#hold on I have to open the game to figure out his name

[writersblockedx]

Winters Protection

Pairing - Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader Summary - When Alexander Piece's daughter begins to rebel, he assigns The Winter Solider as her personal bodyguard.  Warnings - Mentions of violence and death

A/n - I haven't uploaded to tumblr for a long while, but I hope you still enjoy this, I'm likely to make a part two as well! Also happy new year all!

Masterlist

It had become a game. One of which you were known to win far too often. Slipping away from the security detail when they were too busy smoking a cigarette outside, running across the bustling streets of nighttime Brooklyn as you and your friends headed to some niche bar they wouldn't find you. Maybe you had been stupid to think you could continue to get away with it without your father finding out.

It almost should have been expected that night. The early morning sun cast across your rustic, downtown apartment as your intoxicated self stumbled with the key. When you pushed the door open, dark figures stared back at you. Only personalised when you switched at the light and found your father sitting with a class of neat whisky at the breakfast bar. Stood behind him was a broad-shouldered man. One of which you had to assume was another bodyguard. Until your gaze flickered down to the metallic shine of his left arm: The Winter Solider.

Your focus turned to your father first. "Dad?" His name left your tongue with uncertainty as you drew closer into your own home. "What is this?"

He was slow, unusually calm considering the situation. You had been through this enough to know that meant he was truly mad. A part of you wondered if he was about to let his pet loose on you, teach you a lesson you wouldn't forget. "You we're out, all night, no bodyguards, doing god knows what with who knows. I come to learn this is-" He takes a sharp inhale as to calm his furious tone. "This is happening every single weekend. How stupid are you, little girl?"

You kept quiet as he stepped from his seat, downing the rest of the whisky from the expensive glass. "You can't be trusted, do you understand?"

"Look, Dad, I just wanted-"

A harsh throw. Then a clash. Glass flying left, right and center. Your breath caught in your throat before you could even feel the blood dripping from your cheek. But you weren't worried about your torn skin, but rather the thousand-pound glass he had let shatter without a second thought. 

"You are in no position to speak back, right now." You kept your lips sealed and your eyes dry despite the tears which fought to escape. "It's become evident to me you have no desire for your own safety. You are naive enough to flaunt around this city in your short little skirts with no concern for our enemies. If you weren't family, you would be dead." Such a phrase echoed across your mind, sure to keep you awake.

"So, now, you have him." He wandered around to where the Winter Solider had yet to move from, his eyes dark and brooding. "24/7, ensure you don't do anything stupid again."

You rushed up, panic in your eyes. 24/7. No more nights that swept into the morning. No more privacy. Nothing. "Please, I'll stop, I'll be more careful. I'll stop ditching the security detail. But I don't need your science project to look after me."

He stared down. For a moment you thought he might throw something else at the wall. Luckily, he wasn't holding onto anything anymore. "It's too late for that." His gaze turned to the man. "Clean it up."

In an instant, the soldier was moving. Gathering the glass in his bare hands from the floor. A hand fell on your bleeding cheek, forcing you to face your father. "I do this because I love you." Though, you found such hard to believe.

A breath of relief fell from your lips which his touch left your skin. Your eyes not moving to the floor as you listened to the door open and then shut, leaving you under the protection of the Winter Solider. It was in that moment, your body gave in. Tears flooded from your eyes, your knees shook and you forced your body onto the sofa. The distant sound of glass in the background not stopping your hands from meeting your face.

You hadn't been sure how long had passed. Only that when you uncovered your face from your hands, the soldier was facing you with a first aid kit. You watched him carefully as he took out a wipe and some stitches. The wipe hit your wound with a sting that lingered. Enough to cause your hand to grip his wrist, forcing him to a stop. "I've got it." You grumbled, taking the supplies for yourself.

He was still silent. A nod of recognition before he continued to clean the floor. You were left to your tears, cleaning the wound and forcing your body through the pain. You had no care for the man, barely such, that you left in your kitchen that night. From the stories you had heard, you should have been more concerned about the monster cleaning up broken glass. Yet, he now served to protect you - as much as it pissed you off.

You somehow found yourself soundly sleeping off the argument, the intoxication and the pain. No worries for the man, no hospitality. You hadn't even wandered where he slept. However, you had questioned whether he did need sleep. The Winter Solider seemed almost robotic. He obeyed orders from the highest command. Even if that meant being stuck in Alexander Pierce's eldest daughter's apartment, ensuring she wasn't going to sneak out.

It confused your senses when you awoke to the smell of food. The distant sound of the cooker crackling. It pulled you out of bed, in nothing but an oversized t-shirt to find the soldier cooking breakfast rather than pulling men in half. "What- erm" You wiped your tired eyes. "What are you doing?"

He didn't even look away when he answered, "Orders."

 "And they are?"

He severed up the simple plate of scrambled eggs on toast before turning to you, plate in hand. "Care for you, ensure your safety, whatever means necessary."

With a furrowed brow, you took the plate. You couldn't deny the smell was inviting. "And that includes cooking me breakfast?"

"A night of intoxication. Carbs help." He informed.

Despite your confusion, you sat at the breakfast bar and began eating, trying to ignore the murderer who stood across from you. Only a moment passed before he spoke up, "Where is the bathroom?"

You pointed up, "First door on the left." And you watched, even more confused as the man's back turned to you, disappearing up the stairs. It only took a minute before the sound of the shower could be heard; guess your father wasn't lying about the 24/7 bodyguard.

It had yet to hit you how much your life truly was about to change until later on. As was usual, you were ready to head into town. Not for a bar-hopping trip, or a late-night date, just coffee with a friend. Something simple, something that your father once deemed safe. Yet as you headed for your front door, walking right passed the soldier, he stood. His voice forcing you to look from your phone screen, "Where are you going?"

You had been so close to slipping away. "Out." Your words were followed with a shrug. "I'll not be long."

In between the time of responding to the message and looking back again, the winter solider had acquired a leather jacket and a pair of gloves. "You don't have to come with me. I'm just meeting a friend." You almost laughed at the thought of needing a bodyguard for coffee.

"It's orders." He repeated.

You should have expected this from my dad. "Really? I'll be safe, alright?"

"If you want to request me to not join, you're going to have to call pierc- your father."

You dreaded nothing more in that moment. You knew what his answer would be. Some long, metaphoric lecture, and you'd still be faced with the answer of no. "Fine, just erm-" You looked him over. "Be subtle, please."

He nodded before trailing behind you as you headed out onto the streets of Brooklyn. A few eyes followed you and the brooding man who didn't leave your side, didn't speak, yet seemed like he was awaiting something. Ready to pounce at any sign of danger. He wasn't like any of your past bodyguards. He wasn't scrolling through hinge in the meantime, nor was he yearning for a cigarette. He was here for a job and it seemed as if nothing was going to stop him. 

By the time you reached the quaint coffee shop, you spotted your friend already sipping a brewing drink in the window. A smile grazed your lips as you looked back at the soldier. "You're not coming in are you?"

The expression you faced suggested you had no choice, "It's-"

"Order. Yeah, I get it." You finished for the man before a sigh fell from your lips as you pulled at the door. "Just, maybe sit a few tables away from us, please?" You begged and such was responded with nothing but a silent nod.

"Finally!" Called your friend as she stood from the wooden table, her eyes still lingering over the muscular man at your side. "And who is this?" She was seconds away from laying her hands around his biceps.

"New security detail." You answered with nothing but a stern expression.

Her brow raised, "To watch over you while we get coffee and talk shit?" Even she seemed to find it laughable. She was used to joining their nights out with unknown men looking out for you. But this was different, it was a whole lot more intense. And, quite frankly, getting on your nerves. 

"Let's just say my dad got tired of me ditching my bodyguards, he's trying to teach me a lesson, it won't last long." Or so you liked to tell yourself. Your head snapped back round to the soldier as you continued, "But he's not going to sit with us." It was as if he needed a reminder.

The soldier stared only at yourself. A stern nod before he wandered towards a distant table, still with a good view of yourself. However, it was good enough for you as you followed your friend towards the spot she had been keeping warm. "He seems...quiet." Your friend put politely.

You looked over your shoulder, already meeting his gaze as if it was glued to your figure. It faulted your smile as you gazed back to your friend, "He's one of my dad's projects." And projects was putting it nicely. You didn't know everything, but you knew enough. The man who was sworn to protect you, was a killer, blood red hands, and a list of victims to follow.

"Not one you can ditch then?" There was a hit of mischief in her eyes. It seemed to have become a tradition that any club nights had to have the thrill of running away. Now, it seemed less as a thrill and more of a danger.

"No, not really." You answered with a sigh to her disappointment.

And so as the conversation swiftly returned to the mundane gossip, you couldn't help but feel the need to look over your shoulder. You thought with the presence of a bodyguard that need would dissipate. Instead, you couldn't help but worry about what your new bodyguard was truly capable of. And how much you were going to see while he was assigned to your safety. 

[roguebotanist]

Unlike her sister, Lesley is nearing adulthood with no romantic prospects. She heads down to the Cool Teen Gas Station to find someone she can get along with. This guy seems to meet the minimum requirements.

[kizzer55555]

DP x DC: The Most Dangerous Card Game

Ok so Danny has essentially claimed earth as his. And he is fully aware that there are constant threats to the planet. Now he can’t stop a threat that originates on earth (that’s something he’ll leave to the Justice league) but he can do something about outside threats. Doing some research on ancient spells, rituals, and artifacts, he cast a world wide barrier on the planet to protect it from hostile threats so they cannot enter. This will prevent another Pariah Dark incident. However, barriers like this come at a price. You see, there are two ways to make a barrier. Either make one powered up by your own energy and power (which would be constantly draining) or set up a barrier with rules. The way magic works is that nothing can be absolutely indestructible. It must have a weakness. The most powerful barriers weren’t the ones reinforced with layer after layer of protective charms and buffed up with power. Those could eventually be destroyed either by being overpowered, wearing them down, or by cutting off the original power source. No, the most powerful barriers were the ones with a deliberate weakness. A barrier indestructible except for one spot. A cage that can only be opened from the outside. Or that can only be passed with a key or by solving a riddle. So Danny chooses this type of barrier and does the necessary ritual and pours in enough power to make it. And he adds his condition for anyone to enter. 

Now the Justice league? Find out about the barrier when Trigon attempts to attack, they were preparing after he threatened what he would do once he got to earth. How he would destroy them. The Justice league tried to take the fight to him first but were utterly destroyed, so they retreated home to tend to their injuries, and fortify earth for one. Last. Stand. Only when Trigon makes his big entrance…he’s stopped.

The Justice league watch in awe as this thin see-through barrier with beautiful green swirls and speckled white lights like stars apears blocking Trigon and his army’s advance. The barrier looks so thin and fragile yet no matter how hard the warlord hits, none of his attacks can get through and neither can he damage said barrier. That’s when Constantine and Zatanna recognizes what this barrier is. Something only a powerful entity could create. For a moment, the league is filled with hope that Trigon can’t get through yet Constantine also explains that it’s not impenetrable. And clearly Trigon knows this too for he calls out a challenge. 

And that’s when, in a flash of light, a tiny glowing teenager appears. He looked absolutly minuscule compared to Trigon and yet practically glowed with power (this isn’t a King Danny AU though).

And that is when the conditions for passing the barrier are revealed. And the Justice realize that the only thing stopping Trigon and his army from decimating earth. The only way he can get through….is by beating this glowing teenager in a card game. 

Not just any card game though. The most convoluted game Sam, Danny, and Tucker invented themselves. It’s like the infinite realms version of magic the gathering, combined with Pokémon, and chess. And Danny is the master. So sit down Trigon and let’s play.

(The most intense card game of the Justice league’s life).

After Danny wins, this happens a few more times with outer word beings and possibly even demons attempting to invade earth, yet none have been able to beat the mysterious teenager in a card game. Constantine might even take a crack at it and try to figure out how to play. He’s really bad though. Every time this happens, the Justice league worry that this might be the time the teenager looses. Yet every time, he wins (even if only barely). 

Meanwhile, Danny, Sam, and Tucker have gotten addicted to the game and play it almost daily. Some teachers might seem them playing the game are are like ‘awww how cute’ not realizing this game is literally saving the world. Jazz is just happy they aren’t spending as much time on their screens playing Doomed.

[thewickedjazzy]

Level 3: Baby Fever [Breeding] for Kinktober.

ᡣ𐭩osamu dazai x afab! reader.

ᡣ𐭩Synopsis: you're thrilled to kick off the new kinky card game with your boyfriend, but you definitely didn't expect it to culminate in your first time going raw.

ᡣ𐭩Warnings: nsfw, mdni, 18+ content, smut with plot, breeding kink, mating press, bdsm elements, breathplay, alcohol consumption, profanity, kink and fetish themes, sexual challenges, pregnancy kink, unprotected sex, cum mentioned...etc.

ᡣ𐭩Word count: 2.3k

ᡣ𐭩-check Kink Coin to unlock bonus fics´-

“Is everything set?” you ask, eyes locking onto your boyfriend’s figure as he places the last decently sized shot glass on the table looking you up with a mischievous smirk, sweet excitement sparkling in his brown irises.

“all set, my love.” he chuckles, enthusiasm radiating from him warm as the sunshine of spring as he rests both hands on the table in front of you, his sleeves rolled up and shirt fully unbuttoned.

you take a deep breath, feeling the exhilaration twisting in your stomach. tonight is the night you’ve been waiting for—a card game you’d eagerly anticipated all week: freak or drink. while the game is pretty straightforward, the risks and rewards are irresistibly enticing. each card drawn could push your boundaries, could strip you bare—figuratively and literally—just thought of it makes your thighs press together instinctively.

“okay, let’s start!” your voice betraying the nervous excitement that courses through your veins. you bite your lip as your hand hovers over the deck before pulling the top card from the pile, feeling the cool edges glide across your fingertips as you flip it over, eyes going wide at the challenge: “ sensual stuffing.”

you snort softly, caught between disbelief and laughter. “no way,” you scoff, shaking your head with a smile.

“c'mon, baby... are you shy?” dazai teases, leaning in closer against the table, eyes roving over your form, stripping you down before he even touches you.

you roll your eyes as the familiar rush of high heavens of pleasure pulse through you. “not shy, just... strategic,” you purr, smirking as your hands slide beneath the hem of your dress. the lace of your panties catches on your fingertips as you slowly drag them down, stepping out of them and holding them up, feeling the cool air hit the places where your warmth had been trapped.

with a sly grin, you twirl the delicate lace between your fingers, holding it up like a prize. “open up, pretty boy.”

dazai’s smirk never fades, his lips parting ever so slightly as his eyes flicker between your face and the panties dangling between your fingers. it feels exhilarating to push boundaries, especially with that brown haired-brat, who always keeps you on your toes.

you step closer, heat rushing to your face spreading a pink tint under the barrier of your skin as you bring the lace closer to his mouth. slowly, you press the delicate fabric past his lips, watching him hum softly, his tongue grazing the lace before biting down just enough to hold it in place, never breaking eye contact.

his smirk falters for a moment as he tastes your slick drenched panties, before he groans pulling the lace out of his mouth.

“two things that i love,” he murmurs, “you and how easily you get wet.” his tongue darts out, flicking over his lips, tasting the ghost of you still lingering there as he lazily draws the next card from the deck. it's obvious that his focus isn’t on the game but rather on you, completely.

he holds the card between his fingers for a moment, his smirk widening devilishly as he reads it aloud. “fuck yes!! 'body shot.'”

before you can respond, dazai’s grip tightens around your waist, hoisting you up effortlessly. the world spins for a second, your breath catching in your throat as he slams you down onto the couch, knocking the air from your lungs. you barely have time to gasp his name before his hands are on you again, fingers slipping under the fabric, peeling the dress from your body as if it were nothing more than a flimsy barrier in his way.

he doesn’t stop, brown irises completely dilated as he grabs the shot glass filled with your favourite amber liquid before tipping it ever so slowly over your chest. the cold alcohol spills onto your bare breasts and the sudden cold sensation makes you arch into him feeling a shiver ripples down your spine as the liquor trickles over your nipples, leaving a glistening trail.

“fuck...’samu,” you whimper, thighs instinctively clenching as he watches the liquid pool at the curve of your breast.

without hesitation, his lips are on your naked bud, tongue flicking out to lap up the trail of alcohol all over your aerola, relishing the feeling of his mouth hot against your chilled skin as he slurps up every drop with a fervent hunger, sucking and nibbling on your sensitive nipples, taking his time, to admire the way you writhe beneath him. each flick of his tongue sends jolts of pleasure straight to your core, juices already starting to slick your thighs.

“you're a moaning mess when we're just getting started?” he pulls away with a low chuckle, stretching his arm to draw a card from the nearby table.

you’re barely recovering from the high of his touch, breath coming in short, needy gasps, “ugh—show meee,” you whine, making a grab for it.

