#--would say the new patches had been patched

[hargreeves-duncan]

⎯⎯ IT HAD TO BE YOU

visual is for vibes only, reader’s appearance is nondescript!

pairing: 1940s!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

summary: Bucky turns into a clutz when he realises he’s not the only one with eyes for the 107th’s new nurse

warnings: mentions of minor injuries

word count: 2.4k

a/n: an absolute cliche but i finally watched thunderbolts* and have fallen back into a marvel phase!! enjoy

The first time it happened, it was an accident.

Bucky had been stationed at his post for almost four months and he always, made sure to avoid an injury.

Of course, you might say that any sane man would but everyone in the 107th knew the nurses were a total nightmare, even if your leg was hanging off.

They’re weren’t motherly, nor sweet. Just mean, worn-out old women who’d patched up more men than they could count and didn’t have an ounce of sympathy left in them.

The boys joked that you came out of the nurse’s tent worse than you came in.

So, when Bucky took a fist to the face during a scuffle with one of the guys, he went in expecting a scolding, a rag soaked in antiseptic that burnt like hell and a half-hour long guilt trip about wasting supplies.

He was dreading it.

Until he saw you.

You couldn’t have been more than twenty-three. Fresh out of nursing school and too clean for a place like this. Hell, this was probably your first posting.

Your hands were gloved and steady, but your voice was soft and crisp like a toffee apple, as you tended to one of the men in the beds.

He was missing a good portion of his leg but you were smiling and laughing as you spoke to him like all was well.

It was shocking to see you so attentive to what Bucky knew was a pretty grim sight. The other nurses wouldn’t have been so kind about it, that was sure.

Bucky blinked.

You gave a gentle squeeze to the man’s forearm, before getting up from his side.

As you walked back to your station, your eyes met Bucky and your lips parted softly, “Oh! Hello there, I didn’t see you. Are you alright?”

Bucky had been caught staring.

He cleared his throat, laughing awkwardly as he gestured to his shining bruise around his eye, “Uh, yeah, hi, sorry, I needed some help.”

You clicked your tongue softly, walking over. You cupped his face, looking it over with a small sigh, “Nothing much we can do for a black eye, but we’ll get some ice on it.”

Then, with a gentle nudge to his arm, you added, “Come sit.”

Bucky obeyed without thinking, sinking down into the nearest cot.

He watched you move around the tent with practised precision, your apron was stained from the last guy but your sleeves were still white and clean.

Your hair was pinned up and curled, like most of the girls he knew back home, and your nails were painted a beautiful baby pink.

That was a luxury.

Which meant one of two things: either you had no one waiting back home and liked to treat yourself or you had a husband somewhere footing the bill.

You were pretty, really pretty. He hoped it wasn’t the latter.

You weren’t wearing a ring - most of the other nurses wore them on string around their necks, but you didn’t have one anywhere he could see. That was a good sign.

Just then, you returned to his side, a bundle of ice wrapped in cloth in your hands.

“Close your eyes for me,” you said softly, pressing it against his cheek.

He shut his eyes, rolling his shoulders as he tried to settle himself. He was suddenly all too aware of your eyes on him.

“How’d you do this anyhow?”

He cracked one eye open to look at you, the corner of his mouth twitching, “Would you believe me if I said I tripped over a rock?”

You raised a brow, letting out an amused snort, “I would not, no.”

Bucky chuckled, “Yeah, didn’t think so.”

He let out a breath and leaned back against the cot frame. You gently adjusted the ice on his cheek as he added, “Got into it with one of the guys. Things got… not so friendly.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, reaching for some gauze to dab at the scrape above his eyebrow, “And who started it?”

He hesitated.

“…Probably him.”

You laughed and it lit him up from the inside out. Your presence had a warmth he knew better than to depend on, and yet, he could already feel himself doing so.

“Well,” you mused, cupping his face and giving the cut one last swipe, “next time, try to keep your face out of the way, would you?”

He smirked, “Can’t make any promises, doll.”

You sat back, amused, tossing the bloody cotton pad into the bin, “Why am I not surprised?”

You reached for the ice again, then pressed it lightly to his eye. With your other hand, you took his and guided it into place, “Hold this for me…”

Your eyes flicked down to the name stitched into his uniform, “Sergeant Barnes.”

His heart did something stupid at the way you said it - a giddy grin spreading over his face before he could stop it.

“Yes, ma’am. And you?” he asked hurriedly, eyebrows raised, “I mean, do I, uh… get to know your name?”

You smiled to yourself as you scribbled something down on your clipboard, “Lieutenant Y/N L/N.”

His brows shot up, “Lieutenant?”

“It’s standard rank for nurses,” you said with a small laugh, setting the clipboard down again.

“Really?” Bucky leaned back with a whistle, “I should’ve gone into nursing.”

“Mhm,” you smiled coyly, standing up again, “Alright, Sergeant. Hang tight and let me know when you’re feeling alright to head back out.”

“I will, doll,” he promised, grinning as he settled back into the cot.

You only shook your head with a faint smile before heading off to check on your other patients.

Bucky stayed that way - nursing his injury and watching you go about your business for an hour or so. And the longer he stayed, the more smitten he became.

He’d known you not even a day and he could already see what a sweet soul you were.

And when he finally stepped out of the nurse’s tent later that evening, it was clear he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed.

Camp was buzzing. Word had spread fast of a new nurse on base, kind and pretty in a way that none of the 107th’s soldiers had seen in a long time.

A strangely possessive shiver ran down Bucky’s spine.

He’d have to do something about that chatter.

Sooner, rather than later.

The next morning had started out quiet.

There were drills, same as always but something quickly caught Bucky’s attention.

Injuries. A lot of them. And they were springing up out of nowhere.

They were running laps when Miller suddenly rolled his ankle.

During push-ups, Jones, who was notorious for doing a hundred without breaking a sweat, collapsed face-first into the dirt and split his chin.

By lunch, it was Simmons’ turn.

In the middle of the dining hall, he tripped over a bench with Oscar-worthy theatrics, clutching his arm like it had been torn clean from the socket.

“Doc!” he shouted, gritting his teeth like he was about to lose the limb, “I think I’ve broken it… it’s real bad.”

Bucky looked up from his seat on a crate, narrowing his eyes.

Simmons was a lot of things: loud, clumsy, a bit of a show-off and, it turned out, a terrible actor. He hadn’t started clutching his arm until he’d spotted someone watching from the medical tent.

You.

Nonetheless, you emerged from the flap a moment later, brows furrowed with concern.

“Alright, Sergeant,” you gushed, hurrying over to meet Simmons halfway, “That looks pretty painful, let’s get you looked at. Come on.”

Bucky watched as the guy practically melted under your touch, slinging himself over your front with dramatic flair.

You didn’t flinch, just steadied him and nodded along as he rattled off a long, unruly list of symptoms that weren’t even half-true.

Bucky’s jaw tightened.

“You alright there, Buck?” Steve asked, catching his scowl, “You’re crushing that spoon.”

Bucky looked down. The handle was bent right in half between his fingers.

“Damn,” Bucky muttered, tossing it aside. Those things were useless, made of tin anyways.

Steve raised a brow, following his line of sight. Then, slowly, a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Oh,” he said, drawing the word out as he nodded, “I get it.”

Bucky didn’t answer. He just stood up, brushing the dirt from his pants.

It was time he found himself another bruise. Something small. Believable.

But enough to earn himself another few minutes in that tent, with you.

Before someone like Simmons beat him to it.

He quickly devised a plan, ruling out anything that would get him sent home. That meant minor injuries only.

After lunch, the boys were always ordered to clean up their gear. After all, taking care of your weapon was half the job and pride of being a soldier.

With bayonets on the end of their guns, it was almost too easy for him to injure himself.

Bucky joined in like normal, bantering with the other guys as he polished his gun. Then, with one theatrically clumsy swipe, he managed to slice open the palm of his hand.

He let out a low hiss, glancing down at it like he hadn’t just pressed his palm a little harder into the blade on purpose seconds ago.

It stung like hell, much more than he’d anticipated.

It was perfect.

Wrapping the wound in a makeshift bandage, he made a beeline for the medical tent, already rehearsing the look he’d have on his face: sheepish, stoic but brave.

The kind of look that made women swoon.

Bucky pushed through the tent’s flap, hand held up carefully, as if it were a trophy of his misfortune.

You were knelt down beside a cabinet of medicines, quietly counting stock. You would intermittently mark something down on the clipboard that seemed permanently attached to your hands, as the other nurses worked around you.

Bucky cleared his throat, rocking back on his heels to look casual.

You looked up at the sound, a dry smile tugging at your lips, “Sergeant Barnes? Back so soon?”

He held out his bleeding palm to you, “Afraid so, ma’am.”

“Looks fresh,” you hummed, tracing the edges of the cut, “How’d you do this one?”

“Bayonet slipped while I was cleanin’ her,” he admitted gruffly, running his good hand through his hair.

You tutted softly, “Come sit down, Sergeant. You’re beginning to gather quite the collection of little injuries, you ought to take better care of yourself.”

Bucky laughed, sliding into the cot, just as he had done yesterday, “No idea what you mean, Lieutenant.”

“Mhm,” you replied, clearly not convinced. Pressing a cloth into his palm, you applied a gentle pressure to stop the bleeding.

You were silent for a moment, holding the cloth firmly against his palm before giving him a knowing look, voice soft but teasing, “I have a feeling this wasn’t an accident.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“Need me to send a welfare check on you? Make sure you’re holding up alright?” you added jokingly with a sly smile.

He chuckled, shaking his head, “No need, Lieutenant. I got it.”

“Good,” you hummed, tapping his wrist gently as you let it go. You rolled across the floor on your stool and tore open a fresh dressing.

“If you’re trying to get my attention, you’ve already done it,” you said simply, applying the dressing to his palm.

Bucky’s heart soared.

“That gift you left me this morning was more than enough to do so.”

And then it plummeted right back down.

“Gift? I didn’t leave you any gift, doll.” Bucky blinked, caught slightly off guard.

“You didn’t?” a smirk crept across your face as you smoothed the corners of the dressing on his hand.

“Huh. Well, then it seems like you have some competition, Sarge.” you nodded towards a collection of wildflowers sitting atop one of the cabinets in a thin vase.

Bucky had nearly screamed.

He didn’t, at least not out loud.

But inside? He was fuming.

Wildflowers. A whole damn bouquet of them. Where’d that idiot even find wildflowers out here? It wasn’t like they were growing beside the mess hall. Someone had gone looking. That meant planning. That meant intention.

It meant competition.

The idea that you could be smiling at someone else the way you smiled at him, come next week, lit a fire under his skin that burned well into the night.

By morning, he was running on no sleep and pure resolve. He’d fake one more injury. Nothing major. Just enough to get him back into your orbit.

So when the transport trucks rolled in with the weekly supplies at 11, Bucky seized the opportunity.

He picked up a heavy crate, made a show of wobbling under its weight and then let it drop directly onto the arch of his boot.

He dropped to the ground with a perfectly-timed curse, clutching his ankle.

“Jesus, Buck… you alright?” Steve asked, looking over him anxiously.

Despite the throbbing pain developing in his ankle, all Bucky could do was nod through gritted teeth, “Yeah, I’m all good, no problem.”

“I better head to the med tent though, just to be on the safe side of things.”

He was up before anyone could question it.

As he pulled back the tent’s curtain, you looked up from the supplies you were sorting, already smirking, “Again?”

He winced, “Crate jumped me.”

“Uh-huh,” you smiled, setting your pen down and already on your feet, “Let’s get that boot off, Sergeant.”

Bucky shuffled toward the cot like a wounded hero, groaning for good measure, “You’re starting to recognise my footsteps, huh?”

“I’m starting to wonder if you’re doing this for attention,” you teased, crouching down and unlacing his boot for him to examine his red, swollen ankle.

“Would it be a crime if I was?”

You wrapped some ice up and pressed it against the bruising skin, “That depends. Attention from me or from the other nurses?”

He didn’t even hesitate, “Just you.”

Your hands paused for a moment on his ankle.

“Alright then,” you said quietly, voice growing shy, “I think I can forgive you this once.”

A slow smile spread across Bucky’s face, “You know,” he said, sitting up straighter as he watched you work, “all jokes aside, I‘ve been wondering…”

You raised an eyebrow, watching him carefully.

“If I promised not to fake any more injuries,” he continued, “would you let me take you to dinner sometime? After the war, of course.”

You blinked, surprised, then smiled, that warm smile he was already falling for.

“I’d like that very much, Sergeant Barnes.”

He felt like he was walking on air as you carefully wrapped his ankle up, “You would?”

“Mhm,” you said, patting his calf and smiling coyly, “Just keep looking out for this country and you’ll find a date waiting for you when you come home, Sergeant.”

That was all the motivation that he needed.

[autumnslance]

As someone who's played various subscription-based MMOs over 20 years, mostly WoW and FFXIV? Yeah, you need to take breaks from the game occasionally. It does let you avoid burnout of the one thing you've been playing continually non-stop. Because no one can really do that indefinitely.

What Yoshida means by "play other games" between the patches is, you can still play FFXIV, by all means; my FC does weekly stuff together, from current content people are going slow through, to older content folks want to catch up on or certain rewards from. It's mostly social time; right now we're hitting up the last stage of the 8man for any weapon tokens folks want for alt jobs, and then doing maps or farming in Crescent. We hang out in voice chat and goof around. But the rest of the week? If I don't want to log in so I can read, or watch a movie, or play something else?

There's no pressure. I did what I needed to for this patch, I log in to hit up some weekly stuff, maybe do some alt leveling, and socialize with my FC. The rest of the time is mine.

The times I burnt out and took months-long breaks from WoW? Were the times I was pushing hard on content in some of the favorite expacs, like Wrath of the Lich King. I ended up spending several months just playing something else entirely cuz I'd wrecked my sense of fun in the game while pushing Icecrown.

It also recalibrates some things about how the game plays compared to others. If you never touch something else, or only occasionally, your sense of good and bad gameplay can become a little warped. Feedback is also more valuable when you have an idea what else is going on out there.

And, eventually, it is OK to just be done with a game and walk away for a time, or even not go back. I fell out of WoW during Legion - again, an expac I liked, with a lot of decent story and plenty of gameplay to do - because I was simply done after 13+ years. It happens. And sunk cost fallacy making you stay in a game you're not enjoying and won't further enjoy doesn't do anything good for anyone; not bitter feedback to the devs, not fellow players dealing with your negativity, not forcing yourself to do something you don't enjoy.

But also, never say never. So far I've had no desire to go back to WoW. However a lot of other people who bailed out years ago have poked their heads back in with the change in leadership and the fun folks are having in the last 2 expansions. Subscription games swing around, what one doesn't enjoy others do, stories and gameplay change and shift each patch or each expansion. That longevity and constantly shifting audience insulates the bigger games from complete ruin during sub dips.

It is, actually, a healthy model. Because it does prevent total burnout from the game. Subs resurge when a new patch drops. When a new expac comes around. And that's not counting the folks who just pay for the year to stay subbed but still go and do other things for a little while in between, maybe popping on now and then. People finished what they wanted to do, took their break, and now have returned.

And for those who didn't take a break, the doled out content over the course of the patch's life means there are still things to do over time, especially if not inhaling it the instant it drops for various reasons (I'm too old and otherwise busy to spend so much time grinding anymore so do it in smaller chunks over more time).

Having set ways to keep people caught up in gear and not feel like you've missed out on things forever if you didn't play when the content was brand new helps a lot, too, and is something WoW took too long to realize, honestly.

I do wish FFXIV would do something like the WoW tokens, though, as those help a lot with those who want to play but can't afford it, or let their subs lapse temporarily, but convincing SE execs to make that happen isn't terribly likely.

Yoshida will come out on stage and say they are specifically designing the game to encourage people to take breaks and play other stuff in between content cycles, only for the player base to try hard every piece of content in 48 hours and then start screaming that the game is dead because fewer people are playing it a month after the last content update.

[lillilybells]

Old wounds✧₊⁺

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

pairing|bruce wayne x reader

summary|you run into your ex who you haven’t seen in months, old sparks you thought had died out reignite.

word count|1042

warnings|pre-batfam— in training Bruce, he is not Batman yet! a little angsty. notes|loosely based off of Batman the knight, second fic ever!

