#But he doesn’t even know why they got kicked out

[pinkflower2003]

Can you do an imagine where reader is heavily pregnant and overdue. She’s grumpy and sore and just overall not feeling too good so (driver your choice) comforts her and tells her how amzing she is? 😩

Overdue Love - Lando Norris x Reader

a/n: Thank you so much for your request my love!!🍓 I loved working on this one, such a cute idea! I have no idea why I wrote for Lando, but I thought he would be such a good girldad <3

Send in your requests!

Masterlist

Y/N sat on the couch, shifting uncomfortably as she tried to find a position that didn’t make her sore back ache. She was heavily pregnant, overdue by a week, and every minute felt like an eternity. Her swollen belly seemed to defy gravity, and the heat of the afternoon didn't help. She sighed deeply, glancing at the clock and wondering if this baby would ever decide to make an appearance.

Lando, her loving and supportive partner, walked into the living room with a gentle smile. He had just finished a video call with his team, but his thoughts were entirely with Y/N. Seeing her discomfort, he immediately came to her side, his concern evident in his eyes.

“Hey, love,” he said softly, sitting down next to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “How are you holding up?”

Y/N sighed again, leaning into his embrace. “I feel like a beached whale, Lando. Everything hurts, and I’m so ready for this baby to come out.”

Lando chuckled lightly, his fingers brushing through her hair soothingly. “You’re doing amazing, you know that? I can’t imagine how tough this is, but you’re handling it like a champion. Our little girl is just taking her time, getting ready to meet the most incredible mom.”

Despite her grumpiness, Y/N couldn’t help but smile at his words. Lando always knew how to make her feel better, even in the most uncomfortable situations. She placed a hand on her belly, feeling the baby’s gentle kicks.

“She’s already got a sense of drama, just like her dad,” Y/N teased, looking up at Lando with affection.

He laughed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Well, she does have a flair for the dramatic. But she’s also got the best parts of you. I can’t wait to meet her.”

Y/N tried to shift again, her face contorting with discomfort. “I can’t find a position that doesn’t make me feel like I’m being crushed.”

Lando got up and fetched a couple of pillows, arranging them around her to provide some support. “Here, try these. Maybe it will help a bit.”

As Y/N settled into the new arrangement, she sighed with a bit more relief. “That’s better, thank you.”

“You know,” Lando began, sitting back down beside her, “I’ve been thinking about how strong you’ve been through all of this. The morning sickness, the cravings, the sleepless nights… You’ve handled everything so well.”

Y/N laughed lightly, though it was tinged with exhaustion. “I don’t know if I’d call it handling it well. More like surviving.”

“Well, to me, you’ve been amazing. I’m in awe of you every day,” he said sincerely, his eyes shining with admiration.

Hours passed with Lando staying by Y/N’s side, making sure she was as comfortable as possible. They watched movies, reminisced about the past, and talked about their hopes and dreams for their little family. Despite the discomfort, Y/N felt grateful for Lando’s unwavering support and love.

As evening turned into night, Y/N began to feel the first twinges of contractions. At first, she brushed them off as more Braxton Hicks, the false labour pains she’d been experiencing on and off for weeks. But as the contractions grew stronger and more regular, she knew it was finally time.

“Lando,” she called out, her voice tinged with both excitement and nervousness. “I think it’s happening.”

Lando’s eyes widened, and he immediately sprang into action. “Alright, let’s get everything ready.” He had been preparing for this moment for months, and his excitement and nervousness were palpable.

They grabbed the hospital bag, which had been packed and ready for weeks, and headed to the car. Lando drove carefully but quickly, glancing over at Y/N every few seconds to make sure she was okay.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, reaching over to hold her hand.

Y/N winced as another contraction hit. “It’s intense, but I’m okay. Just keep driving.”

They arrived at the hospital, and the staff quickly ushered them into a room. Lando stayed by Y/N’s side the entire time, holding her hand, encouraging her, and reminding her to breathe. The hours of labour were gruelling, filled with moments of pain and anticipation.

Y/N squeezed Lando’s hand tightly as another contraction rippled through her body. “This is so much harder than I thought it would be,” she admitted, tears streaming down her face.

Lando wiped her tears away gently, his own eyes glistening with emotion. “You’re doing great, love. Just a little longer, and we’ll have our baby girl in our arms.”

Y/N nodded, taking a deep breath and trying to focus on Lando’s soothing voice. He talked to her about their future, about the first time they’d bring Poppy home, about all the things they would do together as a family. His words were a lifeline, helping her push through the pain.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the moment arrived. With one final, powerful push, their daughter entered the world. The room filled with the sound of her first cries, and Y/N collapsed back against the bed, exhausted but overwhelmed with joy.

“She’s here,” Lando whispered, tears of happiness streaming down his face. “Our little Poppy.”

The nurse placed the tiny, squirming baby on Y/N’s chest, and she looked down at her daughter with a mixture of awe and love. “Hi, Poppy,” she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. “Welcome to the world.”

Lando leaned in, kissing Y/N’s sweaty forehead and then the baby’s tiny head. “You did it, Y/N. You were amazing.”

Y/N looked at Lando, her heart swelling with love and gratitude. “We did it,” she corrected him, her voice filled with emotion.

The next few days were a blur of feedings, diaper changes, and sleepless nights, but through it all, Lando and Y/N were a team. They took turns holding and comforting Poppy, marvelling at every little coo and movement she made.

One night, as they sat together on the couch with Poppy sleeping soundly in Lando’s arms, Y/N rested her head on his shoulder. “I can’t believe she’s finally here,” she said softly.

Lando smiled, looking down at their daughter with a tender expression. “She’s perfect, just like her mummy.”

Y/N laughed lightly, though she was still tired from the labour. “I think you’re a little biased.”

“Maybe,” Lando conceded, “but it’s true. You’re amazing, and Poppy is amazing because of you.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, simply enjoying the peace and quiet. Y/N felt a sense of contentment she had never experienced before. Despite the sleepless nights and the challenges of being new parents, she knew they were incredibly lucky.

“Do you remember the first time we talked about having kids?” Lando asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

Y/N nodded, smiling at the memory. “It was on that trip to Italy, right? We were sitting by the lake, and you said you wanted a big family.”

“Yeah,” Lando said, his eyes distant as he recalled the moment. “I remember thinking how perfect it would be to raise a family with you. And now, here we are, starting that dream.”

Y/N felt tears welling up in her eyes again, but this time they were tears of happiness. “I’m so glad we’re doing this together, Lando. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Lando leaned over and kissed her gently. “Me neither, love. Me neither.”

As the weeks passed, they settled into a routine, learning the ins and outs of parenthood together. There were sleepless nights and moments of frustration, but there were also moments of pure joy and love. Lando continued to be a supportive and loving partner, always ready with a kind word or a helping hand.

One evening, as they were getting ready for bed, Y/N looked over at Lando, who was gently rocking Poppy to sleep. “You’re such a natural with her,” she said, admiration clear in her voice.

Lando looked up, smiling. “I’ve had a great teacher,” he said, nodding towards her. “You’re an amazing mum, Y/N.”

Y/N blushed slightly, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. “We make a good team, don’t we?”

“The best,” Lando agreed, walking over and placing Poppy in her crib. He wrapped his arms around Y/N, pulling her close. “I’m so grateful for you, for us, and for our little Poppy.”

Y/N rested her head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. “Me too, Lando. Me too.”

#formula one imagine #f1 imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris #formula one x reader #formula 1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #ln4 #ln4 imagine #baby imagine #pregnancy imagine

[gigglesandfreckles-hp]

If accepting drabbles/prompts, here’s one:

Jily Drabble(): “Mum! Dad! I’m in love!” said James Potter, enthusiastically and for everyone to hear.

a jily prompt? why the heck not!!!

They’ve already been idling outside of the pub for the better part of ten minutes. “I can’t do it,” Peter says, chewing at his lips. He still looks a little green from when he puked in the bushes only moments before. “My mum’s already going to kill me for being out so late without telling them.” “And I need to get this one home,” Sirius says, practically holding Remus’s entire body weight up. “I could take Remus home,” Lily suggests, beginning to feel panicked. “He could side-along with me and you could take Potter and—” “Moony lives in Wales, Evans. We don’t have a portkey and it’s too far to side-along. We’re gonna take a train.” “I could do that,” she says quickly. “It’s no trouble.” Sirius shakes his head, adjusting Remus’s limp arm as Remus murmurs incoherently into Sirius’s shoulder. “He’s the worst drunk of all of us. I’ve got it.” “But—” Sirius glances over at James. “Just drop him in the front lawn, Evans.” “I can’t just—” James makes a noise that sounds something like a scoff. Maybe. “Don’t dump me in…lawn?” Sirius gives Lily a Look, proper noun, and she knows she’s lost this battle. He really can’t be left to get himself home safely. She doubts he’s ever ridden in a cab or she’d offer to just pay for that. No, it seems the only option here is for her to apparate him to his house. His parents likely aren’t even awake. It’ll be fine. “Evans,” Sirius says firmly. “This is a ‘girlfriend duty.’” Lily flushes. “I’m not—” James wraps an arm around Lily’s waist and pulls her—or rather pulls himself—closer. “Could be,” he says, and Lily doesn’t need to look at him to know he’s pouting. “Wait, you’re dating now?” Peter asks, eyes wide. Sirius shuts his eyes and uses his free hand—the hand that isn’t responsible for Remus still being upright—to rub at his temple. “Keep up, Wormtail. No, they’re still not dating. But also no, they still haven’t mastered a Silencing Charm to spare the rest of us from hearing what they get up to while somehow not dating.” Lily’s face deepens to a deeper crimson shade while James giggles—actually giggles—at her side. Remus groans loudly, prompting Lily to sigh in resignation. “I need a description of the house,” she says, prying James’s hand from wandering up the back of her shirt. “It’s in Godric’s Hollow,” Sirius replies. Lily frowns. “But I thought he lived—” “Renovations,” he offers as an explanation. “They have a small cottage in Godric’s Hollow. The Potters lived there when they first got married. Anyway, it’s in West Country. There’s a church just up the street. You’ll know it when you see it.” “I’ll know it when I…” “I’m right ‘ere,” James mutters, his hand still fiddling with the hem of Lily’s jumper. “I know what…own house looks like.” “Well, there you go,” Sirius says with a smirk. “He knows what own house looks like.” “Piss off, Pa’foot.” Lily takes hold of James’s hand and starts steering him away from the pub they’ve just been kicked out of, since it closed over half an hour ago. “O-kay, Potter. Let’s go on an adventure.” continue reading on ao3

#my fic #jily

[sollsmith]

Changes to HOTD Season One

I may get jumped for this but this was in my drafts after I saw someone else mention some changes they would have made to season one. So in light of season two arriving in a month, here are mine that I would added/changes to make the series run and little more coherently without changing the entire plot; 

More highborn ladies around Rhaenyra and Alicent. 

I just found it a little unbelievable that the Princess and named heir had a grand total of one friend. I like the idea of Rhaenyra and Alicent having a small core group of highborn ladies. I also think it would have been great to add to the dynamic of when their friendship falls apart. 

Maybe they gravitate to Rhaenyra’s ‘side’ as she will be future queen, further isolating Alicent, adding to her eventual hatred/treatment of Rhaenyra. I think the fall out of Rhaenyra and Alicent’s relationship especially in the beginning needs a little extra kick, and this is a simple and effective way to do so. Not only was Rhaenyra given the freedoms Alicent never was, she also ‘took’ all her friends with her.

Once we made the jump to Olivia taking over as Alicent I would have gone full ‘book Alicent’, or at least once Driftmark happened. 

I think the flitting between hating Rhaenyra and caring for her doesn’t work (unless you are a Rhaenicent, if we are being honest!). 

They should have let Alicent fully believe Otto’s brainwashing, especially after the response to Aemon being marred. I genuinely believe that would have made Alicent even more sympathetic to the general audience as well, as I just don’t think the back and forth is really logical after that point, and the general audience just sees her as a hypocrite, not as another victim to Westeros’ patriarchy. 

I think it would have been beneficial to see more Alicents scheming against Rhaenyra in court etc. It would have been very cool to see her go fully spiteful and powered by fear (mainly because of how Olivia played the small glimpses we did see at times, and they worked better for me than the more sad/passive Alicent we got at other times).

It also would have prevented having the foot fetish scene with Larys. I do not understand why that was the route, when they could have Alicent be a willing participant in those schemes, which is much more interesting. Also no ‘misunderstanding the prophecy’ scene, or the green council going the way it did, or Rhaenyra crying over a 20 year old piece of paper….

Either given Rhea more screen time, or went with the book version of events with killing her off screen.

I understand logically why they had Daemon kill her, but due to the lack of screen time, I just don’t think the audience cared about her enough to really hold Daemon to it. I think killing her off screening, and having Daemon find out in the Stepstones via letter, and a scene of him actually going to the Vale to try for his inheritance all smug without a care for his dead wife, would have been just as an effective way to show Daemon’s disdain and hatred for his first wife, if not more effective.

Daemon and Laena’s relationship. 

I think it would have been nice to actually allow Daemon to be shown to be a somewhat decent man at certain times. I just think if canonically the character is described as ‘made of light and darkness in equal parts’ they should have made more of an effort to show that, have Daemon’s love for his family be his light. It also means that when he is dark, it’s actually more shocking and cruel as we know he is making an active choice to be that way, that at his core he is not a good man, despite the light we see with his family. It reduced Laena to a stepping stone plot point, and I just wasn’t a fan of that. 

Inclusion of Laena and Rhaenyra's relationship. 

I just think this would have played well into the fact that to Alicent, Rhaenyra, no matter how much she believes she breaks the rules, does what she wants etc. she is still constantly surrounded by people that love her, while all Alicent has done has lived dutifully and ended up in a loveless marriage with no one to turn too but Larys fucking Strong. 

Bi Daemon 

Because that is something I want, and I’m allowed to be selfish every once and a while!