“holy fuck—” the burnet curses under his breath, pausing for a moment.

“whattt?” you pout, leaning closer to catch the words on the card. 'breeding'. oh no! you’ve always been so careful—always on your pills, always using protection. you never let yourself slip, never let caution fall away. but this time? you can’t help it. the temptation eats you alive, a desperate, yearning desire to feel every inch of him, raw and reckless. what if it’s even better than you imagined? what if it’s a pleasure so intense, it leaves you breathless, trembling, and utterly undone?

the thought rushes through your mind and before you can fully process it, you feel his cold fingers dig into your bare skin again lifting you from the couch. needless to say, the next thing you hear is the bedroom door swinging open. suddenly, you’re being pushed down onto the bed, the soft mattress beneath you bouncing with the force.

“listen baby, we’re not just gonna try for a baby tonight. we’re gonna make one.”

once he says that with a whisper, your cunt clenches around nothing instinctively, you part your lips to utter something— anything.

“aa—’samu?” you manage, breathless, as he climbs onto the bed, hovering low, his hands press the mattress on either side of you.

“you’re gonna take all of me tonight, hmm?... spread your gorgeous legs baby—uh, fuck yes, just like that.” his large palms push apart the plushy gates of thighs and spread you wide by your perky ass cheeks, giving him a clearer view of your flushed folds.

no amount of imagination could prepare dazai for how much you're leaking right now. juices soaking your pillowy folds, and he can not move his eyes away from you. it's like he's been craving this very moment a long time ago.

“ahh... i've always dreamed of this moment, filling you up with my seed, ngh—!” you never expected to crave his thick, hot cum to fill you this much, but with the way he hangs above you now? mop of brown hair tickling the tip of your nose while his gaze locks on your spread-open thighs and puffy pussy—so ready to welcome his angry flushed cock, his pants hang low, barely clinging to his hips, just under the heavy weight of his balls.

“’s-samu—” you gasp, barely able to breathe his name. oh god, he's losing it, going absolutely wild just hearing his name drip so sweetly from your glossy lips. you feel it before you see it—his thick, swollen tip pressing against your slick entrance, throbbing and red as it starts to push inside your tight, resisting cunt.

“gonna wreck that pretty little pussy of yours,” he growls, head dropping forward to rest on your soft alcohol stained breasts “stretch it wide, make you my slut.”

“ffffuck- this feels better than i imagined—” he exhales sharply, trying his best to resist the urge not to slam his entire lengthy cock deep inside you.

you thrash under his touch, the languid, torturous rhythm making your hips buck toward him, seeking any sort of friction. “nngh—samu-please... more,” you gasp, eyes fluttering closed, head spinning from the combination of enthusiasm, desire, and his tip teasing your entrance.

he cannot help but hug you to his chest, feeling your heartbeats ripple through your ribcage and mingle with his own, he pushes several more inches through your sopping folds, your hips buck up involuntarily circling them over his cock, listening out for the lewd noises that sounds from both your sexes rubbing against one another.

drops of thick precum oozing from his cock finding solace between your gooey walls, the sensation of his bare lengthy cock slipping slowly inside you is ethereal.

finally he slams his entire cock through your fluttering cunt with a throaty groan, jaw completely slack as he gasps next to your ear shoving both of the legs to your chest from beneath your knees, completely folding you in half and sinking his cock deeper and deeper inside you. the full stretch makes your cunt clench and thighs spasm before trembling against his palms.

and oh god, the feeling of dopamine surging through you as technicolor bursts of pleasure dance behind your eyelids. you know your boyfriend's body all too well—his cock is more long than thick, with most of the heft in his swollen, heavy balls, slapping against your doughy ass with each thust. but this time? it’s different—this time, there’s no barrier between you. it’s raw. his bare cock filling you up to the brim in ways you’ve never felt before, and you can feel almost evey ridge, every vein of it pulsing between your tight, slick walls, making your nerve-endings buzz with pleasure.

“you feel that baby? ngh— you want me to make—oh shit—your pretty pussy leak with my cum hmm? put a baby in you?” he says in a low bristling tone making you swallow his cock even more with his words.

the constant hitting of his tip against your spongy spot is too much, but you can't push him from this position, even when your pretty nails are scaping his back, nothing would push him away.

“our baby's gonna have those pretty eyes of yours? and those sweet, soft lips?” he purrs gently, as if he isn't rearranging your guts and bottoming out inside you with a harsh, resounding slap of skin on skin, his heavy balls smacking against the curve of your ass as he drives himself deep to the hilt almost breaking the bed as it creaks beneath you from the force of his thrusts.

“’sammuuu ahh— t’much mngh fuck—you're insane.” you cry out frantically, voice hoarse, body jiggling like jelly with each harsh thrust.

“stay with me, babe… mmff— it’s only been thirty minutes..i know you can handle more.” he murmurs, his forehead pressed against yours, lips forming a soft ‘o’ shape. “ goddammit mngh—you ready to be a mama?” with that, he begins a fast, deep rhythm inside you, his slender hips delivering the perfect stroke.

each thrust has his tip brushing delightfully against your cervix, making your cunt spasm wildly as each thrust sending your essence to splatter against his abs, slick and messy.

“fuck- s’tight and perfect,” dazai growls deeply, pressing his weight against you as he slips his tongue into your mouth, capturing your swollen pink lips and swallowing your moans and whimpers with your knees positioned on either side of your chest.

dazai osamu, the devil that he is, the man who has cradled your heart in his hands, is giving you the best night of your life—guiding you to meet whatever divine force dwells above the clouds as he fills your gooey hole so perfectly.

“mmph shiit—’s-amu..’m clos-e” you cry as he keeps hitting into you roughly, his pelvis grinding against your swollen clit as he grunts ferally into your mouth.

“yeah? gonna let me cum so hard inside you, baby?” he drawls against the sensitive skin where your jaw meets your neck, before gripping your ankles and pressing them back near your ears, his cock sinking into the endless black hole between your thighs, as if he's being consumed by the gravitational force of your cunt.

“gonna make you pregnant... fuh-k—your pussy feels so good mmph holy fuck—i love you hahh.. i fuckin’ love you,” he groans as his vision starts to blur with white-hot pleasure, his balls tightening almost painfully and hips stuttering as he pushes deeper into you, the sloppy heat of your tight walls squeezing every last drop from him. the moment he feels your walls spasm around his twitching cock signalling that you're cumming a throaty groan leaves his chest, spilling hot thick globs of cum inside you—and you couldn't help but unconsciously count the amout of pumps he's feeding your delicious cunt with. seven.. eight.. nine.. ten??—holy fuck! twelve? his cock pulsing with every shot as he kept going, pushing more and more of his release into you till tears cloud your vision.

his breath starts to subside, body finally beginning to relax as the intoxicating pleasure starts to fade into a hazy afterglow. he lets out a long, shaky sigh, pulling out leisurely, your soft whimper catching his ear as his softened cock slips free from your stuffed entrance with a slick 'plop' sound.

his eyes fix on the sight of his cum slowly dripping out of your now-so-wide cunt, a trail of white drops of ambrosia running down toward the bedsheets before he scoops some of it up with two fingers, pushing it back inside you again.

you instinctively grip his wrist tightly still breathing heavily, however you don’t stop him, in fact, your body shudders at the sensation as he gently plunges his fingers deeper, making sure every last drop stays inside as he watches, fascinated with how your trembling body accepts it all again.

he lets out a breathless chuckle as he glances at the nightstand, reaching for his phone, he then opens the camera app, focusing on you before snapping a picture of your dripping pussy.

“ugh ’samu, what are you doin’?!” you groan, trying to catch your breath.

“i'll save this for when our kid's old enough and say, 'this is how we made you.'”

“please don’t tell me you’re starting a scrapbook!” you breathe out, rolling your eyes, still trying to steady your racing heart.

“and ruin the surprise for our kid? tsk..never! i’ll keep the best bits for a bedtime story instead.” the burnet chuckles lowly, his hands tenderly massaging your trembling legs, fingers digging into the soft skin.

“that’s one way to guarantee therapy bills in the future.”

TAGS: @a-smol-bean @violetbutterflix @amanoava @falloutjuli @embersweapons @warriordemigosworld @cathias @v15aexe @vasarii @pe4rl-diver @sukidenks @dazaifavbandage @chuuminn @fyodorsprettynun @ace-0fspades69 @irasamu @trippyserval @alyszuha @bittysuguro @writingandmusing @corruptedwrathkitsune @thedamselzelda @fyodorssimp1 @vikkinakahara @laylabuurr

[celestiamour]

pls pls plsss write smth where fem reader and se-mi meet at the games and fall for one another? w the reader having a sort of bubbly and cute personality! tysm 🫶🫶

ft. se-mi x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ falling for your cute and bubbly personality┊0.7k words

contains: fluff! reader is a sweetheart, asking you out

➤ author's note: i was so in love with her this entire season like i couldn’t stop giggling every time she showed up on screen

you seem to be able to create friends even in this impossible situation, she notes as she watches you with amused eyes while you flutter around the room from group to group like a pretty butterfly flying from flower to flower. there’s at least one person in the dozens of teams who you know by name and not number, and even if you didn’t, you thought all of them were deserving of a drop of sunshine that was your personality. you made even the most difficult people crack a smile with how infectious your energy was and how sweet you were even in these murder games, and it made her indifferent heartbeat a little faster whenever it was her turn to have your attention. who wouldn’t feel that way when there was such a cute girl who reminded her of the princesses from those cartoons she watched when she was little?

“se-mi unnie!! how are you holding up?”

she hadn’t seen the real light of the sun in days, yet your smile shone even brighter than the morning star and she briefly wondered if she would be blinded if she looked directly at it. you were like a doll in the sense that it seemed to be permanent, but after seeing the look on your face after the first game where dozens died like they meant nothing, she now knows you were simply spreading some much-needed love to others as a way to cope with the traumatic experience like the sweetheart you were.

“i’m doing okay, i just wish the food tasted better— come sit next to me,” she commanded, patting her free hand against the open spot on the mattress because she wanted as much of your time as possible. 

“well, it’s kimbap, so you can’t really go wrong with it!” you obediently climbed onto the bed with her, sitting so close that she could smell the artificial flower-scented soap of the shower you took a couple of hours ago. “when we get out of here, you should come over to my place and i’ll cook you some food! i’m not as good as my grandma, but it’s a lot better than the cold stale stuff they serve here.”

“that would be great.” she liked the idea of coming over to your place, already able to imagine your room full of stuffed animal collections and lace curtains, although she would much prefer it if she came as something more than a friend— but now that she thinks about it, did you even like girls in that way like she does? you didn’t really express romantic interest in girls, but you exactly didn’t show any for guys either, being more of a little sister figure for them all rather than a potential love interest like she saw you as. 

there was only one way to tell, so se-mi did what she did best, and that was flirting with girls. 

“god, i wish this could be over already,” she sighed as she leaned over to your side to rest her head on your shoulder. “i would love to come over to your place, we could have a spa night and watch romance movies until morning.”

as soon as the words left her mouth, she felt heat start to radiate off your face. “l-like a date?”

“well, only if you want it to be a date…” 

“w-well… um… i would… really, really like that… um, mrs kang is calling for me! i’ll talk to you later!” you stuttered as you rushed off in the direction of the old lady and her son, covering your face with your hands and running away like an embarrassed anime girl. she watched carefully as you told them something in a clearly excited tone before smacking the man with the glasses when his head snapped in se-mi’s direction, but they both seemed very happy for you which made her smile knowing you were on board

“goddamn it, why is everyone pulling cute girls except for me?!” an annoyingly familiar voice from a certain purple-haired rapper started. “what am i doing wrong? i’m thanos for crying out loud, i should be getting swarmed!”

“you might want to work on your technique.”

[yanluvr]

yan!shigaraki would pathetically fist his cock to pictures and videos he took of you when he believes you didn’t notice him. he follows you to your job, hangouts with your friends, and basically everywhere you go whenever he can; and if he can’t he’ll just sent one of the league members to watch you and report back to him. when shigaraki is playing his dating sims, he imagines the game’s love interest who is complimenting him is you. he only watches pornos if the person is a dom and shares some of the same figures as you.

shigaraki fantasizes about you pulling his hair and calling him names while also praising him and holding him close. he wants your lips to steal his first kiss, your hands and mouth to give him bruises and mark him as yours, and he wants you to have your way with him as you take his virginity.

when shigaraki sneaks inside your bedroom through your suspiciously open window, he goes to still whatever things he thinks you won’t notice are missing until he comes across a piece of paper that was being spot lit by your desk lamp. he walked towards the paper that was written in red ink spelling ‘surprise’. then out of nowhere you jump up from your hiding spot to tackle him onto your bed and put on quirk canceling handcuffs on him (where did you even get those?? he wondered).

you glared down at shigaraki like he was a useless insect, he really shouldn’t be turned on by this, but he is. your nonchalant expression turned sadistic as you watched your pathetic stalker try to blubber out excuses.

“well well well, the infamous leader of the league of villains stealing my clothes like a pathetic stalker. this is too funny. i should just call my many hero friends to take your dirty ass away… but fortunately for you, i pity you. so here’s what’s gonna happen.”

you run your hand down shigaraki’s twitching belly, unzipped the front of his pants, and slipped your fingers into his pre stained boxed to stroke his semi-hard cock into full hardness, all while he was whimpering pitifully and jerking his hips up along the movements of your hand. you watch his face like a hawk, grinning as you watch his expression change to lovesick and pleasure-filled.

“i’m going to give you the best fuck of your life, and in exchange: you’ll take me out on a date. we have a deal, stalker?”

shigaraki let out a shaky breath as he could feel the edge almost reach him, he nod his head and tried to resist kissing you right then and there. “y-yes, i’ll do whatever you want- oh god! f-fuck me, fuck me please!” he pleaded as his hands gripped onto your bedsheets for dear life.

oh you were gonna have so much fun with him.

[hoshigray]

suguru and choso making the reader squirt for the first time via reader receiving oral... please and thank u sm hoshibutt 👅

၇͜ᩘ𑁍 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Geto + Choso x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - breast fondling + nipple play - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (f! receiving) - clitoral play (licking and sucking) - first time squirting! - pet names (baby, cutie, good girl, sweetie) - reader is a bit self-conscious - mention of saliva.

“How is it, baby? Feeling good?”

“A-Ahh…y-yesss, feels good…Mmmm, so good.”

“Ya hear that, Choso? Keep doing what you’re doing!”

You throw your head back to Geto’s shoulder, who’s stationed behind you, his hands nestled inside your shirt to grope your chest. Meanwhile, Choso kneels on the floor, the pony-tailed man going to town between your legs.

It was meant to be a typical date, spending the afternoon in your boyfriends’ apartment. You could’ve sworn that today entailed some delicious slices of local pizza, video games, and an action movie. However, you might have guessed somewhere down the line that the two men would eventually derail their attention from the television screen into a film of their own…

All three of you were in the living room, your back glued to the front of Geto’s red flannel shirt. The long raven-haired man’s hands fondle your chest lovingly while Choso feasts on your cunt, wet with his saliva lathering your folds with his tongue. He holds your legs apart so the focus on your chasm is easier to maintain.

You screw your eyebrows together at the flick of your clitoris by the wet muscle. “Ohhh, ohhh…!”

“Making cute noises for us, cutie?” Geto kisses your cheek and tweaks your nipples pleasantly. “Your nipples are getting stiff, too.”

Choso sucks your essence after spitting on your labia, flinging his tongue around to gather as much of your taste as he can. He then peers up to see that Geto has lifted your shirt, exposing your chest to the open. He swallows thickly and removes his lips from your vulva, bringing his lips to capture one of the buds of your mounds. You mewl at the contact of his tongue, now swirling around your nipple as he sucks sluggishly.

“Heh, must taste good everywhere, huh?” Geto doesn’t expect an answer from Choso sucking on your tit. Instead, he coats his middle and ring finger with his saliva and travels them down to your folds, pushing them inside with ease and immediately wriggling them around to feel your gummy texture. 

You cry out at the insertion, his digits going faster after a few jagged pushes and pulls. He dwells them further, scraping your insides with his blunt fingertips. And the pace becomes frantic, digging them knuckle-deep at a fast rhythm that has you gripping on Choso’s black tee for support. 

“Gaaahhh, w-wait, slow down!” You’re wailing in pleads. There’s too much going on: Choso sucking on your tit relentlessly, pushing your nipple to the top of his mouth, and grazing it with his teeth. And Geto, playing with the other mound while he pleases you with vaginal stimulation. “N-Naaahh, Christ, wait!” Your body wishes to jerk, but your legs are pushed to your chest, leaving your lower half squirming to no end. Something’s coming! “I-I caann’t—Dahaahh!” 

