#this line: 'He’s so careful with you and the things you care for— gentle and gracious.' i love bc i think would also be so true abt him 🥹

[m0nsterzl0ve]

(wip) virgin!gojo x reader a/n: its 5am whoops also errrm 0 note post but idk i felt like posting this. also i've.. never written smut in my life so ummm sowry if u died of cringe and sneakpeak if anyone cares 🥹 i prob wont ever post the entire thing tho RIP to all the one-shots in my drafts

✰🌺✰ You clenched around the length inside you, sucking him in. "Please..." you begged. "I need you all the way in, baby."

You arched into him, sliding your arms out from the near bear hug he had you in. You stretched your arms around his back, embracing him tightly. Hiking your knees further onto the bed, you slammed your hips down as your gooey walls engulfed the rest of his girthy length.

His breath hitched, and he found himself choking out a warning, "Fuuuck baby I think I'm cumming–"

Gripping onto your hip and upper back, he yanked you off of him, spurting hot white ropes of cum up onto the mushy lips of your pussy. He came with a loud, pornographic moan in your ear. He panted, "Shit, sorry, m'sorry–"

You blinked in shock as you felt the hot, gooey substance paint your labia. You looked down at the mess he made, then let out a quiet, surprised gasp.

You looked back up at his face, cerulean eyes wide and face red with embarrassment. You smiled. "Shh, it's okay baby," you said in a cooing tone.

He flinched at the pet name, just now registering it. He blushed, averting your gaze.

You slowly moved your hands to his chest, gently pushing yourself off of him. "Let's try a slightly different position."

Seeing his look of confusion, you elaborated on what you meant. "Just scoot up my bed and sit up on my pillows 'n stuff."

He eagerly followed your directions, looking back up at you for approval. His cheeks were still flushed red, having spread to his ears and the tip of his nose. His cock had stood up again, impatient to feel your clingy walls around him.

You crawled over to him slowly with predatory eyes, getting onto your knees as you straddled him, hovering over his round, strawberry tip.

Your breasts were pushed up against his toned chest, and you looked up at him through your lashes, eyes half-lidded with lust.

He was layed back on your bed, staring at you in awe. "You're so beautiful," he gasped.

You smiled, feeling a gentle warmth come up to your cheeks. You cupped his cheek, reaching the other down to one of wrists, sliding it up to rest on your hip. You slightly pushed yourself up, holding onto him by his shoulders.

He felt his cock harden even more, gulping as he hesitantly moved his other hand to line himself up with your hole, only sparing glances down to see what he was doing.

You looked between your breasts and down at where Satoru's tip and your sopping entrance met, slowly sinking your hips down onto him.

He gulped and felt his breath hitch again, sliding his hand back to rest on your hip, tightening his grip.

"Shit," he muttered breathlessly as your warm, rippled walls tightened around him. He bucked his hips into yours, unintentionally bottoming out, earning a yelp of surprise that escaped your lips. "Sorry- m'sorry-"

"No, it's okay—fuck—you're so big, baby."

He still hadn't gotten used to the name, bashfully staring down at your cleavage, the view only making him blush harder. He briefly wondered again, 'Is this really happening?'

[littlelamy]

Another of cowboy rafe and shy reader first time together smut plss is soo good

lamy's note: let me know if the dialogue is cringey. i tried to make it more cowboyish but...

your heart pounded against your ribcage as you sat perched on the edge of a hay bale, fidgeting with the hem of your skirt, your nerves frayed and humming with anticipation.

rafe leaned against the wooden post of the barn, his hat pulled low over his eyes, his silhouette rugged and imposing against the fading light. he watched you, a small, crooked smile tugging at the corner of his lips, his eyes glinting with something you couldn't quite name—something that made your breath catch in your throat and your thighs press together instinctively.

"you nervous, darlin'?" his voice was low, drawling, the rich timbre of it sending a shiver down your spine.

you swallowed hard, your fingers twisting in the fabric of your skirt as you looked up at him through your lashes. "i'm not... used to this, rafe," you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

he pushed off the post, his boots crunching against the dry earth as he crossed the short distance between you. every step he took seemed to pulse in time with your heartbeat, the slow, deliberate way he moved making the tension between you coil tighter, hotter. when he reached you, he knelt down, his calloused hands gently wrapping around your wrists, stilling your fidgeting fingers.

"ain't nothin' to be afraid of," he murmured, his gaze locking onto yours, intense and unyielding. "we'll take it slow, sugar. ain't in no rush." his thumbs brushed soothingly over your skin, his touch a balm to your frayed nerves.

you nodded, the heat in your cheeks rising as you tried to steady your breathing. the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing in the world that mattered—made your heart swell, your body thrumming with a heady mixture of anxiety and desire.

"c'mere," he said, his voice softening as he pulled you to your feet. his hands rested on your waist, guiding you toward him as he took a step back into the shadowed barn, the golden light of the setting sun casting long, languid shadows across the straw-strewn floor.

your pulse quickened as he led you deeper into the barn, the cool, earthy scent of hay and leather mingling with the faint musk of his cologne. his hat was tossed aside, revealing his tousled golden hair, his sharp features softened by the flickering lantern light. you couldn't tear your eyes away from him, the way his shirt clung to the hard lines of his chest, the way his fingers tightened on your hips as he drew you closer.

"you're beautiful, y'know that?" he whispered, his voice rough with want as he leaned down, his lips ghosting over the curve of your jaw. "been thinkin' 'bout this... 'bout you... for so damn long."

you felt the heat bloom in your chest, your skin tingling beneath his touch as his lips finally met yours, gentle at first, a slow, teasing caress that left you breathless. his hands roamed your body, sliding up your sides, tracing the curve of your waist, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your blouse to brush against the bare skin of your back.

"rafe..." your voice was a shaky whisper against his mouth, your fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt as you clung to him, the solid, warm presence of his body grounding you, soothing the nervous flutter of your heart.

"shh, darlin'," he murmured, his lips trailing down the column of your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your skin, each one sending a spark of heat straight to your core. "let me take care of you."

his hands worked the buttons of your blouse with practiced ease, peeling the fabric from your shoulders, letting it fall to the hay-strewn floor. you shivered under his gaze, his eyes dark and hungry as they roamed over your exposed skin, taking in every curve, every freckle, every inch of you like you were a vision carved from the stars themselves.

"goddamn," he breathed, his hands finding your waist again, pulling you flush against him. you could feel the hard press of him against your stomach, the roughness of his jeans a stark contrast to the softness of your skin. "been wantin' to feel you like this... taste you..."

he dropped to his knees, his hands sliding down your thighs, fingers curling under the hem of your skirt, pushing it up slowly, reverently, until it pooled around your hips. his breath was hot against your skin, his mouth trailing kisses along the inside of your thigh, each one making your knees weaken, your breath hitch in your throat.

"please," you whispered, your voice trembling, a desperate plea for more, for him, for everything.

rafe looked up at you, his eyes blazing with something primal, something possessive. "you gotta tell me what you need, sweetheart," he rasped, his fingers teasing the edges of your panties, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin just above. "wanna hear you say it."

"i need you," you gasped, your hands gripping his shoulders for support as his mouth worked its way higher, closer to where you were aching for him. "please, rafe... i need you."

he groaned, the sound vibrating against your skin as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, dragging them down your legs, leaving you bare before him. he pressed a lingering kiss to your hip before rising to his feet, his hands sliding up your sides, pulling you back into his arms.

"gonna give you everything, darlin'," he promised, his voice a husky whisper against your ear as he backed you up against the wall of the barn, his body pressing into yours, pinning you in place. "just tell me if it gets too much."

you nodded, your fingers clutching at his shirt as he kissed you again, deeper this time, his tongue sliding against yours, the taste of him intoxicating, overwhelming. his hands found the back of your thighs, lifting you easily, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed you harder into the wall.

the feel of him, hot and hard against you, made your head spin, your body arching into his, seeking more, desperate for the release only he could give you.

"i've got you," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear as he rocked his hips against yours, the friction setting your nerves on fire. "let me make you feel good, sugar."

and with that, he claimed you fully, his body moving with yours in a rhythm as old as time, each thrust sending you higher, closer to the edge, the world fading into a haze of pleasure and heat. the stars above bore witness as you cried out his name, your body trembling in his arms, your heart racing as you fell apart together, lost in the wild, passion of the night.

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl

[moomuzan]

₊˚⊹ ᰔ Add Up My Love

or ( hyper- ) specific romance imagines with dazai, chuuya, ranpo, akutagawa, fyodor

You had never seen Dazai so quiet. The late evening light painted the room in shades of amber, casting a golden halo around him as he sat at his desk, pen gliding smoothly over paper. His expression was unguarded, almost vulnerable, lips moving faintly as though he were whispering the words he was writing to the empty air. There was a stillness to him, an absence of his usual dramatics, that made you pause in the doorway, hesitant to disturb the rare peace. But curiosity, that insistent pull, eventually dragged you closer. “Dazai?” you called softly.

His hand stilled mid-word, shoulders stiffening as if caught in a secret. Slowly, he turned to face you, his usual grin making an appearance, but it lacked its usual spark. “Ah, bella,” he drawled lightly, “what impeccable timing. Caught me in the middle of my dull, bureaucratic duties.” But your eyes had already fallen to the letter on the desk, its ink still glistening, the words “To my dearest, whenever you find this,” staring back at you. As your chest tightened, and realization dawned, you reached for the paper. Surprisingly, he didn’t stop you, only sighed, and leaned back in his chair. “Just leaving something behind,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “For you. In case there’s ever a day I can’t say these things myself.”

dt siyun xo

Chuuya’s boots echoed through the hallway as he entered your apartment, his gaze immediately snapping to you, barely standing on your own. As you swayed slightly, the wine still clouding your mind, his expression darkened. “You’re a mess,” he grumbled, his voice sharp but laced with something that wasn’t quite anger. Without waiting for you to respond, he was already at your side, his hand steadying your waist with surprising firmness, his other arm around your shoulders, guiding you toward the bathroom. “C’mon, you’re not going to bed like this.”