#house of the dragon #hotd #daemon targeryan #rhaenyra targaryen #laena velaryon #alicent hightower #otto hightower #larys strong #rhea royce

[felicitywrites]

run, hope, run! | jungkook x reader [1]

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED | felicitywrites on tumblr (2024) no reposts, translations, or any type of distribution allowed.

synopsis: painting daisies on your wall that separated your haven from the rest of the world was jungkook, the boy whose hands were delicate as the heart you once had - the boy you waited hundreds of mornings for by the dumpster in the back of his grandfather’s garage, all while yelling at him through the crack in his window for missing homeroom again.

the doe-eyed sweetheart you thought you’d spend countless spring afternoons with, but then seasons changed - and you’re scared he did too.

pairing: artist!jungkook x named!reader

genre: 40% angst, 40% fluff, 20% smut

theme: an entire plot out of the word, midsummer, which means,

n. a feast celebrated on the day of your 26th birthday, which marks the point at which your youth finally expires as a valid excuse—when you must begin harvesting your crops, even if they’ve barely taken root—and the point at which the days will begin to feel shorter as they pass, until even the pollen in the air reminds you of the coming snow © thoughtcatalog

warnings: bittersweet memories of a childhood through flashbacks, phone conversations, emails, teenage angst, what it feels like being in the friend zone, graphic descriptions of a crime (jk yn were witnesses as children), tiger parenting (let’s not tolerate this), and lastly, smut

status: ONGOING

word count: 3.7k

song recs: little league - conan gray | worlds apart - wallows | your eyes tell - bts | still with you - jungkook

taglist: @awseokjin @chimmy_licious @landl7xoxo @aalz @quechulitaaa @whoa-jo let me know if you wish to be added!

[00] [01] [02] [03]... and so on?

Eight years ago. October 31st, 4:05 PM

[jung]: are we really doing this?

[jeon]: yes, you know why we should

[jung]: what about grandpa?

[jung]: what if cherry doesn’t come back??

[jeon]: you worry too much, i got it, ok? :) 

[jung]: uh, okay, so i’ll see you at the dock then

[jeon]: let me just finish this, see you, jung.

[jung]: i’ll wait for you

Present day. 9:15 AM

“And why aren’t you downstairs yet?”

You kick off the comforter enough for your face to be seen. Instantly, you are blinded by the sunlight from across the room. You have to remind yourself to rearrange the bedroom when you get home.

When will that be, anyway?

“Should we really leave this early? It’s not like we’re even part of the main guestlist..” you question, finally sitting up to roll your hair into a bun, then reach for your clamp at the foot of the bed with your free hand. 

You notice how it’s unusually quiet. This isn’t a normal Saturday morning in the neighborhood, especially at the residence. Your roommate is patiently waiting next to you, standing with her arms crossed.

Clearly, she’s getting pissed. You’re supposed to be at the lobby by exactly 9 o’clock in the morning, and it’s been fifteen minutes since she made the first unanswered call.

You can’t even remember where you put your phone last night. The thought of leaving for vacation somehow felt overwhelming, to the point where you needed to drink it away, the very night before the scheduled trip.

Celine can’t blame you, though. How could she, when the said vacation is a result of your embarrassing loss to an Uno game over a week ago.

And the agreed destination is none other than Springfield.

The small town you were born and raised in. 

The place you left—and nearly forgot, until you saw it on the news on the night of the game between you and the housemates.

‘Springfield Art Festival commences this Friday, March 22, and for the first time in its history, the small town is opening FREE access tickets to all events—a gesture Mayor Lee is returning to the public who have been nothing but supportive of Springfield’s consistent growth in terms of—”

“Damn, what growth is he even talking about..”

“Seriously, Hope, if you don’t start moving I’m leaving without you. There’s no way you’re getting any chance at a good bus seat, let alone a ticket. All trips via train have been booked too.”

You’re running to the bathroom before Celine says another word, and was able to even catch your towel mid-air when she decided to throw it at you.

Shower thoughts and a nearly empty body wash bottle are your worst enemies, but you have no other options right now. 

To start with, Jeon. It actually feels weird that he’s crossing your mind now, of all days. This is why you try your best to avoid talking or seeing anything related to Springfield. Everything about it reminds you of him.

Oh boy. You can’t be thinking about him in the shower. What are you, 18?

Eight years ago. That’s how long you haven’t seen that boy. Jeon Jungkook. Isn’t it strange how one second, you knew all about him—next thing you know, there’s nothing that you remember?

Maybe that’s not the case. Maybe, you’ve just spent too much time away that you don’t even recall his birthday. 

What an idiot, Hope. You were born on the same day. 

“Hope, should I ask my nail tech to come by so I can get my extensions fixed? How long do you plan on doing your ‘routine’ there, anyway? You do know it’s been eight years since, and there’s a chance Jeon doesn’t remember what you look like, right? It’s not like he’d even care if you haven’t gone back to your monthly facial treatment—”

SLAM. 

“Will you shut that filthy mouth of yours now?”

Isn’t it funny how eight years ago, you had the most introverted best friend, with a humor only you tolerated, and now you got this rambunctious, red-haired lady, who believes in the power of your birth chart?

Sometimes, it’s hard to simply thank her for accidentally picking you up at the terminal when you arrived, lost and utterly exhausted after a rough 5-mile walk, and a 5-hour train ride. Or the fact that despite her mistake, she still offered to give you a ride to a nearby hotel.

You were eighteen, barely out of high school, with no concrete plan—just a gigantic luggage, a duffel bag, and a loaded backpack with you. Not to mention the emotional baggage you had to carry along. 

At this point, giving Celine a hug is already considered an act of showing gratitude. You mean well, you always have. 

Maybe this trip shouldn’t be treated as a punishment over a silly little game. 

What if this is what is meant for you, after all these years?

“Who thinks of a boat ride as an escape? Did Jeon think he was in a movie or something?”

When you are a teenager with raging hormones, and complicated emotions; you tend to romanticize every little thing you do. There’s satisfaction in living in a fantasy you decided to create for yourself. 

Since you were a child, you escaped reality through art—and not just any art. In addition to Jungkook’s craft as a color prodigy, as his grandpa would call him, his creative mind was your solace.

He let you navigate within the walls he built around his existence. With his artworks spread throughout his grandparents’ home, to his very own mini gallery inside the school library, you were a regular—almost its caretaker.

So when he lazily told you his plan over the phone, of the boat ride to the train station, you paid no mind to the atrocity of the idea itself. You didn’t even consider the stuff you had to bring with you.

From your metaphorical getaway to run from your sick reality for a while, to an actual escape leaving everything behind but him, you didn’t take a moment to reevaluate.

To realize what you were unconsciously asking him to sacrifice for you.

“I asked him to run away with me, I didn’t think he’d say yes. That kid always thought life was colorful.. I guess I couldn’t blame him for thinking a boat ride was better than just asking Jimin to drive us there since it’s in the middle of the night.”

Celine pulls over at your first pit stop. Seatbelts off, you let out a heavy sigh at the thought of another old friend. 

“Funny how I think if Jimin actually drove you, then I wouldn’t have picked you up… wrongfully,” she says, casually zipping her bag open to take two cans of instant cold brew.

“Oh my god, you’re right!” you exclaim, putting it into perspective. If you were able to leave Springfield the only correct way, then you would’ve arrived on time.

You wouldn’t have met Celine, or any of the housemates, also known as her family whom she preferred to call ‘housemates’ as a clear separation. Her family is Springfield for you. 

“Speaking of Jimin, you were just emailing him, right? How’s he? Did you tell him we’re coming?” she asks, nose scrunched up after the first sip of coffee. 

You shake your head, “I can’t. He’s a blabbermouth. Likes to announce things for no reason.”

“To spite you. That’s a good reason. I mean, you cooked that stupid plan with Jeon and decided to leave Jimin out of it when he’s the one with all the resources. You underestimated the dude.”

You frown, quick to defend yourself. “You’re siding with him.. And what do you mean we left him out, he’s the first one I told about it! Heck, we lived in the same house for years, he knew how sick I got of the town.”

“You sound like my mom, jeez. Have some donuts here.”

Silence fills the air as you choose to eat the frustrations away. Somehow, Celine’s right. You had the option to leave not Jimin, but Jungkook out of that plan. If you were not prideful enough, you could’ve asked the Parks for help. 

Jungkook didn’t have to suffer along with you.

If he ever did suffer, that is. Eight years is a long time for a boy like Jeon Jungkook to linger on baggage from his late teens. He’s too optimistic for that.

“He did stay in Springfield, all of them did,” you say, as matter-of-factly. “Only I kicked myself out, when no one wanted me there anymore.”

Celine knows you too well to not notice how the closer you’re getting to your hometown, the farther you’re leaving from yourself.

But honestly speaking, which version of yourself is the real one?

Is it the person you have become over the last eight years, or the 18-year old version of you still unknowingly, and irreparably broken from a past that was never your fault in the first place?

7:10 PM

[unknown]: celine shared her location

[unknown]: see you, i guess?

[you]: who are you

[unknown]: too lazy to email, it’s hectic out here you know?!

[you]: park?

[unknown]: this is what happens when you switch best friends

[you]: don’t tell anyone, especially HIM!

[unknown]: who lol jeon jungkook, we don’t know him ;)

[you]: ok maybe tell jurin!!

[minnie]: yup, told her, we’ll be at lucia’s

“You got a knife right in front of me, how unimpressive.”

Celine smirks, turning around to hide her villainous streak. You roll your eyes, deciding better to focus on hauling your stuff out of the compartment. 

You try to ignore the ache on your back you garnered from sitting for ten hours straight. If a plane ticket isn’t difficult to book, you could’ve chosen the extremely better choice.

The last thing you wanted was to get stuck on the road for hours during festival season. 

“Tell them, traffic is horrible, “ you tell her. Celine looks up at you from her phone screen, “Why so? Would they be upset that we came late?”

You nod, “Yes and no. You just said Jimin had the resources. He could’ve asked for a private plane for us.”

“Eh? He’s that rich?”

“I thought you Googled him enough..”

“I.. I did! But a private fucking plane? Do they have their own hangar and runway at home?”

“The airport is quite close, but yeah, Hope’s right. I told them you took the road because you had to drop something by the next town over.”

An oddly familiar voice caught you by surprise. Both you and Celine halt in your steps. 

“This can’t be…”

“Welcome back, Hope.”

“Park Jimin..” you mutter under your breath. Celine, just as in shock as you are, has her words hung in her throat. You almost forgot your roommate’s big girl crush on your old friend.

“Hello, Celine. It’s so nice to finally meet you in person.”

Jimin and politeness don’t fit in the same sentence. They never have. Yet he’s right there standing across from you, a hand in his pocket, the other extended out for a handshake.

The smile plastered on his face is eerily bright, so as his skin in the dimly lit entrance of Lucia’s, his family-owned hotel restaurant. 

What a weird start to this dreaded trip, you think to yourself.

Celine recovers, and happily accepts his hand. The girl fails to hide the blush on her cheeks, and you just know her knees are shaking from the proximity.

Jimin used to be charming. Well, you can’t lie, he’s a million times more charming now. You give him a do-over and notice a 360 fashion-wise. 

He was a sporty little kid, then a teenage rockstar. Now, he’s like the guys you see in a Zara ad. White knitted sweater, loosely tucked-in his black trousers. And how can you miss out on the white Gucci sneakers?

“Where’s the leather, Park?” 

You can’t forgive yourself for saying that out loud, but the reaction he gives you is enough to tell you that he’s still the Minnie your mom used to nanny, and the same boy you practically grew up with along with Jungkook.

“People change, Miss Jung. Get over it.”

You appreciate the extra sass in his tone, and while Celine is officially unreachable after being absorbed by the man’s presence, you take a minute to look around.

Always living up to its reputation, this little town.

The foot traffic is pretty intense from a distance. You’re thankful Lucia’s Hotel seems to have been exempted in holding any free-for-all event, as you can easily count the people hanging around outside.

From where the hotel stood, you have the perfect view of the city, meant for tourists who certainly have no clue whatsoever on what goes on in such a picture-perfect town.

You didn’t condition yourself to feel this way about Springfield, but is indifference really the opposite of love? 

And as Jimin guides you inside the hotel lobby to where his family is gathered, you have a thousand different thoughts crowding your mind at once. It’s hard to concentrate on one, yet one thing they have in common is that you’re aimlessly searching for someone in every face you meet on the way.

You recount the Springfield Art Festivals you celebrated with Jungkook, and Lucia’s Hotel was never on his must-see list. You had it, though. Only because you and your mom owed your life to the people who built this place, and basically seventy-percent of the town.

It’s them, and Jungkook—the answer to why you came back. And why you left in the first place.

Ten years ago

“Mom is not gonna make it out alive. I can’t get her to stop working, but she needs rest. That’s what Parks’ doctor told me.”

Jungkook paused on mixing his chosen paint colors. “What about finding her a specialist? I’m sure Mrs. Park knows someone who can recommend the best in the field.”

“Are you joking? How can we afford that, huh.”

“She’s an employee? Of course she has a health card, right?”

“She thinks she’s immortal. And I’m a minor, so I can't sign the papers on her behalf. She needs to consent to every checkup. I’m running out of options here, Jeon.”

With every careful swipe of his brush on the canvas, Jungkook was silently formulating a plan for you. It’s the limit of what he could do, other than considering selling his paintings to gather money and offer you a hundred percent of it.

Which you will surely hate him for doing, so he must think it through.

He tried to ask you what you were planning to do, as he knew you didn’t come to him for advice. But a suggestion wouldn’t hurt anyone, and when it came to him, you were always appreciative.

You could only give him a shrug, and that’s it. 

No plans.

Your pride was through the roof, that’s true. And even though Jungkook was fully aware, he couldn’t help but consult the matter with Jimin the next day.

“That’s a reach, don’t you think? We can’t do it all for her. She’ll hate us for it,” Jimin said, tossing Jungkook the basketball he only ever touched if the boy was the one asking him to play.

“She’ll hate me?” Jungkook asked, the thought causing a lump in his throat to form.

“Probably not you. Well, knowing Hope… She’ll hate herself for losing her mom, and hate herself even more if we provide her a shortcut to resolve her problem.”

“She’s so stubborn, ah, can we just sit down?”

“You’re no fun sometimes, Jeon.”

“Thanks? But what should we do now..”

“Maybe I’ll try talking to her mom? Convince her to do a checkup?”

“You’ll do that? And me?”

Jimin sighed, “Hmm, start waking up early, exercise, be a good best friend to her. I don’t know. Act normal? She’s quick-witted, she’ll know we have some sort of plan behind her back.”

“What? Are you saying I’m not a good—”

“Come on, Jeon. She loves you to death. I just think it’s best if you stay out of it, she can hate me, but she can’t hate you.”

“Why do you think so?”

“Only you can save her, Jungkook.”

Present day. 10:00 PM

[jimin]: is she asleep now?

