#they did not deserve to be treated that way

[sitepathos]

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 10: The Meeting

As the Megamycete watches as you stomp around your room and vent your frustrations about the last few days, it begins to wonder how the Bats came to remember their little black sheep and why they are so insistent you return to Gotham.

It searches through your memories and experiences all the sadness, fear, anger, hatred, and loneliness you experienced for years, all those emotions still so potent even after your departure from the manor four years ago, having been dredged up by their unwelcome visits. It was clear that, besides the butler, none of them considered you a part of their merry band of misfits, not even bothering to spare you a passing glance.

The exception to this is the youngest one, Damian, who constantly went out of his way to make your life harder by mocking you, hurting you, and releasing his menagerie of pets on you, forcing you to run through the endless halls of the mansion barricade yourself in the closest room you could find.

Now, after four years after your escape and maintaining little contact with the family butler, they show up on your door, one after the other, trying to force you to leave your perfect life for one that brought you nothing but pain and misery.

Why?

Why do they want you so much?

Why do they insist on you returning to a place you clearly hate?

Why do they now wish to give you the love they denied you for so long?

Why—

Wait, they are meeting in their little cave, gathering around the massive computer in the center of the massive cavern.

Its roots have long since surrounded the cave and it is still connected to the main colony back in Gotham, but when it took you as its host, it has had no need to tap into its roots to see the world above when it can see the world through your eyes and experience it through your senses.

Using its roots to see the outside world no longer has the same appeal when your senses are far more vibrant and provide far more detail.

When it proposed you become its host, it must admit, it never thought it would be so mutually beneficial. Of course, it would be able to leave the cavern and finally experience a world firsthand that had been forever just out of reach for over four-hundred years, but you would recover from your injuries and be akin to a god among men with your newfound abilities. You were the one who had more to gain from your joining, but it was willing to trade one prison for another if it meant finally seeing the world above and having someone to talk to.

But you proved it wrong.

When it became a part of you, you treated it like a person, not a thing. You value its input and alter your plans if it desires to see or experience something. You frequently talk to it, telling it things that you haven’t told anyone else and speaking to it like it was a lifelong friend.

It has no further use for that toxic city and its citizens when it has the warm haven of Goodsprings and you to keep it company.

It has come to admire you, even going as far as to see you as a friend and confidant, and wants nothing but the best for you as you so rightfully deserve and to see you suffer teaches it a new definition of rage.

“Running blood tests,” your failure of a father says as he types on the keyboard, causing a machine next to the massive device to make noises.

“If Master Y/N does test positive for the Meta Gene, what do you intend to do, Master Bruce,” the butler, the only one in this crowd it respects, asks.

“If Y/N is a meta, I’ll have to find out what his powers are and how to counter it.”

So that’s what this meeting is about, they managed to put the pieces together that you are no mere human. But how did they manage to get a sample of your blood? Since your joining, you have had no need for doctors as its influence makes you immune against common illnesses and diseases.

“Getting his blood was a simple task,” Damian taunts. “Honestly, this would have been solved already if you sent me, Father.”

Of course. It should have known the little menace gave up too easily.

While you hate Bruce Wayne in every sense of the word, Damian Wayne is right behind him. From the moment you met him, he went up of his way to make your life a living nightmare and was allowed to get away with impunity due to obvious favoritism from Dick Grayson.

The memory of Dick defending Damian after he gave you a scar made the Megamycete furious. No matter his upbringing, he had no right to harm you, and yet, he was allowed to draw his sword on you. It was only pure luck that you managed to move to avoid being critically wounded, only resulting in a scar.

The Megamycete has seen your many fantasies of hurting Damian and making him feel inferior and wants to help you make them a reality.

“Results are in,” Bruce announces, making them all crowd around the computer.

“No Meta Gene,” Tim remarks, staring at the monitor with alarming intensity.

“Yeah, but look,” Jason exclaims, pointing at one of the results. “He’s got something in him that doesn’t belong.”

“For once, Todd is right. The tests show foreign substances in his blood.”

“Wait,” Tim mutters as he leans over and begins typing on the computer, bringing up an extensive menu and going through various files. “That looks so familiar.” An image is pulled up on the monitor. “Here it is! The stuff in his blood matches the stuff found in what remained of Joker.”

Well, this is rather unfortunate. It had hoped that there would be very little of the clown left to examine after his execution by your hand, but as usual, these people cannot resist poking into areas they do not belong.

“If this is substance is in Master Y/N’s blood, does that mean he is responsible for Joker’s death?”

“Bruce, you can’t lock up Y/N after bringing him home,” Dick whines. “You have to admit, your thing with Joker was only going to end one way!”

“We don’t even know if Y/N killed Joker,” Tim interjects. “It’s possible this strain of mold was in both of them and Joker’s was somehow activated, killing him.”

“That’s not exactly comforting, Drake,” Damian responds, glaring at Tim. “That means that Y/N could be in danger. If I had my pick, I would he be responsible for Joker’s death. Knowing he can take down as formidable as the Joker is proof he is a Wayne and my brother.”

If it had eyes, the Megamycete would roll them. This insecure little terror spent years making it clear he saw you as an interloper into his “perfect world” and not as a brother and that you are a disgrace to the Wayne bloodline (although that bloodline was tainted far before you came to be). He has some nerve to call you his brother now.

It still made it angry that he had the nerve to critique your mother (your memories of her painted the woman as a saint) when his mother, the daughter of a millennium-old maniac with delusions of grandeur (yes, you are very aware of his familiar secrets) who drugged Bruce in order to bring him into the world.

“We need to bring him back here, Bruce,” Dick says, defusing a fight between the two. “If he’s in danger, he needs to be back home.”

“I agree,” Bruce responds. “Cass, you and I will go. I’ll distract him and while he’s busy yelling at me, you’ll sneak up behind him and inject him with a tranquilizer.”

The mute nods and the Megamycete wishes it has a mouth so it can scream. Not only is it offensive that they believe you are stupid enough to fall for such an obvious trick, but that they believe they have the right to decide something like this on your behalf.

If they have failed to realize that you want nothing to do with them after you have yelled it at them, perhaps they will understand if it tells so itself.

And it knows the perfect form to take.

He stands up from the chair and makes his way to the armory where they keep the tranquilizers meant for the larger criminals, like Bane and Killer Croc.

He hates the thought of using such methods against you, but you’ve made it clear you aren’t going to come back to Gotham willingly and the discovery of this mysterious mold inside you has forced their hand.

Nevertheless, improvisation is one of their many skills, a requirement in their line of work. Once they have you back home, they’ll be able to conduct more in-depth tests and be able to find out what’s wrong with you and go from there.

As much as he hates the idea of you possibly being in pain and may even be in danger, he can’t deny there’s a small inside him that’s glad this has happened. This discovery accelerates their plans and will have you brought home far sooner.

And, there’s the chance that this mold may explain most of your hatred towards them. Sure, he knows you have every right to despise them, but when he saw the look in your eye when you pushed him down that night of the award ceremony. He could tell you enjoyed inflicting pain on him.

This stuff in you must’ve made your temper more volatile and made you lash out at them.

It’s the only explanation.

“Excuse us,” a familiar voice calls throughout the cave, stoping his dead in his tracks.

That voice… No, it can’t be. There’s no way…

He turns around to see you, standing in the cave, all of them looking right at you. The small smile on your face making the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

“We believe there are some things we should talk about,” you say as you walk closer to them, making his children back up with each step you take.

“No fucking way,” Jason remarks, his eyes wide as saucers.

“Wait,” Tim says as he rushes over to the computer and rapidly types on the keyboard. “You can’t be Y/N. His phone says he’s still in Goodsprings and we’ve been monitoring his GPS signal, so there’s no way you could’ve come all the way to Gotham from Nevada without us knowing!”

That’s right, they’ve been monitoring your phone ever since Alfred helped them remember you, tracking you every move and committing your searches, social media usage, and all your texts and phone calls. They would’ve done the same to your computers that are linked to your phone, but your cybersecurity is tougher than they anticipated (clearly custom) and they haven’t been able to crack the encryption.

He knew you were skilled at making videos games, but he didn’t know your skills with technology expanded into cybersecurity. Ever since they made that discovery, Tim’s spent nearly all day trying to pierce your firewalls, but hasn’t made any progress. He’s also made it clear he wants to have lengthy conversations on computers and programming with you once you’re back home.

So, you’re still in Goodsprings, so who the hell is this, why the hell would they take your form, and how the hell did they get into the Cave without setting off any of the dozens of alarms or sensors?

“Who are you” Damian hisses, taking a defensive posture. “And what gives you the right to assume the form of my brother?”

“You have some nerve calling him your brother,” the Not-You hisses back, the smile morphing into an all-too familiar snarl. “He is too good for you, for any of you.”

Even though he knows this isn’t you, hearing those words in your voice still hurts him.

“Do you know Master Y/N,” Alfred interjects, trying to bring tensions down, most likely so he can learn more from this person.

“Yes, we do,” Not-You responds, looking at the butler, the snarl morphing into a look of… admiration? “And we know you, Alfred Pennyworth. We know of you and how you helped him during his stay in this wretched mansion. You have our gratitude.”

“Look, whoever you are, stop taking Y/N’s form,” Steph exclaims. “You’re obviously a shapeshifter, so turn back to normal! Or the very least, take a different form!”

“Oh, do you all wish for us to take another form,” the Not-You asks, a ghost of a smirk gracing “your” face.

“Yes,” Bruce says without hesitation.

It’s bad enough to see you look at them with such hatred, he won’t tolerate some imposter doing the same thing.

“Very well.”

Before them all, the Not-You turns into a shifting mass of some type of black organic mass before taking on a humanoid shape once again and Bruce’s heart stops when he takes in the new form.

“Hello, Bruce,” the shapeshifter says in a voice he hasn’t heard in years.

Not since that fateful night in Crime Alley.

“Good God,” Alfred says, his eyes wide and his jaw practically on the floor.

In front of them is his mother, every detail exactly how she was that night, still adorned in her favorite pearl necklace and wearing her green dress.

As he stares at her looking at him with those eyes that use to look at him with nothing less than unconditional love, he feels his breathing start to become erratic and eyes begin to mist up.

“What’s wrong, Bruce,” the shapeshifter says in her voice (god, even her voice was exactly how he remembered) as they begin to walk towards him, making him step back. “I thought you would be happy to see me. It has been so long since I was killed.”

“No,” he says, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “You’re not her. You can’t be.”

“But I am. Do you not see? I know everything you have done.” His mother’s face then morphs into a disgusted snarl, making him sick to his stomach. “And I am absolutely disgusted in you! Why did we have to die that night? Why not the disgrace we once called our son!”

He knows this isn’t his mother and she never would’ve called him a disgrace, but hearing those words in a voice he’s longed to hear for so long makes him want to cry.

He’s had dreams of seeing his mother’s in the flesh again and now he has to endure this berating? Is he truly that horrible of a man to deserve this?

“Stop it, you bitch,” Jason exclaims as he steps between Bruce and the shapeshifter. “Take another form or get the fuck outta here!”

“Oh, you want us to another form?” His… the shapeshifter shifts once again and in his mother’s place is…

“Hiya, Dead Hood,” Joker exclaims before exclaiming in that all-too familiar cackle and waving around a crow bar in his hand. “Did you miss me?”

It doesn’t take a detective to notice Jason tense up and his breathing stop; Joker left a mark on Jason that unfortunately will never be erased (another shortcoming that eats away at Bruce everyday) and whenever news of Joker escaping Arkham would bring up all the anger, fear, and sadness that was planted in Jason that night he died.

After Joker was killed, he noticed a weight seemed to be lifted off of Jason’s shoulders. Sure, he made jokes about the clown burning in hell, but Bruce could see he was genuinely happy and was ready to move on form that horrible chapter in his life.

And now, all that trauma is about to be dug back up after four years.

“You have five fucking seconds to take another form before I beat the shit outta you,” Jason says in a tone that says he means business, his eyes flickering into that shade of Lazarus green.

“How about this form,” the shapeshifter says in Joker’s voice before changing into John Grayson, making Dick tense up. “Or this form?” John Grayson then shifts into Janet Drake, making Tim tense up.

“Alright, you made your point,” Barbara shouts. “Just turn back into Y/N.”

And with that, the shapeshifter takes your form again.

“Who are you,” Bruce growls, pissed that his sons have had their trauma jabbed at. “We know you’re not Y/N, but you know him and us.”

You may call us the Megamycete.”

“Megamycete,” Tim asks. “So, you’re not human?”

“No, we are a super colony of mold given sentience via a Lazarus Pit.”

“Of course a fucking pit’s involved,” Jason mutters.

“What’s your tie to Y/N,” Dick interjects.

“Y/N is our host. Before, we were confined to a cavern beneath this city, but when we joined with him, we were freed from our prison.”

“So, you’re using him.”

The Megamycete glares at Bruce for his accusation.

“No, he and us operate on mutual trust and respect. Y/N is a respectable young man.” A smirk appears on “your” face. “A trait he clearly did not inherent from you.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. Even though this thing is probably the reason why you feel so much hate towards them, it still pains him to know this is his reality.

“Were you responsible for the Joker’s death,” Steph chimes in. “We found weird strains of mold in his remains and you’re a walking, talking pile of mold.”

“While we are not directly responsible for the Joker’s death, we do not deny we were involved. That night, Y/N took us out to Amusement Mile to celebrate when we learned the Joker was sighted in an arcade. Upon seeing the many deaths left in his wake, our host took matters into his own hands and eliminated the biggest threat this city had ever seen.” It gives Bruce a wide smirk. “In a single night, our host did more to help Gotham than you and your brood have done in years.”

Knowing you were responsible for killing Joker didn’t sit well with him. Sure, he’d accepted that Joker’s games were only going to end with one or both of them being dead a long time ago, but knowing that you, his son, had killed him…

“What about Harley,” Dick asks, breaking Bruce out of his thoughts. “He killed her too?”

“She forced his hand. He had no choice.”

“What do you mean he had no choice,” Dick shouts. “Did you force him?”

“Do not be stupid,” it says, glaring at his first son. “Our host was in complete control of his actions that night. We no more control his actions than you. The woman was a lost cause, without Joker to keep her in line, she would have punished all of Gotham as retribution for the loss of her love. Also, she would have informed you of him, causing you to devote all your resources to finding him. In order to both save Gotham from her wrath and himself from your scrutiny, Harley had to die.”

No, this thing has to be lying. There’s no way you, one of his sons, could ever rationalize killing someone. It had to have forced you to kill them. It had to…

“How did you even find Y/N,” Damian interjects.

Upon being asked that question, it smiles. And not a normal smile, but a smile that says it knows something they don’t know and something tells Bruce he’s not going to like it.

“He was thrown into our cavern after being left for dead.”

Bruce hears the words, but they just don’t process.

You were… left for dead? When? How?

“It was four years ago, while the butler was on his vacation. That day, his boss was forced to retire due to Gotham’s high crime, so he was forced to find another bus stop within Crime Alley as he had no other way of returning here, where he was unfortunately captured by three thugs and takes to a cabin in the nearby forest. They intended to ransome him off for a high price due to his school uniform.”

You were held hostage? Why didn’t you call for them? For him?

He knows you have no reason to think he’d help you with homework, but surely you’d call him if you were ever—

Just then, memories from that time frame kick in.

Random…

Phone call…

Oh… Oh no…

“Since the butler was out of the country, he actually reached out and gave the thugs the phone number for this manor.”