“Bruce?”

You hadn’t expected to ever say that name again — let alone see the man, alive and in person.

You’d been high school sweethearts. Attached at the hip ever since he asked you to prom. You’d been there through everything: the nightmares, the fights with Alfred, the reckless stunts — like that time he signed up for underground wrestling. You were the one who patched him up after every cut, iced every bruise, kissed every scar.

And then, one day after whispering I love you for the first time in your five-year relationship… he disappeared.

No warning. No goodbye. Just… gone.

At first, you were hysterical. You practically lived at Wayne Manor, ranting to Alfred, grieving together. You were convinced he was in danger. Alfred suspected otherwise. And in the end, he was right.

The private investigator found leads — sightings in London, Paris — vague reports of Bruce doing God-knows-what. Then, a voicemail. One message. He told you and Alfred that he loved you both… but he was on a mission. A journey to better himself.

You remember how Alfred sat quietly, listening to that message on repeat. You, meanwhile, had stormed out. Rage churning beneath your grief. You weren’t mad that he wanted to heal — it was how he did it. Noble, maybe. But selfish. Leaving his loved ones to suffer the same grief he couldn’t bear himself.

It’s been a year since then.

You tried to move on. The pain and the love both lingered, but the tears stopped. That was progress. So was boxing up all his old things, dropping them at the manor, and moving to New York — Gotham’s shinier, less haunted sister.

You should’ve known your past wouldn’t stay buried. It would find you — hunt you down- or, okay, maybe that’s a bit dramatic. Technically, your friends dragged you to a bar. Technically, you were just trying to enjoy yourself when you spotted him — the man who’d haunted your dreams for the past year.

You froze.

“Bruce?” you breathed.

Your friends all turned.

“Someone you know?” one asked, following your gaze.

He looked… different. The clean-shaven boy you knew now had stubble. He was more muscular. Scars peeked out from under his shirt sleeves. His hair was shorter, more controlled. He sat beside an older man who looked one sip away from passing out.

“Yeah… my ex,” you muttered, tearing your eyes away. You didn’t know if you wanted to slap him, hug him, or fall through the floor.

“Oh.. Ended bad, huh?” another girl asked, and you gave a tiny nod, still reeling.

“It’s okay, [Name]! We’ll protect you,” one of the more tipsy girls slurred a little too loudly.

Bruce’s head snapped toward your group immediately.

Your eyes widened.

The girl moved to block his view, but it was too late. He was already standing, walking toward you.

“[Name]?” he said softly, peering through the group huddled around you.

You gave your friends a look. “Give me a moment, guys.”

And now here you were. In a small, quiet café across from the bar. Sitting face to face. Laughing at old memories.

It was shockingly easy, slipping back into this rhythm with Bruce. Somewhere under the resentment, you’d forgotten just how much you missed him. His baby-blue eyes. The way they crinkled when he really smiled. His gentleness. His sincerity.

You’d missed all of it.

“So I took the book from his coat—” He was in the middle of recounting a story about one of the adventures he’d gone through with one of his mentors, his voice light, animated.

You listened. You really listened. Some of it felt like hearing the plot of a fantasy novel — training under masters, traveling to faraway places, meeting people you’d never dream of. Part of you was awestruck. Another part was… uneasy.

You couldn’t help thinking about the danger he’d been in. About the risks. But Bruce didn’t seem to notice. With you, he just talked — no filters, no walls.

He was still Bruce. Still the boy who trusted you with everything.

“So… what’re you doing in New York?” you asked, a playful lilt in your voice. “You wouldn’t happen to be tracking me down, would you?”

He chuckled — a soft, boyish sound — then paused.

“No, uh… I’m here to train under Giovanni Zatara. You’ve probably heard of him?”

You nodded, lips pressing into a small line.

“So… you’re not staying long, huh?” you asked quietly. The hurt leaked into your voice before you could stop it.

Bruce hesitated.

He knew this would come up. Knew exactly how you’d felt. That’s why he hadn’t reached out. Because you’d convince him to stay. And he couldn’t afford that kind of attachment. Not then.

“No… no, I’m not.” He looked at you carefully. “But I’ve missed you, [Name]. All those sleepless nights — I thought about you. You gave me the will to fight. To keep going. Even from thousands of miles away.”

You were silent, letting the words hang in the space between you. Giving him the moment. Letting yourself feel it.

“You’ve always had a way with words..” you murmured, leaning forward slightly.

The air between you shifted — softer now. Warmer.

“Come back to Gotham,” he said suddenly, the words spilling out. “My… my mission’s almost over. I’m coming home. And I want you there. With me. By my side. You and Alfred. I…”

You leaned in, breath catching. Goosebumps rising on your skin.

“I love you,” he said, fully open, fully honest. “You’re one of the only people I’ve ever truly loved. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

His voice cracked slightly. He looked like the boy you used to know — hopeful, vulnerable, a little broken.

You stared into his eyes, both of you leaning over the table until your lips met. A soft, chaste kiss — delicate, aching, familiar. The kind you wait months for.

When you pulled away, you were smiling.

“Yes, Bruce. Yes.”

He exhaled, relief flooding his face as his smile widened.

“Promise me something?” you whispered. “Promise me you’ll come back in one piece. That you’ll do everything you said you would.”

He reached across the table, brushing his thumb gently across your knuckles.

“I promise.”

[yellowwwcrayon]

About this ask

Like you said. Exactly. How the hell would Junho explain to his mom where the baby came from (help, I worded this so wrong lmao).

But seriously, from season 2, Junho never told her about Inho. So she just assumed Junho was just as clueless as she was about Inho's whereabouts or what Inho was up to. But now Inho randomly dropped him a whole ass baby.

And unless Junho later dropped her ass off at an orphanage, Junho would have to just... explain to his mom why he's a dad all of a sudden, and he might have to what, bring up Inho? How the hell would Junho even break the news to her? Like what would he even say?

"Hey mom, so I guess I'm a single dad now?"

"Hey mom, I'm an uncle now. Look. It's Inho's baby"

"Hey mom, so actually I know what Inho was up to all these years lol guess who shot me off the cliff"

And if this is the shit Inho just randomly pulled on his baby brother, imagine what kind of insane prank they've been pulling on each other before the game lol imagine the type of shenanigans their mom had to deal with

Gosh I need more of the Hwang bros together so bad :(

lol, yessss to all of this Beb, and as an aside I still think the dating app fishing photos destroyed the brooding suffering man image of Inho for good. Like was dude just chilling in the off-season, fishing and drinking with his homies, and not mourning his dead wife and possible baby? Why couldn't he find the time to drop by and say hi to Junho? Invite him to fishing maybe (so he and your hot 6 foot 2 coworker can maybe hook up?), your baby bro is gullible enough to believe whatever tale you spin judging from his portrayal in S3 😂

I feel like Junho probably had a tiny villain era in his youth where he pranked Inho super hard. I did it when I was a child. I pulled out patches of my dad's leg hairs when he slept. Junho probably shaved one of Inho's eyebrows for shits and giggles when he was bored one afternoon. He probably terrorized the children in the neighborhood.

[luhvmria]

Afterlife

Katness’s pov:

At the end, it was quiet.

No fire. No flames. Just Peeta’s hand in mine and the familiar creak of the rocking chair as the sun sank behind the trees. My grandchildren had gone home. The cat was asleep by the hearth. And Peeta… well, he left a few years ago.

I waited longer than I thought I would.

Eighty-five. That’s what they said at my last birthday.

I didn’t feel it.

But I suppose I was ready.

So when the stillness came, I didn’t fight it.

I closed my eyes, and somewhere in the gentle dark, I felt something like falling. But slower. Softer. Like drifting into warm water.

And now, I’m here.

The sky is too light. Not in a blinding way—more like early spring. The kind of light you see through your bedroom window when you’re still half-dreaming. I’m lying on grass. The blades tickle my palms. I sit up slowly, my joints no longer stiff. My bones no longer aching.

I stare at them for a long time.

A familiar voice breaks the stillness.

“Katniss!”

I look up—and my breath is stolen from my chest.

Prim.

“I missed you so much,” I whisper into her hair.

“I never left,” she says softly. “You carried me the whole way.”

When we part, there are more people. A small crowd has gathered. Faces from the past, frozen in the moments they left the world.

Finnick waves from beside a tree, sea-glass eyes glinting. He looks just as he did before the mutts, broad-shouldered and barefoot. He’s got a fishing net slung casually over one shoulder, like he’s never known fear.

Beside him, smiling softly, stands Peeta.

Peeta. The boy with the bread. Not the broken, stitched-back-together man he became after the war. Just him. Pure and hopeful.

My throat catches. He steps forward, touches my face like he can’t believe I’m real.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” I answer.

We don’t need anything more than that.

My parents are there too. My father, whole and laughing, his hands still callused with coal dust. My mother, eyes no longer dulled by grief.

And then—new faces.

Two girls I don’t recognize at first.

One of them has pale skin, hair pulled back in a crown of braids, and a serious but kind expression. She steps forward first.

“I’m Maritte,” she says. “District 4. 50th Hunger Games.”

The other girl steps up beside her. She’s striking—blonde, muscular with a patch of skin where her eye used to be.

“I’m Silka,” she says, her voice calm and clear. “District 1. Same Games.”

“I’ve read about you,” I say. “You’re in the records.”

Maritte nudges her playfully. “You were still my champion.”

Then another girl pushes through the crowd with wide, curious eyes.

“Maysilee,” she says. “Your mom used to talk about me, I think.”

I blink. “You were in the same Hunger Games as Haymitch.”

She grins. “And you have her smile. Weird, right?”

It’s surreal, being surrounded by so many faces I’ve only seen on screens or in nightmares. But here they are. All frozen in time. The dead stay as they were when they died—some younger than they should’ve been, others scarred, still carrying the evidence of the Games.

Still… they smile.

Still… they stand.

⸻

Later, we gather around a long dinner table in the grove. It’s lit with soft lanterns. A breeze moves through the leaves like a sigh. Everyone sits—Finnick, Rue, Maysilee, Clove, even Cato and Cashmere, talking like old friends despite the blood between them.

I sit at the head of the table, not because I want to, but because they insist.

And for the first time, I tell the full story.

“The rebellion worked,” I say. “District 13 came back. We brought down the Capitol. Snow was put on trial, then put to death.”

Murmurs ripple around the table. Some people smile. Others look stunned.

“I killed Coin,” I add, quieter. “She was going to start it all over again. So I stopped her. That’s… that’s why Snow laughed.”

Rue’s mouth falls open. “You did all of that?”

I nod.

“Was there peace?” asks Silka.

“As much as there could be,” I say. “It was hard. It took a long time. But it came. Slowly. We rebuilt. We honored the dead. We made new rules. New traditions. There hasn’t been a Hunger Games in decades.”

The crowd erupts into cheers.

Finnick slams his hand on the table in joy. Maysilee whoops and tosses a bread roll. Even Clove cracks a smile.

“And Snow?” someone calls.

I shake my head. “He didn’t come here.”

Finnick snorts. “Good.”

Prim laughs, eyes shining.

I let myself smile. For real. For the first time in a long, long time.

Maybe this is what peace feels like.

It’s not loud. It’s not fire and triumph and thunder.

It’s soft grass and laughter under lanterns.

It’s Prim’s hand in mine.

It’s seeing the people you lost, and finally knowing—they know everything.

[thezombieprostitute]

Theirs - Epilogue

Summary: It's been a couple of years since the night that freed you from Bucky.

Warnings: Mentions of abortion and violence. Please let me know if I missed any.

Series Masterlist

It's been two years since you and Bunny had to start new lives. Two years since Steve and Bucky were killed by a rival gang looking to fulfill a blood debt.

Of course, the public doesn't know anything about that. Not even the people of the town do. Just you and Bunny. The cover story is that was a federal raid to protect the citizens. No one needed to know they let another biker gang exact revenge, thus creating confusion and panic in the remaining members of Cap's gang, making them easier to subdue. Nope. That's privileged information that got the two of you moved across the country and given new names so no one would hurt you for the truth.

Bunny's bought into the protection idea. You don't blame her. She just wants to forget everything and move on. It was one of the reasons she aborted the baby. The other was that no child should be born with a parent prejudiced against them. She's leaned into the new life, even recently started dating again. You like Curtis. He'll be good for her.

But you know better than to believe this move was for your safety. You know it's to make sure you never rat out the federal government, even if anyone would believe you. You "owe" the feds for your apartment, your job. Your new identity is one they crafted for you.

It feels like every move you make, you're being watched. And you know who's watching: Nick Fowler. He's made his interest in you known but you just can't return the feelings. Not when you know he holds significant power over you. You're not Bunny, you can't see past the leverage he holds like she does with Curtis.

Maybe a few more years of therapy will help.

It isn't surprising that you're wandering the fair by yourself. It was supposed to be an outing as friends but it never takes long for Curtis and Bunny to end up doing their own thing. It only got "worse" when Curtis proposed. You're happy for them, you really are, but it can be annoying to always be left behind. At least you can indulge in all the food that you know is horrible for you.

Your inner musings are interrupted by a loud "ah, ya fuckin' bawbag!" If you had to guess, you'd say the accent is Scottish, unusual for your area. Out of curiosity you look for the source.

"Watch the bloody language, muppet," another voice teases, this one with a British accent.

"Both of you better watch yourselves before we get kicked out," another British accent adds. "Don't want to return to base because of a police incident."

"Aye, Captain," both the other voices groan in unison.

You find the source of the dialogue and stop short when you see three men in camouflage clothing with various patches indicating military. The tall one is watching the other two compete for a prize at one of the games. He spies you watching them and smiles at you.

"Sorry, love, didn't realize we were drawing an audience."

As much as you want to respond, you can't. The tall, lean man smiling at you is the most handsome man you've ever laid eyes on.

"I...I'm sorry," you stammer. "I shouldn't have been staring."

"Ah no worries, lass," the Scotsman adds. "I know I can be a right numpty around these sassenachs."

"For example," the third man interjects, "we haven't bothered to introduce ourselves. I'm Kyle." He holds his hand out and gives you a smile you know works on all the ladies.

You shake his hand and introduce yourself before the other two follow suit. The Scotsman is named Johnny while the tall man who caught your eye is names James.

"We're visiting our American friends at the nearby base," James explains. "None of us have ever been to an American fair so we figured we'd try it out."

"These games are all rigged to shite," Johnny gripes, making you chuckle.

"That's why I don't play them," you agree.

"At the risk of being forward," Kyle starts, "d'you think you could give us a right proper tour of the place?"

"Um...sure! Let me just text my friends first."

"Of course, love," he grins.

The fair is much better spent with others and it doesn't take long for you to enjoy the company of these men from across the pond. It isn't much longer before Johnny and Kyle figure out you've got eyes for James and the duo start making sure you always sit next to him on the rides.

In truth, you have more fun than you've had in years. Even before Bucky. You feel like there's actually something to look forward to when James kisses the back of your hand and gives you his email address. Nick and his agency might have leverage over you now, but maybe, just maybe, you can find some freedom and happiness.

Series Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @darsynia; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @iwudbutnah; @kmc1989; @lokislady82; @peaches1958; @ronearoundblindlyindly; @stellar-solar-flare

[camficdiner]

I have a request for 1.5 with the reader being older than him, 2.7, 3.1, 4.3 where Will and Mack are people watching and he notices her and think she's pretty, then she's walking toward him as he's walking toward her and coffee is spilled, feelings are shared, and he asks her on a date. Just overall fluffy meet-cute if ya feel! Thank you love 🩵

☕️ cams fic diner — order 089

🍒 thank you, To the girls who caught someone’s eye just by existing. For the meet-cutes, the accidental spills, the slow beginnings that feel like fate — this one’s yours.

💬 "Accidentally Yours"

✨ description & prompts

• character: Macklin Celebrini

• prompt: You patch up his injury, then he asks you to stay.

• type: Pure fluff • Early stages of dating • Meet-cute

• wc: 1.4k

• bonus: older reader

✨🧁🍒🛼

The people-watching started as a joke.

Will had slumped down in the sidewalk café chair, sunglasses on, hoodie half-zipped, eyeing every passerby like he was casting a movie.

“That guy’s definitely a washed-up magician,” he muttered, nodding toward a man in a too-tight velvet blazer.