You mumbled something incoherent, but he paid it no mind, already pulling a chair out in front of the mirror and gently sitting you down. His movements were surprisingly tender as he grabbed the makeup remover. There was no hurry in his hands as he carefully pressed the cotton pad to your skin, wiping away the smeared mascara with an attention to detail that caught you off guard. His eyes, though gruff, softened as they traced your face, erasing the evidence of your night out. “Can’t believe you let yourself get this bad,” he murmured, though there was no real bite behind the words. When Chuuya moved to your hair, his fingers slid through your tangles, gentle but insistent, working through each knot with a patience that felt almost reverent. “Don’t move.” With a touch softer than you had ever expected from him, he brushed your hair with careful strokes. “I’m staying with you until you have sobered up.”

Akutagawa lingered at the edge of the room, watching you with a quiet intensity. The dim glow of the streetlights outside bathed your form in a soft halo, your chest rising and falling in a gentle, almost hypnotic rhythm. Replaced by an unfamiliar stillness as he observed the delicate vulnerability you wore in your sleep, the cold edges of his usual demeanor melted away. Every line of tension in his body seemed to ease, and for a fleeting moment, the weight of the world felt distant. His eyes, usually sharp and calculating, softened as they traced the curve of your face, the way your hair fell carelessly around you. He found himself held captive by the simplicity of the moment, as if your presence alone grounded him.

You shifted in your sleep, muttering something barely audible, and Akutagawa froze. The sound of your voice, though muffled by sleep, stirred something deep inside him—a pull he couldn’t resist. His heart thudded a little louder, and before he could stop himself, a quiet, gruff sound slipped from his lips. “Tch, idiot,” he murmured, his tone betraying an uncharacteristic tenderness. He quickly turned away, a faint flush rising to his cheeks, his pulse quickening in a way that both startled and unsettled him. Gripping the doorframe to steady himself, as if the weight of this strange emotion might overwhelm him, he retreated into the shadows while his mind raced with feelings tangled into something more profound than he’d ever expected.

Dim lights of the room flickered as soft piano notes drifted through the air, barely audible, as if the music itself were hesitant to interrupt the silence between you. Fyodor stood before you, his presence commanding, even in the stillness. His hands hovered near your waist, their tension palpable, a silent request for you to take control. There was no impatience in his gaze, only a quiet insistence, a rare vulnerability from the man who always held everything so tightly. His eyes, dark and unreadable, bore into yours, waiting—no words, just a soft, unspoken command that he would follow you, if only you dared. A test? Yeah, definitely.

As you took the first step, his hand settled against your back, fingers brushing against the fabric of your clothes with surprising tenderness. The faintest tremor of control still lingered in his touch, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he let you lead with quiet confidence, as if testing the limits of his restraint. The stillness between your movements was thrilling, charged with an electricity neither of you dared to acknowledge. Steady yet barely noticeable, his breath became the only sound that mattered to you as you swayed together, the dance becoming something far more intimate, a shared language only the two of you understood. Although the tension in his body was almost imperceptible,you felt it—his willingness to surrender, if only for this moment.

The quiet morning wrapping you in a serene haze, you woke up slowly, but it was the weight of Ranpo’s arm around you that pulled you fully from sleep. Though, the moment he felt your gentle movements under his touch, he instinctively drew you closer, his form curling tighter against yours as though the intimacy was a need he couldn’t deny. Completely unaware of how tightly he was holding you, his lips buried in the crook of your neck, his breath warm and steady. He was deep in sleep, yet his grip continued to tighten, as though afraid of losing the radiating warmth of your presence. His legs were tangled with yours, and his hand rested possessively but gently on your waist, each little movement of his body a subconscious plea to stay as close as possible.

You couldn’t help but smile at the way he clung to you, his face peaceful and unaware of the vulnerability he was showing. It was a side of him you rarely saw—the brilliant, always composed detective reduced to nothing more than a boy seeking comfort in the quiet security of your arms. Even if he didn’t realize it, his soft sighs and the faint tugging at your shirt as he shifted closer made your heart swell. Before giving it much thought, you gently brushed his hair back, savoring the stillness, content to let him rest. For now, you simply stayed still, lost in the intimacy of that moment—where Ranpo, so often the one with all the answers, was nothing more than a quietly clinging soul seeking warmth.

dt dorothea

a/n: oh alright, need me a chuuya to brush my hair. can yall see the vision? it’s a physical need atp.

xoxo

[zhelin-thames]

Death’s Gentle Touch

@demonic0angel thank you for letting me write this.

Ps. This is not a dead silent ship but a dead on main ship. I am way too much of a dead tired, dead on main and dead serious fan🫣, so..... Srry😇

Danny hadn’t planned on staying in Gotham for long. The city was overwhelming, a swirling mess of emotions, crime, and shadows that never seemed to sleep. But something about it called to him—a faint pull in the back of his mind, like the restless murmur of ghosts who hadn’t yet crossed his path.

And then he started noticing them.

The kids.

Each one had a presence that whispered of death’s touch. Not full-on ghostly, but close. Too close. It tugged at Danny’s core, a strange mix of familiarity and concern. The first was a quiet boy, barely seven, with hollow eyes and a haunted expression. Danny found him huddled in the shadows of Crime Alley, shivering and alone.

It wasn’t even a conscious decision. He couldn’t leave the kid there.

And so, the warehouse became home.

The old building wasn’t much to look at from the outside, but Danny had poured what little ecto-energy he could spare into reinforcing it, patching up leaks, and making it livable. Inside, it was surprisingly cozy. Rugs covered the cold floor, mismatched furniture filled the space, and shelves lined with books and trinkets added a sense of warmth.

Within weeks, Danny’s little family had grown.

Five kids now called the warehouse home, each one with a story that left Danny seething with quiet rage. Abusive parents, neglectful guardians, and the harsh streets of Gotham had taken their toll on each of them. Danny couldn’t fix the past, but he could offer them something better: safety, warmth, and the promise that they’d never be alone again.

One of the kids, Sam, was from one of Gotham’s elite families. He’d run away after his parents’ cruelty pushed him too far. When Danny had found him, Sam had been too weak to argue.

It was Cassandra Cain who stumbled upon them.

She’d been tracking a lead on a missing child—the wealthy parents had finally reported Sam missing after weeks, though their concern had seemed more for appearances than genuine worry. Her trail led her to the refurbished warehouse.

Cass slipped inside silently, her every movement a shadow. What she saw stopped her in her tracks.

Danny was sitting cross-legged on the floor, a tattered storybook in his hands. The five kids were gathered around him, leaning against him or huddled close, their faces rapt with attention. Danny’s voice was soft, animated, bringing the story to life.

“...and the brave knight faced the dragon, not with a sword, but with kindness.” Danny smiled, looking down at the youngest child, a girl clutching his arm. “Because sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is try to understand someone else.”

Cass didn’t move for a moment.

The scene was so achingly peaceful, so pure, that it seemed impossible in a city like Gotham. She could feel the protective energy radiating from Danny, the way the kids seemed to trust him implicitly. It wasn’t just a man taking care of children. He was their anchor, their safe harbor.

Still, she stepped forward.

Danny looked up, his glowing green eyes meeting hers. For a second, Cass tensed, ready for a fight. But Danny’s expression softened, and he raised a hand in a calming gesture.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “You must be one of the Bats.”

Cass tilted her head, curious but cautious. “Who... are you?”

“I’m Danny,” he replied simply, closing the book. “And these are my kids.”

Her gaze flickered to the children. Sam had tensed at her presence, but Danny placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“They’re safe here,” Danny continued, his voice calm but firm. “I promise. I know you’re probably here for him.” He nodded toward Sam. “But he ran for a reason. And I’m not about to let anyone hurt him again.”

Cass reported back to Bruce and the others. The revelation sparked an intense debate in the Batcave.

“He’s just a kid himself!” Damian snapped, glaring at the screen showing Danny’s image. “What gives him the right to take in strays like this?”

“Pot, meet kettle,” Tim muttered, earning a scowl from Damian.

Bruce, arms crossed, studied the footage Cass had captured. Danny’s protective aura was undeniable, as was the bond he’d formed with the children. “We need to know more about him,” Bruce said. “His intentions, his background, his... abilities.”

Jason leaned against the wall, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re just mad someone’s beating you at the whole ‘adopting strays’ thing, B.”

Alfred cleared his throat. “Master Jason, perhaps we should focus on how best to ensure the children’s well-being.”

When the Bats finally confronted Danny in the warehouse, they were met with calm defiance. Danny stood his ground, the kids huddled behind him.

“I get it,” he said, arms crossed. “You’re the big, bad vigilantes of Gotham. But these kids? They’re not just cases or numbers. They’re people. And they deserve better than what the system gave them.”

Bruce stepped forward. “We’re not here to take them from you. But this isn’t sustainable. You’re their age. How do you plan to provide for them long-term?”

Danny hesitated, then sighed. “I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

Jason, watching the exchange, stepped closer. “What’s your deal, Danny? You’re not just some random guy.”

Danny met his gaze, his glowing eyes narrowing slightly. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Jason smirked. “Try me.”

The Bats weren’t ones to leave mysteries unsolved, and Danny wasn’t about to spill his life story to a group of masked vigilantes without some trust first. It took weeks of cautious interactions and reluctant cooperation for things to come to light.

It was Jason who finally got Danny to open up.

One night, after dropping off a bag of supplies Bruce had insisted the kids needed, Jason stayed behind. He found Danny on the roof of the warehouse, leaning against the railing as he stared at the Gotham skyline. The night air was crisp, carrying the distant hum of the city.

“So,” Jason began, hopping onto the ledge beside him. “You’re not just some ordinary kid with a big heart. What’s your story?”

Danny let out a long sigh. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

For a moment, Danny said nothing. Then he raised his hand, letting a soft green glow surround it. “You ever hear of Amity Park?”

