#He's so chaotic and unpredictable

[makishimu]

Aventurine is so entertaining to write, it's awesome.

[fumiko-matsubara]

Obligatory Chiba wearing Hyunjin's outfits for Stray Kids' ATE 🥠 comeback season because he looks too good 😩🤌🌹

[wizardsimper]

One of my biggest fears for tes6 is if they flanderise Sheogorath (and the other daedric princes too)

[len-tempest]

Damian: composed

Tim: Slowly losing it

Jason and Dick: TOO MUCH ENERGY

[Reverse Robins] pt.1 + extras!

I... Somehow feel like this is still not enough. Maybe I should've made more illustrations or somenthing and I feel like I'm missing somenthin... hmmmm Well, a problem for my future self. I'm pretty proud of the perspective tho! I pulled it off very easily considering I usually don't implement perspective in the characters let alone to the background!

[grimm-the-tiger]

Fellow Hermitcraft/Grishaverse fans, I request your aid for the eleventh time!

Wiki links: Corporalki | Etherealki | Materialki

Refreshers/more info below the cut so people don't have to fight with the Fandom wiki.

Master list of previous polls

In the Grishaverse, there's a group of people called Grisha who have supernatural powers over one specific thing, and tend to fall into one of three categories: Corporalki, Etherealki, and Materialki.

Corporalki have power over living flesh (I believe specifically human flesh, but don't quote me on that). Healers do exactly what they sound like, Heartrenders can do fun stuff like mess with people's brain chemistry and/or organs, and Tailors can temporarily change theirs or others' appearances.

Etherealki have power over the elements. Squallers can control wind, Inferni can control fire, and Tidemakers can control water.

Materialki have power over physical matter. As far as I can tell, they mostly control largely man-made materials like glass or metal. Durasts can manipulate any solid material, sometimes down to its composition. Alkemi do the same thing, but with liquids or powders.

The Other/Not Shown section comprises Grisha who fall into one of the above categories but are in some way rare or unique. Corpsewitches are Heartrenders who can mess with dead flesh, Shadow Summoners (who I think are sometimes called darklings, which is kind of confusing because there's also a Shadow Summoner character called The Darkling) are Etherealki with power over specifically darkness and shadow, and Sun Summoners are the opposite of Shadow Summoners and have the ability to control and create light.

[rosemaryhoney27]

Dead End Diner

Inspired by this post

Link

The neon sign above the little corner diner buzzed faintly, its flickering letters spelling out The Dead End. Rain drizzled from the Gotham sky, casting reflections of sickly green and crimson across the slick asphalt. Crime, chaos, and capes ruled the night—but inside the warm diner, a world of sizzling grills, greasy coffee, and ghost-proof walls thrived in peace.

Danny Fenton wiped down the countertop, ghost core humming gently with contentment.

Leaving Amity Park had been easy once his parents screamed the word “monster.” The lab accident that gave him ghost powers had changed everything, and not everyone could handle the truth. Especially Jack and Maddie Fenton.

Vlad Masters hadn’t taken rejection well either. Maddie still wanted nothing to do with him—half ghost or not. In a final, dramatic end, Vlad destroyed his ghost half and drank himself into the grave. The only note he left behind was a signed will, bequeathing everything to Daniel Fenton.

So now Danny was wealthy.

And utterly, devastatingly bored.

Money didn’t thrill him. Mansions made him feel lonely. Charity galas were stiff and full of liars. So he’d packed up and moved to the most chaotic, unpredictable, high-stakes city he could think of: Gotham.

He bought a crumbling building right in the Narrows, cleaned it out, reinforced it with ghost tech and some stolen WayneTech from Vlad’s stash, and opened a 24/7 diner.

He called it The Dead End.

It was a hit almost instantly. Not because of the food, though it was great (Danny had a mean hand with greasy spoons), but because of the way he ran it.

“Pay if you can, eat if you’re hungry, and don’t be a jerk.”

Word spread. The homeless knew they’d get warm soup and hot fries. Night-shift nurses sat next to henchmen on break. Cops blinked awkwardly at villains scarfing pancakes. No fights, no weapons, no questions. If a rogue battle broke out outside, people flooded in for shelter. Danny never locked the doors.

He sat behind the counter and watched the madness through the windows, eating his waffles in peace. If he had to step out and go invisible to redirect a missile away from his roof, well, that was his business.

Gotham’s vigilantes didn’t see it that way.

Nightwing was the first to break in.

Danny caught him perched on the rafters like an oversized, very broody bat.

“You want eggs or pancakes?” Danny asked, not looking up from his crossword puzzle.

“…I’m not here to eat.”

“Then you broke into my diner for nothing? That’s kinda rude.” Danny gestured to the stools. “Sit. I’m not feeding a potential burglar unless he’s sitting.”

Grumbling, Nightwing slid down and took a seat.

A week later, Red Hood tripped the back alarm. He got a grilled cheese shoved into his hands before he could say a word.

Tim Drake hacked the registers. Danny dumped a milkshake in his lap and gave him a free slice of pie “as an apology.”

Spoiler got caught trying to blend in by wearing a hoodie. She got extra whipped cream and a “next time just ask for a table.”

They kept coming. Not even Batman himself was immune. One evening, the lights flickered and dimmed as a familiar voice echoed behind him.

“You’re not what you seem.”

Danny, utterly unbothered, slid a coffee mug across the counter.

“And you look like you need caffeine and a therapist.”

The cowl’s frown deepened. “How is your building still standing after Joker launched a rocket at this block?”

“I reinforced it,” Danny said, sipping his soda. “Ghost-proof, explosion-dampening, and built with spite. That helps.”

“You let known criminals hide here.”

“I let everyone hide here. I’m not a cop, Bats. I’m a fry cook.”

“You’re not just a fry cook.”

Danny’s eyes shimmered green.

“No,” he said. “I’m also a ghost. Now sit your haunted butt down and let me feed you before you faint from low blood sugar.”

Eventually, the Bats gave up trying to prove he was a villain.

Instead, they started… showing up.

Red Robin brought his laptop and camped at a booth during patrol. He claimed it was “recon,” but Danny always brought him extra hash browns.

Red Hood “accidentally” forgot his helmet once and got his favorite booth permanently labeled “Angry Soup Guy.”

Nightwing flirted with the waitress, annoyed Danny to no end, and somehow ended up helping wash dishes on busy nights.

Even Batman… tolerated the place. He’d never admit it, but he once grunted “thanks” after Danny saved Batgirl from getting crushed by falling debris—without revealing her identity or asking questions.

The Rogues started calling Danny “Ghost Chef.”

The vigilantes? “Spook Fry.”

He’d been called worse.

One night, just before closing, Danny flipped the sign to CLOSED and leaned against the window. Outside, Scarecrow and Batwoman were having a rooftop showdown. The sky was full of smoke and red light. He yawned.

Behind him, Damian Wayne sat sipping a very serious cup of cocoa and glared at the sugar skull art on the wall.

“You’re suspicious,” Damian said. “You let Joker’s goons eat here last week.”

“They paid in stolen casino chips. I took it. Better than nothing.”

“You don’t fear us.”

“I don’t fear much.”

Damian narrowed his eyes. “You’re hiding something.”

Danny winked. “Aren’t we all?”

The Dead End became legend.

A safe zone. A neutral ground. A place where Penguin’s thugs might sit next to Batgirl and silently agree not to wreck the place.

Danny never asked questions, and he always served the best damn pancakes in Gotham.

He’d been disowned. Betrayed. Abandoned. But in Gotham, the city of masks and monsters, he found peace in chaos, purpose in pancakes, and power in doing what no one else dared: building something kind in a world built on fear.

And honestly?

That was way more fun than being rich.

[taeghi]

best friends don’t kiss on birthdays

it’s your birthday! and jake’s gift might be more than just a cake.

PAIRING : bff baker!jake x birthday girl!y/n

GENRE : SMUT = MDNI, bffs 2 lovers, food (cake) play, lots of choking, dirty talk, brief spanking, cum play?? lmao. unprotected sex (pls wear a condom)

WC : 6.5k

authors note : it's my birthday!! (happy bday to me) so i wanted to post a bday fic :D ily all, i hope u enjoy!!!! 🎂🎈

you and jake have been friends for as long as you can remember. you wouldn’t call each other each others soulmates, but you both assume it’s something similar. 

since you were ten, jake has made a cake for you every single year for your birthday. every year it was either a different flavour of cake, different icing style or different shapes. but, every year, like clockwork, jake was at your door with a cake in his hand and a cheesy smile on his face. 

you were both in your final year of university (jake had followed you to university even though he despised the city it was in), and this year so far, has been a bit different between you and jake. both of you had split into different friend groups over the years. you were more of an inner, close social circle type, and jake was, well, the complete opposite. he liked going out every weekend, getting wasted until he was falling off his ass. everytime you hung out with him in public, someone would come up to greet him. 

despite the social shift, you and jake were still close as always. jake was still the same jake you had always known. he lives in the moment, makes quick decisions on the spot without thinking of any consequences, he loves to take risks, even if they put you on edge. but that’s how you and jake balanced each other out. like some chaotic yin and yang in perfect human form. 

the past month, jake had been hanging out with chisa. she’s the lead singer of the rock band at your school, the one that performs at every school event and every party. you’ve only briefly met her, like at her birthday party about a month ago that jake had forced you to go to. but, you could tell that she was almost exactly like jake. she radiates this energy, effortless and infectious, always up for anything, her unpredictability drawing in everyone around her.

jake’s never been serious with anyone—just a few hookups, then he moves on. but with chisa? it was different. he was attached to her in a way you’d never seen before, and you hated that it bugged you, even though you told yourself it didn’t. you had started getting used to smelling chisa’s perfume on jake when he comes over to your apartment, having just left hers. you had gotten used to him smiling at his phone when he hung out with you and it was because of something chisa had texted, not a dumb meme sunghoon had sent him. 

what you couldn’t get used to was jake making sure everyone came to chisa’s birthday, only for a month later to completely forget yours. this was the first year, after fourteen years, that jake didn’t remember your birthday. no text, no barging into your apartment at 8 am with that obnoxious grin of his, dragging you to some arcade or random party to celebrate. nothing.

and now, here it was—10 pm, and not a sign of your best friend.

you sigh and throw yourself into bed, desperately wishing this god awful birthday would just end already. if jake dares to text you tomorrow, you’ll scream at him for hours—unless you’re still caught up in this sinking feeling in your stomach. a brief thought crosses your mind: is jake replacing me? 

you scoff and roll over onto your side, how could jake replace you with chisa if you and chisa had completely different relationships with jake. you told yourself that you’ve just always been the only girl jake hangs out with, that now that there’s another one that he consistently hangs out with it’s fucking with you. because jake is your best friend, or at least you thought he was. do best friends forget each other's birthdays? their traditions? 

you pretend it doesn’t matter, trying to get your mind to shut off so you can sleep. you tell yourself that it’s just another birthday, same as all the others you've lived through and all the ones you’ll live through in the future. but it’s not.jake should’ve been here, whether you wanted to strangle him or not, you just wanted him here.

a single tear falls down your cheek, landing on your pillow that soaks it up.  

more tears are willing to escape, but a knock on the door stops them. 

the clock says 10:32pm on your nightstand, you wonder who the hell is here this late. but in your chest you hope it’s jake. you can’t help but speed walk to the front door. you don’t look through the peephole before you swing it open. 

and sure enough, there’s jake, a cake in his hand with a guilty look on his face, instead of the usual annoying smirk. 

“happy birthday?” jake says unsurely, his face contorted in unease. 

you scoff, “wow, you remembered.” 

jake gasps, “i didn’t miss your birthday, yn!” he pulls out his phone to look at the time, “there’s still an hour and a half of it left!” you don’t answer, just stare at him expressionless, trying to mask your hurt. jake shoves the cake out in front of you, “well are you gonna let me in so we can share this cake? i made it red velvet flavoured this year!” 

you glance down at the cake, it looks perfect. it’s deep red layers covered with cream cheese, white frosting. silver frosting was on the top in jake’s cursive hand writing happy birthday y/n! it looked annoyingly good. 

you sigh and step to the side, letting jake into your apartment so late at night on your birthday. 

“see, you can never say no to my baking!” jake chuckles out, he beelines straight for your kitchen like he never stopped practically living here up until a month ago. he finds two spoons in your cluttered drawers quickly. 

“yeah, well, at least your teachers didn’t waste their money teaching you,” you lean on the other side of the island from him, face to face. 

jake tsks, “okay well, it wasn’t a waste of money then for me to have followed you out here.” jake sticks out a spoon for you to take, “now taste it and tell me how good your best friend in the entire world can bake!” 

you dig your spoon into the cake, it glides so smoothly through it, just like everything else jake bakes. when the red velvet meets your mouth, you can’t help but moan around it. damn jake and his culinary arts degree. 

across the island from you, jake’s mouth is turned into a shit-eating grin, knowing that all your anger towards him has melted away just like the cake has melted in your mouth. 