He so desperately wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“You said all your children were with you and you all laughed and mocked the leader of the thugs.”

He sees all his children tense up at the realization and Alfred looks at him to see if it was true. Based on the butler’s look of shock and disbelief, he knows it’s the truth.

“The one time he reaches out to you for help, you laugh and mock. He needed you and you failed him in the worst way possible.”

He remembers that night. He thought it was so stupid that someone would think he wouldn’t know when one of his kids were missing. He said all his children were with him and meant it.

God, he really is the worst, isn’t he?

“After that phone call, the leader took all his frustrations out on our host, beating him until he could cry out for mercy no longer before shooting him in the head.”

He wants to cry when the image of you being beat up enters his head, and based on the way he flinches, so does Jason, who looks like he wants to cry.

Alfred looks like he’s ready to go nuclear and Bruce doesn’t blame him. Hearing all this years later and he had no idea what happened just proves he was never worthy of being your father.

“He was on the brink of death and had he not accepted our offer to become our host, he would be dead and the world would have been deprived of a brilliant mind.”

The thought of you dying brings a brunch of thoughts to the surface.

How long would it had taken him to notice you were missing?

How would he reacted upon learning you were dead?

Chances are your body would’ve never been found and all there would be to remember you by would be a tombstone with your name in the Wayne Cemetery. Hell, you’ve made it clear you want nothing to do with the Wayne name, so you probably would’ve never agreed to be buried with the rest of the Waynes.

“Our joining restored him to full health and gave him access to many powers, including our records.”

“Records,” Tim asks, clearly interested in this.

“We have existed for four-hundred years, our roots expanding towards every corner of this city. As our roots touched those buried beneath the ground, not only have we watched the goings-on of Gotham, but we absorbed the memories, knowledge, and structure of the deceased. As horrible as the city is, it has attracted many brilliant minds, like artists, scientists, engineers, and many more. He has access to the knowledge of these people, making him one of the smartest humans alive.” It chuckles. “In fact, many of your employees are in our records and he used this knowledge to get revenge on you, selling the secrets of your company to Lex Luthor for a tidy sum.”

You were the one who did that? He’s been racking his brain and reviewing network logs to find any sort of security breach and it was you using the remains of his dead employees.

“Alright, so that solves a lot of mysteries,” Dick interjects. “But that still leaves one: why are you here?”

“We have been by our host’s since that fateful night, peering through his memories and seeing the world through his eyes. Ever since he was forced to move to Gotham, none of you ever made him feel welcome here. For years, he wanted nothing more than to return to his rightful home, where he knew nothing but love. Now, after four years since his departure from this wretched manor, you appear, one after another, trying to bring him back to a place he despises more than anywhere else. We wish to know why.”

“He’s my son,” Bruce answers, not liking what this thing has to say.

“He’s family,” Dick adds. “Of course we’d want him back.”

“But none of you have ever made him feel that way. And if you are honest with yourselves, you never saw him as one of your own. You only want him because you feel guilty about how you treated him, and that guilt is making you believe you are owed a second chance. And you seek to obtain that second chance, no matter how much harm it does to him.”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re taking about,” Jason exclaims, clearly getting more and more pissed. “Yeah, we fucked up! But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s a part of this fucked up family!”

“He was never a part of this family. We know for a fact that he wishes he could take out the Wayne DNA and return it.”

“That’s because you’re manipulating him,” Damian interjects. “Nothing will change the fact that he’s my blood brother.”

“It is funny you say that when the last interaction you had with him was a fight.” It lifts hits arm and manifests a gold pen in its hand. “Do you remember this? This is the pen you tried to steal from him and then threw out into the rain when he gave you a much deserved slap upside your head. Do you know the significance of this item to our host?”

Bruce gets the feeling that he’s not going to like why that pen is so important to you and based off Alfred’s expression, that feeling gets even worse.

“This pen once belonged to his mother, made by her father when she set out to become an author. When she was taken from him, this pen was the only thing he had to remember her by. And you, the arrogant beast that you are, felt you had the right to take this, his most treasured possession, from him.” It turns its gaze from Damian to the rest of them. “And the rest of you supported this irreverent mongrel and condemned our host without listening to him before passing judgment.”

It seems like a day can’t go by that Bruce feels like the scum of the earth; ever since he learned of how he neglected you for years and forgot you even existed, his sense of worth has taken hit after hit. He was thinking about that argument you had with Damian and how furious he was when you refused to obey him not too long ago, thinking how stupid it was for you to cause so much trouble over a simple pen. Now to find out that “simple pen” was the only thing you had to remember your mother by…

It just never ends, does it?

He could spend the rest of his life atoning for everything he’s ever done to you, spend his last dollar to make your wildest dreams come true and he’d never come close to earning your forgiveness.

He knows he’s not the best father for his children, but he was never worthy of being your father and he’s certainly not that now.

“Y/N,” he whispers, knowing this isn’t you, but it has your face, your vice, and your memories, so it’s the next best thing. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He knows tears are falling from his eyes, surprising both Alfred and his children. He doesn’t want them to see him like this, but he can’t help it; the last few days have been one emotional turmoil after another and he’s reached his limits.

He failed his baby in every way possible.

“Now you understand,” it responds as it walks closer to him. “You fulfilled your purpose, Mr. Wayne. You brought Y/N into this world and had him brought to Gotham, where he was delivered into our custody. Now please, do not worry for him, we assure you we will provide him with true happiness. Go on, all you have to do is stay in Gotham and out of our host’s business.”

“Father,” Damian exclaims. “You can’t possibly be considering this!”

“Bruce,” Dick adds. “You aren’t going to actually do it, right?”

“Don’t fuck this up, Bruce,” Jason adds.

“We can’t just give up on him,” Tim adds.

“Yeah, he’s your son,” Barbara adds.

“He’s our brother,” Steph adds.

‘Family doesn’t give up on one another,’ Cass signs.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred warns, clearly not pleased at the thought of giving up on you.

He should, though. He knows that he’ll never be worthy of calling himself your father and you’ve made it clear you hate him and your siblings in every sense of the word. You wanted to go back to your childhood home in Goodsprings, a place that made you feel loved, something his home never made you feel. And the last four years were good to you based off your appearance and success. Plus, you had the Megamycete, that apparently has been more of a family to you than them.

If he was a good person, he’d put your needs and wants ahead of yours and agree to leave you alone and tell his children to do the same. Repeatedly harassing you would only make you hate them more and widen the gap between you and them. You don’t need them and clearly learned how to live without them. Over the past few days, he’s gathered every piece of information about you he can find and from what he sees, you love it in Goodsprings and fully intend on living in the house you and your mother lived.

But he’s not a good person, not by a long shot.

The night his parents were gunned down like animals in that disgusting alley, his sadness had turned into a bright inferno of rage; he wanted to inflict on every criminal that he met every ounce of his never ending vengeance and make them so afraid of him that they refuse to step outside whatever hole they call home, so that no one ever has to lose a child, a parent, a friend, or a loved one to some scumbag with a gun. That was his reason for donning the cowl.

After his parents were taken from him, he made it his mission to never lose anything of his ever again and two things that he holds dear more than anything in this world are Gotham and his family. And as long as he’s breathing, he’ll hold onto those two things until the bitter end.

Is it possible that in his mission to protect his city from Arkham’s inmates have made him forget the little details? Of course, Gotham needs Bruce Wayne as much as it needs Batman.

Is it possible that his need to hold onto his children with an iron grip has made him lose them on multiple occasions? Absolutely, he’s constantly remembering that his children are their own people and that even though they may leave him, they’ll always come home.

And that’s what his situation is with you. He knows he fucked up with you and he can never undo the damage he’s done to you, it doesn’t change the fact that you are his blood, his son, his firstborn.

You belonged to him the moment you were born and there’s nothing that can change that. He wishes he could go back in time and accept the gift of your affection that his past self spurred, but he can’t (his time as a Justice League member has taught him that going back in time is more trouble than it’s worth) and his only option is to move forward and make you see that the only place in this world for you is with him and your siblings here in Gotham, a city that has and always will belong to the Waynes.

And right now, this Megamycete is an obstacle standing in his way of completing his family. And if there’s one thing Bruce is very good at over the years, it’s overcoming obstacles.

“No.”

“Pardon,” it says, confusion etched onto its face.

“No,” he says loudly, making it clear he has no intention on letting you go. “Y/N is my son and their brother. He belongs here, with me and his family, not in some backwater town with some sentient mushroom. We’ll find a way to bring him back here and separate the two of you. And when we do, he’ll have all the time in the world to realize this is where he needs to be. Once he realizes that, all of Gotham will celebrate his return.”

He looks around and sees not only does his family seem happy with that statement, but they think the same as him.

The Megamycete looks at him, silent, seemingly shocked at his statement.

Then, it begins to laugh. First, just soft chuckles, then a laugh so loud, it echoes off the walls of the cave.

“Our host was right, you have clearly lost what sanity you had left. You reject him for years and now that you realize your folly, you seek to make amends? Please, spare us your delusions. This has nothing to do with our host and everything to do with your guilt. The moment you feel absolved, you will return to the status quo and forget he exists.” It motions to his children. “You have plenty of children here to drown in your need for forgiveness, surely you can make do with one of them.”

Then, it leans closer towards him, a smug look adorning its face.

“Also, Y/N belongs to us. He has the moment he fell into our cavern and will continue to until the end of time. Attempt to take him from us and you will suffer the same fate as those three thugs who left him for dead.”

It’s then another mystery gets solved: the slaughter at My Alibi. The three men in the back of the dining room who looked like they had gone through a meat grinder. That was your doing and they had been the ones to kidnap you and leave you for dead.

While he never advocates for killing people, he’s more than happy to make an exception for them. If they tried to kill you, they deserved to be slaughtered.

He only wishes they were still alive so he could pay them a visit before being turned over to Red Hood.

“We’ve fought plenty of Metas in the past. Do you really think you’ll be any different?”

“We have the knowledge and wisdom of countless people over the course of four-hundred years, all of them at the disposal of our host. You still think of him as that timid little thing from all those years ago, but he has become so much more since our joining. You believe yourselves superior than the rest of the general population, but you will find our host far surpasses you in every respect. He also possesses one thing your past adversaries never will.”

“And what’s that?”

“Unbridled hatred towards you.”

He wants to laugh at that. This thing must not have watched too carefully if it thinks people like Joker, Penguin, Poison Ivy, and so many in Arkham don’t hate his guts. He’s spent years being cursed at by all of Gotham’s rogues and beating all of the Riddler’s countless murder attempts to know Batman is at the top of many people’s Most Hated lists.

“If you don’t think half of Arkham doesn’t have dart boards with our pictures on them, you’re not as smart as you think you are,” Steph mocks.

“We do not doubt the genuine animosity the inmates hold towards you, but they are too far gone to imagine a life without any of you; you have foiled many of their crimes so many times, it has become one of the few constants in their lives. Every time they are put back in Arkham, they devote their time to coming up with their next attempt to best you until it is the only thing they care about. If any one of them were to ever defeat you, they would eventually realize how empty their lives are without you and their victory would soon sour.

“Joker would be a perfect example of this as he was as obsessed with you as you were of him.”

As much as he hates to admit it, the talking pile of mold is right. The clown made it clear that as much as he hated Batman, he was just as obsessed with him, going as far as to go after any criminal that took up too much of his time, Harley included in that.

And Bruce was just as obsessed with Joker, coming up with countless contingencies to counter any plot his sick and twisted mind could come up with, as well as devising security protocols and measures for Arkham to keep him contained and treatment plans to find a way possible bring his sanity back (assuming he had any to begin with).

“But our host is not like them. He has longed for a life free of you lot and now that he has that, he has no intention of surrendering it. Attempt to force him to return to this wretched manor and he will be more than happy to bring his fantasies of killing you a reality.”

He knows you hate them, but hearing that you hate them enough to fantasize about killing them cuts him deep.

“Please, I tried to kill Tim and Bruce back when I returned to Gotham,” Jason mocks, but Bruce can see Jason’s obviously concerned about hearing you thinking about killing them. “And Damian took a few tries at Tim. Everyone in this fucked up family’s got anger issues, it’s nothing weird.”

“You are kidding yourself if you believe you and that monster can a hold a candle to his fury. Your so-called anger is nothing more than a candle compared to the inferno that is his rage. You will feel the full might of his righteous fury, which will swallow you whole and leave nothing behind. And when you all are dead, you will be denied entry into our records.”

“So you don’t plan to absorb us,” Dick asks.

“Our host is the one who made that decision. To be added to our records is to be a part of us, and to be a part of us is to be a part of our host. He refuses to have you in his life in any way.” A small smile etches across its face. “We agree with his way of thinking. When you are gone, there will be nothing left and the world will forget any of you ever existed. And that is when our host’s revenge will finally be complete.”

It takes everything Bruce has to not flinch.

With this… thing inside you, what are you capable of? Would you really attack them with intent to kill? Would you really murder your own family?

“Make all the threats you want, creature,” Damian boldly states. “Nothing will stop us from bringing Y/N home.”

“Then this concludes our meeting, we suppose. We had hoped that we could convince you the best thing for you and our host would be to leave him alone and let the past rest, but we see now you all are too deep into your delusions to see reason. We look forward to seeing our host tear you apart, bit by bit.”

In the blink of an eye, the Megamycete turns bone white and crumbles like chalk, scattering all over the floor, leaving them all to stare at the remains in silence.

“So,” Alfred says, breaking the silence. “Was anyone ever going to tell me about a call regarding a random?”

The tension becomes so think, Bruce thinks he’ll start to choke on it. He racks his brain to come up with any answer, but doesn’t find any. At lease not one that won’t make Alfred pissed.

Clearly his children came to the same conclusion, because they remained silent as well, looking away or at the floor when he met their gaze.

“I have to say out of all the disgraceful things all of you have done throughout the years, this definitely takes the cake. I know Master Y/N wasn’t a priority for any of you, but I never would’ve dreamed you would allow him to be put in danger like being held hostage by common thugs.” Every word he says is dripping in venom. “I am absolutely disgusted with all of you.”

The words cut him deep and he deserves it. It was thanks to his incompetence that led to you being kidnapped, beaten to a pulp, shot in the head, and tossed into a cavern like trash and left for dead in a place no one would ever find you.

There’s nothing he can do that will ever make up for all that he’s done to you. He can apologize until he loses his voice permanently, spend all his money to buy you apology gifts, and subject himself to whipping by your hand until he’s lost every bit of his skin and he’d never scratch the surface of everything he’s done to you.

You came to him, a scared little child who just lost his mother and was forced to move to a massive city to live with a man he’s never met and all you wanted was for him to tell you that he loved you and that everything was going to be alright, but no, he was too caught up in his work as Batman instead of finding a healthy way of dealing with losing Jason.

But that’s not all he did, was it?

As much as he wants to, he can’t deny that he replaced you with Tim after the boy lost his parents. He suffered the same loss as you, but he gave Tim the help he needed while denying it to you. But that’s his fault, not Tim’s. His inadequacies are his alone to deal with, not any of his children’s (a lesson he keeps forgetting).

And he did the same thing several more times, bringing in more children and giving them all the love and affection you were denied as a child. He can’t help but wonder what went through your mind as you saw him spending time with them, both in groups and individually. And when you watched them hanging out in the dining room when they came home from patrol, enjoying themselves and each other while you were left alone in some room barely the size of a closet.

God, how many times did you wonder when you’d be asked to join before giving up?

When exactly did you give up on them?

