#i was scared of how people would look at me (young and 'healthy' looking) and what they would say

[starsandtulips]

the welt chronic pain is everything ive ever wanted. even in alien space it shows him still recovering from fighting Sirin and yet he never uses his cane as a cane

thank you, i'm glad you liked the hc's!!! yeah i think the reason for that is deeply rooted in his sense of duty as a herrscher and the sovereign of anti-entropy unfortunately,,,,, he feels like he Has to put on a facade of being strong all of the time to be able to protect the people he loves/earth. hopefully now that he's on the Express and has less formal duty (in a way) he'll be able to relax, show some weakness, and feel comfortable using his cane (which he has been doing in some cutscenes)!!!! if not i'll transport into the hsr universe and shake him until he uses it when he needs to /j

[rambling-at-midnight]

Don't Go Disappearing On Me Again

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: Jason's lost too much to lose you, too. (We stan healthy communication in this house)

Word count: 2.3k

Ow.

You've never worked Friday nights before at the restaurant, and you never want to again. And you'd thought Saturday mornings were bad.

But one of your favorite coworkers had called you in a panic early this morning, begging you to take her shift, because her lab group's department at GCU was going out to bowling and it would be a great networking opportunity. You were the last person she called, but everyone else before you had declined because they were either scheduled or determined to avoid the shitshow.

And because you were weak, you gave in and said you would cover her Friday night shift as long as she covered your Friday morning shift.

So you two swapped shifts, and you went into your library internship in the morning instead of the evening. It wasn't a particularly hard job, but end-of-week returns had you dashing all over the three floors, so your feet already hurt before you walked into the restaurant.

Right before coming in, you'd texted Jason that you'd gotten held up, and it was a good thing you did, because you haven't had a single break to look at your phone the whole shift. He likely wasn't even awake yet—last night's patrol had been tough on the both of you, him because he came home half beaten to death, and you because you'd had a heart attack waking up in the middle of the night to your bloody boyfriend passing out on top of you in bed. But you usually got home around six from the library, and it was looking like you wouldn't be back until ten at the earliest, so you wanted to let him know. It was going on hour seven after starting at two p.m., when the restaurant switched from its brunch to dinner menu. Personally, you think two p.m. is obscenely early to eat dinner, but apparently rich people loved eating at weird hours, because you had had nonstop tables the entire night.

But the good thing is that the restaurant closes at nine, so you’re almost there. After your last three tables eat and leave, all you have to do is clean your section, close your checks, and clock out.

In the kitchen, you lean against the fridge, rubbing your hips and knees. You’re a little too young to feel so creaky after seven hours on your feet. After all, Jason works all night, doing athletic feats you could never dream of.

You can't really complain, though. You'd gotten lucky with your tables; they'd all tipped well. Maybe you could even add a little bit to your savings account instead of shoving every paycheck right at your student loans, which just keep growing, no matter how much you pay.

“Oh, no,” says Charlotte, one of the other veteran servers at the restaurant. She’s staring at the camera feed display, which is tuned to a livestream of the restaurant’s entranceway. “Don’t you dare seat me now, Ashley, I swear to God.”

“What time is it?” your head jerks up. “We’re about to close, right? Is someone looking for a table?”

“Yeah,” she says, pointing to the screen. “The hottest man in the world just walked in our front door.”

You just hum, not bothering to look in favor of pulling out your phone. You know for a fact that the hottest man in the world is actually at home in your bed right now. “The kitchen’s stopped receiving tickets. No way Ashley seats someone right now.” The screen doesn't light up when you click the power button. Well, shit. It's dead.

“I can’t tell what he’s saying.” Charlotte squints at the screen. “He’s, like, huge. Does Ashley look a little scared to you?”

You’re out of the kitchen without even looking at the screen. You speedmarch right past your tables, ignoring one man’s halfhearted attempts to flag you down for more ketchup. A righteous fire is boiling in your gut. You’ve been here long enough that the managers won’t fire you for telling off any customers that harass the younger workers that are more scared to stand up for yourself.

Your mouth is already open, ready to spew forth the beginning of your tirade, when you recognize the man in front of Ashley at the host stand.

Dressed in gray sweats and a dark T-shirt, slouching slightly, he looks even worse than when you kissed his forehead goodbye that morning. The bruise on Jason's face has properly colored now, purple and blue along his jawline. His hair looks a little flat, like he's been wearing his helmet, which is strange.

Jason's eyes snap onto you the second you appear, and you falter at the intensity there. Something has happened, but you're not sure what.

"Hey," you say, a little hesitant. "What's up?"

Ashley exhales with relief. "So you do know him."

"Yeah," you say without breaking eye contact with Jason, who's staring at you with the same expression you think a wolf would wear when stalking a hare. "He's my boyfriend."

You expect Jason to tell you that someone was in an accident. Someone's in the hospital. Something terrible happened to your apartment while you were gone.

He says none of those things. Instead, Jason says, "I didn't know you picked up a Friday shift."

Ashley's face goes blank.

"I told you I would be home late."

“No,” he corrects. “You texted me that you were being held up.”

“Yeah, at work.”

“And then you disappeared.” Jason’s jaw clenched. “Did you know that a bank was held up this afternoon? Your bank?”

“Oh, shit,” your hand flies up to cover your mouth. “My phone died, I don’t know when. You couldn’t check my location and see I was here?”

He just shakes his head, stiff and wordless.

“Hey, Y/N.” It’s your manager approaching the host stand now, customer service smile on and eyes taking in Jason’s appearance. “What’s going on up here?”

“Hey, Steve,” you say. “Sorry, this is my boyfriend Jason—Jay, this is my manager, Steve—”

Jason gets the hint and smiles close-lipped, reaching to shake Steve’s hand.

“My phone died so he came to see if I needed a ride home.”

“As soon as your tables leave and your section’s clean, you’re good to go. Oh, and you have to roll silverware.”

“It’ll be at least another hour,” you say apologetically to Jason.

“Okay.” His eyes keep boring into you like he’s trying to send you a telepathic message. He’s mad, you get it, but it makes you a little mad, too. You’re a grown adult. Yeah, the miscommunication was your fault, and it’s fine for him to be worried, but he looks close to Red Hood levels of anger, which is totally unwarranted for this situation. “Is it cool if I wait at the bar for you, then?”

“Of course!” Steve answers for you. "Our bartender, Lacy, will be happy to serve you while you wait." He checks his watch. "Until last call, that is."

"He didn't scare you, did he?" you ask Ashley as soon as Steve leaves. You smile at Jason, trying to tease him, but his expression doesn't twitch. "He looks mean, but I promise he's a big ol' softie."

Jason just grunts, but on his way to the bar, he doesn't forget to drop a kiss to your forehead. It warms you from the inside out.

As soon as he's gone, Ashley blurts out, "What happened to his face?"

"Motorcycle accident," you fib. "Oh, my table's calling me."

You rush over to take care of the poor man's ketchup—he's been waiting almost five whole minutes—and check out another party. The back of your neck prickles as you do. Every time you glance at the bar, Jason's green eyes are locked on your every move. It flusters you so much that when your table leaves, they say thanks, and you respond with, "Good morning!"

"What?"

"Thanks, you too!"

You run back to the kitchen, and everyone immediately starts interrogating you about your 'huge hunky boyfriend' (Charlotte's words, not yours).

By some miracle, all your tables clear out by closing time, and you’re out by 9:20. There are still a couple people at the bar, but Jason’s up immediately to walk out with you, leaving his water glass on the counter.

He doesn’t say anything, though you can feel his eyes on you whenever you aren’t looking. You won’t fight in public, so you follow his lead and stay quiet.

He drove your car to pick you up, and even though he’s obviously mad, he holds the passenger door open for you before getting into the driver’s seat.

The drive home is silent. He parks in the spot for your shared apartment, then immediately, quietly, asks, “Why’d you pick up a shift without telling me?”

"It was super last-minute," you say. He's still facing forward, so you do the same, eyeing his profile out of the corner of your eyes. "Like, it happened this morning. I thought you were sleeping, so I didn't want to blow up your phone with texts. I thought you'd just check my location and see where I was when you woke up."

Jason's hand clenches on the center console. "I woke up and I was terrified."

"I'm sorry—"

"And the bank, and your wording, and your phone was off—"

"I know," you say, putting your hand over his fist. He unclenches immediately to lace his fingers with yours. "I'll make sure I tell you next time."

Jason takes a deep breath in, then lets it out. In a rush, he finally turns to face you and says, "I don't mean to be controlling."

You blink. "I don't think you're being controlling."

"You don't?" Jason frowns. "Then why were you so mad when I walked into your work?"

"Mad? I'm not mad—you're mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you, what are you talking about?"

"You've been glaring this whole time! And you didn't say a word this entire car ride."

"Because I thought you were angry. I wanted to give you space."

"Okay, wait, wait, wait." You hold up a hand. "Let me get this straight. You're not mad at me?"

"No," he says earnestly. "I was worried and scared, but you're an adult. You don't have to ask for permission if you want to pick up a shift at work." He makes a face like the thought disgusts him.

"Okay," you say. "Okay, well if you're not mad at me, I'm not mad at you, either."

"Then why did you look so pissed when I walked in?"

You press your lips together to keep from smiling. "Well, we have cameras that show us up front while we're in the kitchen, right? One of my coworkers was watching and said 'the hottest man in the world' walked in and I didn't look because I thought the hottest guy in the world was still asleep in my bed—"

Jason covers his face with his hands. You can't stop your smile now, and you pull them away so you can look at said handsome face. "And I didn't even look because I'm such a loyal, awesome partner—"

"You are pretty awesome," he agrees, trying to sound serious, but he's grinning like an idiot, too. His cheeks are flushed pink.

"I know I am. But then Charlotte said that the hostess, Ashley, looked a little intimidated by him, so I walked out to see if she needed help."

"Aw," Jason says. He lowers his chin to look at you from underneath his lashes, pretty as a picture. "Were you going to give me a stern talking-to?"

"I can still give you one," you offer.

"Maybe later."

He's still grinning, and you're still grinning, so the both of you are grinning at each other like idiots in the car.

You want to kiss him, and he's your boyfriend. You're allowed to do that whenever the two of you want, so you take Jason by the chin and pull his mouth to yours.

Jason sighs against you, and it's like all the tension in his body melts away. One hand comes up to cradle your jaw, the other on the back of your head.

You break away to murmur, "Are you patrolling tonight?" He's still so beaten up.

"No," he whispers, voice low and gravelly in a way that has butterflies whipping around like a tornado in your stomach.

"Good. Wanna go up and be the hottest patient in the world while I look at your wounds?"

"Only if you're the hottest nurse in the world."

"Oh, but then who will be the hottest chef in the world who makes dinner?"

"The hot chef is on vacation right now," Jason joked. "But I can be a really hot food-orderer. What takeout are you in the mood for?"

"You're the injured one. What do you want?"

"I want whatever you want."

You narrow your eyes in a glare. "Well, I want whatever you want."

"You gotta make a decision," he says, already on his phone. "You're the hottest decision-maker in the world, I'm the hottest food-orderer."

"Chinese?"

"You got it."

Right before he dials the number, you grab him and kiss him again. When you pull back, he chases after your lips. It's so tempting that you give him another firm peck before you pat his chest once.

Jason blinks twice, looking dazed. "What was that for?"

You shrug. "I just wanted to kiss the hottest man in the world."

"Oh, my God." He groans and covers his face again, but you can see his red ears. "You're never gonna let that go?"

"Mmm." You pretend to consider it. "No."

DC taglist:

@evalynanne @mismatchsposts

Forever taglist:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit  @iksey @thehyperactiveteen @luxmoonlight @andreasworlsboring101

[artemis32]

Locksley

yandere Batfam x reader

yes, i do love them. yes, it is a problem. yes, i will make this my entire personality for the next two and a half months

also, necessary disclaimer, there’s a piece of dialogue in this that i took from a youtube asmr channel (bite me, they’re interesting and i’m starved of attention) - it’s jimち asmr, if you’re interested

word count - 4.8k

mbe masterlist

You wouldn’t call yourself a hero, not in any sense of the word. Likewise, you didn’t consider yourself a villain. You were something in between - you did bad things for good reasons, you did good things for bad reasons. 

Living in Gotham changed people. No matter how kind or well-intentioned, everyone ended up corrupt sooner or later. Some just fell further from grace than others. 

The people you helped would argue that you were a hero, someone who deserved recognition and respect for your actions. The people you stole from tended to disagree.

You didn’t care much about what you were. Heroes, villains… They were all the same in your eyes. They wrecked havoc and left people like you to deal with the aftermath - an ordinary citizen who had neither the means nor the aspirations to fix what they’d broken.

****

You started years ago, before you were even a teenager.

It was small things at first. Single fruits, a loaf of bread, a blanket, cough syrup. Things people wouldn’t usually notice. 

You realised pretty soon that you were good at stealing, good at getting away without people noticing. Very good.

Stealing felt justified in your young mind. You told yourself that it was okay. It was okay because you weren’t stealing for yourself. Never for yourself. Never committing a crime for personal benefit.

No, you stole to help others. You did what you could to help those that were too weak or scared to help themselves. 

In those early years, when you were still young and hopeful, you likened yourself to Robin Hood. Stealing from the rich to give to the poor.

Now, years later, the sentiment had faded. 

You still stole from the rich. You still gave everything you stole to the poor. 

Poverty in Gotham was a disease. The densely populated apartment blocks in the Narrows, where you lived, housed more people than it should have, and those people had become somewhat of a family to you. Or at least as close as you’d ever get. So you did what you could to keep them safe and alive. Stealing food to keep them fed, stealing clothes and blankets to keep them warm, stealing medicine to keep them healthy, stealing toys to keep the children hopeful.

That was your job, your purpose in life.

It made you feel as though you had a use. Seeing how people’s faces brightened, how happy they looked to see you when you bought a spare blanket or some extra food, or a toy a hopeful child had been eyeing for a while, it made you feel as though your life wasn’t completely meaningless.

Your life had a purpose. And that purpose was to help those who couldn’t help themselves. 

So you did.

And you never got caught. Not once. 

Until you did.

****

This uniform is so fucking uncomfortable. How do these people do this all day? You think, slipping your index finger beneath the buttoned collar of your shirt, tugging at it in a lacklustre attempt to catch a breath.

As much as recon was necessary, it was also an annoyance most of the time. It was times like these that you thanked the stars above that you weren’t born into a wealthy family. Stuffy galas and boring board meetings were never your thing.

The crowd of wealthy tycoons and aristocrats barely paid the waitstaff a second thought, primping and preening as they mingled amongst one another, trying to impress people who were too self centred to notice them. 

You would’ve rolled your eyes and gagged at the sight, had it not acted as the perfect cover for you. 

Stealing the name tag and uniform off of the service roster was simple enough, and sneaking in through the service entrance of the disgustingly lavish manor was a breeze. Now, as you flit through the crowd of supercilious pricks, you feel grateful for your own nondescript appearance.

Blending in with the average service worker was a blessing, one you took full advantage of as you scanned the large ballroom. There were several large windows, massive panes of glass bordered with ornately carved ebony wood frames. The doors were just as grand, two sets of double doors, and a smaller service door in the very corner of the room, all dark stained ebony to match the windows, were just as detailed and lavish.

It made you sick.

How could these people live so wastefully? How could they live so easily? Their biggest worry was keeping their faces youthful and their houses fancy. It didn’t make sense. Even now, after months, years of doing this, it still confused you - the fact that you lived such a jarringly different life, one that seemed so pathetic in comparison to the vapid crowd that surrounded you.

