#i politely request no adoption on this one

[stealingyourbones]

Danny is a coffee shop owner in Gotham and is repeatedly attacked by the GIW. Danny can (mostly) handle his own but he’s in the Bats’ city.

The help is greatly appreciated. The vigilantes have incorporated his small business into their patrol path. They even stop in to grab some coffee or a pastry. He thought he’d get to know this cities heroes as Phantom but instead they become friends with Fenton

[witherby]

imagine how cute would be if Bruce brings the little wayne to his work on wayne tower 🥺 the moment would be ruined if some paparazzi taking photos with flash and scaring the baby

Sooo the baby didn't end up getting scared, but this idea did make me spit out 2000 words worth of content. I hope that's a fair compromise :3

THE LITTLEST WAYNE: TAKE YOUR KID TO WORK DAY

Featuring: Bruce talking to you like a colleague, a newspaper article, and an overprotective Damian.

"Morning, Clarice. Donuts and coffee are getting delivered in five minutes if you wanna pop downstairs and help yourself. Afterwards, do me a favor and rebook the consultation with Lexcorp for sometime next month? The further out the better."

Bruce's secretary nodded, fingers flying across the keys to accommodate his request. She tucked a lock of strawberry blonde hair behind her ear and shot him a polite smile.

"Of course, mister Wayne — oh, goodness gracious."

Bruce's placid expression quickly became embarrassed. He tried to walk past her but she was already on her feet and rounding the desk, heels clicking over the linoleum floor to stand in front of him and the bundle on his arm.

"Who is this!" She cried, immediately fawning over you. You stared blankly at her as you suckled on your binky, wrapped up in a tiny Nightwing onesie (Dick got to the clothes first this morning) and hugging your father's arm. "Oh, my, you're the most adorable baby I've ever seen! I'm Clarice! I'm your father's personal secretary, and apparently the last person to find out anything, including when he adopted yet another child!"

"This wasn't a...planned acquisition," Bruce muttered, the tips of his ears pink. He let the blonde gently squish your fat cheeks and you preened under the attention, lifting one fuzzy-wrapped hand to brush against her wrist.

"A planned acquisition. Like you're another company he bought on a whim and not a precious angel," Clarice giggled. "What a doll... If you ever need a babysitter, Mister Wayne, please don't hesitate to call me!"

"I'll keep that in mind," he said, exasperated but smiling good-naturedly. "Have a great day, Clarice."

"You, too! Bye-bye, angel!" She waved, and squealed when you waved back.

Bruce disappeared into his office with you, bouncing you gently on one arm while the other shrugged off the duffel bag he carried with him. Zipping it open, he quickly tugged out a pop-up bassinet to place you in, then the pieces to an enclosed play pen he built and filled with some blankets, a couple toys, and an extra Red Robin binky (Tim got to the toys first this morning).

"Okay," he sighed, scooping you up and relocating you to the pen. "I've actually got to run my own company for a bit, and the others are busy, so you get to hang out with me today."

Bruce rested his arm on his desk, then his chin in his hand, and stared down at you. You were staring intently back at him, the binky bopping up and down as you suckled on it.

"You're a little young to learn the ropes, but I'll explain what I'm doing anyway. Every baby book I've looked at tells me you get something out of it even if you don't understand what I'm saying, so today it's time to do payroll. I'd make you sign an NDA, because you're about to see a lot of personal files, but you don't know how to hold a pencil, read, write, or speak yet, so I think we're fine."

Bruce had two monitors on his desk. He duplicated his screen and spun the other one around so you could watch what he was doing in real time.

"I don't like to delegate this task to other people because the last six times I did, they were eventually found embezzling money. Unfortunately, that tends to happen when you live in Gotham. Right now I've opened the pay software — it's this icon here, where the mouse is circling — and I'm going to ask it to open the time sheets for the last two weeks..."

---

A NEW FAMILY MEMBER? BRUCE WAYNE SPOTTED IN WAYNE TOWER WITH INFANT, SPECULATION GROWING

CEO of Wayne Enterprises Bruce Wayne seen with a baby after exiting his office this afternoon!

[An image of you in your Nightwing onesie, tucked securely in a smiling Bruce's arms as he walks out of an elevator, is printed on the front page of the Gotham Gazette.]

Sources say Wayne filed another adoption form with the courts a week ago and is being met with mixed reviews. Large portions of the public are joking that Wayne has an "adoption problem" while others speculate he is too inexperienced to foster an infant.

"Wasn't his youngest kid, like, 9 when he adopted him?" Asks one Carmine Falconi, recently released from Blackgate on good behavior. "None o' my business, of course, but I don't think he knows how to raise a tiny tot like that. My guys ain't touchin' a hair on that one's head, though. Kidnapping the odd teen or two, sure, go nuts, but even us crooks got codes, and that one's off-limits in my book."

Wayne declined to comment when the Gotham Gazette reached out and remaining family have further refused interviews about the subject.

(Alfred got to the phone first.)

---

The newspaper clipping was already framed and proudly sitting on the dining room table when Bruce woke up the next morning and shuffled downstairs for breakfast with you in his arms. He spared it a tired glance, put you in your high chair, and relented to Damian's insistent shoving so the boy could sit next to and feed you (he got to the pantry first).

"The next time you plan on actually doing your day job," the boy hissed, "bring one of us with you. There was an abysmal amount of security protocols you ignored when leaving work to allow paparazzi the chance to grab photos. I won't let your frivolous behavior cause them harm."

"Are you volunteering?" Bruce asked, gratefully accepting the mug of coffee Alfred handed over. He quietly greeted Dick and Jason as they filed into the room and had a quick rock-paper-scissors match to see who got to sit on your other side. Jason won. "Any networking events I have to attend, you almost always find a way to weasel out of."

"If it will keep our new charge safe," Damian huffed, "I can handle a few stupid luncheons."

"That's not a pass to skip school. If it's between a social or a class, you're going to class."

Damian looked simultaneously pissed and relieved. His fist clenched tightly around the small, silicone spoon, before he forced himself to relax and continue feeding you. You opened your mouth obediently for another offering of mushed-up bananas, apples, and cinnamon baby food from a high quality brand, giving a happy hum.

"Then the duty falls to one of you fools," he snapped at Jason and Dick, "which is akin to trusting a mosquito not to drink from you at the first possible opportunity. You'll pick up the slack when I'm otherwise indisposed."

"No can do, baby bat," Dick said, pouring himself a bowl of cereal and scrolling through his phone. He quickly snapped a picture of you with your mouth open to accept another spoonful of food. "I have a day job, too. I don't even live here. I'm just on an extended vacation until the end of next week, then it's back to Blüdhaven."

Damian focused his glare on Jason next, who smirked back and shook his head.

"Legally dead. So, 'less you want Brucie Wayne and an innocent baby seen all around town with Red Hood, the crime lord, it's a no from me."

Damian weighed the pros and cons. Bruce shot him a look and shook his head, dismissing the idea entirely.

The boy grit his teeth. He scraped the last of the baby food from its jar and fed it to you, then delicately wiped the remnants from your mouth. You gummed at his finger and made grabby hands, indicating your desire to get out of the high chair. Jason scooped you up first with a swift call of "dibs!", carrying you away to get bathed and dressed for the day.

"Then...then you have to go into work with Timothy!" Damian demanded, facing Bruce again, who had finished his coffee by now and was eating a slice of buttered toast. The man raised a brow, looking only marginally more awake than he was at the start of the day.

"Tim hates being at the office with me," Bruce explained as Alfred came around to set a plate of pancakes, eggs, and freshly-squeezed orange juice in front of Damian. "Says the Brucie act is annoying to be around and it drives productivity down at least 8% every time. It's a lie, I've checked the numbers, but if he doesn't want to be at the Tower at the same time as me then I'm not going to push a non-issue."

"You?" said Damian, incredulous. "You aren't going to push a non-issue? You push everything. It may as well be your middle name."

He cut into his food with more force than necessary, cutlery scraping unpleasantly against the plate until he lifted his hands again. He shrugged off the hand Bruce tried to place on his shoulder, chewing angrily on a mouthful of pancake.

"I'm open to ideas, son," the man said, "but here are the facts: You have to go to school Monday through Friday. I won't let you homeschool because you need to socialize with people in your age group. Jason isn't interested in declaring himself alive right now. Dick doesn't live at the Manor full time and has separate responsibilities. Tim is juggling college, Wayne Enterprises, and patrols. Alfred is too ol— is aging gracefully, and might prefer to have more time to himself instead of watching the baby all alone for hours on end."

Alfred took Bruce's empty plate away with a very sharp look, then excused himself back to the kitchen.

Bruce turned in his chair to fully face Damian, who glared at his breakfast like it personally caused this mess, and not one hyper-empathetic man and his bleeding heart for orphans.

"Now, can you tell me how best to solve this problem without the occasional "take your kid to work day," or enrolling the baby in a daycare program?"

Yes, he could. But unfortunately for Damian, he had inherited a bleeding heart of his own, which constricted at the thought of giving his little sibling back up for adoption. Instead, he swallowed his next mouthful of food and sighed.

"More research is needed," he mumbled, which was the closest he could ever get to admitting he didn't know something. "However, my complaints still stand. Let the paparazzi get a bad photo if it means keeping the babe safe. Their well-being is your top priority, so act like it."

"Heard," Bruce said, sounding far too fond for Damian's liking. "Finish your breakfast and then get ready for school."

The boy grumbled but complied, and soon stood next to the door waiting for Alfred to pull a car up to the driveway. He watched Bruce carry you in his arms after he slung the duffel bag with your essentials over his shoulder, tugging the small hood of your red oneside up (Jason dressed you first today) over your head to ensure you didn't get cold.

"Have a good day, Damian," Bruce told him.

"Sure, whatever." Damian took you from his father and adjusted your hood himself. You grabbed his finger in your small fist with all the strength you could muster and tried to put it in your mouth. He gently pried it free, and Bruce popped a Batman binky in there instead. "You will be safe today. When I'm finished conforming to what American society deems a proper education, I will retrieve you myself."

Your binky bopped up and down as you suckled on it, staring silently at Damian. It was practically a yes to him, so he took it.

Glancing briefly at his father, he hesitated a moment, then kissed your forehead and quickly passed you back to Bruce before heading outside to let Alfred drive him to school.

Bruce watched him go with an unreadable expression. He quickly turned and faced Dick once Damian was out of earshot.

"Did you —"

"I'm texting you the picture right now," Dick said, thumbs flying across the keyboard. "What should the caption be for my Twitter post? #BestBrotherEver or #SecretSofty?"

"Either way, he's going to kick your ass."

[agentromanoffsir]

building community on the indie web - neocities guide part 2

neocities is a free hosting website that lets you build your own html website from scratch, with total creative control. neocities is part of the indie web, but certainly not all of it!

If you're looking to get started with the nitty gritty of neocities, i recommend checking out my neocities guide part 1 :) part 2 is focused on forming a community & making connections.

why join neocities/the indie web?

by building your own site, you have the freedom to make whatever cool shit you want. no limits, no censors, no masters. just you and your website. connect with people or just tend to your own virtual garden, the choice is completely yours.

okay. you have a site. now what?

do you want to build & foster a free web community? here's some things you can do or add to your site to start making connections

create a button for your page

making a button for your site is a great way to connect with other indie web users! site buttons are usually 88x31 pixels and should be easily located on your site.

many users create collections of site buttons, or web neighborhoods. this is an easy way for you to remember & share your favorite sites! remember, we're not working with an algorithm here.

hekate button maker

sadgrl button maker

lynn button maker

join a web ring (or clique)!

web rings were created in the 90s, before google, as a way for websites to link to one and other. web rings are often themed so you can find like-minded people with ease, but they don't need to be!

once you join a web ring, you add a snippet of code to your site so when people "hop along" the web ring they'll discover your page.

brisray's webring list has an enormous list of mostly active web rings you can check out. here are some examples!

melonland surf club

hotline webring

wiiring

no ai webring

journalring

west of weird: gravity falls webring

ficring

join a pixel club!

starting in the 2000s, pixel clubs are a great way for people to create & share art with each other. pixel clubs tend to follow a theme & provide base art for each user to customize however they want. for example, in the afternoon tea pixel club each user creates a unique tea cup.

fizzy vendor

charm bracelets

teeny towers

sticker sheet club

kitty friends

lava lounge

participate in one of 32-bit cafe's web events!

32-bit cafe is a community of web-hobbyists enthusiast about making the web fun again. they periodic events challenging participants to create a site page following a certain a theme or guidelines, like their new years eve event or 2024 halloween.

more past events

create adoptables, pixels & a toy box

one popular thing that people will do is create adoptable pixel art that others can add to their page! people will often put all of the adoptables that they've collected into a "toy box."

(protip: etiquette requires you to hyperlink back to the original source site whenever you add new graphics to your toybox. it's just polite!)

hillhouse pixels

inkcaps toybox

appledust adoptables

blanket fort adoptables

whimsical graphics

create web graphics (and a "for you" graphics page)

when browsing personal sites, you'll often see "graphics for you" pages! these pages are full of graphics/fun stuff that you can add to your own site for free. yes, free baby! just link back to the og or give credit when requested.

making a page for graphics is cool! making graphics is cool!! indulge your creativity! share fun stuff! some things you can create:

make blinkies

dive into geocities and rescue old graphics

create stamps

make gifs

make pixel art

other interactive stuff

create a poll

create a chat box

create a guestbook

last thing to remember kids... always avoid hotlinking! (hotlinking is when you add images to your site using a link instead of downloading it and uploading to your own website)

as always, say hi to me on neocities!! :)

[myuareustillsleeping]

My only love

→ ceo! yu jimin x wife!reader

synopsis: although jimin is a cold hearted ceo and boss to others, to y/n she’s her loving wife. so she will do anything for her.

warnings : fluff, jimin being frustrated with her workers, kissing, hugging, (name)’s ex working for jimin and gets fired.

(lowercase intended!)

wc: 711 words

“I TOLD YOU I NEEDED THIS DONE BY TODAY!” jimin’s, more known as karina, voice bounced off the walls as she pinched her nose in frustration. “just get out.” she sighed. she had a bad day today, partly because of the coffee machine being broken and she couldn’t have her coffee before starting work. being a ceo sure has its perks but also its consequences. her father had passed down his position to his heir, jimin, when she was 19. she’s 24 now and happily married due to an arranged marriage requested by her father.

a knock was heard from the door. “come in.” she said in a firm voice not even looking up. the woman walked in and put her arms infront of her in a polite manner.“ms yu, there’s someone here for you.” the assistant’s monotone voice ringed in jimin’s ear in a irritating way. “let them in.” she said while typing something. yu (name)’s head can be seen peeking from outside the door as if she was hiding.

the assistant nodded and opened the door abit more. jimin looked up and it was as if all her bad feelings were gone and stuffed in a hole never to be seen again. the assistant immediately headed out the door once (name) had entered the room. the assistant gently closed the door and got back to her work. “(name) darling, what are you doing here?” she stood up and said in a sweet soft voice.

“you left me in the bed alone with ice cream.” (name) pouted and crossed her arms in a jokingly manner. ice cream was their dog which they had adopted 2 months ago. they treated it as if they were their real child. “i’m so sorry, there was an emergency i had to fix.” she held out her arms and (name) walked into her arms. (name) buried her nose in jimin’s neck, inhaling the scent of the perfume that she always used.

“it’s okay.” (name) looked up and smiled at her. (name) giggled, that giggle turned into a laugh. jimin had a concerned and confused expression on her face. “why are you laughing?” she chuckled, finding this adorable. “you know, i heard you yelling at your workers.”(name) giggled like a child. jimin’s eyes widened. “oh.” was all she said.

(name) giggled, “i didn’t know you were like this.” jimin smiled and squished her cheeks, “that’s because i never do it around you, you don’t deserve to hear me yelling at people. i love you too much to do that.”

“i was hoping to hang out with you today, but it seems like you are too busy.” (name) pouted and puffed her cheeks out. “nonsense, i’ll cancel all my plans today.” jimin kissed (name)’s cheek. “you’d do that for me?” (name)’s eyes lit up. “i’d do anything for you.” jimin gave a small peck on (name)’s lips.

there was a knock on the door.

(name) immediately sat down on the chair infront of jimin and tried to look as professional as she could. “come in!” jimin’s voiced boomed. the door creaked opened revealing a man wearing glasses, he was one of jimin’s assistant.

“ricky?” (name)’s eyes widen as she saw her ex standing at the door. ricky’s eyes widen as he looked at (name). he gulped before looking at jimin. jimin was giving him a cold glare to hurry up and leave them alone. “ms yu-“ “did you just ignore (name)? who do you think you are.” her voice judging and questioning him. “ricky, get out. i don’t want to see your face anymore.” (name) said turning her head away from him.

jimin looked at him expectingly to get out. “ms yu-“ “GET OUT!” her voice loud and clear as she stood up. ricky nodded urgently and rushed out of the room closing the door behind him. jimin sighed, “who does he think he is?”

“he’s my ex.” (name) said in a quiet voice. jimin’s eyes widened and quickly called her other assistant to fetch ricky and bring him to her office. “dear, i’m so sorry, i didn’t know-“ “it’s okay jimin.” (name) cut her off and kissed her on the forehead.

soon a knock on the door could be heard, “come in.” this time, jimin didn’t shout. “ms yu, i have brought him like you requested.” she said in a monotone voice. “thank you, you may go.” jimin dismissed her and the assistant closed the door. “you.” jimin said pointing at him. “who do you think you are to talk to MY (name) like that?” her voice loud. “i-i-..” he stuttered and his fingers fidgeting.

“you’re fired.” she said coldly. ricky just stood there looking at (name) for help, unfortunately for him (name) was avoiding his gaze. “well what are you still doing here? do i need to get security on you?” she asked looking at him harshly. “n-no ma’am.” he shook his head and opened the door with his sweaty palms. the moment the door had closed, (name) lashed onto jimin’s lap and kissed her deeply. jimin was shocked but nonetheless her hands were on (name)’s waist.

“i love you.” (name) whispered under her breath.

“i love you too.”

[pucksandpower]

Going Once, Going Twice

Charles Leclerc x Red Bull engineer!Reader

Summary: getting roped into participating in a charity date auction changes your life forever

The lights in the grand ballroom dim as a spotlight illuminates the stage. The Master of Ceremonies, wearing an impeccably tailored tuxedo, steps up to the microphone.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!” His voice booms through the speakers. “Welcome to the 12th Annual Amber Lounge F1 Charity Date Auction!”

The crowd erupts into raucous applause. You clap politely from your seat near the back of the room, shrouded in shadows.

“As always, we have an exciting lineup of eligible bachelors and bachelorettes from the Formula 1 paddock, ready to be auctioned off for a romantic date in support of disadvantaged children everywhere.”

More applause.

“But before we bring out our first participant, allow me to go over some ground rules.” The MC adopts a mock-stern tone. “Winners of each date are required to adhere to Amber Lounge’s code of conduct. That means hands to yourself at all times-” A few hoots and hollers from the audience. The MC wags his finger. “Ah ah ah, none of that now! This is for charity, ladies and gentlemen. Let’s keep it classy.”

You stifle a yawn. You’ve attended this auction for the past five years as a guest of Red Bull Racing, where you work as a race engineer. And every year it’s the same — watch your drunk colleagues get leered at by moneyed Formula 1 fans willing to pay exorbitant sums for bragging rights.

No thank you. You always politely decline the organizers’ requests for you to participate.

“Alright, let’s get this party started!” The MC gestures to the wings of the stage. “Our first eligible bachelor of the evening is ...”

As he announces the first victim, an Amber Lounge organizer you recognize comes rushing over to you.

“Y/N! Thank god I found you. We have an emergency.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What’s wrong, Lucy?”

“One of our bachelorettes had to cancel last minute. Food poisoning.” She makes a face. “We need you to fill in.”

Your eyes widen. “What? No. Absolutely not.” You shake your head vehemently.

“Please Y/N,” Lucy begs. “We need you. The show must go on, for the children!”

“Get someone else,” you hiss. “I refuse to be leered at by old men with more money than sense.”

“Don’t be dramatic.” She gives you a stern look. “It’s unbecoming for someone your age.”

You bristle at the condescension. “I don’t care. Find another victim.”

You move to leave but Lucy grabs your arm, her eyes pleading. “Y/N, the money raised tonight will help provide life-saving surgeries for children in need. Don’t you want to help them?”

Damn. She’s good. You hesitate, cursing your bleeding heart.

Lucy presses on. “It’s just one silly little date. And you might meet someone nice!”

You highly doubt that. With a heavy sigh, you slump back into your chair.

“Fine. But you owe me. Big time.”

Lucy claps excitedly. “Thank you! I promise, you won’t regret this.”

Somehow you doubt that too.

You try unsuccessfully to calm the butterflies raging in your stomach as you wait for your turn on stage. What have you gotten yourself into?

Finally, the MC calls your name. “Our next eligible bachelorette works as a race engineer for Red Bull. But tonight, the only engine she’ll be working on is yours! Let’s give a warm welcome to Y/N Y/L/N!”

Plastering a fake smile on your face, you walk stiffly onto the stage. The lights blind you as the MC sings your praises, highlighting your “beauty, brains, and sass.” You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

As he finally wraps up, you scan the darkened audience nervously. A sea of unfamiliar faces look back at you, shadows obscuring their expressions. You shudder.

