#this could have flowed WAY better but it is what it is

[amfstargirl]

Yandere batfam x neglected reader

Standing in the yard, dressed like a kid, the house is white and the lawn is dead ⋆·˚ ༘ *

You stood firm on the ground, eyes stern and unwavering. In front of you was a place all too familiar—the "shelter" where you grew up, the house that had been your home for five years of your childhood. As you stood there, memories flooded your mind, both the happy ones and the melancholy ones. Your eyes roamed around the place, taking in every detail before you finally decided to enter, lest anyone mistake you for some kind of lunatic loitering outside someone's house.

As your feet mindlessly carried you into the room, a heavy, shaky sigh escaped your quivering lips. It hadn't even been five seconds since you entered, yet you already felt the urge to cry. Oh well, that's what memories do to you. You gently caressed the dirty white wall adorned with your old, fading doodles. Most of them were pink—your favorite color then and even now as an adult. You smiled sadly as the memories of your time in the house flooded back, making you nostalgic. You scoffed sarcastically at the irony that you missed this place more than the manor where you'd spent a longer time.

Perhaps it was because the old you—the innocent, sweet, and pure one—was still within these thin walls that had sheltered them through all the bad times. You could feel their giggles and laughter lingering in the air. Tears streamed down your face as you stared at every sticker, doodle, and writing spread across the walls. Somehow, you cried out of joy, relishing the fact that the child you left behind in this house was still here in some way. Still innocent, still unaware of the harm the world could do.

In the manor, all the love you ever knew came from the man who introduced himself as the family butler but whom you soon came to know as your father. He was the love you craved and begged for at Bruce's feet. He fed you, took care of you, and taught you the things you needed to know. He attended family days, PTA meetings, and other events that your biological father should have been at. Under Alfred's shelter, you did everything you could to try to level with your siblings' talents—learning acrobatics, martial arts, drawing, baking, and more.

Yet it was Alfred who, in the dead of night, under the whispers of the cold wind whipping past your teary face, assured you that you would never need any of those skills to truly earn your family's love. All you needed was to be yourself. You allowed yourself to believe his words and lived them as your truth for a short time, but soon gave up on the idea, accepting that they wouldn't truly see you.

Now, dwelling on your lingering past and memories outside the manor, you remembered those you knew before coming to live with them. You reminisced on the thought of your mother. You remembered her.

You remembered how poverty ate your mother away and that she couldn't provide necessary needs for you but you, sweet, beautiful, angel you never complained.

You remembered how much you loved those barbie shows and movies but couldn't afford the dvds and even a proper functioning television so you sometimes watched it from your window across your neighbors, and while watching you saw a glimpse of their life. Their happy, perfect family life. How they cuddled their daughter and watched those silly barbie movies together. Your eyes softened as you thought "I wanted that" the little you hoped that maybe one day momma will get better and finally love me. Your tears poured from your eyes at the thought.

You remembered while you were doing your homework alone, you heard a whimper outside your window near the alley. As you peeked your tiny head outside, your braids flowing with the cold, harsh wind, your eyes searching for the source of noise. As you let your gaze travel through every corner of the alley, you saw a dirty, poor puppy whimpering, alone, calling out for its mother, its father, anyone. You ran hastily outside and collected its tiny and fragile form gently in your arms. "I'm here, I'm okay, you're safe," you whispered softly to the creature. And from. That very day you fed it and kept it sheltered secretly from your mother. You named her Amara. It suited her. You didn't have much play mates so you sometimes play with her by the yard where you and her would either run together or lay down. You never really got to say goodbye to her. From "that" moment on, you never got to go back to your house. You wondered how she was. Was she well fed? Did she think you abandoned her? Does she miss you? The guilt of living her ate you up the longer you dwelt on the past. You shook your head and sighed, trying to forget about all of it. You mourned every version of you. And this was your most treasured one. Thinking back on all the memories you had of the old you, of her. You thanked them for being so forgiving, for being so brave, for being so content with what she had, and for never trading anything for it.

They Were such a kind soul. And you're glad that they gets to stay where they were the happiest despite the nightmare they endured those days. You will always look up to them. They were and will always be a part of you. You took one last look at the house, the drawings, the dirty corners of the room, and released a breath as you closed your eyes. This was it. You'll finally get to say goodbye-

Whimper

You froze as you heard a familiar whimper. You turned around and slowly walked towards the opened door, and you saw her. Amara, your friend. You can't help but let the tears fall as her once brown fluffy appearance is now old and grey. You wondered how even in the light of old age she somehow still seems so youthful. She was still your baby. With a shaky voice, you tested the name. "Amara...?" she wags her tail in delight as a response to the familiar name she's been waiting to be called for so many years. You kneeled down and gently caressed her. "Oh, baby. You've been waiting for me, haven't you?" she whimpered as if answering you. You noticed her trying to catch her breath and her body growing weaker. You glance at her tail and see its wagging has become more frail and slow. You glance at your eyes, and you know. You smiled at her and whispered, "It's okay, baby. You can rest now." Her face weakly lit up, and she slowly closed her eyes, calm and loved, finally in your embrace.

After some time, you tenderly wrapped her body in a blanket. You carried her to the yard where you both used to play together as kids, a place where you ran freely without a care in the world. Borrowing a shovel from a tenant in the apartment, you buried her there, in the spot where you both were the happiest.

You whispered silent prayers for your companion and left with the memories. This was it. You've made your peace with the old you. Almost. There was one more thing you have to do.

You used believed that your mother could have been so much more. She was a beautiful woman. Smart, even if other would beg to disagree. But, you knew that she knew how to play her cards right to get what she desired for. She would have been so powerful if she used her sharp mind to something much more.. Productive. Yet she chose to sleep with men, abandon her daughter, and let herself be eaten by poverty and lust. Well, you didn't really mind if she abandoned you. You've always felt like you were the burden, the barrier to her way of succeeding and the chain locked onto her feet, keeping her from truly running away to what she has become. You've seen it in her eyes, the thought of running away and living a new life, but when she looks at you.. She saw a mistake she could never be freed of. A mistake. If only you weren't born, she would have been so happy.

Blink.

Blink.

Blink.

Blink. "Ma'am?" the nurse asked. Suddenly, you were back to reality. You blinked again, processing her words. You glanced at her expectant expression and blurted out, "Y-yes, yes, uhm. Yeah. I'm ready." She smiled and said, "Great. Let's go this way, ma'am." You followed her hurriedly, not wanting to test her patience. As you walked, dissociating and thinking of all the possible outcomes, the nurse suddenly stopped in front of a room and said, "We're here. You can enter now." You nodded and thanked her silently.

Facing the door, you chanted in your mind, "You can do this," with a mix of determination and uncertainty. Taking a deep breath, you exhaled and opened the door. There she was—your mother, in all her glory. Bare-faced and vulnerable in her comfy hospital gown. You almost choked on your saliva, seeing her this... bare. You had always seen her so filtered, her face adorned with colors, her clothes tight and bright. Awkwardly, you shifted in your place and slowly sat beside her bed as her gaze followed your every move. You cleared your throat, preparing to speak, but she beat you to it.

“I know you.” you widen your eyes at her as she continues “you're my child.” you weren't shocked at the fact that she acknowledged you but the fact that she called you Her child, and the softness in her eyes. You were starting to think that maybe this isn't your mother, because she never looked at you like that. Never in years of living together has she even glance at you.

She chuckled at the sight of your confused and shocked state, bringing you out of your thoughts. "What? Shocked? Of course, I still remember you, Y/n," she weakly said, her voice small and quite different from the harsh tone she used to yell at you with. You inhaled sharply, trying to stop your tears from falling. What the heck? Were you about to cry again?

"I thought with how much resentment you harbor for me, you would have forgotten about me by now," you smiled sadly at her, watching her face drop slightly but still smiling weakly.

"Oh, Y/n," you almost crumbled right then and there. Oh, how much you had longed to be called so sweetly by your mother's voice. "I never hated you... that much," she said bitterly, and you stayed quiet, waiting for her to continue. "I just wasn't born to be a mother, no—at least not in this life. I'm a mess and I always will be. And I'm sorry I couldn't change for you because nothing can and nothing will change me anymore."

Your lips frowned at her words. "I always thought that maybe you could have been better without me," you said. You miss her, and you will always miss her. She was your whole world, but now seeing her and talking to her made you realize her world was clearly much different from yours. Her world was something one could not escape. You knew you couldn't live like that, and it seems that she cannot live any other way. They said that a mother and children exist as wretched mirrors of each other. You were all she could have been and she was all you might have been.

She closed the distance between you and embraced you for the first time. "You never were. It was me. I was the problem. You were just a child. In another life, I would've been able to care for you." You didn't question her on why she couldn't do it in this life because you knew. You knew she didn't have the capability to be a good mother and a morally good person now, and that was okay. You couldn't live with The fact that she will never truly care for you and will always hold secret animosity towards you if you force her to be a mother to you. You closed your eyes for a minute and silently took in the feeling of a mother's embrace for the first and last time.

"This is the last time you're ever gonna see me again," you said. Your mother chuckled bitterly and replied, "I know. Good for you, kid. Leave everything behind and start anew. You deserve it."

You soon moved out of her arms and held her hands tightly, looking into her eyes. With a deep exhale, you walked out of the hospital. This was it—you were finally free from your past. You had made your peace with it, and now it was time for you to move forward. You knew that if you didn't confront the horrors of your past, they would haunt you for the rest of your life. You had made a good choice.

As you stepped outside, the cool breeze greeted you, and you felt a sense of liberation wash over you. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden glow over everything. It was as if the universe itself was acknowledging your newfound freedom. You took a moment to breathe in the fresh air, savoring the feeling of lightness that now enveloped you. Walking down the street, you felt a renewed sense of purpose. The city seemed different somehow—brighter, more alive. You noticed the little things that you had overlooked before: the vibrant colors of the flowers in the park, the laughter of children playing, the distant hum of traffic. It was as if you were seeing the world with fresh eyes, unburdened by the weight of your past.

For the first time in a long time, you felt at peace. The past no longer held you captive. You were free to live your life, to pursue your passions, and to surround yourself with people who truly cared for you. It was the beginning of a new chapter. You get home to your apartment and sit at your couch grabbing some blankets and making hot cocoa. You thought to yourself that this is what you exactly needed. Watching barbie movies in your new cozy apartment without any burden past onto your shoulders, the little you would have been so proud, making you smile at the thought. This was it. Nothing was going to stop you now.

That's what you thought.

It has been 2 weeks since you've moved in your apartment and you're getting ready for your ballet rehearsal. You were especially excited about this as you were going to perform swan lake when you got to enact one of the most important and famous characters, how cool was that? As you were about to grab your pink bowed pointe shoes a sudden “ping!” notification was heard from your phone. You turned your head and went to grab it expecting a message from one of your close friends or even your ballet mates but all you were met with was a message from a person you least wanted a one from.

Dick. Your supposed older brother is asking you to hang out with him. At this very moment. You dropped your phone and stared at nothing while breathing heavily. You feel your heartbeat rapidly breathing, the knot in your stomach growing more tighter and tighter each minute you let the thought sink into your brain. You almost tripped at your foot as a result of your vision disfigured, as if you were looking through a fish-eye lens. This wasn't right, this wasn't supposed to happen. When-how?-why?! Why was this happening now? You were only starting to feel like everything in your life was finally starting to go your way. Why did this have to happen? It was as if the universe was mocking you. You bit your lips until it bled but you couldn't care less. You were numb. You hadn't even realized that you were nowate for today's rehearsals. With trembling hands you reached for your phone and shakily pressed the button “block” as you silently prayed that he-they would never come in contact with you ever again.

Of Course that wouldn't happen though. The universe was never really on your side.

Dick? What's happening here?

A sudden deep voice spoke, bringing Dick out of his deep trance. He turned around and saw his father standing outside the door, looking suspiciously at him. He stared at his father and saw the look on his face—full of confusion and unfamiliarity, not towards him but the room he was in. "I-it's Y/n," he stuttered, the name tasting so sweet on his tongue. He wanted to roll around in the scent of you. Was that weird? No—he just missed you, that's all.

"What about them?" Bruce's voice carried a nonchalance that almost made Dick angry. How could he be so indifferent about his precious sibling? With a hard voice, Dick replied, "They're gone." Bruce's eyes widened slightly at the response. What did he mean you were gone? You were just here when... Wait, when? He worriedly glanced at Dick, and as if understanding, Dick answered, "I know."

Bruce inhaled sharply and stepped inside the room, your lingering scent greeting him. Your trophies adorned the walls. This was your room? No, it couldn't be. This was too little. This was just... not it. The difference between his other childrens bedrooms and yours was so noticeable. You didn't have any fancy chandelier decorating yours. You didn't have your own bathroom.

Bruce's eyes scanned the room, taking in every detail. The neatly arranged trophies, the faded posters on the walls, and the small bed that seemed too empty now. He walked over to the desk and picked up a framed photo of you, when was this? You look so.. Grown? How old were you? Were you old enough to live alone? How come he didn't know? Did you have a job-were you even allowed to have one? he clenches his fist as he stares at the sight of your image and sees your bright smile. His heart ached at the sight. How had he missed this? How had he not noticed the signs?

Dick watched his father, a mix of emotions swirling within him. He wanted to scream, to demand why Bruce hadn't paid more attention, why he hadn't been there for you. But he knew he wasn't any better than his adoptive father was. Besides, it wouldn't change anything. The damage was done.

Bruce set the photo back down and turned to Dick, his expression a mix of regret and determination. He saw the tiny diary and other papers scattered across the floor and picked them up, reading them one by one as he slowly spiraled into regret and guilt. Dick watched as he knew this was going to make him understand. Today made it all clear to him. Why there was a nagging feeling inside of him saying that there was something missing in the manor. It was why the sweet muffled music of the orchestra haunted the manor, the same kind of music haunting their bedroom. Like it was a reminder, a warning. That something special was lost. The soothing sound of humming, light footsteps around the manor now gone. The pink bows tied around the handles of the stairs, the love that the plants receive now nowhere to be found. It was because you took that love with you.

"We need to find them," Bruce spoke, his voice steady but filled with urgency. His knees bounce as his Jaws tighten anxiously.

Dick nodded, his resolve matching his father's. "We'll find them," he replied, his voice firm. "And we'll make things right."

As they left the room, Bruce carrying the framed image of you tightly, almost as if he was paranoid that something would take it from him, and dick gently running his thumb through the texture of your pink, bowed, bright diary, the weight of their mission settled on their shoulders. They knew it wouldn't be easy, but they were determined to bring you back. The silence of the manor was a stark reminder of what they had lost, and they were ready to do whatever it took to make amends.

Bruce was anxious. He didn't have a plan. Ironic, because Batman always had a plan. It was an unspoken rule—Batman was always prepared. But now, he found himself at a loss, his mind racing with uncertainty. Perhaps it was because he knew every single person in Gotham. As the guardian of Lady Gotham, he prided himself on understanding the intricate web of connections and motives that defined the city's inhabitants. He calculated every person's actions, paid attention to every detail, and watched from the heart of Gotham.

He paid extensive attention to everyone... except you.

It wasn't intentional. He had always been consumed by the weight of his responsibilities, the never-ending battle against crime, and the need to protect the city. But now, standing in your room, surrounded by the remnants of your presence, he realized his failure. The irony of it all struck him—Batman, the meticulous planner, had overlooked the most important person in his life.

Now he was desperate, he may not have a plan but he was desperate. He'll do anything to get you back. Any possible way to get back all the times he failed you, when he failed to be a father to you. He swore to protect you and never let you out of his sight ever again.

Dick wasn't any better. As he walked, his thoughts played tricks on him, but in a way he almost relished. His mind insisted that you must be so scared without him, without your older brother to protect you. He didn't even consider the possibility that you could be an independent, fully functioning individual on your own, or the fact that you had grown and most likely abandoned the thought of "bonding" with him. In this moment, his mind was consumed by the image of you and the curiosity of what more you had within yourself that he had neglected. His anxiousness grew, causing him to bite his nails and run his hands through his hair in frustration. His breathing became ragged, and his heart pounded in his chest. It was as if he had turned feral, his bloodshot blue eyes itching to be blessed with a vision of your face.

The more he thought about it, the more his mind played tricks on him. He imagined you scared and alone, wondering why your older brother wasn't there to protect you. He couldn't bear the thought of you suffering because of his neglect. His thoughts raced, each one more frantic than the last. What if you were hurt? What if you were in danger? What if you had given up on ever reconnecting with him?

The guilt gnawed at him, making it hard to focus on anything else. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had failed you, that he had missed so many opportunities to be there for you. His heart ached at the thought of all the moments you had spent alone, craving the attention and love that he hadn't given.

As he continued to walk, his thoughts became more erratic. He imagined you thriving without him, having found your own path and your own sense of independence. The possibility that you no longer needed him stung, but it also filled him with a strange sense of pride. You had grown, despite everything, and that was something to be admired.

Still, his mind couldn't rest. He needed to see you, to know that you were okay. The uncertainty was driving him to the brink of madness. His hands trembled as he clenched them into fists, determined to find you and make amends.

he wouldn't rest until he saw you again.

Both Bruce and Dick disregarded everything around them, unaware of the curious look Tim gave them. He followed quietly behind their backs, raising an eyebrow as he wondered why they hadn't noticed his presence yet. Normally, these two were incredibly guarded, so Tim was shocked by their lack of awareness. What could have made them so unfocused?

Bruce—the Batman—and Dick—the first Robin and now Nightwing—were both engrossed in a particular object. They seemed to be completely absorbed, their usual vigilance overshadowed by their intense fixation. Tim watched as Bruce's eyes remained glued to a framed photo on the desk, his expression a mix of regret and determination. Meanwhile, Dick's gaze was fixed on the pink notebook in his hands, his fingers gently tracing the glittery cover.

Tim couldn't help but wonder what was so important about these items that it made two of the most vigilant people he knew drop their guard. The framed photo of you, smiling brightly, seemed to hold Bruce in a trance, while the pink notebook, adorned with bows and glitters, seemed to capture all of Dick's attention. They were so consumed by these objects that they had let down the walls they had built through years of vigilantism.

It had to be something incredibly significant—something better yet, special.

“What are you two doing?” asked Tim, suddenly breaking the silence between the three of them as he watched the father and son duo flinch, obviously flabbergasted at his sudden interruption at their deep trance. He observed as their face turned from shock to going back to their frowning faces making him mirror the same expression. Dick clenches his jaw and exhales sharply preparing himself to speak when he is suddenly interrupted by a familiar voice he would always recognize.

"What is going on here?" a figure with deep forest-green eyes asked, standing tall in the shadows, his cold demeanor unwavering. Dick's eyes met his, and he said his name. "Damian. Wha—"

"You have deliberately abandoned your promise to train with me today. Why?" Damian's voice was sharp, full of accusation. Shoot. That was right. Dick had forgotten to train with his younger brother today. But it didn't matter now; his other sibling needed him, and it was about time they knew about them too. He glanced at Bruce's unfocused state, feral and restless.

