#bat protection efforts
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Guardians of the Night Sky
Bat Appreciation Day: Guardians of the Night Sky
As the sun sets on April 17th, the spotlight turns to the silent heroes of the night—the bats. Bat Appreciation Day invites us to explore the fascinating world of these nocturnal creatures, shedding light on their crucial role in maintaining ecological balance. But did you know that you can actively contribute to bat conservation right here in…
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#Bat Appreciation Day#bat appreciation initiatives#bat awareness#bat conservation#bat conservation programs#bat ecology#bat enthusiasts#bat facts#bat habitats#bat migration#bat preservation#bat protection efforts#bat protector#bat research#bat research initiatives#bat species#bat species diversity#Bat Watch Program#bat watching#Biodiversity Conservation#biodiversity documentation#biodiversity exploration#biodiversity monitoring#Chiropterologist#Chiropterology#citizen scientists#City Nature Challenge#City Nature Challenge 2024#Community Engagement#Community Involvement
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Gotham City concept—Sure, Batman is all “NO METAS IN GOTHAM.” SURPRISE…it turns out Gotham is literally nothing BUT metas.
I mean, think about it. You’ve got goddamn plant poisons, fear gasses, Joker toxin, who knows what else flying all around. You’re telling me that everybody in Gotham is just going to be around that shit for years and not be affected by it?
No. Everybody in Gotham is a meta, it’s just that 99.99% of them have extremely un-flashy powers. It’s like, “the ability to find the best place to hide while the bank you work at is being held up by clowns,” or “always knowing when your mob boss is in a bad mood so you can be somewhere else,” or “the power to sense where the Joker isn’t,” or “the ability to survive getting kicked in the head by Batman, specifically.”
Nothing too extreme. Just enough to make surviving in goddamn Gotham City a possibility. Most people probably wouldn’t even recognize that they had powers. They would just get lucky breaks or hunches or w/e.
And yes, Tim and Steph and Jason would have powers, but again, they would be things like “naturally requires lower levels of vitamin D” or “the innate ability to navigate by gargoyle” or “the ability to survive getting kicked in the head by Batman, specifically.”
#batman#batfamily#Gotham City#text post#i understand why there’s the whole NO METAS IN GOTHAM thing from a story perspective#it’s an effort to keep Batman grounded…ignoring that he’s a grown ass adult billionaire who dresses like a bat to fight super crimes.#but I love me some dramatic irony.#such as Bruce being all ‘no metas >:(‘#while protecting a literal city of metas.
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Damian's new classmate was what most people would deem as strange, Damian however could not see him as anything other than suspicious. Daniel Knight had joined in the midst of the school year, claiming to have moved here with his father Fredric Knight (first area of suspicion, a parent willingly moving both them and their child to Gotham) for a new start following his fathers divorce. The boy was reclusive when not spoken to directly, however he would not stop talking when a topic of his interest would come up. After searching further into his past (as he does with all his classmates) Damian found a relatively normal past, the only outstanding things being a noticeable drop in grades at the beginnings of freshman year relating to an undisclosed accident resulting in lichtenberg scarring starting from Daniels palm, and presumably up his arm being hidden by his sleeve. Apparently this accident left Daniel with irregular tremors and, every once in a blue moon, seizures. Damian had thought about taking this suspicious blockage of information to Tim or the Bat Computer to be bypassed, however the idea of sharing Daniel this cases existence with the rest of his family for some unexplained reason bothered him greatly, so Damian has come to the decision to figure out Knight’s true intentions on his own.
Meanwhile Danny’s just trying to live his new, semi-normal life in peace. After a reveal gone wrong results in some good old vivisection, Jazz Sam and Tucker recruit the help of Clockwork to find Danny a new home, where he can heal from both the physical and mental wounds. Clockwork ends up dumping Danny into the DC universe alongside Fright Knight, who was insistent on going with him, feeling responsible in helping to protect his young prince now since he feels he failed the first time. So with a bit of spacetime razzle dazzle, Tucker messing with stuff he probably shouldn't have messed with and a very tearful goodbye with promises to check in every day, Danny goes off to start his new life as Daniel Knight. It was going ok so far, he took half the year to himself, focusing on healing. Also so Frighty could adjust to the whole pretending to be human thing. Danny doesn't have any friends yet, and to be honest hasn't made the effort to make any (Jazz would be disappointed if she knew that), but there's this one boy in Danny's class who might be even weirder than him. Danny can feel Damian's eyes on him, knows how he follows him around without a sound (Danny really shouldn't be able to tell, he only knows because he isn't fully human(and in a weird way, Danny thinks that's kinda cool)), and whenever they do make eye contact Danny can see and feel the boy fluster and shy away.
Maybe he just needs a friend too.
#dp x dc#dc x dp#dp x dc crossover#dp x dc prompt#danny came up with the name fredric for fright knight#definitely not because that was the first name that came to the author's head#and they were to lazy to come up with anything else#dead serious#damian wayne x danny fenton#dead serious ship#there isnt enough of them#in my humble opinion#they're the whole reason this prompt exist#danny sensing damian literally spying on him: oh he just needs a friend like i do :)#damian realising this: im afrid theres been an error in my judgement#damians down bad nut denys it#like bitch wdym you dont wanna share 🤨#kinda gay#i say as if im not the one who wrote this#first dp x dc prompt after ive been lurking in the fandom for like#at least half a year now#hope you like 🙏🏼
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City Pigeons Bleed Green
WC: 1329 Masterpost
CW: stitches, blood, canon typical violence, history of experimentation, bad (lbh evil) parent Fentons
“I need to get to Bruce Wayne.”
“We should be able to arrange a conversation,” Tim said immediately. None of the shock and concern that Tim must have been feeling seeped through into his words. Jason always admired how even keel Tim could seem.
The kid’s eyes snapped to Tim, brow furrowed in confusion.
Tim just shrugged. “He does good in the city, so do we. Besides, his kids are targeted a lot and sometimes we get involved to help out with that. There’s a line of communication that we can use.”
“So what?” They rasped. “You let every kid who wants to talk to Bruce Wayne get to just ‘cause they’re bleeding out?”
“He’d say that was a good enough reason,” Jason said with certainty. He knew how much money and effort Bruce poured into Make a Wish and the children's hospital.
The kid squinted at him before glancing away. “I don’t think I’m ready to talk to him… like this…”
“Then a safe house for right now,” Tim insisted. “Just like the name says, it’s safe. We can get you patched up and you can rest somewhere you don’t have to look over your shoulder. When you’re feeling better, we’ll set up that meeting.”
“You’ll let a stranger stay at your safe house, just like that?”
“Kid,” Jason said with a sigh. “I don’t think you’re getting it. You’re a very hurt kid. You’re exactly the type of person that we’d do that for. We’re the Bats of Gotham and we protect her people.”
There was that ugly laugh again. “I’m not even from Gotham.”
“You’re here now. That’s all that matters in Gotham,” Jason said. He took the risk and held out his hand. Jason didn’t pray anymore, not since his mother died, but he still silently hoped that the kid would take it. Jason felt certain they wouldn’t make it if they didn’t take it.
The fingers braced against the grimy cinder block wall twitched. Then the hand reached out. The kid collapsed forward into the motion and Jason lunged to catch them. He lifted them gently, worried about how light they were.
“It’s okay, we’ve got you. We’ll make sure you’re safe.”
The kid hid their face against Jason’s jacket. Their words were almost too quiet to hear. “I don’t know if you can.”
“Never underestimate what a stubborn Bat can do, Kid.”
-
The kid passed out halfway to the safe house. It was probably for the best. Their injuries were… extensive would be too kind of a word.
Tim laid down a plastic sheet on the bed before Jason deposited the kid down on it. The hoodie, which couldn’t be the kid’s at that size, had to be practically peeled off. The main wound that must have been the blood splatter he noticed was the immediate concern, but it was everything else that worried Tim more.