[celine]: yeah, thanks jimin <3 have a good night, see you tomorrow

[celine]: and by the way, jungkook… 

how different is he now? I remember what your sister said

[jimin]: he stopped painting, the rest is for hope to figure out, though i think it’s better for her not to talk to him if she’s not ready

Celine lets her body fall flat on the bed, eyes on the ceiling. She didn’t want to think of this as a bad idea when she agreed to it as a punishment over losing an Uno match. 

Yet as she recounted the conversations exchanged during the dinner, until the drinks were served after, and the shift in Hope’s demeanor at every mention of Jungkook’s name;

She badly wanted to drive her back home.

This is the first night of Hope’s return to Springfield, the first out of sixty days, and Celine is regretting every little and big decision she made that led her to this moment.

Although, the silly thing is, her crush might be an excuse to stay. Or Hope’s silent deterimination? I mean, she seems headstrong, maybe she’s truly, honestly alright with this?

[jimin]: stop overthinking, celine, we’ll be here for her

[celine]: right right, sorry

[celine]: i should go shower, thanks again

[jimin]: haha go you stink, i was right, you’re prettier than the pictures

[celine]: what pictures?!?!?!?!

[jimin]: LOL hope emailed me a few, i’ll show you tomorrow

Celine groans loud enough for you to stir in your sleep, she panics, cautiously steps away from the bed as possible as she makes her way to the bathroom. 

Hours went by pretty fast, and you woke up by an alarm you forgot to shut off. Luckily, there’s a coffee nook in the presidential suite you were given by Jimin’s mom at Lucia’s, and you find yourself silently enjoying the midnight air on the balcony. 

You take out your phone to look at the pictures taken earlier, and a tight feeling of happiness grows within your chest, something you never expected before you came.

While it’s true that you used to love hearing your mom call the Parks your second family, there were a number of occasions where it was hard to feel at home around them.

And it wasn’t due to their moral upstanding. They’ve always been good, decent people, behind the glorified remarks told about them on paper, and in gossip on the streets. 

It was more of a hidden, childish feeling of jealousy over how they never had to deal with such extremity to be able to live a life like you did. 

You were in kindergarten when Mrs. Park met your mom at the supermarket where she worked as cashier. 

Back then, you lived from paycheck to paycheck, and while it was only you and your mom she had to feed, she was in so much debt after a messy divorce with your dad. 

Mrs. Park always remembered that day as a divine intervention, witnessing a mother like her to experience life completely the opposite way. 

You sat in one of the push carts, playing with a stack of cassette tapes. The store manager seemingly upset by the situation, but was unable to offer any other help than let your mom tag you along at work.

Mrs. Park knew you were your mom’s kid the second you glanced at her. She said you reminded her of her childhood self she hid from everyone. To say she was humbled by what she saw was an insult, yet she had almost forgotten who she was before.

Even though she was lucky enough to be married to a rich family despite her status as a simple, educated college professor, people deemed her differently.

She worked hard, took care of her son and her husband, made sure the 2000-acre home was managed in the best way possible—yet the only thing acknowledged was her title.

It was sickening to see it occur outside the hundred-year old mansion she lived in, if not worse. How unfair it must be to suffer to live, and not be acknowledged at the same time?

She hired your mom on the spot, initially perceived by her peers as a play-pretend. People like them have to show up kind and empathic, but Mrs. Park has always been one herself.

Allowing both of you the entire guest house to yourself as your mom worked as house manager, on the other hand, was your mom’s own divine intervention.

They saved each other somehow.

It feels good to feel the same way about them after everything. None of them asked why you left, or insisted on making you stay for good.

They simply enjoyed having you again, hearing what you have accomplished after eight years.

You grip on the balustrade, your free hand still on your phone where a picture of you and Jimin is shown. There’s a small space on your side as seen in the photo, the framing a bit misplaced when Celine took it.

When you were here back then, there were always three people in pictures like this.

You, the one with the long black hair and resting bitch face, Jimin, with the hand poses and cheerful expressions, and Jungkook… with the usual awkward, but sweet smile.

As much as you don’t want to imagine what he could possibly be doing at this time of the night, you can’t help but feel it.

Springfield is nothing without him. It’s been beyond exhausting to close the door you left behind, with him still waiting on the other side of it. 

God, you miss the boy. The place, the memories. You miss it despite the belongingness you struggled to feel then. Even with the isolation, and dissociation, you miss the boy who painted your young life in colors you refused to see.

You miss him, you miss your mom, the 18-year old Hope—why did you have to lose all of them in exchange for freedom? 

Why did you have to leave them behind in order for you to grow?

“And when nobody wakes you up in the morning, and when nobody waits for you at night, and when you can do whatever you want. What do you call it, freedom or loneliness?” —-c.b.

a/n: i'm thinking of doing this a series? i suck at the twoshot idea i think loool and i just miss the tannies so much lately, i have to include them all in the storyline somehow. what do you think? i'm ready for your lovely messages x

#bts fanfic #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jeon jungkook angst #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagine #coming of age au #childhood bestfriends au #jeon jungkook fanfic

[blood-mocha-latte]

Hi, I need an outsider's pov of postwar luztoye please, if that seems interesting enough to distract you from other tasks. 😅 Maybe a little old lady who lives next door and brings those nice boys a pie sometimes because George fixed her radio while Joe let her talk his ear off about her son who doesn't visit?

bestie i took this and RAN with it, so i'm hoping this is okay and/or what you were thinking! it got... longer, than i was expecting, but i hope you enjoy <3

---

It’s been lonely, since Lulu died.

The mutt managed to make it seventeen years before kicking it, so she counts it as a victory as best she can. 

Still, the apartment is often too quiet, so she’s grateful for the book club, even if her guest is quieter than the dead dog. 

Book club is probably pushing it, as at best it’s a mangy meeting to discuss books that neither of them necessarily enjoy. 

Still, they’re classics, and she’d like to read them at least once before she herself kicks it. Toye doesn’t seem prone to disagree with her, anyways, just sits grudgingly in the chair across from her, one crutch propped up against the armrest and the other in his lap

She looks over at him, amused. There’s a dark dip between his brows, a telltale sign of focus where focus isn’t necessarily wanted. 

“You can just pretend to read it, you know.” She says. It takes him a moment to look up at her, to pull away from the page.

“What? Oh.” He looked down at the open book in his lap. Her own was kept steady with her palm to its spine. “No, it’s fine.” Silence, for a beat. A pause. “It’s okay. It’s — this is George’s favorite.” He goes back to reading. 

She’d figured as much. The copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray that he’d shown up with was obviously well-loved: the spine cracked and pressed white, yellowing pages littered with pencil markings. Toye treats it like a landmine, like it's liable to break completely in his hands.

She presses back her smile and looked down at her own copy, newly bought. “Alright.” She murmurs, and that's that. 

---

They’d moved in maybe a year and a half ago, and the only reason she knew who either of them were at all was because she’d tripped down the last two steps outside of her own building and the one with two legs had seen her and helped her back up and to her own place.

The rest didn’t really matter, and she found it rather boring. What matters is that she invited the one with two legs up for dinner as a form of gratitude and he’d shown up with the one with one leg that looked a little rougher around the edges and that was that.

---

The one with two legs was Luz, who worked every day, and the other one was Toye, who worked every three days. On Fridays, Toye would come over for her self proclaimed book club with whatever she’d deigned best to read.

“I think it’s a load of crock.” She tells Toye on one of these Fridays, flipping through her pick of the week distastefully. “Overall written alright, but underall it’s garbage. What a worthless read.”

Toye is always generous enough not to mention that she’s always the one to choose the books. “I think there could be a point to it.” He says, always hoarser than she’d think he’d sound, and he talks so very little that she should probably be less tetchy. Still, bad habits are hard to break, and she scoffs.

“Yeah, and what would that be? Fate or God’s plan? Because neither seem to be good and neither are anything close to happening, no matter how much you pray.” She flipped through another few pages disdainfully. Toye’s own copy sat carefully in his lap, and he deigned not to touch it, tapping his fingers instead against the wood of the crutch that stayed across his lap.

“I don’t know.” He said, glanced out of her window. She knew why, and didn’t have to follow his gaze. The only reason that Luz had seen her at all when she had fallen was because they lived directly across from each other, right down to the building's story and window make. “There’s a testament to things falling into place.”

There’s something fragile resting along the lines of his face, and she has to pause for a moment, remind herself how utterly young he is. How young the both of them are.

She has a husband in a cemetery she isn’t able to get to anymore, because the streets are too crowded and her knees are too bad, and a son that’s lost forever in the mud in some godforsaken island in the Pacific, and if praying could have prevented that, they’d still be with her. 

She doesn’t say any of that. She watches Toye’s face carefully before huffing and looking back down to her own book. “I want to read another Shakespeare, next.” She says. “I think he’s an overrated rats’ ass, and you can quote me on that.”

---

On the same Friday’s where she hosts book club, Luz will come by after he’s done at wherever he works with some sort of tupperware of something and they’ll eat dinner with her.

She’d never tell them, but it feels less like an embarrassing sort of pity, when one of them only has one leg. 

“I think that he was a hack, God rest his soul.” She tells them one day, because they’ll listen to her, and she was thinking about it earlier, and there wasn’t even Lulu to tell. “I mean, do all you want and bow to him in whatever, but he was a right fool. I think that it was that wife of his that kept him in line, more than anything.”

Luz is smiling into his own bowl of food, and he’s prone to doing that. He won’t look at her, like he’s worried he’ll burst out laughing if he does, but she doesn’t mind. She came to the conclusion a long time ago that he just likes laughing, and she won’t care much if he does so because of her.

Toye’s always more serious, nods and is able to meet her face and send annoyed looks at the man at his elbow, who usually sits on the floor next to her stuffed armchair. “Eleanor’s a hell of a lady.” He says, and she nods at him, approving.

“She was the real one, if you ask me.” She says, and Luz coughs a bit into his bowl and coughs a bit more lightheartedly when Toye’s hand comes down to shove at his shoulder.

---

On the days that Toye works, and only in the wintertime, Luz sometimes visits by himself.

She has a sneaking suspicion that he’s intimidated by her, in some way, or something about her apartment is off putting. She doesn’t care all that much. He’s a nice enough boy, and he helped her back up the stairs, but she’s always had more of a proclivity for the quiet ones.

In the winter, he tends to be more of one of those himself, paler and usually scruffier than usual.

He looks so on the day that he knocks on her door and when she opens it, he looks like he hasn’t shaved in three days and eaten in six. 

“Dear God.” She says, and steps back from the door to usher him in before he can freeze her apartment. “You look like a transient.”

She never paid much attention to what was going on in the Atlantic, other than the newsreels (which she never went to) and by word of mouth from her friends (which she didn’t have) and newspapers and magazines (which she rarely left the house to get).

Her war, like it was her boy's war, was with the islands, and when he died, her study of it died with him. 

Still, she knew enough to recognize that Europe could get cold and that hollow eyes are often related to that ice. 

Luz doesn’t laugh nearly as much in the wintertime, or smile, and she can’t even get him to crack half of one, even when she deigns to instead criticize Toye, which usually works.

“Oh, for Gods’ sake.” She ends up saying today, hips aching and irritated. “Now I have to waste coffee on you. Perfectly good waste, most of it is going to end up in that… thing, on your face.”

She doesn’t like beards. Never did like it when her boy grew one, said it made him look more grown-up than she’d allow.

Luz still doesn’t smile.

Fifteen minutes later, she sits with him in the overstuffed armchairs and wonders about what boys still find funny when he asks her, quite out of the blue, “What do you do when you miss someone?”

She blinks.

“Well, I’m sad about it.” She says, and when Luz just stares down at the mug she’d pushed onto him, rather desolate looking, she sighs and tries to think of something else to say. “I get angry. Or I knit. Or I look through my photos. Missing someone isn’t a glove. Why?”

Luz huffs, but it isn’t exactly happy. She doesn’t like it when Toye has to leave. He always seems happier, when the other one is around. The creases around his eyes aren’t so frustratingly deep.

“Nothing.” He says, and his voice is hoarse. “Just thinking about people who’re gone.”

She watches him, critical. God, she hopes he shaves before she sees him again. It’s really just improper. 

“They never found my son's body.” She tells him. “Or they did, and they lied to me. Either way, he left and he’s gone and I barely have anything of him but what I remember and what he wore. So you find things that help you do more than obsess over those things.” She thinks of Lulu, of her soft fur and the way that she’d lick at her face. “And that’ll be gone before you know it, too, so you have to appreciate it all. You can’t afford to stop loving things in the world just because someone you love is no longer in it.”

She stares back down at her cup. 

Luz clears his throat, and when she looks up, he cracks half of a smile at her awkwardly. His eyes are dark, there isn’t much light there. “Thank you.” He says, and she wishes she hadn’t told him about her boy. Still, she feels warm.

“Good god, child.” She says, anyways. “Go home and shave. You look like some sort of Hungarian.”

Luz doesn’t laugh, but looks like he might have, if it wasn’t wintertime.

---

Later on in the same night, they’re up later than they usually are, and she only knows it because she’s trying to get through a chapter for book club on Friday and she can see their silhouettes through their lit up window, light and orange and slightly blurry.

She doesn’t watch them for long, doesn’t want to pry.

Luz’s arms are around Toye’s neck, his face dropped down to his shoulder. Toye’s arms are wrapped fully around him, maybe more for balance than anything else. The way they’re turning, it looks like they're dancing. She wonders to what music.

She used to dance like that, with her husband. That was how she taught her boy, as he stood on top of her shoes and she held his little hands. 

She shuffles back over to the armchair and goes back to reading her book. She doesn’t like this one either.

---

One day, she thinks they might be arguing. 

Toye comes over on a Thursday night, instead of a Friday, and looks rather tired. It’s springtime, which is why she’s more hesitant about letting him in, but he’s shaved, so she allows it.

“Could I stay over for the night?” He asks her, voice raspy. “I’d – I hate to ask, but—”

She squints at him. “You’re the one with one leg.” She says. “Shouldn’t he be leaving?” Toye coughs. He shifts on his crutches, glances vaguely over his shoulder in a way that makes him look rather guilty.

“No, it’s—” He starts, and cuts himself off. “I want him to stay in the apartment.” He looks vaguely embarrassed. She squints at him again, but in the end just starts moving back towards her armchair.

“Fine.” She says. “I like you better than I like him, anyways.”