"It's about Y/n," Dick said firmly.

Tim stood still for a moment, trying to figure out who "Y/n" was, while Damian immediately sneered at the mention of his "rival." He couldn't pinpoint why your presence angered him so much. Maybe it was because he had to share the title of being the Wayne heir with someone so... normal, someone so far below his level. You both were so different. Perhaps he was jealous of you for being so normal, for not having to worry about tainting your hands with blood and painting others black and blue. What did you even do? He didn't know, but he bet it was something a normal civilian would.

Meanwhile, his peripheral vision caught Tim standing still, deep in thought. Damian saw him processing quickly, his mind running fast as he tried to figure out who you were and why you were so relevant at the moment. Then suddenly—aha! Tim remembered now! You were the kid who had pestered him non-stop about some game.

Tim's eyes widened as he recalled the memory. The realization hit him like a wave. He had been so dismissive back then, but now he understood the significance. Guilt washed over him, mixing with curiosity and concern. What had happened to you? Why were you so important now?

Damian's sneer softened slightly, replaced with a look of contemplation. “What about them?” asked damian. While Tim wondered the same. Suddenly Bruce's cold and deep voice said “they're gone.” Damian raising an eyebrow of his response, and Tim answering “gone? Gone how?” switching his gaze from dick and Bruce's form awaiting for one of them to answer his question as the tension in the room thickens. “I mean that they're gone. All their things not found in their room, no trace of them not in the mansion, and not even a goodbye.” Tim and Damian frowned at the same time. Damian scoffed and thought you were probably just making a big scene so the attention would be on you. Bruce said “we need to find them. Now.” his voice left no choice for them to abide by his command.

Now alone in the CCTV room, Tim let his bored gaze wander over the footage from a long time ago, his palm supporting his head. Suddenly, something caught his attention. He watched as you sat, his fingers tapping the keyboard to increase the volume. You hummed lightly at the footage, a simple gesture but not to him. Your voice was so familiar to him. His eyes dilated as you continued humming, your voice sweet as honey, as light as a mother's touch trying to lull her baby to sleep.

He zoomed the footage closer and closer, almost as if he wanted to go through the screen just to hear your sweet, angelic, melancholic voice. Your voice was like a soft fur blanket to him. He didn't know if he was hallucinating from sleep deprivation, but he swore you were covered by a soft light, hugging your form and kissing your skin gently.

Tim sat in your "presence" for a bit, soaking in your voice. As he listened, memories flooded back. He recalled distant muffled sounds within the thin walls, lulling him to sleep, chasing away the demons that kept him awake at night. He had so desperately wanted to close his eyes and rest, and he remembered thinking maybe it was just a voice in his head, or maybe a real-life angel offering him salvation from suffering and the sweet pleasure of sleep. Now he knew, the angel was called "Y/n."

His fingers tightened around the edge of the desk as he leaned in closer, his breathing steadying as he watched the footage. The realization hit him hard. How had he missed this before? How had he not recognized that comforting voice? The gentle humming, the presence that had brought him solace on sleepless nights—it was all you.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he continued to watch, his heart aching with a mix of regret and longing. He remembered the nights he had spent tormented by nightmares, the countless times he had struggled to find peace. Your voice had been his lifeline, a beacon of hope in the darkness.

He couldn't shake the feeling of guilt. How had he been so blind? How had he not seen the importance of your presence in the manor? Tim's thoughts spiraled as he recalled the moments he had dismissed you, the times he had been too wrapped up in his own world to notice you reaching out. He needed to see you. To hear your voice, to take you back, to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness as his forehead kisses the cold, dirty floor, or to maybe steal you back without a word. He didn't know, he just had to see you.

The footage continued to play, your voice a soothing balm to his troubled mind. He sat there, never unwavering, always in awe of your voice and never taking his attention off you. He sat there,Unaware that he had been playing the same footage for hours and hours. His dilated eyes worshipping you as if you were a god.

He felt a deep sense of loss, realizing that you were gone, and he hadn't even had the chance to thank you for all the nights you had unknowingly saved him. Determined, he knew he had to find you. He had to make things right.

After some time, finally. Tim's resolve hardened as he stood up, his eyes never leaving the screen. He would find you, and he would make sure you knew how much you meant to him. With renewed purpose, he left the CCTV room, ready to join Bruce and Dick in their search. Together, they would bring you back and rebuild the bond that had been neglected for far too long.

With much focus on the object of his obsession attention, he failed to notice a tall figure in the shadows, watchin. Thinking after all these years they have finally come to their senses, realizing the greatest gift of all was right under their noses.

Damian was a dangerous person. To be fair, he was raised to be an assassin and an heir to the throne from the moment he was born. Not even a moment out of the womb did he catch a glimpse of the normal life he so desperately wanted. He trained day and night, month after month, year after year, to become the perfect product of the world's greatest detective and the daughter of the king of assassins. Imagine the inner turmoil within him when he didn't meet the expectations set upon his shoulders. All his life, all he knew was to fight. In any situation, his first instinct was to fight and guard himself for his life.

Sometimes, he wondered how they expected a child to lead thousands of assassins to create a bloodbath. Behind his pride and arrogance was a deep-seated anger towards those in charge of his fate. He was furious that his innocence had been stripped away, clawing its way back to him, but ultimately, they succeeded in giving him a future burdened with the weight of guilt for painting the young and innocent red.

Damian's upbringing left him with a constant battle within himself. The expectations placed upon him were immense, and he often felt like he was suffocating under the pressure. The relentless training, the unyielding discipline, and the need to prove himself consumed his every waking moment. The anger he felt was not just directed at those who shaped his fate but also at himself for not being able to escape it. Many didn't know of it but he found it hard to be Robin. The conflict between leaning to your instincts or “your- now- morals” was hard. To kill and to save was wrong and somehow to save and to forgive was right.

Despite his impressive skills and abilities, there was a part of him that longed for something more—something normal. He envied those who lived ordinary lives, free from the burden of bloodshed and violence. He wondered what it would have been like to have a childhood filled with laughter and innocence rather than combat and survival. As to why he wonders what more could you possibly want? He was so sure that you had so much wonderful time living such a luxurious life in the manor and never having to prove yourself to be worthy of something in being able to get the object of your desire. How could you run away from this life? From your life? You were so unfair, so selfish.

As he continued to grapple with these conflicting emotions, Damian's exterior remained cold and guarded. He rarely allowed anyone to see the vulnerable side of him, the side that yearned for a different life. But deep down, the scars of his past lingered, a constant reminder of the life he was forced into and the innocence that was stolen from him.

He shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, and released a heavy sigh. What a bother. Making his way to every corner of the manor to "inspect" and see if you had left any trace of yourself there. As he walked down the path, letting his bored state guide him, he glanced at the thick walls and noticed some unfamiliar works of art. His gaze roamed around the room, settling on various paintings he had never noticed before. It was as if the paintings spoke for themselves, screaming out for anyone to notice and appreciate them. The different textures, colors, shapes, and stories behind the art captivated him.

Damian liked to think that he noticed everything and had the ability to be highly aware of his surroundings, whether he was familiar with them or not. But at this moment, he paused, questioning himself. If he was truly aware, how had he managed to overlook these breathtaking canvases filled with bright colors that made him... feel things? He took a step forward and saw a tiny signature on the left side of one of the canvases. He brought his hand up to softly caress the painting, gently and carefully, as if he were afraid that a mere touch could destroy it.

Engrossed in admiring the paintings, he failed to notice the tall figure beside him. It was only when the man spoke, "Master Damian," addressing him, that he flinched slightly.

"Ah, Alfred. My apologies, I was a bit distracted by the art adorning the walls, which seems to be... unfamiliar to me. Would you mind telling me where my father keeps buying these paintings? I must say I'm quite... impressed."

Alfred frowned and smiled sadly at the youngest Wayne. "Well, Master Damian, these paintings are actually not your father's doing. Rather, they are Master Y/n's work of art."

Damian's eyes widened in surprise. He turned back to the paintings and said "Y/n did these?" he asked, almost incredulous. The realization that you had created such beautiful and meaningful art struck him deeply. He didn't even know that you could draw much less create such.. Beautiful art. While he was thinking about it he realize that he had complimented you, you!

"Indeed, Master Damian," Alfred confirmed. "Y/n spent countless hours creating these pieces. Each one holds a story, a piece of their heart."

Damian felt a pang of emotion through his chest, he couldn't pinpoint what it was but it was somehow nagging him about something, or rather someone. His fingers traced the brushstrokes with a newfound reverence, as if trying to understand the emotions you had captured on canvas.

"I never knew..." Damian whispered, more to himself than to Alfred. The layers of vibrant colors, the delicate details, and the raw emotions conveyed through your art were all a testament to the depth of your soul. He felt a connection to you that he hadn't realized before, a sense of camaraderie and understanding. And he was totally not dissing you just minutes ago.

Alfred placed a comforting hand on Damian's shoulder. "Art has a way of speaking to us, Master Damian. It reveals truths that words often cannot. Y/n's art is a reflection of their experiences, their joys, and their sorrows. It is a part of them that they have shared with the world."

Damian nodded, taking a step back to fully appreciate the entirety of your work. Your art had opened a door to a deeper connection, and he was willing to walk through it. He didn't know why but in a way this was proof that you had always had some kind of connection to him.

As Damian and Alfred stood there, surrounded by the masterpieces you had created, a sense of resolve settled over Damian. He frowns and takes a look around all the work of your art. His style doesn't differ much from yours. the caress of brush ever so slightly seen, and the emotions behind the soul of your paintings, like his. What made you so similar to him? And that, he will not know until he finds you.

He knew that finding you and bringing you back was not just about making amends—it was about recognizing and celebrating the unique and irreplaceable person you were.

Y/n considered themselves a keen observer, attuned to the delicate nuances of the world around them. They noticed the gentle yet sometimes harsh swaying of the wind as it danced with the leaves, creating a symphony of nature's whispers. They noticed the lady sitting on the park bench, quietly absorbing the view of the home she once grew up in, her memories interwoven with the present. They noticed the ducks by the pond, gracefully gliding through the water alongside their mother, a portrait of serene tranquility.

Y/n noticed everything, yet no one noticed them. And it was fine. They had long accepted this reality, enduring the loneliness of being invisible in a world where they saw so much. The weight of being unnoticed had become a familiar companion, a constant presence that shaped their existence. In the silent spaces between moments, Y/n found solace in their observations, finding beauty in the overlooked and meaning in the mundane.

So why were they just noticing you just now? Why? When you have just started to accept and move on. Why must they bring the horrors of the past when your current life is filled with hope arraying a new journey, now destroyed.

Why couldn’t Dick just let you be, drifting away in the silence you’d crafted? Why couldn’t he leave you to fade quietly, just as you had promised yourself you would, a ghost of your former self, untouched and unbothered? Yet there he was, an ever-present weight, his hands—rough, calloused, scarred by years of untold burdens—forcing your face into the past, as if his touch could rewrite history. His fingers dug into your skin, twisted into the soft contours of your face, tearing through the years of numbness, of denial, dragging you back to a place you had sworn you’d never return.

And then, Tim. Oh, Tim. The boy who once didn’t even see you, who barely even remembered your name when it lingered in the air of the manor. Now, he’s relentless, his fingers tapping into your phone with the same quiet insistence that his presence once had in the dark halls of that place you used to call home. You want to scream, to rip the silence apart, to do anything but feel what you’re feeling now—this suffocating pull to return to them, to face them, even when you know you never should have to again.

The ache swells, the lump in your throat is a tangible thing now, a choking presence you can’t swallow down. It’s the same searing pain that’s lingered, festering, hidden beneath layers of what you pretended was healing. How cruel it is, to have spent so much time trying to break free, only to find that some things, some people, are never quite done with you.

The ghost of them lingers, burrows deeper, with every unanswered message. They still haunt you, even from afar. You hate them for it, for still holding the power to break you open, to make you bleed from places you thought had long scarred over. It feels like a thousand wounds opening up again—slow, deliberate, bleeding you dry in a way you don’t know how to stop.

You stared blankly into the emptiness, feeling numb, when suddenly a hand rested on your shoulder. You flinched instinctively and turned to see who it was. Your eyes widened as you recognized your ballet teacher standing behind you. "Miss Kavinsky! I-I... Hi! I’m—" you stammered, but she quickly cut you off with a smile.

"Y/N L/N-Wayne, I know," she said with a warm tone. "It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you."

You winced slightly, the sound barely audible, but Miss Kavinsky didn’t seem to notice. "Come on, let’s meet the other dancers. I’m sure they’re eager to meet you."

The surprise hit you hard, and you stuttered, "M-me?" You couldn’t help but feel like an idiot.

She grinned, a playful mix of amusement and mild disbelief on her face. "Yes, you. You're kind of a celebrity here, Wayne. Not surprised with a talent like yours."

Her words lingered in the air, but you went quiet, caught off guard by the compliment. You couldn’t fully process it, the idea of anyone looking up to you seemed so foreign, so distant. And somewhere in the haze, you barely registered the way she had called you "Wayne.”

As you and the other dancers gathered at the stage, a wave of anxiety washed over you. The weight of thoughts about Tim and Dick pressed heavily on your mind, and the pressure of the moment only made it worse. Just as your mind started to spiral, a voice cut through the chaos.

"Hey! You're Y/N, right? I'm Desiree, but you can just call me Des."

You forced a smile, barely hearing Miss Kavinsky as her voice faded into the background, announcing something about attendance. Your attention was now solely focused on Des, who had just broken the ice. You shook her hand and smiled more genuinely, the tension in your body loosening up a bit.

"Hi, Des. Yeah, you already know who I am. Nice to meet you."

You both exchanged a quiet laugh, and the chatter around you faded as you continued talking. For a moment, you felt like you could breathe again. You asked the usual questions: "How old are you?" "What's your favorite ballet?" The conversation flowed easily, but when your name was suddenly called for attendance, you were snapped back to reality.

"Here!" you called out, your voice getting lost in the sea of dancers.

But then Des said something that made you freeze.

"So, are you excited that both of you are here?" she asked with a playful giggle, her smile sweet and innocent.

You blinked, confused, but smiled through it. "Both of us...?" you repeated, trying to follow along.

Des chuckled softly at your puzzled expression. "You and your sister, silly! It must be so nice to perform together. My brother wouldn't even try to get into ballet, you know?"

Her words, lighthearted as they were, suddenly made your world feel like it was crashing down around you. You felt a cold panic begin to rise. Your fingers instinctively dug into your palms, almost drawing blood. Your smile wavered, barely holding on, while your eyes fluttered, teetering on the edge of tears. Des’s voice became distant, her words fading into a muffled blur as your thoughts spiraled out of control, bloodshot eyes starting to sting with unshed tears. Your heart raced, and the chaos inside you was too much to contain.

In that very moment, her name echoed through the air, sharp and clear. Without thinking, your gaze shifted, and you locked eyes with her. Her wide, unblinking stare pierced through the noise, anchoring you in place. For a fleeting second, you wondered if she had been watching you all along—since the instant your name was called, or perhaps even before. You couldn't be sure.

What you did know, however, was that the weight of her gaze felt like a force, pulling you into a quiet abyss. It made you feel small, fragile—as if you were prey beneath the steady, unyielding gaze of a predator. A shiver ran through you, and suddenly, all you wanted was to escape, to flee from the suffocating intensity of her eyes, which seemed to strip away every layer of protection you had left.

The fates were clearly playing with you now.

Cassandra was an exceptionally gifted individual, much like her siblings, each of whom possessed their own unique abilities. From the moment she first pursued ballet, her family showered her with unwavering love and support. She had access to training that most could only dream of—privileges afforded to her not because of her wealth, but because she was no ordinary person. She was Batgirl, the daughter of Batman by choice, a mantle she wore with pride. So, when an invitation arrived for her to join the prestigious Swan Lake performance alongside other top-tier dancers, it hardly came as a surprise. After all, excellence was something she had always embraced, both on the stage and off.

As she gets ready for her first rehearsal she can't help but notice that some of her siblings are missing. She shook it off and ate her food but also not abandoning the thought of asking about the absence of her siblings and father, to a familiar companion of their family:Alfred. As where Alfred only replies with them being busy about.. Something, yet said to her to fret not and just worry her mind about her ballet play, quickly chasing away her concerns for her family with a smile that made her feel lighthearted. With a chuckle she got up and made her way to the location of where the dancers were told to meet.

Cass had always believed she was the only one in her family who truly appreciated the delicate artistry of ballet. Her passion for the graceful movements, the precision of each step, and the beauty of the performances had always felt like a private world to her, a world she inhabited alone. She couldn’t recall a single moment where anyone in her family shared even the slightest interest in it. So, when she entered the crowded theater that evening, expecting to be surrounded only by fellow ballet enthusiasts, she was taken aback by something unexpected.

Amidst the sea of unfamiliar faces, she spotted you. For a fleeting moment, her heart skipped a beat, not from the rush of seeing someone in the crowd, but from an overwhelming sense of familiarity that washed over her. There you were, standing like a ghost from a forgotten past, an unexplainable connection sparking between you both. Cass couldn’t place it, but it was as though she had known you forever, even though your paths had never crossed before.

Her mind wandered, replaying the memories that had been buried deep within her. A distant image flashed across her thoughts: she was standing in a room filled with soft, pastel-colored fabrics, the scent of leather and polish hanging in the air. Two pairs of pointe shoes rested beside one another on the floor—one was familiar, worn and well-loved, the other brand new, the laces still fresh and untangled. The second pair, the one that felt entirely foreign, immediately piqued her curiosity. She was certain it wasn’t hers, yet the connection to it lingered, something so subtle but undeniable.

The realization hit her like a wave. She didn’t know you, not consciously, but somehow she felt bound to you, as if fate had woven your lives together in some strange, invisible thread long before either of you had even been aware of it.

The entire day she watched and observed you. She paid extra attention to every detail of your expressions, body language, and posture. She didn't know why but you seemed to be very clear–in her case, in distress, like you were panicking over something. And she didn't know why she somehow hated seeing you that way. As the minutes passed, she found herself simply just staring at you. Not even for a fleeting moment had she taken her gaze of you. She watched and observed tensely at every person who looks at you, who talks to you, who breathes near you. Almost as if she was guarding you. As they were told to gather she followed silently after the crowd and placed herself purposely in front of the other side from you. She scoffs in amusement as you barely notice her, too focused on your own little world. As minutes continued to pass, suddenly a girl broke you out of her thoughts with her voice making you flinch. Her breath hitched as irritation started to crawl their way through her chest. Why couldn't the girl be more gentle with you? Can't she see that you were clearly stressed? She frowns slightly at the girl, surprising herself by the sudden change of mood. She holds her breath and watches you like a hawk would at its prey. Her vision was filled with your now loosen frame, giggling with the girl who approached you earlier. A new feeling started to claw its way through her chest, now bigger and stronger. The green monster eating her up when suddenly the call of her voice brought her out of her thoughts as she, for a moment took her eyes off of you to answer quietly to her name and as she bring back her gaze to you, quickly to not miss anything she might take the pleasure in seeing, suddenly your eyes are on her too. Her eyes couldn't leave the sight of your gaze who held such horror in them, as if seeing her was too much for you. As she was your living nightmare sitting right in front of you.

