#Jon still needs a hug

[ambar-telumendil]

Day 8? not really a Scottish Safehouse but I think about when they moved there and finally sleeping together, they just kinda like this ☝️☝️

@jonmartinweek

[onceinawhilemoon]

sure, sherry. your brother would just let M walk free after he literally checked every single box under Ways to Antagonize Mycroft Holmes by: killing his agents, actively fucking with intelligence and national security operations, being a literal threat to the nation, and committing the cardinal sin of stalking and threatening to hurt an overprotective mama bear’s cub (aka YOU), a crime easily punished by imprisonment, death, or worse (see: otto richter). but sure… 

[prlssprfctn]

Once Clark tells Batkids that if they need a safe space or some comfort, then they can come and visit his farm — he'll do his best to provide some help or support.

And he means it.

However, he is pretty sure that they will rarely use this advice of his. They are Batkids, after all! Independent and uncommunicative at the most.

Well.

Turns out he was wrong.

Damian and Dick are frequent quests in his farm, anyway — Damian hangs out with Jon, always appearing out of nowhere, and Dick visits them here and there — so it takes Clark some time to notice that others are here, too.

Tim starts joining them on occasions first. Mostly with Kon by his side, but he still steals sweets from the countertop that they hide from Jon, and Clark just... smiles. Okay. It is cute. Kon is a part of the family, and he is clearly in a good relationship with Tim. It is not bad at all.

...Until, Cass randomly appears in his study room out of nowhere, scaring the shit out of him, telling that she needed a quiet place to read the book.

And then Lois almost gets a heart attack when she wakes up in the middle of the night to drink water and bumps on Duke and his magnificent glowing eyes, because... Because Duke munches their cereals in four am???

(He was nearby after some mission. Was lazy to go to the safehouse. Whatever.)

Clark finds Stephanie sleeping with his sheep, caged in her hug later that week. When he returns home to tell Lois about it, he finds out that... She stress-bakes with Red Hood himself, while they both loudly shit on the Batfamily for different reasons (but mostly it is about Bruce, of course).

Alfred calls him a few hours later, asking to send the kids home for dinner.

Clark thinks that maybe — just maybe — moving out is not a bad idea, after all!

[mystic-archer]

Lycanthropy - Jon Snow

Parting Ways

Pairing: Jon Snow x oc (Aela of the Weres) Length: 2.2k Rating: M for Mature Warnings: gore, graphic depictions of violence, low-self confidence Jon Snow

The pale light of dawn crept into the room from the balcony overlooking the city below. It cast soft golden rays across the room. Jon stirred awake, his senses coming alive with the warmth beside him. Aela's dark hair spilled across the pillow, her face turned toward him, serene in the quiet stillness. For a fleeting moment, he allowed himself to take it in—the unguarded peace she wore in sleep.

Then the weight of his thoughts settled heavily on his chest. He sat up slowly, careful not to wake her, and ran a hand over his face. Memories of the night before surged through him, vivid and undeniable. It wasn't the first time Jon Snow had crossed a line that his vows forbade, but this was different. This wasn't for survival or strategy. This had been a choice.

The thought unsettled him. Had he dishonored her? Was this another mistake—one he couldn't take back?

Aela stirred, her lashes fluttering before her brown eyes met his. A small, sleepy smile touched her lips. "Good morning," she murmured, her voice soft and unguarded.

Jon swallowed, his throat dry. "Good morning." He tried to sound casual, but his tone betrayed him, strained with uncertainty.

She sat up, the fur blanket slipping slightly from her shoulders as she reached for him. "Jon," she said gently, "you're troubled."

Jon hesitated, his jaw tightening. "I'm thinking," he admitted, his tone measured.

Aela smiled faintly. "That much is clear. What's on your mind?"

Jon pushed himself up slightly, resting on his elbow. "What we did..." He swallowed hard. "I don't know if it was wise. Not for me, and not for you."

Aela tilted her head, studying him. "You regret it?"

"No," Jon said quickly, surprising himself with the sharpness of his reply. "But I fear what might come of it. If I've... if I've gotten you with child..." He faltered, his voice thick with unease. "I'll leave soon, Aela. I can't stay here, and I don't know what the Weres would do if they thought—"

Jon pushed himself upright, the furs pooling around his waist. He couldn't meet her eyes at first. "What we did..." His voice wavered, his thoughts chasing one another like ravens in flight. "I don't know if it was wise. Not for me, and not for you."

"Do you regret it?" Aela asked, her tone calm but curious.

"No," Jon said quickly, the word escaping before he could second-guess it. His cheeks flushed, and he ran a hand through his unruly hair. "But I fear what might come of it. If I've..." He swallowed hard. "If I've gotten you with child..." His voice dropped to a whisper, the shame unmistakable. "I'll leave soon, Aela. I can't stay here, and I don't know what the Weres would do if they thought you carried a bastard."

He forced himself to look at her, to see how his words landed. "I know what it's like to grow up that way. To bear that mark. I wouldn't wish it on anyone, least of all a child. Least of all you."

Aela sat up, her bare shoulders framed by the flickering light of the hearth. There was no anger in her expression, no rebuke—only a calm, unshakable resolve. "The Weres would not turn on me," she said, her voice even but firm. "I am their leader. They follow me because they trust me, Jon. That trust doesn't break so easily."

Jon's brow furrowed. "You said yourself they're wary of outsiders. If they thought—" He broke off, shaking his head. "I won't be here to protect you."

"You think I need protection?" Aela asked, a flicker of amusement softening her tone. "Jon, I saved you from the Thenns. I tore them apart before they could kill you. Do you truly think I can't handle this?"

Jon opened his mouth to argue, but her words struck him silent. The memory flashed before him—the blood-soaked snow, the snarling wolf, her fierce eyes bright yellow in her transformed state. She had saved him, and not just then. Time and again, she had proven her strength, her resilience.

"I know you're strong," he admitted, his voice low. "Stronger than I am. But that doesn't mean I don't worry for you. You deserve better than this, Aela. Better than me."

Aela reached for his hand, her fingers warm against his calloused skin. "You don't need to fear for me," she said softly. "And there are ways to prevent a child. Teas and herbs that I know well. I will brew some this morning."

Jon exhaled slowly, the tension in his chest easing. But the guilt lingered, heavy and unrelenting. "Why risk this, then? Why risk your people's trust for me?"

Aela's expression softened. She reached up, her hand resting gently on his cheek. "Because I trust you. I've trusted you since the day you stood your ground against the Thenns. You were ready to die, but you didn't flinch. That was the day I knew there was something more to you, something worth standing beside."

Jon frowned, her words stirring something deep within him. "But it wasn't me who saved you that day," he said quietly. "It was you. You turned into the wolf and tore them apart. You saved me."

Aela smiled faintly. "And perhaps that's why we're tied together. I can't explain it, Jon, but I feel it. Like the Old Gods are guiding us. Like we were meant to find each other."

Jon looked away, her words unsettling him. "Tied together," he repeated, his voice uncertain. "You sound like you intended this."

Aela shook her head. "I didn't plan it, Jon. When you came to my solar last night, I only knew that I wanted to... to be close to you. I didn't mean to seduce you. But I won't pretend I didn't want what happened."

Jon ran a hand through his hair, his mind a storm of conflicting thoughts. "I've broken my vows," he said quietly. "Not for the first time, but this feels... different." He turned to her, his gaze earnest. "If I've brought you harm, Aela—if this leads to more harm—"

Aela silenced him with a hand on his cheek, her touch gentle but firm. "You've brought me no harm, Jon Snow. Last night wasn't about oaths or duty. It was about trust. And you trusted me, just as I trusted you."

Jon held her gaze, the storm inside him momentarily quieted by the steady warmth in her eyes. Gods, he thought to himself, she was beautiful.

She shifted and the furs fell further down her body, now pooled at her waist, exposing her upper body fully to the cool air in the room.

Jon swallowed and turned away, running a hand through his hair. "Come south with me," he said suddenly, the words escaping before he could stop them. "Leave the Weres behind. Come with me to Mance's camp. It's safer for you there."

Aela smiled faintly, her resolve unshaken. "The Weres are my people, Jon. I can't abandon them."

"But it's not safe here," he argued, his voice rising. "Not with what's coming. The White Walkers, the Night's Watch—there's a storm on the horizon, and you'll be caught in the middle of it."

Aela reached out, her hand resting gently on his cheek. Her touch stilled him, her warmth grounding his spiraling thoughts. "I know the risks, Jon," pain flashed in her eyes as if she was thinking back to something awful. "But I belong here. My people need me, just as yours need you. We have our own paths to walk."

Her resolve would not break, Jon realized bitterly. There was nothing he could do to bring her south or convince her people to join Mance's cause. He should be glad, he thought to himself with confliction. Wildlings alone will bring hell to the Wall. A thousand or so Weres (a sizeable portion of which could transform into werewolves) would be an added layer of mayhem.

He thought back to what Tormund had said on the trek to the Were Caverns. These people would not bend a knee or leave their homes. Even if faced with ultimate death. Jon wanted to chalk it up to stubborn pride and arrogance. Yet, in the brief time he'd known Aela, he realized that this place was more than just a physical location - it was the one place that was theres - uncontested and unchallenged.

Jon looked at her, truly looked at her—the fierce, beautiful woman who had saved his life and stood steadfast in the face of danger. There was a pull between them, undeniable and inexplicable. He couldn't put it into words, but he felt it, like the tug of the North in his blood.

Before he could second-guess himself, he leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a kiss that was both tender and urgent. Aela responded in kind, her touch light but sure, as though anchoring them both in the moment.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together, breaths mingling in the quiet. For now, the world outside could wait.

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

The air was crisp as Jon and his companions prepared to depart the Were village. The morning sun cast long shadows over the snow-packed ground, and a quiet tension lingered in the camp. Jon stood beside the sled, tightening the straps on their provisions, his gloved hands steady despite the roiling in his chest. He could feel Aela's presence nearby, even before she spoke.

She approached with measured steps, her fur-lined cloak sweeping over the snow. Aela held herself with the dignity of a leader, her expression calm and composed. In her arms, she carried a wooden crate.

"Tormund," she said, addressing the red-haired wildling with a small, polite smile. "A parting gift."

Tormund looked up from securing his axe to his belt, his eyes narrowing in curiosity. "What's this, little wolf?"

Aela opened the crate to reveal several bottles of brown liquid. "Cider, brewed by my uncle. He told me once your fermented goat's milk was... memorable." Her lips twitched with faint amusement, but her tone remained formal.

Tormund burst into laughter, the sound booming across the clearing. "Ha! Memorable, she says! Aye, little wolf, you've got wit about you. I'll take your cider gladly, though I'll wager it won't be as strong as my milk!" He reached for the crate, his grin wide. "You're a sharp one, just like a she-wolf should be."

The nickname didn't ruffle Aela; she simply inclined her head. "Safe travels to you, Tormund. May your journey be swift and uneventful."

Jon's chest tightened as Aela turned her attention to him. Her brown eyes met his, cool and unreadable, a stark contrast to the warmth he had seen in them just a few hours ago. She didn't step closer but held her ground a few paces away, as though keeping the distance would fortify the barrier between them.

"Jon Snow," she said, her voice steady and formal. "May the Old Gods watch over you. Your path will not be an easy one, but you carry strength and purpose. That will see you through."

Jon felt the sting of her formality, though he knew it was necessary. He straightened, his jaw tightening as he inclined his head. "And may they watch over you and your people, Aela. You'll need that strength as well."

Her expression softened for the briefest moment, so fleeting that Jon almost doubted he'd seen it. But she said nothing more, turning to nod at Ygritte, who stood a few steps away by the sled, her expression dark and stormy.

Ygritte crossed her arms, her lips curling into a scowl. "Aye, well, we'll be on our way, then. Don't want to overstay our welcome."

Jon shot her a warning glance, but Ygritte was already muttering under her breath, her eyes darting between him and Aela.

"Not much of a farewell, is it?" she said loudly enough for Jon to hear. "Chieftain's all polite now, but she's got the look of one who's hiding something. Reckon she's no better than the highborn ladies you hate so much."

Jon's temper flared, but he kept his tone calm. "Enough, Ygritte."

She glared at him, her cheeks flushed with irritation. "Oh, I've said enough, have I? Funny how extra quiet you get when she's around. Seems I'm not the only one with secrets."

Aela didn't rise to the bait. She stepped back, her gaze sweeping over the group one last time. "Good health to you all," she said evenly, her voice carrying a quiet strength. "And may the winds favor your journey."

Jon climbed onto the sled, his heart heavy as the sled dogs stirred, their breath misting in the cold air. He glanced at Aela one last time, his eyes searching hers for something—anything—that might give him the courage to speak the words he couldn't. But she held his gaze with quiet dignity, giving him no more than the parting she had already offered.

As the sled began to move, Ygritte's grumbling filled the air, but Jon hardly heard her. His thoughts lingered on Aela, on the warmth of her touch and the strength of her resolve. He knew this was the way it had to be, but that knowledge did little to soothe the ache in his chest.

Behind them, Aela watched until the sled disappeared over the horizon, her expression unreadable as the winter wind tugged at her cloak.

[cosmic-dust-poltergeist]

Pt3 of the Danny is a clone/reincarnation in the DC universe au. Danny meets an alien [pt2 here] [pt 4 here]

Danny was jittery all day, but he is trying to not cling to Cass. He'll definitely give in once Damian's friend is here, but he's determined to not give into his childish instincts before then. And he's being mostly successful!

He ignores the amused and concerned looks Cass sends him every time he forces down his instincts. He wants to stop being so codependent. He won't lie, it's been nice to let these people baby him, but he didn't use to be such an anxious wreck that can't do anything without his hand being held. It makes him hate himself at the end of the day when he only has his thoughts, so he's going to take the effort to do a little better. And this is his first baby step.

"I'm home!" Danny perks up at Tim's voice.

"Green Room!" Cass calls out, and Tim sticks his head in a moment later.

"I want to change out of my suit, but I'll be right back." Tim explains. "Damian and Jon won't be here for at least another 20 minutes, and that's only if traffic is good, which it never is, so it'll probably be closer to 30 minutes."

Danny nods, trying to swallow his rising panic. He hasn't been able to get a single word out all day. Luckily Cass can understand his body language when his hands are full and he can't write.

Cass comes and sits next to him when Tim ducks out. "You're being very brave."

[Doesn't feel like it.]

"New things are scary. Trauma makes it hard." Cass smiles sadly before switching to sign language. Danny can sign too, but he prefers his iPad.《My father was a very bad man. Trained me to be weapon only. I understood no language other than body. When I came to live here, I was scared too. I knew only to hurt, but it hurt to read pain. Had to learn how to be a person, like you are now. It's very brave to face what scares you. Like new people.》

[I still don't feel brave.] Danny fiddles with his stylus [There's too much wrong with me for normal people to be nice. I will be vivisected if people know.]

《Family will not let that happen. You're baby brother and we will fight for you til you can fight for yourself.》

Danny sniffles and manages his first word of the day. "Okay..."

Cass hugs him tightly and kisses the side of his head. "We love you. Trauma and all, baby brother."

Tim enters the room in a stolen hoody, some leggings, and house shoes at that moment. He pauses to look at them before sitting on Danny's other side, rubbing his back.

"It's not too late to tell them you changed your mind, kiddo."

[No. I need to do this. It's unhealthy to isolate yourself or hide from new experiences.] Danny gives a deep sigh. [I'm tired of being scared all the time.]

"Have you thought about going to a therapist? I don't want to push you, but I have found it really helpful." Danny knows Tim started going to a therapist about 2 weeks after Danny arrived. He can't help but wonder if Tim did that because Danny started clinging to him and Danny was too much. It makes him feel guilty, but he read enough mental health papers recently to know even if Danny is the straw that broke the camel's back, Tim was wise enough to get help.

[I'm not sure I'm ready to talk to someone about everything.]

"A good therapist will help you at your own pace." Tim tells him, "I vetted a dozen therapists, and am currently vetting another 6, so you can switch if you need to at any point. I just want you to be as happy, healthy, and safe as you can be."

Danny is thinking it over so hard that he startles into invisibility when he hears the front door open and Alfred greeting someone.

"Oh! Damn, time moved fast." Tim blinks at the doorway before turning towards Danny's invisible figure. "We can still turn them away."

Danny wills himself back into the visible spectrum. [I need to do this.]

"If you say so..." Tim's face is an odd mix of emotions; grief, sorrow, pride, and relief are all there. He calls towards the door. "Damian! We're in the green room!"

With them all sitting, Danny can't hide behind Cass or Tim, so he just buries himself into Cass's hug. A few moments later, Damian and a honey tan guy with black hair and deep sky blue eyes enter the room with a slightly nervous energy. Danny blinks at that. Damian's nervous energy is clearly over introducing them, and who-is-obviously-Jon's energy screams "Please like me! I want to be friends!". He briefly wonders if this is how siblings usually introduced friends to family. All parties scared that they won't like each other. He and Jazz didn't really have friends to introduce, so this is new territory for him.

"See?" Cass smiles at him, clearly talking about Jon's gold retriever puppy energy. Danny nods at her before shyly waving at the newcomers. Jon beams and Damian relaxes a hair.

"Hi, I'm Jon! Dami's told me a lot about you!" Danny sends Damian a confused frown. "He likes to brag about his cute new little brother."

[What is there to brag about?] Danny tilts his head. [I haven't done anything to brag about.]

"Are you kidding?" There's sadness in everyone's body language, but Jon is still smiling at him. "You sound awesome! You can read body language like Cass! And are trying to learn alien languages and history for fun! You apparently memorized every space fact you come across! You like learning in general! Trying to cover all the education you missed because your evil creators! And you want to know the coolest thing about you currently?"

Danny rapidly blinks at Jon's list, actually sitting up straighter and unintentionally pulling from Cass's hug. She lets him go easily.

[What?]

"You're letting me meet you despite your crippling anxiety." If Jon had a tail, it would be wagging hard. "No one would blame you for locking yourself away and hiding from the world after everything you've been through, but here you are! Trying to concur your fear and meeting me!"

Danny can feel himself blushing, but realizes Jon is kind of right. While he can still feel his anxiety wanting to smother him, he doesn't feel like he's drowning and needs to run away.

