#but that kinda intensifies the point

[wonder-worker]

#yes Elizabeth was without a doubt considered too low-born to be queen#no she was not a commoner and nobody actually called her that during her life (so I'm not sure why people are claiming that they did?)#Elizabeth's social status was not a problem in itself; it was a problem in the context of queenship and marrying into royalty#Context is important in this and for literally everything else when it comes to analyzing history. Any discussion is worthless without it.#obviously pop culture-esque articles claiming that she was 'a commoner who captured the king's heart' are wrong; she wasn't#But emphasizing that ACTUALLY she was part of the gentry with a well-born mother and just leaving it at that as some sort of “GOTCHA!”#is equally if not more irresponsible and entirely irrelevant to discussions of the actual time period we're studying.#Elizabeth *was* considered unworthy and unacceptable as queen precisely because of her lower social status#her father and brother had literally been derided as social-climbers by Salisbury Warwick and Edward himself just a few years earlier#the Woodvilles' marriage prospects clearly reflected their status (and 'place') in society: EW herself had first married a knight and all#siblings married within the gentry to people of a similar status. compare that to the prestigious marriages arranged after EW became queen

#and no Elizabeth having a lower social status was not 'created' by propaganda against her; it fueled and shaped propaganda against her#that's a huge huge difference; it's irresponsible to conflate the two as I've seen a recent tumblr post do#like I said she was considered too low-born to be queen long before any of the propaganda Warwick Clarence or Richard put out against her#and the fact that Elizabeth was targeted on the basis of her social status was in itself novel and unprecedented#no queen before her was ever targeted in such a manner; Clearly Elizabeth was considered notably 'different' in that regard#(and was quite literally framed as the enemy and destroyer of 'the old royal blood of this realm' and all its actual 'inheritors' like..)

#ngl this sort of discussion always leaves a bad taste in my mouth#because it's not like England and France (et all) are at war or consider each other mortal enemies in the 21st century#both are in fact western european imperialistic nations who've been nothing but a blight to the rest of the world including my own country#yet academic historians clearly have no problem contextualizing the xenophobia that medieval foreign queens faced as products of their time#and sympathizing with them accordingly (Eleanor of Provence; Joan of Navarre; Margaret of Anjou; etc)(at least by their own historians)#Nor were foreign queens the “worst” targets of xenophobia: that was their attendants or in times of war commoners or soldiers#who actually had to bear the brunt of English aggression#queens were ultimately protected and guaranteed at least a veneer of dignity and respect because of their royal status#yet once again historians and people have no problem contextualizing and understanding their difficulties regardless of all this#so what is the problem with contextualizing the classism *Elizabeth* faced and understanding *her* difficulties?#why is the prejudice against her constantly diminished & downplayed? (Ive never even seen any historian directly refer to it as 'classism')#after all it was *Elizabeth* who was more vulnerable than any queen before her due to her lack of powerful foreign or national support#and Elizabeth who faced a form of propaganda distinctly unprecedented for queens. it SHOULD be emphasized more.

people really do not know what they're talking about when it comes to Elizabeth Woodville's social status, huh?

[skrunksthatwunk]

ive started a brainstorming doc for the kaiji koi-koi fic and a large large amount of it is just trying to figure out what works about kaiji and how i can innovate without diverging too much from the tone or themes etc. anyway ive been thinking about how the modifications fkmt makes to the games in kaiji function (i.e. minefield mahjong, restricted rps, one poker, etc), and how they each tie into key traits/feelings of playing to original versions. minefield mahjong centers and intensifies the feeling of waiting on a crucial tile while trying not to leave too much of a trail, one poker leans heavily into the bluffing via raising/calling elements of poker, and rrps sort of flips rps' main issue(?) on its head by removing its arbitrariness (while preserving at first the illusion of arbitrariness), and thus making it like.. something you can win via strategy and not just luck. ANYWAY i think ive figured out the key thread to pull for koi-koi and im very excited about that

[fernacular]

Something you start to notice growing up and living as a, let's say, not conventionally attractive woman, is how much feminist rhetoric, especially the kind that gets really popular and commercial, is from the viewpoint of pretty women. And I'm not saying anything that's being said is wrong per se, but it feels very specific to their experiences, and carries the vibe that they haven't really devoted much thought to what it's like existing as a not-pretty woman. Which ultimately makes it feel pretty alienating?

Like yeah, it sucks that you get treated like a doll and are expected to just shut up and look pretty, that shouldn't happen. I'm sorry to hear that. Girls like me are expected to just shut up and.... end of sentence. Disappear, preferably. You don't hear a lot of girl power songs referencing that on the radio.

It just feels weird to watch music videos about how women are treated like shit and deserve better and 99% of the women in the video are still like, very pretty and dolled up. And then there's maybe one dolled up fat girl or one kinda butch girl (never a fat butch girl let's not go crazy) thrown in for decoration.

Like watching the Barbie movie was wild because while it was very clearly a feminist movie, and did in fact have a couple not classically beautiful women peppered in, all the talking points still revolved around the problems thin pretty women encounter with very little consideration for how not being beautiful tends to intensify a lot of these problems, not dodge them.

And it's VERY hard to point this out and talk about it without having internalized misogyny pinned to your vest like you're in the Go Fuck Yourself Girlscouts.

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

In-ho/frontman x Vip's daughter reader x square black guard

Smut - just smut, And frontdaddy being in charge.

I'll give you carte blanche for the plot.

Ooh!! The officer! I kinda liked him. :D

Anyway here it is!

Teaching the brat

Squid Game masterlist

Hwang In-ho/Frontman x vip!daughter!reader x the officer

Cw/triggers: Smut, nsfw, vaginal sex, oral(m!receiving), masturbation, fingering, dom!frontman, multiple orgasms, mild degradation, unprotected sex, threesome. Not proof read, I'm sorry if you encounter some typos.

Plot: You're the daughter of a VIP watching the games. Your dad had the tendency to treat the staff and the front man himself like shit. Hwang In-ho knew he couldn't do anything against him because of his status, but he also knew the same did not apply to you, so one day he had enough, ordering the officer to get you into his room and finally let out his frustrations on you.

The officer was ready to leave, but In-ho stopped him.

"No, stay."

The officer stopped, nodding. "As you wish."

In-ho studied you for a moment before speaking up.

"Take off your mask." In-ho ordered, watching the officer expectantly while slowly unzipping his pants, getting comfortable in his seat.

While the officer removed his mask, In-ho turned his hungry gaze to you.

"You, undress."

In-ho watched you intently, his cock was painfully throbbing as he palmed himself, then he motioned for the officer again.

"Fuck her with your fingers, get her ready for us. I want her leaking like a river."

The officer nodded, kneeling down on one knee infront of you, spreading your legs and began rubbing your clit. Your fingers tightened on the cushion of the couch, the circular motions intensified.

Your breath came out in gasps, your juices dripping down on the couch, as he ran his fingers through your slippy folds and slipping two inside, causing needy moans coming out of you.

In-ho watched the show infront of him, holding his throbbing cock in his hand while lazily stroking it.

"Faster," he ordered "Let her cum on your fingers."

The officer thrusts his fingers harder, at this point he himself was hard himsself, having to reach down with his other hand palming his erection through the suit.

Your moans gotten louder, desperate, and as his thumb found your clit, a high pitched moan shrieked past your lips, your hips bucking and your juices gushing all over his fingers with your first orgasm.

"Good girl." In-ho praised, watching you with parted lips and a hint of a smirk. "Now I want you to suck his cock." his eyes flicked to the officer who was still kneeling infront of you.

You were already exhausted from that one orgasm and both of them haven't even started. You watched the officer get up, letting out a hiss at how his erection was straining in his suit. He sat down next to you on the couch, unzipping his suit and fishing his thick, precum stained cock out, giving himself some strokes before his hand moved to grab the back of your head. In-ho gave him a curt nod, allowing him to push your head down until your lips were near his tip.

"Open up, little one." He rasped, giving your head a slight tug downwards.

You parted your lips and he pushed you down until his cock hit the back of your throat.

He let out a relieved sigh, closing his eyes and groaning as you started sucking him off. His hand slid down to the back of your neck, giving a soft squeeze.

"Fuck, look at her. Knew she'd be good for something." In-ho said, now standing up and making his way over to you, his dick dripping with precum.

In-ho grabbed your hips, pulling you up until you were kneeling on the couch, sparing no time positioning his cock at your entrance, nudging gently.

The officer looked at In-ho through half lidded eyes. "You had her in mind?"

In-ho chuckled, thrusting into you until he was fully inside. "Of course, she's a spoiled brat. Acting up like this place belongs to her."

A strangled moan came out of you, vibrating against the officer's cock. Your back arched as In-ho tightened his grip and started pounding away at your still dripping pussy.

"Yeah, she has a smartass mouth too." The officer agreed with In-ho, starting to slowly rock his hips upwards, driving his cock deeper down your throat.

Your gag reflex settled in but you managed to keep it down long enough until his cock was pulled out enough for you.

In-ho huffed. "You have no idea. It's like she's acting up on purpose just so someone gets to teach her a lesson."

You knew they were degrading you, but it's not like you could do anything about it. The front man is in charge and there is nothing even you could do about it.

In-ho leaned close to your ear, giving your hips a squeeze as he spoke.

"And your dad is the most annoying VIP, thinking he can shoo me around like some dog."

His thrusts fastened.

"Maybe I'll just use you to let out my frustrations on. All while he's with the others, you're here, serving my needs."

His voice was rough, his breath hot and you knew he isn't joking.

The officer groaned, he's already getting desperate to cum, his hand on your neck tightened and his hips bucking up to meet you.

"Shit her mouth is good– I'm about to cum." He warned, squeezing your neck and with a final, deep push, he released his hot cum down your throat before releasing his hold on you, allowing you to pull yourself off.

You didn't even had the chance to pull off on yourself before In-ho's hand reached under your chin, slowly pulling you off the officer's softening dick and pulled your head back.

"See how it goes, beautiful? You do as you're told." In-ho said, his hands wandering to your ass cheeks, squeezing them firmly.

Your eyes rolled back as he angled his hips to hit a spot inside you. The way he was pounding into you had your orgasm approach rapidly.

"Fuck," In-ho groaned "I'm definitely gonna keep you here atleast a few times while your dad is here." his thrusts frenzied and his breathing quickened.

He hit your spots repeadedly, making stars cloud your vision and with a final hit of that special spot, you arched into him, squeezing his cock for all it's worth and coating it in your juices.

"Shit!" In-ho gasped, he was so close to cum, now only using you to chase his release. His orgasm hit him hard, spilling his cum into your well-used pussy, breathing heavily as he stopped his movements.

In-ho pulled out after a minute, letting the fluids drip out of you and down onto the couch.

In-ho nodded towards the officer. "You can go now." he said surprisingly gentle.

The officer nodded, tucking his now soft cock back in his boxers, zipped up his suit and put his mask back on before making his way out.

You looked back at In-ho, who tucked his cock back in his pants aswell and then catching your gaze, leaning closer.

"You on the other hand stay here. The VIPs are far from going home."

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

[fancyperfectionsweets]

☄️Astrology Observations 5🍂

🕸️ Neptune in 7th house has victim complex. More often than not, they think that they are too giving, too loyal and everyone takes and takes from them when that is sometimes not even true.

🕸️ Moon + Rahu combination can make another person super empathetic to the point that they cannot detach and work normally if something is bothering them. This is even worse if the moon is in a planet that affects personal houses like the 6th house of routines or 2nd house of money. Be careful with this combo.

🕸️ Rahu in the 7th house is clingy af and can do drastic things to keep a relationship. They have the tendency to use relationships as a self-validation tool. This intensifies if moon is not in a healthy position. They are the kind to kill themselves or harm themselves over a relationship. They need a good circle of friends to ground them.

🕸️ Jupiter in 4th houses often come from huge families that are ready to help them. Even if the person is harsh or strict, they won't be able to do that with a jupiter in 4th house kid. It's just something so "childlike" about their vibe to their family.

🕸️ ohk. It's either because my Sun is darkaraka or it's just true but people with Sun in the first house or exalted suns (aries Sun) just have my respect. They are so naturally inclined to leadership. I wish to learn from them.

🕸️ I read somewhere that while venus is the planet of love and beauty, they are very exclusionary. This is because venus is the IT girl that says "not everyone deserves me. 💅". She's luxury. Thus, venus dominant people like Osho have very mysterious auras and have "cult" like followings that have bizzare rules. I know someone who is a venus dominant nakshatra and he's very "I don't show even an ounce of what I'm" kinda person. It's honestly very fascinating. These people will only show you the real face when they feel like you "deserve" to be in their inner world.

🕸️ However, speaking of Venus. The above does not mean she cannot be obsessive and conniving. Bharani nakshatra men, especially, I've noticed are very meticulous and have an attention to detail. This nakshatra comes up again and again in men who stalk women and basically become obsessed quickly. They are not even apologetic about it. They feel they are sort of way entitled to "their chosen women" and it's ohk to tresspass boundaries.

🕸️ venus + mars is a super comfortable placement for relationships in my opinion. Venus is the vibe you exude. Mars is your passion so this is what you chase. Thus, you like people back who like you and vice versa. You know the people who always pulled the people they wanted? Yeah. Probably mars + venus. However, it can be a painful placement because love burns deep for this person and if it fails, it can affect their self esteem.

🕸️ 6th house stelliums have this natural tendency to be pessimistic.

🕸️ Jupiter in the first house is usually never seen as "too much" but for some reason, an exalted Jupiter in 4th house/cancer is. A jupiter 4th house is full of optimism and it can piss off people. Y'all slay though. ❤️

🕸️ I've never met an Aries 4th house (Cap rising) or a Scorpio 4th house (Leo rising) have amazing relationships with their families. If your moon and Sun are strong, your parents may be supportive but your extended family will definitely be then out there to get you.

🕸️ watched nosferatu and it reminded me of Lilith synastry 😭. I bet nosferatu's lilith conjunct lilly rose-depp's character's first house/venus/moon/sun because he was so obsessed with her. I'm also thinking 12th house synastry because he kept manifesting in her dreams and she kept him hidden from her husband. Also, she's definitely jupiter ruled and nosferatu represents ketu because he just took and took from her till she fucking died. In that way, she fulfilled Jupiter's theme of sacrifice. Sacrifice is associated with Neptune in western astrology. But, it rules over Pisces whose traditional ruler is Jupiter. So I think this kinda goes.