Macklin had choked on his iced latte.

They’d been like that for an hour — pointing, naming, making up lives for strangers in between sips and off-day sunshine. It was stupid. It was fun. It was the first time in weeks they weren’t thinking about the next game.

And then he saw you.

You were across the street, standing just outside a bookstore, balancing a coffee and your phone, oversized tote sliding off your shoulder. There was something easy about you — confident, comfortable, older than him, maybe mid-to-late twenties, but not in a way that felt unreachable. You looked like you knew who you were. Like you weren’t looking for anyone.

Which, of course, made him want to meet you even more.

He said nothing at first.

Will noticed.

“What.”

“Nothing.”

“You’re doing the frozen-guy thing again.”

“Shut up.”

“No, seriously, are you about to fall in love with a stranger?”

Mack sighed. “She’s just… pretty.”

Will tilted his head. “Okay, but like, really pretty?”

Mack’s silence answered for him.

And then — just like that — you turned. Coffee still in hand, adjusting your tote, beginning to cross the street. Heading toward them.

Mack blinked.

Will laughed. “Oh my god, you manifested that.”

You don’t notice him at first.

Not until you’re about to walk past the table, and he stands — awkwardly, suddenly, like he’s been zapped — and your coffee tilts just enough to spill across your wrist.

You hiss, startled.

“I’m so sorry—” you both say, at the exact same time.

Then pause.

Then laugh.

His hand is already reaching for napkins, eyes wide, apologetic, cheeks pink.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he says again. “I wasn’t— I mean, I was— I didn’t mean to get in your way.”

You glance at him — tall, nervous, vaguely familiar. You squint. “Wait. You’re… you’re Macklin, right?”

He freezes.

You smile. “Yeah. I’ve seen a few games.”

“Oh.” He blushes deeper. “Cool. Wow. Okay.”

Will, still seated, snorts behind his cup. “Smooth.”

You and Mack both laugh.

Then Mack hesitates. Clears his throat.

“I don’t normally do this.”

“Spill coffee?”

“No — yes — I mean, also ask this fast, but… would you maybe wanna get a fresh one? With me?”

You blink. Then smile. Wide. Warm.

“Yeah. I think I would.”

Fifteen minutes later, you’re walking beside him toward the bookstore, both with new coffees in hand, the awkwardness fading fast.

He looks over.

“You live around here?”

“Just visiting,” you say. “Work’s in Europe.”

His face falters for a moment — like the reality might sting — but then he smiles again, shy but certain.

“Okay,” he says. “Then I guess we better make the most of today.”

He texts you that night.

Not a full paragraph. No awkward emoji. Just:

I know it’s fast but… dinner tomorrow? Like, real dinner? With real food and way less coffee?

You grin at your screen.

What if I like the chaos?

Then I’ll spill water this time instead.

You agree to meet him just after seven.

The restaurant is quiet. Warm. Tucked on a quiet corner near the park, with brick walls, hanging lights, and mismatched chairs that make everything feel personal. You recognize it — a place locals actually go. The kind you only know if you live nearby.

He’s already waiting when you arrive.

Dark button-up. Hair just a little messy, like he ran a hand through it too many times. He stands when he sees you, visibly exhales, then laughs under his breath.

“Hi,” he says.

You smile. “Hi.”

“You look… really good.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You sound surprised.”

He flushes immediately. “No— I just mean— I already thought you were— never mind. Ignore me.”

You slide into the chair across from him, biting back a smile.

“I won’t ignore you,” you say. “But I might tease you.”

His ears go pink.

The dinner itself is surprisingly easy.

He’s nervous — definitely — but not awkward. He asks you questions, actually listens to your answers, and when he talks about the game, he does it without ego. Just passion. A little bit of pressure. A lot of hope.

You tell him about your work. Your traveling. How much of your life lately has felt like movement without roots.

He watches you carefully, chewing the inside of his cheek. Then he says:

“I like that you’ve seen more than me.”

You tilt your head. “You’ve seen plenty.”

“Only in one direction,” he says softly. “Everything in my life’s been straight ahead. But you… I don’t know. You feel like someone who’s turned around a few times. That’s cool.”

You sit with that.

Then: “That might be the most poetic thing anyone’s ever said to me over pasta.”

He grins, bashful. “It’s the wine.”

When the check comes, he insists. You let him.

You’re standing on the sidewalk afterward, the spring air warm on your arms, when he hesitates.

“I know you’re not here for long,” he says. “I know this probably doesn’t make sense.”

“It doesn’t have to,” you say.

His brows lift.

“You can just like me,” you add, “without knowing what happens next.”

He lets out a breath like he didn’t realize he was holding one. “I really do.”

You nudge his hand. “Then walk me to my door.”

He does. Quietly. Smiling the whole way.

When you reach your door, the city quiet around you, he doesn’t step away.

He lingers — hands in his pockets, shoes toeing at the edge of the welcome mat, eyes flicking from yours to the apartment behind you like he’s working up the courage to ask something.

But he doesn’t.

He just says, “I wish we had more time.”

You smile. “You still have me for a few more days.”

He nods. Then, quieter:

“Can I see you again tomorrow?”

You take a step closer — enough to reach for the edge of his shirt, to smooth your fingers along the stitching like it means something. It does.

“You better,” you say.

He doesn’t kiss you — not yet — but his smile softens into something that stays with you all night.

And when he walks away, he turns back once. Just to check.

You’re still standing there. Watching.

He grins.

So do you.

And you both know it’s the start of something

[sunliights]

something within rowan is satisfied enough to have their arms around her, enough for her to snake her own around them too. it's perhaps the part that made her reach for grey's sweatshirt that day... or it's the part that feels a little fractured whilst syphoning through all the new information they present her with. it's enough to satisfy her into staying quiet as grey slowly starts to unravel the tangled up ball of yarn that is apparently their life. she gets the little things. it's not like she's never had an edible before and she'd wore a fentanyl patch about a decade before she touched alcohol. she's no stranger to temporary highs, what she is a stranger to is any sort of reliance on them. any sort of life ruining tether like the one grey has experienced. all she can do is listen to them share with her whatever they feel is relevant. "so it was an accident." maybe that isn't the right word for it. does anyone choose addiction? she only means to say that a series of events clearly kickstarted all of this and it wasn't like it was something grey ever went looking for. there was just a path before them that they ended up taking. she doesn't have much to say to what they offer her. she only takes it in at face value, nodding a little bit. "it's not the easiest thing to do, is it? i'd like to say it gets easier..." for some people it maybe does. for someone like rowan who can share the things that are on her mind, it probably does sound easy. that doesn't mean that she doesn't experience a gnawing anxiety that whatever she might say to someone might tip them over the edge. put them off of her. people want honesty but not like that. their words pique her interest a little, head tilting to look up at them. it's a slip of the tongue surely but one that she latches on to. "love me?" it's not what she should focus on and she knows it. she just needs to be satisfied with the fact there was an element to their relationship that wasn't built on their inability to be open with her. she has to believe them now because what do the gain to lie after how honest they've been? not even lie but be dishonest about. "i'm glad that it was real." she means it too, finds a small amount of reprieve in that fact. "was there... did you ever feel happy?" would they ever be happy around her again? or would she now be a constant reminder of what they've told her and what she knows?

they missed her, and maybe that was part of why this was so hard. because they didn't know how to be the version of themself she fell in love with, but they were still pining after her anyways. and sure, there was so much that was real– the nights they spent together, the fun that they had – all of that was real to them. even if it wasn't real to her anymore, it was real to them anyways. they felt like they were on fire, their body felt like it was rejecting the lies that they had told. somewhere in the back of their mind they know this conversation has been a long time coming, that if they were going to spend time together, it was only a matter of time before all of this came out. after all, they had never really been good at maintaining relationships for THIS reason. and they knew that everyone at NA, especially their sponsor, had told them that. taking a personal inventory included coming to the conclusion that they needed to start being honest if they wanted a meaningful relationship with their own sobriety. they pull her tighter against themself, and they're not sure if it's more for her benefit or theirs. something about holding rowan had always made them feel more grounded – like breathing her in was the only thing that kept them from madness. they're listening to her intently, and despite their best efforts, their light eyes still shimmer with tears. they don't blame her for never mentioning– if it were the other way around they'd be just as nervous to ask her about anything that seemed like it was bothering her. they take a deep breath, mind locking on the statement of the beginning. because the beginning was so so long ago. a deep breath, and they're trying not to get too emotional about it. "it wasn't too bad at the beginning. a line here, a blunt there –" they mumble, "i guess no one really starts with the big stuff." they don't really notice that this is already big stuff. sure, a bit of weed here or there wasn't a big deal. but the normalcy with which they mention illicit substances could be a bit unsettling. "when i was eighteen i broke my jaw." they shrugged, "owed someone money, had it beaten out of me or whatever." they shrug, like it's not a big deal. and maybe to grey, it really wasn't a big deal. "after getting my jaw wired shut, that's when things got worse i guess." it's so odd, to lay it all out like this. clinical even. like they're not attached to the story, or the person they were back then. "i ran into mickey at a flop. when he and brodie fell out, i guess he kind of lumped the two of us together, so i hadn't seen him in a couple months." they shake their head, as though they're trying to shake out the memory. they feel like they can't remember how it happened. they can't remember when they lost their apartment, or what led up to that day with mickey. all they remember is that they happened in quick succession. "i've never been too good at telling anyone when something's wrong." another beat passes between them, and they feel so horrible for it. "i really love you," they start, not noticing the present tense, "that part was real." that doesn't feel good enough, even if it is true.

[pixelplushies]

So I was recently tasked with a very well loved soft toy Flip the Frog from the 1930s to restore.

He was bought new for my great aunt-in-law when she was 10, and was gifted to her sister's children when they were young. My mother in law has memories of feeding him cornflakes and putting her hands in his mouth, which felt very soft and velvety.

He had been in the attic for a number of years, and had moths get to him. He had lost his eyes. Luckily there are some examples online which show what he was meant to be like!

I approached this project wanting to retain as much of the original plush as I could. I thought about doing a total restoration, but I would end up replacing so much I might as well be making a replica! I wanted to make sure I used fabrics that were sympathetic to the time period, so 100% wool felt and cotton velvet seemed appropriate. The only liberty I took was polyester thread, because that's what I had already.

I researched a lot of plush restorations and best practices. A lot of places recommended only surface washing, but poor Flip was so full of dust and the remains of moths, but his fabric body seemed rather sturdy still, I thought I would take the risk of un-stuffing him to give him a thorough bath. I very gently took him apart and unstuffed him. His stuffing material looked to be kapok. There was lots of moth poop.

I gave Flip a gentle bath with carpet cleaning solution, which is what is recommended for vintage plushies. It's designed to be used on lots of fabrics including natural ones like wool and doesn't leave a residue once it's done cleaning so won't degrade the fabric over time. Loads of grime came out of Flip, as well as some yellow dye from his feet.

Flip then had a good air-dry in the sun. He seemed to enjoy soaking up the sun, he was already looking a lot cleaner.

Flip's eyes (which once upon a time caused my cousin-in-laws nightmares) were particularly gross and moth-eaten underneath. I decided to re-cover the card disks that made up his eyes with velvet cotton instead rather than reuse the old eyes. His original velvet was really bright yellow but had faded over time. I decided to use a fabric that matched his more faded look, I felt the bright yellow would look out of place. I also got some wooden beads and cut them in half and painted them for his pupils, which I glued on.

When it came to restoring his feet, I tried to retain as much of the original material as possible. I enjoyed patching and repairing the felt, I chose a 100% wool yellow felt that was close to his old colour here. Highlights the age of the old parts, I feel like it draws attention to his history and age.

Time to put him back together! I bought some new kapok stuffing because I couldn't reuse the old dusty moth stuff. Luckily you can still get it. I wrapped his metal skeleton in felt so that if it got rusty it wouldn't stain him (he's already a little stained from it rusting). Then I slipped his limbs over the skeleton and sewed them back on!

Ta-daa!! Here's flip looking a lot better, even if I say so myself.

One of the things we noticed when looking at photos of these soft toys is that they seem to have pinkish or white bow-ties and this Flip was missing his! Looking at the character art, I believe they were originally red.

The orientation of the eyes also seems to vary because I think they were prone to falling off and being sewn back on. I chose to orient Flip's eyes close to how they were when I received him, but slightly more vertical to make him appear more friendly.

Flip was a very fun challenge and got me thinking a lot about restoration vs conservation of historical artifacts, he may not be super duper old or rare but I feel like I better understand the dilemmas and judgements that have to be made when working on objects like this!

[rin-eko]

Sylus, who doesn't just call you kitten from the start, but also treats you like one. He can't help it. Not when you remind him exactly of a fierce, scraggly stray kitten, hissing and arching its back at him whenever he comes close.

After coming to understand how uncomfortable you felt around him, he decided to adopt a different approach to getting close with you. A less forceful approach- a plan you didn't realise was implemented even when you were finally pliant and comfortable around him like a relaxed fat cat.

He had to coax you, silently and gently encourage you to put away your claws and start trusting him.

When you were at the base and basically sticking to the opposite side of the room as him as if you were glued there, sometimes he'd pretend to be deeply curious about something in front of him, such as a book or artefact, and pretend to pour over it as he clicked his tongue softly.

As expected, and just like a cat, the sound would catch your attention, and when you realised he wasn't making the sound to gain your attention but just casually clicking his tongue because he was interested in something else, you would slowly approach with a little furrow in your brow. He tried not to laugh as you took slow steps around the edge of the room to come closer, you yourself pretending to be interested in other books and things to seem as if you just casually ended up near him, meanwhile you had been eyeing him from the corner of your eye the whole time, little interest in anything else.

Treats. You hadn't though deeply about why Sylus' pantries were stocked with your favourite snacks. After a few visits to his home, you would naturally make your way to the kitchen to grab your favourite treats without a care in the world, happily munching them like a stray cat that had been lured over by temptation.

At the base, you would also be able to find your favourite toys (the cool guns in his armoury) and your favourite games, such as kitty cards. The blankets and pillows in the guest room you stayed in were all made of your favourite soft material, so expensive it felt like sleeping on a cloud. Sylus even tried spraying his cologne in certain areas of the house so you would become accustomed to his scent.

When in his home, Sylus would make sure to give you plenty of alone time while still ensuring you were aware of his presence, so as not to intimidate you but also to make sure you knew he was around if you wanted to approach him.

And you did, sometimes peeping over his shoulder like a curious cat to see what he was doing. Or sitting on the kitchen counter watching him as he cooked. The distance slowly closed before you even realised it. But he knew, and he was torn between smugness and the happy trilling in his heart.

You remained blissfully ignorant as the comforts around you grew. You naturally relaxed into your surroundings and his presence, not even noticing Sylus had planned it this way from the start.

Even now, he watches you- in your own small home this time- lounging on a fluffy, pink bean bag situated in a spot of the living area that catches the sun's soft glows through the window, and can't help but liken you to a cat. Especially when the sun moves through the sky and your eyes crack open, an unhappy frown creasing the top of your nose because you are now in a shady spot and even with a blanket covering you, that will just not do.

He watches you stretch languidly, yawning, before dragging the bean bag to a new patch of sun and once again settling on it, falling into a comfortable nap once more.

He's come from the kitchen, and he approaches you to place a warm cup of tea beside you quietly. One of your eyes peek open to take him in.

"Sylussss," you whine sleepily, rolling onto your back. He squats in front of you and rubs the top of your head.

"Mm?"

You don't say anything else, just falling back into slumber, but he smiles and continues to pat your head. It's something he does often, and he wonders if you even realise that you've come to always expect these head pats, bouncing up to him when you're proud of something you've done and want his praise, waiting for his warm hand to tell you you did well.

Or when the two of you are just relaxing together, sometimes he'll scratch beneath your chin and you'll preen, lips twisting up in contentment and enjoyment, eyes falling shut as you lean toward him for more. You may as well have purred and rubbed against him in silent askance for more.

Of course, if you became aware of the fact he was treating you like a cat, you would start pretending to not like these small affections, so Sylus keeps quiet with his teasing.

Although, he thinks of how cute you'd be, turning away with a pout after discovering he had been treating you like a pet. He could almost see an imaginary tail flicking irritably. Maybe you'd even growl unhappily.