The remaining time the dancers practiced, you avoided her gaze and her presence. The more you avoided her, the more she itched to be in your presence alone, to be near you. The whole time at the practice she was, for the first time, distracted. Her thoughts are consumed by you. Her thoughts came up with every question she could ask about her and your current situation. What were you doing here? Why didn't she know? Were you at the manor? No, if you were she would've known.. Right? Okay if you weren't, then why weren't you? Those questions alone made her uneasy and frustrated. As it was time to go home, she watched as you hurriedly got out and quickly went home to wherever your home was. The nagging feeling screamed at her to follow you but decided against it and thought that going home and bringing the news to her family might help more. After all, they were stronger together.

She stormed into the manor, urgency in her every step, and sought out Alfred with a single, breathless demand: "Boys. Where?" Without hesitation, he led her to them. Her gaze fell upon them, intense and unyielding, her pupils trembling with an unspoken storm. She whispered a single name, a breathless, haunting utterance: "Y/N." The boys, in unison, responded, "We know."

A deep breath escaped her, the weight of their actions—venturing after you without so much as a word—forgotten for the moment. She snatched a laptop, her fingers flying over the keys in a frantic dance of their own. The screen flickered to life, revealing a video that stole the breath from the room. There you were, dancing—each movement a testament to grace, each step more captivating than the last.

The world had already fallen under your spell. The internet buzzed with adoration, praising the way your every turn, every leap, every pause held the audience in thrall. Under the stage lights, you seemed more than human—a celestial being, your form bathed in soft light, glowing like an ethereal angel, kissed by the very air around you. The boys stood frozen, their gaze fixed upon you, entranced.

Your presence was no illusion. You were a goddess of their own making, and in that moment, they knew: they were already devoted, bound by the silent understanding that they would worship you, body and soul.

As the video played, the room fell into a hushed reverence. The boys, once brimming with urgency and tension, now stood motionless, their eyes locked onto the screen, as if spellbound. Every fluid movement you made seemed to breathe life into the very air around them. They couldn’t look away; they didn’t want to. Your every step, every pirouette, was poetry in motion, a delicate balance of strength and grace that made their hearts race.

The way you arched your back mid-spin, the soft brush of your fingertips against your skin, the quiet breath you took before every leap—it all drew them in, slowly, methodically, as though they were witnessing something far beyond the ordinary. Each turn of your body mirrored the very rhythm of their own hearts, synchronized with the ethereal pulse of the music, and they couldn’t help but feel as if the entire world had narrowed down to this one sacred moment.

Your eyes, though focused on the stage, seemed to flicker with a spark of something far deeper, something they couldn't quite place but could almost taste. It was like watching a dream unfold, where every movement became a metaphor—each glide across the stage spoke to something eternal, something untouchable. They found themselves lost in the elegance of your form, the way your body seemed to move with a natural fluidity that defied the laws of physics.

The lights above you softened, caressing your silhouette, painting you in a divine glow. And in that moment, they felt small, insignificant even, as if you had been carved out of stardust itself, too perfect to comprehend, yet impossible to ignore. It wasn’t just the skill of your dance—it was your presence, your essence that held them captive.

They felt an almost primal pull, as though your every movement was speaking directly to their souls. The way your body spoke without words—your elegance and power blending seamlessly—rendered them speechless. They were entranced by the aura you carried, intoxicated by your beauty and the mystery you exuded, a beauty that wasn’t merely skin-deep but radiated from within, a force of nature.

For a fleeting moment, they could almost believe that you were more than human, that you were something higher, something divine. They stood there, wide-eyed and breathless, as if they had been granted a glimpse of something sacred—something that no one else could understand. And in that moment, they knew that they would follow you, worship you, in a devotion that transcended mere admiration. You weren’t just captivating; you were everything. They couldn't believe that someone like you had been overlooked by then.

Bruce now understands that with no plan in mind he would still follow you till the end of the earth. Oh his little baby. He would do anything to earn your love and affection for him. To see you and to bask under the ray of sunshine your smile brings. To feel your presence alone.

Dick now understands that he owes you more than a few dinners or dates as siblings. No. He owes you the world. As guilt eats his flesh up one by one, mourning all the versions of you that he could have witnessed right before his eyes are now long gone. But that's okay, he'll make it up to you.

Tim now understands that you were surely his angel. His savior. His form of salvation. He could watch you all day and never get bored. He could listen to you all day until his ears bled but never say a word.

Damian now understands that the disbelief he felt when looking at your paintings full of emotions overflowing with a sense of overwhelming feel, was now long gone because he knew that only such being like you, almost like a supernatural being, could be the only one who has the ability to capture such deep emotions in one painting, to be able to create such beautiful, breathtaking object.

Cassandra now understands why she felt like she somehow had a connection to you and that was because she was your sister. And as she was a daughter to batman by choice, that she will also be a sister by choice to you. She was an observer, someone who guards-and she will guard you with her life for all eternity.

As the overwhelming tension fills the room Alfred stands at the corner with a small smile. “apologies master y/n had I done this sooner, you would have not slipped through my grasp dear child. Do not fret for your family is coming to get you.”

Ah, Alfred, the mastermind. He knew this would happen. He just needed to intertwine a little. He did not worry because he knew. He knew that leaving your bedroom door open the moment he knew Dick was coming over to the manor while the others were busy, and knowing Dick's tendency to wander off in the vast expanse of Wayne Manor, the chances of him finding your room were high. He knew that rearranging your trophies inside your room (which you had told him to get rid of) would pique the interest of your family even more. He knew that decorating your hidden paintings around the minimalist and empty walls of the house would catch the attention of the youngest Wayne. He knew that playing those soft melodies of your voice through the small TV in the kitchen would enchant a certain sleep-deprived boy, making him miss the sweet sound of your voice.

Alfred knew that when Cassandra was called for the big ballet play, you would be at the same play too, as you had told him over the phone, giggling and excited with a high-pitched voice. He didn't bother to tell you about your sister's similar invitation, nor did he inform your sister about yours. He knew every single detail, every thread that needed to be woven together to create this intricate tapestry of reconnection.

Alfred's wisdom was like a silent symphony, orchestrating events with a delicate touch. He understood the nuances of each family member, their strengths, their weaknesses, and their desires. He knew that Dick's curiosity would lead him to your room, where the trophies would spark memories and questions. He knew that Damian's keen eye for detail would be drawn to the vibrant paintings, each brushstroke a testament to your hidden talents. He knew that Tim, in his sleep-deprived state, would be captivated by the melodies of your voice, a soothing balm to his restless mind.

Alfred's heart ached with the knowledge of your absence, but he also held hope. Hope that these carefully placed breadcrumbs would lead your family back to you, to the realization of what they had lost and the determination to make amends. He knew that the path to reconciliation was not an easy one, but it was a journey worth taking.

As the days passed, Alfred watched with a knowing smile as the pieces began to fall into place. He saw the flicker of recognition in Dick's eyes, the softening of Damian's demeanor, and the spark of determination in Tim's gaze. He knew that the seeds he had planted were beginning to grow, and soon, the family would be whole again.

Alfred was getting old and he couldn't bare the vision of his children Bruce and you, drifting away from each other, and you from him. Maybe it was his own selfish reason but he couldn't help it. He raised you from the moment you got to the manor. Teached you everything he knew and gave you all the love he could. He watched you grew up and maybe it was a moment of rush that he allowed himself to be selfish and turn the tables around.

In the quiet moments, Alfred allowed himself a moment of reflection. He thought of you, the child who had brought so much light into his life. He knew that you deserved to be seen, to be cherished, and to be loved. And he would do everything in his power to ensure that you found your way back to the family that needed you just as much as you needed them.

Authors note: I'm sorry I took so long in writing this! I hope yall enjoy the 10k+ words I wrote. One tip tho is to read and observe the details very carefully! Dw I'm gonna explain it soon tho. Hope yall enjoy this cuz imma take a break after this.

[milkoomi]

inner glow up. ᥫ᭡

while we focus on our physical selves to glow up, we tend to forget about our minds and hearts. we also need to focus on letting more light come into ourselves. the way we think, the way we love, the way we expend our energy; all of that can have this aspect of “glowing up” too! in this post, we’re going to discuss how to glow from within and let that beautiful new energy radiate outwards.

let’s begin …

୨ৎ — the mind

deep clean your thoughts

meditation:

take a moment, even if it’s just for 5 minutes, to sit and clear your head. focus on breathing exercises, concentrate on the rhythm of your heart, listen to the ambient noises of your surroundings. meditation is a fantastic way of clearing your mind and removing those overwhelming thoughts that are piling up in your brain! you also don’t need to be sitting, you could also meditate while in the shower! i have an entire guide on how to do so! you can also take meditative walks and focus on your surroundings.

journaling:

just dump all your thoughts onto a page, write down everything that’s on your mind. once you’re done you can even rip up the paper and toss it away! doing these journal dumps can help release those racing thoughts and clear your mind. it may even help to relieve some weight off your shoulders!

decorate your mind with peace & kindness

write down affirmations or go to a mirror and say those affirmations to yourself! fill your head with positive thoughts and calming reassurance.

try recording a voice message & send it to yourself! you can say your affirmations that way or give yourself a motivational mini-speech. this way, you can go back to those messages when you need an uplifting message from someone. and it’s always better to get back up with kindness and love from yourself!

organize your headspace

make room for positivity, peace, and grace and throw out all the negativity that’s tossed around in your head. don’t let negative talk from others, media, or yourself take up space in your head! your mind should never hold a spot for negativity.

distance yourself from those who bring you down

delete social media that no longer serves you or take regular breaks to unplug from your phone

replace negative self-talk with positive affirmations

replace “i can’t” with “i can”

୨ৎ — the heart

nurture your heart

as your mind is an important place to keep thoughts of joy, kindness, and love, your heart needs to feel it!

practice self care

take care of your physical needs (shower, drink water, brush your teeth, eat nutritious and delicious foods, move your body)

write yourself love letters

say “thank you” when receiving compliments

provide protection for your feelings

your heart is scared and access to it should be very limited. don’t let just anyone in. now, i’m not saying you have to put iron walls up around your heart and feelings, but i’m saying that you need to be selective. be picky about who you surround yourself with.

invite people who…

provide genuine & unconditional love

support you and your dreams

encourage you to prioritize your health (physical & mental)

offer guidance when you feel lost

close the doors on people who…

make jokes out of your insecurities

take your passions and dreams as something to laugh about

invalidate your feelings and thoughts

think it’s okay to walk all over you

don’t value your time and space

୨ৎ — letting in the light

i believe our energies attract different things whether we want them to or not. letting dark or bad energy ruminate within yourself and allowing it to consume you can attract misfortune, loss, and sadness which keeps us from reaching our true potential.

let light or good energy flow within you and let that energy be the one that takes up all the space. you’ll attract what you actually want rather than the things you wish to avoid.

light energy can come from…

taking up hobbies you enjoy

listening to music that makes you feel good

spending time with loved ones

going on nature walks

playing with pets

celebrating your accomplishments

final notes —

the biggest take away from this: protect your peace. becoming the best version of yourself comes with knowing how to find peace within yourself and making sure you show yourself love and kindness. the main person you should lean on for that kind of good energy should be you. let your glow up start from within!

with lots of love, faustina 🌷

[accidentcache]

going ice skating with Dabi and Hawks and just laughing whenever they fall <3

it's practically the end of winter but I can't get off my mind

okay contrary to popular belief i think touya shows off the he knows how to ice skate. keigo can't and he is like a baby deer on the ice.

and it's so cute, when you brought up the idea touya was actually excited to go. neither could ever really say no to you (keigo's weakness is your pout and touya is always down to go with the flow) and both thought that ice skating was a fun little date idea.

so here the three of you were downtown hosu, touya showing off by skating past keigo backwards with his hands in his pockets while the blonde clings to the walls on unsteady feet. you can't help but cackle at the sight-- you've offered your hand to him multiple times but he refuses it every time. he's determined to 'look cool' in front of you and actually skate, but you only find him endearing and dorkish.

at some point you pull off to the side and throw your legs over the wall and watch the two of them antagonize each other. keigo is trying to defend himself against touya's teasing-- it's not working.

the sight is sweet. touya looks a lot healthier since rehab and getting out of the hospital, and keigo is starting to relax and take care of himself better since taking the role of president of the hpsc. and yeah, they are happy-- you know they are. they've come to terms with their situations and their lives but in this moment, where they only have to worry about gliding (or trying) to move around the ice-- they couldn't have looked more carefree.

the sight of them makes your heart clench. touya's eyes meet yours over the makeshift rink and he grins. you can see the warmth in his eyes, there's a fire in those irises but it burns for a different reason. still hot and scorching, but not nearly as unconstrained as before.

"he looks happy," a voice speaks beside you and you practically jump at the sound of it.

"shouto!" your heart races as your head turns to find the boy standing just off to the side of you, hands clasped behind his back and staring off to the rink where his eldest brother terrorizes your boyfriend. your heart settles slowly, watching his gaze and tracing it until it lands on your two idiots. "what are you doing out in hosu?"

"i help with the rink sometimes," he shrugs halfheartedly. "patrol shift."

you hum in response but don't really say anything. your relationship with the youngest todoroki isn't the strongest, but it's there. since the war both you and touya have been trying to build a relationship with him-- with all of the todoroki siblings.

touya's head lifts and sees his younger brother standing next to you-- he lifts a hand in greeting and shouto returns it. your boyfriend's mouth moves a little to form what you know is a small smile but whether shouto knows that is beyond you. touya looks as if he's going to move to join the two of you but he can't go anywhere with keigo clinging to his arm and desperately trying not to land on his ass.

"you want to go to dinner with us? if your patrol is over any time soon," you're speaking before you can even think about it. but you can see the way shouto watches the two of them, he's moved closer to stand next to you and there's a hint of a fond smile on his lips.

shouto nods a little. if he's shocked at all about the offer his expression doesn't show it. "i'm off in thirty minutes. i'd love to join you guys."

your smile mirrors his. and yeah, touya was a little grumpy about his younger brother crashing date night with you and keigo-- but he enjoyed spending time with his younger brother.

© accidentcache do not repost, translate or alter my work without permission. all rights reserved.

[jackiepackiee]

Telemachus x Apollo Blessed! Reader

Chapter Five

Masterlist

Prince Telemachus who is favored by Athena with a reader who's favored by Apollo. Both under the guidance of the god and goddess of wisdom and knowledge respectively. One a fierce warrior and the other a lovely musician. Yet complete opposites of their role when it comes to a peaceful artist and intimidating opponent.

Previously…

Looking embarrassed, he shrugged and his shoulders turned inwards a little.

Until you laughed. First, a small huff before a full giggle at his antics. Shocked and amused by his actions, you laughed.

And he thought it was the best sound ever, even better than the music from your lyre.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Where are you going?” You asked, your laughter dying down as you took in a breath and watched him.

His head tilted to the side and his hair fell over his forehead, his body was turning to go inside. “Your lessons?” He referenced, pointing to the hallway.

“We don’t have to do it inside.” You offered, leaning against the wall while sitting on the balcony's stone railing.

“My mother will be accepting us to be…” He started, until he saw the way the sun was glowing on your face so beautifully. Wind taking your clothing and making it flow like water around your body.

He stopped, clearing his throat and looking away to the sky in thought. “Well, the weather is lovely.”

You nodded, unaware of his type of gaze. Looking at the view yourself. “I’ve never seen this part of the island.”

What could be seen was a part of the beach that only the palace could see, placed in a way that was down far in the island like a cove. Letting the rest of the view be mountains, ocean, and sky.

And against it, Telemachus thought you looked like a goddess in front of such a view when he looked back at you.

Clearing his throat, he spoke again. “Then we should stay outside… so you can see the new view! Of course.”

Trying to get a better look below, past his training grounds to the rest of the nature, you tilted forward. As you leaned, he gently took your upper arm and shoulder into his hands and stabled you. Strong body keeping you from going too far over the railing. His face was flush, but he didn’t mind it while he acted.

“This is very high up, my lady.” Despite his nervousness that was obvious from the touch, he refused to let you get too close to the ledge.

In reaction, you laughed again. Not minding his touch as he guided you to stand on the balcony. Feet meeting the ground as you joked. “That is silly coming from the prince who just climbed all the way up.” Smiling, your eyes couldn’t help but close at his behavior.

Not being able to see him, you couldn’t see the way his face softened entirely as he took in your expression. Feeling his heart in his chest, aware of every beat that it made in its haste. He took his hands away from you when you stood balanced on the floor.

When you finally stopped laughing, you picked up your lyre into the proper position. Not seeing the way he quickly shook his head and got focused.

“Have you ever played an instrument?” You inquired, making sure all the strings were in tune.

“…no.” He admitted, adjusting the brackets of gold on his forearms nervously. Twisting them so he didn’t look too interested in talking with you.

As you listened for his answer, you nodded. “That’s okay. We all start somewhere.” You spoke absentmindedly, finishing your check of your lyre.

Continuing on, you looked up at him. “What do you know about music?”

“That you’re good at making pretty songs.” He responded quickly, not putting much thought into his answer. As he realized his compliment however, he tensed up. Shoulders tightening as he stood straight up and put his hands up defensively. Flush returned to his cheeks, which the close proximity didn’t hide. “I didn’t mean to be so bold. Apologies.” His voice sounded higher than before.

Seeing his panic at the apparent fear of making you uncomfortable in his forward comments, you felt something strange in your chest.

A pulling at your heart which seemed to grow faster. So much so that you could feel it, even hear it in your ears and get caught in your breath.

“You’ve heard me play enough to know that?” You asked, trying to spin the conversation away from either of your reactions.

“Well… I heard you the day you arrived here. And yesterday when we were introduced. As well as today when you played during my training.” He admitted, recounting all the times he’s heard you.

Unbeknownst to him, you’d only ever played simple tunes off the top of your head while he was around. Not enough to impress anyone, at least not in your mind.

Before you could argue, he continued. “I know it’s not much, and it’s not like I’ve asked you to play for me. But I enjoy how it sounds.” He leans against the wall, looking at your lyre as if trying to understand its structure.

“I’ve never been very good at art… My mother is the artist of the palace.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he smiled gently at his admission.

