#c’mon now 😔

[baura-bear]

The day we get mobility aid user Donny-Nova-Band-members is the day I rest easy

[ficandkaboodle]

I am only going to say this about the accent discourse: I stopped taking accents as seriously/trusting my understanding of them when:

1. My dad grew up in an area with a very distinct accent culture and he never developed one. His dialect might change slightly around certain company, but not enough for anyone to claim he has an accent.

2. I was 16 years old when I realized my mother, who grew up in the same city as my dad, had an accent. And this wasn’t a deal of me having grown up in a house with her or anything, I recognized others around her had an accent — just not her. And it’s the same bloody accent they had.

Accents. Are. Weird. And inconsistent. Sometimes they happen, sometimes they don’t, and other times they do but they’re kinda wonky depending on the person and their experiences. 🤷🏽‍♀️ Case in point: I just headcanon that Copia, if not raised in Italy, spent a hefty chunk of some earlier part of his life there, and spent his formative years chowing down on American media and let that inform his accent and dialect morphing. It can happen. Either side can potentially be right but it doesn’t really matter because Tobias doesn’t even care that much. We’re all just here to watch a family of mainly old men quite literally fuck around and leave breadcrumbs of backstory that we scatter at like rats in a dungeon, so can we just eat our morsels and chillax?

[hopelessromantic-ghost]

sophie is so little sister coded to me i need to add her to my familial list NEOW

[boats-n-birds]

i got the most intense lore drop of MY LIFE (literally).

my mom found a folder of photos from second grade that i thought i threw away as a kid, but apparently i just gave it to her to store somewhere else and holy SHIT. this photo album captured everything

[llxferim]

“My name’s not God, Sweetheart”

a/n: YALL 145 NOTES ON MY LAST FIC IS CRAZYY THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH, THIS GIVES ME SO MUCH MOTIVATION AGHH. also i meant to post this yesterday but i forgot…

REQUESTS ARE OPEN! (pls request smth😔)

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: You came back from yet another mission from Fury, who has been pushing you a little over the edge lately, barely giving you any time to catch a breath and heal up, this time you got seriously injured. your girlfriend— who’s on a mission overboard was supposed come back in a few days, but she decided to come home early as a surprise.

Warnings: smut, 18+ MDNI, no yn used, nat is a bit of a tease, established relationship, thigh riding, eventual smut, smut with little plot. teasing, receiving oral (reader). fem!reader, flirting, injured reader, fluff, little angst, cuts;bruises mentioned, not proofread

Word count: 1.6 k

You sat on the cold concrete, your back against the remains of a shattered structure. Normally, you took pride in completing your missions without collateral damage, but the exhaustion was too much for today, leaving you indifferent to the wreckage around you.

Every part of you ached, and standing felt like an impossible task. Fury had been relentless with the assignments lately, barely allowing you a moment to catch your breath and heal. When you tried to bring it up with him, he simply shrugged you off. “If you can’t handle it, maybe you don’t belong here.”

His words struck deep. You had given everything to prove yourself to him, and now that dedication felt like a burden rather than a badge of honor.

His words struck deep. You had given everything to prove yourself to him, and now that dedication felt like a burden rather than a badge of honor.

You usually took on the missions with your girlfriend, Natasha. But this time, she was overseas, deep undercover, and due to return in a few days. All you wanted was to clean up and heal your bruises before she came back, so she wouldn’t have to worry about you.

Her absence left a hollow ache in your chest, and you longed for the comfort of her presence as you finally stood up with a grunt. Walking back home didn’t sound good but you didn’t really have another choice, so you suck it up and push through the pain.

After a long walk, you finally reach home and lean against the elevator frame, waiting for the doors to open. When they do, you stumble inside and press the button for the 8th floor, sinking to the ground and closing your eyes for a moment.

Just as the elevator stopped, you heard a familiar voice. “Love? What are you doing down there? Are you okay?” You opened your eyes to find Wanda crouched in front of you, concern etched across her face.

“Nat? What are you doing here? I thought you were coming back in a few days,” you asked, surprised.

“Surprise,” she replied, though her worried expression lingered.

“Let’s get you up. Come on,” she said, sliding your arm around her shoulder for support. You winced at the movement but leaned into her, grateful for her presence.

“what happened?” she asks as she opens the front door, and closes it with a flick of her hand as soon as you both walk in.

“Nothing, I just came back from a mission” you grunt out as she helps you sit down on your bed.

Natasha's eyes scan over your battered form, her brow furrowing with concern. "Just a mission? You look like you've been through a war." Her hands gently cup your face, her thumbs stroking your cheeks. "Tell me what happened."

You sigh, the weight of your exhaustion pressing down on you. "Fury's been... relentless lately. I've barely had time to breathe between assignments."

Natasha's expression darkens. "He's pushing you too hard. This isn't right."

As she helps you remove your gear, you wince at every movement. Natasha notices and her concern deepens. "You're hurt. Let me help."

“I’m fine, I just need to lay down.” you refuse, not wanting her to see the rest of your body.

“c’mon, darling, you know I can’t leave you like this” she cups your face, “let me help. I’ll bandage the wounds at least.” she tugged your shirt upwards, you didn’t have the energy left to argue so you just raise your arms as she gently takes off your shirt.

“This is what you call ‘nothing’?” Her voice is soft but tinged with anger.

“You’re taking the week off. I’ll have a word with Fury myself,” she says, her jaw set. She grabs a first aid kit and kneels in front of you, her movements steady and careful as she begins cleaning your wounds, her expression hurting you more than any other wound. Seeing her worried— for you, just didn’t feel right.

“Nat, I’m fine. I just need a day’s rest,” you try to reassure her, but the worry etched on her face doesn’t ease. She pauses, then rests her head on your lap, her arms wrapped around your waist. “I hate seeing you hurt,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

Despite the pain, you gently place a hand on her head, brushing your fingers through her soft, scarlet hair. “I’ll be okay, really,” you murmur, lifting her face to meet your gaze before pressing a light kiss to her lips. The effort sends a wave of pain through you, and you wince.

“Don’t move,” she says quickly, regaining her composure as she resumes bandaging you with even greater care. When she’s done, she helps you into bed, then disappears into the kitchen, returning with a pill and a glass of water.

“Here, this should help.” She hands you a painkiller, her expression softened.

"Thank you, love," you say, swallowing the pill with a grateful smile. She leans in, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. She lays down next to you, her movements still careful, afraid of causing you pain. "I don't feel like sleeping," you murmur, turning to face her as she plants soft kisses on your hand.

"Would you like me to cook something for you?" she offers, her green eyes brimming with concern and love—all for you. You can't help but wonder how someone as perfect as she is could have chosen you. She notices you drifting off to your thoughts and gives you a quick peck to bring you back, But instead of letting her pull away, you slip a hand to the back of her neck and deepen the kiss, savoring the warmth and connection you’ve missed so much.

"In the mood, are we?" she teases, her voice low and amused, a playful spark lighting up her face.

"Maybe," you reply with a smirk. "I mean, my girlfriend has been gone for a month." You try to play it off, ignoring the dull ache that’s settled into your muscles.

She chuckles, tracing a finger down your cheek before resting her hand gently on your shoulder. “I'm sure we can make up for lost time," she says, laughter dancing in her tone, "but not today.”

"Why not?" You blink, half confused, half pouting, as she quirks an eyebrow.

"Do I need to remind you that just half an hour ago, you could barely walk from the pain?" she says, her eyebrow raised in playful challenge. in response you get on top of her, holding back a grunt from the pain. you look her in the eyes, as you cup her face in your hands, “you’re making it really hard to refuse you right now” she whispers, “that’s the plan” you whisper back in her ear, before kissing her, again.

She kisses you back but notices the little flinch of pain. “lay back down” she says through the kiss, and you obey. “The pain gets even a little worse, you tell me. okay?” she pulls away, to look at you. You hum in response, grabbing her face and pulling her back down for the kiss, feeling impatient. you feel her knee in between your legs, causing you to groan into the kiss.

“up” was all she needed to say before you sat up, the pleasure of the moment covering any pain you felt. she leaned on the bed frame, placing you on top of her thigh as she pulled you back into the kiss. the heat between your legs was increasing yearning for more, causing you to grind on her thigh.

she takes off your shirt, softly so as to not hurt you, landing wet kisses across your body, on your bruises, cuts, and scars.

you speed up, riding her thigh while resting your head on her shoulder out of exhaustion. Nat traces your nipples with her fingers, bringing her mouth down. brushing soft kisses, before roughly sucking them off, causing you to make sounds that are sinful to listen to.

You desperately start speeding up, “Nat” You moan breathlessly, voice coiled at your throat and your hands on her hair. She looks up at you, suddenly stopping and softly turning you and laying you down on the bed, as she travelled down your stomach. your legs parted— for her, as she took off your pants along with your panties.

“You’re so beautiful” she pants, before landing wet kisses on your pussy, tauntingly. making you flinch. “Please” You raise your hips in an attempt to get what you’re yearning for but she quickly guides them back down. “Patience, Darling.”.

She spreads your lips, licking the wetness, making you flinch, before slowly entering her tongue in your cunt. you whimper out in pleasure, but she barely gives you any time before speeding up, causing you to clutch whatever you can. you bring your hands down on her hair, tugging her deeper and deeper, as you cry out in satisfaction.

“God…it feels good” you whine out in pleasure before your insides clench around her tongue, finally giving you the sweet release. she rises, licking her lips “My name’s not god, Sweetheart.”

As Natasha wraps her arms around your waist, pulling you close, her warm breath tickles your ear as she asks, “What are you thinking about?”

You smile, recalling a cozy evening from not long ago. “Just thinking of those cookies you made last month,” you murmur, turning your head to meet her gaze with a playful glint in your eye.

She raises an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk tugging at her lips. “Oh? You liked them that much?”

“Maybe…” you tease, nudging her gently. Her smirk widens, and she lets out a soft chuckle. “Well, if it’s cookies you want…”

With a gentle kiss, she pulls away, her hand brushing down your arm before she stands up. “Consider it done,” she says, her voice laced with determination. As she pads toward the kitchen, A smile tugs at your lips as you watch her disappear into the kitchen. Just moments ago, she’d had you gasping and whispering her name in ways that felt sinful—and now here she is, slipping out of bed to bake cookies.

[86espresso]

can I get the "too much communication" with jack?

I think that's what your last post was for 😭

shut up (with affection!) | jh86

sum: in which jack likes to hear himself talk

prompt: too much communication (💀)

warnings: smut, angst, fluff ☺️ use of y/n :/ ,use of she/her pronouns for reader, short

wc: 908

a/n: help yes, im sorry i wasn’t clear with what i wanted but if you haven’t noticed im pretty small on hockeyblr 😔 so i didn’t think anyone would actually ask but omg so happy you did ❤️ also not sure why im seeing this decades later.

—

LIGHT shone through the curtains in Y/N’s bedroom, though that wasn’t what woke her up.

An arm was slung across her waist, legs were tangled with hers, a face was buried in the crevice of her neck, and soft lips were moving up and down her shoulder. She felt something go off in her stomach. She could get used to this.

“Awake, angel?” Jack’s rough morning voice reached Y/N’s ears and could’ve just melted right then. He had been with her for close to ten months now; meaning they had practically moved in with eachother, she was at every home game, he was at every soccer match, she had a drawer at his, he had a toothbrush at hers. They were slowly intertwining in each other’s lives and neither of them wanted to stop anytime soon.

And then he started.

The endless rambling that half annoyed, half endeared Y/N.

“Wait no- I mean that I should use a different word instead of pretty because you’re so many things and you like when i use long words, don’t you ? I should-”

“Jack, my love, slow down,” Y/N says, facing him and cupping his cheek. His hair is tousled, eyes droopy, bottom lip jutted out, and brows furrowed. He’s shirtless and the sunlight bathes him in a soft golden light. Her heart skips a beat as she assures him that complimenting her in any way would melt her even if it was the same thing, every day, for the rest of their lives.

—

The room was dark and hot and the bed rocked with Jack’s movements. He had one hand loose around Y/N’s throat and the other supporting her leg that was thrown over his shoulder.

It was all going fine until

“Y’know what Trev told me the other day.”

Y/N’s eyes snapped open. What the fuck???

His hair was falling in his eyes and a thin sheet of sweat covered his body. He looked so good and was doing so well.

“Jack? What-” she stopped short when he thrusted particularly roughly making her jaw drop and her eyes roll to the back of her head. Jack wasn’t phased though.

“He- told me how-oh fuck I’m so close, baby-” Y/N quickly shut him up by yanking his mouth down to hers. She really didn’t want to hear how fucking Zegras did whatever in her current position.

—

Y/N stood off to the side as Jack abruptly wraps up the post game interview after giving curt responses. She raised her eyebrows; normally it could get hard to not make him overshare.

Jack had already showered and changed into a delicious suit that was for sure coming off as soon as they got home.

“Hi, angel.” Y/N got on her tip toes to press a soft kiss against Jack’s lips. He wrapped his arms around her and sighed, pulling back and resting his forehead against hers. “Hey.”

It was short and quiet and so unlike Jack (even after a loss) and she hated it.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Y/N reached forward to cup his cheek and lightly caresses it with her thumb. He leans against her hand and his eyes droop.

“Nothin’, sweets. Just tired.” Y/N knew there had to be more, she could tell by the way his fingers were fiddling with eachother and the almost unnoticeable clinch of his eyebrows.

“C’mon, baby, talk to me,” Y/N softly murmurs, Jack’s new behavior doesn’t feel natural at all. He was so full of energy all the time (definitely because of the three hour naps) that she didn’t even have to match it if she was tired; he had enough for both of them.