---

She tosses a bunch of moth-eaten blankets from the closet onto the floor and tells Toye good luck with standing back up and gets to bed. Toye looks strangely pleased about her rudeness, so she keeps that in mind and makes note to tell him that he needs a haircut tomorrow.

---

Toye stays over the whole day and helps her with small things and she tells him that he needs a haircut, and needs to shave, and needs to go outside more, and needs to get a better job, and needs better crutches, and should wear his fake leg more often, and a dozen other things before they sit down to read and do so for hours.

Book club lasts much longer than it usually does, but when there’s the usual knock at the door, albeit more tentative, Toye looks up and looks, again, so painfully young that she sort of wants to smack him for it.

She doesn’t. She pushes to her feet and complains the whole way to the door.

Luz doesn’t have food, and he barely says hello, just looks right past her to Toye, says in a soft, hoarse voice that she thinks means that he’s been smoking and that he wants to talk.

She looks from him, to Toye, to him again, and decides to stay out of it. “Get out of here, the both of you.” She says. “And clean up, before I see you again. You both have jobs, you know.”

---

She doesn’t see them for maybe three or four days after that, doesn’t even see them entering or exiting their own building. She wonders if one or both of them are sick, but thinks they might just be locked up in their own apartment for some godforsaken reason. 

They don’t emerge for days and Luz is the first one that she sees, looking more relaxed than he has since the wintertime. He waves at her, but doesn’t spend too much time outside. Just pitches a cigarette over his shoulder and skips back up to the apartment, and that’s the last she sees of either of them for another two days. 

She supposes they’ve made up.

---

She only goes over to their apartment once. 

It’s alright. Rather homely.

There’s only one chair in the sitting room, which is rather ridiculous, though every time she’s seen him, Luz usually insists on sitting on the floor, so she supposes that may be a part of it. The kitchen is small, rather boring. A whiteboard sits on top of the fridge, tracking something by tally marks that she’s not privy to knowing. They don’t let her into either of the bedrooms, and she doesn’t care much to investigate.

“You, uh.” Luz tells her awkwardly, hands in his pockets, mouth quirked up in his forever-grin. “We could start eating here, if you’d like.”

She wrinkles her nose at the cracked open fire escape and the dishes in the sink and the crooked blanket on the chair. “I’m quite alright.” She says, and decides not to come back. 

(There’s one of those song-players on a table off to the side, however. It looks more expensive than anything else in the apartment. Underneath it is a basket, and the only vinyl she’s able to make out is one of Billie Holliday.

Ugh. Figures.)

---

They come over every Friday for two years and she sees them more often than that, and as soon as something changes, she can tell immediately. It annoys her.

She knows right off the bat because Toye’s wearing his prosthetic, which he never does, and Luz is shaved, which doesn’t matter much, because his hair is still much too long. 

“Where’s the house at?” She asks him, after barely another two minutes, because she’s connected the dots and doesn’t want to wait for them to be explained to her. 

Luz is the one, for once, to pause. Toye turns to look at him, face doing the same sort of lined, barely held back guarded emotion that it often throws up around the other man before he looks back at her, hesitates.

“It’s, uh.” He says. She sighs, wants to tell him to knock it off with the pausing. “In Bedford. It’s—”

He keeps talking, and she deigns to ignore him to instead watch Luz, the way he looks at Toye. It’s the same sort of emotion, barely lined, making him heavier.

She wonders if her boy got to care so much about someone, before he was killed.

“Alright.” She says, maybe with a sigh, holds up a hand and decides that’s that. She’ll miss book club, but if she truly gave a rats ass, she’d join a real one. Maybe she will, now. “Make sure you pack enough. And shave. You have jobs.” 

Toye’s smile is a crooked curve, and Luz’s takes over his whole face. She looks at both of them, unimpressed. 

“Write to me, if you want.” She says. “Or visit. God knows I’m not going anywhere.”

She’s not, either. Maybe she’ll get another Lulu.

---

They leave on a Wednesday, which annoys her only because it’s such a random day to leave somewhere, with some sort of boring car packed with trunks in the middle of the summer.

She watches from the steps of her own building, arms crossed, and gives them advice on how to best stack the luggage, which they don’t follow. 

“They’re all going to fall out and you’ll be left with broken and dirty things, and then you’ll see who’s in the right.” She tells Toye, who’s closer, annoyed. His mouth twitches, but he doesn’t say anything.

Luz looks back at them and smiles, but she knows he’s not looking at her.

---

She stands on the steps until it’s time for them to leave, and she hates dilly-dallying, so she rushes through the goodbyes by patting Luz’s cheek and grimacing at the stubble there. He looks like he might laugh at her. 

She lets Toye get a step further and give her half of a hug, which she’s also not a fan of but allows anyways.

He watches her with those careful, dark eyes and says, very punctually, “Thanks, Moira.”

She waves him off. “You should be thanking me for trying to help you with the luggage.” She says, pointed. “Off you go. Get a dog. God knows there’s enough of them running around.”

From a few feet behind Toye, Luz laughs. 

---

She can see their silhouettes, as they get in the car. Can see what looks like Toye kissing Luz on the cheek. She grimaces.

It must have been a horrid kiss. He never does shave enough.

#rie writes #okay i won’t lie to you. this is probably my favorite hbowar drabble ive written #band of brothers #luztoye #george luz #joe toye #joseph toye #hbo war

[breakandbuildfiction]

Guardian Spirit Meets Guardian Angels

Danny finds himself being accosted by three weird baby things with wings claiming to be part of an organization of guardian angels from Heaven called CHERUB asking for his help to go home. Apparently, they heard about him and thought that even if he was a pagan form of protector he could still plead their case to their bosses up in Heaven. Danny, having not known that Heaven was even real before they showed up, is a bit overwhelmed.

#Danny Phantom #Helluva Boss #Hazbin Hotel #DPxHB #DP x HB #DPxHH #DP x HH #CHERUB #I forgot the names of the CHERUB angels #Danny wants to help the angel babies #So they will go away #And leave him alone #So now has to play ghostly lawyer #But he doesn’t even know why they got kicked out #They just keep crying that they were framed #So he’s arguing against Heaven #Without knowing half what he’s even arguing about #Does that mean he’s defying Heaven? #Is he going to Hell for this? #They say all lawyers go to Hell #If he’s damned anyway he wants to punch this deer angel #He thinks she is really annoying #And condescending #He decides to go over their heads #And ends up meeting Adam #And Lute #And maybe Emily and Sera #Danny crushes on Lute #He thinks she’s pretty #Even with the resting bitch face

[intcrastra]

Love the idea of the little wings at Robin’s waist and head fluttering whenever she’s flustered.

#✮┆ ( .ooc. ); #hc; robin #//Love the idea of her little wings at her waist fluttering whenever she kisses a much taller partner; like they’re thing to help her reach #//Love the idea of them being a little sensitive to the touch; so she really makes a point to keep people from touching them #//Not even really in a suggestive way for the most part; it’s kinda like how cats don’t like being touched on the pads of their paws #//Nerve receptors and all that—however she will give her partner leeway; bc she knows they wouldn’t hurt her #//Plus she thinks they might like seeing her flustered—she might find it embarrassing; but if THEY like it #//She doesn’t mind letting them have their fill of fun; she rlly Likes their smirks & chuckles #//If they get a real kick out of seeing her flustered; she gets a kick out of seeing THEM smug #//Thinks it’s sooo attractive #//Whoops veered a little lol #//If her partner likes her wings; she would actually tend to let them unfurl and flutter more for them to see and touch #//She Knows how to show off and would utterly THRIVE under their attention; esp any admiration/compliments to her wings #//she takes V good care of them; after all. Also; partners who volunteer to help her preen them? she would ADORE them #hc; sunday #//Bc he too has that same habit with his wings. All the above. Basically applies EXCEPT #//Sunday is even MORE particular about touch on his wings; HATES having them mussed up even the slightest bit #//Only a VERY trusted partner is allowed to touch them (or him at ALL); anybody else might trigger him a bit #//He’ll keep himself together until he’s out of sight; then immediately lose his gottdam mind & need a Moment #//When he DOES allow touch; he gets a little overwhelmed with it. Mans is SO touch starved #//But at the same time; can’t stomach it half the time. And don’t get me started on how Weak he is for cocky partners #//Drives him NUTS; both in terms of being attracted to them but also Annoyed with them lmao #//he is just as proud of his wings as his sister is; perhaps even MORE so #//Might posture and show them off unprompted the Instant he knows his partner likes them (when one-on-one) #//You can practically see him GLOWING at any compliments he gets over them and how neat his feathers are; how glossy and lovely #//Preening; though: he is EXTREMELY particular abt it. He never trusts anyone outside himself but Robin to do it (bc she has them too) #//His partner has to be VERY close & trusted to even be allowed to SEE him preening; much less be allowed to do it FOR him #//He’s so v particular abt his presentation; he will NOT want them to see him (&his wings) anything but perfect #//Which is why he’s got such mixed feelings abt his partner teasing & riling him up; losing that control/composure over himself #//For them to have him like that; SEE him that flustered & Vulnerable—it leaves him quite Uneasy; but it is also undeniably Exciting

[yueebby]

Dying thinking about gojo literally pinning and hardcore simping for reader, literally showering reader in praise, flattery and gifts because he no longer gives a damn about hiding his feelings, almost proposing to reader whenever he can and reader's just... completely clueless about it💀 and she thinks it's just gojo being friendly. Poor man would be absolutely devastated when he goes one day "[name] i'm in love with you" and she just goes "me too, i love all my friends!" 💀

she loves me, she loves me not! — gojo satoru x fem!reader

contents. fluff, lovesick!gojo (what’s new), highschool!gojo, he’s pathetic but in love your honor, oblivious!reader, ooc gojo i got carried away soz

notes. anon, when i first read your ask i literally started giggling and kicking my feet. that. is. so. gojo coded.

“please reject gojo and put him out of his misery,” utahime implored, taking hold of both of your hands. you think she’s asking, no, begging you to. beside her, shoko nods vigorously. 

“but why?” you furrow your eyebrows, perplexed by their sudden request. “i can’t reject someone who doesn’t like me.”

shoko giggles at your comment. her laughter only wanes when she notices the dead serious look on your face. “... you seriously have no idea what we’re talking about?”

“not really,” you shrug, criss-crossing your legs to find some comfort on the hard wooden floor in shoko’s small dorm. it was late, past midnight, and the three of you had a shared mission tomorrow, but for some reason your two friends managed to rope you into their drinking circle.

utahime and shoko exchanged a significant glance, their unspoken communication raising your curiosity. utahime takes a long sip of her beer. 

“hopeless. they’re both hopeless,” your short haired brunette friend lamented, pinching her nose bridge. it leaves a faint pink mark.

intrigued, you lean in closer towards the two, “care to elaborate?”

“you’ve never once questioned satoru’s borderline inappropriate behavior?” shoko asks you earnestly. you ponder for a moment, trying to recall any moments in the two years you’ve known the snow-haired boy.

“satoru is satoru…” you mumble, shaking your head in denial. 

utahime’s eyes bug comically. she slams her can of beer harshly on the ground. you wince at the loud noise of the metallic can hitting the floor.

“you’re kidding. even i can see through that jerk!” utahime’s black pigtails sway wildly. 

“[name], how about what happened in shinjuku last week on our day off?” shoko quietly reminds you of last weekend when the two of you along with satoru and suguru decided to empty your pockets in one of tokyo’s largest entertainment wards. 

utahime’s head whips back and forth from her best friend to you, “eh? what happened?!”

from behind the dressing room curtain, you voiced your concerns, “shoko, i don't think we can afford designer clothes on our student budget.” the cream-colored silk dress you wore clung to your body, its price tag undoubtedly surpassing a year's worth of your student earnings.

“don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” shoko’s voice carried a knowing smile. “just come out and show me the dress!” you think satoru’s carefree attitude is rubbing off on her.

with a nervous sigh, you emerged from the dressing room. the dress fit like a glove, accentuating your body in just the right places.

bright flashes from shoko's phone startled you, and she chuckled deviously while rapidly typing. she tossed her phone onto a luxurious cushion, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of exposure.

“you look so sexy. even better than the model.” she gives you two thumbs up, eyes roaming your figure. you feel flushed at her praise.

“as flattered as i am, there’s no way i can afford this,” you look down at the dress, lips downturned. “i’d be in debt for life.”

“no need to worry,” shoko winked, leaving you confused. given that her income was similar to yours, it didn't make sense for her to be able to even dream of shopping designer.

a soft thud interrupted your conversation. you turn around to see a blue lollipop rolling on the expensive carpeting of the store.

“suguru, are my eyes deceiving me or is that an angel?”  satoru's mouth is wide open as he shamelessly checks you out. he takes one of his hands and places it over his heart, gripping the fabric of his white shirt. the windbreaker he is wearing rustles at his dramatic movement.

“i think… i’m experiencing a heart attack! shoko help!” he kneels in the middle of the store dramatically. shoko shares an unamused look with suguru. the pair nod before simultaneously kicking satoru.

during all of the commotion, you stand awkwardly in the million yen dress. 

“satoru, are you okay?” you watch him take the two blows from your friends, concern evident in your voice. he grunts softly before gently taking ahold of your hand.

“no,” he croaks with a playful glint in his eye. “i’m wounded and there’s only one way to fix it.”

you look at him, your gaze heavy with concern.

“i’m afraid you’ll have to kiss me for the pain to go away.” he added, blinking at you expectantly with his blue eyes.

 you lightly shove him away from you. “you’re an idiot.” satoru laughs loudly.

“that’s what love does to a man.”

“yeah, yeah. i’m going to change out of this dress, don’t get into any more trouble while i’m gone.” 

 satoru’s grip on your hand strengthens, halting your actions.

“how much?”

“excuse me?”

“the dress. how much for it?” he stands up to his full height, reminding you of the obvious height difference between the two of you. 

you're at loss for words. gojo was crazy, but definitely not crazy enough to spend a million yen on a silly dress.

shoko happily chimes into the conversation. “one million yen. it’ll be two million yen with the rest of my purchases though!” 

suguru’s calm demeanor is replaced with shock. the black haired male’s jaw drops, “two million– satoru, you’re seriously not thinking about–”

“hah? who said i’m paying for your stuff?” gojo makes an ugly face at shoko.

she raises her hands innocently, “it’s not my fault the dresses come in a set. if you want to see your beloved [name] in that dress you’ll have to pay for mine as well.”

you watch shoko and satoru engage into a silent argument. the tension in the fitting room section is so thick, you think it’ll take a special grade weapon to slice through it.

trying to alleviate the mood you tell gojo, “satoru, you really don’t have to–”

“i’m buying you that dress.” 