And of course, he can’t forget about how he handled you and Damian meeting, another sign he was never fit to be a father. He knew Damian’s LoA upbringing left him unable to interact with others the proper way, but he still allowed him to see you (because he never considered your safety a priority) and allowed the boy to draw a sword on you, give you a scar on your face, and make several threats on you and insult your mother.

And what did he do after that?

Did he do the responsible thing by taking away the sword, scold the boy for his unacceptable behavior, and make it clear you were his brother and that he’s not allowed to hurt you?

No, of course not.

He did nothing but carry Damian off while allowing him to shout even more threats and insults, thinking nothing about the harm you just experienced and thinking Damian would just outgrow of his behavior on his own.

If he had to guess, it was probably that day you realized you didn’t matter to him and that Damian was the only one he considered a biological son.

Y/N, his baby boy.

He’s so sorry.

“This doesn’t change anything,” Bruce finally says, making his family turn their eyes to him. “We still need to bring Y/N home. Meeting this Megamycete just makes it more important we get him back to the manor.”

“And if Master Y/N fights you? Based off what you were able to gather from both crime scenes, this Megamycete appears to make him a formidable opponent.”

“We can find a way to neutralize it,” Tim chimes in, motioning to the crumbled remains. “I’ll analyze the remains to find a weakness.”

“And if that’s not enough, it said it has roots all over Gotham,” Barbara adds. “I can use the Clocktower to locate the closest sample.”

“Say you manage to subdue Master Y/N and rid him of the Megamycete. What then?”

“Then we make it clear he’s a part of our family now. And we’ll keep telling him that until he believes it. And when he does, we’ll give him the love we should have given him.”

Alfred looks at him before glancing at his children, all of them nodding in agreement.

“I shall hold all of you to that promise. We have a second chance to right our wrongs. I highly doubt we’ll be given another. But don’t think for a second this conversation is over.”

And with that, the butler turns on his heel and promptly makes his way out of the cave, clearly still furious at them.

“Alright, everyone,” he says, getting their attention. “We have work to do. Barbara, get to the Clocktower and start searching for the Megamycete’s roots. Tim, start analyzing the remains and see what you can find. And be ready to receive new samples. The rest of you, be ready to go out and retrieve the roots.”

They nod and set out to work, leaving him with his thoughts.

Fuck, after hearing all that, his mother probably sees him as a failure now. He had so many opportunities to make this right, but he being the complete and total fuck up that he is, missed them, leaving you all alone to fall into the hands of low-life thugs and a sentient mushroom.

He balls his fists so tight so tight he draws blood, but not caring at the pain or the drops of crimson falling onto the cave floor.

All he had to do was be there for you, love you, tell you he’d always be there for you, but he couldn’t do that. When he first learned of you, he was shocked to hear that he had actually been stupid enough to not take precautions to prevent getting a woman pregnant and actually thought you were an inconvenience, blaming you for something that wasn’t your fault. You hadn’t asked to be born, you didn’t ask to lose your mother in such a tragic way, and you sure as hell didn’t ask to be given to a man who had no right to be called a father.

He—

No, this line of thinking isn’t doing him any favors.

He takes a deep breath and releases it, throwing all his thoughts and emotions into a dark corner of his mind and locking them behind a massive door (like he always does instead of dealing with them in a healthy way). He’s done the same thing to so many other thoughts and feelings, what’s the harm in doing it now?

What he needs to do now is find a way to deal with a Megamycete and figuring out a method of getting close to you to administer it so they can bring you back home. While that’s already an uphill battle, the true war will be convincing you that they’ve changed and that you need to come back to the manor and live with them.

You’re his son and the brother to his children. And as much as you want to deny it, you have Wayne blood coursing through your veins, tying you to him and Gotham. You belong here, by his side.

And when this is over, he’ll throw the largest gala Gotham’s ever seen to show his love for you.

He’ll do whatever it takes if it means having you back home so h and your siblings can bathe you in their love and affection.

Even if it means taking away your powers and dragging you back here.

Like he said, he’s not a good person.

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[butchvamp]

i finished Harding's quest... whew... i don't like Harding. or i should say i don't like how nice the game treats her. she gets all of the emotional beats around the lore revelations while the elves are left to go kick rocks.

i pointed this out previously in another post, but the dwarves (and Harding specifically, and thus by extension Andrastians, too) get so much more sympathy from the game than any of the elves. you can clearly see it just in these two screenshots-- compare dialogue choices when comforting Harding after the reveal about the Golden City (and also important to note that the game assumes my elf is Dalish multiple times before this choice, but for some reason i can suddenly make her Andrastian):

versus the first real discussion you get to have with Bellara about the truth of the elven gods:

Bellara implies that everyone is right not to trust the elves, actually, because the elven gods (the same ones that enslaved her people btw) are bad and we should all feel bad about it.

and Davrin is unfortunately distanced from the Dalish, remarking that they're too traditional and stuck in the past (a racist trope that Dragon Age really loves for the elves), and only seems to care about how the elven gods make elves "look bad." we do get to see Davrin reconnect with one of the members of his clan later, which is a sweet moment that shows us a new side of him, but it exists more so to push along the griffon storyline than anything to do with Davrin (a problem i find quite annoying when it comes to Davrin's writing... they care more about Assan and "turlum" than him or his feelings. but that's a different post)

when we finally get to Heart of Stone, Harding has her big, emotional confrontation with a titan, and gets granted the memory of the titan's loss and all of their pain. she says some Choice lines, here.

who is thriving? the elves that were enslaved en masse by the Evanuris? the elves that are still enslaved and live in alienages? that are wholly, systemically oppressed throughout Thedas? then to follow it up with both of these lines, spoken to an elven Rook:

and i understand that this is the titan speaking through Harding, and we can be generous and say that they are addressing the Evanuris, and not elf Rook personally. but. uh. why doesn't my elf get to Say Anything. it's repeatedly insinuated that everything is the elves' fault, that the elves should feel guilty and that they should be held responsible for what happened to the dwarves (and by extension, the blight and everything bad that's ever happened including what's happening right now), and that they deserve to suffer because of what "they" did to the titans.... and there's no option to challenge this line of thinking at all.

and it's really frustrating that none of the elven companions are allowed this kind of emotional catharsis with the Evanuris. up until that one (bad) dialogue with Bellara, all of Bellara's comments/her reactions to the gods are treated as comic relief. none of them get to grieve their gods like Harding is allowed to grieve the titans-- they're not even allowed to be as angry with Solas as Harding is in some scenes. even Andrastians, in that one single dialogue choice, were afforded more sympathy and grief than the elves in this game.

it's a baffling choice, considering the plot, that elves are given so little grace or consideration. and i do think part of it has to do with the way this game has tried to distance itself from previously established lore as well as scrub itself clean of anything morally dubious-- it's all black and white and the game needs someone to blame, so the elves are bad because the Evanuris are bad, nevermind all that other stuff, because see, the elves actually deserved it all along! i don’t even think it’s unreasonable that Harding may have these feelings (even if they’re racist lol) but the fact you just have to accept Blame and the narrative never challenges her or Bellara’s guilt or Davrin’s apathy and instead just agrees with all of them and forces Rook to agree as well is shitty and takes it from “this character feels this way” to “the game is implying that everyone feels this way, and also that they’re right.”

it's really unfortunate because i do think this reveal about the titans and why the dwarves can't dream or use magic is exciting, it could cause some compelling conflict between the companions (but that's not allowed in this game at all unfortunately and you especially Cannot be even slightly rude to Harding, ever). and i do like the idea of her quest and what they're trying to convey here-- confronting this old, repressed trauma, and finding a way to reconcile with it and move forward.... but not at the expense of the elves, who also suffered massively at the hands of the Evanuris (and continue to suffer. right now)

bioware has been criticized repeatedly about their depiction of the Dalish and even the mages, too, and i really do not understand what they were thinking with this, because it's just racist (and exactly what people have repeatedly criticized them for). this is why a lot of "fantasy racism" fails. you can't write a marginalized group as being responsible and deserving of their own oppression, that's not how it works!

[gay-dorito-dust]

AUTHOR PLSS SHARE ANY VIKTOR RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS YOU HAVE especially pining 👀 UR WRITING IS DELICIOUSS 🙏🙏

The pinning period was…painful to say the least but funny enough when looked back upon because neither of you had an ounce of subtlety in your bodies, especially not when it came to hiding the fact that you both liked each other; which only came off as more obvious to the people who know you well enough to understand what was going on.

You admired Viktor for his intelligent. His ambitions to better the lives of those of unfortunate origins by striving in finding ways to extending their expectancy, treating them of their ailments and more, all the while you found yourself lost in his soft voice and the way his amber eyes shone like whiskey in a pristine shot glass beneath a warm light.

He was beautiful in every sense of the word to you and you wanted nothing more then to show you just how beautiful he was in your eyes, but of course like anyone else rejection wasn’t exactly something you’d wish to experience from someone you respected and adored.

So you decided that longing stares of adoration and tearing would be the safest route possible for you, after all you wouldn’t get hurt and you weren’t expected to confess either! Win-win situation….except It wasn’t and your heart aches every time he walked by you, greeting you with the sweetest smile and followed by an even sweeter ‘hello’ as his hand brushes against your hand.

Needless to say You were fucking dying on the inside from not saying anything but you didn’t want to ruin what you had just because you felt just a little bit more than a friend. The pain of never telling Viktor how you felt was somehow even worse then any other pain you’ve experienced before, it felt as though your heart was trying to escape from your chest to join its other half in Viktor’s chest. You hated it but at least it remained you that those feelings were real, that they existed and weren’t a figment of your imagination.

Now on the other side Viktor was facing a similar situation to yourself as he drags his hands down his face when the realisation struck. He had an inkling that he felt romantic feelings for you but he tended to push it away because he didn’t feel as though you two would look well matched when put together in his minds eye, he felt as though you deserved someone who didn’t spend most of his time in the laboratory, occasionally sleeping there when he was deeply invested in his project and ignoring his bodily needs for food and breaks.

However he couldn’t ignore the matters of his heart no matter how hard he tries to, but soon Viktor finds that his head was just as consumed by you as his heart was, which proved to make productivity in his project a lot harder to complete. He couldn’t blame you nor did he want to even when he finds himself looking out a window like a love sick pup, only to spot you walking the grounds lost in your own mind all the while possessing the freedom of an uncaged bird.

You were beautiful, sweet and a lovely soul and Viktor didn’t feel as if it was his place to be by your side as he watched you walked back into the building and out of sight. He leans back against his chair and places his hand against his chest and feeling his heart beating against his palm, begging him to say something, anything to you in hopes of easing this pain of infatuation; all the while his head told him that while a love like yours would be sweet to experience he didn’t know the possibilities of a love as pure as that could exist long term.

Despite the fear of rejection and uncertainty of how long your relationship were to stand the test of time you and Viktor spent a lot of time together regardless, even if it was mostly in silence sometimes, which didn’t make matters better for either of you in regards to your feelings towards one another but make them stronger and even more of a hassle to ignore. However it didn’t matter in the moment as the moments you spend together were peaceful, warm and just felt right as though this was where you’re meant to be this entire time, it was soothing and neither you nor Viktor wanted to end.

but unfortunately sleep was a detractor that threatened to pull you both apart by the end of the day.

Did you accidentally fall asleep on his shoulder once in the library? Yes, yes you did and what did Viktor do? He smiled softly at you as he admired you before he found himself falling fast asleep with him resting his was atop of your own. The position wasn’t comfortable in the slightest nor did wonders for your necks, but it was a memory that Viktor would look back on fondly when he felt a little cold and lonely at night to warm his heart.

Sweet, tender moments like these often happened between the two of you that included you getting him breakfast in the morning so that he wouldn’t starve, all so you could see the look of gratitude upon his face as he pats you on the arm.

‘Thank you my dorogaya.’ He says with a gentle smile and you swore you felt your face heat up ten times more than normal.

(Dorogaya is -according to internet, so I trust it extremely loosely, a Russian term of endearment meaning dear)

‘That’s okay Viktor, I’m just making sure you don’t end up falling asleep here…again.’ You said with a smile. ‘Now I better see you eat some food and not just drink the coffee, much like you did the last time.’ You added as you looked at Viktor with a raise brow as he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

Even when being scolded he was the absolute cutest. You thought to yourself as you impulsively kissed his cheek, wishing him a good rest of his day, before leaving the laboratory where the real autism of what you had just did hit you just as the door shut behind you.

Welp so much for keeping your hidden feelings secret. Sure it was on impulse but it didn’t matter now as a month later you’re in a solid relationship with Viktor.

Let’s move onto the actual relationship things!

First of all you kiss each other’s cheek and or forehead in greeting in the morning almost. It was simple little act, but it was enough to start your day despite how early it was for either of you and give you a little pick me up to start the day.

‘Good morning my dorodaya.’ Viktor says softly as he pecks your cheek.

‘Good morning my love.’ You reply, kissing him softly on the cheek before kissing his other cheek just because you could, making him smile at you as his cheeks became warm from your sweet affection. He still was very not use to you being so openly affectionate to him, meanwhile he’d much prefer to keep most affection in private. Though this didn’t mean Viktor wasn’t above running a hand down your arm or linking his pinky with yours before bravely intertwining your fingers together so that your palms were pressed against one another’s.

These touches were reminders of the fact that this was real, that this wasn’t a dream that you’ll inevitably wake up from unfairly.

You still keep getting Viktor food and coffee as usual but this time you stay to eat along side him until you’re needed elsewhere, for you don’t want to be anywhere else but besides your beautiful and intelligent Viktor.

Meanwhile poor Viktor knew he was going to get teased to hell and back for hiding the fact that he had a partner, but he didn’t mind it if it meant he could spend a little time with you seeing as you both had really busy schedules, which meant there wasn’t much time you could spend together that wasn’t before you went to sleep or just as you were both waking up.

You even give him soft hugs and words such as ‘you okay honey?’ ‘Everything going smoothly over here’ or ‘please eat enough my love and make sure you take breaks or else I’ll drag you outside myself to get some fresh air.’ Viktor couldn’t help but smile at your lighthearted threat and lean himself back into to smirk at you playfully.

‘Is that a promise my muse?’ He asks innocently.

You kiss his forehead. ‘It’s a promise I intend to make good on.’ You replied, squeezing his shoulders. ‘Love you my beloved, have a good day and don’t overdo yourself.’ You added, wanting Viktor to be nothing but of acceptable health as finding him sleeping in the lab with bad posture made you wince.

‘As long as you take care of yourself my dorodaya.’ Viktor said seriously as he squeezed your hand before prying it open to put something in it and then closing your hand once more.

You knew instantly he made you something with his own two hands, you had a box filled with trinkets and other memorabilia that Viktor had made with you in mind, whether he was aware of it or not but you treasured each and every one as though they were priceless items you could never depart with.

You even left notes of affirmations and encouragement for Viktor, followed by small silly doodles somewhere you could to let him know that there was someone on his side and to always be in his corner while he continues his pursuits as a scientist. Words and cute doodles which were highly appreciated by Viktor as he too kept a box filled with all the notes you’ve ever given him since your relationship began.

Your dates were mainly indoors but neither of you were complaining as all you needed was each other as you cuddled up close and enjoyed listening to the other breath before slipping into a comfortable slumber, buried underneath a bundle of comfy and soft blankets.

[cutielando]

parade | o.p.

synopsis: in which you put on a little show for him

a/n: based on this request!! i am SO sorry it took me so long, i didn't mean to forget about this fic, but my head's been scrambled like crazy these past couple of months

my masterlist

There was always a parade going on in the shared home of you and Oscar.