Jason frowned. “The town with all those ghost rumors? Thought it was a bunch of tabloid nonsense.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not,” Danny said, his voice quieter now. “I grew up there. My parents were... ghost hunters. They built a portal to another dimension—the Infinite Realms. Something went wrong, and I ended up... connected to it. Half-ghost, half-human.”

Jason blinked, his eyes narrowing as he processed the information. “Half-ghost? Like, you died?”

“Sort of.” Danny’s tone was light, but his eyes reflected the weight of the experience. “It’s complicated. I didn’t plan to stick around Gotham, but then I started noticing these kids—how close they were to death, how much they’d suffered. I couldn’t just leave them.”

Jason studied him for a moment, then nodded. “You’re a weird guy, Danny. But I get it.”

Danny smirked. “Thanks, I think.”

Each child Danny had taken in had their own struggles, their own pain that had led them to him.

Sam: The son of a wealthy Gotham family, Sam had been raised in luxury but at a terrible cost. His parents cared more about appearances than his well-being, and the pressure to be perfect had been crushing. When Danny found him, Sam had been wandering the streets, bruised and desperate for escape.

Mia: A street-smart girl with a sharp tongue, Mia had grown up in foster care, bouncing between homes that never cared for her. She’d survived on her own for months before Danny found her, stealing food to survive.

Leo: Barely six, Leo had been abandoned in Crime Alley. He didn’t speak much, but he clung to Danny like a lifeline.

Ella: A bright-eyed girl with an affinity for art, Ella had been living in a condemned building with her older brother, who’d died protecting her. Danny found her crying over his body, her face pale and haunted.

Max: A quiet, thoughtful boy who had a near-death experience after falling into Gotham River. His brush with death had left him sensitive to the supernatural, and he’d been drawn to Danny almost instinctively.

Danny had given them all a second chance, teaching them to trust again. The warehouse became their safe haven, a place where they could heal.

Despite their initial skepticism, the Bats couldn’t deny that Danny was doing good. Bruce offered resources to help with the kids, on the condition that Danny let them monitor the situation.

“I’m not looking to turn this into a charity case,” Danny had said. “I just want what’s best for them.”

“And that’s what we’re offering,” Bruce replied evenly. “Whether you like it or not, we’re invested now.”

Danny found himself working with the Bats more often, whether it was coordinating efforts to help other at-risk kids or teaming up with them during ghost-related incidents.

Cass became a frequent visitor, quietly helping with the children and bonding with Danny over their shared love of storytelling. Tim couldn’t resist asking questions about ghost tech and the Infinite Realms, while Damian begrudgingly admitted that Danny wasn’t as useless as he’d assumed.

Jason, however, became Danny’s closest ally. The two shared a mutual understanding, both having faced death and come back changed.

Years passed, and the warehouse evolved. The children grew, some eventually striking out on their own while others stayed close. Danny became a pillar of the community, the once-abandoned warehouse now a thriving community center.

Jason remained a constant presence in Danny’s life. Their friendship deepened, and somewhere along the way, it turned into something more.

The wedding was a quiet affair, held in the Infinite Realms. The guests were a mix of humans and ghosts, an unusual but fitting reflection of Danny and Jason’s lives.

Sam, Mia, Leo, Ella, and Max—now young adults—stood by Danny’s side, their smiles bright and proud. The Bats, dressed in uncharacteristically formal attire, watched with a mix of fondness and exasperation as Jason said his vows.

“I didn’t think I’d get a second chance at a family,” Jason said, his voice steady but soft. “But with you, Danny, I found something I didn’t even know I was looking for.”

Danny smiled, his eyes glowing faintly. “And I found a home—in Gotham, in these kids, and in you. You’re stuck with me now, Jason.”

As they exchanged rings, the Infinite Realms shimmered around them, a quiet acknowledgment of the bond they’d forged.

And as they stepped into their future together, hand in hand, they knew they’d face whatever came next—together, as a family.

Over the years, Danny and Jason’s “kids” grew into remarkable young adults, each finding their own path while staying connected to the family they had built together.

Sam: The Voice for Justice

Sam’s upbringing in Gotham’s elite circles gave him unique insight into the city’s upper class. As an adult, he used that knowledge to challenge the corruption ingrained in Gotham’s wealthy families.

By day, Sam became a successful lawyer, taking on cases for those who couldn’t afford proper representation. By night, he used his connections to help Danny and Jason uncover and dismantle illegal operations hidden behind Gotham’s polished facade.

Despite his serious demeanor, Sam never forgot the kindness Danny showed him. He often visited the community center to mentor at-risk kids, giving them the guidance he wished he’d had.

Mia: The Protector

Mia’s sharp tongue and street smarts made her a natural fighter. She trained with Cass and Damian, honing her skills until she became a formidable vigilante known as Specterblade.

Unlike most of Gotham’s protectors, Mia embraced her ghostly side. Danny taught her how to channel ectoplasmic energy, giving her an edge in combat. She patrolled the streets with a ferocity that even Damian respected, targeting human traffickers and abusers with relentless determination.

Though she worked in the shadows, Mia also took an active role at the community center, running self-defense classes for women and teens.

Leo: The Guardian of the Realms

Leo’s quiet nature hid a deep connection to the Infinite Realms. Over time, his near-death experience evolved into a unique ability to sense disturbances between dimensions.

Danny noticed this early on and trained Leo to become a Realmwalker, a protector of the delicate balance between the mortal world and the Infinite Realms. Leo embraced the role, splitting his time between Gotham and the ghostly dimension.

He became a key figure in handling supernatural threats that even the Justice League struggled with. Though he was often away, Leo remained fiercely loyal to his family, returning whenever they needed him.

Ella: The Healer

Ella’s love for art evolved into a passion for design and restoration. She studied architecture and urban planning, eventually becoming a key figure in revitalizing Gotham’s neglected neighborhoods.

Her ghostly sensitivity gave her a unique perspective on spaces and their emotional resonance, which she used to create safe, welcoming environments. The community center was her first major project, and she expanded its reach with satellite locations across the city.

Ella’s gentle spirit made her a comforting presence in the family, and she often acted as the mediator when tensions ran high.

Max: The Tech Genius

Max’s brush with death left him fascinated by technology and its potential to change lives. He became a brilliant engineer, blending ghost tech and human innovation to create devices that pushed the boundaries of possibility.

Working alongside Tim, Max developed tools to help Gotham’s vigilantes fight crime more efficiently. He also created gadgets to help people with disabilities, inspired by the struggles he witnessed during his time on the streets.

Despite their busy lives, the kids never forgot their roots. They visited the warehouse-turned-community center regularly, helping Danny and Jason with new initiatives and staying connected to the city that had once failed them.

Max was the quiet brain behind many of the family’s operations, preferring to let his work speak for itself.

Family dinners were a chaotic but cherished tradition, with everyone gathering around the table to share stories, tease each other, and reaffirm their bond.

In their own ways, each of Danny and Jason’s kids carried on their legacy of hope, proving that even in a city as dark as Gotham, second chances could bloom into something extraordinary.

I might make this a series and show each kids journey. Hope you guys liked it.

[eclipixels]

Slursagi

Yoichi Isagi x Reader

Content: 'Slursagi' trends on twitter

[1,608 words]

      The first time you found out about ‘slursagi’ was on your third date. The two of you had decided to take a walk down one of his favorite streets, a simple and peaceful activity he often enjoyed. You’d quickly learned how much he appreciated these strolls, finding relaxation in the hum of natural life around him.

      As the walk stretched on, hunger crept up on both of you, and the nearest option happened to be a small street vendor selling taiyaki. The smell of the warm, sweet treats made your stomach rumble, so you both decided to stop. While you waited in line, Isagi fumbled with his wallet, muttering something about having too many receipts stuffed into it.

      Out of nowhere, a random guy walked up behind you and grabbed your ass. You yelped, startled and horrified. Unfortunately, incidents like this weren’t unheard of in the rougher areas of town, where random creeps thought they could get away with anything.

      But before you could even process what had happened, Isagi was already moving. It was as if he had some kind of metavision. You couldn’t help but briefly wonder if he was secretly a vampire like Edward Cullen with how fast he processed it.

      Without hesitation, Isagi spun around and delivered a punch square to the guy’s face, the impact so forceful it sent the creep stumbling backward. And then he said it. Words you never thought you’d hear from the soft-spoken and polite Yoichi Isagi.

      “If you ever touch another girl again, especially my girl, I’ll cut your dick off and force-feed it down your throat, you scummy, fucking, monkey-brained filthy roach.” The sheer venom in his tone left you stunned. It was such a stark contrast to the sweet, dorky guy you knew. Isagi wasn’t just a soft-spoken boy with a love for soccer, snacks, his parents, and you. He was fiercely protective of the people he cared about.

      The creep quickly fled, muttering something unintelligible under his breath, but Isagi didn’t look away until he was sure the guy was gone. Then, turning back to you, he immediately softened, his hands reaching out to make sure you were okay.

      “Are you alright, Y/n-chan?” he asked, his voice returning to its usual gentle tone.

      You nodded, still slightly in shock but feeling a newfound appreciation for the man standing in front of you.

      That day, you learned two things about Isagi Yoichi. One: he cursed like a sailor when the situation called for it. And two: he would go to war to protect you.

      The peaceful stillness of the morning was shattered by the relentless buzzing of Isagi’s phone. It felt like the world was ending with the sheer number of notifications lighting up the screen. Ever since he’d shot to fame and made friends in Blue Lock, you’d been telling that little idiot to put his phone on “Do Not Disturb” before bed, but he never listened. To make matters worse, he was a heavy sleeper, so naturally, you were the one stuck dealing with it.

      You were currently trapped in a bear lock, his strong arms securely wrapped around you, holding you in place. To make things more inconvenient, his phone was on the opposite side of the bed, meaning you’d have to climb over him to turn it off. You wiggled in his grasp, trying to break free, but his firm biceps made it difficult.