He chuckled quietly. Truly a kitten.

[helaintoloki]

Back to You

pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

warnings: mild language, pining, fluff

notes: my bucky and yelena brain rot is off the charts which is how this came about

summary: Yelena’s interest in y/n forces Bucky to confront his feelings for her as the Thunderbolts take refuge in her home

“I can’t thank you enough for this.”

“Well, this is definitely more interesting than whatever I had planned today,” you respond jokingly as you finish stitching closed the gash on Bucky’s pectoral. “I will say, if I knew I’d be having company I probably would have tidied up a bit around here.”

Both yours and Bucky’s gazes turn to the group of beaten down misfits that occupy your living room at the mention of company. The amount of people taking refuge in your home made it appear almost comically small, but you weren’t exactly new to having to take care of super heroes- or in this case antiheroes- on a whim like this.

Before Thanos and the Blip, you had been a good friend of Steve’s. As his neighbor across the hall who also happened to be a nurse, he tended to treat your apartment like his own personal health clinic after a particularly grueling day of protecting the city. You welcomed him in without question of course, and after some time he had begun bringing friends in need of patch jobs with him. This was how you met Sam and Natasha, and eventually Bucky. You were enthralled by the turmoil swimming in his eyes and his reserved nature, and your gentleness and willingness to help a total stranger like him with no reservation had stuck with Bucky forever.

You lost touch with them all after the Sokovia Accords debacle and being turned into dust for five years, but once the work of the infinity stones had been reversed and you were able to attempt a life at normalcy, Bucky and Sam had returned right back to your doorstep.

In the years that passed, you and Bucky had been able to form a close friendship. It didn’t happen without growing pains throughout the process of course, and it took time for the super soldier to open himself up to you so intimately, but you’d been able to reach a point where Bucky could come to you for anything and vice versa. So when he’d called five minutes before his arrival asking to seek shelter in your modest home, you immediately agreed without question.

“Alright, you’re good to go,” you inform him after smoothing out the bandage on his chest. Looking out to the rest of the group, you hold up your first aid kit and ask, “Anyone else need some TLC?”

You’re met with silence to which Bucky offers you a comforting pat on the shoulder before hopping off of your counter. The group looks more exhausted and defeated than anything, and he convinces you they’ll probably be fine.

“Well, in the meantime, would anyone like breakfast? I think I have some pancake mix around here somewhere,” you murmur absently, and this gets some heads to finally turn.

“Pancakes… would be nice,” Yelena offers with pursed lips and a shrug, trying to be inconspicuous as she obviously snoops through your things.

“Do you have eggs?” John voices tiredly. “I could really go for some scrambled eggs.”

“Eggs and pancakes… anything else?”

“I cannot have eggs without bacon,” Alexei notes thoughtfully only for Bucky to roll his eyes.

“You don’t have to cook all of that,” he tries to assure you only for you to shake your head in response.

“It’s really no problem, I’m just glad I went grocery shopping yesterday.”

You give Bucky a reassuring smile before disappearing into the kitchen, allowing him the chance to finally walk over and snatch the frame Yelena had been scrutinizing behind your back from her grasp.

“What are you doing?” He retorts in annoyance before setting it back down on the shelf. “We’re guests here, you can’t just touch all of her stuff.”

“She has a photo of my sister,” the blonde rebuffs defensively, “I have a right to touch it. Why does she have it?”

“Before she was my friend, she was Steve’s friend. He introduced her to Natasha, and they became friends too. Good friends.”

“Hmm,” she replies thoughtfully, finally easing up a bit as she takes in the information. “If Natasha considered her a friend, then I will too.”

“Yeah, I think she’s good on friends right now,” Bucky scoffs. Yelena raises a brow at his annoyance before a coy smile begins to form on her lips.

“Are you threatened by me, Barnes?” She prompts with a laugh, only doubling down when she notices the aggravated tick of his jaw. “Because it’s okay if you are, I understand. I mean, she is a beautiful woman, and I can see how much you love her-“

“Hold on a minute, what are you talking about?”

“Surely you cannot be this stupid,” Yelena affirms with a teasing smile that soon falls at Bucky’s flustered demeanor. “Or maybe you are.”

“I don’t love y/n,” Bucky says defensively, voice hushed to avoid any prying ears from listening to their conversation. “She’s just a good friend.”

“Well, if she’s just a good friend then you won’t mind if I go talk to her and tell her how much I love what she’s done with this place,” Yelena states plainly with a mischievous smile as she makes her way towards the kitchen only to be stopped by Bucky grabbing onto her arm.

“Don’t,” he warns with a scowl. From his spot on the couch, Alexei laughs.

“You are smart to stop her, Barnes,” he notes proudly, “my Yelena is quite the lady killer.”

“What’s the harm, Barnes? You obviously do not want to date this beautiful woman who has opened her home to us, so why can’t I?”

“If I admit I love her will you stop?” Bucky begs despite the clear aggravation in his tone. With her hands raised in surrender and lips pulled into a small frown, Yelena suspends her march towards the kitchen once Bucky finally relinquishes his hold on her arm. “Thank you.”

“Life is short, James. Do not let her sit and wait for you forever.”

Bucky lets out a long exhale through his nose at her words, and despite how much she annoys him, he knows she’s right. Bucky loves you and has always held a deep sense of admiration for the selfless woman who had taken him and Steve in without question despite the fact that it would get her into trouble with the government. You were one of the first to show him genuine kindness after spending years under Hydra’s thumb, and he’d never be able to forget that. You are his light in darkness, his saving grace, his confidant, and that’s why he’s so hesitant to fully bring you into his world by asking you to be his partner. Being friends keeps you at an arm’s length from the dangers of his life, but being the one he comes home to after a high stakes mission puts you in a whole new light to his enemies, and he’s not sure if he’s ready to put you through that just yet.

“Breakfast is on the table!” You call out from the kitchen, and Bucky watches with a wry grin as every person in the living room moves their aching bodies hastily into the dining room to get a chance at scoring some of your pancakes. You meet him shortly after and present him his own plate of pancakes, eggs and bacon to enjoy in peace away from the rest.

“You look like you have a lot on your mind so I figured you’d want to eat out here,” you explain with a careful smile before joining him on the couch. “You gonna be okay?”

“I don’t know if these guys are up for this,” he admits almost dejectedly, casting a glance towards the dining room where the Thunderbolts sit loudly bickering over the syrup bottle.

“Hey, as long as they have you there with them, I think they’ll be okay,” you comfort reassuringly, reaching forward to give his arm a tender squeeze.

“I really doubt that, but thanks,” Bucky responds with a weak chuckle, “you keep me sane.”

“It’s my speciality.”

A comfortable silence washes over you then as you meet each other’s tender gazes and enjoy the rare moment of peace shared between you both. Bucky longs to just pull you into his arms and hold you, but he resists and instead returns to enjoying his breakfast.

“We’ll be out of your hair as soon as they’re done eating,” Bucky reassures you only for you to give him an indifferent shrug.

“That’s fine, but can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Are you ever going to kiss me?” You prompt with an innocent smile, catching poor Bucky off guard as he momentarily chokes on his pancakes.

“What?” He splutters, fist thumping on his chest to help the food go down.

“I mean, maybe I’m reading it all wrong, but I feel like sometimes you look at me like you want to kiss me,” you explain simply, “and I wouldn’t mind if you did.”

“That obvious, huh?” He sighs with a bashful smile before setting his plate down on the coffee table.

“Yeah, well, that and also Yelena might have told me something on her way to the dining room,” you offer with an apologetic laugh.

“Oh, god, what did she say?”

“Something along the lines of if you never man up and decide to tell me how you feel that I should give her a call.”

“She’s a pain in my ass,” he grumbles irately, but his tone softens as he looks to you in remorse and continues, “but she’s right. You deserve to know how I feel about you.”

Smiling, you move closer to the super soldier so that you can curl into his side and rest your head upon his chest. His arms immediately come to wrap around your figure as he kisses the crown of your head, prompting you to let out a content sigh.

“We can figure out all the details when you get back from saving the world,” you assure him, “but just know that I love you, and I’ll be here waiting for you to come home.”

“Home,” Bucky sighs wistfully, already mourning your time together as he thinks about having to leave you behind. “I can promise you this- nothing is going to stop me from coming back to you.”

You look up to meet his tender gaze and are pleasantly surprised when he leans down to press a careful kiss to your lips. Your heart beats rapidly in your chest as you savor the moment you’ve been longing for ever since you met Bucky, and by the way he kisses you as if you are the air he needs to breathe, you think it’s safe to assume he feels the same.

His heart is yours, and as you tenderly embrace from the comfort of your couch, you can rest assured that to Bucky, home is where you are.

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Dp x Dc short idea

Jason is Danny’s dad

Warning: Language

Jason had just returned to the family publicly about two weeks ago. It hadn’t even been that long for him to settle before something happened. The press weren’t even off his ass and he has Alfred requesting he return home for an urgent matter immediately, which is butler speak for get your ass here right now!

The family was happy but adjusting to everything. They had mandatory family dinners at least twice a month and voluntarily got together more frequently, mostly just the siblings, but every once in a while Bruce would sneak in for a movie in the family room.

Alfred was pleased with the progress the family has made over the course of many years. It finally felt like everything was coming together and maybe settling down. He knew he thought that too soon when he answered the buzzer at the front gate. They weren’t expecting any visitors and looking at the video feed it was a young woman with hands on her hips glaring back at the camera. There were two large bags with her and surprisingly enough a young child playing in the grass just a short distance behind her.

“Wayne Residence, Alfred Pennyworth speaking, how may I assist you, ma’am?”

“Lettin’ me in for starters,” she says back with venom on her tongue.

“My apologies, but you do not have an appointment.”

She snorts, “Nah, but ya see, I saw that bastard on the news and thought I’d drop off what he gave me.”

To get her point across, she turns and looks back at the little boy not paying her any attention.

“Danny!” She snaps and he jerks his head to look at, who Alfred is assuming is, his mother. “Come here.”

He hops up at his own pace and dusts off the grass on his knees before trotting over. She leans down to angle the young boy away from the camera and pushing back his hair.

He couldn’t see it well before by the way the boy was positioned before, but Alfred could clearly see a prominent patch of white hair on the left lower section by his neck. Just like the white batch on Jason.

“You gonna let us in now?” She asks rudely.

Alfred has already determined he did not like this woman. He still buzzes them in. He contacts Jason immediately followed closely with Bruce.

Alfred then helps the two carry in the bags, while subtly checking for any weapons or explosives. Instead he finds things meant for a child.

He really didn’t like this woman.

Bruce is the first one to arrive down the stairs, pausing towards the bottom. He glances at Alfred and can see the displeasure in the butler’s eyes.

“Hello, ma’am. I’m Bruce Wayne, nice to meet you.”

“Fuckin’ everyone knows who you are, Brucie Wayne,” she huffs with a roll of her eyes.

Bruce glances down at the very young child who is hearing the foul language. He couldn’t be more than five, and completely oblivious as the little boy runs a hand along the wall and looks around at everything. He particularly keeps going back to the shiny chandelier above their heads.

“Who might you be?” He asks the woman, coming back to her as she almost touches the vase on the entry table. She draws her hand back to fold her arms across her chest.

“Grace.”

The name seems ironic compared to her behavior.

“And how can I help you, Miss Grace?”

“Your thought-to-be-dead son left something of his. I’m here to return it.”

It took no detective to determine she was talking about the boy currently using the door frame to the sitting room as leverage to rock back and forth, holding on with his tiny hands. Bruce could see the splash of white among the dark hair from this angle.

Bruce hums.

“Is that so?”

“I’ve already contacted Master Jason. He should be arriving soon. Shall I prepare some refreshments in the drawing room?” Alfred informs.

“Thank you, Alfred. Right this way,” he says to Grace, directing her toward the left while pulling out his phone to ask Tim to prepare the proper equipment downstairs.

“Danny!” The woman calls with impatience. She glares at the little boy who calmly turns to look at her, then skips behind them.

Grace huffs but doesn’t say anything else as they enter the room. She sits herself in the middle of the love seat and Bruce takes one of the chairs across from her. The boy, Danny, explores the room thoroughly, walking around without pattern and investigating every nook and cabinet to keep himself entertained. Very curious little child.

Bruce tries to engage her in conversation to dig up more information, but she firmly wanted to wait for Jason before divulging anything. He did however find out that Danny is four and needs to be enrolled in kindergarten next turn. Grace works night shift but wouldn’t say where.

Alfred came with three waters, one in a smaller plastic cup for Danny, and a plate of crackers and cut up fruit.

Grace eyes the butler with a raised brow. However, the first words Danny has spoken in their presence is a cute, “Thank you, mister,” before munching on a cracker and sipping from his cup. His curious eyes flick over the fruit and wanders over to his mother who picks at a rip in her jeans. He taps her knee and she sighs.

“What is it?”

“What’s that?”

Danny points to the fruit.

“What’s what?”

He creeps forward to point directly at the blackberries mixed in with the blueberries and strawberries.

“Blackberry,” she answers shortly.

“What’s it taste like?”

“Why don’t you try it and find out?”

He must have approved of that suggestion and reaches in to clumsily wrap a tiny hand around one of the dark berries. He flips it over in his hand for a minute, observing it at all angles, feeling the texture of the little bumps, before shoving it in his mouth. Danny leans his body over the coffee table to drag the bowl closer and rummage through it for more goodies.

Really looking at him, Bruce could see Jason’s freckles and the few other similarities like his square jaw and lip shape. He hasn’t seen it yet but Bruce bets Danny has the same crooked grin as his son.

He has the woman’s pale complexion and nose shape. His hair was straight like hers instead of Jason’s curls, but Danny took his dark coloring compared to her light brunette.

The boy was an adorable mix of both his son and this woman. He almost felt the test was unnecessary, but he didn’t stop Alfred from replacing the plastic cup and take it back to the kitchen where he knew it would be handed off to Tim.

Thankfully it was a day where there weren’t any meetings for either of them to attend.

Surprisingly, it isn’t Jason that enters the room first, it’s Damian coming home from school. The fourteen year old, almost fifteen, holds a leash in one hand with Titus standing patiently next to him, ready for his after school walk.

“Father, I heard we have guests.”

The teen stops in the doorway and Danny turns with interest until he spots the animal, then his eyes bug with excitement.

“Mommy, doggie,” he whisper shouts.

She just hums in affirmative, looking the new arrival up and down.

Danny grabs a blackberry from the bowl and trots over to Damian. He holds out the piece of fruit.

“This is a blackberry,” he states proudly.

Damian blinks down at the small child. Titus tilts his head, his nose working hard.

“I’m aware.”

“You can have it, if you let me pet your doggie,” he negotiates like he needed to give something in order to receive permission.

Damian looks up to his father for answers.

“Jason will be here soon,” is what he gets instead, his father’s lips twitch.

Damian looks back down in sudden realization when he sees the similarities between the man and this boy. He sighs tiredly.

“Pennyworth. A wet washcloth if you please.”

“Right away, Master Damian.”

“Next time, you only need to ask to pet Titus, you do not need to give me anything in return,” he tells the child.

Danny looks down at the berry sitting in his stained hands.

“So you don’t want it?”

“…Maybe later.”

“Okay!”

Danny skips back to carefully set the berry off the side on the tray, as if to save it for Damian for later like he said. He jogs the short distance back to them.

“Can I pet your doggie now, please?”

Damian takes the washcloth Alfred hands him with a nod and crouches down to get level with the boy.

“We must wipe our hands first. We don’t want anything sticky in his fur,” he explains as he holds out the washcloth for Danny’s hands.

The four year old looks down at the stains to see what he means and then places his hands on the washcloth for Damian to get the juices off.

The teen then calmly explains how to properly approach a dog he does not know by letting Titus smell the back of his hand first and then to always stay calm and confident.

Titus, the gentle giant that he is, had no problems letting the tiny child pat him and run small fingers through his short fur. It was endearing to hear the giggles when Titus used his big nose to sniff at the child’s face and neck. Sitting down, Titus was taller than the child standing up, which would have been scary to some kids, but Danny seemed to love Titus instantly. The little boy easily telling the dog what a good boy he is even with the dog sitting there doing nothing.

“Titus needs his afternoon walk now,” Damian informs.