This was more than signs of abuse, this was torture or experimentation. Those scars and wounds cut into the kid’s arms and torso was far too even and controlled. There were other, messier scars that looked like burns and stab wounds. The inside of their elbows were littered with track marks and their hands bruised from what must have been IV ports. The worst for Tim was seeing the metal collar around the kid’s neck, but he knew that wasn’t what was getting Jason. He didn’t need to see Jason’s eyes to tell they were glued to the track marks.
“Go take five and fill a bowl up with warm water,” Tim said.
“Red—”
“Hood,” Tim snapped, cutting off Jason’s growl. Tim had suffered Jason’s bite, the bark didn’t scare him anymore. Besides, they understood each other these days. They were the Bats will willing blood on their hands. “Go take five. They’re not going anywhere and I need your help to patch them up, so go take five and get your head on, okay?”
The fight drained out of Jason like a string had been cut. He nodded and stalked off to the tiny kitchen that was basically an afterthought to the living room. It was hardly their most glamorous safe house but it was close, had two bedrooms, and was secure, despite it’s shoddy appearance.
Tim had the old bandages and scraps of cloth peeled off by the time Jason came back to start cleaning away the green blood.
“We need to get antibiotics for them from Leslie,” Jason said after the worst was cleaned up.
“Definitely. This new wound is from a knife and some of these were wrapped with what I think was an old hospital scrub.”
“Lends credence to…”
“Yeah.”
Jason nodded stiffly. “This needs stitches.”
“Luckily I think bandages are fine for everything else,” Tim said.
He snapped off the nitrate gloves and put on a fresh pair. He carefully numbed the skin around the wound while he waited for Jason to be in a spot to hold the kid down should they wake up. The first few stitches went fine. Tim took the time to be extra neat. The kid didn’t need any worse scars because of his sloppy work.
Tim had just started on the forth one when the kid started to stir. They twitched and whimpered in their sleep. Jason pressed down carefully to keep them from moving too much.
“No, Mom, please, I’m your son! I’m not— Don’t… not again. I’ll be good…”
Tim looked up at the impassive red helmet.
“I’m good. I have him. Just keep stitching so we can get him tucked in to bed.”
“Okay,” Tim said and got back to work. It was hard to ignore the whimpered words and everything they implied, but Tim needed to focus. There would be time to start looking into everything after.
It was as he was cleaning up that Jason threw a wrench into things.
“Don’t run his DNA.”
“What?” Tim hissed, rounding on Jason. “That is clearly Bruce’s kid in there!”
“Exactly. It’s obviously his kid, there’s no doubt in that with the way he looks. And just as obviously he’s been tortured or experimented on. Don’t you think he’s been stripped of his privacy enough?”
All the fight bled out of Tim an instant. “Fuck. I didn’t think… I just wanted to…”
“I know. You wanted to help by solving this, but that’s not what this kid needs right now. So hold off until he feels safe enough to consent, okay?”
“Okay, no, you’re right, I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine, Red,” Jason said, ruffling Tim’s hair with a wet hand. “Creepy stalking is just your way of caring, I get it. Just pull back a little this time. You can focus on that collar he’s wearing right now.”
Tim shuddered. “That thing needs to go. Am I staying on watch then?”
“If you’re fine with that. I’ll get Oracle to call the others to the Cave.”
“Sure,” Tim said. He didn’t want to miss that conversation, but someone had to stay with the kid and he was a better choice to get the collar off. “Just make sure I have a comm line in.”
“Of course. Can’t have you missing out on us discussing the old man’s sex life.”
“Ugh, never mind, I don’t need a comm line!”
“Too late!” Jason called out with a laugh as he headed for the door.
Tim flicked him off just to do so.
After double checking that the place was secure, Tim pulled out a tool bag. At least he could start by testing the collar for explosive residue or other traps that would keep Tim from taking it off. The thought of the collar being rigged made him sick to his stomach, but it fit too well with the canvas of scars that the kid bore.
“Who did this to you, Kid?” Tim asked, even though he knew he wouldn’t get a response. “And how soon can Hood put a bullet in their head for you?”
---
AN: So here's a little more of this for Trauma Tuesday! The Reds are very concerned! I'm still having fun writing a Jason and Tim who get along and understand each other in a way the other 'we don't kill' Bat's don't, threats of murder and all.
Sorry if there are lots of mistakes (I don't need them corrected, ty), it's been a bad fatigue spell here. Still hope you enjoyed it and stay delightful, darlings!
(Oh, and there's another continuation to the OG threaded to it by chroma if you want a different take!)
Masterpost you can subscribe to, as I no longer tag people!
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my body is my weapon
for @steddieholidaydrabbles popup event for 'spring'
rated t | 734 words | cw: canon-typical violence, mild blood | tags: self-sacrificing steve, hurt/comfort, getting together
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Steve was good at this, springing up from nowhere, nail bat in hand, ready to protect his found family. It was a natural instinct at this point.
Didn't matter the cost, didn't matter if he was the only one willing. If Vecna wanted to take someone, he could take him.
With Eddie barely recovered from his first bout in the Upside Down, Max still in a coma, and Lucas being glued to her side to make sure nothing happened, the crew was a little short staffed.
But Steve would make sure that didn't matter.
They prepared as much as they could, which wasn't nearly as much as they should. Vecna was strong, stronger than they expected him to be, and his creatures were wearing them down before he even came to fight.
But El was stronger.
As Steve lay on the ground, bleeding more than he ever had before, certain of his life being over, he thought about every time he'd put himself in front of the kids.
He had no regrets, but he wished it could've played out differently.
Hands on his shoulders made him open his eyes, but his vision was blurry and his head was pounding. Probably another concussion.
"You don't get to die."
Eddie? How was he- why was he here? He was supposed to stay topside to call for help the moment he was signaled.
Maybe Steve was delusional in his last moments. Eddie mentioned that he was hallucinating from the blood loss when it happened to him.
"Steve. Keep your eyes on me," Eddie's voice was panicked. "God, you always have to spring into action, huh? Can't wait ten seconds for someone to help."
"Ed."
Steve could make out the outline of his head, but not details.
"'S what 'm good for."
"That's bullshit."
And then everything went black.
Steve's only thought was that he wished the last things he heard weren't those words.
🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩
His head was pounding again, and the incessant beeping surrounding him wasn't helping.
"If it hurts, don't open your eyes."
The voice sounded an awful lot like Eddie.
"Mm. Thirsty," Steve whispered.
"I got you," Eddie's hand was on the back of his head, gently lifting, while the other must have been holding a cup of room temperature water to his lips. "Little sips."
Steve didn't think much of what was going on. If this was the afterlife, at least he had someone taking care of him.
🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩
The next time Steve was conscious, his head wasn't pounding and he could tell the room around him was dark.
He opened his eyes, slowly taking in the hospital room.
Eddie was asleep in the chair next to his bed.
He looked uncomfortable.
Steve tried to shift onto his side, but a lightning bolt of pain shot from his shoulder to his knee, and he couldn't quite contain the gasp he let out.
Eddie's eyes shot open as he stood from the chair, leaning over Steve to see what hurt.
"Shit, are you okay?" Eddie asked as his hands hovered over Steve's heavily wrapped up body.
"Mhm. Jus' hurt," Steve managed to say, his voice raspy. "How?"
"How long have you been out?" Eddie waited for Steve's nod to continue. "First bit was about three days, then you woke up for a minute yesterday."
"Alive?"
"Yeah," Eddie's tone shifted to something more serious, darker. "But no thanks to you. You're good for a lot more than standing in front of monsters, Stevie. You know that, right?"
Steve shrugged one shoulder. "Kinda."
Eddie's hands gently cupped his face, eyes softening as Steve focused on him.
"You're more than a weapon. You're more than an expendable body. You understand me?" Eddie's voice shook as Steve gave a short nod. "You're my world. I can't see my world end."
"I am?"
"Despite my best efforts of trying to move on from the stupid crush I had on you, yeah," Eddie sighed. "Nursed me back to health and made me fall in love with you."