“D’you-,” he pauses and steps back, removing his arms from her and running a quick hand through his hair. “Do you think I talk too much? Or I over share? Does it bother you?” His brows furrow deeper and Y/N’s heart stutters. She understood why he got so closed off all of a sudden. Her tough, strong boyfriend had such a sweet heart she could cry.

“Oh hon, well yes you do but it’s never bothered me. I actually really love it. You’re able to talk so much all the time and there’s nothing I love more than the sound of your voice.” Y/N watches as Jack’s expression softens. She steps closer and weaves her arms around him from the inside of his suit jacket.

“I love that you’re so expressive. I love how you just say anything no matter, I love how-” Y/N pauses. The three words dancing on the tip of her tongue, waiting and anticipating. She takes a deep breath and sneaks a glance at Jack, who had the hint of a smile that reached his eyes.

“I love you.”

He goes limp in her arms.

“Y/N I-”

“One second. Let me finish.” Y/N steps back and fully looks into his eyes. “And I know you love me too. You know why, angel? Because you tell me every single day. Every sweet nothing, all the random babbling about how I’m so sweet to you at any given time, gave me enough courage to say it right now.”

Jack looked like he could cry; Y/N didn’t get the chance to see it though, because of the soul crushing hug he just pulled her into.

“I love you so much more.”

“I might get dry as fuck during sex though.”

“Yeah? Wanna take me up on that?”

[dadsbongos]

megumi x airhead fluff please don’t let gege get u again 😔

iehjejeueueh

GASP this has been in my drafts so long and i totally forgot about it, i am sooo sorry nonny :')

761 words no big warnings just fluff n idiots pining, not super proofread

the ghost of gege has been cleansed from my soul!!! ~~~

“Do you really think that?”

Megumi stiffly avoids your gaze, soon after shrugging, “Yeah. What of it?”

You frown, and it could be how attuned he is to your mood but Megumi swears the sudden shift actually overhauls the entire room’s energy. Something morose and slithering around the darkness, somehow the gloominess only thickens in the areas sparsely lit by Megumi’s lamp.

“That’s sad,” you lean up from your sit and onto your knees, fingertips just barely pressing into the springs below, “You’re not a bad person, ‘gumi.”

“I don’t think I’m the devil,” he turns his whole head to avoid your piercing stare, “Just not a good person.”

“That’s sad!” now you’ve flung your hands up on his shoulders, squeezing down his arms as if a heartbroken widow clutching her poor, dead husband, “‘gumi you’re the best guy I know!”

Scrunching away from you, Megumi presses his back into the headboard of his bed, swallowing harshly and continuously dodging your stare, “Yeah, sure.”

“Hey,” you whine, now squishing his hands between yours, “You are! You’re super nice all the time, and you’re way smart.”

The accusation of kindness pulls a little chuckle from Megumi, especially considering how often Yuuji and Nobara curse his nasty attitude. He cannot comprehend why you’d marvel over him this way, or in any other way for that fact. Megumi’s eyes flutter shut, he soaks up the warmth of your hands on his, and your face by his cheek. If he dared lean up, he’d easily be able to kiss you (he’s not so bold, he thinks he’d rather die actually).

“And you’re so pretty,” you tack on, as if you can sense the worst possible thing to say right now.

Though, Megumi knows better -- you’re soft and mellow, his opposite if anything. The knowledge of your earnesty in the compliment does nothing to calm his racing heart, or the raging red slathering his face.

“Whatever…” Megumi sinks down until he’s laid back on his mattress. He sucks in air slowly, boring holes into the ceiling rather than your face, “You’re pretty, too. And you’re nicer than me,” he cringes, “If you’re still sure I’m nice.”

“You are,” you lay beside him, petting a hand over the bunches and wrinkles in his sleep shirt, “You’re being nice now! You let me come over after my nightmare.”

“You sounded scared,” he tries to shrug off the praise, but your words are clinging to his brain stubbornly, “Why would I make you sleep alone after that?”

“Exactly,” you’re bolder than Megumi, bold enough to spike your chin onto his chest, “You’d be a great boyfriend.”

“You don’t say,” he chokes out, heat clogging his cheeks and red burning into a deep crimson. He prays the dim light emitting from his nightstand doesn’t expose the sight to you. 

A melodic knock on Megumi’s door makes the duo flinch, and despite logic telling him nothing is wrong Megumi lets his arm come around your waist protectively. When its Satoru that pokes his head in, the boy grumbles.

“Hey, problem children,” Satoru coos, “if you’re gonna break rules, at least move apart when your teacher comes to scold you.”

“They had a nightmare,” Megumi’s hold on you tightens, “they didn’t wanna be alone.”

“Is that right?” Satoru’s blindfold is still snug around his face, but Megumi can feel his teacher’s stare pointed at where your head lays on his chest.

You nod viciously, “It was so scary! I thought I died for real, so ‘gumi let me stay with him so I don’t have another one.”

“Well how sweet,” Satoru taps the doorframe, “But c’mon, time for everyone to go to their own rooms.”

“Huh, no way!” you cry in protest, rocketing up straight.

“No way,” Megumi parrots.

Raising a brow, Satoru grins at his student’s sudden audacity, “You want me to stay in here with you both, then?”

“You want me to tell Yaga about the secret number in your phone?” Megumi glares, “The one you know by heart.”

Satoru grimaces down at the boy, then sighing and back out of the room, “Don’t do anything to make Yaga yell at me.”

“Wow, ‘gumi, you really got him.”

“He’s easy to wrangle, like training a big, stupid dog,” Megumi feels his heart thundering in his chest the longer you go without saying anything, simply sitting there and grinning at him, “What?”

“You stood up for me.”

“Duh.”

“That was really nice of you.”

He rolls his eyes, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you back onto him, “Yeah, whatever.”

[parkersbliss]

omg can i request 141 (separately ofc) with a reader that can sing? like they come home to the reader lost in the song and they're just standing there like 🫨 literally blown away lol

omg yeah of course you can!! this is so domestic and cutesy thank you 🤲🩷

pairing: task force 141 (ghost, gaz, price, soap) x female reader 

warnings: none pure fluff!! soap being like in love ? that should be a warning cause he’s so damn cute thanks xxx

a/n: the songs I put in here and definitely the ones that came on while I was writing LOL. is it obvious who’s my favorite? I feel like it is 😔

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

—

Price: 

Price can hear the music outside your house as he stops at the door. He shakes his head, hoping the neighbors couldn’t hear it at least. He unlocks the door and is hit with something he never expected: you singing. 

“Every time he smiles I let him again!” You sang. Price stands there, dumbfounded as you sing along with Bridget Mendler. He’s starstruck, lips parted and hand stroking his beard as he watches you. Your voice fluctuates with each note, pitching high or low with the song. He never knew you could sing. He’d been out to karaoke bars with you, but you always denied going up. He can’t understand how when you sound like this. 

“Everything is fine when… JESUS!” You scream at the sight of your boyfriend just staring at you. 

“When Jesus?” Price chuckled.

You have a hand over your heart. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.” 

Price ignores what you said, more focused on what he just witnessed. “Can’t believe you’ve been hiding this from me.” 

“Hiding what?” 

“Your voice. You ‘ought to be on stage, love.” You feel heat rush to your cheeks at the comment. He takes a seat on the couch, grabbing your hand. “C’mon, don’t stop on the account of me. I want to hear more since you won’t sing at karaoke. Humble of you to not embarrass everyone else.” He kisses your knuckles, gazing into your eyes.

You laugh at him, grabbing the TV remote. That was totally the reason you didn’t sing at the karaoke bars. You flip through the videos, humming. “Got any song suggestions?”

Price smiles. “Plenty for you.” 

Ghost: 

Ghost sighs, dropping his bags outside your doorstep. His hand fidgets in his pocket, searching for the house key. He was eager to get back to you, having been away for what felt like years (it was only a few months). Honestly, he was always eager to come home now, knowing you were waiting with a warm hug and his favorite food. 

He fishes the key from his pocket, unlocks the door, and grabs his bag. The scent of your home floods him, vanilla candles and freshly baked bread. For a second, he just breathes in the familiar air of his flat and then there’s you. 

He blinks, watching you completely unaware of his arrival. You’re in the kitchen, one of his old shirts and a whisk in hand singing. 

It suddenly occurs to Ghost, that he’s never heard you sing. He loves you in all ways, so normally he’d say he’s biased but by god, are you an angel? 

Your voice is melodic, matching the pitch with the singer perfectly and carrying like it was effortless. You should be on Broadway, hell you should be on a tour! How could you have kept this from him? 

You finally turn around, singing into your whisk, and jump when you see him. “Simon!” 

His mouth opened and closed, balaclava discarded as soon as he was home. “You can sing?” He asked stupidly. 

You drop the whisk into the bowl, fighting the heat in your cheeks as you step towards your beloved boyfriend. “Yeah.” 

He embraces you, swaying side to side. “How come I was unaware of this?” 

You shrug, looking at him. “You never took me to karaoke night.” 

He laughs, a sound you missed for months. “Oh, love, I will be taking you to all karaoke nights from now on. You have the voice of an angel.”

You beam at him. “You think so?” 

Simon kisses your forehead. “I know so.” 

Gaz: 

Gaz fidgets with the lock pad on your door, carrying your takeout order in one hand as he presses the code in. He’s expecting the sound of your dog barking to greet him, but his met with something even better — your voice. He drops the takeout on the kitchen table, listening to you. He’s not sure where you are, maybe the bedroom but he doesn’t want to interrupt you. 

You're belting out Honeymoon Avenue by Ariana Grande, and he swears you might be her. Your voice blends together, you don’t miss a note and you hit the vibratos with an impeccable ease. 

He shakes his head, smiling to himself. How was it that someone like him landed someone with a voice like that? Gaz thinks he might just sit in the kitchen listening to you sing forever. He could die standing here with you in his ear and he would die a happy man, for sure. Your voice gets louder and you round the corner. 

He just smiles at you, watching your eyebrows furrow in shock but continuing to finish out the song. 

“Coasting like crazy, can we get back to the way it was!” You sing, watching Gaz’s starstruck gaze. “When we were on honeymoon avenue.” You grab his hands, jumping and singing somehow still not faltering and making him dance with you. 

“You like that?” You giggled, as the song closed out. 

“I didn’t know you could sing.” 

“I think we ALL sing,” You joke, watching Gaz roll his eyes at your reference. 

“Darling, how did I get someone so perfect as you?” He asked, wrapping you in his arms.

You look past him at the takeout bag. “By fetching me food that’s how.” 

“If I keep doing so will you keep singing for me?” 

You kiss him softly. “Oh, baby I will always sing for you.”

Soap: 

Soap is a man in love. He knows this, you know this, the 141 knows this. Anyone with a pair of eyes would know this. He can’t help it, you’re literally just the light out of his life. His eyes spark to life and his smile nearly doubles in size when he sees you. 

Everything about you is perfect. You could do no wrong to him. In fact, you could run him over with your car and he would profusely apologize to you for even being in the way.

He’s that whipped for you. And the man knows everything about you. He’s got a list on his phone with your go-to order from every restaurant, your favorite color, ice cream flavors, all of it! Nothing gets past him. 

Except this. 

Soap is stood in the middle of your entryway, grocery bags in hand, and jaw on the floor. Here you were, his love, wrapping in one of his blankets, with a TV remote and karaoke. The thing was, he couldn’t tell it was karaoke. You were flawless in the delivery of the song, your pronunciations clear, every high and low note flowing through you like it was nothing. 

Again, he already thought you were perfect but his was a whole new level. Your voice was silky smoothing, making him weak in the knees. You couldn’t get more perfect, but here you are. 

“Baby,” He said. “You didn’t tell me you were a singer.” 

You turn around to face him, a bit startled. “You’re back!”

“And you sing!” 

You pause the karaoke. “Surprise?”

He sets the groceries on the floor, walking over to you. “You’re so perfect, you know? And you keep getting better and better.”

“Babe,” You whine at his words. He had a way of making you feel so loved with just that. 

He grabs the remote from you. “Wanna do a duet?” 

You grin and wrap your blanket around you both. “The day I say no to that is the day I’m dead.” 

[sukioyakio]

His little Stress Relief

genre: fluff just fluff,(the title doesn’t sound fluffy to me,it probably the amount of amount of smut I read 🤷‍♀️😔🤪💖 Will have some bit of angst

SUMMARY: Sometimes your 6’9 foot tall man can be an little bit clingy at times.

Author note: “I just love me an big Buffy guy being such an clingy and cuddly guy towards their girlfriend (I’m not forgetting about my guys here)anyway I’ve been changing the way how my intro a lot 😭😔🤪.”

ANYway hope you like it.

It was an very busy stressful week for Miguel,everything and everyone was annoying him.The entire spider society was just so stressful to deal with,and when he didn’t have to deal a lot,those stuipd anomaly kept popping up,left and right.

But knowing miguel,he deals with it pushing his body to the limit.He will protect the spider society no matter what,But that doesn’t make him tried and exhausted from working,fighting,yelling at people who get on his skin.The achy scars and bruises on his skin were an pain to deal with.And right now He was in his office or bat cave whatever people says,he was standing on his platform with holograms around.Grumbling about to Lyla to tell some of the spiders that they have an mission to do,and him typing out the information about these anomalies.

peter b Parker who was walking with Jessica drew,they were coming back from their mission,and were going towards to Miguel little bat cave.

“Ughhh,it’s been such a busy week” Peter says in a tired voice,as he stretches his back and his shoulders.

“Oh c’mon now,at least your not the one who has to collect all the mission reports”Jessica says with an annoyed look on her face,sighing at the work that she will have to do later.As she rubs her swollen stomach walking towards Miguel office.

