#i just want to see if any one would like anything

[cheapshrimpysheep]

What if They were Dads?

SUMMARY: Headcanons of what I think they would be like as fathers to your child. And what if his dormmates were like honorary uncles to the child?

CHARACTERS: OB Students (Riddle Rosehearts / Leona Kingscholar / Azul Ashengrotto / Jamil Viper / Vil Schoenheit / Idia Shroud / Malleus Draconia)

TAGS: Headcanon; Fem!Reader (AFAB) (I never really know what tags to use but I hope you know what I mean)

WORD COUNT: An average of 690 words per character.

COMMENTS: I would have liked to have made a headcanon about the relationship with the boys' parents and siblings, but since we don't know them that well or at all on the Eng Server like Vil's father, I think I'll leave that for a possible post that complements this one. If you want.

Since I didn't want each character to have a big chunk of text, I put them as paragraphs instead of bullet points.

I hope you enjoy 🩵

CONTEXT: This was written with a cisgender female reader in mind. Reader is Yuu. But if you want (and can) read it in any other way, feel free to.

By the way, this is one of those moments when I wish English had a second person plural, instead of the singular and plural being the same. Whenever I write “your child” I mean it in the plural (you, the reader, and his)

Riddle’s child(ren) call him: Father

Riddle has the same demands and standards for his child that he has for himself. But he doesn't want to make the same mistakes as his mother, so in comparison he can be more permissive. Because of this he will ALWAYS listen to you if you tell him he is being too harsh.

In terms of studies, etiquette and behaviour he is quite strict as you would expect. But when it comes to play he lets his child do almost anything they want.

He doesn't know how to play with his child, but he will always make an effort to learn how to and do it with them. He almost seems to regress to the childhood he never had and wants to give to his child. Whenever the child learns a new game, they will show it and teach it to Riddle and he will be delighted with it.

Although he is strict, he is also relatively protective, especially if your child is a girl. He tries not to be overly protective, but he can't help but worry about your child. If there was a right way to raise a child, is he doing his job well enough? You will have several conversations at first to reassure him that he is doing a good job.

He will study any and all parenting books that experts in child behaviour and education recommend. This kind of knowledge is never too much. Which often leads you to try to convince him to relax and just trust his instincts and what he feels is right. The child is his, not all those authors and experts. Sometimes there are things that a parent simply knows.

Lawful and calm Uncle Trey. They love uncle Trey's sweets! Sometimes Riddle asks him if he's not giving them too much sweets and Trey always assures him that it's okay because he knows how to make healthier sweets and the limit for a child to eat. If they weren't already Riddle's child, the whole thing about always brushing their teeth could be scary.

Chaotic Uncle Che'nya. The crazy and fun Uncle! Your child and Che'nya join forces (maybe even with you) to play pranks on Riddle. Never anything that could get the child into trouble with their father, just enough for everyone, Riddle included, to have fun.

Uncle Ace and Uncle Deuce are more from your side than Riddle's honestly. Ace is a bit like Che'nya in the case of being one of the chaotic pranksters uncles. But he is also the uncle of magic tricks who is always deceiving, but also entertaining your child with them.

Deuce is the rad uncle with a cool moto and/or even cooler blastcycle, who offers to take your child for a ride in it with him. Your child also finds it funny to see the two of them arguing amicably. But it’s even funnier to see them imitating their father trying to order them to stop arguing.

Uncle Cater doesn't show up very often, but they like him. He's not chaotic like Ace and Che'nya, but he's also fun. Your child enjoys receiving compliments from him and taking pictures with him.

Your child imitates their father scolding Grim too. Just like Riddle (and probably because they're still little) they have a very bad temper. Riddle gets embarrassed whenever you say that someone takes after their father.

Leona’s child(ren) call him: Dad

Leona still doesn't like kids... your child(ren) is/are just an exception.

Yes, Leona would treat a daughter slightly differently than he would treat a son. In the same way that he treats men and women a little differently. But the only difference is that he would be tougher on a son than a daughter, but will still be affectionate regardless.

No matter what gender his child is, he wants the same for them: be strong both physically and mentally. To outsiders like some servants or citizens who don't know him, they may get to the point of thinking Leona is a harsh father who doesn't deserve all that love from his child, and he will tell both you and your child not to mind that. But the truth is that he is just like he was with you at school: a tough guy who hides a caring heart.

Leona continues to show himself to be a person who doesn't want anyone to upset him and who would growl at anyone who bothers him. The only people who can get close to him even when he's angry and remain safe and sound are you and your child. He'll still growl at you and your child quietly, but there will be a volume that is the line, like if his growl is louder than that limit it's because he's getting really angry, until then it's just him being him.

Your child will already have the best private teachers and tutors (one of them being Kifaji/Neji if he’s still alive), but even so, Leona will want to make them study and learn more. But in that discreet way that he knows. He will not force them to study more, he will find a way to convince them to want to learn more on their own.

You end up being the most affectionate parent and the one they trust for emotional comfort. Leona is the tough love, you are the soft love (at least in comparison). Leona will always tease you, insinuating that you are too soft and only spoil your child. Although he enjoys when you spoil him too.

He is 100% the ‘Go ask your mom’ kind of dad.

He lets his child take naps with him. And you too.

If he has more than one child, he will police himself not to favor any of them. He may have a tendency to favor the younger ones because of what he went through as the youngest himself, but none of his children will be treated in any special/different way based on their birth order. Neither the youngest nor the oldest.

He will try to convince his child not to be too close (emotionally) to their uncle or cousin, but won't stop them from playing with Cheka. When your child is old enough not to tell others what is said in your home, Leona and them will talk badly about Falena and Cheka behind their backs.

Leona will prefer your child to play with Ruggie and/or his children. On the one hand, he wants to keep them away from his family, but on the other hand, he also wants his child to know what the real world is like, to see both wealth and poverty, to know royalty as they knows their people and only then create their own judgement.

They don't call anyone uncle or aunt other than Falena and his wife. In the same way, Leona also doesn't give cute titles to anyone without being sarcastically. Even when he calls you “love”, “darling”, “honey” or something like that, it's to tease you.

Whenever you go to Shaftlands, whether for democratic reasons or on holiday, you always try to find a way to meet with Jack. Leona pretends that he only helps you with this because you want to see your friend and he wants to get rid of his family. Both you and Jack know that he just doesn't want to admit that he wants to see him too. Jack is the cool parent's friend who taught your child how to snowboard. While they are little they like to hug his tail because it’s fluffy.

Despite everything, he doesn't want his child to have the same lack of hope that he has, and despite trying to hide it, he always feels extremely guilty and bad whenever your child says something like that. At these times he relies on you to be the ray hope in that house, they will both need you for that.

Both Leona and your child are afraid of you when you get really serious or angry.

Do you know that scene from The Lion King where Mufasa uses Zazu to give Simba an pouncing lesson? Leona often does something similar, but instead of the target being a blue bird, it's a magical creature called Grim.

Azul’s child(ren) call him: Daddy (when little) Dad (when older)

Azul is an extremely emotional father, despite trying to hide it. There's going to be a lot of moments like: “HE/SHE IS THE CUTEST LITTLE THING IN THE WHOLE- *clears throat* I mean, he/she is such a charming little child.” He will most likely cry at your baby's first words, steps, anything.

Azul is overprotective! If any living creature even thinks about harming your child, he will tortu- that is, find a completely legal way to ensure that it never happens again. Now, if you'll excuse him, he suddenly felt like talking to Jade and Floyd. (The same protectiveness applies to you.)

Although he is very (secretly) emotional and loves to spoil his child, he is also relatively strict about their studies. He likes to spoil them (and you) when it's deserved, but he will not raise a spoiled child! This ends up balancing things out a bit.

He will hide the whole mafia-like part of his life from his child. Dad is just doing business, boring adult stuff. Maybe when your child is older he will start to reveal a little of that side of his life, if they later want to join their father it will be their choice. But until then, let them be innocent children, they are cuter and happier that way, there is time for everything.

He will always hold back his emotional side so as not to be overly affectionate. Unless his child starts crying. At that point his mask falls completely and he becomes the most affectionate and comforting father there can be, that is his weakness.

And if one day the child realizes this and starts using crying to get what they want from him, he won't know whether to be angry that he is being emotionally manipulated by his own child, or proud that they learned so quickly.

You will be the only one immune to the fake crying.

From the beginning, Azul has been wary and suspicious of letting Jade and Floyd be like uncles to your child. However, you two ended up letting this happen, but Azul will always keep an eye open.

Both Jade and Floyd will definitely use the child to play pranks on Azul. Mostly Floyd, Jade prefers to watch and assist. Azul will always be upset with the twins, never with his child. And depending on the severity of the prank, he will turn on his overprotective side and threaten Jade and Floyd that if that happens again they will never see your child again. They never go beyond that limit.

Every now and then when Floyd plays with your child, he will do that joke where he playfully tells them he's going to catch them and bite them. Actually in his playful voice, he doesn't want to scare them. And they will run to Azul and hide behind his legs asking for help while laughing. Or tentacles if they are in their merfolk form.

If you ask them Jade is the scary uncle (only sometimes) but they themselves don't even know why. It's just his vibe or something. However, they are not afraid to ask any of them for something, it being to play or for help.

Azul loves cooking for you and your child, and they love their father's cooking.

You know those little plastic cashiers where kids pretend to have a little shop and try to sell things to people at home? Usually parents or sibling. Azul loves to play this with his child because it is a great and fun way to pass on his knowledge. Both about sales and about taking care of your money. Usually using the Grim as a guinea pig. Grim also likes to play because he always ends up with food in exchange for toy money.

Jamil’s child(ren) call him: Dad (in informal moments) and Father (at formal events)

Jamil needed to learn to express himself more and better emotionally so as not to end up being a cold father without meaning to. He needs your help to teach your child when to hold back and when to know when they are in a safe space to let go.

The only thing that will follow Jamil forever is an inevitable feeling of guilt for your child having the same fate as him, simply for being his child: serving the Al-Asim family with no other choice. But you can be assured that if there is a way to stop this and give his child freedom of choice, whatever that method may be, he will not give up until he finds it and do it! Normally parents want to give their children what they always wanted and could never have, in Jamil's case it’s freedom.

There was something Jamil wanted to do, but he didn't have the courage to ask the Al-Asim for some kind of vacation. But you had! Using your great friendship with Kalim, you managed to get him to allow you to take a vacation long enough for you to travel as a family, as Jmail wanted. Jamil has always wanted to travel alone, but now with you and your child he would like to travel as a family and give his child the experiences he would have liked to have had himself.

He is quite demanding with his child's education and training. However, his attitude towards this is always calm and collected, and he is attentive to his child's limitations and needs. He is a great and responsible tutor, who knows how to distinguish between being a teacher and being a father.

He is usually quite serious, so you and your child are the ones who start messing with him to have fun and make him laugh. It's always nice when he reminds you two that he can also be a tease. Normal or biggest target of your joint teasing ends up being Grim at some point.

During his work as Kalim's servant, Jamil always had to cook a lot and he's not that big a fan of cooking, so so he can rest at home you're the one who cooks most of the time. He will teach you everything you want to learn and at first you will cook together a lot until you feel comfortable cooking alone. But even then he will continue to offer to help you. Your child will continue to say that Jamil's food is tastier, but yours is prettier. And the food you make together is the best because it’s tasty and pretty. Jamil will also encourage his child to cook with you two so that they can learn from a young age.

His child knows that there is only one thing in this world that can make their father scream in fear: Bugs! If your child is also afraid of insects, you're screwed, because you will be the insect killer in that house. However, if it is just the two of them, Jamil's protective instinct will be stronger and despite his fear he will protect his child. If your child is not afraid of insects, then Jamil will have two protectors. “Can you do dad a favor?”; “Where is it?”; “Living room, south wall last time I saw.”; “Does it fly?”; “...Yes.”

Kalim will treat your child almost like one of his own children, for loving you both so much. He got emotional when he found out you were pregnant, he wanted to help pay for your doctor's appointments if necessary (never was), and he got emotional again when your child was born. He loves buying toys for your child too and give them gifts. He would love for Jamil to let them call him Uncle Kalim. And he loves it when your kids play together.

Vil’s child(ren) call him: Father 

Vil wants to have a family that is at its best as he likes to be at his best himself. He wants you and your child to be as beautiful on the outside as you are on the inside, just as he strives to be as well. However, he would treat a daughter slightly differently than a son because of the different pressures of societal beauty standards.

With a son he would be as strict with him as he is with himself. But with a daughter, he knows she's more likely to suffer from these kinds of things. So although he continues to be relatively strict and wants her to be the best she can be, he ends up being softer with criticism and stronger with praise and soft love than he would be with a son.

He would hire a specialist, like as a child psychologist or something like that, to always know the best ways to rise and protect your child. Children of famous people like him, especially in the digital and social media age, may need more protection from their parents in this regard, in addition to the toxic pressure of comparison that exists. However, because Vil cares so much about your child's personal development as their happiness, he may end up putting enormous pressure on himself to be a perfect parent too.

Both Vil and your child will need you to be the person who brings them both back to the real world and the life of a loving family with flaws like any human being. Vil will always listen to you if you feel he may be being too harsh and demanding with your child, or with himself in terms of parenting.

If you are the type of person who likes to tease Vil by letting yourself be sloppy from time to time, (always at home) then your child will also like to tease their father like that. “You have your mother’s cheekiness, I see.” Vil sighs but laughs. The teasing includes eating sweets and food that Vil would not approve of. You are the parent they ask for things from and who best comforts and pampers them. You two probably team up to make Vil relax and have fun with you.

His child will have the best teachers and tutors, go to the best schools and best establishments for any extracurricular activity they want to have. Vil will probably force them to have an extracurricular activity but they will be free to choose which one.

Rook is OBSESSED with your child! In a respectful way of course, he is just already a huge fan. The result of combining your DNA with Vil's? MERVEILLEUX! He won't hold back the tears when he sees the baby for the first time. He will LOVE playing with your child. He will babysit for free and will be happy to do so if you ever need. It will be a long time before he stops getting so emotional whenever your child calls him "Uncle Rook."

Uncle Epel is the rad uncle, when Vil is not around. He is that person who will help your child do cool activities that Vil may not allow. Like taking a blastcycle ride with him, eat grilled meats, playing with things that make the child very dirty or other things that Vil didn't like Epel to do when they were at NRC. But if at least one parent allows it (you), then there is no problem. Right? All this, of course, when Vil is not around.

When he is there, both Epel and your child behave like little angels. You and Epel have to be very careful that the child doesn't get careless and say something in Epel's dialect in front of Vil. They love Uncle Epel because it is fun to do cool things without their father knowing and with your help.

Your child likes to use Grim as a doll to dress up in cute clothes. The funny thing is that Grim likes it too because your child eventually realizes that if they tell him he looks cool instead of cute, he'll let them keep dressing him up.