"Not bullshit?" Steve's eyes felt heavy, but he had to fight it, had to have this talk with Eddie before he passed out again.
"Never. You're everything, Steve Harrington. And when you can keep your eyes open for more than two minutes, I'm gonna kiss you so hard it bruises."
Steve smiled as his eyes closed.
Eddie's hands carried him out of hell and into forever.
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#steddieholidaydrabbles#pop up event#spring#cw: canon typical violence#cw: mild blood#hurt/comfort#getting together
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Danny had no idea what a meta was, but appearently he had something called a meta-gene. One would think a mutation that can cause people to manifest superpowers from lab accidents would explain his disastrous career as a superhero, but they would be wrong. Dannys meta gene was never activated and the whole ghost fiasco was just eldrich shenanigans at its finest.
No, Danny's meta gene activated just two weeks ago on his fifteenth birthday where he was celebrating at Sam's place with Tucker. They had gotten into one of thier usual fights about food and Danny just did not want to deal with it and went into another room.
Sams cat didn't love him per say but it usually didn't hate him either. Today was not his lucky day. The kitty scratched him and wouldn't you know? His meta gene wasn't activated by an interdimentional portal opening up on top of him, it wasn't activated by the numerous energy blasts he had been hit with nor the various electric shocks.
No, it was activated by a freaking cat scratch.
He stared at himself in the mirror, glowing green eyes with slit pupils stared back at him. His kitty ears were folded back to show his shock and displeasure over the situation but it was still rather obvious what they were. The tail wagging slowly behind him was the same snowy white as his hair and ears.
He looked like Phantom. He looked like Phanton as Fenton. Ancients. There was no way he was going to be able to hide this. Transforming brought about no change other than the hazmat suit. He was so screwed. He couldn't go home like this.
Breathing heavily and on the verge of a panic attack he called Jazz once, twice, three times, but she didn't pick up. Danny knew he couldn't stay in the human world, it was too dangerous.
But if he wasn't there to protect the ghosts than it would be too dangerous for them to stay too. He knew for a fact Dani was staying with Dora while she taught her how to read and write so he had pretty much no qualms about destroying the portals and outing Vlad through a pre-made video of him transforming and boasting about his crimes to Phantom, courtesy of Tucker and him filming it all.
He felt bad about ditching his friends one last time, and at his own birthday party no less! But he knew if he tried to say goodbye they would guilt him into staying and it would end horribly so he left a note explaining what happened and bounced.
Destroying the portals hadn't taken much time or effort nor did destroying over 20 years of research between the three. It was exploring the Ghost Zone that was giving him problems. He was always warned by Wulf not to open portals in the Ghost Zone unless you were very experienced cause if you screw up theres no telling when or where you will land. He thought back to Wulfs lessons and tried to conjure the image of lush wildlife and abundant food.
The place he ended up portaling to had neither of those things. In fact if felt like the opposite when he landed in a grimey alleyway in the dark of night.
A spotlight was pointed toward the sky, painting the clouds above in a yellow light holding a stylized image of a bat in the center. Danny wondered what that was about for only a minute before he heard the tell tale whoosh sound of someone landing in the alley behind him.
Dannys new instincts reacted before the logical part of his brain took hold causing him to whirl around with his ears flattened to his head and he hissed so furiously that the man with the red helmet (mask?) back up several paces while cursing furiously. The man also mentioned something about a "Pit" but Danny wasn't paying attention, he was scared out of his mind and bolted down the alleyways and out of sight before phasing into a dilapidated building and hiding under some rubble.
Later, Red Hood told Nightwing about the Lazarus Pit catboy demon and described it as nightmarish as possible before adding that it was kinda twinkish. He also added "for the love of God dickwing, don't let demon brat adopt that thing"
In Damians defence, he found Danny asleep next to Alfred the cat in Batcows barn and just decided he was thier new cat. In other news hes far more concerned with hiding Danny From Catwoman than from father.
#dp x dc#fanfiction prompts#prompts#danny phantom#danny fenton#batman#robin#damian wayne#can be dead serious#dead serious#ot it was supposed to be#something went wrong and now damian is adopting a catboy#like father like son i guess#danny has sharp little fangs and hes not afraid to flash them in threat#kitty instincts
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panty stealer 2
DATE: JULY 12, 2023
summary: after the forbidden and surprising night of the ‘break-in’, you couldn’t get your mind off of peter. luckily, he couldn’t either, and finds his way back into your bedroom to invite you to a party.
requested: so many times yes!
words: 11.2k!! woah
warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [fingering, slight oral, masturbation, vibrator], praise kink, degrading kink, slight exhibitionism, dirty talk, and protected sex), language, mentions of marjuana/alcohol, and fluff
note: this was the most anticipated and loved of all my writings! i’m so thankful for everyone who liked part 1, i just had to write a part 2. enjoy!!! sorry if the gif is all weird again
—
so many thoughts flew through peter’s mind as he swung through the streets of massachusetts: what homework or projects he might have, you, class, praying flash doesn’t do anything stupid while he’s gone, you, hoping ned doesn’t have a panic attack from flash’s idiocy, and you you you.
he thought of your body and the way it felt underneath him while he pushed himself deep inside of you. and the whimpers you let out as you came. and the sound of your laughter through the palm of your hand. and the smile on your face as he kissed your forehead. he wished he had kissed you longer. he wished he had stayed longer. forever.
was that dramatic? maybe.
you were a recurring thought that never seemed to cease from his brain.
peter sees you around school sometimes—only on the days you two have class together. neither of you made an effort to approach the other, almost as if you expected the other person to do it first. you both sat far apart from each other, too afraid to move seats around and make it obvious. but peter’s gaze fell heavily over your shoulder too many times for you to not feel it.
every time you shifted around to face the back of the room, you watched him avert his wandering eyes to anywhere but you. it made you smile and giggle quietly behind your hand, and of course peter’s hearing picked up on the angelic sounds, causing his heart to skip against his ribs.
and then class would begin and you’d have to wait until next class to see him again.
peter wanted to go see you—talk to you. he really did. but he was so busy with school work and being spider-man that he didn’t have a night off. mid-terms were coming up, but that also meant thanksgiving break was in the rear view mirror. after halloween of course.
in college, halloween was like any other day. you didn’t get a day off to trick-or-treat and hang out with your friends. instead, you were given a pile of tests the week before.
not much of a treat, huh?
outside of college, however, people threw the best parties that night. one of those people obviously being peter. luckily, halloween was on a saturday, so everyone would be done with mid-terms and ready to party their asses off.
flash needed everyone and their mom to come for him to be satisfied (well, maybe not their moms). he’s going to blow up everyone’s phone telling them to invite every person they know. peter didn’t care who showed up. he knows that halloween is one of the biggest parties of the year (besides fourth of july). peter only wanted—no needed—one person to be there.