“good?” jake asks with a tilt of his head, like he doesn’t already know the answer.

“shut up.” 

he laughs—loud, familiar. the sound of it makes your stomach flip in a way you wish it wouldn’t. for a second, it’s like nothing happened. like he didn’t almost forget your birthday.

“sorry there’s no candles this year,” jake mumbles out, placing a bite of cake into his own mouth. 

you shrug, going for a second bite, “it’s okay.” 

“if there was one, what would you wish for?” 

your spoon hovers mid-air. you’re suddenly hyper aware of the way jake is watching you, the way he’s close but not too close, his knee knocking against the cabinet when he shifts. you think for a second, strangely struggling to make eye contact with your best friend. your best friend that you had just cried about 10 minutes before this. 

“hm?” jake pushes you, impatient as always.

“i can’t tell you, or else it won’t come true.” you smirk at him, trying to ignore whatever this weird tension is between you. 

jake scoffs, “you have literally told me every birthday wish you have ever wished for since we were ten, why can’t you tell me now?” 

you shrug, “secret.” placing another piece of cake in your mouth. you notice jake still in front of you, his body rigid. his hands pressing flat against the counter like he’s holding himself back. “what?” 

jake gently puts his spoon down on the marble island, you can feel his sudden unease from across said island.he doesn’t answer. instead, he steps around the island, closing the space between you in two slow strides., “you uh, have icing on your face.”

 before you can reach to wipe it off, jake beats you to it. his large, warm hand meets your cheek, his thumb brushes once against your skin, gathering the icing on his digit. without a second thought (usual jake nature) he slides his thumb into your ajar mouth. your lips circle around his thumb, sucking the frosting of his mouth. jake bites his lower lip in between his teeth as he watches you, feels your tongue circle this thumb before you pull your mouth off it. 

“jake,” your voice whispers to him— he’s so close to you. your apartment suddenly feels one thousand times smaller than it usually does. 

“did your birthday wish include me, y/n?” jake asks, almost desperate, “tell me it did.” you only slightly nod in response, unsure of where this was going, aching for more. in a second, jake’s hand is cupping your jaw. “what was it, y/n? tell me.” 

your voice is quiet when you reveal your wish, “i wished for you to kiss me.” 

before you could process what you had just said to your best friend, he’s leaning over, his lips meeting yours. they’re gentle at first, testing to see if you’re okay. when you don’t push him away or reject the kiss gets hungrier. your lips mesh together in a hurried, desperate mess. like both of you needed this now or else you’d never get it again. 

jake’s hands grip your waist, pulling you into him. it’s the warmth of his body on yours (the one that you’ve always craved) that makes you gasp, pushing him away. 

“what? want to stop?” jake concerns, his eyes flashing over your body quickly, making sure you’re okay. 

“just— what about chisa?” her name sounds foreign coming from your mouth now.  jake chuckles quickly, and then laughs loudly like he suddenly can’t control it. “jake? what?” 

“it’s just,” jake laughs, his on your island to keep him up, “what about chisa? she’s not my girlfriend or anything. don’t you know me, y/n?” 

you pucker your lips, not impressed by his response, it makes you feel dumb. “shut up, jake.” 

when jake sees that you’re being serious, his laugh fades into only a smile, his hands grip your waist again, “chisa is nothing to me, y/n. just a friend.” 

“if she’s just a friend then what am i?” 

his grip falters slightly. you both know jake sucks at talking about his feelings—he’ll show them, sure, but words? not his thing. too bad that’s exactly what you need right now. both of you are unsure if he can give you that. it’s a perfect example of how different you two are from each other. 

“you’re my best friend and i love you.” he speaks, your face is unimpressed and you try to step back from him, but he holds you close, his words rush like you’re gonna disappear, “but i love you more than just as a best friend.” 

you stay in your place, wanting jake to continue, his hands relax on your body again. “then why were you so late to my birthday, jake? i thought you had forgotten about it… about me.” 

“i could never forget about you,” jake leans down to look directly into your eyes as he speaks, wanting you to know that he’s genuine. he swallows harshly before he continues, wanting to do this right, knowing that he’s not good at this type of shit. "i was just—going over everything in my head. all day. i didn’t know if i should go all out or keep it casual. if you’d pick up on my feelings or not. if i’d ruin everything." his hands tremble slightly on your waist. "i didn’t want to lose you."

your heart pounds so loud you’re sure he can hear it. suddenly, all the frustration from earlier doesn’t matter anymore.

you don’t answer—not with words, at least. instead, you pull him back in, pressing your lips to his. jake stiffens for half a second before melting into you, hands slipping around your back, holding you close like he never wants to let go ever again.

jake walks you so your back is against the kitchen island. he pulls away from you and you can see that his eyes are full with lust. you figure yours must look the same. jake swoops down and presses a deep kiss into your neck, inhaling your perfume. he can faintly smell the icing from the cake on you. over your shoulder, jake looks at the bitten-into cake. 

jake’s hands pull off your night shirt, the one you always wear no matter how stretched and oil-stained it’s gotten throughout the years. you gasp at the cold air against your skin, your chest on full display for jake so suddenly. his eyes look like they’re about to devour you. he licks his lips as he look at  your hardened nipples. 

without a second thought, jake swirls some icing from the cake behind you and swipes it onto your breast. 

“jake—!” you gasp out. before you could finish your sentence, jake’s lips are circled around your pink nipples covered in icing, sucking on it and gently pulling it. he moans against your skin. your jaw drops open at the feeling of it. his fingers tweak your other nipples, causing your back to fully arch into him already. 

jake swirls his finger into the cake again, this time slowly, gently, tracing it against your collarbone. 

“what are you doing, jake?” your voice is already breathless as you let your best friend touch you. 

“i wanna see if you, or the icing is sweeter.” he casually shrugs, leaning down and placing his tongue flat against your collarbone, licking up the icing trail in one slow lick. the feeling of his warm, wet tongue on your collarbone has you spiraling too fast for your liking. 

jake’s hands rest on your tits, massaging them and tweaking your nipples as he licks and kisses your collarbone and neck. you can feel your core getting soaked. you can’t believe you and jake are doing this. 

jake dips his finger into the icing again, this time putting his finger right in the valley of your breasts before he slowly drags it down your stomach, stopping at the top of your belly button. 

jake is on his knees in an instant, licking up your stomach the trail of icing. he pops one of your nipples into his mouth again, sucking and pulling on it just enough to get you whining above him. 

jake’s hands push down your night shorts and panties in one go, letting them pool at your feet for you to step out of. it leaves you completely bare in front of fully dressed jake. your body is on full display for him, letting him do whatever he wants to you. 

both of jake’s hands cusp your jaw, his forehead leaning on yours as he looks into your eyes, “you’re so fucking beautiful, y/n.” since he’s holding your jaw you can’t look away from him, you feel your cheeks heat at the compliment. sure, jake has called you beautiful or pretty before, but he’s never done it when you’re completely naked and exposed. “will you let me taste you, baby?” 

you nod in response, making jake smash his lips against yours again, this time softer and gentle, like he’s telling you to trust him. you could taste the icing on his lips. 

jake swipes his index and middle  fingers into the icing again. this time he pushes them in between your lips, getting you to suck on them. “that’s right, baby, get my fingers soaked so they can slide right in you.” his words make you whimper around his fingers, swallowing the sweet icing. your tongue sucks on his fingers, wanting to do as he says. jake’s eyes are glazed over as he watches you, feeling your mouth sucking against his digits. 

with a pop, he pulls them out, now shining with your saliva. he doesn’t hesitate to spread your legs, teasing your already soaked hole with his saliva-covered fingers. he pushes them in slowly, but easy from all the lubricant. both of you moan as his fingers reach as far as they can inside of you. your pussy is so warm around his fingers, he can feel your walls already clenching around them and he hasn’t even moved them yet. 

jake kneels on the ground again, his fingers starting to push out and then back in again. he’s stretching you, preparing you for his cock later on. his fingers adventure and experiment with touching all over your walls. he’s determined to find the spot that makes you cry out. he’s determined to make this the best birthday you’ve ever had. 

your hands grip the kitchen island behind you, trying to stable yourself as jake starts to finger fuck you. his fingers are curling at just the right spots. your bottom lip is glued between your teeth as you watch your best friend stare so intently at where his fingers disappear into your pussy. your folds continue to suck his fingers in everytime he tries to pull them out. your juices and saliva are mixing around his slender fingers, dripping down the sides of them already. 

you throw your head back over your shoulder, the pleasure making your muscles contract and relax over and over again as jake builds your orgasm. you see the red velvet cake that he had made you, keeping your fourteen year tradition alive. you don’t stop yourself from reaching over and swiping the icing off the cake and onto your fingers. jake watches you as you bring your fingers to your folds, smearing the icing around the skin between your legs, right where you want jake’s mouth to be. 

“you want my tongue, baby?” jake smirks up at you from between your legs, his fingers still fucking into you. 

“please, i wanna cum so bad.” 

jake mumbles something about how hot you are before he delves into your folds with his mouth. his eyes closing as he starts to make out with your pussy. he keeps his fingers pushing in and out of you at a steady pace. his tongue starts to circle and tease your clit as his lips suck the skin around it. 

“oh god,” you cry out, your eyebrows bunching together as jake brings you closer to the edge. 

jake’s saliva mixes with your juices as he licks up the icing between your legs. he runs his tongue up and down your slit. your body starts to convulse at the feeling of being so close to the edge. he switches back to giving your clit pressured  sucks, flicking his tongue back and forth your clit quickly. 

your eyes stay focused on jake working your core. his eyes meet yours and a grin spreads across his face as his tongue still circles your clit, adding pressure to it. it makes you cry out, gripping the kitchen island behind you even tighter. your knees start buckling on either side of jake’s head as he kneels on your kitchen floor. 

“fuck, i’m gonna cum, jake!” you warn him, your chest starting to move sporadically as you reach the very edge of your climax. 

“do it, cum all over my face right now— cum all over your best friend's face.” jake grunts out, mumbling against your pussy as he speeds up how fast his tongue circles, how fast his fingers fuck into you. 

your high hits you so satisfyingly. all of your pent up emotions towards jake finally release as you cum onto his mouth and fingers. your body feels like it’s laced with ecstasy as your body shakes with tremors. jake’s free hand helps you stay steady against his mouth as he sucks on your pussy until you’re pushing him away because of the overstimulation. he only laughs at your whining as he pulls his fingers out of you. 

jake stands up, his lips swollen and wet from eating you out. “you really are sweeter than the icing,” jake smiles at your post-nut expression, his mouth still full of your taste. “here— try for yourself.” you let jake slip his finger sinto your mouth for the third time of the night. this time however, it’s not cream cheese icing that has you moaning around his digits, it's your own juices. 

and jake is right, it is sweeter than the icing. 

jake’s fingers slip from your lips. you wrap your arms around jake’s neck, pulling him closer to you again. his hands find their spot on your waist. you both find this position so easily, as if it wasn’t the first time in the past 14 years that you’ve done this. it feels natural, it feels right. 

jake and you are kissing again. it’s slow but passionate and needy. both of you know that the night isn’t over. especially when you feel his hard cock rub on your abdomen through his jeans. you pull away form him, looking down at where your waists are. his bulge is huge in his pants, it makes your mouth and pussy water some more. 

“let’s go to your bedroom,” jake says, his voice husky. 

“please,” 

jake’s quick to pick you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carries you through your apartment and to your bedroom. you’re both laughing as he does so. you press soft kisses into his scalp as he carries you. 

jake places you down onto your bed. this isn’t the first time jake and you have been in a bed together. though, it is the first time you’ve been in this position. your legs wrapped around his waist as he hovers over you, your pussy and his lips both swollen. 

you continue to make out until either of you can take it anymore. your lips wet and plump from sucking and pulling on each others. you’re both moaning into each other's mouths. jake slowly grinded his jean covered bulge into your bare pussy, teasing the both of you. the moment feels intimate, like the both of you needed this so desperately. 

jake pulls away from you, stopping the heavy makeout sesh. his chest is panting against yours as he lays on top of you. 

“you sure you wanna do this?” 

“yes, please, jake— i need this so bad— please, it’s my birthday,” 

jake laughs, “okay okay, anything for the birthday girl.” 

jake pushes himself off the bed, standing up to take off his clothes. he discards them lazily on your bedroom floor. his lean muscles flex as he crawls back onto the bed, resuming his position of being between your legs. 

jake grabs the flesh of your thighs, holding your legs open and wide for him to be able to press his cock against your pussy. 

“spit on it,” he demands of you. 

you lean over your body, spitting down onto where his cock rests on top of your pussy. both of you can feel your clit throbbing against his cock, wanting and needing more already. 

“good girl.” 

jake grabs his dick, lining it up with your pussy before he pushes all the way in with one singular thrust. both of you let out pornographic moans, your eyes rolling to the back of your head and the feeling of finally being stretched out by your best friend's cock. 

jake curses under his breath, his hair falling into his face as the feeling of you being so tight around him affects him, too. it already feels so wet and warm— jake can feel himself becoming addicted to this feeling. something that he knew would happen if he ever got you in a position like this. which is why he had tried so hard to ignore his feelings for you in the past, not wanting to ruin the friendship. 

but that’s all gone out the window now that he knows what you taste like. 