Fin❤️

[chrrific]

LOVE ME NOT ✿ 리키 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗂 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝖾.

PRÉCIS nishimura riki is insufferable. it’s a universal truth by now. he’s cocky, he’s annoying and somehow always tops you in every test, exam and final. it was so unbearable, that you couldn’t help yourself but look for him in a room full of people. you didn’t want to, but guess what, it just happened. but what you didn’t know, was that he felt the exact same way this this whole time.

&&엔하이픈리키 academic rival! niki x 𝑓. reader wc 0.862k ─── kinda one sided enemies to lovers (niki’s down bad.) slight angst (if you squint) fluff l’avis mutual pining obliviousness (from both sides) kissing tension goes harddd ><

for : ✉️ im active again ehehe 😼 you’ve got your bi-weekly work updates again now ! enjoy it while it lasts ^^

enhypen shelf ✿ bonedo shelf 𔓘 daily click

if there’s one thing you knew for sure, it was that nishimura riki was the most intolerable person to ever grace planet earth.

“morning, chief,” his voice rang through your ears as he settled in his usual seat next to you. you rolled your eyes, continuing to read your notes, completely ignoring him otherwise.

his smirk grew impossibly wider, and the teasing edge in his voice intensified as he continued. “oh, going the push-away method, are we? dont worry, sweets, i’ll make sure to change that soon enough.”

sweets. that’s what he’s always called you, ever since you became rivals in middle school, and it bothered you that you let him; no snarky comment, no annoyed scoff. fine, maybe an eye-roll or two each time he said it, but you never retaliated, and he never stopped it.

you tried to ignore the slight stutter your heart started making after a point when he called you that, but it was probably just irritation — it had to be.

──── ♡

95. the score on your test was a 95.

it was good, yes, but not as good as niki. the big, red, ‘97’ circled on top of his paper made your blood boil, and it frustrated you to no end.

according to eunchae, he’d apparently been on his play station all of yesterday evening, while you were breaking your head trying to understand the topics.

you could feel how hard you were staring down at your paper, almost as if you were trying to change the score with your glare. then, a voice snapped you out of your little staring-competition.

“i did better then you agai—” he halted his words in between, watching how you were practically burning holes into your desk. he may love getting on your nerves, but even he knew when to stop.

“y/n? are you.. okay?” he asked, tone softening a hint, and his ever-present smirk faltering for a second. you tore your eyes away from your test, and up to him for a moment, but you were unable to hold eye contact without your eyes getting slightly, but visibly glassy.

his eyes widened slightly as he saw you almost crying — he never knew even you could cry over a grade; you were so smart that he never thought you’d have to. you mumbled something under your breath before you quickly got off your chair, walking out of the classroom with fast strides.

he stood, frozen, in front of your desk for a moment, before he came back to earth again. “hey— y/n, wait up!” he called out, rushing out of the class behind you.

he followed you into an empty classroom, finally catching up to you. you might have been tiny compared to him, but damn, you were fast.

niki felt his heart break slightly as he saw you lean on the wall, hands covering your face, soft sobs leaving your lips. “y/n…” he said softly, taking a step closer to you, now standing in front of you.

his fingers wrapped around your wrist, gently tugging your hand off your face, revealing your teary eyes. his heart ached at the sight, and as if on instinct, his hands cupped your cheeks, thumbs brushing away the tears that were now wet streaks on your cheeks.

suddenly, he pulled you closer, arms tentatively wrapping around your frame. and for some reason, you felt the urge to do the same with your arms. awkwardly, you reciprocated his actions, your head next to his heart.

you felt your heart go into overdrive almost instantly, heart beating so loud that you were sure he could hear. little did you know, he was feeling the same way. his heart was thudding painfully against his ribcage, and his mind was racing, but he couldn’t convince himself to pull away.

he’s been wanting to hold you — touch you — like this this for so long, and he wasn’t going to give up the opportunity.

slowly, he pulled back a bit, and you did the same, a bit confused at first, but pausing as you realised the lack of space between your faces. one slight push and you’d be kissing him. and weirdly enough, you wanted to close the space, so badly.

then, with a sudden surge of confidence, niki did just what you were thinking of.

finally, finally he was kissing you after wanting to for so many long years. by now, watching you do anything as simple as smile at someone made him want to kiss you.

his lips moved gently against yours, his warm, big hands going to cup your face again. uncontrollably, yours went to the back of his neck, pulling him impossibly closer.

after what felt like a lifetime, he pulled away with a mischievous grin on his face. “and to think you said you hated me,” he chided. “you wound me, y/n.”

“oh, shut up, nishimura.” you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile that was tugging at your lips.

“you’re really going to keep calling me that, especially after what we just did?”

“mhm,” you nodded, smiling. “now actually, shut up and just kiss me again.”

💌 : @strvvy-anniee @liwinly @eunandonly @hannamoon143 @irasvr @ateez-atiny380 @amoressb @ikeulove @gudkc @mrsjohnnysuh @sol3chu @puma-riki @xeee334 @suhiiiies-blog @haerinheartss @layzfy @manaah02 @ijustwannareadstuff20 @deluluscenarios @hazelira @llovelili @fleuressnie @fleuryns

[issysh3ll]

Valentine's ♡ Chris Sturniolo

Summary: Chris devouring his favourite gift Warnings: SMUT, oral (f receiving), squirting, public?(kinda) Wordcount: 700

This whole day has been about you. Right from the start Chris made sure you felt special. Waking you up with breakfast in bed, taking you out for the most adorable picnic date with painting and homemade snacks. And to top it off, his gift to you was so personal. Wrapping up the night at the same drive in theatre where you had your first date seemed like the perfect end.

The drive in movie theatre is quiet. Every car in the lot is filled with couples watching attentively as the latest romantic film plays out on the huge screen ahead. The only sound that can be heard is the muffled car speakers echoing the audio of the film.

But in your car, there are other noises...

"mmph, fuck." Chris's voice is muffled against your pussy. His tongue lost deep inside you, and his lips gripping sloppily to your clit. Your back is pressed firmly against the back seat with one of Chris's hands resting on your stomach to keep you in place.

It's been like this since the movie started, but you're completely unaware of what's going on outside this car. The only awareness you have is of the man between your thighs, worshipping you like you're the best gift he'll ever receive. Which is what he told you when you tried to hand him the actual gift you bought.

Now that gift lies discarded on the passenger seat. Chris's focus is instead on your clit throbbing between his lips. Each movement of his mouth sends flames of burning pleasure through you, and as his tongue swipes up through your folds, circling over your clit you cry out.

"Ah! Chris— s-so good."

Your moans seem to spur him on, his efforts intensifying with each pleasured sound that leaves your lips. Every gasp has him sucking the sensitive bundle of nerves further into his mouth, each whimper earns a teasing glide of his tongue over the burning point of pleasure.

His fingers dig into your thighs, pulling you closer as he devours you with growing desire. And as your legs begin to tense, he never relents. Drawing you impossibly further into his mouth and doubling your pleasure all over again.

If this is how it feels to burn, you'd gladly light a match.

Every inch of your body is alight with pleasure, pulsing and aching for release. "Chris, so close. I need—"

Before you can finish the sentence, he gives you exactly what you were missing. Driving his tongue deep into you once again and running it against that spot inside.

Your vision goes hazy as the fire takes hold, pleasure burning out of control. Your hips fly off the car seat, thrusting up to meet Chris's mouth as your release torches through you.

Every inch of your body is spasming, completely senseless contractions running through every muscle. And as you lose control, it feels so good. To revel in the searing bliss overwhelming your senses. With no room for thoughts in your mind, Chris's next words ring through you easily. "Give it to me, baby. Push."

And so you do, with no effort at all, the slightest push down of your body sends the most satisfying spray of release into Chris's waiting mouth. His tongue laps at you eagerly, cleaning up the mess gushing out of you until there is none left.

Your body relaxes, the fire easing as Chris's mouth lets up, his lips moving to kiss up your body instead. Once he reaches your face you see him, looking more beautiful than ever. A sloppy grin is pasted over his face, dazed eyes hanging low and you, dripping down his chin.

"Happy Valentine's Day." Chris grins, wiping at his chin. “Best gift ever.”

Masterlist

[yandere-wishes]

NEEEEEED DAMIAN X CATGIRL READER

ME TOO!!!! IT'S ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT!!! Like it's so delicious, so painful, cause ultimately it boils down to the "sins of the father". A mistake, a role, an endless game. Like it or not Damian is destined to repeat this father's mistakes. He's doomed to fall in love with the carbon copy of his father's beloved. He's Just another distorted image of tomorrow.

And can you imagine all the pain it brings back?? The fact that despite knowing the truth of how he was conceived and the bad blood between his parents. There is still a small part of Damian that longs for a happy family, that longs for both parents to live together, in love and contentment.

But seeing Catwoman just shatters his hopes, because he can see the adoration flickering in his father's stoic eyes, Damian knows his mother can never be Bruce's true love.

Also, can you imagine the other side of it? Damian looks up to his father, adores the dark knight hero in every way. His obsession with you only intensifies when he realizes that you make him more like his dad, make him more like Batman. His Catwoman, his pretty little kitty to chase and put in her place. He grows addicted to the thrill of chasing you, of hunting you. Of caging you between his arms lips grazing your neck, savoring your pulse between his teeth. You are his ethereal link to his father's legacy, the last shard in fulfilling his heritage.

────────୨ৎ────────

✧₊⁺ There's something bittersweet lodged between his heart and throat. Some sickly paramour as he takes in your figure sitting docilely on the edge of the rooftop, legs swinging to an invisible rhythm as you suck away on your milkshake's straw. Damian reaches out, breath thick in his lungs, his fingers pat your silky hair for a moment or eternity, he can never tell when he's with you. It's so much easier to process these silly perfidious sentiments when he's flinging all his energy into soaring between the skylines, heel to heel with you, narrowly skirting the swipe of your claws and the sting of your whip-like tail. Damian's never been good at peace, at quiet, serenity is when his true feelings seep out. Ripping his heart as they bleed away.

✧₊⁺ He's all so torn, emotions clawing at his skin like dragon's teeth. Heart filled with daggers as he dreams of keeping you bound by his side forever. Waking up with your limbs tangled with his. To savor your lips throughout the day. To have you sit on his lap as he reads in the library. Domestic little daydreams, he wonders if his father was ever visited by the same frivolous notions. He wonders if he's always been doomed to walk the same path.

✧₊⁺ Yet despite all his longing for such simple romances, Damian can't deny himself the thrill of the chase, the need to hunt you down. To purify your sins with his lips, to intertwining his fingers with yours, pinning you to whichever wall is closest so you don't steal off him. Forcing you to release your bag of stolen goods, forcing all your attention on him.

✧₊⁺ It's unfair he thinks as he glares at the Bat Computer desperate for any inkling of a robbery, any sign of you.

────────୨ৎ────────

Like I was saying I just love the idea of Damian being torn apart with so much grief and (delusional) burden for a simple obsessive crush. Bonus point if reader is his first-ever crush, the only person he's ever felt destined to be with. It's so romantic and heavy, suffocating the poor boy. All the while reader is robbing jewelry stores and stealing sweet treats in hopes of impressing her mentor. Praying to avoid another run-in with the weird boy wonder.

Kinda playing more into legacy. I find it so fascinating to write about Batman's obsession with crime being passed down to his sons. Yet also twisting that righteous obsession into a dark morbid mania. Causing his sons to go astray and fall in love with the thing(s) they were destined to destroy!!!!

Oh and since we're on the topic of heritage and sins of the father, can I take this moment to also mention. Dick Grayson x Jester reader. More specifically a reader who is Joker and Harley's daughter, who wants to be just like her parents and was raised to take up their mantle, just like Dick was with Bruce.

I'm trying to come up with a villain name for her but there are so many possibilities. Jester is my default name for now, but I also like Wildcard and Laughtrack maybe even Giggles (sounds so macabre in this context).

[palytv]

WELT + CatHybrid!Reader (SMUT)

Tw : +18, fem!reader, reader is not trailblazer, explicit, power imbalance, dom!welt, sub!reader, age gap? (welt is very old but reader is of age), animal features (reader), fingering (fem! receiving), daryphilia kinda?, praise kink, creampie (wrap it before you tap it folks), breeding talk, established relationship, jealousy (male), marking, mating press, not proofread (hope i'm not missing anything)

5k words

Life as a Nameless wasn't always easy.

Who would have guessed that this planet prohibits your species? That's discriminatory! Truly!

This planet had the best, the biggest, the most impressive amusement park there is! The downside… It seems like their population appears to have descended from a very deeply rooted race of fishes… Hence why any kind of felines or predators are prohibited from visiting.

But no way you'd miss out on that opportunity, it'd be cruel to keep you away from this planet! No way!

You stubbornly stepped in.

Welt was skeptical. For starters, he was the one who had to manage your boundless energy, and the mood swings that came along. The thought of bringing you along felt wrong. He knew best, and at that moment he highly doubted you'd be suitable for the trip.

When you became part of the Nameless, he naturally assumed the role of caretaker, taking responsibility for the slip-ups and mistakes you made along the way. This role proved itself to be so challenging that no one actually fought for it…

The man was naturally poised, calm, and perhaps the only one capable of managing you and your frequent outbursts. You were almost forbidden to leave his side.

As much as everyone appreciated you, they were well aware that your curiosity brought a lot of baggage and a fair share of risks… Just stay glued to Welt and you'll be able to go on adventures! They said.

But at this moment, you are actively defending your case against a very much tired Welt and a concerned Himeko.

"I swear I'll behave!" The talk had been ongoing for hours now, putting you on edge and making your tone sound whinier than you intended.

"Wether you behave or not is not the issue. We're supposed to remain unnoticed for the entire trip, your ears and tail will alert them." The fact that Welt was so adamant about this only intensified your emotions, and a swell of sadness formed itself in your now tight throat.

"I'm telling you, I can hide them - Look!" Welt noticed that you were becoming upset and he'd be lying if he said that it didn't break his heart. His gaze softened at the sight of you, scrambling around to painfully tuck the length of your tail around your waist.

You winced at the sting but continued, to make your point, ears now bent down to blend in with the locks of your hair.