      “Yoichi…” you mumbled groggily, your voice still heavy with sleep. No response. You tried again, wriggling harder, and after what felt like an eternity, you managed to slip out of his hold. He remained sound asleep, drooling on his pillow like the idiot he was—an idiot you couldn’t help but find adorable.

      Carefully climbing over him, you reached for his phone, ready to put an end to the constant notifications. But as your eyes landed on the screen, curiosity got the better of you. The group chat he shared with some of the Blue Lock members was blowing up. You hesitated for a moment before sneaking a peek at the messages.

      Oh. My. God.

      You quickly switched to Twitter. The entire internet was in an uproar over a clip of Isagi absolutely roasting Kaiser. The video had apparently been clipped from the background of a Facebook Live that Chris Prince was hosting to promote his water brand. In the back, Isagi had lost his patience with Kaiser’s bullshit, calling him a “Sausage-creating, Hansel-and-Gretel-watching, sauerkraut-munching, monkey” among other… colorful insults.

      Memes and jokes were everywhere. You couldn’t decide whether to laugh or scold Isagi for the potential PR disaster. Some were happy Isagi put Kaiser in his place, others found his choice of words hilarious. You snickered, flopping back onto your side of the bed, phone in hand. Then, turning toward your sleeping boyfriend, you shook him awake.

      “Huh? Wha—? Yes! I’d still love you if you were a worm!” he mumbled, scrambling awake and spouting nonsense.

      “What?” you asked, blinking at him in disbelief.

      “Oh… uh… good morning, love.” He gave you a sleepy smile, but his eyes noticed his phone in your hand, then back to your not-so-amused expression.

      “What’d I do this time?” he asked, pouting and puffing out his cheeks like a kid caught sneaking candy. You couldn’t hold back your laughter at his expression.

      “Here, look,” you said, squishing his cheeks playfully as you handed him the phone.

      He scrolled through the notifications, his face slowly turning red as he read the messages. On the field, Isagi was harsh and determined, but off the field? He was a bundle of shy awkwardness, and the contrast was always entertaining.

      “Fuck,” was all he managed to say after reading everything. He shot off a quick message to his friends before tossing the phone onto the nightstand.

      “You think anyone would believe me if I said it was a fake AI-generated video?” he asked, his tone hopeful.

      “No, baby. I don’t think so.”

      “Well at least they’re mostly just laughing. That’s good, right? No one seems mad.” he stuck his tongue out like a sad cat.

      “Yeah, because it was funny as hell,” you replied with a grin.

      “The root of all my problems is that braindead clown fucker.” Isagi rolled his eyes before trying to settle back comfortably again in bed.

      “You kiss your mother with that mouth, Isagi?” You messed with him.

      “Yeah, and I kiss my girlfriend with it too,” He leaned in, attempting to kiss you, but you pulled away, and his face twisted into a look of betrayal. He looked at you as if you had just stabbed him and stole his wallet.

      “Bruh,” he said, his voice laced with indignation.

      “I’m not kissing that filthy mouth,” you teased, shaking your head.

      “As if your language is any cleaner!” he shot back. Ugh, so sassy.

      "How do you think your parents would feel? Do you have any shame?" you teased, sighing dramatically as if you were truly scandalized. Isagi rolled his eyes at your exaggerated attempt to mock him, already accustomed to your antics. He thought girlfriends were supposed to be sweet and supportive, not relentless little trolls.

      "Good thing they have no idea how to operate the internet," he mumbled, his voice groggy. His eyes were still half-closed, and it was obvious he was debating whether to stay awake or fall back asleep. The way your fingers intertwined with his and your gentle touch playing with his hair wasn’t helping his case for staying conscious. It was too soothing.

      "Slursagi," you snickered, a soft laugh escaping as you tried not to wake him fully.

      "Mmmhnf, don’t call me that," he whined, dragging out the words in a sleepy, childlike complaint.

      "My," you said, leaning down to place a soft kiss on the corner of his lips. "Foul," you added, kissing the other corner. "Mouthed," another kiss. "Boyfriend," one more.

      By now, he was grumbling, brows furrowed in mild irritation. "Just kiss me already," he muttered, clearly unimpressed by the teasing. He wanted a real kiss, not these fleeting corner-of-the-lip ones you were so smugly doling out.

      "Make me, Slursagi," you teased, the name rolling off your tongue with a mischievous smirk.

      "I said stop calling me that, brat," he grumbled, his voice low and laced with annoyance.

      Oh? That tone caught your attention.

      "Or what?" you challenged.

      Isagi cracked one eye open to glare at you, his face a mix of sleepiness and displeasure. It was clear he wasn’t going to let you off the hook so easily this time. His expression practically screamed, keep testing me, and you’ll find out.

      You decided to back off, realizing you weren’t ready to deal with feral Isagi this early in the morning. As tempting as it was to keep teasing him, you knew you’d be the one paying the price if you pushed him too far. Nope, not today.

      Instead, you just chuckled to yourself, leaning back against the pillows as Isagi snuggled closer, clearly surrendering to sleep again. His breathing grew softer, and soon, he was fully asleep, his face buried comfortably against your shoulder.

      Meanwhile, you scrolled through Twitter, quietly laughing at all the memes people had already whipped up about him. They ranged from clever wordplay to ridiculous photoshops of Isagi. One particularly hilarious edit had Isagi wielding a soccer ball like Thor’s hammer, with the caption: 'Isagi Yoichi: Destroyer of Egos.'

      You had to stifle your laughter to avoid waking him. As chaotic as the morning had been, you couldn’t help but feel a little proud and deeply amused by the man that was your boyfriend. Your ‘slursagi’

[insidekatmind]

New life~Levi Colwill

It was a quiet morning, and the house felt calmer than usual. Every corner, every detail had a touch of familiarity that gave you comfort. The silence was only broken by the gentle sound of coffee bubbling in the cup, while the scent of freshly baked bread filled the air.

You and Levi had been married for three years, and your life together had been a journey of laughter, shared dreams, and deep love. Each day seemed like a promise of an even brighter future. And now, after so much longing, you were finally pregnant with your first child. It had only been a month, but the happiness you felt made the world seem like it was shifting beneath your feet.

Levi was at the kitchen table, a tender smile on his lips as he watched you arrange breakfast. He couldn’t stop looking at you, as if he were trying to capture every detail of your change, every little sign that the miracle was happening.

“Please, sit down, don’t overexert yourself,” he said, his voice full of concern, the lines of stress already showing on his forehead. Despite you being only a month pregnant, seeing you walk, every small movement you made, seemed to weigh heavily on his heart.

“Levi, I’m fine, really,” you replied, placing the plate on the table and smiling to reassure him.

He immediately stood up, his expression troubled. “It’s not about ‘fine.’ It’s just that I don’t want anything to happen to you. Our little one is so fragile. And you... you’re more fragile than you think, my love.”

You walked over to him, gently taking his hand, and looked him in the eyes. “I’m not fragile, Levi. I just need a little time to get used to this new reality. But you need to stop worrying every moment. Our baby and I are doing great.”

Levi sighed and looked at you for a long moment, his eyes filled with love, but also with an unspoken fear. “I know, but you are the most important thing to me. And this baby... is a gift, but also a great responsibility. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I know you’re scared, but we’ve always supported each other,” you replied softly. “And even though there’s a little life growing inside me now, it won’t change how much we love each other and how much we can face together.”

Levi lowered his gaze, as if he were searching for an answer in your eyes. Then, slowly, he smiled, a smile that spoke of gratitude but also of a slight resignation.

“Okay,” he said finally, taking a deep breath. “Just... please, listen to me when I say you need to take a break. I don’t want to see you too tired. This baby needs you, but you also need to take care of yourself.”

You hugged him, feeling the warmth of his body enveloping you. “I will, I promise.”

In the days that followed, every time you felt tired or overwhelmed, Levi was there to support you, to encourage you, to try and calm his fears. Every small step, every change in your body, became a reason for him to worry but also a reason to celebrate together this new life.

It was clear that, although you were still at the beginning of this adventure, your home was already changing. The thought of becoming parents together gave you a sense of completeness you had never felt before. And with each passing day, the bond between you, Levi, and your baby grew in a quiet but powerful way.

You were grateful for that unconditional support, for that him who loved you with a dedication that bordered on fear. It was as if every little thing you did was a step towards a future that now seemed even more promising, but also more fragile.

[m1d-45]

post-mortem

summary: war was not a gentle affair; not to the land, the civilians, the soldiers, or their captain.

word count: 1.1k

-> warnings: major spoilers for natlan aq, very very brief mention of canon-typical violence

-> gn reader (you/yours) and unspecified traveller

taglist: @samarill || @sarienic || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

harbingers were not meant to be kind. they were meant to carry out the tsaritsa’s will, and while they were allowed some level of leniency within their methods of doing so, their goal remained firm: fetch the gnosis. if they could manage that, then it was to return home in more or less one piece.

capitano was not in natlan for fun. he had a mission to complete. anything that stopped him was an obstacle to be immediately removed. anything that slowed him was to be brushed off and cut away. for hundreds of years, he had had no problem with this goal, and no problem for what would come after it.

he stationed himself just within natlan’s borders, gathering as much information on the ley lines as he could without stepping on too many toes. he had bided his time patiently, tending to his mechanical heart and the souls within, his plan ready to go as soon as the traveller arrived. carefully reviewed and edited millions of times, paperwork he no longer needed to read to remember the words of. it was the pinnacle of his years on teyvat, his will and testament to the nation he once served.

he held no reservations. he had no doubt, no fear for what was to come. il capitano did not linger.

the captain sat behind his desk, the plain wood empty and unoffensive. there was neither pen nor paper across its surface, all reports having been reviewed just as midnight struck. the only light in the cramped tent was from a lamp in the corner, the flame’s light flickering over the walls and everything held within. outside, the wind whined through the stone of tezcatepetonco range, keeping all words far from listening ears. had he wanted to, he would feel comfortable even listing out his plan to someone he trusted enough to tell it to.