“o-okay.” 

half an hour later, satoru happily strolls out of the store with an arm around your shoulder like he’d just won the lottery.

perhaps gojo is just naturally flirty, you had tried to reason to shoko and utahime.

it’s been a week since the eye-opening conversation with the two and you’ve found yourself on cleaning duty with said snow-haired boy. it was a miracle that satoru even showed up. he had a tendency to skip his turns, often resulting in a long lecture from yaga.

as the two of you worked silently in the empty classroom, you couldn't help but admire the setting sun. its golden rays painted the sky with hues of pink and orange, casting a warm glow over everything. unknowingly, while you gazed at the sky, gojo's gaze was firmly fixed on you.

breaking the silence, he asked, "have you ever thought about getting married?"

his question caught you off guard, causing you to momentarily pause from wiping the windows.

“not really,” you replied, biting your lip gently. “unless my family decides to arrange a marriage. you know how unforgiving the world of jujutsu sorcery is.”

gojo's grip on the broom tightened, his eyes locking onto yours with a newfound intensity.

"we should get married y'know," he blurted out.

the piece of cloth you were using slipped from your hand in shock. surely, he couldn't mean what he was saying. after all, the two of you were only second years.

“what?”

“i’m saying i think i’m in love with you.”

“oh.” 

silence engulfs the room once more before a soft giggle escapes your lips.

satoru can only watch, entranced.

“that’s good to hear! i love you too– and suguru and shoko! perhaps the four of us should all just get married.” you chuckle into your hand.

satoru can't help but stare at your hand in envy. perhaps if he were the palm of your hand, he’d be able to feel the touch of your lips.

but he couldn’t. he was cursed as a man with an overpowered innate technique, and despite it all he couldn’t even gain the one thing he desired. gojo satoru watched you, eyes filled with a mixture of longing and defeat.

his devastation does not go unnoticed by you.

you were under the impression that he was grumpy because yaga had forced him into cleaning with you.

"cheer up, satoru! if we finish early enough," you continue, your tone highspirited, "we can go to the new crepe shop that opened last week. my treat!" you winked, and that immediately caught his attention.

“like a date?” his eyes sparkled with hope.

you shrug, a smile on your face. “i suppose if you look at it from a certain perspective…”

“great, it’s a date!” 

good things come to those who wait, satoru thinks, humming happily as he starts to sweep the room at an inhumane pace.

maybe in ten years time the two of you will be happily married with eight kids, he smiles to himself.

#kt.writes.·:*¨༺ #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #this is me coping bc of the leaks

[lemonlover1110]

𝐀 𝐃𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃

Pairing: Trueform!Sukuna x f!Reader

Summary: Your husband usually calls for you to join him during his bath.

Warnings: MDNI, mentions of Sukuna killing people, rough pregnancy, Sukuna being fluffy (so slightly ooc), reader is mean to Sukuna

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Ever since you shared the news of your pregnancy with your husband, Sukuna has become more loving. The man who’d talk to you however he wanted, now makes sure to soften his voice when talking to you. He wants to see you every hour of the day, even when you don’t want to see him. Sukuna is seeing how you’re struggling with your pregnancy, and he wants to check up on you constantly.

You’re not too far along that you both know of, yet you’re huge. He grows worried that his selfish want of a child will cause you harm. There’s one person that Sukuna would die for, and it’s you. If something were to happen to you because of himself then he’d– He doesn’t want to think of it.

Lately he’s been asking to take baths with you. At the end of the day, a servant walks into your chambers and informs you, “Lord Sukuna requests for you to join him in his bath, mistress.”

She bows her head to not look at you, scared that she’ll end up like the last servant that dared to look you in the eye. It was Sukuna’s doing because how dare someone look his wife in the eye? You sigh before telling her, “I’ll be there in a second.” 

She stands in the entrance of your room, given orders to not leave without you. Sure, Sukuna requests to see you but it’s an order from him. You don’t have much of an option. 

You follow behind her, and she excuses herself when you’re finally with him. Sukuna lays comfortably in the water, patiently waiting for you to get undressed and join him in the water. He watches as you take off all your garments and walk over to him when you’re completely bare. 

“You need to start leaving me alone, you’re starting to annoy me.” You tell him as you get in the water. Sukuna chuckles, finding it amusing how you’ve completely stopped fearing him. One of his hands caresses you from your breasts to your bump, resting there.

“Now, why are you getting mad at me? I thought you wanted a loving husband?” Sukuna comments, kissing the top of your head. Your hand rests on top of his, lightly squeezing it.

“I wanted one before he got me pregnant. I swear I must be carrying twins– Or the baby also has four arms. I don’t know, I’m just miserable.” You confess, and Sukuna kisses the top of your head again. He really shouldn’t have expected it to be any different. Sukuna’s huge, why would his baby be any different?

“It’s just one and done then?” He asks, and you hum in response. Maybe your answer will be different in a few years, but for now it’s that. He feels a tug on his heartstrings, seeing how much you’re struggling. He’s worried. “Are you holding up okay, though?”

“Not like we could do anything if I wasn’t.” You answer. He’s definitely much softer than your usual husband, and you would’ve loved it if you weren’t carrying a monster child. His hand remains on your stomach, and he feels as his baby kicks while you moan in pain. Sukuna shushes you, feeling as his baby moves.

“I’m trying to feel him! Shut up, woman!” He raises his voice, and you slightly turn to glare at him. A look that would surely kill you if you were anyone else.

“How does me making noise correlate with you feeling the baby! Think, Sukuna! Use your fucking brain.” You’re definitely bolder than usual, which makes him laugh. 

“You’re so beautiful when you’re yelling at me.” He says, grabbing your hand and bringing it up to his lips so he can kiss it. “I love seeing you demanding and mean. It shows the effect I have on you.”

“Really?” You answer, and he hums in response. There’s no better time to bring up what’s been bugging you than now. “I hate that new servant you took in. Kick her out.”

“And why is that?” He asks. 

“She was looking at you funny.” You respond.

“In the sense?”

“She has the hots for you, and I don’t like it.”

“Hmm… What if I was looking for–” He begins and you glare at him. He doesn’t have much of a sense of humor, but he guesses that’s something that’s off limits when he tries to joke. “Don’t you want me to do more?”

“Like what?” You question, even though you should know your husband better than anyone.

“Kill her.” He answers. 

“Hmm… Up to you.” You reply. You lay comfortably on his chest, feeling as his finger traces lazy circles on your belly. You change the topic, “Why do you think it’s a boy?”

“I can’t see myself with a daughter.”

#ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna #sukuna ryomen #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #jjk sukuna #jujutsu sukuna #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna fluff

[eternity-death]

Penacony Reactions to you spanking them

No TW’s I think. Just sillies being silly. Established relationship with Reader in all these hc’s.

—————

Hanabi

Head snaps 180° at you and you scream.

She’s traumatized you and now you will never do it again.

This doesn’t stop her from getting you back, though. And she’ll do it in public to make it worse. It’s not a one-and-done deal either, it becomes a regular thing.

You’ve just sentenced yourself to a life of sore-booty and humiliation. Was it really worth it?

Black Swan

Stares at you.

Her expression is a little hard to read and the longer she looks at you the more you feel implored to apologize.

She’s not mad though, she’s actually rather amused. And she’s getting even more entertainment by watching you squirm.

Eventually she gives and just chuckles. If you’ll allow her, then she’ll give you a nice tap on the butt too.

Sampo

He does that one goofy (Mickey mouse) scream.

Very animated reaction. Jumps 10 feet off the ground and covers his behind. He looks back at you like a kicked puppy but you know it’s all fake.

Sniffles and says smthn like, “How could you do this to your best bud, Sampo?”

Gets you back when you least expect it. Like you actually scream bloody murder because your guard is down and you can’t hear him sneak up on you bc he’s light on his feet. It doesn’t matter if you’re in public either. Be very afraid.

Aventurine

“Woah! Getting a little frisky, eh?”

If you’ve got something separating you two like a chair or a counter, he will chase you around it to reach you. Spanks you back, harder, with zero hesitation.

He starts tapping your butt as a regular thing afterwards. Almost like a greeting.

“Hey babe.” Then a light slap. When he feels extra mischievous he’ll grab it.

Acheron

You are unable to slap her booty because she catches your hand before it makes contact.

Just kind of looks at you and goes, “What are you doing.”

You explain to her that spanking is a sort of gesture between close companions. She doesn’t quite get it but decides to just go with it.

Later on, when she greets you, she strikes her hand down on your behind so hard that your teeth clatter. She asks if she did it right with such a hopeful tone, that you can’t find it in yourself to tell her that shattering someone’s pelvis is not part of the gesture. (When she does find out that she’s hurt you she apologizes deeply and coddles you)

Dr. Ratio

Lets out a high pitched yelp.

Gives you the most scandalized look and defensively rubs his tush.

“Did you really just do what I think you did?”

Strategizes a way to get you back. He has a blackboard with physics equations for the perfect angle and fall of his hand, pinned papers and calendars with your schedule and his, etc. He’s terrible at hiding his intentions too. When the time comes for his revenge you already anticipate it. What you didn’t anticipate was how strong he was. You guess those biceps aren’t just for show.

Firefly

Why would you ever? What kind of monster are you?

She yelps and just stares at you; hands covering her behind, face flushed, and her mouth agape.

Apologize.

Sam

You have a death wish.

Another one who catches your hand before you can spank. He just puts your hand back in your lap and goes, “No.”

He actually just doesn’t want you to hurt yourself. His… butt… isn’t very soft, you see.

If you want him to, he’ll lightly tap yours back.

March 7nth

Gasps and launches herself at you with full intention of getting you back.

It turns into a chase, where you run in circles around the gazebo until she gets too tired and gives up.

You laugh about it but later forget. Little do you know, March has been scheming ever since.

“AHA!” You feel a harsh slap against your behind and yelp. The vendor you were talking to looks at you and your girlfriend as if you’ve both grown an extra head. She laughs victoriously, “See? I told you payback was coming!”

Robin

“Oh!!!” Gasps and covers herself. She’s a little freaked out at first but once she see’s it’s you she giggles.

You don’t really expect her to spank you back but she does. With the same amount of force that you used.

It kinda escalates into a competition where you two see who can land the most spanks in one day. Just don’t do it in front of her brother.

You’re losing btw.

Sunday

Do NOT spank him in public. He will be very crossed with you. Not funny did not laugh.

You may proceed with the spank if you are in private though.

He actually squeaks when you do. Then once the initial shock wears off he laughs, incredibly amused by you. Doesn’t say it but he plans on returning the favor.

When he does get you back you don’t expect it. You’re probably cooking or marking off the calendar when he passes you and goes, “Good morning, my love.” And then he slaps your butt. Moderate strength, enough to make you yelp but not enough to sting.

#hsr x reader #sunday x reader #honkai star rail x reader #Sampo x reader #Hanabi x reader #sparkle x reader #black swan x reader #Robin x reader #dr. ratio x reader #veritas ratio x reader #Acheron x reader #firefly x reader #Sam x reader #march 7nth x reader #if you’re like ‘hey I’ve seen smthn similar to this before for genshin’ that was probably me on my other acc #aventurine x reader

[deadsetobsessions]

Alley Drunk! Danny AU- Part 1

[Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4]

To not turn into a giant raging asshole hell bent on murdering people and destroying the world after everyone he loved died, Danny had ran from Amity with his chosen vice.

A bottle. That’s right. Even after Jazz’s talks about alcoholism as a poor coping mechanism as a form of self harm, he still chose alcohol. Or maybe that’s why he picked it, because it reminded him of her, right before the booze took the sting of grief off of her memory. He was never really all that good at listening to Jazz.

And now she’s gone, so it’s moot point. Danny really hated Nasty Burger.

Danny made it all the way to Gotham, bottle constantly glued to his hand. It’s better than Vlad’s creep-o-self looming over him all of the time. He bummed out on the streets, fitting into crime alley like a native. Danny learned to pickpocket. Not much, just enough for a bottle when his ran out. He stayed human. At first he tried to convince himself that it was because he didn’t want to be perceived as a meta in a city where Batman notoriously disliked metas. Then, as he sunk deeper, he admitted to himself in a shameful curl of a whisper that it was really because alcohol affected his human side much easier.

Ghosts need an ungodly amount of alcohol to even get slightly buzzed. Danny’s human side? Only one full bottle the shittiest tequila he could find could even hope to be more than buzzed. It sucked.

He’s spent two years being an alcoholic that didn’t actually get that drunk. Technically, underage drinking was a crime. But then again, so was being a vigilante ghost. So, whatever. He does what he can to dull the grief. Mostly, he slept on covered and hidden nooks on top of Crime Alley’s roofs. Gotham city had taken pity on him and cleared her smog clouds when he was awake at night. Stargazing helped, at least. It gave him a little hope. It gave him a little wish to change and better and live like he wants. But then the night ends and when the day comes, Jazz isn’t there. Sam isn’t there. Tucker isn’t there. His mom and dad are not there.

Danny always went back to the bottle, in the end. Not that it did much.

Which was why, when he saw three looming figures over a tiny child, Danny’s saving people thing flared with a vengeance and his surprised ectoplasm burned what little buzz he had achieved by downing most of the bottle away, leaving him stone cold sober and pissed.

Danny sighed, dumping the rest of the nasty tasting liquid out. There’s no point drinking that little.

He approached the trio, who were beating up an actual child. Ancients, he hated Crime Alley sometimes.

“Give me your shit, you little punk!” Asshole 1 decided to say like a typical mugger, raising his leg to kick the curled up kid below. Danny doesn’t let him land the kick, smashing the bottle on the asshole’s head before any of them clocked his presence. He pivots, pushing a bit of that extra strength he normally keeps on a tight leash into his hands, and punched the other two in a quick fashion, knocking them out.

With that taken care of, Danny turned back to the kid who was still curled up. Danny sighed again, the trembles in small shoulders plucking on his heartstrings.

“You okay, kid?”

The kid uncurls, and Danny stared. Holy shit, is he looking into a mirror? Blue eyes, black hair, and tanned skin. Holy shit, he’s even got similar jaws to Danny.

“Huh.”

The kid flinched.