At the very least, it eased your conscience, and made your job easier. You felt no pity, no remorse for stealing from people like those gathered around you. Very few of them had actually worked for what they had in life. No, it was handed to them at birth. Life was funny like that. Those who work hard are left impoverished, and those who give in to gluttony and greed never have to work a day in their lives for what they have.

You discarded the now empty serving tray behind a potted plant, slipping out the large double doors and into the empty corridor beyond. The halls were silent and dark, moonlight casting large shadows over the walls.

The manor’s antiquated runner rug muffled the sound of your footsteps as you crept along the wall of the corridor, carefully taking note of each door, drawing up a mental map as you continued. 

Every corner you turned was more extravagant than the last. You could practically feel the wealth seeping out of the walls. It disgusted you. 

At least it was nice to look at.

Twenty minutes later, you’ve made it up to the East Wing, the furthest part of the manor from the ballroom. It seems to be the personal quarters of whoever the hell owns this abomination of a house. On the trek up several flights of stairs, you’d passed a collection of bedrooms, several smaller living rooms, and,to your great delight, a study. Though, ‘study’ feels like the wrong word to describe the room.

It looks more like a grotesque mix of a library and a maze, and if you were any more wet behind the ears, you might’ve been intimidated by the sheer size of it. In fact, if you’d stumbled upon a room like this a few years ago, you’d have been in awe. The value of a single item in this room would have you set for life. 

But you don’t allow yourself to be caught up in the moment, keeping steely focus as you move silently, swiftly between towering shelves. You don’t take anything. Not yet. The time for that would come later. Right now, you focus instead on gathering information. The layout of the manor, alarms, sensors, residents.

The last part was always the hardest, especially with people like the elite of Gotham city. People came and went as they pleased, and the odds of you running into someone was higher in extravagant homes like this, what with their abundance of butlers and maids. But you’d avoided them all up to this point, never once encountering anyone in more than a decade of prowling.

And this manor - the famous Wayne residence - never housed more than a dozen people on any given night. You knew the staff and groundskeepers all went home in the evening, leaving the property all but abandoned at night.

You reach the end of the room, pausing only to glance over at the large grandfather clock nestled between two shelves before you turn on your heel and stride back towards the door. You’d gotten what you came for. Now, it was time to take your leave, full mental map in tow. 

Getting out of the gala was a lot easier than getting in, and you took the time to register the smaller details of the manor. In this time, you confirmed one thing you knew for certain:

Wayne manor disgusted you in all its excessive wealth.

Bruce Wayne may have appeared as some kind of well meaning philanthropist or humanitarian, but you knew his pockets ran deep. Much of his wealth, generational and unearned, was hoarded while the rest of Gotham was left to rot in poverty. 

It was, in part, the reason that you didn’t feel bad about what you were doing. He, alongside the rest of Gotham’s elite, had done nothing to earn what they had. You were just levelling out the playing field, giving those in the Narrows a fair chance at life.

And if you had to dirty your hands to help them, then so be it.

****

The thick carpet muffles your landing, though you don’t really need it.

Over the years, you’d mastered your movements, learning how to move silently, without notice. It’d been born from necessity, rather than genuine desire. Growing up in the Narrows wasn’t good for much, but at least you learnt pretty quickly that it was easier to get by if you went unnoticed.

You gently close the window, pushing the polished wooden frame with your fingertips, wincing at the soft click of the lock. Any noise was too much.

The corridors are empty as you silently sweep through the manor, as expected. You aim for the lavish library you’d scoped out a week prior, mental checklist ready. 

Avoiding the cameras and alarms is easy enough, especially when the majority of them scoped the perimeter, rather than the interior. The lack of security, combined with the excessive luxury confirmed what you’d always thought.

Rich people were fucking dumb.

They really thought their money could protect them from everything. Well, there was one thing that no amount of money could save them from.

People like you. People with absolutely nothing to lose.

You had no family, no prized possessions, no desire or greed. And you sure as hell didn’t harbour any fear for people like them.

Eventually, you arrive in the East Wing, slowing your stride slightly. You strain your ears for any hint of movement, blending seamlessly into the shadows as you prowl the corridor. The ornately carved solid wood door opens with a silent swoosh, and you slip into the room a mere moment later.

Someone’s here.

You take note of it a moment too late, slipping between two towering shelves the instant you hear the soft murmurs of a conversation. The lighting is dim, shadows dancing across the room, sourced from the crackling fireplace at the back of the study.

Fuck.

It takes you a beat longer than usual to calm your now racing heart, and the instant you get it under control, you’re back to creeping along the shadows, hands darting out to grab at ornaments and books, shoving them silently into every pocket and gap in your suit and small backpack.

If you could, you’d have brought a bigger bag, but you needed to travel light - light enough to make a swift exit if needed. 

You manage to grab quite a few things without nearing the source of conversation, which you’ve now determined to be two men murmuring lowly near the fireplace. Relief settles heavy in your bones as you creep back towards the door, thankful for the numerous shelves hiding you from view.

Lady Luck was a fickle being, and it seemed she’d decided your time was up.

When you’re about ten steps away from the exit, senses on high alert, time seems to slow, the baroque handle dropping slowly as the door is pushed open. You’re back in the shadows before it fully opens, back pressed against the wall while you weigh your options.

The door is out of the question. There’s no way to slip out without being noticed. The window, maybe?

One glance at the tightly latched windows across the room dash that idea immediately.

Panic swirls up your spine, threatening to take over. If you got caught here, there’s no telling what would happen to you.

As you scramble to come up with a plan, the door swings open and a man steps into the room. He’s young, fresh-faced, perhaps a year or two younger than you. He’s handsome too, in the way aristocrats often were - light eyes, tanned skin, full lips. He was striking. 

And he turned to look right at you.

You’re up, on top of the nearest shelf seconds before his eyes slide towards you. You squeeze your eyes shut, sweat slicked palms pressed flat against the dusty wooden shelf underneath you.

Fuck.

He lingers for a moment, taking a step closer into the shadows, to the spot you’d stood in moments ago. 

There’s no way he knew. He couldn’t.

After several tense, painful seconds, his brow twitches and he turns on his heel, striding over to the other two men, his gait confident and swift. You let out a soft sigh, relaxing only a bit as you try to stop the nervous tremors in your hands.

Escape comes hours later, near three in the morning, when all three men eventually retire to their rooms. You couldn’t get out of that eerie, shadowed manor fast enough.

****

“You really should lock your door at night, especially in this area. You never know when some creep might think about inviting themselves in. Windows too, for that matter - or else B&E’s would just be… Well, E’s.” 

It was barely two in the morning. You’d crawled into bed, still fully clothed, less than an hour ago, exhausted from a long day of work in the hellscape that was hospitality. You hadn’t even had the energy to look over your next few potential hits, never mind take a shower or have dinner.

So it’s no surprise that you’re disoriented, thrown off guard when you wake up to a masked man leaning far too casually against your derelict old couch, slim katana resting comfortably in his hand while he twirls it around.

“Then again,” he continues, ignoring the wide eyed look you give him. You flinch back, the movement too slight to notice as he straightens and strides over to you. “You’ve made my job easier. So I should thank you.”

He stands, hovering over you, arms hanging casually at his sides beneath his cloak as he regards you. The mask he wears hides his eyes, and it feels as though you’re staring up into dark, never-ending pits rather than eyes.

“Hm. You look different than what I expected. Younger. How old are you?”

If you weren’t so terrified, you might’ve laughed. Here, in your cramped, dingy bedsit, stood someone who appeared more demon than man, and he was presumptuous enough to critique your appearance. Worse still is the fact that you might’ve answered him, had he not swiftly changed topics.

“It doesn’t matter. A criminal is a criminal. Blackgate has a cell with your name on it.”

The train rumbles by and shakes the thin walls of your apartment, casting an eerie half glow bright enough to just barely light up your apartment.

Your blood runs cold.

Robin.

You’re moving before he has time to register what’s happening, tossing your worn knit blanket at his head as you leap from your bed, the small single’s frame groaning beneath you at the abrupt movement. You’re across the room when he recovers, hand on the doorknob. Seconds later, a vaguely bird-shaped dagger embeds itself into the doorframe right beside your hand.

“Don’t move.”

For once, despite the alarm bells blaring in your head, you listen. You fight against your instincts and the burning in your limbs as he approaches, closer and closer with every taunting step until he’s right in front of you, another stupid bird-shaped dagger nicking the soft underside of your jaw.

“You’re coming with me. Peacefully.”

Your brow twitches in annoyance at his tone. It’s so condescending, as if he thinks he’s talking to a child. If this was anyone else, you might’ve fought back, but of the list of people you avoided, the Gotham vigilantes associated with Batman were top of the list. 

They were so irritatingly self-righteous, and you knew without a shadow of a doubt that they’d view you as a scum of the earth criminal, should they ever catch you. It was part of the reason you’d avoided them so religiously, and you’d done a great job of it up until this point. The only question on your mind right now, though, was-

“How?”

Robin tilts his head, mouth flat. “How what?”

You lift your chin a bit more as he raises his dagger, softly piercing the skin, as if in a warning.

“How did you find me?”

If you could see his eyes, you were sure they’d hold an incredulous look, as if to ask ‘are you stupid?’. But you weren’t. Not like this. You weren’t sloppy. And you sure as hell didn’t step on toes when you stole, especially not enough to gain the attention of a run of the mill vigilante. There was no reason for him to be standing here, in your apartment, all but pinning you to the door.

“How did you find me?” you insist, pushing forward despite the slight sting against your jaw. “What did you see?”

He sets his jaw, tilting his head down as he speaks through clenched teeth. 

“Stealing from Bruce Wayne of all people was a dumb move.”

Your blood chills in your veins.

So someone did see me then… That man. That boy. Fuck.

“It was especially dumb to stick around for four hours afterwards.”

At that moment, you weigh your options. 

If you go with him peacefully, all but turn yourself in, Blackgate would be the least of your worries. You stole from Bruce Wayne.

Wronging such an influential man would have its own set of unique consequences, and it wasn’t yourself you were worried about. Anyone you’d helped in the process would be incriminated. All those innocent people, the women and children, the elderly people who lived around you… 

No. You couldn’t go with him. 

Prison was one thing. Endangering those you swore to help was another entirely.

With your mind made up, everything else is easy.

You grab the wrought iron coat rack beside the door and swing it upwards, aiming for his head without a second thought. The moment he releases you and shoves you back, you’re out the door, sprinting down several flights of stairs.

Too slow. Faster. Move faster.

You hear him behind you, footsteps ringing out like a death knell. 

He wants you to hear him. You know he does. A vigilante like that, someone as skilled as him - you wouldn’t hear him unless he wanted you too.

Honestly, you were quite proud of yourself. You’d made it further than you’d expected. The uneven gravel stings against your bare feet as you sprint through the side alley, aiming for the main street.

It was pointless. You knew it was. Even if you could make it that far, it wouldn’t amount to anything. No one would help you. No one could help you.

Regardless, you still feel disappointed when he grabs you by the collar of your thin, old sleepshirt, yanking you back. The exit to the alley, a mere two metres away, seems to mock you.

In that moment, you think about what you’d done. You truly think, and realise that you didn’t regret a single thing. You didn’t care about what happened to you. Everything you’d taken had helped so many people, far more than it would have helped Bruce Wayne, gathering dust in his old study. 

Everyone had been so happy, so relieved at how much you’d managed to help them. The amount you’d received for the stolen goods had been enough to care for everyone in your building ten times over. 

So no, you didn’t regret your decision.

This time, Robin doesn’t waste any time with pleasantries, gripping the back of your neck tightly and knocking you out a moment later.

****

“Who is she?”

“Her name is-”

“I know what her damn name is. I mean, who is she?”

Tim pauses, eyeing Damian with a strange expression, clearing his throat and continuing after throwing a perplexed glance at Bruce.

“...well, uh, she lives in the Narrows, has for more than a decade. She went to Gotham public high school and received her high school diploma, with no further education. She’s… pretty unremarkable, to be honest. Works in a shitty diner in the East End, earns less than minimum wage...” he trails off for a moment and shrugs. “There’s not much else to say.”

Damian clenches his jaw, arms crossed tightly over his chest.

“Her address. What is it?”

Again, Tim throws Bruce a glance, sharper this time, choosing his words wisely.

“I… don’t think that’s necessary information. It’s not a big deal, she only took a few things. And it doesn’t seem like she kept any of it. Actually, I’m kind of impressed–”

He’s cut off in an instant, Damian’s glare sharp and filled with rage.

“It does matter. She stole from us. She–” 

The green-eyed youth sucks in a sharp breath, dropping his arms to his side, flexing his hands.

“...she was right there. She was inside the manor, ten steps away from me, and I didn’t fucking notice. It took us two weeks to notice she’d been here at all!”

His words are like venom, belying the real reason he’s so worked up, and Bruce watches him with a blank expression, stepping forward after he’s calmed down slightly, placing a heavy palm on his shoulder.

“I understand your frustrations, but you can’t allow them to cloud your judgement. Don’t allow your emotions to rule your actions. While I agree we should find her, I don’t think we need to be as… extreme as you’re suggesting. She’s just a civilian - albeit a very… efficient one. Take some time, calm down, and we’ll discuss what to do from there, okay?”

Damian shrugs the hand off his shoulder, stalking out of the Batcave with a few short, clipped words thrown over his shoulder.

“Yes, Father. Of course.”

****

A very frazzled looking man is the first thing you see when you come to, temple aching terribly where the angered Robin had decked you hours earlier. Presently, the man hovering over you sighs when he sees your eyes open, though it doesn’t seem to be a sound of relief. His mouth tugs down at the corners, brows pinching together.

“Don’t.”

He presses a palm to your shoulder, keeping you flat on your back when you try to sit up. His tone is stern, flat, accentuated by the dark bags under his eyes. His shoulders sag and he loosens his hold, fingers flexing against your shoulder.

“Just… stay there. Don’t move.”

The words seem more like a plea than a demand, but you listen regardless. Even if you wanted to move, the pain rippling through your skull makes you too dizzy to sit up, let alone stand.

“...do you remember anything?” he murmurs, bright blue eyes roaming your face worriedly.

Licking your dry, cracked lips, you avoid his gaze. Would it be better to lie, you wonder? Would he know? You had a feeling he might. And you had a feeling that somehow, being honest just this once would help you a lot more than lying ever could. 

You swallow thickly, glancing back at him before answering. 

“Yes.”

He rolls his eyes, head lolling forward as he mutters.

“Fan-fucking-tastic.”

Before he can ask you another question, before you can say anything else, there’s a flurry of movement at the entrance to the room, several people storming in. The racket makes your head throb, and you feel faint and woozy as you lean back against the admittedly plump pillows.

You wonder distantly why you weren’t in a prison cell or a hospital. If you’d been in a better headspace and perhaps not concussed, you might’ve been concerned, but it was effort enough to focus on staying conscious at the moment.

“No, Damian! I have had enough! You explicitly went against my instructions– You kidnapped a civilian!”

Chancing a small peek at the arguing duo, you catch sight of little more than two blob-like shapes, the taller of the two yelling animatedly while the shorter stands stoically, staring off to the side, towards–

Towards you.

“She’s awake.”

That has the taller man falling silent for a moment. He sighs heavily, murmuring. 