Hearing this, you shook your head at his words. “I’m sure you could be wonderful, so you mustn’t be so doubtful.”

The confidence you had in him was surprising, though it soothed his mind of his worries.

“Thank you.” He looked back up at your eyes as he thanked you, letting his face relax as he took in your calm expression.

For a while the two of you stood in silence, only being able to hear the ocean crashing against the cove below and birds occasionally swoosh by the balcony.

After a minute or two, he started to speak. Voice not shaky, but not entirely stable and confident as he tried to present himself as a prince. “Hey, um. Do you think you could play me a real song?” He looked out to the sky, watching a cloud, before continuing his request. “I’ve only heard you for short periods.”

Confused at his desire, you made it known. “That doesn’t sound like much of a lesson.” Your voice was calm as it was before, but you didn’t look away. In fact you seemed to be in thought while gazing at your lyre in your hands. Fingers ghosting over the strings.

“Well, I guess not.” He shrugged, mentally hitting his head at his mistake for what seemed like a silly request. It was only your second time meeting, and he couldn’t help but be so forward and awkward!

After a few more bouts of silence, you spoke. Gaze moving from your lyre to his expectant face. “…I’ll play something.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Hearing music play, the queen paced down the corridor slowly towards the sound. Her nurse and most trusted maid, Eurycleia, at her side.

“Is that your son playing, my queen?” Eurycleia questioned, following a few steps behind the queen as she walked towards the noise.

“I doubt it.” Her level voice said honestly. “It must be the girl, as I’ve heard she’s one of the best musicians in all of Greece.” Slowing down, she stopped her quick pace when she neared the balcony.

The two women did not dare peek past the stone pillars of the wall. Not wishing to be caught or interrupt the lesson.

Eurycleia whispered, “We can get a better view from the window down the hall.”

And with that, the two walked a few meters down and turned so they could spot the two of you on the balcony.

You were both the picture of content.

You, strumming your lyre as you gently draped yourself against the railing. Sun gleaming onto you as it lit up on your golden instrument. It was obvious you were in a position of comfort. Doing something you know and love.

And the prince, Telemachus, was watching attentively. Eyes flickering around from your face to your hands. Letting his guard down, and looking absolutely entranced. Almost like he heard a siren song.

Both of you adorning smiles as the beautiful melody, looking almost childlike.

A state Penelope hadn’t seen her son in for years since the suitors roamed the halls and spiked his pressure to become a man.

The queen and nurse smiled at the boy, never seeing him allow himself to be in such a natural state of self.

“I know music lessons would be a good idea.” The queen said, smiling at Eurycleia.

“All it took was finding the perfect teacher.”

Taglist - @dog-and-cat-person230 @m-carriaga2021 @blessedbyahuntress @cleawritesstuff @b4ts1e @permanently-nothere

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[holyguardian]

The flow of conversation danced around what had happened and the aftermath. Aerith and Somnus seemed to have a silent agreement, such topics weren't for the open air. Instead they filled in their silences with other things, ranging between etiquette when they arrived to how many of the chocobos would stray in their caravan line to snap at overhanging fruit.

With every curious observation, she had a small story to tell. When Alba was reaching the top of a large hill overlooking her home, she pointed to some peculiar white trees without any leaves in the distance. She explained that was their ancient forest, and where her family communed with the Lifestream.

Their conversation became more and more like that. Aerith pointed out landmarks to him whether he asked about them first or not. It only felt right, given this would be their last opportunity for such a conversation. The next time they marched it would be for a war...

... though it was tough to let her mind sink down with such thoughts. Somehow people could still pick her out from the crowd, even though she wore a simple dress in the same style as her maids, and her hair was braided back simply, there was nothing elaborate on her person whatsoever.

She smiled and she waved, ever a friendly face. Though that scream drew out a laugh from her and she nodded 'yes'. It was better that people thought she was riding with her bodyguard for now. It stuck in the back of her mind that not all the faces they would come across would be friendly. Some meant them harm.

That was likely why her father fell back to ride alongside her and Somnus. Shielding that side, while Gilgamesh silently moved to shield the other.

Soon the curious eyes and waving gave way to rows and rows of tents lining the outer perimeter of the castle walls. Their assembling army was so great, the numbers couldn't be contained solely within the barracks. There were rows upon rows of soldiers who stood to attention as the caravan made its slow procession.

The cobblestone streets were lined three rows deep either side with more soldiers who waited for their arrival. The crowds of townsfolk were kept at bay, an order from the Queen, the barricade wasn't usually so widened.

Once they passed under the massive gate, one that divided the castle from the rest of the capital, Aerith cast a look to Somnus. "Follow dad, we will show you the chocobo stables. My family will receive us in the inner-palace, so we have a little time to make sure everyone else is being settled where they need to go." Alba especially. Though she was a brave soul, even her cheeks were puffed out a little curious, eyeing the new surroundings. She must have been able to smell the stables before they even arrived.

No doubt Somnus had a similar feeling stirring. His home? It was open, rolling hills, wide-spread out lands with single storied dwellings. Their castle on the other hand was a massive storied structure, of multiple floors, the spawled out spaces were kept on the outer walls.

"Here we are. Alba can have this stall," Aerith gestured, "It's one that connects to the chocoboyard, she can be cozy in here in the nighttime, but during the day she can stretch her legs in the royal paddock. The gate over there," she pointed, "ride her through that one and you'll come out on the west wall, there's a worn-in dirt path that will lead through the outer fields to Queenswoods. It's one of the best spots for chocobos to scratch around in the dirt and forage, the stablehands often take out our flock for some good old mischief and dirt baths."

Aerith eased down from Alba's saddle with a helping hand. She took her time to explain where everything was kept for Somnus to care for his feathered companion, though perhaps the more exciting part was the varied selection of chocobo feed. Roots, buds, fruits and vegetables, a long-running joke was how 'the chocobos ate better than some of the Kinglands'.

"I think that's about everything. I hope this is okay for you, sweetpea?" she asked as if Alba could speak back to her, offering her fingers to gently scratch the soft fluff of one of her cheeks.

Somnus was a bad liar most of the times. He was simply lucky no one called him out on the looks he gave Aerith after they had been practically dragged from the comfortable spot on the cot by her father.

She was… decisive. She made choices and led by them. She gave ideas and orders.

It was utterly attractive and Somnus was more than happy to just stay back and watch this. Only once did he get a small glare from her father over this. The older man surely knew the way the younger looked at his daughter. But this time Somnus simply had a small smirk and crossed arms left for the king before he readied Alba.

And whatever Aerith had done, it must have broken her father’s grim strictness. At least for now. Because she was allowed to ride on Alba alongside Somnus. The prince was more than happy to accommodate that command. Somehow… this was the best outcome they could have hoped for. He had feared that Aerith would be left with marks on her body and mind from this attack. And yet she seemed to overcome this quite well. Of course… maybe it was a mask, but Somnus intended to keep an eye on that.

And he did. With them both riding on Alba, it was easy to have a current of conversation. Serious topics. Less serious ones. And soon enough, comments from Somnus on tehri surroundings. They had passed the borders to the farmlands. It was obvious. Somehow… the grass was greener. The fields larger. And though autumn was coming, the fruit still seemed so countless on the trees that Somnus was wondering whether they had forgotten to harvest.

He was curious. And a little intimidated. This would be his new home. Only witnessing farmlanders from afar at first – as soon as the capital came into view and the first huts and farms surrounding it passed them by. And thus people noticed and came running to watch the caravan. And catch sight of the princess! As rarely as Aerith had been allowed outside, the same in turn was true for the people: they looked, guessed and little children pointed excitedly to Aerith. Giggling and standing on fences and crates, waving to her. Enough so that Somnus tilted his head a little to hide half his face in his shawl. Maybe they would not notice him. He thought. Until a little girl screamed at the top of her lungs, asking her mother whether that was Princess Aerith's bodyguard - much to her mother's panicked dismay.

[beelanddiavolosimp-blog]

I'd like to know what all the brothers would say if mc said that they wanted children? Like would they be against it or would they be 1000% onboard?

Okay this is actually very cute and I think I can crawl out of my writers block for this 😭

PS: I didn't forget about your asks I am just severely unmotivated and have writers block to the MAX I apologize

Would the brothers want kids?

Lucifer

I feel like he would. He wouldn't want many since he knows exactly how that will go because that's all his life has been with his brothers. He would however love to raise his own child with MC the proper way unlike how he did with Satan.

Mammon

Believe it or not he's half on board but also not completely against it. He feels life would be just fine him and MC. But he also wouldn't mind a little him running around that also has MC in them too. He would be an amazing dad just basically going with the flow. MC wants kids? Yes for sure he wants them too. MC doesn't or isn't ready yet? He will wait eons and won't be upset not having one all he will need is MC.

Levi

He said no immediately. He is already afraid enough of his future with MC believing they will leave him even though they constantly state they won't and he knows they won't but there is still a chance!? He after considering it more decided he would be willing for at least one but he will be wanting to wait as long as humanly possible.

Satan

He also doesn't want kids much. He feels like his cycle will repeat of his anger/emotions being too much for his child to see and they will repeat his actions. He also doesn't even want them to know of how bad he was in the past or who their technical grandfather would be. He does however in the back of his mind crave a way to raise someone he can bond with. Someone who he felt could help save him and bring him into the light far sooner than before.

Asmos

He definitely does not. He would be willing to adopt but he just doesn't see the appeal to children much. They are sticky, gross and kinda ugly at first. He doesn't completely hate them he just doesn't want them. They don't suit him he says. He also doesn't want MC going through the long terrible process of pregnancy or child birth.

Beel

Is this really much of a question? Of course he does! As many as MC is willing to give him. He craves family it's his whole meaning to life. He always images his beautiful little girls smiling face alike his or MC's or his son's bright shining eyes full of hope and needing guidance in life he is so so willing to give. He just gravitates to the term father because it's what he wants to be. Protector of his loved ones. His kids. His MC everything.

Belphie

He also isn't keen on children. But Beel has influenced him some with his talk of family. He would be fine with one alike Levi. He would also surprisingly want it to be a girl more than boy. Of course he would love whatever they are he just feels he'd be a better girl dad than boy dad that's more beel. He of course would just do whatever MC asks of him. Want a baby now? Okay. Don't want one? Okay. He lets MC run everything because he doesn't feel up to it.

[blakeswritingimagines]

You Look Like You Love Me

Summary: Going out to a bar to drink seemed like a good plan. However, when the stranger staring you down wants to take you home with him sounds like a far better plan.

Warnings: PwP, Strangers to lovers, Mention of drinking, Rough Sex, Groping, Hints to Yandere Logan, Cowboy! Logan, Fem reader, Dirty talk, No protection, Oral on reader, Fingering, Oral on Logan, Begging, Degradation, Praise, Real names not being used, What feels like an overuse on pet names (Cowboy, Baby, Baby girl)

Word Count: 5.8k

Logan is in a bar in a small cowboy town sipping away at some cheap alcohol when he sees you, you were the most beautiful thing he has ever laid his eyes on. His eyes didn't waver from yours from the second he spotted you. He continues sipping his alcohol, not wanting to draw too much attention to himself but in his mind he just wished to grab you, take you back to his ranch and keep you there just so you could be his. He could not help but fantasize about you being his darling. In his mind you were his and his alone.

You were minding your own business, sipping a drink at the bar, when you felt a pair of eyes on you. You turned to see a rugged cowboy staring at you from across the room. His gaze was unwavering, and there was a possessive look in his eyes. Your first instinct was to look away, but something about his intensity drew a small smirk from you. You could feel a heat growing in your chest, and you couldn't help but wonder what was on his mind as he continued to stare at you. Logan's eyes continued to stay locked on yours, almost like a wolf stalking it's prey. He continued sipping his alcohol, watching your every move. He could feel a primal need growing within him the more he looked at you. It was taking a lot of discipline not to march over to you, push you against the wall and kiss you like there was no tomorrow. Your smirk grew wider as you realized the effect you were having on this cowboy. You could see the desire in his eyes, the way he was eyeing you like a piece of meat. You took a slow, deliberate sip of your drink, letting the liquid flow down your throat before slowly licking your lips, knowing full well the effect it would have on him. Logan's mouth went slightly agape when he saw you slowly drink and then lick your lips like that. He could feel his lower half reacting in a primal way and the more you did that the more he wanted you. He had to force himself to keep his cool and not make a fool out of himself as he got up and started to make his way over to you.

Your heart began to race as the cowboy started making his way towards you. You could see the heat in his eyes, the animalistic desire to possess you. But you wouldn't give in so easily. You crossed your arms and leaned back against the bar, watching him approach you with a cool, confident air. As he got closer to you he could not help but let his eyes drag over your body. Every curve, every feature was just driving him wild. He finally reached you at the bar and leaned against it right next to you, making sure to get as close to you as he could. "You know it's rude to tease a man like that darlin,'" he said in a low growl. You could feel the heat radiating off of him as he leaned against the bar next to you, so close that you could practically feel his breath on your skin. You raised an eyebrow at his comment and looked him up and down slowly before answering. "And it's not rude to stare like you were doing, cowboy?" He chuckled at your response, clearly enjoying your attitude. "Who could help but stare at a doll like you?" he said as his eyes continued to drag over your body. "Ain't seen a girl as pretty as you in this town in a while," he added as he took a step closer to you, closing the distance between you even further. You couldn't help but feel a small flutter in your chest as he complimented you and took another step closer. His proximity was overwhelming, his body practically pressed against yours. You could feel the heat radiating off of him, and you could smell the faint scent of whisky and cigars on his breath. You tried to keep your cool, but it was getting harder to do so the more he encroached on your space. "Is that why you came over here, cowboy? Just to flatter me?"

He chuckled and leaned in so his lips were only a few inches from your ear. "No doll, I didn't come over here just to flatter you," he said in a low growl, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "I came over here to make you mine, to show you just what a real man can do." He added as he slowly ran his fingers along your arm, his touch leaving a trail of fire wherever he touched. A shiver ran down your spine as he whispered in your ear, his voice sending a jolt of electricity through you. His words made your heart race, and you couldn't deny the effect he was having on you. You tried to keep your composure, but his touch was making your body react in ways you couldn't control. You could feel heat pooling in your core as his fingers traced over your skin, leaving a trail of sparks in their wake. He chuckled as he noticed your reaction to his touch. "I can feel how your body is reacting to me, darlin'. It's obvious that you want me just as much as I want you" he whispered in your ear. "But I ain't gonna make this easy for you. I wanna make you feel, make you want me so much that you'll be begging me to make you mine" he added in a low, possessive growl as he put one of his hands on your hip, pulling you closer to him. Your breath hitched in your throat as he pulled you closer, his hand on your hip sending a wave of heat through your body. You tried to keep your cool, but his words and his touch were making it harder and harder to resist. You could feel your body reacting to him in a way that was completely out of your control. You wanted him to touch you, to make you feel things you had never felt before. But you weren't about to give in that easily. "On one condition." He raised an eyebrow and a smirk formed on his face. "A condition, hmm? And what might that be?" he asked as he continued to hold you close, his body pressed up against yours. He could feel how your body reacted to him, he could hear the way your breath hitched in your throat and it made the possessive beast within him want to take you right then and there.

You could feel the heat emanating from his body, his proximity overwhelming your senses. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself before answering. "Before I consider letting you make me yours, I want you to prove to me that you're worthy of me. Show me that you're not just all talk." You spoke as you leaned closer to him before you whispered against his lips. "And no names." His eyes darkened with desire as you spoke, and he couldn't help but let out a low growl as you whispered against his lips. "Oh you're a feisty one, aren't you darlin'" he said in a low, lustful tone. He then leaned in so his lips were only a few millimeters from yours, his breath hot against your skin. "You want me to prove I'm worthy? Alright, I guess I'll have to show you just what this cowboy can do." he added as he pressed his lips against yours in a fierce, bruising kiss. Your heart raced as he spoke, his voice sending a thrill through you. And then his lips were on yours, and any resistance you had dissolved instantly. You felt a shock of electricity run through you as his mouth claimed yours in a fierce kiss, his lips possessing yours with a primal intensity. You couldn't help the moan that escaped your throat as you melted into his embrace, your resistance crumbling under the onslaught of his passion. He devoured your moan with a low growl, his tongue eagerly exploring your mouth as he deepened the kiss. His arms wrapped around you, holding you possessively against him, his hands roaming over your body, wanting to touch every inch of you. He pressed you against the bar, trapping you between his body and the hard surface behind you. He could feel the heat radiating off of you, the way your body melted against his, and it only made his need for you grow.

You felt lightheaded as he kissed you, his tongue exploring your mouth with an intensity that made you feel weak in the knees. His hands roamed over your body, igniting a fire in your core that made you crave more. You were trapped between him and the bar, feeling the hard surface behind you and his solid body pressing against you, making your head spin. You couldn't help but let out another moan as he continued to kiss you, your body responding to his touch like it had never responded to anyone else's before. He broke the kiss for a moment, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his eyes dark with desire. "You are driving me crazy, darlin'" he growled as he buried his face in your neck, his lips and teeth leaving a trail of kisses and bites along your sensitive skin. His hands continued to roam over your body, his touch leaving a trail of heat wherever he touched. "I can feel how much you're enjoying this, I can taste it on your lips" he added as he pressed his hips against yours, letting you feel just how aroused he was. You couldn't help but gasp as he kissed and bit at your neck, his touch sending sparks of pleasure through your body. You could feel the heat of his desire pressing against you as he ground his hips against yours, and it only heightened the fire that was building inside you. "And you are driving me insane," you managed to gasp out as he continued to kiss and nip at your skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. He let out a low growl as he continued his assault on your neck, his hands grasping at your hips and pulling you even closer to him. He could feel the heat radiating off of you, the way your breath hitched as he touched you, and it made him want you even more. "You have no idea how much I want you right now, darlin'," he whispered in your ear, his voice rough and filled with need. "I'm barely holding back from taking you right here, right now against this bar where everyone can see."

You felt a shiver run down your spine as he whispered in your ear, his voice low and gravelly with desire. The thought of him taking you right here in front of everyone made your heart race and your legs weak. "You won't get away with it that easily," you gasped out, though the words sounded weaker than you intended. The heat between you was building to a fever pitch, and you weren't sure how much longer you could resist him. "How far is your place?" He chuckled at your response, amused by your weak attempt to hold him off. He could see how much his touch was affecting you and it only made him more determined to make you his. "Ain't too far," he said in a rough voice, his lips trailing down your neck and to your ear. "Just a short ride away." His hands slid down your hips and to the backs of your thighs, lifting you off of the ground and onto the bar. "Wrap those pretty legs around me, doll." You gasped as he lifted you onto the bar, your heart racing with anticipation. You couldn't deny the effect his touch was having on you, and the way he was commanding you was only making it worse. You did as he said, wrapping your legs around him, feeling the hardness of his body pressed against you. You were powerless to resist him, and deep down, you didn't want to.

