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klemen-tine · 4 months

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For the Greater Good (Platonic! Yandere Batfam x Uncle!MaleReader)

MAJOR WARNING: There is physical harm in this, near the end, please proceed with caution. Non-consensual drugging at the end as well.

Fun fact I learned but felt like I knew, some pain medications can actually make you lose your memories.

Reader is Bruce Wayne's younger brother.

___________________________________________________________

Crying woke him up. Groaning and rubbing his eyes, he sat up with a lot of effort and threw his legs over the edge of the bed. Grabbing his cane, he threw on a robe to protect himself from the chilly air the manor tends to have, and he hobbled out of his room. His leg was still stiff and he cursed at how long it took him to get to the room, but once he did he limped inside and towards the crib.

He smiled down at the crying baby, dressed in the cutest starfish onesie. When crying blue eyes made eye contact with E/C eyes, the crying stopped and instead a smile bloomed on their chubby face. A chuckle escaped the exhausted man, reaching down carefully and picking the small thing up. He put his weight on his good leg and stood there, holding the little being in his arms.

Their cheeks have filled out, creating a plumpness that reminded him of the cream puffs he has tucked away in the freezer, and those sparkling blue eyes were something many people would be jealous about.

“You shouldn’t be up.” He could hear the cape swishing behind the other figure, and the all but silent footsteps that inched their way into the room. A smile bloomed on his own face, mimicking the baby, “Don’t come closer if you’re wearing that bat costume. You’ll give him nightmares.” A chuckle escaped from the other and when exhausted E/C eyes looked up, he was met with the amused blue eyes of his older brother.

Bruce ignored his younger brother’s words, walking closer to peer at his nephew in his brother’s arms. His mask was off, and he only wore the suit and cape. This way his nephew could at least recognize his favorite Uncle’s face. To which the baby did, smiling and laughing when Bruce came into their line of suit.

Y/N smiled, holding them closer and nuzzling his head with his cheek. Bruce watched his nephew flail his arms in that starfish onesie, making it all the more hilarious. His brother chuckled, gently bouncing the baby in his arms to try and soothe them.

“You stink.” Bruce chuckled, “How rude. I just came back from patrol.” Y/N rolled his eyes, “Everyone alright?”

“Yes, everyone is safe. It was an easy night.” Y/N’s shoulders relaxed and Bruce observed how the exhaustion creeped up on his brother. His shoulders sagging and the bags under his eyes looking heavier. His grip on Bruce’s nephew tightened only a little bit, pulling the baby closer.

If Bruce was better at art, it would be this moment he would wish to paint. The moon light streaming in through off-white curtains, over the sage green crib, and on the two bodies in front of him. His younger brother, wearing a black silk robe and his nephew in his starfish onesie being bathed in moonlight. The soft light reflecting off of H/C lock and S/C skin. It is the way that the moonlight casted soft shadows and seemed to only highlight his brother’s features. Blue eyes looked down to his nephew, who was fluttering those large blue eyes of his and trying to fight sleep.

It’d be more beautiful than any other renaissance painting.

His nephew looked so much like Y/N when he was a baby. A memory Bruce holds onto with care. Besides the eye color, which blue was a common trait in Waynes, his nephew could be nearly identical to Y/N as a baby. From the smiles, to the happy laughs, the waking up in the middle of the night just to be held.

It’s most likely what made this image all the more better.

Until Y/N’s face screwed and Bruce watched him shift his weight a bit. Worry taking over his features, he rested a large hand on his brother’s shoulder, “Y/N, you should go to sleep.” Y/N shook his head, “Not yet.”

“Y/N.”

“No, Bruce. Just… just a bit longer.” He wanted to look at what was left of the life he once had. His baby was a reminder of the love he had once felt for another. A love he didn’t know he was capable of feeling, until a few years ago. The very proof of said love, the only thing left was his baby. This cute, innocent, and lovely baby that held Y/N’s heart. Or at least what was left of it.

The Wayne brothers are intimately familiar with how quickly life can be taken away. Their parents’ lives taken by a bullet, and Y/N’s wife taken by a car. Anything could take this young life, and the very thought terrified Y/N. It had him jolting awake in the middle of the night and visiting the nursery whenever he could. His son was always near him, and he only just started letting himself leave the baby with his cousins, Uncle, and Grandfather alone.

His heart always beats anxiously whenever he couldn’t see his son, but Alfred and Bruce assured him that that response was normal. Bruce has been helping get over that hurdle, slowly drawing him further and further away from the room his baby would be in for a longer period of time.

Staring at the now sleeping bundle in his arms, all he wanted was to ingrain his son’s features into his memories. Just in case the grim reaper decided it needed another Wayne. If it does decide that, Y/N prays it’ll take him. He prays that it will leave Bruce and his nephews alone, that it would leave Alfred alone, and most importantly his son.

With help from his brother, he set his son down in the crib, watching the baby stir for only a bit before grabbing Bruce’s outstretched arm. His cane in Bruce’s other hand, and Y/N chuckled. Looping his arm in his brother’s as the older, broader, and irritatingly taller man walked back to his room next door.

“Do you want to take your medicine?” Y/N shook his head, “No. The pain isn’t bad, it was just a twinge.” Bruce nodded, sitting on the edge of bed and watching his brother settle under the thick comforters. He could see the anxiety forming in those eyes, and he knows if he doesn’t quell it now, Y/N will be up again to go see his son.

Taking off his gloves, he gently began to run his fingers through his brother’s hair, softly lulling the other to sleep. Bruce smiled, “It’s okay, Y/N. Everyone will be here in the morning.” A few more minutes later, Y/N was softly snoring, taking deep breaths and his body no longer moving besides the stead rising and falling of his chest.

Bruce shuffled quietly out the door, shutting it without a sound, and making his way back to his own room. No before checking in once more on his nephew. Bruce wasn’t as paranoid as Y/N was, but he did enjoy staring at the baby. Not with haunted looks like Y/N used to have, or the forever ogling gazes his own son’s had when looking at the youngest Wayne.

He gazed upon the baby just how he used to stare at Y/N when he was this small. Waking up in the middle of the night to stare in fascination that a human could be so tiny. When he was younger, Bruce used to climb into the crib with Y/N and sleep next to him. It would be quite the sight in the morning, when either Alfred or his parents found him snuggled next to Y/N.

Bruce is four years older than Y/N, and he took his older sibling role seriously. When they were younger, Bruce always had his hand in Y/N’s. Making sure that the other was never far from him. Which wasn’t hard even if they weren’t holding hands. Y/N has been attached to Bruce from the moment he could walk.

His protectiveness increased ten-fold after that fateful night. A night that robbed the both of them of their parents, and Y/N of his mobility. His hip had been shot due to Bruce pulling him close to him. If Bruce didn’t that bullet would have hit Y/N’s stomach, and Alfred had explained that a limp is a small price when it comes to a life.

Bruce had agreed.

Y/N had never held it over Bruce. He never blamed him, nor has he ever given him a dirty look for it.

The man wanted to ensure that his nephew will never have to go through what Y/N went through. He wanted this baby to grow up with a family already wrapped around those tiny, stubby fingers and he wanted Y/N to know that this family would bend over backwards for them. They would do everything in their powers for the two people that always seemed to be in the middle of everything.

He’s grateful that his nephew inherited Y/N’s looks. From the shape of this eyes down to his nose, everything looked like Y/N.

Nothing like that wretched woman.

His jaw clenched at the thought of her, and he quickly walked around the crib to pull the curtains closed. Cutting out the moonlight that illuminated the room and leaving them in almost complete darkness besides the hallway light from the open door.

He reached down, gently dragging his callused finger across the thin and fragile skin of his nephew’s cheek, who smiled in his sleep. Completely and devastatingly unaware of the mad house around him.

++++

“What are you doing?” Y/N stared down at Cass and Stephanie that were surrounding his son. The baby’s hair tied up with a small bow, and looked like a radish.

“Dress up,” Cass answered seriously, and Y/N nodded with a stoic face. Gone were the clothes he was dressed in early this morning and instead he was wearing a cute blue dress under a white top with puffed sleeves.

“Why a dress?” Stephani snickered and pulled out a photo from nowhere, and she stood to hand it up to him. He took the photo and he brought his other hand up to rip it.

“No!” Steph snatched it out his hands and Y/N stomped his cane, “Get rid of that! How did you even get that?!” It was a photo of him, as a baby, in girl clothes. Almost the same dress, same shirt, and same hairstyle. In the back was a cheekily grinning Bruce.

“Bruce.” He’s killing him.

“What?” Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Y/N whipped his glare towards his brother, “Why do you have that photo?!” Bruce blinked at him, took a look at the baby in the room, and then chuckled, “Oh, that photo.”

Y/N hates that his brother knew what photo he was talking about by just looking at his son.

“He’s cute.” Cass held up Y/N’s son, who continued to laugh and Steph whipped out her phone to take a photo. Y/N huffed, “I’m not mad you dressed him up. Bruce, why do you have that photo?!”

His older brother shrugged, “It’s a cute photo.” Y/N’s cheeks burned and Bruce had to stop himself from chuckling, taking advantage of the fact that Y/N needed a hand to hold onto the cane, and he squished his brother’s cheeks with his own hands.

“Bwuush.” Bruce watched those E/C eyes focus on him and fill with annoyance as well as with embarrassment. Those squished cheeks of his were red with a flush and Bruce knows that his baby brother’s nose would be scrunched if he wasn’t currently having his face squished.

The man released Y/N’s cheeks, smiling as he did so. His nephew started laughing and he turned his attention to Steph and Cass who were cooing and taking photos. At least some people were enjoying this.

Y/N sighed, “What other photos do you have of me as baby?” Bruce’s smile turned cryptic smile, walking over to pick up the laughing and smiling baby who squealed in the arms of his Uncle.

“Hey! We weren’t done!” Steph cried out, getting ready to try and snag the baby back, but Bruce cut her off, “It’s lunch time. Alfred is expecting us.”

“Steph, Cass, at least put him back in his regular clothes,” Y/N tried to defend some of his son’s honor, knowing that as an adult the photos will be haunting him. Stephanie grabbed Cass’s hand and ran out of the room, pretending not to hear Y/N calling their names. The man huffed, turning to Bruce who shrugged, “I’m sure everyone will be fine with it.” “I know they will be fine with it. It’s just my poor son is going to be haunted by this story and these pictures.” Bruce chuckled, moving his nephew to sit in one arm, while his other hand rested on Y/N’s back. He gently guided Y/N to the dining room, listening to his brother complain about how this whole family was just filled with people who do what they want when they want.

He was halfway through it when they heard running steps followed by a “Stop running!” Dick’s blue eyes locked on the three of him and his face looking feverish, “So they didn’t take him out of it!” Cheers were heard and Y/N swears that one day he’s going to club all of them. His oldest nephew walked over, his smile large as he took in his cute cousin who was babbling away and looking unbothered.

“Uncle, he really does look like you in that photo.”

“How do you know of that photo?!” Dick picked up his cousin from Bruce’s arms, and cooed at the chubby baby. Said baby squealed and gushed at the sight of Dick, raising his little hands and pawing at Dick’s cheeks and nose. It had Dick making a sqwauking sound and nuzzled his nose into those plump cheeks.

He motioned for the two other adults to follow him, “Alfred made lasgana, caesar salad, and some bread loafs.” Y/N can already picture the mess his son will make and that poor dress of his is going to ruined.

“Before he naps he’s going to need a bath,” He reminded Dick, who nodded, “Of course! Can’t have a dirty baby going to sleep dirty, now can we?” His hands held both sides of his cousin and he held him in the air as he wiggled him a bit, eliciting a cry of delight.

The walk to the dining room was filled with Dick asking his Uncle questions and Bruce walking besides the limping man. Both of their attention on him as he answered Dick truthfully.