Peter just let out an amused scoff out,as they were walking down the hallway towards the BIG BOSS.

“Don’t you think Miguel would let us slack off for a day!! I haven’t seen my lovely wife and daughter”peter says with a whiny voice,as he made a loud dramatic sigh.

Jessica sigh with a playful smirk on her lips. “Aye man at least after this,we can take a long ass break,cuz my ass need it”She says with a sarcasm,as she let out a chuckle.

Peter suddenly remembered how much Miguel calmed down he was after his wife when Peter asked her if she could come over to talked (helped) him out with Miguel.In which peter had that dorky grin that only means that he had another wonderful idea.

In which Jess turned to look at peter face and saw that grin which in her mind means “he gonna get his ass kick again”,but right before she could say anything to Peter.

“Gotta go bye for now— I’ll be back!” As he zapped off to where Miguel’s wife was.

“DONT do!!— something that will get your ass in the hospital” Jess says in an loud tone but soon lower as she get more closer to Miguel office,she always says that his office is so far away,she rolls her eyes to the back of her head,and letting an scoff out her lips.

She enters Miguel man cave,her heavy but professional steps could be heard from the man who was standing up on his little platform,As she walks in an steady pace and was finally met with Miguel batman era.She stands an few steps ahead but wasn’t quite at the edge of the cliff.She looks up at Miguel,with her one of her hands on her hips and the other one was rubbing her pregnant stomach.

“Ahem” She says loud enough for him to put down his attention from all the work he was doing and putting himself through.Miguel eyes have this dark circles under his eyes,you can tell that this men take his dedication and time for all he does for.But there time where all he takes is to come home to his lovely wife,who his stress reliever.But he does this so people doesn’t have the same fate as him or try to do what he did,nor to do anything that would cause them any harm.

He turned his head towards Jessica,looking down at her,with a sternly expression on his face.He clicked something on his watch to make the platform start moving down towards the ground,very . . . Slowly. very slowly.Jessica wasn’t bothered by it at all,it just meant that she had a time to herself to calm down and free her mind from work.

And in which off letting the platform on the ground nope,he just kept it fairway there,and so he looked at Jess with a sternly and serious expression,and that instantly imitating persona he had.

“Bueno, ¿cómo fue la misión?,and where the hell is Peter”Miguel says in an seriously voice,as one of his eyes brow raises up in question of where would that idiot of the worlds most talkative person you would ever meet,would be possibly be.As he stares at Jess for an good minute before letting out an annoyed sigh,pinching the bridge of his very strong nose,grunting at how much of an goof ball peter is.

“Well I came here to say that the mission was a success,but the part with Peter,better watch out for him and don’t kill him we need him” she says with an playful laugh as she walks out the door with an open smile on her face.

To which Miguel rolls his eyes to back of his head,and went back to work and there he was back working in his bat cave.Calling Layla to inform him about any updates about the anomaly’s,and to inform the other spider in the spider society.Some times layla would be annoying (an tease) to him.But after an hour or so,(peter was having difficulty finding which house is Miguel house) Peter finally came with you into Miguel office,with his cheeky techniques.

Miguel didn’t even get a chance to react to when Peter opened the portal onto his platform.

“Hello!!Big Boss” peter say with a cheerful voice,having a bright smile on his lips.”Look who I brought with him”he says with a warm smile.

The moment he turned around he saw you,with Peter.Holding a worry smile on your face.While peter was standing there with a cheeky expression,Miguel let out an annoyed sigh towards peter.He face was turning more angry then before,his eyes turning the color red.

“¡¡Por qué carajo!!Did you bring my wife here WITHOUT MY DAWN MALDITO permission!” He says with a raging voice,practically shaking the ground,easily making peter gulped down his own saliva.”im soooooooooo getting my ass in an hospital bed” peter said in his head of thoughts.

But luck was on his side for now. . .

“Peter go back doing work I’ll have a little chat with my husband”you said softly as ever to him,with a calmly smile.Giving him a look that gesture for him to leave.In which he did,He left with an awkward chuckle,and he gone.

Now you and Miguel were now alone in his big bat cave.Miguel aromatically regretted for having you see him get angry at his co worker.He hated for you to see him anger,he was insecure about how you felt about him.You words were the light of joy to his ears,but your words could be the ones that made him feel trapped.If he ever told you that he’ll be so vulnerable towards you his wife.Your the thing,the love,the drug,the crave,the addiction that he would never get over.

He was probably over thinking for a while,that he woke up from your reassuring touch.Pulling him to the ground so he could lay down on your thighs.He would do anything for you.

“Until death due us apart”

Now you both are on the floor on Miguel floating platform in silence;comforting silence.

You were sitting upright while patting,scratching, rubbing your hands against Miguel scalp.He looks like a little boy who only wanted to be next to his mama.After a few more minutes of the comfortable silence.You knew that he was very insecure about himself,especially after getting married and even before getting married,when you two were boyfriend and girlfriend,you knew he had some insecurities.

“Miguel I love you . .” You says with a calmly voice,calming him down.

Signal him to talk about what happened during this week

He instantly opened up about what happened at work,and all the exhaustion he endured,and the BS he gotten this week,basically vented about how much work and Be an hero was like a curse and an blessing.

He had that Grumpy Pouty on his beautiful lips,he just an enough of laying on the floor-ahem platform,and So he pulls you down on the floor,as he lays comfortably on tops of you.

You let out a light headed chuckles,He was your big scary,intimidating husband who can break any guys bones,but right now he’s acting very clingy with you.

You let him know that your love him so much,that seeing him like this pains you slowly but deeply in your heart.He was laying on top of your chest,in between of your breast.Letting him melt all his problems away.

“I’m sorry. . .no lady should have to seen what had happened with my co worker” he says with his eyes closed not wanting to be seen vulnerable.

As he continues to mumble apologies,to the point that he says like a whiny child.You couldn’t help but laugh at him being a whiny cringy child.

“What so funny about me apologizing,mhmm cariño”he said to you as he raised his head to look at your eyes. Seeing you laugh,seeing you felt like the world was pause,his body felt so calm.

“Ha-ha,your are my clingy hobby.You could be one whiny old man.” You said with a playfully voice,as you felt him lift your body put you into his laps.You couldn’t help but smile at him.

“I’m not an old man,nor a whiny kid.Im literally just 3 years older then you” Miguel says with a whiny voice,as he rolls his eyes.

You know he love it.You already know that he’s ok,that he is no more tense.

“I still love you gramps” you said as you leaned towards his face to give him a passionate kiss,which he accepted.Love was felt through your body.

as you both end the kiss,leaning on each other forehead.

“I love you” you said softly with a warm smile.

“Yo también” he says softly with a warm smile.

THE END

I hope y’all like it,and I probably suck explaining the positions of them but IM trying 😄 anyway I hope y’all enjoy it,but I low key think I put so much fluff here

THE QOUTE OF THE DAY: by an friend

“THE day can be boring when nothing eventful happens”

✌️

[literaila]

megumi x reader whennn 😁😁😔🥹♥

“what even is that?”

“please,” you pout, knowing his eyes are closed. “can’t you stay still?”

megumi opens one eye, looking down to where your hand is, then glancing towards you. his eyelashes flutter incessantly. “did you mess it up?”

his hands rest softly on the backs of your legs, barely a graze of his skin on your jeans. his head is tilted up towards you. he’s barely even holding on, and still you feel the innate need to push him away.

a couple of months ago, space was anything but what you wanted from megumi fushiguro.

and now it feels like you’ll stop breathing if you don’t get any. whatever that means.

“if anything, you messed it up,” you tell him, a drawl in your voice, “now shush, i need to focus.”

he closes his eyes again, leaning back. it’s very tempting to lean forward. to feel his breath on the skin of your face and imagine his eyes opening again. megumi always tastes like spice, like the hint of coffee you know he’s sneaking around.

so you say, in a stern, stop thinking about things like that way, “this was expensive, you know?”

“it smells like kugisaki’s perfume,” megumi murmurs, attempting to keep his face still.

“jasmine?”

“whatever.”

you shake your head, continuing to lather the face mask on his skin. you might be drawing this out a bit. “does it feel nice?”

“thought i was supposed to ‘shush.’”

you giggle, maybe because his imitation of you is entirely accurate, and continue to paint his skin. this particular face mask is pink, which goes perfectly well with him, you think.

but megumi fushiguro would look good in anything, so that’s not saying much. even with his frown and his disapproving eyes.

“is this going to turn my face a different color?”

“c’mon, megumi, i know you know what a face mask is. i’ve scrolled through your phone. and your pinterest.”

“that’s different,” he answers, an eye open again. you poke his chest with a finger and he scoffs. “who knows what kind of things you buy.”

you roll your eyes, but continue nonetheless.

every couple of seconds he shifts, and his hands move—you think it could be on purpose, with the circles he’s drawing on the backs of your thighs, but you can’t be entirely sure. maybe he’s just impatient.

it’s distracting you anyway. you could hiss at him to stop, but you’re not sure that you want him to.

“how much?” megumi blurts, after a moment.

“what?”

“how much was it? you said it was expensive.”

you snort. “like i would tell you, rich boy. i don’t need anymore of your judgement.”

“you brought it up.”

“i was kidding,” you murmur, finishing the last bit of bare skin. “i bought it to share, anyway.”

and then you lean back, admiring the view a bit more.

it’s not as if megumi needs a soothing gel mask to help his skin, as perfect as it is, but you know why he agreed to this in the first place.

and you know he’s enjoying it, even if his feet have begun to tap a bit restlessly on the ground. you know because his face is entirely relaxed, and because in the year you’ve known him, megumi has never shied away from telling you what to do.

if he didn’t like it, you think, he would make it known.

“okay,” you set down the applicator, grinning a little bit at the pink filled spaces of his face. “all done. was that so bad?”

“yes.”

you laugh and take a step away from him, trying not to make the gasp of air you take obvious. but megumi probably noticed anyway.

“i can pay for it,” he tells you, softly. his eyes are just barely open, his face almost immobile. he might be even closer now. “since you’re sharing.”

you frown at him as he stands from the counter. “i’m not going to let you pay for something i coerced you into.”

“you didn’t coerce me,” megumi says. “much.”

you laugh, and turn around, handing him the applicator. “okay, my turn,” and then you take his spot, still shorter than him, even when you sit by the sink.

“i have to do you?”

“why do you think i invited you?”

“so you could enjoy my suffering.”

“well, that too. but it’s easier to put it on someone else. i always spill when i try to do it myself.”

“really?”

“are you going to keep complaining,” you ask him, leaning in, “or are you going to return the favor?”

megumi makes a noise in his throat, but he acquiesces. “i have no idea why i agreed to this.”

you hum and close your eyes, the buzzing feeling of his skin close to yours a pleasant surprise as he begins.

really, you’ve been this close. you’ve hung onto his shoulder after missions, let him patch up the cuts on your faces in the car. but it’s different now that you know him.

different now that he’s… here. not out of some obligation, but because you asked.

you definitely don’t feel this way when nobara plucks your eyebrows or draws shapes on your face with eyeliner.

“what?” megumi murmurs, after he’s finished the first side of your face.

“what what?”

“you’re smiling.”

you open your eyes and he’s right there.

his irises are an unusual color. some mix between deep blue and green, some unmistakable gradient. and you’ve stared before, but megumi’s never been this close.

at least not here, in your bathroom, instead of some moldy alleyway.

“am i?”

he nods, tilting his head at you.

“sorry,” you whisper, closing your eyes again.

“no,” megumi pauses, and you can feel his breath, his hand as it moves, the vibrations of him entirely apparent. “you have a nice smile.”

you almost jolt away from him, but refrain. you want to push yourself against the vanity, fall into the sink, or simply hide under the counter.

and you want to open your eyes again, just so you can see his face. megumi is always serious—sincere—but he doesnt share his thoughts often, doesn’t allow himself to be vulnerable unless it’s absolutely necessary.

and you don’t think he’s ever let anyone else corrode his face with a pink face mask.

“i do?” you ask, just to hear him say it again.

“mm-hmm.”

your lip twitches and you relax once again. you already know what he means, anyway.

[twola]

Okay, I was ABSOLUTELY obsessed with In The French Way II. It's too hot I need another Arthur anal fic😔✌ PLEASE I love the way you write ❤

In the French Way III

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link ➵ Previous

cw: in the natural progression of things - anal sex, cowboy receiving.

“Ma Cherie - now that you have given him a taste, you must- you must give him more.”

The Frenchman’s hand clasps your shoulder as he pulls you closer to the alley. You have no idea why now of all times was the time to discuss your sexual proclivities. Now, when Arthur was currently beating a man a few feet away who had threatened Châtenay’s life for sleeping with his wife, or mother…or both?

“Not now-” You whisper harshly, as the conversation is interspersed with the sound of Arthur’s fist connecting with the man’s face. 

“Non- if not now, when? I will tell you - there is no more beautiful pleasure than -mph- getting fucked. In that, I am jealous of le beau sexe.” Châtenay swirls a finger around the edge of his mustache as he swings the leather bag from over his shoulder to the ground. He roots around in the bag, muttering choice words in French before finding what he was looking for.

“Ah-ha, here we are.”

He shoves a small box into your hand with a wink. You open the box, finding a neatly wrapped piece of wood, smooth and polished to perfection. It’s strange, this cylinder of smooth lacquered wood, tipped with a gentle curve…almost… phallic?

Oh Jesus Christ.

You snap the box shut again as your eyes widen. 

“What in God’s name-”

Châtenay shakes his head. “Non, non, mon ami. You have seen the joy you have already brought your lover. This will heighten it still.”