“move, please, move.” you beg of him, and who is he to deny the birthday girl?

jake leans over top of you, placing both of his hands on the mattress beside your body. your knees are bent around his waist as he starts to move his cock in and out of you, slowly at first, wanting to warm you up to the stretch of his large cock. his lips meet your own again, like they can’t be off each other long without feeling withdrawal symptoms. 

jake has to force himself to stop kissing you and he pushes himself back up, crouching himself over your body with his cock still lodged deep inside of your pussy. his feet are on the outer side of both of your hips, your knees bent and your thighs pressed against your chest in a mating press. 

jake starts to pound his cock into you at a slow but hard pace. the tip of his cock hitting your cervix every time he pushes back into you. 

“oh fuck!” you exclaim. you had imagined that sex with jake would feel good, but not this good. 

jake chuckles breathlessly as his one hand crawls to your neck, wrapping itself around it, adding pressure ever so slightly. jake’s breathless gasps and grunts mix with your whines as he fucks into you, setting a starting pace. everytime he slams himself into you, your bedframe hits the wall behind you. thankfully your bed is pushed up against the window that faces the street and not your next door neighbours. 

jake falls back onto his knees from his feet, keeping your legs placed on his broad shoulders as he continues to fuck into you at a steady pace. he aims for the spot he found earlier that he knows drives you to the edge. you keep your hands on your thighs, your eyes not leaving his face as he fucks you. 

jake’s gold chain hits his chest everytime he pulls out of you, just to drill back into you. 

“fuck i love your cock, it feels so good.” you confess, knowing already that no one would ever be able to make you feel as good as jake does. his cock seems to perfectly fit inside of you. every vein brushes against your pussy walls in the perfect way. his tip hits your g spot every single time. his hand pulses pressure around your neck, blocking complete oxygen from reaching your brain and lungs. 

jake drops your legs from his shoulders, wrapping them around his waist as he leans to hover on top of you, placing his elbows on either side of you. his cock doesn’t stop fucking into you. 

“fuck,” jake groans out, “your pussy keep sucking me back in, baby. doesn’t want my cock to leave.” 

“mhm,” you nod back to him, looking into your eyes as pleasure builds inside both of you. 

“would you like that, y/n?” jake teases you, “would you like having my cock inside of you all day?” 

his words make your walls pulse around his cock, something both of you feel, “oh god, yes. i want it in me all the time, forever.” 

jake dryly chuckles, leaning down to press a deep kiss onto your lips. you can feel his balls hitting your ass every time his hips meet your own. his pelvic bone rubs against your clit as he hovers over top of you. 

when the kiss stops, jake presses his hand over your mouth, cutting off your oxygen again, letting you moan and breathe heavily against his warm palm. jake keeps his body pressed on top of you, only his hips move as he fucks his cock in and out of you. 

at this point, both of you have sweat dripping off your bodies, your skin looks flushed. 

jake is intermittently switching between sloppily making out with you, to covering your mouth or wrapping his hand around your neck. 

“you like when i choke you, baby? like how i control when you breathe?” jake grunts out to you. 

even though you and jake had never done anything sexual up to this point, you both knew each other’s kinks and turn ons. that’s something best friends just talk about, right? 

like you know how much he loves to see girls choke on his dick. how much he loves seeing a girls ass turn red from him spanking her over and over again. just like he knows that you love being choked, love being degraded and teased as a man pounds into you. 

“i fucking love it,” you gasp out, loving how out of breath you were. 

jake smirks at your answer before he sits up on his knees again, your legs still wrapped around his waist. both of his hands land on your neck, adding enough pressure for you to lose some oxygen. jake starts using his grip on your neck to pound into your harder from a different angle. his cock hitting directly inside of you now, your cores hitting each other perfectly. 

your entire body is being pushed up and down off your mattress as jake using your body to be able to fuck into you harder and harder. 

“fuck,” jake grunts out, his teeth greeted as his pace picks up speed. your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, unable to do anything besides letting jake fuck you. your body numb to anything but the pleasure his cock was giving you. “you take my cock like such a good girl, such a nasty, good girl.” 

jake pulls his hands off your neck, and without warning, he roughly flips you over so you’re on your stomach, your plump ass up in the air for him. jake drags your hips towards him, sliding his cock back into you before he pushes your face down into the mattress. your sheets muffle your moans as he starts to fuck into you. 

jake has one hand on the back of your head, keeping it in your bed, and the other hand grips your waist. he keeps your body still, with just his hips moving as he balances himself on his knees. at this point, it feels like jake knows every square inch of your body. he knows every spot that makes you scream out his name. it’s almost ridiculous. 

“that feel good, baby?” jake asks from behind you, his hips not stopping. 

“god, fuck,” you answer, muffled by the mattress. “harder, please fuck me harder.” 

jake does as you say, letting go of the back of your head to grip your waist with both of his hands. his hips start to pound against your ass. your bedroom full of the sound of skin slapping against each other. and since you know your best friend so well, you aren’t shocked when he starts slapping your ass. a cry escapes your mouth everytime his hand meets your ass. 

“you want it hard, y/n?” jake chuckles out from behind you, “i don’t know if you can take it, baby. you already seem so close to cumming.” 

“no, no!” you try to shake your head no, “i can take it, please, please, harder.” your voice doesn’t even sound like yourself. it’s full of need and desperation. and luckily, since it’s your birthday, jake is willing to provide you with everything you want. 

his cock is still filling you up as far as it can go inside of you. it stretches you in a way you didn’t know you could be stretched. you feel so fucking full that it’s intoxicating. you think your pussy is going to be stretched out in the shape of jake’s cock. and then jake will be the only one to fuck you. 

jake’s hands reach under your core, lifting you up so your back is against his chest. his cock doesn’t stop working in and out of you, his pace never letting up. you didn’t know his stamina was this good. but who are you to complain?

jake keeps your body upwards with one hand wrapped around your waist, the other has snaked its way to your clit. all three of his fingers lay flat on your clit as he rubs them in a circle, adding intense pressure on the sensitive bundle of nerves as his cock seems to start perfectly hitting your g spot. 

your hands wrap onto his thighs that are on either side of your body. 

“holy shit!” you shout, “i’m going to fucking cum if you keep doing that.” 

if it wasn’t for jake’s hands keeping you upwards, you’d be bent over limp. the pleasure was building and building and building inside of you. your muscles working overtime by contracting and relaxing repeatedly. your tits were still covered in a mix of icing and jake’s saliva. your hairline was sweaty, you could barely keep your eyes open at this point. 

“yeah? you gonna fucking cum on my cock, princess?” jake grunts in your ear from behind you. “do it. fucking do it. i wanna feel your pussy clench around my cock so bad.” 

you whimper out at his words, they only make you tighten more around his cock. your juices dripping out of your pussy and all over his cock— all over your sheets. a wet stain was starting to form on your sheets directly below you.  

“fuck, fuck, i’m gonna cum on your cock.” you helplessly nod, focusing on the pleasure building in your abdomen. “just like that, like that!” 

you can’t help the scream that escapes your lips next as you come undone on jake’s cock. he’s quick to cover your mouth with his hand— silencing your loud scream so the neighbours don’t call the police. your head falls back onto his shoulder, unable to do anything but let jake fuck you through your orgasm. 

“that’s it,” jake grunts out, the feeling of your walls sporadically squeezing his cock over and over again, makes his brain fog over. “that’s a good girl, fucking wet my cock with your cum.” 

when your body finally stops shaking, jake helps you lay back onto your back, your head on your pillow. your eyes are glazed over, your body feels like it’s on high alert and just so, so sensitive. 

still, jake’s dick is rock hard, oozing pre cum, soaked in your juices. 

“i’m so close, baby.” jake’s voice is needy but gentle, “please let me fuck your pussy until i cum, please. i need it around me cock so bad.” 

you nod lazily at him, “please, please.” your hand reaches out to grab his thigh, wanting his cock back inside of you already, “need your cock in me. need to fill your cum fill me up.” 

jake can’t help but moan at your words, it makes his cock twitch at the fact that he’ll get to cum in your pussy. fill you up with his hot, warm sperm. his heart picks up pace when he visualizes what your pussy would look like as it dribbles out his cum back out and onto your sheets. 

“yeah? you wanna be my cum slut?” jake’s voice is teasing as he leans back over you, his cock already lining up with your weeping, swollen hole. “you wanna be filled with your best friend’s cum on your birthday?” 

“yes, fuck, i want that so bad, jake, please!” 

jake’s hand cups your jaw, forcing you to look at him as he laughs at your desperation. “relax, baby— you’ll get what you want.” 

jake pushes his cock back inside of you with one thrust, making both of you sigh out in satisfaction. he had only been out of your pussy for one minute but both of you were aching for him to be inside of you again already. 

jake could feel that his own orgasm wouldn’t be much longer. his cock was feeling so sensitive. everytime your soaking walls clenched somehow even tighter around him than before he could feel the pit in his stomach grow and grow. your whiny moans of his name, telling him to not stop edged him closer and closer to his orgasm. 

his hands gripped your waist roughly, focusing on trying to cum just for you. 

“oh god, jake— your cock fills me so good, i wanna feel your cum fill me, too, please.” you beg him, your sensitive walls milking his cock further and further. begging him to paint the inside of your pussy white with his cum. 

jake grunts out, his voice becoming deeper with every second, “yeah? tell me you want my cum, y/n. tell me you deserve my cum.” 

“i want your cum inside of me so bad, jake. please give it to me. i deserve to be filled with your cum, don’t i?” you beg him, your eyebrows furrowed together as you look up at him. his eyes switching between your face and your pussy. “aren’t i your good girl, jake?” 

jake lets out a deep grunt at your words, “fuck yeah, you’re my good girl. such a good girl.” jake’s cock is fucking in and out of you so quickly, you don’t even feel it leaving your pussy. “you’re my good girl so you’re gonna take my cum, right?” 

“yes! please, please! i can take it!” 

“fuck, fuck!” jake yells out, his grip on your waist surely leaving bruises now. “i’m fucking cumming.” 

when jake finally cums, it’s messy. 

his cum spurts out inside of you in thick, hot strands. both of you groaning at the feeling of him finally filling you up. jake doesn’t stop thrusting into you until his orgasm dissipates.  his brain becoming a little less foggy as he feels his cock plunged deep inside of your pussy with his sperm. 

jake gently pulls out of you and you sit up on your elbows, legs still spread wide open to watch jake’s cum start to drip out of your red, swollen hole. when it finally does, both of you moan. it’s warm as it drips down your folds, mixing with so many other substances you can’t count. 

jake is quick to reach down and gather some of his cum on his finger. your mouth is already open for it before he even asks you to. he slips his finger into your mouth. you moan at the taste, swallowing it with no hesitation. he pops his finger out of your mouth again. 

“tastes sweeter than the icing.” you tiredly smile up at him, teasing him. 

jake doesn’t laugh though, he only swoops down and presses his plump lips onto yours. the kiss is sweet and gentle, almost innocent if it didn’t just follow the multiple sinful acts you had just committed. 

the second you pull away from each other, reality takes over. your heart is still hammering from the orgasms, your lips are swollen and tingling from kissing jake so much.  your birthday is ending very differently from how it started. you’re now not only best friends with jake, but something more as well. 

jake’s still close to you, smiling at you that makes your stomach have annoying butterflies. he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. his smile is contagious and suddenly you're mimicking his expression. 

“best birthday ever,” 

“yeah?” jake’s smile is boyish and smug. 

“yeah,” you shrug, “definitely better than last year’s gift.” 

“hey! socks are practical! why wouldn't you want socks?” 

“shut up, jake.” 

jake huffs out a laugh before shoving you back onto the bed, he lays down beside you. your bodies still warm and sweaty against each other’s. 

“i can’t wait until my birthday.” jake says, elbowing you suggestively. 

“bold of you to assume i’ll still be into you by then.” 

jake is unaffected, only scoffing as he sits up on his elbows to look down at you, “you’re literally obsessed with me, i have no worries.” 

“okay? and you’re obsessed with me.” 

“yeah,” jake shrugs, “but at least i can admit it.” 

jake laughs when you kick him, laying back down beside you, head right next to yours on your pillow. your bedroom goes quiet. both of you take turns looking at each other when the other isn’t. both of you are still trying to process what just happened in the past hour. 

but, you don’t need to ponder for long. you and jake are still best friends. you’re still complete opposites. still yin and yang. still a complete mess. so, in your usual chaotic way, you’ll figure out your relationship together. 

“wanna shower and then eat the rest of the cake?” jake murmurs to you. 

“hell yeah.” 

best. birthday. ever. 

@ taeghi, 2024. do not repost or reuse in anyway.

PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU ENJOY, AS LIKES MAKE IT HARD FOR WORK TO BE SPREAD AND ENJOYED BY OTHERS :)

stay safe everyone :)

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[4kingz]

ticci toby nsfw headcanons

warnings : 18+ mdni, dark content / themes, possessive behavior

Rough around the edges, rougher in bed. Yeah. He’s got that unhinged, jittery energy that screams feral while fucking you. He’s not polished or suave—more like he acts on instinct. Expect messy kisses, bruising grips, and the kind of intensity that feels like you’re the only thing grounding him.

He lives for reactions. Toby’s a watcher. He stares—blatantly. He likes to see you squirm, fluster, gasp, beg. He’s not the type to look away shyly. Nah, he wants to memorize every expression you make when he touches you, every sound you let slip. He’s obsessed. Pain kink? …Yeah. Given his CIPA (can’t feel pain), there’s this twisted curiosity about watching others feel. He doesn’t want to hurt you in a cruel way, but he might test limits—scratches, bites, grabbing too hard just to see the red marks. It’s part fascination, part fixation.

Likes control… but not in a "do as I say" way. He doesn’t order you around so much as he corners you. Pins you. Grins while he takes his time. He’s chaotic, unpredictable. He’ll tease until you’re begging, just because he wants to hear you crack.

His aftercare is surprisingly sweet. Post-intensity Toby softens. He gets quiet. His hands, once gripping too tight, now trace slow circles on your skin. He doesn’t say much, but he stays close—almost clingy. Like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

Hates feeling exposed—but loves exposing you. Toby’s not about the lights-on, stripped-down vulnerability for himself. He keeps his hoodie on, bites his gloves off, and keeps that layered look unless you really earn his trust. But getting you flustered? Undressed? Sprawled? He thrives off it.

Likes it desperate. Not just yours—his too. He gets obsessive. Once he's into someone, it consumes him. Expect urgent kisses like he’s starving, touches like he’s afraid you’ll slip away, muttered curses under his breath while he grips you tighter.

He struggles to say it, but his touch tells you everything—mine. Every bite, every bruise, every lingering stare says it louder than words ever could. With Toby, it’s never casual. It’s all-consuming. Expect to be wanted. Expect to be marked. And don’t expect to leave his bed without a souvenir or twenty.

[wroetolando]

𝙼𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝙴𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 | 𝙻𝙽𝟺

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: lando norris x fem!reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: the one where the world doesn’t know you’re an amputee, but lando does—and he helps in all the little ways that matter, until one day, a fall at silverstone reveals everything

𝗺𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗰: apocalypse - cigarettes after sex

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: none!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

You never expected Lando to treat you any differently when he found out about your prosthetic leg. You’d been prepared for hesitation, for awkward questions, maybe even for pity. But you got none of that.

Instead, you got Lando Norris—the same goofy, teasing, fiercely protective man he always was. The one who made you laugh until your stomach hurt, the one who knew exactly how you liked your tea, and the one who never, not once, made your prosthetic feel like a limitation.

The fans didn’t know. Not because you were ashamed, but because it wasn’t something you talked about publicly. To Lando, it was just a part of you—something he adapted to without hesitation, in all the little ways that mattered.

They didn’t see those moments.

They didn’t see the way he naturally adjusted his pace to match yours when you were walking through the paddock. Or how he always carried a small first-aid kit in his backpack, just in case your prosthetic irritated your skin. They didn’t see how he looked at you—not with pity, but with absolute, unwavering love.

But one day, the world found out.

And everything changed.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

The Way He Walked

Lando always walked on your left side.

At first, you thought it was a coincidence. He never brought it up, never made a show of it, but it was always the same. Whether you were strolling down pit lane, navigating a crowded paddock, or walking through an airport, he positioned himself so he could be closest to your prosthetic.

In case you lost your balance. In case the ground was uneven. In case you needed just a little extra stability.

One day, you finally called him out on it.

“You always walk on my left,” you mused as you strolled through London together, your fingers laced with his.

Lando glanced down at you, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. So?”

“So,” you echoed, narrowing your eyes playfully. “You do it on purpose.”

He shrugged, like it was the simplest thing in the world. “It’s just instinct now. I like knowing I’m there if you need me.”

Your heart melted right there on the pavement.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

The Airport Routine

You hated airport security.

The extra steps, the awkward stares—it was exhausting. You’d gotten used to it over the years, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating.

Lando made it easier.

Whenever you traveled together, he had a system. He held both of your passports, carried your bags, and kept an arm loosely around you as you approached security. He knew the drill—how you had to remove your prosthetic sometimes, how the metal detectors would go off, how TSA agents could be unpredictable in their reactions.

One time, in Miami, an agent asked you to walk through without it.

Lando tensed beside you, his protective instincts flaring, but he didn’t say anything. Not yet.

You steadied yourself, taking a slow, practiced step forward, trying not to let the discomfort show. But Lando saw. He always saw.

And before you could even reach for your prosthetic, he was already crouched down, lifting it gently, handing it back to you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The agent stared. You sighed. Lando just smiled.

“All good, love?” he asked, helping you adjust.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yeah. Thanks.”

He pressed a quick kiss to your temple. “Always.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

Race Weekend Adjustments

Lando’s world moved at 300 km/h. Yours didn’t.

Race weekends were chaotic—crowds, cameras, endless walking. You adapted, of course, but Lando adapted with you.

He always made sure McLaren had a seat for you nearby. If you were standing for too long, he noticed before you even said anything. If you were walking too much, he suggested a “spontaneous” coffee break. If your prosthetic was irritating your skin after hours on your feet, he disappeared and returned with bandages and cooling gel like he’d been preparing for it all week.

One time, in Austria, you didn’t even realize you were limping slightly until Lando gently steered you toward a private hospitality lounge.

“Sit,” he said simply, nudging you onto the couch.

You started to protest, but he knelt down in front of you, hands ghosting over your leg. “Does it hurt?”

“A little,” you admitted. “It’s just rubbing weird today.”

Lando nodded, already digging into his backpack. “Good thing I came prepared.”

You blinked as he pulled out a small roll of bandages and a cooling spray. “You just… carry that around?”

He smirked, tapping his temple. “I’m a man of many talents.”

Your chest ached in the best way.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

The Day the World Found Out

It happened at Silverstone.

You were in the McLaren garage, standing behind the engineers, watching as Lando prepared for his home race. The energy was electric, the fans chanting his name just outside.

Then it happened.

One second, you were fine. The next, your foot slipped on a slick spot near the garage entrance. Your balance wavered, your body tilting before you could react—

And suddenly, you were on the ground.

It wasn’t dramatic, but it was noticeable. The people around you turned, startled.

Lando was at your side instantly.

“Hey, hey—are you okay?” His hands were firm but gentle as they helped you sit up, his voice tight with worry.

You nodded quickly, cheeks burning as you adjusted your leg. “Yeah, just slipped.”

But then you saw it—the way people were staring. The way their eyes flickered from you… to your prosthetic, which had become slightly visible in the fall.

The realization hit like a tidal wave.

They knew.

Lando knew it too. And he didn’t hesitate—not for a second.

Instead of brushing it off, instead of acting like it was something to be hidden, he crouched beside you, blocking out the cameras, his focus entirely on you.

“Here,” he murmured, adjusting your prosthetic for you before wrapping an arm around your waist and helping you stand. His grip was steady, reassuring. “You good?”

You swallowed hard, nodding. “Yeah.”

Lando smiled, squeezing your hand. “Then let’s go.”

And just like that, it didn’t matter.

The moment went viral before the race even started.

“Lando helping his girlfriend after she slipped… my heart.”

“Wait, was she wearing a prosthetic?? That’s amazing.”

“The way he didn’t even flinch. He just helped her like it was the most normal thing in the world.”

“She’s incredible. We need to hear her story!”

For the first time, the world saw what Lando had always known.

That you were strong. That you were capable.

And that, to him, you were more than enough.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

masterlist

[writtendaydreamm]

The Hospital Gossip Mill

Summary: Y/n and Langdon try to keep their relationship a secret at work, but eventually get caught by their observant colleagues

Author's Note: Based on this submission. Had so much fun writing this, hope you guys enjoy! Let me know what you guys think!

*Just put out a sort-of prequel to this! Check it out here

Ding

The elevator doors opened to the ED, and Y/n took a deep breath, bracing herself before stepping out. 

Looking at the hospital as one entity, the ED could be seen as the belly of the beast - but really the department was a beast in its own right. It was chaotic, loud, fast-paced, unpredictable. It was madness to put it plainly. But the team down here harnessed all that madness and used it to fuel their ingenuity and creativity. Now she’d never admit any of this out loud, and certainly not to any of the doctors down here - that would sound too much like praise or respect. 

What she will admit however is that it definitely takes a certain type of person to go into Emergency Medicine. One rotation in the ED back in med school was all it took for Y/n to decide it was not for her. She felt much more at home in General Surgery. Intense in a different way, the OR was high-pressure and high stakes, it demanded precision and endurance. And she loved every second of it.

Making her way across the floor to find Dr. Mohan, Y/n’s eyes also scanned around for any sight of another resident in particular who forgot his wallet at her apartment this morning. She had texted him to come pick it up during his lunch break, but considering it was now the tail end of their shift and he still hadn’t come up, she knew this was probably one of those days he didn't get a lunch break. 

Contemplating bringing it down with her after getting called to consult on Mohan’s abdominal trauma case, ultimately Y/n decided against it. It would be too obvious. Their relationship was still under wraps and she wanted to keep it that way. They didn’t need the hospital gossip mill catching any wind of something going on between her and Dr. Langdon. 

Focusing on the task at hand, she went over Mohan's call. The younger resident didn’t exactly deliver the case on a silver platter for her. The patient had no reliable history, incomplete imaging and a vague exam. Not to mention the patient was being combative enough to need restraints. 

This’ll be fun, Y/n scoffed to herself. 

From what Mohan could tell her, the patient is a 30-year-old male, took a fall during a manic episode, they got a FAST that’s equivocal and a borderline soft belly. There was some free fluid, so it could be a possible mesenteric bleed or the spleen. It could also possibly be nothing, just some muscle tension and a new patient for psych not surgery. 

Y/n won’t know for sure till she gets eyes and hands on it herself. 

—

“Just to confirm, CT incomplete, guarding when touched, and free fluid but no definitive source?”

“Correct,” Mohan nodded, they stood just outside the room. 

“Oh, well don’t make it too easy for me,” Y/n quipped sarcastically, before stepping in. 

Inside, she got her first look at their patient - alert but clearly agitated and restrained to the bed rails. Around the room were a few nurses, more than normal for a case like this. Surely just here to help restrain if he gets combative or aggressive again. 

“Hi Mr. Harvey, I’m Dr. L/n,” she introduced herself, slipping on a pair of gloves. “I’m just going to check your belly okay.”

Before Y/n could take another step closer, Mr. Harvey had already begun recoiling, pulling on his restraints, not wanting to be examined any further. Playing it cool and calm, Y/n held her hands up non threateningly. She spoke slowly hoping to soothe him just enough to get her hands on him. 

“I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just trying to find out what’s hurting you from the inside after your fall.” 

“I didn’t fall, I flew,” he corrected her indignantly.

“Right, my apologies,” she said, taking tentative steps forward, continuing to try and build trust with him. “The exam I'm going to perform might be uncomfortable, even painful, but I promise I will try to be as quick as I can. It’s the only way we can check for any internal injuries you sustained on your, uh, flight.”

Despite his face still contorting in a mixture of pain and defiance, the tension in his body seemed to ease. With the belts on his hand restraints slackened now, she figured this was as good as it was going to get. 

“I’m going to start my examination, alright Mr. Harvey? You’re going to need to stay as still as possible for me though.”

He didn’t respond, but laid still now. Taking that as permission, Y/n gave the nurses a silent signal to be ready to restrain him should the need arise before she proceeded to assess his abdominal quadrants. 

She leaned over Mr. Harvey slightly, gently but firmly palpating each quadrant starting furthest away from the area with reported pain. He was definitely tensing with the applied pressure, even starting to mumble incoherently in his discomfort. As she moved closer to the area Mohan had reported his pain was centered, he began to writhe and twist making it harder for Y/n to continue. But she went on anyway, asking him to remain calm. He probably couldn’t hear her though, the sound of his own voice going from mumbles to shouts drowning her out. She was about to press against his left lumbar region, and just the feeling of her nitrile glove brushing against his skin set him off. 

Kicking and screaming, pulling at his restraints trying to break himself free, Mr. Harvey was about to be a danger to himself if he continued like this. Mohan and the nurses stepped in. All four of them tried to hold him down so Y/n could finish her exam, but it only made things worse. Mr. Harvey thrashed even more violently now. Somehow in the heat of things he managed to get a hold of the IV line he was hooked up to and yanked on it, hard. 

“Dr. L/n, look out,” Mohan tried to warn her but it was too late. 

Before she could even process what Mohan said, Y/n felt a hard, cold piece of metal fall on her head with a thud. Loud clanking followed as the IV stand fell on the floor in front of her. 