“You guys are terrible,” Jason grumbled once he saw his cousin’s state, but it lacked any bite and he was holding back a smile. Stephanie cackled while Dick set the youngest Wayne in his high chair.

“Master Y/N, I can feed the Young Master while you eat.” Y/N smiled at Alfred, “Are you sure? I don’t mind feeding him, Alfred.” The Butler huffed, “Of course. It is not a hard job to do.” It was something everyone was grateful for. The youngest Wayne was not, by any means, a picky eater. He was a joy to feed and oftentimes Y/N’s nieces and nephews fought over who could feed him. Although, everyone could admit that Alfred is the best when it comes to making sure that their cousin’s food ends up more in his mouth than on the tray.

Smiling, Y/N and the rest of the Waynes dug into the italian-themed meal.

Damian watched his Uncle eat from his peripheral vision. He took into account how much food he was eating and how much just spread throughout his plate to look like he ate some. When he had first moved in after the accident, it was a common thing to witness. Their once gluttonous Uncle, because Y/N could and does eat a lot, was barely taking any bites of the meals.

The first month was hard on almost everybody. His Uncle always looked paranoid and he had his son sleeping in the same room as him. Damian understood that his Uncle was grieving and grief takes time. Even now, he could still see the signs of sadness in those E/C irises as he stared and took in everybody. Almost like it would be his last chance to do so.

It is that look that puts everyone on high alert around him. Monitoring and excessively checking on him just how he does to his son.

What Uncle Y/N doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

After an eventful lunch, it was Uncle Y/N who ended up taking his son to go put down for a nap, balancing the baby in one arm and using the cane in the other, he masterfully evaded everyones’ hand to help and limped through the manor.

Damian was the one to pull out his phone and watch the feed of his Uncle making it too his room with the baby still in his arms. Masterfully opening and keeping the door open until the both of them were in the room.

“He made it.”

“Good.” Call them cautious and they will agree. How could they not be? Y/N has had a tremendous impact on nearly all of their lives in some shape or form. His patience, kindness, and genuine happiness of just being alive was infectious and capable of attracting even the haughtiest of people.

He was too good for someone like her. Someone who was so impatient, deceitful, and not worthy of Y/N’s attention. Let alone hand in marriage.

When Y/N had first introduced her, everyone banked on it not lasting. It is why they did nothing to stop the continuation of the relationship. A simple fling. Only for two years later they would be married. It was only the revelation that she was pregnant that halted the plans for a bit.

Seeing Y/N as happy and excited as he was was enough to stave off the anger. Bruce’s grip became more possessive, Dick’s hugs became tighter, Jason’s bookstore trip became more frequent, Tim’s help in learning how to run Wayne Enterprise more demanding, Stephanie’s and Cass need to go shopping became longer, Duke’s need to understand his metahuman abilities became more intense, and Damian’s desire for his blood-Uncle’s attention all the more prominent.

Everyone all of a sudden needed something from Y/N more than before.

Then when the baby was born, all of the Wayne’s were present, including those who didn’t fall under Bruce Wayne’s legal care. All of them waiting for Y/N and his son.

Tim can recall his first time holding the baby, and how small he was. He had been terrified that he was going to break them, but Y/N’s careful guidance and soft instructions, that fear turned into admiration. To think, something this small could be this breathtaking.

His blue, exhausted and surrounded by bags from the lack of sleep, looked up and sure enough, Y/N was staring at him and Tim’s new cousin with so much love. Those delicate hands, hands that Bruce dirtied his for so they would stay clean, held his forearms in a gentle grip as he helped Tim find the right bounce to ensure that the newborn stayed asleep.

Tim quickly obtained that hospital video and saved it on the Batcomputer for everyone to remember the first time they held their cousin.

There had been a huge argument after that. How long should they wait for their plan to be put into action?

A lot of them wanted it to happen while their cousin was still a baby, unable to remember that woman’s face because she doesn’t matter. Only they did. Only Y/N did. Their cousin only needed to remember his father, Uncle, Grandfather, and cousins.

That was it.

But how young should they do it? Surely before any core memories were made right? Because then Y/N would only be hurt more. However, if they did it to young the stress might be too much for Y/N.

The first month after the accident was horrid. Y/N rarely got any sleep, and when he gory nightmares haunted him. The car was not supposed to crash in front of him, but by the time anyone made that realization it was already too late. The black car was completely crushed, and up in flames while Y/N could only hold their son and watch. Bruce was next to him, and he had caught his brother before his knees could hit the concrete.

It was a horrible day for multiple parties, and the aftermath was just as bad. Y/N couldn;t even handle the funeral proceedings, to which Bruce and shockingly (and funny enough) Jason handled. The second oldest nephew responding to every whim and whimsey his Uncle had, doing everything in his power to make the pain lessen.

Anything in the powers. Sometimes that meant anti-depressants and bumping up Y/N’s pain relievers.

A loopy Y/N was a calm Y/N, and a calm Y/N meant a well-rested Y/N. Sometimes he would rarely leave the bed, trusting on someone to take care of his son. To which they all happily jumped on the chance to do. He’s been weening off of the pain medication, choosing to once again deal with small pain in his hip, but he stayed on the anti-depressants.

That is the one pill everyone made sure he took. He needed them. Just how he needs this family. All he needs is this family.

++++

“What did you do, Bruce?” Bruce had to stop himself from cursing at his luck and at the boys for also not nooticing. All five of them in this room and none of them heard Y/N enter? Of course he enters when a comment was made about make someone disappear just like Y/N’s wife. They wouldn’t have a hand in it, because they don’t kill, but is it a murder if one of them lets it slip what type of car she drove to the man she screwed over the most?

It’s not their fault that her ex worked at the mechanic shop they frequented. It isn’t their fault that Tim accidentally said somethin about the car being his Aunt’s, because how was he supposed to knoow that the mechanic he was talking to was her crazy-ex? It’s not his fault. It’s not any of their fault, because she didn’t say anything about this.

She lied, repeatedly over and over again to Y/N’s and everyone’s faces. Only, she lied to a house full of detectives, a former soldier Butler, and a man whose happiness was at the forefront of everyone’s reasoning.

“Y/N-”

“What did you do?!” Terrified E/C eyes stared at Bruce’s rigid form. The older man did not intend for his younger brother to hear those words, and he didn’t like that all the blame was being pinned on him. It was a group effort.

One they all happily took part in.

Dick raised his hands, as if he could ease the tension, “Uncle, c’mon there might be a misunderstanding.” Vibrant E/C eyes, swirling with pain and rage, flickered to him and effectively shut him up for a bit. Jason, for once, chose to remain silent at the sight of conflict while Tim thought the paintings in the library looked interesting. Damian, like his father and oldest brother, was looking at him.

Y/N could feel his heart beating faster and his head hurting. He didn’t want to believe it. How could he? His brother, the nephews he loves, and the nieces he adores, all conspired to kill his wife?

Who… No, why? The question was written across his face and Bruce took it upon himself to clear the air. He motioned for the others to get out, which they did with no complaint. Dick sending him a guilty look, Jason not meeting his eyes, Tim and Damian sending an apologetic look before disappearing.

The heavy doors of the office shut behind them and Y/N clenched his jaw. Bruce and him maintained eye contact, staring each other down.

“It was a choice made by the Family.”

“The hell is this? A mob?” Bruce stared into Y/N’s enraged eyes, and he sighed, “Y/N, I know this hurts but it is for the best.”

“The best? The best for who?! Not for me! Not for my son! Not for your nephew!”

“You don’t know that!”

“And you do?! What are you clairvoyant now?!”

“She wasn’t good enough for you, Y/N.”

“Who are you to decide that?” Y/N hissed out, glaring at him with all the rage and resentment in his body. The past three years of the family getting together, photos, smiles, all of it now burning in flames and he was choking on the smoke and ashes.

How long had they been planning this?

“Y/N-”

“Don’t ‘Y/N’ me! Bruce, what the hell?!” It terrified him. His brother, the one he trusts most, and he just threw all of that back into his face.

If Bruce could do that to someone Y/N loves, what's stopping Bruce from hurting him? Y/N’s eyes widened. What’s stopping Bruce from hurting his son?

The boys walked out.

His head whipped to the door, and was about to start making his way out to the nursery, but Bruce had grabbed his arm, kicking the cane from his grip and making Y/N rely on Bruce’s weight to keep standing.

“Bruce, I swear to God, don’t you dare-”

“My nephew will not be touched in any malicious way, if that is what you are so worried about.” Y/N snarled at him, trying to get out of his iron grip.

“I don’t believe you.” Bruce nodded, “You don’t have to. Can’t you trust that your nephews won’t hurt him?”

“No. How can I trust the murderers of my wife?” Bruce’s expression changed, and the hold on his arm tightened. Y/N’s teeth clenched, “How could you do that? I trusted you! I fucking trusted you and you go and…” The weight of the situation fell on his shoulders and Y/N would have crumbled if it weren’t for Bruce holding him up. Tears leaked from his eyes like they were faucets and his chest started aching.

Bruce kissed the side of his head, and where he kissed felt like it burned. Like the heat of the fire on the day that car crashed with his wife in it.

“I know. I know it hurts but it’ll get better Y/N.”

“Don’t talk to me about something getting better when you’re the cause of it.” Bruce lowered them to the floor, making sure that Y/N was still out of reach of his cane. Y/N wanted to throw a punch, an elbow, or something to vent all the anger and pain he has in his body. However, the grip Bruce has around his arms keeps them pinned to his sides and it’s not like Y/N had the strongest legs. If they were to get into it, it would be literal boulder versus a twig.

Bruce has always been the bigger one between then, even before Batman. Bruce had inherited Thomas Wayne’s imposing figure, while Y/N had Martha’s thinner one. His brother had been his rock, just how he had been Bruce’s now he wonders if Bruce was the heavy ball at the end of the chain. His nieces and nephews the chains, his son his collar, and the manor the cage.

Y/N felt as if the reality around him was crumbling and he couldn’t even pick the pieces up. He choked down a sob, “How long have you been planning this?”

“The accident or having you here?”

“All of it.” Bruce rested his forehead on Y/N’s shoulder, “You were supposed to stay here in the manor. The very thought of someone being more important than me, than Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, Alfred, all of them, it is so infuriating and terrifying.

“Because I was scared that one day you would leave me, alone in this manor with only the walls to talk to and the mirrors for company.” Y/N glared at him through his tears, “You’re lack of faith in me is astounding.” He would never have left Bruce, because they are all they had left of their family.

Not to mention, Bruce has the boys and girls for company. He wouldn’t have been alone. There’s Alfred and Y/N would have visited.

“I know its not an excuse, but dammit Y/N, it’s so terrifying.” Y/N tried to still his beatin heart, pumping his blood throuoghout his body and making him want to run. He wants to leave. He really, really, wants to leave. Y/N wants to pick his baby up and run.

“Do you know why I am telling you this?” Bruce’s grip loosened and Y/N waited until those arms removed themselves from around him and he lunged for his cane. Only for a large handd to wrap around the ankle of his bad leg and pulled. Dragging him away from the cane and causing Y/N to shout in pain.

He stared up at his older brother in fear, his leg still in Bruce’s iroon grip. Y/N wonders if this is what criminals see when looking at Batman.

“Because you’re not going to remember it.” His foot stomped on Y/N’s hip and there was a sickening crack and white flashed behind his eyelids. The scream he released sounded foreign to his own ears, and the tears now became ones of physical pain rather than emotional.

He started coughing from the amount of screaming and crying, and Bruce continued to look down at him. His eyes full of sorrow, but also acceptance. He was looking at Y/N similar to a parent getting ready to discipline their kid. Not wanting to but needing too.