Maybe it was because you were so used to being treated and acting like a little princess, maybe it was because Oscar loved whenever you had something new to show him or just wanted to put on a show for him because you just loved him so much.

Maybe it was a mixture of both, but you didn’t care. And frankly, neither did he.

He loved showing you off, he loved buying you clothes and jewelry and everything that your heart could desire because in his eyes, you were his princess and you deserved everything that he could offer.

And the best thing?

He wanted nothing in return.

No matter how many times you begged him to let you repay him in some way, he would always decline and say “You’re my princess, let me spoil you like you deserve” and let’s be honest, who were you to argue with that?

But still, you always felt like you needed to do at least something to show him how much you truly appreciated everything that he did for you. And, upon consideration, what better way to do that than giving him his own private show of everything he buys for you?

It was a beautiful day in Monaco, where you and Oscar had just moved together. 

He had been gone the entire morning, training with his personal manager, and he got home at about 2 in the afternoon, arms full of shopping bags and his backpack on his shoulders.

“Hey babe” you said, greeting him at the door with a hug and a kiss. “What’s with these?” you motioned towards the bags, your curiosity creeping in.

“I stopped by some shops on my way back, figured I would buy you something nice” he explained, taking off his shoes before following you into the living room.

“You know you don’t have to buy me gifts every other day, right?” you subtly reminded him, biting your lip.

You knew this was an uphill and impossible battle to have with Oscar, a battle you had lost one too many times already.

“I know, but I wanted to” he said, just like he always did, and you didn’t argue further with it.

Taking a seat on the plush couch next to him, you started rummaging through all the bags, all the items more beautiful than the next. You could never deny that Oscar had really good taste when it came to you, but he had even outdone himself this time around.

Dresses, skirts, lingerie, designer bags, shoes, the amount of things Oscar had bought you was seemingly never-ending. 

“Oscar, this is honestly too much” you gushed once you had opened every bag and taken out everything he had purchased, staring at everything in awe.

Oscar didn’t say anything, he just smiled widely instead and looked at you with the most adorable glint in his eyes. 

“Nothing is too much when it comes to you. Now, how about you give me a show?” he said, biting his lip and caressing the inside of your thigh.

You smiled widely and squealed, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before taking as many items as you could carry into the bathroom with you, eager to try every one of them on for Oscar.

While you were busy putting on your new clothes, Oscar made his way to the bedroom with the rest of your clothes and made himself comfortable on the soft bed, eagerly waiting for the treat he was about to get from you. 

Which came merely moments after he had made himself comfortable. 

The moment you had stepped out of the bathroom, Oscar felt like his breath had just been taken away.

You were wearing a beautiful satin baby pink dress, the shiny material hugging your body in all the right places. Ending just before your mid-thigh, it also left little to his imagination as his eyes naturally migrated towards your ass and your breasts, admiring everything that was his.

“What do you think?” you asked him as you did a pirouette and made your way towards the bedroom wall mirror, analyzing the dress from different angles.

When you didn’t hear a response, you furrowed your eyebrows and turned around, seeing Oscar sitting on the bed with his eyes and mouth wide.

“I think you’re the hottest person I’ve ever seen in my life” he breathlessly said, making your cheeks redden with warmth.

You made your way towards the bed and leaned down to peck his lips, your dress riding up in the process.

“I’m gonna go change into the next dress” you whispered, slowly straightening up and turning around, purposefully swaying your hips in your now ridden-up dress, which made Oscar groan and close his eyes.

You were gonna be the death of him, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

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[lukolabrainrot]

Calm theory Anon here 🩷🩷🩷

Guys today has been a glorious day filled with so many gems. From Luke photo shoot to the tik tok to Nic commenting. So many great things happening. I want to touch on a couple things. First thing Luke's new found confidence when speaking. His body language and his tone showed me he was so much more confident in his speech and thoughts. That happens when you're confident in yourself. Before if we think back he would wait for Nic to speak and agree with whatever she said. I'm not saying he never spoke what he felt. But the man was holding part of himself back. He was comfortable letting Nic take charge in interviews. Now his tone is strong and his answers are well thought out. That only comes with inner growth which happens by a lot of self reflection. Our boy Lukey did the work he needed to grow. And I'm here for this Luke which just makes him hotter in my opinion. Now I wanted to touch on Luke and Nic presence online with each other. Do I believe more going on positively then we think? Yes. I think they are together. Do I know for sure? Nope I (unlike cough others cough) will never say something as fact when I'm not apart of either of their inner circles. But one thing I'm going to keep stressing is these photos are a moment in time that was capture correct. As you know a moment is fleeting and we can't really tell any type of story using moments right. So do we know what is happening BTS? Nope we have no clue but we do know from their own mouths that they have a special relationship. Do we see that online? Nope and until they come out officially as a couple we won't. We will get the likes and comments if we are lucky because let's be honest the way the fandom has treated them both we don't deserve that. They are not going to be lovey Dovey online. They just aren't. They won't until they announce that they are a couple. Now one thing we have to remember is Luke and Nic are their own people. Luke has his own projects and goals outside of Nicola. Nicola has her own goals and projects outside of luke. They have both worked their asses off to get where they are in life. But because they blew up on the same show and as a couple it's so easy for fans to link them as one. They have to show they are individuals. So yes we will get content where Luke doesn't mention Nic and times Nic doesn't mentioning Luke. This is normal and healthy. They are their own person. Also I have to remind people Nic has Luke number she knows him. She can call him and congratulate him in person. So that comment she left wasn't in my opinion just for him. It was for the Lukola fans and to show her support. She doesn't have to like or comment on his stuff. It was to show the haters that they are good. That's what they want us to know at this time.

Exactly, agreed!

Today was a great day for Lukola fans imo, and I'm still riding the high!

And I found it particularly interesting that a certain subsection had to come in LOUD with their bs today in the more positive Lukola spaces. Could everything we got today been so L/N coded that it made this subsection anxious... hmmmm, I wonder 🤔

[stranger-rants]

The unwillingness of Stranger Things fans to engage with Billy's story in a thoughtful, nuanced manner is symptomatic of a larger problem in how we treat survivors. When this attitude is applied to real survivors, it leads to systemic barriers that eventually kill them.

People are constantly bringing a Survival of the Fittest mentality to the discussion table when it comes to survivors of abuse, but "fittest" broadly means people who survived abuse in the most socially acceptable manner. Anyone who doesn't survive the way they're supposed to is deemed unworthy of it, and in the case that a survivor eventually does die due to what they have to endure then their death is celebrated for "proving" that bad survivors don't deserve to survive.

Even if you pay lip service to it, it's not enough to claim empathy for Billy as a survivor in your analysis while criticizing his actions if in the act of criticizing his actions, you project your prejudices towards survivors onto him. That includes placing blame onto him for things he did not say or do. That includes ignoring his circumstances. That includes blaming him for things he did not have agency over, such as the complete loss of bodily autonomy he explicitly suffers on screen.

There's a good reason why "nobody ever says" that Billy was physically abusive to Max because there is no evidence that Billy was physically abusing her, and we need to stop cheapening the word "abuse" to refer to any instance of violence. A fight is not abuse. The fact that Billy has gotten into physical altercations or even started them is no indication that Billy does or will abuse his sibling.

This belief that survivors who are reactive to perceived threats and to violence are abusive in their own lives is in fact harmful to survivors. I am not discounting the fact that survivors can become abusers. However, abuse involves a pattern of behavior that establishes power and control over a victim.

Any violence or cruelty towards Max is not excusable, but Billy does not continually physically abuse Max. If that was the story they wanted to tell, then we would have seen evidence of it. We didn't. He grabbed her wrist once and let her go. Any time he is on Max's case about where she is and what she is doing is because he is put in charge of her by their parents. We did in fact see the consequences of Max not "obeying" Billy - Billy gets beaten.

You cannot divorce Billy's attitude and behavior towards Max from the fact that her very presence jeopardizes his safety and survival. You also cannot ignore the fact that Max's parents are at fault for endangering her life if Billy did abuse her. But, there is no concrete evidence that Billy was abusing Max in the manner that some of you like to argue. The fact of the matter is that Billy wanted nothing to do with her and vice versa.

It is absolutely disingenuous and disgusting to then (mis)characterize Billy based on the possession of his body and striping of his agency to portray him as a physically and sexually abusive monster who preys on his sister when he consistently wants nothing to do with Max. You cannot be serious, and you cannot be trusted to talk about abuse survivors when you're more willing to fantasize about Max as a victim than you are willing to acknowledge all the ways in which Billy was systematically abused and controlled by his father, by the adult women preying on him, by the Mindflayer, by Vecna...

[nemesyaaa]

i'm so much pissed that Tumblr didnt send me the 'otification because oh my fucking god ?????? i'm so much in love with this, with your writings, with the plot, with the dynamic with ella and reader but also reader and zach. but omggt the angsty of the backstory :(( some people are not born to be parents. i'm good she left because now zach is for us ! but for Real, this is so beautiful and well-written. i'm only at the first part but you did such a fantastic job. and i feel a ROLLERCOSTER of emotions while reading ! like look at this, i just give you an idea and you published a whole 15k words. i'm so glad and so proud of you 💓🫶🏿‼️ i appreciate it so fucking much. i love the gentle and sunshine of the reader. she's born to be with zach and to treat him will. he deserves so much love. seeing single dad zach make me melt so much. li'e give me the single big boy with a child 😌🫡

The moment he held Ella in his arms was when the world bloomed into a color he didn’t know existed. Nothing could ever and would ever top that feeling. — my heart is beating so fast. i have a picture of this is my mind and i'm starting crazy

Soon after the call, Ella’s drawing at the dining table while you and Zach periodically glance across the room to check on her from the kitchen. He’s been teaching you how he prepares Ella’s favorite foods. He likes that you write everything down, asking him for details down to exact measurements. If he wasn’t sure that you took the happiness of his daughter seriously before, he is now. — he's so much anxious and insecure. he's so dear to me. like please a stressed walking green flag 🫶🏿🫶🏿 m'y baby forever

He can’t remember the last time he laughed, really laughed, with someone like this. Life’s dealt him a tough hand, but you’ve given him relief. — i wish him nothing the best (there is a lot of moment I LOVED so much because of the actions or the way you just wrote the scene but i didnt marked them all ✨ but wow just wow ! )

“I wished that you were my mommy,” she mumbles into the dark. — ISSSSSSH !! the way just after that reader talking to zach and asking him if saying that she loves her was the best answer, broke and warm my heart as the same time

nothing but zach SUPREMACY. 💅🏿

hard to ignore (two-shot) (part one)

pairing singledad! zach maclaren x nanny! female reader

summary when you’re offered a job as a nanny, you can tell right away that you’ll grow fond of the little girl you’re taking care of. things are easy to manage until you realize you’re falling for her dad.

author’s note hugs to @nemesyaaa for sharing the idea of singledad!zach. i couldn’t stop writing (and the one-shot hit 15k words and became a two-shot… i love slowburn…) hurt and comfort. fluff. no smut. divider credit.

content warning parental abandonment

» masterlist

Zach is sure, without a doubt, that he has already lived the best day of his life.

The moment he held Ella in his arms was when the world bloomed into a color he didn’t know existed. Nothing could ever and would ever top that feeling.

He didn’t expect that before thirty, he’d already experience the worst day of his life, too. But he’s certain he has.

He was in a fog, a bad dream he kept trying to wake himself up from. He had stepped into the guest room to see a piece of paper on Jade’s bed and he knew before he even unfolded the letter that she was gone.

He read the last line of the letter over and over again. I can’t live like this anymore. Deep down, he always feared that she would give up on them. But not like this. And not this soon.

After Ella was born, bitterness permanently etched itself into Jade’s face. To her, the baby was always a mistake and Zach stopped being someone she loved and became nothing but the man she regretfully had a child with.

She became the antithesis of the girl he fell for. The love they’d once had was replaced with a cold distance. She started sleeping in the guest room. She ate her meals alone. She left the house as much as she could.

Still, he respected that she had learned to tolerate motherhood. While she didn’t love being a stay-at-home mom, he didn’t think she hated it.

But then she left. And if she could abandon them like this, four years in, not even having it in her to look into her little girl’s eyes to say goodbye, then that tolerance had a cruel end.

That’s why now, a month after her sudden departure, Zach is sitting in his living room, fingers curling the corner of the resume belonging to the woman scheduled to arrive in a few minutes.

Dishes clatter as his mother tidies up his kitchen. Normally, he’d feel guilty and nag her to sit down. But things aren’t normal and he’ll take all the help he can get. It’s been an uphill battle trying to pick up the pieces on his own.

His family drove in a few nights ago. They offered to visit as soon as he called with the news, but he didn’t want to put Ella through too much at once, so he waited a few weeks. Once he asked them to come, they dropped everything and set out for the four-hour car ride.

Ella’s playing in the backyard with her grandpa and aunt while Connie helps Zach run interviews. His team’s managers were understanding when he asked for time off, but Zach can’t be away forever. With his training and match schedule, he needs to find a nanny.

He’d rather not introduce a new person into her life, especially this soon, but it’s unavoidable. At least with a nanny, he can control that Ella will always be in the comfort of her home. A place she knows.

Moments like these, he wishes he hadn’t been drafted to a team a state away. If he’d stayed close to his hometown, Ella would see both sets of grandparents more often and he’d have dependable childcare until he figured out how to function as a single dad.

Zach looks over his shoulder through the window, swallowing the lump in his throat when he sees his daughter running circles around her grandpa in the morning sun. The chime of the doorbell throws him out of his trance.

Soft blue eyes meet yours when the door swings open. The stranger on the other side is tall and handsome and younger than you expected, his half-smile clouded by sorrow. You introduce yourself and he offers you a firm but gentle handshake.

“Nice to meet you,” he says. “I’m Zach. Come in.”

You trail him into the large house, mind already racing with the potential of it becoming your workplace. The agency had set up the interview. You don’t know much about the client, except that he has a four-year-old daughter and that he requested a nanny who’s adaptable to a changing schedule.

After meeting Ella’s grandmother, you settle on a couch and make small talk and answer their questions. You learn that Zach is a professional soccer player and that his work can be demanding and inconsistent, but with your apartment being close by, you assure him that you’re reliable and flexible.

By the end of the interview, the idea of a nanny doesn’t make Zach nearly as uneasy as it did an hour ago. You’re kind and experienced and knowledgeable and every time you see his little girl through the window, you smile in pure endearment.

Zach likes the idea of his daughter being around someone joyful. Jade grew to be so cold that Ella learned to go to her dad whenever she wanted to feel reassured and loved. It’s comforting to imagine her growing to like you, maybe even love you, and to be met with the same warmth she’s so full of.

The rest of the interviews go fine, but Zach has always operated on gut feelings and you’re a clear winner. His mom agrees.

────୨ৎ────

After an agency rep calls to tell you that you’ve been offered a trial period, you spend five days at the house getting to know Ella while Zach shadows to answer your questions. He’s friendly and helpful, but visibly tense.

The final afternoon, you’re playing with Ella in the living room when Zach’s phone rings. Ella rushes over to his side, asking if it’s her mommy calling. You notice the nervous way his jaw clenches when he kneels to the floor.

“It’s grandma,” he tells her, holding his phone out so the camera will capture them both.

You pretend you didn’t hear Ella's question. You know nothing about her mom and you wouldn’t dare risk crossing a boundary by asking.