"See!" You proudly stated, puffing out your chest and searching for their gaze, hoping for any sign that might give you the green light.

A fourth voice emerged. "We could use a hat and secure her tail with a rubber band." The voice of Dan Heng made your heart leap in surprise; he had joined the conversation unbeknownst to everyone. He walked to your side and silently offered his support by standing next to you.

Welt frowned. The flicker of discontent crossing his face as he shifted, shoving his soft gaze away. "We appreciate your input, Dan Heng, but-" Dan Heng interrupted, "I wouldn't mind keeping an eye on her." It was unexpected, really. Until now, you had always felt that Dan Heng found your energy bothersome and exhausting. So you always made sure to maintain a safe distance. But now? Perhaps he liked you after all?

Your eyes prickled at the unexpected defense, finally having an ally after enduring two agonizing hours of fighting alone. Relief washed over your tense body.

But that wasn't the case for Welt, and he felt compelled to express his displeasure. His arms went up, crossing them above his chest and regarded the two youngsters like some kind of disapproving father figure. "You'd do that." He spat more harshly than he intended, his tone laced with a hint of sarcasm that everyone noticed except you.

Himeko sensed that the situation was worsening.

She had graciously backed Welt up for this occasion, knowing that he often struggled to refuse your whims, especially when you were determined to pursue something. However, she never anticipated that it would lead to this, and she was already nearing her limits. Her long sigh captured everyone's attention, finally breaking the awkward standoff of glances.

"We can't really stop her from going." Her resolve had weakened as she casts a weary glance at Welt, a silent apology. "So it's settled. Thank you, Dan Heng, for stepping up. As for you, troublesome kitty, I'd love for you to stay by his side throughout the journey." Your triumphant yell of victory made everyone wince, except Welt who just looked utterly appalled by this outcome.

"And now, I'll draw myself a bath. Forget I exist unless you're in danger or something." She breathed out, but not without a hint of amusement in her voice as she promptly left the premises. The conversation had taken a toll on her, especially after witnessing your desperation and misery for so long. It was nice to see you smile again.

"Thank you! And thank you - thank you Dan Heng! I'll be good, I'll behave, and stay put the whoooole trip!" Your face beamed with a bright grin as you hugged the latters arm, squeezing it just to show how much it meant to you. He merely offered a subtle smile, allowing you to enjoy your moment of joy in silence.

"So it's settled." The sharpness of Welt's voice caught your attention as he repeated Himeko's words, and this time you noticed the acute tone. You opened your mouth to speak but he didn't allow you, walking away from the conversation.

Dan Heng noticed how your ears flattened, resembling a poor kicked puppy.

"Let's find a hat that fits you."

-

Of course, Himeko wasn't going to have her peaceful evening. What did she expect?

She had just started to dry her hair when the door emitted that dreadful sound; knocking. Only one person would be petty enough to voice their thoughts, so she simply unlocked the door and returned to her nightly routine.

"Thank you for having me," Welt said as he stepped inside, ensuring he closed the door behind him. He still maintained his usual politeness, though she couldn't help but notice the way his jaw clenched.

"I thought we both knew the issue wasn't about whether she has supervision or not." here it comes. She swallowed her sigh, fully aware that it was most definitely her fault this time. "She just looked so disappointed… and Dan Heng offered to take charge her; how was I supposed to say no? Besides, won't it be nice for once not to worry about what she might do?" It was a feeble attempt to divert attention away from the real issue. Really.

"What I worry about shouldn't be anyone's concern but mine. Plus, I don't recall ever complaining about taking on that role." His tone was unforgiving, punctuating his words with a disapproving wave of his hand. "You didn't. But-"

"No. What you said earlier was unnecessary, that's everything I intended to say. I apologize for the late inconvenience. Enjoy your rest." It was evident that he had no intention of hearing Himeko's explanation. He simply wanted to make his point, and that was the end of it. With that, he left Himeko's bedroom.

She crossed one leg over the other, resting her chin on the palm of her hand as she focused her gaze on the now-closed door. "Isn't he too old for this?"

-

Welt was being petty, not even acknowledging the adorable hat you had spent so much time selecting, carefully chosen just for him.

Why did he act so distant? So… cold? Surely, it was your fault. You had gone against his better judgment, stubbornly following your own little whims. Were you truly that ungrateful after everything he had done for you?

To the nights when he fulfilled the needs of your body? When he used his hands to evoke such beautiful tears from you…?

You stepped off the train with a heavy heart, watching the source of your anguish leaving in company of the Trailblazer and March. You felt torn as the three of them investigated the planet while you went "scouting" the very important amusement park with Dan Heng.

Very important.

But each time you entered an attraction, your mind wandred, your expression fell with sorrow. You even won the claw game for the first time! But no… now you were being rude to Dan Heng! You couldn't do anything right!

Welt was right. Welt was always right.

Now you felt silly. And guilty.

Suddenly, an ice cream cone was thrust against your face, the cold treat making contact with your downturned lips. Dan Heng redirected your attention back to him, gaze searching for yours with concern. "Here. Take it," he urged, nudging it closer.

"M'thank you! Didn't you take one for yourself?" He shrugged.

"Not much of a sweet tooth." This time it was your turn to shrug, returning your attention to the icy treat.

It did help brighten your mood - a win for Dan Heng. What you didn't know was that he always rooted for you, at least in the shadows. He found your energy endearing in a way, especially when you beamed like this.

You actually hadspent a wonderful time in his company! You even managed to forget the little weep from this morning.

But the day took a toll on your body; your ears strained under the small hat you wore, and your tail? Numb. You even had to hide in the restroom a few times to allow your blood to flow- a small price to pay for amusement.

-

You'd think.

You sheepishly hoped that returning home and finally releasing them would bring relief, but that wasn't the case- far from it. Hours spent in that awkward position made it so incredibly difficult to relax them, it hurt so much to pull your tail back into place.

But your ears might've been the worst; you actually had to keep them in the same position because of how painful it was to move them. You huffed in front of the mirror, watching and definitely feeling them tremble.

So, you brought yourself where you always found your solace, the only place you could think of whenever something happened. But you stopped, doubt plaguing your thoughts like a disease. Maybe he didn't want to see you… Thus you stood right in front of his door, your eyes on your shoes as you pondered wether to knock or leave. He looked definitively bitter this morning…

Weeping in front of his door wouldn't help; you needed to apologize first and make amends. "Welt?… You… You're sleeping? Maybe?…" You whispered through the door, anxiety gnawing at your stomach as you waited for some kind of response.

"Enter." Oh.

So you did, but not before taking a long, deep breath.

His room was nearly engulfed in darkness, save for the small lamp on the nightstand, its dim light revealing his presence. Welt sat on an armchair positioned not far from the bed, a book in hand and his temple resting on his fist. The glance he cast your way was fleeting, as if it was mere politeness that compelled him to look up.

"What is it?" Oh, right. You hadn't relized hat you were simply standing in front of his door, silent for a few seconds. However, you noted the sharpness of his words and the indifference he displayed.

"I-It hurts… 'hurts a lot," you whined out. Of course, you whined; how could you not? Your ears throbbed, your tail ached, your stomach churned and your heart felt heavy. Nothing was going well! You knew that Welt could comfort you- he always did…

But maybe this time he wouldn't…

Welt snapped his book shut and set it aside on the nightstand as he pulled himself up. "Where? Tell me." Finally. Finally you detected a hint of warmth in his words, and your eyes watered from the overwhelming day you had.

"My ears…" you croaked out, eyes cast down in shame. He had noticed how your ears were strained at the top of your head, forced down in such an unnatural position. A long sigh escaped his lips at the sight of your poor condition. Why hadn't you listened to him?

He sat down on the edge of the bed, parting his thighs to show a spot you were all too familiar with. His hand brushed against yours, gently pulling closer to the bed's frame. "Sit."

And you thanked all the Aeons you knew of, hurrying yourself between his legs. Welt wasted no time cradling your oh so fragile body against his chest, guiding your limbs to his heart's content. You most certainly allowed him to do so.

He slid his right arm under your knees, lifting your body to drape your legs over his thigh and position you sideways against him. You nestled your cheeks right under his collarbone, pressing your body against his to absorb his warmth.

This angle provided him with a better view of your ears while a low hum reverberated, displeased. But he could feel your body shrink in on itself, anyone could see how miserable you looked at first glance. He'd be a monster to lecture you…

So he gently pressed his lips against your flattened ear, closing his eyes as he did so. The contact made you jolt in his grasp, a sad hiccup that broke his heart. Welt's arm was splayed across your back, his hand resting on your hip while the other cradled the side of your face. Just like the perfect caretaker he is, the man began to pepper your furry ears with soft kisses.

You exhaled, finally feeling your body relax under his care. It was everything you wanted and needed- immersed in the scent of his cologne, cradled against his chest, and pampered.

"I heard you behaved today. Is that true? You didn't throw any fits… Kept your poor ears hidden…" The last sentence carried a hint of resentment, but it was meant only for him to hear. The hand that cradled your face slowly moved up, fingers ever so gently massaging the base of your ears to alleviate the ache.

"Mhm" The only reponse you offered was a soft hum of approval, as you didn't trust yourself to speak aloud. Because, oh my, did you felt as if you were on cloud nine; the sound of his pecks sent a much-needed jolt of adrenaline across your body.

And Welt? He was just so proud of you that he almost forgot yesterday's tantrum. Almost. But you would later find out he didn't.

Right now, he wanted to take care of his beautiful cat. His oh-so-pretty kitty… That hat you wore didn't make you any grace, did you think he'd be happy to see your little ears all bent under this thing?

And your tail… what were you thinking?

He took a long, deep breath against your furry ears- a sigh you might say. You felt the comfort of his hand leaving its previous position, causing you o whine at the loss. But then, he brought it down to the very base of your tail. Unfortunately, it was still sadly locked around your waist; he couldn't have that.

This time, it did hurt. He started by pressing his palm against the upper base, moving in a circular motion as to relax the muscles. A sharp whine escaped your lips, which he quickly silenced with a shush.

"You can handle it. It won't hurt for long, I promise. You can be good for me, right?" he cooed in a soft whisper, careful not to hurt your ears. However, at your lack of response, he emphasized his words with a low hum. You immediatly understood, having been taught so well by him. So, you gave the best nod you could manage, which was merely a shift.

He understood, but that was not what he wanted. "Words." he warned, though his tone wasn't unkind.

"Yes…" You huffed.

Satisfied, he returned to the top of your head, kissing your sore ears and burying his nose in the softness of your hair. The distraction helped you forget the painful massage he was giving, his fingers dug into each side of your tail.

Soon enough, his administration turned successful as you finally rewarded him with the whines he desperately needed to hear. Your entire body shivered, and your hands sought refuge between your thighs to warm them up- something he noticed.

"Does it feels better now?" He shifted down to hover above your face, searching or your eyes for to gauge your reaction. But, they were closed; he could feel you beginning to doze off. "Way better, thank you…" You would've slept in his arms if it weren't for his hand traveling up to gently cup the delicate side of your neck.

His thumb gently nudged the edge of your jaw, lifting it upwards.

It was then that you felt the soft press of his lips against your own- a tender peck. He pulled away for a fleeting moment, angling his head to return for more. The sound of your kisses echoed in the dimly lit room, and your soft moan allowed him to slide the tip of his tongue in.

So, of course, you welcomed him in, meeting the wet appendage with an open-mouthed kiss, heavy with emotion. Unable to focus on anything else, you let your body relax in his arms, melting like a sad ice cream in the middle of summer. But he grounded you; he Always did, pressing you further against his chest to keep this pretty mouth of yours on him.

He could hear your whines grow more intense as he finally understood what you were doing with your hips. His eyes narrowed, focused on the sight of your hips jolting as you humped your own hands with indecency.

Poor thing… You felt the corners of his lips lift, until you could feel it no longer. Welt had pulled away to get a good look at your state, face flushed, eyes hazy with dire need. Your ragged breaths were particularly enticing, a true fest for the eyes.

Just for him, though.

Not Dan Heng.

No one else.

He was truly a petty man.

He grazed the back of his fingers down your arms, savoring the way your skin shivered under his touch. But, Welt paused at the apex of your wrists, making a silent request. You complied, driven by a desperate need. Slipping your hands out from the confines of your thighs.

The palm of his hand supported your back as he slid his other arm under your legs, motioning for you to sit in front of him. The width of his chest enveloped you like a soft blanket, almost missing the way his hands gripped the fat of your thighs.

His thumb kneaded your inner thigh and slowly glided down to your knees. Your sad whine made him chuckle, but he quickly showed you what he meant by hiking up your skirt at the sides. His fingers swiftly found the straps of your panties, pulling the elastic down along your thighs.

Such a pretty sound escaped your lips, a choked gasp, reminiscent of a whisper. Yet, it was a sound he undoubtedly heard. After sliding the garnment past your feet, he moved to grasp the back of your knees. You watched in awe as he lifted your legs, parting them on either side of his lap.

He felt your ears twitch against his chin, distressed by the cold wind blowing against your burning core.

Finally.

The tips of his fingers met the poor state of your slit, covered with a thick layer of slick. You exhaled deeply, leaning against his chest with anguish.

He traced up and down, burying his fingers in the fat of your bottom lips so painfully slowly. Slick used to coat the outside of your cunt, spreading it evenly all over before he reached up to tease that throbbing clit.

You felt him slide his other hand down, warming his digits with that expensive arousal he craved to taste. But not once did he stop circling your bud, not even when he had carefully slid one finger in that tight hole of yours.

The pace was agonizingly slow. His middle finger was knuckles deep inside, but it was almost as if he just wanted to dip it- in and out.

Oh, he knew it wasn't enough. Of course he did. That poor pussy of yours had no secrets for him.

But you didn't have the guts to beg for more, not after today's events. You'd obediently wait for him to act…

"Do you want my fingers to work you open?… Or do you want it to stretch?" His voice was as low as a purr, whispering to your sensitive ears. It was almost funny how he assumed you wouldn't painfully stretch anyway. How could you not? Especially when you could feel the outline of his length angrily burying itself in the fat of your thigh.

But as the sweetest gentleman he was, he asked, knowing that sometimes you liked to feel that tinge of pain- or sometimes not. It was always up to you, always about you first.