Bruce released Y/N’s leg, eliciting another cry and he widened his eyes when he saw Bruce raise his foot again, “Wa-wait, Bruce–”

“It’s not believable if you only have a break in your hip.” There was another crunch and Y/N’s not even sure what broke but the scream he released was silent. The pain was excruciating and the questions searing into his brain. Who is he trying to make believe and believe what?

“You of course.” Bruce stared at his brother on the floor, and he knows Y/N’s screams and crying are going to haunt him but it is for the better. Y/N’s watery E/C eyes stared at him in fear and pain, tears rushing down his blotchy face and confusion across his face.

“Poor Y/N, you fell and broke your leg. So now you have to go back on your pain meds and now bedridden for a while.” Fear coursed through Y/N’s veins and although he knew it was futile he tried to crawl. His older brother watched, before walking behind his desk and rummaging through the drawers. Y/N wasn’t even close to the door when Bruce stood over him, and gently flipped him over.

Y/N screamed, trying to get away from his brother, but with one leg out of commission and his one arm now pinned to his side, it was a futile struggle.

“Get away! NO! I hate you! I absolutely fucking hate you.” Bruce held a pill in his hand, and in his mouth between his teeth was a water bottle. Y/N clammed up, biting his lips to keep them closed as Bruce came in closer with a pill. He wanted to knock it out of the other’s hand, but before he could even do that, Bruce’s knee rested on his broken hip and Y/N cried out in pain. His brother was quick in shoving the pill in his mouth, covering the orifice, and opening the bottle with the other arms that were pinning Y/N’s arm. He all but waterboarded Y/N with it, washing the pill down.

Afterwards, he held Y/N and slowly rocked back and forth in a mocking show of comfort. Y/N hit him, bit, and tried to shove him off. His cursing and shouting fell on deaf ears and the drug was beginning to take effect. His limbs became heavier and eyelids stayed closed longer.

“Shh Y/N, just sleep. It’ll be better in the morning.” Feeling one last bit of defiance, Y/N glared at his brother, “Tell me how you can kill my wife, but are unable to kill the Joker?” His eyes were closed by the end of the sentence, unable to see his brother’s reaction, but he heard the tight, “Good night, Y/N.”

++++

Crying woke him up. Groaning and rubbing his eyes, he tried too sit up but realized in confusion that his leg was casted and his head was incredibly foggy. A sound of discontent left him, but then there was a shuffling in the room and the crying stopped. In his blurry vision he saw Dick holding his son and Tim gazing at him softly.

“What…”

“You fell, Uncle. You broke your hip and shin and your cane unfortunately broke as well,” Tim informed as clinically as he could, holding his Uncle’s hand and staring into the hazy eyes.

“We had to give you a higher dosage of pain medication, and you’ll need to stay on them for a bit.” Y/N nodded in understanding, his attention returning to his gurgling son and smiling Dick, “It was terrifying Uncle, seeing you laying there like that. It’s a good thing Bruce and Timmy found you. Can’t imagine how bad it would have been if you were on your own.”

Y/N blinked, the situation dawning on him, “Yeah, that…that would be bad. Sorry Timmy, you had to see me in a traumatic state.” Tim shook his head, “No, I’m happy we found you when we did. I’m sorry that we didn’t get there sooner.” Y/N smiled, moving his arm to gently cup Tim’s cheek. It took all the effort in him to even make it that short distance, but Tim rested his own hand against the back of Y/N’s, nuzzling his cheek further into Y/N’s palm.

“Sleep Uncle, we’ll all be here when you wake up,” Dick encouraged, sitting next to Tim and bouncing his cousin. Y/N chuckled, “Okay. Please watch–”

“We will Uncle. Now, please rest. You and our cousin will be safe, I promise.” Y/N made a small hum before shutting his eyes once more, dreaming of when he and Bruce used to play in their mother’s garden.

________________________________________________________

Very Dark on this one. Was not the intention at all, but that's how it happened....

#batfam x reader #yandere batfam #yandere dc #platonic yandere #platonic batfam #Brother!Wayne #Brother Bruce Wayne #Male!Reader #Dc Male Reader #Batman Male Reader

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ino-tamukas-baggy-sweater · 4 months

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Third Times the Charm (Megumi Fushiguro x Reader)

so i was innocently scrolling through tumblr dialogue prompts and then i got sucker punched and my brain absolutely vomited this in like 2 hours flat, i hope you like it besties :) (reader's CT is described in the fic itself)

Warnings: just mild beginnings of a panic attack, unless of course you count Satoru Gojo Being A Little Shit™

Word count: 2.4k

Megumi Fushiguro. Both the brightest thing in your life, whilst simultaneously remaining effortlessly dark and brooding. An enigma, frustrating to the nth degree, but also one of the only constants that you could trust in this world. He would never leave you, he was selfless to the point of being selfish, always putting others before himself and making sure you were safe before he even considered what might happen to him.

It’s not like you were weak, you were no special grade but high second was respectable for someone your age, considering a Ten Shadows user and Ryomen Sukuna’s vessel were two of your three classmates. You’d grown up alongside Megumi at Jujutsu Tech, taken in by Principal Yaga and Satoru Gojo, being the only surviving member of your clan which had wiped itself out because of your grandfather’s self-destructive pride.

The L/n clan wasn’t a big clan, not like the Gojo clan or the Zenin clan, but your clan had passed down a pair of useful techniques that you had been lucky enough to inherit, making you a valued addition in the Jujutsu community. Your Misdirect technique allows you to leave a copy of yourself in your current location and move incredibly quickly and undetected to a second location, most commonly used for a quick escape, and limited to a maximum of 5 clones, six entities in total, each acting on their own will but all returning to the whole once killed or called back. Your second technique was something you hadn’t explored much, it’s a reverse cursed technique that allows you to specifically regrow limbs, organs, or chunks lost from the body for both yourself and others, known amongst your former clan as the Starfish technique.

Starfish is only limited by the person you are healing, because it requires you to tap into their energy and feed strings of their DNA information through your brain and back into their body. The process is gruesome, best witnessed on an empty stomach, and you thank whatever higher power you believe in that you haven’t had to use it yet.

Growing up alongside Megumi meant you were close, not quite siblings but nobody could refute the fact that you came as a pair. Wherever you could be heard, Megumi’s soft voice would follow, wherever your figure lit up a room Megumi would be your shadow, and conversely wherever Megumi needed to be, you had to go with him. You were the sunshine beside him, even if you were a bit shy around anyone that wasn’t Gojo or Yaga.

Even now, as he stood with his back to you in the chaos, he protected you from threats both imaginary and corporeal. The fight had gone a bit south as having something similar to your own technique wielded by a curse user and turned against you wasn’t something you had ever prepared for. You’d quickly become more of a liability than anything else, a danger to yourself and Megumi. Though the current situation was nothing he couldn’t handle, but Gojo had insisted on sending you along, and now you knew why. Even though the curse user had decided to take a break and seemingly lounge in the depths of Rabbit Escape, you were still lost in your mind, and Megumi drops to a knee beside your hunched form.

His thumbs link after he gives you a once-over, “Nue,” He grunts, and the bird manifests beside him, “Get her out of here, I can’t protect her and defeat that idiot,” The Shikigami turns to you, shaking out it’s feathers lightly before nudging you with its mask, cooing softly. You blink heavily, your tongue’s ability to function lost in your haze of panic as you grab handfuls of its feathers to pull yourself to your feet and eventually onto it’s back. Megumi only looks back to you for a moment as he dismisses the Rabbit Escape, but it’s enough that you catch a tinge of sadness in his gaze, “Be safe,” He mutters, brushing his hand over the top of your thigh before Nue leaps into the air, carrying you tirelessly back to Jujutsu Tech.

The sudden elevation did nothing to help your nausea and you buried your face against the softness of the space just between Nue’s wings until it finally came to a slightly awkward landing. “Y/n, where the hell is Megumi?” Gojo’s voice is the bare minimum of comfort you need in order to raise your head, Nue moving to preen itself as you slide from its back. “I’m just a fucking liability,” You grunt, refusing to look into that accursed blindfold. You can sense his disappointment, but he doesn’t falter when he reaches for you, pulling you into his chest, “You’re not a liability, I made a bad call sending you out without more information, now where is Megumi?”

You can hear Nue take off behind you and your fingers dig into his jacket, “H-he should be fine,” You murmur, “Now that I’m gone, he sent me away to protect me,” Gojo tilts his head and you can almost hear the gears turning in his head as he contemplates your shivering form. “Do you love him?” He suddenly asks. You must look like a fish the way your mouth opens and closes, searching for an answer. “O-of course I love him! We’re best friends, we grew up together, isn’t that a given?” He shrugs, “Just curious kiddo, no need to be defensive,” He steps back again, “I’ll let you know when he gets back, go get some sleep,”

The second time Gojo asks you a question about Megumi you’re even less prepared, riding off the terrifying adrenaline high of the Kyoto sister-school Goodwill Event. Admitted to Shoko’s medical wing alongside your fellow students, you find yourself gravitating towards Megumi as you always have, who is tentatively watching over an unconscious Inumaki leant against his side. You take note of the blood dripping lazily from Inumaki’s lips and you cringe, remembering the moment he used his technique to save his fellow students.

Megumi looks up only a moment later, reaching for you with his free hand, “C’mere,” He grunts, pulling you down onto the bench on his other side. Your thighs press together and he rests his cheek atop your head, “You've gotta stop scaring me like that,” You roll your eyes, “When has anything other than Gojo’s pure rage ever scared you? Come on,” You scoff. He frowns, looking down at you, “Seeing you in danger has always scared me,” He murmurs softly. He sounds hurt, you suppose you all are a little bit, but he sounds positively shattered, his eyes swimming with an emotion you now come to realise is pure terror.

It stuns you to silence, “I hate seeing you put yourself on the line like that, you gotta promise you won’t do that anymore, not for me,” He urges softly, nudging his nose against your forehead, “Got it?” You can only nod in reply, and a moment later Shoko’s voice shocks the pair of you from your bubble, asking Megumi to carry Inumaki to the examination room next door. Your heart hasn’t stopped pounding since the moment he grabbed you and at this rate it’ll take a lifetime to recover. “Y/n you’ve got that look again,” Or one interaction with Satoru Gojo. “Come on, you see the way he looks at you, what are you guys anyway?” He plops down beside you on the bench, lifting his blindfold and taking your hands to inspect the light lacerations on your skin and clothing left by that plant curse before Yuji and Todo tagged in.

Both adrenaline and fear were still flowing through your brain, you couldn’t find it in you to focus on anything let alone what Gojo had just asked you. You stayed silent, allowing him to just look at you, until he takes your chin between two fingers which forces you to look up into his eyes. You feel like a deer in headlights, trapped by his startlingly blue eyes, “You’re good kids,” He murmurs, “If you love him you should listen to him,” You just nod. You always nod, you’re a giver not a taker. “Y/n,” Megumi calls and you look to the side, seeing him leaning in the doorway, “You’re next, come on,” He holds out a hand for you to take and you’re drawn to him like he’s a singing siren.

His hand engulfs yours with a warmth you associate with love, the innocent kind of love that blossoms from shared knowledge and a bond stretching years into the past. You only look back at Gojo once before the door shuts between you, his blindfold repositioned over his eyes, but the signature smirk still plastered across his lips. Albeit just a little softer than it usually is.

The third time he asks is when it finally drives you crazy.

Things had been quiet in the aftermath of the exchange event, a fair few weeks had gone by and you’d only gotten closer to Megumi. His love language was not physical touch, not by a long shot, but he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off you if he was beside you. Whether his thigh was pressed up against yours at lunch, or he held your hand in public while Nobara held your other hand, or his head rested in your lap in the evenings as you watched movies with your fellow first years. He always seemed to seek some kind of physical connection with you, and this hadn’t gone unnoticed by Gojo. Nothing gets by his six eyes, not even his broody adopted son in all his attempts at subtlety.