Idia’s child(ren) call him: Daddy (when little) Dad (when older)

Idia doesn't believe he can be a good father. A shut-it and antisocial otaku like him? Are you crazy? That's a disaster! He can't take care of himself, how is he going to help you raise a child? However, and especially with you, he also has that overly cocky side that believes that even being an antisocial nerd he would be 1000 times better than a lot of parents out there. So basically he has a tendency to oscillate between these two moods.

In comparison, you are the strict parent, he is the parent who spoils the child. They are both afraid of you when you get upset. He's a ‘Don't tell your mother’ type of dad. He can't say no to his child, but, oddly enough, he can't be emotionally manipulated either. He may even let his child do a lot of things, but even he has limits to what he knows is good or bad for them.

Because he's the permissive father, he's also the scariest when he gets serious. He can never get really mad at his child, but he can say a firm and assertive “No” if necessary. However, if they are still very young and start crying, he will panic and call you immediately. You will then have to comfort Idia and tell him that no, he did not make a decision that put him on the path to the traumatic and apocalyptic ending. What he probably did was the opposite.

If it depends on him, his child will be a nerd/otaku just like his father. However, he doesn't want them to be socially anxious like him and will always encourage them to go for walks with you outside even if it's without him. That doesn't mean there aren't times you drag him outside with you.

Besides occasionally questioning whether he is being a good father, there is something else that haunts him... He still carries and will probably always carry the feeling of guilt for what happened to Ortho, so he is absolutely TERRIFIED that something like that may happen again.

Idia has always tried to keep your child as far away as possible from all areas that are dangerous or even remotely similar to the hallway where that happened. But if your child ever happens to even enter an area that their father did not allow, they will get to know a side of Idia that sometimes you yourself don’t even remember exists: The overprotective, traumatized side that isn't afraid to scare his child if it means keeping them away from the danger. And probably the only way they'll see his red hair. But it will probably be after that, that the two of you will have an open heart conversation and Idia will apologize.

Now, about Uncle Ortho, they LOVE uncle Ortho! He's the one who goes for a walk with you and your child when you and he can't convince Idia to go too. He is a cheerful uncle who loves to play with your child. You three made up stories to explain why uncle Ortho was a humanoid. You always make up different and crazy stories to jest with them and make them change the subject. The day will come when they will be old enough to know the truth.

Idia may even talk badly about himself a lot of the times, but no matter what his child do, they are talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular and everything good. “Of course that's because they inherited it from you, not me.” He will say with a smile.

Both Idia and your child treat Grim like a pet cat and find it funny to see him getting grumpy.

Idia spoke to his child in that baby voice when they themselves were also babies. And maybe also when they are children to the point where they tell him to stop treating them like babies.

Malleus’s child(ren) call him: Daddy (when little) Dad (when older) Father (at formal events)

The day Malleus found out you were pregnant was already a happy day, but the day your child was born was the happiest day of his life! And every moment with them is the happiest moment of his day. And of course with you too. He totally and completely loves his family!

Anyone who dares to speak ill of the child of Malleus Draconia, especially about the fact that they are half-human, will suffer the consequences! Anyone who spoke openly about the child being something of a disgrace, shame or an abomination was either killed or imprisoned. (Depending on how opposed you really are to Malleus killing or ordering someone to be killed.) and of course, the same applies to talking bad about you.

The problem is that this is doing the same thing to your child that was done to him. He's scaring everyone and making them afraid to come near your child for fear of saying or doing something that might upset them or Malleus. He listens to you and agrees with you, showing concern and thoughtfulness about what should be done. He hates people being disrespectful to the ones he loves, but he also doesn't want his child to go through what he went through.

What ends up happening is that, on Malleus's part, he realizes that he has to start learning ways for people to respect his child without using fear, but to do that he also has to start letting certain insults slide. He doesn't like it, but if it's what's best for his child, he'll do the best he can. Although the same applies if they disrespect you. He hates it so much!

In the case of your child, you are helped by Lilia (if he’s still alive), Silver, Sebek and their families. Perhaps trying to spend more time among their people and with other fae, humans, and half-fae might be beneficial to a child's social development.

Lilia would treat the child as if they were his own grandchild. Even if Silver also has children, they are ALL Lilia's grandchildren! “There's no denying it any longer... I am... officially... an old man... For the best possible reasons!” Everyone will rescue your child from Lilia's food. “Never eat anything that Grandpa Lilia cooks, you hear?”

Silver is the calm uncle who, despite not being the most fun to play with, is the one they turn to when they want to rest and simply have a good chill time. Or take a nap. Probably who they turn to to run away and hide from Sebek when he's being annoying. He ends up being the adult (than is not their parents) that they trust most and feel most comfortable with. Silver is very happy when they ask him for help to get closer to an animal to see it better, and even more so if they and the animals end up interacting and playing with each other.

Now about Uncle Sebek... If there is anyone more protective and flattering of that child than Malleus, it is Sebek. He cried when the child was born, for sure. And cried even more when the child said his name, or whenever they at least tried to. The day they called him "Uncle Sebek" he was about to have a heart attack. The problem is that he ends up being one of those type of person who adores children (although in his case the only ones he likes would be Malleus's and his own children) to the point that the child finds them annoying and clingy. “But don't tell Uncle Sebek that, he'll be sad.”

Whenever the child throws a tantrum that ends up causing their powers to manifest in storms or uncontrolled magic, Malleus will take care of it while you stay away and safe. To him, any attack would be mere tickling, but he always made sure that your child knows that the same does not apply to you. They may end up thinking that you are very fragile while they are little, but it is better this way to ensure that they do not hurt you unintentionally.

This also means that whenever you need to say ‘No’ to your child, Malleus will do it if there is a possibility that they would start throwing tantrums. At least while they are young and cannot control their powers well.

Malleus also runs the risk of being a father who spoils his children.

Your child and Grim probably burn a lot of things around the castle because they play together and they both have fire powers.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

And if you would like to read this but with other characters you can write in the comments. If this post has a lot of notes (likes and reblogs) I might consider making a second part with other characters.

[celestiamour]

Any ideas on Squid game characters (esp in ho and Dae ho) x hyper feminine! Reader?

ft. kang dae-ho, hwang in-ho, cho sang-woo, se-mi, cho hyun-ju x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ hyper-feminine! reader┊0.6k words

contains: lots of makeup, jewelry, pink, hyper fem stuff, sugar daddy in-ho, mention of transphobia for hyun-ju’s part

➤ author's note: when will i post a real one-shot? good question

━━━ .°˖✧ kang dae-ho ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ one would think that growing up with four older sisters would make him sick of all the pink and makeup, but it’s quite the opposite! he loves watching you put on your make-up, asking billions of questions about each product and your technique while also interjecting with his own surprising amount of information on the topic. he probably has the ability to do an entire face himself, but finds it a little embarrassing. he also insists that you put on little fashion shows of all your outfits of dresses and blouses acting as your biggest hype man to help boost your confidence. his sisters think you’re a doll, literally, and adore you! they love to steal you away for girls’ night and always return you to him with a basket of things they think would suit you.

━━━ .°˖✧ hwang in-ho ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ you know how buying things like makeup, skincare, jewelry, and clothes can get pretty expensive? well, with him, you don’t have to worry your pretty head over any of those prices and can shop to your heart’s content! he just adores how beautiful you are all dressed up and is willing to buy you an entire store of attire that fits your aesthetic if you so please, you just have to show him with a little twirl and give him a kiss on the cheek afterward. he’s usually like a scary old guard dog with his lovers, but you soften his intimidating presence with how girlish you are, but he doesn’t exactly hate it.

━━━ .°˖✧ cho sang-woo ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ acts annoyed when you have to spend extra time getting ready putting on makeup, spending your money on cute trinkets, and continuously asking him what he thinks of your usually pink outfits. he finds it excessive and sometimes inconvenient, but never vocally says anything against it because he doesn’t want to hurt the feelings he pretends he doesn’t care much about. he doesn’t admit it, but he would be gutted if you stopped living your life as a living barbie especially if it was because of him. it grows on him after a while and you’ll eventually see a glint of affection in his eyes when you’re going about your hyper-fem life. 

━━━ .°˖✧ se-mi ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ loves all things girly (especially girls) even if she doesn’t like it on herself. that being said, it’s the perfect contrast to her aesthetic: smudged eyeliner with glittery eyeshadow, dark cargo pants with pink pleated skirts, gauge earrings with dangly diamond ones, combat boots with high heels, the list goes on and on. every time she sees you applying a fresh layer of lip gloss, she feels a pang in his heart like cupid’s arrow and dramatically pout that you’re too pretty for your own good. she probably wouldn’t let you do her makeup in your style, but she does let you tie little bows into her hair and will fight anyone in the thanos squad who may make fun of her for her soft spot towards you (especially nam-gyu).

━━━ .°˖✧ cho hyun-ju ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ is so grateful to have you on her side helping her out because all the things associated with typical womanhood is a tad bit overwhelming to her. she was literally a sergeant in the military, so studying all things beauty is a bit of a learning curve for her, but she quickly gets the hang of it. also, matching outfits!! she’s a little embarrassed at first, especially pre-transition because she’s worried she doesn’t have the right body type, but you help give her the confidence she needs with her hand in yours and give death glares to any potential assholes before they can even open their mouth.

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

ᴇᴄʜᴏᴇs ᴏғ ʀᴇɢʀᴇᴛ

ʙʀᴜᴄᴇ ᴡᴀʏɴᴇ x ɴᴇɢʟᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

I keep seeing neglected reader on my tags so I just wanted join in 🤗

ᴍᴏʀᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ!

The Batcave was eerily quiet, the usual hum of machinery and the occasional rustle of paperwork replaced by the soft sound of a child’s muted whimpers. Bruce stood in the shadows, his eyes fixed on the small form curled up on the couch, barely visible beneath the pile of blankets and pillows. The child, no longer the one he'd once pushed aside, seemed to exist in a world far beyond his reach.

His heart clenched when they shifted, those silent tears that fell like raindrops that he'd never quite been able to catch. He hated that he couldn't fix what he'd broken, no matter how hard he tried. All the wealth, all the power, none of it could mend the distance he'd created. But now, in this cavernous space where shadows ruled and secrets whispered, Bruce was trapped in his regret.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice softer than he'd ever let it be before, as he approached the couch, bending down to meet their eyes.

Reader's gaze was fixed elsewhere, lost in the memories that lingered like ghostly echoes. A broken sigh left their lips. Bruce had made mistakes, but this—their distance—was one he could never bridge with words alone.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” they murmured, their voice almost inaudible beneath the weight of the years. “Nothing will change it now.”

They curled deeper into themselves, the soft rustle of fabric only adding to the bitter silence. Bruce frowned but kept his distance. His hands twitched with the desire to reach out, to hold them close, but he was well aware that doing so would only bring more pain. The walls they'd built were taller now, sharper. There was no way in.

It hadn’t always been this way, of course. Once, they had trusted him—believed in him as a father, as the man who could protect them from anything. But those days had been forgotten in the cruel labyrinth of his own failure. He'd seen it, watched them grow from afar, sure that his way of loving them—distant, reserved, and ever cautious—was enough. But he hadn’t realized that love was not a thing to be claimed, a thing to be controlled. It was something to nurture, to build, to protect with patience and understanding. Something he'd lacked.

He took a step forward. “I know I failed you,” he said, but this time there was no deflection. The words were heavy, real. “But I am trying to make it right, and I’ll keep trying. You don’t have to be alone.”

The words fell like a hollow echo in the stillness of the cave. Reader shifted, pulling the blankets tighter around them. There was a coldness in their gaze when they finally looked up at him.

“I don’t need you now. I didn’t need you then,” they whispered, their voice steady but laced with a bitterness that cut deep. “I had another family… one that didn’t abandon me.”

Bruce’s breath hitched, the pain of the truth settling deep in his chest. The weight of their words pressed against him like a thousand stones, heavier than any enemy he'd ever faced.

"Don't say that," he murmured, his hand reaching for them, but they pulled away, the rejection too swift, too sharp. The distance between them seemed vast, a gulf that no gesture could cross. "I know I made mistakes... but I’m here now. You’re not alone anymore."

They stared at him for a long moment, as if weighing every word he'd spoken, every action he'd taken. They’d been so small when he'd first met them, so innocent in their trust. He thought back to the days when their laughter had filled the Manor, when they'd looked at him like he was their world. It felt like someone else’s life now, a time when he wasn’t as broken as he was now.

“I miss my dad,” [name] said softly, so quietly that it almost seemed like a plea. Their eyes were distant, lost in memories Bruce would never be able to share. “I miss the family that actually cared about me.”

Bruce’s hand faltered, falling to his side as the weight of those words crushed him. They were right. He hadn’t been a father to them, not in the way they needed. His life, wrapped up in Gotham’s shadows and the endless pursuit of justice, had left no room for the most important thing: them.

A wave of guilt surged through him, drowning out everything else. "I’m here, baby girl," he whispered, though he knew how hollow it sounded. There was no magic in those words anymore. They had no weight, no warmth. Just the coldness of regret.

[Name] didn’t look up, didn’t acknowledge his words. Their gaze was elsewhere—lost to the past, to the family they had once known, the family who had cared for them when he couldn’t. The emptiness in their eyes spoke volumes, far more than any word could.

"I never needed you to come back," they said quietly, as if the words were simply a fact now, not an accusation. "I survived without you."

Bruce stood there, struck mute by the truth of it. The echoes of his failures rang louder than anything else. All the money, the power, the endless resources of the Wayne family had never mattered when it came to the one thing that would have truly made a difference: love. The kind of love that nurtured, protected, and understood.

He didn’t know how much time passed before they spoke again, but the silence stretched on like a wound that refused to heal.

"I don’t want your pity," they murmured, their voice so small that it cut him to the core. “You can’t fix me now. You can’t fix this.”

Their words were quiet, but they were final. The finality of it hit Bruce harder than any punch. He had been a hero to Gotham, had saved lives, had put down enemies. But when it came to the one thing that mattered most, he had failed utterly.

They were slipping away from him, even now. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Bruce stepped back, the weight of the truth settling into the hollow space between them. For a moment, he allowed himself to feel that emptiness, to understand just how much he had lost. He had missed out on a life that could have been, a life he could have shared with them if only he had been there.

He swallowed hard and turned, the overwhelming weight of regret pulling him deeper into the shadows.

"I’m sorry," he repeated, even though he knew it would never be enough.

But the words hung in the air like a fragile thing, doomed to fade before it could truly be heard.

And [name]? They simply lay there, wrapped in their own world—a world Bruce could never return to.

[jasontoddsotherhalf]

Hey guys, I gave it a try lol let me know what yall think!

Jason Todd isn't a cruel guy.

Not on purpose, anyways. He saw some shit as a kid, as any kid did growing up in Crime Alley. His parents were murdered when he was still very young and he'd been taken in by THE Batman. Regardless of what anyone says, beating criminals up every night of your tween years does affect one's physce. Getting beat with a crowbar and killed by Joker does worse.