“We’ll discuss this later. For now, I have to deal with your mess.”

With that, he turns and strides over to you, placing his hand on the shoulder of the young man at your bedside, a silent dismissal. He remains standing while the other two leave, staring down at you expressionlessly.

Bruce Wayne.

Bruce fucking Wayne.

…I’m so dead.

You jolt up, wincing at the pounding in your head as you blurt out.

“Mr Wayne, I–” 

He holds up a palm, silencing you.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

There’s a pause, one in which he looks down at you before sitting down with a sigh, massaging the bridge of his nose for a moment.

“I don’t care that you stole from me. Usually, I'd just file a police report and go about my day, but my son… Well, you upset him.”

He leans back in his seat, unbuttoning his blazer.

“You see, he’s a prideful boy. It’s never caused problems before, at least, not like this. I mean, involving a civilian, that is. But you seem to have struck a nerve. He’s holding quite a bit of animosity towards you.”

Bruce leans forward again, elbows resting on his thighs as he regards you with a critical eye.

“And I’ll admit, you caught me too, to a degree. You broke into my home without my notice. You were right under my nose.” He huffs a disbelieving laugh, as if the very idea of you evading him was impossible. “It’s impressive, I won’t deny it.”

A strange flutter fills your chest, something that feels oddly akin to pride. Bruce Wayne of all people was complimenting you. Or, at least, it felt like a compliment. 

“Why is he so upset?” 

You regret the question the instant it leaves your mouth. His gaze, which had been slowly warming up, turns cold and flat at that.

“...because you slipped right by him. Do you understand what a feat that is? How much you’ve wounded his pride? For you, an untrained young woman from the slums of Gotham to have fooled him, a trained assassin. Robin. You understand, don’t you? He took it as a very personal offence.”

You feel the blood drain from your face. Was this some kind of twisted punishment for stealing? Did this man, Bruce Wayne, really expect you to believe that his son, the sweetheart of Gotham’s high society, was the Robin? And an assassin to boot?

He huffs a silent laugh, brows raising as he regards the expression on your face.

“Yes, yes, I know. It’s shocking. Damian Wayne, Robin? You’ll get used to it.”

Your hands are shaking now, sweaty and white knuckled as you clutch the bedsheets, and you feel your blood pressure rising. If you weren’t careful, you’d pass out soon. Swallowing thickly, you ask the question urgently gnawing at the forefront of your mind.

“If he’s Robin, then…?”

A small smile tugs at his lips. He was handsome, in an older gentleman kind of way - tall, strong, sturdy build. Even the wrinkles and lines marring his face looked attractive. No wonder women fell over themselves in an attempt to catch his attention.

“Yes. You catch on quickly, don’t you? Well, that’s to be expected from Gotham’s own do-good Robin Hood, I suppose. Yes, I am Batman.”

A choked noise dies out in your chest. 

Of course I’d steal from Batman. Of everyone in Gotham, this is who I choose? God, why is my luck so shitty?

His admission sows a seed of unease in the pit of your stomach, and your eyes dart around the room for the first time since you’d arrived. It was large, larger than what you were used to, though the only furniture was the bed, a vanity, and a small couch near the window. The window that was locked tight, covered with solid iron burglar bars. Bars you had the sinking feeling were put there to keep you in.

You turn to him, eyes wide and pleading.

“Why are you telling me all this?” 

He stands, posture straight and assertive as he eyes you callously. “Because, unfortunately, your actions, and my son’s impulsive decision have both pushed me to make a decision I have no choice in. It means that, until we decide what to do with you, you won’t be allowed to leave–”

Evidently, his admittance to essentially abducting you is what sends your blood pressure through the roof. You pass out before he finishes his sentence, praying with the last of your fading consciousness that this was all some twisted nightmare.

[timmydraker]

Bruce had never been to The Eclipse before.

The club was similar to that of a gentleman’s club from the starting years of America, filled with dozens of tables all curved and ready for a game or feast. The three floors of the place each had a game room, a bar and a section for private rooms for the more seedy type of talks to be had.

It was one of the few non-criminal funded place in Gotham that was still rich. Deals definitely went down, but it was more fitting for gossip that anything else.

Often people went there for catch ups in a refined setting.

Bruce was there for a catch up, or more accurately, a reuniting with his son.

Tim had sent Bruce a time, date and location and said he was only going to meet with him and no one else. Considering Bruce hadn’t seen his beloved son in nearly four years, including his time in the time stream, he accepted without argument.

Tim said he would look different but that if Bruce was as good of a detective as he says, it wouldn’t be a problem.

Bruce had no idea what his son meant until a woman let him inside and told him that ‘Drake had asked you to find him yourself’ with a confused bend in her eyebrows.

It took him a little longer than he’d be happy to admit, although still less than forty seconds, to find his son.

Or maybe that was the wrong word now, if the regal young woman staring at her drink was anything to go by.

Like something out of a vintage movie, the woman had curled black hair and dark red lipsticks. Her dark eyeshadow matched her sweetheart collar dress, black with thick straps and tight enough that each breath was visible.

The gloves on her hand were long and black, one putting a stark contrast to the pink coloured cigarette lit in her hand.

Everything about her screamed old money.

Bruce only knew it was Tim because of the sweet blue eyes and shape of his jaw, though there was also some kind of… paternal instinct in play.

Tim only looked up when he put a hand on the rounded couch, Jim’s tearing nervously down at his distinguished looking child.

It was when she smiled, a real thing that was just highlighted by her dark red lips, that Bruce knew he wasn’t mistaken.

“Hi Bruce.”

A lighter voice, not soft so much as smooth, and nothing like the more monotone sound he was used to.

“Ti-… hi.”

She smiles and gestures for him to sit before taking a final drag of her smoke and putting it out.

Bruce stares at for just a second before looking at his child. Despite the shock of the obvious changes, he notices something far more important, “You look healthy.”

Well fed, clean, nourished.

Like she’s gotten sleep.

“I am. I’ve done a lot of work on myself and it’s paid off.”

Bruce smiles, genuine and almost a little painful, “I can see that. What… what do I call you?”

“Charlotte. Charlotte Jackson Drake.”

“A beautiful name.”

Charlotte smiles before a serious look comes over her face, “Bruce. I haven’t just changed my lifestyle and body, I’ve changed how I look at the world and I’ve come to understand a lot more in my life now.”

Never has Bruce been so attentive, ears feeling on fire as he does his best to focus on every word spoken to him.

“The main thing I’ve come to understand is you.”

Bruce doesn’t move, scared to make his daughter stop talking to him and so he just does his best to show he’s listening.

Charlotte continues, “I get why you brought all of us in. It wasn’t just to protect us from the world, but from ourselves. I can see now that you are only crazy because you’ve been given the impossible challenge of being a necessity in Gotham and the worlds survival and sanity. It doesn’t change that you’ve made mistakes and fucked up, but I get why now. You didn’t want us to apart of Batman, but we forced you, me most of all.”

Bruce is more than stunned by the honesty and understanding in Charlotte’s words, but the fact that he himself only figured that out after loosing Jason.

She smiles at him like she could read his mind, “It took me a long time and I still have anger towards you, yet I want you in my life all the same.”

A gloved hand comes to hold onto his own, delicate and gentle in a way that reminds him of his mother all those years ago.

Charlottes smiles is far too sad to be hers though, “I’m not the boy you once knew, not just because of the woman I want to be now. I don’t want to help you, to save you and parent you, I want to know you. As my father. If-if you’ll allow it?”

Bruce has cried in public before, several times in fact, but normally it’s to play up his over emotional persona.

This time it’s pure relief.

“Of course. Anything you want, at any pace you want, I- what ever you need.”

Charlotte smiles and squeezes his hand, “Thank you.”

Bruce eventually huffs a laugh and wipes his eyes, “god, you really are good at catching me off guard.”

She laughs, a honey like noise that makes him realises he’s never heard Tim smile and that maybe his daughter could only do that once she be same ‘her’.

The two order drinks and Bruce is given the tale of how Charlotte came to be, of how sometimes she misses being Tim but never wants to go back. He learns that she chose her name based on what she would ah e been if she was born a girl so she wouldn’t feel like she was betraying her parents.

Bruce learns that she is still a hero, operating as Red Robin, but that she focuses on prolonged crimes like trafficking rings and makes sure to take them down in on go instead of busting a few and giving the rest a chance to escape.

He’s not so happy to hear that she isn’t ready to talk to the others and that she only really talks to Cass and Duke as both of them have always been on her side and are truely her siblings.

Yet he respects it, if only to keep her close and show her the love he failed to give.

Respecting his daughter’s privacy, he doesn’t tell his other kids anything about what happened and acts ignorant when there’s a few articles about the mysterious Charlotte Drake and her distant relation to the private Tim Drake.

He meets with his little girl, his Lottie, once a week at The Eclipse and talks with her about their businesses both in the literal sense and more broadly.

He meets Bernard and can’t quite see what it is about the strange boy that makes his daughter so happy, but all he needs is to see her big smile and know it doesn’t matter.

That and the several background checks he did.

[chuusheartattck]

THAT’S THAT ME ESPRESSO (TTME)

Chapter 34- You ight ☕️

You heard the sound of footsteps on the sand coming from behind you. Turning around, you saw a figure wearing a black cap and sun glasses.

Taking off the glasses, you realized it was Scaramouche. You hadn’t seen him since that night at your studio.

He still had his piercing eyes that you loved so much and his deep indigo hair that fell perfectly into his symmetrical face. He kept on looking better and better every time you saw him.

“So are you going to stand there or what?” Scaramouche’s voice interrupted your thoughts.

You cleared your throat before replying, “Um yeah, let’s find somewhere to talk first. I know a spot.”

You began walking to the giant rocks that the ocean’s waves were hitting. It was far enough where people wouldn’t see the two of you. As you were walking, you weren’t saying anything to each other, making the tension in the air awkward.

He helped you climb onto a rock where the two of you are now sitting on.

Neither of you spoke up yet and there was still an awkwardness in the air. You didn’t know what to say and it seemed like neither did he. You both were just staring at the ocean.

You mustered up the courage to finally speak, “I’m really sorry for all the times I have gotten mad at you for tiny things and for always blocking you without telling you the reason why. I’ve never been good with expressing my emotions which always led to miscommunication. I know it’s definitely not the most healthy way to cope with things.” Your voice trailed off when you realized you started rambling.

However, there was still silence coming from his end so you decided to continue, “I guess I’ve always been a people pleaser and in turn I felt like I couldn’t express how I felt to the other person. I was afraid they might dislike me if I ever said no or set a type of boundary. That’s the reason why I would get mad and not tell you why. I liked you so much that I could never tell you. I thought that you would never want to date me even if the circumstances were different. I pretended to be fine with whatever situationship we had going on. I would act in ways to make you jealous just so I can see if you actually cared about me. It’s such a stupid thing to do and I know I should’ve done something about it sooner.”

Scaramouche continued staring at the ocean. He still didn’t say anything which started to cause you to worry.

Did he hate you? Was he mad? Does he think you’re dumb?

You started to regret to opening up your mouth too much and began overthinking.

He locked eyes with yours before finally responding, “I have always liked you Y/n. From the moment we started talking, not a day has gone by where I haven’t thought of you. I was in agony that I couldn’t be with you, I tried to forget about you. I tried forcing myself to hate you because I didn’t want to burden you. I always knew how much you cared for me but I tried burying my feelings for you aside.”

His confession took you by surprise. You hadn’t realized that all this time, this was the one thing eating him up inside.

You opened your mouth to speak, but he already beat you to it, “If I don’t say this last thing now, I’m not sure if I will be able to again. As I said before, I always liked you and I always will. When I first recognized this, I backed out and gave mixed signals. I told you this before but my mother abandoned me when I was young. To this day I have no idea why but I guess I’ll never get an answer. I put all my emotions towards her so when she left I closed it all off. I was worried that if I put my emotions towards someone again, they'll end up leaving me too. I tried pushing you away because I was scared of having someone care.”

You were left speechless. You weren’t sure on what to say and ended up pulling Scaramouche into a tight embrace instead. His head was in the crook of your neck as he hugged you back.

“I’m sorry for getting more people involved than there should’ve been. I’ll never leave you for anything. I’ll always stay by your side no matter what. I wish I hadn’t acted stupid,” You finally replied to him.

He broke apart from the hug and placed a hand on the side of your face, “Don’t feel sorry, I was the one who caused you to act the way you did. I promise I’ll be more reliable to you. I promise I won’t cause you to be in anymore pain.”

You had a full view of his high cheekbones and strong jawline. His full lips were curved into a sheepish smile. You would give up anything to have him continue to smile at you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned into his lips. They felt the same but this kiss was different from the last. It was slower but more relaxed and romantic. He snaked his hand on the curve of your back for additional leverage. You were praying to not get spotted this time.

This kiss was more addictive than a drug. Every time you wanted to stop, he would pull your face in to continue. You melted into one another perfectly, as if you were meant for each other. You weren’t bullshitting when you said that you’ll never leave and neither was he. Scaramouche was the forest and you were the fire that always set him ablaze.

The two of you finally broke apart and smiled at one another. You felt relieved that you were able to get this weight off your chest, you didn’t regret it one bit.

“Yeah you cool, you aight type shit,” You chuckled breaking the silence.

Scaramouche flicked your forehead while rolling his eyes, “Nothing is stopping me from pushing you into the ocean you know.”

“If you do I’ll drag you down with me,” You responded as you rested your head against his shoulder.

He wrapped his arm around you. The both of you watched the sunset and the waves crashing onto the rocks down below.

Everything had now fallen into place.

Masterlist II Previous II Next

A/N: I was lowkey smiling when i was writing this 😭😭 The most romantic thing i haver ever experienced was making out in the rain but the guy ended up ghosting me the following week 😓

ALSOOO lmk if you guys want your users to be added to this au and i’ll make you a twitter user :)

Synopsis: You’re a new idol that just debuted under ‘Fontaine Entertainment’ with your new single ‘Espresso.’ You just graduated high school which means all your classmates are shocked to see you into stardom. Including your old situationship, who happens to be an actor.

Taglist: @skyoverkill1 @quacking-simp @lolmeowing @astro-stars @kaitfae @sl-vega @scarawiki @yuminako @samyayaya @skyvella @kur0kki @practicoi @kukikoooo @scaraenthusiast1 @shutingstar @lloovvv @moonjellyfishie @miy-svz @xionri @lalalaloveallmydays @hearts4lizzzz @kathiwis @state-of-grac3 @morgyyyyyyy @scaradooche @theyluvkatt @meigalaxy @noirechomps @crimxeorcremeexistspeacefully @vxcmx @ariesloves @cayl33n @animeobsessed56 @heartsforni-ki @feikyuu @ichcocat @strayharmony943 @chscklvr @kunikissr @jiminscarmex @sp1ng @bananasquash @aceakariii @thegalaxyisunfolding @sartrst @cheriswag @kokomiskiss @albedomestic-airline @lxkeeeee @sundays-prince @wvvyq @amurotoorudesu @ennsposts @illu-fu @vitanye

[hyperpocky28]

DRDT CH2 SPOILERS

I think the absolute worst part of Ace is that he was hopeless no matter what he did. If he lived, he would have to go back to a profession that he hated. I want you to go look at that art of Ace in his jockey uniform. Ace would not wear that. That’s not him. Every part of personality is hidden. And even if he somehow managed to get out of that profession and found something he was truly passionate about, he was still have to live with the after effects of his eating disorder for YEARS. It’s not something you can just stop doing and immediately recover from. That profession destroyed him, and he will always carry that agonizing reminder of it with him as he tries to recover. It’s so evident in his personality, as he is angry from everything that has happened around him and that he has almost no control over his life. He literally does not know how else to act. He needs to get that anger out somehow and there’s no healthy way to do it.