“Alright gentlemen, do I hear 5,000 euros to start?”

Immediately, a paunchy, ruddy-faced man in the third row thrusts up his paddle. Your stomach sinks.

"5,000 from the gentleman in row three! Do I hear 5,500?”

Another paddle shoots up from a bald man smirking lecherously at you. Your throat tightens.

"5,500! Can I get 6,000?”

The bids climb higher and you feel faint. These vultures want to buy you. Own you for a night. Your breaths come faster.

10,000 euros. 15,000. 20,000. Sweat drips down your neck as your heart hammers against your ribs.

Just as you’re about to flee the stage in tears, a smooth voice calls out, “One hundred thousand euros.”

A collective gasp sweeps the room. Your mouth falls open in shock. That’s an absurd amount, even for charity.

The MC gulps. “Erm … 100,000 euros from the gentleman in the back!” He peers into the darkness. “Sir, are you certain?”

“Oui.”

That accent … could it be?

You crane your neck, squinting against the glare of the spotlight. A familiar mop of brown hair emerges from the shadows.

Charles. Freaking. Leclerc.

Your cheeks burn crimson. What game is he playing at?

The MC finds his voice again. “R-right then. Going once, going twice ...” He slams the gavel down. “Sold for 100,000 euros! Congratulations, Monsieur Leclerc.”

Charles saunters casually up to the stage, signature smirk in place. He takes your hand and presses a feather-light kiss to your knuckles.

“Bonsoir, ma cherie. I look forward to our date.” He winks roguishly.

You stare open-mouthed, brain short-circuiting. Charles Leclerc just bought you at a date auction.

Il Predestinato.

The golden boy of Scuderia Ferrari himself.

What. Just. Happened?

***

Backstage is chaos. Flashes pop as winners pose with their purchases, champagne flowing freely. You’re quickly shuttled into a cramped makeshift office and handed a stack of paperwork.

“These are your date waivers, dear,” the organizer says briskly. “Standard liability forms.”

You scan the dense legalese numbly. This can’t be real.

A figure plops into the seat beside you, sulking. It’s your friend Ava, Mercedes’ social media manager. She was auctioned right before you.

“Well, congratu-bloody-lations,” she gripes. “Aren’t you Little Miss Popular.”

You glance up distractedly from the waiver you’re signing. “Hmm?”

“Don’t play coy. Bagging the Prince of Monaco himself for your date!” She narrows her eyes. “Meanwhile, I’m stuck going for tea and crumpets with Lord Fartington the Third over here.”

She jerks her thumb at a white-haired man being attended to by a nurse, oxygen tank wheezing.

You wince sympathetically. “Oh Ava, I’m sorry...”

She waves a hand. “Don’t be. At least the old codger’s loaded. Clearly I don’t have your charm.”

You snort. “It’s not like I planned this.”

Ava arches a brow. “You expect me to believe you aren’t thrilled about a date with Leclerc?”

Your cheeks flame as you recall Charles’ roguish wink. “It’s for charity,” you mumble.

“Uh huh. Well, you’re welcome for the extra Instagram followers.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. You hadn’t even considered the social media storm this would stir up.

Before you can spiral further, you’re pulled aside for a “date planning session.”

Charles is already there, looking completely unflappable. He greets you with a heart-stopping grin.

“Bonsoir, Y/N.”

You timidly return his smile. “Hi.”

A coordinator claps briskly. “Right! Let’s get your date scheduled.”

She turns expectantly to Charles. Your stomach flutters.

“I will pick Y/N up tomorrow at 7 pm sharp for dinner at my favorite restaurant in Monaco.” His eyes glint. “Wear something nice, chérie.”

He takes your hand, brushing a feather-light kiss to your knuckles. You shudder, face aflame.

“Until then, ma belle.” With a roguish wink, he turns and saunters off.

You stare after him, fingers pressed to the spot his lips touched. A date. With Charles Leclerc. Your brain short-circuits.

“Right, that’s settled then!” The coordinator chirps, oblivious to your inner turmoil. “We’ll have a car fetch you tomorrow evening. The press will want photos, of course.”

You distantly agree, mind still whirling. You survive the rest of the paperwork marathon in a daze.

By the time you escape the clutches of the organizers, you’re exhausted. Collapsing into an Uber, you text your roommate Cassie a SOS. Wine and girl talk, stat.

She’s waiting with open arms and your emergency rosé when you drag yourself in the door.

“Rough night, babe?” She asks sympathetically, handing you a generously filled glass.

You groan. “You don’t know the half of it.”

Her eyes widen as you recount the auction. By the end, she’s fanning herself dramatically.

“Shut up. Charles Leclerc really bid 100 thousand euros for you?”

You nod, chugging your wine.

“Holy shit.” She falls back against the couch. “You have a date with an F1 driver. Charles Leclerc. The Charles Leclerc.”

You chuck a throw pillow at her. “Don’t remind me.”

She sits up, affronted. “Are you kidding me? Do you know how many girls would kill to be in your shoes right now?”

You shrug half-heartedly. Honestly, you’re still processing.

Cassie narrows her eyes. “Wait. You do actually like Charles, right?”

“As a person, sure. He’s lovely.” You avoid her gaze. “But a date?”

She tilts her head. “So you’ve never thought about him … you know … in that way?”

You squirm under her scrutiny. “Maybe. Once or twice.” Or multiple times a day.

“I knew it!” She crows triumphantly.

You throw another pillow at her, cheeks flaming. “Okay, fine! He’s totally my type and yes, I’ve fantasized.” You bury your face in your hands. “But fantasizing and actually dating are totally different!”

Cassie rubs your shoulder consolingly. “So you’re freaking out because you actually like him.”

You nod miserably. “What if I make a fool of myself? What if there’s no connection in real life?” You look at her despairingly. “I don’t know if I can handle him rejecting me.”

She squeezes your hand. “Sweetie, from what you’ve told me about Charles, I doubt you have anything to worry about.”

You nibble your lip uncertainly. Cassie may have a point. But still.

“Even if he is interested, what happens after?” you whisper. “I’ll just be another conquest.”

Cassie tilts your chin up gently. “If Charles is foolish enough to let you go, then it’s his loss. But you’ll never know if you don’t try.”

You take a deep breath. She’s right. You can do this. It’s just one date.

You spend the rest of the night gossiping and polishing off the wine. Curled under the covers later, you toss and turn fretfully. What will tomorrow bring?

You replay the auction in your mind. Charles’ smooth voice calling out that astronomical bid. His signature smirk as he claimed you as his prize. The feather-light kiss pressed to your knuckles that still tingles hours later.

A date. With Charles Leclerc. Your pulse quickens once more.

What game is he playing at? There’s no shortage of women who would gladly go out with him. So why you?

You toss and turn, mind racing. Does he actually like you? Or was this all an impulsive stunt — a boast to tell his fellow drivers about later?

You groan into your pillow. This is why you never get involved with drivers. Underneath the glitz and glamour lies a tangled web of ego and politics.

Still … when Charles looked at you with those piercing eyes on stage, just for a moment, you let yourself believe he was seeing the real you. Not just another notch on his bedpost.

You huff, punching your pillow in frustration. You’re being ridiculous. This is Charles Leclerc. Motorsport’s resident heartthrob. You would be foolish to expect more from him than a fancy dinner and bragging rights.

Wouldn’t you?

Anxiety gnaws at your gut as the clock continues to tick. What if this is all some elaborate prank or publicity stunt? What if the date goes horribly wrong?

The silver lining is that at least you helped raise money for charity. Maybe the date itself won’t be so bad. Charles seemed pleasant enough backstage ...

Ugh. You force your eyes closed, begging for sleep to take you. What will tomorrow bring? With the morning light comes your date with Charles Leclerc … for better or worse.

***

The next evening, you’re a bundle of nerves as you frantically rush around getting ready. Cassie helped you pick out a stunning new dress and spent ages on your hair and makeup.

“You look hot, babe,” she proclaims. “Knock him dead!”

You pace anxiously, stomach fluttering. This morning you half expected Charles to cancel or send an assistant with excuses. But instead you got a text from him confirming your dinner reservation along with a winking emoji that made your cheeks flame.

It’s really happening. Your fantasy date with Charles Leclerc.

At precisely 7 pm, the doorbell rings. You nearly trip over yourself rushing to answer it. Swinging open the door, you find Charles waiting on the step, looking unfairly gorgeous in a tailored suit.

In his hands is a massive bouquet of peonies. Your favorite flower, though you’ve certainly never told him that. Your eyes widen.

Charles seems momentarily stunned as he takes in your dress and styled hair. He blinks several times before a slow, heart-stopping smile spreads across his face.

“Bonsoir, mon amour. You look absolutely ravishing.”

He presents the flowers with a flourish. “For you.”

You accept them, blushing fiercely. He even brought your favorite flowers? This has to be a dream.

“They’re beautiful, thank you. Let me just put them in water.” You rush to the kitchen, pulse racing. He called you his love. In French!

You take a steadying breath before rejoining Charles outside. He leads you toward a shiny black Ferrari parked at the curb.

“Sorry, I told the Amber Lounge to cancel the car they ordered for you. I wanted to drive myself so we could talk.” He holds open the passenger door for you.

You slide in, hyper-aware of his proximity in the intimate space. The car smells like his spicy cologne. You’re suddenly very thankful for Cassie’s strategic use of double-stick tape.

Charles pulls smoothly into traffic. His hand rests temptingly close to yours on the gearshift.

“You look very beautiful tonight,” he says, glancing your way. “I apologize for staring earlier. I was just … overwhelmed.”

You blush, tucking your hair behind your ear. “It’s okay. You look very handsome yourself.”

He smiles, visibly relaxing. Soon you’re chatting comfortably about work and hobbies. He asks thoughtful questions about your life and cracks jokes that have you laughing until your stomach hurts.

You’re so immersed in conversation, you don’t notice Charles parking until he opens your door, ever the gentleman. He guides you toward an elegant restaurant overlooking the glittering Monaco harbor.

The maître d’ greets Charles enthusiastically. “Monsieur Leclerc! Wonderful to see you again. Right this way to your usual table.”

You raise your eyebrows, impressed, as he leads you to a secluded candlelit table on the balcony. Charles pulls out your chair for you. Such a gentleman.

“You come here often?” You ask teasingly as he takes his own seat.

“Oui, it is my favorite restaurant in the country,” he admits. “The cuisine is magnifique, and the staff keeps things … discreet.”

Interesting. You wonder just how many dates Charles has brought here. For some reason, the thought makes your stomach twist uncomfortably.

You’re distracted as the waiter brings champagne. Charles turns to you.

“I took the liberty of ordering for us ahead of time, I hope you do not mind. I wanted to surprise you.” His eyes twinkle. “I think you will be pleased.”

You would normally bristle at men ordering for you. But the shy hopefulness in Charles’ eyes melts your reservations.

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” you say sincerely.

He beams. Soon, a parade of your favorite dishes arrives at the table — seared scallops, truffle gnocchi, crème brûlée. You gasp in delight and surprise.

“Charles, these are all my favorites! How did you know?” You narrow your eyes playfully. “Have you been stalking me?”

Charles laughs, rubbing his neck self-consciously. “No, no, nothing like that. I just … pay attention.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Uh huh. Are you sure you haven’t bugged the Red Bull kitchens?”

Charles winces. “You deserve the truth.” He takes a deep breath. “The fact is, I have, er, admired you for some time now.”

Your eyes widen. What is he saying?

Charles hurries on. “At first it was just a passing attraction. But the more I observed you, the more fascinated I became.” He looks up at you earnestly. “You are kind, funny, brilliant … unlike anyone I have ever met.”

Your pulse thunders in your ears. Charles Leclerc has noticed you — for longer than just last night. You’re reeling.

He fiddles with his napkin. “Over the years I have gradually learned your habits, your likes and dislikes. Little things, like your favorite flower, or food.” He ducks his head. “It allowed me to feel closer to you. Pathetic, I know.”

“It’s not pathetic at all,” you murmur. Your heart swells realizing just how long he’s cared. “It’s incredibly thoughtful.”

His answering smile is radiant. The rest of dinner passes enjoyably as you continue getting to know each other. Underneath Charles’ debonair charm, you find a sweet soul.

You linger over dessert, but eventually Charles pays the check. Back outside, the wind off the sea has picked up. You shiver lightly in your dress.

Charles immediately shrugs off his suit jacket and drapes it around your bare shoulders. The residual warmth from his body envelops you, along with his intoxicating scent.

“Can’t have you catching a cold, chérie.” His hands linger, squeezing your shoulders gently.

You clutch the jacket, suddenly shy. “Thank you, Charles. For everything. I had a wonderful time tonight.”

“The pleasure was all mine.” His eyes are dark, tender. “I have waited so long for this moment. You have made me the happiest man alive tonight.”

Your breath catches at his sincerity. Moving slowly, giving you time to pull away, he reaches up to tuck a windblown lock of hair behind your ear. His fingers trail lightly down your neck, raising goosebumps.

When his hand cups your jaw, you lean into the caress unthinkingly. Your lips part. Charles’ gaze drops to your mouth.

Heart in your throat, you sway closer. Is he finally going to kiss you? You’ve been thinking about it all night. His eyes flutter closed ...

A car horn blares loudly, shattering the moment. You spring apart, chest heaving. Charles clears his throat.

“I, er, suppose I should get you home.” He opens the passenger door for you, hand lingering briefly on the small of your back before he rounds the car.

The drive back passes in charged silence. Walking you to the door, Charles softly strokes your knuckles with his thumb.

“I cannot remember when I have had a more wonderful evening,” he says quietly. “I hope we can do this again soon?”

“I’d really like that.” Your cheeks hurt from smiling.

Charles presses a feather-light kiss to your hand. “Bonne nuit, ma belle.”

As he drives away, you press your hands to your burning cheeks. You just had the most perfect first date with Charles Leclerc. A pinch me, I must be dreaming date.

Hugging his suit jacket tighter, you lean against the closed door and sigh happily. Maybe, just maybe, your fantasy is on its way to coming true.

***

The week after your dream date drags by endlessly. You float through your days in a happy daze, replaying every moment in your mind. The suit jacket he gave you lives on the back of your chair, filling your room with his lingering scent.

Before you know it, you’re reunited at the next Grand Prix. You wait awkwardly outside the Ferrari garage, clutching Charles’ jacket. Your excuse is returning it, but really you’re just desperate to see him again.

Does he feel the same? Your stomach twists anxiously.

“Who are you waiting for, bella ragazza?”

You startle as Charles’ performance coach Andrea appears beside you, grinning knowingly.

“Oh, um, just returning this.” You hold up the jacket weakly.

Andrea winks. “Of course. I will let our boy know you are here.”

He heads into the garage and you fidget nervously with your hair. This morning it only took Cassie threatening bodily harm for you to change your outfit five times. You settled on a flattering sundress you know Charles will appreciate before you have to change into a team uniform come time for free practice.

Suddenly Charles comes barreling out of the garage like an overeager golden retriever. His face lights up when he spots you.

“Y/N! I was just coming to find you.”

Before you can react, he sweeps you into a tight hug. You melt against him, breathing in his warmth and familiar cologne. He’s really here, in your arms.

He pulls back just far enough to beam down at you, keeping his hands on your waist. “I missed you, chérie. The days apart were torture.”

You duck your head, smiling shyly. “I missed you too.”

You offer him the folded jacket. “I, um, thought you might want this back.”

Charles tsks, pushing it gently back toward you. “No no, you must keep it. Can’t have you catching cold until our next date, non?”

His eyes sparkle playfully. You hug the jacket to your chest, absurdly giddy at having an excuse to keep it longer.

“Charles! Fred is asking for you.” His race engineer calls out apologetically.

Charles sighs regretfully. “Duty calls. But I will see you later, yes?”

He lifts your hand to his mouth, lips grazing your knuckles feather-light. Your breath catches. Then, so quickly you almost miss it, he swoops in and presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, sending lightning zipping across your skin. With a last lingering look, he jogs off.

You press your fingers to your tingling skin, smiling like a loon. Andrea winks knowingly as you float away on cloud nine.

Over the next few hours, you’re bombarded by smug comments and curious questions from fellow Red Bull crew. Apparently your “secret romance” with Charles is the paddock’s gossip of choice today.

You weather the teasing good-naturedly. After all, you’re daydreaming while remembering the sensation of Charles’ lips on your skin.

After FP2 ends, you’re startled from reviewing data by a knock on your office door. You open it to find a delivery man with a truly gigantic flower arrangement.

“Delivery for Y/N Y/L/N?” He consults his clipboard. “Says these are for you personally.”

You gape at the massive vase overflowing with huge, fragrant red peonies. There must be at least four dozen stems.

“Oh, um, that’s me, thanks.” You take the towering arrangement, stunned.

The delivery man chuckles knowingly. “Popular lady. Have a nice day now.”

Shutting the door, you bury your nose in the velvety petals, inhaling deeply. There’s only one person who could have sent these.

The card confirms it.

Thinking of you each and every second, C.

Red peonies are nearly impossible to find, yet Charles managed it.

It’s undeniably a public statement. Sending your favorite flowers in the color of his team for everyone to see. Staking his claim.

Normally such male posturing would irritate you. But from Charles, it feels different. Sweet. Affectionate, even.

You press your face into the blooms again, heart overflowing. Is this what it feels like to be falling for someone? You haven’t felt this giddy in years.

Somehow, you’ve captured the attention of the amazing, thoughtful, romantic Charles Leclerc. And you have a feeling this is only the beginning.

***

“Keep pushing Checo, just a few more laps to go,” you say into the radio as your driver, Sergio Perez, circles the track in final practice.

He’s been struggling with tire degradation all weekend. You’ve made setup tweaks and simulation runs, but there’s only so much data can tell you. The stopwatch never lies.

At least his pace looks improved this session. You watch closely as he enters the home straight again, sparring with the Ferrari of Charles Leclerc for position.

You try not to stare too obviously as the scarlet car glides by. The visor obscures Charles’ handsome features, but your heart still skips a beat.

Get it together, you scold yourself. You’re at work. Ogling drivers mid-session is unprofessional.

Even if said driver happens to be the charming, romantic F1 sensation you’ve somehow found yourself falling for ...

The session ends without incident. You breathe a sigh of relief reviewing Checo’s improved lap times. All things considered, not a bad recovery from yesterday’s struggles.

You pack up your station and make your way back to Red Bull hospitality to grab a late lunch before qualifying. Scrolling your phone, you can’t resist pulling up a photo from your dream date with Charles last week.

God he looks good in a suit. And that adoring smile ...

“No wonder your head’s been in the clouds lately.”

You jump, nearly dropping your phone. Checo appears beside you, leaning over your shoulder with a knowing grin.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mutter, shoving your phone away.

“Oh come on, chica. I’ve seen the way you two stare at each other.” He nudges you playfully. “Like lovesick teenagers.”

You shove him back, rolling your eyes. “As if. Charles and I have barely even spoken.”

A bald-faced lie, but no need to feed the gossip mill further. Checo just studies you for a moment, smile turning knowing. “Ah, so it’s Charles now, is it? No more Leclerc?”

You feel your face heat. Have you been that obvious? “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh come on.” Checo bumps your shoulder playfully. “I saw the way you two were making eyes at each other all morning. Like a pair of lovestruck teenagers.”

You bury your face in your notes, mortified. Has your thing with Charles really been so noticeable?

Checo laughs. “Ah, do not be embarrassed, chica. I think it’s adorable. The race engineer and the driver, a paddock romance!”

You toss a balled up napkin at him in protest, which he dodges easily. “Stop it! There’s nothing going on.”

“Nothing, eh?” Checo’s eyes gleam impishly. “So all those flowers you got yesterday were just for fun? And I imagined you swooning over Leclerc in the garage?”

You flush even harder. Apparently you have not been as subtle as you thought.

Checo slings an arm around your shoulder. “Relax, hermanita. I am just teasing because I care.”

You lean into him, some of the tension easing.

“You know I just want you to be happy, right chica?” His expression grows serious. “Leclerc seems like a good guy. Just be careful with your heart.”

You nod, touched by his concern. “Of course. We’ve only been on two dates.” You hesitate. “But … I really like him. He’s so different than I expected.”

Checo smiles gently. “I am happy for you, truly. You deserve an amazing man.”

You grin. “Thanks, Checo.”

His smile turns impish again. “Just promise me one thing.”

You raise an eyebrow warily. “What?”

“No spilling Red Bull secrets to your new Ferrari boyfriend, eh?” He waggles his eyebrows. “I know he is muy guapo, but business is business!”

“Oh my god, stop! I would never.”

“Please. The heart eyes between you are obvious. Not that I blame you ...” He leans in conspiratorially. “Leclerc is quite the smooth talker, no?”

You lightly smack his shoulder, cheeks reddening. “Stop it. We’re just friends.”

“Mmhmm. Keep telling yourself that.”

He slings an arm around your shoulder. “Just remember your duties if you get distracted mooning over pretty Ferrari boys, yes?”

You make a face at him. “Gross. As if I’d shirk my responsibilities over some silly crush.”

Even if said crush is on Charles freaking Leclerc. You do have some professionalism.

Checo just grins knowingly as you reach the counter. He grabs a plate of food and you follow suit. Settling at a table together, he fixes you with a brotherly stare.