You don’t even see him coming, so it makes you jump when he places a hand on your shoulder, shrieking lightly. “Jesus Gojo!” You hiss, smacking at him with the back of your hand. He’s evidently let his infinity down for a moment just to let you have the satisfaction of hitting him, “I could be Jesus yes, what an astute observation! This is why you’re my favourite student,” He nudges you with his elbow as the pair of you stand watching Yuji and Megumi sparring on the school field. Nobara left a few minutes ago to order takeout for dinner, the sun setting in the summer sky above, casting a soft orange glow on Megumi’s face. “Seriously, what is the deal with you and Megumi,” He asks bluntly, “Are you dating? Have you kissed? What’s going on?” Your eyes don’t stray from Megumi’s form as you reply, “Oh no, no way, we’re not going there today,” You declare, “We’re just friends and that’s all we’ll ever be,”

He angles his head down, shaking it as he leans into your space, “Now now, you and I both know that’s not true, why don’t you just try? You’ve got nothing to lose,” You take a step to the side, increasing the distance between your sensei and yourself as you let out a breath. Megumi and Yuji have finished sparring, the dying sunlight making them both look ethereal, but it’s always been Megumi at the centre of your attention. “Yuji! Can I talk to you for a second?” Gojo calls out and the boy nods eagerly, racing up and following your teacher as the taller man slings an arm over his shoulder. Traitor. You glare silently, but your anger dissipates quickly, turning to Megumi as he wipes his face with a towel, gulping from his bottle. “Yuji gets stronger every day, I’m glad he holds back when sparring,” He says, the soft rasp of his voice making you feel warm.

“Megumi can I ask you something?” You say, sitting down just to the side of where he rests his foot on the bench, retying his shoelaces. “Yeah, what’s on your mind?” He brushes his fingers past your thigh and you wonder for a moment if he’s doing it on purpose, before pushing through the distraction, “What are we?” He falls still for a moment, “What do you mean?”

You shift until you’re straddling the bench, bringing one foot up so you can rest your chin on your knee, “I don’t know, Gojo won’t stop pestering me, and he keeps asking if I love you,” He tilts his head, letting his foot drop to the ground before sitting on the bench himself, elbows rested on his knees. “Well, do you?” He asks quietly. You look down at the grass, breathing softly through your nose, “Well of course I do,” You murmur, “You’re one of my closest friends, I’ve always loved you,” He lets his head hang down, “Yes but do you love me, Y/n?” He presses, turning to face you and matching your bench straddle. You drop your knee in surprise and he places his hands heavy on your thighs, making your skin tingle as he grips you through your pants, “Does your heart race as mine does? Is there a place for me in your heart?” He murmurs.

You feel like a fish again, unable to reply with your mouth hanging open slightly, but you nod, swallowing nervously, “Megumi,” You sigh, “You’re everything to me,” You reach a trembling hand out and cup his cheek, stroking with your thumb, “I train as much as I can so I can be as strong as you one day and be able to protect you in the same way you’ve protected me,” He smiles softly, something you see so rarely you want to stay in this moment forever, “Oh Y/n, as long as you live my life has meaning,” He whispers, “There’s no need for you to stress yourself, I’ll always find my way back to you, even if that means I have to walk through hell,”

His lips are soft as they find yours, the sunlight finally surrendering to twilight, the time of day you most associate with Megumi. You lean into him, your free hand placed on the bench between you to prevent an awkward fall, legs spread as far as they’ll comfortably go to get closer to one another. The kiss is sweet, he tastes like the powdery candy Yuji bought earlier in the week and you tease his lips with your tongue and teeth eagerly. A soft chuckle as he brings his hand up to the back of your head, your mouths falling open and tongues exploring one another in tandem.

“FUSHIGURO! GET YOUR TONGUE OUT OF HER THROAT YOU PIG!” Nobara’s voice makes the pair of you break apart, cheeks flushed and lips tingling as the girl moves to close the distance, “I LEAVE YOU ALONE FOR TEN MINUTES!” You giggle softly as Megumi rubs the back of his neck, “Don’t act surprised, you knew this was coming,” He says, dropping his hand and linking his fingers with yours. He looks into your eyes and you know in that moment everything is as it should be, at least for a while.

Thanks for all the love on the last two fics I posted, I'm hopefully going to be writing one every few days, i've got a lot of free time on my hands right now and I'd love some requests or some random prompts if anybody is keen on sending me any :)

also I'm thinking of doing a '7 days until the new year' kind of series, with a different prompt for each day and maybe small blurbs, like one for every jjk character I write for and then all posted at once, but I'll see where I get to with the fics I'm currently working on

Post dividers from @cafekitsune

#jujutsu kaisen #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk fushiguro #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi x you #megumi fluff #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jjk satoru #yuji itadori #nobara kugisaki #toge inumaki #jujutsu kaisen x you

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lolchicsa · 1 year

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Pretty Boy Toy

Sub!Konig x gn!reader

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, smut, no plot just smut, short and steamy? YES, just smut, overstimulated Konig, restrained Konig, reader being a tease, begging, whimpering, orgasm denial, dominant reader, no mask, evil reader I guess, Konig patience training >:)

Konig means king for anyone not aware yet.

The king is in chains >:) King in chains!! Hear him whine >:)

He’s such a good boy, laying there fully erect and bond to the bed. Little whimpers and cries would escape his lips every now and then. Konig looks so beautiful stretched out like this, fully naked with his limbs spread starfish style. You could see a clear layer of sweat covering his lovely body. So provocative, so delicious, an open invitation to lick up his abs and tease a nipple.

The noises he makes just gives you more resolve to keep going. You’ve been teasing him for what feels like days, denying him every orgasm like the cruel saint you are. He’s overstimulated, that’s been obvious for a while. Precum spread on his length along with your saliva from the time you had him in your mouth. This marvellous king didn’t know patience, so you were drilling it into his head. Every time he would buck against you or grind for extra friction, a tisk sound would come from you and you would immediately pull away.

“You wanna cum sweet king?” It was a question repeated at least 20 times since you started. He knows what your gonna say next, and he’s already begging for you to take pity on him. He’s oh so gorgeous when he whines, that long dick of his always twitches when he makes those sounds. “Now now, you know exactly what you have to do. Learn to be patient and I’ll let you cum wherever you like”

A loud moan escape the tied Austrian, some curses in his native tongue following soon after. It was a small affirmation, you believed, his way of telling you he will be patient this time. He might be too fucked out of his mind to speak English right now, who knows. So you started grinding against his hard erect cock, earning satisfaction from the string of moans that escape the chained king. It felt so good seeing this behemoth of a man being reduced to a whimpering mess underneath your touch.

The long erecting started to twitch against your groin, he was close again. Your own orgasm started building up again at the friction his dick was providing. Incoherent strings of German came out of Konig’s lips, groaning and moaning. At least he was following orders… like a good little boy toy. You caressed the muscles on his chest with one hand, feeling them for your own amusement.

“You’re doing so good for me Konig, so beautiful and submissive. You want to cum little king?” The words flew out of your mouth so easily and you watched with amusement as he struggled to stay still. It took him a while to process his response, trying to say it between loud moans. He ended up just nodding profusely, making you chuckle.

You moved the hand that was on his chest to his cock, grinding on one side and rubbing your palm against the other side. Tears rolled down the king’s cheek’s, your pace picking up speed. It didn’t take long before Konig was screaming out for you and shooting strings of cum unto your face and his chest. His breath was all over the place, acting like he forgot how to breath. He look so beautiful, mouth open but no sound coming from him, his own seed glistening on his chest. What a lovely king you have, spread under you. Such an arousing sight.

Such a pretty little boy toy.

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longwuzhere · 10 months

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Some cool Easter eggs I caught watching My Adventures with Superman that I want to show to people so they can be in on it with comic book readers

My episode 2 easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My episode 3 easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My episode 4 easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My episode 5 easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Episode 6 easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Episode 7 easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here and here

My Episode 8 easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Episode 9 easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Episode 10 easter eggs and refences in My Adventures with Superman post is here

(SPOILERS if you haven't seen the show yet):

Lois Lane has a cut out clip of Vicki Vale. Vicki Vale is a journalist in Gotham City. Her first appearance was in Batman #49 (1948) as seen in the panel here (W: Bill Finger, A: Lew Sayre and Bob Kane, I: Charles Paris, L: Ira Schnapp).

Looks like Jimmy is a fan of Legend of Zelda Majora's Mask. Good video game taste.

Jimmy mentions a psychic starfish and the one starfish in the DC universe who is psychic is Starro the Conqueror, who's first appearance is in Brave and the Bold 28 (1960) (the cover art here is done by Mike Sekowsky, Murphy Anderson, and Ira Schnapp) and has the power to mind control people.

Lois, after barging into Perry White's office about a story, mentions Mt. Simonson. This is a neat name drop to Superman: The Man of Steel writer Louise Simonson, one of the nicest comic book writers you'll ever meet. She helped co-create John Henry Irons a.k.a Steel with artist of the Superman: The Man of Steel comic, Jon Bogdanove (really hope we get to see Irons in this show too).

Jon Bogdanove also gets a name drop here as does...

Dan Jurgen, comic book writer and artist on the Superman comic in the 90s (also one of my favorite Superman artists).

Now who are these kids that call themselves the Newskid Legion? Well, they are a VERY deep DC cut and reference to the Newsboy Legion back in the 1940s. The group was created by Joe Simon and Jack Kirby, LEGENDARY comic book creators.

The page here is from Who's Who: The Definitive Directory of the DC Universe #16 (1986) with the art by Jack Kirby and Karl Kesel. Most of the Newskid Legion is named after the Newsboy Legion members

Gabby and Big Words here share names with their Newsboy Legion counterparts as does Flip Johnson...

who shares names with Walter "Flip" Johnson here on the cover of Superman's Pal Jimmy Olson #137 (1971) which was done by Jack Kirby, Neal Adams, and Gaspar Saladino.

Patty, the cartoonist of the Newskid Legion homages this panel from Adventures of Superman #500 (1993) (W: Karl Kesel, P: Tom Grummet, I: Doug Hazelwood, C: Glenn Whitmore, L: Albert DeGuzman), the first appearance of Superboy, Conner Kent/ Kon-El.

But who is the one below that drawing? We'll his name is in Big Word's word puzzle, in the show. It's Jim Harper, the Guardian.

Jim Harper becomes the Newsboy Legion's legal guardian despite their causing trouble for him. The page here is from Star Spangled Comics #7, the Newsboy Legion and the Guardian's first appearance, by Joe Simon, Jack Kirby, and Whitney Ellsworth. You might've seen the Guardian on the recent Young Justice cartoon.

When Lois, Clark, and Jimmy go investigate about the smuggled robots in Metropolis, Jimmy makes a reference to super intelligent gorillas in France. This is a subtle hint at Monsieur Mallah, the Doom Patrol villain who will be in the show along with his partner, the Brain. Both made their first appearance in Doom Patrol #86 (1964) .

The cover art here is done by Arnold Drake, Bob Brown, and Ira Schnapp.

Later in the episode we see Clark receive his powers and he is surrounded with electricity, giving off Superman Blue vibes when in the comics, Superman gained electricity powers and became Electric Blue Superman who's first appearance was in Superman #123 (1997) (cover art by Ron Frenz, Joe Rubenstein, Patrick Martin, and Todd Klein.