Ace is an angry person. His life was predetermined from the moment he was born. He has never had control. All those outbursts of anger, all those petty acts against his peers, all of that was just to feel some sort of power over his life. Even killing Arei. It breaks my heart as someone who also acts out of anger. It’s terrible, and he probably hates himself for it, but he does not know another way of living. He can’t stop himself. He KNOWS that he shouldn’t treat people as cruelly as he does, but what else can he do? That small burst of confidence, of power from treating people like shit, makes him feel amazing in the moment. It’s only after does he realize that he keeps digging his own hole, but he’s so deep that what’s even the point of trying to get out? His feelings were suppressed all his life, and he’s just supposed to know how to handle all that hatred and anger? How? He’s a young adult. He doesn’t know how to handle his emotions ON TOP OF A FUCKING KILLING GAME.

People acting like they would take the moral high ground and not kill is insane. You listen to Ace talk about his motive, about just wanting to live, knowing that it’s wrong but that he can’t sleep at night because he’s so scared. Especially as someone who clearly never got the chance to emotionally mature.

Ace’s motive as the killer made me cry can you tell.

[crimsonred-hi]

Controversial Age Gap - Headcanons

Pairing: Andrew Hozier-Byrne

• He would be sooo secretive about it in fear of judgement.

• let’s be honest, most of his fans wouldn’t take kindly to him having a conservatively young lass, until they meet her.

• Someone would do an interview of her, and she just acts like she’s a pensioner when she’s actually a uni student.

• If Andrew was gonna date anyone that young she would have to be an old soul. Like already mentally in a nursing home. She would be like super smart and really mature, like he wants a girl he can talk to about literature and poetry, and the fact she’s really young doesn’t mean that much when she completes him.

• Even his friends and band would be find with her, because she acts about 50. She’s always in the corner talking politics with the oldest guy in the pub, because she likes making grown men cry, because she can.

• The Fans would be shocked, because someone would get a video of him getting a quick good luck kiss before he goes on stage, or someone would get a video of them at a festival while she’s fixing his hair for him.

—> Side Rant! Talking about hair! His hair is so healthy now he has her! Like she forces him to sit his arse down once a week so she can deep clean and condition his hair. He’s getting princess treatment.

• I can imagine her running her uni essays through him before they go to her professors, and every time he’s so shocked at how smart she is. Like, he wasn’t this smart, ‘are the younger generation?’ just better he would ask himself.

• We all know he listens to everything, he’s very eclectic. He would love teaching you the blues, he also doesn’t let you play your music, only his. And if you learn his favourite songs and sing them in the car with him, he might cry.

• He’s getting you in any show you want: ya wanna to see Noah Kahan, your going: ya wanna see Lana Del Ray, your going: ya wanna see Taylor Swift, your going. Etc, etc. He’ll get you there, even if he doesn’t like the music that artist makes, he’ll bring his ear plugs and happily watch you enjoy it.

• He would be so careful about talking about you, but it’s a struggle because he’s so proud of you.

• He just thinks you’re incredible. And he wants everyone to know about it, but he’s scared people will judge him for dating someone so much younger than him.

• That jacket in the photo, I bet you think it looks good on him. He thinks it looks better on you. He thinks everything looks better on you; that green jumper he wears all the time, he thinks it looks better when you wear it.

• He loves when your at his concerts, he adores watching you sing and dance along. While everyone thinks he’s winking at them, he’s actually winking at you.

• He loves it when you lay on his chest, you’re so much smaller than him, and watching you distress with the sound of his heart is everything to him.

• She will just spout TikTok and gen z nonsense at him, she once called him ‘submissive and breed-able’ and the look of fear on his face when he turned around to look at her.

—> “what did you just call me…?” He asks his voice cracking with genuine fear, and she just laughs in his face. She just kisses his cheek and runs of giggling.

• He’s probably the first man she’s been with that has a full beard, so she kinda has a little obsession with it. All the other lads she’s dated were her own age and couldn’t grow there pwn full beards, while Andrew is looking sexy as fuck with his beard.

—> He loves when she scratches his beard, because of her obsession with his beard, he practically purrs when she scratches his beard.

—> Also his chest hair, he very rarely goes shirtless but when he does her hands are always desperately trying to get into his chest hair.

• He also gives her beard burn on her thighs and-

• I really like that photo of Andrew, he looks like a god, just me or is he the perfect Poseidon or Hades or Orpheus. Or is he just drop dead gorgeous.

[girlgenius1111]

i could change up my body and change up my face

arsenal x platonic young reader

warnings: this discusses an eating disorder. this is based off my experience; everyone's are different.

You thought you were doing the right thing. The healthy thing. You'd always been a more muscular player, and it hadn't really bothered you. Football players varied in size; it didn't mean anything for how good you were. You debuted for Arsenal at only 18, and people had a lot to say; most of it you could handle. The comments on your weight, on how if you were smaller, you'd be faster, better, were what caused the problems.

It spiraled quickly; one day you were skipping dessert, and the next you were skipping entire meals. It was hard to balance: eating enough that you didn't feel like you were going to pass out on the pitch, but not so much that you could barely look at yourself in the mirror. Evidently, it was harder than you thought. You only managed it a few weeks before people began to catch on that something was up.

Your teammates had noticed that your behavior was off recently. You were less talkative, and you saw everyone outside of training a lot less. A few of them had discussed it, and had decided to keep an eye on you, see if things got worse.

When you passed out during training, everyone thought you were joking. It had recently become a popular prank; you and Kyra pretending to be hurt, scaring everyone, before popping back up. It was a bit of a boy who cried wolf situation: when you went down, a few people glanced over, but thought you were kidding, especially because no one had been near you. It was a hot day, though, and you'd barely eaten. You were lightheaded before you got out on the pitch, but once training began it only got worse.

You managed to last through the first part of the scrimmage, before you had to stop, putting your hands on your knees and breathing hard. Black spots dotted out your vision, and the world spun gently around you. You though you heard Katie make a joke about you already being winded, but you were falling to the ground.

In fairness to your teammates, it only took about 10 seconds before they realized something was actually wrong. Katie and Lia watched you go down, and something about it just looked wrong; you crumpled too easily for it to have been on purpose. Swearing, they both rushed to your side, rolling you onto your back.

"Fuck. Medics!" Katie called, kneeling down beside you.

"Hey, y/n, can you hear me?" Lia called, lightly tapping your cheek. Your eyes were shut, and you were completely limp on the ground. At her prompting, though, you groaned, shifting slightly and opening your eyes. Both girls sighed in relief. You blinked up at them in confusion. Why were you on the ground? You tried to sit up, but both girls stopped you.

"No, stay here, we need to make sure everything's alright," Lia said, as the physios finally arrived. A small crowd had gathered around you and your cheeks flushed red at that realization. You'd messed up. No one was going to let it go that you'd passed out. None of your protective, caring, overbearing teammates would let it go until they knew why this had happened. And they couldn't know: if they knew, they'd make you stop.

That was really all you could think about: how possibly you were going to play this off. As they got you up, after you blatantly refused a stretcher, and walked you slowly into one of the medical rooms, your mind was flashing from excuse to excuse.

"What are you feeling?" John, the head physio, asked, once you'd settled on the exam table. He was looking at you carefully, as if he could see right through you; it was incredibly unnerving.

"Just a little dizzy, I don't think I drank enough water," you replied. John looked at you searchingly for a minute, before asking another question.

"Did you eat breakfast today?" he questioned, eyes not leaving yours. It was the way he asked; not what did you eat, but did you eat, that told you that you were caught. You knew they'd notice that you'd lost weight, you all had to do weigh ins to correctly meal plan. You just hadn't noticed a difference, and assumed there wasn't much of one. But the way that John was looking at you, it must have been more than you thought. Enough that they'd noted it, and enough that they seemed to know what they were dealing with.

"Yeah of course," you lied. He could tell.

"I'm gonna step out for a minute, alright?" With that, he headed out of the door, leaving you to stress in the room. You didn't know where he was going, and it terrified you that he could come back and blindside you with anything at any moment.

You heard voices in the hall, and prepared yourself for an onslaught of different physios, and maybe the club psychologist. You weren't really sure what your plan was, and you didn't have anytime to settle on one before the door was opening.

It wasn't John, or a different physio. Not the club psychologist either. It was Leah and Katie, both walking into the room with incredibly worried looks on their faces. Briefly, you thanked god that Kim was out; she had this specific look she gave, and whenever you got it from her, you told her whatever you had previously been trying to hide. The odds of being able to lie to Leah and Katie weren't great, but better than if Kim had been there too.

"Using me to slack of training, McCabe?" you tried to joke. Neither girl cracked a smile.

"We talked to John. Do you want to tell us what's going on?" Leah responded, ignoring your comment.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I just got dehydrated, I'm fine." Apparently, you'd decided to play dumb. A strategy you weren't so sure of as you tried to hold eye contact with Leah.

The blonde sighed, taking a seat in one of the chair in the room. Katie remained standing, arms crossed over her chest. You were expecting tough love; harsh words that told you to get your shit together. You weren't expecting Leah's voice to soften, for her to look at you like you were fragile.

"Y/n, we want to help you."

"I don't need help with anything," you insisted.

"Then why have you lost a significant amount of weight in the past 3 weeks? Why did you just pass out on the pitch? And why haven't we seen you at any team dinners recently?" Katie replied. Her expression was hard, but you knew it was masking her worry.

You didn't know what to respond to that, honestly. You'd been expecting them to tiptoe around the issue for a while, try to get you to admit to it. In the back of your mind, you wondered if maybe you weren't in trouble. Maybe what you'd done was wrong, was bad, but it didn't mean they were mad at you, like you'd expected.

"Listen kiddo, we know there's a problem. There isn't anything you can say that will make us think there isn't."

"I don't know what to tell you. There isn't anything going on. It's not on me if you guys are seeing things that aren't there," you replied, crossing your arms. Both girls sighed, and exchanged looks.

"Okay, y/n, if that's how you want to play it. If everything is fine, you can come over for dinner with me and Lia tonight." Leah told you.

"I can't-" you began.

"Be there at 6," she interrupted, her tone leaving absolutely no room for argument.

-----

You took a seat at the table, putting your hands underneath to hide how much they were shaking. You really didn't want to be here, but there was literally no way to get out of it. If you didn't show, you expected Leah, Lia, Katie, and probably half the team to show up to your house. You didn't want to draw anymore attention to the issue that you already had, so you just needed to get through this dinner, eat the food, and go home.

How hard could it be?

"We made your favorite," Leah told you, setting down a full plate in front of you.

"We?" Lia questioned, smirking at the other woman.

"Okay, Lia made your favorite, I sat nearby and kept morale up." You only weakly smiled in response, your attention still on the seemingly massive amount of food in front of you. If they noticed, they left it, taking seats on either side of you.

They kept the conversation going, with you contributing very little. Instead, you pushed the food around your plate, taking bites every so often. You weren't saying anything, forcing every bite down your throat. Lia and Leah watched you carefully, seeing the way every time you brought the fork to your mouth, you looked like you were in pain.

You could have done this meal normally. It was just that you'd had to eat lunch with the team after training, and the food in front of you was food that had practically haunted your nightmares in the last few weeks.

By the time you'd gotten halfway done with your plate, you were close to tears. The conversation had died out, and the older women were watching you as the fork shook in your hand.

"Y/n," Leah said softly, placing her hand over yours to stop it from trembling.

You let out a deep exhale, putting your face in your hands.

"I'm sorry," you said, voice muffled. You felt horrible. Truly, completely, horrible. All you could think about was the calories you'd consumed, and the fact that there was literally no way for you to deny this anymore. It was terrifying; the recognition from the others that you had a problem made it all the more real to you.

A hand was on your arm, pulling you away from the table. You went with it, standing and following Leah out of the kitchen. She led you to the couch, sitting down in the armchair across from you. Lia came in too, placing a glass of water on the table, before sitting down on the next to you. You were staring intently at the rug, following the pattern in it across the floor, instead of looking at either of the other people in the room.

"You don't need to apologize, y/n. You're not in trouble, and we're not mad at you." Leah stated cautiously. You remained quiet. "Can you tell me when this started?"

You bit the inside of your cheek, thinking for a minute.

"Neither of us are going to judge you for anything you tell us. And we aren't going to tell anyone what you say, as long as you let us get you help," Lia promised, and you found yourself looking up at her, blinking back tears. Her face was open, kind, and you felt yourself opening your mouth and beginning to talk.

"It's only been like a month."

"Did something happen that caused it?" Lia questioned.

“I'm not really even sure what happened. I know I shouldn't read comments on social media but I did and I couldn't stop and all of a sudden..." you trailed off.

Both girls sat in silence for a minute, clearly thinking hard about what they wanted to say.

"We'll talk to the club psychologist, and we'll get you in therapy. We'll get you better, and everything will be fine," Leah said, trying to project confidence. You knew she was just trying to help; outline a plan for you, let you know that there was a fix.

It wasn't that easy, though. The way she said it, like it was just a matter of going to therapy, and then it would be all better, made you inexplicably angry. Clearly, she didn't understand how hard this would be.

"It's not that fucking simple Leah," you said bitingly, and both girls looked at you in surprise.

"Y/n, I know it's not-"

"No, you can't just say that. List out 2 steps and make it seem like it'll be easy. It's going to be impossible, and I don't even want to-" you cut yourself off, jaw snapping shut.

"You don't even want to what, y/n?" Lia asked, eyebrows pinched in confusion.

"I don't want to stop. I don't think I can, I don't think I'm strong enough," you said, voice cracking over the last few words. Just as quickly as it had arrived, your anger had disappeared, leaving your eyes stinging with tears.

Before you knew what was happening, Leah was crossing the space in between you, sitting down on your other side, and pulling you into a bone crushing hug. The force of it knocked the air out of you slightly, leaving you to hold tightly to the stability that Leah brought.

"I'm sorry, buddy. I didn't mean to make it sound like it would be easy; I know it won't be," she paused. "Alright, I don't know what it will be like, because I haven't gone through this, but I promise you, you are strong enough to get better.

"And you don't have to do it alone; we'll be here, whatever you need," Lia cut in from your other side, sounding earnest. They wanted to help, so badly. It shouldn't have surprised you, how much they cared, but it did. It always did.

-----

Lia had told the truth. Every member of the team, even if they didn't know exactly what was going on, helped you in some way.

Leah and Lia had you over for dinner most nights; their support was silent, but there all the same. They didn't make a big deal of it if you finished your meal, or if you didn't. They trusted that you were trying.

Katie took your phone one day, wordlessly grabbing it out of your hands and disappearing. When she came back with it, you found the comments on all your posts limited to people you followed.

Alessia ate lunch with you, every day, no matter how long it took. She talked to you to, about her experience, but never made you feel like you had to tell her anything in return. It helped more than you could express, knowing that you weren't alone, that someone knew what you were going through.

Viv grocery shopped for you, when she figured out it was something you struggled with. She always bought too much, but she always gave you options. When things started to get easier, Viv still took you grocery shopping. It was her way of checking in without making you talk, seeing how you were doing by how overwhelmed you got.