“In all seriousness though chica, be careful with your heart. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

You soften. Underneath his joking exterior, Checo is very protective of you. He’s like the big brother you never had.

“I will, I promise. Charles has been very respectful so far. We’re taking things slow.”

“Good.” Checo pats your hand. “No one is allowed to break your heart and get away with it. Even the Prince of Monaco himself,” he adds with a wink.

You roll your eyes, but smile, leaning against his sturdy frame. “I’ll sic you on him if he steps out of line, don’t worry.”

Checo laughs. “Please do. I have always wanted an excuse to wipe that smug grin off Leclerc’s face.” His smile softens. “But truly, I hope he continues to make you happy, hermanita.”

“Thanks Checo.” You squeeze him tight, overcome with emotion. “Love you.”

“Love you too.” He ruffles your hair fondly, ignoring your cries of protest. “And if Leclerc breaks your heart, I’ll break his legs, eh?”

You laugh. “I’ll remind him of that.” You check the time. “We should head back soon.”

You both bus your plates. As you exit, Checo slings an arm around your shoulders again.

“You’ve got this chica. Just remember, the heart wants what it wants. Even if it seems loco to the rest of us.”

You lean into him gratefully. “Thanks Checo. Seriously.”

He grins down at you. “Anytime. Now let’s go smash qualifying!”

You shake your head, smiling to yourself as you return to your data analysis. As annoying as Checo’s teasing is, it’s also kind of sweet how much he cares.

You know if anyone steps out of line and hurts you, Checo will come after them in a heartbeat. But something tells you that you have nothing to worry about when it comes to Charles.

Still … you appreciate Checo looking out for you. With everyone in your corner, you feel like for once, things in your love life might actually go right.

***

Qualifying flies by in a blur of adrenaline and data analysis. In the end, Max takes pole for Red Bull, with Charles slotting into P2 for Ferrari and Checo P3. A good starting position for both your drivers.

You’re on a high as you leave the garage after the debrief that evening. The sky is dusky purple, the paddock slowly emptying out. You hum to yourself, thinking of celebrating with Cassie over FaceTime later.

Rounding a corner toward the Red Bull hotel, you’re suddenly grabbed from behind and yanked into a shadowy alleyway. Heart leaping into your throat, you open your mouth to scream-

“Shhh, it’s me!” A familiar voice hisses as a hand clamps over your mouth.

You whirl around to find Charles pressed against you, eyes glinting in the shadows. Adrenaline pounds through you.

“Jesus, you scared me half to death!” You smack his chest, pulse racing. “I thought I was being kidnapped.”

“I’m sorry, chérie.” Charles grins, utterly unrepentant. “I could not resist surprising you when I saw you walking by.”

“So you grabbed me and dragged me into a dark alley? Real romantic.” You try to look stern, but can’t quite manage it. He’s just too charming.

Charles’ smile turns sheepish. “My apologies. I did not think it through properly.” His thumb strokes over your bottom lip softly. “I suppose I was … overzealous. I could not stop thinking about you all day.”

Your breath catches at the tender look in his eyes. He sways closer, backing you up against the alley wall.

“Truthfully, I just needed to do this ...”

His lips descend on yours, firm and seeking. For one stunned moment you freeze up — before kissing him back ardently, lost in bliss. His hands thread through your hair, angling you closer as he deepens the kiss.

It’s perfect.

After endless moments, you reluctantly part, gasping for air. Charles rests his forehead against yours, eyes dark.

“I have wanted to do that since our first date,” he confesses, trailing feather-light kisses across your jaw.

You clutch his shoulders, dizzy with euphoria. “You have no idea how long I’ve thought about kissing you.”

He smiles against your skin, nipping your neck playfully. “Oh, I think I do, ma belle. Why do you think I bid on you at that auction?”

You still can’t believe your dream man wanted you just as much as you wanted him. It seems too good to be true.

Charles nuzzles your cheek tenderly. “I must be the luckiest man alive to have caught your attention.”

Heart overflowing, you draw him down into another dizzying kiss. Charles groans, crushing you closer. It feels like coming home, being in his arms. Like this is where you were always meant to be.

The distant sound of teams making their way out of the paddock finally breaks you apart. Charles caresses your face wistfully.

“I should let you get back. You need your rest before the race tomorrow and so do I.” He hesitates, looking shy. “Perhaps we could … get dinner afterwards? To celebrate?”

Your lips curve in a teasing smile. “Are you asking me on a second date, Mr. Leclerc?”

Pink stains his sharp cheekbones. “I suppose I am, Miss Y/L/N. If you would do me the honor?”

You tap your chin playfully. “Hmm. I suppose I could clear my schedule for you.”

His answering smile is radiant. On impulse, you grab his collar and pull him down into one last hungry kiss.

“Good luck tomorrow,” you whisper against his lips. “Not that you’ll need it. Don’t tell Max or Checo I said this, but you’re the most talented driver out there.”

Charles looks endearingly dazed as you gently extricate yourself from his arms. With a flirty wave, you sashay out of the alley on shaky legs, mind spinning.

Pausing at the end, you glance back to see Charles leaning against the wall, gazing after you with pure adoration. He presses two fingers to his grinning lips that still tingle from your kiss.

You blow him one last discreet kiss before continuing on your way. Wait until Cassie hears about this!

***

Race day dawns sunny and clear — perfect conditions. In the Red Bull garage, you help Checo run through final preparations, tweaking setup and chatting strategy.

“Alright, the car is dialed in and ready to fly,” you tell him confidently.

Checo grins. “Perfecto. We will beat your boyfriend today, no?” He winks.

You roll your eyes, fighting a blush. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Sure, chica.” Checo ruffles your hair before heading to the grid.

It’s a chaotic blur of adrenaline and split-second decisions as you guide Checo through the field. In the end, Max takes the win for Red Bull, with Charles clinching P2 for Ferrari and Checo rounding out the podium in P3.

You rush to congratulate the drivers after, giving Checo a warm hug. “Great drive out there! The tire management really made a difference.”

He smiles. “But not enough to beat our rivals today, eh?” His gaze slides behind you.

You turn to see Charles approaching, fresh from the podium. His race suit is unzipped to the waist, hair adorably mussed. Your mouth goes dry.

Checo smirks knowingly. “I will leave you two alone. See you at the debrief.” He saunters off with a wink.

Charles beams, pulling you into a quick hug. “Congratulations. Your strategy was brilliant today.”

You grin. “Thanks, you did amazing too.” Your face heats realizing people nearby are staring and whispering.

Charles doesn’t seem to care, keeping your hand tucked in his. “I will wait for you outside the motorhome? Then perhaps we could celebrate ...” His smile turns hopeful.

You squeeze his hand, heart skipping. “Can’t wait.”

The debrief drags by endlessly. Finally you escape the garage into the late afternoon sunlight. True to his word, Charles is waiting, freshly showered and devastatingly handsome in a button-down and slacks.

“Y/N!” In two long strides he’s sweeping you into his arms and kissing you ardently, uncaring of the crowd of mechanics around you.

Catcalls and whistles break out. You blush fiercely as Charles sets you down, lacing your fingers together.

“Get it Leclerc!” One of his mechanics yells, making lewd gestures. Charles just flips him off casually, keeping his eyes on you.

“Shall we?”

You nod, face still burning. As Charles leads you away, your Red Bull colleagues join the teasing.

“Don’t wait up tonight boys!” One calls, making kissy noises.

“She’s ditching us for the red guys now!”

“Just don’t go spilling all our secrets, Y/N!”

You hide your face against Charles’ shoulder. He chuckles, wrapping a protective arm around you.

“Pay them no mind, ma belle,” he murmurs against your hair. “They are just jealous I get to spend the evening with the most beautiful woman in the world.”

You sigh happily, cuddling closer as you leave the paddock. The teasing means well — it’s their way of saying they approve. And nothing can dampen your euphoria at being with Charles again.

At the parking lot, a shiny red Ferrari awaits. Charles opens the door for you with a gallant bow before rounding the car and sliding in.

“So, where are we going?” You ask excitedly as Charles peels out onto the road. “Or do I not get to know the secret location?”

He glances at you sidelong, eyes glinting mischievously. “You will see. Let’s just say I … pulled some strings to arrange the perfect second date for us.”

You pout playfully. “Not even a little hint?”

Charles pretends to zip his lips. “Non, it is a surprise, ma petite.” His hand finds yours, thumb grazing over your knuckles. “But I think you will appreciate the … atmosphere I have created.”

The promise in his voice sends delicious shivers down your spine. You pass the drive chatting comfortably, exchanging soft, smiling glances.

After half an hour, Charles pulls up to a beautiful chateau perched on a vineyard-spotted hillside. You gasp as he escorts you inside the charming stone lodge.

“Charles, this is amazing! How did you arrange this on such short notice?”

He smiles, pleased by your reaction. “I may have called in a favor from the owners, who are family friends. We have the whole place to ourselves tonight.” His eyes smolder.

You wander the chateau in a happy daze as Charles gives you a private tour. He’s thought of everything — flowers, candles, and even champagne chilling by the roaring fireplace.

Dinner is sumptuous, featuring all your favorite dishes paired expertly with rich wines from the vineyard. Charles is attentive as always, hanging on your every word.

Afterwards you cuddle together on the sofa, pleasantly tipsy, exchanging lazy kisses as you take in the spectacular starry view through the expansive windows.

Charles nuzzles into your neck, lips grazing your hammering pulse point. “Have I mentioned how ravishing you look tonight?”

You shiver pleasurably. “I could stand to hear it again.”

He smiles against your skin. “You, mon amour, are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.” His voice drops an octave. “And it is taking every ounce of my self control not to tear that dress off you this instant.”

Heat coils in your core at the unspoken promise in his words. Your fingers curl into his hair, guiding his lips back to yours. The kiss quickly grows heated, urgent.

With obvious effort, Charles forces himself to pull back, eyes blazing. “As much as I want you, we should take this slow. I want our first time to be special.” He strokes your cheek tenderly. “You deserve to be properly worshiped.”

Your heart swells at his care for you. You really hit the jackpot with this incredible man.

Cuddling against his chest, you look up at him adoringly. “You are … amazing"

Charles’ smile is soft, sincere. “I am only that way because you inspire me to be the best version of myself.” He kisses you sweetly. “I am the luckiest man in the world to have found you.”

You’ve never felt so cared for — so intensely adored. Here in Charles’ arms is exactly where you’re meant to be.

***

One Year Later

Strolling hand in hand with Charles along the Monaco harbor, you’ve never been happier. The sun glints off the water as he brushing featherlight kisses to your knuckles, making you giggle.

Charles lifts your hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to your palm as you walk. “What are you thinking about, ma belle?”

You smile up at him. “Just reminiscing about everything that’s happened since you swept me off my feet.”

His eyes soften. “The best year of my life. I fall more in love with you every day.”

Heart full, you tug him down into a sweet kiss. Charles hums happily against your lips.

“Well isn’t this cozy!” An approaching voice interrupts. You pull apart to see Lucy, the Amber Lounge organizer who convinced you to participate in the auction last year, beaming at you both.

“Lucy! Hi.” You accept her enthusiastic hug.

“Don’t you two make the cutest couple?” She winks conspiratorially. “I always knew there was a spark between you.”

You laugh, lacing your fingers through Charles’ once more. His answering smile is radiant.

“I’m so thrilled it worked out.” Lucy glances between you eagerly. “So, given it’s almost that time of year again … any chance you lovebirds would let us auction you off once more? Think of the publicity!”

You tense, old anxieties rising. But before you can respond, Charles’ grip on your hand tightens.

“Actually, I have a better idea.” His voice is lethally pleasant. “How about I simply drop off a cheque for an 100,000 euro donation, and you leave my girlfriend alone?”

A frisson of heat shoots through you at his possessive tone. Charles rubs his thumb over your knuckles soothingly, holding your gazes, before fixing Lucy with a warning look.

“We will of course still attend the gala to show support. But the auction is off limits. Understood?” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

Lucy gulps. “Y-Yes, of course. My apologies if I overstepped.” She nods at you both. “Have a lovely evening!”

With that she scurries back inside the Amber Lounge.

“Good day to you.” With that, he guides you away down the street, tension radiating from him.

You glance at him in concern once you’re out of earshot. “Are you okay?”

Charles drags a hand through his hair. “Yes, I just … the thought of them putting you on display again ...” He shudders.

Your heart melts realizing why he got so defensive. You halt, turning Charles gently to face you.

“That was very macho and possessive of you back there,” you murmur, walking your fingers up his chest.

Charles winces. “I’m sorry, I did not mean to be so overbearing-”

You silence him with a finger to his lips. “Let me finish. I said it was macho and possessive.” You lean up to purr in his ear. “And so. Freaking. Hot.”

Charles’ eyes widen. Grinning, you shove him back against the brick wall and kiss him fiercely. He grunts in surprise before responding in kind, nipping your bottom lip.

“If I had known getting possessive would get this reaction, I would have done it ages ago,” he gasps out between kisses.

You silenced his laughter with your mouth, desire burning through you. The raw protectiveness Charles showed took your breath away. You’ve never felt so safe, so cared for.

Finally you break apart and Charles pulls you firmly against his chest. “I love you,” he breathes against your hair. “More than I can ever express.”

“I love you too.” You can feel the beating of his heart beneath your ear. “Now take me home and show me just how much you missed me this morning.”

Charles’ eyes darken. With a roguish grin he sweeps you into his arms, making you shriek. Laughing joyfully, he carries you down the street toward your shared apartment.

If the rest of your life together is even half as magical as this past year with Charles, you’ll die a happy woman.

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

a day in the life where everyone tries to win reader over, maybe they heard reader mention something like how they can't stand an annoying relative asking them about a relationship over the holidays, or trying to get her the best gift?

ps i love your writing, i read it like my morning paper

A Day in Life: Christmas, Presents and Revelations

Synopsis: A day in your life full of good Christmas presents, propositions and secrets.

Pairing: Yandere!Justice League X Assistant!Gn!Reader

Tw: Implied stalking; Calling someone a manwhore; Karens in the family with traditional and conservative ideals and miserable lives; Mentions of past cheating; Mentions of past Bucky Barnes X reader; Is Hal Jordan slowly getting his redemption arc?; Slightly implied horny Reader; English is not my first language.

Word count: 2,2k

Requested? Yup.

General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist

— And it's just so annoying, like, sometimes I literally don't want to show up on these things, but I don't want to leave my mom there alone with my dad’s family. — You huffed. — My auntie’s too concerned about my romantic life, like her husband didn't get other three women pregnant at the same time she got pregnant and only married her because he would have to marry one of the four girls. — You shook your head while your co-worker laughed. — And you know what's worse? I told everyone I had a boyfriend, but Bucky cheated on me, and I didn't tell them that yet, so she's gonna think I lied and mock me like the middle-aged Regina George she is!

Unknown to you, certain people were listening, and silently, each one of them made a decision.

Your last day at work before Christmas, you were getting ready to go home, pack and take the road, when someone knocked on your office door. You looked up, seeing no other than Martian Manhunter at your door, holding a present.

— How can I help? — You hid your gritted teeth behind a polite tone.

— I came here to follow the Earth tradition of Christmas and give my loved one a present. — He stopped in front of you with a soft smile and extended the gift in your direction. You hesitated.

— You didn't have to… — You cautiously took the present from his hand.

— I also have a proposition for you. — And there it comes. — I couldn't help but overhear earlier that you were in need of a partner for a meeting with your family. — You wanted to facepalm. — I could be that person. — You sighed.

— I can't show up with an alien superhero. — You crossed your arms with a pointed look.

— As you know, I'm a shapeshifter. — You watched as he changed his appearance to look like multiple different kind of people, one moment he was a tall blonde man, the next, a black girl with braids, then an asian young guy, and so on, meaning he could look however you wanted him to. — And you can call me by whatever name you choose, even the name I adopted here on Earth… J’onn J’onnes. — He settled for his usual green alien appearance. — You widened your eyes at his confession, thinking “oh, shit”.

— Uhh…

— While you think about it, open my present, darling. — He gently pushed the present in your direction again and you, still wordless, obeyed, while mentally searching for a way out of this.

You cleared your throat and teared the paper. The feeling of destroying the wrapping paper of gifts always made you feel a little embarrassed, as if the beautiful wrapping itself was the present and you were being rude by tearing it apart. It was a silly thought.

As you finished, you found out he gave you a comic book from your favorite hero. It made you excited, but you couldn't show it much.

— Oh wow, thank you… — You coughed. — Can't even imagine how you knew it was my favorite… — You internally rolled your eyes. — Anyway, about your offer- — Another knock interrupted you, and you both looked at the door. Aquaman was there with another present in hand.

He looked suspiciously from you to the other hero and stepped forward, then focused on you.

— Whatever offer he gave you, I give you one better. Take a king to meet your family, darling. — He smirked and offered you his present. You ignored what he said, settled the comic on your desk, and opened his present. It was a necklace with charms related to the beach, like some shells, pears and fishes, all made of your favorite metal. You pursed your lips, not waiting to admit to yourself that it was pretty and you liked it more than you thought you would, just like the last gift.

— Thank you. And about your offer, I can't exactly do that. You can imagine why. — He shrugged.

— Well, you can simply take me as your completely human lighthouse keeper, Arthur. — He smirked and wrapped your shoulders with his left arm. You shuddered, thinking “God, no”. — We’ll even invite them to our beach house, darling. Right on the shore. I also have a boat. Let's impress them. — He grinned proudly, as if he was sure you couldn't deny him.

You shrugged his arm off and before anything came out of your mouth, you remembered about your auntie and her shittalking right now. She always wanted a beach house, but everyone knew your uncle prefered to spoil himself and his side-pieces than her or the kids, and yet, she felt superior to every member of the family who was single because at least she had a husband and she didn't need to work, including you.

Rubbing a beach house, a boat, and a blonde hunk himbo on her face could be nice… Even if you just offered to take only your immediate family there one day and then just pretend you broke up with him later, he and the league would still get the wrong idea.

— Knock knock, oh- What’s everyone doing here? — Flash was there and pursed his lips while looking at the three of you. You groaned internally.

— You can go, Flash, (Y/N) won't choose you. — Aquaman, or Arthur, weaved him off. Flash narrowed his eyes for a second and then turned to you, ignoring him and beaming at you, extending a gift in your direction.

— I bought you something! — You discharged the necklace behind you and took the new gift, it was a bracelet with a lightning symbol in your favorite metal. It was also pretty, you were getting tired of it.

— Thank you, Flash…

— Please, just call me Barry. — He grinned brightly. — Please ignore the stinking ugly dressed fishman and the alien still learning to act like a normal human. You can take the funny and smart forensic chemist to meet your family. — He reached up and took his mask off, you widened your eyes, at seeing his real face. Huh, you didn't think he was blonde.

You stuttered, too shocked.

— Oh God… — You thought knowing their name was worse than their faces, secret identities and all, but something about seeing a real face that was kept hidden all the time felt like a heavier burden. To make matters worse, Green Lantern showed up. — No.

— Just hear me out, please! — Everyone turned to him with annoyed expressions. — I changed, I swear! And I apologized like, a thousand times. — He cleared his throat. By your face, he knew it was the worst thing to say. — Anyway, here’s your gift. — He bit his lip while you took it from his hands and opened it with hostility. They were tickets for the next concert of one of your favorite artists, that made you feel a little bad for the way you treated him, but it didn't change what he did to you in the past.

— I… Thank you. — You were trembling with nerves at this point from all the surprises you were having.

— I heard you needed someone to bring home for the holidays…

— Uhuh.

— And your dad is a big fan of the army, right? — You blinked. It was true, but you never told them that, yet, you weren't surprised they knew that.

Where was he going with it…?

— Please, not you too.

But he took off his ring anyway, and after a moment, he was wearing civilian clothes, along with a military jacket and dogtags.

— Who better than a charming ex-air force member to present to your family? Test pilot now, I can take them flying. Actually, I can take you flying. — He winked. — Call me Hal Jordan, beautiful. — He winked and saluted you. — Also, I fought in the war.

— Dude. Just give up. They're not gonna pick you.

— I will never give up, I'm a green lantern, strong will is kind of my thing. — He looked at you again. — So, darling?

While you were staring blankly at him, someone cleared their throat.

— Be reasonable, you don't have to be humiliated today. — Wonder Woman catwalked into the room confidently. She was holding two bags from a clothes store in her hands. The amazon pushed Hal Jordan aside and stopped in front of you. She looked you up and down and smiled charmingly. — Take me with you, darling. This is for you. — She extended one of the bags to you. You took it and looked inside, then reached in and pulled it out. It was a beautiful outfit, completely on your style, and clearly of good quality. But when she pulled out what was inside the other bag, it took your attention and you looked curiously at the red wine satin dress she was holding up. — And this is what I will be wearing. — She smiled seductively. — Diana Prince, pleasure to meet you.

You couldn't help your jaw from dropping while imagining her wearing that. While some family members might not admire the sensual outfit as much, you definitely would. Secretly. Your ego would too.

Damn it, why couldn't she be more normal and less yandere?

You swallowed, looking away from her and the dress. It was finally too hard to say no, but not for the mature reasons.

At your silence, Diana’s eyebrows rose up and she tilted her head to the side, with a pleased small smile. The other men in the room groaned and started arguing loudly, but she was untouchable in front of you.

Unstoppable force, meet immovable object.