that had been his plan, initially. his tent was nestled deep within the heart of the camp, and he doubted neither his soldiers’ fealty nor their ability to alert him should something go wrong. in the wilds of the land of war, he had forged a sliver of true privacy. any day now, he would receive word that the traveller had finally left fontaine, and his plan would fall into place. every possible failure and fault had long been accounted for; all that was left was to secure that his affairs would be in order after he died.

and with that, you had been called into his office, the summons delivered by an agent with a deep red mask and a voice permanently roughened by illness.

you had been hired young by the fatui, like so many others in their ranks. you were a remarkably ordinary person, in fact; at least by snezhnayan standards. you were born, you starved, you joined the cause. and because the captain made a point of caring after those put under his banner, he let you try to forget the things that happened in between. you came when called and struck when commanded, carrying the same loyalty that marked the rest of his division. you were entirely unassuming, if not for the fact that for some inexplicable reason, it was you that he had called.

there were soldiers with more experience than you. there were soldiers with a more precise control over the elements than you, with a higher kill count, with a broader stature or quicker strikes. you were perhaps not average, but assuredly not him, nor someone fit to manage every loose string.

the only thing you were, for certain, was slumped over his desk, leaning rather uncomfortably on your arm in a way that you’d certainly regret in the morning. normally, he’d never allow such disrespect—this was his tent, after all—but given that you were the one he’d chosen to step alongside him for the past few days, he supposed he could cut you some slack. regular people needed sleep, after all, and the captain was in the habit of protecting those under his banner. as a reward for trekking with him across the country and back and dealing with the combat in between, he would allow you to rest with him as your guard for one more night.

no one person could handle every consequence of the power vacuum that would be left in his stead, and he was not stupid enough to think so. he had informed both the jester and her majesty, but their business was not with inter-platoon affairs. while he may not have to worry about anyone striking when they thought the harbingers were weak, he did have to worry about who would upkeep all of his contacts, monitor the ley and those that resided within them, who would coordinate his troops while they either filtered to the other harbingers or were reassigned to whomever would take his place. it was for this reason that he had spent his tentatively “free” time developing and editing a second plan for when news of his death reached fatui ears. it sat in his pocket, a thin weight he was never meant to hold on to.

he was meant to give it to you. ordinary you, as plain as the uniform over your shoulders, tasked with filling his shoes until the storm passed. you, who he should not be fond of because captains did not have time for such childish things as favorites, and yet your name had refused to leave his mind. no, he was not forced to give command to you in particular, and neither was he made to leave it at all. but war was cruel, and a soldier without a cause was as good as a cart without wheels. he was to reduce his people’s suffering, not impart more upon others. you just happened to be better suited for the job, and he had happened to tell you more about natlan’s ley lines than anyone else. it only made sense that he kept calling on you rather than anyone else, as he could handle any combat anyway. informing you would make your transition to stand-in all the more easier, that was all. there was no place for “kindness” in his crowded heart. “kindness” implied a level of sympathy he did not show, not to any of his troops and assuredly not to you. it was not “kind” to mark you with his death.

he waited until the sun crept above the horizon to move, letting you sleep uninterrupted. you would need a much of it as you could get. he let his chair slide against the floor as he stood, letting that wake you instead of his gauntlets on your shoulders. you snapped to sitting up, but just as fast winced at the knot in your shoulder. “get moving,” he ordered, and you hurriedly apologized, thanked him, and turned to comply. as the wind swept in behind you, he watched you shiver at the sudden drop in temperature, hunching your shoulders high and walking quickly.

for just a moment, his mind briefly drew the idea of giving you his coat. he discarded the idea as soon as it came, pushing his chair back into place and following you out, running through today’s agenda.

his last wishes would be dealt with another day.

[youngprofesser]

Was thinking about this today so ofc here's a lil oneshot

In a twist of fate that Depa is mostly sure that Mace had nothing to do with, he travels with her and her battalion to their next assignment. Essentially "hitching a ride" to get himself to the mid rim before using his own fighter to return to his own legion further beyond.

It's not exactly a leisure trip, but they're still able to pull a few hours of meditation together while in hyperspace, the first time since the war started. Meditation with another Jedi is always more grounding than alone. Meditating with Mace, whose presence Depa knows as well as she knows her own name, is uniquely restful.

By the time the two hour warning rings through the wall speakers, signaling that command staff must soon return to the bridge, she's feeling the best she has in months.

Depa begins a slow series of stretches before she opens her eyes, wherein the blinking light of her comm immediately catches her attention. She reads the message and grumbles to herself. “What a nuisance.”

Mace, who has been easing himself out of his own meditation, floats an inquiry in the force.

“There was a bounty put out on me some time ago, and the hunter that took it is… persistent.” She shares. “I had hoped that the brief leave period would dissuade him, but it seems that it has not.”

Seeing the way that Mace’s brow immediately furrows back into the deep creases that their meditation had momentarily smoothed, Depa almost regrets bringing it up.

“I'll take care of it once I have the time.” She assures him.

“If it's already been “some time”, it's clear that you don't have the time.” He returns heavily, and Depa can't argue with that.

He continues. “I have a half day before I must carry on. I'll dispatch this hunter.”

This is not what Depa had meant to have happen when she brought it up, but Mace's tone makes it clear that he’s not asking. She pretends to mull it over anyway.

“I suppose it's best that way.” She concludes after a suitably long pause. “The men will certainly be pleased, this game of cat and mouse has grated on their nerves.”

Mace says nothing, but in the force he has the distinct feeling that hearing about it is grating on his nerves. With such a reaction, Depa can't help but tease him a bit more.

“I suppose I shouldn't spoil your fun either.”

That makes Mace open his eyes, frown lines deepening in his forehead and around his mouth. She knows that her poke is not too far, he’s more relaxed than usual from their meditation session. Still, he doesn't appreciate being ribbed about his battle-enjoying tendencies.

“You should know better than to encourage me for things like this.”

The softness of his tone takes Depa by surprise. Perhaps it's because this is the first time in months that they have spoken outside of professional proceedings. Or maybe it's just the contrast with the supposed reprimand in the words. Either way, it fills her heart with warmth. Her old Master, always so gentle with her.

Depa levers herself to her feet, pressing an affectionate hand to the top of his head as she passes behind where he sits on the floor. “Even the most venerable old masters must find amusement in something.”

“And that would make you, who finds amusement in everything, the most venerable of all.” Mace concludes in that deadpan sarcasm of his, beginning his own series of stretches as she reaches the door.

Depa easily lets out the chuckle that bubbles up in her chest. “Indeed.”

It's canon that Mace Windu would call especially rotten bounty hunters "Sithspawn" and I am going to use this in every fic forever. (Star Wars: Shadow of the Sith | Adam Christopher)

[jd-loves-fiction]

Hello hello :3

I'm not sure if you take platonic requests so if you get to mine and you don't, pls lmk <3

Anyway. I would like to request platonic Boothill, Sampo, Mydei (if you can't write him yet then it's okay) and the Astral Express crew (you can leave out characters if it's too much) with a reader who is a former slave like Aventurine but they escaped by force and now respond to certain gestures with violence. Think about it like a wounded animal you're trying to approach. They lash out, bite, scratch, attack, anything.

🌑hello dear welcome!! I do take platonic requests 🫡and you can request as many characters as you want just know the more there are the longer I'll take😅 also I love love this idea 👀👀

✦ 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥 ✦

Ooh he gets it

You can't exactly hurt him, given the metal body, but even if you try he won't hold it against you

The circumstances might not be the same but he undoubtedly became a different, not violent, man after what the IPC did to his planet

Plus being a galaxy ranger is a lonely existence by design

He respects your need to distance yourself from people

But I feel there's a nurturing side to Boothill he doesn't get to tap into very often

So there's a part of him that will try to comfort you? Relate to you? He doesn't know what he's doing himself but something in his heart breaks for you and pulls him towards you

One stubborn fella about helping you but quite sturdy, let's say he's the guy letting the dog bite him to get its anger out and know that he can be trusted 🥺

✦ 𝐒𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐨 ✦

Menace I love him

Sampo is a con-man salesman - he wants to know everyone's secrets so that he can exploit them for his benefit

But there's some lines even he won't cross

He's got a soft heart somewhere in there (deep in there) so you can expect that he'll go easy on you when he comes to his scheming

Plus he knows how to calculate risk, so if messing with you is highly likely to get him fucked up, he won't try you... Too much

Another man whose life wasn't exactly easy (which is why he's the way he is) and with a soft spot for people with a similarly difficult past

I think he'd find his own way of showing companionship, implying that you can talk to him about stuff if you want (tho he won't blame you for thinking he's just trying to get to your secrets) and stuff like that. He'll just be very subtle about how honest he's being

Let's say he's the guy slowly leaving treats for the dog and pretending like he doesn't care if it likes him or not (he really does, he's incredibly intrigued)

✦ 𝐌𝐲𝐝𝐞𝐢 ✦

New character so bear with me

I feel like you're very similar in this way

He's got a heart of gold under all that aggression, specially when it comes to his people

He's just bad at expressing it in a gentle way😅

His childhood was... Traumatic to say the least, violence is all he knows

Another sturdy guy, he's literally immortal and seems to enjoy a good fight so hitting him in any way might just start a sparring session💀

If he doesn't know you, he wouldn't engage, he's got better things to worry about

But if he does, you might get to see a gentleness from him no one thought him capable of

He's a patient man but he genuinely wants to see you learn to live with your trauma like him

I don't think he's done healing, mind you, but you might be able to learn something from each other about living with your demons

✦ 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐭 ✦

So much father energy LORD

The way he just immediately takes Sunday under his wing? Guiding him gently and patiently? That's a dad right there

He's deeply altruistic so he will try to help you please don't fight it😭

He's canonically one of the strongest characters so don't worry about hurting him. The fact that you even had to live through what you did, hurts him much more

Gentle but insistent, is how I'd describe him

He will not give up on you no matter what and that is a promise

When and if you decide to open up, he's a great listener

But even if you don't, he'll be there always🫡 because he genuinely just wants to see you be happy

✦ 𝐇𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐤𝐨 ✦

A fearless woman if I ever saw one

On the express she mostly keeps to herself, y'know navigating

But she undoubtedly cares deeply about the team so if you're part of it (let's say you are) you're included in that sentiment

She's not exactly... Motherly, per say, but she does care. She's just a bit... Awkward about it?