—
knowing it’s been weeks since he’s seen you and the party was only in a few days, peter had to come and see you. he had to make sure you got the invite. it was difficult to fit visiting you into his schedule, but like always, he made it work.
you were becoming important to him, a priority.
he would only be in and out because who knows what would happen if peter was caught in there? last time, flash got his car hit with a baseball bat. flash was so mad that he completely forgot about peter’s dare, even though it was the whole point of sneaking into the house. it was deserved, but peter didn’t want any of that happening to him. so, peter promised himself no funny business unless you were in his room.
ugh, but peter really didn’t want you around the frat boys. they were way too much.
the sky was pitch black besides the hint of stars that were sprinkled in the sky. it was a chilly, fall night that made peter want to cozy up and pass out in his bed. but he had more important things to do first.
after a boring night of patrol, peter sneaks into his room through his opened window. without making too much noise (unlike flash), he quietly changes out of his suit and packs it into his closet in a box labeled books. peter is certain that no one, especially flash, would ever open that box. so he fixes his appearance by adjusting his shirt in the mirror, checking his teeth, and messing with his wild hair. on impulse, he throws on a cap to better hide himself. with that, he jumps out his window once again, shutting it closed on his way down with his sticky fingers.
like he’s done once before, peter sneaks across the street to the forbidden sorority house. he stares at the windows; all darkened bedrooms, except for one. peter wasn’t one hundred percent sure that that single lit bedroom was yours, but he was willing to test his luck.
for you.
peering at his surroundings, peter flips his hat backwards and slowly crawls up the side of the house. his fingers latch onto the windowsill as he very slowly lifts his head over it. he notices that it’s slightly cracked open before his gaze is seering through the glass.
you have got to be fucking joking.
your body lays sprawled across your bed as a delicate hand wanders between your parted legs and slides your infamous panties to the side. your torso is covered in the same mit t-shirt from that night, draped over your lavish figure tantalizingly. a laptop plays a pornographic scene of some sort, headphones plugged in one ear.
god, he wanted to touch you so bad.
he wondered if you were thinking of him. recalling how his fingers caressed down your body and how they touched every inch of your skin. but you couldn’t be, right? it’s been weeks and peter hasn’t made a move. you’ve probably moved on from that night like nothing happened. peter should probably go, leave you alone during such an intimate time—
“mm, peter,” your angelic voice hums a quiet moan that was only loud enough for peter’s hearing. peter feels his cock twitch needily at your noises, hissing to himself as you whimper his name. “feels so good.”
well, that’s just like a goddamn invite.
using every skill he has learned from being spider-man, peter yanks open the window and creeps inside. you were too emerged in your fantasies; eyes screwed closed as you listened attentively to the ongoing video. you failed to notice peter’s looming presence over your bed, even with only one headphone in. your noises continued, spurring peter’s next actions on.
without saying a word, peter lays his hand over yours, which is rubbing cute circles over your clit. your movements freeze and your eyes fly open. your mind doesn’t register the sight before you, so your breathing stops and your lungs get ready to scream out every millimeter of oxygen in you. but peter slips his other hand over your mouth before you could alert the entire neighborhood of his presence.
peter could sense the erratic beating of your heart as your tense muscles very gradually soften once you realize it’s him. once you’ve calmed down enough to not scream, you take your free hand and lower peter’s from your mouth.
he came back.
“p-peter, i didn't know you were coming,” you weren't sure what to say. your mind was still spinning like a top toy and your heart was beating like a galloping horse. your skin was burning underneath him, full of embarrassment and immense desire. “a head’s up would have been nice…”
“i’m sorry for the interruption…” peter says, eyes dragging down your body. his hand moves above yours gradually. you inhale sharply as peter guides your hand.
“you don’t seem sorry,” you retaliate as the friction from your hand with the help of peter’s begins to rile your body up again. you feel the wetness seep from your cunt, aching and needy for more. for more of him.
“how come you’re so wet?” peter completely ignores you, and removes your hand from your pussy with a gentle toss. peter didn’t expect anything tonight, but he especially didn’t expect to find his little angel with her hands between her legs. you gasp when his fingers are directly touching you, instantly clenching around nothing. his fingers are a bit chilly, in contrast to your flamy skin. “is it from the video?”
“n-no,” you stutter between needy pants as his fingers threaten to sink into your pulsing hole. your legs spread wider for him, inviting him closer to you. you slam the laptop down with shaky fingers to show him that you no longer need it.
“then what’s got you so wet?” two fingers dip into your cunt to persuade you to talk, but it’s doing the opposite. you bite your lip to hide the traitorous moan that threatens to escape. heavy arousal coats your labia while he pumps in and out of you easily, waiting for an answer.
“i was thinking of you,” you admit, hips rolling into his touch greedily. “wondering if you’d ever come back.”
peter’s heart saddens at the thought of you waiting for him. this whole time peter assumed you forgot about him, when in reality, it was the exact opposite. and there was sticky evidence to prove it.
“i’m right here, angel. what were you thinking about?” his body leans down hovering over yours, causing your body to sink into the mattress.
“thought about you climbing through the window, just like you did. imagined you’d fuck me, like you promised,” you moan quietly between words, trying to sound cohesive. hearing you say such vulgar words has peter’s cock twitching in his pants. with peter, you weren’t afraid to be straight to the point and tell him what you want. peter admired that, and would probably do anything you asked him to.
“with time, i’m a man of my word, baby.”
close and personal, peter interlocks his lips with yours. your frolicking hands drift to his warm neck, caressing the nape as you melt into him. peter inserts a third finger into you, eliciting a muffled moan against his lips. the action opens up your mouth and allows peter to effortlessly glide his tongue inside.
his fingers ram into you at a deliriously fast pace, causing your mind to haze into a euphoric state. it was impressive how peter could be kissing you unforgettably, but also skillfully pleasuring you with his hands. peter seemed like a man full of secrets and skills that you were dying to know.
who is peter parker?
fogging up your mind, your muscles tense and your back continues to arch until your stomach is touching his. your legs threaten to close from the overwhelming pleasure from his fingers, but you battle to keep them wide. his mouth trails down your neck and attacks the sensitive skin below your ear. teeth digging into your lip, you withhold all of your noises that peter so desperately wants to hear.
“if we were alone, you wouldn’t be allowed to be quiet,” he husks in your ear before trailing further down your neck. his voice was every level of attractive, pushing you closer to the edge. peter continued to check off all of your invisible boxes of turn ons.
“i know,” your voice was delicate and strained, and peter could tell you were close.
your walls gripped his fingers eagerly, and your stomach tightened up. it was embarrassing that you were so close so fast, but you couldn’t hold it any longer. once his fingers curled one last time inside of you, you were a goner.
“come for me, baby,” he demanded quietly, so you did.
your orgasm washed over you like a tsunami, drenched in blissful euphoria. peter worked you through your high by softly rubbing your legs and coaxing every last drop out of you until you were sensitive to the touch.
without having to ask, peter lowers himself to your mound and yanks your panties down and off your legs. he then cleans up your mess with his skillful tongue, licking and slurping all of your juices. your sensitivity causes you to be squirmy, but he’s done before you know it and then you’re left reminiscing.
although he was right in front of you, you missed his touch already. you missed him inside of you because it made you feel connected, intertwined. you didn’t want him to leave you again for weeks and come back on a random week day. or even worse, never again at all. you hoped that it didn’t become a pattern because you were getting attached to him, whether you liked it or not (you did), and that wasn’t a healthy pattern to be attached to.
peter’s body hovers over yours once again, held up by his muscular arms. your eyes attach to every detail on his face, admiring and memorizing his features in fear that he’ll leave again. he gazes at you like a living daydream, ethereal underneath him. one of his hands caresses your supple cheek, lightly swiping away your frisky hair. you practically purr into his touch, melting at his gentleness.
“peter,” you start, voice as fragile as thin glass.
“y/n.”
“please, don’t leave,” you insist in a whisper, hoping he’d stay. but you know he can’t.
“you know i can’t,” he says as you begin to sit up. see?
“when will i see you again? you can’t just… show up at any time,” you huff, sitting up straight as peter takes a seat beside you.
“i know i know…” peter thinks for a moment before reaching into his pocket. “here. you can put your number in my phone.”
your heart skips a simple beat. you extend your arm to snatch your phone on your nightstand before hesitatingly grabbing peter’s. you switch devices and enter your numbers. you label your name as ‘y/n :)’ and then you trade back phones, but don’t look at them.
“c’mere,” peter says and you curl your body into his. his warmth was addicting and cozy, and could easily make a great pillow for the future. “i’m sorry for not coming back sooner. i’ve been pretty busy with… everything i guess. i should’ve told you.” with your head cradled in his chest, he kisses your rumpled hair genuinely.
a sweet apology. could he get any better? is he just a figment of my imagination?
you lift up your head so you could see him looking down on you. “apology accepted, parker. but i feel like i’m being manipulated with your kisses.”
“how was i supposed to know you’re a sucker for forehead kisses?”
“everyone is a sucker for forehead kisses!” you whisper yell causing him to laugh wholeheartedly as quiet as possible. he kisses your head a few more times, making your heart full of affection and care.
how did you get lucky enough for peter parker to fall into your life? or more specifically, break into your house on two accounts?