— I think I should just go home, it's getting late… — You rapidly shoved your gifts inside the bag, took your things and squeezed your way between them heroes, not even realizing how trapped you were previously, but just as you got to the door, you hit a brick wall, or Superman, as people usually call him.

You groaned and he looked at you sheepishly.

— I guess after all of that I can't offer you something much better, but I can try… — Superman took a deep breath and before you could blink, he flew away, changed clothes, and came back. One second, Superman was in front of you, the next, just a regular cute guy wearing glasses and a suit. You took a second to recognize him and understand what happened and what that meant.

Damn, who knew glasses were a good disguise.

— I'm Clark, Clark Kent. I grew up on a farm in Kansas and I work as a journalist at the Daily Planet. — He smiled shyly and gave you his gift. — I hope you like it…

You blinked and catatonically looked at the thing he gave you. Differently from the last gifts, it wasn't neatly wrapped and it had a weird shape, but by how it felt in your hands, you guessed what it was.

You expected the sight of a Superman plushie to greet you, but instead, it was a plushie of your favorite fictional superhero. The same hero from the Martian’s comic.

Well, it was cute. You would probably fall for him if you didn't know better. You held back an awed sound that wanted to spill from the back of your throat.

Suddenly, the silence was broken by all the Justice League groaning a collective and loud “GET OUT”, you looked up, confused and curious by what caused all this, surprised by seeing it was just Batman entering the room.

Huh, why did everyone react like that?

He stared at you, then at every single one of them, silently, almost disapproving, or disappointed, but then, he smirked when he looked at you again.

Batman was smirking? You flinched.

— This is for you. — He gave you a big box. It was surprisingly heavy. When you opened it, there was a very expensive and beautiful pair of shoes, something you only dreamed of having and was always on your Pinterest board. Only digital influencers and celebrities wearing it, making you jealous. But that wasn't all. There was also jewelry and a very expensive bottle of wine. You will definitely take it to the holidays to impress your family. Or maybe keep it to a very special occasion. — And there’s more from where it came from. — He reached for his cowl and your breath hitched. Never in your wildest dreams you thought this day would happen.

He took of the cowl, and in front of your was…

Bruce Wayne?!

While everyone deflated, knowing they lost, you just had to hold back your laugh, but a snort still escaped. That took everyone off for a second, including the always stoic hero in front of you, who was clearly bewildered when you couldn't hold back anymore and laughed to his face.

— You think I'm gonna show up to my family with the nacional manwhore? HA! Yeah, that's gonna impress them for the first five minutes, then I will be the dummy who’s gonna be traded for the next top model. — You shook your head, still laughing. Bruce frowned deeper. You slightly feared for your job after you bluntly called him a manwhore.

— I would never do that to you. My affairs are all to deceive the public and keep my job a secret.

— And that might be true, but my family doesn't know that! Or are you gonna tell this to everyone? Funny. Billionaires are so delusional and out of touch… — You shook your head and walked out.

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[aryadelvich]

Summary : You’re a student in law at the university of Colombia in New York. It’s your last year. Professor Luigi Mangione teach in this university and you’re one of his student in cybersecurity course. He has a crush on you and asks you on a date.

Here’s part 2 and part 3

And a request not related to the story (Luigi request)

— Columbia University —

You’re seated alone in the faculty lounge, your nerves quietly bubbling under the surface. Today, you were set to teach an introductory criminal law course for first year students. You could always recognize a young cohort when you saw one—still slightly clinging to their high school mentality. Despite your nerves, you were also eager. Law was your passion, and the opportunity to teach it felt like an honor. You often joked that professors were just professionals who loved hearing themselves talk about their favorite subject for hours on end.

You diligently prepared your handouts, reviewed your notes, and double-checked your presentation for typos. You were So engrossed in your task that you didn't notice someone sitting down next to you until his raspy voice broke your concentration.

"Good morning y/n” Luigi's curious tone startled you.

He was always so polite, never skipping the rituel of politeness.

You looked up, your heart skipping a beat. It was him. Again.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, a small, playful smile tugging at his lips.

You couldn't help but wonder what lay behind that constant smile of his. It was as if he were perpetually amused by something no one else could see.

"I'm preparing for the lecture I'm giving to the first-years," you replied, calmly.

"Oh, I see. Preparing? At the last minute?" he teased, his voice adopting a half-paternal, half-professorial tone, as though ready to scold you.

"No, I'm reviewing," you corrected him, emphasizing the word. "Making sure everything's in order."

He looked relieved. "Good. A lecture shouldn't be prepared overnight. Trust me, I know."

"Really? No way! I hadn't noticed at all," you shot back sarcastically.

He grinned but didn't relent. "If you want, I can help with your presentation."

"Oh, please, Professor Mangione, save me!" You mocked dramatically. "I'm in distress and in desperate need of your superior male brainpower!"

He was always up for helping others. Hero complex maybe. Luigi chuckled, bowing his head slightly in surrender.

"I get it. You don't want my help. Fine. But I'm free from 10 to 1 today, so I'll sit in on your lecture. You know, just to see how it goes."

"Are you sure?" You asked, a sly glint in your eye that didn't escape Luigi's notice. You were definitely plotting something, but his curiosity got the better of him.

From his backpack, Luigi pulled out a remote with a laser pointer and handed it to you.

"You'll need this. It's handy for switching slides."

You softened, smiling at the thoughtful gesture. "Thank you."

Noticing the time—9:50 a.m.—you gathered your materials and headed toward the assigned lecture hall for your three-hour session. Luigi followed a few steps behind.

As you entered the classroom, all eyes turned to you. It was common for those in the legal field to carry themselves with poise: immaculate attire, perfect posture, and an undeniable air of authority. Luigi quickly took a seat in the third row, his gaze never leaving you.

You approached the podium with confidence, connecting your laptop to the projector with effortless ease. Though students were still settling in and whispering among themselves, you exuded calm professionalism. Your eyes briefly met Luigi's, who wore his trademark smirk—half-mocking, half-amused.

You began in a steady voice:

"Good morning, everyone. I'm y/n y/s and today we'll dive into the foundations of criminal law. But first... let's break the ice with a question."

You paused, scanning the room before zeroing in on Luigi.

"Professor Mangione, since you've graciously decided to join us, maybe you'd like to enlighten us?"

Luigi, caught off guard but clearly entertained, straightened in his seat.

"Me?"

"Yes, you," you said with a mischievous smile. "Surely someone as brilliant as you already knows the answer."

You’re giggling inside, taking revenge from what he did to you. The students turned to look at him, curious about the unfolding interaction. He crossed his arms, leaning back with feigned contemplation.

"All right. Ask your question."

You didn't flinch, your smile widening slightly.

"Define 'criminal offense' in one concise sentence."

Luigi grinned awkwardly, eliciting a few quiet chuckles from the class. He could feel the challenge in your eyes. You were enjoying this. But instead of feeling trapped, he saw it as an opportunity to impress you.

"The criminal offense is..." He paused dramatically. "...an act or omission prohibited by law and punishable by a sanction."

You tilted your head, your smile triumphant.

"Not bad. But you forgot to mention that it must be defined by a legal provision. A crucial detail, Professor Mangione."

The students chuckled, appreciating the exchange. Luigi nodded, accepting the correction with good humor.

"You're right. My apologies, Professor y/s" he said with a submissive voice.

Throughout the lecture, you continued to engage the students, sparking debates and answering questions. But you couldn't resist circling back to Luigi, throwing him curveballs with hypothetical scenarios. He responded each time with a mix of humor and insight, keeping the atmosphere light and engaging.

Near the end of the session, you delivered your final jab.

"One last question for our special guest: Professor Mangione, in your opinion, what's the main difference between criminal law and a cybersecurity class?"

Without missing a beat, Luigi replied, his signature smirk in place:

"Easy. In cybersecurity, the goal is to avoid prison. In criminal law, you learn how to put others there."

The room erupted into laughter. You shook your head, amused but unwilling to let him have the last word.

"Well, I see a promising career in comedy if tech ever bores you."

As the class dispersed, Luigi approached the podium, hands in his pockets.

"Not bad, y/s. You really know how to hold a class's attention."

You packed up your things, smirking.

"Thanks. And you really know how to make a spectacle of yourself."

"I try my best to contribute to society," he said with mock seriousness.

You raised an eyebrow. "Admirable."

He looked at you, his tone softening.

"You need to stop complimenting me. I might start liking you more than I should."

You froze for a moment, unsure of his intent. Was he talking about friendship... or something more? He stepped closer, the distance between him and you shrinking as his gaze locked on yours.

"What?" You whispered, caught off guard.

"Are you free tomorrow evening?" he asked, his voice tinged with nervousness.

"Yes..."

"I'd like to take you somewhere. Would you say yes?"

"Is this... a date?" You asked, needing clarity.

He nodded with a shy smile on his face. "Yes."

For the first time, you blushed, your usual composure slipping.

"All right..."

Luigi's face lit up with his most genuine smile.

"Tomorrow, 7 p.m. I'll pick you up. What's your dorm?"

"John Jay, room 703."

"Got it. See you tomorrow."

You parted ways in silence, the tension lingering in the air. Once out of sight, Luigi exhaled deeply. He hadn't expected you to agree. His feelings for you were becoming too strong to ignore, and for once, he'd decided to take the leap.

You guys liked it ? Do you want me to write others stories of Luigi ?

[prlssprfctn]

What do you think about this?

I thought it...

Jason is emotionally adopted by every rogue, villain and enemy of Batman and the BatFam with the exception of the Clown

Like he can just annoy Tim by requesting Ra's to please give him Tim's spleen jar and show it to Tim before giving it back to Ra's.

Each bat kid has one rogue that is connected to them and Jason becomes the favorite of all Robins because... 1 is to be petty and 2 he broke down the enemies defenses and made himself their favorite.

Jason is petty like that.

i actually love this! funnily enough, i think Jason accidentally befriended a few of them even as Robin (an interesting detail: as Robin Jason was very inclined to believe that rogues of Gotham can actually change, while Bruce brushed him off; in one of comics, he really wanted to believe that Penguin had changed their ways, and, of course, he turned out to be wrong, and Bruce explained him that people like him don't change, but isn't it just *so* curious and feels like unintentional foreshadowing? especially, considering that Bruce pushes the "this kid would end up a criminal [or dead] if not for me" from the very beginning of Jason's arc?)

but back to the point, i absolutely love this headcanon. i don't think he will tolerate *all* of them (definitely not Penguin and Crane, I think; Harley, depending on how triggered he is just by Joker association), but the most? for sure. putting my bet that Selina and Pamela might be his favourite, actually.

the funniest part most of them are, like, nerds with PHD. that's exactly a type of people that will welcome his rants about books and law, politics and economy, and— you get it.

and then, there is Ra's. they are very annoying to each other, but they collaborate when they know that their ideas and duo will annoy others. Bruce is getting grey hair every time he knows Jason is at LoA again? Ra's announce that Jason is his grandson as well. Dick is getting a tick because Al Ghul's family is his least favourite family in the world? Jason *accidentally* mixes up chats and sends Dick his selfie with Ra's instead of Talia. bonus points: Dick hates that his chat is somewhere next to Talia, too.

do he also help rogues on occasions when he wants to annoy Bruce? sure.

Batman, trying to catch Selina after she stole something from city hall again:

Jason, calling him in the middle of the chase: Sos, emergency

Batman, pausing: Son? What's wrong?

Jason: I am stuck resolving Riddler's shit, and I really need help with the last one.

Batman: What is it?????

Jason: What cat says when Bat fails again?

Batman: Uh—

Jason, before hanging up dramatically: Don't be mean to your second son.

Batman: Excuse me—

Selina, hopping on a suspiciously familiar bike with a suspiciously familiar vigilante driving it: Muah!

Batman: Shit.

Dick, barging inside the Cave, furious: Had you managed to fight with Jason again?

Bruce: ...How did you know?

Dick: I've spent thirteen hours trying to resolve all Riddler's trials. Some of them were required to quote Jane Austin and fill blanks in Edgar Allan Poe's poems. HOW DO I KNOW?!? GO AND APOLOGISE, YOU STUPUD OLD MAN.

Bruce: ^_^

Red Hood and Riddler on the other side of town: (collective evil giggles)

Tim, sighing, because police asked Red Robin to regulate Poison's Ivy rally in front of CGDP building: Man, it is Sunday...

Tim, squinting at a familiar figure in leather jacket: Jason? What the fuck you are doing here? Are you under Ivy's pollen influence, too?

Jason, holding a big ass poster: Nah, man, just helping my girl Pam

Tim: ...Honestly. Whatever. I'll leave the territory to you.

[seriiousgiirl]

𝐼𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 — 𝒜 𝒮𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓀 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝒾𝓁𝑒𝓃𝒸𝑒

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ݁𝒿𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓈 𝓈𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓍 𝓉𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓇!𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇.⊹ ₊ ݁.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 . ⊹ ₊ ݁. alternate universe - canon divergence, post-silent Hill 2, angst and fluff and smut, touch-starved, redemption, grief, mourning, psychological trauma and horror, mutual pining, James adopted Laura, age difference, smut, vaginal sex, rough sex, rough kissing, aftercare, daddy kink, James deserves his happy ending, James is desperate and pathetic, based on the Silent Hill Games and mostly the remake

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ 𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 . ⊹ ₊ ݁. James is just needy and frustrated.

❛ Part 1 ⋅ Part 3 ⋅ masterlist ⋅ ao3 ⋅ requests ❜

➜ ┊ a/n: Ok, I didn't expect to get so much positive feedback on this story, let alone people reading it. Thanks for the reposts, and the likes, it's really heartwarming. I hope this new chapter lives up to your expectations!

➜ ┊: chapter 2/?.

Yeah, I’m fine,

Just, you know, work and everything.

James' words echoed in your mind far longer than you'd expected, long after you left the school and returned home. It was such a simple explanation, too simple, almost rehearsed. You replayed the conversation over and over, dissecting every syllable. Was that really the whole truth? Or were you just looking too much into it? You usually worried about your students, not their parents, but there was something about Mr. Sunderland that was different. 

The way his voice had that edge to it, tired yet restrained, lingered with you.

You tried to brush it off as you kicked off your shoes and hung up your coat, settling into your familiar routine, but it wasn’t easy. Mr. Sunderland had always caught your eye—not in the usual way parents did when they showed up to school events, eager to check off a duty. There was something about him, a fragility hidden beneath his exterior that you couldn't quite ignore. You couldn't stop yourself from wondering, Is he okay?

He wasn’t just Laura’s dad to you; he was an enigma of sorts, a man who seemed out of place among the chatter of parents and the laughter of children. The first time you really noticed it was years ago, at a school event. You could still remember it clearly, as if it had just happened. The room was filled with the vibrant energy of kids running around, voices overlapping, and parents chatting with one another, but James stood on the outskirts, a shadow of a man amidst the lightness. His posture had been tense, like he was holding himself together by sheer will, his eyes distant and guarded, scanning the room as if he didn’t belong.

You had watched him, then—just a little too long—and something about the way he looked made you wonder if he was more lost than he let on. There was a weight in his eyes, a haunted look that never quite went away, no matter how much he smiled for Laura or spoke politely to the other parents. It had unsettled you, this quiet suffering that no one else seemed to notice, or even care to notice.

As you moved about your apartment, grabbing a glass of water and flipping through papers, your mind kept circling back to that same thought. Normally, you were good at compartmentalising—work was work, home was home. But James blurred those lines for you, even when you didn't want him to. There was something about him, something that tugged at your heart in a way that made it hard to let go once you started worrying.

You shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts. You had no reason to be this concerned. 

After all, you barely knew him beyond your interactions about Laura. And yet, here you were, standing in your kitchen, your mind consumed with thoughts of a man you’d only spoken to a handful of times. It was absurd, but the more you thought about it, the more you realised that you had been noticing him for a while. Maybe it was his quietness, or the way he seemed to drift away in crowded rooms, but something about him had planted itself in your mind and refused to leave.

You were a teacher, not a therapist, and you had no business prying into his life. But that didn’t stop you from caring. You knew that if you hadn’t spoken to him at that first event, if you hadn’t seen that lost, almost broken look in his eyes, you might have been able to brush it off. But you had seen it, and now it was impossible to unsee. 

Maybe that was why his tiredness today had stuck with you. The dark circles under his eyes, the way he seemed to force a smile—it all felt too familiar, too much like someone who was holding themselves together by a thread. You sighed, staring into the dim light of your living room, feeling the weight of something you couldn't name.

Maybe it was because you saw a little of yourself in him, in that quiet sadness that never quite left his face.

Whatever it was, it wasn’t going away. And as much as you tried to tell yourself it was just concern for a parent of your student, deep down, you knew it ran deeper than that.

As you ate dinner, you recalled the school event vividly, the day you first gathered the courage to talk to him. The air was filled with laughter and chatter, and you were moving through it all with practised ease, making sure everyone felt comfortable and included. That’s when you saw him.

He had been standing there, watching Laura play with the other children. There was a sadness about him, something fragile and haunting in the way he observed everything without really engaging. You had felt a strange pull toward him, an instinct to reach out, to offer something, even if it was just a gesture of kindness.

You had hesitated at first, unsure if you should approach him. But something in his isolation spurred you forward. Gathering your courage, you had picked up two plates of the chocolate cake from the refreshments table, a favourite among the kids, and made your way toward him. As you walked up, he didn’t even notice your presence at first, so absorbed in his thoughts that he seemed to be a thousand miles away.

When you finally held up the plate under his nose, he jolted, startled by your sudden appearance. His wide eyes met yours, and for a brief moment, he looked at you as though you were a ghost, someone he hadn’t expected to see or speak to. It had almost made you retreat, thinking you had made a mistake, but you had offered him a warm smile instead, hoping to ease the tension.

“The cake is really good,” you had said softly, holding it out to him. “You should try it.”

He had blinked, then smiled politely, a small, hesitant curve of his lips that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “Thank you.” He accepted the plate from you, his fingers brushing yours for the briefest second before he pulled away, creating an awkward silence between you two.

You both stood there, watching Laura run around with the other children, her laughter floating in the air. You had wondered what to say next, unsure if you should even be speaking to him at all. But then his voice broke the silence, soft and gentle, yet with a strained quality that made it sound as if every word was carefully measured.

“You… you are young for a teacher,” he had said, his voice as uncertain as his expression. There was a pause, a flicker of discomfort in his gaze before he looked away, as if unsure whether the comment had crossed a line.

You chuckled softly, relieved that the silence had finally broken. “Yeah, I guess I found my calling pretty quickly,” you replied, taking a small bite of your own slice of cake. You had gotten used to that comment—it was something parents and even some older teachers had mentioned when you first started at the school. But somehow, coming from James, it felt different. There was something in the way he had said it, almost like he was impressed, or maybe curious, but cautious, too. 

He nodded slightly, staring down at the cake in his hands before taking a hesitant bite. For a moment, it seemed like he wasn’t sure how to react, but then his face softened, and he looked at you again. “This… this is really good,” he said, almost as if the taste had surprised him.

You smiled, glad that the small gesture had helped him relax a bit. “It’s the kids’ favourite,” you told him, motioning to the crowd of children still running around, their laughter filling the air. “I bake and we serve it at every event. If it’s not on the menu, the parents complain.”

James chuckled, a low sound that barely made it past his lips, but you noticed how it brightened his face, even if only for a second. It was a small victory, seeing that shift in his expression. “I can see why,” he muttered, taking another bite as if savouring the moment.

You watched Laura playing with the other children and decided to continue the conversation, not wanting the moment to fade into awkward silence again. “Laura’s doing really well in class, by the way. She’s a joy to have. Always so curious, always ready with questions.”

James's expression softened at the mention of Laura. His eyes followed her, his gaze warm despite the distance he seemed to keep from the joyful atmosphere around him. “She loves school,” he said, his voice almost reverent, as if Laura was his anchor in a storm he couldn’t quite escape from. “It’s… amazing, really. The way she’s grown since I’ve—well, since she’s been here.”

You nodded, remembering how Laura had come into the class that first year—bright, confident, and eager to learn. “She’s a natural learner, always asking for more books, more activities. Sometimes I think she’d rather stay in class all day if she could,” you said with a laugh.

James smiled, but it didn’t fully reach his eyes. You noticed the faint lines of weariness etched into his features, and it stirred a quiet concern in you, one you couldn’t quite explain. Every time he spoke of Laura, it was like he was holding onto her with both hands, like she was the only thing keeping him alive.

“She talks about you a lot,” James said after a moment, his voice quiet again. “Says you make learning fun.”

That comment had warmed you more than you expected. “She’s sweet,” you replied, smiling at the thought of Laura mentioning you at home. “I just try to make sure the kids feel like they can explore the world in their own way. Laura seems to have a natural curiosity about everything.”

James nodded, but he seemed distant again, as if his thoughts were drifting somewhere far away. You could see it in the way his shoulders slumped slightly, the way his eyes seemed to darken as the conversation went on. You hadn’t meant to pry, but his sadness was palpable. And in that moment, you had found yourself wanting to say more, to offer some kind of reassurance. But before you could, James spoke again.

“I’m glad she’s in good hands,” he said softly, his gaze still fixed on Laura as she ran across the playground. 

You remembered the weight of your words that day, how you hesitated before finally gathering the courage to ask him something that had been bothering you for a while. The conversation had been light up until that point, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to the story, something beneath the surface of James’s distant demeanour and Laura’s bubbly personality. 