Soon after the call, Ella’s drawing at the dining table while you and Zach periodically glance across the room to check on her from the kitchen. He’s been teaching you how he prepares Ella’s favorite foods. He likes that you write everything down, asking him for details down to exact measurements. If he wasn’t sure that you took the happiness of his daughter seriously before, he is now.

He already told the story to his family and to Jade’s parents and to his closest friends, but that was with people he knew well. People who could comfort him. He’s not sure how to share with you that she left, but he wants to hire you, and this is something you should be aware of.

After he slides a pan into the oven, he stands to face you, towering over you as he wipes his hands with a tea towel.

“You have the job if you want it,” Zach says quietly. You smile at him appreciatively. You weren’t feeling confident, considering how on edge he’s been, but you realize it must not have been you he was nervous about.

“Thank you,” you reply. “I do.”

He nods, looking down as he leans against the kitchen island, and says, “She starts kindergarten next fall. You’d be alright with part-time hours then?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Uh, you should know…” he says, turning his head to look over at his daughter, “her mom left. A little over a month ago. It was out of the blue.”

Your heart twists in pain at his words, at the agony that draws itself into his face.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, staring up at his profile. Zach blinks a few times, gazing at his daughter. You press your lips together, wishing you knew what to say.

“Ella didn’t get a goodbye,” he tells you. Neither did he, not a real one, but that’s irrelevant. “I told her that her mom chose to leave and I don’t know why she made that choice, but I’m not going anywhere. If she brings it up, please say the same.”

“I will,” you reply with an understanding nod, “and only if she mentions it first.”

“Thank you,” Zach says. “I’ll be honest with you. I really don’t want someone to leave her again. You are planning on staying as long as we need you, right? Even when the hours get shorter during the school year?”

He had that same note of desperation in his voice when he asked you about your commitment to the job during the interview, too.

“Yes,” you assure him. “I understand that she needs stability right now.”

Based on the way Zach’s eyes lower, you can tell he needs stability, too. His wife not only left him, but she left him with their child. You can’t imagine the hole that it dug in his heart.

“Thanks,” he says. He takes a breath. He wasn’t strong enough not to cry when he told Ella her mom was gone and he’ll always hate himself for it, but at least he kept his tears from falling this time.

“Do you want to ask her what she thinks about it?” you offer. “I can go put away her laundry to give you some privacy.”

Zach nods in agreement. And as he expected, when he asks his daughter if she’d like for you to hang around here more often after he goes back to work, she gives him an enthusiastic yes.

You’re purposely slow with the laundry to give them time. You come back into the kitchen to see Ella happily eating a freshly baked muffin and swinging her feet, smiling up at her father as he sits next to her at the dining table.

“My daddy said you’re gonna be here every day,” she says to you with a grin, overjoyed by the news.

“Not every day,” Zach corrects her gently. “But most days.”

“Try this!” Ella exclaims, stretching her arm out towards you, the muffin in her fist. The way you happily accept the food even though it’s reduced to smushed fragments in his child’s small hand makes Zach’s heart feel a little lighter.

“That’s delicious,” you say after you take a bite, settling at the table across from them.

Zach’s still getting used to having a woman around who’s so sweet to his child. Jade would hardly ever accept Ella’s offers to share her food, telling him that saying yes to everything would only raise a spoiled child.

“My daddy’s the bestest cook,” she proudly says.

“Best,” Zach corrects. “Thank you, honey.”

“He really is,” you reply. “I don’t know how I’ll fill his shoes, but I’ll try my best.”

Ella’s face pinches in confusion as she kneels over in her booster seat to look under the table.

“I think his shoes will be too big for you,” she mumbles, pointing to your feet. You laugh, meeting Zach’s gaze, seeing the first genuine smile on his face. You didn’t know he had dimples.

He can’t remember the last time he laughed, really laughed, with someone like this. Life’s dealt him a tough hand, but you’ve given him relief.

────୨ৎ────

Zach is organized. So organized that it sort of amazes you. Not only does he give you his, and in turn, your work schedule a month in advance through a color-coded calendar, but he also provides you with a meal plan for Ella so that you don’t have to worry about making one yourself.

The first day on your own with her is perfect. She’s energetic, well-behaved, and loves to talk. Zach left for training at noon and you were surprised that he found the time to text as much as he did. You replied to his every message asking for updates, sharing what you’re doing and reassuring him that Ella’s doing okay.

He gets home an hour after Ella’s bedtime. He’s been on edge all day, worrying that all this was too much, too fast for his little girl. Maybe he should have taken more time off.

You’re finishing up loading the dishwasher when you hear his keys jingling. You turn to greet him as he paces into the kitchen.

“Hey, how was bedtime?” he asks.

“We read three books and she asked me to stay with her until she fell asleep,” you tell him. “No issues.”

Zach sighs in relief. He never liked afternoon training because he missed bedtime. Ella preferred bedtime with her dad over with her mom. She preferred everything with her dad, really. But hearing that she wanted you to stay is reassuring.

“And she ate well?” he asks. He settles on one of the stools lining the kitchen counter, watching you cross the room to stand opposite him.

“Yes,” you tell him. “She was great.”

“Sorry if I was annoying with all the texts,” he says with a small, apologetic smile.

“You weren’t, but I wanted to let you know that it’s okay if you want to set up cameras. I know some parents like having live video they can tune into throughout the day.” You’d already noticed the security cameras outside when you first came to the house. You understand why he’d be so protective.

Zach threads his fingers through his dirty blond hair, damp from the shower he took in the training center’s locker room.

“Alright, I was definitely annoying if you’re offering to be surveilled,” he mumbles with a chuckle.

“No,” you laugh. “Ella did get a little frustrated, though. We were playing princesses and she said princesses aren’t supposed to go on their phones this much.”

Zach breathes a laugh. You’ve only been here for six days, but he hasn’t smiled this much in a long time.

“Thank you for all your work today,” he says. “I won’t keep you any longer.” You give him a bright smile and wish him a good night before you head out.

When Zach trudges upstairs, he peeks into Ella’s room. She’s sleeping peacefully, curled up with her favorite plushie. Now that he has a semblance of normalcy back in his life, he realizes that beneath the sadness and betrayal, he feels anger.

It’s not typical of him to feel angry. But Jade set everything ablaze when she abandoned them and he’s been left in the ashes, trying to stay level-headed while he’s choking on smoke.

He knows he lost Jade’s heart long ago. She lost his, too. It’s the fact that she broke their daughter’s without any hesitation – that’s what kills him.

────୨ৎ────

Zach never takes you up on the offer to have cameras installed. He starts to let go, little by little, eventually going a full day without sending a single check-in text. It’s gratifying to know you’ve earned his trust.

Before you know it, you’ve been Ella’s nanny for two months. She’s made herself a home in your heart. The only way you’d ever leave her is if you were told to, and you can’t even imagine being fired. Zach often checks in to see if you’re happy with your job and asks if there’s anything he can do to make things better. He clearly values you and doesn’t want to lose you.

It’s mid-morning when you’re playing with Ella on the living room floor and Zach comes through the front door. She rushes to him and you smile as you watch him drop his duffle bag and happily scoop his daughter up.

He had an away game last night and flew in early. His skin is blanched, dark half-circles under his eyes, but like always, he finds energy for his daughter. You admire it about him, how she’s never too much for him.

“There’s a plate for you in the kitchen,” you tell him when he meets your gaze.

“You don’t have to–”

“I know,” you say with a laugh. Zach has already told you many times that Ella’s the only one you have to feed, but you can tell he appreciates coming home to a meal. “There were leftovers.”

“Were there?” he asks, brows quirked, an unconvinced smirk on his lips.

You shrug and laugh again. You’ve grown into a friendly level of comfort with each other and you appreciate how you can joke around with him.

Zach sits in the dining room to eat, listening to Ella tell him all about her playdate yesterday. You tidy up the living room as you overhear her chat about how her friend was showing her ballet poses and how badly she wants lessons.

You’d sent Zach a courtesy text before you fell asleep in the guest room last night: We had a great day. She had a lot of fun on the playdate. Just so you’re prepared, she’s VERY into ballet now and is going to ask you if she can get lessons. Sending some options. Then, you sent him a few links to children’s dance classes in town.

You woke up to two texts from him. The first said: Appreciate the warning and the research. Am I crazy for holding on to hope that she’ll like soccer one day? You smiled at your screen. You’d briefly talked with Zach about how Ella has no interest in the sport her father dedicated his career to.

The second text from him, sent fifteen minutes later, read: Would you be alright with taking her to 6-6:45 pm classes on Wednesdays when I can’t? The season starts next week.

You replied when you woke up: Definitely.

You enter the dining room to see Ella hanging off her dad’s shoulders while he tries to eat, continuing to rattle on about how she’d never miss a lesson and would always listen in class.

“Alright, take a breath,” he chuckles. When he tells her you found her a class at a studio uptown and that he’ll enroll her if she’s sure she can commit, she squeals in delight. She hugs Zach, then runs over to hug you, too, nearly knocking you over.

“Easy,” her dad tells her. Ella asks you to turn on the ballet music playlist you found for her yesterday and launches into twirls across the living room.

“Remember what I said,” you tell her over the music. “If you start to get dizzy, you…?”

“Sit down, I know!” she shouts. You meet Zach’s eyes, both of you wearing smiles. You can see the fatigue on his face under the bright dining room light.

“Do you want me to stay another hour so you can catch up on sleep?” you offer. “I don’t mind.”

He knows his heart shouldn’t skip when he looks at you, but it does. He can’t help it. You don’t see this as a job you clock in and out of. You’ve integrated yourself into Ella’s life, into his life, so seamlessly. He doesn’t feel like you’re an employee here. You’re a friend who goes above and beyond to help. You’re someone who his daughter adores. You’re a beautiful person, inside and out.

He looks down at his plate, embarrassed, as if you can read his mind. His head has been doing this lately, rushing into thoughts of you that are much more than professional. He shouldn’t be thinking that his daughter’s nanny is beautiful.

“It’s okay,” he tells you. “You can head home. We’ll see you soon.”

You nod and call Ella over to look at the calendar Zach made. It’s a routine with her every time you leave. She likes knowing when you’ll be back.

When Zach heads upstairs to drop his things off into his bedroom, he stops when he passes the guest room. You left the door ajar. Even though you always keep it neat, only leaving an overnight bag on the nightstand, there’s a lived in feeling, a warmth in the room that never existed before.

Once again, he has to remind himself that you’re paid to be here. But it’s hard not to like you, because even when Jade was living here, he felt alone, whereas having you around makes it hard to ignore that life doesn’t feel all that empty anymore.

────୨ৎ────

“Which one’s yours?”

You look over to the man sitting next to you on the dance studio bleachers. Young girls hop and whirl over the glossy hardwood floor in a sea of pink tutus, five minutes into their lesson.

“Oh, I’m...” You point to Ella. “Her nanny.”

Ella’s been in ballet for a few weeks now and it’s all she talks about. Zach’s schedule allows him to take her to most of her classes, but this is the second one you’ve come to and you can see just how much she enjoys it.

You make small-talk with the man and a few other parents, which makes the time pass quickly. When you get back to the house, Ella scarfs down her dinner and falls asleep during the first book you read her. You’re sitting in the living room when Zach comes home from training.

He’s nearing playoff season and he’s mentioned that he has much more practices booked in his schedule. At this point, he welcomes how you always pretend to accidentally make too much food. He doesn’t expect you to prepare meals for him, but after you’d reassured him that you don’t mind since you’re cooking anyway, he’s relieved to know he’ll have dinner waiting for him tonight.

“Hey,” you greet him from your spot on the couch. “Ballet was the best idea ever. It really tires her out. Bedtime was a breeze.”

“Right?” Zach says with a smile, pulling off his jacket. You look away to avoid gaping at his biceps under his t-shirt. You thought he was good-looking the moment you met him and getting to know him has only made him more attractive.

“I’ve been wanting to ask if you’d like any help with her birthday,” you offer, turning the tv off and standing up. Ella’s fifth birthday is in a month.

“I have some ideas for her party that I’d like your opinion on,” Zach tells you. “Do you want to stay for a few minutes? Or I can just text you.”

“I can stay.”

He’s relieved to hear it. He doesn’t have many moments with you alone. Usually you’re like passing ships in the night, chatting for just a couple of minutes to catch each other up about Ella before one of you leaves the house, so any window of time with you is something he welcomes. Your presence is comforting.

You sit at the kitchen island together. Zach eats as you scroll through his phone, gazing at screenshots of party ideas he saved.

“Oh, she’d love this,” you say, stopping at a photo of ballerina-themed cupcakes. He gazes at you in awe as you look down at the screen. You’re genuinely delighted at the idea of giving his little girl a perfect birthday. “Do you want to have the party here?”

“Yeah, do you think that’s a good idea?” he asks.

“Yeah. If you’re worried about decorating or cleaning up, I’d come early and stay late,” you tell him, continuing to scroll. “She deserves something big.”

He nods, swallowing down his food, too distracted to go for another bite. He can’t wrap his head around how sweet you are. You have no connection to Ella at all, but you treat her like she’s yours. Sometimes more than her own mother did.

You’ve been here for nearly four months now, which in the grand scheme of things really isn’t that long, but he likes that you have such a deep sincerity to you that he can trust that you care about Ella. That you won’t leave.

You look up at him and he glances away, worried he’s been caught staring, clearing his throat.

“Do you know how many people you’re thinking of inviting?” you ask as you hand him back his phone.

Zach’s face falls as he scratches the back of his neck. You’re suddenly tense, the air of familiarity between you now thick and uncomfortable.

“I’m not sure,” he says.

“Sorry,” you say, nervous you crossed a line. “I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“You didn’t,” he reassures you. “Sorry. I’ve just been going back and forth on whether I should invite her grandparents. From her mom’s side, I mean.”

“That must be hard,” you empathize.

“They’ve offered to visit a few times, but Ella hated the idea. She doesn’t even want to talk to them on the phone.”

“Was she like that before?” You don’t have to spell it out for him to know what you mean by before. The topic of Ella’s mom’s abandonment has been a silent cloud hanging over both of you.

“No,” Zach says. “I think she makes the connection that they’re her mom’s parents and she doesn’t want to be reminded of her.”

His lips close into a firm line.

“Well, I admire how you respect her comfort level and let her make decisions,” you say. “Maybe you start the conversation about who to invite and mention the grandparents to gauge her reaction?”

Zach nods, trying not to let his heart get carried away with the way it pounds from your words. He’s received compliments on his parenting from his friends and family, but you see the type of father he is more than anyone else these days. He cares about your opinion and it feels good to hear you approve.

“That’s a good idea,” he says. His fork clatters against his dish and he takes a deep breath before asking what’s been spinning in his head. “I figure you’d tell me, but… she hasn’t mentioned her mom, has she?”

You shake your head no. His forehead wrinkles in concern and it sends a pang to your chest. You lean a little closer, crossing the invisible boundary between you for the first time.

“She could just be processing,” you tell him. “And it might take her a while to talk about it. But she’s okay. She’s resilient. She got it from you.”

Zach hopes that he’s not blushing, but his cheeks are burning. He’s sure you’d be able to tell, but thankfully, you look down and stand straight again, as if what you just said wasn’t one of the most significantly unforgettable things he’s ever been told.

Ella is practically a physical copy of her mother. Zach never minded. But hearing that you think his daughter inherited his adaptability, one thing he’s always prided himself on, feels good.

He wasn’t very confident that he’s been doing a great job at adjusting since Jade left and you just lifted a weight off his shoulders without even realizing it.