Titus stands at the word walk, clearly ready to go.

“Oh, okay.” Danny turns to the big dog to reach up and pat his head twice. “Bye-bye, Titus. Have a good walk.”

The two leave and Danny skips back over to hang over the arm of the love seat his mother sits in, typing on her phone.

“Mommy, did you see the doggie? His name is Titus. He’s a good dog.”

“Uh-huh,” she comments without really listening.

“Do you like dogs, Danny?” Bruce asks with a smile.

Danny looks at him like he forgot the man was there, tilts his head as he studies him for a moment. Bruce waits patiently until Danny deems him okay and perks back up with bright eyes.

“Uh-huh! I love dogs! Mommy says we can’t get one ‘cuz our ‘partment is too small and they’re dirty. You’s guys are lucky,” the boy rambles as he wanders around the coffee table to get closer to Bruce and away from his distracted mother.

“How do you feel about cats? Damian has a black and white one around here somewhere.”

Danny shrugs and they continue to have a rather pleasant conversation about different animals and foods and each of their houses. It takes up the amount of time for Jason to walk through the door, seemingly already informed of the situation from Alfred.

Jason was… flabbergasted. Bewildered. Caught unprepared. He was a lot of words. Mostly he was scared.

Did he really have a child? A son? If that was true then he missed so much. He missed all of his firsts. First words, first steps, first laugh, first everything.

Would the boy even like him? What if he saw all his scars and was scared of him? What if he didn’t want anything to do with Jason after not being in his life this whole time?

But the boy might not be his. There’s that. That could be… Jason didn’t like the disappointment that thought brought.

Grace was the first one he noticed. Her ripped jeans and low cut top being out of place among the antique furniture and Persian rug. She scowls at him, putting her phone down.

“Finally decided to show up?”

He bites back a comment. He broke several traffic laws to get here, it wasn’t his fault he was fourty minutes away at the time he got the call.

He glances over at Bruce and instead his eyes zero in on the child standing by the armchair Bruce was sitting in.

Just one look and he knew the boy was his.

He looks to Bruce anyway for confirmation, since he has no doubt he sent off a sample to Tim hiding like the troll he is in the basement. The man nods. Jason sucks in a deep breath and suddenly needs to sit down.

He sinks heavily in the matching armchair next to Bruce’s, separated only by a round end table. Jason can’t stop staring at those big, blue eyes that are filled with such curiosity and innocence he almost breaks down right then. But he can’t. He has to be strong. He can’t just walk away to get a handle on his emotions. He’s a dad now.

“You’re a hard man to find,” Grace folds her arms over her chest.

“I’ve been busy,” he answers lamely.

She humphs and looks away with a shake of her head.

The boy, Danny Alfred said his name was, creeps around Bruce’s legs to get closer, obviously seeing something in Jason enough to investigate. The room is quiet as they wait to see how Danny will react.

Coming to a stop right before his knees, Danny stares up at the large man with lots of scars and muscles from what he can see. He wasn’t scared. There was just something familiar that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He looks… he looks like… and he also feels almost like…

Furrowing his brows in a pout, he knows his Mommy doesn’t like it when he does it, but he still makes his eyes burn with green.

The man gasps and his eyes also swirl into an angry green.

“Daddy?” Danny asks with hope and joy.

Daddy swallows and then nods.

“Yea, buddy, I’m your dad.”

“Daddy!” The boy cheers, jumping in place with a wide smile. “Daddy! Mommy, look! It’s Daddy!”

Danny wastes no time climbing into the man’s lap and wrapping his arms around him as far as they’ll go (not very far) to press his ear to Jason’s chest over his heart. He’s practically vibrating with excitement and Jason makes sure to set a large hand on his back to hold him close.

“I fuckin’ knew it,” Grace hisses, her eyes wide at the display earlier. Both of their eyes had returned to their calmer blue and teal color, but everyone in the room saw it. “I knew he got it from you.”

His eyes narrow in warning, pulling the boy closer to his chest. He sets a hand over Danny’s exposed ear to protect him from the harsh words he’s probably already heard before.

“Do you have any idea how creepy it is to deal with a tantrum when your kid has fucking glowing green eyes?”

“Did you hit him?” Jason growls, the vibrations seeming to settle Danny even more.

“Please, I’m not my mother,” she dismisses with a sneer.

Could have fooled him.

“Everything was fine until he started doing freaky shit. I don’t know how to raise a meta kid, alright?”

“What are you talking about?”

Now he was just confused. What stuff was Danny doing that Grace thought he was a meta?

“Don’t try to pretend you don’t have powers too,” she points viciously.

“I’m not pretending. I don’t have powers. I don’t have the meta gene. What can he do?” He demands while being transparently clear.

She just glares back at him, obviously not believing him. That didn’t exactly matter at the moment.

“What can he do?” He repeats with emphasis.

She puckers her lips like she’s tasted something sour and then lifts her chin.

“Why doesn’t he just show you, huh? Danny- Would you stop babying him? Danny, show him the things you can do.”

After Jason takes the hand off the boy’s head, Danny turns to his mother warily.

“But you don’t like it,” he reminds, like she forgot.

“He wants to see it, so show him,” she waves a hand at Jason like he just asked for something he would regret.

Danny leans back to look up at his dad.

“You won’t get mad? Or scared?”

He sounds so unsure and scared. As if Jason could ever hate him. Jason really wants to punch something. Preferably something with her face on it.

“I promise I won’t.”

Another parent might have something more profound to say to reassure their child, but Jason was just starting out and honestly, it was more than Bruce would ever say.

Danny thinks for a second before wiggling to get down. He looks back once more at his mother who gives him a ‘get on with it’ motion.

The boy fidgets a little before covering his face with two hands like he’s playing hide and seek, then- disappears. Jason jerks at watching his son blink out of sight like a Martian.

“Boo!” Danny pops back into view, exactly where he was standing before with his hands out like any child on Halloween.

Jason blinks and then starts laughing. This was karma. Danny could literally become invisible, something the Bats train to do for years.

“That was good, buddy,” Jason chuckles, ruffling the kid’s hair.

Danny hesitantly smiles back, a bit of hope and pride in those eyes.

“There’s more,” Grace interrupts, seemingly uneasy with how well Jason reacted.

“Yea?” Jason directs to Danny, his focus on his son.

Danny gives a shaky nod, glancing over worriedly at Bruce who is just silently watching. Jason could see the tension in his shoulders but also the intrigue.

The boy places a hand on the coffee table and focuses on his hand. It took a few minutes of concentration before Danny’s hand went through the table like he was just dunking his hand in a pool instead of through a solid object.

He pulls his hand out and they could see it be slightly translucent.

“That one’s harder to do when I want to,” Danny mumbles.

“You mean it mostly happens on accident?”

Danny nods.

“I drop a lot. And get stuck sometimes.”

Yea, Jason can see how that could be a problem. He can’t imagine how terrified Danny was the first time a body part got stuck in an immovable object. He really wishes he could have been there for him in his panic.

“The last thing is hard too. But I’ve been practicing. Watch!”

Danny jumps once, twice, and on the third time he lingers in the air, coming down slowly like someone in water or astronauts on the moon. Danny pushes off the ground a fourth time, this time floating steadily higher like gravity meant nothing to him.

Despite the kid obviously have done this before and enjoying it with his giggles, Jason stands under him in case he falls. And falls he does. Suddenly, like the strings being cut and gravity taking hold of him again, Danny plummets into Jason waiting arms. The boy grunts on impact and then smiled sheepishly up at his dad.

“Sorry, Daddy. I promise I’m doing better.”

“That’s okay, squirt. I’m glad I was here to catch you.”

Jason plops back into the chair with his child in his lap.

“Anything else up that sleeve of yours?” He teases but is equally as serious.

Danny shakes his head enough to make his hair fluff. Jason looks to Grace for confirmation and sees she is still recovering from Danny’s fall out of the air. How many times has she had to catch him? Or wasn’t able to catch him?

She clears her throat.

“I don’t know if it’s part of it, but he never gets sick. Never even had a cough.”

Children always get sick, that’s how they build immune systems. For Danny to have never gotten even a cold, Jason doesn’t know if it’s worrying or a good thing.

“Any allergies?” Is the first thing on his mind, thinking of what Alfred will need to know.

She shakes her head with a negative hum.

“In one of the bags is a folder with all of his documents. Birth certificate, immunizations, doctor visits. I also made a list of some favorite things and things he hates. It has foods on there too.”

That was… honestly more than he was expecting from her. But it also cements the fact that she intended to drop him off with him and then never see them again. She raised him for four years and she doesn’t even want visitation? Does she not understand there are legal documents she needs to sign to transfer custody properly?

“There are some things you need to sign, but it will take some time to get it sorted,” Bruce chimes in all business.

Long nails swipe through the air like signing her rights away was trivial.

“My phone number and address are on one of the documents. Just tell me when and where.”

She stands to leave and Jason can feel Danny tense up.

“Are we leaving?” He asks worriedly, climbing down from his seat on his dad’s lap. He didn’t want to go.

“You’re staying here. With your dad,” Grace says shortly, not once looking at the boy.

“Are you going home to get the rest of our stuff?”

“No. I’m going home. You’re staying here. End of story.”

Danny visibly thinks on that for a second then scampers after his mother as she leaves the room.

“Is it like Robbie where his mom lives in one ‘partment and his dad lives in a different one?”

Grace sighs and runs a hand through her hair. She’s clearly flustered and is showing it as irritation, but Jason can’t help but trail behind in case she says something that she shouldn’t.

“No, Danny, it’s not like Robbie. I- I am leaving you here and I’m not coming back, okay?”

Jason takes a step forward to draw her attention and send her a look that says ‘choose your words carefully, this is a conversation he will remember for a long time’.

“But- but why? Is it ‘cuz of my things? I’m sorry I scared you, Mommy. I didn’t mean to. I won’t do them again, promise.”

Jason grits his teeth at how desperate his son sounds, trying to keep his mother with him. Even making a promise he can’t keep.

Grace finally looks at her baby. Sees the turmoil and tears in his baby blue eyes. She gets down on her knees to get level and places her hands on his tiny shoulders.

“You will do them again and that’s not a bad thing. Your things are part of you. That’s okay. You’re not in any trouble. I just- I’m in over my head here, Danny. I can’t take care of you the way you should be taken care of, okay? But your dad can, I hope. So I’m leaving you here. With him.”

Danny’s lip wobbles and she has to restrain herself from not hugging him like she always does when he’s upset.

“Then- then you’ll visit, right? Like Chase’s grandma visits him?”

Why is this so hard?

“I don’t think so, baby. I don’t think you’re gonna see me again. I’m sorry.”

Danny is silent for a while. He wipes his eyes and sniffs.

“Are you goin’ ‘way like Jamal’s dad?”

The ten year old in the same building as them lost his dad in a wrong place wrong time type situation. Jamal had told Danny his dad went away forever so he couldn’t see him again. Grace had told him that when people go away forever, they get put among the stars he loves so much to be remembered.

Grace wears such a pained expression Jason half thought she was about to burst into tears.

“Kinda,” she nods. “So give me a big hug, okay?”

Danny was in her arms before she finished speaking. Jason didn’t exactly know why she wanted to stop all contact, but he had a theory that if Danny really was a meta (and with his powers he was leaning toward believing it) then Grace would want to distance herself as much as possible to protect them both. He met her in Crime Alley, he knew they didn’t live in a good spot. If any one of those crooks saw Danny use any of his powers, they could steal him easily from his single mother. She didn’t want to give those kind of people leverage to get Danny and sell him off. She wasn’t trying to be cruel, she was just trying to do what was best for her kid, even if that meant cutting her out of his life.

He had a strange new respect for her he didn’t want to acknowledge.

Grace takes a heavy breath and pulls away showing Danny’s tear stained cheeks. She wipes them like it would do anything.

“I gotta go now, Danny.”

“No,” he cries and Jason’s heart breaks a little more.

“We gotta say goodbye now. Please.”

Grace is just barely hanging on. Jason knows as soon as she walks out that door she’ll break down.

“I don’t want to. Don’t want you to leave,” Danny whines, trying to keep a strong grip on his mother.

She holds his hands in hers and gives him a serious look.

“You’re going to be fine. You’re gonna be just fine with your dad.” She leans in and whispers, “You’re not alone, Danny. You are never alone. Just look up. Look at the stars, baby, and you’ll be okay.”

Danny pouts, but thinks about those words.

“I like the stars,” he mumbles.

She smiles, probably the first one in a while.

“I know you do.”

She kisses his forehead one last time and stands. Danny whines. She steps away.

“Bye-bye, Danny. I- I love you.”

“Mommy,” he cries, tears and snot coming full force now.

Jason can’t take anymore and picks up his son to hold on his hip.

“It’s okay, buddy. I got you,” he assures. He turns to Grace who is having the internal battle of her life in the foyer. “I got him.”

It’s an assurance to her too, that he will take care of Danny, that he would be there for him. It was a promise.

Grace sees it for what it is and leaves out the front door without another word.

Danny screams and cries and struggles, but Jason holds on tight, scared he’ll fall or use his powers to get away and disappear. The man walks back to the drawing room so his son wasn’t staring at the door longingly.

As soon as Jason sits down, Danny struggles harder since they stopped moving. So Jason stands again, adjusting the boy in his arms and starts pacing a path around the room.

Bruce has already disappeared, not knowing what to do with a heartbroken child crying his eyes out. Alfred has cleared away the tray of snacks, leaving two waters on the table, one in a small, plastic cup. Jason spies Damian poke his head in for a second to see what the matter was, and upon seeing no immediate threat went off wherever. Other than that, father and son were alone to figure themselves out.

Danny was going through a lot for a toddler and Jason didn’t exactly know how to handle what happened either. He tried his best with speaking reassurances into the boy’s hair, but he didn’t know if Danny even heard him over his own crying.

It was a rough first meeting to be frank, but after a while (what felt like ages) Danny cried himself to sleep and Jason felt it safe to finally sprawl out on the loveseat with the boy laying on his chest. Compared to a grueling patrol, that was definitely worse. He never wanted to have to go through that again, but knew as a dad it was part of the job description.

[illum1z]

snow cream

Roommate!Yunho x F!Reader

summary: Six months of living under the same roof, and you barely knew the guy. You both always came and went, to and from your jobs and school, only ever interacting in the kitchen or the living room late at night when you wanted a glass of water or he wanted to watch TV. But when winter rolls around and the snowstorms get heavy, maybe somehow you could warm up to each other…

tags: snowed in, forced proximity(?), attempt at humor, fluff, mutual pining, hand kink (duh), soft mdom, petnames (baby, angel face, pretty girl, slut etc.), Yu LOVES touching you, handjob, nipple sucking, fingering, tension, unprotected sex (BOOOOO), lotus positon, he talks alot, multiple orgasms, aftercare, NOT PROOFREAD

wc: 7.2k

notes: sort of based around a nsfw audio I listened to a couple years ago LMAO.

tracklist: bad liar, poison, intro: singularity

“Reports are flowing in from the NWS about upcoming snowstorms, which are expected to reach record levels; the surrounding area is expecting up to 6 inches. Officials are closing roads and the district schools are shutting down until-”

“Just my luck, huh?” You switched off your phone and rested your head against your steering wheel with an exasperated sigh. You had seen the beginning of the snowfall that week, just light flakes here and there, but they weren't sticking.

But of course mother nature had to give a big fuck you and mess with your plans that weekend with 6 inches of snow. Roads were closing, and so were the stores, so you needed to be in and out before the snowstorm picked up.

You rubbed your temples before switching your car off, getting out, and walking into the grocery store with your original plan in mind.

You had planned to pick up some ingredients for some appetizers you were going to bring to one of your friends' birthdays, but you had frowned when they texted your group chat, saying the party had been cancelled because of snowfall.

That's what led you to the news, deflating your excitement. Instead of being here for groceries, you were here to stock up on supplies. And so was everybody else. The store was packed with people. Mothers are rushing and snatching boxes of cereal off the shelf. Dads are stocking up on batteries and jugs of water. The poor employees were at war with the panicking public. Quickly as you could, you grabbed a cart and picked up some essentials. Batteries. Toilet paper. Bottled water. Some nonperishables. While walking past the home section, you noticed a couple of displays where they were selling large fleece blankets.