You didn’t want to pry—especially not during a casual school event—but the question had been lingering in your mind since the start of the year. Laura’s information sheet had been so bare, so lacking in detail, compared to what most parents submitted. No emergency contacts beyond James. No mention of other family. You tried to tell yourself it wasn’t your place to ask, but as her teacher, you felt like you should at least know a little more.

So, as you stood next to him, the quiet stretching between you after your exchange about Laura’s love for school, you finally spoke up, your voice hesitant. “I, um… I hope you don’t mind me asking, but…” You paused, swallowing the nervousness that had crept into your throat. “On Laura’s information sheet, you didn’t fill in much. I didn’t want to pry or anything, but I was just wondering—well, if there’s anything we should know? Just to be prepared, you know, in case of an emergency.”

James’s face shifted at your words, and for a second, you thought you might have overstepped. His jaw tightened, and he looked down at the ground, his expression hard to read. You immediately regretted asking, feeling heat rush to your cheeks as the silence between you deepened.

“I didn’t mean to—” you began quickly, your words tumbling out as you tried to backtrack. “I just wanted to make sure we had everything we need for Laura. I’m sorry if that was too forward, I just—”

James shook his head, and to your surprise, he let out a soft chuckle, his lips curling into a faint smile. “No, it’s okay,” he said, his voice a little lighter now, though there was still something guarded in his tone. He glanced at Laura again, watching her as she played, before continuing. “It’s just that… I adopted Laura a few months ago. So I don’t have a lot of information about her past.”

The words hit you like a gentle but unexpected wave, washing over your initial embarrassment and replacing it with a deep sense of sympathy. “Oh,” you whispered, your cheeks flushing deeper as you realised the weight of his admission. “I—I didn’t know. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

James shook his head again, cutting off your apology with a reassuring smile. “Really, it’s fine,” he said, a softness in his eyes that made you relax a little. “I know it’s probably a little strange, but… I didn’t want to put too much on those forms. We’re still figuring things out—so, I would appreciate your secrecy on this matter.”

“Of course,” you nodded, feeling a mix of embarrassment and understanding settle in your chest. “That makes sense,” you replied, your voice softer now. There was a brief pause, an almost peaceful silence between you, and for the first time that day, you didn’t feel awkward standing beside him. You felt something quiet but real.

He glanced at you then, a flicker of something in his eyes—gratitude, maybe, or something deeper, something unsaid. For a moment, you thought he might open up further, let you in just a little more. But instead, he nodded, offering you a tight smile that didn’t quite mask the exhaustion behind his eyes.

“Thanks for the cake,” he murmured, the word heavy with meaning, but it felt like a conversation he wasn’t ready to continue. “You can now add me to the list of your fans,” he tried to joke. And that was how it ended that day. A polite smile, a brief exchange, and a shared piece of chocolate cake. 

But it had been the start of something—an awareness, perhaps—that had lodged itself in your mind since.

‧───────────────

It was the end of the school day, and you stood at the doorway of the classroom, waving goodbye to your students as they rushed out, eager to meet their parents. The air was filled with the excited chatter of children, their laughter carrying through the schoolyard as they bounded toward the gates, already discussing what they would do once they got home—playing, watching cartoons, or just relaxing after a long day. 

You smiled, watching them, a familiar warmth settling in your chest. These moments, seeing the kids so happy and carefree, were some of your favourites. But as the crowd of parents thinned and the rush of students began to dwindle, your eyes fell on one child still waiting, standing a little apart from the rest.

Laura.

She was fidgeting with the sleeve of her pink shirt, her eyes darting around as she glanced at the gate, waiting for someone who hadn’t yet arrived. You felt a small pang in your chest, noticing how her usually bright demeanour was tinged with a quiet sort of patience. 

She wasn’t upset, not yet, but you could tell she was starting to wonder where he was.

You walked over to her, your steps soft against the pavement. Kneeling down next to her, you offered her a gentle smile, hoping to ease the unease you sensed in her small frame. “Hey, Laura,” you said quietly, “Don’t worry, your dad will be here soon. I’ll wait with you until he comes, okay? So you don’t have to worry.”

Laura looked up at you, her wide eyes filled with an innocence that tugged at your heartstrings. She nodded, though her fingers still played nervously with her sleeve. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice small but trusting.

You sat down on the bench next to her, offering her a comforting presence. The schoolyard was almost empty now, save for a few stragglers who were still being picked up. You glanced toward the gate, hoping to see James approaching, but there was no sign of him yet.

The two of you sat in a peaceful silence for a moment, and you couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of protectiveness toward the little girl beside you. You had always cared for your students, of course, but with Laura… it felt different. There was something about her that drew you in, something about her quiet resilience and the way she tried so hard to be brave.

You glanced at her again, noticing how she was now staring at the ground, still fiddling with her sleeve. “You know,” you said gently, trying to distract her, “you were amazing in class today. I think you’re going to be a star at our next reading session.”

Laura looked up at you, a tiny smile tugging at her lips. “Really?”

“Really,” you nodded, your tone full of warmth. “You’ve come so far, Laura. You should be proud of yourself.”

Her smile widened just a little, and you felt a sense of relief wash over you. At least for now, she seemed more at ease, even if only for a moment. Still, your gaze flickered back to the gate, and you silently hoped James would arrive soon. You knew how much Laura looked up to him, how much she counted on him, and you didn’t want her to start worrying that he wouldn’t come.

Even so, you would wait with her for as long as it took.

As the minutes passed, Laura’s hands fidgeted more restlessly with her sleeve, her small brow furrowing with an expression far too serious for her age. She glanced up at you and then back at the ground, her lips pressing together as if she was holding something in. 

“Is everything okay?” you asked gently, leaning a bit closer to her.

Laura hesitated, biting her lip before she spoke. “I... I’m not sure,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just... James has been really tired lately. He doesn’t smile anymore—well, even less than usual. And sometimes...” Her voice trailed off, her fingers gripping her sleeve tightly.

You could sense the worry radiating from her, and it tugged at your heart. You leaned in a little closer, your voice soft and reassuring. “Sometimes what, Laura?”

She hesitated again, her eyes flicking up to yours before darting away. She seemed on the verge of saying something more, something important, but just as the words were about to spill out, the sound of hurried footsteps caught both of your attention.

James.

He rushed through the gate, his face flushed and his breath coming in heavy pants. His tie was slightly askew, his khaki jacket over his broad shoulders, and you could tell from the sheen of sweat on his brow that he had run all the way from wherever he had been. His gaze immediately locked onto Laura, and the relief in his eyes was palpable.

“Laura... I’m so sorry I’m late,” he said, his voice breathless but filled with concern. He bent down to her level, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Work ran later than I expected, but I’m here now.”

Laura’s face brightened instantly at the sight of him. Whatever worries she had moments ago seemed to melt away as she launched herself into his arms. “It’s okay, James. I knew you’d come. Y/n kept me company.”

James held her tightly for a moment, his eyes closing as he took a deep breath, seemingly trying to steady himself. Then he stood up, his gaze shifting to you. There was an apology in his expression, a look of regret for being late. “I’m sorry if I kept you waiting,” he said, still catching his breath. “I rushed over as fast as I could.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “No need to apologise. We’re just glad you made it.”

For a moment, as James straightened his posture, you could see the fatigue lingering in his eyes—deeper than just physical tiredness. It was the kind of weariness that came from something more, something that ran deeper than a late night or a long day at work.

You smiled politely, already anticipating that James would soon make his usual excuses to leave as soon as possible and head home with Laura. But to your surprise, he lingered for a moment longer, his gaze shifting from Laura to you, a look of contemplation on his face. There was something different about him today—something new.

“Miss...” he began, but before he could finish, you couldn’t help but giggle, waving him off playfully. “Oh gosh— It makes me feel so formal and old, how many times have I insisted you call me by my name?” You teased lightly, hoping to break the ice that often felt a little too thick between you two.

James’s expression shifted slightly, a hint of amusement dancing in his deep-set eyes. “I suppose it’s hard to shake old habits,” he replied, a half-smile playing on his lips as if he were sharing an inside joke with himself. You watched as he took a moment to consider his words, his brow furrowing slightly as he grappled with the shift in the dynamic between you. 

“But... Y/n,” he finally said, his voice almost hesitant, as if he were testing the waters. 

The way he spoke your name was slow and deliberate, as if each syllable was a treasure he was unearthing. The warmth of his voice wrapped around you, and the moment felt electric. The air thickened with an intimacy you hadn’t expected, leaving you momentarily breathless. 

You felt your heart skip a beat as a rush of warmth flooded your cheeks, your breath hitching slightly in your throat. Suddenly, the space between you seemed to shrink, and the innocent and fleeting conversations you typically shared transformed into something more profound, more intimate. 

“Y/n,” he repeated, this time almost to himself, as if he were savouring the taste of it. 

The sound of your name rolling off his tongue sent a flutter through you, igniting a mixture of excitement and shyness that caught you off guard. You felt like you were standing on the edge of something new and uncharted, and the thrill of it both exhilarated and terrified you.

“I—uh, right... well, it’s nice to be called by my name, that’s all,” you stammered, attempting to regain your composure. The heat of embarrassment crept up your neck, and you could feel your heart racing in your chest, a drumbeat that seemed to echo in the stillness between you.

James chuckled softly, the sound warm and inviting, breaking the momentary tension. “I’ll make an effort to remember,” he said, and the sincerity in his voice struck a chord deep within you. You could sense the vulnerability in his words, a hint that perhaps he was allowing himself to be more open, more human.

The moment lingered, stretching into a comfortable silence as you both absorbed what had just transpired. You could sense a connection crackling in the air, a magnetic pull that made your skin tingle and your heart flutter. Laura, oblivious to the undercurrents swirling around her, stood between you, still clutching her father’s hand, her wide eyes darting back and forth between the two of you, momentarily aback by the interactions.

“James, can we go home now?” Laura chirped, her voice cutting through the quiet. “I want to play with my dolls!”

James jolted, as if he was coming out of a trance and looked down at her, his expression softening as he nodded. “Of course, sweetie. Let’s go home.” But then he turned back to you, an earnestness in his gaze. “I appreciate you looking out for her.”

The compliment caught you off guard, and your heart swelled with a mix of pride and gratitude. “Thank you, Mr. Sunderland. It’s a joy,” you replied, a smile spreading across your face. You were grateful for the opportunity to teach such a bright and spirited child, but it felt like more than just a job. 

It was a chance to make a difference, even in small ways.

As the three of you stood there, the afternoon sun casting a warm glow around you, you felt a sense of connection deepening—a bond that was slowly beginning to form amidst the complexities of life. But just as quickly as it had come, the moment slipped away as Laura tugged at her father’s hand, eager to be on her way.

“Come on, James!” she urged, her excitement palpable. “Let’s go!”

With a final shared smile, James turned to leave, his hand wrapped securely around Laura’s. But, just as James was about to turn and leave, he hesitated for a moment, glancing back at you with a hint of nervousness in his eyes. “Oh, and… it’s only fair that you can call me James,” he added in a rushed voice, as if the words were tumbling out before he could stop them.

The casualness of the remark hung in the air, but the weight of it landed heavily on your chest. You stood there, momentarily shocked, your mind racing to comprehend what he had just said. The simple invitation felt monumental. You could see the apprehension in his expression, as if he were dreading your reaction, almost afraid of the implications his words might hold.

He turned back to Laura, who was practically bouncing on her toes with excitement, and as he walked away, you felt a strange mix of exhilaration and longing. The distance between you began to stretch, but in that moment, all you could focus on was the sudden intimacy in that one little request. 

“James,” you whispered, the name rolling off your tongue for the first time, almost shyly. 

But he was already walking away, his back to you, and the sound of his gentle voice echoed in your ears. You could almost see the tension in his shoulders as he hurried to catch up with Laura, leaving you standing there in the golden glow of the setting sun. For a fleeting moment, you wished he could hear you, that your voice could reach him just a little further. But the name lingered in your mind, and you knew this was more than just a name. 

As they disappeared from sight, you found yourself smiling, a warm flutter igniting within you. You could hardly believe that you had spoken his name, and yet it felt right. James. 

Just James.

‧───────────────

A couple of days had passed since that moment, and you found yourself standing outside the school as the last of the children filtered out, giggling and chattering excitedly about their plans for the evening. The air was warm, filled with the sweet scent of the last remnant of the flowers, yet your thoughts were completely consumed by James.

As he approached, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter in your chest. His blue-gray eyes had a captivating quality that seemed to pull you in, as if they held secrets and stories you longed to uncover. They were gentle and soft, yet haunted, a hint of sadness always lurking just beneath the surface. You had come to notice this subtle dichotomy in him—the warmth of his smile contrasted with the weight he carried in his gaze.

Since your last interaction, James had consistently arrived at school on time, much to your surprise. He had also begun to linger after school, initiating unusual and trivial conversations. And each time he approached, you felt the world around you fade, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of shared moments and unspoken words. 

“Hey, you,” he greeted, a genuine smile lighting up his face as he stepped closer. The way he said it made you feel like you were the only person in the universe, and it took every ounce of your professionalism not to melt under his gaze. “How was your day?”

“Pretty standard,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “Just the usual chaos with the kids. You know how it is.” You chuckled lightly, but inside, your heart raced, fighting the blooming flush on your cheeks. 

His smile widened, revealing a glimpse of warmth that made your stomach flip. “They can be a handful, can’t they?” He leaned slightly against the brick wall, his body language relaxed yet intent, as if he was genuinely interested in your thoughts.

“Yes, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything,” you said, your voice tinged with sincerity. “They bring so much joy, even when they’re a bit much to handle.” 

James nodded, his expression contemplative, and for a moment, you felt an intimacy forming between you. It was strange, this connection, as if you were bound by an invisible thread that pulled you closer together, even as you knew the rules that separated you.

“Laura seems to really enjoy her time in class,” you mentioned, hoping to steer the conversation back to safer ground.

He chuckled softly, but there was an edge of vulnerability in his tone. “She does. I think she’s found her place here.” 

You glanced down, fidgeting with your hands, trying to quell the flutter of anticipation that filled the air. “I’m glad to hear that. It’s important for her to feel comfortable.” 

James’s gaze didn’t waver. “You’ve made a difference for her,” he said, sincerity lacing his words. “I can’t thank you enough for that.”

The sincerity in his voice sent a wave of warmth through you, igniting a mixture of pride and embarrassment. “I’m just doing my job, really,” you replied, though the way he looked at you made you feel anything but ordinary.

“I don’t think you realise how special you are,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. 

For a heartbeat, you felt suspended in time, caught in the gravity of his words. But then reality hit you, a reminder of the boundaries that loomed between you. He was a parent, and you were a teacher. 

Yet, as he lingered there, the air thick with unspoken possibilities, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, the rules could bend a little in this moment. The thought both exhilarated and terrified you. You took a breath, willing yourself to maintain your composure, yet secretly wishing that this conversation could stretch into the endless horizon of what-ifs that danced in your mind.

As the silence settled between you, James straightened up, a look of determination crossing his features that made your heart sink slightly. His expression turned serious, the warmth that had lingered just moments ago fading into something more guarded. With a deep sigh, he seemed to gather himself before speaking, the weight of his words evident in the way he shifted his stance.

“Um, could I have your number?” he asked, his voice steady but laced with an urgency that caught you off guard. 

You stilled, your breath hitching in your throat. The unexpected request sent a rush of warmth flooding your cheeks, and for a moment, you felt entirely unmoored, caught in a tide of surprise and delight. Was he really asking for your number? The notion was thrilling yet terrifying, sending your mind racing with possibilities.

James must have noticed the startled look on your face because, almost immediately, his demeanour shifted again. Realising how his words might be interpreted, he quickly added, “I mean, it’s just in case I need your help—like you offered before, with Laura or school stuff.” 

The clarification hung between you, and you couldn't help but feel a mix of relief and a slight tinge of disappointment. Part of you had dared to hope that this moment was more than just professional courtesy, but as the reality settled in, you pushed that thought aside, telling yourself to focus on the task at hand.

“Of course! That makes total sense,” you managed to reply, your voice slightly breathless. “I’d be more than happy to help with anything you need.” 

With a mix of excitement and nerves coursing through you, you fumbled for your phone, your fingers trembling slightly as you unlocked it. This felt surreal—exchanging numbers with James, standing so close to him, the air thick with unsaid words and lingering glances. You dared to meet his gaze again, and for a brief moment, you lost yourself in the depths of his blue-grey eyes, which seemed to flicker with both anxiety and something deeper.

As you typed in your number, a playful thought crossed your mind, and you decided to break the tension. “Just so you know,” you said, glancing up at him with a teasing smile, “I’m not available for cake emergencies or anything.” 

James chuckled softly, the sound bringing warmth back into the cool air that surrounded you. “Noted. I’ll keep my cake emergencies to a minimum, then.” 

The lightness of the moment felt almost intoxicating, and as you handed your phone back to him, your fingers brushed against his skin. The contact sent a jolt through you, a spark of electricity that made your heart race anew. It was such a simple gesture, yet it felt charged with an intimacy that caught you both off guard.

In that brief moment of contact, you instinctively placed your hand over his arm, a reassuring gesture meant to bridge the gap between you. The warmth of his skin was intoxicating, and you felt him flinch ever so slightly under your touch, as if your hand had ignited something deep within him. 

His eyes widened for a split second, the guarded look momentarily replaced by surprise. “Thanks,” he said, his tone sincere as he accepted your phone, but there was a subtle shift in his expression, a fleeting glimpse of vulnerability that made your heart flutter. 

“I really appreciate it,” he continued, his gaze locking onto yours, and for a heartbeat, it felt as if the world around you had vanished, leaving just the two of you standing in the schoolyard, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. With a final glance, James stepped back, his expression a mix of gratitude and apprehension. “I should get going,” he said, his voice a little softer now, almost hesitant. “Thanks again for everything.”

‧───────────────

James sat on the edge of his bed, the soft glow of a bedside lamp illuminating the worn pages of his journal. His hand hovered over the paper, as if hesitating to commit his thoughts to words. Outside, the October air had settled into a biting chill, the kind that always stirred uneasy memories. The crisp wind rattled against the windows, and James found himself drawn back to dark times, moments when the world had felt as cold and unforgiving as the night closing in around him now.

He pressed the pen down, scratching out his thoughts with deliberate care, almost as if the act of writing might exorcise the ghosts of his past.

Date: [XX/10/1993]

The air is changing. That sharp bite... it reminds me of those days, the ones I wish I could forget. That hollow feeling creeping in, like the cold. I keep trying to push it away, keep myself in the present. Focus on what matters.

He paused, tapping the pen against the paper, as though searching for the next words. His thoughts inevitably drifted, not to the past he so desperately wanted to escape, but to something—or rather, someone—new.

But lately... lately, there’s been a kind of warmth. Like I’ve found the sun again. It's dangerous, though. I know it is. It has to be about Laura. She's the reason I’m here. She's my only focus. But when I see her... when I see Y/n...

He paused again, his jaw tightening as he tried to push down the surge of feelings rising up in his chest. Y/n, your warmth, your presence—it was getting harder to ignore, harder to suppress the way his heart sped up when their conversations lingered just a little longer than they should.

I try to keep the conversation about Laura. I need to keep it about her. She’s Y/n's student, my daughter, and that’s all there is to it. That’s how it should be. It’s enough, it has to be. But I catch myself wanting more. And that scares the hell out of me. But I can’t help it. I find myself lingering after our conversations, craving the moments we talk about anything else—about the weather, about life, about her smile. God, her smile...

His hand trembled slightly as he wrote, the words spilling out onto the page with a sense of urgency, like he was afraid of admitting them even to himself.

There’s something about her. I see it in her smile, in the way she talks to Laura, the way she looks at me sometimes. She’s young, full of life and warmth, and I... I’m not that. I haven’t been that in a long time. She deserves better. Deserves more than someone who can’t escape his past—a murderer.

James exhaled shakily, running a hand through his ashe blonde hair. The darkness of the room felt oppressive now, mirroring the darkness in his thoughts.

I should stop. I need to stop. I can’t let myself think this way. Not about her. Not when she’s...

He trailed off, his hand going still as he stared at the half-finished sentence, the weight of the unsaid words heavy in the air. The journal felt like a confessional, a place where he could let out the thoughts he would never say aloud. 

And yet, it offered no relief. No absolution.

She’s kind. She’s patient. She’s pretty. She’s good. Too good for me. I need to remember that. I have to stop before I ruin everything. I shouldn't want her. I shouldn't feel this way. But God, the way she looks at me, the way she smiles... it makes me weak. Makes me want things I have no right to want. 

Makes me feel things I've tried to bury deep inside.

But even as he wrote the words, a part of him resisted, fighting the notion of letting go of that warmth, of her. With a sigh, James closed the journal, his chest tightening with the familiar ache of guilt. He set it aside, staring at the ceiling, haunted by both his memories and the new feelings he couldn’t quite bring himself to fully acknowledge. 

Sleep wouldn’t come easily tonight—not with your name still lingering in the corners of his mind.

As James lay there, staring at the ceiling, the image of your face flickered in his mind, your warm smile and kind eyes filling his thoughts. The more he tried to push you away, the more you seemed to consume him, your presence a constant ache in his chest. He shifted restlessly, the sheets tangling around his legs as a bead of sweat trickled down his temple. His body grew hot, his skin prickling with a need he couldn't ignore.