But now Jason is back, and he's stronger, and he's smarter. Sure he's scarred up and violent, but he's finally his own soilder, his own dog. And Jason really does love helping people. Which is why along side running the biggest crime ring Gotham had seen in years, he also works for a Mental Health Helpline.

He didn't get many calls directed to him, but he did get one tonight as he sat in his shitty apartment in Gotham, tending to a wound on his leg a few days old. He answered the phone, putting it on speaker and laying it on the coffee table.

"Hello, Gotham Mental Health Hotline. How may I help you tonight?"

A deep voice comes from the other side of the phone, a voice that Jason had heard in his dreams for years, praising him, scolding him, reading him stories to help him get to bed, waking up from resting to go fight crime.

"I'm not at risk. I don't need help." Bruce Wayne says slowly.

Jason clears his throat, his eyes narrowing. Would Bruce know it was him. Would Bruce ever be able to recognize him at all?

"I understand." Jason answered. "Is there any way I can help?"

Bruce took a shakey breath. "I don't need...help. I just...I have some heavy regrets waying on me. Mistakes that I've carried with me, guilt that acts like a noose, tighter recently than it has been in years. My son...I messed up so badly with my son. I want to fulfill my promise to him. I want to make it all okay again for my boy."

Jason shivered. He's not talking about you, idiot. He tells himself. He doesn't care that you're dead. He never cared. He's talking about perfect Dick or clever Tim. Not better-off-dead Jason Fucking Todd.

Jason slowly went back to tending to the open wound, which had started bleeding from how hard he was unintentionally prodding at it. "Have you tried talking to him? I'm sure he'd understand." Jason said through gritted teeth. It wasn't him. Batman didn't need Jason, so Bruce certainly didn't either.

"I would tell him. If he ever showed up. God, I'd tell him anything and everything." Something screeched in the background on Bruce's end and Bruce swore softly. Jason pictured him suddenly speeding through Gotham streets, the Batmobile swerving dangerously, recklessly.

Jason didn't say anything, just waited for his father- for Bruce Wayne- to keep speaking. He continued, after a moment. "I only see him sometimes, when I dream. And he's in my arms again, young and bright and so full of life and potential." So he was talking about Dick. The first Robin who had grown up, fought with Batman, and left, never to return, not as he had been. Dick was Nightwing now, and led his own team, though he was still close with Bruce. Jason relaxed. This call was not about him. He could continue with his plans of vengeance without feeling guilty. I'm sure I'll laugh about this later.

"I'm sorry sir..." Jason trailed off awkwardly. Bruce spoke before Jason could say anything else.

"He's...he's dead." Jason froze. Everything went still. It seemed as though the cars outside all went skidding to a halt, the blood in Jason's veins went cold. The only sound was the old light above him flickering. Jason stuttered slightly as he quickly searched up both Nightwing and Robin on line, a dark part of him hoping one of them had died. But no, there were only two articles published within the last few hours and it was about a case Robin, Nightwing, and Batman had dismantled the previous night.

Jason swallowed. "I'm...so sorry, sir. Do you want to talk about him?" Jason wanted him to say no, needed Bruce to say no. For once he wanted Bruce to close off everything and everyone and retreat back to the dark corner of his mind where he told no one anything.

And there was a long silence between them, Jason was sure Bruce would hang up.

Batman would have. But Bruce didn't. "His name was Jason. And he was the most golden and beautiful boy on this planet. You would have never thought so from judt glancing at him once. His hair was flat and dark, And he was short and skinny and always had dirt on him somewhere. But it was in his eyes, and in his laugh. That's where his love was held. He cared so much. About everyone. He always wanted to help. He would always rush forward, even if it put him at risk. He didn't care about himself. He cared more about the wellbeing of others. He was so sweet and..." Bruce's voice cracked. "I just want my son back. My sweet boy." Jason didn't say anything. He felt his throat burn and his eyes blur. "I-i'm sorry sir. He sounds...amazing. I'm sure whatever it is you feel guilty over..." Jason took a deep breath. "I'm sure he forgives you." He lied. Partially lied. Jason didn't know anymore. One conversation where one participant didn't even know who the other was did not count as closure, and nothing was different. But it wasn't the same either. Bruce cared. All this time Jason had been looking for Batman to show the effect Jason's death had on him, when really it was Bruce he should have been looking at.

Bruce was quiet for a long long time. "I wish that was true, son. But I don't think so. Still, thank you for saying so. And thank you for listening. You're a good kid." Bruce didn't say anything else before hanging up. Jason sat in silence for a moment, frozen in time, feeling dizzy. Then he sprung up, his injured leg aching and dripping blood onto the floor, and he ran to the bathroom, falling in front of the toilet and throwing up anything he had eaten in the past 24 hours.

AU, where Jason returns to Gotham, but in between of his evil mastermind plans and managing the criminal empire, he starts working in this anonymous psychological hotline services.

And gets a call from Bruce-fucking-Wayne.

Well. It is not like Bruce announces that he is Bruce Wayne — it is anonymous, after all — but Jason knows his father's voice, alright?

'I don't need a physiological help,' his father tells him the minute he picks up the phone.

Jason... Snorts.

'Of course,' he nods, making his voice nicer. 'How can I help you?'

Bruce pauses, his breath hitching for a second; almost as if he recognized Jason's voice.

'My... my son thinks I need it, but I am fine,' Bruce insists. 'Still... I want to, well, fulfil a promise I gave... for once.'

Jason rolls his eyes, a familiar irritation flaring up in green flames before his eyes. He wonders who is this lucky son that gets to have such a diligent, responsible father - Dickhead? Tim? Damian?

'I see,' he breathes out, trying to follow a protocol of the calls. 'I am sure he will appreciate your loyalty. Will you tell him about it?'

'If he appears,' something screeches in the background, and if Jason closes his eyes, he can easily imagine Bruce leaning back on the armchair, in the Batcave. 'I... He only ever appears in my dreams, my boy.'

Jason freezes.

'Excuse me?'

'I... He is dead, my son.'

Had someone else died? Jason frowns, reaching for his phone, typing anxiously Nightwing and Robin in the search bar, trying to see if there is something serious happened; because he can't be talking about the second Robin, can he-

'I am sorry,' he blurts out, eyes drifting back to notes on the table, with some common phrases that can be used in this situation. 'I... Do you want to talk about, sir?'

Bruce is silent for a while. Jason thinks he is about to drop the call, but then, he sighs heavily on the line:

'His name was Jason. And he was the brightest boy.'

Jason mutes the microphone. He thinks he is going to vomit.

[cthulhus-curse]

The Lion & The Lamb

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3,229

Warnings: Fuckboy!Wanda, Breeding, Collars, Daddy Kink, Eventual Fluff, Face Slapping, Friends With Benefits, Jealousy, Leashes, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex, Strap-Ons | 18+ Minors DNI

Summary: After a chance encounter with your first girlfriend, Wanda feels the need to stake claim over what is rightfully hers.

“So, I was thinking we could go see a movie after finals.”

There was a hopeful tone in your voice as you spoke. It was, as always, seemingly ignored. Normally you’d appear crestfallen, but after having spent months in such a manner, you simply shrugged.

“Oh, uh, sure,” came the bored reply. “Whatever you want, babe.”

“Maybe I could even go to one of your soccer games?” you asked, knowing what the answer would entail.

“If you’d like to, sure.”

You sighed before focusing on your food once again. It was partly your fault, you admitted. Towards the start of your junior year at university, you had gotten involved with your roommate who you spent the first two years crushing over. While it was not an ideal situation that you were in, only being able to involve yourself in sexual endeavors with the woman, it was more than you would have hoped.

Wanda was known to never fully commit. You were sure she had slept with most, if not all, of her soccer team at one point. She could do what she wanted and the two of you had been clear as to what your relationship entailed, but you couldn’t help the hint of jealousy that came out at the thought of others being so close with your friend.

She only eyed her phone as you studied her – the way in which she wore her snapback backwards, her shirt with the sleeves rolled up past her shoulders, which showed off her toned, muscular arms, and gray sweats along with Vans shoes made you drool. The two of you had chosen to spend time before finals, the calm before the storm, stuffing your faces at a local restaurant – you remembered it was Wanda’s favorite, but she did not even notice. It filled you with disdain to know she could hold you in her arms and make you feel the greatest pleasures in life, but not even bat an eye when it came to a more interpersonal relationship, whether platonic or not.

As you bit your bottom lip as a means to keep yourself grounded, the waitress finally came to your table.

“Hi! My name is Natasha and I will be taking care of you two ladies today. Can I get you guys started with any drinks?” came a voice that you recognized so well.

Turning around, your eyes widened. You were met with a sight you had not seen in years. There stood a redhead with a notepad, smiling at Wanda before turning to you. In a manner that made your heart soar, she only beamed wider when noticing your appearance.

“Y/N?” she questioned with bewilderment. “It’s been so long!”

“Hey, Nat,” you greeted while sitting up straight. “Holy shit, it’s been years! How are you? Nice haircut by the way.”

“Thank you! I’m alright though, just working my way through life until I save up enough to move to California,” Natasha chuckled – you vividly remembered how, during the time in which the two of you had been together, she always dreamed of escaping the cold claws of the east coast and moving to a much warmer atmosphere. “And how are you? You look amazing, detka.”

From the corner of your eyes, you noticed how Wanda visibly tensed at the pet name. She would call you that from time to time while writhing on top of you. Nobody had ever referred to you in that manner from her knowledge. If anything, she never appeared interested in knowing about your past relationships or really anything to do with your personal life.

“I’m doing well. I got finals in a few weeks and I am trying to treat myself before potentially getting a brain aneurysm from all the studying.”

The two of you shared a laugh. It felt as if no time had passed since you were high school students kissing under the bleachers of the football field, away from prying eyes. Natasha had been your first love; it nearly broke your heart when your relationship only turned to shambles as you went off to college and she remained in the work-force. It was not the same when you couldn’t see one another at all times. Still, you found yourself missing her while staring into deep green eyes that never failed to hypnotize you – in that moment, it felt as though there was nobody else but the two of you, although the gnawing image of Wanda still appeared in your brain.

“I’m Wanda, by the way,” came the dirty blonde’s voice through gritted teeth from the other side of the table. “Nice to meet you.”

You recognized the condescending look which she threw at Natasha, one that was typically reserved for the idiotic professors who she almost always clashed with. There was a hesitant wave thrown your ex’s way – a bit too much if you said so yourself.

“Oh, likewise,” Natasha simply replied before turning back to you. “Are you two…?”

“Nope. We’re just friends and roommates,” you quoted Wanda’s words whenever someone asked the same question.

It was strange to watch Wanda’s behavior. You swore her fingernails dug into the table as she kept herself from commenting. Her mouth formed a straight line as she practically stared daggers at Natasha.

“Y/N and I used to date back in high school,” Natasha commented as she let her eyes gaze over Wanda before returning them to you. “Here, I’ll give you my number. We really should catch up and go for a coffee or something. I’d like to know more about how you’re doing.”

After she was finished scribbling away in her notepad, Natasha tore the piece of paper and handed it to you. There was a heart beside the ten digits which warmed your own. You assumed that if Wanda wanted nothing to do with you, perhaps the previous love between you and your ex could be lit up once again.

With a satisfied smirk, Natasha spoke again.

“Now, what can I get you for drinks?”

━━━��⊱⋆⊰━━━━

The remainder of lunch had been spent in a wave of awkward silence between you and Wanda. She only questioned you about Natasha twice, asking how long the two of you had been together and what your feelings for her were currently – all you did was respond with ‘I don’t know’ to the latter.

Once you were done and ready to split the food, Wanda stopped you. She paid for everything, even if it was rather expensive given the status of the restaurant. The sly smirk along with the head tilt she gave Natasha as she came over to pick up the check became ingrained in your brain.

There was even more silence that followed on your way to your shared dorm. It surprised you to feel Wanda’s hand over your own suddenly. She held it tight as the two of you walked around town en route to the campus. Rather than take notice of your questioning gaze, the woman simply held her head up and carried on.

When you had finally arrived at your dorm, ignoring the questioning gazes from the others who noticed your interlaced hands, Wanda urged you inside. She locked the door behind her, taking off her snap-back before throwing it to the side not caring where it landed.

“Take off your clothes, baby,” Wanda ordered softly. “Go get your collar and leash, okay?”

You recognized that exhausted tone, only did not know where it had stemmed from. Still, you were not about to question Wanda’s actions. Even if the dorm room was small, you still made your way to your side while simultaneously tugging at your shirt, all while searching for the required items.

From behind, you failed to notice Wanda mirroring your actions. She carefully pulled at her clothes, letting them fall over the floor before her bed, which she kneeled by. Her hands went under it, dragging a box that lay beneath out of the dark. When opening it, she smiled – once and for all, Wanda would let herself own only you and nobody else.

“Okay, I’m done,” you said with slight giddiness, smiling at the way the pink faux-leather collar squeezed your neck while the similarly-colored leash fell down your body.

“Crawl to me, Y/N,” Wanda said. “Come here.”

When you got down on your hands and knees, you took in her appearance. She was sitting over the edge of her bed still yanking at the harness over her hips with a dildo standing proudly. You could tell it was the special one she only used several times on you, causing your heart to nearly skip a beat. As you took in the naked beauty who then went to pull her hair into a messy bun, you were frozen in place.

“Don’t make daddy repeat herself,” she announced with a much more dangerous tone. “I need my obedient girl today.”

Before you began moving, you nodded. There was no hesitation that came out as you crawled towards your roommate, a serious look over your face as you attempted to study her. She was clearly upset. That along with her silent hostility towards Natasha at the restaurant made you wonder if she was truly jealous as you suspected.

“You know you’re mine, right?” Wanda asked, her voice seemingly small as you kneeled before you. “You can answer, angel.”

“I know, daddy.”

A hand went to your cheek, softly cupping it. Wanda let her thumb graze around your flushed skin, smiling as you shyly attempted to hide yourself. As much as you loved the unabashed roughness she tended to show at times, such tender acts filled you with joy.

Wanda tugged at the leash, forcing you towards her as she took your lips with her own in a searing kiss. It was rough, somehow different from any other she had planted over your mouth. Ever since having seen Natasha, her emotions had been heightened.

“You’re daddy’s pretty toy. I don’t want anyone else to have you, ever,” she explained as she took small breaks from your making-out session. “And I never want anyone else. I just…I need you.”

“I’m here, daddy,” you replied. There were tears nearly forming at the words she spoke. Even if you were unsure whether she meant them or not, they made your heart swell. All you ever wanted since first meeting Wanda was to be hers – her only toy. “Tell me what I can do to please you.”

One last kiss was placed over your mouth, firmly planted as Wanda lingered there for a few seconds. She let your foreheads pressed together while listening to your mirrored ragged breaths. Never had you been through such intimacy with her.