You were partially right; it wasn't easy, but you were strong enough. And when you weren't feeling like you were, your teammates stepped up and were strong where you weren't. You could do it, you could recover. You weren't sure if you would have been able to by yourself, but it didn't matter, because you weren't.

-----

[kisses4tom]

Sooo, since we got Uncle Billy do we now get GirlDad!Tom ?? I’ve looked high and low for a Tom X Reader family story😂😭 your writing is amazing <3

ᡣ𐭩 DADDY TOM

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YAYY FINALLY SOMEONE REQUESTED THIS!! 😭 I've been dying to write something like this since I have already made an uncle tommy hc! and thank you so much ml 💕

I think we can ALL collectively agree that Tom would be the BEST girl dad, right? 🌚 so the baby will be a little girl!

also I'm gonna make this a teen pregnancy (18), so from the very start up til now!

───────────────

when he finds out he would probably freeze for a moment before finally reacting (gotta soak it in yk)

he would be happy but shocked and confused at the same time

scared not to be present enough because of tour and the band

he would always kiss and touch your stomach

he'd cry when hearing the baby's heartbeat to the doctor 🥹🫶🏻

"I want the baby to be healthy, but if I had to guess I think it's a boy" (he 100% wants a girl)

idk I feel like he would call the baby "kleine Prinzessin" (little princess) or "kleiner Soldat" (little soldier) !!

when you go into labor he tries to keep his cool but deep down he's in full panic mode

the first time he met/held her it was like love at first sight for him even if he didn't quite know how to act since he never really had any past experiences with babies

he's very careful and gentle with her

always holding her

he would attack her with tickles to hear her little laugh

kiss attacks also

playing with her all the time

he wouldn't essentially spoil her (that's uncle Billy's job 😉) but he definitely gets her most things because he can't say no to that little face!

likes holding and showing her around: "look who's that in the mirror? it's you!"

definitely hiding her from the media

yet he LOVES talking about her in interviews!

though very very VERY rarely he would bring her out on stage and hold her like mf simba when she was about 1/2

his heart is always full whenever she's around

he would kneel down to talk to her‼️😩

always pushing her stroller or carrying her on his shoulders

don't ask me why but he'd get into play fights with her at the dinner table 😭 (especially when she's still learning to talk so she's speaking gibberish 😭)

he loves to take her baths and put fun toys in the tub

finds her extremely adorable in everything she wears

he'd give her his yellow dog plushie‼️😭 currently sobbing

I feel like he would try his best to let the baby's first word be "papa" 😭

when she's older he would start being more himself (so talk about things freely and make dirty jokes all the time)

he's not a regular dad, he's a cool dad! 😏 (please get the reference 😭)

he'd give her the talk 🫢🐝

he would pick her up in weird ways and make her laugh (like upside down etc lmfao 💀)

would let her do his hair but not his make-up

like I said in my uncle Tommy hc, i feel like he would love to play with the toy kitchen for some reason idk 💀

he's the overprotective girl dad FOR SURE (AND ITS THE HOTTEST AND CUTEST THING IN THE WHOLE UNIVERSE)

he'd go down the slide with her 😭

at lunch/dinner he would always sit next to her

looooves when she's at their concerts and would ask Bill to dedicate her a song (especially her favorite)

he'd definitely write her a song too

he would make her try to eat a lemon 😭🍋

it's important to him that she has a good bond with her uncle Bill and the boys too! (uncle Georg and uncle Gustav 🥹)

"Y/n she looks more like me than you, gotta be honest"

he would give her what he didn't have growing up (if you read Bill's book, like I have, you'll know)

he wouldn't let anybody hurt or say anything wrong about her

hype man fr

high-key a very chill and permissive dad

he would make sure she knows her worth and to always be herself, without listening to what others say

always saying that she's the better copy of him

since he had her young, people (maybe even teachers at parent teacher conferences) mistake him for her brother and it's needless to say that he's very flattered while his daughter is just like 😐

they have a great bond

LITTLE FUN FACT‼️ Tom said in his podcast that if he ever has a daughter then his dream is to name her Nala like in the lion king movie 🤭😭 crying rivers rn part 2

your daughter tags along on tours, especially because it's very important for Tom and she loves it (idk if I already said this but oh well lmfaoo)

I have a feeling almost all her friends have a crush on Tom (i know i would 😋)

Tom is such a basic dad istg, he does bbq every sunday

if y'all ever become parents a second time then he would definitely have a happier reaction than the first one, yet he would be scared to take care of two little creatures~

his fans always ask about her during meet and greets and give her little presents, which he appreciates a lot

your daughter is pretty much popular in the entire fanbase you guys have and is considered a "lucky charm" from the band

Tom would give her the longest and most comforting hugs known to mankind

he'd make her a memory book with Bill 😭

and he'd give her some old goodies of his!

like some of his old clothes, hats, glasses etc..

overall he's the best dad and UGHHFHSJENF I cry just thinking about him not having any biological children :(

i hope you enjoyed this !! 💕 (also i apologize for any spelling mistakes but your girl over here is too lazy to re-read 🤪 love y'aaaallll)

[ari-cuno]

Feelings are hard.

A quick Aim and Axel drabble

Tw: Angst, Post-Partum Depression (implied) , sickness

Axel belongs to me

Aim belongs to @zu-is-here

Anko was just an accident…a fluke. Certainly not an unwanted accident, just a little blip that wasn't planned.

Axel certainly hadn't planned on becoming a parent so soon out of all his siblings, especially his sisters, with their already blooming relationships. He was alone for the most part before this, the girl of his dreams having rejected him and leaving him in the pitiful ‘friendzone’ as they say. He'd never been the best at expressing his feelings to others besides his immediate family. It was hard to ask for help, or to show weakness, especially when so many people relied on him during harsh times his parents were gone.

…and then he found Aim.

Axel had wanted to explore how far he could go in his multiverse, despite the warnings from his mother about straying too far, thinning the borders between their world and those of an entirely different multiverse. Oras had done it before when she met alternate versions of important out codes and even when communicating with the voices, but he was…in search of someone.

His worst fear was he'd be long gone by then, time was strange between worlds afterall. Axel sort of was annoyed by his parents revealing his immortality so late. He'd remembered sensing a little spark so long ago in his childhood that stuck close to his heart for so many years.

Axel searched for what felt like forever, a grassy field before him with a tall, healthy apple tree in front of him. When all hopes seemed lost he hadn't noticed a much larger skeleton looking surprised a few feet away from him.

“...Can I help you?”

Axel laid his head on the soft cushion tiredly, although it did nothing to stop the constant aching sensation in his body.

…no one had told him being a parent could be so scary.

There were never any troubles with Anko. He'd appeared one day, only serving to complicate the relationship between Axel and the couch potato Aim had reserved himself to. He wasn't born by normal means, he'd just appeared one day, a happy little accident that was quickly accepted into the family.

But this was different.

The baby currently curled up in the bed in front of him wailing away hadn't been made like that.

Axel understood Aims' way of affection, he understood and respected that way in which he showed it. There had been a spark one day, and whether they thought of it or not, a decision was made. Axel had wanted more, he'd wanted love, he wanted to be someone worth loving…but also love others that way too.

…

“Shhh…” Axel tried to hush the suffering little girl gently, her soft cries making it hard for him to focus his own thoughts. It was hard being weak for so many months, the vulnerability was foreign to him, even with the support he was shown. And yet…things hadn't been okay.

He was scared, oh so scared. Eve, his beautiful daughter, their beautiful daughter… had been born sick.

She was sick, and they didn't know why. Her body and soul were weak, leaving her vulnerable and frail. Despite his powerful magic and blood…what could have gone wrong?

Axel tried so hard, he tried to give her whatever worked to ease her pain. It had been several weeks since her birth…and it had gotten worse. Nothing was working, she still coughed, cried, and the most he could do was hush her for but a brief moment. He'd left her older brother with his parents for the time being.

It would be scary if Anko saw one of his parents crying.

It made him feel weak and ugly, but the tears streamed down his face as he reached out, holding Eve's little hand with a gentle yet fierce grip. It was hard to resist the urge to make his crying vocal, but he choked back little sobs as he stared down at her. It wasn't fair. She didn't deserve to suffer so young. It was terrifying, he wasn't…wasn't sure how she would feel better- *if* she would feel better-

“...Axel?”

Axel took a deep breath, quickly trying to wipe his tears away and hide the stains left on the blanket below. “A-Aim… ?” He said, silently cursing himself for stuttering like a fool.

Aim was there, orange tinted goggles and the large body of a huggable man. Even through the goggles he could see the concern on the tallers face. “Everything okay? I heard her crying, but…” Aim paused, watching Axel desperately trying to recompose himself.

“...Were you crying-”

He was going to hate himself for this later.

Axel practically fell into the man he loved for most of his life. He buried himself in his taller frame, unable to stop the cries from coming out. He needed this…

Aim was momentarily stunned as Axel sobbed, weeks of pure exhaustion, worry, and fear crashing down on him in an instant.

“I'm sorry…” Axel apologized quietly, trying to calm himself down. “She's not getting better…I don't know what to do…”

There was a heavy silence.

“I'm scared…I can't do this alone…” Axel finally confessed, “...I need you. I want to be more with you…“ he whispered in a slight pleading tone.

“I love you...”

[laswells-ashtray]

Your writings are so good that I’m entrusting you with this simple prompt: Dragon Hybrid Price and (Any Hybrid) Nikolai.

Do what you will dear wizard writer.

For the sheer sake of you never implied how silly I could get with this, I'm sillying it up:

Bear hybrid Nikolai [because it's too fucking good] and dragon hybrid Price standing about one day, the two sergeants and the lieutenant are training together while the older two men watch. They're on someone else's base, a hybrid-less base but they're making do with what the have.

John's leaning back against the wall, wings pressed up against the brick in a way that has to be uncomfortable or at least that's what everyone assumes. He's rubbing at the base of one of his horns as if trying to soothe a headache and he looks quite frankly exhausted when another Captain appraoches.

John decides that in comparison to this man, he looks like Marilyn fucking Monroe.

"Captain Givens, you look about as good as I feel." John is at least trying to keep a good relationship with the other team even if they have a habit of pissing off each of them.

"Too fuckin' right. Just got off the phone with the Missus and had to help her convince my little boy not to shove his Batman figure up his nose. It's exhausting." The man complains, running a hand over his face tiredly.

John makes a sympathetic noise but doesn't hide his amused look. "Oh, I'm all too familiar with that feeling." The other day he'd had to convince a group of rookies that Soap is indeed a liar and that oil paint is in fact not edible just because it has oil in the name.

"You have kids?"

"Yes." John should've been smarter than to think that Nikolai's silence was a good thing, he doesn't get a chance to correct the bear hybrid before the other Captain asks:

"How many?"

"Three." Nikolai tells him while watching the boys train in the distance.

For a brief moment, John wants to tug on one of his fluffy ears and tell him to quit it. On the other hand, fuck it, why not?

"Yeah, three over there are mine. Different mums but I was a bit of a tart back in the day." He's reliant on the fact the human knows nothing about hybrids, specifically dragon hybrids for it to work. It's no secret that dragon hybrids can live a lot longer than the average human if they're careful about it but to those types of hybrids, John is still a toddler, horns still in one piece with wings that are still vibrant and healthy.

He can see the amusement in Nik's big brown eyes, he likes it when John sinks down to his level of teasing humans. The only one exempt was Kate, they respected her too much and she wasn't an idiot, she'd never believe half of the stupid shit they've all told people throughout the years. Besides, Kate is family. She has five hybrids protecting her back and the average CIA agent is still more scared of her.

"Riley, MacTavish and Garrick? They're yours?" The human asks in disbelief. Simon was going to kill him for this later, Kyle and Johnny would inevitably laugh themselves hoarse.

"Aye. Didn't find out about Riley until he was a teenager and his Mum got in contact. Looks fuck all like me but he's certainly mine. Lad certainly wasn't a chipper wee thing but I managed to win him over, SAS was his choice, I just put him on the task force because I owed it to his Mum to keep an eye out." He's talking out of his arse now and he knows it but the captain seems to be hanging on his every word. Nikolai is making the conscious decision to look away from him but he can see the faint shaking of the bastard's shoulders, he's laughing.

"MacTavish was from an eventful night up in Glasgow one evening, we didn't know if he was mine or Nik's until we saw the little blighter's eyes."

Good on Nik for how quickly he sorts himself, turning around and nodding approvingly. "Ah, but young MacTavish has always favoured me. Would've been a good bear cub, very grizzly."

The captain looks over to the three men training with wide eyes, tilting his head as he stares at them all, surveying them before he looks back to John.

"And Garrick is yours too?"

Kyle had been ripping on him for being old earlier so maybe he plays it up just that little bit more.

He nods, looking over at Gaz with the most proud look he can muster, it's real but he can pretend it isn't just for the bit. "He was an angel when he was a tot, good sleeper and learned to talk quick. Was always a little grumpy that he didn't have horns too but he got over it eventually. Got him a blanket with a dragon on it when he was two and he didn't get rid of the thing until he was fifteen. Big Mumma's boy though, spitting image of his mother and more than proud of it."

It almost saddens him that the interaction ends when a sergeant whose name he can't remember calls over the captain about something but the sound of Nik's deep, gruff laughter is anything to soothe his short-lived annoyance.

Truthfully, he forgets about the entire interaction within a few hours until Soap barges into his temporary room on the base with a positively gleeful look.

"Price, I don't know what the fuck you did but Gaz is due to kick yer heed in."

"Excuse me?"

"Givens won't stop asking him about his dragon blankie."

Shit.

"And what's this about you and Nik playing who's the daddy when I was born?"

Shit.

[league-of-sam]

Don't Be Shy | Konig x Reader

Kӧnig x TF141 x AFAB!Reader

PART FIVE

Summary: Transferred against your will to a new task force to calm a troubled soldier, you felt way in over your head - especially when you came face to face with a 6'10" mountain of Austria. 18+ MINORS DNI! t.w // angst, mental health, language, violence, human trafficking, death, sexual themes/SMUT, military inaccuracies, language inaccuracies (google translate).

1 / 2 / 3 / 4

You’d been banished to your dorm since returning from the mission.

A week of being practically locked in there since being released from the hospital wing, the stitches from the bullet graze in your thigh long disintegrated. All that remained now was a sore, red, angry scar.

Your first one.

You caught yourself laughing as you looked at it; Ghost would be so proud of your first battle scar.

Thankfully, the rescued women were as healthy and safe as they could possibly be and were already being placed in safe houses or returned to their loved ones.

But you…you’d already been on the receiving end of a mouthful from Price, Ghost, and Fender for not following orders and almost getting yourself killed.

It was frustrating that they couldn’t see why you did what you did.

Even more so that after saving his life, König still wasn’t giving you the time of day. Little did you know, it wasn’t because he was mad at you, it was because he was mad at himself.

He always hated how people wouldn’t give him a chance to explain himself, and that’s exactly what he did to you that night at the range. You tried, but he wouldn’t allow it. He pushed you away, and you still jumped in front of a bullet for him. You still threw yourself between a deadly weapon and an innocent young girl.

You were the selfless among the selfish.

And when he saw the way you fell, blood pouring from your thigh, he almost threw up.

He thought you were dead…he thought he’d lost you. And it was all his fault. Too occupied in trying to get the job done.

He had to see you.

Once again, you found yourself on the end of a video call, but this time, the entirety of the 141 and Laswell was present, making sure you were okay.