He let out a deep growl of satisfaction as you wrapped your legs around him, feeling your body against his. His hands gripped your thighs possessively, his fingers digging into your skin as he looked at you with a dark, hungry gaze. "That's my good girl," he said, his voice thick with lust. "You're not going anywhere now." He leaned in to capture your lips in another fierce kiss, his tongue tangling with yours in a primal dance as he carefully brought you outside to his truck. You could feel the possessiveness in his grip as he held onto you, the intensity of his eyes making it clear that he had no intention of letting you go. When he picked you up and carried you outside, your heart pounded in your chest, the combination of his strength and the primal need he exuded making you dizzy with desire. You couldn't help but respond to his kiss, your tongue meeting his in a fierce, passionate dance. By the time he reached his truck, you were putty in his hands, completely at his mercy. You couldn't help but shudder at the sound of his voice, the command in it sending a thrill through you. You did as he said, climbing into the passenger seat, feeling the hard leather beneath you and the heat of his gaze on your skin. "And what exactly do you have planned for this night, cowboy?" you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt. Logan slammed the door shut behind you, his large frame towering over the truck as he walked around to the driver's side. He climbed in, the engine roaring to life under his skilled hands. As he put the vehicle in gear and began driving, he reached out to run a calloused finger along your jawline, tilting your face up towards him. "Oh, I think you know exactly what I'm planning, sweetheart," he growled, his blue eyes blazing with intensity. "I'm gonna make you scream my name until you can't remember anything else." His hand slid down to grip your thigh, squeezing possessively. "And then we're gonna start all over again."

Your breath hitched as he spoke, his intense gaze and possessive touch igniting a fire within you that was becoming harder and harder to control. The thought of him making you scream his name over and over again sent a wave of heat through your body, and you couldn't help but shiver at the sensation of his hand on your thigh. "Is that so?" you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "You think you have what it takes to make me lose control like that?" Logan chuckled low in his throat, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated through your entire being. "Baby, I know I have what it takes," he said confidently, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he squeezed your thigh again. "I can see how much you want it, how desperate you are for me to claim every inch of you." He leaned in closer, his hot breath fanning across your ear as he whispered, "And trust me, I plan to take my sweet time doing just that." With that, he shifted gears and sped up, the wind whipping through your hair as he drove faster and faster down the deserted highway, pulling you deeper into the heart of darkness and desire. His words and his touch were like an electric current, sending bolts of heat and pleasure through your body. You were helpless against the tide of desire that he was building within you, and the thought of him taking his time to claim every inch of you made your heart race and your breath come in quick gasps. The wind whipped through your hair as he drove faster, the speed and the isolation of the deserted highway only adding to the intensity of the moment. You knew that there was no going back now, that you were completely at his mercy. And you didn't even care anymore.

Logan could sense your complete submission, the way your body relaxed into his touch, the way your breaths came in ragged pants. It only fueled his own hunger, his need to dominate and possess you utterly. He reached over, his hand sliding up your inner thigh, pushing your skirt higher as he went. "Look at you, spread open and ready for me," he murmured, his fingers brushing against the damp fabric of your panties. "So fucking wet already." He dipped a finger beneath the elastic, teasing your slick folds. "Tell me, baby, who does this belong to? Because right now, it feels like it belongs to me." You shivered as he ran his hand up your inner thigh, his touch sending jolts of pleasure through your body. The feeling of his finger against the dampness of your panties made you gasp, and his possessive words made you weak in the knees. Your mind was a swirling mix of desire and submission, and you could feel yourself surrendering to him completely. "It's yours," you gasped out, your voice trembling with need. "All of it. It belongs to you, cowboy." A wicked grin spread across Logan's face as he heard your surrender, his eyes gleaming with triumph and dark desire. "That's right, darlin'," he purred, his finger pressing firmly against your clit through the soaked fabric as he parked outside his house. "Every part of you belongs to me now. Your body, your mind, your very soul." He rubbed slow, deliberate circles against your sensitive nub, savoring the way you trembled and moaned beneath his touch. "And I'm gonna use every last bit of you however I please." His other hand left your thigh to roam freely over your curves, groping and kneading as he continued to tease your pussy with maddening slowness. "Now, let's get these clothes off you so I can really taste what's mine."

Your hips bucked involuntarily as he touched you, the pressure on your clit sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. You were lost in the sensations, unable to form coherent thoughts beyond the need for more, for him to take you completely. When he mentioned tasting you, a fresh surge of arousal hit you, and you found yourself lifting your hips eagerly, practically begging for his hands to strip you bare. "Please," you whimpered, your voice barely above a breath. "Touch me, taste me… make me yours." Logan's eyes flashed with primal satisfaction at your pleading, his grip on your thighs tightening almost painfully as he yanked your skirt up to your waist. In one swift motion, he ripped your panties clean off, tossing them aside without a second glance. "Fuck, look at you," he groaned, his gaze devouring the sight of your exposed sex, glistening and swollen with need. "So pretty, so perfect…" Without warning, he plunged two thick fingers deep inside you, pumping them hard and fast as he curled them to stroke that sensitive spot within you. "Mmm, you're dripping wet for me already. Can't wait to bury my cock in this tight little cunt." His thumb found your clit, rubbing firm circles that had you seeing stars. "Come on, baby, ride my fingers. Show me how bad you want it." A strangled cry tore from your throat as he filled you with his fingers, the sudden intrusion and the relentless pace sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your veins. Your head fell back against the seat, your mouth open in a silent scream as you rode his hand, grinding your hips against his pistoning digits. Your back arched off the seat as he filled you with his fingers, the sudden invasion of pleasure through your core. His dirty talk only added fuel to the fire, and you could feel your orgasm building rapidly, coiling tighter and tighter in your belly. "Yes, yes, fuck!" you cried out, grinding your hips against his hand as he pumped into you relentlessly. "I need it, I need your cock so badly."

Logan's grip on your thighs tightened further, his knuckles turning white as he pounded into your dripping cunt, stretching and filling you with each ruthless thrust. "That's it, cum for me," he snarled, his thumb pressing harder against your clit as he finger-fucked you mercilessly. "I wanna feel you squeeze my fingers when you come undone." His free hand slipped under your shirt, palming your breast roughly, pinching and tugging at your nipple until it pebbled between his fingers. "Fuck, you're so close, aren't you? So ready to explode on my hand like a good little slut." With a final brutal pump of his fingers, he ground them hard against that sensitive spot inside you, sending you hurtling over the edge into oblivion. "Come on, baby, give it to me!" Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your vision blurring as your body convulsed in ecstasy. You screamed his name, over and over, as your walls clamped down around his fingers, milking them for all they were worth. The intense pleasure was almost too much to bear, and you felt yourself slipping away, consumed by the overwhelming sensations. As the aftershocks subsided, you collapsed back against the seat, panting heavily, your body still quivering with residual pleasure. Through hooded eyes, you watched Logan withdraw his fingers from your spent pussy, licking them clean with a satisfied smirk. "That was… incredible," you managed to gasp out, your voice hoarse from screaming. "But I think I need more." Logan's smirk grew wider as he looked at you, his eyes glinting with dark amusement and raw lust. "Oh, I'm just getting started, sweetheart," he drawled, his voice low and husky. "You're not done with me yet." He reached over to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheekbone as he leaned in close, his hot breath fanning across your lips. "I'm gonna take you inside, bend you over the kitchen counter, and fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk straight for days." His tongue darted out to lick the shell of your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "Then, once you're nice and sore, I'll tie you to the bed and eat this pretty pussy until you beg me to stop." He nipped at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the delicate skin. "

Your heart raced at his filthy promises, a fresh wave of desire washing over you. The thought of being taken hard and fast, of being stretched and filled to the brink, sent tingles of anticipation through your body. And the idea of him feasting on your sensitive flesh, worshipping your most intimate places, made your core clench with need. "Yes, please," you breathed, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. "Use me, claim me, make me yours in every way possible." You reached for him, your hands fumbling with the buttons of his shirt as you tried to tear it open, desperate to feel his skin against yours. "Take me inside. I'm ready for whatever you have planned." Logan chuckled darkly, a sound that vibrated through your chest as he helped you rip open his shirt, revealing the chiseled expanse of his torso. "Patience, darlin'," he murmured, his large hands covering yours as he guided them to his belt buckle. "We've got all night for me to ravage every inch of you." With deft movements, he unbuckled his belt and popped the button on his jeans, shimmying them down his muscular thighs along with his boxers. His impressive erection sprang free, long and thick and pulsing with need. "Look at what you do to me," he growled, his voice rough with lust as he wrapped a hand around his shaft, giving it a slow stroke. "This is all for you, baby. Every inch of it." Your gaze was drawn inexorably to his throbbing cock, your mouth watering at the sight. You licked your lips unconsciously, your own arousal spiking at the knowledge of how much he desired you. "It's beautiful," you whispered, reaching out to trace a finger along the veiny length of him. "I want to see it inside me, stretching me wide open." Your hand slid lower, cupping his heavy balls, feeling their weight and heat. "Make me yours, cowboy. Claim my body, my soul, everything." You shifted restlessly, your legs falling open in invitation as you gazed up at him with pleading eyes. "Please, I need you. Now."

Logan's control snapped at your plea, his grip on your wrist tightening as he pulled your hand away from his cock. "Not yet, baby," he gritted out, his breathing ragged with restraint. "I want to watch you beg for it first." With a swift tug, he yanked your shirt over your head, exposing your breasts to the cool air of his house. "Look at these perfect tits," he groaned, leaning in to capture a nipple between his teeth, biting down just hard enough to make you gasp. "So soft, so responsive… I'm going to mark them up real good, leave my brand all over you." His hands roamed your body, squeezing and kneading as he suckled at your breast, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak. A sharp cry escaped your lips as he bit down, the mix of pain and pleasure making your head spin. Your back arched, pushing your breast further into his mouth, desperate for more of that delicious sensation. "Please," you whimpered, your fingers tangling in his hair as you held him to your chest. "More, I need more. Bite me, mark me, use me however you want." Your other hand slid down to rub at your aching clit, trying to stoke the embers of your desire higher. But even that small touch wasn't enough to ease the relentless craving consuming you. You needed him, all of him, now. "I'm begging you," you pleaded, your voice breaking with desperation. "Fill me, claim me, make me yours completely."

Logan released your nipple with a wet pop, his eyes blazing with possessive hunger as he looked up at you. "Such a pretty little beggar," he purred, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "I love seeing you fall apart for me." In one swift motion, he stood and stripped off the remainder of his clothes, leaving him gloriously naked before you. His cock jutted out proudly, the tip already glistening with pre-cum. "Get on your knees, sweetheart," he commanded, his tone brooking no argument. "Time to show you who's boss here." He grasped your shoulders, guiding you down onto the floor, positioning you directly in front of his straining erection. "Open wide, baby," he instructed, his hand wrapping around the base of his cock, angling it towards your waiting mouth. Without hesitation, you parted your lips, welcoming the thick head of his cock past them. The taste of his skin, slightly salty and musky, filled your senses as you began to suckle eagerly, taking him deeper into the warmth of your mouth. Your tongue swirled around the shaft, lapping up the pre-cum that leaked from the slit, savoring every drop of his essence. As you bobbed your head, you reached up to fondle his heavy balls, rolling them gently in your palm as you pleasured him with your mouth. The vibrations of your moans around his cock only seemed to spur him on, and you could feel his hips starting to rock forward, fucking your face with increasing urgency. "Mmmph, yes," you hummed, the words muffled by the thick meat of his dick. "Love sucking your cock, cowboy." Logan's grip on your hair tightened, his fingers twisting into the strands as he started to thrust deeper, using your mouth for his pleasure. "Fuck, yeah, just like that," he grunted, his hips snapping forward to bury himself to the hilt in your throat. He held you there for a moment, savoring the tightness, before slowly pulling back, allowing you to catch your breath before plunging back in. "Your mouth feels so damn good," he groaned, his rhythm growing more erratic as he chased his climax. "Gonna fill you up soon, baby. Swallow every last drop." His thrusts became more forceful, his cock hitting the back of your throat with each powerful stroke. You could tell he was close, his balls drawing up tight against his body as he prepared to erupt. "Ready or not, here it comes,"

Logan's warning gave you a moment to prepare, but it wasn't necessary - you were more than ready to receive his release. As he slammed deep, his cockhead nudging the entrance to your throat, you relaxed your muscles, letting him flood your mouth with his hot seed. You swallowed greedily, relishing the taste and texture of him as he emptied himself into your eager throat. Finally, with a satisfied grunt, Logan pulled out, his softening cock slipping from your lips with a lewd pop. You sat back on your heels, panting heavily, a string of saliva connecting your mouth to the tip of his still-hard dick. "Delicious," you managed to say, your voice hoarse from the effort of taking him so deeply. Logan's chest heaved with exertion as he stared down at you, a smug grin spreading across his face. "Damn right it was," he drawled, his eyes roaming over your swollen lips, and the slight sheen of sweat on your skin. "But we're far from done, sweetheart." He offered you a hand up, helping you to your feet before spinning you around to bend you over the kitchen counter. "Assume the position," he ordered, giving your rear end a firm slap. "Time for round three." You obeyed, bending over the cool counter top to present yourself to him, your pussy already slick with arousal. Logan stepped closer, running a finger through your folds, gathering the evidence of your desire before bringing it to his lips for a taste. "Mmm, you're dripping for me," "Yes, please," you breathed, arching your back to press your ass more firmly against his groin. "I need you inside me, filling me up again." You glanced over your shoulder, meeting his intense gaze with a sultry smile. "Claim this pussy, make it yours." Your fingers dug into the countertop, knuckles white with anticipation as you waited for him to take you. Logan's large hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into the flesh as he positioned himself behind you.

With a low growl, Logan lined up his thick cock with your entrance, the blunt head pressing insistently against your slick folds. "Hold on tight, baby," he warned, his voice a husky rumble in your ear. Then, with a single powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside you, stretching your walls deliciously wide. "Fuck, you feel incredible," he groaned, pausing for a moment to let you adjust to his size before beginning to move. His hips snapped forward in a steady rhythm, driving into you with deep, claiming strokes that had you crying out in pleasure. Each thrust hit that sweet spot within you, sending sparks of ecstasy shooting through your nerves. "Take it, baby girl," Logan panted, his pace quickening as he chased another orgasm. "Gonna fill you up so good, baby," he hissed, his eyes blazing with possession. "Oh god, yes!" you wailed, your nails scrabbling against the countertop as he pounded into you relentlessly. The force of his thrusts sent shockwaves of pleasure radiating outward from your core, each one threatening to send you careening over the edge into blissful oblivion. "Harder, please! Fuck me harder!" you begged, your voice rising to a keening whine as he struck that magic spot inside you again and again. Logan's grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as he drove into you with wild abandon, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room. "I can feel you getting tighter," he rasped, his thrusts becoming even more brutal as he sensed your impending climax. "Come on, baby, let go. Let me feel you squeeze my cock when you cum." Logan's command pushed you over the brink, your body tensing as a powerful orgasm ripped through you. Your inner walls clamped down around his pistoning cock, milking him for all he was worth as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you. "Fuck, yes! Cumming on your cock!" you screamed, your voice raw with pleasure. Through the haze of your climax, you felt Logan's movements become jerky and erratic, his thrusts turning into short, sharp pumps as he neared his own peak. "Gonna…ahh…fill you up," he grunted, his hips stuttering as he buried himself to the root once more. With a final, guttural roar, Logan came hard, his cock throbbing and pulsing as he pumped stream after stream of hot semen deep inside you.

As Logan's warm seed flooded your spasming channel, you felt your own contractions intensify, milking every last drop from his twitching cock. The sensation of being so thoroughly claimed, so utterly filled with his essence, sent shivers racing down your spine. "So much," you gasped, marveling at the sheer volume of his release. "You're pouring so much inside me." Logan's spent cock slipped free with a lewd squelch, followed by a trickle of their combined fluids that oozed down your thigh. You collapsed forward onto the counter, your legs trembling with the aftershocks of your intense orgasm. After a moment, Logan wrapped an arm around your waist, holding you close as he nuzzled into the curve of your neck. "That was incredible," he murmured, his voice tinged with satisfaction. Logan's praise warmed you to your core, his approval and affection a balm to your soul after the intensity of what you'd just shared. You turned in his embrace, capturing his lips in a slow, sensual kiss, savoring the taste of him mixed with the lingering hint of sex on your tongue. When they finally broke apart, you rested your forehead against his, your breaths mingling as you gazed into his eyes. "I love how we fit together," you whispered, a contented sigh escaping you. "Like two pieces of a puzzle, meant to be joined." Logan smiled, his thumb stroking gentle circles on your hip. "We sure do seem to click, don't we?" he agreed, his tone playful but filled with genuine affection. "And I've got a feeling our puzzle is far from complete."

[yoyomomiko]

Heyyy could you make a fluffy comfort oneshot of ticci toby x ignored reader? So like the reader tends to not be listened to and like, doesnt talk much because of it? If that makes sense! Just a super cute fic full of reassurance and physical affection/words of affirmation lol! Thankyou! 💗

꒰ ☆ ꒱ — “HEARD”

pairings: ticci toby x female reader

wc: 1.1k+

cw: angst (?), cringe, not proofread, also probably contains grammar mistakes, english isn't my first language!! the creepypasta mansion is real!! >:(

— (a/n): i actually haven't written anything in soooo long!!! also i'm extremely bad at writing comfort so i'm very sorry :(( -> m.list

You were used to silence.

Not the peaceful kind, the kind that wraps you in warmth and lets you breathe, no. Yours was the heavy, suffocating kind. The kind of silence that clung to you because no one ever truly listened.

It wasn't that you never spoke. You did. Sometimes. When it felt important.

But your words were often brushed aside, ignored, or spoken over. So, with time, you just sort of... Stopped trying.

It was easier that way. Easier not to try.

Because trying meant disappointment, and disappointment always hurt more than silence.

It wasn't hard to see why Toby had fallen for you.

You were both outsiders in your own ways, different kinds of overlooked. The moment he met you, something just clicked in his brain.

He didn't talk over you. Didn't brush you aside. Didn't make you feel like you had to fight to be heard.

And yet you still held back.

Even in the mansion, surrounded by people who were supposed to be your people, it was no different. Conversations just flowed around you, and if you tried to join in, it was like no one would even notice. Sometimes, someone would glance your way, but by the time you worked up the courage to speak, the moment would pass.

And tonight was no different.

You sat on the worn out couch, curled up in the corner, listening as the others talked. Ben was ranting, Jeff was being as loud as ever, and Toby was laughing along.

You saw a gap in the conversation, a tiny opening where you thought that maybe it was the time to speak up. All you had to do was wait for Ben to finish his sentence, and then you could finally start.