“Charles-!” Arthur barks from the alley, having dispatched the most recent of the man’s attackers, “Think you should be gettin’ lost for a bit.” The cowboy wipes blood from his knuckles as he rejoins the two of you.

“Ah! That I shall do. Au revoir!” Charles grasps your shoulders and gives you a kiss on each cheek, and moving faster than even Arthur could comprehend, he does the same to the gunslinger before exaggeratingly bowing, before ducking out of sight.

Arthur frowns and wipes his beard, “There is somethin’ wrong with that man.”

You nod, shoving the small box into your satchel. Arthur snickers, and grabs your hand, “C’mon, I don’t feel like riding all the way back to Shady Belle t’night.”

-

“Woman, I know you got somethin’ on your mind.”

You frown, knowing you can’t hide anything from him. In this fancy hotel room, you have kicked off your boots and he’s unwound the gunbelt from his hips.

Arthur looks you up and down, raising an eyebrow. “So?”

You sigh, and pull the box that Charles gave you from your satchel before you toss the bag to the floor amongst the other things. Placing the box atop the bedspread, you take the lid off of it to show its contents.

Silence.

“Is that supposed to be a cock?” Arthur asks after a moment.

You also look down at the box, unwilling to meet his astonished gaze, burning fiercely red. 

“I…uhm, ah… it’s a-another French thing…” you stutter, unable to look at him.

Your chin is pulled up by his pointer finger, and you finally find his eyes, those blue pools that show such depth.

“I trust you.”

“Arthur-”

“I- I just- ” You stumble over your words as you turn and take the wood in your hand, heavy, solid. You wrap your fingers around it and all you can think about is how warm Arthur’s cock is when you have it in your hand.

“If it’s somethin’ I end up hatin’, we stop.”

What utter trust this man has in you. You’re unsure of how on God’s green earth that you managed to find someone like him. “You sure you want to be…fucked?”

Arthur sheepishly scratches the back of his head, “I… mean… if it’s you doin’ it.”

“I…” You grip the cock again, staring down at it.

The rustling of fabric garners your attention and you look up. Arthur has completely unbuttoned his shirt and has one arm pulled out of its sleeve. His suspenders dangle against his thighs.

“Well?” 

And in that moment, you remember the last time you had broached this idea with him. You remember his stained cheeks and blown pupils, his heavy panting and the moans… you remember the hot splash of his spend on your belly as he came - all from pressing your finger inside him.

For the first time all night, you smile back, and toss the cock to the bed as you start to undress yourself. Clothes end in a pile on the floor. Arthur grabs the balm he used last time from his satchel and hands it to you before laying down on the bed.

“Warm you up like last time?” You smile as you place the tin on the bedside table along with the wooden cock, climbing into bed and into your lover’s embrace.

He nods, pressing his lips to yours as he guides your hand to his hip. As your tongues press against one another, your hand slides across his hip, gently caressing before dipping down to press against his puckered opening. You gently slide your pointer finger inside that ring of muscle and he shivers, moaning into your mouth. Unwilling to have it over so soon, you do not press further inside to hunt for the spot that drove him wild before, but instead swirl your finger around to prepare him for something more. After a few moments of him groaning and you feeling him harden against your hip, you draw back and turn around, reaching for the balm and the wooden cock.

You open the tin and swipe your fingers to collect the balm, then slather it all over the head of the cock and down the shaft, glancing backward as you notice Arthur turning to lay on his stomach. 

You turn to sit next to him, holding the cock in one hand and the other gently caressing his lower back, “You sure you’re ready?”

“Woman, do it now or don’t-”

He shuts up completely as you press the cock against his ass. The tip breaches him and he hisses as the curve of the wood pushes past the ring of muscle. You press it inward slowly, letting a breath out of your own.

“You alright’?” You whisper, your other hand rubbing gently across his hip bone.

He nods into the pillow, and you see his fingers tighten on the fabric of the bed as you push the cock in another inch. Arthur is beautiful there, sprawled on the bed. Breath heaving, his large, muscled body completely under your spell. Under your control. He gave this of himself, something that men never do.

“Are you okay?” You ask softly again, the wooden cock halfway buried in him. He nods into the pillow, seemingly unable to speak, but raises his hips toward you the smallest bit in silent assent.

Around that curve of his hip, the smallest visage of his cock is visible to you, blood swollen and hard against the bed. Your concern is assuaged - certainly, if he wasn’t enjoying it, his cock wouldn’t be so damn hard.

Your other hand runs gently up his back to his shoulder, squeezing as you lean up on your knees next to him. Ever so slowly, gently, you press the cock down into him. Arthur groans, muffled by the pillow as the sheets are crumpled beneath his grip.

Finally, the flared base rests snug against his ass. you gaze upon him, breath heaving, and he starts to rut his hips against the mattress, trying to find some relief for his cock. The sight has your cunt wet as you sit on the bed next to him. Arthur raises his head to look up at you, breathing heavily through his nose. A fierce blush dances over his cheeks as he grunts, pushing himself up to his hands and knees.

“Get o’er here.”

He grabs and forces you underneath him and pulls your legs apart with a fervor like a wild animal. In the flash of movement, you are instantly reminded of the strength held within his body - there was no escaping his grasp - no fighting against any way he were to manipulate you.

“Fuck- next time ‘m gonna stick this in you - make you feel how good it is -” he growls as he roughly pumps his cock, panting as he lines himself up with you and pushes inside with little warning.

Your arousal eases the way, but your lover is well-endowed, and you gasp at the stretch of him as he buries those hot inches of flesh inside you. A broken wail claws its way from your throat when his hips find yours, buried as deep as he can go.

“Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Havin’ this in you along with my cock, filling you up both ways at once?”

You moan your response as he thrusts down into you hard, digging your nails into his back. Your ankles cross over his lower back as he pummels you into the bed, red-faced and positively feral.

At a thrust that moves your whole body, your heel slips downward and bumps against the base of the wooden cock, and Arthur immediately jolts, grunting loudly as he shoves his head into the pillow.

“You -hah- like that?” You pant into his ear and he groans needily in response.

Snaking your hand underneath his arm, you’re just able to reach the base and grasp it, pulling the cock out a few inches before pushing it back in.

Arthur nearly collapses on you, barely able to keep himself from crushing you as he shoves his cock as deep as it can go into your cunt, shuddering as you repeat your motion.

“Fuck, fuck - oh - ngh - Jesus…” His teeth worry your ear when you pick up the pace, pushing and pulling the wooden cock in his ass.

“You gonna come for me?” You pant back at him and he raises himself unsteadily to his forearms, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Yeah, yeah - ‘m gonna come -” he rumbles, his pupils blown and skin flushed red, “g-onna gonna -ngh-”

You lean up and kiss him hard as you shove the cock into his ass to the base and he yelps into your mouth and mashes his hips into yours as he comes. Hot spend fills your cunt as you mewl to the sensation, throwing you over the edge as Arthur bucks again, making a pitiful sound you thought nigh impossible from the fearsome outlaw.

It's several moments, Arthur panting, shaking over you, before he’s able to regain control of his senses. He rolls off of you onto his side, one hand reaching behind himself to slowly pull the cock from his body. He squeezes his eyes shut and hisses as it slowly leaves him, biting his lower lip against the feeling of his hole having been stretched out. He tosses the lacquered wood into the pile of clothes on the floor, it lands with a loud clunk.

You gawk, astonished at him as you feel his warm spend drip from your cunt. Squeezing your legs together to stymie the flow, you wait for him to right himself, laying on his hip opposite you in the bed.

He finally opens his eyes to find you looking concerned, upset even.

“What - what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“Are you alright?”

“Am I… darlin’-” he chuckles, reaching toward you and easily pulling your body into his embrace, “I’m more than alright.” He laughs, kissing your forehead as you loose a bated breath.

“That another French thing Châtenay tell you about?”

You look up at him in surprise, “What, how -”

“You think he hasn’t told me of a few crazy things either? Keeps sayin’ that the best thin’ for you is takin’ two fellers at once.”

You redden, burying yourself into Arthur’s chest to avoid making eye contact. You feel, along with hear the chuckle emanate out from his ribcage as he tightens his grip around you.

“I’m a possessive sonofabitch. You ain’t ever takin any feller but me-”

He squeezes your ass covetously.

“But think we just found a way to remedy that.”

[supercutszns]

you may be right | hughie campbell

wc + pairing: 2.2k, hughie campbell x f!reader

synopsis: you’re left bloody and bummed after a mission with the boys. you do your best to clean up in the bathroom, and hughie, your not-so-subtle crush, offers to help.

warnings/notes: love hughie so bad but he was done so dirty in s4😔 NOTHINGG gets me like a nerdy man. also my first time branching out from pjo content so i hope u enjoy <3 ft. lots of blood, jokes about death, it’s the boys that’s a trigger in and of itself, questionable humour

No matter how many times you spit, a bloody tang lingers in the back of your throat.

“Jesus,” you hack, leaning down to press your forehead into the sink. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

You can’t even bring yourself to look in the mirror anymore. Everything—literally everything—is covered in blood. You feel it caked under your fingernails, in your hair, on your face.

The door clicks open behind you. “Still bad, huh?”

You grimace, looking past yourself in the mirror to see Hughie in the reflection. It’s sort of a relief that he doesn’t look any better. He stands awkwardly in the doorway, his head almost grazing the ceiling. “I mean, I can make out my face now, so, there’s some improvement?” You reply.

“How am I?” He asks.

You pretend to consider. “Pretty fucking bad, Hughie.”

His bloody face creases, and he sighs. “C’mon, we can share the sink,” you gesture. “This bathroom’s disgusting anyways.”

He smiles faintly, wiping his hand down his face. It leaves a streak of skin from his right temple to chin. There’s a bit of a lull as he comes to the bathroom counter, the door shutting behind him.

“Blood makes your eyes pop,” you quip, shuffling over so he can have some of the sink.

He laughs. “Yeah, thanks. I love what the red does to your hair.”

His eyes flick over you briefly, and you can’t help but smile back. A year ago you’d have wrung your own neck if you knew you’d be cleaning blood off your face in a shitty basement bathroom with a bunch of criminals, but now it’s an almost welcome break from all the running and fighting and other fuckshit. Besides, don’t all women dream about wiping blood off the guy they’re into?

You should’ve known this was inevitable. Your crush on Hughie had started slow, almost unnoticeably, but now you have to stop your skin from short-circuiting whenever you touch him. You’d hit it off the second you met. You were both out of your element, and he was the only one who responded to your awkward sense of humour. The only way either of you could cope with absurdity was by cracking up in the midst of a mission until Butcher threatened to sew your toes on backwards if you didn’t cut it out. You’re pretty sure the feeling goes both ways, but at this point your life is so fucked up that everything could be a figment of your imagination.

You both wash your faces in relative silence. It’s hard, watching someone else’s blood run down the drain. It’s also hard for you not to say something incredibly stupid. (In retrospect one of them is definitely easier than the other.)

“You holding up okay?” Hughie asks after a while. “You’ve been, uh … been pretty quiet.”

Crimson water drips from your wrists. There’s such unbridled concern in his voice that your hands stop scrubbing. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” you say a little too forcefully. “I’m just … I still don’t think I’m used to this.”

There’s a certain gravity that always catches up to you, when the adrenaline has left your system and you’re scrubbing away the consequences. Usually it comes when you’re alone, but right now all the blood left on you weighs twice as much as your own and you don’t think you’ll ever get rid of it.

You’re still hunched over the sink when Hughie says quietly, “Yeah.”

He turns the tap off, grabs a towel and passes it to you. “At least it’s not just me this time, though. You ever notice everyone else gets to leave with a bunch of sick scars but I’m the one that gets blasted with some guy’s insides?”

A laugh rings out of you, and you keel over even more into the sink. “Could you word that any worse, Jesus!”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re being blasted by some guy’s insides?”

“That is not—not like that!”

“Oh, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if it was like that, Hughie.”

He swats you on the shoulder through bouts of laughter. “That’s besides the point!”

This moment feels infinitely better than anything else the world could offer you. You lean on each other like drunks until the mood is sobered, but there’s a flutter in your sternum that won’t go away.

You’re running the towel over your face for the umpteenth time when Hughie lets out a hum. “Hold on, you have some on the back of your neck.”

“Hm?” Your vision blurs when you rub the cloth off of your face.

“Want me to—just—I got it.” Hughie fumbles for the cloth in your hand and you fumble back and it becomes a sort of fumble-off until you realize what’s happening.

“Sorry, sorry,” you mumble into a laugh. The fog in your head has just thickened tenfold. Your palms press into your eyeballs. “Sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me!”

Hughie chuckles too. “I think we’re tired. And psychologically damaged.” He runs the cloth under some warm water. “C’mere, I’ll help.”

The fuzziness is much more pleasant now, at the very least numbing your idiotic nerves. You shuffle around until you’re directly in front of Hughie, trying not to stare at yourself in the mirror looking rougher than you’ve ever been. He sweeps the hair on the back of your neck and it tingles. “Thank you,” you murmur.

“No problem.”

You’re eternally lucky that Hughie’s as easy to talk to as he is to not talk to. The silence unfurls like a blanket, easy and warm. You almost want to live in it, this sleepy in-between. It’s nice not to think.

Hughie laughs almost imperceptibly behind you, and you feel it against your back. “Shit, sorry,” you mutter. At some point you’d shifted your weight onto him and hadn’t bothered to notice.

“No, it’s okay!” Hughie says earnestly, and your stomach twists again.

You can’t help yourself; you let your head loll back until it hits his chest. You notice the cloth has been abandoned on the counter. “How long have you been done?” You ask stupidly.

His lopsided smile peeks out. “A while. You kinda zoned out there.”

“Sorry,” you mumble again, your cheek smushed into his chest.