“Y-y’er the drunk,” the kid flinched again, eyes darting to the broken bottle still clenched in Danny’s hand. “I- I ain’t got money, honest. Please-”

Danny blinked down at the kid, brain connecting the dots after so long without actual interaction. He’s panicking and staring at the bottle in Danny’s hand like it’ll kill him. Danny raised the bottle and the kid closed his mouth with a click, terror worming its way into the kid’s eyes.

“I wasn’t going to mug you myself, kid.”

“But- y’er the- the Alley drunk.”

Danny blinked. Did he get a reputation without knowing again? Goddammit.

“I guess. Am I famous or somethin’?”

“Nobody- nobody fucks wit’ ya.”

“I also don’t hurt kids.”

“…”

The kid stared at him dubiously and with a sinking feeling, Danny realized that maybe the kid already had some terrible experiences with a heavy drunken hand. He promptly chucks the bottle further into the alley.

“I drink, yes. But I’m also not the kind of scum that would lay hands on a kid, let alone anyone that didn’t provoke it first.”

“Oh.” The kid uncurled more, looking at Danny warily, more at ease now that the bottle has left the chat.

“Yeah. I’m Danny. Stone cold sober, right now.”

“…”

Danny waited.

“Peters.”

“Okay. Peters, do you wanna take their shit?” Danny pointed a thumb at the knocked out would-be-muggers behind him.

“Y… yeah, sure. What’s my cut?”

“All of it.”

Peters stared.

Danny shrugged and started looting.

"Y'er so fuckin' weird."

----

See, the thing is, Danny hadn't anticipated saving Peters- "'s actually Jason"- would result in having a duckling following him around. The kid, Jason, glared at everyone who even looked at them wrong. But that's not the problem, because Danny could take anyone who took issue with Jason's looks, it's more like there's a child following him around now and Danny doesn't want to be the reason Jason turns into an alcoholic. It's- well, it made him cut down on the drinking. He even got jobs- legitimate jobs that sucks out his his poor ectoplasmic soul.

Why? Because Jason's apparently homeless. While that's something Danny's okay with for himself, he can't ever condone that for an actual child. Jason's walking around in threadbare clothes and thin soled shoes in the middle of Fall, for Ancient's sake.

Danny grumbles as he piled a bunch of clothes into the shopping bag as he checked out. Gotham's Walmart is a different kind of hell, but Danny feels right at home.

Sure, the work might suck out his soul and he might hate being sober, but Jason's face every time he comes home to an actual place to live, warm clothes, and food was worth everything.

#danny phantom #dc x dp #DCxDP #dpxdc #jason todd #batman #crime alley #Danny: im gonna be an alcoholic #also Danny: a child needs help and I don’t drink anymore #Danny phantom’s saving people thing #drunk danny #alcoholic danny #but not for long #danny adopts jason todd #jason todd follows his big brother into being a vigilante #kind of #he becomes robin #but gets rescued by his long suffering brother every once and a while #alley drunk! Danny AU

[unknownmads]

PRISON TOJII (he’s so addictive🤭) if he’s so bad then why does he look so good? like that’s literally my baby daddy y’all✊🏼😍 i wrote this kinda quick sorry i’ve been so busy y’all

“hey doll it’s good to finally meet you.”

the words rang through your eyes having this be the first time you heard his voice, it was deep and rough his ton was teasing you quietly.

Prison Toji who’s eyes track as you reach into your bag grabbing a small notebook and pen. Opening the notebook revealed a page already full of questions you were waiting to ask him. oh how cute you are thinking about him so much just so excited. he’s pulled out of his trance when you finally speak.

“hi toji, i great to finally meet you too” your voice soft at first from your original anxiety about the situation. i mean your just here to meet him for your class nothing more. right? i mean you wouldn’t be here because you love reading his letters telling you how pretty you are. how he wished he could take you out properly. Shamelessly telling you how hard he got to your pictures. but he was just flirting he’s a man in a prison it’s what happens.

Prison toji who finally speaks next the seconds feeling like eternity for him. He doesn’t want to have to sit across a table from you he want you in his lap sitting pretty just how you are now.

“That’s a lot of writing in your lil notebook doll, you been thinkin of me?” this time his tone laced with teasing and smirk displayed on his lips. it draws attention to his scar, you had never asked about it not wanting to push things you shouldn’t.

“where’d you get that scar?” pointing to your own lip as you looked up at him. a small chuckle escapes him surprised at your bluntness.

“well you’re quick to the questions today. you wanna get a closer look at it?” the gawking look one your face giving you away. and with a quick nod you were leaning across the table to get a closer look as he did the same to help you.

Prison Toji who stops you with a noise when your hand reaches up to touch his lip where the scar is

“shit sorry” quietly escapes you as you looked away for a second toji takes this as an opportunity

“you’re okay sweetheart just gonna get us in some trouble if you do that.” his lips next to your ear as his breath brushing against your ear “can’t control myself with a pretty thing like you.”

Prison Toji whose pants grow so much tighter when he sees how flustered you get from such a simple comment. You turn back to face him, his eyes instantly meeting yours challenging you telling you to do it, see how far it goes, see how bad he possibly he, and just like a moth to a flame you do just that. your hand grazing where his scar is going to cup his face, it was all so fast you could barely process it. he forced himself forward slamming his lips to yours. shock took you first then you eased into the kiss and began kissing back. and then you remembered HES A PRISONER AND THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE FOR SCHOOL.

Prison toji whose ready to snap his cuffs when you pull away. leaning into you as much as he could almost whining when your gone. he sees you shocked and guilt ridden with your finger touching your lips

“whats wrong doll didn’t like it? give me another chance to try again” his body fully leaning to you practically half way over the table.

“im sorry we shouldn’t hav- it wasn’t bad- just we can’t Toji.” your thoughts swirling the world is spinning. Could you get kick out of school? what if someone saw? are there cameras in here? why do i still want to? it’s wrong.

“It’s fine sweetheart no one will know, just you and me i know you want more from the look on your face and the way your sqeezin your thighs. don’t even try to deny it.”

Caught. like the moth to a flame, fly in a trap, he’s got you.

Prison toji whose cock jumps when you slide out of your seat and approach him looking to make sure the guards weren’t watching. unknowing to the fact that tojo already blackmailed both of them to let him have all the privacy he needed with you. the look in your eyes as you approached was pure lust and need for him.

“your sure we’ll be fine right?” you say as you lean down towards him

“im positive doll i made sure of it.”

Prison Toji who finally snaps his cuffs unable to take anymore. grabbing your hips and pulling you into his lap his face clashing with your the kiss is sloppy and full of need. a small sound escaping as he deepens the kiss.

“i’ve been dreaming of this.”

TAGS: @altgojo @nanmiik @kouyoumarryme @imaslothandsowhat @dragonmaiden79 @sircatchungus

SOME OF YALL DIDNT SHOW UP WHEN I SEARCHED IM SO SORRY😭

#feral #jjk toji #i love terrible men #i need him #inmate toji #jjk #jujutsu toji #prison toji #toji fushiguro #toji zenin #toji x y/n #toji x you #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji x reader #dilf toji #oldermen #older toji

[chrollohearttags]

aot boys + ovulation week (feat. armin, eren, ony, connie, jean and reiner)

exactly as it sounds, another one of my early morning thoughts getting the best of me..a little drabble, nothing more lmao! This is also filthy

content + themes: black coded reader, ovulation, pregnancy mentions, breeding kink, squirting, masturbation, birth control, brief mentions of anal sex, spit play, fingering and some other thingsss

📝: this literally came to me out of nowhere. They are not fact or gospel, just my own opinion. But I could be wrong, feel free to change it how you please.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° .** . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° .** . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|

eren • the tease: the second he gets wind that you’re ovulating, it’s almost as if he takes the shit as a challenge. He doesn’t directly say anything but he notices the signs fairly quickly. The way you clench your thighs together when he’s around, flustering when he has no shirt on, etc. he finds it so cute in fact that he can’t help but to make your life harder. It’s not a matter of if you’ll cave to your urges but when and he definitely tries to speed up the process. Smirking once he realizes why you’re acting so strange. Walking around the house in gray sweatpants with no boxers, touching you even more so than he already does and is just incredibly flirtatious. Even grabbing your waist as he walks past you in the kitchen. “What’s wrong, princess? You look a lil’ tense, c’mere.” “I’m fine, Eren. I promise..” but he knows better than that when he catches you touching yourself because he happened to say something in passing earlier in the day that turned you on. (mind you: he called you a ‘good girl’ whilst the two of you were doing your morning workouts because you finished a set) but he doesn’t care..now that he sees you writhing around, spreading yourself open and stuffing those nimble little fingers in that dripping pussy, he’s glad to come help. “Look at you..so cute. I knew it.” And you’re in for it now because it doesn’t take long before he’s got you in his lap, back pressed to his chest with your legs spread completely apart as his larger digits are now thrashing around inside of you with a thumb on your clit and he’s whispering in your ear. Pinching your nipples and even kissing on your neck whilst he watches you turn into a drooling mess. “…You just needed me to come help you out. I’m right here..let daddy take care of you, baby..imma stretch that shit out. Use all them’ pretty holes..how’s that sound?”

armin • the sneak: he’s not dumb by a long shot! If anybody can sense when it’s that week for you, it’s him. The brainiac even has it down to a science..even if you don’t tell him, he can guess from the time you’re off your cycle till then. And once he does guess correctly, he’s on the hunt then and you’re his prey. He tries to use reverse psychology and all the other nonsense to lure you in. He clearly sees you’re trying to avoid him and not cave because he knows you’ll pounce like a wild animal the second you do. He’ll say things along the lines of: “it’s okay, sweetheart. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” Or “..I just thought you looked so pretty today, that’s all. I couldn’t help myself but I understand. We can wait until you’re ready.” After an intense makeout session that stops right before things get too far gone. And while he’s playing his little innocent act, you're frothing between your thighs and praying that he rips your clothes off right then and there. He also gets a kick out of seeing you get aroused by the simplest things. For example, when he’s fixing something in the house and his veins protrude from his hands and you wish it was your throat he was squeezing. It doesn’t take two hours, less known a week for you to give in and all but beg him to fuck you! And he’s excited because this man all but dreams of getting you pregnant! “I’ll give you whatever you want, sweetheart..all you have to do is ask.” Declaring as you find yourself on your knees, swallowing his dick whole (because he knows it gets you so wet) before he lightly cups your chin and fills your mouth with spit before rewarding you with a kiss. “Might even put a baby in you..you’ll look so fucking good.”

onyakopon • the pleasure dom: this man…this man right here. You might as well be prepared to block his damn number because he’ll have you ready to live in his skin when it’s all said and done. He knows you’ll try to evade him and act as if you’re just busy but he knows. He can tell you’re nervous around him or not wanting to make eye contact but he wants you to admit it. Tell him what it is that’s really on your mind. “What you acting so shy ‘round me for? Don’t be like that, ma. I’m your man. You can tell me anything.” As if he doesn’t already know you want him to use you as a fleshlight and make you come until you’re seeing stars. That much is apparent by the way you’re rubbing up on his chest, twirling his gold chain and biting the tip of your finger whilst you’re laying in bed. “What’s up with you, mama? Sum’ on your mind? Tell me what you want..” And it doesn’t take him long to deduce or figure things out when you start to move that hand lower towards his gym shorts. Naturally, he strives to give you exactly what you want so moments later, he’s between your thighs, allowing you to rub on his head; wrapped with a silk durag as he devours your pussy. Sucking and lapping on your clit…drinking in your juices. He knows you get wet but it’s not even a full ten minutes of him pleasuring you that you found yourself squirting into his mouth. Of course, there isn’t a single complaint from your man. He lives for it! “Lemme have that shit..c’mon, baby.” Adamant on the fact that he’s not coming up until he’s certain you’re satisfied. Fuck his own pleasure. And once he sets you atop his dick, bouncing you up and down, he’s focusing solely on you. On your orgasms, on the way your body reacts and especially how much you’re gushing down his shaft with those creamy juices. Squeezing him so tight as if you don’t want to let go. “Take that dick, baby..get your nut. That’s all I’m worried ‘bout right now. Get your fucking nut.”

connie • the freak: mr. constance shows no restraint as is but when you’re ovulating, it goes from bad to worse. Because he knows you won’t hold back either. So nothing is off limits! Every position, every kink, every type of nasty, salacious thing you can think of, he’s using this week as a means to let them all out. Your sex drive is super high so he’s matching your energy tenfold. “Imma fuck the shit out you, wait till I get home.” Vowing with conviction when you send him videos and texts throughout the day filled with freaky treats. The stuff you’re saying to one another is down right deplorable but you love every moment of it. He gets especially excited when you send him a small clip of you touching yourself and the web of arousal is twirled around your nails. You find yourselves engaging in every debaucherous activity possible from letting him bend you over the kitchen counter, legs spread open as he pounds you relentlessly..hands on your throat, hand roped between your thighs as it strokes your clit and you’re so sensitive, he loves it. He’s kissing on your neck, telling you how pretty you look. It’s bliss for the both of you. But then things intensity and Connie is NAWT playing. When you keep begging him for more, he doesn’t hesitate. He does everything he can to fulfill your filthy urges. Exploring every kink that you guys have wanted to try. Sucking toes, spitting in your mouth, fucking your throat..he’s using every hole you have. Even that one..he may even throw some liquor or weed into the mix and things really get fun. “Open that shit up, baby. That ass feels so fucking good. Love how nasty you get f’r me..” y’all literally never rest when that week rolls around!

jean • the bedroom bully: jean is a whole lover boy, no doubt..but he’s lowkey a bully in bed! Jean sort of likes it rough and he lovesss that you never shy away from telling him how you’re feeling…sometimes! When you’re ovulating, it depends on how you’re acting and how he’ll proceed. If he knows you’re in the mood and you’re being a bit more aggressive than usual, he’s with it. He’s loving that you’re tugging at his belt buckle, begging to suck him off.. “yeah, baby? That’s what you want? So what are you waiting for…suck this fucking dick.” Petting your head on the way down and trust, he’s not gentle about it. Even making you hold it in place.. “this is what you wanted, right? For me to treat you like a little slut? C’mon, baby..answer me.” Slapping your cheek in the process. If he’s feeling extra rude, he might deprive you. If you’re acting a little shy, he’s gonna find out what’s going on. He’s aware that you can’t control yourself and he doesn’t hold it against you (but he certainly exploits it!) When he sees you on your phone and acting a little secretive, he gets curious..only to find out you’ve been watching porn and he had a field day! “You’re really something else this week..” Pushing you against a wall, shoving his fingers into your panties and roughly grasping your chin as he forces you to keep eye contact. “What’s this? Can’t even wait for me, huh? That’s alright, I’ll take care of you.”

reiner • the breeder: good god, need I say more?! This man’s breeding kink stays on go as is but when ovulation week rolls around, you have to all but lock his ass out of the house because he’s going to be on you so bad and honestly, you want it. You want him just as desperately so you have to be the one to exercise caution because you know he won’t! You’re up against the kitchen counter or folding laundry and he’s all up on you..touching, kissing and licking on every inch of your skin, just not wanting to let go.. “Reiiii, baby..we can’t, not right now.” Whole time, you’re dripping between your thighs, your nipples are erect and you even find yourself whimpering and rutting yourself against him. “Really, sugar? Because the way you’re grinding on my dick says otherwise.” And it’s on from there, you cave! You cave bad..allowing him to bend you over right there, hoisting your skirt up and fucking you like an animal. You’re both so unhinged and primal; moving about the house in different positions, getting filled in each spot. He’s filled you with so much cum, he can barely even stay in it. You’re scratching at his back, faintly grasping him because you’re terribly overstimulated. “C’mon, darling. You can take one more f’r me. You’re gonna look so good when I fill you up..give you my baby.”