[I still don't see how any of that makes me "cool".]

"It's okay if you don't get it. The people who care about you do and can remind you to be nicer to yourself." Jon nods to his own statement before excitedly floating off the ground. "I love your hair! It looks like it has stars and comets in it!"

Danny's face feels like it's on fire. He can feel Tim and Cass trying to compress laughter.

"Well, that's a way to win him over." Tim can't quite keep the amusement from his voice. Danny hides his face in his hands, while Jon flounders.

"Wait! What?? What did I do??"

"You told a kid who's obsessed with space that his hair looks like space." Damian sounds exasperated and fond.

"Oh. Oh!" Jon sounds embarrassed, so he clearly hadn't thought about that when he said it. Which is nice.

Danny huffs out a tiny laugh and can feel the room freeze at the sound. It only lasts a second before Cass is hugging him in delight, and the tense moment is gone.

"I can now tell Todd only his ugly face made Danny cry." Damian says with all the maliciousness of a petty sibling. He recognizes it from his time with Jazz. Luckily, none of his new siblings have directed that tone towards him yet, he just knows he'll start crying. He's pretty sure they know it too.

He hates how fragile he is now, not being able to take slightly mean sibling teasing is the worst, but he literally can't do anything about it. He has to take baby steps and heal his trauma at a pace his brain and core can handle, or the potential ghost of Jazz will beat him to a third? fourth? death when they meet again.

Danny reluctantly leaves Cass's hug. He can still feel the steady thum of his anxiety, but Jon hasn't been mean or scary at all. Jon also potentially has advice for how Danny can control his ghost powers that are leaking steadily into his human form. It's like getting his powers all over again for the first time.

[How are you floating?]

"Oh! It's one of the powers I got from dad!" Jon beams.

[I know. But HOW? Can't control mine.]

"Damian! You didn't tell me he has powers!" Jon complains.

"I wasn't going to say anything in public." Damian glares lightly at his friend.

Jon turns a beaming grin at Danny."What do you do? I've got flight, superstrength, durability, lazer eyes, superhearing, and ice breath!"

Danny turns a pleading look to Tim, who flashed an amused but reassuring smile. "So far we've seen; flight, invisibility, intangibility, and we think an ice power is trying to develop. His hearing is advanced as well."

[Ghosty]

"You are not a ghost." Damian is pouting. This is one of the few play arguments Danny has been able to have without having a panic attack.

[Ghost powers. Hides from people. I'm a ghost.] Danny is playfully serious.

"I can see your point, but you're not dead!" Damian seems genuinely a little frustrated, and Danny freezes. Unfortunately long enough to make everyone worried, but he snaps out of it.

[I'm not sure I count as alive.] Danny admits, and the concern in the room skyrockets. He directs the next note towards Jon. [You have superhearing?]

"Yes..?"

[Listen.] Danny pats his chest. Jon's eyes lock on where his heart is.

"No.. no way! Why is it so slow?" A pause. "Your breathing is slow, too. Even though I can tell how anxious you are, meaning this is fast for you... What's that buzzing sound?"

[I'm a freak.]

"Danny, honey, don't call yourself a freak." Tim scolds. "It's not your fault you're like this or were even made. The real freaks are the LoA."

《And even if you were, we like you the way you are.》

"How about we focus on something else?" Jon is frowning in concern, but smiles when he makes eye contact with Danny. "How about we go to the gym, put out the thick mats, and see if we can get you flying on command?"

Everyone is silent as Danny thinks it over.

[Okay.]

The rest of the visit is spent in the manor's gymnastics gym. Danny is still too skittish to let Jon within 5 ft of him and doesn't say anything aloud, but he interacts, and learns some neat tricks when it comes to flying and landing. He still has trouble, but he made some real progress before it's time for dinner. Danny trails after Jon when he goes to leave after dinner, and graces the alien with a quiet.

"Bye..." Danny doesn't understand the funny thing everyone's face does, but he has to dodge Dick's tackle hug directly after. He quickly hides behind Tim after that, completely done with social interaction now. Tim fends off Dick and gets Danny to his room.

Danny likes how his room has changed over the months he's been here. The giant bed is gone, replaced by a bunkbed that's been modified to have sturdy planks hiding the bottom bunk on 3 sides and sturdy folding doors on the 4th. Danny can't sleep in the open anymore, so they made him a nice hidden bed so he'd stop sleeping under the bed. It's also shoved to the wall where he can see all the exits when he peeks out of his hidey hole. Every available surface is covered in space stuff. The built-in bookshelf near the windows is full of his favourite books and different workbooks for alien languages. Rocket ship models are on any book free space. Different space themed posters are plastered all over his walls, the side of his desk and dresser, even his bunk's sturdy exterior. Glow in the dark stars are placed in his home dimension's constellations throughout the room, not that anyone but him knows that. Inside his bunk, he has star covered bedding and star shaped fairy light.

Danny's space obsession has never been so filled. He feels well-fed and safe in this room.

He ends the day feeling accomplished for once. He starts looking forward to meeting his siblings' friends, even if he's scared shitless by the idea.

[emacrow]

It took the Justice League 5 months to catch the two kids who were stalking Flash.

After Batman has figured out why a little girl were stalking and air kicking flash in the middle of attempting a time run while the other one, a little boy beat the problem in like it a rabid animal.

Superman need 2 hour to physically calm himself the first time he caught the girl once as carefully as he could, only for her heart to stop completely, become inverted, going through his hands with her body literally melting like some sort elderitch horror film hearing that scream if it weren't for the little boy flew by catching her at high speed and diving into a emerging green portal that disappeared.

Clark broke down right there and than, chokes with tears dripping heavy like a child in front of batman with his hands shakenly uncontrollable coated in blood and lararus pits goop. Batman and Diana comforted him as much as he could as he had lois and his adopted parents on sped dial.

Later Clark refused to let go as he kept hugging Jon for 5 hours straight with Conner petting his head and Lois comforting him after he went home. Ma kent making pies in the kitchen like there was annual pie competition.

Diana had tried to talk to them a couple times softly, only to end up fighting in the most impressive yet terrifying amazonian fight she has ever went through against two kids that made her mother talk of battle seem like childplay.

She was fully convinced on the theory they're demigods that Flash somehow erase their existence.

Surprising the one who has caught them long enough to actually convince them to come was J'onn.

Mainly due to the little boy rambling question with the pace of 60 mph with literally stars in his eyes wrapped, tightly wrapped to J'onn's arm like a snake and one little girl, stuffing her face with a bat burger on J'onn's left shoulder.

Apparently due to Flash's time running that he saved a wandering pilgrim man from falling off a cliff that would've led the discovery and making of their modern town. All their loves ones, friends and life were erased out of existence is what Elle, 3 and half now currently told them.

Danny, the sleepy 7 year old boy who still wrapped around J'onn's arm, is going through a crash after a obsession induce manic high because he is an Alien! A real life Alien!! There wasn't any in his timeline, but why did they get real living Alien in this one?! They're in space in a space station!!

Elle is very sorry for traumatizing the flying guy with her destabilizing a bit, she wasn't supposed to change into ghost form yet, but she did what she had to do to escape his grasped.

Frostbite and clockwork did fixed her up thankfully or else danny would've destroyed the world like a grape.

The Justice League concerned looks didn't help when she laughed a bit nervously about it.

Part 1 here <-

[pucksandpower]

Taste of Temptation

Day 17 → Lactation Kink 💋 Lando Norris

Warnings: 18+ content and dubious consent

Kinktober Masterlist

Lando leans against the edge of the pit wall, his arms crossed over his chest as Jon’s voice drones on in the background. He’s supposed to be listening. Focused. But all he can see is you standing a few feet away, talking to one of the engineers. The sun catches on the fabric of your dress, the deep V of the neckline, the way it clings to you in all the right places.

He shifts, swallowing hard, eyes dropping for what must be the hundredth time today to the way your chest looks in that dress. The low cut, the soft curve of your skin peeking out — it’s like you’re daring him to lose focus entirely. Which, clearly, is happening.

“Lando?”

Jon’s voice pulls him back, but only for a second. His head jerks in the performance coach’s direction. Jon’s got that look on his face, like he’s caught him out.

“Yeah, yeah,” Lando mumbles, dragging a hand through his hair. He tries to nod along, as if he’s been paying attention. “Sorry, what?”

Jon sighs, rolling his eyes. “Mate, we’ve been through this. Hydration’s key. You’ve got to keep on top of it, especially in this heat.”

Lando gives a vague nod, but his eyes flicker back over to you. The way your dress hugs your waist. The way you laugh at something the engineer says, tipping your head back just a little. And the way his mind goes utterly blank every time you smile. He’s barely aware of Jon still talking beside him.

“Water. You need water,” Jon says, more insistent this time, probably noticing Lando’s glazed-over expression.

“Water. Right,” Lando parrots, reaching for the bottle beside him on the bench. But his mind is still on you. Specifically, the way the soft fabric of your dress skims just below your collarbone. How it flutters a little when you move, revealing just enough to drive him mad.

He uncaps the bottle, eyes flicking between you and the opening, trying to focus. But it’s no use. You bend down slightly to tie your shoe, and Lando’s grip loosens. The water splashes out, missing his mouth entirely and drenching the front of his shirt instead.

“Shit-” he mutters, pulling back in surprise as cold water drips down his chin and soaks into the fabric. He blinks down at himself, as if confused by how it happened.

Jon bursts out laughing. “Hopeless,” he says, shaking his head. “Absolutely hopeless.”

Lando wipes at his chest with the back of his hand, but it’s useless. His shirt’s already sticking to his skin, and Jon’s laughter is still ringing in his ears.

“Shut up,” Lando grumbles, tossing the half-empty bottle aside.

“If you spent half as much time listening to me as you do staring at her-” Jon doesn’t even finish the sentence, his grin wide as he jerks his head in your direction.

“I wasn’t staring,” Lando mutters, though he knows it’s a lie. He wipes his mouth with the edge of his sleeve, glancing over at you to make sure you didn’t notice the whole debacle. You’re still talking to the engineer, seemingly oblivious to the scene that just unfolded.

“Right,” Jon says, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “Because you totally didn’t miss your mouth just now. Completely by accident.”

Lando scowls, but there’s no bite to it. He knows Jon’s got him. “It’s the heat,” he says, lamely, hoping that’ll shut him up.

Jon just laughs again. “It’s her, mate.”

Lando doesn’t respond, but his eyes flicker back to you, just for a second. Just long enough to catch another glimpse of the way your dress dips low, hugging your curves. It’s not fair, really. How is he supposed to focus when you look like that?

Jon claps him on the shoulder. “I don’t blame you,” he says, grin still in place. “But you’ve got a race in a couple hours. Maybe try and keep your head in the game, yeah?”

Lando shakes his head, a small smile tugging at his lips despite himself. “Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, wiping at his chest again, though the water has already seeped into the fabric.

Jon moves on, probably satisfied he’s gotten enough teasing out of Lando for now, and launches back into his lecture about hydration and recovery, but Lando’s barely listening again. His mind is still on you. Always on you. He watches as you push a strand of hair behind your ear, the sunlight catching in your eyes.

You turn then, like you can feel his eyes on you, and your gaze meets his. For a second, Lando’s breath catches. You smile, and it’s like everything else fades away. The noise of the paddock, Jon’s voice, even the upcoming race — it all falls to the background.

You tilt your head, raising an eyebrow in that way you always do when you know you’ve got him wrapped around your finger. And you do. You absolutely do.

Lando clears his throat, feeling his face flush, but he can’t tear his eyes away from you. He thinks about walking over, about wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close, pressing a kiss to that spot just below your ear that always makes you laugh.

But before he can even take a step, Jon’s voice cuts in again. “Seriously, mate. Focus.”

Lando tears his gaze away from you, shooting Jon an annoyed look. “I am focused.”

Jon just snorts. “Yeah, sure. On her.”

Lando rolls his eyes, but there’s no point denying it. He’s not focused, not on anything Jon’s saying, not on the race coming up, not on anything other than you.

You make your way over, that same knowing smile still on your lips, and Lando feels his heart skip a beat.

“Hey,” you say, voice soft as you come to stand beside him.

Lando’s throat goes dry. “Hey.”

You glance down at his still-damp shirt, your smile widening. “You miss your mouth again?”

He groans, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Don’t start.”

Jon chuckles from the side. “Told you. Hopeless.”

You bite your lip, trying — and failing — not to laugh. “You okay, babe?”

Lando gives a half-hearted shrug, but he’s smiling. “It’s your fault,” he says, motioning vaguely toward your dress. “How am I supposed to focus when you wear stuff like that?”

You glance down at yourself, then back up at him, feigning innocence. “Like what?”

Lando groans again, louder this time. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

You laugh, a soft sound that makes his chest tighten. “I don’t know, I think you’re just easily distracted.”

Jon claps him on the shoulder again, a knowing grin on his face. “That’s what I’ve been telling him.”

Lando swats Jon’s hand away, shaking his head. “You’re both the worst,” he mutters, but he’s smiling, warmth spreading through his chest as you step closer, your fingers brushing lightly against his.

“Good luck today,” you say, voice dropping to a low murmur, just for him.

He exhales slowly, his pulse quickening as he meets your eyes. “Thanks.”

Your hand lingers against his for a second longer, your touch soft and warm. Then, with one last smile, you turn and walk back toward the paddock, leaving him standing there, heart racing and mind thoroughly distracted.

Jon shakes his head, a soft laugh escaping him. “You’re a goner.”

Lando doesn’t even bother arguing this time. He watches as you disappear into the crowd, his mind still filled with thoughts of you, the race the furthest thing from his mind.

“Yeah,” he mutters under his breath, smiling to himself. “I know.”

***

Lando lies on his back, his head propped up by a couple of pillows, the dim glow of his phone the only light in the room. It’s late, and the soft hum of the bathroom fan is the only sound breaking the quiet, accompanied by the faint rustle of you finishing your nightly routine.

He can hear the running water and the occasional clink of bottles as you move through the familiar steps — cleanser, toner, serum, moisturizer. It’s a comforting routine, and Lando knows it well by now, having watched you do it a hundred times.

He scrolls through TikTok absentmindedly, his thumb flicking up the screen as random videos play in quick succession. His eyes glaze over as he watches one of those “get ready with me” videos, someone talking about their outfit for the day. He’s not really paying attention, though. Mostly, he’s just waiting for you to join him in bed. He glances at the door, hoping you’ll finish soon.

Another swipe, another video. This time, it’s a new mom talking to the camera, her face glowing with a mix of exhaustion and pride. Lando’s thumb hovers over the screen, ready to flick to the next one, but something about the video holds his attention.

“I was really struggling to breastfeed,” the woman says, her voice soft but earnest. “Nothing was working, and I was starting to feel like a failure, honestly. But then I found this cream, and I swear, it was a game changer.”

Lando’s brow furrows slightly, not really sure why he’s still watching, but he doesn’t scroll away. He listens as the woman continues talking about how she had trouble producing milk, how nothing seemed to help until she tried this one product.

“I’m not even kidding,” she says, holding up a small jar to the camera. “Within days, I started lactating. It was a godsend.”

Lando blinks, his mind catching on that word — lactating. He suddenly feels hyperaware of his own body, of the stillness in the room, of the faint sound of you moving around in the bathroom. His eyes drift back to the video, watching the woman gesture to the cream like it’s a miracle. His mind starts to wander, unbidden, to thoughts of you.

He hesitates for a moment, his thumb frozen on the screen, but his brain is already running wild with the idea. The thought of you with milk. His mouth goes dry, and he quickly glances toward the bathroom door again, half-expecting you to walk out and catch him watching this bizarrely specific video. But you’re still busy inside.

He swallows hard, feeling a strange mix of curiosity and something deeper stirring in his chest. He taps the screen, pulling up the link the woman left in the video description. The product is right there, easy to order, just a few clicks away.

Lando’s thumb hovers over the “buy now” button. It’s stupid. Ridiculous, even. Why is he even considering this? But the thought won’t leave his head. The idea of you using this cream, of your body responding to it — it sends a shiver down his spine. His heart starts beating faster, a strange kind of excitement bubbling up inside him.

He bites his lip, staring at the screen, his mind spinning with the possibilities. His fingers twitch, almost moving on their own as he clicks the button, the order processing before he can even fully think it through.

The confirmation pops up, and he quickly deletes the email notification, his fingers moving quickly to erase any trace of the purchase. His heart races, a weird thrill running through him at the secrecy of it all. He tosses his phone onto the nightstand, feeling slightly breathless, like he’s just done something he shouldn’t have.

The bathroom door creaks open, and Lando’s head snaps up. You step out, the soft light from the bathroom spilling into the bedroom for a moment before you turn it off. You’re wearing one of his oversized t-shirts, your hair pulled back into a messy bun, skin glowing from your skincare routine. You look comfortable, relaxed, and Lando feels a sudden wave of warmth in his chest.

“Finally,” he says, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “I thought you got lost in there.”

You roll your eyes, climbing into bed beside him. “I wasn’t that long.”

“You were,” he insists, shifting to make room for you. “I’ve aged years waiting for you.”

You laugh, sliding under the covers and snuggling up next to him. “You’re dramatic.”

“Maybe,” he concedes, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer. “But you do take forever.”

You nudge him playfully, but you settle into his side, your head resting on his chest. “Good things take time,” you say with a smirk.

Lando chuckles, but his mind is still spinning, the image of that video replaying in his head. He glances down at you, his arm tightening around you just a little, and his mind drifts to the thought of you filled with milk. The idea is strange, foreign, but it’s lodged in his brain now, and he can’t shake it.

You let out a contented sigh, your hand resting on his stomach, fingers idly tracing patterns on his skin. “What were you watching?” You ask, your voice soft, almost sleepy.

Lando stiffens for a second, his heart skipping a beat. “Uh, nothing much,” he says quickly, trying to sound casual. “Just the usual nonsense.”

You hum in response, seemingly satisfied with the answer, and Lando relaxes slightly. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, trying to push the thought of the cream out of his mind. But it lingers, that strange curiosity gnawing at the edges of his consciousness.

“What’s got you so quiet tonight?” You ask after a moment, your voice laced with amusement. “You’re usually more talkative.”