“Come lay down, princess. Let me use you for a bit,” Wanda announced as she leaned back. She grabbed your hands and helped you up, smiling as you carefully went towards the bed. “Daddy’s going to fill you up with cum until you’re a crying mess okay? I need to make you mine and ruin you for anyone else.”

“Yes, daddy,” you giddily replied, beaming at the idea of potentially being Wanda’s.

Wanda shifted over the bed, her eyes roaming all over your body. She put her hands over your inner thighs, carefully spreading them apart. At the sight of your already drenched cunt, she hummed approvingly.

She moved closer to you, letting the creamy dildo side against you. It was grabbed carefully as she did not want to set off the fake cum by squeezing hard. The tip swirled against your slit, garnering large amounts of your juices over it. While you were wet, it was not enough to keep you from being hurt by the roughness she wished to exert.

“Be right back,” Wanda uttered before moving away.

It felt like a lifetime went by before she came back from kneeling over the floor. In her wake, she carried a bottle of lubricant. When she finally settled between your legs once again, you felt at peace. Drops of the lube were squired over the silicone cock before Wanda’s free hand went to spread it across the length. It wasn’t until it glistened with the liquid that she threw the bottle to the other side of the bed.

Wanda gripped the dildo again before letting it touch your entrance. Rather than swirl it all across letting you grow used to such a feeling, she began easing herself in. There was slight caution to her movements only to be replaced quickly by her trademark self.

Her cock spread your pussy apart. Velvety walls moved to welcome the large toy before wrapping themselves around it. Even after having had it used on you various times throughout the semester, you still moaned loudly whenever Wanda filled you up.

“God, you’re a fucking slut, aren’t you?” Wanda questioned with raised eyebrows. She pushed her hips forth before you were able to reply, only yelping loudly instead. “If you wanted me to make you mine, all you had to do was ask. Not whore yourself out for someone else. So stupid.”

All you could do was lay there, taking each thrust with the utmost joy. A hand went to tug at your leash, bringing your face forth while simultaneously choking you. Wanda’s eyes were dark and similar in appearance to those which had begrudgingly stared at Natasha throughout lunch. With her face dangerously close, a free hand went to cup your cheek.

“Tell me who owns you,” Wanda roared. She brought her hand down over your cheek, slapping it with might as you hissed in return. Those little sounds never ceased to make her smile. “Who’s the only one that can fuck you this well? Who owns your pussy?”

“It’s you, daddy!” came your cry as she hit your face again, holding the leash steadily in order to keep you from squirming away. “You own every inch of me. I promise you I am nobody else’s.”

“That’s a good answer,” Wanda whispered. She gave you one last slap for good measure, only it was softer. “Now open your mouth.”

When you gave into temptation, Wanda soon hovered her mouth above your own. She spit at you, grunting as she drove the toy deeper into your cunt with force.

“You’re such a good whore, Y/N. Just look at how well you take daddy’s cock. Your pretty pussy is practically begging to be fucked, eh?”

You didn’t trust yourself speaking, so instead you were sure to nod with vigor. Your hips began grinding against the dildo in an attempt to get off quickly. With your arousal at its peak, it would not be long until you turned into a mess in Wanda’s arms.

With closed eyes, you held into Wanda for support. Your hands landed over her bare upper arms, squeezing them and groaning. She flexed them slightly, forcing you to open your orbs and stare at the sight before you. Her muscles were clearly visible — you always did love when she used all her strength to pick you up and throw you over the bed before ravaging you.

“Awww baby, you’re adorable,” Wanda laughed as she sat back. Still holding the leash, she brought her other hand down your body, letting it ghost over your lower stomach where a small bulge appeared whenever she pushed the dildo into your depths. “What a stupid cock whore you are. I bet Natasha couldn’t ever make you feel this way, eh, detka? You’re my loyal little bitch.”

“Mhm daddy,” you breathed as her fingers pressed against your body.

Wanda dug her cock as deep as she could, giggling at the much larger bulge shown. The palm of her hand held it down, making you scream out in a midst of immense pleasure.

“You’re close, aren’t you? You’ll soon be daddy’s breeding bitch.”

At that, you nodded with tears already forming in your eyes at your overwhelming arousal. Still pressing down on your body while simultaneously tugging at the leash, Wanda tilted her head. You were the most adorable toy she had seen — always ready to please her whenever and however she wished.

“Come for daddy, baby girl. All over my cock, okay?”

“Yes, daddy,” you murmured, letting your head fall back, enjoying how the collar choked you, as you fell apart.

Dismay took over your being as Wanda removed the toy from your pussy as you moaned through your orgasm. The leash had been left over your naked body as well which visibly made you pout. It was only made better as a hand went to keep your thighs open while the other squeezed the dildo with might.

It wasn’t long until a squirt of fake cum shot through your cunt, filling you up slowly. The white substance was thick as it quickly poured into you. Wanda always loved stuffing the toy with all the could as a means to please you further.

Once you were all nice and full, the woman’s cock slid back inside. It was held there frozen in place as you recovered from your orgasm, your chest still heaving up and down as your body shook.

“I’ll help get you cleaned up in a second, detka,” Wanda mumbled as she leaned down. She pressed her forehead against your own in a manner that was unheard of from such a self-proclaimed cold-hearted person. She sighed, closing her eyes before breathing in the stench of sex that filled the dorm. “You did so well. Thank you for always trusting me enough to touch you like this.”

“And thank you for always being so good to me,” you replied with a tired smile, frowning as Wanda only shook her head in retort.

“I just…I’m sorry. I’ve been really shitty ever since we started doing this. It’s just sex like we both agreed to and, yeah, you know it’s been going on with others for me, but I don’t want that anymore,” Wanda admitted with apparent embarrassment at having to showcase such emotions that were seemingly alien to her. “So, do you want to be my girlfriend? Like, actually I mean. I don’t want anyone else to be honest. Just you, Y/N.”

You remained silent, your eyes wide as you heard the words that spilled from your friend’s mouth. All which you had dreamed of ever since setting your eyes on the blonde woman was becoming reality.

“Fuck, I know I’m an idiot. I can’t expect you to say yes after I’ve spent all these years fucking around literally,” Wanda said with a mix of guilt and disgust at her behavior, especially since all she had ever wanted was you. “Seeing firsthand that someone else can potentially have you too makes my blood boil. You’re my detka, nobody else’s. You can take some time to think about it too. I want you to be o-”

You did not hesitate to squeeze her arms, groaning at their muscular appearance, before pulling her close. Lips interlocked for what you knew would be a core memory throughout your life. You held her close, afraid that if for a moment you were to let go, Wanda would be gone as soon as she came.

“I would love that so much,” you admitted when pulling away to grasp for air while leaving your foreheads touching. “I really want to be yours, Wanda. Always.”

[syluriar]

please...help me - sylus x mc!reader. part 1

sypnosis: you call sylus to escape caleb.

a/n: i know i'm not the only one who thought this, a lot of us sylus girlies wanted to call out man and get him our of sjyhaven ASAP. so i wrote this little fic for that, and as you can tell by the title this is just part 1. ofc that means there'll be a part 2, maybe a part 3??? let's wait and see :)

warning: caleb being possessive (yandere??). mc (you) feeling uncomfortable and scared of caleb. hurt and some comfort by sylus (i luv you<3 ). this is rushed and like all my fics, have no grammer check.

word count: 990

RING RING

The vibration of the phone rang loudly through the bathroom, the one place Caleb grants you privacy. More than one you were thankful that he wasn’t here, his duty calling him out to do some work, work that you don’t question anymore, exactly how he likes it.

“I’ll be back soon, Pip-squeak,” He said with a tone meaning for warmth, but you feel the opposite, especially when he looks at you with a smile, the one you remember from your childhood, but it’s not the same anymore. 

“Don’t cause any ruckus, ok? We don’t need a repeat of last time.” 

You shudder at the memory, the way his hand had gripped your wrist and dragged you to your bedroom and placed you not so gently on your bed, scolding you not following his orders and locked you in. He would only allow you to come out for food and he would watch you the whole time you ate, sending shivers of fear down your spine the more it went on. It lasted for two weeks, after that you had a bit more freedom, but every night he would announce it was time for you to sleep and lock you in the bedroom, the next would be the same.

And you hated it. You hated how different he was, how much he had changed since you last saw him. Where was the Caleb that joked around with you? The one that always picked you up when you were feeling down? The one that would wipe away your tears and hold you close? 

Where’s one where you felt safe with? 

Gone. He was all gone, and he scared you. You couldn’t stay here any longer, to try and get the old Caleb back. You had enough of being ordered around and being scared. 

RING RING

Despite Caleb’s watchful eye you managed to snag a new phone as he confiscated yours, checking though all your data to make sure you couldn’t leave, Luckily you thought he would do that and got rid of anything that would get you into trouble; contacts, messages and pictures in your camera roll. So far he hasn’t commented on anything which you pat yourself on the back for.

Another thing your proud of is remembering a phone number, just one that you know would get you out of here.

RING RING

“Please pick up…” You whispered desperately. You have called the number twice now, and you hope people are right when people say third time's the charm, because you needed as much luck as possible right now.

RING RING - 

“I must say your persistence to get hold of me is both annoying and -”

“Sylus!” You couldn’t hold back the happiness as you heard his voice, it had been so long since you last heard it.

“...Is that you, sweetie?”

“It is.” You answer, the endearing name making you blush instantly. 

“Who’s phone are you calling on? Did you get a new phone and not tell me?”

“I’ll tell you that later but I need you to listen to me.” Time was of the essence, and you didn’t want to waste any of it. “I need you to track this phone and come help me.”

“Help you?” His tone held confusion. “What trouble have you gotten into now?”

“Don’t ask. I just need you to come to Skyhaven and get me out of here, fast.” You spoke hastily, you might have sounded desperate, but right now you don’t care. 

“You sound weird, kitten. Are you alright?”

Trust him to take notice. “Please, Sylus. I can’t get out of here and I’m….” You take a deep breath, tears threatening to spill. “I’m scared.”

His answer was instant. “I’m coming, sweetie. Don’t worry, I’ll get you out in no time.”

It’s like a weight is lifted off your shoulders, your heart is lighter and a smile graces your lips. “Thank you. Please hurry Sylus, I don’t like it here.”

“I can tell, sweetie. I’ll destroy everything if it means getting you out.”

“Maybe don’t go that far, there are innocent people here.”

“The ones that hold you against your will are nowhere near innocent.”

You grimace as you think about Caleb, a small piece of you feeling guilty for this, but you needed to get out of here, and if that meant hurting Caleb to escape…then so be it.

Looking at the time, you realise you’ve been left on your own for a while, and Calen would be due back soon. The last thing you wanted was for him to find you like this. “I have to go now, but I’ll see you later?”

“As soon as possible, sweetie. I’ve been making arrangements since you first said you needed my help.”

You end the call quickly and stash within your period products, you knew that Caleb never came in your bathroom, but just in case he changed his mind, at least you knew he wouldn’t search through them.

But now your body is full of nerves, you can’t believe you managed to get through to Sylus, even more so that he’s coming to get you. You just have to wait and keep playing Caleb’s game till he comes, which he assured you will be as soon as possible. In Sylus’ language, that could be within a few minutes to an hour. You hope it’s the first option, but you were determined to wait if that’s what it took.

Before leaving the bathroom you remind yourself to go back to your usual personality that Caleb likes, if he see’s any of your happiness he’ll question it, and you don’t know how long you can lie and fake it for. 

So you lower your excitement, lose your smile and take a few deep breaths to calm your beating heart. Once your assured that you’ve gone back to the obedience look, you open the bathroom door - 

“Have a nice phone call, Pip-squeak?”

[captain-bubble-wrap]

HELP ME PLEASE

Your quinn is literally my favorite!!!!!!!!!!! Can you write him and reader!girlfriend on the phone after the stars game? Your sweet/sad quinn is the best!!!!!!!!!

Oh, you're WAY TO KIND TO ME...! 🥹🥹 Let's see what I can do!

All you had texted was, "I love you."

Incoming Call: Quinny

Quinn's broken voice in that post-game interview had killed you. The way he had looked down before answering about how he was feeling, his thoughts on Millsy's trade, and how he was handling the noise of the dressing room as the team's captain -- it was obvious how much it all was affecting him. Unfortunately, you were twenty-two-hundred miles away, and you felt powerless to help him in any form.

"Hey, baby," you said upon answering the call.

Quinn's voice was low, and it was obvious he was beyond exhausted, body and mind, "Do you have a minute?"

"Of course." Your stomach tightened like you were about to receive some bad news. You hadn't heard him sound this way before and given how the day had gone, you knew it wasn't going to be a butterfly-inducing conversation.

"Let me get somewhere a little quieter. I need to hear your voice."

To you, he sounded desperate -- like he was at his breaking point. While you waited for him to walk to wherever he needed to be, you couldn't help but worry about him -- about what had caused him pain during the game, how losing JT and the others was weighing on him, and the stress of the upcoming tournament that was just four games away. You couldn't get the sad look of his face out of your mind. When was the last time he had actually had a good day, that he was happy without nagging stresses?

"Hey Mike, I'm gonna step out for a few minutes," Quinn said, obviously not talking to you. You couldn't hear the other man's reply but it must have been favourable as Quinn would finally start his conversation with you just a few seconds afterwards.

He sighed heavily, "I wish you were here. I-- I feel like everything is out of control and I don't know what to do."

The sound of wind was intertwined with his words. You wondered if he had stepped outside the arena to talk to you, somewhere to speak without listening ears.

"I wish I was there, too," you confessed, a pain growing in your heart. "You're trying to carry too much, baby."

"I have no choice, though."

You knew where he was coming from. The title of Captain meant you wore several hats, and sometimes more than one at a time. You knew he had all of them on at once. This season hadn't been easy, and something had you believing it wasn't going to get any better.

"I know," you mumbled. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," he breathed out, feeling guilty for calling you when he was feeling like he was. "I'm sorry to put this on you. I just don't know what to do. Everyone is looking to me for answers and insight, but I don't have any. I don't know how to fix the team, I'm carrying as much as I can every night. I'm asked about what's going on behind closed doors and the temperature of the room and I'm over it. It's like the media just wants to keep stirring the pot instead of letting us just work it out. Now I'm being asked about if the team rebuilds what that means for my future in Vancouver. I-- I just-- I can't-- handle everything right now." Your heart was breaking hearing him on the brink of tears. His voice was cracking and shaky. "I need you."

"I wish I was there, sweetheart. I'd do anything I could to help you."

"I love you," his voice at a whisper.

"I love you, too, Quinn."

The first whimper made you cover your mouth to keep yourself from doing the same. Quinn rarely cried, at least not when you were around. To hear him finally drop that ultra-reserved demeanour of his was crushing.

"Oh honey, you'll be okay," you tried to reassure him, but they were words without certainty, you knew that. "You're doing the best you can, and you need to realise that you need to put yourself first sometimes. You're pushing yourself too much. It's not on you to solely fix the team, Quinn, though I know you're trying. I've never seen you this way before, and I'm scared it's going to break you."