The type to do things like invite you to have coffee with her (don't drink it), or offer to teach you about navigating and stuff like that, just try to make you feel included

Not the type to outright ask about what happened but will listen if you tell her and will not judge - she doesn't see anything wrong with the way you handled things (Sunday train flashbacks)

Knows you're capable of protecting yourself, but will become somewhat protective of you

Tries to avoid setting you off as much as possible, she can hold her own no problem but she'd feel terrible if she hurt you in some way

✦ 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 𝟕𝐭𝐡 ✦

Sunshine incarnate

Might come off as overly friendly upon first meeting so if that sets you off well... she'll learn her lesson... maybe

Doesn't remember her past so if you don't wanna talk about yours it's all good with her

But if you do, she's a surprisingly good listener

Tho if you decide to be rude or aggressive to push her away, she'll definitely take it to heart, at first

She'll mope about it for a bit before her determination takes over

She wants to be your friend damnit 😡

She'll call you out for being rude but stick around regardless

She's got thicker skin than expected and she's hard to shake off (like a puppy...) if she decides she wants to be your friend, that's what she's gonna do

Plus after that first time, being rude to push her away won't work, she'll just talk right over you

In the end, she might just win you over through sheer determination 😭

✦ 𝐃𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐧𝐠 ✦

Oh he cares so much bless him

Dan Heng is extremely protective of those he's close to

If you're in the express, you're immediately included in that

Quiet comfort is his thing

Like sitting together quietly because you just need some company while he reads or even offering a game of chess as a distraction

Doesn't blame you for how you react, but if you become physically dangerous to be around he will be the first to restrain you

Just because he gets it doesn't mean he likes seeing the people around him get hurt

I feel like he's got some words of wisdom regarding how to make peace with your past

But beyond that he's good to have around because he doesn't push for answers at all

Nobody knew about his past when he came onto the express so he'd be kind of a hypocrite if he cared

It's inevitable that he becomes attached and when he does he becomes just as protective with you as with any other member of the express, regardless of your past

[cokoweee]

COKO. Dude. This latest update- Holy MONKEY FEATHERS.

Let’s begin cause there’s a LOT TO COVER HEHEHEH~

Firstly

LOOK AT THIS MAN’S EXPRESSION. Just- FRIGGIN LOOK AT IT. He’s blushing, he’s tense, he’s confused and flattered and weirded out, and happy- This man don’t know what emotions are and he just got hit by a truck full of them.

And AGAIN- KENDRA IS COMPLETELY INEBRIATED- She will most likely not even REMEMBER THIS MOMENT- Will Donnie tell her? Will this be a hilarious story that causes an argument later down the lines in their marriage?

WHO KNOWS. 🤷‍♀️ And it DOESN’T END THERE-

Not ONLY is Donnie flying through the five stages of grief like a boss level mini game- but Kendra, even in her drunken state, noticed that Donnie had that dumb makeup on him to cover up his markings for the party. And she just- gently- caresses his cheek to wipe it off.

Yeah, Donnie’s gonna die from either too much happiness or being way too flustered. Either way-

Awwwwwwwwww 💜

NEXT.

Despite being completely paralyzed in fear love, Donnie’s gaze quickly makes its way to where Big Mama and Frida are. And what does he see that gives him this horrified of an expression?

OH- SHEEEELLLLLL NO.

So, like the reasonable turtle mutant Donnie is, he gingerly picks up Kendra and leaves the party.

Also can we just study this anatomy for a second cause GUYS- as an artist myself this kind of posing and proportions is NOT EASY TO DO. So-

👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏

WELL DONE, COKO!!!!!

Ok, so after they make their way back to their room, Donnie plops Kendra into bed. We’ve seen this before- he’s never gentle, literally throwing her and it’s absolutely hilariou-

… Expectation SUBVERSION- the SWEETEST I’ve ever seen. 🥹 Donnie’s being so gentle with her what the HECK DJFUJWVXMISUDHWBSUW I adore these two- they love each other so much- caring for each other despite their qualms and history- AAAAAA ITS SO GOOOOOOD!!!

And now that Kendra is safe and away from Big Mamas prying eyes, Donnie has time to ABSOLUTELY FREAK OUT.

THIS DUDE went from feeling nothing to feeling EVERYTHING. And we get to watch and die laughing at his expense~ *WHEEEEEEZE*

This dude is totally broken HAAAA

Alright- with emotions and feelings and imagination WAY TOO HIGH, Donnie tries to distract himself.

The comedy in this chapter is just top tier~ I was at work when I read it the first time, and I broke out laughing and wheezing. (So grateful I work alone HA)

And just when Donnie thinks he’s in the clear-

*Chaos Gremlin chortling sounds* Coko, you absolute GENIUS- HAHAHAHA- I love that you simply allow the audience to imagine what Donnie saw- No one needs to outright say it, we all just know. And it’s utterly hilarious.

Donnie’s never gonna recover from that brain poof- You can just see all of his brain cells and bad boy image DISSOLVE in an instant at such a sight. 🤣 HIS HAIR EVEN CURLED UP- HIS EYES ARE BUGGING OUT- HAHAHA THIS DUDE’S brain went from dead to running a marathon in a MILLISECOND.

Alright, I think this has gotten long enough, so I’ll stop there. 😅 Amazing work, Coko!!! I am VERY excited to see what happens next!

~ Melissa

AUUUGGHHH ill never tire of these asks pointing out the little things cause yall almost always get like 80% of the lil things i slap in updates

THANKS FOR SEEING MY EFFORT IN THAT PANEL! THAT ANATOMY WAS A BITCH.

While sketching the update I may have been watching some goofy shows and movies so influence from those was high. Figuring out ways to show without showing what was going on took longer than expected but HEY! YALL GOT THE IDEA SO SWAG.

If my shoulder stops hurting I might have the next update by morning. Im gettin a lil too excited for what’s next. Already picked an emoji for the next chapter thing

[clarkeyhill]

pls could you do one where r doesn’t drink- maybe because of childhood or something else, and is worried what the boys (like the Arthurs, Chris, batch) will think, but George just supports and loves her? comfort and fluff omg 💔

Ofc!

-

Warnings: mention of drinking/alcoholism/trauma

Y/n had always lived with the weight of her childhood on her shoulders. Her father, once a loving and vibrant man, had been consumed by alcohol when she was too young to understand why. For years, she begged him to stop, cried as she cleaned up after his destructive habits, and promised herself she’d never touch a drop. That promise stuck with her into adulthood, shaping her life in ways she hadn’t always been able to explain.

When she met George, things began to change.

Their relationship grew quickly but deliberately, a steady build of trust and respect. George was kind, empathetic, and always made an effort to listen. When the conversation about boundaries arose, y/n hesitated. How could she share something so personal without sounding dramatic or broken? But George’s gentle reassurance had been her undoing. She told him everything, from the late-night arguments with her father to the times she had hidden bottles just to feel safe in her own home.

George had sat quietly, absorbing every word. And then, to her surprise, he vowed something she hadn’t expected.

“I’ll never make you feel uncomfortable,” he said. “Not about this, or anything else. Ever.”

And he kept his word.

So when George was invited for drinks with his friends—Arthur Hill, ArthurTV, and Chris—he was careful. He wanted to go, but he also knew how much the environment might bother her. Hesitant, he brought it up.

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” he said. “But if you do, I’ll be right by your side the whole time.”

To his surprise, she said yes.

It wasn’t that she wanted to drink. That part of her life was off-limits, a hard line she would never cross. But what George didn’t know was how much she secretly enjoyed taking care of him on the rare occasions he indulged. She couldn’t explain it—it was probably some deep-seated need to provide the comfort and care she wished her father had accepted. But with George, it felt different. Healing, even.

When the night arrived, y/n was nervous. What would George’s friends think of her? Would they judge her for not drinking? Would they even understand?

As it turned out, George had been right—there was no judgment.

From the moment she arrived, Arthur Hill, ArthurTV, and Chris made her feel like she belonged. They were warm and funny, full of easy banter and stories that had her laughing so hard her stomach hurt. Not once did they question her choice not to drink. In fact, Chris, with a grin on his face, had toasted her glass of water like it was champagne, making everyone laugh.

“You fit right in,” George whispered to her at one point, squeezing her hand.

She smiled, feeling a sense of peace she hadn’t known she could find in a setting like this.

As the night wore on and the drinks flowed, George began to get tipsy. It was a side of him she rarely saw—soft and sleepy, his usual sharp wit dulled by a warm haze. She helped him into his coat at the end of the evening, and when he slurred out a thank-you, she couldn’t help but smile.

“Come on, love,” she said, guiding him toward the door.

The ride home was quiet, with George’s head resting against her shoulder, his breathing slow and even. Once they were inside, she helped him to bed, brushing his hair out of his eyes before tucking the blanket around him.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” he mumbled, his words thick with sleep.

“So are you,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

As she sat beside him, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest, she realized how far she’d come. The memories of her childhood would always be with her, but they no longer held her captive. With George and his friends, she had found a new kind of family—one that embraced her completely, quirks and all.

And for the first time in years, she felt whole.

-

🫶🏻

I'm loving these requests!🥺

[sinnabarmoth]

Welcome Home

Pairing: Zayne x Fem|Reader

Prompt: Mini fic of Reader being a soft!dom with the lads. (Not necessarily sexual, just sweet 'let me take care of you' vibes.)

Word count: 1k

Links to the other lads: (Rafayel) (Xavier) (Sylus)

You heard the front door open and smiled. “Welcome home, how was work my darling?” you called to Zayne from the kitchen.

“I’m…alive.” he sighed.