“Fuck,” she grunted, the pain sending a cold wave of shock all over her body. Immediately putting pressure on the wound, she instructed everyone to get him under control. Pulling her hand back to check for bleeding, Y/n cursed again seeing her gloves covered in red.

From across the bed, Mohan’s eyes widened watching a trickle of blood drip down the side of Y/n’s forehead. “Oh damn, you’re bleeding.”

“I’m aware,” Y/n snapped in her frustration and pain. 

“Maybe you should step out, get that checked. I’ll call down for another consult-”

“I’m fine,” Y/n shook it off, ignoring the pulsing on her forehead. “We need to finish this exam now. If he needs the OR we can’t waste any more time.”

“It looks pretty bad,” Mohan winced, imagining the gash that must’ve been behind Y/n’s hand. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Y/n insisted, growing annoyed at the concern. This was just a little cut, she’ll manage. “Just get him under control so I can finish. And get me some gauze, please. Now.”

 —

Dropping off one of the tablets back at the nurse’s station, Langdon heard Mateo and Princess speaking in hushed tones which could only mean one thing - new gossip. While he tried to stay above the gossip and rumors, he just couldn’t help himself from listening in.

“Is it true one of the surgical residents got headbutted by that psych patient that came in earlier. The one talking about flying and shit.”

“No, I think it was a piece of equipment that hit her head,” Princess said, correcting Mateo.

“Well whatever it was, I heard she’s getting stitches.”

A premature smirk spread across Langdon’s face as he assumed the aforementioned surgical resident was Dr. Garcia. For all the shit she gives, he wasn’t going to let her live this one down. Little Miss Knife-happy getting cut on the job? It was almost poetic. 

“Who was it?” Langdon asked smugly. 

“Dr. L/n,” Princess said.

That wiped the smirk right off his face. Curiosity turning to concern, he tried to get more information about what happened.

“Stitches huh?” he asked, trying not to sound too interested. “It must’ve been a deep wound.”

“Must be,” Mateo shrugged. “I heard Javadi saying she bled through her gauze.”

So Javadi’s on the case? Langdon didn’t want to assume the worst, but he immediately recalled the intern’s first day here. How she fainted about an hour in after seeing some blood. Sure Javadi had gained more experience and hadn’t fainted again since, but it still made Langdon a bit uneasy knowing she was handling Y/n’s stitches.

“Who’s Javadi with right now?” Langdon continued to press.

“Collins, I think,” Mateo said, nodding over to the examination room just opposite to the nurse’s station. 

Pretending to check the board for a new case, Langdon stood there at the nurses station for a moment tapping his fingers on the counter idly. Staring at all the columns and rows of patients on the screen, the only case he was interested in at the moment was Y/n’s. But as badly as he wanted to rush across the hall to check in on her, he didn’t want to look too panicked and give himself away. Not in front of Princes and Mateo - those two didn’t need anything else to gossip about. 

But the pair of nurses had already shot each other a quick, knowing look as they watched Langdon try, and fail, to slip away from the counter unnoticed towards the exam room Y/n was in. 

—

Y/n, Javadi, and Collins all jumped in surprise as Langdon barged into the room suddenly. 

Collins looked at him quizzically, not understanding what he was doing here. Despite the bleeding, this was a superficial, clean edge laceration. Closing with simple sutures should do the trick. They didn’t need backup nor did she call for it. 

“Collins, Javadi. Just, uh, checking if you needed, y’know any help in here,” he explained unconvincingly. 

“No, we’ve got it,” Collins said as she checked to see Y/n was properly numbed before they started suturing.

“Dr. L/n,” he greeted Y/n as casually as possible, trying to sound more snide rather than sorry to see her sitting there on the examination table. “What happened to you?”

“IV stand to the head,” she replied, averting his gaze as he stepped closer, taking a look at her laceration. 

She held her breath, ignoring the way her stomach fluttered as she felt his fingertips brush a strand of hair away from the area. It took all her self control to not start smiling like an idiot. This is exactly why she avoided coming down to the ED as much as she could, pushing most of the consults off to Dr. Garcia instead. She just couldn’t hide how she felt around him and it's not like he made it any easier for her - especially not now.

Eyes flitting between Y/n and Langdon, Collins could sense there was something going on there. Expecting some back and forth to ensue between the two, Collins was surprised, almost disappointed when she heard none. Not a peep from either of them. Aside from the sound of rattling tools as Javadi prepped to suture, the room was silent. Weird. A surgical resident was in the room and not a single insult was being thrown? Not even a bit of banter? That wasn’t like Langdon at all. And while Collins didn’t know Y/n quite as well, she knew she was from surgery. And anyone from surgery never missed a chance to take a friendly jab at the ED. Hell, just moments ago Y/n made a comment about wanting to stitch herself up rather then get botched on a rush job.

It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. 

As Javadi rolled her seat in front of Y/n, ready to start suturing with a P-3 needle and 5-0 nylon in hand, Y/n could not pass up the opportunity to give the intern a hard time.

“Careful with the bite size alright. This is my face, not a quilt.”

“Right,” Javadi said, forcing out a nervous laugh before swallowing the lump in her throat.

Watching tensely, as Javadi put in the first stitch, Langdon was shocked Y/n let someone aside from herself stitch up that wound, let alone an intern. Collins was right there. She was far more experienced than Javadi and could ensure each stitch would be identical, that the tension was distributed evenly, that the scarring would be minimal. 

“You sure you don’t want to do it yourself,” Langdon whispered as Collins stepped back to stand beside him. She shot him a side-eye at the unsolicited suggestion. With this being a teaching hospital and all, the whole point was to have the students learn and practice. The judgement and suspicion on her face had him quickly trying to explain himself. “To show Javadi the proper technique that is.” 

While that was a fair point, this wasn't Javadi's first time suturing and Collins was confident in the intern’s abilities to close up a simple laceration like this. Peering over Javadi’s shoulder for good measure, Collins nodded pleased with her work so far. 

“No need. She’s doing a great job,” she assured him, before eyeing him suspiciously. “We’re all good here y’know. You can go.”

Langdon opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, trying to string together a good excuse to stay. Taking too long to come up with something that sounded reasonable, Collins spoke up again. 

“Or is there a particular reason you’d like to stay?” she teased, cocking her subtly at Y/n. 

“No, no,” he said, shaking his head a little too hard. “You’re right, you guys got it all under control.”

Mhm, Collins nodded in agreement, watching him closely as he turned to leave. 

Langdon spared one last fleeting, but longing, glance at Y/n before finally walking through the door. And that was all Collin’s needed to validate her suspicions. Oh, those two definitely had something going she said to herself. Charging in here randomly, the uncharacteristic lack of snark, the worry in his eyes, his reluctance to leave. Such obvious tells. Was he even trying to be discreet? 

— 

The sun was just about to set as Langdon watched, from the far end of the parking lot, batches of the morning shift employees exit the hospital.

He didn’t usually wait for Y/n after work like this. Too many eyes around that might see them together. Although recently they’ve been spending most nights together, either at his or hers, they intentionally drove to work separately despite working the same hours for the sake of keeping their relationship private.

But today they slept in a little later than usual. Maybe her bed was comfier than his or maybe it was just the fact he was in bed with her, but he did not want to leave that bed. Needless to say those extra few minutes laying around together had him rushing out of her door forgetting his wallet on her dresser.

He planned on sneaking away to grab it from her over lunch like she had texted him to, but the ED was slammed. He was lucky that a very grateful patient sent them a few boxes of pizza as a thank-you, otherwise he probably wouldn’t have eaten anything all day.

So today, he waited for her and his wallet, leaning on the trunk of her car. He didn’t expect to be waiting this long though. Looking down at his wrist, it was already 5:19. Y/n was supposed to be off at 5. He was about to give her a call when he spotted her speed walking across the parking lot. 

“There you are,” he said, pulling her into a hug. “I was starting to worry you got into another fight with an IV stand.” 

“Not funny,” y/n said, shoving his shoulder playfully, smiling despite herself. “Sorry, I took so long. I just lost track of time trying to finish up this report.”

Langdon brushed off her apology. He would’ve waited any amount of time to see her. Especially after today. Since Collins practically kicked him out of the room while y/n was getting her stitches, he didn’t get to check in on her afterwards, to see how they turned out. 

“Can’t believe you let an intern suture your face,” he said. 

Y/n just shrugged. She remembered what it was like being an intern. Just starting out, wanting to glove up and scrub in on anything she could, trying to get someone to give her a chance to prove herself. And besides, the laceration wasn’t that deep and about 2, maybe 3 centimeters max. It was also, thankfully, close enough to her hairline so any scaring wouldn’t be too noticeable. Any intern should’ve been able to do it. But if she had to choose one from the ED, she was glad it was Javadi. 

“She’s Shamsi’s kid. I’m pretty sure she’s been practicing sutures since she was like 10,” y/n joked. Langdon laughed, having seen that mother-daughter dynamic first hand, he suspected there was probably some truth there. 

Cupping her face gently, he turned her head to get a better look at Javadi’s handiwork on her forehead. Not bad, he thought pleasantly surprised at how good they turned out. Swatting his hands away from her face, trying to get him to stop fussing over her, she turned the tables. 

“What I can’t believe is how you came bursting into the room like that.”

Langdon groaned. In hindsight it wasn’t the best idea, considering they wanted to keep their relationship a secret. But once he heard she was hurt, he couldn’t help himself. He needed to make sure she was alright, to see to it that she was being treated appropriately. 

“I was worried. Okay?” he admitted, resting his hands on her waist tenderly. “Mateo was saying you got head butted.”

Placing her hands on his chest, Y/n rolled her eyes at just how fast that news traveled around the hospital. The gossip mill truly never rests. While she was touched by his concern, this put their relationship at risk of being the next big story. 

“Collins is so onto us now, I bet-” 

A loud revving caught her attention, interrupting her train of thought. Turning around, a black sedan came to pull up right beside them. Immediately, the pair pulled apart as they waited for the windows to roll down revealing Mateo in the driver’s seat. 

“Okay lovebirds, when two of you are done making kissy-face, come meet the team at Mulligan’s for a round. You two have a lot of explaining to do,” he laughed, before speeding off. 

Y/n and Langdon turned to each other in disappointment - they’d been outed. It was hard to say by who or even when. It could’ve been Collins, today after Langdon came to check on Y/n. Or it could’ve been Perlah who caught the pair walking out of the on-call room the other day. Or it could've been Mateo, just now, as he drove by seeing them all loved up. One thing was for certain though, by tomorrow morning everyone will know. From the OR, to the ED and all the departments in between.

Resignation set in as they accepted their fate. It was inevitable after all. The fact they’d managed to conceal it for this long was quite the accomplishment considering how nosy and chatty everyone they worked with seemed to be.

With sigh, Y/n looked at the bright side. At least now they didn’t have to worry about being seen together. No need to sneak around to hang out during their breaks. She didn't have to keep avoiding come down to the ED. They could drive to work together now too, save some gas and take the carpool lane. 

Also trying to find good in all this, Langdon wrapped his arms around her from behind, placing a comforting kiss on the side of her head.

“Hey, at least that Dr. West will stop hitting on you once he knows you’ve got a boyfriend down in the pit,” he said lowly in her ear. 

“Oh please,” Y/n turned in his arms to face him, “You’re one to talk! As if all those new travel nurses aren’t throwing themselves at you.”

“Jealous?” he teased, pulling her tighter against him. 

“Are you?” she challenged, arms resting on his shoulders naturally,m.

With their faces now just inches apart, drawn together like magnets, there was no fighting the pull between them. Their lips met eagerly, having yearned for this feeling since they last kissed this morning.

So caught up in one another, the only distraction around that pulled them away from each other was the loud, obnoxious emergency alert going off on both their phones. A chemical spill blocked off traffic on the busiest highway in the city - the exact highway both Y/n and Langdon took to get home. 

The roads were going to be backed up now that the highway was closed. Langdon hated sitting in traffic, just the thought got him irritated. 

“What do you say we take up Mateo’s offer?” he suggested.

“You’re kidding, right?” Y/n asked, thinking he couldn’t be serious. If they went, they’d be walking into a lion’s den full of scrutiny, teasing, and never-ending grilling. 

“I say that beats the traffic. It’s just a couple blocks walk. We could have a beer, wait out the traffic, make our debut as a couple?”

She thought about it for a second. He wasn’t wrong. And despite having hoped to keep their relationship private, the thought of walking in on his arm was kind of exciting. 

“Alright, your idea, you’re paying,” y/n said, fishing his wallet from her tote, and tossing it to him. 

Catching it smoothly, Langdon let out an offended pfft, draping his other arm around her as they walked out of the parking lot. 

“I always pay anyway.”