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot, pet, you know that?”

“What, like you’ve never thrown yourself at a crazy man with a gun? You can’t fool me, MacTavish.”

“Uh- no, that is- that’s irrelevant!”

“She’s got ya there, Johnny.”

“Yeah, Johnny, listen to your man.” You teased.

“Watch it, little one.” Ghost threatened, and you held up your hands in surrender. “Seriously though, ya did good. Just come ‘ome safe, yeah?”

“I will. Night guys, I love you.”

They copied your words, Gaz blowing you few kisses as their laptop closed, and the call ended.

Huffing, you began getting ready for bed, slipping into your fluffy pyjama shorts and the matching top.

Then, you let out a scream as your door flung open, and a mammoth of a man adorned in a black shirt and black sweatpants barged in, slamming the door behind him.

“Kӧnig what the fuck?! You scared the absolute shit out of me! You didn’t even knock! I could’ve been-”

“Bitte, I’m sorry.” He cut you off, but his voice was barely above a whisper.

Your hand rested over your chest, trying to calm your heart, “What the hell are you doing here?”

He didn’t speak right away, his lacking social skills surfacing as he faltered under your gaze. Your brow was raised, awaiting his answer. His eyes raked over your body, and he found himself blushing as he took in the way your little shorts hugged your thighs so lusciously, your little top showing off your midriff.

Du sahst so wunderschön aus. (You looked so gorgeous.)

“Kӧnig,” you spoke again, “What are you doing here?”

He cleared his throat, stepping into the room a little more, “I wanted to see if you were alright.”

“I’m fine.”

He nodded, and his gaze landed onto the scar on your thigh. His chest tightened at the sight of the evidence – the reminder that you almost weren’t here.

Because of him.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” He spoke, nodding towards your leg.

“What? Save your life?”

“Ja.”

“Are you crazy?”

“Nein. You shouldn’t try and sacrifice yourself for someone like me.”

You scoffed, folding your arms across your chest, “You know, this is a really fucked up way of thanking me, König.”

“Why didn’t you just let me die?”

Tears clouded your vision, “What?”

“I’d rather it have been me than you.” His voice started to raise.

“That’s not- you don’t leave your teammate to die! I acted in the moment; I did what was right!”

“You acted like a dummkopf! (idiot)” he shouted.

“Excuse me?”

“Why would you jump in front of a bullet for me?! You could have died! That was so stupid and so fucking-”

“Because I’m falling in love with you!” you yelled back, hand running through your hair as you panted.

Something snapped within him.

Something changed.

Your words ignited a fire within him, blazing furiously, burning the blood in his veins until it bubbled, his skin tingling.

You noticed too, as those gorgeous blue eyes darkened under the sniper hood, backing up until the back of your knees hit your bed as he stalked towards you.

The moment he reached you, he yanked the hood from his head, revealing his face.

That’s what he had hiding under there?

Beautiful auburn hair, wild and messy from his hood. Pale, freckled skin, adorned with multiple silvered scars. One in particular ran from his chin, through his plump lips, up to his cheek bone. You wanted to reach out and touch it, feel him under your fingertips.

Your entire body was shaking.

His tongue ran over his lips, making them shine in the dim light coming from your tiny lamp. He watched you as your eyes flicked over his face, mouth opening slightly as you marvelled at the sight.

Despite his blushing, he smirked, and it made your eyes widen.

“What was that you just said, liebling? (darling)”

He towered over you, hands moving to rest against your hips, dragging your body flush against his.

You looked everywhere but at him.

“Kӧnig-” you stuttered out.

He lowered you down onto the mattress, one hand pinning both of your wrists above your head while the other gripped your chin softly, forcing you to look at him.

“What’s a matter, mein schatz? (my love) Don’t be shy.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words would come out. Considering his size, he was being so soft, so gentle, and it was turning your brain to mush.

His thumb rubbed over your lips, pulling them apart slightly as his other hand kept your arms firmly above your head.

Your breathing was heavy, and the heat growing in the pit of your stomach was getting more and more prominent.

“Ich will dich…so sehr. (I want you…so much)” He whispered, his hands shaking slightly.

His forehead pressed to yours as he released your arms, and you wasted no time in placing your hands on his body. Your fingers grazed his cheek, running over the scar as you took his face into your hands.

“Ich will dich auch. (I want you too)” You whispered back, eyes burning into his.

He let out a noise, somewhere between a growl and a moan, before the grip on your chin tightened, and he smashed his lips to yours.

You kissed him back with the same need, the same desperation, his own whimpers matching yours as they escaped through his nose.

The feeling of his lips on yours was divine…ethereal.

This shy, socially anxious, mammoth of a man had taken full control of the situation, shifting you up the bed and wrapping your legs around his waist. You gasped at the movement, and he took the opportunity to plunge his tongue into your mouth.

A deep, animal-like growl bubbled from his chest, spilling over into your mouth as he dove deeper, desperate to chase the taste of you. Your hips bucked; your body not willing to wait any longer for the heat in your groin to be satisfied.

“Eager, mein liebe?” he chuckled, before ducking his face into your neck, nipping, sucking, biting.

He was marking you.

Making sure every man knew who you truly belonged to.

“Kӧnig, please-” you whimpered, fingers threading through his hair, tugging softly.

He groaned at the sensation, head dropping into your nape as his eyes rolled. His fingers dug into your skin as they roamed your body, no doubt leaving small bruises. He was holding back, and you knew it.

“Please,” you moaned, “Please, Kӧnig…berühre mich. (touch me)”

“God, baby-” he grunted, “You have no idea what you do to me, speak my language so pretty, so well.”

He smashed his lips to yours, only parting to pull your shirt over your head, exposing your skin to the cool air of the room. But you didn’t care, you were burning hot, just for him. You followed his actions, tugging on the hem of his shirt.

Timidly, he pulled it off, tossing it onto the floor. Your eyes widened as you took in his physique. Christ, it was like this man had been sculpted by the Gods personally. Your fingers delicately traced along his abs, bumping over raised scars, making him shiver.

They dipped lower, grazing over the unmissable bulge fighting to be freed from the confines of his sweatpants.

Everything about him was big.

He sucked in a breath, letting out a shaky moan as you stroked him until he snapped, pinning your wrists back above your head.

“You know how much I wanted this? How many times I wanted to have you right there? Those lessons were the highlight of my weeks, sweetheart.” He purred, hands roaming your bare flesh.

“Y-you should h-have, would’ve l-let you.” You stuttered out, breath choppy as he took your breast, his fingertips squeezing the nipple harshly.

He smiled shyly, eyes meeting yours, “You’re a good girl, ja?”

You nodded, words failing you as praise rolled off his tongue, letting out noises that sounded almost angelic to him.

Kӧnig then shifted, tugging your little shorts from your body, his giant hand running slowly up your leg. He dipped down, placing a delicate kiss to your scar. His hands then continued their journey until they reached your cunt, a long finger slipping slowly between your slick-covered folds.

“I would die for you.” He whispered, “Would you let me die for you, hübsches mädchen? (pretty girl) Protect your body with my own? Let me worship you?”

You were babbling incoherent nonsense at this point, the sensation of him touching you completely overwhelming, “God, yes…Kӧnig please, please touch- oh, f-fuck-”

“You’re so good, (Y/N), so good.” He spoke as he slipped a finger inside of you, curling to reach that spot with every thrust.

You bit your lip hard to keep from screaming, the metal taste of blood flooding your mouth, allowing the sounds to slip.

“You sound so beautiful, angel.” He cooed, continuing to finger you at a blistering pace.

He was relentless, desperate to make you cum before he got his cock anywhere near you, desperate to make you feel good – make up for what a mess he’d made of everything.

Your moans and whimpers spurred him on, showing him that he was doing the right thing.

The way your nails dug into his back as you clung to him almost made him finish right there in his pants.

You were magnificent.

Especially when your back arched, your breasts bouncing right in front of his face as his name slipped out of your mouth like some foul chant, ramming you into ecstasy.

Kӧnig, Kӧnig, Kӧnig, Kӧnig…

The way his name rolled off your tongue unlocked something deep within him.

He pulled his fingers from you, lapping up every drop of your release, before slamming his lips to yours, making you taste yourself. Hoisting you up, he locked your legs over his hips, lining himself up with your entrance.

“Bitte, can I?” he whimpered as his tip rubbed between your folds, “Please, Schatz, let me-”

Tears sprung in his eyes, his desperation to feel you becoming too much.

“Fuck me, Kӧnig. Don’t hold back.”

He let out a sob of relief, before he slid his cock into you, inch by glorious inch. He was huge, the biggest you’d ever been with, and he filled you up as if your pussy was made just for him. The minute he bottomed out, he let out a cry, one hand fisting handfuls of your hair as the other gripped the bedsheet in a hopeless effort to control himself.

Then, with a rhythm that sent white hot pleasure coursing through you, he rocked his hips, snapping against yours with every thrust. Your hands clawed and grabbed at his flesh as you mewled out a mess of words, barely able to string a sentence together.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he repeated, his pace quickening.

You whined, tears from the pain of him stretching you falling from your eyes, “Feels so good-”

“Oh, don’t cry, liebling.” He spoke, thumb padding your wet cheeks, “It’s okay, you’re doing so well, taking me so well…such a good girl…”

Grunts fell from his lips as he couldn’t control himself any longer, his pace speeding up as he chased his release. The pressure built for you again, and he could feel the walls of your cunt squeeze, making him whimper.

“That’s it, schnuckie, cum for me- please, scheiße (fuck) cum for me.”

You didn’t need any more encouragement, and with a scream of his name, your body arched, your climax completely obscuring your vision to the point you saw stars.

With a few more agonisingly rough snaps with his hips, profanities falling from his mouth, Kӧnig erupted inside of you, his cock pulsing over and over as his seed spilled out, white and dripping.

His arms gave out, heavy breaths from both of you as his body lay on yours.

Your fingers ran through his dampened hair as you clung to him, his arms locking you in place beneath him.

He lifted his head, rubbing his nose on your temple as he placed a chaste kiss to your cheek, then your forehead, then your nose.

“Meine schöne, kleine prinzessin...(my beautiful, tiny princess)” he mumbled before he finally pressed his lips to yours.

It took a good twenty minutes for the two of you to calm down, the thin layer of sweat sticking your skin together, not allowing you to part. Finally, your breathing had returned to a somewhat normal level, as good as can be as Kӧnig peppered tiny kisses along your shoulder.

You blushed furiously, trying to hide away from his gaze.

“Don’t be shy,” he whispered as he held you to his chest, arms tight around your waist, “Not around me. Du bist zu schön, um schüchtern zu sein. (you’re too beautiful to be shy)”

You sighed softly, turning in his arms to face him, your hands dancing along his scar, “Also bist du. (so are you)”

Kӧnig groaned as his eyes fell shut, trying to conceal it, but your constant reassurances and praise of him made his heart wild - it made that primal, instinctive urge within him burst out like a feral beast.

It made him want you, need you in every way possible.

And you were more than willing to oblige.

König marvelled as the truck pulled up on base.

It was so different to KorTac, so much smaller and less grand, hidden, and private, but it was home to you.

Finally, you were home.

You hadn’t even gotten out of the truck before you heard Soap’s yelling as he came bounding across the tarmac toward you.

Jumping out, you yelled something to him, making him freeze in place as the others caught up. They watched on, confused, but desperate to hold you in their arms again now that you were home.

You moved around to the other side of the truck, opening the door to see König looking at you, his leg bouncing nervously as his thumbs twiddled in his lap.

“You ready, big guy?” you smiled to him, taking his hand.

“As long as I have you next to me, I’m ready for anything, schnucki.”

You blushed furiously at the nickname, and he leaned forward, lifting his sniper hood just enough to reveal his lips, placing them on yours for a soft kiss.

Giggling as you pulled away, you dragged him from the vehicle, pulling him around to where the boys of the 141 saw him for the first time.

Just imagine their faces as you came from the side of the vehicle, an absolute behemoth of a man attached to your side.

Imagine the way Soap faltered as you reached them, König’s giant shoulders casting one huge shadow over them all.

Imagine Price’s initial horror as he clocked onto your fingers being woven tightly with those of the crazy, mammoth killer.

Imagine the way Ghost puffed out his chest to make himself look bigger as he squared up to König, having also noticed the way the big man kept you close;

“Now, you may be bigger-”

“A lot bigger!”Soap had yelled from somewhere.

“Yes- thank you, Johnny. A lot bigger, but make no mistake, soldier. You hurt my (Y/N); I’ll make sure no one even remembers you existed. Capeesh?”

“Y-yes, sir.” König had stuttered out, shaking in his boots.

Then there was you, fingers pressed to your nose as you looked to the floor, “Jesus fuck, Simon, leave him alone!”

Imagine König coming to your room after his first day with the 141, exhausted from the training he’d endured.

“I like them…like it here.” He’d speak, fingers running through your hair as you laid on his chest.

“They spent all day trying to kick the shit out of you.”

They had tried, each and every one of them completely underestimating the sheer strength that Kӧnig possessed. He was a super soldier, a battering ram. A fucking force.

He’d laugh, dropping his head to kiss your lips, “Ja. But only because they love you, schatz. They protect you…and so will I.”

“Yeah?”

“Bis zum ende der zeile. (until the end of the line)”

[penkura]

Scared of Doctors anon again.

I now raise you: Law during his time at Punk Hazard finding y/n while they're still a subject.

Honestly I have too many thoughts about this. It's helping me wait for the dub to come out

Such good ideas though, omg. I'm thinking and more is coming to me for this, it's such a good prompt. There's so many ways it could go!

But for now...

Law had not intended to save you when he came to Punk Hazard. He had a plan, one that would hopefully bring down this Devil Fruit factory and help him get his revenge, it didn't include meeting and getting to know you little by little in the time he was there. You had run into Law by accident when trying to escape, making him curious about what was going on.

You look scared when you first run into him, having turned a corner abruptly and colliding with the young doctor, asking him for help.

"Please, help me get out of here!"

"What?"

There's a fear in your eyes he doesn't like seeing, while you grip his coat tightly and plead with Law to save you, somehow. He knew Caesar was conducting experiments, obviously with the SMILE fruit and everything, but he didn't know the extent, and now he's more curious seeing you.

You look perfectly fine and healthy, there doesn't seem to be a reason why you should be afraid of anything. Most of the people that Law has seen through the lab are willing participants, or they've been bribed by Caesar with something for him to use them. You don't seem to fit either bill, unless there's something hidden that even he can't see.

But his powers should tell him, right? The brief scan he does shows nothing is wrong, though he can see some kind of drugs in your system. He'd have to do his own testing to figure out what they are and what they're for, but you're interrupted by Monet a moment later.

"Oh, I see you've met our oldest patient, doctor."

Law's concerns grow when you immediately remove your hands from him, looking towards the ground with more fear than before. Monet explains you'd been sick with a highly deadly virus three years ago before she and Caesar took you in, away from your home and family, and have been working ever since to find a cure. He watches as you back away bit by bit, turning more into yourself and apologizing, before turning around and running back where you'd come from. When he asks Monet at the illness was, she beats around the bush and doesn't give a straight answer, Law knows something is wrong with this situation but he's not in a position to figure out what it is.

Not until the Straw Hats and the Navy show up anyway. The distractions provided by them allow him the time to find you again, though you still seem fearful of him. He holds his hands up where you can see them, making you tilt your head.

"I won't hurt you. I won't touch you at all. I can use my powers to see about your illness."