James closed his eyes, his breath coming faster as he pictured the gentle curves of your body that he longed to explore, straddling him, your hips rolling against his as you rode him. He could almost feel the heat of your core, the way your walls would clench around him as he thrust deep inside you. A moan escaped his lips, low and needy, as his hand drifted down to his growing arousal. He stroked himself through his pyjama bottoms, the friction of the fabric only adding to his growing desperation.

‘I'm sorry, Mary,’ he thought, even as he pushed his pants down, freeing his aching cock. ‘I'm so sorry. But I need this. I need to feel something, anything, besides this endless grief.’

James wrapped his hand around his shaft, the touch sending sparks of pleasure through his body. He imagined it was Y/n's hand, your slender fingers wrapped around him, guiding him to ecstasy. 

"Fuck," he groaned, his hand moving faster, the sound of his skin slapping against his arousal echoing in the silent room. He knew it was wrong, knew he should stop, but the need consuming him was too strong to resist. In his mind, you were on top of him, your hips grinding against his, your breasts bouncing as you rode him with wild abandon. He would grab your hips, pulling you down harder, burying himself deep inside your warmth.

"Oh god, Y/n!" he cried out, his body tensing as he neared his peak. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" The words tumbled from his lips, a desperate plea for forgiveness as much as a prayer of ecstasy.

As he stroked himself faster, harder, the guilt began to fade, replaced by a growing sense of urgency. His hips bucked into his hand, his breathing ragged as he chased his release. With a final, strangled cry, James came, his seed spurting across his stomach and chest. The pleasure crashed over him in waves, washing away the pain and sorrow, if only for a moment.

In the aftermath, as his chest heaved with laboured breaths, James felt a twinge of shame. As the haze of pleasure faded, the reality of what he had done crashed down upon him. Tears welled in his eyes, and he curled in on himself, his shame overwhelming him once again.

"I'm a monster," he whispered, his voice broken.

James lay there, paralyzed by his own shame and revulsion. The sticky warmth of his seed coating his skin served as a stark reminder of his weakness, of the depth of his depravity. He couldn't escape the images of Y/n that haunted his mind, the memories of their interactions intertwining with the twisted fantasies he had just indulged in.

With a trembling hand, he reached for the box of tissues on his nightstand, cleaning himself up as quickly as possible—as if he was cleaning a crime scene. He wanted to scream, to lash out at the world that had led him to this point, but he knew it was futile. There was no one to blame but himself, no one to shoulder the burden of his sins.

As he lay there, listening to the distant sounds of the city beyond his window, James felt a sudden urge to purge himself of the poison that consumed him. He needed to cleanse his soul, to rid himself of the taint of his desire.

With a determined grimace, he rolled out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. He turned the faucet on full blast, the cold water spraying him in the face like a baptismal rebirth. He scrubbed his skin raw, watching his cum as the water swirl down the drain, carrying away the evidence of his transgressions.

James stood there, a broken shell of a man, his body shaking with the force of his sobs. He wanted to scrub himself clean, to remove every trace of her from his being, but he knew it was futile. For the first time, he had crossed that line, had given in to the darkest recesses of his mind. And it had felt...good. 

"I'm sorry, Mary," he whispered, his voice raw and hollow. "I'm so sorry. I don't know how to stop this."

But even as the words left his lips, he knew they were empty. He didn't want to stop, didn't want to deny himself the fleeting moments of ecstasy that Y/n brought him. He was a monster, a depraved creature.

After his shower, James sat on the edge of his bed, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting long, twisted shadows across the room, his journal open once again in his lap. His hand hovered over the page, trembling, knowing exactly what he needed to write but dreading it. 

His hand stilled. How had it come to this? He had never expected to feel this pull, this temptation toward someone, toward you. He had tried so hard to be good, to keep things professional, but you had stirred something deep inside him—something he couldn’t control.

Y/n.

Your namelay there on the page, staring back at him like a secret he could no longer hide. 

I’ve already tried to relieve myself with thoughts of her… it’s not new. I’ve always been weak to her. The way she smiles, the way she speaks, her kindness. It’s all too much. I’m too weak. But this time…

James exhaled, his chest tightening. This time had been different. This time, he had given in completely, no longer just a fleeting thought or stolen glance. For the first time, he had let you take over his mind entirely, and the release had been overwhelming. It had been the first time in years—since Mary—that he’d allowed himself to finish with someone else in his thoughts.

For the first time, it wasn’t Mary I thought of when I—

He stopped, unable to bring himself to put it into words. But the truth lingered, pressing down on him. For the first time, it had been you.

His grip on the pen tightened, the shame gnawing at him. He had crossed a line—one he never thought he would cross again. But the worst part? The part that made his skin crawl?

It felt good.

For the first time, I let myself think of someone else, and it felt...good. 

His breath hitched, a wave of guilt washing over him, followed by something darker. He closed the journal with a sudden snap, his chest heaving, his heart pounding in his ears. Tossing it onto the bedside table, James leaned back against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push away the thoughts of you that flooded his mind.

I should stop. I need to stop.

But he couldn’t. He was trapped, caught between the past he couldn’t escape and the future he shouldn’t want.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again, though this time, it was barely more than a breath. He wasn’t sure if the apology was meant for Mary or for himself.

He closed his eyes, Mary’s name on his lips, but as his mind drifted, it wasn’t her face he saw.

It was yours.

[taegimood]

🙋‍♀️ Hi

Your hybrid fics/thoughts are so good 😣 Can I request puppy or penguin Kai pleeeeaaaase 🥺

thank you !!!!!! indeed you can 👀

mixed breed puppy hybrid!kai whose half retriever side is so predominant 🤧 floppy ears and fluffy black tail that’s always wagging and knocking into things cuz he doesn’t recognize his own size, the clumsiest but sweetest boy..

you were only planning on looking when you visited the hybrid adoption center, but the minute you saw kai and his bright shy smile, you just couldn’t resist 🥺

he’d be so adorably awkward at first, unsure of what to do with himself but still excited as he observes the apartment with wide eyes and a thumping tail, staying by the entrance shifting his weight around on his feet before you tell him that it’s okay to relax and go look around.

he’s so attentive and polite when you walk him through everything, nodding along and giving you his complete attention, eyes lighting up when you show him the space you just prepared for him;

you apologizing that it isn’t much yet since you hadn’t exactly planned on bringing anyone home and promising to spruce it up and buy him lots of things, but he’s quickly shaking his head and insisting that no, no, it’s perfect!!!!

your heart swells at how grateful he is over the littlest things and you definitely do end up buying him lots of stuff anyway <33

despite his shy n awkward nature at first, the two of you would end up bonding quickly.

you realize that he’s actually pretty mature and even have to assure him teasingly that he doesn’t need to be so polite all the time (which causes a blush to spread across his cheeks as he nods sheepishly) and soon he’s able to fall into a comfortable rhythm with you.

he’d loooove nuzzling his head against your tummy, and you wouldn’t even have to pet him for him to be satisfied — he just enjoys any contact and will happily slump against the squishiest parts of you that he can find.

he also loves your thighs for this reason and there have definitely been times you’ve had to quickly ease him off of you when he’d get his face a little too close to your crotch; he’s not sure why you’re moving him or why your cheeks are suddenly so red, but he’ll reposition himself if that’s what you want! 🤷🏻‍♀️

now despite kai having grown happily used to his new life with you by now, there’s one topic of conversation that has him feeling all awkward and shy all over again, and that’s the conversation that he’s trying to approach you with today —

your gentle giant towering over you innocently as he patiently waits for you to finish up what you’re doing, shifting his weight around on his feet the same way he did when you first brought him home;

“what’s up, hyuka? everything okay?”

he looks up from the floor with a start when you address him and smiles nervously.

“o-oh! um, yeah.. i just.. was wondering if we can talk about something?”

his fingers play with one of the napkins on the table after the two of you sit down, twisting and tearing it into little bits until you gently prod -

“hyuka? what is it, honey?”

he blushes at the pet name (secretly he loves it when you call him that) and finally meets your eyes.

“um, well… i needed to talk to you about.. uh… my.. m-my rut.”

you blink in surprise; that isn’t what you were expecting. to be honest, you hadn’t even thought about it before, still learning the ropes of what it means to care for a hybrid yourself.

as he explains in embarrassment that he can feel it coming soon and that he needed to let you know, you take note of how well he seems to be keeping himself under control — if his rut really is around the corner, you wouldn’t have even been able to tell — and you have to admit that when he brings up the mention of the breeding centers that he had heard people back at the adoption center talk about, you feel a twinge of uncertainty in your chest.

uncertainty, and… something else that you can’t quite place.

“hmm..”

he observes the slight furrow in your brow as you think for a moment. are you upset? is he being too much of a hassle?

but his momentary insecurity melts away when you finally respond,

“i’m just a little worried about sending you there for so long… i mean, it’s just a week or so, but.. i want to make sure you’re getting all the care that you need. it makes me nervous that i won’t be there to help.”

you don’t realize what you said until you said it.

kai’s head cocks to the side, confused. “help? how?”

“uh.. i just meant…” you’re lost for words. “well, i don’t really know what i meant.”

you can see the wheels turning in his brain as well as the realization when it dawns, and you wish a black hole would open up and swallow you when his head cocks the other way and he says,

“oh! you mean… you could be my breeding partner?”

if you’d had a drink in hand, you would’ve choked on it.

his words send a slew of images rushing through your mind, face heating up as you to try to push them away; you can’t think about your precious kai like this !!!

“w-well, t-that’s not exactly what i.. um… i mean, there are lots of other owners who.. uh.. who do that. but i wasn’t saying that-!”

you panic your way through an explanation, brows lifting as kai’s tail actually begins to.. wag.

his cheeks are pink as he sits there staring at you, even though you finished speaking, tail lightly thumping and the fabric of his pants bunching in his hands as they rest on his thighs.

it’s as if he can’t control his body’s reaction to your words and he knows it.

“uh… kai?”

his blush grows even deeper.

now it’s your turn to realize something as you observe him, before asking carefully,

“hyuka.. do you.. like that idea?”

and that, my friends, is how you guys came to the bizarre agreement that you would be the one to help kai through his rut.

the rest of that week would be kind of awkward, to be honest — kai still insanely embarrassed about admitting that he’d prefer it if you were the one in his bed, and you, well… you just find yourself dealing with desires that you didn’t even know you had, and didn’t even know if you were allowed to have.

but that awkwardness quickly comes to a forced end when you’re getting ready for bed one night, taking your time since it’s finally the weekend, having just slipped into your little tank top and sleep shorts set when you hear a thunk against your bedroom door.

you pause.

silence.

“hyuka..?” you call. more silence, but you swear you can hear the faintest sound of a groan come from the other side.

“kai? honey?”

you’re about to head for the door when it slowly swings open, your eyes widening at the sight of your hybrid slumped heavy against the doorframe, and you’ve never realized how broad his chest is until now as it heaves up and down with labored breaths.

his gaze is cloudy, a sheen of sweat coating his skin, dark hair falling into his eyes that are currently raking over your body — these clothes are the most revealing he’s ever seen on you, and you almost gasp at the low growl that forms quietly at the back of his throat.

“k-kai.. is it time..?”

he nods weakly, and you can tell how hard he’s trying to hold himself together.

you take a deep breath. you’ve never done this before, but you’re ready to give him whatever he needs. “okay. let’s go to your room.”

—

you’ve never felt so many sensations at once. the way kai grinds his body against you hungrily, hips pushing against yours, kissing and licking up and down your neck and tits as he groans — encasing you fully underneath his large frame as you try to keep up with his eager ministrations.

while you can tell that he is getting a little bit of relief, you can also tell that he’s still massively holding himself back (you’ll see just how much soon enough) and it takes everything in you to keep your own moans at bay as you assure him,

“hyuka- f-fuck- hyuka, i-it’s okay. just- just let go.”

his grinding is getting more desperate now, the bed starting to rattle and pants and whines falling from his lips as he protests, “d-don’t.. don’t wanna... hurt you…!”

you can feel his leaking cock throbbing against your thigh and can only imagine how painful it must be. when you take his face in your hands to make him look at you, there’s a wild look in his eyes, something feral on the verge of snapping — and you’re gonna let it.

“kai,” you breathe. “just let go.”

and so he does.

you’ve never been fucked so animalistic in your life, the hugeness of his form finally coming into play, the deep growls and snaps of his jaw that you never would’ve imagined your hyuka to be capable of; and yet here you are, fucked completely dumb on your hybrid’s cock as he’s got you pinned and marked and knotted over and over and over and over again as if it’s the last thing he’ll ever get to do.

in his case, you’re his mate made to be manhandled, and it’s safe to say that by the end of his week-long rut you’re completely and utterly spent.

unable to even keep your eyes open as soon as it finally passes, the two of you exhausted as kai cuddles you as close as possible, gently licking and kissing at all the bites and marks he’d left behind, nuzzling his face in your hair as his cock slowly, finally, begins to soften inside of you.

you would probably sleep for a few days after that; kai taking such good care of you and treating you so sweetly with the softest touches as he tends to your bruises and keeps you all cleaned up and comfy.

i guarantee that after that first rut there’d be this deep unspoken bond formed between the two of you that makes you inseparable 🤧

all kai wants to do is love and protect you; your big strong sweet puppy who aims to make your life just as lovely as you’ve made his <333

[avocado-writing]

Hi dear! I would like to appreciate your works. I really enjoy everything you wrote, Wish you have a great day! 💗

Since you're taking requests, could you please write Wade with a polite, sweet and delicate partners. He's with a person who's the definition of "Too pure for this world and MUST be PROTECTED at all cost" His partner showers him with love and validation, and always love to listen to him! Thanks! 💓

possibly based on real life events.

Wade Wilson is so in love, it must be sickening to everyone around him. 

In fact he knows it is and he does not care. He’ll say “look at this meme the love of my life sent me!” and the person who he shows will roll their eyes, as if you don’t have incredible taste in cat pictures. He’ll monologue constantly about how cute you are and how much he loves that scrunchy thing you do with your nose. He’s recited committed-to-memory facts about you so many times that his friends can parrot them too. 

“Yes, I know what their favourite film is, I know you took them to a special viewing of it for their birthday. It’s cute, Wade,” says Laura, patting him on the arm condescendingly. Well, it’s not his fault you’re so wonderful! There isn’t a single thing about you that’s not perfect. He’s constantly bowled over about just how much affection he can fit in his body for you. The other night he was going on about something stupid - he can’t even remember what now, maybe it was about the new Taco Bell menu? - and then realised you hadn’t interrupted him once to shut him up like most people would.

You’d looked over the top of your magazine at him when he’d pointed this out, brow cocked.

“Why would I want you to shut up? I like listening to you talk, Wade.”

Marry you. He’s going to marry you. Every day, then divorce you every day too so he can marry you again. 

You are probably too good for him. Most of his social circle thinks so. You’re patient and kind, when you’re not at your job - where you work at a charity adopting out senior animals, as if you could be any more of a fucking angel - you like to spend your time in his shitty little kitchen, baking desserts for him to get home to. He’ll find you getting Al to taste test for you and his apartment full of laughter and joy. 

Man, he’s definitely put on like, six pounds since the two of you started dating. He needs to be stronger in the face of your cupcakes. 

They are really fucking good though. 

He walks in that night with a plushie under his arm. It’s a cow. He remembers you mentioning offhand how cute you thought cows were, so he decided to grab the biggest one the toy store one the way home had just because he knows it’ll make you smile. You don’t need any more stuffed toys; you sleep with them all in the bed and they’re pushing him off the side at this point because of their sheer number but, well, he likes seeing you happy. 

And then he hears sobbing. 

“Sweetheart?” he asks, immediately panicked. Are you injured? Has someone come to hurt you - has he painted a target on your back because of his job? Bile fills his throat as he stumbles forward…

…and there you are, sitting in front of the TV, PlayStation controller in your lap as tears run down your face while the end of the game plays out. Wade has never felt such relief in his life, laughing as the ache of it is taken from his chest. You turn to him with wide, watery eyes. 

“Don’t you laugh at me, Wade Wilson!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. But babe… are you crying at the end of Kingdom Hearts?”

“No!” you lie, trying to mop your face off with your sleeve. Then the music hits its crescendo from the crappy speakers and you start wailing all over again. 

He loves you. He’d kill a million billion people for you. It would take a hell of a long time but hey, one word and he’d do it. If anyone even lifted a finger to hurt you he’d execute them so thoroughly that every generation of their family would be wiped out of existence too. 

To put it in terms you’d approve of, he’d do anything for you. But he also knows you’d never ask him to. You’re just that wonderful. 

“… would it help if I got us take-out and you started playing the second one?”

“Uh-huh,” you manage to confirm. 

“I could be in this fucking game, beat Donald Duck’s little feathery ass. Disney, make it happen.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry about it. Pizza or Chinese?”

Taglist: @falsewordz @malfoys-demigod @belilwen @mildly-salted @tvwebs @childeslegstrap @getmeoutofhell @s1eep-o @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @yrthr @momopad @sugarplumz100 @captainjinkx @madspads @acrosstheunivcrse @yeethaw13 @na-is-salty @florduarte @hunterispunk

[yiichan]

KYII'ᔕ TᕼOᑌGᕼTᔕ Oᖴ TᕼE ᗪᗩY 🌷💌 — NSFW, HYBRID AU

IMAGINE — yandere!poly!hybrids!vocalunit x gn!human!you.

WARNINGS — yandere/obsessive elements, hybrid AU, poly relationship elements, implied ot13 background, smut elements inclusive of breeding kink and praise kink.

WRITER'S NOTES — i was thinking about writing hybrid!svtot13 BUT i'm kind of lazy (even though i had an whole ass draft and im supposed to be writing that hoshi fic, i finished that yandere hoshi fic BUT i just realised it does not match the request so another day i guess ): ) so here is some vocal unit hybrid thingies lol (okay this is a universe btw). AND NO IM NOT GOING TO WRITE THAT WHOLE ASS LONG OT13 DRABBLE WITH SMUT IM BAD AT THAT, BESIDES IF I EVER WROTE PIAKPIAK SCENES IT WOULD BE x MALE READER! ):

speical mention — @sousydive

back | navigation | main page | kofi | ao3

ෆ yandere!bunnyhybrid!jeonghan who was the second to arrive in this household, but calls the shots anyway. ෆ yandere!bunnyhybrid!jeonghan who acts all angel-like and act weak in front of you so you would give him more attention. ෆ yandere!bunnyhybrid!jeonghan who demands you to brush his fur with that high quality set everyday for at least half an hour.

ෆ yandere!bunnyhybrid!jeonghan who has a high sex stamina and drive (i mean, he is a rabbit), and he can go on and on in his ruts. ෆ yandere!bunnyhybrid!jeonghan who would lock you in his room with him and attempt to 'breed' you during his rut. ෆ yandere!bunnyhybrid!jeonghan who pouts and whines as he fucks into you, grabbing your ankles in case you attempt to crawl away from him again.

ෆ yandere!deerhybrid!joshua who seems a little polite and distance at first, but you didn't know that he was already in love with you. ෆ yandere!deerhybrid!joshua who bared his teeth at another random predator hybrid that was checking you out at the perfume store (he definitely learned that from one of the other feline hybrids). ෆ yandere!deerhybrid!joshua who loves to give you head massages when you are sitting on his lap. ෆ yandere!deerhybrid!joshua who needs to have you by his side 24/7 when he is in his rut, and that means even you have to go to the toilet, he's there with you. ෆ yandere!deerhybrid!joshua who bit the other hybrids in the household when they tried to touch you and speared you on his cock to show them his ownership over you. ෆ yandere!deerhybrid!joshua who tries replicating your smell with his perfume set, but always ends up getting hard or cumming over it.

ෆ yandere!whitecathybrid!jihoon who stills feel guilty about scratching and biting you when you tried to pick him out of your berries bush the first time the two of you met. ෆ yandere!whitecathybrid!jihoon who is proud to be the first one who met you, and his claiming mark on your neck told all the other hybrid that come after him that you belonged to him first. ෆ yandere!whitecathybrid!jihoon who hates the others touching his tail, but will wrap them around your body if you were near him. ෆ yandere!whitecathybrid!jihoon who will lick all over your body with his rough tongue, enjoying how your skin turns red with each lick. ෆ yandere!whitecathybrid!jihoon who would call you a good owner for helping him with his rut, and that he will make sure that you can give birth to his kittens first, because he was the first hybrid you had anyway. ෆ yandere!whitecathybrid!jihoon who stops being clingy after his rut, but still would hiss when the other hybrids comes too close to you (his tail would still be hanging on your body, and only the tiger hybrid is brave enough to come near).

ෆ yandere!samoyedhybrid!dk who secretly growled at the other canine hybrids in warning before he approach you to greet you for the first time at the adoption centre. ෆ yandere!samoyedhybrid!dk who disliked the other canine hybrid but was willing to get along with him just for you. ෆ yandere!samoyedhybrid!dk who learnt baking just because you mentioned that you were craving some cookies. ෆ yandere!samoyedhybrid!dk who pushes his nose into your chest as he humps against your leg, telling you that his rut is here. ෆ yandere!samoyedhybrid!dk who make sure you smell like him by coming all over your body during his rut, apologizing as he did so. ෆ yandere!samoyedhybrid!dk who asks you repeatedly whether he is a good boy as he ruts his hips into you (just tell him he is).