"I–"

"That reminds me of–"

Jeff quickly yelled out, not even acknowledging you. You couldn't even finish your first word, the subject just changed in an instant.

Your mouth snapped shut, the grip you had on your shirt tightening. Of course.

Your chest ached, but you swallowed it down. You had no reason to feel upset. This was normal. You should be used to it by now.

So you did what you always did. You quietly forced yourself to your feet, slipping out of the room unnoticed.

Or at least that's what you thought...

...

Toby had noticed.

It had taken him longer than he'd like to admit, but once he saw it, he couldn't stop seeing it. The way your eyes would light up for half a second before fading again. The way you always shrank into the background, like you believed you didn't deserve to take up space.

And then there was tonight.

He saw the way your lips parted, just barely, before the conversation swallowed you whole. He saw the way your shoulders dropped, how you curled in on yourself before quietly leaving the room.

He wasn't the smartest guy, but he knew that wasn't normal.

So, without hesitation, he pushed himself off the couch and followed after you.

...

You were sitting outside, knees pulled to your chest, staring at the dark trees surrounding the mansion. The cold air nipped at your skin, but you didn't really care. It was better out here, quieter.

A soft thud sounded beside you.

You turned your head just in time to see Toby plop down, his face twitching for a quick second. He didn't say anything at first, just sat there, hands fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie. It was strange, Toby wasn't really the type to sit still.

"You didn't have to come out here." You glanced away, a frown slowly forming on your lips.

"But I wanted to." He replied, his gaze softening.

Silence.

You weren't sure what to say, so you didn't speak up. Just like you always did.

"Are you okay?" Toby spoke up after a while, his voice unusually soft.

You hesitated. You weren't used to being asked that. At least not in a way that felt... Real.

"Yeah." You lied, gently nodding your head, avoiding his gaze.

"Liar." He shot back.

You glared at him, but there was a grin plastered to his face, eyes filled with something warm that made your stomach twist.

"Come on." He nudged your shoulder. "I saw what happened."

"It's nothing, I'm used to it." You felt a bad taste in your mouth, like you were about to cry. Your chest tightened, and then came that same heavy and suffocating feeling you always had.

"That's not– That's not alright." He shifted so he was fully facing you, his knee brushing against yours. "You shouldn't have to– to be 'used to it'."

You shrugged, trying to ignore the lump forming in your throat. "It's not like it's on purpose. I just... I don't matter as much as everyone else–"

Toby's entire body went still. For a second, you wondered if you had said something wrong, which you did. Then, before you could react, he leaned closer, his forehead gently pressing against yours.

"Don't–... Don't say that." He mumbled, his voice was softer than you had ever heard it.

Your breath hitched as your heart skipped a beat.

"You matter." Toby continued, tilting his head so his nose brushed against yours. "I hear you. Even when no one else does, I do."

Your eyes burned, but you blinked rapidly, forcing the feeling down. "Toby..."

"I mean it." He whispered, his hands coming up to gently cradle your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks. "I love hearing you talk. I love the way your voice sounds. I love the way your eyes light up when you get excited. And I hate that you don't feel like you can share it."

"It's hard..." A shaky breath left you as you prayed that the tears in your eyes weren't visible.

"I know." Toby whispered. "But I promise you never have to be quiet around me." He smiled, tilting his head playfully. "Actually, I insist you talk my ears off. Give me all the random thoughts in that pretty little head of yours."

A smile tugged at your lips, and before you could stop it, a small snort escaped you.

"There it is, there's that smile!" His smile widened as he gently kissed your forehead before pulling back to look at you again.

Your chest felt lighter, like maybe, just maybe, you weren't as invisible as you thought.

Toby pulled you into his arms, wrapping you in warmth. He rested his chin on top of your head as he started swaying you gently. "I love you." He mumbled into your hair. "I'm gonna make sure you never feel alone again."

And for the first time in a long time, you actually believed it.

[didalexiabreakupwitholgaisback]

Can you please give us your full match breakdown if you have the time? I love reading your thoughts and it helps me learn so much about the game.

hi anon - thanks! okay, here are my general thoughts below the cut:

tl;dr it's not a castrophic loss but if you look at the trend of league matches, we saw it coming. february is the one month we have to get our shit together before the champions knockout matches start! so there's more to learn from a loss than a win at this stage! this is do or die time for pere 🙏

so we have to note that it's the first home loss ever at estadi johan cruyff and it was against levante, a team that i've discussed a lot on my blog as being an example of a good team that has fallen from grace. it's women's team budget was cut and the team sold off all its top players, and levante is now facing potential relegation in the league.

this is a levante who fired its previous coach (who is facing serious allegations against him) and so you could say that levante has that "new coach bounce" feeling about them. they had a gameplan (low block and attack on counter) and they executed it well.

with that background, it was obvious that pere would be playing the "b" team, meaning mostly squad players. now when we talk about rotation in the team and that includes using bench players for matches against these lower ranked teams. they need to get minutes and game time and these are the "safer" matches to play. because at the end of the day, thankfully there's really no major consequence to the loss here but we know more about what areas the squad need to work on.

having said that, pere got his tactics wrong with this line-up. it felt like they hadn't played together and weren't on the same page with each other. now even when you play your "b" team, they should at least be able to anticipate each's others runs and be unified in the plan to break down a low block. that didn't happen here tonight and that's on pere with a lack of training against this type of defense from the opposition.

as evidence of that, there were too many moments when passes were mishit because of lack of anticipation of player runs or a player was on a run and then had to double back because the player with the ball was a step behind and they had to catch up. the reason we practise rondos and these small sided drills it to minimise this. but i saw way too much sloppiness today.

we need to be more disciplined. you saw errant passes or shots on goals when our players were getting frustrated, either due to a lack of calls by the referee or after time wasting by levante. you can't let opposition tactics get under your skin like that.

can pere please rest aitana for once? you can't start aitana and play her for 90+ minutes match after match and expect her to be effective as a leader for this "b" team. the same goes to caro who has just come back from injury. having said that, they had some great crosses, but we couldn't finish them...

by that same token, you can't throw on alexia and ewa and expect them to clean up your mess if the tactics are messed up from the start.

this is the most extreme example of what we have been battling with all season. there were so many matches with a weak first half and where we didn't score until the second half or get our flow going until the second half. it was too little, too late tonight.

we need to be more clinical on finishing. salma missed chances, aitana missed chances, esmee missed chances, kika missed chances, alexia missed chances. caro missed chances. it wasn't flowing for anyone. this has likewise been an issue since the beginning of the season. 47 shots and only 1 goal to show for it is unacceptable!

and to drill down on scoring, we need to be better on set pieces like corners and free kicks. we had 18 corners, 18! you can't have that many opportunities and not capitalise on them!

i can't put this loss on ellie but this is why we need more reps for her because we need to build up her confidence so that she's in total command of the defense and we don't have incidents like the second goal. by that token, not a great defensive performance. we can't ball watch and we need a better understanding as a unit. engen was okay in the first half and had a few mistakes in the second. but patri is injured and it doesn't help engen to say she's washed and be overly critical. just like everyone else, there are areas where she can improve too!

anyway, like cata says, with this team to the death, so let's watch the game tape back and make damn hell sure that we are learning from this! 🙏

[telluriannovice]

Day 2: Hand Kiss

Danny glared at Vlad like he was trying to see through his skin. He'd been acting weird all day. First, Vlad took the day off work, which is fine, he's an adult and everyone needs time off. Then, he offered to take Danny to the park, the one with a playground, a skate park, and an open field. And then Vlad just so happened to have brought a picnic basket that had Danny's favorite sandwich (a BLT without the T) and Danny's favorite cookies. Then he just decided to "swing by" the arcade, that somehow didn't have any people in it, and the two of them got to play whatever they wanted for as long as they wanted. And now, Vlad was leading them towards the Pier Carnival, and Danny had a feeling he was going to suggest they "swing by" that too.

"What's wrong, Danny? Something not to your liking?" Vlad asked and seemed actually worried.

"No, it's literally perfect." Danny said, glaring at him more.

"Then why the death stare?"

"Well, the last time you were this nice to me, my emotions were tied to the weather."

"So what? I can't take you on a nice date without it being suspect." He didn't actually sound convincing.

"I mean, yeah," Danny admitted. "This feels like one of your old schemes."

Vlad made a disgruntled sound then quickened his pace. "I thought something that felt more go with the flow would suit you better, but if not, then come on. We're going to go have a good time and things will continue to be perfect."

Vlad did lead them to the carnival and they did have a good time. Well, Danny did. His main problem with the supposed perfect date was... well, they didn't do anything Vlad liked. Vlad dates were fancy dinners and museums. He'd spend hours dressing Danny up like a doll to make sure his outfit was perfect, and then they'd go somewhere that would kick you out for wearing shorts or burping too loud. The best date Danny can remember them going on was right in the middle - a fancy fundraiser dinner at the observatory. Vlad got to talk snob with the other rich guests and Danny got to see the new museum wing before the rest of the public. Sure, it wasn't the fanciest of dinners and Danny had to wear an uncomfy suit, but they both got to have their fun and spend time with each other.

Danny was still trying to figure out what Vlad's game was, when he realized they were alone. It was past closing time, but not past the time a security person would have asked them to leave. Vlad took Danny out onto the pier, where they could see the sun setting in brilliant color.

"Perfect." Vlad hummed in satisfaction and quickly took Danny's hands in his. "Danny, my beloved little badger. I have loved you from the moment we met, and through every fight we had, and I will continue to love you till the end of time. So I ask..." He pulled a small box out of his jacket and fell to one knee. "Will you marry me?"

Danny blinked at him, his brain still trying to process what Vlad just said. He just, proposed? After an entire day of doing stuff Danny liked, and on a pier at sunset. Danny was taking too long to answer, he could feel it. The ring box in Vlad's hands started to shake and Danny knows Vlad doesn't do well on his knees.

He needed to say something. He needed to say anything. He needed to tell Vlad how much he appreciated their date and how much effort Vlad put into their relationship. "Yeah, sure."

No! Come on! "No, wait, sorry. I mean yes."

Vlad sighed in relief and stood back up, taking the ring from its box and putting it on Danny's hand. Vlad kissed over it gently, then down Danny's hand and threatened to kiss all the way up his arm. But Danny was able to divert his attention, cupping Vlad's cheek and pulling him into a proper kiss. And you know what? Fuck it! He pulled Vlad into a playful dip kiss, like they were ballroom dancing.

Eventually, they stopped kissing. Danny gave Vlad a scheming look. "Alright, when's your next day off?"

"We can't get married that quickly, little badger. Weddings take-"

"Not for the wedding!" Danny interrupted. "For my proposal!"

"You don't need to-"

"Mines going to be way better than yours."

"It's not a competition."

"Sounds like you're scared you'll lose." Danny joined when Vlad laughed, but it wasn't a joke. His proposal was going to be way better than Vlad's!

[bwat5-blog]

Caitlyn Kiramman's Trauma Leading Up To Becoming Commander: Quick Reference Guide

(A Dear Stupid People Publication)

**Spoiler Warning For Arcane**

In today's busy world it is tough to keep with the responsibilities and demands of our daily lives. We here at Dear Stupid People understand that. Sometimes you just want to hop online and run your mouth without having seen the material, or even better without being smart enough to understand it. You know what we say?

AS. YOU. SHOULD!

So today, we are proud to unveil our first of possibly many reference guides to help those of you who want to discuss Arcane without the effort of having watched it or the ability to comprehend it! And even better, we are doing this for.............................

TOTALLY FREE!

So the next time you feel the urge to log in, put your booger covered fingers on the keyboard, and let the diarrhea you pass off as intellectual discourse flow, have this guide at the ready so you can attack Caitlyn Kiramman with all the detail you need.

Lured into burning building by Jinx using child's voice then blown up. Explosion kills several of her peers and injures her

2. Has to shoot Sevika to save Vi's life

3. Survived encounter with Silco and shimmer addicts

4. Survived meeting Jinx/Fight with Firelights

5. Head of her organization shoots Ekko and is going to kill her while other Enforcers do nothing

6. Survives Jinx's attack on the bridge

7. Abducted by Jinx from childhood bathroom, while nude, forced to dress in Enforcer uniform, held for at least a day, possibly tortured

8. Forced to listen to Jinx try to convince Vi to murder her while bound and gagged

9. Spares Jinx at Vi's pleading and is violently knocked out (sorry couldn't find the gif)

10. Jinx kills Caitlyn's mother, 2 other councilors, maims 2 others, and blows up the council chamber when Caitlyn could have stopped it

11. Caitlyn survives memorial attack carried out by Chem Baron and her foot soldiers

12. Survives Strike Team Mission In Zaun

13. Survives brutal fight with Sevika

14. She held her shot for Vi the first time, Vi promised she would end it this time, then Vi (no matter how good her reasons) stopped her

We here at Dear Stupid People hope you can make use of this reference guide the next time the urge strikes you to use any variation of the following statement:

"Caitlyn lost her mom and goes full dictator!"

Be on the lookout for our forthcoming exciting new additions!

Being rich isn't a magic shield against suffering!

Yes of course Ambess's manipulation mattered you diesel drinking paint eater!

Experimenting on your own people with a dangerous drug for money and power is a bad way to fight for them!

And More!

[narrans]

A Small and Tall Collection | Chapter Seventeen

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Chapter Seventeen | Frostbitten Find

Dorian and Rey crouched in the snow by the banks of the stream, admiring the way the water bounced and glistened over the rocks under the surface. Everything was starting to melt. The piles of ash gray snow scraped off of the roads. The ice coated limbs and branches from nearby trees. The sheets of ice on the roof.

It was still cold, but it was nothing like that Christmas night three months ago. It was still terrifying to remember. Rey and Dorian both still were having nightmares about it. A dark, shadowy figure towering above them. The two of them being no bigger than their little friend, Ashlynn, as they tried running from the man. The sound of Soren’s scream of pain reverberating all around them.

It had been better and, reluctantly, the boys had returned to sleeping in their own beds a while ago. It was still a comfort when Soren allowed them to spend the night with him. Nothing felt scary when he was around, even the dangerous stuff.

Now, however, wasn’t one of those times. There was a little metal pipe that led to a makeshift creek in their neighborhood. It wasn’t very deep, unless it was storming heavily. Maybe a foot or so deep by two feet wide. It had obviously been carved by the storm drains that weaved in and around the neighborhood when it was first put in, and it was the local HOA that had decided to make it more aesthetic within the past year.

On occasion, Soren would let them go out there on their own and play. It was one of those things that he hoped they could bond over, their love of water and nature. It also was a good exercise for both Soren and the boys to not be together constantly. The two younger siblings needed to experience limited independence, and time by the creek let them do just that.

So, that’s where they were. Playing in the stream was fun, especially in the fall when they made sure the creek could flow smoothly from one end to the next. During the winter, however, they needed games to occupy themselves by the water’s edge, and they had just the thing.

They’d collected little bits of sticks, twigs, and leaves and were racing them down the stream. So far, Rey was winning.

“How do you keep doing that?” huffed Dorian. “My leaves look exactly like yours.”

“I’m just lucky,” grinned Rey. “Do you want to trade?”

“Maybe,” Dorian grumbled. “If I don’t win the next one, I want to pick one from your pile.”

“Okay, but if I win then that gives me a whole ten and I should get a prize.” The youngest had a confident gleam in his eyes, almost teasing his own downfall. Dorian sighed. He knew what his younger brother wanted.

“No! I don’t want to give it to you,” he puffed.

“Hey, you wanted to do prizes if we reached double digits. If you win next time we play, you can get it back,” pointed out Rey. Dorian sighed and, reluctantly, the two boys shook on the terms. “Okay? Three. Two. One. Go!” They dropped their decaying, frayed leaves into the creek and ran alongside them as they bumped and spun around the water. Down one waterfall. Across the bumpy stones. The two boys cheered wildly, unable to alter their makeshift vessels’ fate, as Rey’s leaf crossed the finish line first.

“No!”

“Yeah!”

“Can we make it the next one?”

“No, now hand it over. You shook on it.” Rey held out his hand expectantly and, with a sour face, Dorian shoved his hand into his pocket and slapped a game cartridge into Rey’s awaiting palm. The cartridge was a video game set they both enjoyed, and it was one that Soren said he played when he was a kid. Sometimes, when they were allowed to play games, Soren would let them play on his old Nintendo Gameboy. Now that Rey had the cartridge, he would get dibs to play first when they went back inside for lunch.

“Thank you,” Rey grinned.

“You’re welcome.” Dorian didn’t want to, but he did shake on it. A deal was a deal, even if he didn’t like it.

“Want to play again? We can bet something else and start from scratch,” suggested Rey. Dorian, feeling disheartened, sighed heavily and kicked a nearby rock into the water.

“Fine, but only if I get to use one of your leaves!”

“Deal, not that it’ll help you,” teased Rey as both boys bounded back up the slope. Chests heaving, they continued their climb and were almost to the top when Rey noticed something drop out of the storm drain. He wouldn’t have paid it any mind, but watching it pass as it began drifting down the creek made him stop dead in his tracks.

“What? It’s just leaves,” Dorian muttered between puffs of air.

Rey looked between Dorian and the dark lump as he said, “Leaves don’t have hands.” With that, Rey darted back down the stream before the bumpy rocks and tugged his glove off of his hand. He dipped it into the frigid water just as the lump started to drift by and snagged it with his fingers.

The moment he lifted the mass out of the water, Rey felt a chill surge through his body. It wasn’t because of the cold water on his fingertips. It wasn’t the sound of Soren calling them from their garage telling them to come back because it was getting late.

It was because he could make out the distinct wound on the small figures head.

His eyes were wide. The child’s heart was skipping every few beats as he examined the miniscule person. She had different features than Ashlynn, but it was still obvious that they were the same kind of person. If Rey was right, this one was a girl too.

Her arms were laying limp, along with the rest of her body, and it was obvious she was unconscious. She was wearing furs and other heavy pieces of clothing. There were tears in her boots and parts of her looked stiff, almost like they were frozen. There was something that looked like a bow and arrow on her back and, with her cloak off to the side, Rey noticed what looked like a rusty nail at her side.

“What on earth are you – oh….” Dorian’s voice trailed off when he made it back to where Rey was standing by the creek. His eyes widened as he noticed the things Rey did. “There’s another one? Do you think Ashlynn knows her?”

“I don’t know, but I think we need to get her back to Soren. She looks frozen,” muttered Rey, lowering his voice like how he would talk to Ashlynn. “You don’t think she’s… you know… dead… do you?” Dorian shook his head and carefully pointed to the wound on her head.