Lando hesitates. He knows he should just let it go, that this whole thing is ridiculous, but part of him wants to say something. He bites his lip, unsure of how to even bring it up.

“I was just thinking,” he says slowly, his voice a little tentative.

“About?” You prompt, lifting your head slightly to look at him.

Lando meets your gaze, his heart pounding. “Have you ever thought about … I don’t know, trying something new?” He asks, his voice carefully measured.

Your brow furrows, curiosity flickering in your eyes. “New? Like what?”

He hesitates again, feeling a bit stupid for even considering bringing it up. But the image is so vivid in his mind, and he’s suddenly desperate to know what you’d think. “Like … I don’t know. Different things. Stuff you wouldn’t normally try.”

You raise an eyebrow, clearly intrigued now. “Lando, you’re being weirdly vague. What are you talking about?”

He lets out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Forget it. It’s dumb.”

But you don’t let it go. You shift, turning to face him more fully, your eyes narrowing slightly. “No, no. Now I want to know. What ‘different things’ are you thinking about?”

Lando feels his face heat up, the words stuck in his throat. He can’t just come out and say it — hey, what if you tried this cream that makes you lactate? He’s sure you’d look at him like he’s lost his mind.

“Uh … just stuff,” he mutters, looking away. “Like, in general.”

You study him for a moment, a smirk tugging at your lips. “You’re acting really weird,” you say, your voice teasing.

Lando forces a laugh, trying to brush it off. “Yeah, well. It’s been a long day.”

You don’t push any further, but there’s a playful glint in your eyes as you settle back against him, your head resting on his chest again. “You’re such a mystery sometimes, Norris,” you say with a grin.

He lets out a relieved breath, thankful you’re not pressing the issue. He wraps his arm around you again, trying to focus on the comfort of having you next to him, on the way your body fits so perfectly against his. But the thought still lingers, a quiet hum in the back of his mind. The idea of you, your body changing in that way, is intoxicating in a way he hadn’t expected.

As the minutes tick by, the room growing quieter and more peaceful, Lando can’t help but wonder what you’d think if you found out. Would you laugh it off, or would you be curious too?

You shift beside him, letting out a soft sigh, and Lando presses another kiss to the top of your head, trying to push the thoughts away. For now, he’ll keep it to himself. But the secret sits there, buzzing quietly in the background, waiting for the right moment to resurface.

“Goodnight, babe,” you murmur sleepily, your voice soft and content.

“Goodnight,” Lando whispers back, though his mind is far from quiet.

As you drift off, he lies there, wide awake, his mind replaying that video over and over, wondering just what he’s gotten himself into.

***

Lando can barely contain his nerves when the package arrives, neatly wrapped in brown paper with no label to give away its contents. He picks it up from the doorstep and quickly tucks it under his arm, heart racing as he slips back into the house.

You’re in the kitchen, humming softly to yourself as you prep dinner, completely unaware of the small box that holds so much significance for him. He glances at you, trying to act casual, but the adrenaline surging through his veins makes his hands feel shaky.

He slips into the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him. With a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure you’re still out of earshot, Lando opens the package. The cream is small, unassuming, and he feels a strange thrill pulse through him as he holds it in his hands. The video flashes through his mind again — lactation — and it sends a familiar shiver down his spine.

For a moment, he hesitates. Should he really go through with this? He’s already in too deep, though. The thought of you, your body responding to this, is far too intoxicating to back out now. He tucks the cream into his nightstand drawer, hiding it carefully beneath some old receipts and random clutter. Just as he’s closing the drawer, he hears your footsteps coming down the hallway.

Quickly, Lando stands up, smoothing out his shirt and stepping back into the main area of the house, meeting you with a wide grin as you finish setting the table. You look relaxed, but he can see the faint tension in your shoulders — like maybe work’s been getting to you again. He watches you closely as you move around the kitchen, biting his lip in thought. This could be the perfect moment.

“You look tense,” he says, leaning against the counter as you place two plates of food on the table.

You glance up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, it’s been a long day,” you admit, rubbing the back of your neck.

Lando steps closer, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “I was thinking …” he murmurs, his voice low, “maybe I could give you a massage later? Help you relax a bit.”

You lean into his touch, your smile widening. “That sounds amazing.”

“Good,” he says softly, the hint of a plan forming in his mind. “I even got some new lotion that’s supposed to be great for massages. Thought we could try it out.”

Your eyes flicker with interest as you glance up at him. “Fancy,” you tease, but there’s an unmistakable warmth in your voice. “When did you become such an expert?”

He chuckles, pressing another kiss to your cheek. “I’ve always been an expert when it comes to you,” he says, his voice playful, but there’s a sincerity underneath that makes your smile soften.

Dinner passes in a comfortable haze, your conversation light and easy, but Lando’s mind is already fast-forwarding to what’s coming next. He watches you across the table, taking in every detail of your movements, your expressions, the soft rise and fall of your chest as you talk about your day. His heart pounds harder with every passing moment, anticipation building.

Later, after you’ve both cleaned up and changed into more comfortable clothes, Lando pats the space in front of him on the bed, motioning for you to lie down. You oblige with a soft laugh, stretching out on your stomach, your hair cascading down over one shoulder.

“You’re too good to me,” you murmur, resting your cheek on the pillow.

Lando grins, feeling the familiar rush of affection surge through him. “You deserve it,” he says, settling onto the bed beside you. He grabs the regular lotion first, squeezing a bit into his hands and warming it up between his palms. He starts slow, his hands gliding over your back, working into the tension in your shoulders with practiced ease.

You let out a contented sigh, your body relaxing under his touch, and Lando takes his time, savoring every second. He loves seeing you like this — completely at ease, trusting him completely. He kneads into the muscles of your back, his thumbs working in small circles, and you hum softly, your breathing deepening.

“Mmm, that feels amazing,” you mumble, your voice sleepy.

Lando smiles to himself, continuing the massage. His hands move lower, massaging the small of your back, then your sides, and down to your legs. He’s methodical, deliberate, taking his time so you can fully relax.

After a while, he pulls back, his heart thudding in his chest. Now comes the part he’s been waiting for.

“I think you’re due for a flip,” he says with a soft chuckle, giving your side a gentle nudge.

You laugh softly, rolling onto your back and stretching your arms above your head, completely relaxed. Your t-shirt rides up just slightly, revealing a sliver of skin, and Lando’s pulse quickens. He keeps his expression neutral, though, not wanting to give away what’s about to happen.

“Ready for more?” He teases, keeping his tone light.

You nod, your eyes half-closed in contentment. “Bring it on.”

Lando reaches for the nightstand, his fingers brushing the drawer handle with a quick flick. His heart skips a beat as he retrieves the small jar of cream, careful to hide the label from your view. He sets it down beside him, moving slowly so you won’t notice anything out of the ordinary.

He starts with your arms, using the regular lotion again, his touch gentle and soothing. He rubs the lotion into your skin, working it over your shoulders and down your forearms. You sigh again, completely lost in the sensation, and Lando’s chest tightens with anticipation. He knows it’s almost time.

Finally, his hands trail down to your chest. He hesitates for the briefest second, his eyes flicking to your face to make sure you’re still relaxed. You are — your eyes closed, a faint smile on your lips, your body completely at ease beneath his hands.

Perfect.

Lando quietly switches the jars, scooping a small amount of the special cream onto his fingers. He rubs it between his palms, warming it up, and then he lowers his hands to your chest, his breath catching slightly as his fingers make contact with your skin.

His touch is gentle, almost reverent, as he smooths the cream over the soft skin of your chest, taking extra care to massage it in thoroughly. His hands move in slow, deliberate circles, making sure to cover every inch of you, but he’s careful — so careful — not to make you suspicious. He doesn’t want you to know what he’s doing. Not yet.

You let out a soft, contented hum, your body sinking even deeper into relaxation, and Lando’s heart races in his chest. He can feel the cream sinking into your skin, the thought of what it might do sending a shiver down his spine.

“How does that feel?” He asks, his voice low and steady, though his pulse is anything but.

“Amazing,” you murmur, your voice heavy with sleep. “You’re really good at this.”

Lando chuckles softly, continuing his slow, deliberate movements, his hands brushing over your chest, his fingers lingering just slightly on your nipples. He massages the cream into them carefully, making sure they’re completely covered, his touch as light as a whisper.

You sigh, your chest rising and falling under his hands, and Lando feels a wave of heat rush through him. The thought of you, your body responding to this cream, the idea of you producing milk, it’s all so overwhelming, and he has to take a deep breath to steady himself.

“Good,” he murmurs, his voice soft and warm. “Just relax.”

He continues the massage for a little while longer, his hands lingering on your chest, making sure every bit of the cream is absorbed. You’re so relaxed now, your body completely loose and pliant beneath his touch, and Lando feels a strange sense of satisfaction as he watches you.

Eventually, he pulls back, wiping his hands on a nearby towel and setting the jar of cream back into the drawer, hiding it away once again. He glances at you, lying there with a peaceful smile on your face, completely unaware of what he’s just done.

Lando lies down beside you, pulling the covers over both of you as you shift closer, snuggling up against him. Your head rests on his chest, your arm draped over his waist, and Lando wraps an arm around you, holding you close.

“You really are too good to me,” you murmur, your voice soft and drowsy.

Lando presses a kiss to the top of your head, his heart still racing with a mix of excitement and anticipation. “I just want you to feel good,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You hum in response, already drifting off into sleep, your body completely relaxed against his. Lando lies there in the quiet darkness, his mind buzzing with thoughts of what’s to come, of the changes that might happen now that you’ve used the cream.

He tightens his arm around you, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction settle over him. It’s all in motion now. There’s no going back.

“Goodnight,” you murmur sleepily.

Lando smiles to himself, his chest tightening with anticipation. “Goodnight,” he whispers, but his mind is far from rest.

***

It’s been weeks since Lando first started using the cream. Every night, he waits for the perfect opportunity: after you’ve fallen asleep, your breathing soft and even, or when you come home exhausted and practically beg him to give you a massage. He’s gotten careful, precise. Every time his hands glide over your skin, rubbing the cream into your chest, a thrill courses through him.

He hasn’t said a word, hasn’t let on that anything is out of the ordinary. Every time you lean into him with a content sigh or drift off into a deeper sleep, he feels more confident, more sure of what he’s doing. The anticipation is almost unbearable at times.

And then, one morning, it happens.

Lando’s sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling aimlessly through his phone when he hears it — your scream. It’s sharp, panicked, and it sends a jolt of adrenaline rushing through him. He’s up in an instant, his phone slipping from his hand as he bolts toward the walk-in closet where your voice came from.

“Babe?” Lando calls, his heart hammering in his chest. He rounds the corner into the closet, eyes scanning frantically until they land on you, standing in front of the full-length mirror, frozen in place.

You’re staring at your reflection, wide-eyed, your hands hovering over your chest as if you’re too afraid to touch. His eyes follow your gaze, and that’s when he sees it — the two dark spots blooming on the fabric of your dress, right over your breasts. Wet, unmistakable, and spreading slowly.

“What the hell is this?” You whisper, your voice shaky, a mixture of confusion and panic creeping in. “Lando, what is this?”

Lando swallows hard, his mind racing. This is it. The cream has finally started working, and now you’re standing there, completely unaware of what’s been happening. He can see the fear in your eyes, the way you’re trembling just slightly, and he knows he has to act fast.

“Whoa, hey, hey, it’s okay,” Lando says quickly, stepping toward you, his hands outstretched in a gesture of reassurance. “Let’s just take a second, okay? Breathe.”

You glance at him, your eyes wild, and he can see how much this is freaking you out. “Lando, I — this isn’t normal! Why is this happening?” Your voice cracks slightly, and you press a hand over one of the wet spots, as if trying to stop it from spreading further.

Lando moves closer, gently taking your hands in his. He forces himself to stay calm, even though inside, his pulse is racing with a strange mix of excitement and guilt. He can’t let you see that, though. Not now. Not when you’re looking at him like you’re terrified of what’s happening to your body.

“Okay, okay, let’s think about this,” Lando says, his voice steady. “It’s probably just, you know, hormones or something. These things can happen sometimes, right? Bodies do weird stuff.”

You blink at him, still looking unconvinced. “But I’ve never-” you start, but your voice falters. “Why now? I haven’t done anything differently. This is just … weird.”

Lando bites the inside of his cheek, trying to figure out how to spin this without raising any red flags. He can’t let you know about the cream — not now, when you’re already so shaken. He needs to make this sound as natural as possible, something that just happens, something you won’t question.

“Hey, remember that article you showed me a while back?” He says, grasping at straws. “The one about how stress can mess with your body? Maybe it’s that? You’ve been working a lot lately, right? It could be your hormones reacting to all the stress.”

You frown, clearly still confused, but Lando can see a flicker of understanding pass over your face. You do work hard, and lately, you’ve been talking about how exhausted you feel. Maybe that’ll be enough to explain this away, to keep you from digging any deeper.

“Stress can do this?” You ask, your voice still shaky but a little more composed now.

Lando nods, giving your hands a gentle squeeze. “It could. And, you know, hormones fluctuate all the time. Maybe this is just your body’s way of reacting to everything going on. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

You look down at the wet spots again, your brow furrowing as you process his words. “But I’ve never had this happen before,” you say quietly. “This is just … I don’t know, Lando, it feels weird.”

Lando pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace. He presses a soft kiss to your temple, trying to calm the nerves still buzzing in your body. “I know it’s weird,” he murmurs, his voice gentle. “But we’ll figure it out, okay? If it keeps happening, we’ll talk to someone. But right now, let’s just take it one step at a time.”

You nod slowly, your head resting against his chest, and Lando can feel the tension in your body slowly start to melt away. He holds you close, his heart still pounding in his chest, but he knows he has to keep it together. He can’t let you see how deep this goes — how much this was part of his plan all along.

After a few moments, you pull back slightly, glancing down at the dark spots again with a sigh. “I should probably change,” you mutter, a hint of frustration in your voice.

Lando chuckles softly, trying to lighten the mood. “Yeah, might be a good idea.”

You offer a small, half-hearted smile, and Lando can see that you’re still processing everything. But at least you’re not panicking anymore, not freaking out like you were a few minutes ago. That’s a good sign.

He watches as you turn back to the closet, rifling through your clothes for something to change into. His mind is still racing, though. Now that the cream is working, what happens next? Will you notice more changes? Will you start asking questions? He doesn’t know how long he can keep this a secret, but the thought of stopping now feels impossible. He’s already too far in.

Lando’s gaze flickers to the mirror, where your reflection is visible. He watches you change into a fresh dress, the wet spots on the discarded one serving as a reminder of what’s happening. He bites his lip, torn between the thrill of seeing his plan take effect and the guilt gnawing at the edges of his mind.

You finish changing and turn to face him, still looking a little uncertain but calmer now. “Thanks,” you say quietly, your eyes meeting his. “For being so calm. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.”

Lando’s chest tightens at your words, a mix of emotions swirling inside him. He steps forward, wrapping his arms around you once more, pulling you close. “I’m always here for you,” he says softly, meaning every word, even if there’s a part of him that’s hiding something.

You rest your head against his chest again, and for a moment, everything feels normal — like nothing has changed. But Lando knows better. Things have changed. The cream has started working, and now, there’s no turning back.

As he holds you in his arms, Lando can’t help but think about what comes next. Will the changes continue? Will you start noticing more? He knows he has to tread carefully, but the excitement bubbling inside him is hard to ignore.

He runs his fingers through your hair, pressing another kiss to the top of your head. “We’ll figure this out,” he says quietly, though he’s already thinking about the next time he’ll use the cream, the next step in this carefully orchestrated plan.

You pull back slightly, looking up at him with a soft smile. “Yeah, I guess we will.”

Lando smiles back, but his mind is already racing ahead, filled with thoughts of what’s to come.

***

Lando lies in bed, staring at the ceiling. The room is dark, except for the faint glow of the moon seeping through the curtains, casting soft, silvery light across the room. Next to him, you’re asleep, breathing softly, curled up under the blankets. He watches you for a moment, his heart heavy with an intensity he can’t quite explain.

It’s been days since the incident in the closet, since you first noticed the signs, and while you’ve brushed it off as a hormonal blip — just as he suggested — it’s been gnawing at Lando’s mind constantly. He can’t stop thinking about it, about what’s happening to your body, about the secret he’s been carrying.

And tonight … tonight is different. There’s something humming in the air, something that feels both electric and inevitable.

Lando shifts onto his side, facing you, his eyes tracing the soft curve of your form under the covers. He watches the gentle rise and fall of your chest, knowing exactly what’s happening beneath the fabric of your shirt. The thought sends a jolt of heat through him, a heat he’s been trying to ignore, but it’s becoming too strong now, too insistent.

He knows he shouldn’t. He knows this crosses a line he’s already been walking dangerously close to for weeks, but the temptation has been building, slowly tightening around him until it feels like there’s no escape.

Carefully, he reaches out, his hand hovering just above your shoulder. You’re still fast asleep, unaware of the storm brewing in Lando’s mind, unaware of the secret desires he’s been hiding. His fingers brush your shoulder lightly, testing the waters, and you don’t stir. He lets out a quiet breath, inching closer.

His hand moves down, grazing the fabric of your shirt, feeling the warmth of your skin through it. His touch is featherlight, deliberate, as he pulls the blanket back, just enough to give him access. The moonlight bathes you in a soft glow, illuminating your form in a way that feels almost surreal. Lando’s pulse quickens, and he swallows hard, his mouth dry as his hand lingers near your chest.

He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t.

But his body moves before his mind can stop it.

Slowly, so slowly it feels like time is crawling, Lando slips his hand under your shirt. The fabric slides up, exposing your skin to the cool night air, and his fingers move over the soft swell of your chest. He can feel the warmth there, the subtle heaviness that wasn’t there before, and it makes his head spin.

He pauses, his hand resting over your chest, his breath shaky. He’s trying to be careful, not to wake you, but his body is tense with anticipation, with something deeper, something that feels dangerous and thrilling all at once.

Lando leans in, his lips hovering just above your skin. He hesitates for a moment, heart racing in his chest, before pressing a soft kiss to the curve of your breast. You stir slightly, but don’t wake, and the rush of relief that floods through him is intoxicating.