“Oh dear,” you put the soup on low heat to keep it warm and went out to see him. Zayne was slumped against the front door toeing off his shoes. There were deep lines etched into his forehead, bags under his eyes, and his hair was askew from running his hands through it. “What happened? Something go wrong at work?”

“No. Nothing wrong but the amount of work being put on my plate.” he let you help him out of his overcoat. “I probably would have stayed later to get some more things done but I knew if I did that you’d come over and drag me out by the nape of my neck.”

“Damn right I would have. I haven’t spent the last couple years instilling a sense of work/life balance in you for you to backslide now.” you pulled him in for a hug. “You work so hard, you need to remember to take breaks when you need them. You’re not some machine.”

“I know,” he sighed, pressing his forehead to yours. “Which is why I came home. I know you’d force me to relax no matter what.”

“You know me so well. Now go on, get out of your work clothes and come join me for dinner. I made a very nutritious vegetable soup--”

“And you made sure to--”

“With no carrots. I know.” you rolled your eyes. “And I also bought taro ice cream for dessert.”

His eyes lit up at the mention of ice cream. “Is it possible we can have dessert first?”

“You know I’d do anything for you, Zaynie. But I spent an hour making this soup, you’re getting a bowl full of that first.” you gave his butt a little pat as you ushered him toward the bedroom.

You ladled soup into the waiting bowls on the table and sat down as Zayne reemerged looking much more comfortable. You let him complain about his day and vent his frustrations with the changes they were doing around the hospital that he didn’t think were actually necessary. Your feet bumped against his under the table, reminding him that he was home and didn’t need to worry about work any more tonight.

Slowly he started to relax and the life came back into his eyes as he ate the soup. There was your husband. You leaned across the table and took his free hand, stroking it lightly with your thumb. He looked up at you through the fringe of his hair.

“Something wrong?”

“No. I was just thinking about how all day all you do is take care of everyone else. People put you in charge of their health, the health of their friends and family, their very lives really. It’s a lot of pressure. It makes me worry sometimes that you forget to take care of yourself, let someone dote on you for a change.” you squeezed his hand. “I want to be that person for you.”

“You are that person every day.” a gentle smile grew on his face. “Every time I come home and see your smiling face I forget all my other worries. I know that you will always be there to take my coat and lift my spirits and tell me to just lay back and take it easy for the night. You have no idea how much I appreciate that, how much I appreciate you.”

“Aw Zayne!” you got up and kissed his cheek. “You really are the sweetest, my darling.”

“I’m just telling the truth. I can hardly remember a time before I had you in my life. I must have been a machine to have coped with it all.”

“You were never a machine. You just didn’t have someone to remind you to look after yourself. Sometimes people need someone to come in and remind them that they are a person too. After that, they learn to do it for themselves. Do you think the Zayne from a couple years ago would have left work on time when he knew he could get more stuff done if he stayed?”

He shook his head. “No. I would have been there till midnight, probably would have slept there too.”

“Exactly. Now look at you, you come home to me without me having to so much as send a text. I helped pull you out but you’ve been doing marvelously at keeping yourself afloat. I don’t want you to ever forget that.”

“My flower…” he gazed up at you with absolute love and adoration.

“And it looks like you finished your soup so if you still want it we can have ice cream now.” you said brightly.

“Yes, please.”

“So polite.” you ruffled his hair and grabbed the ice cream out of the freezer. You were going to scoop it out but decided to just grab two spoons and stuck them in the carton. “Since you worked so hard today and you’re being extra sweet I think we can have a straight from the carton kinda night. Have as much as you want.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” you sat yourself on the edge of the table and scooped up some ice cream with your spoon. “Want me to feed you as well?”

His face started turning red. “No--I mean, not unless you really want to.”

You chuckled and held the spoon out for him. He licked the ice cream off and once he had you bent closer and pecked his lips, chasing the lingering sweetness on them. You noticed when you started to pull away he leaned in closer, chasing your lips.

You smiled, cupping his face. “Is my doctor perhaps craving something a little sweeter than ice cream?”

He gulped, staring up at you through half lidded eyes. “I mean I wouldn’t mind…” he trailed off.

“Come now, my darling. You know better than to not finish your sentence.” you said in a quiet, coaxing voice. “What is it you want?”

“I’d like to go back to the bedroom, my flower.” he said, his spine straightening.

“Much better.” you pulled him out of his chair and quickly tossed the ice cream back in the freezer. “We can finish that later. Right now I think what my hard working husband needs is a thorough massage.”

[yaevuu]

after a long day

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

You and your husband-John Price-were getting ready to sleep after another long day. The soft rustle of fabric and the faint creak of the bedframe filled the room as you settled in beside him. John, as usual, was already under the covers, engrossed in his book. The warm glow of the bedside lamp illuminated his sharp features, the light catching on his salt-and-pepper beard and highlighting the slight furrow in his brow as he read.

Dressed in his usual plain pyjamas, he looked effortlessly handsome, though you couldn't help but smirk at the sight of his reading glasses perched on his nose. He rarely wore them, stubborn as he was, but the small font of the novel demanded it tonight.

"You know, you look ridiculously good in those glasses," you murmured, leaning back against your pillow.

John's lips curved into a small, knowing smile, though his eyes stayed on the page. "Is that so?" he replied, his deep voice laced with amusement. "Didn't think glasses were your type."

"They are when you're the one wearing them." Your gaze lingered on him, tracing the line of his jaw and the broad expanse of his chest beneath the thin fabric.

He chuckled softly, finally lowering the book to glance at you. The way his piercing eyes met yours sent a spark through your chest. "Careful, love. Talk like that, and I might not finish this chapter."

"Maybe that's the point." You shifted closer, letting your hand graze his arm. His skin was warm under your touch, and you could feel the faint tension in his muscles, a reminder of the stress he carried from the day.

John placed the book face-down on the nightstand, taking off his glasses and setting them aside with deliberate care. "You've got my attention," he said, his voice dropping an octave.

"I'd hope so," you teased, leaning in to brush your lips against his. The kiss was soft at first, but the way his hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer, told you he wasn't in the mood to keep things gentle for long.

"You've been distracting me all day," he murmured against your lips, his beard tickling your skin. "You're lucky I've got more patience than you."

You laughed softly, your fingers trailing up his chest. "Maybe I like testing your patience."

John didn't bother replying. Instead, he rolled you onto your back, his weight pressing you into the mattress as he claimed your mouth in a kiss that left no room for argument. The day's exhaustion melted away, replaced by the heat of his touch and the low growl in his throat that made your heart race.

The book and glasses were forgotten as the night stretched on, the only light in the room coming from the lamp on the nightstand- and even that didn't last long.

[aspenmissing]

Hii love~ Could I request a Jayce x reader with a depressed reader? Maybe reader is in a rut and Jayce takes them on a cute date?? Super fluffy and heart melting please!❤️

ᴀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛꜰᴇʟᴛ ᴘɪᴄᴋ-ᴍᴇ-ᴜᴘ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ-ɪꜱʜ || 1411 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴛᴀʟᴋꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴘʀᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜɪʏᴀ ʜᴜɴ! ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʀᴇᴀᴄʜᴇꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ! ɪ ᴘᴜᴛ ᴀʟʟ ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ɪɴᴛᴏ ɪᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ɪᴛ ʙʀɪɴɢꜱ ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ! (ɪ ᴅᴇꜰɪɴɪᴛᴇʟʏ ᴅɪᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄʀʏ ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ :) ) ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ

The past few weeks had been a blur of grey. Each day bled into the next, an endless cycle of heavy limbs and a mind that refused to quieten. No matter how much you tried, everything felt meaningless, and the weight of it all pressed down on your chest like an immovable stone. You couldn’t pinpoint when it started, but the suffocating haze had taken over, leaving you stuck in a fog of exhaustion and apathy.

Jayce had noticed, of course. He always did. At first, he’d tried to coax you with little things—your favourite breakfast, a surprise trinket he thought you’d like, or silly jokes that usually made you laugh. But as the days dragged on, the spark he adored in your eyes dimmed, and even his boundless energy couldn’t draw you out of the rut.

That evening, you lay curled up in bed, staring blankly at the wall as if it might offer some kind of solace. You barely registered the sound of Jayce’s footsteps as he entered the room, his presence warm and familiar. Gently, he perched on the edge of the mattress, brushing a strand of hair away from your face with a tenderness that made your throat tighten.

“Hey, love,” he murmured, his voice a low hum of concern. “I’ve got something planned for us tonight. It’s nothing big, but… I think it’ll be good for you. For us.”

You blinked up at him, your mind sluggish, unsure if you could muster the energy to do anything, let alone leave the house. But the way he looked at you—so earnest, so hopeful—coaxed a small nod from you before you could think too hard about it. The moment you agreed, Jayce’s lips curved into a relieved smile, and he leaned down to press a tender kiss to your forehead.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “Just trust me.”

He helped you into your coat and wrapped a scarf snugly around your neck, ensuring you were bundled up against the crisp evening air. Taking your hand in his, he led you out into the quiet streets of Piltover. The rhythmic click of his boots on the cobblestones was soothing, and he kept his grip on your hand firm and reassuring.

After a short walk, he stopped in front of a small greenhouse tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. Its walls glowed softly from within, illuminated by strings of warm fairy lights that peeked through the glass panes. The sight was enchanting, and despite the dull ache in your chest, you felt a flicker of curiosity stir within you.

Jayce opened the door with a flourish and gestured for you to step inside. The air was warm and fragrant, filled with the earthy scent of soil and the sweet perfume of blooming flowers. Plants of every shape and size lined the walls, their leaves glistening under the soft glow of the lights.

“I know it’s been hard,” Jayce said softly, his voice breaking through the haze. “And I know I can’t magically make things better. But I thought… maybe this could help, even if just a little.”

In the centre of the greenhouse stood a small table set for two, adorned with flickering candles and your favourite snacks. Jayce had gone out of his way to make everything perfect. He pulled out a chair for you, his eyes never leaving your face as he waited for your reaction.