Geto’s sporadic movements have you whining until he removes them to lick, and Choso releases your nipple to return to your vulva, sucking on your clit and lapping around your urethra and inner lips. Shivers rock your core, and you–unforsakenly–let loose.

Between your legs, you unleash a clear, watery substance, ejecting it into Choso’s mouth. It takes him aback, tilting back to let the liquid spray slightly. However, he returns to lick the glands after a moment, secreting the surprising liquid that still exudes from your system and leaves a watery mess everywhere. Until it stops, it sprinkles all over your inner thighs and surely wets the giver’s shirt.

Violet eyes ventured down and witnessed the entire scene. “Oh, woah!”Three figures stay frigid for a few seconds, assessing what occurred within the past ten seconds. “…I had no idea you were a squirter.”

“Same here,” Choso agrees, licking his lips and wiping his cheeks with his shirt after straightening himself.

“Neither did…I?” You blink, a little too shocked to move. “I-…I’m sorry, I made your clothes wet!”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Geto’s hands leave your chest and come to your inner thighs to massage. “It’s normal.”

“N-No, really, though; I’m so sorry! I didn’t know I could even do that; it went in your mouth, and I probably ruined this whole—“

“No, no, it’s fine,” Choso palms your cunt to smear the substance you squirted. “That was…pretty fucking hot.”You open your lips to rebuttal, yet impossible as they stun you. The pig-tailed man takes off his shirt and slides his jeans down to his knees, and your breath hitches at his long cock springing out from his bowers. 

“Yeah, it was,” Geto chimes in while the other takes a seat next to him and takes you by the hand. “I’m kinda curious if you can do that again now.”

Awkwardness still has you by the neck, but Choso coaxes you while massaging your ass, sneaking his finger inside to finger. “Mmmph…You–Are you sure?”

“Totally,” Geto chuckles as he stands and strips his flannel shirt. His arms are now out from the white tank top. “Can’t let this opportunity go to waste, right?”

“C’mere, sweetie,” Choso guides you by the waist, the glans of his erect cock pushing onto the entrance of your asshole. You gasp sharply once you feel him add himself, leisurely bringing your ass down to sit on him. After a few seconds of a few bounces on his dick, Geto brings your legs for Choso to hold so your wet slit is out for his vision.

Geto licks his fingers with a dark snicker. “Stay just like that,” the digits skim around your labia until they’re pushed inside. 

You jolt with a shriek, Choso right there to soothe you with a kiss on the cheek.

“Good girl.”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[lunamugetsu]

Delivery!

Flash was currently being held captive in a black of ice. How he got like this he wasn't sure. All he remembered was that he was running across Central City keeping the peace until suddenly an ice beam shot out of nowhere and froze his feat to the ground.... and the rest of him.

"Alright you got me! Show your face!"

"Well I was going to regardless. No need to yell." Out pops Danny Phantom carrying a bag with him and holding out an envelope.

"What? Who are you?"

"My name's Phantom. Danny Phantom. I have a message for you. I couldn't get your attention earlier so I thought this was just the next best way to get you to stop." Danny said as he unfreezes the speedster.

"Uh, okay." Flash said as Danny gives him an envelope.

On the envelope there are drawing in crayon and stickers and in marker it says: to Flash.

"It's from Susie, she'd said you'd remember her."

He remembered a Susie, a little girl that he used to see in the children's hospital. She had leukemia. He spent any minute he could making sure the kid was smiling when he was there. He was heartbroken when the nurses told him that she had passed away before he could give her her birthday present. Flash examined the crayon written words, it was just like Susie's writing.

"How did you?"

"Just read it."

The letter reads:

Dear Flash,

I'm sorry, I wasn't there when you showed up for my birthday. I never got to tell you, but thank you for being at the hospital with me when I was scared of going to treatment or when I had to take my medicine. Thank you for making me smile even when I didn't feel well. Thank you for playing games with me when I couldn't go outside. Thank you for talking to my mom and dad at my funeral. That was really nice. I drew some pictures for you but I never got to finish them when I was in the hospital so I drew you some new ones. Danny says that he'll give them to you.

In the envelope was a series of different colored papers all with different crayon and marker drawings of Susie and him playing in different scenarios. One where she was a doctor and he played the injured patient. One where they were both superheroes. Another one where they were playing shadow puppets when she wasn't feeling well. Page after page were different drawings of them playing with the last one was covered in glitter with a big heart with a crayon drawing of him and Susie.

"Susie said that her biggest regret was that she couldn't say thank you to her hero before she passed. So I bumped her up on my delivery list."

"What?"

"Oh yeah, I never fully introduced myself. I'm Danny Phantom, you can call me Danny. I'm the designated delivery person for the afterlife to the living realm. Any messages or special requests from the dead are delivered by me!" Danny hands him a business card all official.

And it does say: Danny Phantom special delivery service for those of the non-living variety!

"She also said she wanted to give you one last hug before moving on."

"What do you?" Flash is halted from saying anything else as he feels a pressure against his legs. He looks down to see a translucent small figure. She was a picture of what she looked like before the chemo. Susie gives him a smile and a hug before fading before his eyes.

Before Danny officially takes up the mantle of Ghost King he's trying to do a job that would have him interact with all of his citizens first so he could get a feel of it. Hence him making connections with both the living and non-living people (he went big-brain for this idea)

Extra scene:

"Oh that reminds me, I have a card for you from someone else."

"A card?" Flash opens the card only to get sucker-punched in the face. (like one of those cartoon boxing glove punches)

"A punch card." Danny said

Flash groans as he looks at the card that has the words: STOP MESSING WITH TIME! from CW

Obligatory Gotham Scene:

Danny standing in front of a beaten up Joker that has been tied to a chair.

"Just so you know I have a back order of a lot special requests for you. And since I can't exactly kill you, that would create so much political tape. I can let them make requests for certain actions. So right now I have over 50 requests for me to break your legs and over 30 to pull out your teeth and break your jaw. Some of them contradict each other because they want to make every word you say hurt you but others want me to curse you so you can't speak again. So I'll just have to get creative." Danny says winding his arm back and form.

He is for sure being completely professional about, he gets no personal gratification from beating up a crazy clown at all. (said nobody ever)

[eccentricwritingbaby]

baby finn series, the godfather

lando norris x wife!mom!reader

series masterlist

summary - a collection of max fewtrell's importance to your son as his favorite godfather.

masterlist 

-

the big question

“y’know i’ve been thinking,” lando mumbles into your stomach, the comfortable home of baby finn as he grows at just four months, “we should figure out godparents,” your husband suggests. 

“oh yeah,” you sigh, continuing your motions of combing lando’s hair with your fingers as his head rests on your chest in order to have his nightly conversation with the baby, “we’ve been so wrapped up in names, i haven’t even thought about godparents,”

“i know,” lando shrugs, moving his hand gently up and down your bump, “should we do siblings or friends?” 

“hmm,” you think to yourself before voicing your opinion, “i think friends,” you feel your husband nod his head in agreement, “i mean our siblings already have a place in our baby’s life, we should involve our friends in a more meaningful manner,”

“i agree,” lando nods again, “do you mind if i pick the godfather, and then you could pick the godmother?”

“already itching to ask max, huh?” you giggle as your husband joins in with your laughter. 

“how’d you know?” he asks sarcastically as you continue your laughs. 

“do you wanna ask him tomorrow when he comes over to stream?” with that question, lando’s ears perk up in excitement as he moves his head off your chest in order to meet your eyes.

“yes!” he exclaims, “who are you gonna ask?” he questions, leaning in quickly to peck your lips as you think for a moment, “y/b/f/n?”

“yeah, that’s what i was thinking, she’s really been there for me with the pregnancy and we’ve been best friends forever,”

“invite her over tomorrow,” lando suggests, “her and max get on well, we can all have dinner after max and i stream and we’ll ask them,” you nod at his request, beginning to pull out your phone to text her and invite her over tomorrow. she replies quickly that she’s free and would love to come. you show lando the text as you smile together in triumph and excitement. 

the next day, max had come around four in the afternoon in order to stream for a few hours. you could hear the boys yelling and laughing while live as you moved around the nursery, sorting through different items. a few moments later, the knock on your door brings butterflies to your stomach, nerves rattling you about your question later. 

“hi!!” you giggle as your best friend greets you with a hug after opening the door, “i’m just getting some stuff together in the nursery before i start dinner, wanna help?”

“of course!” she cries out, “i can’t wait to see all the new stuff you got since i’ve been here last,”

“oh my gosh, so much,” you smile, “lando’s mom stopped by a few days ago with a bunch of things, that’s what i’m mainly sorting now,”

“ugh, that’s so sweet,” she holds a hand over her heart as you begin to walk back towards the nursery, ��are they live in there?”

“i think so,”

“is it just fewtrell and lando?”

“yeah,”

“i’m gonna pop in really quick to say hi,”

“okay, just meet me in the nursery,”

after a plethora of clothes and toys sorted, two different video games conquered, you head to the kitchen in order to prepare dinner. 

“oh how i’ve missed your cooking, y/n,” max sighs out, rubbing his stomach as him and lando enter the kitchen. he hops onto the barstool at the counter next to your best friend as lando makes his way towards you, placing a gentle kiss to your neck. 

“and i’ve missed you eating all our food, fewtrell,” you bite back quickly, pointing your spoon at him jokingly. 

“need any help, baby?” lando quietly asks you, a hand coming up to run over your stomach. 

“i think i’m fine, it’s almost ready,” you turn a bit, kissing his cheek in appreciation, “you wanna get them drinks?”

“what are you guys drinking?” lando directs to your friends. 

“i’m drinking double for miss momma over there,” your best friend laughs, waving a finger at you. 

“i think that’s my job,” lando jokes along with her, “if i have to put up with the hormones, i get to drink double,”

“hey!” you exclaim with a small hit to your husband’s stomach, “i haven’t been that bad,” you look up from the food and find three pairs of eyes staring back at you with raised eyebrows, “what?”

“oh honey…” your best friend trails off, “lando’s a saint,”

“wow,” you sigh out, “i’m rethinking my decision right now,”

“what decision?” max asks, cracking three beers open and passing them around.

“well,” you pause and glance at lando, him giving you a slight nod to keep going, “we had ulterior motives in inviting you both here tonight,”

“a foursome?” your best friend jokes, “listen, guys, you’re great but i don’t see you like that-”

“shut up,” you cut her off with a laugh, “we were hoping you’d be baby norris’ godparents,” you and lando look at them, hope buzzing around you that they’d accept. 

“oh my god…” fewtrell trails off, a hand coming to cover his mouth in disbelief. 

“yes! a thousand times yes!” your best friend cries out beside him.

“what she said!” max joins in, both of them sliding off the barstools and running around the counter to hug the both of you. 

-

their first meeting

“hey mate, yeah she did great,” you hear lando mumbling into his phone as you continue to coo at the little baby boy in your arms, “why don’t you drop by? i’m sure she’ll be okay with it,” with that new sentence, you tear your eyes away from finn and meet lando’s gaze. he mouths a quick ‘max’ and you nod in approval to his visitation, “alright, we’ll see you soon,”

“max fewtrell, right?” you ask once your husband gets off the phone. he nods at your question, moving to be right back by your side, adoring his baby boy and his gorgeous wife.

“i don’t think verstappen is itching to see him like fewtrell is,” lando giggles as his hand comes up to brush some hair out of your eyes, “you did so good, love,” after the praise, he leans in for a kiss, happily reciprocated by you. 

“thank you, lan,” you breath out, “when will max be here?”

“about an hour,” he answers quietly, still adoring the little baby in front of him, ���do you want to nap?”

“you read my mind, love,” relief lacing your tired voice as you begin to hand finn off to his father, “just wake me a few minutes before max arrives, please,”

“of course, get some rest, baby,” he holds finn in his arm with one hand as his other comes to pull the blankets higher onto your body. leaning over slightly, careful of the newborn in his arms, he pecks your lips lightly before you fall asleep. 

forty-five minutes later, you’re gently being shaken awake, finn safely in his hospital-given bassinet, “baby,” lando quietly speaks, careful not to startle you or wake the baby. 

“is max almost here?” you groggily ask, beginning to rub the sleep from your eye.

“yes, love, in about ten minutes,” he assures you. 

“okay, is finn alright?”

“sleeping happily beside you,”

“thank you, does he need to be fed?”

“the nurse said that your next feeding would be in another hour,”

“okay,” you let out a breath, “will you help me up? i want to change before he comes,”

“oh baby, you don’t have to change for him, just relax,” lando pushes, but you just look down at your shirt and up at him. 

“lan, i appreciate that, i really do,” you start, “but my tits leaked milk in my sleep, i’m soaked,”

“oh,” lando laughs, you joining him, “okay let me get you a new shirt,”

after you had changed into your clean and dry shirt, you scooped up your baby boy just as max begins to walk into the room. he’s holding a large bottle of champagne in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other. 

“hiii,” he whispers out into the room, “congratulations,” you keep quiet, letting your husband share this moment with his best friend. 

“thanks for coming, mate,” lando walks over to him, pulling him into a brief hug. 

“are you kidding? i wouldn’t miss this for the world,” he laughs, “these are for you,” he waves the flowers around before setting them down on the table next to you, “and this is for you too,” he waves the bottle of champagne as well, “for the sleepless nights,” he finishes with a wink. 

“that is so sweet, max, you didn’t have to do that,” you reply to his thoughtful gesture. 

“of course i did,”

“no i mean the champagne,” you nod in its direction on your bedside table, “that won’t be opened for months, i’m breastfeeding,”

“oh,” he retracts a bit before picking it up and moving towards your husband, “this is for you-”

“shut up,” lando laughs, grabbing the bottle and setting it down, “do you want to meet him?”

“yes,” he whispers out, eyes turning back to you and the bundle of joy in your arms. 

“c’mere,” you usher him over, moving the baby into his arms as he begins to melt at the sight. 

“he’s adorable,” max croaks out, emotions overflowing as he stares down at his godson, “thank god he takes after you, y/n,” you and lando share a laugh, and you eye your husband, urging him to tell his best friend the news. 

“um,” lando starts, moving to sit next to you on your bed, “do you want to know his name?”

“yes,” max replies quickly, his eyes never leaving the newborn in his arms. 

“its uh,” lando coughs, clearing his throat from nerves, “finn maxwell norris,”

“what?” fewtrell stares at your husband in disbelief, tears beginning to form in his waterline. 

“you heard me, mate,” lando nods his head, emotions clouding his face as well. 

“oh my go- oh my god,” max stutters out, eyes now moving back down to finn, “you are named after such a great guy,” he jokes, causing erupted laughter throughout the hospital room. 

-

babysitting

“okay, you’ve got the list right there with his schedule,” you point out to max, finn running around in circles with lando chasing right behind him, “and you’ve got everyone's numbers that you need,”

“i think so,” max nods, “i think i still have your mom’s from last time,”

“okay good,” you nod, “if there’s a real emergency and we can’t be reached call lando’s dad first, he’s closest,”

“got it,” max states, “you know i’ve done this a lot, y/n. i’ve been babysitting him since he was a newborn, now he’s three,”

“so you know i’m a paranoid first time mother,” you laugh at him, “i have to go through the motions,”

“i know, but he’ll be fine,” max laughs, pulling you into a hug, “i haven’t killed him yet,”

“very true,”

“and i’m more responsible than your husband over there,” fewtrell nods his head in the direction of lando and finn, running around like madmen in the living room, cackling with each other at their antics. 

“you are so right,” you laugh at the scene in front of you, “alright norris!” you call out, both your boys whipping their heads in your direction, “the big one,” you clarify, “we’ve got to go,”

“right, right,” he agrees, bending down to give finn the talk about behavior. after a few ‘yes dada’s’ and giggles shared between the two, your husband is walking over to your place at the door, “ready?”

“yes, love,” you give him a quick peck to the cheek, “finn?”

“momma?” he asks from his spot in between max’s legs.

“best behavior?”

“yes, momma,” he nods, gripping onto max as you just smile at him, “alright, we’ll be back late, max the guest room is all set up for you,”

“i know the drill, y/n,” he laughs at you.

“paranoid mother, remember?” you direct back. 

“yes, i will check in on the hour if i have to,”

“much appreciated, mate,” lando finishes the conversation, pushing you out the door, “we’ll see you tonight,”

the door shuts behind you and lando, max now bending over to meet the little blue eyes staring back up at him. 

“are we playing monster tonight?” he asks the little boy. 

“MONSTA!” finn screeches in excitement, running towards the living room and away from max as he starts chasing him. 

“i’m gonna get you!” fewtrell screams out as he chases finn, “monsters coming!”

“NOO!” your baby cries out, laughter evident in the home as the two boys continue the chase. 

that night, you and lando arrive back to a dark home, holding each other up a bit as you were both carrying a slight alcohol buzz. you giggle into lando’s lips as they continue their attack on your own. 