He moves lower, his lips trailing gentle kisses along your skin, until he reaches the peak of your chest. The fabric of your shirt is bunched up just above his hand, and Lando carefully pulls it higher, exposing more of your skin. His breath catches in his throat as he sees it — the faint trace of moisture beading at the tip.

It’s real. It’s happening.

His mouth goes dry again, but his body moves on instinct, drawn to the sight in front of him. He leans in, his lips brushing against your skin, and then … he tastes it.

It’s warm, sweet, unlike anything he’s ever tasted before. The sensation sends a shock through him, his entire body lighting up with something primal, something he didn’t even know was there. He presses his lips more firmly against your skin, drawing more of it into his mouth, the sweetness flooding his senses.

You stir again, shifting slightly in your sleep, and Lando freezes, his heart hammering in his chest. But you don’t wake. He lets out a slow, controlled breath, his lips still hovering over your chest.

His mind is racing, caught somewhere between guilt and an overwhelming need that he can’t explain. He knows what he’s doing is wrong — he knows he’s crossing a boundary — but it’s too late. He’s too far gone, too consumed by the feeling of you, by the taste of you.

Lando pulls back just enough to look at your face, making sure you’re still asleep, and when he sees that you are, he dips his head again, pressing his lips against your skin once more. He’s careful, deliberate, trying to keep his movements gentle, but the sensation of tasting you, of feeling the warmth of your body beneath his lips, is making it harder and harder to control himself.

He wants more.

His hand moves higher, slipping further under your shirt, until he’s cupping your chest in his palm. The weight of it feels different now, heavier, and the thought of it sends another jolt of heat through him. He squeezes gently, drawing more of the warm liquid into his mouth, and it takes everything in him not to make a sound.

You let out a soft sigh in your sleep, and Lando’s heart skips a beat. He pulls back again, his lips parting as he stares down at you, his mind spinning. He can’t believe what he’s just done, can’t believe how far he’s let himself go.

For a moment, he just sits there, watching you, his hand still resting on your chest, his breathing shallow. His lips are still tingling from the taste, from the sensation of it, and he knows he’s in too deep now. There’s no going back from this.

Lando carefully pulls your shirt back down, his movements slow and deliberate as he covers you again. He tucks the blanket around you, making sure you’re warm, before lying back down beside you, his heart still pounding in his chest.

As he lies there, staring up at the ceiling, his mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. He knows he should feel guilty — he knows this is wrong — but all he can think about is the taste of you, the way it felt to have that small, secret part of you all to himself.

He turns his head to look at you, your face peaceful in sleep, completely unaware of what’s just happened. The moonlight casts a soft glow over your skin, and Lando feels that same overwhelming rush of affection and desire that’s been building for weeks.

He knows he should stop. He knows this can’t go on. But as he lies there, listening to the sound of your breathing, all he can think about is when he can taste you again.

***

Lando collapses onto the small couch in his driver’s room, drenched in sweat and utterly exhausted. The Qatar heat was brutal, and the race had taken everything out of him. His entire body feels heavy, his muscles aching, his skin sticky from the mix of sweat and the desert air. His mind is foggy, still reeling from the intense focus he’d maintained for hours. Dehydration was a real issue here, and it hit him harder than he expected.

“Bloody hell …” he mutters, leaning his head back against the wall, eyes closed.

You’re there almost immediately, a soft, comforting presence at his side. You place a hand on his knee, your touch warm and reassuring.

“You okay?” You ask, your voice soft but full of concern.

Lando opens his eyes slightly, giving you a tired smile. “Yeah … just need to rehydrate. I feel like a raisin.” He forces a chuckle, though his voice is rough, throat dry from the heat.

You stand, quickly moving to the small fridge in the corner of the room. “I’ll get you some water,” you say, already pulling out a bottle and twisting off the cap. “You need to replenish your electrolytes too. You’re completely wiped.”

Lando watches you, his mind still hazy, but there’s something about the way you move, the way you’re so focused on taking care of him, that pulls him out of his fog. You’re always like this after a race — attentive, calm, making sure he’s okay before you even think about yourself. He loves that about you, the way you care for him in these quiet, personal moments.

But today, there’s something else on his mind. Something he’s been thinking about for weeks, ever since that night in bed.

Lando licks his dry lips, his heart picking up speed as a thought crosses his mind. You’ve been by his side this entire time, completely unaware of what he’s been doing, of the secret he’s been keeping. He’s managed to keep things under control, to keep his obsession at bay, but now … now he’s not sure if he can.

He watches as you return to him, holding the bottle of water and a sports drink, and sits down beside him. You hand him the water first, but he hesitates, his fingers curling around the bottle without taking a sip.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, your brow furrowed as you look at him.

Lando swallows, his mouth dry, but not just from dehydration. His eyes flick to your chest, lingering for a moment before quickly returning to your face. “I, uh … I was thinking,” he says, trying to keep his voice casual, though his heart is pounding in his chest. “Maybe I could … try something else.”

You blink at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

He hesitates, his mind racing as he tries to find the right words. He knows he’s pushing it, knows this is dangerous territory, but the thought of tasting you again — of having that secret part of you, especially now, when he’s so raw and exhausted — feels impossible to resist.

“I mean,” he starts, his voice low, “maybe I could try … you.”

Your eyes widen slightly, and you glance down at yourself, clearly taken aback. “Me? Lando, what are you talking about?”

He shifts slightly, his body tense, but his gaze stays on you, steady despite the pounding of his heart. “I know it sounds weird,” he says quickly, before you can protest. “But … I’m so dehydrated, and … you know, with everything that’s been happening, I just thought … maybe it could help.”

You stare at him for a moment, clearly trying to process what he’s saying. “You … you want to …”

He nods, his throat tight as he watches your reaction. “Just a little. I mean, it’s natural, right? And you’ve been producing, so … I thought it might help. If you’re okay with it.”

You’re silent for a long moment, clearly taken aback, and Lando can see the uncertainty in your eyes. His heart pounds harder, the tension in the room thickening as he waits for your response.

Finally, you let out a breath, glancing down at yourself before looking back at him. “You really think it’ll help?”

Lando nods again, though he knows that’s not really the point. It’s not about the dehydration, not really. But you don’t need to know that. You don’t need to know how much he’s been thinking about this, how much he craves it.

“I think it might,” he says softly, reaching out to gently place a hand on your knee. “Just a little. If you’re comfortable with it.”

You bite your lip, clearly still unsure, but there’s a softness in your eyes, a desire to help him, to take care of him in whatever way you can. Slowly, you nod.

“Okay,” you say quietly. “If you think it’ll help.”

Lando’s heart skips a beat, a rush of excitement flooding through him as you agree. He shifts closer to you on the couch, his hand sliding up your leg to rest on your thigh as he looks into your eyes.

“Are you sure?” He asks, his voice low, though he’s already leaning in, already feeling the pull toward you.

You nod again, though there’s still a hint of hesitation in your expression. “Yeah. I just … I didn’t expect this.”

Lando smiles softly, trying to put you at ease, though inside, his mind is racing. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, his hand gently squeezing your thigh. “We’ll take it slow.”

You take a deep breath, and then, with a small nod, you lift the hem of your shirt, exposing your chest to him. Lando’s breath catches in his throat, his eyes immediately drawn to the soft curve of your skin, the subtle sheen of moisture that’s already starting to form.

His mouth goes dry again, but this time, it’s not from the heat.

He leans in slowly, his hand sliding up to cup your breast as his lips brush against your skin. You tense slightly under his touch, but you don’t pull away, and Lando takes that as his cue to continue. He presses a soft kiss to your skin, his heart racing in his chest as he feels the warmth of you beneath his lips.

For a moment, he just stays there, breathing you in, savoring the closeness. Then, slowly, carefully, he opens his mouth and takes you in, drawing the sweet liquid into his mouth.

The taste hits him instantly, flooding his senses with warmth and sweetness. It’s just as he remembered — no, better. The heat, the exhaustion, the rawness of the race — it all amplifies the sensation, making it feel more intense, more real.

He can feel you tense again, a soft gasp escaping your lips, and he pulls back slightly, looking up at you with wide eyes. “You okay?” He asks softly, his voice thick.

You nod, though your breathing is shaky, your hand coming up to rest on his shoulder. “Yeah … I’m okay. It’s just … different.”

Lando nods, understanding, but he can’t stop now. He leans in again, his lips pressing against you once more as he drinks from you, taking in the warmth, the sweetness. It feels like he’s finally giving in to something he’s been craving for so long, and the rush of it makes his head spin.

He moves his hand gently, squeezing softly as he continues, feeling the way your body reacts to him, the way you tremble under his touch. It sends a thrill through him, a deep, primal satisfaction that he can’t explain.

You let out a soft sigh, your fingers tightening on his shoulder, and Lando feels a surge of heat in his chest. He’s careful, though — he doesn’t want to push too far, doesn’t want to scare you. He pulls back after a moment, looking up at you again with that same soft smile.

“How was that?” He asks, his voice gentle.

You look down at him, your expression still a mix of confusion and something else — something softer, more vulnerable. “It was … okay,” you say quietly. “Just … unexpected.”

Lando nods, reaching up to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “Thank you,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. “I feel a lot better now.”

You smile at him, though it’s a small, uncertain smile, and Lando knows that this is something you’re still processing. But for him … for him, it feels like the beginning of something he’s been waiting for. Something he’s been craving.

As you pull your shirt back down and settle beside him on the couch, Lando leans back, his heart still racing, his mind spinning with everything that just happened. He knows he’s playing with fire, knows that this secret is dangerous, but for now, he’s content.

***

Lando is lying on the couch, lazily scrolling through his phone, the sound of the TV humming in the background. It’s a quiet afternoon, the kind of rare downtime that he savors between races. His body still feels the residual tension from the last few weeks, the physical demands of driving through the relentless heat of Qatar lingering in his muscles.

You’re in the bedroom, sorting through some things. Lando hears the occasional thud of a drawer closing, the rustling of clothes. Everything feels normal. Calm, even.

Until it isn’t.

“Lando!”

Your voice slices through the quiet, sharp and tense. His heart stutters in his chest. The way you say his name — it’s not in the usual tone. There’s something off about it, something more than the usual annoyance over small things.

He sits up, his phone forgotten in his lap. “Yeah?” He calls back, trying to sound casual, but there’s a tightness in his throat.

You appear in the doorway, and immediately, Lando knows something’s wrong. You’re holding something in your hand — a small, innocuous-looking jar. But he recognizes it instantly.

The cream. The cream he thought he’d hidden well enough.

He swallows hard, his pulse quickening. “What’s that?” He asks, feigning ignorance, but his voice wavers ever so slightly.

You step closer, holding up the jar. Your eyes are sharp, full of confusion, but also something else — betrayal, anger, hurt. “I found this,” you say, your voice tight. “In the back of the drawer. Where you obviously didn’t want me to find it.”

Lando shifts uncomfortably on the couch, his mind racing as he tries to come up with an excuse, anything to diffuse the situation. He hadn’t expected this. He thought he’d been careful. “It’s just … it’s just some lotion,” he says, but even as the words leave his mouth, he knows they’re not enough.

Your eyes narrow. “Lotion? Lando, this is not just lotion. This is-” You pause, your breath shaky. “This is the cream that’s supposed to induce lactation, isn’t it?”

He feels his stomach drop. There’s no point in denying it now. You’ve found the evidence, and there’s no going back from this. But he can’t let you stay angry. He can’t let this ruin everything. He’s worked too hard to get to this point, and he doesn’t want to lose what he’s gained.

“Look, I can explain,” he says, standing up from the couch, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender. He tries to keep his voice calm, soothing. “I didn’t mean to hide it from you. I just … I thought it would help.”

You stare at him, your expression a mix of disbelief and anger. “Help? Help with what, Lando? You’ve been putting this on me without telling me! Do you realize how messed up that is?”

He steps closer, his heart pounding. “I know. I know it sounds bad. But I didn’t mean for it to be like this. I just … I wanted to try something new. I wanted to feel closer to you.”

You shake your head, incredulous. “Closer to me? By making my body do something without my knowledge? This is so far beyond okay. This is — this is a violation of trust.”

Lando feels a surge of panic. He can’t let this spiral out of control. He can’t let you leave, or worse, shut him out. He takes a step closer, his voice dropping to a softer tone, almost pleading. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I swear. I just-” He hesitates, then says, “I didn’t know how to ask for it.”

Your brows furrow, and you look away, your hand tightening around the jar. Lando can see the conflict in your eyes — the hurt, the confusion, the anger. And he knows that if he doesn’t do something now, he might lose you.

He takes another step closer, his voice gentle. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his hand reaching out to brush your arm. “I just … I couldn’t help it. I’ve been so obsessed with you, with us, and it felt … it felt natural. I didn’t want to scare you.”

You shake your head again, but your anger seems to falter, just a little. “This is … this isn’t something you just hide from someone. You can’t make decisions about my body like that.”

“I know,” he says quickly. “I know. I shouldn’t have done it without telling you. But I didn’t know how to bring it up. I didn’t want to make things weird between us.”

You look at him, your eyes searching his face, and Lando feels a small flicker of hope. He can see that you’re still upset, but there’s a crack in the wall you’ve put up, a softness starting to seep through.

He takes another step, closing the distance between you, his hand gently cupping your cheek. “Please,” he whispers. “Let me make it up to you. I don’t want to lose this. I don’t want to lose us.”

You sigh, closing your eyes for a moment, and Lando can feel the tension in the room shift, just slightly. He knows he’s not out of the woods yet, but he’s close. So close.

“Lando …” you begin, but he cuts you off by leaning in, pressing his lips to yours in a soft, desperate kiss. You hesitate at first, but after a moment, you kiss him back, your lips warm and familiar against his.

When he pulls away, his voice is low, almost a whisper. “Let me show you. Let me take care of you.”

You look at him, your eyes still conflicted, but there’s something else there now — curiosity, maybe, or a need for comfort. Lando takes that as his cue to continue, his hands moving to gently guide you to sit down on the edge of the bed.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again, his hands moving to your shoulders, massaging gently. “I know I messed up. But I want to make it right.”

You don’t say anything, but you don’t resist either. Lando’s hands slide down your arms, soothing and gentle, as he kneels in front of you. He looks up at you, his eyes soft, pleading.

“Let me,” he murmurs, his hands moving to the hem of your shirt, tugging it up slightly. You hesitate for a moment, but then you nod, allowing him to lift it higher, exposing your chest.

Lando’s breath catches in his throat as he looks at you, the soft curve of your body illuminated by the dim light in the room. He presses a kiss to your stomach, his lips warm against your skin.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re perfect.”

You let out a shaky breath, your hand resting on the back of his head as he kisses his way up your chest, his lips trailing along your skin. He pauses at your breast, his lips hovering just above the soft peak.

“Please,” he whispers again, looking up at you. “Let me.”

You nod, your breath shaky, and Lando takes that as permission. He leans in, his mouth closing around you, drawing you in with slow, deliberate movements. The sweet warmth floods his senses, and he feels a rush of satisfaction, of need.

You gasp softly, your fingers tightening in his hair, and Lando’s heart swells with a mix of desire and relief. He’s got you now. He knows he’s distracting you, pulling you away from the anger, and it’s working. You’re softening under his touch, your body responding to him.

He coos softly, his lips never leaving your skin. “You taste so good,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “So perfect.”

You let out a soft whimper, your hand gripping his shoulder as he continues, his mouth moving gently, rhythmically. He can feel you relaxing, the tension slowly melting away, and it fills him with a deep sense of satisfaction. He’s in control now. He’s guiding you, distracting you, making sure you’re focused on him and nothing else.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, his voice soft and coaxing. “I’ve got you.”

Your breathing is shallow, your body trembling under his touch, and Lando can feel the shift in the room. The anger, the hurt — it’s slipping away, replaced by something else. Something more intimate, more vulnerable.

He pulls back slightly, his lips still brushing against your skin, his eyes looking up at you with that same soft, pleading expression. “I’m sorry,” he whispers again, his voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wanted to be close to you.”

You look down at him, your eyes still clouded with confusion and emotion, but you don’t pull away. Your hand stays on his shoulder, your fingers tightening slightly as if you’re holding on to him, grounding yourself.

Lando leans in again, pressing another soft kiss to your chest, his lips lingering there for a moment before he pulls back completely, sitting back on his heels and looking up at you.

“I love you,” he says quietly, his voice raw. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.”

You’re silent for a long moment, your chest rising and falling with deep, steady breaths. Finally, you speak, your voice soft, almost unsure. “This … this is a lot, Lando.”

He swallows hard, reading the uncertainty in your voice, feeling the weight of it settle between you. His heart races, but he knows he can’t push too fast. He doesn’t want to scare you, doesn’t want to lose what they’ve built. This delicate moment, the fragile balance between trust and something deeper — he can feel it teetering.

He stays where he is, kneeling at your feet, looking up at you with that same desperate softness in his eyes. His hands rest gently on your thighs, thumbs brushing back and forth, a soothing rhythm. He knows he has to choose his words carefully.

“I know,” he whispers, voice hoarse. “I know it's a lot. And I know I should’ve told you from the start. But …” He pauses, gathering his thoughts. “It felt right. The connection. The closeness. I just-”

Lando falters, unsure if he should say what’s really on his mind. That he's obsessed with the idea of you like this, that every time he sees you, he’s overcome with a need so deep, so primal, it almost scares him. But he swallows it back, not wanting to push too far, too fast.

Your gaze softens, and although the hesitation lingers in your eyes, you’re listening. You’re still here.

“I just wanted more of you,” Lando continues, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not just physically, but emotionally too. It’s been … it’s been overwhelming for me too, but I didn’t know how to explain it. I thought if we … if you … I don’t know. Maybe it was selfish, but I just-”

He looks down, his head hanging low as if ashamed, his hands still gently resting on your thighs. “I didn’t want to scare you off by talking about it. I thought you might think it was weird.”

Your hand reaches out, fingers lightly brushing the top of his head. He looks up at you again, the gentleness of your touch melting the knot of tension in his chest.

“I don’t think you’re weird,” you say quietly, the uncertainty still there but softer now, more understanding. “But … Lando, this is my body. You should’ve talked to me. We could’ve figured it out together.”

Lando nods quickly, his throat tightening. “I know, I know. And I’m so sorry for not being honest. I’ll do better, I swear. I’ll never hide anything from you again.”