You eyed them for a second, debating if you should get one.

Maybe two.

One for you, one for your roommate. Jeong Yunho. 

You had met him on Craigslist whilst looking for roommate listings. You decided community college was best for your budget years ago, but you needed to find somewhere else to live. Soon. Living with your parents is not for the weak.

You spent hours on different websites, desperate to find somewhere close and affordable. Maybe also a roommate who has a low chance of murdering you in your sleep.

You stumbled across the listing one night, hope slowly dwindling at the awful market.

2 bedrooms. 2 baths. 600 per month. Cats are welcome. Email for more information.

Immediately, you jumped on it because there was no way you would be able to find anything cheaper than this, unfortunately. You emailed him all your information. About your job and schedule, and made sure to mention that you would like to bring your cat, Patches. About a week later, you had driven to the house to look around and discuss final plans and agreements. Along with you, you brought your cat so she could become accustomed to the new living space.

The house was cute and quaint, a little grey and white bungalow with a few bushes on either side of the steps that led up to the black door. A decent-sized front yard, neat and green, with a driveway with just enough space for two cars. Perfect. 

When you met the person who posted the listing, you had pulled up to the house, parking your car behind another one already in the driveway. He was on the porch, in the process of carrying some bags inside the house.. When he saw you, he waved for you to follow him inside. He showed you to your room, talked about rent and policies. You both established some privacy rules, and he was petting your cat the entire time. He seemed to take a liking to her immediately. Yunho had you sign some things, and then that was it. Simple, fast, and easy. A few days later, you had moved your stuff in, and from then on, you and Yunho barely interacted.

He said that he’s usually at one of his friends' houses, at work or class, or in his room playing games. This was perfect for you; you enjoyed your privacy, and if you were being honest, you were nervous around Yunho.

He had this boyish charm to him that made your heart flutter; he was tall and spoke to you gently, as if he were too loud, he might scare you. He had dark brown hair that parted in the middle, with bangs that sometimes covered his eyes. And you couldn’t help but feel ashamed that your gaze always drifted to his hands whenever you saw him. Large and slender, the veins prominent like a roadmap.

 He always made sure that you knew where he was going when he went somewhere with a text like “At friends,” or “Out drinking.”

Another thing you had noticed while living with him was that it was like he stole your cat from you. IF you couldn't find your cat anywhere, it was safe to assume she was in Yunho's room. She followed him around the apartment all the time, whenever he sat on the couch to watch TV, she was in his lap. Whenever he was in the kitchen cooking, she was perched on the counter watching intently.

One day, you came home and saw Yunho on the couch with her. Usually, she’d get up and greet you by rubbing her face against your legs. Instead, she stayed put, gave you a curt meow, and that was it.

You walked by the back of the couch and narrowed your eyes at her, mouthing the words “traitor” before retreating to your room.  

You ran your hand over the navy blue fleece blanket that was folded next to a similar white one. Making up your mind, you dropped the blue blanket in your cart as well as the white one. After some more shopping, you checked out and began your drive home, the snow beginning to fall again. 

Your mind wandered back to your roommate again. You're pretty sure he was at a friend's house right now, you just hoped he would make it home safe. Driving home through the snow was certainly a feat. Everyone on the road opted to go under the speed limit in hopes they wouldn't go sliding at a sharp turn. A blanket of white began to accumulate on the ground, and it was growing increasingly difficult to see through the snow swirling in the air.

After a grueling and stressful journey, you returned to the house safely. The yard was a pure, sparkling white, untouched like a fresh, clean blanket. You gathered your bags and stepped out of the car, trudging through the snow as it only continued to climb higher and higher. As you suspected, Yunho’s car wasn’t in the driveway.

You made it inside, the warmth of the heater immediately making you shed your jacket as you dropped the bags on the table. As soon as you did, your phone buzzed. You pulled it out to see a text from Yunho.

“Be home later.” Simple and quick. You thought for a moment whether you should text back. Your fingers began typing, and then you hit send.

“Be safe.” A second later, it buzzed again.

“Will do.”

You felt stupid for the way your heart clenched a little. You could count on three hands how many conversations you’ve had with him that lasted longer than a minute. Words are always fleeting between you two, always too busy for anything more than a good morning or an update on bills. But Yunho always responded to your texts with earnestness, replying fast and confidently. It was never anything deep, but whenever you asked what he wanted for dinner, he always responded with whatever it was he wanted, with a smiley face and a thank you.

He never really engaged in any more conversation than that, but for some reason, you could tell her cared more than he let on.

You put away all the things you bought, deciding to place the blanket you bought for Yunho on the couch so he’d see it when he got home. You cleaned up a little, because if you’re going to be snowed in, at least let the place be neat.

After some light cleaning, you had a shower and decided that for tonight’s dinner, you’d make some chili, so that way you would have leftovers for the upcoming days. Tonight was usually Yunho’s night for meals, but you were feeling froggy.

Connecting your speaker to your phone, you cleaned up your area and put on some music, getting ready to make dinner. You were in your zone, chopping tomatoes and browning the beef. The music flowed from your speaker, and the house was filled with a cozy feeling. You were an avid big light hater, so a few lamps and candles here and there set a soothing ambient lighting. The sun was setting, and the snow was picking up, the wind howling outside.

After another hour or so, dinner was done, and Yunho still wasn’t home. It was 8 pm. He’s usually out past 11, but because of the storm, you had assumed he’d be back earlier. You decided to shoot him a test, for your own mental fortitude. The snow had calmed, gentle snowfall dusting your windows.

“Are you on your way home? I made chili.” Send.

You waited a minute or two. No response. You rested your elbows on the kitchen island, waiting for his reply.

The three bouncing dots appeared at the bottom of your messages, and he was typing.

It stopped for a second, then started up again.

“Can you come outside?” Your eyebrows raised in surprise at such a weird question. You thought he was with his friends. He was typing again.

“Down the street.”

“Stuck in the snow.”

“Please.” 

You were so confused. Quickly, you slipped on your coat and your shoes by the door. You slipped your phone in your pocket and opened your front door. The cold hit your face like a mallet, and immediately your nose started to burn. But it was beautiful outside. Fresh snow everywhere. It was dark outside well into the night, but the snow was so white it was like it provided a little glow of its own. Snowflakes flurried from the sky, landing all over your clothes. You stepped into the front yard, and half of your calf sank completely beneath the surface of the fluff.

You, albeit with some trouble, waded through your front yard and stepped out onto the icy street nearly losing your footing and busting your ass. The neighborhood was silent, not a soul in sight, the end of the street being swallowed in black emptiness. 

But on the other end of the street, a lone car pulled off to the curb, headlights on as the snow swirled around the warm beams of light in a dancing flurry.

Beside it was your roommate, waving at you, bundled in a coat and scarf, grey sweatpants, and a desperate look on his face.

You started to walk towards him, doing your best not to slip and fall. “What the hell is going on?” You exclaim as you walk towards him. His tires were buried in the snow, and his windshield wipers were swaying steadily, clearing the flakes off the glass.

When you were about 6 steps away from reaching him, you began to lose your footing, the ice seeming slicker than before.

“Careful-careful-careful!” Yunho reached his hands forward and took a step in an attempt to catch you, but it was too late. 

“Shit!” your feet slipped from underneath you and after a couple slips and slides fighting to stay up, you ultimately fell directly on your ass, a sharp pain shooting up your tailbone.

You groaned, hand reaching back and rubbing your lower back. Immediately, the wet ice soaked your pants uncomfortably, and you already knew you’d wake up tomorrow with a nasty bruise.

Silence fell as you sat in defeat and mulled your pain, but Yunho was oddly quiet. You raised your eyes to look at him. He had one hand over his mouth. His eyebrows were raised in shock, and his eyes slowly narrowed as he took you in.

“Laugh. I dare you.” You glared at him, wincing at the sharp pain crawling up your tailbone.

“Jeong Yunho, you are a child.” You rolled your eyes as he busted out into a fit of laughter, one hand on his car while the other stayed on his mouth. You turned and got ready to get up so you could hit him.

“N-No wait stop!” he shouted between fits of giggles, his arms coming down and trying to pull you up by your arms, while simultaneously avoiding your violent hands.

“I’m sorry, let me just- hold on- stop trying to hit me (Name)! I'm trying to help you.”

“Well then, stop laughing at me!” His own feet were starting to lose friction on this ice as he felt his body sway as he grabbed you.

“If you don’t stop moving, you’re gonna take us both down!” Yunho tried to manhandle you back up, but unfortunately he lost it and tumbled down right next to you, accidentally yanking you onto your back as he landed on his ass.

“Goddamnit...” Yunho laid back in the snow, seemingly giving up on trying to get either one of you on your feet. You giggled behind your hand as you looked at him, his hair all messy and dusted with snowflakes.

He glanced at you and sighed. “Go ahead. It's only fair.” You took that opportunity to laugh in his face, him lightening up and joining you.

When you both calmed down, you looked behind him at his car. “So what happened, you just got lodged in the snow?”

“Wow, real astute (Name). Did I also mention that it’s snowing outside? How crazy is that?” You moved to smack his shoulder at his smart alecness, but he dodged.

“Stop trying to hit me, and help me move my car.” Bewildered, you watch as he stumbled and tried to stand up, feet slipping here and there as he finally stood upright. Like a baby penguin

“Help you push the car?” You snorted and tried to stand up yourself grunting. “Yeah, that's like not happening. Especially on this ice. You’re just going to have to leave it here until some of the snow melts.” Yunho looked at you like you had just told him something outrageous.

“Are you serious?” He glared at you, noticing how you made no move to come over and start pushing the car. “Insane actually…” he mumbled to himself, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration as he watched the snow fall from the night sky.

“Listen, I made dinner tonight. It's chili. Come home for now, it's cold, and the snow will pick back up again soon. Come inside, and we can worry about this later.” Yunho stopped and seemed to think to himself for a second, before his eyes flicked over to yours.

He looked at you with a surprising gentleness, roving over your face before landing on your lips for a fraction of a second, so fast you didn’t catch it.

“Alright.” He threw his hands up in defeat. “Fine, let's go inside. It's okay. We can worry about it later.”

“That's what I said,” you chirped as you turned your back, beginning the slippery journey back to the house.

“I know that's what you said. I was just rephrasing.” Yunho followed behind, shuffling his feet on the ice so he wouldn’t have to pick them up and risk stepping wrong. It was silent on the way back, both of you too focused on not falling again.

You shed your shoes and coat by the door, turning to Yunho and pointing to the rug on the porch.

“Shoes.” You stated. Yunho looked down and removed his shoes, setting them next to yours.

Satisfied you opened the door, you hung your coat on the hanger in the foyer. “I just cleaned the house.” You mumbled to yourself, as if to affirm the reason you made him leave his snow-filled shoes outside.

Yunho followed behind, hanging his own coat and scarf on the rack. You sighed and fell on the couch, groaning in relief at the warmth that surrounded you.

“There’s chili in the kitchen if you want some.” You closed your eyes, basking in the warmth. The pine candle you lit made the house smell so comforting, taking in a deep breath, you heard Yunho’s breath hitch. When you realized he hadn't said anything yet, you peeked open an eye, only to catch him looking away from you.

His arms came up, smoothly directing his gaze down at his hands, fidgeting and playing with his fingers like he was bored.

He was almost caught, your shirt had ridden up when you laid on the couch, exposing your belly and the hem stopping right where your under boob began. Yunho’s brain nearly short-circuited at the sight, wondering what it would feel like to lie to you on his bed and drag his big hands up and down your waist, squeezing and kneading and feeling you…

He blinked, realizing he was much too far in his fantasy, expecting you to be looking at him like he was a pervert. Instead, he caught your eyes glued to his hands like they were the most interesting thing in the world. You blinked once. Twice. Before turning round and snatching up the remote, switching the TV on.

“Like I said, dinner’s in the kitchen. Help yourself.” Quickly gaining your composure like you weren't imagining his fingers inside of you, you switched to a cooking channel and sat on the couch, full attention on the screen.

“What's this?” Yunho tapped the back of the couch. “A blanket?” You didn’t look back at him, too embarrassed to show your face.

“Oh yeah, when I was at the store, I saw they were selling soft blankets, so I got you one.” You shrugged it off. When he didn’t respond, you assumed that he just went to the kitchen to eat.

A few more beats of silence, and you thought you were in the clear from your way too hot roommate, when his gentle, rich voice hit your ears like a truck, and you felt your core clench hard.

“Thank you (Name), you’re such a sweetheart. Thanks for always thinking of me.” 

Like someone just shot you, you whipped your head around to see Yunho holding the blanket in his hands, towering over you, standing behind the couch. His fingers dipping into the soft, navy blue waves of fleece, his lips upturned in a soft smile, and his eyes filled with nothing but adoration.

He was going to kill you. His hair fell in front of his eyes as his hands slowly caressed the blanket he held, his posture was relaxed as his eyes remained fixed on you, and you swear you saw them flick to your lips for a second. 

Your heart stopped and fell to your ass, immediately nervousness took over your body and you felt like a hot mess.

 After a few seconds of silence, Yunho’s smile fell, and his eyebrows knitted, like he was frustrated. He leaned his head back and shoved the blanket in his face, groaning into it.

“Don't… look at me like that.” Yunho’s muffled voice spilled from behind the blanket in his face, and you went rigid. How were you looking at him?

“Well, I don't look at me like that either!” You exclaimed, your voice shaking slightly. Yunho moved the blanket from his face, butting on the back of the couch. His eyes locked with yours again. Every time you looked away, he stepped a little closer, until he was sitting next to you.

“Hey, uh. Back up maybe?” You chided, trying to hide how much of a mess he was able to make of you just by looking at you.

“No.” Yunho challenged, looking at you intently. “Stop looking away and look at me.” So you did, you gazed into his eyes and immediately felt weak. His pupils were BLOWN. His tongue poked the inside of his cheek, eyebrows cinched as he stared at you like he was trying to pin you to your spot.

He wasn’t saying anything, but he didn’t look like he was thinking either. He was just staring. You were starting to feel put on the spot, and you were about to make an excuse to go use the bathroom. 

“You’re so fucking pretty,” Yunho whispered. You nearly choked on your spit, but his hand lifted and dragged his fingertips down the bridge of your nose with feather-light gentleness, along your eyebrow, along your jawline. Like he was mapping out your face.

“Yunho…” You whispered, afraid that if you spoke too loudly, it could shatter the atmosphere. The air was thick, and the wind outside howled as the snow picked up again. The house almost seemed too hot now, and frankly, a snowball to the face wouldn’t be so bad right now. Yunho gnawed on his bottom lip.

“How come you never talk to me?” You suddenly blurted it out, instantly regretting it when it slipped out of your mouth. Yunho, obviously taken aback by your question, paused his touches on your face. He let his hand fall onto his lap and quickly grabbed his hand again, encasing it between your own two.

“What I meant is! Like, why don’t we take or hang out more often? I mean that I would like to, not that you… I'm sorry, I don't know what I'm talking about.” Yunho watched as you stumbled over your words, a smile crossing his face again as he chuckled at your franticness.

“(Name), (Name), stop.” The hand he held in your grasp, gently pulled from you, now holding your wrist. Yunho lowered his head and looked at your hand. Keeping his head down, his eyes lifted to meet yours as his thumb pressed onto the pulse point on the inside of your wrist. His other hand came up to your face, cradling your jaw softly.

Your chest felt like it was going to explode, overwhelmed with how Yunho was so close to you, how he was touching you, how he was looking at you.

“You know, I feel bad. You just thought of me while out shopping and got me a gift, but I don’t have anything for you.” Yunho frowned, dropping his gaze back down to your hand, his fingers tracing lightly up the inside of your arm, drawing circles and stars into your skin.

You shrugged gently, trying to brush it off so you didn't seem like you were expecting something back, because truly you weren’t. You just wanted to get him something.

“It’s nothing, Yu, you don’t have to -“ 

“No, it’s not nothing! Don’t say that.” Yunho squeezed your wrist softly, bringing your arm up and pressing whispers of kisses from your pulse point up your arm, and back down again as he spoke. 