"...why bother? I'm gonna die anyway."

How strange, to hear words he'd said so long ago said to his own face, but in such a different situation. After Law explains how his Devil Fruit powers work, you consent to letting him do a proper Scan, and you're confused when he tells you there's no sign of any illnesses in your body. He still sees those drugs in your system, but he doesn't have the time to check what they are yet.

"We're going to destroy this place. You'll have to come with me if you want answers from Caesar."

You really don't know if you should trust him or not, he hasn't given you much of a reason not to apart from being a doctor, like Caesar and Monet had claimed to be. Your voice is shaky when you ask Law if he promises to find out what happened, and when he does, you're almost crying as you nod. Law lets you take his hand, once you've calmed down and agreed to go with him, he starts to lead you to a safer area.

"I won't let anything happen to you, all right? Not until we get you the answers you need."

For some reason, you decide to trust him.

[psychdiarys]

I don't like how the narrative treats Ongsa in 23.5 ...

I hate how episode 11 paints Ongsa as immature for being afraid of coming out and worrying about what people will think, as if that's not a common fear among queer youth.

Sun is portrayed as "emotionally healthy" and mature because she prioritizes her love over others' opinions. But that's the problem: Sun prioritizes her love for Ongsa instead of actually putting Ongsa's feelings and fears first. I was put off by so many narrative choices in this episode, like

Sun listing out all the reasons she's upset with Ongsa ...

.... which felt contradictory as those reasons were all connected to Ongsa's insecurities and mental struggles that Sun had previously been compassionate of.

Like, personally, I believe Sun was entitled to be upset about the Earth revelation, as being lied to is deeply hurtful.

But, she understood Ongsa's reasons at the time and didn't get mad at her because it didn't really matter. She also supported Ongsa's decision to keep their relationship hidden, being aware of Ongsa's fears and self-esteem issues.

That's why it felt so wrong when she used those reasons against Ongsa during their fight. It completely undermined the understanding and support she had shown before.

It came across as very "Look at everything I've done for you," like don't be all understanding & supportive if you're going to keep her in debt of your gratitude.

And when Ongsa explains her side, Sun hits her back with:

The girl who outed her girlfriend to her parents without knowing if she was okay with it, or if her parents would accept her, is now criticizing that girlfriend for making decisions on her own without her input?

Like I get that she was upset at Ongsa for making decisions on her own without discussing them with Sun. But what were these decisions, exactly?

Keeping their relationship a secret from her parents because she was afraid they'd be homophobic

Why does she need Sun's input for that, exactly? This is between Ongsa & her own parents. The decision to keep this a secret from her parents affects HER personally because she lives with them. Her parents potentially being homophobic could literally risk her safety & turn her whole life upside down. Sun, on the other hand, had no business outing her & AylinLuna to Ongsa's parents without asking for their input. It was not her decision to make, even if they were supportive.

Keeping their relationship a secret from everyone in school

Again, Ongsa was scared of the reaction, which is completely normal. There's nothing inherently wrong with being afraid of coming out, especially for queer youth who often navigate the complexities of dating, while being in the closet.

Back then, I was so proud of Sun for being understanding of Ongsa's decisions, considering it was her first queer relationship, and fear is a natural part of that experience. Therefore, using that understanding to guilt-trip her now, simply because they had a disagreement, feels manipulative.

Asking Sun not to drop the exchange program scholarship for her

I mean, can you blame Ongsa? If my teenage girlfriend (that I've been with for like a month, mind you) decided to throw away all her dreams & plans away to be me, I'd probably tell her to get her shit together. Like, Ongsa wasn't making the decision for Sun. She was advising her not to prioritize her 5-minute relationship over her lifelong educational & career aspirations, and at such a young age?

I understand that Sun felt hurt because Ongsa didn't want to apply for the scholarship with her. And on top of that, Ongsa didn't even understand Sun's decision of giving up the scholarship to be with her.

But getting mad at her for encouraging her to take up the scholarship is childish. Because Ongsa just didn't want to force either of them to choose between uprooting her own life for Sun's dreams or having Sun give up her dreams to stay with Ongsa.

Ongsa's parents confronting her about her relationship with Sun

Like, fine. That was a sweet scene & I'm happy that Ongsa's parents are NOT homophobic like she assumed. I'm so glad they are supportive and I want them to be MY parents.

But again, I was irked by the way they centred the conversation around Ongsa's inability to prioritize what's important to her & worrying about what people think too much.

"Be more considerate of yourself & the ones close to you," implies that Ongsa is selfish for not coming out. It implies that she thinks too much about what other people think of her just because she's afraid of coming out.

Like WHY is she being repeatedly told that she needs to stop being a people pleaser just because she was scared of telling people she's GAY?

Instead of telling her that they're sorry for not creating a comfortable & safe enough space for her to be vulnerable with them, they're like "Why would you assume we're homophobic when you never even asked?"

I was also upset that Aylin and Alpha told Ongsa about her & Sun, once again taking away her autonomy to do it herself, in her own way, on her own terms. How many times in this show is Ongsa going to get outed.

Plus, despite Ongsa's friends & siblings being supportive of her & giving her a shoulder to cry on, it was disappointing that nobody explicitly took her side.

Nobody told her that it's okay to be afraid, that she's not wrong for the choices she made. NOBODY condemned Sun for outing her. They all acted like she's the one who hurt Sun, even if they WERE understanding.

Alpha you're literally my favourite character and I love you to death. But instead of calling Sun out, it's like she was saying Aw, you've finally learnt your lesson now. Character development! Now, go get Sun back!

Big miss.

Sun's apology

Yes, Sun "apologizes" to her, but not for the right reasons. While it's positive that she did apologize and acknowledged her part in their breakup, it was disappointing that she only addressed their disagreement over the exchange program scholarship situation.

What about apologizing for outing Ongsa? For not understanding her fear of coming out?

Sun claims to love Ongsa for who she is, which, according to the show seems to imply her "loser personality" and the fact that she's a girl. But does she also love Ongsa for her anxiety, fears, insecurities, and tendency to overthink?

It's all "I love you no matter your gender, your looks, and your popularity status," but it's "tata, bye-bye," at any sign of neurodiversity. This is how they messed up the Aylin plotline too, but that's a story for another post.

—

I know that they're teenagers, but that doesn't mean they're exempt from accountability. I know that the narrative is supposed to be realistic, but that doesn't mean I agree with it. Either way, another miss from GMMTV, I guess ..

[threezzyo]

꒰ ˒ take you to the basics∘︴toji z.

↬ you and toji zenin have a fun time at the aquarium. ⇢ sfw, no cw!

∾ zenin toji x gn!reader. modern au. no curse au. toji lives with his big family and you're already close with them. established relationship. height difference mentioned kinda. tiptoe kisses. fluff. young teenage love. aquarium date. comfort. healthy relationship. (my dream date actually)

a/n: i tried making this with little gendered pronouns, so everyone can read! i'd appreciate any feedback! title is a reference from 'basics' by twice <3

dividers are made by cafekitsune (tumblr)

your favorite part of the aquarium was definitely the moon jellyfish. you admire how the jellies drift carelessly through the ocean, their delicate tentacles glimmering in the soft aquarium light, the chatter of the vivacious crowd around you, and your first love, toji zenin.

you had easily won over his family. it wasn't hard, you just acted like yourself. always polite, eagerly listening to the elder's stories. toji would be annoyed because it seemed that you would only come over to play with his cousins, mai and maki, or make tea for his grandfather.

the water feels like cold glass on your skin. the tank was huge, lots of people crowded around it as people excitedly touched the fish. using two fingers to softly pat the little translucent jellies.

"won't they sting ya?" a gruff voice rumbles in your ear. toji zenin, your boyfriend of three years, told you a week ago he'd never been to an aquarium. like the overly excited partner you are, you bought tickets to the local aquarium and dragged him here.

its just fish, he said. but he's here yelping as one of the tiny invertebrates brush his fingers ever so slightly.

"baby, its just a little jellyfish. why are you so scared?" you tease him, as you two wander around the building.

"...they could sting me." he mumbled, flushed from your teasing. he'd never admit it, but he loves likes it.

you laugh in response, tiptoeing to kiss his cheek. "its okay, i'll protect you from the moon jellies. poor baby toji." you squish his cheeks, overly sticking out your bottom lip.

"oi. stop." he grumbles.

"okay, okayy." you laugh, letting go of his face and holding his hand instead.

the sound of gently bubbling water, the sight of colorful fish and aquatic plants, and the calming effect of underwater lights create a serene atmosphere. toji can't take his eyes off of you, keeping you close at all times as you excitedly point out at the clownfish.

"i caught that fish in animal crossing. and that one. ooh... i've always wanted to get one of those, but they never spawn on my island." you ramble off excitedly.

"you're so cute, darling. could watch ya like this the whole day."

normally, he'd be bored, but it seems so relaxing looking at the shiny scales, or the underwater forests, with the kelp, coral, and anemones.

"are you having fun?" you murmur, holding his hand and leaning onto his shoulder. "i hope you are."

"of course i am." he replies smoothly, pressing a chaste kiss on your forehead. "i'd always have fun with you."

you beam up at him, watching the surgeonfish swim without a care in the world. "i love you."

he chuckles, wrapping you up in a big hug, his arms tight around your waist. "oh, i love you too. so fucking much."

a/n: i hope it's decent i literally don't know how to add more ig😭 next i have a satoru fluff and i have an idea in the making for yuuji! i feel like i'm writing too much fluff and no like angst or smut but we'll see😜

[pinknightsinmymind]

【 found family hc's 】

abby anderson x fem!reader & ellie williams x fem!reader

wc: 4.4k

song rec: house song by searows. i listened to this on loop the entire time i was writing.

content: established relationship, modern!au, fluff galore, hc's for both abs and els, christmas with abs!!!!, bbq with ellie and family, minor angst, but this is all fluff so sweet it rots your teeth, hc's AND long blurbs for abby and ellie, mentions of parent loss(in this modern!au abby's mother passed away), mentions of adoption(for ellie's hc's), and sarah is here!! she is ellie's older sister <33 also pls read a/n for more info

a/n: in which you are dating one of the girlies, meet their fathers, and detailing your journey into becoming part of the family. i kinda wrote this with the idea of what it’s like to not come from a healthy family in mind, but it’s also vague and written in a way where you’re able to interpret it and shape it to fit whatever you have in mind and relate it to what you know. the main theme here, though, is finding/making your own family and building a beautiful life despite your past. this is kinda just me hoping i’ll be able to do the same one day. i began writing this while really sad, but i’m posting this in much better spirits. this started with my sadness, but now it makes me feel hopeful. anyways, pls enjoy, and if you think you’ll need them, get your tissues ready. i love you all and you are all so beautiful and worthy of love and good things. and if any of you ever need anything, my inbox and dm's are open <333

GENERAL HEADCANONS — applies to both abby and ellie

It’s an uncomfortable conversation, but when your relationship with her started getting serious, you explained what your family/home life was like and that although you’d love to, your family probably wouldn’t want to foster a close relationship with either of you. You told her you understood if this was a dealbreaker and if it was something she couldn’t tolerate, but that wasn’t her reaction at all. Instead, you were met with complete understanding that almost left you sobbing. You were happy to have someone finally understand that family—and navigating it—hasn’t been easy for you and it was good to not have things out of your control held against you for once.

As your relationship progressed, she made it clear to you that she’d love to introduce you to her family and that they were excited to meet you. She promised that they’d accept you into open arms and that everything would go well, so there was nothing to worry about.

You were nervous, of course, unsure how any of it would unfold because you had never met her family before. You had heard so much about them and knew they must have been amazing people to have raised someone as great as your girlfriend, but you were still scared. What if they could see everything wrong with you with just one look? What if they thought you were too damaged and no good for their daughter? Or what if they just didn’t like you? It was all so worrisome, but your girlfriend assured you it would all be okay.

Meeting the rest of the family was one thing, but meeting their fathers was the scariest part.

ABBY ANDERSON

You met Abby's dad during Thanksgiving—typical and sappy, but just so Abby. Of course she’d bring someone home during the holidays. You had been dating her for almost a year now, so it was about time you met him. You knew that Abby's mother passed when she was very young, and you also knew it would just be the three of you together for the holiday. Jerry did everything to make any occasion happy for his daughter since he knew her life would be hard enough without a mother, and that included holidays. As a busy surgeon—the top one of your city’s hospital, no less—he’s lucky to get this day off, and although he can’t make a whole turkey on his own, he cooks many other dishes to make up for it. He goes all out making desserts as he likes baking more than cooking, and he’s the main reason Abby has such a sweet tooth.

Jerry is nothing but welcoming to you, telling you how he’s heard so much about you (which in turn makes Abby blush, thinking to herself, He wasn’t supposed to say that! but she still keeps her cool). He asks you all about yourself, if you’re in school and what for, what your plans for the future are, then jumps straight into his dad-threats. He tells you in a serious voice that you better take care of his daughter, then lets out a laugh and offers you a slice of pie.

It went well, and you even stayed the night at Abby's childhood home, sleeping in her big and well-furnished room.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“I think it went well,” you said. The two of you were huddled up underneath the covers in her old bed, and it’s comfier than you expected. Maybe it’s because Abby has you pulled close to her chest as her hand rubs comforting circles on your back, but it’s still heavenly. “I just can’t tell if he likes me or not.”

“Please, he likes you,” she assured you. You could feel her trailing her hand down your sides gently now. “Otherwise he wouldn’t have been in such a good mood today. Promise.” You let out a small sigh at her words. You didn’t want to argue with her about this, and you felt the only thing you could possibly do was hope she was right.

You did see Jerry a few times after that, but it was only when Abby invited you to go see him with her. He was always kind and welcoming, but you couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling in your chest that maybe he didn’t actually like you. What if he was faking all of it? You couldn’t think of any good reasons why he’d like you and accept you with open arms. It didn’t make sense to you because all you knew to expect from a parental figure was rejection. Maybe he just didn’t think you were good enough for his daughter. You didn’t tell Abby any of this, though, because you knew she’d be crushed to hear you don’t think her dad likes you. It’s also because she’ll just tell you for the millionth time he does, and you’d hate asking her for the same reassurance over and over again. In the case of her father’s acceptance, it would do nothing to quell your fears.

You hadn’t expected the holiday season to help erase these fears, but they did. After a late night of watching movies, Abby brought up visiting her father for Christmas with you by her side. She was excited as she told you all about her and her dad’s traditions: drinking hot coco, watching cheesy Christmas movies, stockings full of gifts, and the works. You couldn’t tell her no. Not when her face was beaming with excitement and she had a big smile across her face. You appreciated how much she wanted to include you—no, scratch that, cherished it—but deep down inside you felt out of place. You felt like an environment as soft and as warm as that was not a place where you belonged. It’s not what you knew, not what you were used to, but you put on a brave face for Abby.

You didn’t believe her when she told you how extensively Jerry decorated the house, but it was exactly as she said. As soon as you walked through the front door, you could smell the vanilla candles and the scent of pine mixed together. You were greeted not only by Jerry, but by the presence of mini-Santa statues and multi-colored nutcrackers. There was a big wreath on the outside of the front door, and an even bigger one hung around the family portrait of Abby and her father. The Christmas tree was huge, probably close to six feet tall, and by the smell of the fresh pine emanating from it, you knew it was real. The tree was decorated with gold and silver ornaments, bright lights, tinsel, and a giant star at the top. The fireplace had stockings lined up against the chimney with other statues, trinkets, and family photos lining the shelf. The tree casted a warm glow over the living room, and it just felt so cozy inside. It’s crazy to think that this is what Abby grew up with, that this is the kind of childhood she had, but at the same time you’re happy it was. It’s what she deserves.