“Don’t worry,” he says gently. You think you’re dreaming, the way he smooths out your hair with his fingertips. “Want me to get the rest on your face so you can shower?”

“There’s still some on my face?”

“Just like, a little. Not that much. None at all, really, if you squint.”

You crane your head to give him a funny look. His cheeks seem pink, but that might just be the blood. “Mmkay, I can’t tell if you’re lying.”

“As long as you don’t look in the mirror right now, you never will.”

You squint at him, but he’s smiling so you know you’re smiling too, and the space between you is infinite and buzzing. You feel like a teenage girl. You feel like an average person. You feel like you’re not hiding out in a porn shop basement doused with someone else’s blood.

After you turn around, you lean back on the counter, the edge cutting into your hips. You don’t mind much, not when you’re already hurting everywhere else and not when Hughie is paying this much attention to you. Unprompted flurries of laughter pass between you two, a bewildered sort of communication coined for each other.

“Wanna get up?” He asks.

You nod, adjusting before hoisting yourself onto the counter with your palms. Hughie’s hands skim at your waist, like a last-resort effort to help. You hope so, so badly that’s not all it is.

Warmth crawls up your neck and peaks in your cheeks. You’re so used to being perpetually nervous now— both with high-risk situations and your schoolgirl crush. You keep waiting to feel the jitters now, with Hughie so close, the cloth sweeping over your pulse point like it’s daring you. But it feels different. Maybe it’s because you’re sleepy. Hughie’s company is the greatest luxury you have in this life, so you’re just going to enjoy it. It feels easier than anything else you’ve done the past few weeks.

You’d be lying if you pretended like this doesn’t feel like the closest you’ve ever been to another person. Hughie is one of the gentlest people you’ve ever met—and all his goodness goes to waste on you. You, and this life that tries to snuff it out of him. The tang of blood still wafts over you, but on Hughie it smells warmer, almost sweet, and it’s kind of fucked-up you’re thinking that, right?

“You smell good,” you say anyway, mostly because you want to see what he says back.

“Thanks,” he grins, “I should try adding blood into my cologne, I guess.”

You snort. His smile ticks wider, and you think he’s rosier under the scruff of his beard. He holds your gaze a second longer than acceptable, and soon it’s a second more, and another one, until there’s no point in looking away.

He rests the cloth against your jaw. The stillness in the room snaps you awake. You watch him raptly, admiring the notch between his brows when they furrow. “I want to do something stupid,” he admits quietly. “And probably weird.”

Your spine tingles. “What?” You ask. “Hughie, what?”

“Okay, forget it, it’s seriously weird,” he says, but doesn’t move.

“We’re underneath a porn shop covered in blood,” you deadpan. “Is anything weird anymore?”

He laughs a bit and his head angles down, losing your eye contact. A part of you lurches. You don’t want the spell to break. “Hughie.” He’s already looked back up before you finished his name. “C’mon.”

Tentatively, you touch him, right beneath the collar of his shirt. He leans a little closer. “Sure it’s not weird?”

“I’m sure.” Your smile is easy, infectious, the stubborn kind that reveals itself whenever you’re with him. Your noses brush and it sends a jolt all the way to your toes.

“If you hate this, it’s your fault,” he says pointedly. You want to scold him for his stupid-ass smile that you love so much, or maybe reassure him, but it washes away when he tilts himself down just enough to brush your mouth.

It was a test, a sample to ask This is what you were talking about, right? and you respond by holding his shirt and pulling him in to say Yes. A very earnest yes. Maybe too earnest.

You kiss him properly, just once, just in case this is all you’ll ever get. When Hughie slants down to kiss you better you understand it’s not. He feels it too. The warm, inescapable pull beneath his skin. Hughie Campbell likes you. Like, he likes you likes you. He likes you enough to make out with you when you’re covered in blood and dirt. He likes you enough to sigh when you run your nails along the scruff of his beard. He likes you enough to draw his mouth to the underside of your jaw, like there’s a magnet beneath your skin.

“I’m starting to feel like a vampire,” he admits against your neck, barely silencing your heartbeat in your ears. “All this blood.”

You chuckle, and your body relaxes of its own volition. “Are you into it?”

“Am I a bad person if I say kind of?”

The way he laughs sends ripples through your pulse point, and it’s infectious. The bathroom may be arid and metallic and your clothes may be sticking to your skin, but you’re giggling against Hughie’s warm body and your eyes are closed so is it really that bad?

“Guess what?” You ask, bliss splitting across your face.

His mouth ghosts the crook of your neck. “Mm?”

“I didn’t hate it.” You feel his grin imprint on your skin. “I actually kind of liked it.”

“Yeah?”

“A lot.”

Hughie pulls back. His face is a spectrum of colour, cheeks beet red, eyes an endless swim. “Think I could kiss you again when you’re clean?” He asks, nose wrinkled in a smile.

You can’t help but take his face in your hands and run your thumb over his stubble. His smile softens at the edges and you accept, unbelievably, that this is real. That you feel tender and giggly and satisfied. It was hard to think you’d ever find this kind of innocence again. But the feeling, so gladdening and complete, has overwhelmed you. Even though the blood on your skin will probably never go away.

“What do you think?” You ask, feeling coy.

You can taste his lips again when he says, “Well, I’m really hoping it’s yes, but I’ve got pretty bad luck.”

“You may be right,” you hum, vaguely to a tune of a Billy Joel song he played for you once, and he chuckles. “But not this time.”

“Oh, thank God.”

He cups the back of your head and kisses you again like it’s sacred. You want to live in this warmth forever. It might have made everything worth it. The fear, the exhaustion, the gore. It’s a horrible thought, but maybe kind of true?

“I’m glad you’re real,” you whisper.

You’re almost sure it’s recognition that flashes on his face. He kisses a spot on your jaw where the taint of blood used to be. “I’m glad you’re real too.”

[cheollipop]

Hello there! I wanted to pop in and say I’m so glad you’ve hit such a big milestone!! I honestly adore your works! Your writing style and characterization always has me begging for more!! And don’t get me started on your smut good lord 🫠

As for the slumber party.. *squeezes pillow* what do you think about dom!san and sub!reader and woo? I would honestly love to be brat tamed by San, have you seen the looks he gives Woo?? Especially him in Guerrilla era?? If he gave me that look I would be GONE. But it’s been making me think about him taking me from behind, with that signature neck hold of his as he ruins me into the mattress, Wooyoung needy and whining on the side waiting for his turn. 🫠🫠

Anyway I have shared my thoughts for this party, I can’t wait to see what others have to say as well!! (omg that somnophilia one had me sitting there crossing my legs. rip to those panties 🫡 😔)

Have a good day, Panda!! ❤️

2𝙠 𝙎𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙀𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩

anonnie you are so cute pls 😭 squeezing your pillow while spitting straight filth bahahha. thank you so much!! this seriously means so much to me TT with woosan, I tend to write them with a dynamic opposite to the one you'd described, so I found myself in a pickle trying to write this one;; however, I'm in an insane san mood this week, so I made it work (?) somehow (?), it is a lot shorter then I would have wanted it to be though :" I really hope you enjoy this nonetheless!! (and I'm so happy you liked the somno one, it's one of my favourites too~)- don't be a stranger, and happy reading!! (≧◡≦)

pairing: choi san x fem!reader x jung wooyoung

w.c.: 0.5k

tags: smut, dom!san, sub!woo & reader, san's kinda mean *bites lip*, unprotected sex (👎), creampie(s), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, edging, mentioned double penetration

nsfw under cut—minors dni!

Wooyoung squirmed on the mattress, back flush against the headboard while his fingers twitched by his hips. Despite the overwhelming need to relieve himself, to wrap his fingers around his throbbing cock—the tip an angry red as it stood upright, leaking translucent drops of arousal down the veiny shaft—his attention remained on the two figures moving to a steady rhythm beside him.

The hand at your nape pushed you further into the pillow, shallowly breathing as the pleasure soaring through your body took over all five senses. San’s lips brushed against your temple, sharp grunts reverberating in your ear while he pumped his cock inside your spent cunt, oozing a mixture of slick and cum until it formed a pool over the linen beneath you. His other hand held your hips up, guiding them back to meet his relentless thrusts, making sure your walls would forever be moulded to his shape.

“San-ah, I ‘wanna touch her too,” Wooyoung mewled, eyes trained on your pussy as it repeatedly swallowed San’s girth. “C’mon, ‘can’t wait anymore.”

“No,” was all he responded with, not even sparing him a glance, slowing his pace as you shook under him once again—another orgasm drawing muffled moans out of your parted lips, and spreading drool on the pillowcase under your head.

Peering over at the man resting beside him, the sight of his cock bobbing uselessly against his lower belly, precum shimmering over tan skin under the overhead light, San felt himself grow harder as he waited for you to come down from your high. Wooyoung whimpered at San’s intense gaze—his quick glance rendering him unable to look away from the younger’s pathetic state—readjusting his position to angle his hips towards San, his cock now resting hard and heavy over his upper thigh.

Feline eyes glazed over as an idea popped into his head, straightening up behind you and shifting his gaze down to where your bodies met. San’s palm landed over your ass, watching your back arch further as he added yet another handprint onto the sensitive flesh, running soothing circles over it before slipping his hand between your legs. Running his fingers over the drenched slit, he rounded his base where his cock sat within your heat, dipping a thumb into the stretched hole and pulling it open even further, until it gaped and loosened around his length.

“San, wait—hnngh—please, I can’t-”

“–Yes you can,” San interrupted, moving the hand on your nape to the back of your head, pushing your face into the pillow until your words were no longer coherent. He slipped a few inches out, angling his cockhead to press directly into your g-spot, muffled sentences morphing into desperate groans. “Look,” he shifted his attention to the neglected man, spreading you even wider with his thumb while he grinded his cock into your used cunt. “What do you say, Youngie, do you think our pretty girl can fit the both of us?”

[sunofpandora]

Indigenous Men.

This is a rant but but me simp for a minute yall please.

Now, as a child who grew up in an indigenous household, I’ve had my share of exposure to fictional indigenous men.

(That’s maybe why I write fanfic about tall, blue, indigenous men but idk it’s just a theory.)

I was little when I first watched avatar but lemme tell yall one thing.

I was not looking at Mr. Sully. No sir.

You know who I was looking at?

C’mon now Mr. Thick slick and handsome don’t act like you don’t see me 🫶🏽🤭

I was down so BAD for this man. I used to draw him with my little box of crayons when I was a kid and pretend we got married.

He’s a warrior.

He’s strong.

Hes so fucking hot guys you can’t even fight me on this one.

It always kinda made me mad as a kid when a character choose someone else over the clear, green flagged indigenous male character.

Now, Neytiri is NOT an example of this. She never loved Tsu’tey romantically, and Jake was a better choice for her of course.

But you know what movie pissed me off the MOST when it came to this trope?

No, scratch that, the og of this trope??

Now I could spend hours talking about this movie and how incredibly fucked up it is. But we’re not gonna go there rn.

(That movie cover actually brings back so many memories for me. We had VHS when I was a kid and we used to draw with whiteboard markers on the vhs box movie covers and make fun of John smith.)

I watched this movie for one sole purpose when I was little.

And no. It wasn’t for John Smith’s tea drinking pudding ass.

IT WAS FOR HIM

I used to get so peeved at ‘Pocahontas’ (her name was Matoaka.)

This was the man of 8 year old me’s DREAMS and we’re going after Mr. Ken the Colonizer!?

Like c’mere baby boy if she don’t want you I’ll take you 🤷🏽‍♀️😔

And Mrs. Neytiri, Mrs. Fictional adaption of Matoaka that I no longer associate with the real person,

Trust me, I get it, I really do. I too have a white (half white, he’s mixed but he’s got an Italian accent, straight hair and slightly tanned skin.)

I too have a snow bunny man on my roster. He do be feeding be pasta and lobster.

If it ain’t snowing I might not be going.

But indigenous men will always have my heart 👆🏽😭

In conclusion

[bigfootsmom]

feasting on the crumbs we’re given of the helicopter crash fic. can we please have another 🥹🤲🫶🏻

I hope soon i can feed you a full meal! I can see the end in sight it’s just a matter of finding the time to sit down and get there 😔 but I have a snippet for you for seven(ish) sentence Sunday:

Evan is so heavy in Tommy’s arms and he digs his fingers into his sides, clinging desperately to any part of Evan he can keep his hands on.

“Evan, please–– c’mon, baby I can’t—“ Tommy cuts himself off with a sharp clack of his teeth, trapping the frustrated sob in the back of his throat before it can escape. “We’re almost there, don’t give up on me now.”

Evan mumbles something unintelligible, eyes rolling back in his skull as fails to regain his center of balance. Tommy grunts, taking more of Evan’s practically deadweight.

Tommy almost loses his footing, knees nearly buckling as he tries to keep Evan from completely slipping from his grip and hitting the hard ground. Evan’s face remains slack, skin so pale under all the blood. The sight of it makes dread twist its claws into his stomach. Evan’s bloodless lips part around a wheezing rasp and if it wasn’t for the sound of it Tommy would think—

No. No, no, he can’t. He can’t even think about that. It’s going to be fine, he’s going to get Evan out of this. Evan is going to be okay. He has to be okay.