Your thumb grazes his cheek as you watch him carefully, the anger you’d felt earlier fading into something else. Something gentler. “I just don’t understand why you didn’t ask me.”

He lets out a shaky breath. “I didn’t want you to say no,” he admits quietly. “Because … I don’t know if I could’ve handled that.”

Silence falls between you, thick with emotion. You let your hand fall away from his face, resting it in your lap as you consider his words, his vulnerability.

Lando can see the gears turning in your head, the mix of confusion, curiosity, and maybe — just maybe — something that mirrors his own desire. He watches you carefully, searching your face for any sign of where this might be heading.

Finally, you let out a soft sigh. “So, you … want me to keep … producing?”

Lando’s eyes widen slightly, and he nods, his heart racing again. “Only if you want to,” he says quickly, his voice soft but insistent. “I won’t push you. But … yeah. I do.”

Your gaze drifts down, and you chew on your bottom lip, thinking it over. Lando’s pulse quickens, the air between you charged with tension and something deeper, something unspoken.

After what feels like an eternity, you finally meet his eyes again, your expression hesitant but open. “And … you want to …”

Lando nods again, this time more firmly. “I do. But only if you're okay with it.”

The silence stretches again, but it feels different now. Lando can feel the shift, the softening. You’re not angry anymore. You’re curious, unsure, but there’s a flicker of trust in your eyes again. It’s fragile, but it’s there.

“You could’ve just asked me,” you say, your voice softer now, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

Lando exhales a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, his own smile breaking through the tension. “I know. I should’ve. I’m an idiot.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head, and the sound of it is like music to his ears. It’s a relief, like the storm clouds parting just enough to let a sliver of sunlight through.

He reaches out again, his hand gently resting on your knee, his touch warm and grounding. “But … do you want to?” He asks, his voice quiet, hesitant. “We don’t have to if you’re not comfortable. I mean it.”

You look down for a moment, your hands playing with the hem of your shirt, before meeting his eyes again. There’s still a flicker of uncertainty there, but now, there’s something else too. Something deeper. A kind of surrender, maybe, or an acknowledgment of the strange, intense connection that’s grown between you.

Finally, you nod, a small, hesitant movement. “Okay.”

Lando’s heart skips a beat. He wasn’t sure if he’d hear you say that, wasn’t sure if this moment would come. But now that it’s here, he feels a flood of emotion, a mix of relief, excitement, and something much deeper, something he can’t quite put into words.

“Yeah?” He asks, his voice soft, a little breathless.

You nod again, your gaze steady on his. “Yeah. I … I trust you.”

His chest tightens at your words, the weight of them sinking in. Trust. That’s what this all comes down to. You’re giving him that trust again, even after everything, and it means more to him than he can express.

Lando rises slowly, his movements careful and deliberate as he steps closer to you, kneeling between your legs again. His hands rest gently on your hips, his touch reverent, almost worshipful. He doesn’t want to rush this, doesn’t want to break the fragile balance you’ve reached.

“Thank you,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

You nod, your breath a little shaky, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you reach down, guiding his hands to the hem of your shirt, helping him lift it up and over your head. The soft fabric falls to the floor, leaving your chest bare, vulnerable in the dim light.

Lando’s breath catches in his throat as he looks at you, his hands gently cupping your breasts. His thumbs brush over your skin, slow and deliberate, and you let out a soft gasp at the sensation.

“Are you okay?” He asks, his voice low and husky, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

You nod, your lips parting as you take a shaky breath. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

He leans in slowly, pressing a soft kiss to your chest, just above your heart. He feels the steady rhythm of your pulse beneath his lips, and it grounds him, reminding him of the connection you share.

His lips move lower, tracing a path along your skin, until he reaches your breast. He pauses, looking up at you one last time for permission. You nod again, your hand resting on the back of his head, gently guiding him closer.

And then, with a soft, reverent touch, Lando takes you into his mouth.

The sensation is immediate, overwhelming in its intensity. He feels the warmth of you, the sweet, rich taste filling his senses, and it’s everything he’s wanted, everything he’s imagined. You let out a soft moan, your body trembling slightly beneath him, and it only spurs him on.

His mouth moves slowly, rhythmically, savoring every moment, every drop. He’s careful, gentle, but there’s a hunger in him now, a need that he can’t deny. He’s wanted this for so long, and now that he has it, he can’t get enough.

You moan softly, your hand tightening in his hair, and Lando feels a surge of satisfaction, of deep, primal desire. He knows he’s crossed a line, knows that this moment is unlike anything you’ve shared before. But it feels right. It feels natural.

He pulls back slightly, his lips brushing against your skin as he murmurs, “You’re perfect.”

You let out a shaky breath, your body trembling beneath his touch. “Lando …”

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and affection. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice raw. “I’ll always take care of you.”

And with that, you gently guide him back, helping him latch again. The room is quiet, save for the soft sounds of your breathing, the quiet intimacy of the moment wrapping around you both like a warm embrace.

And in that moment, nothing else matters. Just you, him, and the connection that binds you tighter than ever before.

[f1fantasys]

Post Assessment Fuck

Warnings - SMUT. FILTH. MINORS DNI

His text caught you off guard. You knew Lando's day was brutal, assessment days always took everything out of him, so to say his message surprised you would be an understatement. You'd only been together for 6 weeks, although known each other for much longer, and the whole ''dating'' thing still felt kind new to you both. The words on your screen told a different story though.

''care to help your boyfriend feel better after a hard day? Need a good fuck to get it out of my system ;) My place?''

You stared at your screen, mouth agape, body tingling with anticipation.

''be there in 20'' was all you said, scrambling to gather a few bits and pieces of your stuff to take to his apartment, knowing you'd be spending the night there.

''door's unlocked'' he said back.

The drive to Lando's had your mind spiraling, pussy clenching and desperate, cussing yourself at how his words affected you like this.

You walked in and your eyes landed right on him. Splayed out on the couch, shirtless, sweat literally dripping off his body as his breath was quick. He looked like a god. Tired as fuck, but hot as fuck.

Lando caught you staring for a good few seconds, smirking when he realized the effect he had on you.

''Just gonna stand there? Or come get what you want?'' he mumbled, wincing at the pain shooting through his body when he tried to stand up.

''Depends, did you pass your test?'' you said, smiling and walking up to him. As desperate as you were for the nasty, you couldn't help but pull him in for a hug, knowing that after a day like today, his body craved it.

Lando hugged you back tightly, letting out a breath of relief to finally be back in his happy place. ''I did, fuck it was intense today'' he said, nuzzling his face in your neck.

''Proud of you baby'' you cooed, pulling back to leave a quick kiss on his cheek before he pulled you down to the couch with him.

You cupped his face, he looked exhausted, barely able to keep his eyes open as he brushed a hand through his precious curls.

''Sooo, your message? Baby you're exhausted..?'' you questioned him, bringing a smile to his face that melted your heart.

''Advice from Jon''

''What?'' you chuckled.

''Yeah. said a good fuck will have be feeling ace tomorrow''

''Yeah?''

''Yeah. So walk to the room, you wont be able to walk tomorrow'' he said so casually while you were a mess on the inside.

You did as he said, pulling him up and off the couch as well and dragging him to his room, stripping your clothes off in the process.

''I'm yours Lan, tell me what you want'' you said, wanting, no needing him to take control, knowing it's what he needed right now.

He stripped his own boxers off before pushing you to lay down, hovering above you and leaving a trail of wet kisses on your chest, making his way up to your kiss. Your hands tangled in his sweat-clad hair, pulling and tugging at it while you wrapped your legs around his middle, letting out a moan when you felt his thick girth against your stomach.

You tugged in his hair again so lock lips in a sloppy, messy kiss that had Lando swallowing your gasps on breath as his tongue brushed against your bottom lip before sliding into your mouth, tasting every inch of you. Spit was already running down both your chins, as he moved his mouth lower again, down to the sweet spot on your neck while his hands found your peaked nipples, pinching at them harshly.

''Fuck, Lando please. Just fuck me. Nothing else. Need to feel you'' you pleaded, eager to have your walls wrapped around him.

He said nothing as he sat back on his heels, tired eyes finding yours as he pumped himself, his cock growing impossibly harder in front of your eyes. He reached to his bedside table to grab a fol packet out of the box which was emptying too quickly, but you stopped his movements.

''No condom'' you said softly, unsure if you even wanted to hear what his response would be.Suddenly he was smirking, spitting down on himself as lube, not that he'd need it as you were like fucking niagra falls down there. He slid himself through your folds a few times as well, your back arching off the bed when the man had barely even touch you.

''Fuck me you're dripping. You sure?'' he whispered?

''Yes. Give it to me. Fuck me raw'' you begged.

Finally he thrust himself through your hole, bottoming out straight away in a hard push that had you both grunting and groaning, gasping for air. He stayed still for a few moments, always giving your body a few seconds to adjust to his bigger than average size.

''Uh, Lando'' you whispered, body on overdrive especially at the feeling of him with no barrier between you both. Your walls clenched painfully around him as he let out his own strangled moans.

''Shit Y/N'' he said, chest heaving. ''You're so fuckin tight. Feels so good, fuck'' he mumbled as he started to move. Pulling out completely before hammering into you, repeating the process again and again.

His pace was relentless, unfiltered, a man on a mission to fuck his girl because she took him so well. The room was filled of heavy breaths, moans, grunts, and the sound of wet skin slapping skin, a sheet of sweat making both your bodies sticky and filthy.

''Taking me so well, letting me fuck you like this, my slut, yeah?'' he said between breaths of pounding into you.

''Yours'' you breathed out, unable to keep up with anything, all you could think about was how good he felt, buried inside you.

''M close'' you mumbled when Lando's finger rubbed your clit, and within seconds your orgasm ripped through your body, shuddering and shaking beneath him as he let out a string of curse words at the sight of your cum coating his dick.

He slumped forward onto your body, his pace not faltering one bit as his lips crashed into yours for another dirty kiss as your cries intensified with each thrust of his.

''Lan, please'' you begged, not sure for what, but he read you like an open book.

''I know baby, fuck'' he said, slowing his movements but still thrusting in hard and deep within you, your body moving up with each movement.

''Gonna cum one more time for me baby?'' he asked, words slurring because he himself was so close to letting loose.

Words had long left your brain, all you could do was dig your nails into Lando's biceps and bite down on his shoulder, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes over how incredible this felt.

Suddenly pulled out, chucking lazily at you as you whined, but quickly shut up up when you were pulled to the edge of the bed. He placed one foot on the bed to stead himself as he grabbed your hips, hands pinning you down before resuming his activities. Thrusting in and out of your cunt like his life depended on it.

You groaned as you felt another orgasm approaching hard and fast, Lando talking you through it, getting desperate for his own high.

''Let it out Y/N, you're doing so well for me baby, taking my cock raw like this, fuck, gonna be the end of me one day'' he said.

It wasn't a few seconds later that you were trembling again, your body taken over in another rippling orgasm as you cried out his name, both in pain and pleasure.

''Where do you want it?'' he asked sternly, but you were too fucked out to answer.

He asked again, his core muscles flexing with desperation, tethering on the edge with each second.

''Y/N fuck, tell me'' he all but shouted as your voice suddenly found it away out of your mouth.

''In me!'' you shrieked, moaned out loud at the fact that you barely finished your sentence when you felt Lando's release shoot through your body, his grunts obscene as he let out ropes of warm cum, filling you up, literally.

His body shuddered, twitched, jerked, everything, as he fell on top of you, your bodies stuck together like glue because of all the sweat.

Your chests were heaving, breaths heavy from your highs as you lay there, unable to move or speak, the only sensations being shivering from the cold and Lando softening inside you.

After a few moments, you bought your hand up to run it through his hair as he cuddled you impossibly closer.

Normally he'd clean you up after, but today you both were too tired and worn out to care, so Lando slowly slipped out of you before you crawled into bed, pulling the covers up as he spooned you from behind, but not before thanking you.

Lando awoke the next morning to your face between his legs. You really hadn't planned on it, but you needed to taste him, so you slipped under the covers, wrapping your hand around his dick that was hard as fuck without so much as a touch from you.

He already had pre-cum oozing out from the slit at the top, and as you licked it clean, his body jolted to life, cock bucking in your hand and his hands instinctively held your head tight.

''Fuck me, i could get used to this'' he mumbled lazily.

You stayed silent, instead wrapping your lips around his tip, sucking harshly as he let out a few guttural moans, giving him a few teasing licks before taking as much of his girth into your mouth as you could.

Watching him through hooded eyes, you pumped the part of him that you couldn't fit, while your other hands fondled and tugged on his balls roughly.

''Fuck, feels so good. That mouth of yours'' he cooed, thrusting his own hips up now to fuck into you mouth relentlessly.

You pulled back for air, a string of spit still keep you connected to Lando's mouth as you slid his cock between your boobs, squeezing them together to give him the friction he craved.

You were about to take him into your mouth again but before you knew it he was manhandling you to flip over onto all fours and slamming himself into your cunt.

You held onto the headboard tightly as Lando repeatedly hurled himself into and out of you, fingers digging holes on you hips just with how hard and rough he was being.

''Love that dirty little mouth of yours but fuck, needed to feel you again he whispered, pulling your body up to let your back rest against his front, his hand snaking around your throat, applying a bit of pressure.

You moaned at the contact, walls clenching tighter around him at the thought of Lando using you as he pleased.

''Gonna let me cum in you again yeah?'' he asked, spit flying out his mouth as he spoke through gritted teeth.

''Hmm;'' you responded, brain short circuiting at his words.

''Need you to cum first baby, then im all yours'' he said, the hand on your throat making its way down to your clit, pinching at it harshly.

Then your body was shaking, jelly, as your orgasm washed over you, making your limbs fumble while Lando held you up, your juices leaking out of you and down your thighs.

And with just one look at his dick covered in you again, Lando was sent over the edge, twitching uncontrollably with each thrust before spilling inside of you, hot and sticky, with pornographic moans leaving his body.

You both collapsed back onto the bed, Lando slipping out of you the process as you cuddled to his side, bodies sticky and shivering until Lando looked at you, eyes dark.

''Think I need more assessment days if this is the outcome..'' he said, kissing you feverishly with intent.

[acid-ixx]

this is in Clark's wallet

— related post !

HELP ME THIS WAS BURIED UNDER SO MANY ASKS ☹️ this is absolutely so adorable. i love love love the cape on jon's back and the little hearts surrounding the reader is so cute wahh i wish i had a mom figure like them now 💔 (this is sleep deprivation talking right after i wrote angst (plsplspls let that one blow up or ill cry))

i'm absolutely raising you with this: jon kent is probably on the heavier side so of course, since he doesn't want his favorite ever parent to struggle with hugging him, he obviously practices everyday so he could learn how to fly in a really stable manner just so he could surprise you every single day with flying hugs and a kiss to your cheek every morning, afternoon, and night, after every meals and anytime he felt the need to just to show how much he loves his parent; it's one of his favorite ways of showing you affection, no matter how cheesy it is.

and sure, it may warrant some weird reputation for jon whenever you pick him up from school— that he's an 'immature' boy who's still attached to his parent— but that's nothing to jon when it means he could brag about his loving parent to all his friends; how he has them and they don't, and that sheer difference is something jon is so so proud of. yes, he keeps of picture of you in his wallet. yes, he updates you in chat every single second of his life. yes, you're not officially his parent, yet, but what's there to be ashamed of? dad taught him to always cherish your loved ones and you are one of, if not, the most important one to his ever since you stepped into his life.

yes, he may be downright sometimes possessive-obsessive of his parent, but could he help babbling about them when they're the main source of his happiness? absolutely not. so everyone around his vicinity should listen about the time you took him to the fare and won him a plushie that he now sleeps with every night because it holds memories of you.

jon kent loves his parent, what's wrong with that? after all, what's there to not love about you?

(a/n: after all the fluff, i bring you this: shameless plugin and self promo of this hehe. if u love to feel pain, read it ?)

[bucket-hat-lando]

Hell On Earth AKA Assessment Day (LN)

Today was lando’s least favorite day of the entire year

ASSESSMENT DAY although this year he had you as his emotional support girlfriend for today you still were not looking forward to seeing him struggle

Admittedly you were late to the first half of the assessment telling him you needed to get some work done at home first but (mostly because you wanted to put off seeing him struggle as long as you could).

When you arrived you quietly slipped in the door unnoticed standing in the corner observing quietly gaging the atmosphere that’s when you saw him currently doing the Vo2 max test you could see he was struggling his face was beat red his black shirt was soaked from exertion and his eyes looked glossy. After 10 minutes he finally was done and when the treadmill finally slowed you caught his eyes.

As fast as his legs would carry him he made his way to you but this hug was different all his body weight you could tell was on your if you let go he would fall. “Hey” you whispered quietly and rubbed his back all you got in response was a whine his breathing was labored and suddenly there was silent sobbing his shoulders shaking.

Jon from behind you watching closely sent a worried glance but you gave him the I got it look so he backed off. You brought Lando to a quiet corner to get him away from prying eyes and when he finally met your gaze your heart broke “I’m so tired y/n “ he whispered “I can’t do anymore everything hurts “

This was his breaking point his body was tired pushed beyond its normal limit and all you could do was hold him and encourage him even if it went in one ear and out the other. “Babe look at me” y/n said lowly grabbing his face with both hands “ breathe in through your nose out through your mouth you could tell he was genuinely exhausted by the barley had enough energy to hold his head up you grabbed his hand rubbing circles around it like you always do to get him to calm down. Over the next few minutes you sat aimlessly rubbing his back and whispering soothing words

“you can do it your almost done just one more assessment left and then we can go home and cuddle and I’ll even let you be little spoon if you’re lucky “ that brought a slight smile out of him and he slowly got up

“ what would i do without you my emotional support girlfriend “ as he walked away from the corner you sent Jon a wink and thanked god he only had to do this once a year

Wrote this in one sitting

Finally got inspiration from the latest Lando log I hope you enjoy 🤍

[celestialgalaxyglow]

Batfam and Danny, Part 11

A few hours later.

The JL had finished debriefing after their raid on Luthor's lab, Most members had returned to their homes, but some still remained at the Watchtower to do some work.

Clark: Danny!

Danny: Hi Clark, back so soon?