“you never fulfilled your promise,” you said, referring to him having sex with you. don’t misunderstand, you were very grateful for what he gave you, but to be direct… you were greedy, needy, and missed his dick.
no time for beating around the bush.
“like i said, with time, i’m a man of my word,” which, in other words, means he’s not having sex with you. tonight, at least. you can’t help the small frown that appears on your lips.
“how much time? a girl has needs, you know,” you rose your eyebrows and pointed towards the closed laptop. peter puffed under his breath, causing you to smirk.
“there is a party this saturday… at my place. you should come,” peter informs.
“should i come or do you want me to come?” it was a test.
“if this is some sexual innuendo, yes—”
“jeez, get your mind out of the gutter, peter!” you roll your eyes and softly shove his chest, but a smile never ceases from your face. that only causes him to wrap his arms around you and squeeze you harder against his firm body.
he must live at the gym.
“you started talking about sex first!”
he’s not wrong.
“of course, i want you to come to the party, y/n,” peter smiles as his eyes wandering over every inch of your face. in any other scenario, gorging eyes would’ve made you feel insecure, but peter’s made you feel all flushed and tingly. “you’re the only person i want to be there.”
your smile enlarges even more and a rush of heat crawls up your neck. instead of kissing his lips for being such a romantic goofball, you decide to pull off his backward cap and kiss his forehead. the rosy blush that cascades his pale cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed.
“see! everyone likes forehead kisses!”
just as you say those words, peter hears footsteps padding across the hallway. he really didn’t want to leave you again, but he also really didn’t want to get caught. he sighs and you notice his change of demeanor, causing another frown to arise on your lips.
“you have to go, don’t you?”
“i’m sorry—”
“it’s okay. i’m glad you came. i’ll see you on saturday,” you smile genuinely and kiss his forehead again. he smiles, but catches your luscious lips instead. peter almost forgot about the footsteps, always lost in the moment with you.
he is obsessed with kissing you.
however, the moment is too short for both of your liking. peter struggles to pull himself away from you, but does because each footstep in the hallway is like a warning. with a finally kiss to your forehead, peter smiles endearingly before approaching your window, ready to jump out.
“oh, and peter?” as his hands are on the window, he turns around to look at you. “don’t forget these.”
you fling your panties at him and his quick reflexes have no problem catching them. you take his hat that he left on your bed and lay it on top of your head. peter cannot describe the fond feeling that bubbles up in his chest at the sight of you in his apparel. he’s sure he would die seeing you in his clothes if he’s starstruck from you in his cap.
a familiar heated flush blossoms on his cheeks as he lightly shakes his head with a few chuckles.
“you’re ridiculously cute,” is the last thing he says before he slides out the window and jumps down onto the ground.
ridiculously cute. you’ve never been called that before. are you surprised that you like it a lot? nope.
you still don’t understand how he doesn’t break a few limbs from jumping out of a two-story house, but again, that’s just one of the many things he’s skillful at. you wondered what else he was capable of. like you said, he seemed like a man full of secrets. some people thought of curiosity as a curse, but you saw it as a pathway to unknown opportunities.
not even a minute after peter left, there’s a knock at your bedroom door. you answer, skeptical, and one of your friends walks in.
“i know we’re not allowed to have any guys here, so you get kind of lonely, but when you’re watching porn at midnight can you please turn it down? i could hear it at the end of the hall,” she rubs her eyes and elicits a yawn. your eyes widen and you swallow thickly at the idea of the entire house hearing you.
you really thought you did a good job at being quiet…
“uh, yeah, sure thing,” you half smile as you apologize and wish her a better goodnight. you flick your lamp off and shift comfortably on your bed.
you gaze at the ceiling and imagine peter’s face above yours. you envisioned his lips, his cute nose, and each precious beauty mark on his face. it was easier to fall asleep knowing what his phone number was, and that saturday was only three days away.
—
those three days could not have been longer. the party was your motivation to wake up every day and go to class, eager as ever. you only saw peter once at school and that was not enough to satisfy the yearning you had inside of you. that yearning was also like an alarm clock that sprung you out of bed at eight a.m. on saturday.
you knew you had hours to waste, so you did all the things you had been procrastinating on: laundry, tidying up, few assignments due next week, and you even dusted parts of the house. yeah, you were that bored.
you weren’t sure what time the party started, but you would probably be able to tell from your window. you had no idea what you were going to wear even though you were thinking about it since wednesday. you believed you had a good sense of style, at least to your liking, but you don’t have all the clothes that you wish you had. living on a college budget wasn’t easy, but you made do.
at this point, it was only two in the afternoon, and you were about to run into the wall until your head was bleeding just to waste more time. this was the downside to having a ridiculously big crush on someone; the inescapable waiting. when crushing, time seems prolonged when you’re without them. but when you’re with them, the world seems to stop completely. it’s like nothing matters but just you two.
you remembered back to wednesday when peter was sitting on your bed and holding you snug against his body while you talked about such a mundane thing like a party invite. you could never erase the feeling of his kiss, his lips forever etched onto yours. the kiss felt like hours, but it was merely a minute before he had to pull away. you imagined what it would be like to just be with him without worrying about anything else. these daydreams cause the yearning in your chest to expand like a balloon, which is never going to satisfyingly explode until you’re in his arms again.
without making a big deal out of it, you needed a good outfit. so, you knocked on one of your “sister’s” doors. you weren’t a fan of the term “sorority sisters,” especially because none of these girls felt like sisters to you. yes, you were all decent friends who went to parties and went out to eat once a month together. but you weren’t as close to them as you were with your friends back at home. you missed them, but you’ve all moved on with your lives.
violet answers with a cheery come in and you walk into her room. you hint that you’re looking for a nice dress for the party tonight.
“i’m glad you came to me first,” she smiles as she stands up from her bed. she heads toward her closet, which is practically pouring out clothes that would laugh at yours. she had so many colors and choices, it was almost overwhelming and you weren’t even the one really choosing. “so. who’s the guy?”
“what? who said anything about a guy?”
“the fact that you want a nice dress for a frat party. you’ve never cared before, so it has to be a guy. so who is it?”
“it’s no one in particular,” you lie easily as you sit on her bed. she sifts through each dress in deep thought.
“so, you want a nice dress to catch any guy’s attention? i don’t buy it,” violet shakes her head, causing her long, black hair to wave.
not that you really care if she believes you, but what’s a believable lie? you know she’ll probably nag you about it the entire night if you don’t give her a valid excuse.
“if i’m being honest, i’m trying to, you know,” you raise your eyebrows high, motioning your hands as she whips around to face you. she nods as a knowing smirk grows on her lips. you weren’t technically lying–you did want to get laid, but you only had one person in mind that could do the job.
“i see. that’s all you needed to say,” she flips through more dresses before pulling out a short red one that makes your eyes widen. it looked nice, too nice, and you didn’t want to ruin anything she had because you’d probably spend the next few months paying to replace it. “let’s get you ready.”
“but the party is in–”
“nuh uh, we’re getting ready now. also, we’re making it into a costume.”