"Stretch…" But this time, his kitty wanted it to sting. Did you think you deserved some kind of punishment for going against his word? How precious.

He hummed in aknowledgement, slipping his finger out to circle that tender entrance of yours. "How? On your back? Face down? In my arms maybe? Tell me." You couldn't help but feel like he purposely made you long for it, the very tip of his finger tapped impatiently on your fluttering hole.

"A very mean mating press…" You mumbled with a pout, thighs flexing at each agonizing touch. He merely chuckled, the low rumble resonating within your head. "A very mean mating press you say?" He repeated with amusement, clearly taken aback by that filthy choice of words. You only nodded, watching his hand throw two curt slaps against your cunt.

You yelped when his hands went under your armpits, lifting you up from his lap to place you down on the bed. Your body was burning with need. You tried to reach up around his neck to bring him closer. He didn't oblige, but he did grab your wrists to kiss the palm of each hands.

Patience.

He tucked one of his pillow under your lowerwaist, guiding your hips up in a more comfortable position. The next part was your hair that he carefully untucked from your back, sliding it to your side with great care. Oh how you loved when he'd treat you like a princess, making sure to meet your every needs.

He unzipped himself with one hand, face dipping down in the crook of your neck to mouth at your pulse. His other hand switfly unbuttoned your blouse, popping one after the other until he was met with your cute bra. He littered your burning skin with kisses, crashing marks after marks.

He worked you out of those layers, allowing your supple breasts to pool freely out of its cage. You caught his gaze stopping on them for a fleeting second, right before he dipped down to place two tender kiss on each one.

Finally. Finally you felt the outline of his length bury itself inbetween your pussy lips, coating his underside with your arousal. But that's all he did, sliding it up and down, occasionnaly slapping it against your clit. You huffed out, a croaked moan testifying of your growing frustration.

"No condoms?" He asked.

Oh.

Now you knew he was messing with you! Not once did he not go raw Inside that precious cunt. Ever since he took that sweet virginity of yours. You cried to have your first without this layer that separated you both…

You puffed. A very frustrated frown appeared on your face at how he feigned innocence.

"Oh, but sweetheart… isn't it Dangerous? I'm not sure I'll be able to pull out once I'm inside…" the corner of his lips rose up in delight upon seeing you pout. "'Don't want you to pull out!" you cried out. You knew you were being toyed with, but it was the only way to get what you so much needed, by begging.

"Then… what should we do if it takes…? Tell me…" his tone grew heavier as he motionned your legs on his shoulders. "You did ask a mating press afterall…" he added in faux-concern. Welt was playing with you, and you knew he did. But you were too desperate to call him out, especially not when that very thought crossed your mind more than once.

The thrill of ending up with a swollen belly was such a dangerous thought. Oh, but it sounded so nice right now.

You couldn't form a coherent thought, mind in a haze, words caught up in your throat. So you just sobbed your heart out, it began with short sniffles until fat tears fell down your flushed cheeks.

Maybe be went too far… So he shushed your cries, bringing his face down to kiss those pretty tears of yours. "Here… see? It's going in, look." He hushered you and as promised you felt the very fat of his tip probe at your throbbing entrance. His hand caught your jaw, guiding it downwards to make you look at how his length worked its way inside.

You huffed, choking a moan out of your trembling lips as you finally felt his thickness. Even with that heavy amount of slick, his cock still felt impossible to take, bruising your walls. He merely had a few inches inside but his hips began a slow pace. He pushed a little bit more inside each time he pulled back, just to make sure it wasn't too much at once.

"Look at how well you're taking it… Just a few more inches, can you do that for me?" He gently asked- since he could feel that you were beginning to drift away. You felt the tip of his nose nudge at your wet cheek, seeking a response. But when he felt your soft hands around his neck, he exhaled.

Truth to be told, he was also reaching his limits. So he buried the remaining inches in one powerful thrust, finally fully pressing his body down. Your tail had naturally curled itself around his thigh, urging him further.

He opened the ceremony with a bruising pace, pulling out ever so gently just to harshly slam back down. It caught the wind in your lungs, brain turning into a pudgy state. Your eyes were glued together, so focused on the sensation of finally being full.

But Welt was having none of that. "Eyes." He warned.

It took you a few seconds to register. It forced Welt to bury himself to the hilt and painfully stop.

It brought your attention back on him instantly, watery eyes fluttering open to meet his heated gaze. The strands of his hair trickled down the sides of your face, eyebrows frowned as he carefully watched you oblige.

"Better. So pretty." The praise went straight to your head. But you still struggled to keep your eyes open, feeling them flutter at each thrust.

"'I'll go a little faster now, alright?" You hastly nodded, but didn't expect the instant shift of pace. Welt had pressed himself further down to get that perfect angle, allowing him to directly plow back without leaving an inch.

Now it was getting harder and harder to comply with his command. But he did take pity on you, smashing his lips against yours in a bruising kiss. That allowed you to finally roll your eyes to the back of your head. Finally focusing on how the tip of his cock kept kissing the spongy wall of your cervix. He reached way too far but you loved every second of it.

You couldn't even voice out your orgasm, in fact, you hadn't even realize it was coming until it arrived. Your whole body tensed up Under his unforgiving pounding, your trembling fingers gripped his shoulders for dear life. And you swore you almost came again upon hearing the low groan he emitted- as he felt your tender and battered pussy clench down like a vice.

The feeling was addictive, Fucking you through your orgasm was maybe one of the best thing there was on earth. Truly. How your body struggled to adapt, spasming at each thrusts, the way your lips babbled sweet Nothings, mixed with your cries. And the best of all, how you so beautifully creamed around his girth.

It did take him a few minutes to finally accept his own climax, but at this point you were long gone- mentally broken by the overstimulation.

Balls deep.

He wouldn't have it any other way. It allowed his thick load to finally claim its spot in your womb- pushing it further and further Inside. The growl he let out against your neck was music to your ears, he'd take a few testing thrusts, a twisted way of waking you up from your daze.

"How're you feeling angel?" He rasped out, pushing himself up to analyze your state.

And what a poor state you were in.

You didn't think it was over, did you?

-

"That's unlike her to miss breakfast… Who saw her the last?" March pointed out inbetween mouthfuls of pancakes, waving the sugary treat in the air as to catch everyone's attention.

Welt could only take a very, very long glance at today's journal news.

"Oh I Wonder… Welt?" But of course Himeko wouldn't let him dodge that one. He froze upon being called out, leaning his journal down and mimicing deep thoughts.

"Yesterday's trip must've tired her out, she's most probably resting back in her bedroom." He gave out a curt smile, a lie that looked trustable enough for March to resume her eating. But not for Dan Heng. "Weird… I knocked on her door this Morning and it was unlocked, no signs of her inside."

He hadn't expected him to pry further, and clearly didn't expect him to seek you out so early in the morning either. Welt oriented his glare towards the table they all sat around, not trusting himself to look at Dan Heng very fondly right now.

Of course you weren't in your room, you were in his- safely tucked in the comfort of his bed.

"Surely in the bathroom." The fact that it was Welt who kept answering these questions made it all painfully obvious. Himeko Simply let out a sigh, picking up her own cup of coffee to finish.

"You're a petty man."

"I know."

Pheeewww, my first one! I don't know why I had that in my mind... but oh well

[xoxochb]

I just want to unashamedly make out with Luke Castellan as a Dionysus kid

In the forest

During capture the flag

And then our team (red team) wins and Luke’s like

“Oh. Okay- come back we’re not done” smooching intensifies

— scarlet (it was maroon) ꣑ৎ‧₊˚. warnings: make out pairing: luke castellan x child of dionysus (not sure if gender was mentioned) a/n: i kinda tweaked this a little I hope you don’t mind

when it came to couples at camp half blood making out in public areas you would scrunch your nose and complain how they lacked decorum— though, when it came to your own relationship you would unashamedly lip-lock like you were the only two people in the world (hypocritical, yes, you’re aware of the situation). such as a situation like now, hiding in the forest during capture the flag, one of luke’s warm hands underneath your shirt rubbing your bare skin, the other holding your jaw in place to assure your lips can’t part from his. though they don’t, especially when his are exceptionally soft and inviting, yours nearly similar tasting of wine. and you know this is a risky situation, at any moment during this time a camper, or even worse— your dad could walk past, then both you and luke would end up with extra chores for a month at least. the thrill seems to be making it harder to pull away, because you know you could be caught, but with the way butterflies flurry around your stomach and your cheeks flush a deep shade of pink— it’s utterly exhilarating

gods, your mind is racing. you’re not even sure how you ended up pinned against a tree. but now you’re here. your armor? shield? anything? breath? literally gone, in your absolute lustful daze you ignore your surroundings completely and only focus on the boy currently glued to you. over time, the heated moment grows palpable, like perhaps if you reached out it may be there for you to feel. your knees weaken greatly with every opened-mouth kiss that ultimately helps luke shove his tongue further down your throat, and with his fingers roaming your now burning skin you’re sure nothing could tear you from this moment

that was, until the sound of cheering fills your eyes, causing you to pull away in surprise. your team had won again, as you had expected. you point out, “we won!”

luke doesn’t seem to care one bit, frowning at the loss of contact. his fingers wrap around your belt loops, tugging you closer in urgency, a silent plead for you to reconnect your lips with his as his nose brushe against your jaw softly. you laugh and twirl your fingers around his dark curls teasingly

when he speaks, his voice is raspy from only what you could assume was the consistent kissing, “who cares? we’re not done here”

“and…? you don’t want to celebrate?”

“red team always wins” he looks up at you with a smirk, eliciting an eye roll from you. he ignores that and begins kissing your neck instead

“I still think it’s fun to celebrate”

his voice comes out muffled, “this is celebration enough”

“c’mere, you idiot” you slide your arms down from around his neck to cup his face and pull his lips back against yours, nearly making him moan in excitement— silly, silly boy!

[syluslnd]

hii i have a few requests i hope you dont mind 🥺🫶 feel free to pick to do any if they have not been done yet, they are kinda mostly prompts though 😭

sylus with a streamer/gamer s/o. like those fics where the fans go crazy when sylus shows up in the camera out of nowhere or hearing his voice. and sylus just being supportive about their hobby 😞❤️

sylus reaction when they have a cosplayer s/o, especially when they come home every day and they meet a new character daily or every other day 😭🤣

sylus reaction when s/o gets period stains during their date

sylus with s/o who cant cook but not the those exaggerated types where they burn the whole kitchen, they just didnt learn how to cook, but can do the bare minimum of helping like slicing and stuff and very easy recipes (projecting because i can't cook but am helpful 😭)

when you get your period mid date

The evening had started off perfectly. You and Sylus were sitting across from each other in one of the fanciest restaurants in town, your skin-tight dress fitting you like a glove. The low lights, soft music and clinking of glasses around you added to the elegance of the night. Sylus looked especially handsome tonight, his gaze on you steady and smoldering and his signature teasing smile made your heart flutter.

Everything was going smoothly—that is, until you felt that familiar pang low in your abdomen. You froze, hoping it was just nerves. But then, you felt a sinking dread as the sensation intensified. Trying not to panic, you excused yourself, offering Sylus a nervous smile. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Take your time, sweetie” he replied with a slight smirk. “Don’t go missing me too much.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, giving him a quick wave before heading to the bathroom. But once you were inside, your worst fear was confirmed: a noticeable stain had appeared on the back of your dress. Panic bubbled up in your chest as you stared at your reflection in the mirror, mortified. This wasn’t just any dress, either; it was a pale color, practically a magnet for accidents.

Not knowing what else to do, you took a shaky breath and pulled out your phone, dialing Sylus’s number with trembling fingers. He picked up on the first ring.

“Miss me already?” His voice was laced with humor, but you could practically hear the smile on his face.

“Sylus” you whispered, cringing at how shaky you sounded. “Can you… um… can you come to the bathroom? I need your help. It’s an emergency.”

There was a beat of silence. “Are you hurt, kitten?”

“No! No, not hurt” you stammered, feeling your cheeks heat up. “Just…my period..I’m stained!”

“Got it. Stay right there, I’m coming.” He hung up and you leaned against the counter, waiting anxiously. But as the seconds ticked by, you began to feel more and more self-conscious. What was taking him so long?

After what felt like an eternity, the bathroom door finally opened and there stood Sylus—with a designer shopping bag in his hand. You blinked, trying to process the sight.

“Sylus, what…?” You trailed off, completely baffled.

He smirked, holding up the bag. “What? Did you think I was going to leave my sweetie hanging?” He stepped forward, setting the bag down on the counter. “Got you a new dress. I figured you wouldn’t want to be seen with… you know.” He gestured vaguely, clearly trying to spare you any embarrassment.

Your jaw dropped, both at his thoughtfulness and at the brand-name logo on the bag. “Wait, you actually bought me a new dress? From there?” you asked, pointing out the door, toward the designer store just across the street.

He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Seemed like the right call. Plus, I got to take my time picking something pretty for you.” His smirk widened. “Had to make sure it’d look perfect on my kitten.”

You let out a small laugh, overwhelmed with relief and gratitude, though your cheeks burned at the thought of him going out of his way for this. “Sylus, I… I don’t know what to say.”

“How about you say you’ll wear it and let me get back to showing you off to the rest of the place?” he teased, handing the bag to you.

You reached for it, heart racing as you peeked inside. The dress was stunning, a rich, deep color that would look amazing on you, with a soft fabric that looked comfortable enough to help you feel more at ease.

“Sylus” you murmured, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Thank you.”

He leaned down, brushing a soft kiss over your forehead. “Anything for you, sweetie” he replied, his voice softer, his teasing tone gone for just a moment.

You felt your chest warm and you tried to look away, but he gently turned your face back toward him. “Hey, don’t get all shy on me now” he said, his smirk returning. “It’s cute, though. Didn’t know I could get my girl so flustered.”

You laughed, half-embarrassed and half-touched and stepped back toward the stall to change. “I’ll be right back” you promised, disappearing inside and slipping on the new dress. When you stepped out, you felt a little self-conscious, smoothing the fabric over your hips.

Sylus’s gaze met yours, his eyes lighting up with admiration. “Beautiful” he said simply, letting his gaze linger as if he were committing the sight to memory.

You felt your cheeks warm under his gaze but a smile crept onto your face as you looked at him. “Think we can go back and pretend like none of this happened?”