Clark: Yes, I brought my family with me.

Danny: Kryptonite weakness removal?

Clark: Yes, if you don't mind.

Danny (getting up): Not at all.

Clark: Everyone this is Danny, Bruce's grandson, aka Phantom.

Danny: Hi.

Clark: These are my sons, Kon-El and Jon-El.

Kon: Hey.

Jon (flying over to Danny and giving him a hug): Hi, it's so good to meet you! Damian talks so much about you. He really likes to have someone to teach swordsmanship.

Damian: Damian also talks a lot about you, he really likes talking about how great of a best friend you are.

Jon: Yeah Damian's a great best friend too.

Clark: Jon, give Danny some room to breath.

Danny: Don't worry, I don't need to breath.

Clark: I- never mind. This is my cousin Kara Zor-El, and her kids Otho-Ra-El and Osul-Ra-El.

Kara: So you're the kid that eat a shard of Kryptonite?

Danny: It was delicious!

Kara: There is something about the House of Wayne that makes you children a little feral.

Danny shrugged

Otho: It's good to meet you Phantom. You may call me Octavia.

Osul: And me Oscar, unlike our relatives we care about our secret identities and don't use our Kryptonian names as our Earth names.

Clark, Kara, Kon, Jon: ...

Danny: Yeah... that's a bit of an oversight.

Kon: I-

Otho: A one letter difference doesn't count.

Osul: Honesty, Kon and Con.

Clark: I- I did not bring the two of you here to judge me.

Lois: The kids has a point.

Clark: And this is my wife Lois.

Lois: Hi. Not Kryptonian so I don't need any healing.

Kon: So you can just heal our weakness to Kryptonite?

Danny: Yup, if you guys could just stand still. Danny made his way through each of them snapping his fingers. There you go, that should due the job.

Bruce: Let's see. Bruce reached into his toolbelt and took out a small shard of Kryptonite. Here you go.

Kara: You just keep Kryptonite, on your person?

Bruce: Clark gave it to me.

Clark: I give all the Kryptonite I find to Bruce for safe keeping.

Kara: I knew that, I just didn't expect he'd just carry it around at all times. Anyways let me see. She picked up the shard of Kryptonite and fiddled with it. Hmm nothing. Clark. She threw the shard to Clark who likewise felt nothing. They proceeded to pass the shard to each other till it returned to Kara.

Kara: Yeah, this thing is useless.

Danny: Does that mean I can eat it?

Bruce (looking at Danny): I'll like to keep it for research if you don't mind Clark.

Clark: Sure thing I gave them to you for a reason- oh... guess your contingency plans won't work anymore...

Bruce: Yeah, I'm already working on a way to harvest the power of an artificial red star in a small easy to carry object. So don't sleep too soundly.

Clark: Yeah that's fair. Let's go I'll help you.

Some time passed, Bruce and Clark were working on Bruce's plan to make an artificial red sun, Kara, Otho, and Osul were sunbathing on the outside of the Watchtower, and Danny, Kon, and Jon were just chatting.

Danny: Wait there's something that doesn't add up. If you're 12 and your parents are 34, then that means they had you when they were-

Jon: 22, yes.

Kon (laughing): Mom and dad, and uncle Jimmy, graduated from high school when they were 16, and college at 19. They all started working at the Daily Planet shortly after that, that's when they all met. Mom and Dad quickly became close and then a few years later during a workplace party, mom and dad both had a little too much to drink and nine moths later my little brother here was born, a few weeks before our parents turned 23.

Clark (who walked over): Yeah Ma and Pa were a little upset about me having a kid so young, but they were a massive help during Lois' pregnancy and with Jon as a baby.

Lois (laughing): My dad on the other hand almost marched over to Clark's apartment with a shotgun when he found out.

Clark: I don't think he's ever fully forgiven me.

Lois: Nonsense he loves you!

Jon: Look if anything I get to brag to Damian that I'm 10 days older than him. It makes him so mad.

Danny: Yeah I read about the circumstances surrounding Damian's birth. Look, I've never meet Talia al Ghul, I'm sure she's a smart person, but if you're going to seduce someone to get blackmail out of them, don't get so involved into the conversation that you end up drinking so much, that you end up having a drunken one night stand.

Bruce: I really should have kept track of how much we had both been drinking, but Talia knew how to hold a conversation. That was an interesting night nonetheless...

Kon: How about the night of the pink Kryptonite incident from 8 years ago?

Bruce and Clark: WE DON'T TALK ABOUT THAT!

Danny: ...

Lois: Still can't believe you threw the pink Kryptonite into a black hole rather than keeping it for us to use.

Clark: And I can't belief that's what you decided to focus on.

Lois: What? I can't blame you for what happened, we had never come across pink Kryptonite before, so you and Bruce went to test it in a safe isolated environment. None of us could have predicted that it would do what it did, let alone that it would indirectly have the same affect on non-Kryptonians. The whole thing was nothing more than an accident.

Danny: What did it do?

Bruce and Clark: NOTHING!

(Master Post)

Just a few notes from the author:

In this AU Otho and Osul are not Phaelosian but Kryptonian. They also survived the destruction of Krypton.

Clark arrived as a baby 34 years ago.

Jon was born 12 years ago.

Kara arrived on Earth 7 years ago, at age 16, is now 23.

Kon joined the family 6 years ago (then biologically a 14 year old) is now 20 years old.

And Otho and Osul arrived on Earth 2 years ago at 14 years old, they are now 16, and were adopted by Kara.

p.s. I kinda messed up the timeline a bit with the ages, I wanted Bruce to adopt Dick when Bruce was 24 and Dick 14. In the present Dick is 25 and Bruce 34 (still hasn't turned 35). Then I decided to make Bruce and Clark the same age so Clark is also 34. Then I decided to make Damian and Jon 12 without doing the math that Clark and Bruce would have been 22 when they had them...

By the time I realized, I just decided that what happened happened and rolled with the idea.

Lastly pink Kryptonite in this AU basically causes the Kryptonian to develop a blinding level of lust for the first person they see, a feeling that can transferred to the person if there's any physical contact between them.

[puppetwoman17]

Let’s talk about what aging would do to Billy’s perception of how he’s acting toward other heroes when he’s taking care of them(yes this is dad Marvel I’m feeding yall today).

When Billy was younger, he just wanted to help. Of course, that doesn’t alter anyone’s perception of Cap as a dad figure, but Billy wasn’t actively trying to take care OF them. All he’s doing is trying to be a helping hand. Someone to listen to others when they just need a good vent.

In his perspective, all he’s doing is being a good friend. Not a mentor, or an older brother, or anything akin to that. Of course, that doesn’t make a difference for younger heroes(or, heroes who perceive themselves as younger than Cap). Or even for some of his League coworkers. Because all of that care is coming from someone who they don’t really know the age of.

He could be in his thirties, or he could be thousands of years old, or he could even be just eleven, manifesting out of pure magic, and with that wisdom.

It’s only as Billy grows older, I’m thinking somewhere between high school junior-college freshman, that he actively starts thinking of himself as that mentor figure. Or, he starts thinking of what he DOES to heroes as being a mentor/older brother figure.

And once he feels more comfortable leaning into that, that’s when he starts reciprocating the affection given to him. I’m talking him saying “I’m proud of you” with that fatherly tone. Him deciding to give hugs instead of others always having to ask(ofc he asks first, our boy cares about consent). And yes, him going as a substitute for parent teacher conferences.

For Billy, it’s always been about being a better parental figure than the many adults who let him down. It’s about learning the dos from his parents and the don’ts from Ebenezer.

Now all the “best dad/brother” mugs make so much sense. Raven following him sometimes. Clark asking for advice on how to handle Jon and rekindle things with Kon. Tbh he feels kind of stupid for not realizing how people thought of him sooner.

Of course, this only amplifies his refusal to reveal his identity. Sheesh, he was gonna introduce himself on Christmas, but what would they all think now?

It’s a complicated thought process of “They deserve to know if I have such an important place in their lives” and “but what if I lose all that respect and relationship?” and “but that would be selfish of me to want to keep that.”

The thought that they might still accept and love him never crosses his mind because no matter how self aware he gets, Billy will always be clueless when it comes to how people perceive him(aka yes, Billy, you are lovable—No, Billy, no one is using you for money, you don’t have that).

[mystic-archer]

Lycanthropy - Jon Snow

Beast

Pairing: Jon Snow x oc (Aela of the Weres) Length: 1.6k Rating: M for Mature Warnings: gore, graphic depictions of violence

The wind howled through the trees, biting at Jon Snow's face as he trudged through the snow-covered forest. His breath came in ragged clouds, visible in the frigid air. The world around him was white and still, save for the occasional rustle of snow-laden branches swaying in the bitter wind. They weren't far beyond the Wall - no more than a few hours travel by foot. He could easily see it in a distance.

This was his first time beyond the Wall, still new to his position in the Night's Watch, walked in the middle of the small group. They were returning from a training expedition led by one of Ser Alliser's rangers. Jon was separated from Grenn and Edd who were part of another group returning. Five other crows, men he had barely exchanged a word with, walked ahead of him. Jon didn't know their names, but the camaraderie of the Watch hadn't quite reached him yet. 

"Damn cold," the stocky one muttered, his voice rough. "What's the point of this shit? Could have done this blasted shit at the Wall. No wildlings out here. Just us and the dead trees."

Jon kept his silence, though he shared the same thought. No one had warned him of the isolation that came with these missions beyond the Wall, nor the unsettling quiet. If only Uncle Benjen had been there to guide his group.

The forest was too quiet, and Jon felt his unease grow with each step. He reached for the hilt of Longclaw, the weight of the blade grounding him.

Suddenly, the silence was broken by a distant, low growl—so faint that Jon wondered if it was his imagination.

The stocky man froze, narrowing his eyes toward the shadowy line of trees. "Did you hear that?"

Jon tensed, instinctively drawing Longclaw from its scabbard, his senses alert.

"Probably a wolf," the man with the patch on his eye said dismissively, "Nothing to worry about."

But Jon wasn't so sure. The growl had been too... primal. Too close.

Without warning, a blur of movement shot out of the shadows—two hulking figures charging through the trees. Before Jon could even raise his sword, one of the men was taken down with a brutal swipe from a massive clawed hand, the other screaming as he was dragged into the trees.

"Wildlings!" Jon shouted, his heart racing. The first of the attackers emerged fully from the shadows—a tall, gaunt figure wearing the furs and leather armor of a Thenn. His face was as cold as the land he came from, and his eyes gleamed with predatory hunger.

Jon lunged at him with Longclaw, but the Thenn dodged with surprising agility for a man his size. Jon's blade missed, and the Thenn slashed at him with a curved, wicked-looking knife. Jon raised his sword to block, but the force of the blow sent a shock through his arms.

He staggered back, heart hammering, and barely dodged the Thenn's next strike. The two of them circled, Jon's boots slipping on the snow as he fought to regain his footing. His breath came in sharp gasps. He attempted to back away and slipped backwards in the snow, falling on to his back.

Jon's breaths came ragged and shallow, misting in the frigid air as he sat up to crawl backwards towards a snow-draped boulder. The pain in his side throbbed where the Thenn's axe had glanced off his ribs. Around him lay the bodies of two of his brothers—Harker and Darrin—both dead, their blood black against the white snow.

And the Wildlings were closing in.

The Thenns' leader, a hulking man with a cruel smile and a scar across his bald head, stood a few paces away, his heavy axe glinting.

"Southron boy's still breathing," he said in the Old Tongue, sneering. "Weak, but breathing." He glanced behind him to his men, their laughter low and rough. "Lucky for you, we've got company."

Jon lifted his head, wincing at the pain, and saw her.

A girl, no older than him, emerged soundlessly from the shadows of the trees. She was cloaked in darkness—dark colors that were too fine for Wildling garb. Her black hair hung wavy around a pale face, and her brown eyes caught the faint light like polished glass. There was something unearthly about her calm as she surveyed the scene.

"A Were," one of the Thenns spat, his voice carrying in disgust.

The leader turned to her, grinning wide enough to show teeth. "You're far from your kind, beast. I have to say though that the two would make a pretty couple," he said, pointing his axe at Jon like he was already a corpse. "I'll let you get first sight of my time with her before I end you both." He directs a sickening grin at Jon.

Jon felt a chill run down his spine at the words, his heart clenching with fear—not for himself, but for the strange woman standing in front of him, so seemingly unprepared for what they could do. She was nothing more than a girl, not much older than Jon, and yet she wasn't backing down. But what could she do against them? He was already bleeding, and the Thenns had him surrounded.

She stayed silent for a moment before her lips twisted into a frown. "Your funeral," she said simply.

Aela dropped her cloak to the snow with a fluid motion, revealing her form beneath. Jon blinked, his breath catching in his throat, as her body began to contort before his eyes. Her limbs lengthened with sickening cracks, and fur sprouted across her skin.  Her face contorted, lengthening into a wolf's snout lined with fangs. She dropped to all fours, the remnants of her clothing hanging tattered from the monstrous shape she had become. Massive, dark, and hunched, she resembled the terrifying werewolves from Old Nan's stories, or the beasts Jon had once seen in an old book—bigger than any direwolf. The transformation was grotesque and fast—a horrific yet awe-inspiring sight. She was no longer a girl. 

The Thenns froze, staring as Aela's new form towered over them, her claws gleaming in the moonlight. With a snarl, she lunged forward in an instant. The first Thenn barely had time to react before she raked her claws across his chest, throwing him aside like a ragdoll. His scream was short and cut off as she turned to the second Thenn, her speed and strength overwhelming him.

Jon could only watch in stunned silence as Aela tore the men apart with brutal efficiency. The Thenns fought, but they were no match for the fury of the werewolf before them. It was violent and primal, a storm unleashed upon them. Blood sprayed, and limbs were torn asunder with terrifying ease. Jon's stomach churned, both horrified and fascinated by the brutality of it all. She was a force of nature, and Jon had no doubt she could kill them all in seconds if she wished.

When the last Thenn fell to the ground, his life extinguished, Aela stood over the bodies, chest heaving with heavy breaths. She paused, her yellow eyes flicking over to Jon, and in that moment, Jon realized he had been holding his breath, the horror of what he had witnessed still clouding his mind.

The beast stepped back, lowering her head as though shaking herself awake. Slowly, her monstrous shape shrank and twisted again, the fur retracting, claws retracting. Bones snapped as she stood upright.

And there she was again.

Jon could see the moment she realized he was frightened. Her gaze softened, and she reached down to pick up her cloak, wrapping it around her body.

"I... I'm sorry," Aela murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes searched Jon's face, noting the shock that still gripped him. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

Jon blinked, trying to shake off the knot in his stomach. "You—you saved me," he managed to say, his voice hoarse from the fear and the adrenaline still surging through his veins.

Aela nodded, kneeling beside him. The strength she had shown in the battle had disappeared, replaced by a quiet understanding. She placed a hand on his shoulder, her touch warm despite the coldness of the night.

Jon swallowed, trying to find words. "What... what are you?"

"Alive. Same as you." Her lips quirked faintly before she crouched beside him. "You're hurt."

"I'm fine," Jon muttered, though his side throbbed. His eyes remained on the blood-streaked snow as she helped him to his feet. Her hands were steady and warm, despite what he'd just seen her do.

"You shouldn't look so horrified," she said. "They would've killed you. Or worse."

Jon's mouth tightened as he glanced back at the bodies. "I've seen men killed before."

"Not like this, though." She tilted her head, her brown eyes studying him carefully. "You're from the Wall, aren't you?"

He nodded stiffly. "Jon Snow. I'm of the Night's Watch."

"Well, Jon Snow," she said, standing straight again. "I'm Aela. And you're welcome."

Jon opened his mouth to respond—likely something pointed about werewolves or gratitude—but the pain in his side forced him to double over slightly. The girl sighed and reached out again, this time with a surprising gentleness.

"Come on," she said. "You won't make it back to your brothers like this. I'll help you."

Jon hesitated but saw no other choice. "You're not... like them," he finally said, though it wasn't a question. Who else lived north of the wall besides wildlings and Craster?

"No," she replied quietly. "I'm not."

She looped his arm over her shoulders and began to lead him away from the bloodied clearing. Jon kept his eyes ahead, avoiding the dead and trying not to think about what she really was—or how she'd just saved his life.

[cosmic-dust-poltergeist]

Pt 5 of the Danny is a clone/reincarnation in DC au. Tw: discussions of sa and child sa

[Part 4 here]

Danny is not sure how he got talked into this. Sure, he's been steadily getting better at "normal" interactions over the last 2 and a half years, and he's met or is family with everyone here, but it's still a lot. It's Dick, Wally, Kori, Raven, Jon, Damian, Kon, Bernard, Tim, Jason, Roy, and him all camped out in the second largest family room for a sleepover. Sort of. As overwhelmed as he feels, it's still rather fun.

They have movies playing in the background while they all play different games. At first, different groups split off to play board games or card games, but Dick decided they should play something all together. It was hard to find something that accommodated so many players, so they decided to play never have I ever.

Danny could even play honestly because everyone here knows about his "second set" of memories. So there's no questions if he puts a finger down to something he hasn't technically done from their perspective. But it does mean they hone in when he hesitates.

"Never have I ever lost my virginity." Damian said it because he knew Tim, Jason, and Dick would put their fingers down, but his eyes widen when Danny debates if he should. "Seriously?"

"I'm not sure it counts.." Danny shifts uncomfortably.

"Oh-ho! You lose it to someone Before?" Jason teases, "Who was it? A girlfriend? A boyfriend?"

"Jason.." Dick scolds while staring hard at Danny. He's clearly pieced it together. There's this look on his face that isn't sympathy, but empathy. Danny feels sick knowing his eldest brother knows exactly what he means because he's also been through something similar.

"I've actually never made it past kissing with a romantic interest." Danny can see the exact moment his very specific wording clicks. He starts trembling as a bunch of ugly emotions make themselves known.

"Shit."

"Danny-"

"I don't think it counts." Dick cuts everyone off, his sunshine smile nowhere to be seen. "No more than my assaults should be considered cheating."

The way Kori flinches leads Danny to believe that's exactly what she accused him of at some point. He knows they're exs, but didn't know the details. The guilt written all over her over this topic is reassuring, though.