Link to Episode 2 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Link to Episode 3 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Link to Episode 4 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Link to Episode 5 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Link to Episode 6 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Link to Episode 7 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here and here

Link to Episode 8 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Link to Episode 9 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

Link to Episode 10 of My Adventures with Superman Easter Eggs and references is here

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mrsnancywheeler · 4 months

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enchanted // finnick odair x f. reader

based off this request

summary: after winning your games you're thrust into a new scene of capitol luxury and parties. in the midst of the gowns, and masquerade masks you meet someone who you instantly feel sparks go off for, victor finnick odair.

masterlist

warnings: idk how I feel about this one, first meeting, allusions to trafficking and Capitol issues, alcohol consumption, reader is a little tipsy, first meeting, kind of innocent!reader, fear of being lead on, unedited, no use of y/n

1.4k words

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You were grateful for the masks, unless someone studied hard enough they wouldn't know it was you. It hadn't been that long since your Victory, but you'd already been so hounded by people, forced to go to so many balls that any way you could avoid the constant congratulations you were immensely thankful for. Besides you were still in constant awe at the Capitol luxuries, drinking some bubbly drink that made your brain pleasantly fuzzy as you looked at the dazzling chandeliers.

“You must be our new Victor." The voice startled you and you turned to see who it belonged to. He had an aura of confidence even though his shirt was so unbuttoned that it was basically falling off, which would have mortified you. The mask he wore had starfish on it which could be a Capitol fashion statement, but his outfit wasn't gaudy enough for that. So one of the District 4 Victors, maybe? Your brain felt too light to try and think of their names.

“How’d you know that?” You murmured, taking another sip of the fizzy drink.

"The Drusus’ host three annual high-end parties, including one for each victor, so this one. We're all used to, well, all of this." He was smirking, gesturing to the larger than life decor.

“Oh." You hoped it wasn't that obvious to everyone else, although your face had been plastered on screens all across Panem so recently you doubted how much the mask really obscured. He grabbed one of the small delicacies laying on the table and chuckled.

“You match some of the decor too, sweetheart.” The tablecloths were a light purple accompanied with bouquets of lilacs, bellflowers, and statice, you felt your face heating up. Your dress was in fact a complimentary purple as well as your mask.

“My little sister mentioned it was a color I liked, in one of those final tributes left interviews and I guess it's stuck." Your voice is quieter than you'd anticipated, but he seems to hear you just fine. His smugness for no apparent reason should make you bristle, but something about him makes you want to melt into the ground.

He takes a step towards you, face closer than anyone’s has ever been, taking a slow bite of the pastry he's been holding. “Well it certainly is your color." If you hadn't felt like your skin was burning in embarrassment before, it definitely was now.

You gulped, trying to clear your throat, “Um, thank you." No one ever talked to you like this and it felt like he knew that, so was teasing you for it. A stranger was teasing you for your naivete at all of this and you were helplessly letting him. Maybe someone has talked to you like this before, but never with as much magnetism as he had.

“Once you pass glass three, that stuff is bound to make you sick." His hand brushed your fingers, tapping the glass.

You just nodded slowly, "I know.” Another sip was needed to handle the butterflies in your stomach, how terrible was it, to be this knotted up on a man who you didn't know the slightest. To let whatever he was exuding that had never affected you before now slip away, the glass slid back up to your lips. His eyes felt like they were staring into the deepest parts of you which just made you want to drink more.

You nearly dropped the glass when someone began yelling about fireworks. You'd still been trying to get rid of the jumpiness you'd felt since the arena. “Come on." He offers his arm to you and you stare at him for a second, “They're for you." You decide there's no point in trying to reason your feelings right now, your brain is too fuzzy, and it's the Capitol, nothing seems to make sense here anyways.

It shocks you how warm his arm is for someone who's nearly shirtless, he leads you out to the crowded balcony and his arm really is a life saver when you stumble over your own feet. “Thank you!" You're laughing at your own misstep and he follows right along."I'm sorry."

His laughter subsides and even in your misty state you swear a look of pity crosses his eyes. He leans over slightly, mouth so close it could kiss your ear, “They're gonna eat you up, sweetheart, don't let them." The whisper has your brain trying to race to understand, when there's no way you'll be able to reach a conclusion.

“What are fireworks?" You eventually ask, it feels like a stupid question, but things are awkward now which you're desperate to escape. You don't know who he is, or why he's acting the way he is, but you know you don't want him to think you're awkward. His smug smirk is back and that chuckle that makes your heart feel like it'll hop right out of your chest.

“Aren't you in for a treat? Never seen fireworks before, stunned by the chandelier, at this rate you'll never get bored, everything will keep on impressing you.” A loud pop crackles through the air and your legs instantly try to start moving before you remind yourself to stay put. You're safe now, there is no more danger, just that of the charming man making you swoon. That danger isn't helped when he puts his hands over your ears. "Should've warned you about that one, sweetheart.” You know that your fefe must be burning to the touch since it's how you feel.

The pop explodes into much louder noises and then fractures of purple light are flying in the sky, the guests surrounding you cheering for the bursts. They're beautiful, the way the colors contrast the sky is truly enchanting. The rest of the show is equally as dazzling and by the time his hands pull away from you it feels more unnatural to be facing the night air.

“So, are you in fact, stunned?" You nod dumbly, maybe he is right and you should've quit drinking because you feel like such a fool right now. “I hate to go, but I have people waiting on me." He announced and you feel further embarrassment.

“Of course, sorry, I didn't mean to keep you from them." You glance at the floor, but his fingers are tilting your head back up and you can swear the electric sparks are in his touch.

“If anything, they're keeping me away from you." He has to be doing this on purpose, he doesn't know you, not really, but he's finding some sick pleasure in making your stomach twist. He goes to take a step away muttering another sorry, he's lifted your hand so delicately that you barely even notice until he's pressing a quick kiss to it.

“Wait-" He pauses, looking at you expectantly with that smirk. “Um, I- I don't even know your name?"

His laugh is like the perfect melody to your ears, “You haven't figured it out by now?"

You sheepishly shake you head, lifting the glass as an indicator, “Sorry, my brain is so airy right now, like I'm in the clouds." He takes it from your hands and swiftly the remainder of the liquid.

“Stick to the water, sweetheart.”

You wait a second further, "You won't tell me?” That almost feels even more shameful, like you've let yourself be strung along with charming words only for him to not even tell you his name.

He takes a step closer to you, his honey breath fanning over your face. "I've done anything else, that wouldn't be fair to me would it? It's okay, you're a smart girl, I'm sure you'll figure it out.” You could combust right now, under his slightly condescending gaze. Did he expect you to reach out after that, was that too desperate. "Once you think of it, let me know." You just nod along, why would he even want to talk to you? He seemed so magnetic, so enticing, why would he want to talk to you, mess with your brain? He's begun to step away before he comes back, so close you can hear each bitch in his breath as he talks. “You’re so sweet, don't let them take that from you, it's refreshing.” His lips graze your cheek before he's got that patronizing smile on as he talks off, leaving you shocked on the balcony.

Maybe he was just playing with you, like you'd heard man often do, but his voice was so addictive that you didn't care. It made you flush how forward he was, how effortless it all was for him. Somewhere in the fuzziness of your mind it began to click, only one victor was known for his effortless abilities with women, as well as being from District 4. Finnick Odair.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you for reading, I'm not used to short-form writing my brain is currently hard wired for series, so idk how I feel about this but it was fun to write! thank you for the request and keep them coming if y'all think of anything you want me to write. feedback, comments, reblogs, and likes are all super appreciated, love you all 💋

#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #finnick odair x y/n #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair angst #finnick odair x reader fluff #finnick odair x you #thg #finnick imagine #finnick odair fanfic #finnick fanfic #finnick x you #finnick x reader #hunger games finnick #thg finnick #finnick odair imagine

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rockhoppr3 · 21 days

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The Masked Singer sketch, I'm surprised Koala Mask and Lovebird Mask got eliminated. I thought their voices were soothing! Also, while Bird's outfit was quite plain but the feathers were pretty. But Koalaxs outfit was fire! But I just may be biased for his Ren Fair look.

#the masked singer #starfish mask #koala mask #goldfish mask #ugly sweater mask #lovebird mask #drawing #sketch #rockhoppr3

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libraryofgage · 9 months

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SpiderPool Steddie Part One

So, this is definitely gonna have multiple parts lmao

It's been bouncing around my brain for a while like the Addams Family Steddie AU lol

Anyway, lemme know if you'd like to be tagged for future parts ^_^

----

Sister Margaret's School for Wayward Girls is, at best, a dive bar. At worst, it's a cesspit in which the scummiest people in the city gather to bask in each other's scumminess. To Steve, however, it's the perfect place to collapse after a long patrol, splayed out like a starfish on the roof as the music playing inside vibrates the building itself.

Steve takes a deep breath, setting his bat down next to him before pushing his mask to the bridge of his nose. He then lies down on the roof, wishing not for the first time that the city's light pollution wasn't so bad. Seeing the stars and hunting for constellations would really help him ignore the cracked ribs screaming inside his chest and threatening to break if he even breathes wrong.

All things considered, though, it could be worse. Steve doesn't have any morning classes, Vecna didn't beat him up nearly as bad as he usually does during their fight earlier, and his accelerated healing means Steve will be able to breathe normally by morning. Robin would tell him he has a very low bar when it comes to judging how shitty his life currently is, but she isn't here, so her opinion doesn't matter. Dustin would tell him he should try not getting his ass whooped in the future. Thankfully, he also isn't here, making his opinion as meaningful as Robin's.

Steve closes his eyes, letting his shoulders relax and trying not to think about anything. It sort of works until his entire body suddenly tenses, every nerve on edge and goosebumps shooting across his arms. He shoots up, ignoring the harsh twinge in his ribs as he turns in a crouch and grabs his bat. Steve clenches his jaw, breathing harshly through his nose to keep from groaning in pain, and feels relieved he didn't completely remove his mask completely.

Over by the door leading to a staircase is a guy with ripped jeans, a worn-out shirt with "HELLFIRE CLUB" across the chest, a jean vest covered in patches and pins, and hair pulled back out of his face with a few wavy strands stubbornly escaping his hair tie. He's breathing a little heavily, his face flushed like he's just climbed a few flights of stairs. Actually, he probably has.

"Woah," the guy says, his voice soft enough that Steve would have missed it if not for the enhanced hearing. The guy clears his throat and holds up both hands, showing off a bottle of Jack Daniels in one and a bag with a grease-stained bottom in the other. "Uh, I come in peace. I didn't realize the rooftop was taken."

Steve has no clue what possesses him, but he forces himself to relax and set the bat down. "No, it's okay. I can head out," he says, staying seated despite his words. He's really hoping the guy will insist he doesn't need to; his ribs are still aching like a bitch.

Thankfully, the guy flashes a grin and slowly lowers his hands. "Nah, you're all good. Not every day I get to eat next to a hero. Want some fries?" he asks, walking over and sitting a good two feet away so there's plenty of room between them.

He tears open the bag to create an impromptu plate and puts it between them, the smell of greasy and undoubtedly delicious fries tempting enough that Steve picks up a smaller one and pops it into his mouth. "Thanks. Where are these from?" Steve asks, glancing over as the guy twists the cap of his bottle and takes a swig.

"A burger joint two streets down and one street over. On the corner."

Steve nods, making a mental note of the directions so he can get a burger before swinging home. He's got just enough in his pocket to afford one. "So, got a name?" Steve asks, figuring he's already eating the guy's fries and they're about to spend some time together on this roof. He should know the guy's name.

The guy's grin returns, and he sets the bottle down between them as well. It's tempting, but Steve doesn't trust his alcohol tolerance to hold up while his body is busy fixing his ribs. "Eddie. Do I get to know your name, too?"

Steve snorts and leans away slightly, putting a bit more distance between Eddie and his entirely too-grabbable mask. "Nice try," he says.

"Worth a shot," Eddie says, shrugging as he picks up a few fries. "So, Spider-Man, what brings you to Sister Margaret's? You enjoy the gay metal scene?"

"What's the difference between gay and regular metal?"

"Our hair is better," Eddie explains, dramatically flipping the few strands of hair escaping his tie.