He chuckled, offering his arm with a grin. “Of course, kitten. I’ll even let you hold onto the bag—it’s yours, after all.”

You laughed, taking his arm, feeling a surge of confidence as he led you back to your table. Sylus didn’t just make you feel taken care of; he made you feel cherished, like every little detail about you was worth his time.

And as you settled back into your seat, he gave you a wink. “Next time, just call me sooner. Anything to keep my kitten comfortable, you know?”

You smiled, knowing he meant every word. The rest of the night passed in a blur of laughter, stolen glances, and soft whispers and for the first time, you didn’t feel an ounce of insecurity—you were just glad to have Sylus by your side

[angellic4l]

nine lives - d.m

in which; derek gets injured in the field and fem!reader isn’t happy with him.

content; tw! derek has bruises from bullets, kinda graphic desc(?), nicknames (doll, sugar, ma'am, etc,), cocky!derek x annoyed!reader, inaccuracies i’m sure but who cares, derek's abs, jj cockblocks(?) i suppose.

a/n; @darkmatilda requested this everybody say thank you matilda! i’ve been slacking w posting but my wips hate me apparently. kisses! wc: 1.9k

A sickly feeling still resided in your stomach. Your head was throbbing with the constant bombardment of ‘what if?’ and a million ways the situation could’ve been avoided. This and the three distinct crashes of go bags hitting oak desks, similar to that of three gunshots - at least in your addled brain - were enough to tell you that the irritation that’s been brewing was definitely still residing.

He’d been hurt in the field.

The thought almost made you gag, the anger overpowering, consuming every part of your body until you did something about it. It felt like it was begging you to purge it, cleanse it from your body, and god did you want to. However, the more logical part of you knew that throwing up wouldn’t make the frustration go away, wouldn’t stop the onslaught of worst case scenarios in your mind’s eye. The only thing it would serve for is making you feel even worse.

Opening one of the wooden desk drawers, you take out a water bottle and guzzle almost half of it down. In the midst of all of the stress and chaos, water was the least of your priorities. From across the room, a pair of eyes can be felt tracking you, watching each and every move you make. Against your better judgement, your head snapped up to see who it was.A futile action; you had already known that it was Derek staring at you but, since the incident, you’d made it a point to avoid him. Unfortunately for you, instincts had taken over a few moments ago and now the awkward jet ride had been in vain.

Realistically, you were aware that being mad at somebody for getting shot at wasn’t particularly logical, but you couldn’t help it, and so you’d kept your distance from Morgan. In place of your usual banter on the jet was an unusual silence, your ears were void of the usual 90’s hip-hop/R&B that came with him sharing his headphones with you, and he wasn’t warming your side with his usual presence because you’d sat away from him.

Familiar voices snap you both out of the staring contest that had started to ensue, your mind quickly recognising them as Reid and Penelope’s.

“He what?” Penelope gasped, manicured hands slapping over her mouth instantaneously.

In response, Spencer’s face had fallen flat, lips pressing into a thin line, signalling he’d probably just let something slip that wasn’t already common knowledge. Clearly, he’d just accidentally informed Penelope about Derek’s incident out in the field.

“Reid,” Morgan chided, before turning his attention to the blonde who stood in front of him now, “Baby girl, I’m okay. See? Still alive and breathin’.”

“But you… And the… Oh God,” Penelope stopped and started, trailing off before starting another thought. Whether it was because she was overwhelmed by the news or didn’t want to say the words out loud, you weren’t too sure.

Watching the whole ordeal from your desk only intensified the completely unreasonable anger you felt, tongue poking the inside of your cheek. Derek’s soothing murmurs to Penelope faded into the background as the different outcomes of today played in your head.

Derek had been shot at, standard for a field agent of course, but the bullets had hit him. If it wasn’t for his vest, he would be in the hospital right now. All because he’d taken a chance and trusted a deranged psychopath to put down his weapon at the hands of the FBI. God, the overwhelming urge to smack some sense into Derek Morgan only grew as you thought about the situation, how he hadn’t waited for back up, how he’d lowered his weapon without so much as an ounce of hesitation.

The opinions you harboured on the matter weren’t fair; you weren’t there, you don’t know what had actually happened, however any and all logic was proving to be out of depth in the cauldron of agitation that had been brewing since you’d been told what had happened. You knew that it wasn’t fair to blame him. You also knew that this response definitely came from fear rather than actually being mad at him, but acknowledging that meant opening up the door for something else entirely. Some things were better left untouched, in your opinion.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Based on the terribly sluggish nature of everybody’s movements and the slow ticking of the clock looming over the room, it was obvious that nobody wanted to be at work. In full fairness, it wasn’t usual to stay at the bureau after returning from a case, but the case had wrapped up quicker than expected. Hotch had announced on the jet that Strauss had ‘asked’ if it were a possibility. You figured it was to make up for the hotel rooms they’d prepaid for, what with the new budget cuts.

After what felt like the umpteenth time you’d caught yourself staring at Derek and watching him wince in pain, you chewed the inside of your cheek while standing up and making your way over to his desk. The bullpen was free from the team; Hotch and Rossi were in their offices, as was JJ, Reid was off in Penelope’s ‘lair’, and Prentiss was in the kitchenette making coffee. By the time you’d reached Derek’s desk, you were sure you’d be missing half of your cheek with the vice-like grip your premolars had on it.

Once you were fairly certain that opening your mouth wouldn’t be followed by an onslaught of swear words or beratement, you spoke to Morgan for the first time in hours.

“Come with me.”

“You tryin’ to kidnap me, doll? If you want me that bad, you can just say so,” he teases, attempting a soft snicker at his own joke before wincing in pain slightly.

“No. Just stop being cocky and listen for once, Derek.”

For a few moments, he leaves you standing in front of his desk, waiting for a response, and feeling like an absolute idiot. Finally, he gives you a look - accompanied by a small shrug of one shoulder - that simply reads as ‘touche’ and then he’s rising from his seat. Schooling your expression to keep it impassive as you turn to lead the way, silently relieved that he’s actually cooperating with you, you remain silent as you keep walking with Derek behind you.

Just down the hall from the bullpen and the other offices the BAU consists of, there’s a small, beige, forgotten infirmary room that nobody ever uses for its original intention. That changes today, you suppose. As Derek shuts the door behind himself, he opens his mouth after taking in the secluded room and the examination table that could double as a bed, but you beat him to it.

“Sit down, Morgan.”

“Sugar, you are desperate for it, huh?”

“Sit. Down.”

He raises his hands in mock surrender, “Yes ma’am,” before sitting on the bed of green plastic covered with a thin sheet of paper.

With Derek finally sat down, you open one of the dusty cupboards and pull out one of the 15 (you counted them once) first aid kits in there before turning back to face Morgan and placing it to the left of him. Unclipping the green, plastic case and opening it up causes one of Morgan’s eyebrows to raise.

“What’s that for, sugar?”

“You. I know you’re in pain and not saying anything.”

Your tone is firm, facial expression showing nothing but exasperation with him so, he relents with a sigh before grabbing the hem of his grey t-shirt and pulling it up so that you can tend to his wounds. At the sight of his bare skin, abs exposed to you and all, your heart rate picks up and the room feels like it’s getting warmer by the minute.

“Stupid decision, by the way,” you add in a murmur, praying to whatever is out there that he can’t tell how much his chiseled torso is affecting you.

“Mama, I’m just fine. Really,” he insists, but you’re already digging through the first aid box.

Remembering what he’d been told to do by paramedics, to keep the bruises cool and wrapped, you reach for one of the ice packs in the first aid kit. Before activating it, your hand hesitantly moves towards the wrapped section of his midriff to expose the bruised skin beneath it.

Morgan hisses slightly when your finger brushes a bruise rather than the white cloth, the sound causing you to retract your hand as if he had hurt you and not the other way around. You mumble a small sorry and return your attention to the ice pack next to him, picking it up and activating it with a cracking noise.

“This gonna hurt?”

“Not as much as getting shot at.”

“What was that for?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

By now, you’re pressing the ice pack lightly to the area of injury, barely any space between the two of you as he sits on the examining table with you standing in between his legs. Your gaze finally meets his - probably a good thing, you conclude, because staring at his abs any longer might’ve made you melt - eye contact unwavering.

“Don’t play that game with me. Since I got shot, you’ve been acting differently. Avoiding me, sitting away from me on the jet, hardly even making eye contact with me, this weird hostile attitude. Why?”

“Because, Derek, you got shot at and it was stupid. You should’ve been more careful.”

“Sugar, I know you don’t believe it was my fault I got shot,” his tone softens, “What’s really going on up there, hm?”

His finger lightly taps on your forehead, again reminding you of just how close the two of you are to each other, because you didn’t even see his arm move to do it. Both of you are yet to disturb the intense eye contact happening, eyes boring into each other’s - his searching for answers in yours, yours seeking relief in his.

“I shouldn’t have been mad at you for getting shot at. I’m sorry.”

“I just wanna know why, doll.”

“You scared me. A lot,” you admit in a whisper, fighting the urge to bow your head and nuzzle into the top of his chest.

Instead, you keep your head level as the both of you stare at each other, your hand still pressing the ice pack to his lower midriff during the interaction. Visibly, his face softens with your admission, and then his lips curve into a barely there smirk.

“Yeah? You care about me, sweetheart? Awh,” he teases.

“Seriously. You don’t have nine lives, D, you can’t risk losing this one.”

“Yes, ma’am. I am so sorry for forgetting that I’m not a cat.”

“God, you can’t ever be serious, can you?”

“Hard to be serious when there’s a pretty woman tending to my wounds, angel.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you mutter and let your eyes drop to his abs between you, momentarily distracted.

“See something you like?”

As you go to reply, lips slightly parted - though the words that should’ve come out hadn’t even fully formed in your head yet - the door swings open to reveal one Jennifer Jareau. Morgan turns his head slowly to look at her while you whip your head to the right so fast it could’ve given you whiplash.

JJ’s face contorts with confusion, you presume it’s because she only expected to find you in here - and certainly not extremely close to Morgan with your hand resting on his midriff.

“I’m so sorry. I’m not interrupting something, am I?”

“No, Jayje, you’re okay,” you reassure her.

“Hotch needs everyone in the briefing room.”

“We just got back,” Morgan grumbles.

“He said it was urgent. I’ll uh, let you two… finish up,” the blond says quietly, giving the two of you an awkward smile, and then closing the door behind her.

[caitlynsrighteye]

Behind the lens

Caitlyn Kiramman x reader

After her mothers passing, the world turns gray. Indulges into affairs, alcohol, and study. The weight of the family name lingering on her shoulders. The only thing keeping her sane is her childhood best friend. A photographer who sees the world in a different light.

Contains: modern au, college au, fluff, wlw, alcohol use, addiction, angst, depression, arguments, suggestive themes, kinda toxic cait, basketball player cait, fem!reader, childhood best friend reader, use of y/n

wc: 2.9k

Masterlist Part 2, Special

High School;

You watched as the game below intensified. The gym felt electric– bright lights beaming above, sneakers squeaking along the polished floor, the rhythmic pounding of the ball on the court with a screaming crowd cheering for their team. Tension between two teams fighting for the ball for a chance to score. The scoreboard ticks down, but you aren't paying attention to the numbers.

Your hands were on your camera, you'd just gotten it recently as a gift so you wanted to give it a whirl, it was trained on the players, majority of the time on your best friend, Caitlyn.

The tall heiress moved effortlessly with grace and precision. Her jersey hugged her frame. Her expression focused, calculating her next move, while her side bangs clung to the moist skin of her face. And you, seated in the bleachers, captured every second of it.

When you adjust the lens, zooming in, Caitlyn makes for a layup. Dribbling the ball on the court and jumping in the air slightly to give momentum to her throw. The ball kisses the backboard and lands nicely in the basket, earning another two points.

The crowd roars, yet Caitlyn doesn't celebrate, no need to, they haven't won just yet. The determined scowl on her lips is something you've always found endearing.

You lower your device for a moment, admiring the recent pictures you just took. “Got some good shots?” Some kid in the seat by you asks, probably a sibling of one of the players. “Course I did,” you show off some mid-air captures and the kid ‘woahs’ in disbelief.

As if sensing the attention, Caitlyn turns her attention to where you were during a lull in the game. The glance lasts barely a second– yet you managed to catch it. Getting the sight of the smallest smirk growing on her lips before turning back.

You fight back a smile of your own and bring the camera up to your face again.

-

Present day;

You sat in the lonesome of your apartment. Quiet, peaceful. Scrolling through your photo gallery of pictures you've taken that day on your laptop, placed atop the wood of your small one by one dining table. You were to present some of your works in class the next day in hopes of getting to show it off in an upcoming exhibit.

While editing a photo you took of the city's skyline, a knock was heard at your front door. 'Who could that be?' You thought, so late at night. Coming to a stand, you walk over to where the sound was heard. Lifting yourself onto your toes to peek through the peephole.

"Shit," you mumbled to yourself. A head-full of blue hair brimmed the fisheye view. You sigh before unlocking the door and opening it to find your best friend, slouched against the doorframe, clear bottle of vodka in hand. "Cait, it's–" You bring your phone up to view the time. "Almost midnight."

"Yeah," she hiccuped, stumbling into your apartment. You held onto her, keeping her from falling over. Shutting the door closed, you took the bottle from her hand and set it on a nearby table, wrapping the taller girl's arm around your shoulders to guide her to your couch, plopping her drunk ass on it.

With her slumped on your sofa, you've given her a glass of water to hopefully flush her system and wash off the alcoholic scent that reeks on her tongue.

This had unfortunately become routine during most nights. She would go out drinking and drag herself to the foot of your 'welcome' doormat– irritating, although you felt more at ease for her to end up at your place instead of a stranger's bed.

You laid her down, made her comfortable with a blanket tucked to her sides, a small plastic bowl from your kitchen cabinet on the floor beside her in case her stomach lost the battle against the hard liquor. You had brought your computer to the coffee table in front of the couch to keep an eye on the intoxicated girl and sat crisscross while you scrolled on the pad of your keyboard.

The once peaceful silence now couldn't get any louder. Having to worry about Caitlyn when you had to focus on your project. Anxiety and worry is what filled the bags under your eyes. Too many restless nights and energy taken up from work, school, and more often, your friend who's passed out under the comfort of your care.