He was silent on the other end, aside from his muffled cries. You didn't need him to say anything, though hearing his voice would have made you feel better, which made you remember what he had said to you earlier: "I need to hear your voice."

Maybe he just needed you to talk to him.

"One day at a time, baby, please. Be happy where you are, and what you have. You're doing all you can, and I need you to know that it's okay to struggle, but it's also okay to be content with how things are. You know there are things out of your control, and you just have to let them work themselves out sometimes. You'll drive yourself crazy trying to put bandaids on everything. I don't want to lose you down that rabbit hole." You'd pause before adding one more thing, "I just want you to be okay."

Quietly you'd sit there and wait for a sign from him, or whatever it might be. A long moment of silence would follow your words, making you pull the phone away from your ear to make sure the call hadn't dropped.

"I miss you," he choked out, breaking the painful silence between the two of you.

"I miss you more, Quinn. I wish you were here."

"Me, too," he said, sharply inhaling, like he was trying to push those emotions back down and get over it. "Thank you for picking up everything -- the call, the pieces...me. I'd be so lost without you."

You'd shake your head, "You never have to thank me, baby. I just want to help you."

"I appreciate that," he sniffled. "I just wish I knew where to start."

"With yourself, Quinn," you said bluntly. "How are you feeling? I saw you take the stick to the head early."

It took him a few seconds to respond but you didn't mind, "I don't know, honestly. Between my hand and whatever is wrong with my leg, everything hurts. I'm tired. I'm drained."

Everything he said carried so much weight and his emotions were so painfully honestly.

That was just Quinn.

He always spoke from his heart; wearing his heart on his sleeve every waking moment of his life. However this had a different air about it -- a nakedness. He was free to share his deepest fears with you, those raw feelings were bleeding from him with no hindrance. You appreciated that he felt so comfortable to open up like he was, and the fact that he was away from you, as well. Quinn didn't give the hint that he shared stuff like this with the guys on the team -- not like he did with you. You were different. He loved you -- you occupied a special piece of his heart like no on else did. That meant something special to him.

"You'll be home soon, baby. Just a little longer, okay?"

Through Quinn's end of line, someone was calling out to him, "C'mon Quinn-- the boy's are packing up, let's go."

You frowned hearing the empty orders, but you knew Quinn would have to end the call with you and head to the airport. There was always a sense of urgency after their games, especially the away ones.

"Yeah-- I'll be right there," he muttered, his voice dropping off at the end while he pretended to have himself together. "I'll call you when we get back to Vancouver."

"Be careful."

"I will," he paused. "Thanks, babe. For all that you do for me."

"Happy to help, Quinny. I love you."

For the first time, you heard his little giggle, "I love you, too."

[kaliina-catoe-blog]

No. I hate this take, and I'm sorry to be adding to someone else's post to say it because I genuinely don't want to send hate to OP. But I am so so tired of this HORRIBLE take about Tim. It's completely ridiculous to me to think that Tim Drake is in any way a child who had a normal childhood. "I went to the circus-" Fucking stop. Stop.

Tim Drake, at the ripe old age of TODDLER watched his two heroes fall to their extremely graphic and painful deaths. In front of their child, who we know for sure would have been screaming and crying if not vomiting at the scene. Their child who, earlier that same night, had been happily taking pictures with Tim and treating him so kindly.

Tim would be fucking RUINED just from that alone.

But, adding to that, he also was not giver proper adult supervision for literally almost his entire life before joining the Waynes. By proper, I mean actual real child care. Not school, not just the occasional rotation of nannies he's depicted as having had. Real, actual, care. He was starved for touch and attention and love for years, God knows he wasn't given any therapy after witnessing the death of the Graysons either. Homeboy had so much trauma and was so fucked up as a kid/teen he took to STALKING BATMAN for FUN.

I mean seriously???? Did we read the same character? Tim Drake has every reason to man to become a vigilante. And then? He figures out that Batman and Robin are his neighbors? Specifically that Dick Grayson is Robin? There was never anything that could have stopped Tim from being Robin even if Jason hadn't died.

And then he gets involved and his mom dies and his dad is severely hurt? Yeah. Why do people always insist he should be "normal" or "Okay" or some bullshit? He's a severely mentally ill teenager, and being Robin is one of few things that probably helps him not just go rogue and start fucking murdering people.

Again, do not send hate to OP. And this isn't to say OP is like. A bad fan or some shit. I'm just saying if you're going to talk about a character, you need to know them. And Tim is such an underrated and misunderstood character so it just makes my heart hurt to see people totally not get it.

Go follow OP tho and, give them love to make up for my rant here.

Especially Tim. Barbara at least had the excuse of traumatizing parental death, Tim's backstory? "I went to the circus once when I was three. Also my parents should prbly have gotten a divorce. I attended a lot of boarding schools."

[moonlight-alexia]

forever with you | a.p.

alexia putellas x reader | 2.5k | forever with you sounds perfect to alexia, there isn't anyone else she'd rather be with / alexia proposing to you

italics indicate that it's a little memory/flashback

ˏˋ°•*⁀ it is officially the 4th here in aus, my favourites birthday <3 so here is a little alexia fic for her birthday. i hope you all enjoy it

‘Ah mi amor,’ You let out a small laugh as Alexia gently grabbed your wrist and pulled you onto her lap. You’d both been caught up in celebrating the supercopa win, along with Alexia and her captain duties, you hadn’t seen much of each other, ‘I’ve missed you,’ You let out a soft sigh, smiling as she tucked your hair behind your ear.

‘I’m here now Ale,’ Leaning into her touch you placed a kiss on the corner of her mouth, lightly teasing her.

Though Alexia wasn’t having any of that and swiftly pulled you in for a kiss. Your lips softly brushing against each other, adding more pressure and deepening the kiss.

‘Dios mío, get a room,’ You heard Mapi yell before something soft was hitting you both making you pull apart. A silent agreement between you and Alexia that you were both ready to go back to your hotel room. Wanting to spend some time where it was just the two of you.

Alexia was already in bed when you came back from the bathroom. You always took a lot more care and had a much more in depth skincare routine than Alexia did so it was quite common for her to already be in bed, waiting for you. More times than not after a big match like the one you just played today, Alexia would already be asleep, even if she’d wake slightly when you slipped in beside her and protest that she was just resting her eyes and not really asleep. 

But the protests always died when you’d pull her into your side, arm wrapped around Alexia’s waist, her neck snuggled in the crook of yours, a soft kiss on her forehead and she’d be back asleep within seconds.

Though tonight, even though she was physically tired, Alexia knew she wasn’t going to get the best sleep tonight. Even with the thought of being cuddled up against your side, the weight of the ring she had in her bag, packed so delicately and very well hidden in case you went to grab anything out of her bag like you normally did, would be on her mind all night.

No matter what the outcome of the final, Alexia had the proposal planned. Perfectly planned exactly how she knew you would like. Planned 

‘Ale, did you need-,’ Except, those plans went out the window the moment she looked up at you as you were making your way to bed. You were wearing one of Alexia’s hoodies, the one that you’d claimed as your own when the two of you first started dating. Your favourite of Alexia’s and you’d always make sure she wore it right before you’d go to your respective national teams. Helped you sleep better before matches if it felt like Alexia was there next to you.

Most of Alexia’s clothes were slightly too big on you and the hoodie was just that. Your hair you had messily put up in a bun, not caring how it looked since it was only up so it wouldn’t get in your way when going through your nightly routine knowing you would take it out the second you got into bed. The warmth of the light from the lamp hitting your skin just right, along with the natural glow of your skin. 

To Alexia, in this light you looked utterly beautiful, no words could accurately describe just how gorgeous you are. At least none that could ever do it justice in Alexia’s eyes. It’s in moments like this that Alexia wishes she could take photos with her eyes, she just wants you to see and understand how you are to her. As if the small smile and dreamy look in her eyes whenever her gaze landed upon yours wouldn’t tell you on its own. You were the one for her and she never let you feel any other way or leave room for you to doubt her feelings for you.

Alexia’s known for a while that she wants to marry you. You stole her heart and never gave it back, not that she minded you kept it safe and unbroken. It was a moment quite similar to this one right now when Alexia realised that she wanted to officially spend forever with you.

It had been a long day at training, even more so since you’d lost the last game. Losing wasn’t something you’d often come across these days playing at Barcelona, but it wasn’t something that you could avoid forever. The lows always helped to make the wins feel that much better. 

There was always an intensity to training and after a loss it was always much more intense. So going home, the home you shared and built together with your girlfriend, made these days feel that much better. 

‘Ale,’ You softly sighed, turning your head so you were looking up at her, ‘You’re sending me to sleep and it’s still so early,’ You were laying with your head on Alexia’s lap, a movie on in the background while she was caught up with, you were sure it was, something related to football on her ipad. Her fingers gently playing with your hair and, every now and then,  running softly along the back of your neck. 

‘Mi vida, just relax,’ Alexia’s attention was fully on you now, leaning down lightly kissing the top of your head, ‘You deserve it cariño,’ The softness in which she spoke to you always made your heart flutter and your body fill with warmth. She knew how hard you worked and how you struggled to let yourself rest when you needed it. 

Alexia peppered your face with soft kisses, deliberately skipping your lips each time she got close, ‘Amor,’ You whined softly, Alexia smiled, her hand tracing along your jaw while her lips hovered above yours. You were about to whine again when she let them connect. A slow, deep kiss, lips lingering against yours momentarily when she pulled away. 

‘Te amo,’ You whispered it back, both of you in your own little bubble, ‘Now rest, I’m right here if you need me, not going anywhere,’ 

Alexia gently rubbed along your back while you curled up even more against her. It didn’t take long for you to allow yourself to relax with Alexia, it had always come naturally. At the end of the day her arms were your safety, whatever happened during the day didn’t matter as long as you were in her embrace.

The glow of the afternoon sun slipped through the bottom of the blinds, the glow illuminating your face. Some days your schedules were packed full, so Alexia always enjoyed these quiet moments with you. Whatever she had been doing on her ipad was fully forgotten, she was captivated by you. 

The thought of forever with you, of marrying you, popped into her head that day. Realising that she would be content with spending every moment of her life with you, wanting to share every moment and achievement with you. Knowing that without you by her side she wouldn’t feel completely whole. From that day she’d started planning and trying to figure out the perfect proposal, though Alexia would never forget the day that made her almost accidentally blurt out a proposal. 

It wasn’t even a loss, but it was a very sloppy win and it hit Alexia harder than anyone could have anticipated. She had seemed fine afterwards, but you’d failed to realise she was just going through the motions completely on autopilot. Alexia wasn’t the loudest or most out there person but she wasn’t the quietest either.

Alexia couldn’t help but put even more pressure on herself. It was a habit she had, along with your help, tried so hard to stop. The pressure to be the best all the time, and you hated seeing how she would shut down when the weight of that came crashing down pulling her with it. That didn’t stop the occasional slip and Alexia falling back into that habit, one that came so naturally to her.

‘Lo siento, mi amor,’ You crouched down in front of Alexia. You don’t recall hearing Alexia speak a word since you both got home, though you’d been distracted trying to get the both of you something to eat, ‘I should’ve noticed,’ Your voice was soft and small. You weren’t necessarily talking to Alexia right now, knowing that she wouldn’t really be listening to anything outside of her own head.

‘All those missed chances,’ You knew she was thinking about the game before she’d even said it. She was fidgeting with her fingers so you took her hands in your own, your thumb gently rubbing over her hand.

‘You know it wasn’t just you. You don’t have to be perfect for us, there’s no such thing and you know that,’ Your voice still had a softness to it but there was a slight firm undertone, one that was needed to break through all the self doubts that was filling her head, you needed her to hear you, ‘There are days when, despite everything we do, it just doesn’t click for us out there. But we will come back stronger next time. You’re not alone in this and you don’t need to carry the weight of it all by yourself. You’ve always got me, the team and the fans. No one needs- I don’t need you to be perfect,’ 

You could see the conflict in her eyes, the hesitation to believe what you were saying, ‘It’s not you that has to fix everything all the time. Yes you’re our captain, pero amor, lean on us we’ve got you, I’ve got you. You are more than enough exactly as you are,’ You brought each of her hands up to your lips, softly kissing each knuckle while looking up at her.

A deep sigh, Alexia nodded slightly leaning forward so her forehead was resting against yours. You wrapped your arms around Alexia, tightly holding her against you, ‘Gracias, mi amor. How do you always know what to say, what I need,’ 

‘Because I just know you Ale,’ Another way to say you love Alexia, a way that means more to her than she could ever tell you, ‘How about a warm bath and an early night? Bubbles in the bath?’ 

‘I’m not a kid,’ Alexia’s voice was small and you could hear the small pout her lips were forming. 

You chuckled softly, ‘Oh my mistake, so you really really don’t want a warm bath with little bubbles,’ Your tone was teasing.

‘Con una vela vainilla y pequeña, por favor,’ Alexia kissed the side of your neck, you could feel a small smile against you and your heart felt a little lighter knowing Alexia was going to be okay.

When you wrapped her up in a soft, fluffy blanket in bed later that night, holding her close to you. She almost asked you to marry her, while she took care of you, you never hesitated to take care of her. To let her know it was okay to not be the one to take care of everyone all the time. Alexia let you take care of her, she felt safe enough to do that with you.

Her plans didn’t matter anymore, right now was perfect.

‘Alexia…’ Your voice cut through, bringing Alexia back to reality. You were now standing at the side of the bed, lightly waving your hand in front of Alexia’s face. She registered the use of her name and raised an eyebrow at you, ‘Knew that would make you come back to me,’ You smirked knowing there’s only certain times when she doesn’t mind you using her name and right now wasn’t one of them.

‘¿Estás bien?’ You asked since it had been a long day, you’d more than understand her being tired but zoning out was on the more unusual side for Alexia.

‘More than,’ Alexia couldn’t wait any longer. You were confused when she sprung out of bed, almost like there was a fire she had to get away from as quickly as she could, ‘You’re so beautiful,’ Alexia had circled the bed, wrapping an arm around your waist bringing you into her, her other hand cupping your cheek. You leaned into her touch, your face heating up at the intimacy. After all these years together and Alexia still made you feel like you were a teenager having her first crush.

Alexia kissed you deeply, guiding you to sit on the edge of the bed once she pulled away. There was this goofy, lovesick smile that wouldn’t leave her face when she looked at you. You sitting in front of her, in her hoodie, in your natural beauty and the thought of forever felt like it would never be long enough with you.

‘Mi vida, wait here, por favor,’ A small chuckle left your lips, still confused with Alexia’s sudden actions but she was cute so of course you listened and watched her rummage through her bag.

Walking back towards you, hands behind her back holding the box out of view for now, Alexia suddenly grew very nervous. She didn’t have any doubt that you would say no, but she was second guessing if it was the right moment for you. It felt right for Alexia so she pushed through the doubts, also worried that she wouldn’t find the right words or convey them in the way she wants to. She didn’t have that extra mirror practice like she had planned to have the night before.