“lan,” you laugh into his mouth, “mmph, save it for the bedroom,”

“i can’t help it my wife looks so so good tonight,” he replies, voice in a dropped octave, his hands grabbing your ass with no shame. 

“mm,” you hum again into his mouth, “and my husband looks fantastic every night,”

“that’s not fair,” he laughs, one hand moving to grab your chest as his other hand stays on your bum, “i think you look good every night too, you one upped my compliment,”

“well, i’m sorry,” you feign innocence, “why don’t you just show me how beautiful i am every night,”

“oh baby, i plan on it,”

“c’mon let’s go to our room,” you begin to drag him down the hall, but not without halting your movements due to the slightly ajar door to your right. lando, still kind of tipsy, runs right into your back as you’re stopped. 

“what, y/n?”

“look,” you nod your head into the room, lando following your gaze, his glossed over eyes softening at the sight. 

“they’re so cute,” he laughs from behind you. you both take another moment, staring into your guest room at max and finn passed out in the bed together. max was pushed onto the left side with finn’s little body sprawled across him, “should i move finn into his room?” 

“no, let them sleep,” you turn your attention towards your husband again, “you owe me some compliments in the bedroom,” you grab lando’s hand and start your way to the bedroom once again. 

“i like the sound of that, love,” he whispers in giggles, you both a tipsy mess, running to your room. 

-

running away

“FINN!” you yell at your four year old, “i told you to pick up and put away your toys two hours ago, what is this?” 

“i don’t wannnaa,” he whines, stomping his foot down. 

“i don’t care,” you firmly push, “put away your toys now. otherwise your father will hear about this when he gets back,”

“i’m not gonna,” he huffs out, crossing his arms over his little chest, challenging you to break.

“fine,” you turn away from him and to the mess littered across your entire apartment, taking in a deep breath before you did snap, “wait until your father gets home,” finn doesn’t like the sound of this, beginning to cry and run away to his room, “DON’T SLAM THAT DOOR!” you shout down the hall. bang. it slammed. you breathe one more time, and wait for lando to walk through the door and handle his mini-me. 

you were five months pregnant, and too exhausted to deal with his temper tantrum. finn was always a good kid, and the tantrums were never often. but when they came, they came in hard. it was usually after not enough sleep, or not enough food, but only a few times a year, thankfully. you and lando always joked that all the built up little tantrums he didn’t have morph into a few gigantic ones a year. 

finally after an hour you hear the front door open, heaving yourself up and off the couch, you make your way into lando’s arms. 

“hey, baby,” he laughs, wrapping his arms around you as you just sink further into him, “what’s wrong?”

“finn, he’s having a tantrum day,” you sigh, waving one of your arms not wrapped around your husband to the mess that was your home, “he wouldn’t pick up his toys, he screamed, cried, slammed the door,” you breathe out, letting your emotions finally wash over you since your rock was finally home. lando wraps his arms around you tighter, letting you finally calm down a little. he sways you a bit as he hears you fight the tears back, rubbing your shoulder.

“i’m sorry, love,” he tries to calm you, “i’ll talk to him, okay?” you nod your head in his chest, “are you alright?”

“better now that you’re here,” you mumble, “i’m sorry i had to welcome you home like this-”

“hey, hey,” he stops you quickly, “don’t apologize, i’m gonna talk to him,” lando leads you back over to the couch, propping your feet up and then moving towards his son’s room. 

knocking twice on the door, he hears a quiet, but stern, ‘come in’. 

“hey, bubs,” lando greets the four year old, “i heard about today,” your husband tries to talk to finn, but he won’t look away from the coloring book he’s using, sprawled across the floor, “finn,” lando puts sharper, but finn just keeps coloring.

lando rolls his eyes quickly, moving towards his son and grabbing the coloring book from him.

“HEY!” finn shouts at his dad. 

“now i’ve got your attention?” lando asks him, “i should’ve had your attention when i called your name the first time- actually, your mother should have had your attention when she asked you to complete a simple task!” your husband begins to raise his voice at finn, not shouting, but definitely not coddling the boy.

“but dada-” he begins to whine. 

“no finn, no ‘buts’. you have been very bad today and you owe your mother an apology,” lando stands in front of him, hands on hips, and finn just continues to whine on the floor, “get up, finn, go apologize and clean up your toys,” he watches as his son doesn’t move an inch, “NOW!” he shouts, but the young four year old is unbothered. 

“no, i go live with uncle max!” he shouts back, now getting up to grab his small suitcase. 

“finn maxwell norris,” lando gives his warning tone to the boy, the one that usually scares the shit out of him, but he just keeps packing, “fine, go live with him,” he attempts to call his sons bluff, moving out of the room and back to his wife on the couch. 

“what happened? i heard you yelling,” you ask lando as he sits down with a sigh, wrapping his arm around you to pull you closer.

“i hate yelling at him, i do, it’s just when he gets like this-”

“i know, lan,” you reassure him, “i think we got blessed with such a sweet boy on most days that his hard days are worse than normal,”

“he says he’s moving in with max,” lando chuckles, “i’d love to see him go one night without our goodnight cuddles to him,”

you laugh along with your husband before adding on, “or he’ll come out of his tantrum fog and realize he misses his parents that he loves so much,”

“for sure,” he giggles with you, just as your son stomps out of his room and towards the door. 

“where ya going, finn?” you ask in innocence, already knowing the answer.

“to live with uncle max,” he huffs out. even in his terrible mood, you can’t help but find him just a bit adorable.

“okay,” your husband speaks to him, both of you beginning to get up and walk towards the door, “have fun,” lando opens the door, watching your son walk one door down the hall and knock. the door creaks open, max looking down at the little boy and his suitcase. 

“was there a sleepover i didn’t know about?” he asks you and lando as you watch from your doorway. 

“oh no,” your husband laughs, “finn tell him,”

“i move in with you,” he grunts out, making his way towards max. 

“i’m sorry, what?” fewtrell looks at the both of you again, searching for some sort of answer. 

“oh yeah,” you nod, “he wants to live with you now,”

“um,” max starts, letting the little boy walk through his legs and into his apartment, “okay?”

“don’t worry, mate,” lando laughs, “he’ll be back tomorrow,”

“i’m sure,” max agrees, “the kid hates the food in my house,”

“that’s because you have no food in your house, fewtrell,” you laugh.

“and that’s why i alway eat dinner at your house, y/l/n,”

“and that’s why i don’t feel bad about my kid crashing with you tonight,” you jab back. you all say your goodnights and head back into your respective apartments, you and lando heading straight to bed after the long day. 

three in the morning and the pounding on your door is not from your dream. you and lando shuffle out of bed and towards the door, already knowing who is on the other side. your husband swings the door open, coming face to face with his teary-eyed son. max is standing there, clearly half asleep, and holding the boy up by his waist. 

“this belongs to you,” he mumbles out, pushing finn into lando’s arms and tossing his suitcase past you both and into your home. you both are too tired to even say goodnight, choosing instead to shut the door and head directly back to your bedroom.

“tomorrow morning finn,” you start as you all climb into bed together, “you’re cleaning and apologizing,”

“i know, momma. i sowwy,” he curls up beside lando, your husbands arm instinctively wrapping around his son.

“we’ll worry about that tomorrow, baby,” lando kisses his and your forehead’s, falling back into his sleep as quick as he was brought out of it. 

“uncle max had no food momma,” finn quietly admits, causing you to let out a few giggles. 

“goodnight, finn, dada and i are happy you’re back home,”

“me too, momma,”

-

[goldfades]

pregnancy scares with luke hughes🤞🤞🤞 he would def be freaking out but it ends up being nothing!!!

you’re pretty sure luke hasn’t sat down for more than five seconds in the last hour. he’s pacing the length of the living room, one hand in his hair, the other holding his phone like he’s waiting for some kind of emergency alert to come through. it would almost be funny if you weren’t equally as on edge.

the unopened pregnancy test sits on the counter where you left it, staring at you like it knows you’re avoiding it. you don’t even have the energy to glare back at it—your nerves are too frayed. instead, you watch luke from your spot on the couch, clutching a throw pillow to your chest like it’s some kind of lifeline.

“what if it’s positive?” he blurts out suddenly, stopping in his tracks to look at you, his blue eyes wide with panic. “like… what do we even do? do we call someone? your mom? my mom? oh god, my mom.”

“luke,” you say, trying to keep your voice calm even though your heart is pounding like a drum. “we don’t even know yet. let’s not jump to conclusions.”

he stares at you for a moment, then runs a hand down his face. “right. yeah. no conclusions. totally chill over here.”

you raise an eyebrow at him, and he lets out a nervous laugh, sinking down onto the arm of the couch. it doesn’t last long—he’s back on his feet within seconds, muttering something about how his brain feels like it’s short-circuiting.

“okay, but seriously,” he says, turning back to you, his hands flailing slightly in that way they do when he’s overwhelmed. “what if it’s real? like, what if we’re—what if you’re—”

“pregnant?” you finish for him, your voice quieter this time. the word hangs in the air between you, heavy and uncertain.

he nods, his expression softening as he looks at you. “yeah. that.”

you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “then we figure it out. together.”

“together,” he repeats, like he’s testing the word out. he nods again, a little firmer this time, and for a second, it almost looks like he’s calming down.

and then he notices the test on the counter. “okay, no, i can’t do this anymore,” he says, running a hand through his hair again. “you have to take it. right now. i’m dying over here.”

“you’re dying?” you ask, a hint of exasperation creeping into your tone. “i’m the one who might be pregnant, luke.”

“exactly!” he says, throwing his arms out dramatically. “which is why we need to know, like, immediately.”

you roll your eyes but head toward the bathroom anyway, grabbing the test as you go. “you’re not allowed to say a word until i’m done,” you warn, and luke holds his hands up in mock surrender.

“not a word,” he promises, but the second the door closes behind you, you hear him mutter to himself, “a baby, though… that’d be kinda wild.”

you groan, trying to block him out as you do what the test requires, but by the time you’re done and waiting for the results, you can hear him outside the door, talking to himself at full speed.

“like, obviously, i’d teach them how to skate,” he says, his voice muffled but clear enough to make you laugh quietly to yourself. “they’d have to start early—i mean, that’s the key, right? i was skating at, what, three? two? can kids even walk at two?”

you open the door and lean against the frame, test still in your hand, watching as he paces the living room like he’s coaching his imaginary future kid through a big game. he doesn’t notice you right away, too caught up in his rambling.

“and names,” he continues, gesturing animatedly. “if it’s a boy, we could name him something strong, like—i don’t know, jack junior or something. no, wait, that’s awful. maybe something cool like—like hunter! or brody! oh my god, i’d totally have a brody.”

you clear your throat, and luke freezes mid-gesture, spinning to look at you like a kid caught stealing cookies. “uh, hi,” he says, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. “how’d it go?”

“it’s still processing,” you say, holding up the test. “but, uh, sounds like you’ve been busy.”

his cheeks flush a deep red, but he grins, unabashed. “okay, but hear me out—if it’s a girl, we name her something badass. like, she could totally pull off a name like harper. or sutton. sutton hughes. tell me that doesn’t sound like a star.”

you can’t help but laugh, shaking your head at him. “you’re already planning their whole life, and we don’t even know if there’s a them yet.”

“well, yeah,” he says, plopping down on the couch with a dramatic sigh. “i mean, it’s kinda fun to think about, you know? like, little hockey practices, bringing them to the rink, teaching them how to chirp jack in the most creative way possible…”

you sit beside him, the test now lying face down on the coffee table, its results still unknown. “you’d be a good dad,” you say softly, watching as his grin softens into something a little more genuine.

“you think so?” he asks, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

“yeah,” you reply. “a chaotic one, maybe. but a good one.”

before he can respond, the timer on your phone goes off, signaling the test is ready. both of you freeze, the moment suddenly much heavier than the lighthearted banter that preceded it.

“you wanna look, or should i?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

luke swallows hard, then gestures toward you. “you. i’ll just—” he flops back dramatically against the couch cushions. “—be over here, dying inside.”

with a nervous laugh, you reach for the test, flipping it over. your eyes scan the result, and your shoulders sag with relief. “negative,” you say, holding it up for him to see.

luke lets out the loudest, most exaggerated exhale you’ve ever heard, his head falling back against the couch. “oh, thank god,” he says, a hand over his heart like he just avoided a near-death experience.

you laugh, watching as he sits up, still a little wide-eyed. “i thought you were ready to start a hockey dynasty,” you tease, nudging him with your shoulder.

“oh, don’t get me wrong,” he says with a grin. “i’m glad it’s not happening now, but, like… someday? sutton hughes is definitely gonna rule the world.”

you roll your eyes, laughing as he throws an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “you’re impossible,” you mutter, but there’s no real bite to it.

“and you love me for it,” he quips, pressing a kiss to your temple.

you don’t reply, but the smile on your face says enough.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[crookedteethed]

ᡣ𐭩 betting on you . • ° 　 .　 *　: r. cameron

synopsis -- you make a bet during a game of beer pong with rafe, the stakes being your virginity.

warnings -- 18+-mdni, smut, semi-public smut, loss of virginity, fingering, oral (f receiving), cursing, frat!Rafe, best friend! Rafe

masterlist(s) | taglist | word count: 1.7k

Music pulsed through the beach house, mixing with laughter and the crash of waves outside. Salt air drifted through open windows, carrying the scent of ocean and bonfire smoke. You stood at one end of the beer pong table, watching Rafe Cameron size up his shot with that insufferable confidence of his.

"Getting nervous, Cameron?" you called out, trying to hide your own flutter of anticipation. "That aim's looking a little shaky."

Rafe looked up, that trademark half-smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "Please. I'm just getting warmed up." He straightened, spinning the ball between his fingers. "But since you're feeling confident, why don't we raise the stakes?"

"Stakes?" You arched an eyebrow, intrigued despite yourself.

He leaned forward, hands planted on the table edge. "Oh, it's simple. You and I get to have sex, then I get to say I fucked the hottest girl on figure 8, and if by some miracle you win…" His low growl sent shivers down your spine as he slyly spread his hands, shrugging. "Name your price."

The competitive spark in his blue eyes made your heart skip. This was Rafe all over—turning everything into a challenge, pushing boundaries, trying to get under your skin. And the most annoying part?

It was working.

You felt a flush creep up your neck, equal parts arousal and indignation. "You're awfully sure of yourself," you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

Rafe's grin widened. "I'm just playing to my strengths. But hey, if you're not up for it…" He trailed off, a hint of challenge in his tone.

That did it. You stepped closer, invading his personal space. "Oh, I'm up for it. And when I win, you'll be my personal servant for a week. Laundry, dishes, whatever I want."

His eyes darkened with desire. "Deal," he growled, voice low.

The air between you crackled with tension as you each took your positions. You tried to focus on the game, but your mind kept wandering to what would happen if you lost. The way Rafe's muscles flexed as he lined up his shot was incredibly distracting. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to concentrate.

The first few rounds were intense, with both of you matching shot for shot. The crowd grew louder with each cup eliminated, their chants and cheers echoing off the beach house walls. Your confidence grew with each successful throw, but Rafe remained frustratingly focused, that signature smirk never leaving his face.

"Four cups left," someone called out from the crowd. "Game's getting good!"

You lined up your shot carefully, but the ball spun out at the last second. Rafe's next throw landed perfectly, drawing whoops from his supporters.

"Your turn, superstar," he taunted playfully.

Three cups turned to two, then one. The pressure mounted with each throw, and you could feel your hands getting sweaty. This was it - Rafe had one cup left, you had two. All you needed was to make these shots.

Your throw sailed through the air… and bounced off the rim. The crowd gasped.

Rafe picked up the ball, twirling it in his hands as he studied the final cup. The beach house seemed to hold its breath. He flicked his wrist, the ball arcing gracefully through the air…

Splash.

The crowd erupted as Rafe threw his arms up in victory. "And that's game!" he announced, grinning triumphantly.

"Lucky shot," you muttered, as you prepared to lose your virginity to Rafe. But he could tell you were pouting and teasingly said, "Don't pout now."

"I'm not pouting," you huffed, crossing your arms. But your lip was definitely sticking out in a way that could only be described as pouty.

Rafe smirked, his eyes roaming over your body in a way that made heat rise to your cheeks. "Sure you're not. Come on, don't be such a sore loser. A bet's a bet."

you rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. This was Rafe, for crying out loud. Your annoying best friend since middle school. The guy who put gum in your hair in 6th grade. And now here you were, about to…

"Fine," you said, taking a deep breath. "Let's just get this over with."

Rafe's eyes roam hungrily over your body as you straddle his lap. The thumping beat of the music blurs into the background as your hands eagerly rip at his shirt. He chuckles, his voice dripping with amusement.

"Looks like you're not backing out of our little bet," he teases.

"Shut up," you groan, tossing his shirt into the darkness of the room. Before long, both of you are stripped down and exploring each other's bodies with hungry mouths and wandering hands.