“Thank you,” he says. You desperately want to ask how he’s been since his wife left, but you’re afraid you’ve already crossed a line with your boss tonight and you certainly don’t want to risk doing it again.

“Sure,” you reply. “I should go. But I’ll let you know if I think of any ideas for the party. I think the ballerina theme is the way to go. This place will be so pink.”

Zach laughs, trying to ignore the way his chest hollows when you expand the distance between you, stepping away.

“Can’t wait,” he says. “Thanks for dinner.”

“There were leftovers,” you reply, even though both of you are already well aware that every time you say that, it’s not true.

────୨ৎ────

It’s only half an hour into Ella’s birthday party and you’re spent. You’re reaching for napkins from the cupboard to clean up a spill in the dining room. When you turn out of the kitchen, a girl runs past you, tripping and accidentally pouring most of her juice onto your dress.

“Sorry,” she says worryingly, eyes wide as she stares up at you.

“It’s okay,” you reply with a giggle, dabbing at the fabric with one of the napkins. “I came prepared.”

Zach just entered the room, witnessing the moment, wondering if he’s ever going to see you do anything that won’t just push him deeper into his crush on you. But once again, his head is no match for his heart when it comes to you.

He’s been trying not to lose his mind today and it’s not because of the chaotic party that’s taken over his house. It’s because it’s the first time he’s seen you in a dress. While it’s appropriate for the occasion, it shows enough of your figure to make his mouth go dry.

You toss the napkin in the garbage, collect more, then start to make your way to the dining room, looking up to find Zach’s eyes.

“Hey,” you say over the noise. He realizes that your voice somehow settles his pulse and makes it race at the same time. “There might not be enough napkins in the world for this party.”

“Invite everyone she wants,” he teases, imitating the way you convinced him to go along with Ella’s idea to invite all twelve kids from her ballet class.

“I take it back,” you chuckle. When you move past him, the fresh scent of his cologne dances over you and it’s so nice that you don’t want to leave his side. But you shake away the thought and tidy up the spill, then head to the living room to mingle.

It’s better to keep your distance from Zach. You have to remind yourself of it almost every day now. You’d been spending more time together to plan Ella’s party and at this point, it’s actually frustrating how kind and funny and charming and perfect he is.

It took a few evenings of party-planning at the house, your voices low as Ella slept upstairs, to start to get to know each other outside of your job. You’ve learned little things about him, like that he’s left-handed, and that he has a sister ten years younger than him and growing up with her helped him practice parenting, and that he likes a cup of tea before bed because it relaxes him.

You also noticed that he drifts into a more timid version of himself whenever the topic of his profession comes up. You’d mentioned that Ella could eventually grow an interest in soccer, that you’d take her to one of his home games if she wanted, and he nodded with a shy smile, saying he liked the idea.

Every side of him is intriguing, and while your conversations haven’t fallen into anything too personal, you want to know more about him past the friendly distance that stands between you.

Ella quickly darts past Zach in the kitchen and he reminds her that tag is an outside game. He’s relieved that she seems happy and careless today.

He’d asked her about inviting her mom’s parents and she answered with a quiet no. He called them to tell them that this birthday would be too difficult to celebrate together and they understood, opting to send a present in the mail.

Zach is glad he took your advice. As he rounds the corner, he sees you chatting with Ella’s friend’s dad. You probably know him from ballet. Zach has spoken with him, too. He knows the man is divorced.

Jealousy swirls in his chest. He shouldn’t care about you talking to another man. Even though you’ve started to share more about your lives with each other and he’s pretty sure you’re single, you could have a boyfriend you haven’t mentioned.

Again, while he tells himself not to feel things for you, it’s so much easier said than done. He has to look away, wondering why he feels like someone who’s not even his is being taken from him.

All the stress leaves your body the minute the last attendee leaves through the front door. It was a great party, but it was exhausting.

Ella’s eating her dinner as you, Zach, and his family tackle the mess. You make conversation with her while you clean the kitchen, happy to hear her rave about what a good birthday she had.

She asks if you can cuddle her for bedtime. Zach overhears and trudges into the kitchen, crumpled decorations in his hands. He rolled the sleeves of his shirt up and you try to ignore the fact that the mere sight of his forearms makes your stomach go numb with butterflies.

“It’s been a long day,” he says to you quietly. “I can take bedtime.”

“I got it,” you reply. He mirrors your smile. You like that he’s not the type of parent to be bitter that his own kid prefers you sometimes. He’s just happy that Ella’s happy.

When you’re leaning back in Ella’s bed, chatting as you wait for her to doze off, her arm is draped over your body and her cheek is on your shoulder. She’s grown to be totally comfortable with you, always taking the opportunity to be affectionate.

Your eyelids are heavy as you ramble about what she’ll be doing with her grandparents and aunt in the next few days, as they’ll be staying in town for a bit. Zach gave you the next three days off since childcare will be covered.

“I heard your grandma say something about taking you to the beach tomorrow,” you tell her. “Are you excited?”

“Will you come, too?” she asks. You chuckle softly, kissing the top of her head.

“I have work, remember?” you tell her. You and Zach had decided long ago that you don’t want to tell her you’re paid to be here, that your job is taking care of her. You always just refer to yourself as her dad’s friend.

“Okay,” she sighs. She lets out a big yawn. “If I tell someone my birthday wish, will it not become true anymore?”

“I’m pretty sure the rule is that you can tell one grown-up,” you play along, “and it’ll still come true.” She nuzzles in. You assume she’ll mention a gift she wanted but didn’t receive today.

“I wished that you were my mommy,” she mumbles into the dark.

Your throat tightens and your heart sinks and you hate that the sweet, innocent child clinging onto you has to carry the weight of being abandoned. You kiss the top of her head again and try not to cry.

“I love you, okay?” you tell her. She nods and squeezes you tighter and within minutes, her breathing grows deeper.

When you head downstairs, you see that almost all of the mess has been tidied up. Zach is hauling a full garbage bag to the front door, giving you a tired smile when he sees you.

“Do you need any help with–”

“Go home,” he interrupts, faking irritation. You laugh in defeat.

“Fine.” You step into the living room to say goodbye to his family, antsy to have some time to yourself so that you don’t have to force down your tears any longer.

A few seconds after the door shuts behind you, Zach remembers that he’d set aside a container of leftover treats from the party for you.

You pace down the sidewalk into the cool evening air, unlocking your car remotely, unable to stop your tears from building. When you hear Zach call your name, you quickly wipe at your eyes, realizing you’ve smudged your make-up.

“There were leftovers,” he says when you turn to look at him.

“That’s my line,” you try to joke. You take the container. “Thanks.”

He notices the shine in your eyes immediately.

“Are you alright?” Zach asks softly. You gaze up at him, heart breaking a little more at the concern in his expression.

“Just a busy day,” you tell him.

“Did something happen?”

“No,” you say quickly. “Or– yeah, but I was going to tell you later. Without the tears.” You offer a pathetic laugh to break the tension, but he’s too worried to laugh, too.

“What is it?” he asks.

You look up to Ella’s bedroom window. The first time you’d walked up to this house, you were oblivious to the fact that the two people living in it would steal your heart. You know you need to tell him what his daughter said. But you��d hoped you’d have more time to process it.

“Before bed,” you say, your voice thin, “she told me she wished I was her mom.”

It takes all the air out of Zach’s lungs. He opens his mouth to reply, but he’s without words. He crosses his arms, looking down at the pavement.

“I know. It’s a lot,” you mumble. Your temples ache as more tears build up, frustrated that this is Zach and Ella’s reality. “It just makes me so sad. I don’t want to say anything bad about your ex-wife, but I don’t understand how she could just leave you two. Has she not called to check in on her? Or to wish her a happy birthday?”

Your heart starts to thrum even harder. Your words were impulsive, surprising you even though you’re the one who said them, and the fear that you just crossed a line and exposed your feelings for him rushes through you.

“No,” is all Zach is able to say. He stares at you, speechless, biting the inside of his cheek.

“When Ella said… what she said, I told her that I love her,” you say. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course it is,” he says, his tone tender. Your lips twist into a sad smile. You want to hug him. But you step back. Because he’s still your boss and you don’t want him to think you can’t remain professional. You’re already anxious and regretful that you brought up Ella’s mom.

“Thank you,” you say. “I should go. Good night.”

Zach’s dazed the rest of the evening. He watches you drive off. He goes back inside to finish cleaning up. He spends time with his parents and sister, but soon heads upstairs to sleep, too distracted to keep up conversation.

His mind keeps him awake as he lies in bed. He stares up at the darkened ceiling, watching the shadow of the trees by his window rustle in the wind. In a matter of a minute, your relationship reached a new level of vulnerability.

And now that he has time to wade through his feelings, beneath the pain he feels for Ella and what she told you, he can’t deny that his heart fluttered when you said you don’t understand how someone could leave him and his daughter. Maybe you feel the same way about him.

This is not just a crush. He’s falling for you.

────୨ৎ────

You stare at the text Zach sent you a few minutes ago as you brush your teeth the next morning.

Sorry for bothering you on your day off but Ella has asked me about 50 times (give or take) if I can ask you to come to the beach today. I told her you’re busy but you know her. No pressure but we’d all love to have you. Would count as a work day, of course.

It was already hard to keep your feelings for Zach at bay when all you can think about is his smile and his voice and the way he makes you feel more comfortable than any man ever has, but now, you’re afraid it might be awkward when you see him. You’d said something so heavy last night, then left abruptly.

Nonetheless, the love you have for Ella and the love you’re starting to have for Zach is louder than the worry you’re feeling.

You reply: Don’t count it as work. It’s how I’d like to spend my day off. When and where?

A minute later, he sends you the address and time.

It’s late morning when you text Zach that you’ve arrived at the beach. He heads to the parking lot, leaving his parents, sister, and daughter by the shoreline so that he can speak to you alone. He hates that he was too in shock to thank you last night. But it was all so much to take in.

He spots you pulling a bag out of your trunk, greeting you with a soft “hey” to not startle you. It’s so nice to know that you’re here because you want to be.

You turn to see Zach in his swim shorts, his hair wet, water droplets scattered atop his muscles. You close the trunk, hoping he didn’t catch the way your eyes lingered.

“Hey. What’d you tell Ella about the ‘work’ I had today?” you ask, trying to establish a lighthearted tone. “Did my boss let me leave early?”

“We can say that,” he says with a smile. “He sounds like a good guy.”

“He is. It’s my other boss that’s kind of a nightmare,” you joke.

Zach takes you in, squinting a bit.

“You don’t really think of me as your boss, do you?” he asks, realizing he hates the implication. It makes him feel like even thinking about you as more than a friend is deeply unethical. Like there’s a power imbalance and he’s taking advantage of it somehow.

You still for a moment.

“I mean, I don’t know,” you chuckle. “It doesn’t feel like it, but aren’t you?”

“I guess.” His brows furrow. “It just doesn’t sound right.”

“How about we say… Ella’s my boss? And yours, too, now that I think about it.”

Zach laughs, “That works for me.” He nervously crosses his arms. “Uh… before we go, I wanted to thank you for handling last night so well. I think you said exactly what she needed to hear.”

Your face drops slightly. Remembering the way Ella sounded when she told you her wish, resigned but hopeful, breaks your heart every time you think about it.

“Of course,” you say. It’s a relief that he’s not upset about anything you said. “Is she doing okay?”

“Oh, yeah. Being her usual self. I didn’t tell her you were coming, so she’ll be excited.” The way you smile at the idea of making her happy is something he’s grown to adore about you.

You make your way to the shoreline, and as expected, Ella squeals when she sees you, running straight for you. You crouch to hug her tightly, thrilled that you were invited today.

You sit on a line of towels with Zach and his parents and his sister while Ella explains to you what kind of sandcastle she wants to make. You make conversation with everyone over the soothing sounds of the waves crashing against the shore and eventually, you point out a small rubber ball by the cooler.

“You wanna play soccer?” you ask Ella.

“I’m not good at it,” she replies.

“You have the best coach right here,” you say, pointing to Zach. “Let’s give it a try. Maybe we can all work together to score a goal against your dad.”

Zach smiles in surprise when Ella actually agrees. You help him create a makeshift goal line with pebbles and shells as Ella kicks the ball over the sand with her grandparents and aunt. After you set up, you join Ella while Zach makes an exaggerated show of stretching.

“Is that how you always warm up?” you ask him.

“Is there something wrong with it?” he answers. Ella laughs as he dramatically stretches. By now, you can tell by the type of dad he is that he was always on the playful side.

Ella imitates his stretching, then determination flashes over her face and she darts forward to try to kick the ball past him without warning. Zach pretends to be too slow to react, reaching after the ball has already whizzed past him, and lets out a defeated groan.

He picks his daughter up as she jumps in victory, jokingly demanding she tell him when she got so good at soccer. You smile as you watch them share a moment of joy in the sun.

“Ella, would you ever want to go to one of your dad’s games?” you offer.

“Yeah!” she exclaims.

“Yeah?” Zach says. “Why don’t you say yeah whenever I ask?”

“Just take the win, Zach,” you say with a laugh. He grins, loving the way his name sounds when it comes from you.

You enjoy the rest of the afternoon, talking with Zach’s family, playing with Ella, catching glances at Zach when he’s not looking. They invite you to dinner, but you politely decline, figuring you should give them time alone. You thank them for the fun and go home feeling lighter than you did when you woke up.

That evening, as Connie helps Zach clean up after dinner, she mentions how good you are for Ella. He glances down at his mom as she hands him a rinsed plate to put in the dishwasher.

“She really is,” Zach agrees.

“I think she’s good for you, too,” she says with a hint of a smile.

“Real subtle, Mom,” he chuckles nervously. “It’s not like that.”

“Alright,” she says with an unconvinced tone. She takes a beat. “I just need to say–”

“Of course you do,” he mumbles with an amused smirk.

“–that I haven’t seen you this happy in a long time,” she speaks over him. “I haven’t seen you be you. But you are again, especially when she’s around. It’s just nice to see you smiling so much again. I know things have been tough for you.”

Zach’s teeth dig into his bottom lip. His mom is right; things have been tough, even before Jade left. He desperately wanted companionship, to at least come home to someone he could call a friend, but Jade couldn’t give him what he needed. He hasn’t felt full of life in a long time. Not until you knocked on his door.

“I’m better now,” he says.

Connie nods, sadness filling her features as she pulls Zach in for a side-hug.

“Hey, I’m alright,” he consoles her. “Don't worry about me.”

“You’re a parent. You should know the worrying never stops.” She pulls back. “So, you’re really going to deny it? I see the way you look at her.”

Zach shakes his head with an exaggerated scoff.

“You’re relentless,” he jokes.

“You used to tell me everything.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“Alright,” she sighs. “She looks at you the same way, you know.”

“Mom.”

Connie laughs and hands him another plate. He knows that the idea of you looking at him the way he looks at you won’t leave his mind any time soon.

(part two)

[fukcnoplease]

Danny is done. He is tired. He is dead. He deserves a sweet treat and to hibernate under fifteen weighted blankets for nine years.

Instead he is standing in the Gotham City cross country bus station with a dead phone and no sweet treats. He had had the misfortune of having avid ghost hunters as parents, who had demanded he help them with their latest invention instead of joining his friends on a fancy bus hired by Casper High to take them on a multiday, multicollege trip. Apparently they had made an agreement with the school that as long as he met the school trip in one of the cities and still paid for the whole trip, he could still take part and at least catch the school bus home.