[dollishmehrayan]

# “THE WOMAN WAS TOO STUNNED TO SPEAK…” ── .✦ ( batboys w an unhinged!reader and blunt!reader )

a/n: this is from my little brain of mine , and I like to honor it for @kyriakis anywhoo I’m back and omg 1k?! Alsoo guys dw! I’m gonna do the event tomorrow && I’m gonna pick out some prompts I have organized, so i didn't forget okay but i just got a lot of DMs asking when I’m gonna do it for you guyss so yeah it’s gonna be tomorrow since I’m gonna re-edit + add some ideas of your guys votes!! Tags: (batboys x unhinged!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

He’s always caught off guard but loves it. Your bluntness is a breath of fresh air for Dick, who’s so used to diplomatic conversations. You say whatever’s on your mind with zero filter, and he’s like, “Oh, wow. Okay. I respect it.”

Hates it when you don’t hold back with him. He’s used to being the charming, funny guy who makes everyone laugh, but you hit him with a “That was dumb, don’t do that again” and his brain short circuits for a second. “You can’t just say that!” “Why not?”

Finds it hilarious when you wreck other people’s egos. You have zero time for anyone’s nonsense, and when someone messes up, you let them know. Dick’s in the background, trying not to laugh. “Do you not think before you speak?!…” He’s always acts so shocked but hey, he’s kinda enjoying it unless it’s aimed at him. (He can’t fight verbally for the life of him without saying some cringe shit)

Doesn’t even try to change you. Dick knows what he’s getting into, and he loves you for it. He’s never going to ask you to ‘tone it down.’ He actually finds your unapologetic attitude pretty hot.

He’s 50% worried you’ll get into trouble, 50% impressed. But in the end, he’ll always back you up, saying, “She’s just honest. Get used to it.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Finally, someone who speaks his language. Jason lives for the fact that you don’t care what people think. He loves how blunt you are, especially when you cut through the BS with the precision of a sharp knife.

Gets protective when people try to push your boundaries. If someone dares disrespect you, Jason’s the first one to step in. “You’ve got a problem with her? You’ve got a problem with me.”, “Jason that was so fucking cringey..”

Appreciates that you don't sugarcoat things for him. You’ll tell him exactly how it is, whether it’s about his attitude or a bad decision he made, and he respects it, it’s like the tt sound where “that’s when it hit me, it was the best idea I ever had..” but like this: “Not gonna lie, that was a terrible plan, Jay,” and he’ll just nod. “Fair.”

You guys have the most chaotic, weirdest conversations. It’s a mix of witty banter, ridiculous one-liners, and deadpan sarcasm. Other people can’t even keep up with the energy.

The idea of dating a ‘good girl’ never appealed to him anyway. He thrives off your unhinged energy. You’re unpredictable, and it keeps him on his toes, which he loves. “Yeah, you’re definitely not boring.” (Although the thing is he does love innocent people, like if you’re like gen clueless he wants preserve your innocence.)

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Tim’s brain can’t keep up with you. Your blunt, no-nonsense attitude constantly makes him blink in confusion. One minute you’re casually roasting someone, and the next, you’re giving a straight-up critique of his latest plan. He’s learning that he can’t outthink you.

He admires your unapologetic honesty. Tim has a lot of internalized doubts, so watching you casually reject anyone’s judgment is a nice contrast. You don’t apologize for your thoughts, and it’s something he secretly admires.

Constantly second-guesses himself around you. Your sharp tongue makes him want to be as confident as you. He gets nervous about saying anything that might sound soft, so when he stumbles, you’re like, “What was that? I swear you just whispered something.” And he’ll blush hard, muttering an apology.

You both have a sarcastic sense of humor that others don’t quite get. You say something outrageous, and Tim will respond with the driest remark possible. People in the room often wonder if you two are joking or just genuinely a bit rude.

Not scared to call him out. When Tim’s too nice, you’ll be like, “You need to stop letting people walk all over you. Grow some teeth.” Tim won’t admit it, but that does motivate him to be a little bolder.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Damian is a bit taken aback at first. He’s used to people being respectful or like seeing him as kinda a role model, so when you come out with a “That’s dumb, don’t even talk to me right now,” he’s not sure how to handle it. He will stand there, blinking, while processing your bluntness. (He’s too stunned to speak 😞)

Genuinely respects your forthrightness, though. “I’ll admit, I have never met someone so… honest.” He starts respecting you even more, thinking you’re someone he can’t manipulate or charm easily.

Loves that you’re as stubborn as he is. If you’re determined about something, there’s no changing your mind. You’ll fight for your opinions even if it gets you into a heated debate. And Damian’s right there with you, arguing like it’s the most fun thing in the world.

Tries to match your bluntness. “You talk too much,” he says one day, and you immediately reply, “And yet, here you are, listening to every word I say.” Damian actually pauses for a second, impressed. “Right..”

Loves how you’ll shut down his critics with zero hesitation. Someone says something disrespectful to him, and you’ll be the first to shoot back, “He doesn’t need your advice, trust me.” He’ll give you a proud little smirk. “I like the way you handle things.”

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

At first, Bruce is a bit disconcerted by your bluntness. Bruce’s the kind of guy who expects people to be formal and classy, and you just come in with “This entire meeting is a waste of my time. I don’t care about any of this.” He blinks, then quietly admires your bravery.

Totally respects your unfiltered honesty. Bruce has had enough of the world’s games, so when you don’t bother to pretend or hold anything back, it’s like a breath of fresh air for him.

Secretly loves when you don’t play nice." He knows you're not afraid of saying what you think, and when you call him out on his brooding or overly protective behavior, he listens. “You’re right. I’m sorry for not trusting you more.” (He totally doesn’t have a tracker on your hair clip..🥰)

You both have moments of pure savage honesty that no one else gets. There’s no need for filters, and you’ll both exchange one-liners so dry that it leaves everyone else in the room confused.

Finds it endearing when you make his plans more interesting. “This is ridiculous. Why are we doing this again?” You snap at him in a room full of his board members, and he just gives you a look that says, “I’m never apologizing for you.”

[sarahroutldge]

i love you, i'm sorry.

a/n: requested based on a prompt list - the dialogue prompt is in bold! gif not mine, all credits to the creator (also the title has nothing to do with the song, it was just stuck in my head lol)

pairing: jj maybank x reader

summary: you and jj maybank drunkenly hooked up a few nights ago, and neither of you know how to deal with that. (routledge!reader)

word count: 3k

warnings: fluff/humor, angst w/ a happy ending, implied sexual content, drinking, semi-proofread, I think that's it

John Booker Routledge never thought he’d actually have to tell his best friend JJ Maybank that his little sister was off limits. Not once did it ever occur to him that JJ would ever think of you in a different way; he hardly liked to consider the idea that you dated anyone in the first place, let alone that you’d express any interest in the man he knew inside-and-out.

But things change and people get older. After you and the rest of the Pogues found El Dorado and began construction on Poguelandia, JJ started to see you differently. Sure, he always found you attractive, but JJ also found every woman he encountered attractive, so he never thought much of it. 

And you certainly didn’t ever think of JJ in that way either. At heart, you were a relationship girl; and while the fact that you were single was proof enough that no relationship of yours had worked out in the past, one of your greatest strengths was that you knew what you wanted. You didn’t seek out something casual because you knew you’d be left unfulfilled. You wanted something all-consuming and destined for marriage. Seeing your older brother grow and mature in his relationship with Sarah Cameron only clarified that further. In your mind, if the second-most relationship-allergic person you knew (after JJ of course) was able to dive headfirst into marriage with a girl so remarkably different from himself, then you decided you wouldn’t settle for any less.

Feelings, however, have a funny way of messing with plans and expectations. While JJ had essentially lived with you and your brother for years, building Poguelandia only pushed the two of you even further together. And watching someone so unpredictable and chaotic as JJ tame himself for the sake of his friends and his future stirred something in you that you hadn’t been expecting at all.

Over the months, your interactions with JJ changed, little by little, and for a while neither of you noticed. It just grew natural for JJ to fix something in the bait shop that you were fussing over, or for you to bring JJ a sandwich or a snack while he worked. You found little ways to make the other’s day brighter, even if subconsciously you never even considered why you were doing these little favors in the first place.

What actually brought the two of you together wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, however. One night, after a long day of work on the house, the Pogues found themselves hanging out above the bait shop, buzzed off of beers, seltzers, and a few joints made of flower grown right from Kiara’s secret spot in the garden. And while the rest of the Pogues eventually found their ways inside and to sleep, JJ and you probably drank a bit too much. One thing led to another, and that was the first night you hooked up. It was slow, passionate, and clumsy, and while the both of you would later blame it on the alcohol and the weed, deep inside you were both fully aware that it was simply the end result of months of pining.

And that’s how you found yourself waking up on the hammock above the bait shop in only one of JJ’s t-shirts and a pair of underwear. The combination of the blinding North Carolina sunrise along with John B.’s extremely loud footsteps on the floor below practically forced your eyes open. While you play the night before over in your head, trying to piece it all together, you’re scrambling to get the rest of your clothes on.

Running downstairs with your shoes untied, you let out a huge “oof” as you collide with your brother, almost sending the two of you to the ground. 

“Good morning to you, too, sis,” John B. says, his eyes expressing his confusion at the fact that you obviously slept upstairs last night.

“Oh, um, sorry, JB, I guess I just drank too much last night and crashed on the hammock,” you practically vomit out.

“Riiiiight,” John B. responds, clearly not convinced but nonetheless wholly uninterested in this situation in the first place. “Just, uh, go shower. You stink.”

Assuming John B.’s comment is a joke, you let out a laugh that immediately sounds forced. “Yeah, uh, that’s what I planned on.”

John B. shoots you a thumbs-up before making his way behind the counter, clearly prepping to open the bait shop for customers. Deciding to avoid any more awkwardness between the two of you, you begin to make your way back to the house. However, your brain can’t help but consider the possibility that only more awkwardness awaits you back in the house, which you’re really not ready to process. You spin around to face John B. at the entrance to the bait shop. “Hey, uh, is JJ up?”

John B. doesn’t even look up from whatever he’s doing at the counter, clearly focused on something else. “Yeah, he took his bike to the grocery store about ten minutes ago, I think.”

You breathe out a sigh of relief, and then turn back around to make your way into the house. Occupied with trying to wrack your brain about what exactly happened last night, you again stumble into someone else as you walk through the kitchen.

“Ow,” Sarah squeaks. 

You immediately apologize, looking her in the eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry. I just, uh, didn’t sleep well last night,” you explain, hoping she’ll move out of the way so you can make your way to your bedroom upstairs.

But Sarah, unfortunately, has the attention to detail that your brother lacks. Looking you in the eyes, her brows furrow. “Did you sleep outside last night?”

You scratch your head. “Uh, yeah. Just, uh, crashed after all those drinks, you know?”

One thing that Sarah does share with your brother, however, is her unwillingness to let things go. Clearly noticing that something is on your mind, her eyes stare into yours, as if she thinks that she can figure out everything about you based on your facial expressions alone. And evidently, she can, because she then proceeds to whisper-yell, “Y/N, is that a hickey?”

She lightly taps a new bruise on your neck that JJ must have left last night, and you can feel your cheeks heat up at the action. You bat her hand away, and she smirks when she realizes what you must be hiding. 

“I don’t have time for this,” you blurt out, before maneuvering yourself around Sarah and walking over to the bottom of the stairs. 

“Whatever you say,” she taunts behind you, and you can practically hear her giggle as you make your way up the steps. 

Once you get to your bedroom, you lock the door behind you. Sliding down the wall, you let out a sigh, grateful that you met no more obstacles on the way upstairs. But as soon as your butt hits the ground, reality comes crashing down, and you realize that you have a much harder obstacle to deal with than running into one of your friends in the hallway. Instead, you have to deal with the fact that you slept with JJ Maybank—the man you’ve known practically your entire life who not only happens to be one of your closest friends, but even more than that, is your brother’s best friend. Yeah, you’re screwed.

For the next few days, JJ avoided you at all costs. He didn’t want to face the consequences of what you’d done, and was worried more than anything that his friendship with you (and John B. for that matter) would be ruined. And while you had the same idea for a while, within only a few days you decided that talking about it was the only way to move forward. Knowing JJ’s extensive dating history, you were convinced that JJ would only tell you that it was a mistake and a regret. You prepared yourself for the negative, and found him alone at night in the employees-only area above the tackle and bait shop.

You carefully tiptoe up the stairs to prevent JJ from getting spooked and immediately bailing on the conversation. When he notices your presence, he shoots up from where he was laying on the hammock, just like you had anticipated. “JJ, we need to talk—”

“Y/N—”

“No, please, JJ, just let me speak,” you clarify, before walking closer to him. 

Realizing he doesn’t have any other choice, JJ sighs, gesturing for you to continue.

Working up the nerves, you wring your hands, preparing yourself for a moment that seemed more daunting than any of the actually threatening experiences you’d had with the Pogues over the last few years. “You know me, Jayj. You know that I don’t have one-night stands or casual relationships. And I can’t go on like this, pretending like what happened between us is normal or that I can just ignore it. I know that you’ve probably never had feelings for me, but if I don’t tell you this now, I’ll regret it. I… I like you, JJ.” Taking a breath, you step back, feeling like a weight has been lifted off of your chest. Only now, you have to brace yourself for the inevitable rejection.