Your fingers tangle in Rafe's hair as he trails hot kisses down your neck. A gasp escapes your lips when he nips at your collarbone. The music pulses around you, matching the frantic beating of your heart.

"Wait," you pant, pulling back slightly. Rafe looks up at you, eyes dark with desire.

"Having second thoughts?" he asks, a hint of challenge in his voice.

You shake your head, a wicked grin spreading across your face. "We should make sure the door is locked-- wouldn't want any interruptions."

Rafe laughs a low, sultry sound that sends shivers down your spine. His hands grip your hips, pinning you down to where the bulge of his cock kissed your lips.

"Who cares who comes in? Let them see," he murmurs against your skin. "Now, where were we?"

You respond by capturing his lips in a searing kiss, but when you feel Rafe begin to tug on his cock, you stop him and pull back slightly. Your breath is heavy, and you look into his eyes with a mix of desire and apprehension.

"Rafe, but I'm a virgin," you whisper, the words hanging in the air between you.

Rafe's eyes soften, and he gently brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. His lips brushed against the same ear, sending shivers down your spine. "I know," he whispered seductively, his voice dripping with desire. "I want to savor every moment of it." With a hungry look in his eyes, Rafe gently flipped you onto your back and trailed kisses down your body until he reached the source of your arousal.

Your breath catches in your throat as Rafe's lips trail lower. His warm breath ghosts over your most sensitive areas, making you tremble with anticipation. You feel his strong hands gently part your thighs, exposing you fully to his heated gaze.

"You're so beautiful," Rafe murmurs, his voice husky with desire. He plants soft kisses along your inner thighs, inching closer to where you need him most.

He looks up at you, his eyes dark with lust, seeking permission. You give a small nod, biting your lip.

Rafe's tongue flicks out, teasing your folds. You gasp at the sensation, your hips bucking involuntarily. He chuckles softly, using his strong hands to hold your thighs apart as he continues his ministrations.

"Rafe," you moan, tangling your fingers in his hair at the sensation.

He hums in response, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through you. His skilled tongue explores every inch of you, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. Just when you think you can't take anymore, he slides a finger inside you, curling it to hit that perfect spot.

Your climax washes over you in waves of ecstasy. Rafe works you through it, only pulling away when your trembling subsides.

He kisses his way back up your body before capturing your lips once more, you can taste yourself on his tongue as he positions himself between your thighs.

"Are you sure?" he asks softly, searching your eyes.

You nod, pulling him closer. "I want you, Rafe. All of you."

With agonizing slowness, he begins to push inside. There's a moment of discomfort, but Rafe peppers your face with compact kisses.

"Relax, baby," Rafe murmurs against your skin. "I've got you."

You take a deep breath, willing your body to soften. Inch by exquisite inch, Rafe sinks deeper until he's fully sheathed inside you. The stretch is intense but delicious. You've never felt so completely filled, so utterly possessed.

Rafe stills, giving you time to adjust. His dark eyes bore into yours, filled with a mixture of lust and tenderness that makes your heart stutter.

"Oh god," you gasp, clinging to his broad shoulders.

Rafe stills, giving you time to adjust. His eyes are dark with desire as he gazes down at you. "You feel amazing," he groans. "So tight and perfect."

Experimentally, you roll your hips. The friction sends sparks of pleasure shooting through you. Rafe's eyes flutter closed and he lets out a strangled moan.

"Please," you whimper. "I need you to move."

That's all the encouragement he needs. Rafe begins to thrust, setting a maddeningly slow pace. Each drag of his cock inside you builds the pressure coiling in your core. You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him deeper.

"Faster," you plead. "Harder."

Rafe obliges, picking up speed. The room fills with the sound of skin on skin slapping as you and Rafe are both quick to chase your own highs.

The intensity of your movements increases, driving you both closer to the edge. Rafe's thrusts become more urgent, his grip on your hips tightening as he loses himself in the moment.

Your as breath becomes ragged as rafe's pace quickens, and the pleasure spirals higher and higher until you can't hold back any longer.

With a cry, you reach your (second) peak, waves of ecstasy washing over you. Rafe follows closely behind, his release coming with a deep groan as he spills into you.

For a moment, you both lie there, panting and trying to catch your breath. Rafe gently kisses your forehead, his eyes filled with affection. You smile up at him, feeling a deep connection that goes beyond just the physical.

"Who would have thought a game of beer pong would lead to this?" you say, grinning at Rafe.

He chuckles, wrapping an arm around you. "I guess some bets are worth losing," he replies, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

You lean into him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. "Best friends forever, right?" you ask, half-jokingly.

Rafe kisses the top of your head. "Forever," he agrees, his voice filled with certainty.

With a contented sigh, you snuggle closer to Rafe, feeling a sense of peace and fulfillment. The world outside can wait; for now, you're exactly where you want to be, with the person who means the most to you.

a/n: thanks for making it to the end of this fic!! As always all likes comments, and reblogs keeps me motivated! 💕🫶🏾

[ellecdc]

Love that you’ve opened requests for Finnick!

Would you write for finnick x reader established relationship? but Peeta and Katniss think it’s all for show (kind of how Finnick saw them originally)

during the 75th games overnight as the poison fog comes through reader gets swallowed up and they loose sight of her, but have to keep moving. Of course they loose Mags, and maybe the canon goes off (for another tribute) and finnick is tangibly heartbroken thinking it’s her.

The next day she wanders onto the beach with Johanna and the rest, having survived by hiding in the waterways.

Lovely happy ending lovers reunion moment💘

thanks for your request! I've had this more or less done for a few days but I'm not sure how I feel about it...hopefully I did an okay job, but I figured I might as well post it. thanks to @unstablereader for parsing this out with me <3

Finnick Odair x victor!reader during the 75th Hunger Games [1.4k words]

CW: fem!reader, blood rain, mention of death, reader goes into a bit of shock, Finnick handles it expertly, Johanna being the problematic queen that she is

Finnick tried really hard not to act as petulant as he felt, but between his stress, his grief, and the fucking heat, he was sure he was failing in his feat. 

“She’s probably fine, yeah?” Peeta (stupidly) tried, shooting a nervous glance between Finnick who was brooding near the water's edge and Katniss who was pouting near the tree line. “She won her own games; she can hold her own.” 

“I just don’t understand what the point of having a look-out was if you were going to lose an entire woman.” Finnick finally shouts then, holding his hands out in front of him helplessly. 

“The point of a look-out was to look out for threats, not babysit your girlfriend.” Katniss all but sneered in return.

“Oh? And what exactly do you call what I’ve been doing for you and your husband these past few days then, hm?” 

“I don’t need nor did I ask to be babysat!” 

“Well, someone smarter than you begged to differ, yeah? I’m inclined to agree.” Finnick spat before making to stand. 

“...nanny of the year award after this…”  Finnick muttered to himself as he stalked back up to the tree line to get another drink of water. He’d been sick with worry after hearing a second canon after they lost Mags in the fog, and there’d been no signs of you since. He thought he might actually call the whole plan off if your face lit up the sky tonight.

The sound of trees rustling and a grunt had all three tributes standing at the ready with their weapons drawn, watching the tree line and waiting for the cause of the noise to show itself. 

“Oh Johanna…” the unmistakable sound of your (rather disappointed) voice rang out. “Be nice to her.” 

Johanna let out a frustrated shriek as they watched her appear from the trees and all but shove what looked to be Wiress towards the water. 

“Yes! Yes! We all know, Nuts! Tick tock, tick tock. Get to the water!” 

“Johanna!” You barked.

Finnick’s lips formed your name before he was rushing across the beach to you; barely sparing a moment to look you over before his trident was dropped into the sand, freeing his arms to loop around your middle and lift you into the air. 

“Fucking finally,” Johanna sighed in obvious relief as she finally pushed Wiress into the saltwater, “someone with a vocabulary of more than four words.”

“Beetee and I have a vocabulary of more than five words…” You replied, though your argument was someone lost in Finnick’s chest where he had your face shielded. 

“Unless you plan on offing her, Odair, you might want to let your girlfriend breathe.” Johanna called.

“Babe what the fuck?” He hissed as he pulled you away from him, only then registering the fact that you were covered head to toe in…blood? “What the fuck!?”

“Before you get mad; it’s not my blood, and look who I found!” You placated quickly, gesturing to the three tributes you’d shown up with.

“What were you thinking, Y/N!?” He asked you then, shaking you gently by the shoulders. “What happened!?”

“I’m sorry!” You nearly keened, looking very contrite. “I was just so thirsty and so I figured while everyone slept I’d go look for water. I heard what sounded like rain so I went running, and the next thing I knew I couldn’t see a damn thing!”

“She didn’t so much as find us as she actually slammed directly into Nuts over here.” Johanna translated for Finnick. 

“Sorry Wiress.” You offered the woman sheepishly who simply waved as she continued her little clock song in turn.

“What happened to all of you?” Peeta asked then, suddenly directly behind Finnick and alerting him to the fact that all of you were covered in the crimson mess.

“What happened, Mellark,” Johanna hissed as she made to stalk over, completely ignoring the way Katniss’ bow was locked and loaded and pointing at her in the very next second, “was that your darling wife wanted Nuts and Bolts over here, so what did I do? I got her Nuts and Bolts! Then this one had the brilliant idea of wandering off when she was supposed to be with you idiots, and the three of you - fearsome victors that you are - let her! And where’s my thanks, huh? Who’s running through the sand to come find me?”

Finnick had the decency to offer her a guilty look, but she offered him an unimpressed smirk and fluttered her eyes in a half eye roll before she turned her glare back towards District Twelve’s lovebirds. 

“Couldn’t even celebrate the rain and finally having access to water because it was fucking blood!” She continued, now directing her ire to the sky.

“It rained blood?” Peeta murmured quietly then.

“So much blood...” You answered solemnly; hair cracking when you nodded due to the semi-dried substance coating it as you stared unseeingly at the trees with a haunted expression on your face. 

“Let’s get you washed off then, hm?” Finnick asked as he directed you towards the waters edge, though he kept Johanna’s eye contact as he said it. 

“Oh, I’m sure you’re just dying to see what I look like underneath all of this, Odair.” 

“Nothing we haven’t already seen, right Peeta?” Finnick tried for levity as he shot the kid a wink, only for Katniss to scowl and elbow him in the ribs. 

Finnick didn’t miss the way you shivered as you got into the water which concerned him seeing as the water was hardly cool enough to be of any relief in this scorching heat. 

“Peeta! Can you bring us water, please?”

“You guys have water!?” Johanna screeched.

“Katniss, can you bring some water to Johanna?” Finnick heard Peeta ask, earning him a petulant “do I have to?” in return.

“She brought you Wiress and Beetee.” Peeta countered, causing his girlfriend - wife? - to glower before doing what she was asked. 

“You doing okay, lovely girl?” Finnick asked as he massaged some of the dried blood from your body, keeping his voice calm even though your sluggish movements and the lack of colour in your lips was causing him great concern. 

“I’m kind of cold, Finn.” You slurred. 

“Cold?” Peeta asked incredulously as he showed up with one of Mags’ woven baskets filled with water.

Finnick hummed in response as he accepted the water from him, holding it up to your lips as he helped you take a drink. “I think she might be in shock.” He explained evenly. 

“She’s in shock? What do we do?” He started, words speeding up as he directed his concern at you.

“Well, we’re going to start with not doing that.” Finnick muttered in reference to his quickly mounting panic. “She’s alright, right honey?”

You hummed in agreement, though you were looking at Finnick with a furrow in your brows. 

“You’re alright.” He repeated, both for your benefit and his own. “I’ve got you now, yeah? We’re okay when we’re together.”

Tears quickly pooled in your eyes before they escaped the corners of your eyes, painting a rather macabre picture through the blood still stuck to your face. 

“M’sorry, Finn.” 

“Don’t be sorry, Y/N.” Finnick murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Just stay with me, okay? No more wandering off; I need you here with me.”

“I’m here.” You murmured, arm rising slowly to trail a finger over the bridge of his nose. “I’m here.” 

“Told you it was real.” Peeta muttered to Katniss then, an inelegant snort from Johanna startling both of them when they realized she was out of the water and standing at their side. 

“The two of you really are dumber than you look.” She taunted.

“I’ll take the first watch.” Finnick shouted before any infighting could start, shooting Katniss a halfhearted glare. “Everybody else rest up.” 

“Can I stay up with you, Finnick?” You murmured, still looking rather dazed as you half floated in the salty water in Finnick’s arms. 

You’d probably be the first to fall asleep, but Finnick didn’t bother telling you that. He simply agreed, pressing another kiss to your head before he continued washing you off.

[kissedsuns]

♥︎ 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, lando norris

fem!reader. kissing. pure fluff. pet names. swearing. a lot of touching. established relationship. lando is in desperate need of comfort as per usual. ₊ 𓂃 masterlist.

life isn’t always just sunshine and rainbows, and more often than not, lando is hit with the cruelty and misery in living. it’s as if he’s falling into an endless pit of despair, with loneliness becoming an unwelcome but familiar companion. all he needed was someone to lean on, and thankfully, you have always been there for him.

you’ll immediately notice how low his spirits are and how it looks like he’s just not in the right headspace after he suffers yet another tragic race weekend.

it wasn’t until late at night when lando had finally returned home to you. he had dark outlines around his sad eyes, a frown tugging at his lips that were chewed raw, but regardless, he seemed to be in one piece. the sight of him made you run into his firm arms the moment he came through that door, which took your boyfriend by surprise.

his arm looped around your waist, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t bear the thought of letting go. the scent of his clothes worked to steady your nerves. “i missed you like crazy,” you squeezed your eyes shut.

“impossible, baby,” he murmured as his fingers traced soothing lines along your backside. “i couldn’t stop thinking about you.” it was all he could manage past the heavy lump in his throat. he was holding himself on a single thread, deep breathes and hefty swallows as he continued his soothing motions.

his name rolled so naturally from your tongue as you reached for him, catching his wrist before he could retreat to his gaming room to drown in his emotions.

“are you okay?”

the question hung in the air, though you already knew the answer. his sharp inhale and shaky exhale betrayed the effort it took to pull together a facade. as he turned to face you, his jaw clenched slightly, but his dull eyes — shining with unshed tears, told a very different story.

“just feelin’ a bit tired,” he muttered, speaking in half-truths. the quick smile he offered you felt like a blow straight to the chest, small and devoid of any warmth.

you spoke his name again, this time softer, brows knitted with equal parts skepticism and concern.

“i’m fine,” he insisted, “really.”

and that was the last you saw of lando for hours.

the night wound down fairly quick, and you felt sleep tugging at your heavy eyelids, signalling it was time for you to head to bed.

you rubbed at your reddened eyes, too tired to fight it any longer — a few minutes of rest couldn’t hurt. lando would join you under the covers eventually. he always did.

you shifted in bed, fluffing your pillow until it was just right. you curled onto your side, staring at the empty space beside you. the side of the bed where lando’s presence was blatantly absent.

snugly wrapped in the silky, soft blankets, an uneasy feeling settled over you as your weary voice broke the quiet of the room, spelling out your boyfriends name to yourself.

“lando, lando, lando,” you whispered, voice muffled by the blanket. “oh, what do i do?”

you tossed and turned late into the night as your mind played a relentless game of ping pong with itself. silly questions bounced back and forth as you tried to figure out exactly what to do.

what could you even say? what if he didn’t want to see you right now?

with a frustrated huff, you tore the sheets off your body and wobbled out of bed without much grace. he still hadn’t come to bed, so you decided to take matters into your own hands.

with a few gentle knocks, you called his name. no response. you tried again, a little louder this time, but were met with nothing but silence and a gross feeling bubbling in your chest once again.

with a deep breath, you carefully jiggled the doorknob, easing the door open just enough to peek your head through the gap.

your big eyes scanned the room curiously before landing on him, curled up in his gaming chair with his knees tucked up tightly to his chest.

your voice is meek and barely audible when you cooed. “baby. c’mon, wake up f’me, lan,”

you reached out to brush a stray curl from his forehead and twirl it delicately between your fingers before letting your thumb glide softly across his cheek.

lando’s eyelashes fluttered open for the first time post-slumber, and he scrubbed his face with his hands to try and wipe away the tiredness which was still evident on his handsome features.

“wha—? oh, um…” his head lolled back and forth as his eyes struggled to adjust to their surroundings. “hey, baby…”

“you fell asleep in your chair,” you crouched down beside him. the monitors in front of him were dark now, the game long forgotten as his body had finally given in. “been out for hours.”

he groaned, his legs dropping to the floor as he blinked sluggishly at you. “i jus’— i was so—” he paused, letting out a heaved sigh.

“shh, shh. i know, baby, i know.” your hand moved to his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “let’s get you to bed, yeah?”