It may be Christmas day, but it’s already 9 P.M., so Jerry suggests hot coco, sweets, and a cheesy movie. Abby, of course, agrees and picks out her favorite movie for you all to watch. You helped her pick it out, specifically choosing it because you’ve never seen it before and because you know she loves it. You all get a slice of Jerry’s homemade apple pie, and it’s so warm and gooey you’re sure you’ve never tasted anything like it before. You wonder where in the mix of being a surgeon he found the time to be so good at baking, but it’s still so endearing. You wonder how many times he practiced these recipes for Abby, and it’s so heartwarming. You hope you can one day offer her a home the same way Jerry has.

Jerry settles into his worn-out, leather recliner with his cup of hot chocolate while you and Abby occupy the couch. There’s a glass coffee table in front of it where your two mugs rest as the two of you are snug in a blanket you’re sharing together. You’re nestled into Abby’s side with her arm over your shoulder as you watch the movie together. It’s comfortable, and the warm, yellow lights make the moment that much more beautiful. They cast a glow on Abby, making her look sweeter than she already does. Her hair is down for once, and you’re lost in the tenderness of the moment. Occasionally the two of you move forward and grab your mugs for a sip, but besides that this wholeness has no interruptions. It’s like you can feel your doubts melting away, and you feel comforted, welcomed, by the warmth of this moment. It doesn’t seem to push you away anymore, but rather it’s something you feel compelled to be a part of now. Well, no, that’s not exactly right either. It’s like you are a part of it now, and it’s accepting your embrace rather than your rejection. You don’t feel the need to push it away anymore, to create excuse after excuse as to why you don’t deserve it, and it’s like you’re finally letting it make its home in your heart.

After the movie finished and you all had your fill of hot chocolate, you hear Jerry get up from his seat and mention that he wants to give out stockings. You don’t think much of it, watching the man as he walks up to the fireplace and grabs two of the stockings that were hanging. You hadn’t paid much attention to them earlier, but when he comes up to you and Abby, you realize you should’ve. One has Abby’s name stitched into it with blue and orange thread, and the other has your name threaded into it with your favorite colors. He gives Abby her stocking first, then holds the one with your name on it out towards you. 

“Is that for me?” you asked.

“Sure is,” Abby answered. You glance over at her and she’s practically beaming. She seems so proud of herself.

“Abby helped me make it. She made sure it had your favorite colors and everything,” Jerry explained. You finally take the stocking from his hands, feeling the heft of the weight of whatever was inside.

“I bet she got mad if you suggested a color that wasn’t.” You crack a joke in the face of this moment, because if you think too hard, look at the stocking too long, you might start crying.

“Nearly tore my head off,” Jerry laughed. “But it’s so you know you’re part of the family now.” You nod your head, clenching your jaw as your gaze keeps shifting between the stocking and the floor.

“Thank you,” was all you could manage to say in reply. You’re sure you could burst into tears at any moment, but at the very least they’re happy ones.

ELLIE WILLIAMS

You were never as scared of anything as you were to meet Joel Miller. You had seen him in photos with him and Ellie, and he did not look like he played around. In fact, he looked like he’s never fucked around a day in his life. The man intimidated you, and you had never even met him before.

Ellie’s Uncle Tommy’s birthday was coming up, and you were invited to the family celebration that would include Uncle Tommy, Aunt Maria, Joel, Ellie’s older sister, Sarah, and now you.

You had met Joel in passing with a quick “hello” whenever you visited his and Ellie's house, but you had never formally met him, especially not the rest of the family, either. You had also never met Sarah as she lived in a different city and was older than you and Ellie, but you were excited to. She was a young teen when Ellie had been adopted, and you had heard so many stories from Ellie about what an amazing older sister she was, so that was at least one family member you weren’t scared of. Uncle Tommy and Aunt Maria, though? Maria was intimidating, and Tommy and Joel had both been in the military. Who wouldn’t be afraid?

“Everything’s gonna be okay,” Ellie reassured you. You were both standing in front of Tommy and Maria’s front door, nervous as could be. Ellie held your hand in hers as she rubbed her thumb across your skin. “They’ll love you, promise.” Ellie reached up with her free hand and knocked on the door. A second passed in silence between the two of you before the door opened, and you were met face-to-face with Maria. She had short graying hair and a freckled face that reminded you of Ellie’s, and as soon as her eyes landed on the two of you, her lips turned upwards into a wide smile.

“Ellie, is this [Y/N]?” she asked. Ellie smiled shyly as she nodded her head.

“Yes, this is her,” she answered.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you,” Maria said politely. She was just all smiles, and she was much warmer compared to the scary image of her you created in your head. To be fair, she did seem really intimidating from her pictures, but she was nothing of the sort.

“Nice to meet you, too,” you managed to reply. You were still nervous, feeling like you were choking on the anxious butterflies dancing around your stomach.

“And she’s polite,” Maria prodded. She smiled even bigger as she pulled the door open for the two of you. “Anyways, come in. Joel and Tommy are in the back with the grill set up already, so just follow me.” Ellie walked through the doorway, pulling you with her towards the back of the house. Maria led you through the house’s front hallway into the living den furnished with couches and countless photos and decor hanging on the blue walls, then turned left into the kitchen. Sitting at the table was an older woman at least in her 30’s scrolling through her phone, but her eyes perked up as soon as she saw you all enter the kitchen. Almost immediately an excited smile spread across her face.

“Sarah!” Ellie greeted. The woman jumped up from her seat and gave Ellie a tight hug.

“Ellie, is this her?” she asked. Her eyes kept moving back and forth between the two of you.

“Yes, this is her,” Ellie answered.

“Wow, I’m so happy to meet you!” Sarah cheered. She came over to you and gave you a hug, something you hadn’t expected, but you returned it the best you could. As soon as Sarah pulled away from the hug, she was talking again. The way she carried herself was so confident and firm, and she held great amounts of eye contact while speaking—something you were struggling with at the moment. “Ellie has told me so much! She never stops talking about you!” She had a sweet, Texan accent when she spoke like Joel, while Ellie only had a slight one in comparison.

“Sarah!” Ellie groaned.

“What?” she asked coyly. “Was I not supposed to say that?” The answer was yes, and she knew that, but how could she resist teasing her little sister? Ellie just rolled her eyes.

“Come on, y’all, they’re waiting for us outside,” Maria announced. She nodded her head in the direction of the door behind the kitchen table, and you found yourself taking a deep breath. The door was glass, so you could see the wooden porch outside and the green grass, but no sign of Joel or Tommy—you know, just the two men who terrified you the most.

“Oh, yeah, I was gonna help Dad with the grill,” Sarah sighed.

“You? Helping with the grill?” Ellie teased.

“Hmm, more like standing there and talking to him,” she said.

“That sounds more like what you meant,” Ellie responded.

“Yeah, see y’all out there.” Sarah got up from her seat and was the first to open the back door, the hot air and smell of grilled meat wafting in as soon as she did. Maria followed her soon after, and you knew you and Ellie should follow suit, but you found yourself stuck, unsure what to do.

“Hey, you okay?” Ellie asked. The sound of the door closing shut hung in the air, and you knew you’d have to open it again soon.

“Yeah, just… nervous,” you explained.

“Everything will be alright, promise. I’m gonna be here the whole time, and we’re gonna be eating, too. That won’t be too bad, now, will it?” she asked.

“No, I guess not,” you replied.

“And you’ve got me right next to you. Don’t forget that.” Ellie gave you a sheepish smile, and you did your best to return it despite the queasiness in your stomach.

The barbeque went well, and it wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. In fact, you felt well-received by Tommy as Maria and Sarah helped encourage him to hold conversation with you. The two women did a lot to help conversation flow and welcome you as much as possible, but the one person you felt like you weren’t getting through to was Joel. He was just so… quiet. It’s as if he was always on guard, always analyzing the situation, but what did you expect from a guy who used to be in the military? That seems to be the exact kind of disposition he’d have. He only really gave small replies in single words here and there, maybe an autobiographical question for you, then he’d retreat back to his silence. It was honestly unnerving, and as much as you did your best to immerse yourself in the conversation, in Ellie’s little jokes, Tommy’s laughter, Joel intimidated you more than anyone else ever had before. Why was he so quiet? Did he see something wrong with you? Did he not think you were fit to be his daughter’s girlfriend? Was he waiting for you to make a mistake? Was he planning how to tell Ellie that he didn’t think the two of you were a good match? All the possibilities were endless, and every single one terrified you to no end.

Despite the anxiety eating you up from the inside, you did your best to maintain your composure. You answered whatever questions Ellie’s family had for you, laughed at the jokes like you should have, all while trying to keep the crushing fear at bay. Ellie seemed to sense it somewhat, because at multiple points throughout the dinner she’d grab your hand under the table or rub your thigh comfortingly. When the night started slowing down, the sun sinking lower and lower, Tommy and Maria declared the end of the dinner and started clearing the table. Joel and Sarah disappeared into the house, carrying trash and whatever else they could back inside. Ellie leaned in close to your ear in order to speak.

“How are you feeling?” she whispered.

“I’m doing okay,” you answered. “Not as nervous as before, but still a little.”

“Did you enjoy yourself, though?”

“I did,” you replied.

“Joel and Tommy are good at barbecuing, huh?”

You laughed a little at her prodding. “Yeah, they are.”

“Look, we’re gonna get you some extra family points, yeah? Let’s offer to help Maria clean up. How does that sound?”

“Sounds good to me,” you said. This time you were the one to offer Ellie a little smile, one she was happy to see on your face after such a long day.

“Perfect.” She stood up from her chair and brushed off her jeans. “Hey, Maria, let me and [Y/N] help you clean up a bit,” she announced.

“Well, aren’t you sweet?” Maria asked.

“The sweetest,” Ellie joked. You were next to stand up from the table, picking up both your plate and Ellie’s while she gathered the left behind cups. Tommy had already retreated inside with the large dishes of food, leaving you with just Maria and Ellie. It was quiet besides the clanking of the dishes as all three of you walked inside. Ellie walked behind you as you reentered the house, slotting dishes in the sink and discarding whatever trash she had. Ellie came up behind you, her back pressing into yours for a second when Maria disappeared into the living room where everyone else presumably was.

“How far do we wanna take these points?” she whispered.

“Well, what are you thinking?” you asked her.

“I say we wash the dishes,” she suggested, and you could just imagine the stupid, little grin on her face. “It’ll make them like me more, too.”

“You’re such a dork,” you said as the laugh spilled out your lips. You turned around to look at her, and there was a goofy grin on her face just like you expected. Her hands ventured to rest on your waist, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Whatever. Come on, let’s just do it.”

“Okay, you hate doing the dishes, so I’m starting to wonder what this is really about.”

“I… may or may not have promised Maria I’d do the dishes, and she’ll kill me if I don’t.”

“This is why you watch the promises you make,” you said.

“Moving along,” she said in a rushed manner, “are you gonna help me or not?”

“Yeah, because I need you alive.”

You and Ellie slotted yourselves side by side as you were forced to wash the dishes on account of your girlfriend’s promises. She was stuck washing while you dried the dishes. At one point Joel had wandered through the kitchen, muttering a small greeting to you both before disappearing outside. He left the back door open somewhat, but you said nothing, figuring he would be coming back inside soon. Despite the small interruption, Ellie, of course, couldn’t help being a little shit and splashing you with water every once in a while.

“You got my shirt wet!” you’d scold her.

“I’m sorry, baby,” she’d say all fakely. She pulled you into a hug, but once you separated, she splashed you with water again. After washing the dishes and Ellie cleaned the kitchen up a bit, you could tell she was tired and ready to go home.

“You look tired,” you commented to her.

“Yeah, I’m… all tuckered out. You ready to go home?”

“If you are, yeah.”

“Okay, let me find my… Where are my keys?” she asked. She patted at her pockets, looking for any sign of them, only to come back empty. “I think I left them outside.”

“I can go get them for you,” you offered.

“Oh, good idea. You get my keys and I say bye to everyone for us. Perfect.”

“Alright, I’ll go find them for you. Be right back.” You gave Ellie a quick kiss on the cheek before wandering outside through the back door. As soon as you stepped outside, your eyes landed on Joel sitting on one of the chairs with a mug in his hand. You had forgotten he was even out here in the first place, and you hadn’t expected or planned for this interaction with him. You took a deep, calming breath. You needed to act normal.

“Hello, Joel,” you spoke up. He turned to look at you, then returned his gaze to his mug. It was dark outside, and the porch light may have been on, but it was a dim, yellow light. Not at all helpful as your eyes scoured the ground for Ellie’s keys.

“Hello.” It was quiet as you wandered to the table, looking across the top of it for Ellie’s keys. Still no sign of them. You pulled the chairs out, and you didn’t find them on the seats either. You sighed as you pulled out your phone and turned on your flashlight. “What are you lookin’ for?” Joel asked.

“Um, Ellie’s keys. She can’t find them.” You squatted down to the floor, shining the light around the wooden porch as you continued your search.

“Oh, you two gettin’ ready to leave?” he asked. You turned your phone to the right, and something silver glinted back at you. The keys. Thank God. You grabbed onto them and got back up from the ground.

“Yeah, she said she was tired and ready to go home.”

Joel let out a small chuckle. “That sounds like her,” he remarked.

“It very much is her,” you replied.

“I heard her splashin’ you with water in there.”

“She can’t help herself,” you said. “She apologized, then she did it again.”

“Does that… make you mad?” he asked.

“No, not at all.” You were wondering what he was getting at with the question.

“You and her seem to get along well,” he pointed out.

“I think so, too,” you said, hoping you were choosing your words well.

“I can tell she really loves you, you know,” Joel said. He took a sip out of his drink, then glanced at you. “And you seem really good for her, too.” The words hit you right in the heart. You knew from what Ellie told you that Joel wasn’t a man of many words, but these were just enough. They seemed to give you the kind of confirmation you were looking for, that maybe you could put down the anxiety plaguing your mind.

“I’m glad you think so,” you said. You glanced at the mug in his hands again. Was that steam? “Can I ask what you’re drinking?”

“It’s coffee.”

“This late?” you asked.

“The girls always tell me that,” he said, and you saw the smallest glimpse of a smile ghosting his lips. You figured by “the girls,” he must have been referring to Sarah and Ellie, and that small detail stuck out to you. Despite how scary he was, deep down inside he was just a dad. A girl-dad, at that.

“Ellie always tells me how much she hates coffee.”

“She never lets that go. I tell her she has underdeveloped tastebuds to make her mad.”

“That’s perfect for getting under her skin,” you replied.

“That’s why I say it. Anyways, she’s probably lookin’ for you by now, or me, maybe.”

“Probably,” you responded. “After I find her, she’ll probably come tell you bye before we leave. I’m gonna do that now.”

“You go do that,” he said. “And you better take good care of her, by the way.” You smiled a little bit. Had you heard him say that earlier, you probably would have shit your pants, but now you were comforted by the dad-threat.

“I will,” you said confidently.

“Or I will… do something. I don’t know, I’ll figure it out.”

“I take your word for it,” you replied. You turned around to walk back inside, keys in hand, a new kind of pep in your step as you looked for Ellie.