Of course, exhausted after helping his parents, catching up on homework, and taking out some ghosts Danny ended up falling asleep on his bus. Now he was standing alone, cold, half-dead, in Gotham City’s main bus center with a dufflebag of clothes and backpack of ghost supplies his parents forced on him.

The school trip was, thankfully, passing through Gotham as one of the universities but they had multiple cities to hit before they got to Gotham. According to the itinerary it would take at least five days for them to hit Gotham and even then theyd be arriving late in the evening.

Danny had to find a place to stay for five nights and something to do for five days. Thankfully, Gotham city is seeped in ectoplasm which means its full of ghosts. Ghost who are more than happy to help a lost boy find a place to stay.

Danny chats with some ghosts, being pointed this way and that before he finds a nice old man dress in a fine suit with an unfortunate gunshot wound to his chest. The man offers to lead Danny to an excellent and cheap place to stay and Danny… is too tired to care honestly. He follows the ghost across the city, hails a taxi, repeats the address the ghost gives him, missing the taxi drivers shocked stare, and falls asleep in the taxi.

He is woken up by gentle taps on the glass by an older looking man and gives a half asleep mumbled thanks to the taxi driver as the old man takes his bags inside. Even in his tired state Danny has the sense to offer to carry his own bags but is politely and sternly refused by a british accent which is enough to wake him up.

Standing in the entrance way of a luxury… hotel? It doesnt seem to have a reception, though, and the decorations feel far to personalized. He glances around to find the helpful ghost staring wistfully at one of the larger portraits. A family of three, a beautiful woman with shoulder length dark curls, a young boy with dark hair and a bright smile, and the face of the kindly ghost.

The butler(?!) calls for Danny to keep up and he rushes to catch up, more out of instinct than sense. The ghost wanders casually after them, pausing to admire artwork every now and again.

The butler drops Danny’s bags in what seems to be a guest room, or maybe this really was just an incredibly fancy hotel, the room had its own ensuite, desk, and empty closet and chest of drawers. Honestly Danny couldnt even hazard a guess anymore.

The butler(manager?) informed him that breakfast was at 8 am sharp every morning and dinner was 6 pm sharp every evening. Danny gave a dazed nod which was apparently all the older man needed before he vanished back into the hallway. Almost as quickly as the ghost did after giving Danny one last cheeky grin.

Queue Danny being weirdly introduced to the Batfam and doing his best to avoid the adoption papers at all costs while also trying NOT to be eldritch and strange around this also eldritch and strange family.

[osmanthus-wine-addiction]

so this is my first ever request, uhm, if your requests are closed, js ignore this! so id like to request a fanfic of zhongli (well obvi) with a pregnant fem reader whos about to give birth!!

Domestic Zhongli is always such a treat to write. Hopefully you enjoy this little fic!

Zhongli x Pregnant Reader

Ever since you first started seeing Zhongli, you were already aware that he was an attentive and devoted lover. The way he listens to you ramble about your day to day activities, an ever-present glimmer of adoration in his eyes, makes you feel like everything you say, feel, and think holds so much weight in his heart. He loves you so much, his beautiful, wonderful, and precious wife. And you, what did you ever do to deserve the sweetest man on Teyvat?

"Thank you, honey." You sigh as you take the cup of water from his outstretched hand. His other hand continued to rub your back as you rinsed your mouth over the toilet bowl.

Zhongli got down on his knee as you sat down on the couch, lifting your dress to reveal your round belly, swollen with his future daughter. He pressed a kiss to the bump, stroking it as he would your cheeks.

"She's almost here. I can hardly believe it." He says fondly, smiling up at you.

You nod, an excited smile on your lips despite the morning sickness the little brat just put you through. Some days, you truly felt like a pile of turd, but for the past eight months, your sweet husband had been your biggest blessing. He couldn't shield you from or help you shoulder the burdens of pregnancy like he could other things, but his constant presence gave you immense comfort.

Zhongli had never been a father before, despite his long life. He had never been a husband either, but you could not ask for anyone more dedicated. His vast knowledge on various subjects from medicine to cooking all seemed to come in handy as well.

One day, you found him in the kitchen making you a pot of, you could hardly believe it, fish head soup. Your husband loathed seafood  For as long as you had known him, he couldn't stand the stench or the slimy texture of it at all.

"Fish head soup is high in nutrients that both you and our little one needs. My discomfort is a small price to pay." He chuckles, but the constant furrow in his brow told you how unbearable the preparation had been for him.

You could only run up to him and smother his face in kisses.

"Now now... Tears are a bit much for a pot of soup, don't you think?" He cooed, palms cupping your face and wiping away the unexpected leakage.

"I can't help it. Everything makes me cry right now." You defended your emotional outburst. Fish soup never smelled so good before.

Aside from fish head soup and ginger pig feet stew, Liyue held many traditions and customs also when it comes to pregnancy. For one, he could no longer go into the funeral parlor for work since being around coffins was strictly forbidden. Hutao gave him permission to stay at home and take care of you. At first, you were ecstatic. That was, until you realized your husband saw it as his personal mission to prevent you from doing anything strenuous at all. He would not let you touch the stove, the dishes, or the broom.

"You're too strict." You pouted after Zhongli snatched the rag from your hand. He had caught you cleaning the toilet after you puked in it again.

"Dear, please go get some rest." He ignored your complaints. "You agreed to let me take care of you. We can go on a stroll later if you need some exercise."

"Fine!" You begrudgingly exited the bathroom.

Your husband did not take things lightly, especially not when it comes to things you agreed to.

The stroll was short since you couldn't handle walking for too long. The whole way, you could feel his steady hand at your back. Eventually, the two of you rested on a bench, watching the sun set.

"She's kicking me again!" You told Zhongli with a pout.

He leaned over your bump, slipping a hand underneath your dress to feel the warmth of your skin and the subtle movement underneath it. A faint smile spread over his lips. "Sweetheart, try not to torment your mother too much. She has had a long day."

"I can't wait for her to come out. She really has too much energy." You laughed. "She's going to be a handful. I just know it."

"She takes after you, my dear." Zhongli hums, his deep voice vibrating against your stomach.

You gawked at his accusation. "And you've never had an unruly phase?"

"Your mother is perfect the way she is, as are you. Unruliness and all." He chuckled.

As if in response to his words, the baby pushed against his hand. You met his eyes, excitement and surprise brimming in them. Zhongli's voice had a distinct magnetism to it. Imagine being confined in a dark and wet place and then hearing a deep, soothing voice like his. You'd try to get closer too.

"She likes you so much already." You said, covering Zhongli's hands with your own. "I have a feeling she's going to recognize you as soon as she comes out."

When you got home, your legs were cramping up again. Zhongli offered to give you a massage, which you happily accepted.

"Our daughter will surely be as beautiful as her mother." He muses, hands gently kneading their way down your thighs. Your tense muscles relax under his ministrations.

"I hope she has your eyes. They're the most striking thing about you." You add.

He chuckles. "Is that so?"

"Well, maybe something else of yours left a deeper impression..." You giggled as Zhongli drapes himself carefully over your body, planting a soft kiss against your forehead.

Zhongli's hands feather over your skin, dipping into your valleys and gliding over your hills. His fingers untie the straps that hold your nightgown togther. Your bump had gotten a lot larger over the months and each time he unclothes you, he can't help but stare in awe.

Inside of you was his daughter, steadily growing every single day. Zhongli's soft gaze swept up your swollen body, as vulnerable and alluring as the first time he made love to you, so incredibly beautiful and perfect in his eyes. He saw not just the present you lying underneath him, but all of you.

Every memory of you from the moment he met you blended together in his unwavering gaze. He imagined you in an apron, shouting across the kitchen at your daughter. After dinner, the three of you would take evening strolls together, hand in hand. He would read the both of you to sleep every night.

An amused smile spread over your lips as you pulled your dazed husband in for a kiss.

"Am I that captivating?"

"More than you will ever know, my dearest." He replied, nuzzling against your neck. "You ought to be used to this by now."

"Never. You can always love me more." You dared him.

Zhongli chuckled. "Indeed I can."

[tideswept]

I ship obikin with my whole heart, but love the idea of Anakin getting seduced by a different Jedi Master much older than him. Like, one who doesn't have as many qualms about getting with a freshly knighted Anakin. And Obi-Wan going so insanely jealous because he already pushed Anakin away because it's inappropriate, wtf is going on fellow Jedi Masters?!?! Anyway, all that to ask, who's a hot jedi master you think would be perfect for seducing Anakin and triggering Obi-Wan's possessive side?

ooh this is toooough. Hm.

Don't think Vos would do it, he can be snarky, sure, but there's no way that man doesn't know that Obi-Wan would be giving him bitchy side eye (and remarks) for life if he did that. Kit might because he genuinely would think it would be A Good Idea (maybe even a favor of sorts for Obi-Wan; he'd treat Anakin right!) but maybe that paints him as a bit of a himbo 😂 who somehow hasn't picked up on how weird Obi-Wan and Anakin are about each other.

I thought about Ti and Billaba but no way they're that dumb as to not realize what a mess they'd be getting into, and for baby freshly knighted Anakin? Not worth the drama.

What I realized after a bit of thinking is that no one who was consistently in Coruscant while the Temple was treated to the Obi-Wan/Anakin shenanigans would be that oblivious/cruel/reckless. So I'm afraid it would have to be someone who probably spent the last ten years in the bumfuck middle of nowhere, probably up to their eyeballs researching some borderline extinct species of Force-sensitive sea slugs, has effectively been incommunicado except for the occasion reports they send back, and then ends up returning to Coruscant, sees Anakin and decides, yes, studying the borderline extinct Force-sensitive sea slugs was a great use of their time, but they deserve a lil' treat now. 😏

(Obi-Wan had kept up with the reports on the Borderline Extinct Force-Sensitive Sea Slugs and was looking forward to meeting up with this Master to discuss nerd things.)

(Emphasis on was.)

[ladyloveandjustice]

Ah yeah, I see. I do agree that Dandadan is doing pretty great as far as gender goes for a battle shonen, particularly a shonen jump manga. The bar is in hell, but I do love that Momo is genuinely treated as an equal, in battle, in narrative importance, and in getting her perspective and emotions centered.

Honestly so far she's actually way better in a fight than Okarun, which I imagine will even out as he gets better, but hopefully he won't overtake her.

(It's also great that she honestly comes off as...I dunno if I'd say smarter, but honestly a lot better at strategy and quick thinking. She's constantly coming up with plans and she's the one who knew about cpr and how it worked while he was like "I don't know???" Oh and she also implemented science knowledge about crabs during the Turbo Granny race...she straight up might be smarter sorry Okarun I'm not saying you're stupid.)

Usually, since Okarun's the "nerd' and she's the gyaru, it would be the opposite, but so far there's no mention of Okarun's being particularly knowledgeable or interested in anything besides aliens? He might not be studious at all. Anyway, it's a refreshing take on both archetypes.

And I love the other female characters so far. Aira, Seiko, Turbo Granny are all so good and so varied...wait Okarun's the only central male character isn't he. There's another guy in the OP we haven't met yet but that's still a ratio of 4 women and 2 men as main characters...incredibly good for a non-harem shonen jump battle manga...ok I should say 4 women and only one of them has feelings Okarun and she's legit the co-protag to be clear what I mean..

And I do agree that it's good that neither stories were gratuitous or graphic about the SA aspect, instead focusing on the emotions. I could genuinely feel the sympathy there, like I said, and Acro Silky's story was effective.

Anyway yeah Dandadan is fantastic with how it treats its female characters for a shonen jump manga, lech stuff aside.

I do agree there's been inches of progress as far as battle shonen goes. Chainsaw Man is the other shonen manga I can think of that's got a lot of great female characters and doesn't treat them as lesser. So that's two. two whole ones. Publishing at the same time even. it's very sad that two is good for battle shonen but... The FMA manga was good with its female characters and still fairly recent--okay no it wasn't its been 14 years now since it ended whhhyyy what is timmmee.

(oh I guess while I'm listing scant past battle shonen I remember that cared about girls... Soul Eater is another one that did okay...but honestly Maka was the only woman who actually got the screen time she deserved due to being. the literal main character, the other girls weren't treated so well. And the sexualization and objectification of the girls was SO ridic it kind of..balanced out. The anime is a lot better about all that stuff though.) (Oh and there's Slayers but that was adapted from light novels rather than manga)

We do have an incredibly long way to go, the genre is so notoriously awful with women--both MHA and JJK are ones I thought might end up being okay-ish with women and quit out of frustration with how they were treated and sidelined and in MHA's case, objectified. But I do think examining the progress and change over the years is fascinating!

Sorry if I came off as confrontational in anyway, I was not annoyed at all but kind of baffled. But I see where you're coming from now.

I was stubbornly not wanting to cry at dandadan I was like "single mom doing sex work supporting her child backstory! obviously some guys are gonna come attack her and her kid will die or be taken I've seen this I refuse to cry for this basic ass woman suffers story wanting to tug my heartstrings I REFUSE"

but then it was so well directed and Momo's reaction and the hug and "to a kinder world" and I cried anyway. you win this one dandadan.

[marvelfanfics1]

This request is based on season 4

How about the boat scene with Rafe being tied up but him being readers CG, how would that go down with reader and the Pogues /nf

You watch as Sarah prepares a tray with food and water for Rafe, standing beside her and fiddling with your fingers.

She knows what you're thinking and smiles at you, sliding the tray towards you. "Why don't you go and give it to him this time?"

You bite your lip, hesitating for a moment but nod your head yes, sending her a small smile before taking the tray in your hands.

You're carefully balancing the tray as you make your way to the tiny bathroom Rafe is tied up in.

First you were mad at JJ for punching him so hard to knock him out but after John b explained to you that the blonde was just overall stressed and overreacting you decided not to press on it any further, knowing that JJ has been through hell the last days.

As you reach the bathroom you slowly push the door open, seeing Rafe sitting on the ground in a manspread leaning against the wall.

He turns his head at the sound of the door creaking, a scowl on his face as he expects to see his sister again but it fades when he realizes it's you.

You crouch down and place the tray on the ground close to him, then sit down crisscross fumbling with the edge of your summer dress that Rafe bought you, not knowing what to say at the moment.

"Y'know, I can't really eat like this." He says lifting his bound hands a bit even though he could eat just fine the last times, he just wants to use the fact you're probably little and are molded into being his good girl to make you untie him. "C'mon, I won't tell them."

You feel torn between your loyalty to your daddy and to your friends, or family to be exact. The pogues have been a part of your life longer than Rafe but him on the other hand is the person you chose to be your caregiver, so you're conflicted.

"I can't..." You mumble, looking down at your lap, not wanting to meet his probably disappointed gaze. "Da others told me not to."

Rafe clenches his jaw, adjusting his position in the cramped space with a groan. "And I'm telling you to untie me, kid."

You shake your head guiltily. "M'sorry, daddy..."

"It's okay, I didn't expect anything else." He scoffs, using his leg to slide the tray closer to him. "You can go. I'm not someone who needs to be fed."

Your chest feels tight at the remark, feeling tears building up in your eyes at his tone, only used to him using the soft one while you're little but you can't really blame him.

Reaching into the small pocket you have on your dress you pull out some chocolate, laying it on his tray beside the cup of water. "I told 'em dat you not gonna be mean bu' they didn' listen..."

Rafe can't help but sigh, now feeling like an asshole for the way he's treating you right now and that he tried to make you feel bad that he's tied up, it's not like he didn't deserve it after all the things he's done.

He's a person who needs to be in control, and being tied up and unable to have the upper hand in this situation is triggering him to no end, that if something should happen he won't be able to do anything.