"Sometimes things happen outside of our control." Dick gives a small sad smile. "Which means we can't blame ourselves. We just figure out how to live in the aftermath."

The fact Dick has been sexually assaulted seems to be news to everyone, but Wally and Kori. The anger on both of their behalves is heartwarming, but Danny just feels the need to scrub his skin raw. The images of the pedophiles pretending to be scientists flashing before his eye and their phantom touches making him feel dirty.

"I'm never going to escape what that lab did to me.."

"You already are." Kon pipes up. "Look around you, kid. Even just a year ago, you wouldn't have agreed to be part of this hangout. Sure, the scars will never go away, you'll have moments where you feel like nothing but an experiment or a tool, instead of the kind and bright person you are, but that's okay-"

"Whenever you forget. The people who care about you will just have to remind you!" Jon's bright grin has sadness mixed in it.

"Danny?" Tim shuffles closer. "Can I hug you?"

Danny doesn't verbally answer, just nods and crawls into Tim's lap. Danny curls up tightly and whispers. "I think I'm done playing for now."

"Alright.." Tim hugs him close, rubbing soothing circles on his back. A glance towards Dick reveals Wally and Kori have him sandwiched between them, giving him comfort.

"How..." Jason starts slowly, clearly still recovering from the information that his eldest and youngest brothers have both been assaulted. "How about we play Uno? We have 3 packs worth, so there should be enough."

Danny knows this won't be the last time the topic of their assaults are brought up, but it's a weird sort of painful healing to even just acknowledge it happened. It'll probably also stop them from trying to push him into relationships like they do with Damian. He can't stomach the thought of dating currently. He's happy just sticking to platonic affection for now.

[azzifudd]

as long as i live

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: inspired by jensen mcrae's massachusetts

rated: teen

4.9k words

disclaimer: fictional!

notes: well! i'm not exactly coming out of retirement, but according to google docs i started writing this in june 2024 which seems wild to me. i pushed myself to finish it up so i could post it for you guys, if anyone's even still interested in reading my stuff. it's a bit different from stuff i've written before but i hope you guys like it anyways. listen to the song while you read, it's great :)

[AO3 LINK]

When someone tells me they're from Massachusetts, now I always ask, "What part?"

“So, where are you from?” 

Part of Azzi cringes inside as she asks such a cliche and boring question, but this is the second blind date she’s been on in the past month, and her social battery is at an all time low. At this point, her date is lucky that she isn’t talking about the weather.

“Born and raised in Minnesota, but I moved out here after college for work.” Her date, Savannah, takes a sip of water, tongue darting out to catch a stray drop that hangs off the corner of full lips. 

Minnesota. Azzi feels her heart stutter at the word. 

“Oh, where in Minnesota?” 

“It’s a small town, you’ve probably never heard of it.” 

It doesn’t even matter, but Azzi wants to know, needs to know.

“Falcon Heights. It’s where the-“

“The State Fair.” Azzi interrupts. “That’s where the State Fair is held.” 

“You’ve heard of it?” 

“I’ve been before, I had a…” Azzi hesitates for just a moment too long. “A friend from Minnesota. We used to go every year.” 

“Maybe I can take you back someday.” Savannah smiles flirtatiously, but it drops when she sees how Azzi is staring off into the distance, unresponsive and trapped in a memory long since passed. 

Azzi gags as she watches Jose bend over a trash can, emptying the contents of his stomach after a clearly too intense roller coaster. 

Their mom rubs a hand along his back as he finally straightens up, face pale and sweaty. 

“I guess this is a good time to finish up our night.” 

They’ve been at the State Fair for over 12 hours at this point, and even though the place is still fairly packed, Jose and Jon have been visibly flagging for a while, and Jose’s sickness is a clear sign for them to start heading home.

“But we haven’t even gone on the ferris wheel yet.” Azzi complains, pouting.

“The line looks long, honey. I’m not sure your brothers will make it.”

“I’ll stay with her.” Paige pipes up. “And my dad can pick us up after we’re done.” 

Azzi bounces excitedly on her heels, gripping Paige’s arm with both hands. 

“Please, please, please?” 

Tim and Katie exchange a look, clearly having an unspoken discussion. Soon Tim shrugs, leaving the decision up to his wife. 

“She’ll be safe with me, Mrs. Fudd.” Paige says, so sweetly earnest in the way only a 16 year old can be. She still hasn’t gotten used to calling Azzi’s parents by their first names.

“Oh, I know that, sweetheart. I’m just worried about what sorts of trouble she might get you into.” 

Katie laughs as Azzi sticks her tongue at her.

“Okay, fine. Just keep an eye on your phones in case we need to get a hold of you.” 

“Thank you!” Azzi gives her parents kisses goodbye and hugs her little brothers before grabbing Paige by the hand and dragging her over to the ferris wheel. 

She’s so excited to ride that she doesn’t notice how quiet Paige is. Her friend normally hardly shuts up, but Azzi doesn’t realize how unlike herself Paige is acting until they’re being ushered into the gondola.

The metal car creaks loudly as it moves, sending them slowly up into the sky. 

“Paige? Are you okay?” 

Paige’s hands are tight around the metal lap bar, fingers pale as she squeezes it tight.

“Yeah!” She says, squeaking when they jolt to a sudden stop, about halfway to the top. 

“Are you afraid of heights?” Azzi asks, almost incredulously. Paige isn’t afraid of anything. She’s always ready to jump in head first, with hardly a thought to the consequences. They’d already ridden most of the roller coasters here without a problem.

“Hell no!” 

Azzi might be more convinced if her eyes weren’t squeezed shut as they started moving again.

“Why’d you agree to come on if you’re so scared?” 

“You wanted to.” 

Azzi feels blood rush to her face. She smiles shyly in response. No one has ever made her feel as special as Paige does, like everything she says matters. She presses close to Paige’s side as the ferris wheel screeches to a stop at the top. 

The view is spectacular. The lights from the rides, nothing compared to the brightness of the stars above them. But Azzi doesn’t look.

“Hey.”

She reaches over and grabs Paige’s hand with her left hand, pulling it from the bar and intertwining their fingers. With her right hand, she reaches up to gently grasp Paige’s chin. 

“Don’t look out there. Just look at me.” 

Paige’s eyes flutter open. Azzi’s mouth feels dry suddenly. She licks her lips watching as Paige’s gaze darts from Azzi’s eyes to her lips and back again. 

Her eyes shine under the light of the moon. They’re beautiful. Paige is so beautiful. Azzi’s heart pounds in her chest. This moment feels more dangerous than sitting hundreds of feet in the air with only a bar of metal keeping you safe. 

Paige leans in, so slow that Azzi knows she could pull away if she wanted to. She doesn’t. She leans in the rest of the way instead, and puts her heart in Paige Bueckers’ hands. 

//

I wonder if you kept the pilgrim ashtray if it's still propped up on your bar cart

“You’re home pretty early, how was it?” 

Colleen had called Azzi almost as soon as she had stepped through the door, which told Azzi that she had likely been checking her location through the night. She had been encouraging about it when Azzi had told her that a teammate was setting her up with a friend of theirs, someone from outside the basketball world. 

But Azzi knows Colleen is still holding out hope that she and Paige are meant to be. She hasn’t mentioned her to Azzi in months, not since the last time she’d had to comfort a drunk Azzi who had broken down just from hearing her name. 

“It was fine. I fucked it up, the usual.” 

Azzi pops the fridge open, pulling out a bottle of wine and grabbing the bottle opener on the door. The bottle opens with a pop and Azzi pours a full glass, takes a few big sips from it, before filling it again. 

“Oh, babe. What happened?” 

How can she explain that the mere mention of Paige’s home state had sent her into a spiral and that she’d had to make a stupid excuse to leave and now probably wouldn’t be able to face her teammate without making a fool of herself. 

“No biggie. We just weren’t compatible.” She takes another swig of wine. “I’m just gonna take a bath and go to bed.” 

“Okay, Azzi. I love you. You know I’m always here if you wanna talk.” 

“Love you too.” Azzi doesn’t know how she would have gotten through these past two years without her. 

Azzi heads into the bathroom, running the faucet to fill the tub. She goes to light one of the many scented candles she’s been gifted over the years, this one that claims to release a relaxing scent, just what she needs tonight. 

The lighter sputters weakly and doesn’t ignite. With a sigh, she heads back into the kitchen, digging into the junk drawer where she knows she has seen a box of matches. 

She finally finds it under a pile of old charging cables, but stops short when she sees what’s printed on it. It’s faded and worn, but the word Ted’s is still visible. 

She rubs her thumb over it. This pack of matches has somehow made the journey from Storrs all the way to her home in San Francisco. 

Azzi slides the cover off. There’s only one match left inside. 

The candle goes unlit. The match untouched. 

“Who wants shots!” Paige’s voice echoes through the bar.

It’s Azzi’s first time at Ted’s as an official member of the team, and Paige is clearly dedicating herself to making sure she has the best possible time. 

Azzi isn’t sure she’s seen Paige stop smiling since she moved into the dorms, and it must be infectious, because the butterflies in her stomach haven’t rested since the moment Paige showed up at her door to help move her in. 

“Paige, relax!” Christyn says, patting Paige on the head and laughing when Paige swats her away to fix her displaced hair.

“Here we go!” Liv comes back to the table holding a tray full of shots. 

The team gathers around, each taking a hold of one of the glasses. 

“To our new teammates. Welcome to UConn, and let’s win a national championship. Go Huskies!” They all throw back their shots at once. 

A few hours later, as Azzi dances with Caroline and Amari, Paige comes bouncing up to them, slipping her arms around Azzi’s waist and swaying behind her. 

She presses her face into the side of Azzi’s neck. “Come outside with me for a sec. Nika gave me a lil’ somethin’ if you wanna try.” 

Azzi nods and lets Paige lead her outside by the hand. It’s a lot less crowded outside, and the light breeze feels good against her sweat slicked skin. 

Paige guides her to a more secluded corner where a lone picnic table sits underneath some fairy lights strung along the patio. Paige sits with the bench between her legs, pulling Azzi to sit next to her. 

She pulls out a joint and wiggles her eyebrows at Azzi. 

“You wanna?” 

Azzi had never dared to try it in high school with her parents always around, but she wants to now. The season doesn’t start for months, and practice not for another week. She nods, eagerly. She knows that there’s no safer person for her to try this with than Paige, who would never let her get hurt. 

Paige passes the joint over. “Hold this for me for a sec.”

She pulls out a fresh box of matches, pulling one out and lighting it with a quick flick of her wrist. She holds it to the tip until it glows. 

“Go ahead.” 

Azzi hesitates for a moment. “I just breathe in?” 

“Mmhm.” Paige nods, watching with rapt attention as Azzi brings the joint up to her lips and inhales. 

A hacking cough bursts out of her throat before the smoke can even hit her lungs. 

Paige laughs as she rubs Azzi’s back. 

“Don’t laugh at me,” she chokes out when she can finally breathe.

“Okay, okay,” Paige holds up her hands in apology. “Here, let’s try another way.” 

She takes hold of the joint, sliding closer until their legs are touching. She brings it to her lips, inhaling deeply and holding the smoke in her chest. Then she leans in, giving Azzi a chance to pull away. When she edges just a bit closer instead, Paige seals their lips together, exhaling when Azzi’s mouth opens against hers. 

She keeps them pressed together until she feels Azzi breathe in deep. When she pulls back, Paige keeps their foreheads pressed together.

“How was that?” She asks, voice raspy. 

In response, Azzi just hooks a hand around Paige’s neck and kisses her again. 

//

Could make a grand off of the chain you bought me, but goddamn, it's not for sale

“Azzi!” 

Azzi barely has a moment to steel herself before Nika nearly bowls her over in a hug. 

“I’ve missed you so much.” Azzi says, returning the hug. They hadn’t seen each other since the last time their teams had matched up, but with both teams now out of playoff contention, they had decided to get dinner while Nika was in town.

They spend the night catching up, telling stories and reminiscing about old times, both often changing the subject when it approached the elephant in the room. 

When they’re both three cocktails deep, Nika finally asks, “Do you think you’ll go to the Finals?” 

Azzi knows that the girls have been planning a reunion to see Paige play in her first Finals. She’s sure that it hasn’t gone unnoticed that she hasn’t said anything in the group chat. 

“Of course.” 

She hadn’t told anyone, but she’d booked the ticket the minute the Lynx had clinched their series. Nothing could keep her away. Her hand goes up to fiddle with her necklace subconsciously. 

“That’s great, Azzi. I know she wants you there, more than anything.” 

Nika’s eyes flicker down to where her fingers are toying with the chain. She drops her hand. The charm bounces against her chest. To this day, she can’t explain why she still wears it, just that it’s become like a part of her.

The first thing that Azzi notices when she wakes up, is that there’s someone asleep beside her. It isn’t the strangest occurrence in this house. Sometimes one of her brothers will fall asleep next to her, or one of the dogs will come in seeking her warmth. 

But this body is pressed against her back, a heavy arm slung around her waist. Even the way their breath puffs against her neck is familiar. But the only person Azzi wants to be sharing a bed with is hundreds of miles away, so Azzi turns to lay on her back, her wrapped leg only protesting a little. A wave of blonde hair covers her face. 

“What?” She whispers, because this shouldn’t be possible. She swears she had just fallen asleep talking with Paige about the team’s resounding victory in Aaliyah’s home country. 

Her phone still rests next to her head. When she wakes the screen up, there’s one unread message from the night before. 

Paige💗

See you soon, baby 💗😘

She nudges at Paige’s side, suddenly too impatient to wait for her to wake up. Paige groans, but she opens her eyes, blinking blearily and clearly exhausted. She smiles wide when she sees Azzi. 

“Hey.”

“What the fuck?” Azzi murmurs, still a little bit stunned, and presses close to kiss Paige deeply. 

“Never been happier to miss a night of sleep.” Paige says when they part, smirking.

Azzi whacks her on the shoulder, but gives her another light peck. “What are you doing here?” 

“I missed you. Merry Christmas.” 

Azzi is leaning in to kiss her again when her dad’s voice comes echoing down the stairs. “If y’all are awake, breakfast is almost ready.” 

“Okay!” 

Azzi throws the blanket off of her body, sitting up. 

“Hold on a sec.” Paige walks over to where her duffel bag has been dumped by the door, digging through it. 

She walks back and sits down next to Azzi, holding onto a black box. 

“I know Christmas isn’t actually for a few days, but I can’t wait any longer.” 

Azzi takes the box in her hands, feeling the softness of the velvet under her fingers. She opens it to reveal a silver heart encrusted with diamonds dangling from a delicate chain. It looks a lot like a necklace that already sits in her jewelry box, except this one has an infinity symbol embedded within the heart. 

Azzi feels choked up all of a sudden. The meaning of the symbol is not lost on her. She puts the box down on her lap and raises a hand to cup Paige’s cheek. 

“I love it. I love you.” 

Paige leans their foreheads together. “It’s a forever kinda thing. Just like us.” 

//

You broke me to pieces, but I root for you even though everything went up in flames

The buzzer sounds, and the Minnesota crowd is silent. It’s the end of the third quarter, and the Liberty are leading the Lynx by seventeen. Even from up in the suite, Azzi can see how bad Paige’s body language is, how she’s already beating herself up for the loss even though there’s still ten minutes left in the game. 

The camera focuses on Paige, seated at the bench, staring off into the distance even as her coach speaks in the huddle. Azzi stands suddenly, startling KK. 

“Where are you going?” 

“I have to get down there.” She’s not quite sure how she’ll get to the bench, but she’ll figure it out when she gets there.

Luckily when she makes it down there, she bumps into Paige’s agent Lindsay, who greets her with a hug. 

“Azzi!” She looks surprised to see Azzi. “What are you doing down here? I thought you and the other girls were up in one of the boxes.”

“Hey.” She replies, distractedly. “Do you think you could get me courtside?”

Lindsay gives her a slightly pitying look. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” 

“I know it is.” Azzi says, absolutely certain. She knows, at least, that she has to try. 

Lindsay leads her to her seat, just a few rows behind the home bench. The Lynx have cut the lead to thirteen, but there’s still a steep hill to climb with less than half a quarter of the game left. When one of the Liberty passes skips out of bounds, the Paige’s coach calls a timeout to steady the team. 

Paige stomps back to the bench, clearly frustrated and lifts her jersey to wipe the sweat from her face. As she reaches the bench, she finally looks up, eyes locking with Azzi’s. She freezes. 

Azzi smiles at her, and taps a hand on her chest where the number 5 rests proudly on her chest. 

“Breathe.” She mouths. “You got this.” 

Paige finally blinks. Azzi sees her take a deep breath, and then another. She nods at Azzi before taking a seat on the bench and listening as her coach speaks. Then she’s sticking her head in the huddle and taking charge. 

Her teammates all watch with attention, swept up in her emotions. Azzi misses it sometimes, the way Paige could make you believe you could accomplish anything just because she believed in you.

The buzzer goes off, signaling the end of the timeout. As she heads back onto the floor, Paige turns back toward Azzi. She rests a hand over her heart and then points back to Azzi. Her teammate inbounds the ball to her. 

In the remaining minutes, Paige outscores the Liberty all by herself, and the Lynx come back to win game one.

“Congratulations, Ms. Rookie of the Year.” 

Azzi steps up to Paige, wrapping her arms around her neck and leaning in to kiss her. Paige has been talking with the press all day, and Azzi hasn’t seen her since she left the apartment this morning.

Paige turns her head, and Azzi’s lips land on her cheek as she turns her head to check one end of the hallway, and then the other. They can hear the sound of a door opening in the distance, and Paige flinches minutely. 

Azzi drops her arms and steps back, eyes focusing on the ground.

“Hey.” Paige looks down, making eye contact with her. “I’m sorry.” 

“I know.” And Azzi does know. She knows Paige really is sorry, and that it’s not just something she’s saying to appease her. It doesn’t make it hurt any less. 

Still, she throws a smile on her face. “You ready to head out?” She’d made a reservation, at one of Paige’s favorite restaurants, a few weeks ago for them to celebrate. 

Paige’s expression shifts again, just barely, but Azzi knows every inch of her. 

“What is it?”