“That looks fresh, so no I don’t think so. And I think you’re right. Let’s get back asap!”

~~~^*^*^~~~

“So, that’s what makes a fajita?” asked Ashlynn. She continued to slice up the part of pepper Soren had given her so she could have a few things her size to eat. Soren struggled cutting things small and fine enough for Ashlynn to eat, so instead he’d been giving cooking lessons to her for the past three months. Between Rey and Soren’s inventions and Dorian’s suggestions for dinner and snacks, they had a plethora of things to learn and discuss.

The boys had, together, made a miniature kitchen on one of the counter spaces for Ashlynn. It had a proper counter, a makeshift candle stove and oven, and even a washing station. It had taken nearly a month to convince Ashlynn that having a space of her own down in the boys’ home would be beneficial. It took even longer for Ashlynn to admit that she liked staying down with the boys doing anything and everything. She wasn’t sure if it was her loneliness that drove her down into the human world more and more often, but Ashlynn had stopped fighting those urges that told her to retreat back into the walls every time one of the boys approached her.

She’d even moved her campsite to beneath the floorboards of Soren’s room because their late night conversations left her going home exhausted, and that climb was tedious when she was tired and planned to be back down the very next morning.

During those conversations, Ashlynn learned a lot about Soren, and he learned a lot about her. Things she wouldn’t usually tell someone were things he was able to tease out of her. Things about her parents and everything that happened between them to lead to her father leaving. She talked about her brother and how he hated her because she’d lied about what happened to their dad.

She talked about how she thought she’d been seen in the place she was living before and with everything going on she decided to leave. The rules. Things she wanted out of life. What she would do if she were human for a day. Dreams.

Soren returned the information in kind. He talked about his own dad and how he’d gotten sick. He talked about how Brady came into his life and how, in the beginning, things seemed alright; at least, until the accident. One night after drinking too much, Brady had crashed the car. Soren’s mom was in the front seat, and they were having a fight before the crash. Soren only remembered because his mom had told him crying from the bathroom saying that it was over between her and Brady and to protect the boys no matter what.

Soren talked about his dream of wanting to be a doctor to help cure people of the thing that took his dad from him, but how all of that came to a screeching halt when he assumed custody of his brothers. He joined the firefighters and never looked back. It was a good gig. He was able to spend time with his brothers and even bring them into the station on occasion.

Real conversation. Raw. Meaningful. It was a connection that Ashlynn had been craving since the day she left, and now she’d found it again with the boys in her life.

And she wouldn’t change it for the world.

“Yep, that’s all it is. Of course, you need the seasonings and everything, but peppers, onions, and usually some kind of meat mixed together,” replied Soren. He glanced to the front door and then at the kitchen door that led to the garage. “And then you add all of the other fixings like sour cream, guacamole, lettuce, tomato, and anything else that might suit your fancy on tortillas or chips.” He sighed and wiped his hands on a crumpled dishcloth on the counter. “Where are those two?”

“They were by the creek, right?” asked Ashlynn. “Do you need to go look for them?”

“No, but if they’re not back in a few minutes, I’m g-”

“Soren!” Dorian’s voice, muffled from the walls in the garage, instantly sent a chill down his brother’s spine. Something’s wrong. Soren was at the door in the blink of an eye, throwing the door open and scanning the space for his brother. The eldest brother noticed Dorian running ahead while Rey, who was way behind him, was walking calmly, one step in front of the other, with his hands cupped in front of him.

“Dorian? What is it? What’s wrong?” asked Soren as he knelt and grasped Dorian’s shoulders, seeking any clue in his brother’s face as to what was going on.

“We… found…” Dorian puffed. “Another… one.”

The statement was stunning. “Another one? Another wh…” Soren’s voice trailed off. “You mean…”

“Yeah! By the creek… Rey saw… something floating in… the water and… snagged… her. She’s… not awake… and I think… she has a… cut… on her head,” stated Dorian between breaths. Soren glanced from one brother to the next. Rey was just barely on the other side of the road, walking carefully and focused on something cradled in his hands.

“Um… alright. You said she’s hurt? Then get the first aid kit from under the sink, tell Ashlynn, and get some towels and put them on the table,” instructed Soren. “And let Ashlynn know. She’ll be able to help us.” He left Dorian to scurry into the house.

Ashlynn, who only picked up on the worried tones as her focus was elsewhere, glanced toward the slightly cracked door that Soren had left open as he stepped outside. She was drying her hands on a snippet of dish cloth when Dorian burst through the door, making her instinctually reach for the pin she no longer carried at her side, and looked into the child’s discombobulated features.

“Dorian? What’s wrong?” she asked. There were dozens of emotions in the boy’s face, but it didn’t matter. His words were what truly seized her attention.

“Ashlynn, we need your help. Rey and I… we were playing by the creek and…” He paused for a breath, obviously trying to calm down his excitement, before continuing. “We found someone, another – like you. We think she’s hurt, so we need to get the table ready and th-”

Ashlynn felt completely frozen in place. The words continued, but she didn’t register them. He stopped speaking. Paused. Then carried on. As Dorian bounded past and asked if she wanted some help getting onto the table, all she could think was the same word over and over.

Another.

There was someone else. There was another Borrower, and they were hurt.

What had happened? Why were they here? Did Ashlynn know them? How badly were they hurt? More concerning… what would they think if they saw Ashlynn? What would they say once they saw her out in the open?

The questions felt like rocks weighing down her stomach, but the sudden eclipsing face of Dorian standing in front of her took priority to her scattered thoughts.

“Ashlynn? You okay?” asked Dorian.

The Borrower nodded vaguely, the need to clear her throat apparent as she finally was able to respond with a weak, “Yeah. I mean, yes, please.” She stepped onto the child’s waiting hand, clutching on for dear life as he spun around and walked at a pace that he obviously thought was slow and steady. He set Ashlynn down and began unfolding the different kits, but didn’t get far as her eyes picked up movement from the kitchen door.

Soren walked alongside Rey, who was stepping heel to toe slowly, and stepped around his youngest brother to check that the supplies Dorian was in charge of were laid out. A cup of water would’ve gone unspilled if it were placed on Rey’s head, each step placed carefully. It reminded Ashlynn of how she walked on squeaky floorboards.

Have they been picking that up from me? Or has he always been this careful?

“Here. Put her here,” said Dorian as he pet the towel he’d snagged from the bathroom.

“I’m gonna,” Rey breathed. He stepped up to the table, eyes flicking momentarily to Ashlynn, before setting down the unconscious figure onto the comfortable surface. Ashlynn picked up on the way the Borrower was dressed. Heavy. Thick. Meant to keep in the warm. Not meant for a quick trip.

It was everything she had when she was running from her own home. So, this Borrower was either seen and running or she’s an Outie. Ashlynn nearly tripped on the edge of the blanket, taking an involuntary step forward that she didn’t realize she’d taken. Thankfully, she recovered from her stumble by covering it up as her crouching beside the newcomer.

Already, she could see a few obvious injuries. There was a clear gash on her temple that started above her left eyebrow and ended almost at her ear. There were a few smaller scratches next to the larger laceration, as if she’d ducked something clawing at her face that had barely missed her eye, but it wasn’t deep. There was also part of a splint on her ankle, but it was loose and in bad shape.

There was also some dark staining by the top of her right shoulder, but Ashlynn couldn’t tell anything without removing the Borrower’s clothing.

“Ashlynn?” Soren’s voice made her startle. She looked back at him, soothed by those golden hazel orbs, and let herself relax.

“Yes? Sorry. Did you say something?” she asked.

“No, I didn’t. Sorry. I just…. Do you know her?” Ashlynn searched the woman’s features and shook her head. “Well, regardless we need to help her.” Despite Soren’s words, he didn’t move. Neither boy did either. It was a solid minute before Ashlynn directed her attention to the boys, who were looking at her hesitantly.

“What?”

“Well… um… you’re kind of… the same,” pointed out Rey.

“And? It’s not like you haven’t seen someone small like me.”

She wasn’t sure what the child was trying to imply until Soren added, “And we remember what you said about the rules and the whole touching thing. Just trying to be respectful is all. We don’t want to start moving her around while you’re standing here if it’ll make you uncomfortable.”

That’s right… the rules… No touching. How… how did I forget?

“I… er… right.” Ashlynn’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. She hoped her size played to her advantage and that the boys couldn’t see the pink in her cheeks. To distract, she knelt and began methodically pulling off different pieces of equipment. The knots were simple and easy to remove, as were the weapons. Ashlynn counted nearly a dozen different implements in total that could be used to stab and slice attached to different hiding spots on the stranger’s body.

It was awkward having three humans watching her. She wasn’t sure if she could feel their breath on her neck or if it was just her imagination. There were other things to focus on, but the thought lingered in the back of her mind. It actually wasn’t until she began removing some of the heavier pieces of clothing that she began feeling uneasy.

I need them to back off a bit.

“Um… guys? Could…” Ashlynn thought quickly of something – anything – she could request to get the boys out of her hair for just a minute. “Um… could you… get some warm water? And some towels? She’ll probably need to be cleaned up. Small and big pieces if that’s okay.”

“Yeah! Absolutely,” Rey said eagerly as he tugged Dorian’s shoulder and the two hurried around the corner to the bathroom. Once out of earshot, Soren knelt and looked at Ashlynn. It was that golden hazel stare Ashlynn feared would happen. She only glimpsed his eyes, but she knew what was coming. Every time he looked at her like that, one of two things happened. One, she felt self-conscious as her skin burned and her heart fluttered like a butterfly in spring. Two, he was reading her mind.

She guessed it was the later.

“Ashlynn.” There it was. That tone he took. It was the second. “What’s wrong?” Was it even worth trying to deceive him? He was able to discern so much at a glance. Could she keep her mind and body steady as she attempted to throw him off?

No. He… Soren’s earned the truth. He’ll guess it anyway.

“It’s… I’ve just forgotten a few things. And it’s weird, being on the other side of it all,” Ashlynn muttered. She heard the human beside her sigh, obviously in understanding, before pushing himself off of the ground and heading to the kitchen to warm some water.

A minute of silence passed, the only sound being the youngest two’s muffled voices as they excitedly cut pieces of washcloth into different sizes, before Soren asked, “Do you want us to leave you two alone? So you can work on her and be undisturbed?”

Ashlynn shook her head as she stood and walked to the edge of the table so Soren could hear her, quickly responding, “No. I… I don’t want to be alone right now with her. I know I should want to be alone, for her sake, but not yet. If we can get her patched up quickly and then close to the walls, I can take her back to my camp before she knows she was s…”

“Wh…”

The sharp inhalation just behind Ashlynn sent chills up her spine. She whipped around to see the Borrower woman, eyes blown wide open, attempting to scurry away while prone. Each movement made her wince, but it was obvious fear was driving her adrenaline to do her bidding. It was obvious that she saw where she was and who was in the room, which was Ashlynn’s worst nightmare.

The Borrower’s eyes quickly flicked down at her sides as she searched for the weapons that were obviously too far away for her to grab before shifting from Ashlynn and then back to Soren. There was only wilderness in the Borrower’s eyes. Primal fear. Terror. Concern. The Borrower rules playing over and over in her mind. Ashlynn immediately knew the feeling, but something else stung more than the fear in the Borrower’s eyes.

Betrayal.

Pet.

Ashlynn could see the word in her face as if it were written there in ink.

I need to fix this. Before things happen and she gets hurt.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Ashlynn said as she crouched to be at eye-level with her fellow Borrower. “I get it. There’s a lot going on in your head right now, but you’re hurt. W-…er… I… can help.”

The Borrower’s face twisted in disbelief as she clenched and unclenched her jaw. Her eyes darted in between Ashlynn, Soren, and the removed weapons. The feeling of vulnerability – being small – radiated off of her like the smell of mildew on her clothes. Ashlynn knew what she had to do, and it would take nothing short of a miracle for her to be able to pull it off.

Ashlynn continued to crouch as she shifted her weight and inched her way to the weapons. She snagged one of them, a rusty thumb tack dulled from overuse, and held it up. The Borrower’s eyes gleamed venomously, but surprise overtook her features as Ashlynn tossed it over to her.

“I get it,” Ashlynn said quietly, like coaxing a mouse to her side. “You’re hurt. Your supplies are probably low. This is all probably a lot right now. Your mind’s racing. You’re having thoughts, doubts, about me, but I swear it’s not what you think. So, please, let me help you and I’ll explain everything.”

With little hesitation, the Borrower leaned forward and snatched the rusted tack. She didn’t back up, but she didn’t lower her guard either. She kept the tack by her side and continued to eye Ashlynn suspiciously. The tension was thick in the air, like snow in a blizzard. Nothing could be predicted more than a few inches in front of their faces. It was instinct alone that guided the next steps.

Ashlynn continued to crouch as she approached, snagging a bandage fragment from the nearby kit as she did. Each movement was slow and methodical. Each movement met scrutiny and a hostile glare. She was only an inch away when, to her dismay, Ashlynn heard more pounding footsteps.

No. Dorian and Rey!

“Soren! Ashlynn! We’ve got the towel for y-” Dorian said, stopping in his tracks as he noticed the scene on the table.

“Oh good! You’re awake. We were r-” Rey began to say before everything else happened.

Ashlynn had turned her head just a fraction to the side to glimpse Dorian and Rey, but evidently that was what the new Borrower was waiting for.

In an instant, she slashed her tack at Ashlynn’s face, bitterness seething in her features as Ashlynn pulled away in the nick of time. Ashlynn had only a moment as the newcomer swung wildly again, slicing at the air in an attempt to cut the Borrower before her.

“Ashlynn!”

All three boys said her name at the same time and took a bold step forward, but Ashlynn threw up her hands and shouted, “Stay back!” The Borrower stood shakily, confusion only a glint in her wild eyes as she noticed all three of the humans stop dead in their tracks. It didn’t stop her though.

The new Borrower, obviously determined, began slicing and cutting at the air, missing Ashlynn by millimeters. Weeks of good eating and practice being nimble while the two young boys carried her was obviously doing her some good. She blocked over a dozen blows, whacking the inside of her attacker’s wrists to deflect the oncoming attack. Frustration drove the Borrower as she stabbed forward, aiming for Ashlynn’s chest.

But she was ready.

As the Borrower lunged, Ashlynn dodged across the body and wrapped her arm around her attacker’s arm, keeping the makeshift blade far away from her. With a quick hit to her hand, the new Borrower was once again defenseless as the thumb tack clattered to the table. Ashlynn, barely a breath away from the Borrower, could see every detail of her emotions as they changed in rapid succession.

Rage.

Frustration.

Betrayal again.

Pet.

Ashlynn forced herself to look past all of that to see the true fear, remembering everything she felt when she was trapped in the drawer, hurt and alone. The scene was undoubtedly an alarming one, and not knowing who to trust didn’t make things any easier.

So, as she stared her in the eyes, Ashlynn breathed calmly and spoke as reassuringly as she could. “I know what this must look like.” Each word was slow and deliberate, barely above a whisper so only the two of them could hear. “But you’re hurt. You’re weakened. Let me help you. I swear, they – the humans – won’t bother us if I ask them to.”

Ashlynn kept a firm grip on the Borrower’s arm, forcing the stranger’s gaze, and watched the realization of being beaten sink in. There were hints of doubt in her features as well. To prove it, Ashlynn would have to send the boys away. It was unideal. It was dangerous.

Ashlynn had no other choice if she wanted to earn some modicum of trust.

“Guys, could you leave us?” called Ashlynn, the volume of her voice making the new Borrower wince. The boys were obviously uneasy, but a quick nod from Soren made the two brothers begin to back away. Soren, however, remained stationary. His eyes were fixed on the two of them. She didn’t have to look over her shoulder to feel the human’s eyes on them.

“Soren, go.” Ashlynn directed again.

Soren, clenching his jaw and his fists just for a moment, grabbed a bowl, filled it with warm water, and carefully set it on the table as he passed. He also snagged the cloth fragments from Dorian’s cupped hands and set them down on the opposite end of the table. For just a moment, he shot a warning glance at the stranger, making her shiver visibly, before turning his back on the two Borrowers and ushering his brothers into his room.

“If you need anything, shout,” instructed Soren as he vanished around the corner with his brothers. And if you get hurt, I swear she’ll regret it, Soren thought silently.

Nearly five minutes passed before Ashlynn felt the stranger’s body relax in her grip, which was still firm around her arm. The thought of letting go was daunting, but Ashlynn knew she couldn’t earn trust by restraining the new Borrower. Ensuring she had her attention, Ashlynn gave a little tug and squared her shoulders.

“When I let go, you’re going to stay calm. Got it? Don’t reach for your weapons. Don’t charge off of the table. You play nice and I’ll play nice.” Ashlynn made sure understanding was in her eyes before slowly releasing her arm. Immediately, Ashlynn took a few large steps backward and snagged the thumb tack off of the ground. The stranger’s chest heaved, but she didn’t move. Instead, her eyes flicked to the corner where the brothers had disappeared.

“Don’t worry. They’ll stay away unless I call them back,” reassured Ashlynn. She dared to turn her back to the stranger as she collected the other weapons and pushed them as far away as possible. Turning back, she asked, “Now, do you want help? Or do you think you can help yourself?”

The stranger glared at Ashlynn as her eyes flicked from the bowl of still steaming water to the bandages Ashlynn stood beside. She winced as she forced herself to her feet and staggered over to the bowl of water, eyes wide at the vastness of the bowl. Slowly, the Borrower pulled off a few more layers and examined her blood stained shirt. She pealed it back, obviously evaluating whatever wound was underneath, before dipping her hands into the water to wash them.

Now scrubbed, she began washing the drying blood from her forehead, getting nowhere fast. Ashlynn took the moment to grab the towel fragments from the edge of the table and, cautiously, brought them closer and closer. Like a frightened animal, every little motion made the newcomer twitch. The offering of perfectly sized towel fragments did nothing to ease the stranger’s apprehension. All while she scrubbed, she shot warning glances at Ashlynn to stay away.

Hurt lingered in her eyes.

Minutes passed.

Finally, after half an hour of silence and Ashlynn quietly bringing supply after supply within reaching distance, the stranger spoke.

“Why are you here?” Her voice was gruff and low. She was trying to keep her voice from being heard by Soren and his brothers. Ashlynn had to think about the question for a moment. Here could mean a lot of things. Here as in helping her? Or here as in here in the human world?

“I’m not sure what you m-”

“How long have you been their pet?” asked the Borrower. Ashlynn bristled at the question. Her blood boiled. She gritted her teeth and glared at the stranger. It took everything she had to not storm off right then and there.

“I am no pet. Get that through your head right now.” The words came out more threatening than Ashlynn wanted, but just the word made her stomach churn.