“hmf, bed sounds nice…” he moaned tiredly as his head dropped to your shoulder, nestling into the crook of your neck.

you brought a hand to the base of his scalp and lightly dragged your nails across the skin.

it was like warm drizzles of syrup, your touch sinking into him as he absorbed your sweetness. 

you could see the toll the weekend had taken on him—the dark circles under his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged.

“i love you,” you assured him, not expecting a response as you just wanted to let him know someone was on his side, no matter how much he convinced himself otherwise.

you were the only one who looked at him with such pure adoration, the only one who made him feel like he truly had a purpose. “i, for one, think you’re amazing, lan. you don’t just sit around waiting for things to happen; you’re so helpful, and so, so kind—to me.”

lando’s eyes remained on his hands that laid on his lap, palms sweaty from excessive nervous rubbing.

you could tell that he was trying his very best not to cry. unfortunately, his glassy eyes and wobbling lips were giving himself away.

“i don’t know what’s wrong with me. i just feel so fucking miserable sometimes.”

you cupped his cheeks and kissed him. “there’s nothing wrong with you, sweetheart. jus’ feeling overwhelmed, that’s all.” you kissed him again. “and that is absolutely normal.”

lando stirred slightly when he felt you brush his curls back, his head lolling to the side in content.

“lando,” you were going to try your best to sweet talk him into getting up. “you can’t fall asleep here, baby.”

he made a faint sound, somewhere between a hum and a sigh with his lips parting as though to protest but not finding the energy to form words.

“come on,” you cooed, your other hand steadying him by the shoulder when he swayed slightly. “how ‘bout we— mmf— get you in the shower, hm? you’d like that, right?”

lando’s feet shuffled weakly against the floor as you guided him up.

when you sat him down on the closed toilet lid, he leaned forward — elbows resting on his knees, his head dipping low like he was about to doze off again.

“hey, hey, hey! woah there, big guy.” you scratched his head soothingly “stay awake for me, please, honey.”

you helped him shrug off his hoodie, your fingertips grazing the warm skin of his arms as you pulled it over his head.

once the warm water from the shower began to fill the small space with steam, you carefully helped him inside. he leaned against the wall, letting the water run over his shoulders and down his back in hopes that it would wash away the horrible weight of the day.

you waited patiently by the bathroom counter for the water to shut off, until eventually lando stepped out. a fluffy towel sat snug around his waist, leaving very little to the imagination as your eyes shyly trailed down to his v-line.

“c’mere,” you reached out for him. “gotta brush those pearly whites.”

he cringed at your teasing words, but lando followed without question. he positioned himself between your legs as you grabbed his toothbrush and carefully squirted a glob of toothpaste across the bristles.

you held the toothbrush out to him, but when he made no move to take it, you simply sighed, feeling more amused than frustrated.

“open,” you ordered, and he obeyed, his lips promptly parting when you tilt his face upward.

trailing the brush along his teeth, you made sure to brush either side of the gums until reaching the raw spots at the back. you swiped the toothbrush across his bottom teeth one last time before pulling back.

“now spit,” you tapped his chin.

lando bent forward, spitting into the sink and letting the water wash away the suds as he rinsed his mouth. when he straightened again, he looked at you with sulky eyes and lips tinged pink from all the scrubbing.

“alright, time to rest those pretty eyes,” lando’s eyes softened as your sweet voice ran like warm honey in his ears. “i think you’ll sleep well tonight.”

he slowly nodded his head. you’re such a sweetheart, lando thought.

your fingers laced through his as you guided him out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom where he could change into his boxers. you followed suit as he crawled into bed, draping the covers over his body before latching onto you like a koala.

“i love you so much, lan,” you pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “you did me so proud out there.”

the reassurance soothed lando enough for him to glance up at you with big eyes, teeth catching the flesh of his lips. “you really think so?” he asked you like he needed an answer in order to believe it.

“of course,” you responded, full of confidence. “mistakes happen, sweetheart. you’ll come back stronger.”

in seconds, lando was pretty much out. your soft stroking of his hair paired with the occasional whispers of sweet nothings in his ear had him drifting in and out of sleep. his arms stayed wrapped around your figure for the rest of the night, and you didn’t mind sacrificing your own sleep to make sure he was resting peacefully—because if anyone deserved it, it was him.

your index finger trailed softly down his nose, and you couldn’t help but smile as his eyelids twitched each time you reached the tip.

“goodnight, baby,”

“mmm… g’night, nngh…”

yeah, he’d definitely be sleeping well tonight.

©KISSEDSUNS 2024.

[sitepathos]

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 11: The Interview

Note: Didn’t really plan on making a chapter like this, but I thought we were overdue some filler before we got into some real drama. Enjoy!

You let out a loud agitated sigh as you power down your computer and slouch in your office chair.

Since you got back from Metropolis, you’ve been working on a free update to thank all your players for their support and voting to make Salvage Rights the Indie Game of the Year; working on an update that’ll satisfy the players and be easy to develop and implement was difficult enough, but all the drama with the Waynes made it even harder.

It’s been four fucking years since you left Gotham! Even when you moved back to Goodsprings, you couldn’t help but think about all they’d done to you, from Bruce acting like you’re an intruder in his “perfect” house to Damian being your personal demon. You’d managed to put hundreds of miles between yourself and them, but they still managed to have a hold on you. Sure, you knew you were in a home you owned fair and square, not Wayne Manor, but there were still instances where you caught yourself looking over your shoulder to make sure no one was behind you or peeking around corners to make sure a room was empty before you walked in.

Even with the Megamycete constantly reminding you, it took you the better part of a year to get it through your head that you no longer needed the survival tactics that had kept you alive in Wayne Manor as you’re the only one in your house.

It’s taken the last three years, but you were finally ready to move on with your life, look towards the future and leave Gotham, Bruce Wayne, and his merry band of bastards behind. You published your game, people loved it almost immediately, and you had been rewarded for your efforts with fame and fortune.

You finally free and could actually be happy for the first time in years.

Now, he and his children come and plague you, trying to drag you back to the place you hated from day one.

He made it clear that he never considered you his son (hell, what he said the night those three bastards kidnapped you proved that), always showering Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian with a fatherly love you had slowly realized would never be meant for you and shoved you aside in favor of showcasing the children he was proud of. Eventually, you were forgotten by both Bruce Wayne and the larger world as no one in Gotham’s media class ever asked where you were, why weren’t you with them at this party, or when was he planning on throwing you your own introductory gala like his other kids.

As time went on, you took steps to separate yourself from him, never telling anyone who your father was and only accepting Gould as your proper last name (although if you ever found some guy to marry you, you’d definitely be open to changing your last name).

Then, that son of a bitch shows up and ruins everything, your face plastered all over the news, primarily in Gotham and Metropolis, and you can’t go anywhere without people staring, whispering, and bombarding you with several questions (many of them being if you could set them up with your “siblings”).

You were finally living the life you’d dreamed about and he had to go and ruin it! You’d known that Bruce Wayne is a miserable motherfucker who can’t stand to see anyone around him to be happy (you’d listened in on plenty of arguments between him and the others whenever one of them tried to strike out on their own to figure that out), but you never thought that he’d be so petty he’d try to drag you, the son he never wanted, back when he saw you happy for once in your life.

You look down at your hands and imagine what it’d feel like to have them wrapped around his neck, squeezing the life out of him and seeing him realize that despite his strength as Batman, he was powerless compared to you; the relief you would feel as you saw the life leave his eyes as he accepted that the son he never wanted was the instrument of his destruction.

You revel in the brief sensation of satisfaction that passes through you from your daydream.

(You may get your wish,) the Megamycete says, bringing you out for your fantasy.

“How do you figure?”

It doesn’t answer, but you feel sensations of anxiety and apprehension radiate from it.

“What’s wrong,” you say, getting a little afraid.

Over the last four years, you’d never known the Megamycete to be afraid of anything.

So, seems like things are about to go from bad to worse in your life.

(We reached out to the Bats. They know of both our existence and our bond with you.)

“What,” you exclaim, standing up from your chair. “You told them? Why?”

(We thought we could reason with them for you. They—)

“How could you do that? Now they know about you! They weren’t going to stop coming and my only ace in the hole is you! I’ve lost that advantage thanks to you! For a sentient mushroom that has the knowledge of thousands of people, that was a pretty stupid thing to do!”

You’re pissed. Really pissed.

You had a feeling that the night with Bruce at the Gala wasn’t the end of things and all of his children visiting you proved it. The Bats have made it clear they’ll do whatever they must to accomplish their goals and for whatever reason, they’ve decided you’re their goal.

Sure, you went overboard a little demonstating your strength when dealing with Jason and Damian, but that they had no idea your strength came from the Megamycete and that was only the surface what you were capable of. If they decided to come at you in force, they were in one hell of a surprise when you fabricated hardened mold armor right in front of them and do to them what you did to Joker. You know they’ve fought plenty of villains with powers, but the mold is stronger than all of them combined and you’d make them regret ever meeting you as you tear them apart and scatter their intestines across the ground.

But now, thanks to the Megamycete, they know that you’re not alone and who knows what else?

(We are sorry,) it says, its tone remorseful. (We thought we could persuade them to leave you alone. We were wrong.)

“Yeah, no shit! If they weren’t listening to me, what made you think they would listen to you? Hell, you know how Bruce feels about metas, knowing I’m one probably made things worse! He’s probably making some cage to hold me right now!”

You tap into the roots scattered around Gotham and focus on Wayne Manor, but are surprised to find you’re unable to connect.

(They have started removing our roots. We have accelerated the growth of the surrounding roots, but they are taking steps to prevent their regrowth.)

“So, we have no idea what they’re planning. Great, that’s just great. Terrific job, man. Really, just superb.”

(We thought we could help.)

You exhale a sigh and wave a hand through your hair, trying to come up with a plan on where to go next.

“How did it go down, exactly? What happened?”

The Megamycete uploads its meeting with them into your brain and it flashes before your eyes, from the Megamycete torturing some of them by turning into their dead ones to them learning about you killing your would-be murderers and Joker and Harley.

You thought you hated Bruce Wayne enough, but apparently you don’t hate that man enough.

How someone can be so delusional is astounding to say the least. Honestly, he deserves to be thrown in Arkham and studied, along with all the others.

They ignore you for most of your life and treat you like shit and now that you’re finally happy, they want to drag you back to Gotham.

And why?

Because they “love you?”

Bullshit.

They feel guilty and they just want to feel better. You know no one in that damn house is capable of feeling real love and once they feel better about themselves, they’ll go right back to ignoring you.

(They are truly delusional. They think their past behavior does not matter and you should be brought back to their fold.)

Yeah, you got that from Jason. The bastard wasn’t able to get away from Bruce and Gotham (because despite all his bluster, all he wants is that man’s approval) and because he couldn’t do it, he thinks you shouldn’t be able to.

Selfish, all of them.

“You fucked up. They were going to find out eventually, but thanks to you, we’re gonna have to deal with them sooner than we expected.”

(We know. We overestimated our abilities and brought trouble upon you. We apologize. Truly, we do.)

You understand where its heart was in the right place, but it still doesn’t change the fact that the Bats are probably going to be breaking down your door any day now.

Just then, there’s a knock at your door, making you freeze.

Shit, are they already here? Are they in regular clothes or are they in their capes and cowls? Are they really that desperate to bring you back to Gotham that they’d really raid your house in the middle of the day for anyone walking by to see?

You tap into the roots surrounding your house and see not Bruce Wayne or any of his kids darkening your door. Instead, you see a black haired woman dressed professionally standing on your porch.

“Who the hell is she?”

(We do not know. She is definitely not a resident of Gotham as we do not recognize her.)

That certainly doesn’t make you feel better. You know Bruce is resourceful as hell and isn’t afraid to use any dirty trick in the book to get what he wants.

(She does not appear to have ill intents. She is too delicate-looking to pose a threat to you, nor is her purse large enough to hold a weapon large enough to harm you.)

Looks can be deceiving. After all, Bruce is a member of the Justice League, where Martian Manhunter is and you can see Bruce using the alien to transform and trick you into lowering your guard. When that man gets obsessed over something, he doesn’t know when to leave well enough alone.

Still, you can speculate to the moon and back, but until you open the door and talk to the woman, you’ll never know for certain. Sure, it could be related to your current Bat problem, or it could be something else.

So, you walk through your house and up to your door.

“Who is it,” you call out.

“Lois Lane, Daily Planet,” she responds. “I’m here to ask Y/N Gould for an interview.”

Lois Lane? You’ve heard Bruce and the others say that name when talking about Metropolis and Superman and you’ve seen the name when reading a few news articles for school assignments, but you’ve never seen any pictures of her, so you had no idea the woman standing on your doorstep is the very woman famous for being one of the very few reputable journalists left in the world.

You unlock the door and open it just enough to stick your head out to see her face to face. You look into her eyes and see no ill intent or hidden motives.

“Mr. Gould, I presume,” she asks, a gentle smile on her face.

“You want an interview with me? What for?”

“Your relation with Bruce Wayne. As I’m sure you know, he’s the most famous man in Gotham, if he so much as sneezes in public, several news articles are written to publish it. Gotham’s media has always covered whenever he adopted another child, but out of nowhere, he appears at a video game awards ceremony and claims you’re his son and you call him a sperm donor. No one can forget when Damian Wayne appeared at a gala and was declared Bruce Wayne’s biological son. It made quite the stir when you pushed him and made it clear you had nothing but animosity towards him.”

Oh yes, you can remember the many days of fawning Damian got when he moved into the manor, leaving you bitter since all you got was a few minutes of people asking about your mother before forgetting about you in favor of all the others.

“What is it you want,” you say, trying to remain polite. “I lost years thanks to Gotham and Bruce Wayne and I’m not eager to lose any more dwelling in the past.”

“I want to hear your side of the story,” she says with a determination that surprises you. “You clearly suffered due to him and I want to help you tell your story to the world.”

You’re actually speechless at that. You know pretty much all of Gotham worships at the Alter of Wayne and his influence expands far beyond the city’s borders, leaving very few people willing to hear anything that would portray him in a negative light. It’s very safe to say Gotham is a cathedral dedicated to both Bruce Wayne and Batman.

To hear that someone with a reputation and influence like Lois Lane would want to listen to you and help you tell others your life’s story is nothing less of a shocker.

“I can’t say you’ll like what I have to say, Ms. Lane,” you say as you open the door wide and stand in the doorway. “I know Bruce Wayne is an institution of Gotham, but I can tell you that wasn’t my experience.”

“This isn’t about my opinion on Bruce Wayne or any of his children. This is about what you experienced during your stay in Wayne Manor.”

“And how much are you wanting to know?”

“Everything. Or, as much or as little you’re willing to tell me.”

Her words strike you to your core. It’s been years since you’ve had anyone really interested in what you have to say. Sure, Alfred was always willing to listen to you, but you learned early on that you had to hold back on how you really felt about Bruce Wayne and his children as any criticism you had about them was a failure on his part.

The poor man did the best he could, but those people are clearly beyond any form of help outside of being locked in padded cells.

“Come in, please,” you say, steeping aside so she could enter your home. Once she’s in, you close the door and lead her to the living room. “Can I get you anything? Coffee, water, soda?”

“Anything’s fine, thank you.”

She sits on the couch while you rush to the kitchen and prepare two glasses of ice water, a crystal pitcher full of more water, and a small bowl full of grapes and load it all onto a tray and carry it back to the living room. This is the first time you’ve ever had a guest and you want to make a good impression.

“So, where would you like to start,” you ask as you sit in your favorite chair, your glass of water in hand.

“I’d like to ask about your mother, if that’s alright,” she answers, pulling out a writing pad and pen from her purse. “I managed to find newspapers relating to you around the time you moved to Gotham, but they were very few and none of them had anything regarding your mother or your past.”

You stifle a chuckle at the thought of being one the front page of a few newspapers no doubt rotting in the Gotham Gazette’s archives. You were probably the center of news for all a week before Bruce adopted Tim and stole the spotlight, leading to the tradition of you being pushed further and further back whenever Bruce collected another troubled kid.

“My mom was Maria Gould, a famous writer known for romance novels set during the Age of Sail.”

“That Maria Gould,” she asks, looking up from her notepad in shock. “I didn’t know you were related to her?”

“You know her?”

“I was an avid reader of her books.” She gives a small chuckle. “I actually use to daydream of interviewing her when I first started at the Daily Planet.” He smile then shifts into a sympathetic frown. “I remember reading about her death in the paper. I knew it said she had a son, but I didn’t see the connection until now.”

“She died on my sixth birthday. It’s been sixteen years since that day and I can still remember it so clearly.”

That day haunts you to this day. You got to school so happy and excited for Momma to come pick you up after school, thinking about how much pizza you’d eat and what presents you’d get.

You had no idea that when you told her bye that day, it would be for the last time.

(Your grief is still so profound, even after all this time.)