A small timid, partly awkward still partly goofy and loved up, smile graced her lips, ‘Mi amor, I had this all planned out but looking at you right now, seeing you and just being here with you, nothing has ever felt more right,’ A small gasp left your lips when Alexia knelt down on one knee, revealing the box and the ring inside it to you, ‘You are so beautiful and I really love the life we’ve built together. There is no one else but you, you are the one for me, we just fit together like we were made for each other. Like you were made for me,’ Your eyes were starting to well up with tears with each word Alexia spoke. She was pouring all her emotion and feelings into her words and you could feel it so deep within you, ‘I want a forever with you, mi vida, will you do me the honour of being my wife,’ 

So overcome with emotion, it felt like all the air had been sucked from your lungs. You nodded furiously and let out the smallest, ‘Sí,’ while you pulled Alexia up your lips crashing onto hers. Deep, breathless and full of a joy that couldn’t be contained between you both. 

Alexia chuckled when you finally let her pull away slightly, ‘Amor, amor, I need to put the ring on your finger, por favor,’ 

You laughed forgetting that you skipped over that part entirely, just wanting to be close to her. Alexia took your hand and slid the ring on your finger, gently leaving a kiss to seal her love that would stay with you for a lifetime.

Alexia held you in her arms, your eyes transfixed on the ring that shone beautifully on your finger. You still couldn’t believe it, ‘This was perfect Ale,’ Whispering out into the soft comfortable silence that filled the hotel room you were staying in, ‘I love you Alexia,’

‘I love you, more than anything,’

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

liked by alexiaputellas, marialeonn16 and 130,809 others y/n if this is what i get after a cup win, what could i get after we win the champions league again 😏 ps. forever with you has a nice ring to it mi amor ❤️tagged: alexiaputellas

[juniperskye]

I’m Sorry…What?

Based on the following ask: Established relationship but it’s secret from the team. The team think they don’t like each other but in truth they are deeply in love with each other but the team don’t let them always be alone together out of worry so there have been a few close calls where they almost get caught until reader and Aaron room together and finally talk about maybe telling the team only the way they tell them is threw wedding invites and that’s shocks the team and they all have questions to which reader and Aaron only smile thinking how funny it is that a team of profilers never found them out. Love this idea! In this, Derek kind of looks out for the reader – very “big brother” behavior from him in this.

Aaron Hotchner x Fiance BAU! Fem Reader

Fluff

Word count: 1617

Not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, some explicit language, meddling profilers, canon typical violence, mention of stabbing and hospitals, mention of wedding related activities, let me know if I missed anything!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

You stood from your desk, just about to head up to Hotch’s office with a file when Emily stopped you. Her hand resting on your forearm gently, her eyes meeting your own.

“I have to go drop this file off, let me take yours.”

“Oh, Emily it’s okay. I can take them.” You moved to grab her file.

“Girl, it’s okay…I know how hard he is on you.” Emily stood, patted your shoulder and took the files to Hotch’s office.

--

Things had been like this pretty much since the moment you’d joined the BAU. For whatever reason, everyone on the team had just assumed that you and Hotch hated each other…that you two couldn’t even be in the same room as one another without fighting. But that couldn’t be further from the truth.

See, what the team didn’t know was that Aaron and you were engaged. The two of you were dating even before you had joined the BAU. You had been working with a different team within the FBI, having a background in behavior analysis…moving to the BAU when a spot opened up, that just made sense.

Aaron and you had agreed to keep things strictly professional at work to avoid any discomfort within the workplace. Apparently that choice was now biting you in the ass.

Working with profilers, you’d think the secret of your relationship would have come out a long time ago, that being said, doesn’t mean there haven’t been some close calls.

--

This had started early on in you career with the BAU. Aaron had avoided pairing the two of you together, simply to avoid any suspicion of your relationship. The team, however, took this as him not warming up to your presence on the team.

Then it was him “benching” you. Aaron for a period of time had kept you in the local precincts on cases, you knew this was because he was worried about you getting hurt, but the team saw this as him questioning your abilities. They all reassured you that you were an asset to the team, more than capable in the field. Morgan had gone as far as confronting Aaron about the way he was mistreating you.

What really sealed this theory in your teammate’s heads was the way Aaron and you sparred. During debriefings the two of you would go back and forth through numerous theories, jabbing at one another for how “ridiculous” the other one was being. While to the team this looked argumentative…it really was how the two of you were, always pushing one another, wanting them to be the best they can be. Unafraid to challenge one another.

Everything was different after that. The team worked overtime to keep things light when the two of you were around one another. They would step into conversations, inserting themselves when it wasn’t necessary. They would jump in and offer to pair with one of you, so you’d never be stuck one-on-one.

At first you found it kind of funny, laughing internally at their crazy antics, but now that you were engaged, it was getting increasingly annoying. You’d just wanted some alone time with your fiancé and they were making it impossible.

--

You had gone to get a fresh cup of coffee to help you get through the remainder of your paperwork. Upon entering the kitchenette, you came face to face with your fiancé.

“Hey sweetheart.” He quietly greeted.

“Hi hon.” You smiled.

Aaron passed you a cup of coffee before moving to fill a second one for himself. He’d been this way since the beginning, always putting you first no matter what. You offered him thanks and stood with him for a moment, enjoying the proximity.

“I got a call earlier from the florist, she sent over the invoice. I also sent the deposit to the caterer this morning.” You informed.

“For the flowers, peonies right? Did you decide on pink or whi-”

“Everything okay in here?” Morgan bounded into the kitchenette. “You guys look tense…please tell me you weren’t fighting again.”

“Nope, everything is good! I was just heading back to my desk.” You said before making your exit.

--

The next slip up was while away on a case. You had been with Derek interviewing someone that happened to be the unsub, only you hadn’t been aware of that going in.

He had pulled a knife and moved quickly, leaving you with a nasty stab to the gut. You were lucky that it hadn’t hit anything major. You’d waved Derek off, telling him to go after the unsub.

After apprehending the guy, Derek made his way back to you to check in and make sure you were okay. He had called the team and for a medic, not leaving your side.

When Aaron showed up he was livid. The team took that as anger for your “mistake”, not realizing that his anger was directed toward himself – he was beating himself up for having sent you in there, putting you in this situation.

He rode with you in the ambulance to the hospital…giving the rest of the team time to talk about how he was probably reprimanding you. But once again, it couldn’t have been further from the truth. He had held you hand and reassured you the whole way to the hospital.

The team met him there and waited by his side as you were tended to. And when the doctor came out and called your name, asking for family, Aaron didn’t hesitate to rise to his feet, barely catching himself and mentally correcting fiancé to boss.

--

After that, the team did everything they could to keep the two of you separated or at least had someone with you to act as a buffer. It was becoming exhausting – you’d been trying to give Aaron an update about some stuff for the wedding and you just couldn’t get the chance.

The two of you would end up rapidly firing through topics once you arrived home for the evening, trying to catch one another up on wedding tasks, work tasks, and just everyday things.

 “Aaron…have you thought about how much easier things would be if we just told the team about us?”

“Yes I have. Why do you ask?” He admitted.

“Just, well…they’ve been annoying lately.” You huffed. “I don’t mean to sound rude, you know I love them. But they just won’t quit, I can’t get even a second alone with you at work and it is getting ridiculous.”

“You’re right. When you were in the hospital last month, I almost let it slip in front of them. If it’s what you want, let’s tell them.” Aaron agreed.

And thus began your planning of how you’d tell the most oblivious group of profilers that the two of you didn’t hate each other but were actually engaged to be married.

--

It took about a week and a half before you could officially tell the team your little secret. You had been waiting for your invitations to come in so you could hand deliver a few to your team…it would be the perfect announcement.

“Round table in five.” Aaron called out into the bullpen.

“Shit…he seems pissed.” Emily hissed.

You couldn’t help but giggle, knowing full well he was anything but pissed. Emily and you went and collected everyone, bringing them to the round table. There were hushed whispers about what this could be about, and when Penelope mentioned there wasn’t a new case, you could feel the anxiety filling the room.

--

Aaron made his way in, his hands holding a neat stack of pale pink envelopes. You couldn’t help but notice the way he commanded a room, his mere presence demanding the attention of those around him. This is what had initially drawn you to him all those years ago.

“I have something for each of you. I’d like you to wait to open them until everyone has one.” Aaron announced.

He passed them out one by one, the room remaining silent the entire time. It didn’t take long for everyone to notice that you were the only one who didn’t receive an envelope.

“Hotch man, if this is some kind of sick power move then I swear I will-” Derek began.

“Please, open them.” You spoke before standing up and making your way to Aaron’s side.

Confusion painted its way across everyone’s faces. Hands working quickly to open the envelopes they’d been handed. You were shaking with anticipation, and you couldn’t help the little smirk that made its way to your lips when the confusion was quickly replaced with shock.

“I’m sorry…what?” Penelope asked.

“What the hell is this?” Derek questioned.

Everyone began talking at once, talking about whether or not this was a joke. Asking if one another knew, and how long this had been going on.

“Guys!” You called. “Aaron and I have been together for a few years, well before I started with the BAU. We got engaged about seven months ago…and well, we’d love it if you all would be there for us.” You smiled.

“I KNEW IT!” Rossi laughed. “I told you all from the beginning that they didn’t hate one another, they love each other, and you all swore that they hated each other.”

--

Four months later, the BAU team stood by your sides as you said your vows and committed yourselves to one another.

And while the team dynamic shifted slightly with them knowing the two of you are together, and with there being two Agent Hotchners now, the one thing that didn’t change was that this team was family and you all were there for one another no matter what.

Taglist: @bernelflo@pastelpinkflowerlife@just-moondust

[gardenfairie]

This question asked by a mileven to finn wolfhard might've been one of the best proofs bylers got today lmao.

There is so much to unpack here.

"What makes miIeven so strong?" — Finn didn't address this at all. Is their "love" really so strong if he can't easily speak on it? lol. Caleb was going on about how unconditional and forever lumax's love was today. Those were the words he used. And Noah went on and on about byler's bond at his last panel in 2024.

Instead of answering how their love is so strong, Finn starts talking about how romance was the last thing on Mike's mind when he met El. This easily kills the 'love at first sight' from the monologue, which is hilarious because the questioner is asking "how does Mike's monologue impact them after season 4". So not only did he ignore the question, but he also contradicts the monologue that the questioner wants to hear more about, not once, but THREE TIMES 😭😭😭

"I dont think romance was on his mind even when he initially found eleven" "didn't perceive himself to be in any romantic relationship" "that wasn't even on his mind"

Next he's comparing el to ET: the least romantic dynamic ever. ET is an alien that a boy named elliot takes care of. So apparently that's how Mike initially saw El— like a pet he had to take care of. (This is not news and has been said multiple times by the duffers and finn by the way). Oh and ET says goodbye and leaves at the end of the movie.

"relationship with a lot of people", "feelings towards someone" — Keeping it gender neutral I see :))

"first love", "that relationship is his first romantic feelings for someone" — Usually people signify the relationship being a first because it's not the LAST either *chuckles*. Interesting how finn doesn't say anything like "that relationship is his ONLY romantic feelings towards someone" if he wanted to emphasize how deeply in love they are like how the questioner so clearly wanted him to lol

"going into season 5", "still a couple going into it" — So he said not once but twice "going into..." He seems to want to make it really clear he's ONLY referring to the beginning of the season and nothing else, because it's literal common sense. mike and el ended off season 4 together, so yeah no fucking duh they're starting off season 5 together?? Like what lol.

"that's all I can say about 5" — So zero indication that Mileven are still together in the middle, or the end, or anywhere beyond the start of season 5.

Now what would be a better more pro-mileven response to this question? Probably something like this (I'm essentially taking stuff Noah and Caleb have said about byler and lumax and mashing them together):

The romantic relationship between Mike and El is a foundational element of stranger things. What makes them so strong and how does Mike’s confession impact them after season 4?

I think what makes Mike and El so strong is their unconditional love and connection with each other, just as what Mike's confession showed. I can't give spoilers about season 5, but I'm just excited for you guys to see it. Like I think all throughout the seasons, I have have so many great scenes with millie. I can't spoil anything but Mike and El's relationship has been so important all throughout, and you'll see what they will face in season 5.

[kiwriteswords]

My Funny Valentine [Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader]

Masterlist (not updated, sorry!)|| Ao3||Word Count: 1.9k|| AN: I have been binge-re-watching The Nanny for the first time since I was a teenager and got to the episode where Fran buys a billboard for Mr. Sheffield after thinking he was her secret admirer. I had to do this for Hotch and Reader!

Tags/Warnings: female reader, BAU reader, will they won't they relationship, Valentine's Day, mentions of Haley, mentions of a creepy police officer, based off an episode of The Nanny, fools in love.

Summary: Given your undeniable chemistry and attraction for one another, when an unsigned card with flowers and a teddy bear shows up on your desk, you assume it's from Hotch. After making a grand gesture for what you thought was in return, you both soon realize the truth.

Ever since you joined the BAU, your interactions with Hotch have been a mixture of professional respect and undeniable chemistry. Over the years, the flirty banter had evolved into a dance of “will they, won't they,” much to the entertainment--and sometimes frustration--of the team. 

Everyone could see the mutual attraction except, it seemed, the two of you.

Being Hotch's subordinate, you treaded carefully, harboring feelings you dared not confess, always secretly hoping he'd be the one to break the professional boundary.

You were younger--not inappropriately so (maybe just a little)...well, enough to make you question if this chemistry was all in your head. Enough questioning to allow these feelings to remain at a standstill--or at least until he broke first. 

This Valentine's Day seemed like any other day at the BAU, but when you arrived at your desk, you found a bouquet of pink carnations and a teddy bear holding a card. Your heart skipped a beat as you read the flirty message. 

"To the one who captures my thoughts as easily as she profiles unsubs. Happy Valentine's Day."

You couldn't help but think it was from Hotch. Carnations and a teddy bear? Not what you would have imagined Hotch picking out, but nonetheless, thoughtful. Unexpected. Thrilling. 

He was finally crossing that line drawn in the sand. The one you blurred and blurred but ultimately never swept away. 

Excitement bubbling up inside you, you rushed to share the news with Penelope Garcia, your go-to confidante for all things romantic and dramatic. The one who had been arguably rooting for you and Hotch more than anyone. 

Maybe it was the hopeless romantic in her, or maybe…just maybe, the proof was there in plain daylight with the way you and Hotch played your games with one another. Like a tennis match of back and forth--over and over. 

“My gosh,” Penelope squealed, looking at the card, “I mean…I can’t believe it. What are you going to do? What are you going to say!?” She leaned forward, capturing your arm, almost to steady her own excitement. 

“I want to do something for him…something nobody’s ever done for him before.” You thought carefully. 