“You’re always so thoughtful. Always checking up on me, making amazing meals for us, looking so pretty all the time.” You swallowed, your face quickly heating up at the praise, and the strain in his voice as he spoke. You struggled to find words to reply to him. You never realized how much he appreciated what you do, and frankly, you didn’t realize how much you did for him. 

“I wanna give you something too.” His eyes flicked up to yours, searching for consent in your eyes. You didn’t say anything. Then you whispered a question, the doubt in your mind creeping into your words.

“Yunho… you don’t have to give me anything-” Before you could continue, he pressed a finger to your lips to stop you from talking.

“Buh buh buh. Stop. This isn’t for you. Well, it is for you, but it's for me too. I want to. I want to take care of you like you take care of me, (Name).” Yunho’s hand landed on your upper thigh, gently kneading it like he was trying to ease the tension, keeping his eyes on yours.

“Is that okay?” The slow, gentle rub on your thigh was comforting, however, not calming in the least. The tendons in his hands flexed as he stroked his hand about the expanse of your leg. He stopped when your thigh tensed, resuming when you opened your mouth to speak.

“Yes.” barely there, in a whisper.

“Words, angel, use them please.” Yunho inched closer to you on the couch, his other hand coming around to cup the back of your neck, bringing your face closer to his, his nose just barely brushing against yours.

His smell enveloped you, his bangs tickled your forehead as his staggering breath fanned against your lips. 

“Yes.” You spoke louder, pressing a soft kiss against his lips, testing the waters. “Please.” You expected Yunho to chase your lips, but instead, he just smiled and leaned back.

“I knew it.” Your heart stopped. What's he doing? 

“All this time since you moved in, I thought maybe I was a pervert.” He lifted his hand and gently pushed against your chest, urging you to lie on your back on the couch, your head on the armrest. He slowly crawled over on top of your body, one leg slotted between your thighs with his knee just barely brushing your core, his hands pressing against the couch by the sides of your head. He brought his face down to yours, space nonexistent between you two as his calm breaths mingled with your nervous ones.

His eyes locked on yours, shamelessly flicking to your lips every few seconds. “You’re always looking at my hands, baby. Do you like them?”

Your breath hitched, and embarrassment crept up your spine. Yeah, he had noticed. This wasn't a new fascination of yours. You had always been drawn to hands in a way, but his specifically. The long, nimble fingers, the prominent veins, and the sheer size of his palm. 

Teasingly, he brought his hand up to your face, twisting his wrist to give you a good view. Slowly, he moved his hand down against your throat, his fingertips brushing against the side of your neck softly, up and down, trailing along your collarbones and between your breasts, down until they reached the hem of your shirt.

You watched with bated breath as he teased the hem of your shirt, rubbing it between his fingers, slightly lifting it and letting it fall back down.

“Want me to take it off for you? Undressing you like a gift, yeah?” A quiet whimper slipped from the back of your throat. His hand slipped under your shirt, flattening his large, warm palm against your stomach and caressing your skin gently.

Agonizingly slow, he dragged his hand up, taking his time mapping out your body, his other hand quietly lifting to cup the back of your neck again, pulling your head up to press your forehead against his. His eyes never left you as you felt his calloused fingertips brush against the underside of your breast, tracing light patterns around your areolas so softly it almost tickled. Your stomach clenched at the touch, letting out a breath you didn't even know you were holding.

“You're so soft, sweetheart. I’ve wanted to touch you for so long. Can’t believe you're letting me..” His large hand cupped your breast, softly kneading the mound.

His fingers twilled the hair on the nape of your neck, occasionally squeezing the back of your neck reassuringly, like he wanted you to know that he had you. He's gonna take care of you.

“Can you whine for me, honey? I love your voice.” You didn't need to hear that, as he slipped his hand from under your shirt, lifting the hem until it sat under your chin.

“Arms up.” Breaking from your stupor, you lifted your arms as he dragged your shirt over your head, tossing it somewhere in the dim living room. His eyes moved down and locked on your exposed breasts, your nipples hardening in response to the cold.

“There they are. So pretty.” Without warning, his lips crashed with yours, swallowing your whimpers while his hand found your breast again. Messy and slow, his tongue coaxing your lips open for him and slipping into your mouth. He moaned deep into you, his hand massaging your breast roughly as he lost himself in your mouth.

Every buck of his head he tried to push himself closer into you, like he was trying to melt into you, his lips relentless against you, sucking your plush bottom lip and nipping at your tongue teasingly.

Pulling away was hard for him; it almost hurt. He gave himself a moment to take you in. Swollen lips, blown pupils, and frizzy hair. A mess all for him.

His kisses trailed from the back of your ear down your neck and landed around your breasts. Kissing and soothingly running his tongue around them before latching onto your nipple. You closed your eyes and leaned your head back, focused on the feeling of his warm mouth enveloping your nipple.

Taking this opportunity, his other hand moved from behind your neck and landed on the waistband of your pants, undoing the buttons before slipping his hand past the waistband of your underwear.

Your eyes shot open again at the feeling of his finger tracing a slow deliberate line up your slit, gathering your wetness. You craned your neck to the side, draping your arm over your mouth and avoiding his hot gaze. Yunho clicked his tongue and with surprising ease let his finger press against your opening, sliding perfectly inside of you, his fingertip brushing against your G-spot softly.

“I’m gonna need you to look at me, baby, I can’t give you what you need if you aren't looking at me.” Your eyebrows furrowed, and you bit your bottom lip, ripping your arm away from your eyes and slowly focusing your eyes on him. And you almost wished you hadn’t.

His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, pupils blown and hair tousled all around his flushed face. He gnawed on the inside of his cheek, his hand disappearing between your legs, his cheek pressed up against your breast, his tongue lolling against it, tracing lazy patterns around your areola. His eyes took you in, like you were the most stunning thing he had laid eyes on, which was the truth.

His eyelids fluted before his lips wrapped around your nipple again, kissing, licking and sucking as he started dragging his finger inside of you, curling it just right in that way that made your breathing hitch and your eyes roll.

“Yu-, fuck…” He nipped at your nipple, immediately soothing it with his tongue and pulling off of you with a slick pop.

“I’m trying so hard to be respectful…” He ground out the words like talking hurt his throat. You were finding it hard to focus with the attention he was giving your body, perfectly pressing your buttons and winding you up like a toy. Easily slipping another finger inside your cunt, you let a groan out deep from your chest, turning him on impossibly more.

“But baby, fuck you’re making this so hard for me…” He let his mouth wrap around your other nipple, massaging your hip with his free hand as he sloppily licked you up like candy.

“So good- wish I could eat you all day. I do…” he moaned between kisses on your breasts, switching between suckling them and biting. “I do. I really fucking do…”

Yunho’s fingers press inside of you harder, coaxing you closer to your orgasm. Unbeknownst to you, he was grinding his rock hard cock against the cushion of the couch, desperately trying to ease the pain from how hard he was feeling you soak his fingers like a slut. Your eyes watered, and you were finding it hard to breathe as his long fingers reached spots you never could. You thought back on the times you’d sit on your bed, trying so hard to reach an earth-shattering climax, imagining his fingers fucking you instead of your own. Nothing could ever compare to the real thing.

“Fuck baby, cmon get up. On my lap.” Hazily, you watched as he slipped his fingers out of you, sitting on the couch, legs on the ground. Impatiently, his big hands engulfed each side of your waist and lifted your body with ease to sit on his lap. You bent your knees on either side of his thighs, his cock pressed against your wet cunt.

He craned his neck up to look at you, immediately slotting his lips with yours. Working in tandem, his mouth devoured yours, swallowing you up like he needed you to breathe. One hand cupping your neck and pressing you as close as he could, while the other kneaded the flesh of your ass like a stress toy.

Without thinking, eyes closed as you let him fuck your mouth with his tongue, your hand slipped between your intertwined bodies, fishing his dick from out of his pants, hot and heavy in your hand.

His breath stuttered between his kisses, but his lips never left yours as you wrapped your hand around the upper half, your thumb brushing against the slit on his swollen tip.

He bit your lip accidentally at the stimulation, pulling away from your lips finally to look down at your hand wrapped around him.

His breathing quickened, and his hips bucked, chasing more of your touch as you teasingly played with him. You kept your eyes on his face, watching his eyebrows twitch and his eyes shake.

“Baby, you handle me so f-fucking well…” His moans were quiet, but so loud in the silence of your shared home, the snow howling just outside. 

Your grip lowered, squeezing the base before dragging your hand up and down the length of him. His head lifted again, burying his nose in the crook of your neck, pressing desperate and wet open-mouth kisses on your collarbone, his barely contained whimpers falling against your heated skin.

“Off..” he groaned into you, but too lost in the feeling of him throbbing in your hand, you didn’t quite understand.

“H-huh?”

“Off, off- clothes off. ‘S so hot…” He shimmied underneath, shedding his shorts and nearly ripping his shirt off. 

He grabbed the base of his cock, urging you to lift your hips so he could press his tip against you.

“Nice and slow for me, sweet girl, sit on it. Take your time, don’t wanna hurt yourself…” His eyes locked with yours as you complied with his request, slowly letting your hips sink down on him.

When his tip pressed in, that stupid, lazy boyish smile of his spread across his face, trapping his bottom lip between his teeth as his eyebrows cinched, focused on feeling you take him in like he was meant for you.

“There you go, slow… good, mmm, good fucking girl (Name.)” Your breath caught as you continued to lower your hips down onto him. Bottoming out with a groan, your hands gripped his shoulder, your nails digging into the blades.

You both sat there for a second, relishing the intimate feeling of just being connected. Your breaths mingled, and your thighs shook, his hands massaging your waist, squeezing your hips every time they slid back down.

When Yunho finally spoke, it was strained and so quiet you almost couldn’t hear it.

“Rock your hips. Grind on me pretty, take what you need from me. Make yourself feel good.” 

You whimpered and squeezed your eyes shut, moving your hands to cradle his head. Cautiously testing the waters, you rolled your hips forward, his tip perfectly dragging against that sweet spot deep in your tummy. The moan you let out was borderline pornographic; nobody had ever been so deep in you, and the fact that it was Yunho was so overwhelming.

“Oh god…” You moaned, pressing your lips into his hair, gasping and whining into the soft locks. His hands gripped your hips and helped you move, pushing and pulling you, moving you back and forth on his cock.

“That's it… fuck, always knew you’d take me so well. Like me all in your guts baby, huh?” You nod against him, your breath hitching when he lifted you so you slid up his cock and back down. Effectivley using your body to fuck himself into you.

“Don't stop, keep rolling those hips, angel, do not stop.” His hand came up and gripped your throat, maneuvering your head down so he could kiss you again, groaning into your mouth as you did into his as he fucked you up and down on his cock, your hips contining to grind. With every thrust and every flick of his tongue, his fat tip constantly dragged against that spongy spot inside of you.

A smug laugh slipped past his lips as he watched how desperate you were to feel good, and he was feeling really good about himself as he watched you lose yourself on him.

“Yeah, ride it, baby, ride it…” He bucked his hips, smiling wider when your back went taught feeling the pressure inside of you, as he continued to fuck himself into you slowly, dragging your pleasure out as much as he could.

“This is all for you, for being so good to me all these months, for always being so fucking s-sweet and taking care of me…” He thrusted harder with every other word, like he was enunciating how much this meant to him.

“Thank you Yu- fuck, you’re so big thank you ngh..” He nipped at your bottom lip, giving your throat one more squeeze before moving his hand back down to your hips and forcing your hips to bounce on him a little faster.

“My pretty baby takes dick so well. I regret not fucking you sooner, coulda’ had this pussy a longgg time ago.”  Yunho let his finger slip to your clit, rubbing in pressurized circles, dragging the sweetest noises from you.

You opened your mouth, trying to speak, but all that came out were strangled moans and staggering breaths. Yunho understood, though, pressing his lips against yours again.

“Cumming baby?” He whispered into your mouth, smiling when you nodded, unable to speak, too busy focusing on your impending orgasm. “Good, let go. Feel it and let go for me.”

Like the obedient slut you were for him, your spine straightened and you gasped, your orgasm hitting you like a fucking train, shotting from your toes and electrifying your body like you had been shocked, up through your stomach to your brain, making you lightheaded.

When he felt you cum, his hips stuttered in you feeling you clench like a vice and began to speed up. “Yeah, yeah, yeah- good girl, let me fuck you through it, let me get you through it.”

And thats exactly what he did, without letting up the pace, Yunho fucked into you without abandon, the slap of skin on skin echoing around the living room, mixing with your broken whines and his concentrated groans as he made you fall apart like shattered glass around his dick.

“T-too much–!’ you cried when he continued to bully inside you, his fingers still not letting up on your overstimulated clit. “Gonna c-cum again, Yunho!”

Yunho felt himself reaching his peak, but he would do anything to get you to cum again. With newfound rigor, he rolled his hips into you rough, meanly kissing you and sucking your tongue like he was searching for water.

“Again, angel, again. You can do it.” He moaned loudly into your mouth, his fingers opting to rub your clit slower, this time pushing upward, the pressure increasing tenfold.

Yunho twitched inside of you, feeling as you toppled over the edge again, the second orgasm so much more intense than the first. You couldn't breath, cumming two times so close together. Your thighs burned, and your head spun, vision blurring for a second.

Yunho groaned loudly, bucking his hips a few final times before spilling himself inside of you, continuing to roll his hips into you, riding both of your climaxes out.

You slumped onto him, hands at your side as you regained your breath, thighs sticky, and your body stuck to his. Yunho kissed along your shoulder, allowing you to regain your senses as he came down from his high as well.

Slowly, when you were finally breathing normal, he grabbed your waist and lifted you off of him, sighing as he watched his cock slip out of you, placing you back on the couch.

“Don’t move, I'm gonna go grab a rag.” Yunho stood up and walked down the hallway towards the bedroom. He came back a few seconds later, wearing a pair of sweatpants and carrying a black t-shirt, a pair of underwear, and a wet rag.

He sat down on the floor and gently grabbed your ankles to move your legs to face him, spreading them so he could clean between your thighs. He wiped the cold rag along your inner thighs and cleaned you well, before slipping the pair of underwear over your ankles and up around your hips.

“Here, put this on, it might get cold in here again since we’re not fucking like rabbits anymore.” You both laughed as he handed you the t-shirt. You brought it up to your face, inhaling. It was his, and it smelled like him. You felt fuzzy as you slipped it over your head, smiling when you looked down at him.

He was gazing up at you with nothing but love in his eyes, his hands rubbing absentmindedly along your calves, soothing your aching muscles and placing gentle kisses on your ankles, and up your leg to your knee.

“How are you feeling (Name)?” He waited for your response, his hand never ceasing the gentle massaging.

“Do I even need to say?” You smiled at him, and he smiled back, moving to sit next to you on the couch.

“Guess not, moaned loud enough to wake the neighbors.” Instinctively, you smacked his shoulder in disbelief before the words settled in.

Your smile fell, and a worried look crossed your face. “Was I actually?” He let out a hoot of laughter at your reaction.

“I was joking but you were pretty damn loud. It's okay though, cuz you sounded so pretty.” Yunho kissed along your neck, smiling when you twitched from the tickling feeling.

Suddenly, you remembered the dinner that was still in the kitchen, and you stood up and made a beeline for the kitchen.

“Come on Yu, I'm fucking starving and you made me forget I made dinner.” Yunho chuckled and stood up, following you to the kitchen to make himself a bowl.

With your food in hand, you sat on the couch together, with you lying between his legs, the back of your head lying against his chest as you ate together. The snow fell quietly, and the TV droned in the background as you basked in each other's presence.

“Does this mean you’ll come out of your man cave more now?” Yunho scowled at you and playfully flicked your forehead.

“Don't get smart with me, young lady…” he paused and smiled. 

“Of course, gotta give my girl the attention she deserves, right?”

[prosypepper]

this is love ft. kento nanami

a/n: a few sappy slices of life with my main man :3 enjoy as i dig up motivation to finish kinktober. 18+ mdni!

"honey?" kento's voice is muffled through the door as he calls out to you, "everything okay?" the door rattles as he tries to open it, knob jingling.

"uhm, yeah! everything's fine!" you nervously shout, much too loud, and rush to unplug the iron that had melted your husband's favorite shirt. you panic and yelp when the hot iron scorches the side on your hand, throwing the stupid device to the ground in a clatter.