"Thanks...baby." He gives you a faint smile, glancing at the already open chocolate package. "Someone already had a little taste, huh?"

You giggle quietly but shuffle closer to him, careful to not spill anything that's on the tray, leaning your head against his shoulder you grab the chocolate.

Breaking off a piece you hold it up to him and he gratefully takes the piece into his mouth. "Where did you even get that?"

"Sarah sneaked it into ma pocket." You whisper into his ear and he nods, rolling his eyes jokingly.

"Should've figured that." He chuckles, his cheek pressed against the top of your head, feeling content to have you with him right now.

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

@mythixmagic @iris-xoxo-juhu

For Rafe:

@chiaraanatra @chimindity @erikasurfer

[tsbs-shipfessions]

Me? Writing a Taurus x Sun semi slow burn wherein I am in the second story/chapter-equivalent and Taurus is already crushing and lowkey panicking over it?? Never.

But if I were to be doing that, I may have a few scenarios that may or may not be written out

Like one where Lunar shares "advice" on flirting and making intentions known, but it's all cheesy one-liners, and when Taurus finally caves and uses one in a flustered panic, Sun giggles and the poor bull is left dying on the inside like the guy kneeling on the beach meme

Or one where Sun, Dazzle, Solar and Jack are going on a picnic for the kids and Taurus is invited along last minute, only for the kids to immediately be like "ooooh you wanna kiss Sunny so badddd~" and now Taurus is trying to bribe their silence with playtime and ice cream

Or another where Taurus goes to Moon like "it is customary to seek a blessing for courtship, I have learned" only for Moon to be like "in the fuckin middle ages I guess, yeah??? Why, did Earth get you to watch Bridgerton???????"

Or Earth out of everyone tugging Taurus aside like "I see the way you look at my brother and it is very sweet! Sunny deserves the world - and you're going to treat him right, aren't you? Would be a shame if my boyfriend's gun got into the wrong hands because someone hurt my big brother" and Taurus goes "are you threatening me" just for sweet, angel faced Earth to go "who me? Threaten?? Never! I'm warning you. Politely. With a contextual gravitas to it all. See you later!"

I dunno really, would be wild if I did smth like that, giving Sun Big Boyfriend Privileges, huh-?

Earth has Monty, and Monty has star-powered bullets. I sure do hope Taurus is a good partner.

[pinklayla123]

Putting this reply here because I want it and it saves me time to say the same thing.

So, you, an elriel, I presume, admit that what Elain and Azriel were about to do was indeed wrong? That Elain pursuing another guy while still having the bond with Lucien is not right? Elain who is not technically, but canonically, undeniably, irrefutably Lucien's mate. So you admit that what was about to happen in the first part of the chapter would have been wrong? That if Elain was so in love with Azriel and dying to be with him as Elriels believe she should at least say it to Lucien's face and reject him instead of staying ever in silence because no, a mating bond is not something that you can just ignore away? That there are not just political ramifications to consider but also how Lucien, who has been a literal darling all the time and described by several other characters as a good male, doesn't fucking deserve to be treated this way?

Hello, person behind ghost blog with randomly generated name, who sent a screenshot of a blog that evidently doesn't exist but is tagged in Elucien fanfictions.

First of all, thank you for sending this ask. This is the first time I've gotten a passive-aggressive fandom related ask like this, so this is low-key a tumblr milestone for me. So thank you for that.

I assume the screenshot included is someone's response to an ask they received in regards to this post since the wording is somewhat similar, but I can't actually find the blog you screenshot so idk what's up with that.

Now, onto the actual ask. The screenshot says "Did Azriel think anything about touching Elain feeling like touching the Mother herself? Lol, no." I believe this is referring to this sentence in my post "Touching Elain is the closest this man has come to meeting the Mother herself."

I did not mean to imply, in any way, shape, or form, that Azriel wants to get down and dirty with the Mother and is using Elain as a conduit for that kink. I simply meant to say that touching Elain was a very monumental experience for him. In the back of my head I was thinking about how he was literally questioning the Cauldron ("What if the cauldron was wrong?") which is a large part of the "religion" in Prythian, therefore anything that made him question it is undoubtedly a big deal for him. I see now that this wasn't very clear in the original post, so thank you for allowing me this opportunity to clarify my thought process.

Now, if I may, I will reply to the paragraph you went to the effort of actually typing out. Yes, I ship Elriel, you presume correctly. Do I think Elain and Azriel almost kissing is wrong? No, I'm afraid not.

This seems to be a follow-up to "The situation is wrong because Elain is technically mated to another guy who is literally sleeping upstairs." in my post. Is Elain wanting to kiss the man who has been nothing but kind and caring and gentlemanly since she's known him wrong? No I believe not.

Despite her canonically, undeniably, irrefutably being Lucien's mate, she actually does not owe him anything at all, least of all an explanation, because she did not make him any promises. She never went up to Lucien and said "I wanna explore this thing between us" and then go behind his back. If that were the case, yes it would be wrong. But alas, it is not.

I don't have it in me to go pull out the actual quote, but Rhys said in ACOWAR I believe that a female being a male's mate does not equal to her being accountable to him for every breath she takes. Elain is well within her right to not want to do anything at all with Lucien, as demonstrated by her being more than willing to kiss someone else in the same house.

Okay, if this isn't wrong, then why on earth did I say that it is? Easy. Because while Elain and Azriel are not doing anything wrong, their actions will be perceived as such by others and will have consequences far beyond the two of them.

On the topic of sweet darling Lucien, I wouldn't go as far to say he is one of my favorite characters, but I certainly don't hate him and would like to see him get a happy ending. However, he hasn't really done much for Elain to say he actually cares about her or wants a life-long relationship with her. His inner monologue consists of thinking Elain was "thrown" at him and he chooses to spend his days living with another woman on the other side of the world. Doesn't seem to me like either of them want jack and shit to do with each other.

p.s. Just because someone is a "good male" doesn't entitle them to anyone's time and affections, especially someone who has shown no interest in them and even seem to avoid them.

Anyways, sorry this got a little long. Have a nice day 😊😊

[e-nonsense]

heyy, hope you are doing well and congrats on 2k🫶🫶 can i order peonies with lace and string with a little bit of burlap? for the note, logan and reader have been like fwb for a while (and everybody knows) yet logan is always flirting w jean— the rest is up to you!!

I’LL BE BETTER

pairing. logan howlett x fem!reader

warning. no use of y/n instead logan calls her peach, make up sex, unfinished

you didn’t understand him. he’d be friendly with you when she wasn’t around, but the second jean entered he’d give you the cold shoulder.

pretending that you weren’t anything more than a fuck buddy. it was pissing you off, were you just jean’s replacement? something he could play with in her place.

he knew he could never have her. she treats him the way he treats you, something to have when she can’t get what she wants.

you tried not to think about it. you and logan are nothing more than that. friends who happen to sleep with each other every now and then.

so why’d he always get mad when you’d hang out with another guy, or hell even storm.

dragging you away whenever he could fuck you quickly like horny teenagers. you felt used, because that’s what he’s been doing right? using you.

this had to stop. it was hurting you more than it should’ve, it was supposed to be innocent — as innocent as sex with your close friend could be — fun.

“stop it logan.” you pushed him away from you, stepping back when he tried to reach for you again.

“what?” his brows furrowed in confusion, “why?”

you hated that look, the foreign soft care in his hazel eyes as he watched you.

“i don’t want to do this anymore.” you murmur.

“why not?” he asks, “don’t look away from me, peach. tell me why.”

your bottom lip trembled in a way he hated, he knew this was his fault. he was messing with you, putting you second to jean because he couldn’t get over her. you were the perfect girl.

pretty, and kind, sweet in every way he needed. you looked out for him, took care of him. jean didn’t do any of that for him. so why did he keep hurting you?

“i’m sorry, peach. really i am.”

you shook your head as you turned away from him, you deserved better. he let you go, watched as you walked away from him, up until you turned a corner and escaped his eye line. he stayed there frozen until he couldn’t smell you anymore.

he had to fix this.

step 1: find jean

he found her in the lab later that same day, he hated the way he was drawn to her immediately. moving to her side instantly. “hey.”

“logan,” jean smiled at him turning her head to look up at him.

“we need to talk.”

“about?” jean asked, tilting her head curiously.

“this. you, me, us.” logan says, “whatever this is. it needs to stop.”

jean has scott, she doesn’t need to keep leading him on. “oh, of course.” she smiled, though it didn’t meet her eyes, she knew she was in the wrong, leading another man on while very much engaged to scott. maybe she just liked the attention, the fact that someone else wanted her too.

“i hate to do this to you, but i don’t need this. peach she—”

“you like her.” jean notes.

he nods, “i do.”

“i’m sorry logan,” she says as he turns around.

“i know.”

he takes his leave, the door sliding closed behind him as he walked. thinking about what he’d say to you now.

step 2: apologise to you

apologies had never been logan’s strong suit, with the life he’s lived, there’s been no time for regrets. but he’d try, for you.

logan’s fist came down against your door, knocking twice, a signal to you that its him. “hey peach… can we talk?”

no answer.

“peach, i’m sorry. really i am, i didn’t mean to put you in that position. you didn’t deserve any of that.”

the knob on your twisted, and he could see you peeking up at him from the crack. “can i come in?”

you nodded, opening your door further, enough for him to step through. he noticed the dried tears on your cheeks and the puffy redness to your eyes, you seemed to have fallen asleep like that, in his big shirt.

you close the door behind you, leaving you open to his hug. he grabs you before you can run, hugging you tightly to his chest.

“how can i make it up t’ya? i’ll anything for you, peach.”

“can we lie down?” you ask, before adding “together?”

he doesn’t reply, instead lifting you up and carrying you to the bed, he lays down on his back, letting you cuddle up on top of him.

cuddling turns into something more, you can’t find it in you to stop. he’d innocently pressed a kiss to your neck, something to just reassure you then you’d started exchanging kisses.

it started innocently, kisses to just show the care you had for one another. then he smelt your arousal, letting out a low groan before he rolled over so he could cage you under him.

“tell me you want this, peach.”

“want this, i want you.”

“good girl.”

extending a single claw, he cut through your — his shirt.

“logan!”

“hmm? i’ll give you another one.”

his hand slid down your body as he met your lips in a kiss, gentler than the ones he’d normally give you. his fingers moved over your white cotton panties, he could feel your dripping arousal coating them.

“you’re so wet, i thought you were hating me.” he couldn’t help, really. whenever he got the chance to be a smug bastard he’d take it.

“fuck off,” you mutter, he chuckled at your grumpy response while he pulled your panties to the side with two fingers, running his ring finger through your pretty folds.

“i’d rather fuck you,” he grinned, pulling your panties down your legs before unbuckling his belt.

and he did. he fucked you hard and good, whispering apologies into your ear as he did, kisses trailing down you neck. you wondered how someone could fuck your brains out and make you feel loved at the same time, but logan was a complicated man.

© e-nonsense. do no copy/steal/translate. do it and I’ll bite your toes off

[starlightshadowsworld]

Tw child abuse

Concept: Atsushi doesn’t leave the Orphanage unscathed (combined with my headcanon that Atsushi’s weakness is fire.)

The Headmasters ire was never not aimed at Atsushi. But on that final day it felt demonic. He ran but two other staff members held him in place.

Through every punch.

Every kick to his frail broken body.

Atsushi thinks he passed out when the hot poker seared his flesh. But all he can recall from that were the sound of his own own screams.

Just as Atsushi thought he was going to die he was tossed out into the freezing night.

He was no stranger to the cold. To the pain that had become his only companion in life. But this was unbearable. Yet he gritted his teeth and crawled away from the closed gates.

His clothes were shredded from age and being torn apart into makeshift bandages. Atsushi didn’t really know how to tend to wounds, especially burns as severe as these.

It’s not like he’d ever been worth wasting medical supplies over.

Hunger was another old friend that joined him on the way. It probably sounded weird that Atsushi was grateful for it. It kept his mind off the scars that scattered across his body.

How they burned no matter how cold he was.

The tiger popped around days later and Atsushi wondered if being eaten would hurt any less.

Atsushi wasn’t really paying attention to the bandaged man’s…Dazai’s words. The cold water felt like both a blessing a curse. He contemplated jumping back in. But the evenings chill would get him if he tried.

Dazai frowned, noticing something amiss but figured it was simply Atsushi’s hunger. And yet that unease didn’t fade once Atsushi had eaten more then a few bowls of chazuke.

The relief at being full was quickly overtaken by the pain. Because now it was front and centre in Atsushi’s mind. He wasn’t listening to Dazai and Kunikida, not really.

He got up to leave and cried out when Kunikida lifted him up. For the action caused his charred shirt to rise up and rub against the burns on his stomach.

Kunikida let him go, concern flashing in his eyes as he wordlessly turned to his partner. Checking that Dazai had seen it too, which he had now.

The little bit of damage they’d manage to see was horrific. The fact Atsushi wasn’t on the ground crying in agony told them, along with the holes in his story that he was gifted.

Because no average person could survive such wounds.

Dazai jumped as the tiger leaped at him. Nullifying the ability but not before making a mental note of the patches of damaged fur.

He caught Atsushi and gently laid him on the ground. Just as Kunikida walked in closely followed by Yosano. Atsushi awoke soon enough, taking the new information about as well as one could.

And then… “Atsushi, are you hurt?” Atsushi not so subtly shrank back at the question. “It’s fine” came the immediate response.

Yosano gave Dazai and Kunikida a look and without a word both got up and left. Standing out by the door just incase.

“You’re not in any trouble.” The disbelief on his face made her both mad and sad. She’d seen to many with such an expression and it never got easier.

From the brief talk with Kunikida she could tell was Atsushi a person that assumed everything was his fault. It was probably why he got hurt to begin with. As some sort of twisted punishment.

She couldn’t wait to show those people something truly twisted.

“You don’t have to tell me. I just want to make sure that you’re okay.” The honesty might’ve been why Atsushi hesitantly rolled up his shirt. Yosano didn’t let her anger show and instead focused on inspect the wounds after gaining Atsushi’s consent.

Her touch was feather light and he slowly began to explain how he got such injuries to begin with. “You didn’t deserve any of that” she hoped one day he’d believe her. For now Yosano was just relieved he’d let her treat his wounds.

Without her gift that is which she wasn’t surprised by but accepted. Atsushi had suffered enough anyway.

Yosano did what she could. Kunikida used his ability to conjure up any equipment she didn’t have on hand. While Dazai sat by Atsushi’s side and regaled him in the most ridiculous tales as he laid in their infirmary.

Atsushi should’ve been admitted to the hospital but with the bounty there was no chance of that happening. He was afraid but he seemed to have done trust in them. Which after all he’d been through was a miracle in enough itself.

His burns were severe and he’d developed a fever but Atsushi would heal. It would take a lot of work, regular check ups and salves but slowly but surely he would heal. Hopefully it wouldn’t just be his injuries.

“So he’s joining us right?” Asked Yosano, stepping out to the main office. It was only the three of them here at this hour. “Yup” said Dazai and though Kunikida looked sceptical he nodded.

“Alright, but we’ll have to post pone the entrance exam and we’ll need to ensure his health is a priority during his time with us” and on Kunikuda rambled because he’d already grown fond over Atsushi.

The other two teased Kunikida as they made a scheduleso that someone would be with Atsushi throughout the night. Checking up on him and making very elaborate revenge plots against his orphanage.

Atsushi was one of theres they just needed to make it official.