#aot x black reader #multi character #aot drabbles #eren x black fem!reader #armin x black reader #jean x black reader #connie x black reader #connie springer #eren jaeger #armin arlert #reiner x black reader #onyankopon x black reader #aot au #black reader smut #attack on titan #attack on titan smut #snk smut #eren yeager #eren jeager smut #eren jaeger x reader #jean kirschstein #reiner braun #onyankopon smut #cw breeding #cw pregnancy #cw overstimulation #armin smut #connie smut #snk drabble #smut drabble

[navybrat817]

Jawbreaker

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky put a mouthy rookie in his place. Word Count: Over 800 Warnings: Established relationship, mention of injury, misogyny, punching, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes defending you (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: I'm dedicating this to @whisperlullaby , who got to read this in advance, because she deserves this man (along with the rest of you). ❤️Written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

A small part of Bucky felt bad as he idly wiped his hand with a towel. A very small part.

He didn’t want people to fear him because of his past and he refused to let it define him. That meant that he tried his best to avoid violent tactics unless absolutely necessary.

But today, well, fuck that. The fucker had it coming.

Steve stood in front of him, his blue eyes narrowed as he waited for his best friend to acknowledge him.

Oh, Bucky expected some sort of reprimand, but he was sure Steve would change his tune in a minute or so.

“You gonna ask me what happened, punk, or glare at me until I talk?” He asked, tossing the towel away.

The blonde huffed out a laugh, but he didn’t look amused. “Why did you break that rookie’s jaw?”

Bucky tilted his head. “What’s the phrase? He fucked around and found out.”

You would’ve been proud of him for that reference.

Steve shook his head when Sam burst out laughing a few feet away. “Sam, please,” he begged, though his mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile. “What did the guy do?”

A bitter taste flooded Bucky’s mouth as anger coursed through his veins again. He inhaled as he thought of your sweet smile and soft touch before he exhaled, the storm inside of him calming.

“Buck, you gotta tell us something,” Steve urged, needing some sort of information to try and do some damage control.

The brunette straightened up to look his friend in the eyes, wanting him to see the fury beneath the cold mask. “He told my girl to throw an apron on and get back in the kitchen when she went to spar.”

You, one of the most capable agents Bucky had ever known.

You, who had shown nothing but kindness to everyone, even when they didn’t deserve it.

The person Bucky was lucky enough to call his other half. His better half.

And some asshole rookie had the gall to treat you as if you didn’t belong there with the rest of them.

Sam was no longer laughing. Steve’s jaw clenched in understanding.

Bucky swallowed, that fury threatening to surface again as he remembered the hurt that filled your eyes at the comment. “You know I’d support anything she wants to do, whether that’s working or staying at home. It doesn’t give some prick the right to make her feel bad for her decision.”

“You know I don’t like bullies, but breaking his jaw?” Steve questioned. The guy deserved it, but did the punishment actually fit the crime?

“When she walked away, he said to come back when she was ready to see what a real man could do for her,” he said, the words coming out like a snarl.

The way you tensed up, fear and disgust flickering on your face, he didn’t think. A switch inside of him went off and he swung.

The fucker was lucky that all he got was a broken jaw. He could’ve done so much worse.

And it wasn’t that you couldn’t defend yourself because you could, but you shouldn’t have to put up with garbage like that.

A cracking sound echoed in the room before he realized he crushed the armrest of his seat. “Fuck. I’ll pay for that,” he mumbled, kicking a bit of the broken piece with his boot. “Can you just tell me how much trouble I’m in so I can get back to my girl?”

He didn’t care if he they suspended or even fired him as long as he got back to you.

The room stayed silent before Sam mused, “Technically, what the rookie did counts as harassment.”

Steve nodded. “And I’m sure Nat can persuade him not to sue for the injury he received,” he added, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We’ll take care of it, Buck. Just. No more breaking jaws, okay?”

“When it comes to my girl, I make no promises,” Bucky smiled, his heart racing at the thought of you. “And maybe he’ll think twice before he opens his mouth again.”

“The damage you did, I don’t think he can open his mouth at all,” Sam mumbled.

Bucky’s phone went off before he could comment, his heart swelling as he read your text. He had to bite back a groan, too.

“Thank you again, Jawbreaker. I love you and I’ll be on my knees waiting for you.”

You wanted to thank him not just with words, but with your body and heart. It all belonged to him, like he belonged to you.

And he didn’t need to tell Steve and Sam what the message said since it was just for the two of you. “Love you, too, baby. Nothing to thank me for, but I’m on my way. Be ready.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Maybe we'll see how you "thank" Bucky down the road. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #sebastian stan #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #the winter soldier #bucky barnes fanfic #x reader #sebastian stan x reader #james barnes x reader #bucky fanfic

[luxaofhesperides]

Soulmark AU + Sleeping Beauty ; requested by @candeartist422!

For the last few years, Duke’s been waiting for his soulmate to die.

It sounds cruel to say it that way. But the waiting is more painful, he thinks, than just mourning a lost love. It’s not like most people ever meet their soulmates anyways; his parents weren’t meant to be, but they still loved each other and had a life together. He wishes he could turn his focus away from his soulmate, but Duke is a romantic at heart and has always wanted to find the other half of his soul.

But since he was fourteen, his soulmark has dulled, fading in and out of color. What was once a vibrant blue crystal star, with eight points and a swirl of watercolor hues around it, dimmed more and more until Duke was sure he was watching his soulmate die slowly. 

His soulmate didn’t die then. Whoever they are got better, his soulmark gaining color, but it never went back to the way it was. For years after, Duke would check at the beginning and end of each day, keeping track of when it faded and when it regained its color. 

He thought his soulmate was sick. In and out of hospitals, fighting to stay alive.

And then it went nearly colorless. 

Duke doesn’t remember much about that day. He knows he woke up, brushed his teeth, the lifted up his shirt to check his soulmark in the mirror. The blue was almost completely gone, the star on his left hipbone nearly gray with how colorless it was. He started at it for a moment, shocked, and reality slid away from him as he retreated into the safety of his mind, fully dissociating. 

Bruce had found him when Duke didn’t show up for breakfast. He held him and offered quiet words of comfort that Duke couldn’t understand, but just having someone with him lessened the hurt of losing his soulmate. 

Seeing the color come back the next day, faint as it was, hurt even more.

A year later, Duke still can’t break the habit of checking his soulmark twice a day. It hasn’t changed at all, still faint and dim, but carrying just enough color to show that his soulmate was still alive. At the very least, they were still breathing, but his chance of ever meeting them is basically zero. Still, he can’t help but hope, wishing that he could meet them even once before they die and leave him forever. 

“Same as ever,” he murmurs to himself as he brushes his thumb against his soulmark. He’s terrified that he’s forgotten how beautiful the blue of it was when his soulmate was healthy. 

Duke doesn’t let himself think on it too much anymore. Though his thoughts often turn to his soulmate during quiet moments like these, the busy nature of Gotham is usually more than enough to pull his attention back to the here and now. There’s no use in obsessing over his soulmate anyways; they’re just going to die, sooner or later, and Duke knows he’ll never get to meet them. They’ll just be another empty space in his life, right next to his parents. 

“Come on, Thomas, focus,” he tells himself firmly, then gets dressed and heads down to the kitchen for breakfast.

The manor is quiet. It usually is in the mornings, with everyone from the night shift dead asleep and trying to get as much rest as they can before they have to start their day. Not that many of them stay in the manor these days; Duke and Damian are the only permanent residents at the moment, but Steph usually stays half with her mom and half in the manor during the summers when she’s home from college, and the others drop in whenever they feel like it. 

Bruce lives more in the Batcave than the manor, so he doesn’t really count. It’s also why Duke is surprised to see Bruce awake and dressed like a normal person, drinking coffee in the kitchen as if this is a normal occurrence. 

“Morning,” Duke offers.

“Good morning, Duke,” Bruce replies. “Sleep well?”

“Well enough. Alfred out or something?”

“He may have kicked me out of the Batcave to clean it up a bit,” Bruce answers tiredly. “Want me to make breakfast?”

Duke has heard the horror stories of Bruce’s attempts to make edible food in a kitchen. In the interest of not dealing with food poisoning, Duke shakes his head quickly and says, “Nah, it’s fine. I was kinda wanting to eat out for breakfast. Get out there as me, and not a mask, you know?”

“Mind if I join you? Alfred may forgive me for not sleeping if I willingly go outside.”

Duke laughs. “Sure man, as long as you pay.”

“I’ll drive, too.”

“What, don’t trust me behind a wheel?”

Bruce gives him a tired look, eyes dead and dull. “I have taught all my children how to drive. The day I willingly let them take the wheel when I am not actively dying is the day I’ve been replaced by a robot clone of myself who doesn’t know better yet.”

“That is… very specific. Is that a thing you usually worry about?”

“I’m Batman. I have to worry about everything.”

Yeah, that tracks. Duke wouldn’t be surprised if he has at least five contingency plans for that scenario, should it ever happen. “Well,” he says, “Right now, all you need to worry about is having your wallet and driving us down to The Foodie Nook. I’ve been craving their breakfast plates for ages.”

Bruce doesn’t object to his choice of restaurant and follows Duke down to the garage, grabbing a random set of keys and pointing it out to the many cars he owns. One near the front blinks its lights as it unlocks and Duke cheerfully tosses himself into the passenger seat as Bruce opens the garage door. 

The drive into Gotham is smooth. They don’t hit traffic until they reach the bridge that leads into the city proper, taking them away from the quiet of Bristol. The morning is busy, but not enough that Duke worries about being out as the Signal to help keep the peace. It’s a normal type of busy, one borne from people going about their lives, feeling safe enough to go out. 

The Foodie Nook is entirely local and very popular, so the parking lot is nearly full. But they expanded their space last year, which means he and Bruce don’t have to sit outside while they wait to grab a table. Bruce keeps conversation light and casual, well aware of the many listening ears around them, and it’s nice, feeling normal for once. 

Well, as normal as life can be with Bruce Wayne™. The server who comes to lead them to a table realizes who she’s talking to after she gets a proper look at them while holding open the door and promptly stutters over her words. 

“No need for any special treatment,” Bruce laughs lightly, “We’re just here for breakfast. Nothing special.”

“Of course,” she replies, cheeks red. “Um, right this way! We’ve got a table by the windows for you. Just two, yeah?”

“Yup! Just two. Thought this was a good day to spend some time with Duke. He’s a great kid, you know, I’m glad I was given the opportunity to foster him.”

The sunny, cheerful Bruce Wayne persona is so different from the usual Bruce he works with that it feels like he’s standing next to a stranger. But his words are sincere and warm his heart, filling up the gaps that his soulmate has left. 

“Here you are!” their server announces, showing them to their table. “I’ll be right back with some menus.” She’s gone in a rush, and other customers glance over before quickly averting their gaze. 

It’s one of the unspoken rules of Gotham: give the Waynes their privacy while they’re out in public. Questions and conversation are for public events only, but if they see a Wayne out and about during a normal day, everyone leaves them be unless spoken to first. Duke used to follow those rules as well when he was just another Gothamite. It’s strange being on the other side of that now that he’s in with the Waynes.

Duke barely has to look through the menu when it’s handed to him. The breakfast plates are his favorites and he gets one every single time he comes to The Foodie Nook; stacked full with breakfast foods from around the world. As a kid, he loved the Mexico Plate, but these days he’s craving either the Brazilian Plate or the Vietnamese Plate.  

He can’t decide on which one and thinks about tossing a coin to decide, but seeing how that’s Two Face’s whole thing, he decides to hold off and settle the matter with eenie-meenie-minnie-mo. 

He gets the Vietnamese Plate.

Bruce, on the other hand, reads through the entire menu like it’s a novel, then leans over and says rather loudly, “Duke, what’s a tort-illa.” 

The pain he feels hearing that is only worsened by the amusement in Bruce’s eyes. He’s doing it on purpose, playing up the Brucie act for the public so he can psychologically torment Duke. A few nearby customers choke back laughter, turning away to hide their smiles. 

Duke shakes his head and says, “Don’t worry about it. It’s just food. Don’t ask any more questions, I just want a peaceful breakfast.”

“Well then,” Bruce replies, “I suppose I know what to order now.”

As if she was summoned, their server reappears before them, cheeks still looking a little flushed. “Hi! Ready to order?”

She writes down their orders quickly, valiantly keeping a straight face at Bruce’s mispronunciation of tortilla, then heads off to deliver their orders to the kitchen. 

Rather than draw out a conversation with Brucie Wayne, Duke settles for playing a few idle games on his phone; his current favorite is one quiet cat cafe game where he directs cats into fulfilling cafe orders. 

Bruce, despite being out in his civilian identity, is working. He’s on his Batman phone, which looks the same as his other cell phones except this one has a bat symbol sticker just barely hiding a Superman sticker on the phone case. His brow is slightly furrowed as he reads whatever file he’s accessing from the Batcomputer. It’s a little worrying but it could be anything. Bruce makes the same expression when he reads one of Tim’s snarky comments getting quoted in the news.