"why is the door locked—are you okay?" he asks, voice becoming more concerned as he hears the movement inside.

"i'm—i'm fine! promise! just give me a minute!" you're rushing into your shared master bathroom to run cold water over your hand, and kento’s using a screwdriver pulled from thin air to break into your bedroom. tears well in your eyes when you catch the sight of kento seeing his favorite shirt burnt and melted to his own ironing board. "i’m so sorry…"

in reality, he doesn’t care about the shirt—he’s already at your side to inspect your burnt hand. after a few seconds, he speaks.

"did you try to iron my shirt for me?" nanami asks, a small smile on his face, "you didn’t have to do that." he turns off the faucet and takes a small towel to dry your hand off.

"i tried to, i’m sorry—i didn’t know it would do that." you apologize, looking down at the cold tile flooring in defeat.

"oh, honey." he coos, "it’s only a shirt."

"have you seen your father?" you ask your son, yū, who’s sat at the dining table, eating breakfast. he shakes his head no, and when you look at your daughter, mayu, she does the same.

"jeez," you grumble to yourself, bedroom slippers pattering down the hallway as you go to search for your husband. saturday mornings were his time to sleep in, but realistically, he never slept past 9am. and currently, it was nearing 10am.

you check everywhere. he isn’t found in the bedroom, living room, his office, the garage, the patio or in the little garden he kept. upstairs, downstairs, everywhere, he isn’t there. and when you check in your bedroom for the last time, you hear a soft buzzing coming from the bathroom. upon entering, you see your husband bent over the counter, leaning close in the mirror as he shaves his stubble with an electric razor.

"there you are—when did you get that?"

kento had always been a clean shaven kind of man, going to a barber shop once every two weeks for his straight razor shave. it hadn’t even crossed your mind he didn’t go after work yesterday.

but when he looks at you—you burst out laughing. he’d shaven most of his beard off, but a few fuzzy patches remained on his cheeks, along with a mustache grazing his upper lip. peach fuzz and a few knicks litter his chin. this was the first time you’d seen him unable to do anything perfectly. and he looks ridiculous.

"is it really that bad?" he groans, pouting when you wrap your arms around yourself in a giggling fit. you shake your head, although your unforgiving laughs are a testament to the opposite.

"no—no, let me help," you say after calming down.

after gathering a new razor and some shaving cream, you sit atop the counter and your husband stands between your legs. kento is surprised how flawlessly you shave his face, without creating any more marks or cuts. you giggle and kiss him, getting some shaving cream on your face.

"ken?" you shout from the kitchen, where you’re sat, working on your dissertation. it’s been a long road of blood, sweat, and many, many tears; but you’re finally getting towards the end. about to earn a doctorate.

"yes, darling?" kento replies, walking into the kitchen on queue, his timing impeccable.

"can you read over this paragraph, please?" you kindly ask of him, pointing to your most recent written paragraph. he leans over you, planting one firm palm on the table, the other on your back; his eyes read along the sentences and his fingers tap along your spine.

"ah," his finger becomes more focused on a certain word, "wrong 'there', honey."

"no it's not..." you instantly retort, squinting your tired eyes to read over your writing. and you're right, it was the correct one the first time. this was his version of teasing you. but kento couldn't keep up the face much longer before he's giving in with a shit-eating grin you didn't see that often. "you're funny." you groan as kento stands back up.

after reading over the paragraph for about the nineteenth time, you notice kento silently slipping you some tea before turning back around to keep himself busy with cleaning. you absentmindedly take a few sips, then some more...and you find yourself becoming more and more sleepy...

and you're out like a light, forehead pressed directly against the table as a puddle of drool forms on the papers below. kento already has a warm blanket straight from the dryer to drape over you, and you stir just enough to get comfy on your arms.

kento knows that his back will hurt in the morning, but he sits around the corner of the table next to you, settling his head into his arms to drift off to sleep alongside you.

music of your taste plays rather quietly in the kitchen. you stir the pot of soup and inhale the flavorful aroma that wafts through the air.

kento sets two bowls next to the stove, then rummages through your silverware drawer to find two spoons. the kids are at their grandparents for the weekend, it's only you and your husband, converted into the duo you were long ago.

you step away from the stove to go fill up two glasses of wine, the brand kento had as his favorite had slowly turned into your favorite over time, too.

kento fills up the two bowls to the brim of the delicious food, grinning on the inside at the simplicity of it all. just you and him. he lids the pot with the matching glass top and makes his way over to the table.

you set out place mats for the both of you, then place the wine glasses in their prospective areas. kento places the bowls on top of the mats as you grab the spoons from the counter.

in the kitchen, your bodies subconsciously dance around each other. carefully, in perfect tune and pace. delicate steps of a routine formed over so much time together.

in the universe, your souls are tied, striding alongside one another in each lifetime repeated.

and this, is love.

[bunnis-monsters]

🕸️Legend of the Drider🕸️

Bunni’s Monstertober Event(Oct1)

Male!Drider x Fem!Reader

Oct2

warnings: light web bondage, breeding, oviposition, possessive behavior, reader is a bit insecure about her body, body worship and praise

summary: You go on a trip, hoping to build your confidence before you go back to college. When you get trapped on a mountain during a storm, you realize a legend about spider people may be real when you encounter a horny one for yourself.

A/N: I don’t know much about college so don’t kill me if things are inaccurate 💗 also don’t expect all of the halloween posts to be this long, some will be short and some on the longer side >< also guess the inspo for this story in the comments…

my ko-fi if you’re feeling generous~

If you had known how your trip up a nearby mountain would end with you in the clutches of the spider creature you’d only heard of in legends, you would have stayed home that October day.

But you were bored, wanting to find some fun stuff to film and meet a cute stranger while you were at it. That’s why you packed your bag and left for the nearby tourist attractions.

First you walked through a big pumpkin patch, taking pictures with a 50 pound pumpkin. It wasn’t as impressive as some you had seen online, and you knew that wearing a burnt orange sweater while posing next to it would only bring on ridicule.

You weren’t thin, and if someone from your college saw that picture, you were sure they’d compare you to the pumpkin, saying it was your twin.

Well… you had never even really talked to a single in any of your classes. You weren’t the type that liked to socialize. Too many times had you been burned, finding out they were being your friends for a prank or had been talking about your body behind closed doors.

Part of you knew it wasn’t right to judge others before even meeting them. After all, it happened to you more times than you could count… but you were still too shy and insecure to take that first step into making new friends.

That’s why you took a bit of time off of college to try and build up your confidence. It was important to you, learning how to love yourself so you could truly love others.

Ever since you went through puberty you had been aching for someone to love you, to adore you with their entire being…

How would you even be able to believe them if you didn’t love yourself first?

So you laughed at the picture of you next to a pumpkin and placed it into your scrap book before packing it away in your backpack.

You repeated this at several tourist attractions, even finding the courage to speak to a few attractive men and women. It wasn’t as scary as you thought, they didn’t look at you with disgust or say anything mean. They simply spoke with you before giving a smile and going about their day.

‘Maybe there really isn’t anything to be afraid of after all?’

The last stop on your list was the Arachne Mountains, named after a certain legend surrounding the area.

“Huh… spider people have been sighted several times over the year, and there’s a reward for anyone that can catch them on camera…”

You squinted at the pamphlet in your hands, trying to read the small print at the bottom. “What does that say? It’s so small…”

With a shrug, you stuffed the pamphlet into your bag, pulling out the bug spray instead and spraying every bit of bare skin. Mosquitos just loved you, and you didn’t want to be itching the whole bus ride home.

As you walked up the mountain trail, you took many pictures, but mostly of the gorgeous scenery.

A vast forestry landscape spread out beneath you, and the mountain path winded through the forest. As you continued walking, the path worn down by several years of hikers began to become more overgrown and less accessible.

“Huh… doesn’t seem like anyone’s been this far up in a while…”

When you thought about it, the stand with all the pamphlets was abandoned and dusty, the window broken. You just assumed they didn’t have the budget to fix it… but now you were second guessing yourself.

And that’s when a storm hit. Earlier that day you had heard something about a thunderstorm on the radio, but it was supposed to be that night, not now!

“Shit!”

You ran through the rain, slipping on mud and losing your way. The rain was so thick you could barely see in front of you. Tree branches scraped against your sides and caught on your clothes, ripping your sweater and scraping you up.

By the time you were finally able to take shelter in a nearby cave, you were absolutely drenched and covered in scratches and scrapes.

You slid down to the ground, panting and taking off your sweater, now heavy with water. It plopped against the ground, and you reached into your backpack.

“Fuck…”

Your phone had no signal, and you wouldn’t be able to go down the mountain to call anyone until the storm died down.

You yelped, jumping up from your seat and backing away from the entrance to the cave when lightning struck close by.

This sent you further into the cave, nearly tripping on the uneven, rocky ground.

Most would expect a cave out in the middle of nowhere to be cold and damp, and smell of moss and dust. Surprisingly, the further you traveled inside, the more… “cozy” it seemed.

It smelled almost like cinnamon and felt pleasantly warm. This made your shivering die down, your soaked clothes forgotten at the entrance of the cave.

Little did you know, you were slowly being lured in deeper by the inviting warmth and pleasant smell…

The first sign that something was wrong was a skittering that could be heard further into the cave. The hair on your neck stood up, but you tried your best to reason with yourself.

‘It’s probably just some rat or bug…’

But as your phone battery went out and darkness enveloped you without your only source of light, the noise got louder as whatever was making it approached.

You yelped when something brushed against you, and tried to scream, but your mouth was covered and something sunk into your neck…

Darkness.

——————

When you awoke, you felt something warm yet sticky enveloping you, keeping you from freezing while trapping you in place.

You were barely awake when you heard a purr like sound coming from the dark corner of the cave. A man’s face was barely visible within the shadows.

He was handsome, his eyes a dark red and hair a soft blonde, almost platinum color. It seemed he had been the one to trap you there.

“Hello, my dear. You’re finally awake…”

As soon as you were fully conscious, you began to struggle against your bonds, finally looking down to see what was keeping you from breaking free.

“Are those… webs..?”

You felt almost faint, staring down at the whitish, substance wrapped around you. It looked like thick, velvety ropes, but they were so sticky that you knew that they couldn’t be.

“Indeed.”

The man began to move forward, the same skittering sound appearing once more. You looked on in horror as his lower half was revealed.

Below his torso was not a set of legs like a normal, no, it was the abdomen of a spider.

‘The legend… is true?’

You had been captured by one of the spider people of myth…

“You must be scared… you’re just a human girl after all, and I’ve taken you away.”

He reached out, caressing your soft cheek with his hand. “But do not fear, I’m not planning on eating you, little one.”

His hand traveled down your face to your shoulder, his fingers playing with one of your bra straps.

“Far from it…”

Your cheeks heated up as he easily cut through your bra, his eyes on your now bare breasts.

“I’m in need of a mate to carry my eggs… and you’re the only woman that’s traveled to this mountain in ages…”

He breathed against your neck, licking the bite mark he left there earlier. “God, I could hardly hold myself back the moment I saw you. Such a plump, perfect woman, you’ll carry my eggs well…”

You whines as his lower half creates more webs, keeping you suspended in air, but freeing your soft cunt.

Quickly, he tore off your panties as well, growling lowly at the sight of your pretty, fat pussy. “Oh, my little mate, already this wet? Perhaps this was fate, for me to be sent this angel from above…”

He plunged a finger into you, pressing against your gummy walls and stretching you out as one of his spider legs nudged against your sensitive clit, just enough to stimulate you and get you to cum all over his fingers.

“There we go… such a good girl…” he purred into your ear, beginning to stroke his monstrous cock. He drew out several orgasms from you, prepping your virgin hole for him.

Within seconds, you were lowered down, your hips hovering over his as he nudged the head of his cock against you.

“Gods, you’re so soft…”

He kneaded your fat belly and thighs, purring in delight. “You’ll make such a good mother… you’ve got child bearing hips, like you were just meant to carry my eggs…”

Soft nips and nibbles were left on your neck and breasts.

“Every ten years, us driders go out to find a mate that’s suitable for us. I am the last of our kind, so there are no females left for me…”

He smiled, beginning to push in.

“But you… are not just going to be the woman that carries my eggs. You’ll be my mate, and I’ll cherish you.”

It was uncomfortable and painful, the way his cock stretched you out. You gritted your teeth and he cooed, but wouldn’t allow you to close your legs, two of his spider legs kept your thighs apart so he could sink deeper into your fat cunt.

“Shh, shh… it’ll feel good soon, my love…”

And he was right, his cock stretched you in such a delicious way, hitting all the right spots and making you cry out in pleasure.

He mounted you, fucking into your needy cunt as he groaned into your ear. “Gonna take my eggs, okay? My sweet girl, you’ll be such a good mommy won’t you?”

Suddenly you felt something push into you. Was that…

He was cumming, eggs filling up your pussy and settling into your womb. Soon your belly would swell as the eggs grew and developed, but for now, you were tired…

He kissed along your shoulders and neck, nuzzling into. Slowly, he lowered you down from the webs, curling up with you in a dark corner of the cave.

“You’ll be pampered, well taken care of… never again will you worry about a single thing…”

As you began to drift off to sleep, you realized that this creature truly thought you were beautiful… it made you happy.

So you snuggled into him, too full of cum and eggs to really even try escaping. Why would you?

You were loved… you felt truly beautiful for the first time in your life.

“I’ll prepare a cabin soon, there’s plenty of abandoned ones nearby. Wouldn’t want my mate to be uncomfortable.”

The way he nuzzled into you was filled with such love and care. He must have been lonely, being the last of his species.

So you decided to stay… at least for now…

Want a part 2? Send me a kofi and ask for it~

————————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat

[nightingale-prompts]

Danny Has Bat-wings

Part 2

Clockwork would regret the day he taught Danny shapeshifting. The ancient time ghost thought it was wise to educate the prince/apprentice to change his appearance at will to better blend in when he traveled across universes.

Add that to the fact Clockwork has been very lenient with the prince and let him cross as many universes as he desired.

Danny had learned how to make small alterations so far. He started by making himself taller than clockwork but after struggling to cope with low ceilings he stopped. He resorted to using tails and ears of many kinds. He usually took the time to study any animals he wanted to copy and use their traits after figuring out how they worked. He is still years away from a full transformation as his mentor said but he was determined to master at least one.

Danny's greatest discovery so far are wings. He made a full set of wings, bones and all. Although he hasn't figured out feathers (look they are more complex than patches of fur!) so he has bat wings.

Danny was more than proud to show them off to clockwork, practically bouncing off the walls as he darted back and forth.

"Very good Daniel." Clockwork said putting a hand on Danny's head and stopping the boy from moving. "Perhaps you can focus on learning to use your extra limbs now.."

Danny rolled his eyes. He already knew how to fly. He was literally doing it now. Is it really that hard to flap your wings?

Danny took it back, flying is hard.

He had found the rooftops of Bludhaven a good place to practice. Danny understood now why birds pushed their chicks out of the nest as he had to jump off roofs to get enough air to fly. Well, he wasn't flying, yet it was more flapping wildly until he could soften his landing.

Bat wings aren't really made to sit on your back comfortably so Danny had to wrap his wings around his body like a weighted blanket.

Danny learned quickly that dropping down alleyways and having his wings covering him caused people to panic and run. He didn't even get a chance to say sorry. Other times they attacked him calling him "The Bat" or "Batman", which is first off rude, and second, they could have at least called him a vampire or something.

News traveled quickly in Bludhaven right to Detective Grayson that Batman was in town. Which was weird because Bruce should be on a case right now. So it was Nightwing's job to see what was going on.

This "Batman" was clearly not Bruce. Any Gothemite worth their salt could tell that but the people of Bludhaven aren't familiar enough with bats. Speaking of bats, the "Batman" was more of a bat boy. Had ManBat had a kid, probably not.

The kid darted around and jumped from roof to roof with ease. After a few hours of practice, he'd wrap his wings around him and take a quick nap.

Usually, Bruce would demand a file be made on the kid and give him the 3rd degree on why he's here but this was Nightwing's territory. And he thought the kid was harmless if not a bit goofy.

Dick decided to stay quiet on this and letting Bludhaven have its own little Bat Boy. What's more entertaining to watch the kid learn to fly and failing when he tried to land.