–
for once, you’re glad you listened to violet about getting ready early because it was already six o’clock by the time you guys were both finished. you somehow gave in to the idea of her dolling you up into some kind of sexy spider woman? you didn’t really know. she thought the red and blue accented your skin nicely. violet did what she wanted. you didn’t even plan on wearing a costume in the first place, so you didn’t really mind.
your hair was down and wavy. you had her short red dress on and white fishnet tights. she also gave you royal blue heels. she painted black webs on your eyes with eyeliner while you wore a matching red lipstick. it was a lot more than you expected to see on yourself when you looked in her vanity mirror. hopefully, the look is as attractive and alluring as violet says it is. meanwhile, violet dressed as “slutty catwoman” (her words, not yours).
and yes, violet was going. everyone at mit would be going. it was one of those annual parties that's been going on for years, even before your class was there.
you enjoyed that; traditions and routines. they created memories and showed the change through each generation. thinking back, you bet your ancestors would die of a heart attack if they saw the way you were dressed and the things people did at these parties. but none of those thoughts stopped you from leaving the sorority house and walking across the street to the frat party.
you hadn’t even walked in yet, and the music was booming throughout the neighborhood. through the blinds that failed to close, you could see the technicolor lights flashing in redirection. cars of every shade were parked for probably miles down the street, and you knew as the night went on the number of people would only increase.
violet walked in front of you, strutting through the door like she owned the place. you followed behind her almost cowardly, but you weren’t really looking for everyone’s attention anyway. just one.
however, you forgot that the whole reason violet believed you were wearing this dress in the first place was for that exact reason. so, when she realized your shyness, she turned around and shook all your nerves out of you. literally. she shook your shoulders until you were woozy and nearly stumbling over your heels (you are now wishing you wore sneakers). it was like you were already tipsy by the time she was done.
she dragged you towards the kitchen without any words, seeming as though you wouldn’t be able to hear them over the blaring music and loud chatter. bottles of liquor decorated the marble countertop along with blue and red solo cups, trashed like a 90’s high school movie. violet grabbed the first bottle she saw, pouring the dark liquid into a cup she somehow snagged.
“your turn,” she shoves the bottle and cup towards your body as a stranger bumps into you from the back. the place was getting packed, making it hard to find anywhere to breathe. “some liquid courage.”
“i’m okay. i will later, though,” you rejected, not liking the idea of being drunk when you had a goal in mind. by the end of the night, you really wanted to be in peter’s bed. but you hated the idea of being drunk while having sex, especially when you wanted to enjoy it. you only indulged in drunk sex when you really needed to get off and one; didn’t want to remember what happened, or second; didn’t want it to last longer than that night. mostly the latter.
you know what it feels like to be with peter, and you craved to feel like that again. just thinking about him made you feel a thousand different kinds of wonderful; heart racing, stomach swirling, core burning. you knew the second you found him it would be hard to keep your hands away.
–
peter finally decides to shuffle down his stairs for the first time tonight. when the roaring music began an hour ago, he knew the party had, too, but he didn’t feel like going down yet. he couldn’t help but peek out his blinds in his bedroom, waiting to see you crossing the street.
he swears he was in his bedroom for at least an hour, occasionally peeking out the window, impatiently waiting for your arrival. with a slight frown on his face, he realizes that you might not be coming.
why would you?
peter assumed that you just now noticed how creepy it was for him to sneak into your bedroom. twice. maybe all your smiles and kisses were just silent pleads to make him leave the room faster. but your laugh seemed so genuine, and the sweet, little noises that you muffled under your palms were from real pleasure. right?
you were moaning his name.
he imagined you strutting across the street in a jaw-dropping dress, one that would send him into a frenzy. but you would be too humble and would shrug it off like you were the most average person on earth. peter would scoff and take you into his arms and drag you up into his room. then he would admire you until you believed you were the most gorgeous girl he’s ever seen.
open mouth kisses etched on your naked body. bites and pinches of tease. your sweet hums and delicately broken moans. nails clawing into his tough skin greedily. his voice guiding and praising you while yours is disheveled in pleasure.
god, he’s so in his head. he’s so far gone. and he barely knows you.
like a daydreaming idiot, he slaps the side of his head a few times to get his brain back into reality. he stares at his appearance in the mirror, silently motivating himself to have a good night whether or not you show up.
taking a deep breath, he finally exits his bedroom. of course, the music is booming and the place is already as crowded as a concert. peter trails down the stairs, but stops midway when he sees the top of your head.
is that you? how did he miss you?
moving swiftly down the steps, he weaves his way through the crowd, his fake glasses nearly slipping down his face. multiple people try to stop and chat with him, but he doesn’t indulge for long, having a clear destination in mind.
but, just when he reaches the kitchen, you’re gone.
he swears he just saw you. maybe he’s going crazy.
releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding, peter pushes through a few more bodies before reaching the sliding glass door. he squeezed himself outside and inhales. when you’re in a house full of sweaty, drunk people smoking weed, you become more grateful for the fresh air.
he removes his glasses and tucks them into his neckline. his eyes gaze at the backyard’s minuscule decorations, and then to the sky. he stares at the stars as they wink at him, reassuring that everything will be alright. he wishes that the town won’t need saving tonight and that everyone will be on their best behavior. he hopes that you’ll come to the party, even if it doesn’t end with you in his arms.
even though that’s all he really wants.
“peter?” a voice speaks, and the sound was so elegant and soft that he thought the stars themselves were talking to him. he forces himself to blink a few times before spinning around to face you.
he nearly faints when he sees your costume.
short red dress, white tights, blue heels, black webs. you were dressed as spider-man, or spider girl, and you looked absolutely fucking stunning. you would be the death of peter. seriously, he thinks he might pass out from lust and admiration looking at you. you were just so drop-dead gorgeous, he couldn’t believe it.
maybe the stars were on his side tonight. unless they wanted to kill him…
“are you okay?” your soft voice of concern walks straight up to him, delicate hand resting on his shoulder.
“y-yeah,” peter stutters before coughing. is it surprising that he’s already half hard? a small blush cascades his pale cheeks. “you look… really fucking good.”
there’s no dancing around it.
now, familiar heat warms your neck, cheeks, and ears at his compliment. his voice was low, so only you could hear it over the screaming music, and it was laced with a small growl that had your stomach flipping. your hand fell from his shoulder.
“thanks,” you couldn’t think of what else to say, but then you looked at his outfit, which was little to none. actually, he was wearing normal clothes. peter was probably the only person at the party without a costume. “i guess i had to go all out since you decided not to wear anything. it’s your party and you didn’t think to dress up?”
peter laughs, breaking any invisible tension that might have been there. god, you loved his laugh. it was so childlike and full of joy, that you couldn’t help but smile.
“i have a costume. hold on,” peter puts on his glasses.
“if you say you’re a hot nerd—”
“nuh uh, i’m a super hot nerd,” he then rips the buttons off half of his flannel, presenting the superman symbol on his chest. rolling your eyes, it was your turn to laugh. your hand covers your face at his silliness as you lean against the nearby wall for support.
“you’re such an idiot.”
“i can’t be a nerd and an idiot, angel.”
“somehow, you make it work,” you both chuckle with huge smiles on your faces, unable to look away from each other.
“hey, dickwad,” flash abruptly appears from the sliding glass door that you two were standing by. he was dressed as spider-man, which nearly made peter cry laughing out of irony when he first found out this morning, but he kept that to himself. “—oh, hey, y/n. nice costume! at least someone has taste.”
“superman is a great superhero—”
“whatever, dude. at least spiderman is real!” flash shouts before parading away, repeating the statement to his next victims that will hear him.
“what do you have against spider-man?” you ask, leaning against the rough wall by just your arm. you were too afraid to have the dress touch it, in fear of ripping or ruining it.
“nothing,” peter shrugs.
“oh, c’mon,” you shove at his shoulder playfully. “just say you don’t believe in him. it’s okay.”
“what! of course, i believe in him, he’s not santa claus.”
“oh my god, santa isn’t real?!” you pretend to be shocked, hands slapping your cheeks. peter lightly chuckles and rolls his eyes before nonchalantly grabbing your hand. your heart speeds up in your chest at his simple movement while your breathing halters.
and just like that he’s in control.
“do you want to get a drink?” peter’s thumb plays with the skin of your knuckles while he waits for your answer. but you can’t think of anything right now besides the soft caress being tattooed onto you.
“no, i’m not in the mood to drink tonight,” you replied, hoping that gave peter a hint at how you wanted the night to go. peter wasn’t as stupid as most guys, so you have high hopes that he understood the foreshadow.
“well, what are you in the mood for?” his voice was low again, speckles of lust wavering in it. he takes a step closer to you, and you can’t help but lay flat against the wall. you weren’t even thinking about the condition of the dress anymore. you swallowed as your stomach burned in anticipation.