Many would argue that you were…of the dramatic kind. Maybe that’s why you and Penelope got along so easily. Hotch would argue that you were dramatic the most. You often used it to your own advantage with him. 

You knew--although you’d both never admit it--you had Hotch wrapped around your finger so it was easy to use those puppy dog eyes when you didn’t feel like completing a case assignment or if you wanted the bigger room at the hotel. 

“You know,” Penelope pondered, “Now that I think of it,” She scrunched her face, “All of these years here, I’m not sure anyone’s ever left Hotch a Valentine. I mean…I gave him a pink fostered sugar cookie once, but even Haley…I don’t think there was anything here for him.” 

You smirked, raising an eyebrow, “He doesn’t seem like the type that’s going to like a velvet heart-shaped box filled with fruit-filled chocolates.” 

“That man is a closet sweet eater,” Penelope pointed at you, “But to your point, you’ve gotta do something…something grand. Something that will knock his argyle socks off.” 

You snorted, then really thought. Grand. Grand? What would be grand? Then it came to you. 

“I have the best idea.” 

The two of you giggled and brainstormed extravagant ideas to win Hotch's heart, finally settling on a grand gesture that no one could ignore--a billboard confession. You found the idea so wildly romantic, the perfect way to tell Hotch how you felt.

With Penelope's enthusiastic encouragement, you commissioned a billboard on Hotch's route home.

“Be My Valentine, Aaron Hotchner! Love your Y/N” 

However, as you prepared to leave work that evening, you received a call from the local police department asking if you enjoyed the flowers. Your stomach dropped as you recognized the voice--it was the overly friendly officer from your last case, the one Hotch had given a look to the entire time. 

The cheesy teddy bear. The cheap carnations. The corny card. None of that would be Hotch. You wanted to die. Crawl into a ball and die of embarrassment and stupidity, but not until after you got rid of that billboard!

Frantic, you rushed to find Rossi, Derek, and Spencer, blurting out your predicament and the mistake you’d made. They erupted into laughter but saw the urgency of the situation.

"We’ve got to get that billboard down before Hotch drives home!" you exclaimed, your face burning with embarrassment. You paced around the bullpen, looking up to Hotch’s office, then to them, then back up. You ran your hand over your face, stressed. 

Rossi, Spencer, and Derek gathered around you, each wearing an expression that meant business. Derek leaned against his car, arms crossed. "You know, you could just leave that billboard up. It's about time one of you made a move."

Rossi nodded, his wise eyes fixed on you. "We're all tired of the dance, kid. It's not just you suffering from all this uncertainty--Hotch is right there with you. You both need to take that leap."

Spencer chimed in, "Statistically, the likelihood of mutual feelings being reciprocated in situations like these is quite high. You might be pleasantly surprised."

You appreciated their support, but the thought of Hotch seeing the billboard without understanding the context terrified you. You grabbed your car keys and headed to the nearest hardware store. "I just need to fix this before it gets worse," you muttered more to yourself than to them.

At the hardware store, you picked up a bucket of paint and a roller, your hands trembling slightly at the thought of climbing up the billboard. Heights had never been your friend, but today, they seemed a lesser evil compared to the embarrassment of Hotch reading your unintended public declaration.

With the sun setting, you parked your car by the billboard and stared up at the looming structure. Steeling your nerves, you looked up toward the tall ladder that led to a ledge where the freshly painted billboard sat. You wished the service you paid earlier was available after hours to come and take down the work they had done so quickly. 

Each step up made your heart pound louder, but the fear of making a fool of yourself pushed you onward.

Once you reached the top, you positioned yourself to start painting, but a sudden wave of vertigo hit as you peered down. The can of paint slipped from your grip, tumbling down and splattering the ground below with white paint.

You looked up to the sky and raised your hands with defeat and tears forming in your eyes, “Is this some sick joke?!”

Climbing down was even harder, with your hands shaking and tears of frustration starting to blur your vision. Just as you reached the last few rungs, a pair of steady hands gently guided you down. You almost jumped out of your skin, only to turn and see Hotch, his face filled with concern.

"Hey, it's okay," he soothed, keeping his hands on your shoulders to steady you.

You took a deep breath, wiping away a stray tear, turning as you took your last step off the ladder. He steadied you on the last few steps down, his touch reassuring.

"I'm so sorry, Hotch. There’s been a huge misunderstanding," you began, your voice a mix of embarrassment and relief. "I thought those flowers and the teddy bear were from you, and Penelope and I--we…I just got carried away."

Hotch gave you a small, understanding smile. "Emily and JJ told me there was a surprise waiting for me on the freeway home. I left early to see what it was." The last thing you expected was Hotch’s calm voice breaking through your flustered apologies. 

Your heart sank, imagining what he must have thought seeing that message. "I was trying to cover it up before you could see it. I didn’t want you to find out like this." You gestured up to the brightly colored billboard with what felt like the most embarrassing thing in the world displayed for everyone and their mother to see. 

“You don’t need to apologize for anything,” His gaze softened as he looked up at the message, then back to you. "I saw the billboard," he admitted a hint of awe in his voice. "Nobody has ever done anything quite like that for me. It was...unexpected, certainly, but kind in a way only you could manage."

Your heart fluttered, surprise etching across your features. "You liked it?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper, unsure if your ears were playing tricks on you.

"I loved it," he corrected gently, his hands still resting lightly on your shoulders. "You have a knack for the dramatic, but it’s one of the many reasons I..." His voice trailed off, and he hesitated, his eyes searching yours for a reaction. The pause was palpable, every second stretching longer than the last until finally, he continued, "It’s one of the many reasons I love you."

The world seemed to stop spinning as his words hung in the air. "You love me?" you repeated, your voice a mix of hope and disbelief. Hotch reached up to brush a stray hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. His hand lingered, cupping your cheek gently. Your hand reached up to cover his, leaning into his touch. 

Hotch nodded, a soft chuckle escaping him, as if it was common knowledge, like you should already know it--or maybe he realized he should have already said it. 

"Yes, I do. And I think it’s about time I said it."

Emotions swirled within you--relief, joy, and a love that had been quietly simmering for too long. It all bubbled to the surface as you stepped closer, reducing the space between you. "I love you too, Hotch," you confessed, your voice steady with conviction.

His smile was all the encouragement you needed. You both leaned in and under the soft glow of the streetlights and the shadow of the billboard, your lips met in a kiss that sealed the confessions of the day. The kiss was gentle at first, exploratory as if both of you were still gauging the reality of the moment. But as certainty took over, it deepened, affirming the years of unspoken feelings and flirtatious banter.

As you both pulled away, Hotch's eyes twinkled with a mixture of contentment and mischief. "Next time," he said with a playful grin, "I'll be the one buying flowers; you’ll know they’re from me. I wouldn’t dare buy you carnations, and they won’t come with a cheap teddy bear."

Your laughter filled the air, light and free, as you both made your way back to your cars, the billboard forgotten but its message now etched in both your hearts.

The next morning, as you walked into the BAU, you stood surprised. There, on your desk, stood two dozen long-stem roses in a vase, their crimson petals vibrant against the mundane backdrop of your office. Attached to the vase was a card, Hotch’s neat handwriting spelling out a message that was both flirty and utterly him: 

"For the record, I prefer dramatic gestures that involve flowers on days other than just February 14th. Here’s to many more, just the way we like them. --A."

The smile that spread across your face lingered long into the day, as did the warmth in your heart, knowing the dance of “will they, won't they” had transformed into a harmonious “finally, we did.”

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @looking1016  @khxna @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @reidfile @bernelflo @lover-of-books-and-tea @frickin-bats @sleepysongbirdsings @justyourusualash @person-005 @iyskgd @hiireadstuff @kcch-ns @alexxavicry @superlegend216

[brawberryz]

You think i'm weird?

Damian Wayne × BatSis! Reader 《Platonic!》

Note: English is not my first language, sorry if there is any translation error

You had noticed that Damian was more distant than usual, his self-centered personality and confident tone had almost completely disappeared

You weren't stupid, you knew something was wrong, you were his older sister, maybe you had different mothers and were raised in different environments but that doesn't mean you didn't understand

You said you were going to confront him on the next patrol, you needed answers and as the excellent detective you were, you were going to get them

_

"Is there something bothering you?"

You said suddenly as the two of you sat in front of a building, it was the right time to talk, there was no one who could interrupt.

"What do you mean?"

Damian asked as if he didn't know what you meant.

"You're acting strange, like something was bothering you..."

You said as you stared at him, you knew something was wrong, maybe you didn't say it all the time but you cared too much for him, maybe sometimes you fought and it seemed like you wanted to kill each other and sometimes it was true, but still there was a part of your head that hated the idea that he, your brother, your little brother was in danger or sad.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Damian seemed to simply ignore the subject and want to change the conversation, your brow furrowed at such a response.

"I'm not stupid, Damian, tell me what's wrong? Did you fight with dad again or what?"

You sat a little closer to him, you were going to find out what was wrong with Damian even if it would take you a thousand years

"It's not that, it's just that..."

His voice trailed off in the middle of the sentence, he was hesitating to tell you, he seemed downcast, that wasn't the Damian you knew, he would never have doubted anything

"You... you think I'm weird?"

A laugh came out of your lips and you started laughing like crazy, Damian had never seen you laugh so much in his life as now

"WHAT ARE YOU MAKE FUN OF, STUPID!, ugh I knew I shouldn't tell you, you never take anything seriously"

Damian crossed his arms looking at you angrily, I didn't understand what was funny about the situation, he was telling you something personal and you just... you just laughed!?

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! But seriously I've never heard anything so funny in my life"

You tried to stop laughing, you wiped away a tear that fell from your eye before you could speak

"Seriously you ask, of all people you ask me that?"

You said ironically looking at Damian, he just shrugged his shoulders and looked away

"Damian, we are vigilantes, there is nothing normal in our life, the strange thing would be if something was normal, you are literally the son of a very dangerous assassin and I am the daughter of a villain"

You let out a small laugh while saying that, but you saw that Damian's mood didn't change so you decided to get serious

"But hey, seriously, if you are weird but so what? We are all weird and you shouldn't be ashamed of that, I could say that I am weirder than you and I don't care"

Damian was surprised by your words, it was the first time he saw you talking seriously, he always thought you were too stupid and childish but what you just said really surprised him

"Thanks... I think"

"You're welcome, but don't be ashamed of being weird, let's be weird together, what do you think?"

You said giving him a smile as you put your arm around his shoulders and brought him closer to you, it was the first time you had gotten so emotionally close to Damian, you thought he hated you or something but apparently it was far from reality

"That... that's fine with me"

For a second you could see a small smile on Damian's face, that made your heart feel good

A few minutes passed before Damian spoke again

"You dare tell someone about this conversation and I'll cut your throat"

And there he was again the same old Damian, well at least those were the best minutes of your life before Damian went back to being Damian

"Whatever you say, Mr. weirdo"

You let out a laugh as you said those words

"I'M SERIOUS, YOU DARE TO TELL SOMEONE AND I'LL KILL YOU!"

Damian spoke angrily, punching you in the arm

"Hey! That's enough, but stop doing it... HEY, STOP IT, IT HURTS!!"

You shouted, trying to dodge Damian's punches. God, I think you missed the emo Damian...

I imagine the relationship between Damian and BatSis! Reader like that of gumball and anais, i love writing about them, they are so silly

(*^▽^)/★*☆♪

[girl-lostconnection]

Little angst to sprinkle, but Helldiver!Reader who are tired.

God, you are so fucking tired. None of this matters, none of this makes any fucking sense at this point.

You climbed the ranks and you did your due and you paid in blood and flesh and chips of your own sanity. You gave and you gave and you gave.

You trained new cadets, explaining the terminals and heavy nests and fortresses. You have been everywhere command allows space jumps to.

Your ship a big menacing thing, a blade forever suspended in the vast cosmic nothing. Weightless and creaking whenever you have to engage orbital thrusters, chief engineer muttering something under their breath. You never ask what. Engineers can have their superstitions.

You can’t afford to have any.

You can’t afford much at all nowadays, prices biting harder than they ever did, missions deadlier.

You have less and less divers with each year — numbers of your branch diminishing quickly. Frankly, you don’t blame them.

Average age of Helldivers is 18 to 22 years old.

Average survival time out in the field — less than half a minute.

Even with all the propaganda and enlistment perks command simply cannot supply new meat to the frontlines. There is simply no more new meat.

Conditions get worse for rookies, their chances of survival dropping through the crust of the earth. At least when you were starting out you still had a med bay.

At least you managed to scramble some manuals for proper ammunition assembling.

You drag yourself onto the ship, steps heavy and tired — there are black spots in your vision, your head is swimming and you are pretty sure you no longer have anything in your stomach.

Bloody stims devour any available energy source to power your body through the life-threatening injuries.

No wonder you are still limping. Your mind doesn’t understand why the leg that got torn off is in place again.

You don’t really notice Price chatting up your chief administrator when you drag yourself in — bloody and tired, limbs so heavy it’s a miracle you are still standing.

But you can’t call it a day, there are three more missions. Then you can rest.

There are black spots swimming in your vision, you are lightheaded and nauseous, stomach aching — it clenches around nothing, trying to dissolve the food that isn’t there anymore.

You whip out the stim you didn’t dispose after the last mission, needle sliding in your thigh with practiced ease. Your body filling with energy, your vision brighter.

You can finally fucking think again.

There is a heavy silence you don’t notice immediately, too high on the endorphins stims bring. Pain free for the next two minutes or so.

“Captain?”, Price is hovering just behind your shoulder, your fingers twitching around the base of your secondary weapon — you are jumpy straight out of the mission. Automatons start looking like people after too long.

Down on Chort-Bay is hell likes of which you haven’t seen before.

You are not looking forward to jumping down there again. But duty calls, right? No one else would do that. No one is on the orbit right now but you.

“Captain”, you hum, eyes flickering to him for a moment. You have to wipe the visor of your helmet to properly see him — one of the diver’s got blown up on a landmine, his blood is still on your armour.

You don’t have time to wash it off. Not if you want to finish mission before you will need to be up for the next order.

“I noticed…the syringe.”, Price starts after prolonged silence, brows furrowing as he watches you. Eyes the softest blue you ever saw. The summer sky.

You remember the one you saw back at home. The time before helldiving now feels like a feeble attempt of your imagination to cushion the fall from the height of your exhaustion. The time before helldiving feels nowadays like a fairytale.

“Didn’t know you were sick”, he continues and you chuckle, typing in your coordinates. It’s cute that he worries about your health, though understandable. You are still alive and therefore a valuable asset to the command.

“Not sick. Just fucking tired out of my mind. We get a shit ton of stims with every resupply. Probably the only thing we get for free”, your laugh is a dry static-y thing, distorted from helmet, coming out of dynamics in your helmet feeling wrong and twisted.

But Price looks at you now like you have three heads and you try to explain. Perhaps SAS don’t get any of these. Though not like they need the thing, they got actual medics ready to stitch them up as needed.

They got off days and luxuries you cannot afford.