Steve has to hold back a second snort, taking another fry and chewing on it before saying, "I like resting here after patrol. The whole building shakes with the music."

Eddie lights up, his eyes brightening and his back straightening some. "So, you're a fan of Corroded Coffin," he says, taking another swig of the Jack Daniels. It's only now that Steve realizes it's already a quarter of the way gone, and he wonders if Eddie's liver can handle that much alcohol all at once.

"Is that the name of the band?"

"Yep. They play here almost every night."

"I'm guessing you like them, too, then?"

Eddie hums, amusement dancing across his expression now, giving Steve the distinct feeling that there's some secret he simply isn't in on. "They're the best band I've ever heard. Their music is incredible. They really push the boundaries of the genre. And their lyrics? Amazingly layered with at least three meanings per line. I highly recommend actually coming in for a listen one of these days," Eddie says, leaning a little closer to Steve.

A beat of silence passes in which Steve holds Eddie's gaze. Or, he holds the gaze on his end; he's sure Eddie can't actually tell with the mask covering his eyes. "You're in the band," Steve says.

"Lead guitarist and singer, yes. I also write the songs."

"You're incredibly critical of yourself, really grounded in reality."

Eddie barks out a laugh. "I just happen to know my worth incredibly well."

"You have all the confidence of a mediocre white man on a job hunt."

Eddie gasps, placing a hand on his chest as he looks at Steve. "How dare you call me mediocre. I am revolutionary at worst and the second coming at best."

"You know the second coming involves, like, an apocalypse or something, right?"

"I'm Jewish, why would I bother with the fine details?" Well, Steve will give him that. "By the way," Eddie says, gesturing to Steve's bat as he continues, "do those nails actually see any use? Or are they just there to act as a threat?"

Steve looks down at his bat, considering it for a moment before carefully holding the middle and offering the handle to Eddie. Now that he's giving them a few moments of attention, he's realizing the nails embedded in the end are a little rusty and definitely need cleaning. "I try not to be deadly with it, but Vecna's got these lab-grown demon dogs and bats that always manage to break through my webs," Steve explains.

He watches as Eddie takes the bat, weighing it in his hands before shoving his palm into the nails. Steve jerks, a wordless shout escaping his throat as he launches himself over the fries and in front of Eddie. "Are you okay?!" he asks, grabbing Eddie's hand and shakily inspecting the nails sticking through it. Fuck, those are going to be a bitch to get out, and he'll probably have to swing Eddie to the hospital for a tetanus shot.

Being angry doesn't even register in his brain as Eddie laughs. "Don't worry about it, Spidey," he says, pulling his hand off the nails with a slight wince. He wiggles his fingers, letting Steve have a front-row seat to the injuries closing. "See, good as new."

And he's right. The injuries are good as new. In fact, there isn't even any scarring, and Steve almost rips his mask off to take a closer look but stops himself at the last minute. Instead, he grabs Eddie's hand and yanks it closer, turning it over to check his palm, too. "What the fuck?" he asks, looking up at Eddie, still gripping his hand tight.

"Super healing," Eddie explains. "Like, super duper. If I ever get decapitated, just hold my head to my neck, and I'll be right as rain."

"I'd rather not put that claim to the test," Steve says, frowning slightly as he runs his fingers over Eddie's palms, just to make sure the injuries aren't somehow hidden from sight.

"You know, I kissed the last guy who touched my palm like that," Eddie says, leaning in again with that grin.

Suddenly all Steve can think about is how Eddie's lips do look soft. And it has been a while since Steve actually kissed anyone. And he does think Eddie is funny. And he does find himself wondering if his smile will taste like the Jack Daniels and fries. And...and...

And Steve needs to go before he does anything he shouldn't be doing as Spider-Man.

He jerks back, dropping Eddie's hand like it burns, and ignores the ache in his ribs as he grabs his bat and stands. "I, uh, I need to get going. Thanks for the fries, Eddie," he says, hurrying over to the edge of the roof.

"Woah, just gonna eat and run on me, big boy?" Eddie asks, scrambling to his feet and over to where Steve is climbing onto the edge of the roof. "That's not very hero-like of you. You haven't even left me your name or number. How are you gonna pay me back $2.50 for the fries?"

"I had five," Steve says, turning to look at Eddie as he webs his bat to his back and pulls his mask down over his chin.

"The economy sucks, man."

Okay, he's got Steve there. Again. "Nice try, Eddie."

"Can you blame a guy? Your ass looks great in that spandex."

Steve is suddenly relieved his mask is back down, covering the furious blush spreading across his cheeks. He'd think it was just a joke, but the sincere and somewhat goofy smile tugging at Eddie's lips tells him it's more genuine than anything else. "Thanks," Steve says, giving Eddie a two-finger salute before taking a step back off the roof.

He shoots a web at the edge of the building, using the momentum to swing around the corner. His ribs are killing him with the movement, but he still manages to throw a, "See you later, Eds!" over his shoulder before he's completely out of earshot.

Later, Steve will wonder how Eddie got his super healing, if he's that flirtatious with every guy he meets on the roof of Sister Margaret's, and if he'll be there the next time Steve swings by. But that's for later. For now, he's just enjoying the breeze rushing over him and thinking about Eddie's eyes and his smile and his long fingers.

#Steddie #Spiderpool Steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #spiderman steve harrington #deadpool eddie munson #it'll make sense i promise #also Eddie goes back into the bar and immediately starts bragging about flirting with spider-man #everyone immediately knows he's about to become Annoying (TM)#and resign themselves to their fate #Robin does the exact same when Steve gets home and tells her about Eddie #RIP everyone who has to live with these two gushing about each other

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diorsluv · 4 months

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feather , part 21

“ send a pic ”

series m. list previous chapter next chapter

( socialmedia!au )

_quinnhughes

liked by jackhughes, mackie.samo, yourusername, and 61,963 others

_quinnhughes went out with jack and our luke replacement 🙏

tagged: jackhughes, yourusername

view all comments

trevorzegras sleepy girl lmaooo

→ _quinnhughes fr this kid brought a whole body pillow in my car

→ yourusername they dragged me out of my bed at 5 in the morning 🙄🙄

rutgermcgroarty “luke replacement” is wild

→ _quinnhughes she agreed and he didn’t

→ yourusername more like they could drag me into their car but they couldn’t drag him

→ lhughes_06 i’m just a little hurt

username13 their relationship with her is the cutest thing ever

yourusername photo proof that jack enjoys my “green juice”

→ jackhughes yeah yeah whatever

→ markestapa HEY YOU NEVER MADE IT FOR US

→ mackie.samo YEAH WHERES OUR GREEN JUICE

username45 the sleeping mask is so relatable

username98 quinn’s pics are so cinematic

adamfantilli does she just sleep in everyone’s car

→ _quinnhughes yes

→ markestapa sprawls all the way out in the backseat

→ jackhughes sprawls out in shotgun too

→ trevorzegras she’s like a starfish

→ _alexturcotte she smacked me in the face once

→ yourusername I DID NOT.

→ mackie.samo she’s fallen asleep with her legs in my lap too many times 😒

→ lhughes_06 she’s fallen asleep with her head in my lap too many times 🙄

→ edwards.73 ok luke i see u

username34 jack LMAOOOO

username11 don’t do my girl like that she’s more than a luke replacement 🙄

→ yourusername 🗣️🗣️

luca.fantilli lil drizz needs to give us the fit check rn

→ _quinnhughes don’t obsess over her in my comments 🙄

→ yourusername shush quinny

→ yourusername and also it’s mark’s hoodie, target sweatpants and my sleeping mask 😈😈

→ luca.fantilli that’s not a fit check send me a pic

→ yourusername no

→ lhughes_06 MARK’S hoodie??

markestapa yo that’s my hoodie ask her where she got it from

→ jackhughes she said and i quote “your dresser”

→ yourusername oops

→ lhughes_06 YOUR hoodie??

dylanduke25 hughesy is no bueno

→ jackhughes i’m muy bien

→ _quinnhughes estoy más o menos

→ yourusername don’t use google translate that’s cheating _quinnhughes

→ lhughes_06 muy mal, no me gustan mis hermanos ni uno de mis mejores amigos porque ellos son pendejos y los odio

→ yourusername lukey babes we know you used google translate too 😭😭

→ jackhughes he and quinn are the same

yourusername

liked by dylanduke25, edwards.73, rutgermcgroarty, and 82,964 others

yourusername adam fell asleep questionably and luca straightening my hair should prob be a fire hazard but i finally spent sum time w my fav boys 🫶🫶

tagged: adamfantilli, luca.fantilli, rutgermcgroarty, mackie.samo, edwards.73, dylanduke25, markestapa

view all comments

luca.fantilli oh my god i’m a fav boy

→ yourusername only because you didn’t burn the house down with my straightener in your hands

trevorzegras where’s moose

→ yourusername gone

→ edwards.73 he ditched us 😒

→ missseraphina with me!

→ trevorzegras please god no

_quinnhughes i don’t understand how my brother can get what he’s wanted for years while also simultaneously fucking it all up

→ yourusername fr it’s crazy

→ jackhughes LMAOOO he showed me ur comment and started whining

rutgermcgroarty i really struggled carrying you down that street

→ yourusername are you saying what i think you’re saying 🤨

→ rutgermcgroarty WHAT NO

→ yourusername i think ur just weak! 🙄🙄

→ rutgermcgroarty I WAS RUNNING

username67 i love these little dumps when she hangs out w them

username9 the titanic recreation is amazing

username27 if you really think about it we could ship her with any of them

→ username12 mcdrysdale??? IT SOUNDS LIKE A MCDONALDS MEAL LMAOO

→ username78 drystilli

→ username35 drystapa ofc

→ username66 dredwards 💀

→ username90 dukedale (or drysduke??)

→ username4 dryskevich.. wth why does it sound like a normal last name

→ username51 dryshughes 🔛🔝

adamfantilli IT WAS REALLY COLD

→ yourusername so u disregarded the blankets on the other couch and stole everyone’s pillows

→ adamfantilli yes

→ yourusername i understand

→ luca.fantilli she has a soft spot for u she replaced all the pillows and gave u like three blankets 🙄

markestapa eddy the jack to my rose 😘😘

→ edwards.73 marky the rose to my jack 😘😘

→ yourusername stop flirting and get out of my comments 😐😐

→ markestapa no i don’t think so ‼️‼️

→ edwards.73 stop being a hater yourusername 🙄🙄

→ mackie.samo i feel left out i wanna join 😞😞

→ yourusername aww ofc mack 🤗🤗

→ dylanduke25 me too 😊😊

→ yourusername i mean i guesssss 🙂🙂

→ lhughes_06 can i join too 😇😇

→ yourusername no 🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️

lhughes_06 damn wish i could’ve joined

→ dylanduke25 😐

→ markestapa 😑

→ edwards.73 😐

→ yourusername is that supposed to be the emoji blinking

→ mackie.samo 😐😑😐 yourusername

→ missseraphina yeah but you had more fun with me!

missseraphina 🙄

→ username63 uh… you do realize you’re PUBLICLY commenting right 💀

colecaufield is that girl harassing you

→ yourusername no it’s so funny lmfaoooo

→ jamie.drysdale bro she’s dming ME

→ yourusername u should see my dms 😭😭

next chapter notes ) yes seraphina is a certified delulu girl! i don’t wanna antagonize her terribly but she needs to cause enough drama so we’re going down this road and ik i haven’t been uploading recently but i’m too busy being an academic weapon 🙏

tags: @aliaology @hockeyboysarehot @absolutelyhugh3s @jackquinnswife @freds-slut @love4ldr @blueeyedbesson @43hughes @v1olentdelights @dancerbailey3 @random-human02 @ho3forfakeguys

#luke hughes #luke hughes fanfic #luke hughes fic #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x y/n #quinn hughes #jack hughes #cole caufield #alex turcotte #trevor zegras #jamie drysdale #ethan edwards #mackie samoskevich #dylan duke #mark estapa #adam fantilli #luca fantilli #rutger mcgroarty

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tokyo-terror · 1 year

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GENERAL RELATIONSHIP HCS P.2 !

characters: los vaqueros + könig & horangi

alejandro vargas:

☆ very passionate about everything he does, which can make him come off as very aggressive. that being said he's a softie !!! 🙏 almost instantly when first talking to you he starts using the car scene voice when talking to you

☆ religiously tries to fold every piece of clothing in the military style, and gets upset when folding new things that won't fold properly. very strict about color mixing, so he just ends up taking any chore that has to do with laundry when he gets back from deployments

☆ takes any chance to talk about how proud he is of los vaqueros, and wants you to meet rudy when the relationship starts getting serious. has rudy drive you places when he cant, you end up paying for gas because you feel bad.