You glance over at her sleeping state. Cheeks flushed a warm red, hair slightly disheveled, chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm. A glance in which your eyebrows furrowed in sympathy, then returning to the blue light of your screen that illuminated the room. Staring at the city image you've been editing the lighting and contrast to, it reminds you of this one night you spent with Caitlyn.

-

A few months ago, you were both sat on the roof of her apartment building. Sitting dangerously on the ledge, with your feet dangling above the street, a few stories down, while stars filled the night sky as you looked towards the distant skyscrapers and lights of city traffic.

You two have been by each other's side since you were kids. From digging through sandboxes and running across woodchips on a playground to late night phone calls talking about the future. Sitting on rooves seemed to be your guys' thing ever since you both would sneak onto the roof of her parents' house to talk.

Under the same stars, tonight was no different– yet was at the same time.

An alcoholic beverage that you resented held loosley in her grasp, swinging by her fingertips as she sat with one knee up to her chest. You sat at her side, shivering slightly whenever a cool breeze would pass by.

"You ever feel like... running away?"

You turn your head to look at her, lifting a brow. You felt confusion, curiosity, and overall sadness in the way her voice was so quiet and dull. "Where would you go?" You asked. She stares at the bottle in her hand, swirling the liquid around its glass enclosure. Her voice was so quiet that if a car were to pass by or the wind began to speed up, you wouldn't have caught what she said.

"Somewhere nobody knows who I am. Somewhere, I don't have to be her." Coming from a girl who excelles in grades, popular amongst the student body, talented on the court. Name and status, known by all. The complete opposite compared to the latest words leaving her mouth. It made your heart sink.

Ever since her mothers passing, her company has been placed on top of Caitlyn's once broad, now sunken shoulders. Her father, Tobias, had his own job at a local hospital and had no time to take over a business. He's been the one pushing Cait to follow in his late wife's footsteps. To keep the company under their name and a legacy to uphold. Caitlyn, on the other hand, couldn't have been more stressed. Forced to do something she had no hopes in being included in.

You know she has been struggling with the loss. She buried herself in practice, study, and practically drowned herself with liquor, harmful to the liver. You wanted to be there, but she seemed to build walls around herself.

"You don't have to run," you leaned back to stare at the bright dots in the sky. "You just have to let people in," Caitlyn finally turns to you, a raw and unguarded expression placed on her face.

"You mean, let you in," a small smile curved on the sides of her lips as she leaned her head on her lifted knee. "I've always been in, Caitlyn," you answered. Watching her exhale a long breath while she admires the skyline, placing the bottle on the ledge next to her.

She was usually one to keep her feelings reserved and closed off to the world, but doing so drained its color.

-

The morning sun beamed through the square windows behind you, brightening your living room. Shining on your back while you're slouched, head on your crossed arms, resting on the coffee table. A groan escapes your lips as you wake. Straightening your back to stretch only to feel an ache from being hunched over all night. You yawn, the late night before coming to beat you back. Rubbing an eye with your hand before picking up your phone that was faced down next to your laptop.

"Gah- dammit," you huffed. It was 8:30 in the morning. You had to be in class by 9 to present your pictures. The ruckess of you throwing on clothes and brushing your teeth while you stepped into your shoes with dangling keys falling from your pocket in a hurry had woken up sleeping beauty, who was stomach down in your cheap couch. Arm fell off the side into the empty bowl you'd left for her.

You spat in the bathroom sink and rinsed your mouth while your cerulean-eyed friend was pinching her forhead from the current hangover she was experiencing. "Ah... fuuuck," she said, wincing from the ache. "I left you some Tylenol, gotta go, bye," you left with a shut to your door, leaving the athlete in the solace of your home. To reminisce the night she barely remembered.

There were two red and blue pills in front of her, next to its bottle with a fresh glass of water, condensation dripping from its sides, and a room temperature glass of water from last night. How thoughtful enough of you to portion the medication for her considering you being late. A sigh left her, sitting upright on the couch, slouching over, propping her elbows on her knees. She picks up the pills and takes the dose.

By the time you've arrived in your class, everyone was already there, seated while your professor lectured. "Glad you're here to join us, Ms. L/n," he said in a manner that sounded a bit too passive-aggressive.

You mumbled to yourself as you sat down, feeling as if all eyes were on you. You rubbed at your tired eyes, pulling out your laptop from your bag. Lifting up the screen to find it dead.

'Well, that's just great,' you thought.

Caitlyn had managed to leave your apartment without hurling up yesterday's lunch. Walking down the stairs with a throbbing migraine. Pushing open the exit door to breezy, slightly cold weather that made her surrender into her hoodie that she'd found laying in your apartment. She looked left and then right along the street. “Shit, did I walk all the way here?” She asked herself. Throwing her head back in frustration as she lets out a groan. She slides her hood on and tucked her hands in her pockets as she prepares to walk a few blocks back to her place. Well-deserved, she guessed.

The day quickly passed. You were busy with school, and finals were coming up. Your manager at work was on your ass so you insisted on picking up shifts of the lazy coworkers you were forced to aid. You were exhausted. Neck and back ached. And the cherry on top, you weren't able to present your pictures because you'd forgotten to charge your computer overnight. The one thing you wanted to have your work displayed in an exhibit in hopes of opportunities was far from your reach.

You left the school and out onto the concrete of the parking lot. The sky was dim and cloudy, and it looked as if rain was awaiting. Trees tilted from the wind, and you shivered while walking heavy-footed to your car that needed repairs. You take your keys from your bag, they jitter while you fumble to find the ones that go to your car. “Hey Y/n.”

A strong, yet kind voice behind you. You turn your gaze. Jayce, a familiar face, a mutual between you and Caitlyn. You had met him shortly after meeting your navy-haired friend. He's a few years older, tall, close to the Kiramman family as if he were Cait's brother, basically at this point. It's been a while since the three of you hung out together. A while since… Mrs. Kiramman.

His golden eyes are gentle as he meets yours. “Oh, hi, Jayce. Coming from somewhere?” He nods, “Yeah basketball practice, actually.” He rides a hand down his hair. Face slightly flushed from the amount of conditioning their coach puts them through. “Cait was feeling alright?” You asked the tall prodigy. His lips pressed flat, eyebrows raised as if he were about to share some disappointing news.

The door to Caitlyn's luxery apartment opens. Your spare key allows you access to the home. You stumbled around, looking for your friend. It smelled like cheap whiskey mixed in with the apartment's normal auroma. You almost walked past, but a quick glance is when you caught sight of her, sprawled on her couch with multiple empty bottles on the table in front of her and a crumpled jersey on the floor that she hasn't bothered to put away. The room was dark, and curtains closed with a slim beam of light shining in between the fabric.

A sigh leaves your mouth. You lean onto the doorframe, arms crossed as your eyes scan over the room with your camera bag hanging by its strap on your shoulder. Her head was leaning back on the couch with her arm over her face to block out any source of blinding lights that gave into her headache. A feeling within your chest pained, as if your heart dropping into your stomach and shattering like glass, then the glass cuts multiple wounds into you. A sickening feeling, although yours was phycological, while she probably felt it physically, thanks to the alcohol she continues to drown herself with.

She probably heard you come in but didn't say a word. Too lost in the current grief, her mind was trapped and clouded in. It was quiet. The wind outside was the only thing keeping the world real.

"You missed practice," you said, fingers digging into your biceps. A wave of empathy in your tone as you spoke, reeling Caitlyn back from wherever her conscious has wandered off to. "Coach will get over it," her words slur, forming into mixed syllables.

You exhale an exhausted sigh. You were disappointed that you had to deal with this right now while your legs ached, and your back was sore. Eyes with heavy circles like a raccoon and your hair messy from a day's worth of school air.

You pinched the bridge of your nose as you think of the right words to say. "Fuck- Caitlyn. Quit doing this to yourself. You can lose your scholarship and-" she managed to cut you off. The audacity.

"I'll pay out of pocket. Why do you care?" leaning her head back onto the couch with her eyes closed, trying to dissociate from this current conversation.

You grip onto the strap of your camera bag. "Because you aren't you anymore," you replied, a lump heavy in your throat. "Because you drink yourself numb and pretent nothing else matters," you continue, watching her stare up at the ceiling, taking in your words. "Your dad, your team," you swollowed. "-me," you said, almost a whisper in the quiet room.

"You?" Her gaze met yours, eyes dark they don't seem blue anymore. "This isn't about you, Y/n." You slid your bag off your shoulder and placed it down urgently, but carefully. You stomp over to her till you're towering her seated position.

"It's always about me! I'm the one who picks you up off of bar floors. I'm the one who makes sure you don't wake up next to someone you'll regret. I'm- " The list could go on and on, but you hold yourself back. "I am always here, but you never see it."

Silence. For a moment, you thought you could dig her out of whatever dark place she was trapped in. Till she stood on her feet and turned to you. Face merely inches apart to where you could feel her harsh breath against your skin as she looked down on you.

"I didn't ask you to do that."

All you could do was shatter. Not literally, but it sure did feel like it.

You exhaled a small breath that you unknowingly kept held in your lungs. "You know, you aren't the only one who lost her. I cared for her, too. And Jayce. We never wanted her to get in that car accident-" without realizing, you spread salt on an open wound.

With anger, she bent to grab the tv remote next to her half-empty bottle and threw it across the room. Opposite side from where you stood. It hit the floor with a plasticy-sounding thud, causing the batteries to fall out.

"Leave. Get out!" She yelled, not even bothering to look at you as she waved you off. Tears welled in your eyes. You turn on your heel and make way from where you came from, grabbing your bag mid exit.

The front door of her complex slammed while you left. The sound lingered till it became a distant reverb off the walls. Caitlyn sighed, falling back onto her couch with her head in her hands as she rested on her knees. She looked up to see her reflection in the glass of her bottle. It was almost unrecognizable the longer she stared.

"Shit," she muttered.

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

Note: AUGHHHHH IM SORRY FOR BEING INACTIVE!! :c forgive me im living a busy full-time life atm, but decided to post this to keep yall entertained from the inconvenience.

Another part is coming to continue this. And then another separate one-shot in the works as well. Stay tuned, lovelys♡

[vortexbloom]

I just had the funniest idea, how would the HSR men react to their child's first word being a curse word, someone cursed while they were near the child.

Sounds Interesting hehe 😉

Btw I decided to pick some HSR men myself, since you didn’t specifically say wich characters you wanted.

But of course, you can tell me if you have a certain character in mind 😘

I also did it a bit different, but I hope you still like it 😅

Your child‘s first word is a curse word (Separate OneShots)

Pairing: Sampo Koski/Boothill/Jing Yuan x Female Reader

Fandom: HSR (Honkai Star Rail)

Warnings: Curse Words, fluff

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Masterlist - Honkai Star Rail

Masterlist - Genshin Impact

Moodboards - Genshin Impact

Masterlist - Marvel

Boycott List

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English isn’t my first/native language, so there might be misspellings etc.

I do NOT own any Characters !

Have fun reading this :D

It was supposed to be a sweet moment. Your child, barely a year old, had been babbling for weeks, and you and Sampo had been eagerly waiting to hear their first real word. Would it be "Mama"? Maybe "Papa"? Something cute and wholesome?

And then, out of nowhere, your child looked up at you both, smiled sweetly, and—

"Shit!"

Silence.

You froze. Sampo, sitting across the room, nearly choked on his drink. The baby giggled as if they had just said the most normal thing in the world.

"…Sampo." Your voice was dangerously calm as you turned to your husband, who was now failing spectacularly at hiding his amusement.

"W-Whoa now, sweetheart," he said, hands raised in mock surrender, his lips twitching. "Let’s not jump to conclusions. I mean, kids pick up words from all kinds of places…"

You crossed your arms. "And I wonder where our child could’ve possibly learned that one."

Sampo cleared his throat, scratching the back of his head. "Uh… maybe from me? Maybe not? Could be the wind, really! You know, the way words just kinda float through the air…"

Your glare intensified.

Sampo sighed, finally dropping the act and rubbing his temples. "Alright, alright. So maybe I might have, uh, let a few choice words slip now and then." He glanced at your child, who was now happily babbling nonsense, completely unaware of the chaos they’d just caused. "But, hey, at least the kid’s got good pronunciation, huh?"

"Sampo."

"Right, not the point." He grinned sheepishly and leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. "Tell you what—I’ll be real careful from now on. No more bad words from ol’ Sampo. Pinky promise."

You raised an eyebrow. "And what about the fact that our child’s first word wasn’t ‘Mama’ or ‘Papa’ but—"

"Yeah, yeah, I’ll make it up to you," he said quickly, waving you off before picking up your child. "Alright, little buddy, let’s try something else. Say 'Dad-da' C’mon, you can do it."

Your child blinked up at him, then grinned mischievously.

"…Shit!"

Sampo snorted, immediately turning away so you wouldn’t see him laugh. You groaned, burying your face in your hands.

This was going to be a long parenting journey.

The evening was peaceful in your little home, a rare moment of calm. You were rocking your child in your arms, their bright little eyes staring up at you as they cooed and babbled. Boothill sat nearby, his hat tipped slightly forward, watching with his usual laid-back grin.

You had been waiting for this moment for weeks. Your child had been making little sounds, but now…now was the time for their first real word.

And then, with the sweetest little voice—

"Damn."

Silence.

You slowly turned your head to look at Boothill. He blinked once, then pushed his hat up slightly to meet your stare. "Well, I’ll be damned."

"Boothill." Your voice was a warning.

He chuckled, shifting in his chair. "Aw, c’mon now, sugar. That’s a mighty fine word choice for a first, don’tcha think? Real strong. Real decisive."

"Booth, our child’s first word was a curse word," you said, exasperated.

He tilted his head, smirking. "Technically, 'damn' ain’t that bad. I mean, coulda been worse. Coulda been somethin’ I say when I get real mad."

You pinched the bridge of your nose. "Where do you think they even heard that from?"

Boothill leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Now, darlin’, we both know who they got it from." He tipped his head toward himself with a smirk. "Ain’t no use pretendin’ otherwise."

You shot him a glare. "And you’re proud of this?"

He laughed, standing up and walking over to you. "A little," he admitted, placing a hand on your shoulder. "But, tell ya what—I’ll make sure their second word’s a little more…parent-approved."