Looking into JJ’s eyes, you can’t tell what he’s thinking, and that’s nothing short of terrifying. You’ve known JJ since he was a kid, and he’s not the best liar, so you can usually tell what he’s feeling from the moment you see him. But this time, you’re clueless, and the silence is deafening.

“JJ, please say something. If you’re going to tell me you don’t like me back, then just say it so we can move on and put this behind us.”

He brings his hands to his face, trying to piece the words together. “Just, uh, gimme a minute.” You nod at him, before moving to sit where he’d previously sat on the hammock. You swing your knees up to your chest, hugging them in comfort. 

You watch as he paces the floor around you. It’s not long before he speaks, but it feels like hours as you wait. 

“Y/N, I… We’ve been friends forever. You, me, and John B. It was the three of us for the longest time and then Pope came and then Kiara and… Uh, I’m getting off track.” He starts fidgeting with the ring on his thumb as he looks down at the ground, preparing for what he’s about to say next. “I won’t lie—you’ve always been hot. Like super fucking hot. And I’m not good at relationships or whatever, but I… I like you, too.” 

And your ears can’t believe what they’re hearing, so your head immediately jerks up to meet his eyes. “Wait… you do?” 

He nods, and you can feel a smile beginning to form on your face. “Well, then, why didn’t you just say that?” you ask. 

“Because it doesn’t matter,” JJ answers, and your heart immediately sinks in your chest, once again. “I can’t do this to John B., Y/N. I just can’t.”

“Who cares about him? He’ll get over it. John B. is not my problem.” 

“That’s the point, Y/N! He’ll be there for you no matter what. But the Pogues are basically all I have left. You and John B. are my family, and if I mess shit up with you, I’ll lose you both. And I can’t do that to myself.”

“You won’t mess it up, J,” you reassure, though part of you understands what he’s getting at.

“When have I not messed something up? I mess shit up all the time, and you mean too much to me for me to risk it. You need to go and find someone out there better than me, because as much as it’ll hurt me to see you with someone else, it’d be a lot worse if you were in pain and I was the reason. It’s because I’m in love with you that I wish we’d never done what we did,” he blurts out. 

And while you were trying your best to listen to him carefully, all you heard was him telling you that he’s in love with you. “You… You love me?” you whisper, and JJ’s eyes go back to the floor.

“Of course I fucking do! How could I not? You’re gorgeous and funny and weird and you know me better than anyone else, and I’ll never forgive myself if I ruin shit with you. So just let me go, because this is the hardest thing I’ve had to do.”

As you process what JJ says, he rushes down the stairs. The heavy pattern of his boots hitting the wooden floors grabs your attention again, and you sprint downstairs to meet him before he can run away completely. You grab his hand and pull him towards you. When his head moves, you can see tears in his eyes, even as the sky gets darker. “It’s not okay to just leave me here after telling me you love me back,” you choke out.

“We can’t—we’ll never be together,” he bites back, trying to sound angry. But you can read right through him, and he knows it. You drop his arm and reach up to grab his face with your hands. Your thumb wipes away a stray tear.

“JJ, you’re right: I do know you better than anyone else. And yes, you’re not the best at relationships. But don’t you think that with us it could be different? That maybe because we know each other so well we can figure it out together?”

He begins to shake his head, but before he can get any more words out, you continue. “JJ, I know everything about you. I know the worst things you’ve done and the best things. You’re always calling me a know-it-all, and yet right now you don’t seem to believe me when I tell you that I know we can do this. We can do it, and it’ll be hard, but it’ll be worth it because I can’t picture myself loving anyone else the way I love you.” And as the tears stream down your cheeks, JJ inches a bit closer to you.

“You… You love me?”

“Of course I do, you idiot. How could I not? You’re the sweetest, kindest, funniest, bravest person I know and my life would be so unbelievably boring if you weren’t in it.”

His eyes look all over your face, trying to see if he can detect a lie. But all he sees is someone so convinced in their feelings, so articulate, and he can’t believe that it’s possible but he might just love you more than he did five minutes ago. 

“Let me deal with John B., okay? I get why you’re scared and I would never want to come between the two of you, but you deserve to be loved, JJ. And I want to be the one who gets to love you.” 

As soon as you get the words out, he’s pressing his lips to yours, and you’re so glad he reached out to hold your waist because otherwise you’d be falling to your knees. It’s magical and romantic and you can taste the salty years you’ve both shed. His right hand moves to grab the side of your face and pull you even closer somehow, before moving back down to your waist and squeezing you in anticipation. The two of you break away, panting. He grips you again and gestures for you to jump, which you do, and you wrap your legs around his back. He carries you over to the counter of the bait shop, where he sets you down. Your legs squeeze his, and he grabs ahold of your face with his hands. “Before we um… do anything else… Are you sure?”

You nod immediately. “Babe, I need the words.”

Your heart clenches at the term of affection, and you pull his shirt to bring him even closer to you. “I am absolutely, positively sure that I love you, JJ Maybank.” He grins so wide you start giggling.

He smashes his mouth back to yours, and this time the kiss is hotter and needier. It’s just a mess of clashing teeth, lips, and hands, with little “I love yous” whispered in between. 

JJ tugs on the bottom of your shirt, and you break away so that he can lift it off, throwing it somewhere else in the shop. His shirt follows, but before he can unclasp your bra, you push him back. “JJ, I’m not fucking you in the bait shop.”

“It’s dark out and no one’s gonna see—”

You jump down from the counter. “It’s either in the house or in the Twinkie. Your choice,” you challenge, and he rolls his eyes.

“Oh come on, people do it all the time,” he justifies, and you look at him like he’s grown two heads.

“What on earth are you talking about?” you ask.

“Hooking up in the bait shop, duh. I caught Pope and Cleo on top of the freezer once, and I’m pretty sure I saw Kiara making out with her ex-girlfriend behind the counter.”

You roll your eyes. “You are literally proving my point,” you say, and he scratches his head. 

“Well, I know for a fact that John B. and Sarah hooked up in the bait shop once and I didn’t see anything!” he explains.

“That’s not any better! You’re talking about my brother!” you whine, and JJ starts to see that you’re not budging. 

He lifts you up bridal-style into his arms, and you squeal. “Fine, my lady, my room it is.” 

You wrap your arms around his neck. “Have you cleaned it recently?” you ask, knowing how messy his room gets. 

“Uh… Like, maybe not super recently. But I can make it nice,” he offers.

You squint. “As nice as my room?”

“Yeah, let’s just go to yours,” he says, and you giggle at how easily he gives in. As he walks down the talk, carrying you in his arms, you can see a smirk grow on his face. “But after we’re done, it’ll be as dirty as mine.”

“JJ!”

so... what did y'all think? I might consider making a part two where john b. finds out. is that something y'all would be interested in??

also... feedback is very much appreciated - pls comment, reblog, send asks, etc.!

[lvrsfilm]

contrary to popular belief, Simon Riley does not do casual.

Nothing about him is casual. Nothing about his dedication to his work and his team, the bullets he would disperse and receive for them. Nothing about his routine, the way he shines his boots or folds his uniforms every week like clockwork. He is a cut and dry man, or at least he tries to be.

You, on the other hand, are the opposite of him in so many ways that at a glance people would assume you're the kind of person he hates. (He wishes that was the case, it'd make his life simpler). You bounce around base like a lit firecracker, your fuse sizzling quietly even during missions, never burning out. You never seem to tire, even after the particularly hard ones that leave him mute and holed up in his quarters for hours every day after.

You are casual. Coming to his room whenever you feel like it, knocking in a way that lets him know it's you and no one else. Bringing him tea, or bourbon, the occasional meal if you can convince him. He doesn't see how you can think it's casual. Slipping off your boots, leaving them half laced at his door.

Slipping into his bed. Laying next to him in silence, just so he isn't alone. Bandaging any cuts that aren't severe enough to warrant him going to medical. The soft skin of your hands making practiced movements over his scarred skin that only you've seen. He is not a casual man. And you don't seem to have figured that out yet.

No other man on base interested in you would even entertain the thought of pursuing you, for fear of Simon somehow hearing their thoughts and stringing them up by their necks to show the others what happens if they touch what's his. Everyone else can see the way he looks at you, the way he lets you in.

Everyone except you, apparently.

You don't ask why he lets you in, and he doesn't ask why you keep coming back.

He doesn’t know how to tell you that you’re the first person to make him feel human in a long time. That every soft knock on his door chips away at the walls he’s built, cement crumbling under your touch, a feeling akin to warm liquid gold seeping through the cracks, running over his scar tissue. Like he's a victim of Midas. Exposing him to something he thought he’d buried years ago. You remind him what it’s like to be vulnerable, to crave something more than routine and mission reports.

And it terrifies him.

Because Simon Riley does not do messy, either.

But you? You’re a storm. Chaotic and unpredictable, rushing into his life like you’ve always belonged there. He doesn’t know what to do with you, how to keep you at arm’s length without losing the warmth you bring into his otherwise cold existence. So he lets you in, over and over, even when it hurts. Especially when it hurts.

Tonight is no different.

The knock comes—a rhythm so familiar now that it’s practically a lullaby. He already knows it’s you before he opens the door. You’re standing there, as casual as ever in civvies, with that cheeky grin that makes his chest tighten in ways he refuses to name.

“Thought you could use some company,” you say, holding up a thermos of tea like a peace offering.

He steps aside, wordlessly, because what else is he supposed to do? Tell you to leave? Pretend he doesn’t want you here? He’s not that good a liar, not around you.

You slip past him, kicking off your boots, leaving them next to the doorway as always, and make yourself at home like you belong here. Like you belong with him. And maybe you do.

He watches as you set the thermos on his desk and plop onto his bed, laying on your back and stretching like a cat, looking at him expectantly. It’s a simple gesture, but it speaks volumes. An invitation. A promise.

He lays down, careful to leave just enough space between you to keep the illusion of distance. But then you lean into him, shoulder brushing his arm, and the illusion shatters. His resolve crumbles.

“You came straight here when we got back,” you say softly, tilting your head to look at him. “skipped dinner, I saved a plate for you from the mess.”

It’s such a simple statement, but it cuts through him like a blade.

He turns his head slightly, his dark eyes meeting yours. He looks at you like you're a puzzle he can't solve. Like he needs to figure put your angle, figure out why you're treating him so softly. For a second, the air between you feels impossibly fragile, as if even breathing too hard might shatter it.

“You don’t have to do this,” he says, his voice low, almost gruff, like the admission costs him something.

You tilt your head at him, your lips curving into a soft, knowing smile. “Do what?”

He exhales sharply, as though frustrated, though it’s unclear if it’s with you or himself. “This… whatever it is you’re doing. Looking out for me. Bringing me tea. Sitting here. I didn’t ask you to.”

“I know,” you reply simply, your tone disarming in its honesty. “I do it because I want to.”

The words hang in the air between you, unassuming yet weighty, like they’re daring him to refute them. He doesn’t, because he can’t. You've made up your mind. There’s a stubbornness in your voice that he knows too well—one that he’s realized he has no defense against.

“You shouldn’t,” he mutters after a moment, turning his gaze toward the ceiling. “It’s a waste.”

Your smile falters, just slightly, but it doesn’t vanish. “You’re not a waste.”

He flinches at that, so subtly you might have missed it if you weren’t so attuned to him. His fingers twitch on the mattress, his eyebrows furrowing beneath the mask. He doesn’t respond, doesn’t argue, but his silence says enough. You press your lips together, chewing the bottom corner slightly as you debate whether to push further. You decide to anyway, because that’s what you do.

You grin, a mischievous glint in your eyes, and he knows you’re about to say something cheeky. But instead, you surprise him again by reaching over to touch his hand—just a fleeting brush of your fingers, so brief he almost convinces himself it didn’t happen.

He closes his eyes, his jaw tightening, but he doesn’t pull away. That’s something, you think.

You turn onto your side, facing him fully now, your fingers brushing against the back of his hand. He doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch this time, so you let your touch linger—gentle, steady, unassuming.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you add quietly, almost as if it’s a promise.

When he finally opens his eyes again, there’s something raw and unguarded in his gaze, something that makes your chest ache. He doesn’t say anything—doesn’t thank you, doesn’t argue—but the way his fingers curl ever so slightly against yours feels like an answer.

[solxamber]

Match Made in Madness - Floyd Leech x reader

Soulmates get updates of each other's lives through an overly enthusiastic dream narrator. What's worse is that your soulmate seems to be completely unhinged.

It all starts on another one of those nights—the weird dream where your soulmate’s day is narrated to you in the most ridiculous fashion imaginable. No names, no faces, just an over-the-top, enthusiastic narrator who acts like they’re introducing a daytime soap.

"Good evening, soulmate! Ready for another wild day? Well, buckle up, because your beloved got into a fight with a vending machine!"

You groan in your sleep, already bracing for what’s next. The narrator continues with gleeful energy:

"After losing said battle, your soulmate kicked the machine and declared, ‘I’ll have the last laugh, metal box!’ Later in the day, they spent 45 minutes trying to convince a bird to become their personal spy. Spoiler alert: the bird didn’t agree, but they’re not giving up anytime soon!"