☆ big soccer fan (rudy caused this), piles soccer memorabilia onto shelves and cabinets. spends quite a bit of his time rearranging it with you, asking for opinions on if he should arrange it by years, rarity, etc. gets you jerseys :) (will not be pleased if you don't like the same soccer team as him)

rodolfo parra:

☆ definition of designated driver, nice clean car with constant familiar air fresheners that he routinely changes out. kicks alejandro out of shotgun every time he sees you, has pillows and blankets in the back for everytime you want to take a nap during a long drive

☆ certified wine drinker, has a soft spot for The White Mom (franzia sunset blush ‼️). occasionally allows himself more expensive wine if he's going out with you, will limit and pace himself throughout the night though so you can enjoy yourself

☆ not a spoon user, if he's able to grab it with a tortilla then he's doing it. accidentally burns many of them though because he leaves them on the stove too long while trying to watch you cook, he cannot cook all that well

☆ sprawler 100%, sleeps like a starfish and expects you to also sleep like a starfish or get off the bed (/hj </3). he accidentally kicked you off the bed once and wouldn't stop apologizing until a week later you elbowed him in the face while asleep, you guys keep count of the sleep fights you have (he lets you say you win)

könig:

☆ big boy, big heart 🫶 he's constantly worrying about if he's too much to handle with his anxiety. though he doesn't show it, he finds himself getting unnerved when at home without any distraction from it. ends up picking up many little hobbies with you to keep himself from spiraling

☆ uses his height to put things on the top shelves so you ask for help, denies it vehemently even though he despises certain things only you eat. only to find it on the very top cabinet, laughs when you attempt to get it before asking him

☆ long scalding showers, if his skin isn't bright red by the time he's done then he didn't shower properly (by his standards). runs naturally colder than most so he enjoys the warmth of the shower and the steam afterward. likes having you wash his hair even though it's impractical to bend himself in half for it, the hot water and fingers in his hair is bliss

☆ regularly gets prescribed muscle relaxers when he's on leave because he has muscle spasms, he usually waits till the very last second when the spasms turn from slightly painful to not being able to walk. self-medicates by you massaging the areas until they relax, complains that the medicine doesn't work as well as you do after.

kim "horangi" hong-jin:

☆ old habits die hard. he's the biggest spender out of all the boys, he's always coming home with new stuff outside of the grocery list when he convinces you to let him shop. only difference is that he can pay it now, and he finally has somebody to show the things he buys.

☆ finds anything tiger related very amusing, he ends up drawing little tigers on all loose papers. little comics of tigers with different patterns and masks are very common to find, and he will lightheartedly not be happy if you question who the tigers with little heart tails are supposed to be

☆ bad habit of leaving lights on when he leaves rooms, he always has to double check before you guys go out to see if he turned off all the lights. if he didn't then he always grabs a water bottle for you, if he remembered to turn them off then he walks back to the car patting himself on the back

☆ prefers handholding over kissing in the beginning, as he's scared that his scars will deter you away from him. as time goes on he becomes very affectionate with kissing your head or hands, though he tries to deny ever doing anything

#mw2 x reader #mwii x reader #alejandro x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #rodolfo x reader #rodolfo parra x reader #könig x reader #horangi x reader

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bowieandqueen11 · 6 months

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Fickle Bird / Izzy Hands Imagine

Request: Would you be willing to do another spicy Izzy hands x reader ? Loved your previous stories!!

Thank you so much!! I'm always happy to see how much people enjoying reading for Izzy :) Assigned babygirl by the fandom and I am here for it,

Warning: This is smutty as heck, so 18+ only please!!! Sexual biting, sexual allusions and strong language!

(I do not own OFMD or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @unwanted-animal.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

Izzy Hands was becoming irritatingly querulous.

It had taken him far too many hours of laboriously hard work to finally pull you away from your crewmates. Every time you turned your head, he had been right there behind you. Doing his best to throw you sad eyes, hanging his head and ostentatiously ducking out of your line of vision as if he were plagued by tenebrous shrouds. He had tugged at your collar while Stede Bonnet's crew were idly mulling around, pretending to do their assigned chores on deck; he had done his best to subtly lead you away from Lucius, growing more and more irritated by each passing second you ignored his advances and continued your conversation.

He had wrapped his arms around your waist, jutting his chin into your shoulder as you did your best to shake him off and clear up your friend's dinner plates with Roach. Even though a sharp jab at his ribs got him to take a sheepish step back. running a glove through his hair to slick it back with an imperceptible look bored into the side of your cheek, you did your best to ignore the phantom chills of his stout fingers caressing carelessly over your stomach.

By the end of the night, he was two seconds away from hauling you over his shoulder and throwing the two of you into the ball room; as clouds steamed out of his ears, the visualisation of slamming the door shut with the heel of his boot and taking you right there and then, with stupid Lucius Spriggs being able to hear, was getting far too enticing.

Israel Hands had always been flighty. Impatient. Agitated, when it came to you. You had always known him to be: ever since your tenure on the great Captain Blackbeard's vessel almost five years ago now, Izzy had been protective over you and your relationship. Fear bore jealousy: a heart-breaking self-conscious disposition masked behind layers of seething hardness spawned only the animosity of Stede Bonnet's crew, and served to hinder his plans all the more.

As much as you did enjoy teasing the man, you knew that even he had his limit.

Which is how you found yourself nearly flown, well, more like catapulted to the other side of the beach during one of Bonnet's 'stupid fucking dilly-dallies around the poncy parts of Tangerine Cove', as your ever sweet significant other had put it. Before Buttons could even step foot on the shore: before Lucius could even settle down underneath a palm tree to sketch Black Pete, who had carefully positioned his near naked body to be splayed out against the foamy bubbles like a starfish, before Frenchie had even managed to haul the rest of Wee John's gunpowder out onto the strand, Izzy hand taken your hand tightly in his, his grip ready to pop your fingers like sea grapes.

You only laughed as the two of you ran, kicking sand across your feet as you scurried after him and towards an incredibly conspicuous, raggedy looking wall of orange lichen eaten stones placed as a make-shift border between the stretches of beach. Izzy didn't say a word. Instead he almost seemed to glide in front of you, as if beaks were pecking at his feet, threatening to perch upon a bough in his heart and thrum; he knew, if he couldn't make it behind these stones right now, his frail soul was about to snap under the weight of it all.

The intensity of his gaze as he helped you step over the ring was enough to take your breath away.

He sinks to his knees before you, wasting no time in knocking you to the scything sand; his hand splays out against your stomach and pushes you gruffly, until you've fallen onto your bottom and he has easy access to your legs. He whimpers as he hitches them up, frantically lining your ankles with wet kisses and hot, open-mouthed bruises as he wraps them around his neck. His hands are soft, so tender, yet they claw into your skin as he begins to knead the muscles of your calves. You can feel him inch closer and closer - his hands winding down your inner thighs until they're resting on your inner legs, thumbs tantalisingly close to stroking your panty line.

'Is this alright... sweetheart', he asks breathlessly, pressing his fingers down into the meat of your hips until his full weight his almost exclusively leaning against your stomach. He leans forward to nip against your mouth.

'Hmm- hmph', you jolt as you feel Izzy guide his hand further down towards your growing heat. 'Oh god yes. I swear, I was about to explode on that ship. As much as I appreciate the new company, especially with how cranky Edward has been recently, it's so hard between the two crews merging and escaping the English to find a moment alone.'

'Says the little tease. 'Oh Lucius, you're so funny, and I love your hair. And you're such a great drawer. You should draw me some time, and we should skip off into the sunset'-'

The back of his head is suddenly jolted up as you grasp onto the strands of hair near his crown. His mouth shudders at the feeling, opening and closing like a blubbering fish. Like a swallow caught in a trap. You graze your fingernails down to the nape of his neck apologetically, not before chiding him with a humoured 'jealousy has never suited you, Israel Hands. Now shut up and put that mouth to better use, before I go take Pete's place.'

He growls at you, baring his teeth, but you can tell by the way he gets straight to work that he takes your jesting as light-hearted. He lets the words wash over his head: right now, he was busy burying himself within you; his nose glides across the pulse point jittering through your neck, his eyes heavy and lidded as he barely breaths. Barely moves.

The little flirt. He was trying to get his own back.

He just rests there, just lets you shiver under the short pants that roll off his tongue and fan out across your collar bone, his teeth daring to dart out every so often and graze across the skin by your earlobe. His lips continue their ghostly ravishing, finally coming to a stop by cautiously hovering over your racing heartbeat.

You were getting far too impatient. The feel of your hands scrambling down to tug at his thigh holster would almost had made him laugh, if it hadn't been for the fortuitous brush of the side of your palm against his growing bulge.

But two can play at that game. You almost want to scream when he cocks his head up to throw you a shit-eating grin, before the flat part of his tongue licks out to swirl against the top of your left bosom.

'If you don't- hmph- if you don't stop, someone is going to catch u-oh-'. Your reprimands were astutely silenced by Izzy with a teasingly light stroke of his pointer and middle finger down the thin material covering your groin. He made sure to drag his thumb behind, digging in against the material a little harsher with it, until you could almost feel the rugged tip of his fingernail inside you.

'Oh, fuck off. If you're any louder, even the fucking sirens will start popping up to see what that... titillating sound is.'

If Izzy wasn't too busy running the flat edge of his tongue up the seam of your inner leg, you would have had half a mind to shove him off you right there and then.

'Stop complaining.'

He drags his thumb along his lips before popping it in his mouth, sucking at the leather. His eyes never leave yours as his teeth clench into the material, tugging it off and throwing it blindly behind his back. The feeling of the coarse pad being suddenly replaced by a warm, firm fingertip against the outside of your folds was enough to make you buck your hips up in wild euphoria.

This man. He was going to drive you absolutely mad.

'Even I didn't think you were such a squirmy little thing', he states with a calculated grin. 'Didn't take much for you to fall apart in front of me, now, did it? Never does though, to be fair.'

'Oh, you're one to talk. One more - mmph- one more sad look in my direction and I would have pinned you to the floor in front of Bonnet's crew. You're proper needy, aren't you? Couldn't- couldn't wait- couldn't stop begging-'

He was far too impertinent for your persiflage. God, how he had wanted this-how he had wanted you for far longer than his dogged soul was willing to admit. It had near driven him to that sweet, twilight chasm of madness: sent him tumbling over the edge until he was near plagued, near driven to his knees to beg for forgiveness for his loving sin at your placating shrine. He was almost about to burn with embarrassment, but Israel Hands was too far gone to care.

Instead, he swallows thickly before taking your hand, cupping it around his neck. Then he whimpers, and the two of you are really in it then.

'I would let you fucking wreck me, you know that?', he chokes out from behind gritted teeth, trying to stop the pulsating feeling aching in the pit of his stomach.