“somewhere quiet,” your eyes flickered between his darkening eyes and his pink lips.
“it won’t stay quiet as long as you’re there,” a cheeky smile rises up on his lips as heat floods through your body. you hit his shoulder lightly, embarrassment flushing your cheeks.
following him and his contagious smile, peter drags you through the crowds of people. there were more people in the house than when you arrived, but you’re not surprised. the upstairs section of the frat was basically off-limits to most people, unless you really had to go to the bathroom and the downstairs one was taken. you’ve been to the house a few times, but you’ve never stayed long enough to go upstairs.
but tonight everything is different.
unlike your wooden floors, peter’s are carpeted, so you’re walking very carefully on your heels. when you reach the top step, your calves are slightly burning from the exercise.
looking both ways, peter leads you towards his bedroom at the end of the hallway, hands intertwined. it felt secretive, and a part of you liked it. he closes the door right when you got inside, locking it quickly. but while he’s doing so, your hands release from his to explore his room. he rushes to clean his messes books.
peter had a gray and black color scheme that was alluring. his dark gray sheets looked soft and plush, and you could imagine yourself sleeping in them every night. were you getting ahead of yourself? maybe. you barely knew him, but you felt like you’ve known him forever. you glance around his room some more, trying to get to know him.
he had two band posters; led zeppelin and guns n’ roses. you didn’t expect the second one, but it impressed you. his desk was scattered with textbooks and papers like he had just been studying. turning around you see his two-mirror closet. it was slightly ajar, letting you see a few boxes.
“what’s in the boxes?” you ask, slowly creeping your way towards them. you don’t miss peter’s eyes widening slightly and his cheeks heating up. now you have to know.
“n-nothing important,” peter scratches the back of his neck, and if he’s trying to hide something, he’s doing a horrible job at it. on the sides of each box were black handwriting.
“trophies and medals,” you read aloud, inching your way towards the door, “books—”
“y/n, don’t!” peter exclaimed nervously with a hand reaching out to stop you, causing you to turn around and eye his expression. he swallowed thickly, praying you didn’t open the box. his anxiety was at an all time high. “there’s… personal stuff in there.”
“okay, okay. you don’t want anyone to know you have sexy magazines,” you rolled your eyes and huffed out a chuckle. “i get it. i’m not jealous.”
“yeah…” peter’s cheeks don’t cool down, still red and warm. for some reason, he senses the awkward tension arising in the atmosphere around you both, and he doesn’t know how to tame it. you both know what you want now, but it’s hard to bring it up without being so forward.
“did i tell you that you look good in glasses?” you speak after the few seconds of silence. you get yourself comfortable on the edge of his bed, unstrapping your heels from your already sore feet. you groan. “feels so much better.”
“thanks,” peter joins with a never-ending blush, sitting next to you. he’s itching to touch you.
why was it so much easier when he broke in?
he turns to face you and stares at your eye makeup. you had little black webs on the corner of your eyes. for some strange reason, the idea of you dressing up as him really turned him on. even if you didn’t know it was him.
“peter,” you said a bit breathlessly. your heart was racing with anticipation and lust. he hadn’t even noticed you were staring right back at him. you could look at each other for hours, but you really wanted more. needed it. subconsciously, you were both leaning forward towards your lips.
“yeah?” peter’s gaze never faltered. his honey brown eyes darkened to black.
“i brought something for you,” his eyes shifted from your lips to your eyes, curious.
“it’s not even christmas yet,” he smiles, “and what’s that?” you leaned closer to him, your lips hovering over his ear.
“it’s a surprise,” you whispered seductively, grabbing his hand and placing it on your thigh. he doesn’t hesitate to rub the supple skin covered by fishnet, warm and smooth.
when you pull away just the slightest, peter crashes his lips to yours. the kiss was as passionate as your feelings for him, erupting your anticipation and nerves in small gasps. he shifts you over to his lap, so you’re straddling him. instantly, you buck your hips into his crotch, desperate for more than a heated kiss.
your heart is thrashing in your chest and there’s a familiar burn in the lower part of your stomach. your hands roam his brown hair, exploring his locks like it’s new territory. except it’s not. you’ve never felt like you’ve known someone so well without even knowing them that well. the chasing, the waiting, the wanting, the needing, the wondering—it was the strangest feeling, and you were addicted to it.
you pop your lips off of peter, puffy and pink. you both take a second to breathe before you start kissing down his neck. you’re not shy with your teeth, leaving marks on his tough skin that’s shielding layers of muscle.
when you get to his collarbone, you nearly whine because he still has his flannel and shirt on. you swear you’ve never been more horny or desperate in your life.
“relax, sweet girl,” peter reassures, petting your hair while you look up at him. “we have all night.”
just tonight? you thought. what about the other nights? and days?
after a soft sigh, you nod and begin unbuttoning his flannel. your hands are a bit shaky from all the anticipation and the rapid beat of your heart. of course peter notices.
“are you alright?” he questions softly, being the caring guy he is.
“yeah, just nervous, i guess,” you answer honestly because he makes it easy to. he’s comforting and he cares.
so why are you nervous?
but instead of asking you why, he says, “me too.”
after you undo the last button and gently remove his flannel, you delicately smile at him. it was so pretty, peter couldn’t help but smile too. you tug on the end of his superman t-shirt, and he yanks it off. and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to his immaculate figure. it was sculpted to perfection, as if he was given his body from some drug. or maybe even the gods.
his hand raises to caress your supple cheek, causing you to stare at his face before he’s kissing you again. it started off sweet and gentle, like how peter saw you. but it didn’t take long for it to be rougher and full of lust. peter could feel his jeans tightening underneath you, and he wasn’t stupid enough to confuse the scent of your arousal with perfume or something.
trying again, your lips go to trail down peter’s neck again. his breath is wavering our sighs of pleasure as you lick and nibble his skin.
“gonna tell me that surprise?” peter asks, hands crawling up to the back of your dress. he’s sure to be careful as he drapes the straps down, the top slowly sliding down as you make out with his chest. you push peter’s body down so he’s laying flat on the bed, not answering him. “not gonna answer?”
you weren’t. you didn’t have time for all the things you wanted to do with him. all the things you wanted him to do to you. maybe you were too far gone to think it would take more than a night to be fulfilled by peter. more than two. more than a week? maybe a month. you’d keep going until you’re sick and tired, but you don’t think you could ever get sick or tired of peter parker.
lost within the feeling of his body, you barely comprehend when he flips you dramatically over. his hard body hovers above yours, your dress barely hiding your peaked nipples.
“i ask you a question, baby,” he husks, breath fanning over your skin and traveling toward your ear. a shiver scatters up your spine and a spark of lust fires in your clit.
“you have to wait and see,” you answered breathlessly, a smirk rising on your face.
a dark color covers his eyes. peter doesn’t like not knowing something, so he’s desperate to figure out your little “surprise.”
with little to no effort, violet’s dress is tugged all the way down your body. he tosses it gracefully onto his bedroom floor, but doesn’t pay any mind to it as he gazes over your body. he hasn’t seen you since wednesday and he was craving you like crazy. he thought he was going to go insane. but as he stares down at your figure adorning white fishnets sexily, he finally knows what it’s like to go crazy.
“is this my surprise? because, fuck, you look like a prize.”
you giggle as his rough fingertips trail down your torso. your nipples ache from neglect and the chilly october air that somehow breezes through the room. your body arches up into his touch, needing him badly. maybe you should just tell him the surprise.
but wouldn’t it be so much better if he just found it himself?
“can i unwrap my present?” peter teases with a cheeky smile, nudging at the waistline of your fishnets. you know that the second you open your legs he’s going to see your wetness leaking from the fabric.
“yes, peter,” you can’t help but laugh.
“do you care if i rip them?”
“what?”
“can i rip them?”
“i don’t—” the quiet sound of stretching and ripping cuts you off. he tore your fishnets. well, violet’s fishnets. “peter!”