Boothill then leaned down to your child, who was still staring up at him with innocent curiosity. "Alright, sugarcube, how ‘bout somethin’ different? Try 'Mama.'"

Your child blinked, gurgled, then—

"Damn."

Boothill let out a deep chuckle, shaking his head. "Well, shoot. Looks like this one’s got my spirit."

You groaned, covering your face with one hand while Boothill, entirely unbothered, took the baby into his arms. "Ain’t no worry, sweetheart. I’ll teach ‘em all the right words. Just…might take some time."

You sighed. You should have expected this. Raising a kid with Boothill was bound to be interesting, to say the least.

The grand hall of your home was unusually quiet, save for the soft crackling of incense and the distant hum of Xianzhou’s city life. Jing Yuan sat beside you, his long silver hair slightly tousled from a day of work, his golden eyes half-lidded with relaxation. Your child, nestled comfortably in his lap, babbled happily—small, incoherent sounds that made your heart swell.

For weeks, you had both been waiting for this moment. Jing Yuan, ever the patient and composed general, had taken his time encouraging your child to speak. He had whispered gentle words, taught them simple names, and had even placed small bets with you on what their first word would be.

"Perhaps it will be 'Daddy' or 'Mommy,'" he had mused one evening, a lazy smile on his lips. "Or maybe something amusing, like 'nap,' given how much they see me resting with them."

And now, finally, the moment arrived. Your child looked up at him with bright, eager eyes, opened their tiny mouth, and said—

"Fuck."

Silence.

You stared. Jing Yuan blinked. The baby giggled, seemingly proud of themselves.

"…Hm." The general cleared his throat, adjusting his grip on the child as if that would somehow reset reality. "I see."

You pressed your fingers against your temple, exhaling sharply. "Jing Yuan."

He turned his gaze towards you, his expression unreadable—except for the unmistakable glint of amusement in his eyes. "Now, my dear, let’s not be too hasty in placing blame."

You crossed your arms. "Who do you think they learned that from?"

He sighed, but his smirk betrayed him. "Admittedly…there may have been a few instances where I expressed my frustration in less-than-graceful terms."

"Oh? A few instances?"

Jing Yuan chuckled, shifting your child so they were facing him properly. "My little star," he said softly, his voice full of warmth, "how about we try something else? Perhaps 'Daddy'? Or 'Mommy'?"

Your child tilted their head, as if considering, before gleefully repeating, "Fuck!"

Jing Yuan, the great and respected Cloud Knight General, sighed in resignation. "This…is quite the predicament."

You smirked. "What happened to all that wisdom and patience? You look defeated, General."

He let out a deep chuckle, placing a hand over his forehead in mock exhaustion. "This may very well be my most humbling battle yet."

You reached over, gently taking your child from him, shaking your head with amusement. "Well, you get to fix it."

Jing Yuan smiled, watching as the baby clung to you happily. He leaned back, arms crossed, eyes twinkling with something unreadable.

"Of course," he murmured, voice filled with amusement and something softer—something utterly devoted. "But regardless of the words they choose…they are still our greatest treasure."

And despite yourself, despite the chaos and the mischief, you couldn’t help but agree.

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Have a good day/night/evening/morning/afternoon ☼꥟☽

[saffusthings]

second chances

mob boss! lando norris x reader

part thirty-six: peek-a-boo

word count: 4.3k

warnings: this chapter contains themes of psychological manipulation. reader discretion is advised.

thirty-five | thirty-six | thirty-seven

The car rumbled beneath him, low and steady as the rain smeared against the windshield. Lando adjusted the dial on the heater, elbow propped against the door, fingers tapping restlessly against his thigh. He was driving steady at some unknown speed, needing the hum of the engine to help him untangle his thoughts. There were so many moving pieces in his head, so much white noise.

He was interrupted from his own thoughts when his phone buzzed against the center console: Logan.

Lando picked up, pressing it to his ear.

“Talk.”

“Are you alone?” Logan’s voice was lower than usual.

No nonsense. Good.

“For now.”

Logan’s voice came through, crackling slightly through the speaker. He was breathless, but there was an edge to it — anticipation, maybe, or dread.

“You’re gonna want to hear this.”

Lando sat up straighter, eyes narrowing. “Spit it out already.”

A rustle on the other end. Oscar’s voice chimed in next, calmer — more clinical. The Aussie always could be trusted to get straight to the point. There was a reason that Piastri was the one Lando trusted to keep a pulse on everything – and perhaps more importantly, to balance out Logan.

“You remember that Tuesday — the one where you said you were being followed? When you cut through the back streets and ended up at the girl’s café?”

Lando’s jaw flexed, not saying a word. Oscar took the silence as clearance to continue.

“There’s CCTV. Six days before Margot’s death. Someone was loitering across the coffee shop around closing, basically the same time that Y/N locks up.”

“And?” Lando’s voice was smooth, detached. But his fingers drummed against the steering wheel, once, twice.

“We couldn’t get a clear shot of the guy’s face in those stills,” Logan interjected, “but the build’s familiar. He looks slight, stands with his shoulders back. Kinda twitchy, and probably around my height. We thought it could be Enzo, maybe Arthur.”

Lando exhaled slowly, his breath fogging the window. “Enzo’s been in this business a long time, he knows better then to pull some shit like that. I may not like him, but evn I know he plays by the rules.”

He stopped for a moment to consider the alternative. “And if we’re thinking Arthur… Well, the kid’s not cocky. He wouldn’t be that bold, showing off like that. That’s more like Charles’ style.”

“No,” Oscar considered, “you’re right, he’s too new to confidently pull something like that…”

There was a moment's lull while he tried to piece together what he felt like he already knew, just needing to connect the ideas in the right order. 

“But…” Oscar continued suddenly, a lightbulb going off in his head. ”Maybe he isn’t that cocky, but maybe he is that stupid. You remember that day you thought you were being followed?”

“I led them to her,” Lando muttered, mostly to himself. “Fuck.”

Logan jumped in again, eager to add to the discovery. Everything was beginning to make much more sense than it had in weeks. “Osc and I also pulled traffic cams from two nights before the shooting. Guess who was seen three blocks out?”

Lando didn’t speak. He didn’t have to.

“Arthur.”

Lando exhaled slowly through his nose. “Arthur Leclerc?”

“Yup. Clean shot of him walking with a duffel bag. Same red jacket from the pier photo. Ballistics haven’t matched yet, but…”

“It’s him,” Lando stated, quiet and certain. “It has to be.”

A beat passed. The rain only intensified.

“And Margot?” Lando finally asked.

Oscar hesitated. “Ballistics came back — clean match to a weapon registered to the Leclercs' private armory. Restricted, but not unique. Guess who last signed it out?”

Lando didn’t answer. He already knew.

“Arthur.”

His grip on the wheel turned his knuckles white. “How long were they watching?”

“Hard to say. Maybe days. Maybe longer.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me sooner?” His voice dropped, more lethal than loud.

“We didn’t have the link until today, Norris,” Logan snapped back. “We’re not sleeping out here, Norris. You’re not the only one who cares.”

Lando didn’t respond. He couldn’t. That knot behind his ribs had already begun to burn.

“There’s more,” Oscar added carefully. On the other end, he shot Logan a wary look, knowing full well their boss wasn’t going to take this next information well. 

“We’ve been monitoring a few encrypted comms going out from the Leclerc side. There’s chatter about a meet tonight — late. Supposed to be a small crowd. Not security, more of an off-the books thing with just the key players. I think it’s some kind of negotiation with a new supplier.”

Lando’s gaze sharpened. “Where?”

“South Docks, the warehouse off Pier 17. The new guy – some supplier apparently – he goes by Nemo. Logan double-checked and he doesn’t show up on anything except a few old import documents and a long-dead crypto chain. Whoever he is, he’s new blood — and very careful.”

Lando scoffed. “Calls himself Nemo? Bit dramatic, innit?”

Logan laughed dryly. “Yeah, pretentious as hell, for sure. Probably thinks he’s being clever. Like, No one? Come on, like, at least be creative, right?”

Lando ignored the question entirely. “And you’re sure Arthur will be there?”

“No,” Oscar said firmly. “But someone will be. Someone who can confirm it.”

Lando’s mind sharpened like glass under pressure. Everything inside him was already whirring, buzzing, calculating all of the possible angles, risks, proximity. Tonight could very well change everything.

As Lando became occupied in the chamber of his own thoughts, Logan took the opportunity to ask, “Hey, Boss. You want us there?”

“No. No, you’ve done enough. I need this one to be quiet. Not much to it, yeah?” He clicked his blinker, merging left as the rain picked up once again.

Oscar’s voice softened just slightly, but his words were blunt, accented with his trademark directness. “You’re not gonna to do anything reckless, are you?”

Lando smirked, humourless. “What about me makes you think I ever play it safe?”

“Careful, mate. You’re almost starting to sound like the old you.”

Lando didn’t deny it. “I’ll be fine. I’ll handle it.”

“You’re just not the same without—”

Lando cut him off. “I said I’d handle it.”

Silence.

Then, after a beat, Logan added, his voice an octave quieter this time, “Don’t be late.”

The call ended.

Somehow, they were on the floor. Again.

Not the couch, not the bed, not even the worn armchair that creaked when she curled into it. No —  tonight, it was the living room rug, some half-fuzzy thing she'd thrifted ages ago, the kind that caught lint and comforted bare feet. A quiet movie played on her laptop, propped up on a stack of books. The living room lights were off, save for the soft, amber glow of the standing lamp.

Y/N’s body was sprawled across his like it belonged there, like an octopus’s tentacles draped lazily across its favorite rock. 

It’d be kinda cool to be her favourite rock, wouldn’t it?

She hadn’t even asked this time. She’d just flopped onto him like he was her designated mattress, letting out a content sigh that made his chest do that annoying flutter thing he kept pretending wasn’t a real feeling. 

It was quite inconvenient, really.

He wasn’t sure when it started — maybe the first time she fell asleep curled up against him while they watched their daily episode of some home renovation show she’d found on Netflix. But somewhere along the way, she’d somehow ended up creating a habit of using him as a nap surface. Couch, bed, armchair — it didn’t matter. If he was still, warm, and breathing, she was probably half-draped across him within the hour.

Right now, she was lying across his chest on the living room floor, the carpet flattened beneath them, both too full and too lazy to move after the impromptu pasta night they’d cooked together. Her cheek was pressed to his collarbone. His fingers toyed absently with the ends of her hair.

She’d been doing that more lately—using him as furniture. Neck tucked into the crook of his shoulder, arms folded beneath her like a cat. Her head pressed to his chest, slow breaths syncing with his. Not quite a relationship. Not quite not. Not exactly cuddling. Not not cuddling either.

Just her weight against him, warm and familiar, like trust.

“Christmas is coming up,” she said suddenly, her voice soft from the edge of a half-yawn.

He looked down at her. “Is it?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, you absolute grinch. We should do something.”

“What, like presents n’ shit?”

“Yeah, silly,” she said, sitting up just enough to poke him in the ribs. “It’ll be fun! We can make dinner and decorate cookies, and– oh! You’d look so lovely in a little Christmas sweater.”

His grin pulled, slow and smug. “Little? Sweetheart, there is nothing little about me…”

“I– Oh my God, you are so gross!”

He laughed as she smacked his arm with a throw pillow.

“And yet you keep me around anyway,” he said with a grin, nudging her gently. “C’mon, admit it. You love me—”

“Right, that’s it.” She sat up suddenly, just enough to start halfheartedly pushing at his chest. “Get out. Go on. Out the door.”

She began pushing at his shoulder dramatically, trying to shove him toward the door despite his zero cooperation and significantly greater body weight. He laughed, but caught her wrists before she could fully dislodge him.

“Oi! Okay, okay,” he said, laughing, hands up in surrender. But something in his chest flinched — small and sharp. Not real panic, but something like the memory of it. He cleared his throat, eased his voice low. “I’ll be on my best behavior. Happy?”

She stopped mid-push, flopping back down onto him with a huff of faux exasperation and a smile like sunshine peeking through curtains. “Very.”

He let his hands drop, and she settled back beside him — not quite touching this time, but close enough that her shoulder brushed his arm. They had switched to some Hallmark movie now, the screen playing some generic rom-com snow scene where everyone wore matching scarves and nobody paid rent.

Somewhere between reaching over to fidget with the laptop’s volume and adjusting the blanket, her head found its rightful place against his shoulder again like it had always been there. Her eyelids fluttered once, then settled. He let his hand rest gently at the bend of her knee, warm beneath the blanket.

For a while, it was just soft TV noise and the patter of rain. Her breathing slowed. Her hand drifted to rest just under his collar, fingers curled gently into the fabric.

Minutes passed by like that — soft, unrushed. Her eyelids began to droop after a while. Even though she’d promised not to fall asleep before the end of the film, he could feel her beginning to nod off again.

Just as he’d begun contemplating pausing the movie for them to continue some other time, he heard her voice, barely above a whisper: “Li?”

He hummed in response, eyes still on the muted screen.

“Do you think we could have a real Christmas this year?”

His eyes flicked down to her. His heart stalled a little. “What d’you mean?”

She hesitated, eyes still closed. “Like in the movies. I always wanted a Christmas like that.”

His voice gentled. “How d’you mean?”

“With lots of people. And laughter. And food.” Her fingers twitched lightly in her lap, like she was tracing something only she could see, fingertips chasing a figment of a lingering dream. “Y’know. Like a real Christmas.”

She said it like she didn’t think she’d ever had one.

Lando swallowed something bitter in his throat. He thought of his own fractured memories—winters spent under broken street lamps and makeshift roofs, his knuckles raw from cold and fights. Holidays were just colder days with louder sirens.

He looked over at her, curled small now against the side of him.

“Don’t you worry about it, princess,” he said softly. “We’ll have us a nice Christmas, yeah?”

She didn’t answer right away. But then she smiled sleepily, her eyes still closed. 

“...We will?”

“Yeah. We will.”

“Okay,” she whispered, something soft and sacred, as her body settled in closer. Sleep found her just seconds later, slow and sweet. With the pattering of the rain, the hum of the heater, and the steady beat of his heart as her lullaby, she fell asleep against his shoulder, warm and content.

Lando let his head rest against the cushion again. He stayed like that a while — watching the water droplets race down the side of her windows in the faint blue light of the screen against the endless backdrop of the dark night sky, feeling the rise and fall of her breath, and wondering what it would feel like to deserve something like this.