“You always take care of everyone else,” he continued, reaching across the table to take your hand in his. His thumb brushed against your knuckles, grounding you. “Tonight, it’s my turn to take care of you. No pressure, no expectations. Just us.”

As the evening unfolded, Jayce filled the space with his gentle laughter and warm stories, creating a cocoon of comfort around you. He never pressed you to talk, allowing you to join the conversation at your own pace. At one point, he coaxed you into helping him arrange a bouquet from the flowers around you, claiming you were his “flower-powered co-creator” Despite yourself, you found your lips quirking into a small smile at his antics.

By the time the evening came to an end, you realised you’d smiled more in those few hours than you had in weeks. Jayce noticed too, his own face lighting up in a way that made your heart ache with gratitude.

As he walked you home, his arm wrapped protectively around your shoulders, he leaned down to murmur, “No matter how dark things get, I’m always here for you. Always.”

And for the first time in weeks, you believed him.

The walk back home was quiet but comforting. The stars hung low in the sky, and the cool night air nipped at your cheeks, but Jayce’s warmth was a steady anchor at your side. He didn’t rush you or fill the silence; he simply existed beside you, his presence as solid and grounding as the cobblestones beneath your feet.

When you reached home, Jayce opened the door and ushered you inside, the familiar scent of your shared space wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. He knelt to help you slip off your shoes, his hands gentle as he untied the laces.

“Go sit down, love,” he said softly, smiling up at you. “I’ll be right there.”

You sank into the armchair near the fireplace, the plush cushions cradling you as Jayce disappeared into the kitchen. Moments later, he returned with two steaming mugs of tea, setting them on the coffee table before crouching in front of you.

“Come on,” he said, his voice a soothing murmur. “Let’s get you more comfortable.”

You hesitated, feeling self-conscious, but Jayce’s patient smile melted your resistance. He led you to the bathroom, where he carefully helped you remove the bit of makeup you’d managed to apply earlier. His touch was featherlight, his movements deliberate and soothing as he wiped it away.

“There we go,” he murmured, dipping a soft cloth into warm water to gently dab your face. “All fresh-faced and still beautiful.”

A tiny, genuine smile tugged at your lips, and Jayce’s expression lit up as though you’d just handed him the world.

Back in the bedroom, he rummaged through the wardrobe until he found your comfiest pyjamas. “These okay?” he asked, holding them up. When you nodded, he handed them to you and stepped out to give you privacy.

When you emerged, feeling lighter in your oversized clothes, Jayce was waiting with a hairbrush in his hand. “May I?” he asked, his tone playful but soft.

You nodded again, and he gestured for you to sit on the edge of the bed. He worked the brush through your hair slowly, the repetitive motion lulling you into a state of peace. He hummed under his breath, an unrecognisable tune that seemed to seep into your bones, leaving you utterly relaxed.

“All done,” he said after a while, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Let’s get you settled.”

He guided you back to the living room, where the fireplace was already crackling softly. The orange glow filled the room, casting warm, flickering light over the cosy space. Jayce didn’t force you to sit with him; instead, he plopped down on the couch and patted the space beside him, a silent invitation.

You hesitated for a moment, but the way he looked at you—with so much love and patience—made it impossible to resist. Slowly, you joined him, and the moment you leaned into his side, he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close.

“There’s my girl,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’re safe here. Always.”

For a while, you both just sat there, the only sounds being the crackling fire and the steady rhythm of his breathing. You felt yourself sinking deeper into the comfort of his embrace, the warmth of the fire and his presence making it easier to breathe.

Eventually, you shifted slightly, curling into him more fully, and he smiled down at you, his fingers tracing soothing patterns along your arm. “I’ve got you,” he whispered, his voice filled with so much conviction it made your chest ache.

As the fire crackled and the warmth of his embrace enveloped you, the heaviness that had clung to you for weeks began to ease. Slowly, but surely, you felt the faint stirrings of hope—a glimmer of light breaking through the grey.

[luchael]

So I saw a bunch of romance videos for Fenris on YouTube and since then I wanted to actually not pick the most popular flirty option on our first visit because I felt it was too sudden and coming a bit strong for my tastes of how I arguably projected myself onto Hawke in the limits of the game’s narrative. So getting the chance to actually play myself for the first time I chose to say stuff I cared for and oh my god if Fenris didn’t just open up like the most beautiful blooming flower. So gentle and fragile. His soft smile while complimenting Hawke implied him (I play Garrett) being worthy and fearless in contrast to Danarius’s usual guests, the way he cautiously tested the waters by saying he doesn’t want to bother Hawke with his sob stories, the way he softly chuckles and that line about practicing flattery for our next visit? Did you hear what I did in his intonation there? It totally was meant as a question! That was an invitation and a plea to come back again and spend more time together! Maker’s breath if he isn’t the most precious thing in the world! He’s so lonely and starved for connection and you say Anders is the only one who jumps you after you have shown him kindness? Fenris is also a hopeless romantic, he’s just too good at keeping his veneer of calm. It felt like I was watching the most beautiful pearl oyster opening by just softly listening to the waves! But then if you touch a little bit too close to the trauma asking how young he was when the tragedy happened he shuts down immediately. Oof. I want to gently hold him in the palms of my hands and take him home to Ferelden immediately! I heard people say that his is a story of getting rid of the shackles but still binding himself by their invisible force but the soft spoken longing when asking about your home makes me wonder if his trauma could be healed in another way as well. He didn’t sound rabid or as ready to pursue his enemies to the ends of the universe. He just wanted a home, a friend and a loved one. To live a little. And that is the most poignant tragedy.

[ssa-hotchs-heart]

The confession Aaron Hotchner

Summary , The reader tells Hotch how she feels after the case was over she’s very bold in this . I love her for being bold in this , I hope you guys enjoy this one this my first post for this account on here I Spent a couple days on this with editing it an re writing it with how I liked it .

Paring fem!BAU!reader Aaron Hotchner

Category emotional romantic moments vulnerability

Content warning The story contains, emotional vulnerability , mentions of workplace hierarchy romantic tension of boundaries and intimacy Y/N is mentioned

Word count, 1.115k

Author notes Can I add he’s all I’ve been dreaming about lately ?

Please be kind this my first post of Aaron on this page

And I’m excited to share this with you but nervous

You thoughts are welcome but please be kind and please re blog if you like or enjoy.

Request are open I need ideas

The case had ended, the unsub was caught, and justice was served, but you couldn’t shake the weight still pressing on your chest. It wasn’t the gruesome details of the case that kept you awake most nights. It was him. Aaron Hotchner.

He was always in your head—his voice, his presence, the way he carried himself. You thought about him constantly, the way his hand had rested on your shoulder, the warmth that lingered long after he’d pulled away. It was more than admiration; it was longing.

You dreamed about him, vivid, aching dreams where he held you close, where his lips pressed against yours, where he whispered things that made you feel safe and wanted. And in the moments you were awake, your thoughts weren’t much better. You imagined him pulling you into his arms, tilting your chin up so your lips could meet his. You wanted him to see you—not as one of his agents, but as a woman who cared for him deeply.

The walls you had so carefully built around yourself were crumbling, piece by piece, every time he looked at you, every time he said your name in that calm, steady voice. You didn’t want to fight it anymore. You didn’t want to hide behind professionalism and rules. You wanted to let your guard down—for him.

After Spencer’s gentle push, you found yourself pacing outside one of the empty rooms in the Boston field office. You knew this moment would change everything, but you couldn’t let it go unsaid any longer. With trembling hands, you knocked on his office door.

Hotch glanced up from his paperwork. “Y/N? Is everything all right?”

“Can we talk? Privately?” you asked, your voice shaking despite your best efforts to stay composed.

He nodded, setting his pen down. “Of course.”

You led him into the empty room, closing the door softly behind you. The silence stretched, and your heart pounded in your ears as you turned to face him.

“Sir...” you began, then stopped yourself. No, this wasn’t the time for formalities. You shook your head. “Aaron.” His name felt strange and intimate on your tongue, but it felt right.

His eyebrows rose slightly, but he didn’t interrupt, waiting patiently for you to continue.

“I need to say this,” you said, your voice trembling. “I can’t get you out of my head. It’s not just admiration or respect—it’s so much more than that. I think about you all the time. The way you carry yourself, the way you care for this team. I dream about you, Aaron. I dream about you holding me, kissing me, being close to me in a way I’ve never let anyone be before.”

His expression softened, but he remained silent, letting you pour your heart out.

“I want to let my guard down for you. I’ve spent so much of my life trying to be strong, trying to prove myself, but with you, I just... I don’t want to hide anymore. I need you, Aaron. Not as my boss, but as something more. I know I’m crossing a line by saying this, but I can’t keep pretending that these feelings don’t exist.”

You took a shaky breath, the vulnerability leaving you exposed in a way that terrified you. “I don’t know what you’re thinking right now, and maybe you don’t feel the same way. But I needed you to know that when I came to you last night, it wasn’t because I just needed anyone. I needed you.”

Hotch’s jaw tightened, and his dark eyes searched yours for what felt like an eternity. Finally, he stepped closer, his presence grounding you.

“You’re brave,” he said softly, his voice steady and filled with something you couldn’t quite name. “Braver than I’ve ever given you credit for. And I’m not going to pretend I haven’t felt something, too. I’ve been trying to ignore it, to push it aside because of the job, because of the rules, but... you’re right. This isn’t something we can keep pretending doesn’t exist.”

Your breath caught, hope blooming in your chest.

“Aaron,” you whispered, his name a plead

He reached out, his hand gently brushing your cheek before settling on your face. “You mean more to me than I’ve been willing to admit, even to myself.”

Before you could stop yourself, you leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed. And when his lips finally met yours, it was everything you had dreamed of—soft, warm, and filled with unspoken emotion.

When you pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. “We’ll figure this out,” he murmured. “But I need you to know that I’m here for you, not just as your boss but as someone who cares about you more than I probably should.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but they were tears of relief, of joy. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight on your chest lifted, and you allowed yourself to hope for something more.

@hoe4hotchner