Tags below the cut <3

Tagged by the lovely and wonderful @diazsdimples and @eddiebabygirldiaz <3 <3 <3

Tagging @usersiren @honestlydarkprincess @swiftietartt @holdmygum @giddyupbuck

@monsterrae1 @loserdiaz @underwaterninja13 @father-salmon @devirnis

@princessfbi @homerforsure @mellaithwen @bisexual-buck @buddie-buddie

@bibuddie @shyaudacity @housewifebuck @colonoscopys @loveyouanyway

@watchyourbuck @smallandalmosthonest @try-set-me-on-fire @iinryer and YOU if you want to post something <3

[writing-mlm]

Idk if you take requests right now, but if you do, can you please write more damian wayne x reader 🙏

Sincerely, someone who has been scavenging for damian fics for days 😔

New Years, Same Words [D.W]

Summary: He's tired of hiding, but damn Damian cannot be subtle for the life of him. Pairing: Damian Wayne x male!reader WC: 8.8k

a/n: recs are always open :3

Back home, school was so different, almost every single detail was different. The way humans digested information was so slow and inefficient; back home students wore helmets and immediately got the knowledge they’d need. No need for lectures or turn and talks. They’re learning ideas and math that, quite frankly, a child back home would’ve already learned. 

But, you enjoyed this style. No matter how stupid it was. Back home, you never really had a chance to bond with peers or enjoy any activities like art or music. It was telepathic lessons and then home, usually, that’s when the kids would play together. But the school-sanctioned together time was nice. 

Everything else sucked. 

The hallways were cramped and you had to watch extra carefully to not bump into people and break their shoulders. No matter how badly you wanted to. 

“(Y/n)!” You hear from across the hall and look over, seeing your adoptive brother running down the hallway with his bag almost slipping from his shoulder. “I’m here!” He says, beaming as he stands next to you. 

    “You’re a mess,” You chide while fixing his bag and almost pick him up in the process. “Apologies.” 

“You ready for class?” He almost groans as he says it. “I swear, if she gives us another pop quiz, I’m going to laser her!” He whispers the last part and you chuckle. 

   “No quiz,” You reassure him, turning down the hallway. ELA was at the end of the hallway, right next to the smelly staircase where kids go to smoke or leave the building due to a faulty alarm system. “I heard we have a project.” 

“From who?” He says, voice raising several octaves. Jon has this thing, he doesn’t believe news from certain people, even if they’re later proven to be right. 

   “Marissa,” He stops walking and you can basically hear his thoughts. He’s so debating skipping class. “She said it’s not bad, c’mon!” Grabbing the back of his collar, you pull him after you as you hear the start of the warning bell. Quickly, you pull your headphones from around your neck to your ears and the bell rings. 

It’s at a human volume with the headphones on, so it’s still loud but not nearly as loud as it would’ve been otherwise. 

School back home also didn’t have bells. 

Sliding into your seat, you drop your bag in between your legs while glancing around. Mostly everyone is in class, save for a couple of people. The teacher is late, but you can hear her running up the staircase— not the smelly one, one that’s going to take her at least two minutes to get to class. She never uses a different staircase. 

Mrs. Elton is particular about that sort of stuff, her classroom never changes. She’s gone as far as to superglue the desks in a permanent shape around the class. There are three groups of desks, two in the front and one in the back. The one in the back is a straight horizontal line of seven desks while the front ones are arranged in an upside-down T shape. The vertical side of the T has eight tables, with four tables turned to face each other, while the horizontal side has four desks. 

Your seat is in the front, on the horizontal line. While seats aren’t technically assigned, they totally are assigned amongst everyone else. Jon has the seat in front of you, and he can never see the board properly since he has to turn his whole body around to see it. 

Mrs. Elton finishes her run up the stairs as the final bell goes off and the remaining students trickle into class. Amongst them is your other seatmate, the girl who sits to your right. She looks a little upset but she visibly calms down when she sees you. 

“I thought you were absent,” She tells you as she walks around your chair to get to hers. “You weren’t in second period, what the fuck, dude?” She playfully hits you with her bag before it settles on her lap.

   “I was late,” You shrug, watching her pull out her pink Macbook case with several stickers on it. “Why, what happened second?” She gives you a look before she slips her bag down to the floor and you raise an eyebrow, looking at Jon who shrugs. 

   “They were making plans to make a bomb for the winter dance.” She says. “Those two kids who always sit in the back, like that’s normal right?” You nod, the two kids in the back always talk about school shootings and whatnot but they’re typically harmless. “They talked about how their orders for materials came in and exactly where they’re gonna plant it.” 

“Text me,” She nods and Mrs. Elton walks into the room, effectively silencing the class. She’s dressed like an English teacher, which you hadn’t known was a stereotype for the longest. You thought there were dress codes for each subject teachers. 

Go figure. 

“Good morning!” She smiles, her kitten heels clicking on the brown tiled floor as she heads over to her desk. Her laptop is already connected to the smart board so she only has to log back in. “How was everyone’s weekend?” There are some murmurs amongst the kids but she takes what she can get. 

“As I’m sure you’re all aware, we have a project!” With her presentation on the screen, she turns to face everyone and clasps her hands together. “This will not be a group project, but there are many options to choose from.” She turns around again, fiddling with the keyboard. “Skipping the do now, let’s get right into it.” She pulls up a slide that’s blank for now. She does this thing where she presses a button and words pop up. “The Best Friend project!” She announces as it pops up on the board. 

“This is different from your other projects since this is a project that’s a week long. You only get this week to do it and everyone will be presenting next week. We’ll do it by volunteer order, if no one volunteers then I will call you to go!” She explains and you glance over at Jon. His back is to you, but you can see him rubbing his forehead. 

“As seniors, you need to understand how to present. But this is an easier one to do since I’m giving you so many options!” A list of options pops up as she says that. “Firstly, you can make a photo slideshow and explain your friendship; you can make a video collage with a voiceover, you can write a newspaper article and read it to the class, or you can bring the person in. But only if they do not have my class. So say Blake wanted to do his project on say… Michael, he could not bring him in. But if Blake wanted to do his project on his neighbor, he could bring them in. Understand?” Everyone nods and she moves on. 

“Pick the way you want to do your project today,” She says, looking over the class. “After today, we will not be working on this during class, we will continue to read Salvage the Bones.” 

“Go ahead! Start!” She smiles and turns on the class playlist as everyone turns to their laptops. 

“Who’re you doing yours on?” Amira asks, already on a blank slideshow document. 

   “Not you,” You laugh and she fake scoffs. “You don’t know him, though.” She hums in acknowledgment. 

   “Do I?” Jon asks and you look at him, head tilted and lips pulled into your mouth. “Ohhh!” He nods. “I’m doing mine on Jay!” 

“Fun,” You offer a smile and look over the options. 

Writing in English is not your strong suit, it’s why you weren’t allowed into AP classes. You were amazing with working on stuff but you were still learning English, despite living on Earth for four years now. Kara says that’s normal and it took her ages to get to your level of speaking and understanding English, but you feel stupid struggling with the words. 

You pull out your phone and open your messages. 

would u come to my school next week

4 a project 

What type of project? 

‘best friend project’ 

Is this like Show and Tell? 

idk what that is…

I’ll explain later. 

But I’ll agree, explain it to me tonight, okay?

kk :3

Closing your phone, you set it face down on the desk and look over the “bring a person in” section. It says you can either give a completely verbal presentation but you’ll need to create a transcript for it, for proper grading, or you can create a presentation in which the two of you explain what’s happening. You opt for the second one. 

There are some requirements, though. Each presentation needs to be at least ten minutes long; which you think is absurd, there cannot be any cursing included, and visual aids are required for all but the verbal presentation. Videos cannot be longer than two minutes, and only a maximum of two videos— each of them gives an extra five points to your grade. 

“Imagine someone does Damian Wayne.” The local Gothamite, Rebecca laughs and you share a look with Jon.

   “I totally am!” Her friend, Mariam jokes. “We’ve been dating for ages, darling!” Her group shares a laugh and your mind is settled on doing yours on him. 

—

Meeting Damian during his patrols had become somewhat of the norm since you started dating. For many reasons, but mainly since Batman doesn’t have super hearing, despite what the general public and some heroes may think. While you’re not entirely out of earshot of Kal-El, being in Gotham meant that he would have to focus a bit more on listening to you instead of doing whatever he was doing back home. Sure, sometimes Damian came to Metropolis, but that was rare. Only one of you could get to and from in three seconds, after all. 

“So,” You start as you slowly lower yourself down to the roof he's standing on, it’s on the outer side of Gotham, away from any of the normal patrol spots. “You’re dating someone else?” Robin frowns and crosses his arms. 

   “Ya albi, never.” He says in the most reassuring tone you’ve ever heard him speak in while slowly pulling you close. “Where’d you hear this?” It’s hard continuing the charade and you give up, a grin spreading across your face. It lets him immediately know and his frown goes into an unamused glare. 

    “These girls were joking about dating you during class,” You explain as he pushes you away and rolls his eyes. You smile and pull him back towards you, he crosses his arms and makes a point to keep a distance between the two of you.  

“Moving on,” He fixes your cape before wrapping his hands around your shoulders and pulling you down to his height. Leaning in, you watch his eyes close before he kisses you and you let your eyes close. Pulling him closer, you dig your fingers into his hips and smile when he smiles. 

“I was thinking,” He says when the two of you pull away. “We should go to the New Year’s gala together,” You pause, standing up straight and looking over the Gotham skyline before back at him. 

   “As us?” You ask and he nods, his eyes searching your face for any signs of… anything really. 

    “We could go as us for the one father is hosting and then as Robin and Rao for the Justice League party.” He suggests and he means it. He’s just as tired of kissing in corners as you are and you smile, big and bright before calming yourself. 

    “Are you sure? This is an incredibly big step, there’s no taking it back.” 

You’ve thought about this moment before. Even before you started dating, you’d daydream about the world finding out Robin and Rao were dating. About the world finding out that Damian Wayne is dating the adopted son of Lois Lane and Clark Kent, the world's best reporters. 

It wasn’t always the best in your head, you thought of the villains and the press. The jealous fans and suddenly you’re no longer just that kid in school. 

And you didn’t care. You’d thought of every single bad scenario, every scenario that almost made Clark and Lois break up; but it didn’t matter. You… you were in love with Damian, in every way. All of him, whatever he came with you were down for. You’d kill for him— you have killed for him. Not that he ever has to find that out. 

“Rao,” He says in a stern voice, pulling you back to him. “I… I want you forever. Why would I take any of this— of us back?” He asks as if you’ve offended him, his eyes darting between yours as he speaks. He’s talking as if you had thought so little of him as to think he wasn’t in the relationship a thousand percent. That you weren’t the best thing in his life and he’d do everything to not lose you. 

“I dunno,” You shrug, letting go of him but he grabs your hands to stop you from moving. “What if you want someone else one day? Someone who can’t hear the fact that your heart is racing and your blood is rushing? Or the fact that Batman is trying to reach you right now.” From several streets over, you can hear Bruce speaking into his comm trying to reach Damian. He’s asking Barbara why he isn’t responding, worried for his son. 

“I will never want someone else.” He promises, squeezing your hand and clicks his earpiece to turn it back on. 

“Yes, father?” He takes a step away but doesn’t let go of your hand. 

“Robin, where have you been? We’ve been trying to reach you for ten minutes” You hear Bruce tell him, worry lacing his voice. 

    “Sorry, father. I accidentally turned it off.” Damian gives you a look that screams not to laugh. 

    “There’s a robbery close to you, it’s just Catwoman,” Bruce explains and Damian sighs, saying he’s going on it. Better than to have his father go and have sex on the roof again. 

He still couldn't get the picture out of his head when the gossip pages found them one day. He almost moved out after that. 

“Call me,” You smile as you begin to hover above the roof. “I still gotta explain the project to you.”

“Yknow, this could go by faster if you helped.” He offers and you laugh. 

   “Is Robin asking me for help?” He scoffs and lets go of your hand before walking to the edge of the roof. You watch him, already knowing your answer to his request but you wanted to see how long it would take him to say something. 

“Let’s go!” He calls and you grin, flying over to him and he lets you scoop him up before heading over to the bank. 

—

A week comes and goes, you’d finished your presentation the same day you had told Damian about it. Clark and Bruce insisted on getting it done as quickly as possible— you’d just take any excuse to spend the night in a fucking manor. 

“Good morning!” Mrs. Elton smiles as the final bell rings. “I’m so glad some of you signed up to give your presentations, uhh—“ She looks at a notepad on her desk, reading over the names. “Today we have (Y/n), Rebecca, Julie, and Jesus!” A little confused, you try and think if there’s another (Y/n) in your class. But you’re the only one in the entire grade. And you sure as hell did not sign up. 

“You signed up?” Amira whispers and you shake your head. 

    “I absolutely did not!” You whisper back, pulling your phone from your bag to text Damian. God, it would probably take him at least half an hour to get from Gotham to Metropolis. But as you open your phone, you realize there wasn’t a mixup with the volunteers. 

I’m in the office, about to head up. 

The text had been sent two minutes ago, and when you look up you can see him at the door. He sees you see him and ducks out of view before anyone else can. You should’ve listened harder, you could’ve spotted his heartbeat sooner. 

“Oh, you’re doing a buddy presentation?” Mrs. Elton says as she looks over your slides. You nod, your heart hammering in your chest. “Are they here?” Again, you nod and she smiles. “Excellent! Bring them in!” Standing up, you head to the door and step outside.

“One second, Ms!” You say before the door closes. Damian is leaning against the wall opposite to the room. He’s dressed a little fancier than he normally is, a turtleneck and slacks. But he’s wearing a pair of thick, black boots. Are those yours..?

“You asshole!” You whisper, ignoring the boot situation and he looks at you, faking a confused look. “I’m shitting myself, dude! Oh my god!” You rush over to him, running your hands over your face as you talk. 

   “Habibi,” He places a hand on your shoulder. “You’ll do fine, it’s nothing compared to fighting Lex, right?” Sighing, you nod and calm yourself. You’d given speeches to entire countries before, this is a walk in the park comparatively. “Good, now let’s go.” He turns you around to face the door and for some reason, talking to the President was easier than walking into that classroom. 