ෆ yandere!parrothybrid!seungkwan who was ready to fight the other ten hybrids in your household with his injuries to earn his place in your little pack (that you don't know of) when you first met. ෆ yandere!parrothybrid!seungkwan who sits in your lap and asks you to preen his feathers almost everyday. ෆ yandere!parrothybrid!seungkwan who leaves his feathers in your clothes as a claim of ownership over you. ෆ yandere!parrothybrid!seungkwan whose colourful wings will wrap around you as he gnaw along your collarbones. ෆ yandere!parrothybrid!seungkwan who would mimic and repeat your moans and he rock you into his sheets during his ruts. ෆ yandere!parrothybrid!seungkwan who would keep rubbing your buldging tummy, asking you to take "just a little more" as he keep cumming.

© yiichan, 2024 origin of divider

[queen-of-nightmare-16]

Can I request Warwick Vander and daughter reader where they reunite in Viktor sanctuary after Vander gets his memories back. She’s scared a bit, and the last time they spoke it was a huge fight and she said she hates him. And it’s Hurt/comfort.

GHOSTS | Vander/Warwick X Daughter Reader

CONTENT WARNINGS - Threat • Injury • Angst • Mention of death • Comfort • Season 2 Spoilers! • Reunions

PAIRING: Vander/Warwick X Fem Daughter Reader

SUMMARY: you were Vander’s daughter and forced to leave the Undercity after your family’s deaths. Only to return when one of your companions needs healing from a mysterious herald and you realises ghosts do exist?

WORD COUNT: 2.9K

——————————————————————————

“You sure this guy can help?” You asked your second in command.

Rek’yr, a large powerful white bear Vastaya, crossed his arms over his broad chest glancing back to the rest of your crew. “It’s all I’ve heard recently. Shimmer addicts, crippled children, all of them: back up on their feet, healed and better than ever,” he replied in a gruff voice, glancing down to one man in particular. “Could be Fink’s only chance”.

A grimace set on your face as you glanced down to the man in particular. Well, rather young lad. 17 and dumb as a bag of rocks but fiercely loyal and brave. Brave enough to stupidly take on a large Noxian warrior at a check point only to take a blade in the gut. No, matter what your healers did, he wasn’t getting better. Maybe the blade had been coated with a poison of some kind or it had nicked an artery, either way your people didn’t have the facilities or equipment necessary to check. Then you heard the rumour. A man -- or a herald -- that could heal anyone of any ailment.

There was no could about it. It was Fink last chance. The only problem it took you into the depths of the Undercity. A place you hadn’t called home for 8 years now. Ever since … that night.

Many people of the Undercity was shocked that when the Uprising ended in failure, the famed Hound of the Underground starting adopting children of the fallen. First the two daughters of one of his closest friends. Then two boys. But they always seemed to forget that he already had one by blood. You. It was a classic love story of the Lanes. Two dumb teens getting together and 9 months later another mouth to feed was born. There was no malice between your parents. They loved you equally, yet you lived with your mother as Vander was one of the leaders of the Uprising. Always said it would be too dangerous to stay with him. That was until she too fell that day on the bridge and Vander brought you home to The Last Drop. Your family had grown exponentially as did your responsibilities. Now the older sister to 4 new siblings.

But fate deemed your happy family was not to last.

“Hey, you still alright being here?” Rek’yr asked noticing your discomfort. “If it’s too much--“.

“I’ll be fine,” you lightly snapped, immediately feeling regret wash over you. “Sorry. Let’s … let’s just help Fink and get out of here”.

With your order, Reky’yr and another one of your crew picked up the stretcher carrying Fink and continued through the canyons. Following each curve and twist of the rock, until it came to an open area. More people of different varieties entering the compound, all with their own issues or injuries. It was more than a shock when you were greeted at the entrance by a familiar face. Huck. He seemed lighter, more content, less afraid. With weird white swirls to the right of his face, along with five prominent evenly spaced dots on his forehead.

“Dear Y/N, lovely to see you again,” he greeted politely with a bow of his head. Even after all these years, he still recognised you.

“Huck? Is that you?” You said almost speechless.

“Yes,” he nodded, his new watercolored eyes glancing over your shoulder to spot your companions. “In need of help?”.

“Y-yeah. My friend, he’s been stabbed,” you explained, waving Rek’yr forwards. Huck stared somewhat blankly down at Fink, his face covered in a sheet of sweat. “Your healer … can he fix him?”.

“The Herald can help all,” Huck responded brightly before gazing at the glaive strapped to Rek’yrs back. “But I’m afraid your weapons must remain here. There are no weapons allowed in the commune”.

Your fingers twitched on the handle of your sword, uncertain but Finks pained coughs made your mind clear. Unsheathing the blade from its scabbard, you stabbed it into the ground and ordered the others to do the same. When almost all of your weapons sat before you, Huck stepped back and welcomed you inside.

“Just to the centre and you’ll find him there,” he informed, smile forming once more. You nodded in appreciation and took a step only for him to place a hand on your shoulder. “The rest of your family is here too”.

Your brows immediately furrowed. What did he mean? The only “family” you had left was Jinx and the two of you were now estranged ever since Silco chased you out of the Last Drop. With a tight gulp, the four of you entered. Rek’yr took the lead, offering Fink reassuring comments whilst you fell behind slightly, eyes wavering through the crown for a glimpse of blue hair. If Jinx was here it couldn’t have been for anything good. Upon staring behind you, you hadn’t noticed you strayed into someone’s path until you clipped their shoulder.

“Hey, watch it!” You immediately snapped, watching the black haired woman glare right back.

“You’re the one who walked into me you--” she started to snark only to fall short. Her blue eyes squinted, staring you up and down before a look of realisation dawned on her. “Y/N?!”.

Your nose twitched. “How do you…” you eyes drifted onto her left cheek. There was a small tattoo. And those eyes, they suddenly became very familiar.

“V-Vi?!” You stuttered.

“Oh Y/N!” She cried, wrapping her arms around your shoulders. You slow breaths heaved from your lips as they awkwardly wrapped around her waist. Vi let out a sigh of relief before pulling away, running a hand over your cheek. “You’re alive”.

“I’m alive?! You’re alive!” you retorted, taking her all in. She really wasn’t the same 15 year old kid you once knew. Now a woman grown, strong and formidable. The only thing that spun you off was the ridiculous black hair. “How? I- I thought you … I thought you died. With Mylo and Claggor and …”. You voice drifted off before you could say that painful word.

“No, I got arrested. I was in Stillwater for the last 7 years,” she explained sadly, her pleased gleam swiftly shifting into one of irritation. “Where the hell did you go?! You left Powder to Silco!”.

“Whoa, calm down! I didn’t want to leave but Silco didn’t exactly make it easy!” You snapped, shoving her hand from your shoulder. Like she knew. She had the benefit of a routine, even if it was inside the walls of a prison cell. You in the other hand had to live from one hour to the next, wondering if this one was when you’d meet your end. “Do you know what it was like? As far as I was aware you were all dead! You! The guys! Pa! Then Silco took the Last Drop, he nearly killed me and I had no one! I had to run!”.

Vi was stunted by your anger. Just as she had changed, so did you. Once a sweet 17 year old girl that happily worked pouring the odd drink at The Last Drop or delivering pints to patrons. Anything to help your father out whenever he needed it. “So … where did you go?” She asked.

“Bilgewater. Got a job, formed a crew and I swore I wasn’t gonna come back to Zaun but work lead me here. Then a friend of mine got stabbed so we need this herald to heal him.” you answered, stressfully pinching the bridge of your nose. With a huff your eyes turned back to her, looking her up and down. “Is he as good as they say? You look in good spirits”.

Vi glanced down at herself. “We’re not here for me,” she replied.

“‘We’? Who’s we? I-is Jinx here?” You question, receiving a nod as a reply. A snarky snarl grew on your lips. “Hmph, finally getting her head fixed is she?”.

“No. Look, this--” she started harshly but faltered. “… this might be hard to understand but don’t freak out”.

Her words were cautious like she was talking to a child, resting a comforting hand on your shoulder and rubbing it soothingly.

“Dad … dad’s alive”.

A sharp pain stabbed you in the chest at her words. That wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be possible. You could feel it bubbling in your chest, like your heart and your head was going to explode. The painful memories you had attempted to shut out came flooding back like a tidal wave. Your voice. His voice. They coiled in your head like a constricting snake.

“You can’t do this! They’ll throw you in Stillwater for good! You’ll never get out!”.

“It’ll only be for a few years. Vi’s just a kid, she shouldn’t be throwing her life away”.

“So it’s fine for you to throw yours?! You’re leaving me! Just like Ma did!”.

“I’m not. I don’t want to do this, but we both know it’s the only way. I need you protect the family now”.

Protect the family. What family? It would all end with him.

“You’ll understand why when you’re older”.

“No, I don’t think I will. Just know, that if you do this, I’ll always hate you”.

That sorrowful look in his grey eyes. It was the last thing you ever saw of your father.

“I’m sorry, little pup”.

A deep fury burned in your eyes as you glared at her. “Wow, and I thought Mylo was the cruel one out of us all!” You seethed through clenched teeth. If it was anyone else they would’ve already been knocked on their arse. You shoved her arm from your shoulder and took a step back. “I’m getting my friend healed and I’m getting out of here. Have a nice life Vi”.

“Y/N, I’m serious! Why would I lie about this?!” She argued, grabbing you by the arm so you couldn’t walk away. “Vander’s the one we’re getting healed”.

Once again your heart clenched. Rage and guilt battling it out for control. “H-he’s here? Where?”.

“In a greenhouse,” she gestured over to a small building just a short distance away. “I … I can take you to him if you want”.

Your breath was hitching, desperately fighting against a wave of tears that crept behind your eyes. “Y/N, you alright?” Rek’yrs voice called behind you. You turned to face him, noticing Fink and your other crew member a distance away; the so called herald gazing down at your injured friend.

“Rek’yr, see to Fink. I … I need to deal with something,” you softly ordered. The humanoid bear stared suspiciously between you and Vi for a second but nodded none the less.

“On it. You need me, holla. I’ll come running,” he offered. The two of you shared a gentle smile before he marched away. Inhaling deeply, you huffed and turned back to Vi.

“Take me to him”.

The two of you walked together, you palms becoming clammy at you growing nervousness. But not at the near impossibility of his survival; rather at his potential anger towards you. Did he know of all that happened after he was taken by Silco? Or that you failed his last request. Or maybe, would he be mad at your last harsh words to him. It was pathetic; childish.

Before you had even realised, you both stood in front the door to the greenhouse. Your fingers nervously twitched behind your back, seeking the leather bound handle of the dagger you had hidden under your corset for comfort.

“Y/N, you need to know … he-- he’s not the same as he was before. He’s different, like really different,” Vi warned, her hand hesitating on the door handle.

“He’s my father. I want to see him,” you firmly stated. Vi sighed and finally opened the door. She crept in first; slow and cautious. Which confused you. You swiftly followed, standing by her side as the room was painted in a slight darkness.

“Vander?” Vi called out once you closed the door behind you. Your desperate eyes squinted, trying to peak through the foliage to spot him. That’s when a large shadow shifted behind a fountain, your brows furrowing as a baby blue eye stared through the leafs. It wasn't his familia grey. And the sclera, it was black. Fear crept up you spine as the head turned, the blue eye joined by a green one. The plants shook, your eyes doubling as a large paw-like hand planted itself on the ground. Another followed, this one modified with large metallic claws and obvious signs of chem-technology. Your lips curved into a horrified sneer at the sight of a mouth full of fangs, its large ears twitching in curiosity as it revealed itself.

“Vi, what the fuck?!” You heaved, wrenching your blade free as it stepped closer; your heart pounding in terror.

“Y/N, just calm down,” she begged, standing defensively in front of the beast. The fear in your eyes, it made the creature jump and shrink away. As if it was ashamed to scare you, like it wanted to hide in itself. “Just … just look at him. It’s him,” she pleaded.

How could it be him? Your father was a man, not this. Not some monster of creation. But the way it held your gaze, the way a parent would a child. It was unsettling; unnerving. It struck you to your core. The blade glimmered in the light as your hand shook unsteadily. Yet it made no attempt to threaten you. As you took a step forward so did the beast. The knife felt heavy, its comfort becoming unwanted. Taking a shaky breath you stepped closer, Vi slowly shuffling to the side so there was nothing between you two.

Tears built up behind you eyes, your head tilting upwards as it stood over you. Its eyes soft and longing. “P-Pa?” You spoke. Its pawed hand rose up causing you to shudder slightly. Every instinct in your body was screaming at you to run, to attack and protect yourself but you were frozen in a mixture of fear and intrigue. Its hand hovered just before your face until one of its clawed fingers gently tucked a lock of hair that had come loose behind your ear, grazing your cheek before it pulled away. Just like he always used to do before.

By the gods, how was this possible. “Vi, can you give us a moment,” you asked, your voice somewhat frail. Your sister nodded and swiftly left. Now, it was just you two. Alone.

“So it really is you. After all this time,” you uttered, taking him all in. He had always seemed larger than life when you were younger but now he truly was. “How is this even possible?”.

Vander glanced down at himself, though he wished he could he was unable to voice an answer. But it wasn’t like he wanted to give your the gory details that had suddenly came back thanks to Viktor’s healing either.

Your nose twitched at his silence, as did an old familia anger that had been bottled up for so long resurfacing as well. “What did you expect of me? What, did you think I could look after them without you?!” You hissed, your hands coming up to stressfully scrunch your hair. By the gods, this was insane. This was too much. “I needed you!”.

Vanders eyes bulged slightly, mildly taken back by your burst of anger. Your body trembled in hysteria as you took a few steps away.

“You just had to go and be the damn hero! Vi was a kid b-but the Council would’ve gone easy on her! Whilst you! You lead the uprising! You never would’ve seen the light of day again!” You yelled, throwing the knife across the room where it became embedded in the wall far away from him.

Seething breath after breath, you marched back towards him; despair blending with anguish. Your hands came up to shove him but you found it was like punching a brick wall. He hardly moved, nor did he attempt to stop you; allowing you to vent. “This isn’t right! NONE OF THIS IT RIGHT! You coming back after 8 years, looking like this! It doesn’t change anything!” You bawled, growing more frustrated by the second. Hot tears burned behind your eyes, desperately trying to break free.

“I still hate you!” You screeched, your fist coming up to slam against his broad chest. ‘No, I don’t,’ your brain screamed. ‘I hate myself’.

Vander barely budged at your pounding fists. “This doesn’t change anything! This doesn’t make anything better! No better!”.

Your voice cracked, hands becoming stagnant upon his chest; unable to fight anymore as his large arm wrap around you. “No, fu-cking better”.

You could feel his breath tussle your hair as he tugged you close, his nose resting on the crown of your head. So gentle, even at this monstrous size. A low grumble reached your ears. It was rough but nonthreatening. His words slow yet heartfelt. “I … missed you … little pup,” he whispered softly.

All your resolve broke, the damns in your eyes breaking with a cascade of tears poured down you cheeks. Your clenched fists fell open and latched around his waist, pulling him to you as tightly as you could. The shame and regret you once felt for not holding him close that night slowly faded away. You face became buried in his chest, sobs shuddering past you lips. As did a tiny breathless laugh. It was swift. This feeling was one you hadn’t truly felt in years.

Happiness. He was here, alive. Home.

“I missed you too, Pa”.

——————————————————————————

Hey, I wrote some more! Sorry, to the requester if this felt like a long time since you asked. I don’t have the luxury to have Christmas off like other jobs, oh the joys of hospitality! Anyway, I hope this was what you desired.

I don’t know if I’ll do more requests in the future but, who knows. I might feel generous. Have a Happy New Year y’all!

[aethon-recs]

This Week (x2) in Tomarrymort (8 – 21 November 2024)

Hello! We have three multi-chaptered fics finishing this week, highlighted below. In addition, I made a rec list for Tomarrymort Necrophilia Fics 💀🤍 in support of the Tomarrymort Necro Fest hosted by @magical-menagerie-server, which kicks off in January.

Completed Fic:

Memories of a Killer by @chemfreak89 (M, 47k, complete) Age catches up with everyone. The infamous serial killer Voldemort now spends his time reading newspapers and making trips to the local library in search of a new crime novel. But one day he makes an interesting new acquaintance that shakes his quiet life and rekindles old flames and unknown desires. What quickens me is the violence in thee by @i-dream-of-libraries (M, 17k, complete) Harry is sold at auction to a man who is clearly in some kind of disguise - Lord Riddle isn't as charming as he looks, and the way he looks at Harry... A Regency AU inspired by the magnificent artwork of @stolenviolet. If I were you by @onehitpleb (E, 9k, complete) It is 1945 and Tom is eighteen, freshly graduated, and working a non-reputable job as a store clerk in Knockturn Alley. Somehow, he grows attached to the worst sort of person - an idiot.

In addition, a recap of the author notes from last week! (Please feel free to add some extra context to your fic update in the reblog, such as a little bit about the chapter(s) updated, and I’ll throw it in the update for next week!)

A Simple Request by @shyinsunlight (E, 70k, WIP) “As for the new chapter of A Simple Request, Harry tries and (unsurprisingly) fails to keep his personal life private. Some are having the time of their life, some others, not so much. Lifts can take you up, but going down is more interesting.” Wish by @sri-verse (E, 3k, WIP) “Wish is set after Harry's fifth year where he gets the ownership of Bellatrix's vault along side the Black vault. Looking at a gold goblet, he remembers his childhood wish of buying a gold cauldron and brings back Helga Hufflepuff's cup with him to fulfill that desire, unaware that he has freed the horcrux living in it.” To the Hilt by @izharmilgram (E, 28k, WIP) “To The Hilt is a royal arranged marriage au featuring nontraditional a/b/o, political schemes, ancient greek and abrahamic religion references, feral harry potter, and lots of power play and worship. It's neither only tomarry or only harrymort, but tomarrymort—meaning the core relationship is Tom/Harry/Voldemort. This includes Tom/Voldemort.” we made universes out of bitten lips and broken hands by @boyneptunee (M, 50k, WIP) “The consequences of Harry's Time Travel seem inconsequential, at first. Until they stare right back at him with vicious eyes. There's trouble brewing in every direction, and the Future is not as certain and set in stone as one might think.” Time Stumbler by @wintumnly (T, 102k, WIP) “Harry is stuck in 1937 and spends the holidays with almost-eleven-year-old Tom Riddle. On the first day of Christmas, they both anxiously wait for Tom's Hogwarts letter together. Fluff, humor, and Tom Riddle is not good with feelings." 7 by @moontearpensfic (E, 44k, WIP) “Harry goes back in time to raise Tom AU: the boys discuss what might have happened to make Voldemort go to "sleep."” Anytime, Anywhere, Always by @moontearpensfic (E, 22k, WIP) “Harry corrupts Tom AU: Tom and Harry celebrate Christmas--and something more! Your Wish, My Command by @moontearpensfic (E, 8k, WIP) “Hinny adopts Tom AU: Tom finally gets Harry to crack. 🔥”

*

Tomarrymort One Shots and Completed Fic

Complete | Chapters 8 and 9 of Memories of a Killer by @chemfreak89

Complete | Chapter 6 of What quickens me is the violence in thee by @i-dream-of-libraries

Complete | Chapter 4 of If I were you by @onehitpleb

Complete | Chapter 19 of Sits the wind in that quarter by @mosiva

One Shot | To be Imagined by @cyandenial

One Shot | god's hands by @curioushabitforarivergod

One Shot | bad behaviour by @milkandmoon-ao3

One Shot | two ways of being: the noun & the verb by cycloalkane

One Shot | set my soul on fire by @wynnefic

One Shot | Beach Episode by @crowcrowcrowthing

One Shot | First Duel by @being-luminous

*

Tomarrymort Ongoing Fics

Chapter 12 of Ills of Murder by @shadow-of-the-eclipse

Chapters 7 through 11 of in the silence by @satflesk22

Chapter 4 of friend of the devil (a friend of mine) by @shyinsunlight

Chapter 15 of Embryo by @cannibalinc

Chapter 4 of As It Begins by @duplicitywrites @moontearpensfic

Chapters 7 and 8 of Stygian by @crowcrowcrowthing

Chapters 15 through 17 of Saint Harry by @alenablack @chaos-bear

Chapter 1 of the night is cold in the kingdom by @girl-with-goats

Chapters 5 and 6 of you speak of the devil (like he's not your friend) by @amuria

Chapters 131 through 134 of Liquida Tenebris (Remastered) by @dymis

Chapters 1 and 2 of Small Mistakes by Crisis_Brewing

Chapter 5 of Hit 'N Run by @dragonaireabsolvare

Chapter 11 of Days always end in sunsets by @d00medbythenarrative

Chapter 25 of Time Stumbler by @wintumnly

Chapters 8 and 9 of Venom or Valor by @lightningant

Chapter 21 of Outrunning the Villain in You by @zenyteehee

Chapters 6 through 8 of To the Hilt by @izharmilgram

Chapter 9 of Do It Over by @marrythemonstersao3

Chapter 2 of Infinite by @moontearpensfic

Chapter 2 of Prizefighter by @dragonaireabsolvare

Chapter 8 of Fetters of the Damned by @sc0rpiflow3r

Chapters 13 and 14 of Hole in the Wall by tomrddle

Chapters 23 and 24 of Learning to love by @l-archiduchesse

Chapter 13 of He Who Shall Not Be Changed by @moontimefilter

Chapter 17 of Last Son of Black by @treacleteacups

Chapter 6 of Dreams Beyond Blood by @hikarimeroperiddle

*

[morinuu]

Hello!!!!