God, you might consider marrying on one of these days. Purely for tax benefits.

“Stims are used to patch us up on the go. Don’t have a whole lotta time to waste. We use them sometimes as energisers as well. A tired soldier is a sloppy soldier and a sloppy soldier is a dead one”, you say, brain fog finally lifting, god, this is good.

“Wouldn’t that constitute addiction with how often soldiers use it?”, John is a heavy stare and deep frown in the line of his mouth, his eyes the prettiest summer sky. “Wouldn’t that be dangerous?”

You shrug, checking your gear before getting yourself in the pod and locking your ankles in place.

“Command told us they had scientists test drive the things and they aren’t addictive. Honestly I don’t know much, Captain. You might wanna ask someone with actual degree about the stuff”

You salute him for the road and then the pod slides you down, all ready to go.

Down there hell awaits. Down there torn off limb is the least that could happen.

Down there you could use any help you can get.

Price watches you getting launched down the orbit and turns away, tension coiling in his shoulders.

Price whisks away one of the stim vials, hiding the thing in the pocket and walking away. He will need to have someone check the bloody thing.

There is no way godsend ambrosia that cures torn off limbs and massive bleeding is not addictive.

John remembers the way your whole body buzzed with energy from the moment you pushed it in. Like there was no more pain, no more exhaustion, no more fear.

Like you were high.

And that’s for sure that sloppy soldier is a dead one. But so is the drugged out one. So is you, if his suspension is right.

[cyborgartalchemist2]

Need to point some queer rage at something, white cishet persecution kink it is.

I absolutely despise this kind of cishet nonsense. And here's why-

White cishets recognize that being different is an automatic point against the rest of society. They know that marginalized groups are disqualified by the oppressors for the most basic of human experiences like finding love.

But they stop at that.

Because instead of letting that information strike a nerve they see 'a thrilling experience' to write/read about. The forbidden romance. A star crossed love doomed to be denied by all around the lovers. But, instead of including some form of marginalization like... one of them having a different skin color, being transgender, or disabled and considered incapable( incorrect) of fulfilling their half of the relationship, one of the lovers is a different species(still white and nearly human, think twilight or acotar) or this kind of rubbish where the only disqualifier for their relationship is that doctor/patient is frowned upon and can have power imbalances... not sure if it goes against the hypocratic oath, but it does have the possibility for damaging reputations..

Why make up these ridiculous reasons for a romance to be forbidden instead of taking from the laundry list of actual reasons a couple might experience aggression and refusal of acceptance?

Because they want the drama, pain, and angst that comes with marginalized romances without losing their privilege. They want "I love you, even though I know I shouldn't." But they want it without having to dismantle their own prejudices or do any work to understand that the reasons that make some romances forbidden are wrong and harmful. They don't want to admit that society is full of bigotry and prejudice, they just want dramatic romances where against all odds, the lovers come together.

I know white women who write these are often disadvantaged by being ciswomen, but it doesn't erase the fact they make up arbitrary and downright ridiculous barriers for their white het romances. It's an insult more than anything. It's someone saying "I recognize that some love is denied by the systems of power in place, but instead of accepting that I can do something about it by discussibg it, I'm going to appropriate the energy and flavor that comes with forbidden romances but with completely normal and acceptable members of society who would never experience this kind of denial. Simply because I want to read something dramatic without feeling guilty or being confronted with my own privilege."

And don't get me started on those made up slurs... like... balleraggot is disgusting. Tell me you don't understand the creation and use of slurs without telling me. Honestly... where did 'gonna make slurs that are ripped off of real and truly harmful slurs' sound like an even remotely good idea?

[daryltwdixon]

Joel Miller x Reader Just Coffee

fluffy Joel drabble to help clear my head. I was a barista for 8+ years and loved my regulars, so this is like a little slice of my life when I worked for a family owned coffee shop in the downtown of a city. Hope you enjoy! lmk if you want a ptII cause im thinking hot car sex w these two after their first date.

Inspired by that tlou (game) scene where Ellie asks if Joel used to go to coffee shops, and he admits, ‘All the time.’ And when she asks what he would order, he says, ‘Coffee, just coffee’ 

Vanilla latte, iced—extra pump of vanilla, three pumps of caramel, swirl, whipped cream. Chai latte, soy milk—hot, extra hot. Cold brew with sweet cream, shot of peppermint. London Fog—extra foamy, not too hot.

"Coffee. Just coffee."

You could’ve kissed him right then and there. And he was handsome enough that you wouldn’t even have to close your eyes. He must’ve caught the way your shoulders relaxed, how the sigh left your body like a weight lifted.

“Comin’ right up,” you smiled, ringing him up as he slid a few ones into your very, very empty tip jar.

‘Just Coffee’ guy settled at the small bar along the window, joining the usual morning stragglers—people who took their time with their warm mugs, occasionally ordering a bagel or a scone to go with it. He sat next to your crossword regular, an older gentleman who always had a puzzle in front of him, filling in the blanks with unwavering confidence. Always pen, never pencil.

You left them to it, but your eyes drifted toward ‘Just Coffee’ now and then, making sure his mug wasn’t too low, wasn’t getting too cold.

The morning flew by in a blur of orders and chatter, the shop filling and emptying in waves. By the time you checked back on ‘Just Coffee’ guy, he was gone.

A pang of disappointment sat low in your stomach. You wished you would’ve gotten him talking—he had that air about him, the kind of presence that carried stories. The people who sat at your bar top, the ones who weren’t rushing in and out for their nine-to-five caffeine fix, were always the most interesting.

You were surprised to see him the next day. A smile lifted at his lips as he stepped up in line, cash at the ready in his large, dirt-greased hands. A man who worked manual labor, clearly.

"Coffee," he said, his twang deep and velvety. "Just coffee, miss."

"You got it," you said with a smile, handing him a warm mug of your house roast as he took his new usual seat at the bar.

"Dammit—" the man next to him muttered, scratching his chin with the tip of his pen. Steve, your crossword regular. Under his nose, the day’s puzzle sat partially filled in, his brow furrowed in frustration. “What in the hell is the ‘process of leveling or smoothing wet concrete’? Seven letters?" He called your name, exasperated. "You got any idea?”

"Steve, if I knew anything about construction, I’d be way further along on my home improvement projects," you called over the hiss of the milk frother.

"Screedin’ is the word you’re lookin’ for, I think."

‘Just Coffee’ spoke casually, like it was second nature, his voice rolling low behind the lip of his mug. Steve blinked at him, like he hadn’t even realized the man was there, his wide eyes darting between him and the crossword.

"I think that might just work! How do ya spell that now? S-C-R-E—"

"S-C-R-E-E-D-I-N-G," ‘Just Coffee’ said slowly, the drawl thick and steady as the letters tumbled off his tongue.

You smiled to yourself, glancing his way. Knew he had to be manual labor. But before you could turn and ask him about it, he was already stepping off the stool, giving a quick nod of thanks, and heading for the door.

A couple of ones landed next to his empty mug—more than the cost of his coffee.

He didn’t come the next day.

Or the day after that.

By the fourth morning, you caught yourself lingering by the bar, staring at the empty stool where he sat. The coffee shop was just as busy, orders coming in waves, regulars dropping their change into the tip jar, Steve grumbling over his crossword. But something was missing.

You’d gotten used to those hazel eyes meeting yours across the counter, the quiet weight of his presence. The way his dark, unruly hair framed his face, always a little windswept, a little messy, like he’d rolled straight out of bed and into a long shift. His hands—rough, calloused, dirt still lingering in the creases—wrapped steady around a warm coffee mug.

It had only been a handful of mornings, but somehow, he’d settled into your routine like he belonged there.

And now, the absence of him gnawed at you in a way that surprised you.

You should’ve asked him his damn name.

By the sixth day, you convinced yourself it didn’t matter. He was just another customer, just a passing figure who needed a caffeine fix before moving on. Maybe he found a different coffee spot. Maybe he’d never been the type to stick around anyway.

But on the seventh morning, as you wiped down the counter, movement by the door caught your eye.

You turned, heart kicking up against your ribs.

There he was.

Another worn flannel, same dirt-streaked hands, same heavy-lidded gaze scanning the shop like he hadn’t been gone for a week. And when those hazel eyes finally landed on you, a flicker of something warm and familiar crossed his face.

You pushed off the counter before you could stop yourself.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” you said, trying to sound casual, but you knew he could hear the lilt of amusement in your voice.

“How are ya, miss?” he drawled, stepping up to the counter, cash already in hand. “Been busy.”

You nodded, trying not to stare too long at the way his fingers curled around the worn bills. “Let me guess—coffee, just coffee?”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “You got it.”

As you poured, you finally asked the question that had been itching at you since the first day he walked in.

“You got a name, or am I just supposed to keep callin’ you ‘Just Coffee’ forever?”

He smirked, tilting his head slightly as he watched you.

“Joel,” he said.

You smiled, setting his mug down in front of him. “Well, Joel—hope you don’t disappear on me again.”

His fingers brushed the warm ceramic as he settled onto his usual stool. “Jobs come and go, just depends on the day, hunny.”

Hunny. It was damn near like honey dripping from his tongue in that slow drawl, thick and warm. The way it rolled off his lips curled low in your belly, heating your cheeks as you turned to the next customer, hoping to God he didn’t notice.

The middle of the week was always slow, which worked in your favor today. By the time the morning rush faded, you found yourself wiping down the counters, clearing dishes near the bar, and finally getting the chance to ask Joel about his life.

You rinsed out a mug, letting the warm water run over your fingers as you glanced toward him. He was nursing his coffee slow, one hand wrapped around the mug, the other resting loose on the bar. His posture was easy, relaxed, but you could tell there was something there, something deep in his bones that he carried.

"So, what kinda jobs come and go?" you asked, keeping your tone light.

Joel glanced up from his mug, considering you for a moment. “Construction, mostly," he said, rolling his shoulders like the very word made them ache. "Been a contractor for years—fixin' up places, layin’ concrete, buildin’ what needs buildin'.”

Figures. Those arms—strong, steady—the kind that looked like they knew the weight of real work. His hands were large, rough and calloused, the kind you’d feel long after they touched you. But, Joel was a customer. You weren’t thinking that, of course not.

"Guess that explains why you knew the crossword answer last week," you teased, tossing the rag over your shoulder. "Steve still talks about it like you pulled magic outta thin air."

Joel huffed, shaking his head. "Man’s usin’ a pen for a crossword, and I’m the one impressin’ him?"

You grinned, leaning against the bar. "Hey, knowledge is power around here, Joel."

He let out a quiet hmm and took another sip of his coffee.

Before you could press further, the bell above the door jingled, and you got up hastily to take the newcomer’s order.

“Don’t worry about him,” Joel called over, sitting up straighter, setting down his coffee mug as his gaze flicked toward the man.

He stepped inside, his dark hair long, face clean-shaven, dimples deepening as he took in the scene. Something unspoken passed between the two of them—something that made it hard to tell if they were coworkers, friends, or something else entirely.

Then the man clapped Joel on the shoulder, grinning wide, “So this is what you’ve been ditchin’ the mornin’ crew for, huh, big brother?”

Your brows lifted. Brother.

Joel exhaled hard through his nose, eyes narrowing with obvious irritation, but his posture remained loose—like he was used to this, used to him.

“What ya got for me, Tommy?” he asked.

You barely had a second to process before Tommy’s attention shifted to you. His gaze swept over you, warm and playful, before he leaned a little too comfortably against the bar, ignoring his brother.

“Well now,” he drawled, flashing you a grin that could probably talk its way out of a speeding ticket, “if I knew this was the kinda place Joel was sneakin’ off to, I would’ve tagged along a whole lot sooner.”

Joel muttered something under his breath and rubbed his forehead.

You crossed your arms, biting back a smile. “And here I thought he just liked my coffee.”

Tommy let out a low chuckle, tilting his head. “Can’t say I blame him, darlin’.”

Joel let out a long, long sigh, already done with whatever this was turning into. He stood, tugging his jacket over his broad shoulders before clapping a firm hand on Tommy’s back—firm like a warning.

“C’mon,” Joel muttered, steering him toward the door.

Tommy let himself be dragged, but not without a final wink in your direction. “I’ll be seein’ you around, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t help the giggle that slipped past your lips as Joel shoved him out the door with far more force than necessary, the bell jingling wildly as they disappeared outside.

Joel glanced back once, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe the last two minutes of his life before heading off into the distance.

You just smiled, shrugging as you wiped down the counter.

But things changed after that morning.

Tommy only needed to step through the damn door before Joel was tensing at the bar, a muscle twitching in his jaw, his coffee suddenly the least interesting thing in the room. He continued to show up every morning, still ordered just coffee, still sat in his usual spot—but now, his eyes lingered on you more.

And now, he stayed just a little longer.

Not by much, not enough for anyone else to notice, but you did.

You noticed how his gaze flicked toward you between sips, how his fingers tapped idly against his mug whenever you laughed at something a customer said.

His brother joined him more too. You noticed the way he cut Tommy off real quick anytime his brother got a little too comfortable leaning against the counter, that exasperated “Tommy” carrying a warning underneath it.

And you noticed how his tips got just a little bigger after that morning, a couple extra bills tucked under his mug like an unspoken thank you.

So when a week passed—no sign of Tommy this time, no interruptions, just Joel sitting at your bar—you wondered if today might be different.

And it was.

Because today, as you cleared a dish from the counter, Joel cleared his throat. Not the casual kind, not the I’m just readjusting in my seat kind.

The nervous kind.

You glanced up, brows lifting. “What’s eatin’ ya, Joel?”

Joel exhaled sharply, shifting in his seat. “Yeah. Just—uh.” He scratched at the back of his neck, avoiding your eyes. “You, uh… ever eat anywhere that ain’t this place?”

Your lips twitched. “You askin’ if I leave my own coffee shop, Joel?”

His jaw tightened, clearly close to regretting whatever he was doing, but he powered through.

“I’m askin’ if you’d wanna get somethin’ to eat. When your shift is done.” He finally met your gaze, voice a little gruffer than usual, but there was something hesitant in his expression—like he was braced for you to shut him down, “With me.”

You leaned back against the counter, arms crossing as you took your time, letting him sit in it for a second. Watching the way his fingers curled around his coffee mug, how he resisted the urge to shift under your gaze.

Then you smiled. “Are you asking me out?”

His eyes flicked away, like he really hated how direct you were, but you could see the tips of his ears turning pink.

“Yeah,” he muttered. Then, after a pause—“That…a problem?”

You bit your lip, shaking your head. “Not at all.”

Joel’s fingers flexed against his mug. “Good.”

You grabbed a napkin and a pen, scribbling something before sliding it across the counter. “Then you’re gonna need my number.”

He eyed it, then you, something unreadable in his gaze before he finally, finally reached for it. His fingers brushed yours as he folded the napkin, tucking it into his pocket without another word.But you swore—swore—you saw the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he took another slow sip of his coffee.