Nope. Not fine. 

But he guides you back into the classroom and you stand at the open door. 

“Come on in!” Mrs. Elton encouraged you with a smile and a gentle wave to usher you over. Licking your lips, you head inside and Damian steps in after you. Immediately there are murmurs throughout the room and several eyes land on him. Mariam gasps and slaps Rebecca’s arm. She’s been on her phone, mostly uninterested for the most part but when she looks up her eyes go wide. 

“You may start,” Mrs. Elton hands you a remote that lets you control the slides and you thank her, fiddling with the remote as you and Damian stand off to the side of the screen.

“My best friend is Damian,” You start, trying to shake off the feeling of absolute dread over you. Not that it works.  “Um… I met him what— two, three years ago?” Time is hard for you, times blend together and merge, sometimes stretching to points where they couldn’t have possibly happened. But Kara thinks it’s the lingering effects of the Phantom Zone. 

   “Four,” He corrects and looks over at you. “I was there when you arrived.” That’s right, you’d forgotten when you crashed into Earth. Bruce and Damian had gone with Clark when the Watchtower got a reading of a spaceship entering Earth's orbit. You’d crashed into the middle of the Atlantic Ocean and almost sunk to the bottom of the sea. 

You nod, looking back to the class. “Four years ago, when I was adopted, I met him. I think he hated me back then, though.” You chuckle, pressing the slide to pictures you have where the then fourteen-year-old Damian was either attacking you or clearly yelling. In all of the pictures, you’re unbothered or confused, still learning the language. “Can’t imagine why, probably because I’m black.” 

“It’s because you kept breaking my stuff,” He corrects quickly. “I went through five phones, six doors, and I think twenty windows that first month.” He lists and you want to defend yourself, imagine suddenly being so strong that a simple nudge could send walls toppling down but you can’t say that. 

   “Don’t remember that,” Shaking your head, you click to the next slide and look at it. You’d forgotten all about that trip. 

“This was when my father took the Kent’s on vacation to The Netherlands,” Damian says, looking at the picture of you looking out of the plane window. You look unamused and you remember saying I can see this all the time, why would I get the window seat? And you ended up switching seats with Jon. Another picture is of you and Damian sitting on the windowsill of the hotel, it’s nighttime and you’re both watching the stars. 

You remembered talking to him about your home and he’d talked to you about his. 

Another picture is Damian, Jon, and you at a creek. You and Jon are knee-deep in the water but Damian is sitting on a tire swing, clearly disgusted about the idea. He’s yelled about bugs, parasites, and fish pee infecting the water. Jon wanted to throw him in, but you talked him down. 

“We spent a week there,” You explain, looking back at the class. “I think that’s when we actually became friends.” He agrees, giving a small nod and you click to the next slide. It’s a video, and from the thumbnail, it’s set around Christmastime.

You’re in the woods, wearing a jacket Lois had gifted you; Damian is holding the phone from what you remember.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Damian’s voice is the first thing you hear as the video starts. It’s different from his voice now and you wonder when the change happened. 

   “I’m good!” You dismiss and pick up your pace when you see the thing you’ve been looking for. It’s a little embarrassing hearing your voice, especially how you sounded back then. But it’s still a fond memory. 

In the middle of the forest was a lake, and it had frozen over. Clark had wanted to give it a couple of weeks to get to a proper thickness and you felt you’d waited long enough. It had been four weeks already, and you heard Alaska got pretty cold. 

“Do not,” Damian warns as you hold onto a tree, lowering yourself onto the ice. “(Y/n)!” He sets the phone down on a fallen tree and goes into view of the camera, following after you. But his point was to get as close to you as possible without getting onto the ice. 

“I’m fine, Damian!” You wave him off, putting a foot onto the ice. “It’s slippery!” You gasp, putting your other foot, and struggle to find your balance for a good second. 

   “It’s ice.” He reminds, still holding his hand out. “Now, c’mon! That’s dangerous, even for you.” Looking at him, you hold your hands on your hips and grin. Your balance is much better now that you’ve gotten your bearings. 

“Nothing bad ever happens to me!” You declare and take a shaky step further into the lake. It’s more difficult than just standing and you’re tempted to just cheat by flying a little bit. 

   “You’re an orphan for a reason,” He sighs and you loudly boo at him. You must’ve booed him for a good five seconds, both your thumbs pointed down and he rolls his eyes. 

   “One bad thing happened to me!” Taking another step, you almost fall and he lunges to grab you but you’re able to remain upright. 

“See,” You look at him and he shakes his head, carefully inspecting the ice. His body language changes when he does and he takes a mini step closer, holding his hand out with a sense of urgency. 

“Off the ice, now.” He demands and you look down. You can hear the cracks forming and there are white lines starting to appear. But you’d assumed the noises had been from the woods. “(Y/n),” Looking up at him, you grab his hand and he pulls you towards him. 

The ice lets out a sharp crack and you remember watching the ice fall into the water as the two of you fell back into the snow, your heart swelling with some feeling. It wasn’t even the fact that you’d almost fallen, you were more than sure you would’ve been a-okay; it was the fact that he had cared that much about your safety. 

“I could’ve flown,” You whisper, looking at the spot you’d been standing at. The video doesn’t pick it up, but you remember what happened. How the two of you had fallen back and he held you tightly until that point. 

“Doesn’t mean you can be so reckless,” He says, standing up before pulling you up. “Let’s head back to the cabin, be glad Lois isn’t here to scold you.” He picks the camera up as he speaks and you roll your eyes. 

   “I’m sure you’re gonna tell her either way.” The video ends and you look towards your classmates again. 

“That’s an example of why I’m the best,” You announce, faking being serious. “But in my defense, it was my second winter ever and I was very excited.” Back home, the weather was just… not cold. At least where you lived. 

   “And stupid,” Damian mutters and you nudge him, hiding your grin. He nudges you back and you’re about to start a stupid nudging war when Mrs. Elton clears her throat. 

“When was this?” Mrs. Elton asks, motioning to the video. 

    “Two years ago,” You answer, looking back to the video that’s stuck on a still of Damian and you walking up, a cheesy grin on your face while he’s less than impressed. “Clark and Lois rented out a cabin in Alaska, I invited Damian. We spent the weekend there and he never did tell Lois about the incident.” But Clark surely did hear, so when you returned there was some discussion about safety and caution. 

“That same day, (Y/n) decided it would be a good idea to try and befriend a wild bear,” Damian says and you scoff, going to the next slide. 

  “Me and Jerry did become friends,” You grumble. 

“This is for my birthday last year,” Damian says as he looks at the picture that’s in an apartment Bruce rented so Damian could have a small party with just his friends. He saw Billy, Cassie, Bart, Wally, Jackson, Nika, Jon, Courtney (who he didn’t really know, she was more your friend since he had no interest in Stargirl), Jaime, and you standing around a table with him in the center. There’s a birthday cake but most of it is hidden by the several bodies in front of it. 

He has a ridiculous paper party hat on and there’s some frosting on his nose. He looks less than amused but you remember he put up no protest to any of the things that happened that night. Although Wally said it’s because it was you doing it and had it been anyone else, they would’ve lost an arm.

And he agreed! 

There’s a green Happy Birthday balloon banner behind him and in a different picture, it’s the two of you standing in front of it. You’re both holding sparklers, which was incredibly dangerous according to basically everyone else. But it’s an apartment filled with teen superheroes, a little sparkler was not going to be the thing that caused damage. 

“It was a group sleepover,” You announce, staring at the picture Jaime had taken of everyone sleeping on the large couch. There are several blankets over people so no one’s really huddled together for warmth until you see you and Damian in the corner of the couch. 

You’re still awake, on your phone but Damian is knocked the fuck out, his head is on your shoulder and if you squint, you can see his legs wrapped in yours under the cover. Your arm is around him, keeping him from rolling onto someone who’s sleeping close by. 

“I didn’t think you’d put that one,” You whisper, admiring the picture. When making the presentation, Damian had suggested that you each get ‘secret slides’ and the others were not allowed to look until the day off. Your slide was the ice video. 

   “Nika considers it a soft launch, whatever that means.” He grins and you smile. 

There’s another picture, but it’s a picture of a picture. Taken on those handheld cameras that were really popular in the early 2000s. It’s of you, Damian, and Nika. The three of you are in the kitchen, sitting on the kitchen island with Damian in the middle. 

You’re eating cake, surprised that someone was going around taking pictures while Nika is blowing a kiss to the camera and Damian is actually smiling for the picture. 

There’s a picture right next to it where you’re actually posed. Your back is to Damian and Nika copies as the two of you fake holding guns, acting as his bodyguards. He’s playfully rolling his eyes, and there’s a wider grin on his face in that picture. It was actually your screen saver. 

Honestly, when you first met Flatline, you were kinda upset. She did kinda kill him and then they became best friends? It was confusing as all hell but whatever, you warmed up to her and she was actually really cool. 

“The cake was super good,” You note as you press the next slide. It’s another video, and it’s still from the birthday party. “I don’t remember this,” You admit, looking at the thumbnail. It’s when he’s being sung Happy Birthday. 

  “I do,” He smirks as the video plays. You could hear his heartbeat pick up a little bit and you’d have to admit you’re a little worried about the video. 

“-irthday to you, happy birthday to you! Make a wish!” Everyone says and Damian takes a second. His thinking face only appears for a second before he closes his eyes and blows out his candles. They go out and everyone cheers as he stands up tall. 

   “Try the cake!” Nika shouts from the back. 

“Come, aynii,” He tells you and you emerge from the small crowd as he wipes frosting onto his finger. You remember this exact moment and you blink, a slow and long blink as you smile. Damian notices and his heart picks up even more. He tries his best to look composed but Jon can see you unraveling in that moment. 

The class watches as he wipes the frosting onto your lips quickly enough that you don’t have time to react before he kisses you. 

And it’s an absolute riot when he does. Cheers and shouts take over the room. The kiss doesn’t last long as in the video, the people in the video are also cheering and you pull away, clearly flustered with so many people watching. He presses a quick final kiss to your lips and then licks his, fake-tasting the frosting while you wipe the frosting from your nose. 

“Tastes lovely,” Damian tells Nika as the video ends. It ends with you turning away from the camera and Damian pulling you closer to the table and him. 

“It was vanilla flavor,” Damian tells the class as they settle down. “That’s the last of the pictures,” The ten-minute requirement isn’t up yet, you have about two minutes left so your teacher suggests answering some people’s questions and you just know they are not going to be about anything other than the video. 

“How long have you been dating?” Mariam asks. 

   “Two and a half years,” Damian answers without hesitation, his hand slipping into yours. You feel his pulse settling down against your skin and run your thumb across the small, barely visible scars littering the back of his hand. 

So much for a soft launch. 

—

It turns out that the student was not live, but he did in fact post the video online. Very publicly, as it was viral absolutely everywhere. It even reached Worldstar, which you thought died out several years ago. You’d seen it across all your feeds, you’d been tagged a bunch and even sent it directly. News outlets have even contacted you and there've been some vague threats for your life, but nothing you haven’t seen before. It’s just a headache seeing so many new messages you end up making entirely new accounts and setting them to private. 

Clark and Bruce had both sat the two of you down when they saw it— which was immediately after it was posted. Seeing as one of them is a high-profile billionaire and the other is a high-profile reporter married to another high-profile reporter and journalist. There was an extremely long talk about… relationship stuff, and it was a little awkward when Bruce asked about some private information. Damian shut it down, though. Giving vague but concise answers to their questions while you tried to bury yourself on the couch. 

They ended with basically; you’re both 18, so you’re old enough, blah blah blah, wrap it and tap it, blah blah blah, at least there won’t be pregnancy scares, blah blah blah, no more sleepovers. 

That part wasn’t going to be in place for long, though.  

All in all, the worst part to come out of the situation thus far was the sudden attention on your back. 

People in school suddenly knew your name and while no one was acting strange, it was weird that people would suddenly be nicer to you. But at least no one was homophobic, that was something you were not going to complain about. 

“So,” Rebecca and her group of friends swipe the seats around you as you’re finishing up some of your work during gym class. “Damian Wayne?” She grins, sitting next in front of you. 

   “That is my boyfriend.” You hum, slowly closing your laptop. 

    “Good!” She grins. “Because we used to go to school together and I’ve never seen him so happy before! Everyone called— fuck it, probably still calls him Arab Psycho.” She imitates his public resting face, albeit very poorly and you think for a second. It’s that human movie. Tim talks about it. 

   “American Psycho but he’s Arab…” You ask and she nods. 

   “Always felt racist but those rich white fuckers didn’t care.” She explains and you hum. 

“You’re sweet,” She says. “Has he asked you to the winter dance yet?” Rebecca grins, her nails tapping against the glossy floor. “Oh my god! You two would totally be Winter formal royalty!” 

“I’m not going.” She frowns and her friends make awww sounds. It’s kinda hard to explain you’re gonna spend the night as Rao, making sure kids don’t try and blow up your school. Not to mention the fact that you really did want to go, but shit happens and you’ve been to every other school dance. And there’s still prom. “But he did ask.” 

“You’re stronger than me.” Kirara shakes her head. “What’s your Instagram, by the way?” 

—

The day of the dance rolls around and you’re stuck with Damian on the roof of the building across from the school. Forced to listen to the music and watch people dance with their dates, just waiting and watching. He notices, of course. But he doesn’t know what to say, or what to do. He’s always avoided school dances, they felt trivial, beneath him. But you enjoyed the American school traditions like those. 

He remembers whenever you’d hang out at the manor you’d insist on watching some high school movie, especially if they had dances. Apparently, they weren’t a big deal back home. 