But that’s not Duke’s problem! He’s here to enjoy his breakfast and it will take the end of the world itself to remove him from his seat before he’s done eating.

The game takes most of his attention until their food comes out, and by then Bruce has tucked away the smallest of his Batman mannerisms. They enjoy a normal, peaceful breakfast. Bruce ends it by asking their server if she has any debt that’s weighing her down, then giving her a tip that’s at least five thousand dollars above that. 

She does cry and Bruce hugs her. It’s very sweet. 

As soon as they get back into the car, his easy going smile drops and Duke knows some superhero nonsense is about to take over his day. 

“Duke,” Bruce starts, seriously, “I received a message from Zatanna.”

“Don’t drag this out,” Duke says, “Just give it to me straight. What terrible thing is about to happen to us?”

“It’s nothing too big. They just recently defeated a magical being who had been tearing apart secret government facilities in Illinois. He had both magic and a high tech weapon, which they confiscated and are delivering to me. The government agency he was fighting was suspiciously interested in the weapon, and based on their behaviors and newly revealed work, Zatanna made the decision to turn the weapon over to us so it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”

Bruce smoothly merges into traffic as he speaks, getting them onto the road back to the manor. There’s a look in his eyes that means he’s keeping a lot unsaid, and Duke knows without a doubt that whatever this government agency was doing is bad if Zatanna needs Batman to act as extra security. 

He’s not sure about her decision to trust the weapon to be safe in Gotham, either. Sure, Batman will keep it as safe as he can, but with their luck, it’ll end up in the hands of a Rogue and lead to a lot of death and destruction. 

As soon as they cross the bridge and return to Bristol, Bruce steps on the gas and the car tears down the road. Without any other cars to worry about (or traffic laws), it takes barely two minutes to reach the manor, when the gates open for them and let them into the garage. 

Alfred waits for them by the door, looking them over with a critical eye. “I see you have managed to go outside, Master Bruce. What’s the special occasion?”

“Just breakfast,” Bruce answers. “I’m heading back down to the Batcave. Zatanna will be here soon to deliver a weapon.” He’s gone before Alfred can say anything more, hurrying down the hall and turning the corner, disappearing from sight as he heads towards his office. 

“I see we have yet to break that bad habit of his. Did you enjoy your morning out, Master Duke?”

“Sure did, Alfred. I’m, uh, also going down to the Batcave. He’s definitely not telling me a lot about what’s going on, so I’m just going to read about it over his shoulder. I’ll be back up for lunch, though!”

“And perhaps you’ll be able to drag Master Bruce away from that cave of his,” Alfred comments wryly as he walks with Duke towards the office. He gives Duke a nod, then splits away from him, returning to the kitchen where Duke can hear Damian speaking to someone, probably Tim by the annoyed tone of his voice, and mentally wishes Alfred luck in handling them.

Duke sets the correct time on the clock in Bruce’s office and heads down to the Batcave, taking the steps two at a time. 

Bruce is already at the Batcomputer, shoulders tensed, when he arrives. 

“More bad news?” he asks as he makes his way over.

Bruce doesn’t bother looking away from the screen as he says, “More details about the fight. It seems the magical being called himself a ghost and was going on a rampage due to a betrayal. He says they nearly killed his son.”

“Oh, yikes.”

“And two of the scientists working with the government agency said that he stole their son and is keeping them from saving him.”

“Yikes,” Duke says with more feeling.

He doesn’t get to hear anymore details about JLD’s fight with this ghost when he catches a flicker in the corner of his eye. Duke turns and stares at the empty space in the Batcave near the medbay and watches as colorful magic gathers and swirls in dizzing circles. The portal opens a moment later and Zatanna steps out, looking exhausted and lightly singed. 

“Batman,” she greets, holding a white gun that looks like it belongs in an early sci-fi movie from the 60s. “The GIW is trying to arrest us. Constantine keeps burning their badges and documents so it shouldn’t be a problem, but they are determined to get this back. I wouldn’t be surprised if they came after you next. They’ve got some way of tracking things, but I didn’t have time to get any details before I had to leave.”

Bruce takes the gun from her hands carefully, looking it over with a sharp gaze. “Why would a ghost want to use a gun?”

“I don’t know. He had a variety of powers, too.”

“What does this do?”

“Shoots ice. He never let it go and nearly burned me alive for taking it before we subdued him.”

“We’ll keep it locked up,” Bruce promises. 

Zatanna sighs. It looks as though a physical weight fell off her shoulders. “Thanks. I’m going to head back to stop Constantine from getting into a fistfight with the GIW agents.”

She opens another portal with a waved hand and a muttered spell. Bruce is already walking away to set the gun down on a work station, so Duke is the one to wave Zatanna goodbye. 

By the time he reaches Bruce’s side, the gun is already dismantled, all pieces neatly set aside. Sticky notes denote which pieces go together and in what order. It looks the same as most guns, save for the aesthetic, but the heart of it is a glowing blue orb, large enough to cover the entirety of Bruce’s palm, and it brings a chill to the air.

Duke stares at it and feels his soulmark burn ice cold.

“Duke?”

It’s in his hands. He doesn’t remember reaching out to take it, but it’s in his hands. He can’t take his eyes off of it, cradling it gently and bringing it closer to his chest. 

It’s the same blue his soulmark once was. Before his soulmate began to fade, before every day became a waiting game to see how long his soulmate will last before they die. 

This has something to do with his soulmate. He’s sure of it. 

He won’t let anyone take it from him. 

“Duke. Give that to me.”

He doesn’t feel like he’s in his body. He’s detached, floating somewhere outside his body, puppeteering his limbs, making them move without feeling the motion. Shadows condense around his feet and Bruce takes a step back, wary. 

“Duke,” he says again, but Duke can’t find any words, can’t draw on his voice, can’t even look away from the bright, bright blue of the orb. It pulses lightly in his hand like a heartbeat. 

Bruce reaches a hand out. 

He’s pulled back by shadows before he can get close, and Duke holds the orb against his chest, right against his heart, and feels the cold seep into him. 

“Duke. I need you to look at me.” This time, Bruce’s voice has Batman’s growl in it, a heavy command that he can’t help but instinctively follow. He looks up and meets Bruce’s eyes, but he can’t focus. All his awareness is in his hands and the heartbeat of the glowing orb.

“I have to protect this,” Duke manages to whisper. “I… I think it’s alive.”

“Okay. Let’s get you to the medbay so you can sit down. We’ll figure this out, Duke.”

Bruce slowly, carefully, sets his hand on Duke’s shoulder. He keeps his attention away from the orb, so Duke allows it and lets Bruce guide him to the medbay and onto one of the medical cots. Bruce leaves him after a minute of quiet fussing, muttering about calling Zatanna.

Whatever. None of that matters when the heartbeat of the orb grows stronger, steadier, and Duke feels it match the beat of his own heart.

Time slips away from him. Distantly, he hears people move around the cave, speaking in low tones. A hand presses against his shoulder, warm, then moves away. 

The orb in his hand moves. 

Duke blinks slowly, then claws his way back to awareness, pushing past the haze that’s fallen over his mind. The orb turns over in his hand, then cracks right down the middle. The glow grows stronger, washing the medbay in blue light and a symbol appears on the orb.

It’s his soulmark. 

Later, he won’t be able to say why he did it. There were no thoughts, no reasonings, no explanations. Duke simply moved on instinct and lifted the orb up to his face and pressed a soft kiss against it. 

One moment, the orb was still.

The next, it had burst in a flash of light that blinded everyone in the Batcave, and then a thin, injured teenager had fallen into Duke’s lap. 

Hands immediately grab him, pulling him away from Duke. The teenager puts up no fight, eyes barely open, but he reaches for Duke weakly. On his wrist is the bright blue snowflake, the color strong and vivid. 

“That’s me soulmate,” Duke whispers as he watches Bruce and Tim set the boy down on another medical cot. 

“What?” Tim says, turning to face Duke, concern clear on his face. 

“That’s my soulmate,” he repeats, louder. Then, panicked, he pulls up his shirt enough to see his own soulmark; the color is still dull, weak, barely there, but it’s more blue that it has been in a while. He doesn’t need to say anything. Tim sees the dullness of his soulmark, looks at the boy, and puts the pieces together on his own.

“I’ll call Doc Thompkins,” he says, already moving to fix everything. Bruce remains where he is, making sure the boy is tucked in and breathing steadily before he returns to Duke. 

“Are you alright?”

Duke swallows roughly, unable to tear his eyes away from the boy. He’s pale and thin, as if he’d been starved, and there’s frost beginning to spread on the bedsheet from his fingers. “He’s my soulmate,” Duke manages to say. “He’s been dying for two years.”

Bruce’s eyes a hard, a determined light in them. “We’ll save him,” he promises. 

If anyone can, it’s Batman. 

If anyone can, it’s them, Batman and the Signal, and their entire network of family and friends. 

Duke’s been waiting for his soulmate to die all this time. Now, he’s going to save him.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #prompt fill #my writing #i dont really know much abt jld so they are not really in here #just duke trying to live his life and have a nice day with bruce #when his soul mate gets thrown at him in the form of an ORB #(ghost core but they dont know that yet) #dannys gonna have to answer so many questions once hes awake bc not many know abt realms beings #its gonna be rough for him bc he's been asleep for 2 years in his core bc he was never safe enough to recover #until duke gave him a boost (plus the power of soulmates really helped him) and he woke up #in a cave with his soulmate and a whole crew of superheroes #what a thing to open ur eyes to. rip danny lol #thanks for the prompt!

[gay-dorito-dust]

How’d they act if you called them pretty upon getting catch looking at them…

Dan Heng: blushes. Hard.

He’s not use to someone complimenting his looks as it’s not something he finds important.

‘Are you really that shameless to say such things aloud?’ He’d say while avoiding eye contact with you.

Dan Heng would act as though you just shouted this out loud in front a hoard of people, even though you didn’t.

He’s awkward when it comes to taking compliments aimed his way but his reaction is too fucking cute to ignore and will warrant another compliment his way, which will only serve in making his face brunt redder.

‘Shut up, please.’ He’d plead as he covers a hand over your eyes, feeling as though they’ve stared deeply into his soul and actually see him as a whole person and more. ‘You talk too much about things you don’t understand the first thing of.’

He’s probably going to get teased by March 7th after this and it’ll be used as blackmail, probably.

Give him a moment to breath and calm down before complimenting on how pretty he is because he will combust from how flustered he is.

Argenti: would probably start a compliment war in all honesty because how can you say he’s pretty without admitting that you are also quite a sight for sore eyes.

If you were to compliment his hair, he’d resort back with how even the stars put on their best performance within your presence.

He’s got such a way with words that can easily leave one flustered without even trying. He’d even wax poetry on the spot about how the light catches your eyes in a way similar to that of a kaleidoscope, bright, vibrant and above all breathtaking.

Argenti doesn’t hold back, will not hold back, and will not back down from letting you know just how ethereal you look to him.

He can do this all day, you however could not do this all day seeing how this man has unlimited ammunition when it came to complimenting the beauty of pretty much everything.

(I mean this is the same dude who complimented a plant. 🪴 I bet that plant blushed, we just didn’t see it bc who wouldn’t blush if a chivalrous red head complimented them?)

Welt: smiles softly as a light blush coated his cheeks.

He’s well kept for someone who’s in his 60/70/80’s And he deserves to be told as such!

(all I know is that he’s grandpa age from other ppl)

So when you do compliment him and call him pretty, this old man is going to thank you for such kind words and probably give you head pats as a reward.

He appreciates a kind compliment now and then.

‘Why thank you, I try my best to keep in good shape if I’m meant to keep up with all of you.’ He would say in response followed by a chuckle.

Welt is young at heart and knows that his body isn’t how it once was but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s a restless spirit within an old man’s body. So when you compliment him, it only makes him feel good and warm on the inside.

Blade: doesn’t know how to take compliments.

He’s not use to it and doesn’t know how to react to it other than saying something along the lines of;

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘Flattery will get you nowhere.’

Or just straight up. ‘No.’

And all the while his face is like this: 😐 or this 😒

It’s never one or the other, blade just doesn’t view himself worth the compliment, when the only things about him that people see most is that he’s a bad dude in a bad group doing bad things.

He doesn’t see why you’re wasting a kind, genuine compliment on someone whose entire body is riddled in ugly scars.

Blade is the type of person where you’d have to prove that your compliment is genuine or else he just won’t believe it.

Sampo: his ego is boosted to the max.

Well done you’ve made him even more insufferable.

He will smile that Cheshire smile of his and ask to hear what else about him you find appealing besides his pretty face.

You: your exposed hips, you slut-

However behind his cocky persona, he’s a giggly bitch who’s mentally kicking his feet and writing this interaction in his bubblegum pink diary with a glitter pen.

Sampo is deeply invested in what you thought about the rest of him but won’t let it show as he would consider it ‘out of character’ for himself. So he’ll continue to act the cocky and confident fool like he always does.

He’ll be the type to tease you about potentially killing him while internally screaming himself and telling other people that you find him pretty, much to your embarrassment.

‘You see them over there? Yeah they called ol’ Sampo pretty!’ He’d say to a random person while pointing towards you as you try to hide yourself behind a trash can…only for the trash can to grow arms and legs and walk off elsewhere.

Why were the arms and legs buff as fuck? What was their workout routine? You must know. now.

Sunday: takes the compliment in kind.

He looks like the type to get called handsome or pretty on the daily, so it’s nothing new to him but he’ll take the compliment nonetheless.

He’s probably the most calm out of the bunch when being called pretty, besides from maybe Welt.

He’s not bashful, he’s not overtly arrogant and he’s not in denial about it either. He just takes the compliment as it is and goes on about his day like any other.

Though people would take note on how he’s smiling brighter than usual. Your compliment would stay with him the entire day, as it serves as a reminder of his place within your heart and he’s secretly scheming on ways on how to stay within your heart.

Permanently.

#hsr fanfic #hsr imagines #hsr imagine #hsr x reader #hsr blade x reader #hsr blade x you #hsr x you #blade x reader #blade imagines #blade imagine #welt yang x reader #welt Yang imagines #welt Yang imagine #sampo x reader #sampo x you #sampo imagines #dan heng x reader #Dan heng imagines #Dan heng imagine #sunday x reader #Sunday imagine #Sunday imagines #argenti x reader #Argenti imagines #argenti x you #argenti imagine #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #Honkai star rail imagines