That day ended in the loss of your Momma and your life went from bad to worse when Alfred picked you up and brought you to Gotham to live with that bastard.

“I can tell you loved you very much,” she responds, her expression sympathetic.

“Yeah,” you say, suppressing a tear. “Yeah, I did.”

“So, did you have any idea who your father was? Did she ever tell you or did you ever ask?”

“Yeah, I did ask when all my friends were celebrating Father’s Day and I realized I didn’t have a Daddy like my friends. She said that she didn’t know who he was. She didn’t say it, but when she said she was “young and dumb,” I later found out that meant she got drunk and had sex with a guy she didn’t know.” A ghost of a smile graces your face. “She said when I came along, I set her on the right path.”

“I say you did,” she responds, returning your smile. “Being a parent often makes people turn their lives around.” She jots something down in her pad before looking back at you. “So, when did you move to Gotham?”

“Immediately after the funeral. The sheriff drove me back home to pack up most of my stuff and when we got to the house, Alfred was waiting for me.”

“Wait, Bruce Wayne didn’t pick you up himself?”

“No, Alfred said he was too busy with work and couldn’t come.”

“His firstborn son loses his son and he couldn’t even make the time to get you,” she angrily mutters to herself as she writes. “And how did he react when he saw you?”

“It was almost like he was staring at a stranger in his home.”

You can still remember how you felt when you met Bruce Wayne for the first time; it was the first time you’d ever felt like someone didn’t like you and it really hurt.

“He barely said a word to me before telling Alfred he was going out.”

“Doing what,” she asks, clearly getting angrier and angrier by the second.

For a brief moment, you entertain the idea on ousting Bruce’s dirty little secret and telling the world that he’s Batman. He’d be drowning in so much attention and legal battles that he wouldn’t be able to bother you ever again.

But then, the rational part of your brain convinces you that by telling everyone Batman’s secret identity would invite a lot of trouble your way. After all, all of Bruce’s kids are vigilantes, so many would automatically assume you were one as well, leading you to being dragged into Bruce’s legal and publicity quagmire.

Also, there’s the very real possibility that all of Bruce’s enemies would come after you seeking revenge and while you were more than capable of dealing with whatever came your way, you’d really rather not deal with it altogether.

“I don’t know,” you say. “He said he had work to do, but this is Bruce Wayne we’re talking about. Chances are he was in some sleazy club with a girl on each side and one on her knees if you know what I mean.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” she agrees. “Now, a week after you moved to Wayne Manor, Bruce adopted Tim Drake. Did you two get along?”

You bark a bitter laugh. “He took one look at me and decided I wasn’t worth his attention. If you ask me, there’s always been something wrong with him. He’s always watching people, taking note of everything they do and obsessing over finding out his secrets. If you ask me, he’s not right and his parents knew it. That’s why they were always leaving him behind when they went to dig sites or parties.”

She’s definitely interested in that as she seemingly writes down everything you said, word for word.

She stifle a chuckle at the thought of Tim Drake being asked what the fuck’s wrong with him every time he goes anywhere.

“What about Dick Grayson? Everyone in Gotham says he’s everything a good big brother should be.”

Yes, you remember the celebration he got when the Gotham Gazette named him the World’s Best Big Brother for the tenth year in a row.

A celebration you weren’t invited to.

“He was a brother to me. When I first moved in, he always carved out time for Tim, but couldn’t give me the time of day. After being blown off a few dozen times in favor for of his other siblings, I eventually stopped asking him.”

“What about Jason Todd?”

“He gave me a black eye when we met.” She gasps at that. “Yeah, he’s a brute. He’s always going on about Jane Austen, but underneath that veneer of an intellectual, he’s Crime Alley trash. Honestly, Bruce should’ve just left him in that part of Gotham. With his poor anger management and proclivity for violence, he’d fit right in. Animals belong in the wild.”

“What about your half brother, Damian Wayne?”

“That little shit pulled a sword on me and nearly tried to take my head off.”

“He what?”

“Yeah, an actual sword. I was able to get out of the way, but he gave me a scar on my cheek. It took me a few years, but I was able to find a way to make it invisible, especially when I looked in the mirror. Every time I saw it, it reminded me of how little I mattered in that house.”

“What did Bruce Wayne do? Surely he knew about it?”

“He was in the room when it happened. All he did was carry him out while he was yelling insults about me and my Momma. And Dick said he had a difficult upbringing and I should forgive him.”

“Forgive him for almost killing you,” she exclaims, her eyes wide as saucers and a look of disgust on her face. “You can’t be serious!”

“I wish I was, Ms. Lane, but Dick’s made it clear that Damian’s his favorite and had he managed to kill me, I’m sure Dick would’ve just taken him out for ice cream and told him that he can’t go around killing people.” You let out a bitter laugh. “You know, he had some nerve calling my Momma a ‘whore’ when I know the secret about his mother.”

“You do,” she asks, leaning forward, her pen and pad ready, indicating you have her full and undivided attention. “Everyone’s asked Bruce about the identity of Damian’s mother and the details relating to the birth, but he’s told us nothing. Are you willing to shed some light on this?”

For a brief moment, you actually ask yourself if this is right. With all the things Damian’s done to you, is it really acceptable to tell the dirty little secret regarding his conception? After all, if you were in his shoes, you’d kill to ensure your secret never saw the light of day.

(But he would not hesitate to tell the world your secret if your situations were reversed,) the Megamycete chimes in. (And does he not deserve some comeuppance for his many transgressions against you?)

You have to admit, it has a point. And besides, this’ll give the Wayne Family a massive shitstorm they’ll have to deal with and your mind’s immediately made up.

“I know her name, but I don’t want her coming after me, so I’m afraid that part of the secret stays with me.” Lois nods, so you continue. “His mother raped him.”

She gasps and you know you’ve passed a point of no return now.

Then again, daring to defy the “great” Bruce Wayne was a point of no return, so this is just adding fuel to the fire.

“She drugged his drink and got him to agree to sleep with her, all for the sole purpose of getting pregnant because she believed him to be of a superior quality.” You lower your voice to mutter, “I can tell you she was greatly misled.”

After that, the interview breezed by, asking about how Steph and Cass treated you to the conditions you were kept in. You told her everything, about how Damian would go out of his way to make you miserable to how Bruce couldn’t be bothered to do anything for you and it was Alfred that kept you alive. In fact, it was only the poor butler that seemed to care about you and you were confident that had you died, Bruce would just be pissed about the inconvenience your death caused him, from having to find a place to bury you to making up a story to tell the media.

It was only when you told her the story involving Damian and your Momma’s pen did you realize that not only was she crying, but so were you.

You knew how that memory made you feel, but had forgotten how much it pained you until you told her every detail. Funny how the brain tries so hard to suppress the worst moments of your life.

“Why do you think they treated you like this,” she asks, trying to keep her voice even to disguise the fact she’s obviously upset. “From everything you’ve told me, it sounds like they really didn’t see you as a Wayne.”

“Because I was the consequence of Bruce’s stupidity. He got drunk and did something stupid, leading to me, and he didn’t like that he was forced to live with him and ruin his family’s image. And because I was normal.”

“Normal?”

“Yes, normal. I had a normal life with Momma while all of the have colorful backgrounds. And I’d like to think that I’m average looking and averagely intelligent with nothing special about me, compared to everyone in the Wayne Family, who always thing their the best looking and smartest people in the room. Plus, I wasn’t damaged goods until Bruce Wayne came into my life. I guess the tragic death of my Momma wasn’t enough for him to make him love me.”

Those words cause you to let out a choked sob as more and more memories of your time in Wayne Manor start surfacing, memories you’d prefer to keep buried.

“I think that’s enough reminiscing for one day,” you say, wiping your eyes and standing up.

“Yes, I think I have everything I need,” she says, doing the same thing.

“Is there anything I can get you before you go, Ms. Lane,” you ask as you lead her to the front door. “Maybe a drink or a snack for the road?”

One of Alfred’s many lessons was how to be a good host and he’d flip out if you didn’t offer her something.

“No, thank you, Mr. Gould, you’ve given me more than enough.” She hesitates for a moment before getting close to you, her arms at both your sides. You freeze up, thinking the worst is about to happen when you realize she’s hugging you. “I’m so sorry for your loss and what you had to go through growing up. No one should ever have to experience such neglect.”

Outside of Alfred, it’s been years since anyone’s hugged you. Last time you were hugged by anyone not the butler was when Momma first died; Goodsprings is the type of where everyone knows everyone and you’re pretty sure you had the entire town giving you hugs before and during the funeral.

“Thank you,” you whisper, returning the hug.

“I know it doesn’t undo the damage he’s done, but I promise this story will make everyone see who Bruce Wayne truly is.”

And with that, you two separate and you wave goodbye as she gets in her car and drives off.

(You made the right decision to tell her everything,) the Megamycete says as you close and lock your door. (We must say, we are surprised you chose not to tell her their roles as Gotham’s vigilantes. Surely the benefits of exposing them outweigh the projected consequences. Or at least balance out.)

“Believe me, I was plenty tempted, but having the enemies of Batman knocking down my door would be more trouble than it was worth. Sure, I could kill them all, but it would only be a matter of time until I was put in a situation where too many people would ask too many questions.”

“We see your point. Besides, her story will no doubt cause more than enough trouble for him and his band of misfits.”

A part of you makes you wish you were back in Gotham so you could see the backlash Bruce is about to be hit with.

Granted, it’s a small part, practically microscopic, but it’s still there.

“I understand, but—“ Bruce says before hearing a click, indicating the call has been ended.

“Another bad phone call, Master Bruce,” Alfred says as holds out a cup of tea.

“Yes,” he sighs, putting his phone in his pocket and taking the cup with one hand and rubbing his temples with the other. “The Humanitarian Ball. The event organizers said they didn’t want ‘cruel and heartless monsters’ bringing a bad name on their event.”

Ever since Lois Lane’s article titled The Forsaken Gould of the Wayne Family came out two days ago, he’s experienced set back after set back; in less than forty-eight hours, Wayne Enterprises’ stock has lost half its value, many large companies have dropped out of their business deals, and more than a few people have withdrawn their invitations for high-profile events.

But none of that compares to the massive gap between you and him getting even larger. He knew that he’d wronged you, but being able to read it in black and white just drives the point even further.

He just wishes that it could’ve stayed between you, him, and your siblings. His family may be celebrities in Gotham, but he prefers to handle the family’s drama behind closed doors.

He’s held his family together through thick and thin and he’ll continue to do so.

And he’s had a hard time doing that over the past two days.

He’s read and reread that article ever since it came out, unable to go a single day without looking at it. He had no idea that he made you feel like you were a mistake he felt embarrassed over or that because you weren’t anything like them, you weren’t worthy of his love.

He knows he’s failed you, but he wants to fix all of it! He wants to embrace you and never let go and to put you up on a pedestal for all of Gotham to bask in and know that you’re the most treasured member of the Wayne Family.

But until they find a way to rid that mushroom in your body and bring you back home, they can’t start fixing their mistakes.

The media’s had a field day with the article ever since it came out, hounding them every time they go out in public, asking them how they could sleep at night knowing they kept you in tiny guest room on the other side of the manor or about how Bruce could treat the son born from Talia drugging him with such love while treating the son born from a drunken one-night stand with such disdain.

He was shocked to learn that you knew of them being the Bats, but to learn you knew the truth regarding Damian’s birth…

Just how much did you know? Did he ignore you so much that he didn’t know you were nearby whenever he talked about anything, even sensitive information that he only talked to Alfred about.

Were you practically invisible to him the entire time you lived here?

Of course, Damian’s pissed that people are calling Talia a rapist and asking if he knew. All this made him a powder keg ready to go off, but what made him really go off was when one of his more elitist classmates made the snide remark that Damian was right to treat you like he did because you came from “some low class author” and simply weren’t worthy of being a member of high society, his son broke the boy’s nose and said he wasn’t worthy of saying your name.

He really wished Damian would’ve let him handle it by framing his parents for tax evasion and illegal business dealings (of course, he still did it, that little shit should’ve known better than to think he had the right to even think about you). They already have enough problems on their plate, they don’t need to add assault to it.

Dick really took it hard when he read that you didn’t think of him as a big brother and Lois Lane had called for him to be stripped of his status of Gotham’s Best Big Brother.

If there’s one thing Dick holds dear in this world, it’s his status as the family’s big brother and would bend over backwards for any of his siblings, be it driving them to the other side of Gotham or helping them with a case.

Dick already felt bad when he realized he’s always ignored you in favor of his other siblings, but that article pushed him over the edge, making his oldest son lose his trademark energetic behavior, choosing to spend all his time in your old room. And if Bruce is very quiet and he creeps close to the door, he can hear Dick’s muffled weeping and apologies.

His heart breaks for his oldest. If he could, he’d undo his and his children’s wrongdoings towards you and bare the memory of it if it meant you being here, where you belong, and not hating them.

Jason also took it hard; Jason knows that he has a problem with his temper and has tried everything under the sun to keep it under control, but his upbringing in Crime Alley and his torture and death at Joker’s hands have left marks on him that he’ll be dealing with for the rest of his life (and Bruce would pay any price to undo them). Jason regrets taking his anger for him out on you when he returned, thinking you were another “replacement” like Tim when he sees you and him had so much in common, you’re practically related.

Tim’s sequestered himself in his room, glued to his computer desk; he’d been in your old room almost everyday ever since they learned of their neglect towards you, thinking the almost bare room would provide some glimpse into your mind that he can use to get into your good graces and make you return home. After the article, many of them tried to rationalize that this Megamycete was twisting your mind and make you hate them so much, but that’s when Tim admitted that he found an old journal of yours, going back to when you first moved in and detailing everything they’d done to you, the last entry detailing Damian throwing your mother’s pen into the yard while it was raining.

He hates how he handled that situation; at the time, he thought you were just making a big deal over some silly little pen (fuck, that was how he really saw it back then), but you were just protecting the only thing you had of your mother, uncaring what it would cost you. He’d like to think he’s do the same thing had someone tried to take his mother’s pearls (you really are his son, aren’t you).

When Tim said he had your journal, they all tried to get it from him, Damian going as far as to bring out his sword and threaten to take it by force (Bruce really needs to consider confiscating that sword due to all the trouble it’s caused). Hell, Jason actually begged to be able to read your journal, but his son would not surrender the book and has been hoarding all the information for himself.

The girls have been silent since reading it, which is never a good sign since Steph is always making noise. He tried to comfort Cass when she read that you don’t consider her a person because of the way she looks at people, like she’s trying to find strengths and weaknesses before attacking them (apparently you also know of her upbringing as a weapon), but his second daughter wouldn’t accept his gestures, signing that you had a point and that she’d never break free of her origins as a living weapon.

And Damian… His youngest has been eerily quiet, but it doesn’t take his detective training to realize he’s fuming on the inside (it seems to be a prerequisite in this family to deal with emotions in unhealthy ways). Bruce had asked him if he was angry that you had exposed the secret of his birth and all his youngest said was that it was his penance for his transgressions against you (his heart breaks that his youngest thinks he deserves this as some sort of punishment).

He was already having a hard time containing the fallout of the world finding out his firstborn son is you, not Damian, and that he’s basically not acknowledged you at all in the last decade, but this article has made it next to impossible to find a convincing lie to tell the media that you came back willingly when they ultimately bring you back home.

“This fucking Megamycete,” he growls, setting the teacup on a nearby table not so gently. “It’s ruined everything.”

“How do you figure, Master Bruce,” the man responds, an eyebrow raised.

“It’s making him lash out, do these things. I know we wronged Y/N and he has every right to hate us, but he shouldn’t be capable of this, should he? There’s no way he’d ever say these things willingly.”

“Do you think you know Master Y/N to make such an assessment?”

That makes him pause.

He has no illusion that he never took the time to sit down with you to have an actual conversation, but his blood still courses through your veins; he’d never do something like this, nor would Damian or any of his other children.

Did your hate for them… for him run that strong? That you despise them so much that you’d expose and put them all on display for the world to see?

Would you go as far as exposing their secret identities?

“What do you think, Alfred,” he says after a moment of silence. “You obviously know him better than all of us. Would he ever do something like this?”

“I think that he wishes to exact revenge for the many years of neglect you all inflicted upon him and that this is his opening volley,” the man says with no hesitation or restraint.

That makes him flinch.

“So, you’re saying he hates us,” he asks, afraid of the answer the butler will give him.

He knows you have every right to hate him, god knows he’s made his children hate him on several occasions, but if you hate him… hate them enough to do something like this…

He knows he’s not strong enough to handle it.

“I think he’s dreamed of making all of you pay for what you’ve done to him for years. And with this Megamycete within him, I say he’s more than a match for you and the children.”

“You’d think he’d attack us?”

“When I held Master Y/N in my arms, I could see the fury beneath his tears. Master Damian use to take delight in giving Master Y/N a demonstration in his combat prowess. There’s no doubt in my mind that Master y/N wishes to return the favor.”