When you wake up, you rub your eyes and mutter, "What the hell is my soulmate doing?" Clearly, the universe decided to match you with an absolute madman, and you’re starting to wonder if you’ll even survive meeting them.

The dreams continue for weeks, and the updates get progressively weirder. Whoever this person is, they have the chaotic energy of a tornado in a convenience store. One night, you get this gem:

"Exciting news! Today, your soulmate tried to see if they could juggle three eels at once. Spoiler: they couldn’t, but they did manage to send one flying into a professor’s lunch. Next on the agenda, they challenged the ocean to a race. The ocean won."

You’re so used to these bizarre updates by now that you don’t even flinch. Instead, you’re beginning to wonder why the universe thinks it’s funny to torture you with someone who clearly doesn’t have a firm grasp on reality.

And then one night, the narrator drops a bombshell:

"Your soulmate spent the entire afternoon wondering if there’s any way they could convince their twin brother to switch places with them on a date— Oh wait, forget I said that! That one’s classified!*"

What? Now, you’re officially on edge. Not only do they have a twin, but they’ve been thinking about dating? This is spiraling out of control.

You’re sitting at the Mostro Lounge, thinking about the increasingly unhinged dreams when you spot Floyd Leech across the room. Normally, you’d ignore him because, well, Floyd has a reputation, and it’s not exactly “outstanding member of society.”

But today, something feels off. You’ve heard a few things—people say he’s chaotic, unpredictable, and obsessed with “playing” with his victims. And suddenly, you can’t stop thinking about the dream where your soulmate tried to juggle eels.

Floyd catches your eye, and before you can look away, he’s making a beeline for your table. Oh no. Please no.

“Hey, Shrimpy,” he says with his usual, lazy grin, flopping down in the seat next to you like he owns the place. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Close enough.

You swallow hard. “Uh… just thinking.”

“Thinking, huh?” Floyd leans in, uncomfortably close. “What about?”

How are you supposed to say, I think you’re my soulmate, but I’m also convinced you’re a lunatic? Instead, you nervously laugh. “Oh, nothing. Just… dreams.”

“Dreams, huh?” Floyd’s eyes narrow, but he looks more interested than suspicious. “Like… those ones where some random guy is juggling eels?”

Your blood runs cold.

“Wait—how did you know about the eels?”

Floyd’s grin widens. “Oh? So it is you! I knew it!” He laughs, leaning back with a satisfied look, like he’s just solved the greatest mystery of his life. “Shrimpy, you’re hilarious! I’ve been having those dreams about you, too. You’re always doing weird stuff, like… rescuing ducks or tripping over your own feet.”

Your heart races. “Wait, so—you're my soulmate?”

“Duh,” Floyd says, rolling his eyes like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “The universe has a sense of humor, doesn’t it?”

At first, you’re convinced this is a prank, a cruel joke. But the more you talk to Floyd, the more everything starts to click into place. He’s chaotic, sure. Completely unpredictable? Absolutely. But he’s also the same person who, according to your dreams, once wondered if seaweed could be used as a fashion statement. He’s also the guy who—oh right—challenged the ocean to a race.

And now that you’ve met him, you realize one important detail: he’s perfect.

Well, perfect in the most unhinged way possible.

A week later, you find yourself in an increasingly ridiculous situation—Floyd has somehow convinced you to help him “steal” a giant fish from the campus pond.

“Why are we doing this again?” you ask, holding the bucket as he dives headfirst into the water.

“Because,” Floyd says between splashes, “the fish looks like he’s having a bad day, so we’re gonna give him a makeover.”

You stare blankly at the pond. “You want to makeover a fish.”

Floyd pops back up, water dripping from his hair, with a grin that could melt glaciers. “Yeah! Why not?”

You don’t have a good answer for that, so you just shrug. This is my life now.

That night, you’re lying in bed, starting to doze off, when the dream narrator pops up again:

"Good evening, soulmate! Today, your other half tried to give a fish a new look. It didn’t work, but they still had fun! Also, they’ve been thinking about holding your hand."

You wake up with a groan, rubbing your face in disbelief. Of course, Floyd would think about something like that in the middle of a fish-stealing escapade. But there’s something undeniably sweet about it, too.

The next day, Floyd grabs your hand without warning as you’re walking through campus. “I had a dream about this,” he says casually, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

You smile, squeezing his hand back. “So did I.”

Maybe the universe isn’t such a prankster after all.

Masterlist

[itoshiierae]

tokyo rev boys as cliché relationship tropes 𝜗𝜚

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

ᡣ𐭩 ft: manjiro sano (mikey), ken ryuguji (draken), sanzu haruchiyo, chifuyu matsuno, baji keisuke

ᡣ𐭩 notes: did this for the bllk boys so i obviously had to do it for the TR boys too 🤪💕 ahhh mikey makes me soft in ways that feel illegal. draken makes me want to cook for him and feel safe in his arms. chifuyu is literally already your boyfriend, just kiss him already. sanzu is an unhinged menace and i am fully in love. and baji???? ohhh he would fight your ex and hold your hand at 3am while pretending he’s not blushing 😩

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

✧ MANJIRO SANO ✧ — “THE GOLDEN BOY WHO ACCIDENTALLY FALLS FOR YOU”

he’s the one everyone expects to be untouchable — he’s the golden boy, after all. but then there’s you, and something in him softens. he doesn’t confess. he just starts showing up. he’ll wait for you outside school on his CB250T, saves the extra dorayaki just for you, sits beside you during sunsets in quiet, comfortable silence. everyone’s shocked — “mikey? with someone???” he falls first, wayyyy harder than he admits. he’ll not say “i love you” (at least not yet) but he’ll mutter “don’t leave me” like it’s second nature.

✧ KEN RYUGUJI ✧ — “THE GRUMPY PROTECTOR WHO’S SOFT ONLY FOR YOU”

he’s tall, scary & unbothered — well that’s what everyone thinks… until he’s patching up your scraped knee and asks “you okay?”. acts like he doesn’t care but he’s literally the first to notice when you’re not feeling well. he’s the type to lift you with one arm and then goes “tch. don’t get used to it.” absolutely ruins anyone who tries to hurt you emotionally or physically & will probably never say “i love you” directly, but will say “you’re mine,” like it’s a fact carved into stone.

✧ SANZU HARUCHIYO ✧ — “THE UNHINGED LOVERBOY WHO WOULD BURN THE WORLD FOR YOU”

oh you already know that he’s wayyyy more unhinged than the rest. everyone tells you to stay away from him. he’s dangerous, violent & unpredictable. and he is — to everyone except you. when you’re around, he’s still chaotic but there’s a slight restraint. gets jealous at the thought of you smiling at someone else. “you’re the only thing keeping me from going completely off the rails.” he’s 100% the type who would say “i love you” in the middle of a murder confession. “i did it for you, baby. always for you.”

✧ CHIFUYU MATSUNO ✧ — “THE GOLDEN RETRIEVER BESTFRIEND TURNED LOVER”

your best friend who’s been in love with you for YEARS. he knows your coffee order, remembers all your little quirks, and glares at anyone who flirts with you. he’ll deny he’s jealous with a quick, “i just don’t like his vibe.” he ends up confessing by accident while half-asleep whispering, “i wish you were mine.” he’s loyal to a fault & literally your ride or die. and when you finally get together??? he’s the most thoughtful boyfriend ever. he brings your favorite snacks, leaves handwritten notes on your locker, reminds you to eat, to rest, to take care of yourself — because he always has. even before you knew he was yours.

✧ BAJI KEISUKE ✧ — “THE GUARD DOG WHO BITES EVERYONE BUT YOU”

the untamed boy who learns gentleness through you. he turns into a blushing menace whenever you compliment him. “i’m not soft. now don’t look at me like that!” (he is.) but if someone even thinks about hurting you? he would burn down the city without a second thought. he secretly keeps band-aids in his pocket just for you. says it’s ‘for emergencies’ but you’ve never seen him use them on anyone else. acts like he’s not into romance, but the moment you cry??? he’s holding you tighter than anyone else ever could.

© itoshiierae 2025 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ please do not modify or repost my content onto any other platforms.

[rosemaryhoney27]

"Diplomacy for the Feral and the Damned"

Bruce had just sat down in the Batcave with his second cup of post-patrol coffee—black as his mood, strong enough to keep a Kryptonian awake—when his private line buzzed. Not the Batline. Not the board line. The one buried so deep in encryption and passive-aggressive threats that even Oracle called it “Extra-Paranoid Mode.”

He stared. [Incoming Call: Vladimir Masters]

Bruce blinked. “…Oh, this is going to be a day.”

He answered with the flat monotone that had driven Gotham’s underworld into therapy. “Vlad.”

The holographic screen flickered to life—and there he was. Vladimir Masters, looking every inch the eccentric billionaire and possibly more ghost than man now. Silver-haired, in a robe that screamed “I paid three million for this and regret nothing,” surrounded by classical art, levitating books, and the faint crackle of ectoplasmic interference. The whole aesthetic screamed “If Lex Luthor was haunted by a Victorian novelist.”

Vlad beamed. “Brucie!”

Bruce’s eye twitched. “Don’t call me that.”

“It’s lovely to hear your voice, dear cousin. It’s been too long.”

Jason, eavesdropping from the shadows with popcorn, whispered, “Wait. Cousin? Since when do we have that brand of family drama?”

“Shh,” Tim muttered, scribbling something labeled Possible Interdimensional Ghost Cousins Conspiracy.

“I need your advice,” Vlad continued. “Something very personal. Deeply serious.”

Bruce sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What now, Vlad?”

Vlad leaned forward, the screen staticking briefly. “How do you get your children to be civil with you?”

There was silence. Real, echoing, existential silence.

“…I wasn’t aware you had adopted children, Vlad,” Bruce said slowly, like trying not to scare off a rabid raccoon.

“I haven’t. Not technically,” Vlad said breezily. “But my godson is staying with me. Lovely boy. Has the appetite of a black hole and the sense of self-preservation of a rabid badger.”

“...Oh god,” whispered Dick, “he sounds like all of us.”

“Cute that Masters thinks we’re civil,” Damian sniffed. “How charmingly misinformed.”

“Wait. He said godson?” Tim asked, eyes lighting up. “Do you think—could it be—Phantom?”

Vlad didn’t notice the peanut gallery commentary. “The boy has caused four minor diplomatic incidents, bitten a baron, vanished into the ceiling during a formal gala, and accused a senator of being a reptilian. Which turned out to be accurate, but the delivery was unkind.”

Bruce squinted. “That sounds like… Dick, Damian, and Tim at the Wayne Foundation Spring Gala ‘19.”

“I know!” Vlad pointed at him like a man discovering fire. “That’s exactly what I said! He’s like your sons! In one small, glowing, vaguely feral body!”

“Glowing?” Steph mouthed. “Definitely Phantom.”

“So, cousin dearest,” Vlad purred. “How do you get them to listen? How do you parent the chaos incarnate?”

Bruce took a long, tired sip of his coffee and simply said, “I don’t.”

“…You don’t?”

“I survive it.”

“Bold of him to call this survival,” muttered Cass as Jason started texting Alfred for cookies and emotional support.

“Each one is an unpredictable event wrapped in trauma and tactical gear,” Bruce continued flatly. “They will not listen. They may occasionally pretend to. But only after chaos. Much, much chaos.”

Vlad sighed, running a hand through his hair. “So there’s no secret Wayne method? No clever strategy?”

“...Cookies?” Bruce offered.

From beneath the desk, something gnawed at Vlad’s ankle.

He glanced down and hissed, “Danny, stop that, I told you we don’t bite family!”

“He said that senator looked like a snake,” came the muffled voice. “And I was right.”

Vlad groaned. “Why couldn’t he just be one kind of disaster? Why all of them?”

Jason grinned. “I like this kid.”

“New cousin,” Steph agreed. “Absolutely chaotic. Ten outta ten.”

Vlad looked back up at Bruce. “So. No help?”

Bruce looked thoughtful. “Keep fire extinguishers on hand. Avoid hosting events near chandeliers. Always assume they have at least two hidden weapons. And get used to being called ‘Dad’ at the most inconvenient political moments.”

A pause.

“Also,” he added, “tell him you’re proud. Even when he’s a disaster. Especially then.”

Vlad blinked. “...That worked for you?”

Bruce glanced around the cave. Steph had stolen Tim’s notes and was writing “FERAL COUSIN CLUB” across the top. Jason was already planning a trip to Amity Park. Damian was silently judging the snack selection of this new relative. And Dick was on his phone already texting Danny memes.

“…Eventually,” Bruce muttered.

“Charming,” Vlad sighed.

From under the desk: crunch.

“Danny! Stop chewing my furniture!”

Danny peeked out, sharp-toothed grin gleaming, eyes flickering green. “Tell B-man I wanna go to one of those galas next time. I wanna meet chandelier boy.”

Jason fist-pumped. “YES.”

Bruce just sighed. “...I’ll warn the staff.”