toward her and he zeroed in on the slip in her hand. “Really?” he said. “Texarkana? They must’ve been driving all night…” He snatched it from her and read over it. “This is good. We can work with this. We should probably get in touch with the PD there and see if we can get camera footage from the diner and the surrounding streets. Also put an APB on this description.” He was moving around the conference room frantically now, adding to the still sparse case board.

“I’ll let James know,” Cassie said, backing out of the room to let Walker do what he needed to do. His son was missing; he could sweat out as much nervous energy as he needed to.