“The team invited me out to celebrate. Phee got a hook up at a restaurant. You’ll get to hang with Dorka.” Paige says, like it’s a consolation prize.

Azzi feels that familiar disappointment swell within her, but she pushes it down. They’re going to celebrate Paige, so Azzi will go along with a smile on her face.

It’s not even 11 PM when Azzi decides that it’s time for her to go. Her head is pounding and she’s barely spent even five minutes with Paige since they got to the club. She finds Paige by the bar, grabbing another round for the team.

“I’m going home,” Azzi says, trying to avoid looking into Paige’s hazy, glazed over eyes. 

“What?” Paige frowns. “We barely just got here.” 

“I know, you should stay and celebrate, but I’m going.” Azzi pushes past, not letting Paige talk, she can’t have this conversation, not here. 

She pushes out the door, breathing in cool air. A quick peek at her phone shows that her Uber will be here in just a few minutes. She jumps when a hand clasps her shoulder and turns to find Paige. 

“What’s the matter? You’re upset.” Paige looks so worried, and it makes Azzi almost want to laugh, if it didn’t hurt, just how clueless Paige could be sometimes. 

“I’m fine. Go back inside,” she replies, voice short.

“What happened? You barely talked to anyone the whole night.” 

“I’m tired, Paige.” Azzi blinks furiously as tears fill her eyes. “Sometimes, I just want to be able to hold your hand, and I can’t, and I can’t even be mad at you about it. I’m so tired, so please, just let me go home.” 

Paige freezes. Her hand is outstretched, but she’s stopped short of making contact. For a moment, Azzi wishes Paige would just grab her, hold on, tell her to stay. But she doesn’t, and Azzi just gets into the Uber and drives off, leaving Paige behind on the sidewalk.

When Azzi wakes up the next morning, she feels hungover, even though she had barely drank the night before. Her eyes feel swollen from crying and her body sore from being curled up in a ball all night. Paige isn’t asleep beside her, but that’s no surprise. Sometimes the blonde will sleep on the couch when she gets home late because she doesn’t want to disrupt Azzi’s sleep. 

She finally drags herself out of bed, heading toward the kitchen in search of caffeine. She stops short when she sees Paige sitting at the counter, nursing a cup of coffee. 

“I’m surprised you’re awake already.” Azzi offers, feeling regretful at her harsh tone from the night before as she looks at Paige’s drawn, tired face. 

“Haven’t slept.” Paige takes a sip of her coffee. 

She finally looks up, into Azzi’s eyes, and before she can even speak, Azzi knows. 

“Paige…” She starts, voice already wobbling. She sits gingerly in the chair next to Paige.

“Azzi.” Paige responds, sounding so steady Azzi shouldn’t be able to suspect that she is about to break Azzi’s heart. But Azzi knows Paige, and can see the pain in her expression. 

“Don’t do this.” 

“I’m doing this for you.” Paige reaches out for Azzi’s hand, and when she holds it gently, they’re both shaking.  

“Don’t.” Azzi chokes out again.

“You deserve so much more than what I can give you.” Azzi notices how Paige stares behind her head, unable to even make eye contact with her. 

“I know you are a lot of things Paige Bueckers, but I never thought you were a coward.” Azzi jerks her hand away, wrapping her arms around herself. 

“I’m sorry.” 

//

The fire in my gut that I've chased ever since

“Azzi! Wait!” 

Azzi almost doesn’t hear her over the constant hum of people moving about the arena. But she’s always had a sense for Paige, from the moment they met, like a thread connecting them no matter where they were. She stops in the hallway where she had fled after the final buzzer had sounded.

“Congratulations, Paige.” 

“Thank you.” Paige pants, still catching her breath.

There’s a beat of silence, but it’s almost comfortable, in a way the space between them hasn’t been for years. 

“Azzi-” 

“Paige-” 

They laugh when they both speak in unison. Azzi puts a hand out, gesturing for Paige to talk.

Paige steps forward, reaching her hand out, a question in her eyes. 

Azzi almost says yes, almost reaches out to answer. But she’s been burned before, and it’s not always easy to be brave. So she takes the easy way out. 

“Win this thing, and then we can talk.” 

“‘Win this thing?’ The championship?” Paige asks, almost incredulous. 

“Yeah.” Azzi smirks at her, already drawn back into a familiar banter. “Unless you don’t think you can do it.” 

Paige scoffs immediately. “I’ll see you when I lift that trophy.” 

Paige had already known she was going to play her heart out, but nothing gets her competitive spirit going more than Azzi challenging her. 

Paige stares at Azzi for a moment, just drinking in the sight of her with her number on her chest, knowing that when Azzi turned from her that she would see her name stretched across her back. 

She smiles at Azzi, and it feels almost unfamiliar, smiling and knowing it’s true and sincere. 

Azzi smiles back, and Paige knows this championship is hers. 

“Azzi! Hold up!” Azzi freezes in place, recognizing that voice. She rubs a hand over her forehead. She almost wants to keep going, just jog down the hallway and right out of the arena. 

Instead, she just takes a deep breath and then another, and turns around. Her traitorous heart still quickens at the sight of Paige Bueckers smiling at her. 

“Hey,” Paige says, voice soft as she runs her eyes down Azzi’s chest, lingering on the purple logo and #35 bold on her chest.

“Hi.” Azzi replies, eyes darting to and from Paige’s face. There have been a few unanswered and clearly drunk texts, from both sides, and a huge bouquet at her doorstep after she had been drafted, but this is the closest they’ve been in nearly a year.

“You kicked our asses huh?” 

It had been Azzi’s first time matching up against the Lynx, but it’s just their luck that Paige hadn’t even been able to play, a hand injury keeping her out of the line up. It had been a hard fought game, with Azzi’s Valkyries coming out on top, but it hadn’t been what Azzi had wanted.

“I missed you out there.” 

It’s the truth. Despite their distance, Azzi has long dreamed of the moment she and Paige would face off in the WNBA, and it was disappointing that it had been delayed like so many of their on the court moments. 

Paige gives her that crooked smile. “I’m so proud of you.” 

Every emotion floods through Azzi at that moment. Anger, sadness, joy, hope, love. This is what she’d wanted. Just her and Paige and the game they loved so much.  

But then she remembers why she’s been miserable for nearly an entire year despite achieving her biggest dreams. She remembers why she hasn’t been able to share her proudest moments with the person she loves the most. 

“What do you want, Paige?” 

Paige steps closer, until they’re within arms reach. 

“I just- I had to talk to you; tell you how happy I am for you.” 

Azzi feels herself softening, like she always has around Paige. 

“Thank you.” Somehow the hallway seems quiet, even though Azzi knows there are thousands of people beyond these walls. 

“I-” 

Paige is interrupted when a voice calls down the hall for Azzi. The team’s PR person is looking for her, and Azzi’s late for media. 

Paige takes a big step back, and Azzi is brought back to that day a year ago, and the heartbreak feels almost as fresh. But she decides then and there that she’s cried enough over Paige Bueckers, and so she just smiles, wistfully. 

“I’ll see you around, Paige,” she says, and then she walks away. 

//

You set the bar, you're gonna stick

“And for the first time since 2017, the Lynx have done it! Minnesota, your Lynx are WNBA Champions once more!” 

The cheers of the fans is near deafening. The Liberty players leave the court in stunned silence as the Lynx players pile on top of each other with joy. 

Azzi whoops, voice hoarse from hours of non stop cheering. She knows it might be a bad look, as a member of another team, to be this excited, but she can’t help it.

Suddenly there’s a loud swell of noise, and the crowd on the court parts. Paige is pushing her way through the throng of people, and a mob of cameras is following her. She finally makes her way to where Azzi is standing, a few rows up from the court. 

She smiles at the fans, who all clamor for her attention, but Paige is on a mission. She pushes her way through the crowd, ignoring how the team’s security is nearly begging her to come back down. 

“Paige! What are you doing?”

“I did it!” Paige beams, blue eyes brimming with joyful tears.

Azzi throws her arms around her, barely registering the noise around them.

“I love you!” Paige cups her hand around Azzi’s ear as she speaks, and Azzi feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. 

“What?” Azzi laughs, in disbelief. “Paige, you just won a championship! They’re about to announce you as Finals MVP.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Paige pulls back and presses their foreheads together. “All of this is empty without you with me.” 

Cameras flash all around them. The entire world is watching, and Azzi knows that this is impulsive and that they have so much they need to talk about, but in this moment, it feels like they’re just kids again, sitting atop a creaky ferris wheel with their whole future ahead of them. 

This time, Azzi leans in first, lets Paige decide. 

This time, she doesn’t hesitate. 

[cdragons]

"My Girl" - Robb Stark x Forest Fairy!Reader Drabble

A/N: This goes out to my girl, @dipperscavern! She needed a pick-me-up after the Tumblr app decided to be a bitch and delete her draft!!! But she still pressed on and wrote an incredible Robb Stark smut drabble! Pls go check it out!

"Please, Jon," Robb pleaded. "Just for today, and I'll make it up to you."

"Your mother will kill me if she finds out," Jon groaned. Normally, he'd be more than happy to cover for his brother, but what he was asking for was too much - even for him. "She hates me enough as it is."

"She doesn't hate you," Robb winced at the lie, but he was desperate. "Please, I have to see her."

"Why can't you see her tomorrow?" asked his half-brother. "The hunt is tomorrow anyway, you can just sneak away to see her then."

Robb shook his head. "You know how she feels about hunts. The moment the horn blows, she'll scatter far away, and I won't be able to see her for a week! A week - that's too long!"

Jon stared at his brother in complete disbelief at his dramatics. It was hard to believe that the first son of Ned Stark, Warden of the North, would be so far gone for a girl who lived so deep in the forest. A girl who lived a life completely shrouded herself in the mysterious beauty of the ancient woods.

A girl whose allure and grace were of a being so ethereal, she shouldn't exist.

Jon sighed. "Fine, I'll watch over Bran and Rickon by myself today - but if Father asks me, I'm telling him you skipped on your own!"

His brother whispered his shouts to avoid attracting attention from the rest of the keep, but Robb was already on his horse and raced out of the gates before he finished. He couldn't want to see you - his girl, his fairy, his mythic love.

Robb soon reached a part of the forest known to only very few in the North - his father included. The Starks were not only the Wardens of the North but the keeper of its ancient secrets.

Once he rode past the invisible barrier - accessible by those that carry the blood of House Stark - the wintery abode filled with white snow and blue ice melted away to a world of iridescent green trees and a kaleidoscope of colors eternally blooming. He finally saw the red leaves of the ancient weirwood tree whose twin linked your worlds together. Under the magnificent branches, he felt an explosion of love burst inside him at the sight of you.

You - his one and only love - sitting on the gnarled and overgrown roots of your tree. Your feet were bare as you only wore simple white linen dress that hugged your curves beautifully. He saw the flowers and small buds braided into your dark, wavy, umber-brown tresses.

"Fairy!"

Robb called out the nickname he had given you since he first met you in these woods as a child. He felt life flow inside him as he watched you turn around and saw the bright smile spread across your face. As soon as he was close enough, he slowed his steed to stop before jumping off and racing to the ancient tree where you and him would rendezvous in secret.

"Robb!" you called out. You waved in excitement before lightly jogging forward to meet him halfway.

Robb immediately took you in his arms and held you in a tight embrace. He pressed his nose into your locks and breathed in the lavender and wild grass notes. He felt time slow down until it seemed like the whole world stopped. Robb knew such a thing was impossible, but he thought many things were impossible before meeting you.

You slightly nudged him away until his face slightly hovered above yours. On your tiptoes, until they dug into the soft dirt beneath you, you firmly pressed your lips to his and wrapped your arms around his neck. Your mortal lover gladly reciprocated and tightened his arms around your waist until your chests were firmly pressed against each other.

When you finally parted for air, Robb lovingly stared at how beautifully flushed your cheeks became. He watched in a lust-ridden gaze at how your fingers swiftly undid the ties in front of your dress. He felt his breath stop as the garment pooled at your feet. Your body was completely bare and unclothed, and your skin was unmarred and looked silky-soft. You took his hand and held it at your breast - he could feel how fast and hard your heart was beating.

He wondered if you even knew how much of his breath you took away.

"I want to feel you, my love," you whispered. "Just us, under our tree, where only the witnesses of our love are our gods."

Robb choked back a groan. If he felt his cock growing hard at the sight of your skin, your words made his cock weep for your wet walls.

Gods, he loved you so much - how could he refuse?

Hurriedly, he took off his cloak and laid it down on the ground before removing his clothes with your help; Robb was just as bare and naked as you were. You gasped at the sight of him.

How could one man be so beautiful? How did such beauty become possible? How blessed were you to receive his love?

He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. His tongue swiped your bottom lip, and your lips parted to grant his access to fully devour you. When it felt like you would collapse from the lack of air, his lips trailed down your neck. You heard him murmur against your skin.

"I love you."

He repeated it over and over again, and your breathing became heavier as he continued to trail down. On the tops of your breasts, he deeply breathed the addictive perfume of your skin and began to lay kisses within the valley. His gentle hands roamed and caressed your skin with so much tenderness as his fingers reached that soaked spot between your plush thighs. He slowly slid his fingers inside you, and he growled at how much your slick arousal coated his calloused fingers.

You, on the other hand, felt completely lost in the sea of pleasure Robb was drowning you in. He was gentle. He always was with you, but today...it felt like he was the one who would completely fall apart without you.

Despite you were in full knowledge that it was truly the opposite.

Because for all of his Northern roughness, he was a man who loved with all his heart. He was utterly loyal to those he loved and cherished—a sentiment he shared especially with you, and you could not have been more grateful.

"I want to be here with you," he softly mumbled. "I could never want for anything else if I lived the rest of my life here, with you and our children. You, my pretty fairy, as the mother of my children, and me, your loyal wolf, forever protecting you."

He felt your core clench at his words as hot pleasure shot up your spine. It was a dream the two of you often shared - a life without obligations or duty, no fussy mothers or pushy fathers to stand in your way, and no empty and bleak futures looming over you. A life where it was just the two of you, riding through your forest with your horses, the woods filled with the laughter of your children. And when the day ended, the night would be filled with endless pleasure as your thoughts would only be full of him and his full of you.

You tenderly stroked the curls from his face as you felt the dam holding your pleasure slowly breaking.

Your chest was heaving. "It will, my sweet wolf," you promised. "Ours is a love no one can take away—the gods have shown it to me. After all, our gods are the ones who brought us together in the first place."

It was not long until you completely fell apart and gushed over his fingers. Your back arched as you coated your inner thighs and his fingers with your slick. Robb huskily chuckled as he pressed kisses down your stomach as you tried to catch your breath. Your fingers intertwine with his lovely, auburn curls in an attempt to anchor yourself to this material plane.

"Lie down," he softly ordered. "I won't take you against the harsh bark of a tree."

"Oh, but on your cloak in the dirt is an acceptable alternative?" you teased despite lowering against the soft, dark furs of your lover's fine cloak.

He smirks at your mirth as he crawls toward you. His perfect form hovering over you as if you were prey and he was about to devour you whole.

"Of course," he confirmed. "After all, I plan to take you on it until the only word you know how to say is my name, and the furs soak up all of your cum until it's all I can smell on it until the end of time."

Biting your bottom lip in anticipation, you could hardly wait for him to make good on his promise.

Robb aligns his cock at your entrance, its head red and its tip leaking with precum, as he slowly pushes inside you as wraps his hand in yours. He was only halfway inside you before he fully pushed himself in and completely bottomed out.

You cried as white, hot pleasure shot up your spine and flooded every nerve in your body. You felt so full and could hardly wrap your head around the fact that you and Robb's bodies were joined together as one.

"Fuckin'- fuck," he gasps out. "How is it you're so tight every time I take you?"

"Because I'm yours, Robb," you answered breathlessly. "My body was made for you as yours was made for me. Such pleasures could only exist between us - us and no one else."

Feeling the pool of pleasure in his stomach overflowing at your words, Robb begins to slowly thrust - in and out - until he reaches a steady rhythm that makes you senselessly babble as you feel your body becoming dull to everything but Robb. You felt every slow drag of his hips, every lingering trail of his touch, every hot breath on your skin, and you wondered how one man could make you feel so good.

He hits that spot inside you—the one that makes you see stars that only he could reach. Your eyes roll back, and you beg him to kiss you. A wish he complies without question—because what is his purpose if not to grant your every wish in his power?

It isn't long until he feels your walls clenching around his cock, and he can feel his control quickly slipping.

"Fairy, my fairy," he pleads against your lips. "'m close, 'm cumming."

"In-inside, my love," you beg. "I want you to spill your seed inside me. Let it take root in my womb, and our child grow."

Your grip on his hand tightens as your love's thrusts become quicker and sloppy, and he hits that spot inside you even more harshly and roughly. You scream as your walls clamp down on his member as your arousal spills out and coats his cock. He quickly follows after you, pushing himself as deep as he can to fill your womb with his seed as a groan resonates deep within his chest.

Despite the exhaustion flooding his muscles, Robb does not collapse atop you or pull out. Instead, he presses a soft kiss on your sweaty temple and lies by your side. He holds you close and breathily chuckles at how close to sleep you look in his arms. He places a small peck on your nose and smiles at how it scrunches so adorably.

"Rest now, my love. I'll be here when you wake."

You let out a loud yawn. "Good...believe it or not, this isn't what I had planned for us."

"Oh? And what were we supposed to do before you...distracted me?"

Robb raises his brow before smirking at the memory of how you initiated seducing him. You swatted his arm.

"My mare successfully gave birth to a foal. He's so beautiful - a red and white coat. I already love him."

"Have you named him?"

"Yes, Kodak."

Robb wanted to ask why you decided to name him that of all things, but you were burrowed in his chest - already in a deep sleep. With a content smile, he followed suit and met you in a dream. A beautiful dream where it was just you, him, your children, and 'Kodak.' All of you laughing and smiling in your beloved woods.

Underneath the weirwood tree, you and he met all those years ago - when you were still a sprite, and he was still a boy. Underneath the weirwood where Robb saw you for the first time, and he swore to the Old Gods and New that he would love only you for the rest of his life.

A promise he swore then, a promise he still keeps, and a promise that remains true until his last breath.

@dipperscavern, if you've died from an overload of fluff and love delulu fantasies...then I've done my job