He won’t allow that. He’s hurt his children in multiple ways and his children have hurt one another in multiple ways over the years and every time it happened it created a rift that was never truly repaired, merely covered over. There’s been enough pain and misery in this family to last several lifetimes.

He’s fought tooth and nail to keep his children together and he’s not about to let one slip away.

He understands you want nothing to do with him or your siblings, but like it or not, you’re his son and his children belong in Gotham, under his roof.

“Have the tests on the root samples finished yet?”

“Yes, they were finished just a little while ago. I’m afraid to say that none of the toxins you have in stock had any noticeable effect on them.”

He curses at the news. He had hoped the toxins he keeps so deal with Poison Ivy would be as effective on the Megamycete, but that is unfortunately not the case.

“What about the in-depth analysis on the blood sample?”

“From what the analyzer could tell, the Megamycete seems to behave like a benign cancer, slowly eradicating Master Y/N’s native cells in order to replace them with unstable mold versions, which are able to be manipulated and altered into whatever he desires.”

That certainly makes coming up with a strategy on how to counter your abilities; sure, he has a few ideas based on a few villains and heroes that have similar abilities to you, but until he sees what you’re capable of firsthand, he won’t have anything concrete.

The thought then leads to him having an idea, one he’s eager to act on.

“I’m going out, Alfred.”

“And where are we off to, Master Bruce?”

“I’m going to see my son.”

Tag List: @space1crow @lunaluz432 @type-ink @bat1212 @eyeless-kun @deathbynarcisstick @orbitingtraveler @1s3v3n1 @nosyrobin @roseytheteacup @bunbunboysworld @kitty-from-daaaa-voidddd @feral-childs-word @phoenixgurl030 @soriansick @hellcatsworld @bellethesleepypotato @prettyboys247 @marsmabe @exactlynumberonekryptonite @paolexsstuff @fantasyhopperhea @c0l1fl0r @ellaprime7 @starryperson @kore-of-the-underworld @kiarst @vanessa-boo @moxiemy @ratchetprime211 @greatwhisperspaper @tatsuri-zomushiki @bunbunbread @starsdotalk @luna57765 @solelifauna @jsprien213 @diejager @lizz-lrm @v0idl1nq @chericia @wizzerreblogs @tinybrie @lilyalone @thickasthievingtoads @creativechaosx @randomlyappearingartist @ferchu0406 @kik1010 @butterflycardigann

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green : Part 23

The cheerful bell rang a familiar chime as Damian opened the door to his favorite animal shelter. The scent of fur, pet food, and antiseptic was as comforting as it was potent. Damian watched Danny closely out of the corner of his eye. The other boy’s nose wrinkled, but he looked around the front room curiously.

“Damian! I wasn’t expecting you today,” Ms. Lacey said as she popped out of the back room, summoned by the chime.

‘Ms. Lacey’ was their compromise. Damian had refused to simply refer to the woman by her first name and in turn, Ms. Lacey refused to give Damian her last name. It had been supremely frustrating. Now it was almost akin to game or inside joke between them. It was nice.

She brushed the riot of curls (blue this month) out of her face and looked at the group that had entered the shelter curiously.

Damian knew they were a bit of a sight. Danny was still swathed in a number of bandages and, now out of the apartment, looked a moment away from running. Because of that, Jason basically loomed over Danny and Damian as if he could keep the world at bay.

(He might just be able to manage to.)

“No. It is not one of my normal service days, however, I am not here to volunteer,” Damian said, his tone almost apologetic. “I have brought Daniel—”

“Danny.”

“—to see if there is a pet that would suit him.”

“Hi, Danny,” Ms. Lacey said and leaned forward onto the counter.

Danny shied back into Jason’s space. He clutched a little tighter at the backpack that his bear was safely stashed in. Cass had thought it might be good for Danny to be able to take the bear discreetly with him as he seemed rather attached to it. Considering the tracker in the bear, everyone quickly helped make that happen.

“Hi Lacey,” Danny replied softly.

Ms. Lacey leaned back, her smiled now twinged with just a little bit of sadness. Damian had seen her look abused animals the same way. “Do you know what type of animal you might be interested in, Danny?”

“I was thinking a cat or dog?” The words were more a question than a statement. “Someone that can sit with me.”

“That’s a good start. That could also be rabbits, but if they’re going to be living at the manor,” Ms. Lacey glanced briefly at Damian for a confirming nod, “then a rabbit might not work the best. A cat has the advantage that it would be indoors and doesn’t need as much effort depending on the animal’s age. But you might want a dog to walk! Why don’t we get you into the kitten room to start, because that’s a great time no matter what.”

When Danny glanced from Ms. Lacey to Damian to Todd, Todd gave a little nod. Danny tightened the hold on his backpack, took a breath, and gave a little nod.

-

“Okay, this is pretty great,” Danny said as he pried a tiny orange and white ball of fluff off his shoulder and set the little guy back down with his siblings.

Immediately the kitten was pounced by the black kitten and had his ears chewed on.

“Kittens might be too much energy for me though,” Danny admitted. He had a feeling he’d never have the type of energy he used to again. He wasn’t sure if that was from his death or… everything else.

“They are a great deal of work,” Damian agreed. His own lap was full of peacefully sleeping kittens.

Danny was a little jealous. He caught the grey kitten who looked more like a a dust bunny as it romped past.

“What if I don’t find a pet today?”

“Then we will go somewhere else. This is not the only shelter in the city,” Damian said.

The straightforward certainty that Damian had about the world was something Danny had come to appreciate over the last several days of knowing Damian. The fear was still there. Danny didn’t know if it would ever go away, but he could ignore it now. Sometimes it was hardly even background noise.

Danny was used to having a brain full of static.

“It will be fine, Brother,” Damian said when Danny didn’t respond.

Brother. Damian insisted on using that instead of his name, but Danny figure that was because Damian didn’t have a last name to call him like all the others. Bruce was simply ‘Father’ too. Maybe it was about Wayne then? But Danny wasn’t Daniel Wayne. He was just Danny… no one.

“Yeah,” Danny made himself respond so that Damian didn’t get worried. For all that Damian tried to be aloof he really was worse than even Dick.

“If a kitten would be too much, what do you think of an adult cat?”

Danny looked down at the little slip of a kitten in his hands. It was so tiny. “I think let’s start with dogs. Something not so small and… breakable.”

Damian nodded and started to divest himself of cats. “I have heard the vets ‘joke’ that kittens will heal from anything. One could toss a kitten and its missing foot in a cage and it would reattach. I suggest we do not try it.”

“No,” Danny said in horror. “We are very much not trying that, what the hell.”

“What is what I said.” Despite having to deal with many more kittens, Damian was up first and offering Danny his hand. “Come, Brother.”

Danny took the hand, stood, and still had one last kitten to pull off of of his jeans where it clung with this sharp, sharp claws.

---

AN: I was able to give this a read through finally, so have the first bit of this chapter! Because who doesn't want Danny and Damian surrounded by adorable kittens?

[hirsheyskisses]

When You're Sober.

RORONOA ZORO x READER (short)

Summary: Being Roronoa's childhood friend, he's declared for the world to hear how one day, he's going to make you his wife. As adults, you had assumed he moved on, but as it stands..

A/N: I've had this in my head for AHH so long. So I'm writing it before I go back to requests 🤣

"..are you going to stay this time?"

Child Zoro questioned you. You sighed softly, seeing the tears pricking at his eyes pulled your heart strings in ways the young swordsman couldn't even begin to comprehend. Kuina's funeral had just ended, and Zoro had immediately sought you out. You were a slightly older swordsman pupil, by 2 years to be exact, and Zoro had latched onto you recently, with Kuina jokingly teasing you of how much he liked you. Sure, 11 and 13 weren't too big, but to a kid, it was all the difference. Still though, you couldn't help but care for him.

"..no. I'll be staying at the dojo." You replied, watching him smile, just a bit. You were both still sad after Kuina's death, and you weren't about to leave the mossball all on his lonesome- and you'd grown to like this dojo, as had your father. You were certain you could convince him to stay, rather than travel to another.

"Good! 'Cause I'm gonna marry you one day, so I can't have you leaving!" Zoro declared tearfully, through his shit eating grin, and you quickly angled your head away and growled, "we're not getting married!"

It didn't matter how many times you defended yourself, he wouldn't let up. If flustered and enraged you to no end. No matter how many battles you raged against him, no matter how many times you had him panting and defeated, holding your wooden sword to his throat, no, none of it scared Zoro.

"I'm gonna marry you one day, (Name)!"

Sometimes, Zoro would even sneak into your bed. You realized they were mostly driven by nightmares. You'd hear him slowly open the door, sniffling from tears, and walk over to you. He'd prod your side before diving under the covers with you, snuggling as close to your side as possible. "I know.. you're awake." He'd mumble, wrapping his arms around you. You'd give in, wrapping one around him. "Yeah. Hard not to when ya sneak into my bed." Zoro snuggled a bit closer. "Wanna be close. That's all." You knew it was more. He trusted you. He even began to tell you about the nightmares, and despite yourself, You'd comfort him. Hold him until he fell asleep.

It grew increasingly difficult for you to be mad at him, especially not seeing as it had become almost a game- plus his wholesome and innocent smile was so damn adorable. You figured he'd grow out of it eventually, popping out of nowhere to declare his undying love. Until then, you grew accustomed to him popping out of closets, around trees and doors, and through windows and met his confessions through the clashes of your blades.

As it turns out, Zoro did grow out of it. The two of you had long since left the dojo together, became bounty hunters, and then became pirates on Luffy's crew. Around 16, and you being 18 is when Zoro had began to stop asking, the questions growing less and less often until they had halted altogether, his mind set on fulfilling his promise to Kuina, to become the world's strongest and carry his name to the heavens, where yours was to find the world's wonders, and the blades of your dreams. In fact, the last time he'd done so..

..Zoro had grown. He knew that, you knew that. He'd never let you live down that you're shorter than him, much to your dismay. You both had barely left the dojo, and Zoro had decided the first thing he wanted to do was drink for the first time. So that's what he did. You chose to stay sober, just in case.

What you hasn't anticipated was just how clingy he'd get when he was wasted.

"Hey.." you were leading him back to the hotel, when without any warning, he'd pulled you into an alley and pushed you gently against the wall. Zoro stared intently into your eyes and pressed himself a bit closer, you could smell the alcohol from his breath. "Fuckin- Zoro! What're ya doin?!"

"So cute.." he'd lean in and smell your hair, his earrings glinting in the moonlight, arms keeping you caged against the wall. "I've waited.. s'long. M' even of age now."

He pulled back a bit, towering over you, and you could feel yourself becoming a furious, blushing mess. Zoro himself was flushed, panting softly, lips parted ever so slightly.

"Wanna marry ya. Wanna marry ya s'bad.."

He slurred, and you flushed a deeper shade of red. His hand reached up to tuck some hair behind your ear, and you were frozen for a long moment. Until you finally came back to your senses.

Shoving his face away, you grabbed his arm and began storming to the hotel,

"Stupid mossball! Ask me again when you're sober!"

He never did.

Sometimes you missed it, how close you and Zoro used to be. Sure, you still had complete trust in one another, and always had each other's backs in battle, but it was as though you'd both spoken so much, that you no longer spoke. You'd still train, sometimes even nap in the others presence, but words had become rarer, instead communicating through looks more often than not, quick and brief. You were beginning to miss his voice.

"(Nameeeeeee).. hey. 'chu doin' all alone?"

Speaking of Zoro- he'd joined you on the rail of the Sunny. On the beach, the rest of the straw hats were celebrating with the locals, and said locals had given Zoro an alcohol like no other. Zoro, believing his tolerance was high enough to take it, decided to drink it during a drinking contest. For the first time in a long while, he was wasted. Again.

"Relaxing. It was quite the battle today." You responded, smiling at the swordsman. His swords rested at his side, and your two rested st your side.

"It was.. f'sure." Zoro agreed, leaning against the railing, "you handled yerself good out there." He placed a hand at the small of your back, smiling at you. "Saw the new technique.. should use it against me sometime."

You awkwardly moved away from his hand, laughing softly. "Yeah, sure, when you're sober." His smile fell ever so slightly, and you tilted your head in confusion. "Ya good there, Zoro?"

"No. I'm not."

He responded, and with little warning, he had you in his arms, practically squishing you against him in a fiercsome hug. "Ack! Zoro! Can't breathe!" You yelped, laughing breathily as you struggled to escape his wrath, deciding to worry about him after you could breathe again.

"....why ya talk ta Sanji s'much?"

Zoro growled, loosening his grip and grabbing you by your shoulders, suddenly pushing you away but still holding you, at arms length. "HAH? Fuck you mean?" "It means.. exactly what I'm askin'. You even ditched training the other day.. ta' talk to that damn cook. Why?" He sounded hurt, and you grew even more confused. "'Cause he's my friend? Plus, I've been taking some cooking lessons from him to help out." Zoro scowled, clenching his teeth and flat glaring at you. His grip was tightening to the point it hurt, and you tried not to wince, instead meeting his glare with one of your own. "What's your problem, Roronoa?! They put angry juice in your damn booze?" You placed emphasis on his last name, which only caused his grip to tighten more. You watched as he opened his mouth, then closed it again, struggling to find the right words to say.

"My problem is, is I wanna fuckin' marry ya, and seein ya with that damn cook pisses me off."

His voice was low, and he loosened his grip, instead opting to massage your shoulders. Yet again, you'd frozen, watching Zoro's glare turn into a pout as he dropped his head.

"I know I know.. ya dont feel the same.. but.. damn it, atleast choose someone better than him."

To say you were shocked was an understatement. You'd never seen Zoro look so defeated, watching him turn his head away. He hasn't given up, but he was about to. Your heart shattered in more ways than one. As his hands dropped from your shoulders, you knew one thing: it was now or never.. but what if these were just..

You reached out and grabbed his hand, staring at the ground. You couldn't look at him- not when he looked like a kicked puppy. "Zoro.."

"...yea?"

"Ask me again. When you're sober. I'll answer you."

Then, you jumped over the edge of the ship, landing on the beach, and ran to join the others, face beet red and guilt boiling deep in your gut.

He didn't. The next day you both went on as if nothing happened. However, after breakfast, Zoro vanished off the ship, alongside Nami. You'd decided to think nothing of it, however, part of you wished, so badly, that you'd just told him. But you had also decided that if Zoro couldn't tell you when he was sober, then it just wouldn't work.

I've loved him for years.. I thought he'd forgotten. God.. I wish I could turn back time, and accept him. I'm a fool.

"(Name)-chan? You're looking gloomy. That damn Marimo do something to you?! I swear I'll-"

Sanji had approached you, and you cut him off with a wave of your hand. "Its.. just a childhood subject came up. It's touchy." You responded, finally removing your gaze from the table to meet his gaze. Sanji sat across from you, "Wanna talk about it?"

"...not sure what good it'll do." You huffed, fidgeting with your hands. For a long moment, Sanji was silent. Which was odd, seeing as he was usually swooning over you, or whisking you away to teach you a new cooking technique.

"..things will work out between you two. Don't worry. He may be a lumbering fool, but he isn't a total idiot." Sanji said, a twinkle in his eyes. You glanced at him, "whatddya mean by that?" "I mean exactly what I said, darling."

You spent the rest of the day wondering what Sanji could've possibly meant. Working around the ship and making sure everything was ready to set sail in the morning, Chopper dancing around your feet as he helped and rambled about medical knowledge.

As time rolled around for dinner, you were moving to the kitchen with the others, laughing with Usopp at Luffy's antics, when all of a sudden,

"(NAME)! hol.. hold on." Zoro came running up behind you, with something held in his hands. Nami wasn't far behind, but she maneuvered around the two of you to stand with the others.

"Fuck.. never doin that again." He grumbled, dropping to one knee and staring up at you, chest heaving, as he pulled out a small box.

"..zoro?-"

"You.. you told me to ask again when I'm sober. So I am."

"Marry me."

He opened the box to reveal a beautiful black and gold ring. You froze, staring at it, and then at the swordsman, who was staring up at you, just as still as you.

He..

"...fuckin' hell Zoro. Yes, I'll marry you."

The grin that erupted on Zoro's face was beautiful as tears spilled from your eye, and your crewmates cheered behind you both as Zoro pulled you into his arms, slipping the ring on your finger.

"SUPPPPER! finally!" "Yohohohoho! I should play some music!" "Damn marimo.. You'd better take care of her!" Their congratulations fell on deaf ears as Zoro held you, burying his face into your shoulder. The growing wet feeling on your shoulder told you one thing: he was crying, too.

"..I love you. So much.. please, stay at my side for the rest of eternity." He whispered, voice raspy, and you melted into his hold,

"Always, and forever. I've always been yours, Zoro."