I’m so happy to see your requests are open I absolutely love your writing!!

Kyoya x fem reader where they have an arranged marriage because it will help both there parents companies, and Kyoya and reader start to actually have feelings for one another, even though they weren’t sure about marrying the other at first?? Just thought it would be super cute!!

Hope your day/night is going well!!

hiii im so glad u like my work! :3 added a wee bit of angst turnt fluff cus why not. its not exactly what u asked for but i hope u like it anyway!

❄｜kyouya x reader where you're both forced to marry under your families' order. 1.7k words. this doesn't follow the canon for the events after the ouran graduation.

the noiret paced around his room in uneasiness. he knew one day his freedom would be cut short, he'd been waiting for that day, but he also had learnt to have the slightest, stupidest hope that his father's newfound respect for him had changed things.

he wonders, however, how he of all people could have been so naïve.

outside, the fairies of the winter had been drawing pretty little drawings of ice on the edges of his windows, as if to try and distract his racing mind from the events that would unfold the second he got out of his room. he was used to the noise of social events, the people chatter and the pressure of socialising, so this should be nothing for him, right?

right.

he didn't understand this feeling. it wasn't that he necessarily hated an arrangement for marriage, life would go on whether or not it would happen.

looking at the fairies' drawings of comfort one last time, he took a deep breath and exited his room to leave for the wedding venue without a word.

the car ride was uncomfortable. his family had already arrived so they weren't there to talk his ear off and the bride would come some time after than he did as the tradition goes. he had time left to think and contemplate again and again.

he looked down at his tuxedo. the bride requested that if she wasn't able to marry of her own free will, that she at least get to have her dream wedding. not a bad deal, kyouya thought. their outfits had been in matching colours, and both were over-the-top decorated. he felt slightly embarrassed at the outfit, but it wasn't anything too extreme in comparison to what he wore in highschool. the only concern was that his whole family and many important people would be there, though he swallowed that as well, as he'd been doing the entire year of the wedding preparation.

he'd met his fiancée plenty of times in that year. the first time they met was at his university graduation. she was smiling brightly standing next to his sister who rushed to hug him and congratulate him. he remembers her bowing politely and introducing herself, before his father stepped in to explain the situation. he remembers the slight surprise on her face at the lack of comments about his sons' achievements.

the next time they met was at a museum. his sister had advised him to ask her on a date so they could get to know each other. she was intelligent, charismatic, and he couldn't deny her face was pleasant to look at. her interest in history was a plus - at least she had an interesting characteristic.

their second date was a dinner at a restaurant, only the best to serve the ootoris. she'd picked steak and juice - quickly explaining she doesn't drink at the slight raise of his eyebrow. he nodded and changed his own wine order to juice as well. 'you don't have to do that!' she rushed but he assured her he's just being considerate of his fiancée. he never forgot how to be a gentleman.

the fifth date she asked to meet at a commoners' shopping mall to show him around. kyouya wasn't surprised by this. he'd learnt early on from his investigation on potential wife that she'd been adopted into the l/n family due to some sort of an affair. despite it being well-known, the gossip around the situation wasn't very clear, so he decided to wait until she talked about it instead.

at some point down the road, the two had become something akin to friends, and although not very close, y/n claimed she was satisfied with the bond they'd created regardless of its strength.

nine months later, he now is at the altar, bouquet in hand, a performative smile for all the guests to admire - until a beautiful woman comes through with her arm linked to her father's.

the ceremony didn't last long, the after-party however? most guests had already left but the couples' friends continued to act like it was the last day of their lives. the bridesmaids' laughter and his friends' drunk dance moves tired kyouya, but he was having fun, so what's another night sleepless?

a tap in his shoulder by his wife.

"you okay? you seem tired. we can call it a night." she exclaimed into his ear through the music. he'd read enough women's blogs to understand what that meant.

even if he wasn't tired, she was, and that was a roundabout way of telling him. what sort of husband disobeys his wife?

the second they got to their new house, y/n rushed to the bed and flopped on it like a sack. she had no energy to get changed or move, instead asking kyouya 'if they could complete their duties the next day, nobody was rushing them anyway'. kyouya he helped her out of her dress and comatosed with her in peace.

the next morning, nobody bothered to wake the couple. soon they'd leave for their honeymoon anyway. everything happened way too quickly and kyouya didn't know how to handle it. the weeks passed, and he refused to communicate any issues to his wife that weren't work or family related. he felt conflicted, but he didn't know about what. the woman lying next to him was kind, beautiful, clever. what right did he have to complain?

i mean, what did it matter if he didn't feel any connection in bed? why would it matter if she had a disappointed look on her face whenever he had to cut their time short? would it make any difference if he had an heir later and ignored his parents' whines about it? it was a tough thing to do, but each time he failed to satisfy his wife, it felt like a stab in the chest wounding his male ego. so did it really matter that he was away for long periods of time? it was a marriage of convenience, after all, and she wasn't missing out on anything.

she claimed that whatever friendship they had felt like it was dissolving because he 'didn't make an effort'? him? when he's the one working hard to make sure his dad's company doesn't make the wrong decisions? what does she know when she sits at home all day getting princess treatment despite being illegitimate?

"you chose this, kyouya." what?

"you refuse to leave your father's shadow." that's not it.

"maybe if you stood up for yourself, half the issues you're complaining about would be gone!" you're wrong.

he doesn't have free will, he never did. since he was a kid his life had been dictated by those around him, and surely you under-

"you're nearing thirty, kyoya! i'm tired of your self-pity! do something! i'm sick of this!"

it felt like yesterday when he saw his wife in her wedding dress for the first time. back then, he didn't really understand the concept of forever.

yet it had already been seven years.

seven years of obedience. seven years of keeping his head down. seven years of neglecting his wife to dedicate his time to his work. seven years for him to realise he was serving the ootoris. he was never on an equal level.

the issue wasn't his father, it was him. and on his twenty-ninth birthday, a snowy day just like his wedding day, with the winter fairies for comfort, he announced to his old man his retirement from the company.

"i'm sorry, y/n. i'm sorry for everything. let's try again."

you took his hand and embraced him. you knew your husband was broken somewhere inside him. you'd known for years. you'd seen how his family treated him, how they took him for granted. but no matter what you did, how much you pressured him, he only let you see specific parts of himself, and you couldn't help but blame yourself.

you refused to leave his side, no matter how exhausting your marriage felt. you rarely went on dates anymore, he never made the move to touch you, it wasn't marriage, it felt like... a business transaction.

deep down, you knew that that's what it was. you'd considered divorce plenty of times but at the end of the day, even if not your lover, kyouya was your friend. the man whom you ate breakfast with and lied on the same bed with. the man you'd seen you at your worst and gave you strength, and you knew you had to support even if he refused to let go of what was familiar to him. even if he refused his own happiness.

the sobbing man in your arms reminded you of a younger version of him. years ago, on your third anniversary when he'd planned a trip to chongqing because he remembered you saying you always wanted to go. during your two week stay, he got wine tipsy at dinner and eventually drunk by nighttime, spilling feelings he'd kept to himself for years.

he'd kneeled in front of you, furiously crying in your lap as he held your legs tightly, begging you not to leave because he could feel himself changing and neglecting his personal life.

you'd carried him to bed and admired his face as he fell asleep, naïvely thinking that this was just a rough patch and he'd go back to putting effort in just like he did in chongqing.

but the years passed and he proved to you his fears were legitimate.

"sure, let's try again kyouya." you patted his back when he held you in even tighter. "but this time we're trying counselling, okay?" you giggled, trying to light up the mood.

he pulled back and gave a tiny smile when you wiped his cheek.

"whatever my wife says." he caressed your hair. "let's stay married, okay? i don't want to lose you."

he didn't say the three words, but that was okay. it didn't matter much. romance could wait, because you knew you loved him more than a woman in a cheesy romcom would. you loved his soul, and you wanted nothing more than to see him bloom.

"let's stay married, kyouya. happy birthday."

it was a new beginning for the both of you and you had nothing but time on the horizon.

[xoxoavenger]

Hi, I saw your post about wanting some bycky requests I may have one.

Could you please write some Bucky x Fem!Reader where the reader is Tony's daughter? You can choose the plot, I kinda like imagining her being a cop or something like that tho

Feel free to ignore if you don't like it ♡

thank you for getting the ball rolling! I always have reader be adopted, just to have the story be more inclusive (and also to help make the age gap less crazy lol) and I also made reader a SWORD agent instead to fit the storyline, but this helped so much, thank you!

Win

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Stark!Reader

summary: Bucky's running for Congress, and he needs a win to help make some change. Y/N's just trying to support him the best she can.

word count: 2799

warnings: reader is adopted, age gap (MCU is in 2027 everyone so by my math reader is like late 30s, Bucky is mid-fourties, but you can imagine it however you want there's no specifics), if you're new here reader calls Bucky 'James' bc i like that and think it's cute, Bucky has some issues, written pre-Thunderbolts movie release so there could be some future inaccuracies

masterlist

Bucky knew he could never actually retire.

It was a nice thought, but in practice he hated how fucked the world was, how much he seemed like part of the the problem. It's why he's running for Congress, so he can make a difference in a way that doesn't have anything to do with violence.

He's in a deep in paperwork when she walks in, pantsuit ironed to perfection and a folder of papers he's sure are for him in her arms.

"Mr. Barnes," She smiles, and Bucky's never been more happy to see her. "I've brought some papers from Media, most of them about you smiling more. I told them you shouldn't lie before you've even gotten into office, but they refused to see how smiling could be this big of a problem. So clearly, they don't know you very well." Y/N Stark is a ray sunshine in Bucky's office, and he doesn't know how he got her.

SWORD agent Y/N Stark, adopted by Tony Stark after Nat saved her from the Black Widow program just before meeting Tony in 2008 while she was in Budapest, believing that Y/N had been the last of the Red Room. Y/N had been just 16, and Natasha wasn't in the greatest place to be a guardian. To be fair, neither was Tony, but at least she also had Pepper. Y/N changed her last name before she turned 18, since her parents had given her up as a baby and she didn't like her past defining her. Bucky had first met her when fighting at the airport in 2016, and after they went into hiding Bucky had talked Steve into sending Y/N a package just like Tony had gotten, and she had called. They began dating in secret, as she helped SHEILD rebuild itself as SWORD, and was granted entrance into Wakanda to visit him as he healed from the trigger words. They were finally getting back to where they had been before the snap, when Bucky had disappeared and Y/N had lived five years in grief.

But now Bucky was trying to figure out how to get her to retire and work with him, because he thinks a change might be exactly what he needs to make him feel better. The more he learns about politics, the more he doesn't know how to make the change he wants to.

"Well," Bucky leans back in his seat, stretching his back. He's been sitting all day, a harsh change from his life before, but he honestly likes it. It feels nice to not be conditioned to fight at every second, to be able to relax even just a little bit. "I hope you told them I'm not doing that." He says lowly, and his fiancé rolls her eyes with large grin.

"How did I end up with a hundred and three year old grump?" She asks, walking all the way in and dropping the papers on his desk. Bucky reaches up and pulls her into his lap, pushing her jacket back because he loves to see the leather vest she wears that holsters her gun over the white button up blouse.

"It's actually a hundred and ten." He says. He knows that she knows this, that she knows his actual birthday even if everyone likes to pretend that he wasn't frozen and used by HYDRA for years which makes him actually in his late thirties, maybe early forties.

"Ugh, old man." She says, but her smile is painted on, almost like the opposite of her.

"You love it." He leans his mouth up, and she leans down to give him a quick kiss. This isn't enough for him, and he leans back in to chase her lips.

"James, people actually work in this office. They don't want to see a couple macking in the middle of the day." She says as she gets off his lap, which makes Bucky upset.

"Macking?" He questions, because she's always using these words that he has no idea what they mean.

"Come on, grab your papers and let's go." She doesn't explain the word, instead holding out a hand that Bucky only grabs onto, not letting her pull him up and out of his seat.

"I can't leave yet." He wants to, he really does, but he has so much work to do. The election is coming up faster and faster, and he feels his opportunity to change things slipping through his fingers.

"James," She whispers, yanking on him to no avail. She frowns, and he wishes for a moment that he could just stop everything and go home with her.

"I can't lose." He tells her softly, and she just nods, even though she doesn't fully understand.

"Okay." She lets her hand slip out of his, and Bucky wishes that he could go back to those nights they spent in Wakanda. They were so unrushed, so calm. "I'll see you at home, then." She calls over her shoulder as she exits the room, a smile on her face even though he can hear the hurt in her voice.

"I'll bring dinner." He says, knowing that he always drives past her favorite restaurant. He needs to make it up to her, but she's shaking her head with her lips tight.

"I won't count on it. Maybe we can go out to dinner on the weekend." She says, and he nods in understanding. He's late to get home a lot, but this is important to him. Doing this without Steve, without Y/N's name or money, it's almost like he has to prove that he can make it in society.

"I love you," He says, and when she responds he turns back to his work. It's the last thing he wants to do, but he refuses Y/N's offers to get him a full team with a full New York office. He's going to do this on his own.

He can do this.

~

When Bucky loses the election, he wishes he could say that he saw it coming.

He knew about the people calling him unfit, knew about how a lot of people thought he was emotionally unstable despite his record of therapy. The people who never forgave him for his crimes, the ones that he was under mind control for, the ones he doesn't even remember committing. But for a second, he thought that they could look past that and see the good he was trying to do. Y/N calls as soon as the news is announced, but Bucky is already packing his shit up and leaving the the office.

When she gets home, his metal arm is disconnected from his body and hidden away somewhere. In his right hand, he has a stiff drink, and he's staring at the tv, on a low volume but playing the news.

"James," She whispers, slipping her shoes off and walking over to him. "I'm so sorry, babe." She tells him, walking onto his couch and folding a leg under her as she puts a hand on his shoulder.

"I wanted to do something." He says, eyes glassy. He doesn't even look at her, but he's not really looking at the TV anymore. "Ever since I fell off that train 1945, my life hasn't felt like my own. I haven't done anything to help anyone. All I've done is watch my own life pass before my eyes, watch the families of people I killed," A tear falls, and his face scrunches as tries to hold it in.

"You helped save the world." She says, not mentioning the fact that Bucky doesn't seem to think that she was a good thing. He's clearly in a dark place right now, and her bringing herself up isn't going to help anything. All these comments from people who have nothing better but to hid behind a screen have him slipping back to before he went to therapy, and Y/N hates this. "You saved those hostages when everything was going down with the Flagsmashers. You are a good man. You have done good things. You can't let these people who think they know your past get into your head."

"I just feel so helpless." He finally looks at her, and her heart breaks. "I saved the world, but did I really make a difference? I didn't sacrifice myself like your dad did. I can't lift Thor's hammer like Steve. I'm not Captain fucking America. I thought that maybe, just maybe, I could do this one thing. This one fucking small act. But my life doesn't change. I can't be the White Wolf, because I'm already the Winter Solider." His voice cracks, and Y/N pulls him into her arms. She wishes people could see Bucky Barnes the way she does, the way he loves, the way he cares.

"You would have made a great Congressman." She tells him honestly, pushing some of the long hair he's been growing out away from his face. "And I'm proud of you for trying. We'll find a way to get you to make a difference the way you want to. This wasn't your path, but that doesn't mean that you aren't destined for change." He smiles through his tears, and they share a chaste kiss before Y/N helps him to the shower.

~

Three weeks later, Y/N wishes she could say she was surprised when she sees Bucky standing in the middle of New York, staring at the Void that Y/N had been sent out to collect data on.

"James?" Y/N screams over the wind, and Bucky's eyes widen. Even if he didn't hear her voice, he would have known because she's the only one that calls him by his first name. She's done it since they met, and every time he asks why she just laughs and doesn't answer the question.

"Oh, fuck." He mutters, causing everyone to look over at him.

"What?" Alexi asks loudly, never one for subtlety.

"What on God's green earth do you think you're doing here?" She asks, walking up to Bucky. She feels the need to slap her fiancé, hit him with the new ring he got her, but she controls herself.

"Y/N," Bucky starts, turning around and looking at her. The metal arm is reattached, his tactical suit on. When she left his morning he was still asleep, but she did know that something was different lately. This problem they were having with a super human who had insanely terrifying void powers, and they had basically no information about them. She had been so busy that she didn't have time to figure out why Bucky was acting different; she naively assumed that he was healing after his loss. He walks closer to her, trying to keep their conversation private.

"I swear," She looks beyond mad, and Bucky knows everyone is watching them. "I have too many thoughts right now to fully articulate how I'm feeling." She tells him, and he knows he deserves this.

"I meant to tell you," He truly did, but he just never felt like there was enough time. This was conversation that required more tact than he thought he had at the moment. It's not that he was trying to lie to his fiancé, but he knew he wasn't actively telling the truth.

"Are you gonna introduce me to your new friends?" She asks sarcastically, waving at them all around Bucky's body. She recognizes Natasha's sister, Yelena, but that's about it. As she scans the rest of the group, however, she sees another face. "Oh, you've gotta be shitting me." She says, watching John realize that she's locked in on him.

"No, no, no, Y/N, please, just let me explain," He grabs her around the waist when she starts to march over to him, because while he would never underestimate her he also knows that John is a different person with the serum in him.

"John fucking Walker, James? Really?" She yells, loud over the quiet, deserted street.

"James?" Yelena repeats with a small smile, and Y/N turns her murderous glare to the ex-Black Widow.

"Who the fuck are you people?" She asks, letting Bucky turn so he's facing the team and on Y/N's side.

"We're the Thunderbolts!" A large Russian man in a red yells, smiling widely. Y/N blinks, then looks at Bucky.

"That's not our name." He says to her, as if that actually matters.

"Oh my God," She whispers, because she's not sure what's actually going on anymore.

"I am Yelena. We've heard a lot about you, Y/N Stark." Yelena says with a smirk, and Y/N forces a tight smile. She puts emphasis on the last name, because even though they only knew each other briefly, Y/N had met Yelena in the Red Room once or twice.

"Thanks for the introduction. As for the rest of you, except off brand stars and stripes over here, could you please tell me what this is?" She asks, because she figures her fiancé isn't going to tell her now.

"We're a team." A girl in a completely grey suit says.

"Like the Avengers!" The man in the red suit yells, and Y/N turns to Bucky.

"No." He disagrees, and she just nods, eyes closed. "I swear to you, Y/N, I have tried to tell you, but I didn't know if you'd understand. I just, I needed to do something." And she gets it. She knows that he's been having this issue, and she knows it had to have been hard for him to tell her.

"I'm still mad at you." She says with a sigh.

"I know." He smiles, putting a hand on her back and pulling her forward to kiss her forehead. "Now, you should get out of here. We can take care of this." He gestures to the giant Void that was looming in the distance.

"I have to do my job, James, I can't just,"

"You can join us!" Red suit says once more, and Bucky turns to glare at him before Y/N can say anything. She jumps in, not wanting to deal with the threat that is probably going to come out of Bucky's mouth.

"I have a job. But this seems like such a great group." She says sarcastically, aiming it at John, who scowls.

"I am not that bad." He argues, and Bucky has to grab her arm to ensure she won't jump him.

"I don't think anyone has lost a job faster than you fucked up being Captain America, you absolute shit stick." She tells him, which clearly strikes a nerve.

"You wanna talk about losing Captain America? Are we sure Bucky here was your first choice?" John has that smirk that Y/N wants to slap right off his face, but she's not sure he wouldn't kill me.

"Are you kidding me?" Yelena yells over them, and Y/N knows she should feel like a scolded child, but she just feels rage at John Walker. "There's a goddamn Void behind us that is eating people, and you two are fighting over the fact that he annoys you?" She looks at Y/N, who is somehow even more angry

"Yelena, I don't know if you're mad at me because N,-" Bucky is placing his right hand over her mouth, knowing exactly what Y/N was about to say and how she was going to single handedly take this team down. Everyone was very volatile, and he knew that the slightest thing could set them off.

"Please, just let me handle this? I'll see you at home." He is not above begging, and he knows he has to in order to get her home.

"I was sent here for a reason." She argues, because she's not gonna let her man stop her from doing her job.

"By the time you get what you need, we'll have taken care of this. So just go home,"

"Do not tell me-"

"Y/N, please." He finally looks at her with big eyes, and she is trying to hold her ground.

"This is my job, James. Ya know, the job that pays for our apartment." She's not mad anymore, because she knows Bucky just wants to protect her. But she won't back down without a fight.

"What if I pick up dinner?" He sweetens the pot, and she sighs.

"If you're late, Barnes," She threatens, leaning up to kiss him. He smiles at his win.

"I won't be." He has no way of knowing if he'll be late or not, they both know this, but it's the thought that counts. She gives him one more kiss and then walks away, listening to the conversation between the Thunderbolts.

"Who woulda thought Bucky had a sugar mommy." John says, and while Y/N can't see it, she hears Bucky's fist meet his face and Yelena's laugh.

"You deserved that." The Russian man says, and Y/N couldn't agree more. 

//

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