Something warm. Something real.

Something like a Christmas worth remembering.

Half an hour after Lando was semi-successfully able to peel the warm body practically glued to him (he’d had to resort to leaving a misshapen, him-shaped lumb made of blanket in his stead, and even then she’d grumbled in discontent), Lando was pacing the length of the warehouse rooftop.

He proceeded to occupy himself with every other minute, mind-numbing task he could think of.

Checking his watch. Scanning the perimeter. Checking his watch. Listening for potential footsteps. Checking his watch.

Unclipping his mag, tossing it in the ait, catching it with his backhand, and clipping it back in, all in one smooth motion.

And checking his watch again.

Finally, it had been over an hour.

For fuck’s sake.

Yet still, the docks below were quiet. 

Too quiet.

Lando paused, steadying even his breathing to ensure he was hearing correctly.

Yup.

There was no chatter. No footsteps. No approaching headlights. There was just the sound of the sea slapping against rusted shipping containers and the occasional creak of metal in the cold night.

He’d gotten here well before the meeting time, and yet still — nothing.

Logan had gotten the tip two nights ago – overheard from a slippery supplier with a penchant for whiskey and oversharing. He’d then confirmed it from a second source, a friend of a someone who knew one of the Leclerc Palace guards – the Leclercs were scheduled to meet the shadowed figure still known only as Nemo, supposedly a foreign manufacturer who liked to operate offshore, both literally and figuratively.

It had sounded promising. 

Too promising.

Looked like someone had perhaps tipped them off to Lando’s little visit.

Fuckin’ hell.

He’d been circling smoke for days.

A flash of license plates in CCTV. A glint of silver paint from a trailing car in the corner of a café’s security footage. A warehouse employee’s offhand remark about shipments being rerouted through “Il Predestino’s” docks. All roads that once led somewhere now suddenly led nowhere.

Every time he thought he had a lock on Leclerc, the bastard vanished like a ghost, leaving behind nothing but cold cigarette stubs and the distinct sense of being watched.

Lando was seething. The kind of slow, volcanic fury that sat in his spine and burned all the way to his fingertips. He hadn’t stopped moving. Had barely slept. His hands smelled like gunmetal and bitterness. His eyes were bloodshot, but clear – clearer than they’d been in weeks.

Every safehouse he checked, every pier he scouted, every pub he frequented,  he looked for them, but the truth seemed to be that the Leclercs had vanished.

Daniel was gone. Margot was gone. And Leclerc was still breathing.

Oscar had called it "a string of bad luck." Logan called it the signature of “il predestino.”

Bullshit.

He wasn’t interested in fate. Only facts. And facts meant leads.

So when a tip finally came in about the rescheduled meeting with Nemo — the elusive third-party manufacturer Leclerc had allegedly been courting — he didn’t even hesitate getting back in his car and speeding over to the given coordinates.

Dock 17. Midnight. An abandoned dock. No cars, no guards. Just cold wind, stale seawater, and silence so loud it made his teeth grind. 

He had arrived early. Waited in the shadows. Boot pressed to the pavement. Heart steady, hand on his gun.

Midnight passed. So did twelve-thirty. By one, he knew.

The warehouse was empty.

He stalked inside anyway, boots echoing against the concrete. He had expected shadows. But all he had gotten was a whole dockload of nothing. There were no crates and no men. There weren’t even any whispers of movement. All that he found was just a small, thick paper envelope left where a beam of moonlight caught it like a spotlight. Lando might’ve almost missed it entirely, if not for the flicker of white catching in the corner of his eye.

He opened it. Inside, he discovered a single flash drive tucked inside the weatherproof casing of a nearby buoy, like all this was some kind of goddamn scavenger hunt.

He should’ve known.

He did know. Somewhere beneath all the desperate hope that tonight might bring him one step closer to vengeance, something in his gut had already clenched the second he saw how still the water was. 

Still water. Still air. Still nothing.

He jammed the drive into his phone with shaking fingers. It played instantly.

The video was grainy, a rough silhouette standing in front of what looked to be the bottom of some old, grandiose painting. However, the voice was unmistakable — Charles Leclerc’s smooth, cruel tone curling with arrogance and smugness.

What I wouldn’t do to–

“There is no Nemo, Norris. Clever of you to figure that out. Latin… it is not dead yet, eh?”

He appeared to find his own joke quite funny, holding a palm to his chest as he took a moment to laugh at his own supposed cleverness before finally speaking again.

“Ah Lando,” he smiled, all boyish and handsome and charming before it dropped into something darker, more sinister. “It is like this, oui? I know what you want. You want to hear someone say it, don’t you? Alright then. All this blood is on your hands. Yours.

Lando Norris, you knew what you were doing the second you brought her into your world. And the second Margot opened the wrong door. You knew what would happen to them!”

The smug bastard had the audacity to laugh then. He laughed.

Lando was going to kill him.

The video was not yet finished. It seemed that the Monagasque still had more to say. 

“So chase me, if it makes you feel better. Set the whole goddamn city on fire. I do not care. I will still be ahead of you, Lando Norris. Always.”

“Sleep well.”

The video ended.

Taking the small thumb drive out of his phone, Lando stared at it for a full minute.

Then it hit him.

Nemo.

No one.

There was never going to be a meeting.

No manufacturer. No shipment. No allies. Just Leclerc pulling his strings and probably watching from some gilded corner, laughing himself hoarse. He’d fed Lando a ghost chase, and Lando had swallowed it whole. He could feel the bile rise in his throat.

“You son of a bitch,” he whispered.

Lando didn’t realize his hand was clenched so hard that the drive cracked in two.

He stood there too long, the wind needling through his jacket, face blank with rage. He crumpled it up even tighter in his fist, letting its uneven and jagged ends dig into his skin like some kind of penance for the foolishness he felt twisting in the pit of his gut, the shame and fury that sparked alongside it.

The whole damn thing—this entire wild goose chase—had been another breadcrumb on a leash. A show of power. A taunt.

Charles Leclerc had played him.

Lando laughed. Just once, sharp and humorless.

Then he crushed the drive to pisces in his fist, turned, and threw it into the water with such force his shoulder popped.

Charles Leclerc was playing him like a goddamn fiddle. And he’d let it happen, like a puppet dancing to strings of grief.

"Fuck," he rasped under his breath, the word tight and hoarse.

He could feel his pulse in his temples. His breath came short. His throat burned with something animal.

Then—

He screamed.

Loud. Wordless. Raw. His voice echoed off rusted shipping containers and oil-stained pavement, carved through the cold like a blade. He kicked the nearest crate so hard his boot cracked against metal. He punched a wall and left blood behind.

He could still hear Daniel’s laugh.

Could still see Margot’s smile.

He'd been played, toyed with, outpaced by a ghost in a fucking tailored suit.

The blood isn’t mine, he wanted to scream. It’s yours. Yours!

He didn’t even realize his hands were shaking until he got back into the car and gripped the steering wheel like it had personally betrayed him. His phone buzzed—probably Oscar or Logan again, with another non-update—and he chucked it into the passenger seat. 

Blood on his hands? The bastard didn’t get to say that. Not after Margot. Not after Daniel.

No—he wasn’t going to keep circling this game like a trained dog.

The entire damn meeting had been a setup, a trap designed to make Lando look like a fool. A distraction. A calculated move to keep him running in circles, while Leclerc played his hand behind the scenes.

Lando’s chest was tight with fury. He could feel his blood heating, his pulse hammering in his temples. He wanted to throw something. Punch something. Rip apart the docks until nothing was left. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t let the anger cloud him, not when he was so damn close.

The only thing he could hear in his mind was the sound of his own voice saying, I’m done.

The bastard had been playing him all along.

And now Lando was done being played.

Lando was sitting in his car, the engine still idling, his fingers drumming rapidly against the steering wheel, furious and restless. He was tempted to text Oscar, or Logan, or anyone who could give him a chance to see reason, to talk him out of committing bloody murder. 

But he didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want anyone to tell him he was overreacting. And most importantly, he didn’t want anyone to stop him.

The only thing he could hear in his mind was the sound of his own voice saying, I’m done.

His eyes narrowed as the thought hit him. He knew where Leclerc would be next.

There was only one place that mattered now. The only place so sacred that even he’d never thought to take the fight there before. 

After all, Lando Norris was many things – a thief, a killer, a liar, a con. But even despite all these things, he was still a man, and even criminals had codes. 

There were personal ones, sure, but there were also fundamental rules to this life just as there were rules to war. They were not moral or good or kind. They weren't just, and they were barely fair. But these rules were the only things separating the madness from destructive chaos, acting as the thin line between simple business and unparalleled, boundless bloodshed.

And of the most basic of these rules? 

A man’s house is his castle.

Their house is not to be messed with, no matter the dispute. Personal or professional, no sane man would invite the carnage that would come from taking the fight to the doorstop of a man to whose home you have arrived uninvited. There was little sympathy for a fool who knowingly walked into an enemy’s den unwelcome and then expected civility.

But at the moment, The Reaper was all out of civility.

He threw the car into gear, tires screeching against the asphalt as he peeled out of the dockyard and shot down the road. Every turn he made, every corner he whipped around, only fueled the rage simmering in his gut. He drove straight to the Leclerc estate, to the house that sat perched above the city like it owned the world.

He wasn’t going to stop until he got what he needed:

His pound of flesh.

The drive was a blur. He barely remembered the turns, the lights, the sound of tires screeching on wet asphalt as he tore across the city, past half-lit storefronts and shuttered windows. The Leclerc estate sat on the edge of old money and arrogance—a marble-clad fortress with ivy-covered gates, the kind of place that wasn’t a home so much as a monument to legacy.

He parked crooked on the curb like he didn’t give a shit about parking laws. When Lando climbed out, he marched straight to the intercom panel without so much as a pause.

It was late now, nearly 2AM.

He rang.

Nothing.

He rang again, this time holding it. 

Still nothing.

Somewhere in the shadows, a motion light flicked on. Lando barely blinked. His jaw was tight enough to creak, fingers still twitching from the adrenaline that hadn’t found a place to settle. 

He knew how insane this was – showing up like this with no backup, no guarantee the gates wouldn’t open to armed guards.

But rage had never cared much for reason.

Finally, he stepped back., just far enough to see the upper windows. From here, he could see one light on, maybe a hallway. Maybe someone was watching.

He raised his voice, shouting to any living soul that’d hear him.

“Tell your prince,” he bellowed, “I’m done playing.”

The light clicked off.

Lando didn’t move. He didn’t flinch. He just stood there in the cold, breathing heavily, letting the wind bite through his jacket. The tension inside him wasn’t a scream — it was quieter, darker. It rumbled like the incoming storm, a pressure behind the ribs, crackling with promise.

He wasn’t backing down now.

Not even if it killed him.

a/n: hello im so sleep sorry if this is not edited properly my eyeballs are too tired. hupe you guys like it!

[koiiiji]

pov ; you are giving the birth to a baby

starring ; Hyungseok, Jonggunn, Jungoo, Gitae + honorable mention

Hyungseok : the hero we never thought of but needed. as you go into labor, he go step by step with you through it. he is holding your hand and belly when you are already in hospital. in the delivery room, he holds your hand tightly, his thumb gently rubbing your palm and just silently being patient with everything, because doctor said that you need to focus on her commands and pushing the baby, not on his voice. yet, Hyungseok is incredibly empathetic. when the pain becomes intense, he mirrors your breathing, encouraging you to breathe through the contractions. all in all 11/10, proud father and husband. crying when everything is over and you and the kid are alright.

Jonggun : he thought he would be a hero, because come on what’s so scary about giving a birth? Jonggun, convinced that childbirth is just another challenge he can handle. he really thinks his experience in life has prepared him for anything. but as the contractions start to intensify, he watches you in pain and he have no idea what to do, where to put his hands and how to help you. and when nurse helped him, telling him to hold your hand during another contraction, you grip his palm so tightly that you almost broke it. excuses himself and left the room, to smoke half of the cigarets rethinking his life. he came back when you already give a birth to his son, but doctors said that the child took all your energy, so now you’re under doctors control and care for a while. so at first Jonggun would be a little distant to the child. but all in all so proud of you and the baby. 7/10

Jungoo : another self named hero he thought he would be. he is little better than Jonggun, because he attended prenatal classes with you, and generally he is better in empathy. so he believes he has a solid understanding of what to expect and how to support you through labor. Jungoo helps you with breathing exercises, encourages you to roll on the birthing ball, and checks in constantly, making sure you’re comfortable and at ease. and everything was fine until labor room. he was holding your hands, all supportive and stuff, but then medical staff brought in the epidural needle. his composure shatters as he sees the size of the needle. “BABY, THERE IS A HUGE NEEDLE! WHY ARE THEY PUTTING IT IN YOUR SPINE?! BABY WHATS GOIN-” his voice is filled with panic, and he starts to hyperventilate. Jungoo faints right in the delivery room, causing a little chaos. annoyed lady doctor rolls her eyes and instructs the nurses to *citation* “remove the man” from the labor room. Jungoo came to feelings when you already give a birth to twins and now resting, while nurses got your babies. ah! Jungoo is super excited about his new role as a father, so he gonna TERRORIZE nurses and doctors with questions.

Gitae : no. just no. not gonna happen. he will pay for anything you want, any little whine and cry and wish, but you not gonna convince him to go to the hospital with you. he will pay for best doctors and hospital but his foot not gonna step inside. he remembered once his mother told him how she gives birth to him and he is genuinely… tensed scared. of women. and labors. like ta hell you mean you will push a HUMAN out of your body? so nuh uh. but he will came to take you home, in all glory, flowers, gifts, whatever you wanted for giving him strong, healthy boy. all in all 5/10 for leaving you, but maybe +1 point for expensive gifts and house full of flowers.

honorable mention ;

Gimyong : a hero. we knew about him. we needed him. and he was there. best boy. but kinda freaks out too because he doesn’t know what to do. should he hold your hand? but you already holding the bed frame. should he whisper something to you? but you screaming in pain. help he don’t know what to do!!!

Taesoo : scared as hell!! didn’t care at first about the child, you’ve been his #1 priority. it’s kinda gives medieval vibes but he is gonna gift you a fur from his haunt or fur coat.