'Sweet man', you reach up to brush his cheek with your free hand, and he almost recoils at the touch. 'You're safe with me Iz. Always. You don't have to hide what you want.'

He cups his fingers over your own: he can barely stop them from contracting over your knuckles as he throws his head back to the heavens and closes his eyes in contentment. His body starts squirming then, the heat from your fingertips making every nerve ending down the back of his spine alight, and he can't help - doesn't want to stop the way he starts rocking his hips back and forth across your legs. The lust seems to be radiating off his glowing cheeks as he furrows his eyebrows in blissful agony.

He drags his free hand down your arm until he reaches the scabbard to the right of his stomach. You poke the inside of your lip with your tongue, watching the sharp edge slice across the air to be placed, with a precision only wrought with a extensive practice, to lay underneath the cold metal bravely guarding your chest. With a quick whip of his wrist, off your blouse went: the first button soared through the air without Izzy needing to even open his eyes. But as he peeked one open and saw the line of tantalising skin grow wider down your rising breast, all semblance of restrained self-mastery fled from his brain.

The rest were ripped open by a clenched glove. You were surprised none of the rest of the crew popped their heads up at the sound: the rip of cotton material being shredded straight across your jiggling bosoms, your buttons flying off like mini cannonballs being struck into the unsuspecting shifts of sand.

Pop. Pop. Pop.

You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how your legs imperceptivity clenched together at the way he subconsciously wet his bottom lip, his nose scrunching up as he nearly snarled at the sight of the unhampered skin freed from your tight blouse.

He's voracious as he bites down like a starved stray and pierces the edge of your right breast with his front teeth. The faint sunlight blinds your eyes and makes you see pockets of stars as he begins sucking like his very soul depended on it, burying his head right in line with your sternum.

Wanting to return the favour, you let your free hands wander down. Hiking up the fringes of his shirt, you let your hands wander over the taut muscles of his abdomen, smiling to yourself as you feel goose bumps prick up to meet your cool palms. Izzy pants against your nipple, which in turn makes it harden as his hot breath breezes past. Giving you an idea, you run your hand up past the fine silver hairs of Izzy's happy trail, to experimentally roll the pad of your thumb over the man's left nipple.

What you weren't expecting, however, was for him to collapse on top of you.

The groan that muffled out past the fist he tried to shove into his mouth was inhuman. Was damn sinful. All he can do while he lets the overpowering rush of desire coarse through his veins is to quieten the sound with your awaiting lips; he's trembling against you, and so you reassure him with a languid massage of your tongue against his own. His hand tried to flail away as he finally feels you probe around his teeth, but you catch it easily, pressing it firmly against your fluttering heart. With a final tug, you finally manage to stumble your way through the loops of his trouser buttons.

His hips judder forward until he prods awkwardly against the bottom of your abdomen, leaving a slick wetness smeared against the buckle of your belt. He grimaces, a thin line of saliva glistening between you as he pulls his head back to look down at the disturbance. His nostrils flare as he buries his hands into two clefts in the rocks either side of your head, and does his best to try and control the painful contortions of his face. A low whistle still manages to catch in the back of his throat as he gazes down at the milky seepage he has left behind, running in smooth drips down your bellybutton and smearing it with each jolt of your desperate hips against his, further and further down against your hip line. The muscles in his face fall as if he were in a trance: as if he were a man possessed.

'I-I care for you. You know that.' He can barely meet your eye in fear that you'd be repulsed by the sweetness - by the fondness that has flooded through them, feeling the gilded shadows that veiled his sight begin to lift.

You reach up and let your pointer finger gingerly trace over the outline of the swallow tattoo inked into the side of his neck. 'I know. I love you too, Israel Hands.'

God, you were going to be the end of him. And if he weren't so blinded by it, he would have been more than satisfied to sink into the depths of oblivion with you seared into his irises: the last mirage, the last vision of a life he had could never have. Of a love he had not earnt.

But he was stubborn, and his talons refused to stop clinging onto hope.

It must have been quite a sight: the perched rocks quaking as something pounded sloppily against them, the cacophony of breathless, gasping whines as your clawed hand tried to reach back and hold desperately onto the sharp jags above your head.

'Should we... should we do something about that?', Roach asks, looking quizzically around at his friends and dropping the stick he had been chasing the Swede around with a moment before onto the beach.

Lucius, squints his eyes warily, and shakes his head in disgust. 'Nah. I'm leaving that one for the Captain to handle.'

'I think he's too busy getting his own, uh, stuff handled by Blackbeard', Jim pipes in, doing their best to hide their roguish smile as the sound of you screaming Izzy's name grew louder and louder, no matter how well you were trying to stifle it by shoving your mouth into his shoulder blade and biting down, and no matter how well Izzy was drowning it out with the harshness of his own grunts.

'Actually', Lucius thumps the end of his pencil against his chin and begins to grin menacingly. 'This might come in very useful. Looks like Dizzy Izzy, or should I say Izzy the Rasper won't be making poor old Lucius scrub anything else while he's on board.'

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puppiesandnightlock · 6 months

Text

Link: Why Bruce Should Not Have The Title of World's Greatest Detective Anymore, a presentation by Tim Drake

Summary: Bruce didn't know the Super Sons were dating somehow, and Tim compiled a list of evidence of a bunch of moment here he should have caught on, but did not.

Featuring Confused and Tired Dad Bruce, PowerPoint master Tim, Traumatized Dick, and an embarrassed Damian.

Super Sons Week Bonus Day: Family and Legacy (this one won by a landslide on the tumblr poll)

In Bruce’s defense, he was a father of six officially and about twelve emotionally. He had long ago resigned his title of World’s Greatest Detective to Tim, so honestly, could you blame him for not noticing that his youngest son had had company around more often? And come on, it was Jonathan Samuel Kent, the two were practically glued to each other even before recent developments.

How recent, he wasn't sure.

And now he had to sit through a folder Tim had given him, evidence compiled in an attempt to clear things up in his head. He plugged in the USB that fell out of it and it opened to a powerpoint.

Of course.

Angels and Demons, or otherwise known as B, how the fuck did you not know?

A presentation by Tim Drake

Evidence #1: “Wrestling.”

The slide played a clip of surveillance feed from inside of the manor. Damian had Jon pinned to the ground, both panting and flushed.

“What’s going on here?” Bruce turned the doorknob, poking his head through the door.

Damian scrambled off of the taller boy, schooling his features to a mask of indifference.

Jon made no such efforts, choosing to starfish across the carpeted floor, a blank look on his face as he stared at the ceiling.

“Nothing, Father, we decided to make use of our time and spar. Jonathan needs practice.”

Bruce eyed them suspiciously, pausing to take in the scene. Damian’s usual gel slicked hair was ruffled, and Jon’s curls were splayed out on the floor, some in his face.

Then again, his hair was always a bit unruly.

Their faces were flushed, and they had been breathing heavily when he came in.

The quick once over seemingly revealed nothing to him, although one could clearly see the still blown pupils of an expressionless Jon, and both boys’ kiss-bitten lips.

“Next time, spar in the cave, that’s what it's there for.” He walked out, shutting the door behind him.

The video feed played for a bit longer, Damian putting his face in his hands, a very un-Damian-like thing to do, and groaning.

“I cannot believe that actually worked.”

Tim had left a little note on the side of the video after it stopped playing. You have six kids, and one of them is one Richard John Grayson, how on earth did you fall for that?

Evidence #2: Dates

This opened to a video from a phone, someone walking into Damian’s room and filming his fussing with his appearance in the mirror.

“Whatcha doin’, baby bat?” Tim’s voice came from the other side of the camera.

“Fixing my hair, what does it look like, Drake?”

“Whoa, whoa, chill. I’m just curious, I haven't seen you put this much interest into your appearance since you had picture day.”

Damian scowled, more out of admittance that he was right then spite.

“Say what you will, Timothy.” He hesitated. “How do I look?”

“You’ll blow his socks off, Dames.” Tim said softly, a hand reaching out from behind the phone to straighten his jacket.

Damian inhaled deeply and carefully walked down the stairs. The doorbell rang, and as if filming a reality show, Tim followed dutifully behind. Jon stood, looking as nervous as he was, holding a small bunch of wild flowers that he immediately thrust into Damian’s face.

“Oh my god-” was whispered from Tim as the camera zoomed in on Damian, a pink flush becoming slightly visible.

“I’m so sending this to Dick.”

Damian handed off the flowers to the nearest person, but not before threading a few into Jon’s curls.

“Where are you going?” Bruce came out from the dining room, files in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

Tim switched the camera over to him, zooming in on his tired appearance, then zooming out so he could see everyone.

“The movies, s-sir.�� Jon stuttered.

Burce raised an eyebrow. “Jon, you’ve known me for years, you can drop the formalities.”

An undignified squeak came from the boy and Damian sighed, albeit affectionately.

“We will be going, Father.”

“Have a good time.” He waved them off, disappearing into the labyrinth that is Wayne Manor.

“That’s it?” Tim was heard screeching off screen. “He gave ME hell, gave my dates HELL, broke out the KRYPTONITE when Kon even LOOKED at me, and all you get is HAVE A GOOD TIME?”

“Sucks to suck.” Damian jeered, taking Jon by the hand and dragging him out the door.

Followed by it was several screenshots from a chat titled “Rockin’ Robins”, all of them sharing stories until someone pointed out that maybe Bruce didn't even know it was a date, which was accurate.

This note said There were flowers. Flowers.

Evidence #3: They were in A FUCKING CLOSET.

Bruce spat his coffee out at that, massaging his temples. This was getting to be way too much. He did not at all need to know about what had happened in the closet, especially because he remembered this particular one and frankly? It was embarrassing that he didn’t catch on then.

Bruce was walking down the hallway when he suddenly heard noises coming from the third floor janitor's closet.

Tentatively, he opened the door. The last thing he expected was for Jon and Damian to stumble out of it, school uniforms slightly unbuttoned and very rumpled. Jon’s glasses were crooked, and Damian’s tie was missing.

“F-Father!” Damian stuttered, attempting to smooth out his ruffled appearance. Jon silently handed him his tie, both boys flushing furiously under Bruce’s rather confused gaze.

“What were you doing in there? Aren’t you supposed to be on that field trip? Your class is still on the first floor.”

“W-We were…uh-” Jon fidgeted with the buttons on his shirt, nudging Damian for help.

Suddenly, his gaze caught on something reflecting green in his son’s back pocket. His eyes narrowed and his face set into a firm expression.

“We will be talking about this at home. I’m disappointed in both of you, I thought we’d gone over this.”

Damian’s face paled, before morphing into one of confusion. “What exactly are you talking about, Father?”

“Sneaking out for hero work.”

Both teens inwardly sobbed in relief as Damian said stiffly, “Yes, Father.”and Jon with a quaking “Sorry, Uncle Bruce.”

Satisfied in his parenting skills, Bruce continued towards his office.

If he watched the video Tim had put in from the surveillance feed of Wayne Enterprises, he could almost guarantee they would have both been sporting some rather suspicious brusings.

Bruce stood up, he was going to need a drink to get through the rest of this.

Unbeknownst to him, most of his kids were perched in the living room, wheezing at their father’s reactions.

Damian was rather displeased at all that was being shown, and his face was flushed red.

“Looks like baby bat isn’t so innocent.” Jason cackled.

“My precious sweet little boy, this is OBSCENE, they are BABIES!”

“Richard, I am nineteen years old.”

“BABIES.”

Tim closed the laptop as Bruce left the cave, leaning back. “It was sad, honestly, to compile all this information and realize Bruce didn't get any of it. I mean, how long has it been?”

“Three years.” Damian muttered.

“Three fucking years. It’s sad to see him go.” Duke said solemnly.

There was a moment of silence as they mourned the loss of their once perceptive father.

Then promptly burst into laughter.

@super-sons-week-2023

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