I’m not a pet. I’m not a pet. I’m their friend. I’m not a pet.

“Then what are you? How do you get them to listen to you?” spat the Borrower. “And what kind of deal do you have with them?”

“I’m their friend, and they’re mine. Friends listen to one another, so there’s no deal going on,” Ashlynn responded in kind. “I can come and go as I please.”

“Then I ask again – why are you here?” There was desperation in the other’s voice. It was a legitimate question, and one that deserved an answer.

“I guess… I choose to be here,” replied Ashlynn. “I was like you. Alone. Afraid. Hurt. Sick. I was found and thought it was going to be the end of me, but they patched me up and let me go.”

“Were they the ones who hurt you? Poisoned you? Made you sick?” scoffed the Borrower as she shook her head in disbelief. “Do you even know how you sound? Friends? With a human?”

Ashlynn’s heart began racing. She felt herself trembling, each statement feeling like a punch to the gut. Each question was valid, and she had to admit that some of those answers did involve the boys. Poisoned? No, but she’d eaten after them when they were sick. So, technically, they did make her sick. Her arm had been dislocated because of Dorian, so the answer was yes to that question as well.

She balled her fists and kept her chin up while suppressing these thoughts, not having a good answer to give the stranger.

“Just like I thought,” muttered the stranger. “You’re no Borrower. You’re nothing but a pet.”

“Enough!” growled Ashlynn as she met the Borrower’s gaze and glared. Her heart was pounding, and it was obvious the stranger’s words were getting to her. She didn’t care. She was going to speak her mind, regardless of the consequences. “Those boys – my friends – were the ones who found you and brought you here. You’re getting patched up by their things that they gave willingly.”

“I didn’t ask to be saved, and if you were a real Borrower then you would’ve rejected their so-called help too,” the stranger growled back. “Humans and Borrowers can’t be friends. You’re being tricked by them, but none of you are going to trick me.”

Ashlynn stared down this new Borrower, loathing every moment subjected to her presence, and simply replied, “It’s no trick, and I don’t care if you don’t believe me. When you’re patched up and resupply, you can be on your way.”

She turned away and stormed off to the supply box where she knew Soren kept crackers and tugged a few free from the package and practically threw them at the stranger’s pack. All the while, the stranger didn’t let Ashlynn out of her sight. Only once was there a flicker of surprise as she saw Ashlynn beginning to resupply her pack, but no gratitude was uttered and only skeptic distrust filled her eyes.

She’d had enough.

She marched to the edge of the table and, with all the breath in her body, called, “Soren!”

The Borrower jumped, eyeing her weapons once again, but instead crouching behind the immense bowl of water now stained brown and red from her blood and dirt. Ashlynn heard the quick thumps of Soren’s approaching feet and turned toward the Borrower.

“Remember this kindness, from one Borrower to another, and remember you can be safe here. They didn’t have to save you, and they don’t have to let you go – but they’re going to. Remember that,” Ashlynn said quietly. In an instant, Soren had whipped around the corner, a hint of fear in his eyes as he assessed the scene. Seeing Ashlynn standing there, perfectly safe, his body visibly relaxed as he turned to Ashlynn for direction.

“Everything okay?” he breathed. Ashlynn wasn’t sure how to answer that question. In a word, she felt raw. Emotions swirled like a whirlpool in her heart and mind. She didn’t think the stranger’s words would hurt her so much, but the constriction in her throat that strangled her voice told her otherwise.

Ashlynn nodded instead and stepped up to the edge of the table, gesturing for Soren to approach. She hoped his mind reading would pick up on everything she was feeling and keep her from breaking in front of the one who had hurt her. As reliable as the sun’s rising and falling, Soren did just that. He stepped up and rested his hand on the table, letting her step on wordlessly, and steadied her as he carried her out of the room.

He walked past his bedroom where Ashlynn glimpsed the eager faces of the two young boys she’d come to care for like her own brother and into the bathroom where he quickly flicked on the light, shut the door, and set her down onto the bathroom sink, though she didn’t move a muscle. She stayed crouched there in Soren’s hand as the stranger’s words repeated over and over in her head, head dipped as she closed her eyes.

Humans and Borrowers can’t be friends. You’re being tricked by them, but none of you are going to trick me.

Do you even know how you sound? Friends? With a human?

You’re no Borrower. You’re nothing but a pet.

Pet.

Pet.

Pet.

You’re no Borrower.

She felt Soren’s fingertips press against her back, and she couldn’t bring herself to pull away from such a tender touch. It didn’t quiet the echoing words, but it pulled her other senses to the present. At least, enough to hear Soren.

“Ashlynn, you’re shaking all over. Please, what happened?” The gentle urge in Soren’s voice was saturated with concern. It was heart crushing. There was so much care in his voice. Such tenderness.

Ashlynn dared to open her eyes only to be met with blurred vision. Her eyes continued to sting as she tried blinking, realizing only when reaching up that tears were the reason she couldn’t focus her gaze. She tried wiping them away, but it was no use. Suddenly, with no say or control, a sob erupted out of her. The Borrower’s heart hammered relentlessly. Everything felt warm, making her want to crawl away into the shadows.

But she didn’t.

Instead, some impulse overtook her as she laid down in Soren’s hand and curled into a ball. Eyes averted, Ashlynn dared not look at him now. It was too embarrassing. It was too personal. How could she even begin to describe what she was going through?

To be accused of not being what she was, and the sense that the accusation was right, was crushing. It called everything good that had been going on for the past few months into question.

Is she right? Am I really not a Borrower anymore? I’m not a human, and I don’t remember the last time I really had to “borrow” anything. I… have I really changed so much? Am I really so different now? What’s… next? What do I do?

Please…

Please…

Someone… help me.

I don’t know anymore!

“Ashlynn, please.” Soren’s touch suddenly ceased, the pressure against her back easing until it was gone. “Is… it me? Is it that stranger out there? If she did something to you, I c-.” Ashlynn shook her head, which silenced her human counterpart. The two of them stayed in silence for a minute more as Ashlynn’s breathing began to calm.

I need to calm down. I can’t think clearly if I have a headache from crying like a weakling. Ashlynn pushed herself upright and wiped her eyes on the inside of her shirt. As if on cue, Soren offered just a fragment of tissue he’d pinched, which Ashlynn took gratefully. She stayed curled up, knees to her chest, but at least now she was upright.

Words were never Ashlynn’s strong suit, but something about talking to Soren always felt natural. She relied on that as she wiped her eyes once more.

“She didn’t really… do… anything. It’s not her fault. I… I heard some things from her that are messing with me. That’s all,” stated Ashlynn quietly. She glanced up into Soren’s golden hazel eyes, warmth spreading back through her shivering limbs.

“What kind of things? Is she in danger? Are you?”

“No… no. Nothing like that.” Ashlynn felt her chest clench as she summoned the words. “She… basically said that I’ve gone soft. That I’m not a… well… what I am.” The tension, like tendrils fastening themselves to her and consuming bits and pieces of her insides, now crawled up her throat and ensnared her vocal cords. More tears slid down Ashlynn’s cheeks. “S-she…”

Curses! Get it out!

“Sh-sh-she c-called me a p-pet.”

Ashlynn couldn’t stop the second round of sobs racking her body. She buried her face into her folded arms which rested on top of her knees and let herself shake. The reassuring pressure of Soren’s fingertips returned, spreading warmth as they did. He didn’t need to think hard about it to know this was an extreme insult and a very hurtful statement, like a derogatory word meant to wound.

“Ashlynn, you know that’s not true, right? None of us – Dorian, Rey, me – would ever see you like that.”

“I know! I know, and I believe you, but it still hurts. And it calls everything into question.” Ashlynn’s frustration strangled her tone, making her words harsh and bitter.

“What do you mean?” asked Soren. Ashlynn frustratingly threw her arms in the air and let the words explode out of her.

“I mean everything, Soren! What am I doing out here? Do I plan on living like this for the rest of my life? What I am! There are rules and things you’re supposed to do. Don’t talk to humans. Don’t be seen. Immigrate if you think you’ve been noticed. Dozens of rules preventing exactly what is going on right now! I’ve basically been living with you guys, not around you guys. That’s not what a Borrower is supposed to do! It’s in the name! Borrow! If I’m not living in the walls and keeping to the shadows, then I’m not a real Borrower! It’s a fact!”

The flicker in Soren’s eyes matched perfectly with Ashlynn’s realization of what she just said. During her evacuation of emotion and swirling thoughts, she’d let it slip.

She told Soren what she was – a Borrower.

Her stunned silence followed by Soren obviously processing everything Ashlynn just said led to an awkward pause between them. It was the first one that had happened in a while, making Ashlynn feel like her skin was crawling. Something – anything – would be better than this.

“Has it really been so terrible? Staying with us?” asked Soren.

Well… anything except for that question. She detected his attempt at changing the subject, but the question was barely better than the rant or the silence that followed it.

“I… no… that’s not what I meant. It’s just… my life has meaning for me when I’m doing what I do best. I’m good at what I do. Being stealthy. Snagging things that won’t be missed. Surviving. I just… haven’t been doing that… for a while now,” said Ashlynn, once again drawing her legs and arms to her chest.

Soren watched Ashlynn’s crestfallen posture for a minute longer before reaching over and gently stroking her arm with his index finger. “I can’t imagine what that’s like,” he muttered. “But I do know that no one can tell you what or who you are except for you. What some stranger says doesn’t matter, Ashlynn. You know who you are.”

Soren heard a muffled, “Do I?” from Ashlynn as she buried her face in her folded arms once more. She sounded so sad. So broken. Soren wasn’t sure what he could say or do to make her feel better, but he could see that her mind was reeling with everything occurring through recent events.

Feeling absolutely sick to her stomach, Ashlynn knew nothing would come of her thoughts now. She needed to think.

She needed time.

It felt like it was taking every ounce of strength in her body to stand. Her knees felt like jelly. Those terrible tendrils of tension still had a death grip around her chest and her throat. Every breath was a struggle, especially an even one.

Soren watched Ashlynn stand and shakily step off of his hand and onto the bathroom counter. She looked exhausted, completely emotionally drained. It was a gut wrenching sight. She had been so excited for dinner earlier, and everything was going so smoothly until the stranger was brought into their home.

I guess cruelty through words exists no matter what size you are. Human or… Borrower. Soren thought about the word for a moment, barely suppressing a smile as he thought about how well that word fit Ashlynn. He snapped out of his thoughts when he saw Ashlynn look up at him, tear streaks still slightly visible on her cheeks.

“I… I think I need a little time on my own… if that’s okay,” she said.

He wanted to say no. He wanted to insist that she stay. The last thing Soren thought Ashlynn needed was to be on her own. Soren also knew Ashlynn understood her own mind and what she needed. Making decisions for her wasn’t going to solve the issue or calm down whatever thoughts were going on in her head.

With a reluctant heart, Soren nodded slowly. “Okay, but… Ashlynn… don’t do anything rash or make any decisions right now. Let yourself take some time and think about everything. And… maybe this is selfish, but I’m going to ask it anyway. If you could, run whatever you’re thinking by me? At the very least, I need to make sure I have something to tell the boys.”

Ashlynn could hear the hurt in Soren’s voice, but once again his character shone through. Even though it was obvious he didn’t want her to go, he was letting her.

Would you let a pet do that? Or is that something you do for a person? I’m not a pet. They’ve never treated me like one. It’s not a trick. It’s not a trap. I’m a person. I’m a Borrower… and… if that’s what I am… maybe I should be acting like one.

Ashlynn nodded without voicing her thoughts and headed for the electrical socket on the edge of the sink. The darkness, more daunting than before, swallowed her form as she vanished into the walls.

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue | Coming Soon

Previous

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

A Tall and Small Collection | Original Story

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Lustful Wedding

Inspired by @cakerybakery Fake Dating/Sex Pollen

-

No one goes to a wedding without a date. Not unless you're a child, someone desperate to find a hookup, or just a pathetic loser who can't get a date.

And Lucifer didn't want to be that loser. It was sad that he had no one to go with to Ozzie and Fizz's wedding but he didn't want to go alone.

But that's when he got the brainwave to ask Adam. Worst he can say is no.

Adam: A wedding?

Lucifer: Yeah, Ozzie the Sin of Lust is getting married and I was wondering if you would be my date.

Adam blinked and flushed a litte: Like a real date?

Lucifer: W-what? No, more like a fake date. Just so I'm not there alone.

Adam thought for a moment: What do I get out of this?

Lucifer brightened: As much of the wedding food as you can eat and a full 24 hours of not being in the hotel. You just have to be nice.

Adam: Sold.

That was easy, Lucifer thought he'd want more. But then again Adam had always been a simple man.

So they came up with the story of how they "got together". They would tell people, when asked that they started dating after having a romantic lunch together in Lucifer's garden.

Adam said that sounded very fucking gay and Lucifer argued that it didn't matter because it didn't happen.

The day of the wedding came, Lucifer and Adam were dressed up in nice suits. Adam could appreciate the colors of Lust, everything down here seemed amazing. And the dick ice sculpture was a nice touch in his opinion.

For being the Sin of Lust, Ozzie and Fizz's vows were beautiful, heartfelt, and full of love. With some raunchy lustful intentions thrown in of course.

At the reception, everyone was curious as to who the King of Hells new boyfriend was, so they quickly told them their story and people bought it like they do Ozzie's dildos.

Adam enjoyed all the food, he also played with some of it since a lot was dick and mouth shaped.

Adam: This is actually a great fucking wedding.

Lucifer: Yeah, I'm happy for Ozzie.

He did notice however, that some people were leaving early. Which was odd you'd think they would stay to the end.

Ozzie grabbed a microphone: Thank you all for coming to our wedding. Now comes the best and most thrilling part of a lust fueled wedding. The sex pollen induced orgy!

Adam nearly choked on his champagne: What!?

Lucifer: Oh no.....

Adam: Why didn't you tell me!?

Lucifer: I didn't know!

Sex Pollen can last for hours.

The golden powder was released into the air and floated down to all the party goers.

Adam: Run?

Lucifer: Run.

They ran for the door and tried to get out as fast as they could, only to end up getting covered in a thin layer of the pollen.

The warming feeling that crawled under their skin making them hot, blood flowed to their dicks making them in need of a release as they strained in their pants.

Adam: Fuuuuck

Lucifer frantically looked around and pulled Adam into a nearby supply closet, they weren't doing this in the damn hallway.

Overcome with lust, Adam and Lucifer locked eyes and knew what they had to do. Lucifer pulled Adam down into a kiss of tongue and teeth as they frantically ripped and shoved each other's clothes off and out of the way.

They moaned, their skin too hot and they need to feel better but kissing just wasn't enough.

Adam didn't know when he lost his pants, he didn't give a shit, his hands braced the wall as Lucifer fingered him open with his own spit.

Adam: Ahhh! Fuck! Get on with it!!

He has never been this fucking horny and needy in his entire fucking life. And to think they only got a little of that stuff on them.

Lucifer spit on his hand to slick his dick up, he needs this so fuckong badly it's going on 8 years since he's had sex.

He gripped Adam's hips firmly and plunged into him, fuck that felt a little better being in his tight warm heat. He didn't give him much time to adjust, the need to move was too great.

Adam: Ahh! Fucking fuck me!! ~

Lucifer: Shit!

He did what felt good and right, moving so fast and hard Lucifer couldn't dwell on how he was even moving like that.

Lucifer: Sooo, fucking good!!~

Adam: Ahhh!! YES!! FUCK YES!! OH FUCK!!~

Adam was screaming his throat raw but he didn't care, he needed that release, that orgasm and he was so close.

Lucifer was so close too and when they came it was a powerful one that made them weak in the knees. They sunk down to the floor together, but the need was still there and they were still hard.

So this time Adam had Lucifer lay down and he rode him like his fucking life depended on it.

Three hours and multiple orgasms later, they were finally spent and laying on the floor of the closet covered in sweat, jizz, and panting breathlessly.

Adam: Holy shit......

Lucifer: Yeah......

They didn't know how long they stayed there like that, but one thing was for certain.

They were SO raiding the buffet after this.

[thatsmygirl6612]

FEBUWHUMP DAY ONE: VOCAL CHORDS

TRIGGER WARNING: SELF HARM

@febuwhump

Leo could ignore the feeling of foreboding that hovered over his shoulder.

He could even ignore the sparks of pain that shot up his leg every time he took a step, or the throbbing of his shell.

But he couldn’t ignore the way his brothers flinched every time he talked.

He didn’t even recognise his own voice anymore.

It was as if someone had torn out his vocal cords and replaced them with someone else’s.

He couldn’t raise his voice, and if he did, he had a sore throat for days. He found that out the hard way.

He couldn’t talk too much.

He couldn’t walk too much.

He couldn’t stay awake too long.

Fuss, fuss, fuss.

He couldn’t stand it anymore.

If his injuries were the problem, then he would just have to get rid of them.

Starting with his voice.

His fingers traced the edges of the scar that trailed down his shoulder and down his plastron, skin pulling with his every move.

Was it really worth it, getting rid of his voice?

He could live without it, the hand signals he and his brothers used on their missions would suffice.

What would his brothers think?

They’d probably tell him to rest.

Or maybe… they’d like it better that way.

Yes. They would.

A small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, Leonardo raised his hand to meet the defined muscle of his neck, digging his fingers in. He barely registered the pain-

“LEO! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU-!”

He stopped, face falling. Did they not appreciate what he was doing?

“…Leo, -ease sto- Leo?” He tilted his head upwards. His brothers were gathered in a circle around him.

“Hmm?” He asked.

“Leo, let go.” Donnie said, firmly.

He looked down. Clasped around his hand, which had dug through his flesh, Donnatello tugged gingerly, trying to remove his fingers from the wound. Blood flowed freely down his plastron, pooling beneath his feet.

Reluctantly, he released his grip.

Didn’t they understand that he was doing this for them?

“Leo…” Mikey breathed, his eyes fixated on the glistening red liquid dripping of his brother’s fingers onto the floor. “…Why?”

Leo tilted his head. “Hm?” He asked again.

“…Why are you doing this?” Mikey trembled.

Leonardo stared at him, startled by the question.

“I-I-” He stuttered. “I thought- I thought you’d like it better this way…?”

Raphael’s eyes were swimming with tears, a rare occurrence. A tear slid down his cheek.

“Leo… you’re fine the way you are.”

This was way too fun to write, and it took me way too long. I changed the context like three times before I actually finished writing it😅

And I have no idea where the sh came from, it just appeared.

Hope y’all enjoy

[distant-velleity]

guess who made another ridiculously long comic about yuhua aw yeahhhhh. i never get tired of tormenting him. but this time it involves.... my yumeship ⁉⁉⁉

~

(11 pages, read each one from left -> right)

~

taglist:

@thehollowwriter @theleechyskrunkly @elenauaurs @casp1an-sea @nahelenia

@skriblee-ksk @boopshoops @scint1llat3 @nyx-of-night @nemisisnemi

@beneathsakurashade @sillyslipperybananapeel @kathxrat-01 @lumdays @twistedwonderlandshenanigans

[sysig]

Destined to lose an eye in every timeline (Patreon)

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