You can’t move from the roof until you’re sure there’s no bomb. Your super-vision didn’t show anything and you scouted the place the two kids talked about but nothing. Jack shit popped up. But the two kids aren’t home, so there’s a chance they might show up and do it later. A mix of Carrie and Heathers, you suppose. 

It’s about midway through the dance that something happens. You recognize their dingy car— think a rusted car that is literally duct-taped together and one wind gust from breaking apart. The two of you slink into the shadows and you watch as they open the trunk, grabbing the bomb.

“At least this wasn’t for nothing,” You mutter and fly down, landing about four paces behind them. Robin lands in front of the car, his arms crossed and head tilted up. 

“Planning something?” You ask and they spin around, the taller one slams the trunk shut while the shorter one stuffs something into his jacket pocket. 

   “Just a dance…” Short laughs, tucking his arms under his chest. 

“And a bomb?” Robin asks and they spin around to see him. And it’s like the absolute life had drained out of them when they realized they had two vigilantes on them. One with a sword and the other with fucking heat vision. 

“We’re sorry!” Tall shouted, getting on his knees, and his hands were in the air within seconds. 

   “Dude…” Short grumbles and removes the poorly made bomb from his shirt and places it on the ground before getting on his knees. “Fucking pussy.” He glares at his friends while Robin calls for the cops to pick the two up. 

You pick up the bomb, looking it over. It’s about the size of a football and fairly heavy. But the intent was clearly there, you doubt it would’ve worked. They didn’t connect the wires properly. Seems they must’ve missed a step in their plans. 

The cops arrive soon after along with the bomb squad. They say the bomb is safe and the two kids get locked up. Before, they used to hound for you to go back to the station to make a statement but they know you’ll show up soon and leave with a quick thank you. 

“Cops in Gotham never thank us,” Robin huffs, watching them drive off. 

   “We’re nice here,” You shrug, looking at the school. “Wanna go to the Titans?” He looks at you and your barely hidden frown and then at the school. He’s sure his dignity isn’t as fragile as it seems because the decision isn’t a hard one to make. 

“We could go inside.” The frown turns into a smile and you rush inside, your cape bellowing with how fast you move. He rolls your eyes but follows you towards the music. 

Of course, the two of you cause a stir in the gym as everyone sees Rao and Robin at their shitty high school dance, slow dancing to the cheesy song playing but that’s perfectly fine. Everyone sorta returns to their own devices when they remember you’re two teenagers who probably just want to experience a dance. 

“Thank you.” You whisper to him as the night wraps up. Mariam and some dude who wasn’t her date were voted as the Winter Formal Royalty, despite them trying to give the crowns to the two of you. “This was fun. Very human.” You laugh at the last part, watching as kids get into their parent's car and head on home. You see Jon is waiting for Clark with Jay, he has a strict rule of not interacting with you when one of you is out of uniform. Something about being a horrible liar.

   “It was my pleasure seeing you smile.” He says, settling on the railing of the steps. “I’m just sorry you couldn’t enjoy it normally.” He adds, his eyes flickering to the large S symbol on your chest and then to your masked face. 

“Please,” You huff, sitting next to him. “We stopped a bomb. It was a… bad bomb, but still.” 

“You’re still here!” Mariam gasps when she sees the two of you. She has her heels in one hand and her phone in the other so her date holds the door open for her. “Good! Here—here, take it!” She hands you her crown and the other crown. Apparently the king didn’t care for it and gave it to her. “Don’t say no, either.” She shakes the crowns for you to take and you laugh, grabbing the king's crown while Damian takes the queen. 

“Okay, thank you.” The plastic crowns are but paper to you, so you take extra care not to break it. 

   “Put it on!” She urges, taking some steps back, and points her camera to the two of you. Robin looks at you and takes your crown from you, setting the crown on your head before putting his own. “Y’all are too cute!” She gushes and takes about ten pictures. You’re posing, of course, about three different poses and she’s hyping the two of you up beyond belief. 

“I’ll send these to you, bye-bye!” She shouts, running down the stairs while her boyfriend gets in the car. 

   “Bye-bye!” You call back.

“Clarks here,” Robin nudges your hand and you see Jon get into the car. 

“Break has officially started!” Someone shouts from the parking lot. “See yall mother fuckers next year!” You laugh, and float up, pulling Robin up with you. He latches on immediately, looking at you as you shoot into the air and over to Gotham. He’s a little more careful to make sure your crowns stay on than you are and he promises to keep it safe in Gotham. That honestly sounded like an oxymoron. 

“What’re you doing for Christmas?” He asks as you take your masks off in the Batcave. 

   “Mrs. Kent invited us to the farm,” Throwing yourself into the chair, Damian sits on the table while taking his gloves off. “We’ll probably be there for the entire weekend. Unless there’s some emergency. You?”

“We typically do a small gift exchange and not much else.” He shrugs. 

   “Y'know…” You trail, pushing the chair closer to him. “Martha has been wanting to meet you.” 

“She’s met me.” He says, fixing your hair into something that doesn’t make it obvious you had just been flying around. 

   “Yeah, but not as her grandson’s boyfriend.” He cups your face as you speak, staring at you with this soft gaze that makes you like putty in his hands. 

“He’ll go,” Bruce says as he enters the cave. Damian grumbles and drops his hands to his side while you spin around to see him. He’s not in his Batman gear, though. Just his nightwear. “Clark invited all of us yesterday.”

“Fun!” You turn to Damian who’s not too happy about the fact he still has the spend the holiday with his siblings. 

   “My siblings are going to cause your grandmother to have a heart attack. I’d advise you to fool-proof the house.” He warns you, getting off of the computer and pulling you up from the chair. 

“It’s Kryptonian proof. They can’t do much damage,” You call him a name he’s heard a bunch. It’s this word in Kryptonian but you won’t tell him what it means and he doesn’t know the language enough to piece it together. But he likes it. It just feels right. 

   “That’s what you think.” 

But despite his warnings and swearing up and down about his family ruining the day, Christmas went smoothly. Save for the embarrassment of introducing your boyfriend to your family and such, of course. The gifts were wonderful, but what you loved the most was Damian’s recreation of your home, you hadn’t thought he’d remembered so much detail from when you talked about it but he was spot on. You’d gotten him a special sword, made of alien metal and carefully carved with his initials. He said it was too good to use, that something of that marksmanship should never see bloodshed. But his eyes sparkled when you pulled out a set of new charcoal and paints for him. 

He spent the rest of the night drawing. 

With Christmas wrapped up, the time for the New Year’s party rolled around. Of course, Bruce had formally invited the Kents to the gala that was being hosted at some fancy building in Gotham. You’d been all but attacked by Dick to get a matching suit with Damian. Not that you minded, of course. 

“Your first public appearance as a couple, congrats.” Duke grins as he sees you standing next to Damian, the two of you fixing the final details of your suits. You peer up from your cufflinks and see he’s in a fancy yellow suit. He paired it with a soft blush pink undershirt and silver jewelry. 

   “Thanks,” You smile and check your sleeves. Still nicely pressed and the cuffs shine against the silky brown suit. 

   “Nervous?” He asks, stepping into the room as Damian hands you the dahlia brooch the two of you were going to wear. Damian knew more about flower symbolism than you, but you just knew the flower meant something about the two of you that he wholeheartedly agreed with. 

“Far from it,” Damian responds, pinning his own brooch to his suit. He makes it look so damn easy, but that’s probably because he doesn’t need to worry about breaking the brooch. “Yellow clearly suits you.” He tells Duke who in turn, compliments Damian’s suit. 

“Oh, you two did henna?” Duke asks, seeing your deep orange-stained hands. He’s too far away to see the exact details, but he knows henna when he sees it. 

   “His idea,” You grin, looking at the designs on your hands. “We still have to find our initials, though.” Your eyes flicker to where Amira’s mother had hidden the letter D on your hand.

“In private.” Damian adds, his hand finding reprise in your own. He doesn’t need to look at Duke for him to understand that Damian is telling him to leave and close the door. The clicks closed as he guides you to his bed. The two of you sit together and he looks first. 

“These designs are lovely,” He utters, his fingers ghosting over your skin as if you were a delicate artifact he was trying so desperately to keep safe. There were a lot of small details, hardly any of your skin was showing and it just looked like a lace you’d wrapped around your hand. His eyes flicker from left to right, as if he’s reading words in a book trying to find the letter D somewhere in the henna. 

He’s far from frustrated, though. He absolutely loves that you’d agreed to do this and even more so that you clearly didn’t half-ass in getting it done. You’d even let the henna sit for two hours extra, just in case your genes made the stain fade faster. 

“Here,” He points to one of the curves along a flower, his finger tracing over the hidden D. 

   “That was fast,” You look up at him and he just can’t look away from your hand. You call him, using another Kryptonian pet name and he looks at you. 

   “I’m perceptive.” He hands you his hands and you gently take them. 

You suppose you’re cheating, but your eyes are naturally gifted and you can zoom in. Even so, it does take you longer than him. You’re looking between his hands, almost stressing about finding out. 

“There,” You point to your initial resting on his ring finger, right above the second knuckle. He smiles and nods and you pat yourself on the back. And then he says something— something that’s surely a promise. He says it in a way that’s clear he’s thought about it for so long that nothing is to change his mind about it and you stare at him with wide eyes and an even wider smile. 

“It’ll be harder to find when we get married.”

—

The gala is nice. The two of you arrived after your families just two hours before midnight, hand in hand. Perhaps it was on purpose, but you’re holding the hand that has your initial and he’s holding the hand that has his. Maybe that’s his way of keeping it between the two of you; intimate. 

There are a lot of people, as is expected with galas. A lot of rich old people, a bunch of shitty reporters trying to kiss ass to Clark and Lois, and their older children. No one under sixteen is ever allowed to gala’s, a rule that came into place when Jason was taken under Bruce’s wing. You were surprised to hear the rule wasn’t because of Dick, but apparently Dick didn’t attend enough gala’s for the rule to be needed. 

It’s your first gala seeing you’ve always declined the offers to go but there wasn’t room to say no in this situation. But it’s calm. You were more nervous about your presentation than about this. You and Damian mingle together for around an hour and a half before you see Kara at the snack table and excuse yourself.

You’re talking to Kara about school and she’s talking to you about her job. It just sounds like a bunch of human adult stuff you’re probably going to have to do in five years and honestly? That sounds like hell. But she makes it sound fun. 

“Mother.” Damian says from across the room. Your head snaps over to where he is and you see her. Holy shit. You should run. “What’re you doing here?” His head turns to find you in the crowd but you see that Thalia is already looking directly at you. At least she’s smiling, that’s good… right?

“His mothers here?” Kara whispers, having heard that too. She’s been big on meeting the woman who raised him, apparently hearing how Bruce and Damian talk about her isn’t enough for her never-ending curiosity. 

   “I’m gonna piss my pants!” You gasp, looking at her. “Oh my god, she’s gonna kill me. i— Kara!” Your eyes widen as she tugs you after her. She barely weaves past people and you have to awkwardly apologize to them and let this crazy woman drag you over to your boyfriend and his assassin mother. 

“Hello, Ms. Al Ghul.” You gulp as Kara makes you stand between her and Damian. 

   “Ah, so this is your partner.” Thalia looks at her son and then at you. He’s not upset, but he’s cautious. He’s purposefully slowing his heart rate and you hear the subtle sounds of his joints moving. He’s ready to take you and run. 

   “Yes, this is my significant other, (Y/n).” He introduces you with a hand on your back. “And his aunt, Kara.”

“I’ve heard a lot about the boy who my son has fallen in love with.” She bluntly says and you don’t know if you should smile or hide. Neither of you has actually said the L word before. 

   “Mother…” He whispers and she tsks. 

   “What does he call you?” She asks you, ignoring her son's plea to stop taking. 

“Uh…” You trail. “He says: ya albi; habibi, hobbi, and ya hayati. There’s some more but I can’t remember…” When you say them, she takes a deep breath in and turns to her son. He’s a little red but not from anger. 

   “And do you know what they mean?” She asks, her eyes flicker to you. 

   “No, ma’am.” You answer honestly and she grins. That’s where he gets it, oh my god. 

“He’s professing his love for you. My love, my darling, love of my heart, and my life.” She explains. 

“You call him the same things!” Kara points out, slapping your arm and Damian looks over, the embarrassment off of his face and now he’s confused.

   “Kara…!” Your eyes widen as it’s your turn to be embarrassed. 

    “He calls you…” She waits for Damian to tell her the pet names and now you’re embarrassed that he’s repeating them. She doesn’t hide her excitement or her expressions like Thalia had and openly gushes. “The first one is: my only love. Then he says: my life and my reason.” 

“Your reason?” He asks and you turn your face from him. If you weren’t surrounded by people, you would’ve flown away. 

“Where we’re from, to have someone as your reason is the highest form of love. You’re living for someone, you’re devoting your life to them and their happiness.” You carefully explain and Kara nods, a hand over her heart as she gushes again. 

“Let’s leave the boys to their devices and chat,” Thalia smiles at Kara who nods and loops her arms with the literal assassin. 

“So…” You trail but the lights turn off and you hear the countdown start from one of the speakers around the room. Geeze, the night had gotten away from you. 

“Shall we?” He asks, stepping in front of you. New Year's kiss. Okay, holy shit. This is. Okay, you got this. You hear them say three and you get ready, cupping his face in your hands. You figure this is the best time to say it. Hell, you both have practically been saying it for years now. Just now it’ll be in a language you both understand.

“I love you.” You whisper as everyone shouts Happy New Year around the two of you. 

Kissing him, he holds you close and you’re sure you’re about ten seconds into the new year before he pulls back from the kiss. 

“I love you, too.”