“too late. i’ve never been good at unwrapping gifts,” he quickly kisses your cheek in a sweet apology, “luckily, i’m pretty good at taking care of them.”
you roll your eyes at his cheesiness, but can’t help but smile like a little kid. as he makes his way down your body again, he widens your legs and sees his surprise. your heart throbs just like your aching cunt.
“ah, so that’s my surprise,” he grumbles. it’s hard for him to keep it together right now.
peter stares darkly at the small purple toy peeking out from your bare pussy. you had no panties on, which in peter’s eyes, seemed ironic. from the top of his eyes, he sees the tiny smirk creeping up onto your lips.
his hand crawls up your leg until it reaches the soaking folds of your throbbing cunt. he pets your slit delicately, like you’d break if he fully touched you. you might. even from that simple touch, you were squirming underneath him, silently begging for more.
“how long has this been keeping you full?” he questions, curious, “is this what you’ve been using while i was gone?”
“mhm,” you hum when his fingers find your puffy clit, throbbing with desire. you leaked all around the purple toy, wetness gushing from you.
“look at you. fucking soaked. what made you this wet? was it the toy?” peter circles your clit faster, making your breath falter. you try to keep your eyes strained on him, but the feeling is just too incredible to focus on anything else. “answer me.”
“n-not the toy,” you stutter with breathlessness. a wavering moan elicits from you.
“then why are you so wet?” he taunts, and the low level of his voice floods over your body just right. you clench needily around the toy right in front of him, causing him to growl.
“you! nothing makes me wet like you do,” you admit head falling back on the pillow as his rough pace gives in. he’s satisfied with your answer, so he goes to a full, fast rhythm.
you’re so dazed with your orgasmic chase that your body rumbles as it nears. to make matters more intense, peter testingly pushes the small button on the bottom of the toy. it springs to life, vibrating your entire insides electrifingly. a broken moan escapes your swollen lips, and you just pray it’s hidden behind the heavy beat of the party music.
your legs shake in his hands as his head lowers. you’re so close to your high and then he does even more? you swear you were going to explode.
his challenging mouth sucks harshly on your clit, devouring you like you were his last meal on earth. instead of the bed sheets, your hands find their way to his soft hair, tucking the roots with triumph.
you’re breathless and you’re close. so, so close. you can see your orgasm in front of you like a sunset and you’re riding straight into it on a horse.
“peter!” you cry when he nibbles on your clit, a smirk pressed against you. it was nice to release your moans without having to muffle them down. your core tenses like never before, overwhelmed by the extreme pleasure. “i’m coming—oh, fuck, please let me come!”
“go ahead, sweet girl,” he pops off of you and replaces his mouth with his thick fingers. “give it all to me.”
so you do. you release every tension within you that was holding you back. with eyes screwed closed, your back arches from the high. the wetness squeezes out of you while peter eases you through it. he switches off the vibrator and puts it somewhere besides you on the bed.
he lowers his head to clean up the mess with delight. when he comes back up, the grin on his face is toothy and contagious. you reflect it back, wondering how you got so lucky. how were you lucky enough for your intruder to be peter parker?
“you okay, angel?” peter asks, thumb caressing your heated cheek bone with concern. you’re melting into his touch, hoping to be a part of him forever. you wouldn’t mind.
“yeah, just… thinking.”
“good or bad?”
“i’ll tell you later,” you smile as you recall all the small thoughts you have of peter. peter rolls his eyes dramatically as your hands rub down his chest.
“but… i was wondering if i could be on top? just wanna try it. i need it,” you stare into his eyes and patiently wait for an answer. you’ve never been on top before, but with peter it seems like it would be really fun.
“i don’t know. do you want me to die?”
you laugh, forcing you to look away from his brown eyes. you push peter off the bed until he’s standing and ask him to take off his pants. when he’s completely naked, he goes to lean against his headboard, ready for you to sit on him. you crawl over to him as he puts on a condom from his bedside table.
“ready, baby?” he massages your upper arms.
“you’re being too nice, peter,” you note as you throw your legs over his hips. you didn’t actually know what you were doing, but confidence is key. if you just pretended like you knew, it would look like it, right?
“what? do you want me to be mean, baby? ‘cause i can be mean.”
“don’t think you’re really capable.”
“we’ll see then, doll,” peter says deeply as his hand grips your hip tightly.
as you slowly lower your body with peter’s guidance, you feel his tip enter you. it was a different feeling than being on the bottom. you had more control, but you had to do more work. you’re not sure if you cared to have so much free reign. you kind of preferred when peter took the wheel.
you rocked your hips forward, feeling his hard cock fully inside of you. it was stretching you completely out. you couldn’t get up if you tried. there was a pain mixed with pleasure that filled you up so good.
“c’mon, y/n. fuck yourself on my cock,” he growled in encouragement as you attempted to lift your hips up. you barely move because you’re squeezing around his cock so tight, like if you let go you’ll die. peter lightly moans as you squeeze him, wondering if he’ll die right here inside of you.
“i-i can’t,” you whine.
“you can’t? thought you needed it?” he taunts. peter can be mean if he really wanted to,
“it’s too hard.”
“you’re not even trying. good girls at least try. don’t you want to be a good girl?”
peter thrusts up into you once to make you moan, which works successfully. you spit out your broken moan with your hands clawing his biceps.
“barely moved and you’re already moaning. pathetic, really. you asked me to be on top and you can’t even take it.”
you clench around his prick at his degrading words. you didn’t think he could be mean, but you were wrong. his words were just the right amount of degrading that made you weak and so, so wet.
“look at that. my girl’s getting off on words like pathetic,” my girl. the two words nearly cause you to come right then and there. then peter thrusts up into you with purpose in each movement. as one hand grips your hip, the other floats up to your breast and fingers your nipple. he flicks and tweaks at it, causing you to arch into his touch. “what about slut? do like when i call you my slut?”
“fuck, peter,” you groan at his dirty talking. with each pump, you would feel every inch of him inside of you, filling you up completely. although you’re so full, you needed it harder and faster, and it was going to be difficult to get it from this angle when you’re not being much help.
before the begging words even slip from your mouth, peter is flipping you both over with ease. he doesn’t waste a second to slide back into you, causing your body to erupt in flames.
he begins with hard pumps, slowly gaining speed. but once he’s going fast, you could barely focus on your senses. you swear you could hear colors.
the sounds of your moans, shrieks, and screams echo throughout his bedroom. you don’t care if people could hear you. you hoped they could. you hoped they knew how good peter was destroying you, so they knew you were his.
peter hoped the same thing.
“so, so good, peter,” your eyes rolled to the back of your head in ecstasy.
“yeah? such a slut for my cock, huh?” he teases, voice low and lustful. “so cockdumb that you couldn’t even ride me.”
“i-i can do it,” a breathless moan escaped you, but you were too floaty to understand what you were really saying.
“oh, now you can do it? well, it’s too late, sweetheart.”
peter’s pace doesn’t falter. he makes sure to make every thrust count as he hits every angle. you cry out in bliss, chasing your orgasm like your life depends on it.
“i’m close,” the whine that elicits from you is groggy and strained from how sore it feels. you can’t even imagine how raw it would be from taking him down your throat…
for another time.
his rough hand trails down between you until he’s pressing his hand down on your stomach. with every shift of his cock he can feel himself moving through you. as he puts more pressure, you both collectively moan at the feeling.
“can you feel me? can you feel me deep inside of your little cunt? do you feel me right here?” peter drags your trembling hand to place it on your lower torso, right where he’s nonstop thrusting into you.
“yes, peter! fuck, you’re so big. i feel you in my tummy,” you clamp around his cock, your orgasm right around the corner. “please, please let me come. i’ve been good.”
“have you? you couldn’t even ride me even when i let you.”
“i’m sorry, peter–please. need to so bad,” your eyes are squeezed shut as you beg peter. his hand that was on top of yours drifts down to your clit. he stimulates it by rubbing in tight circles that have you seeing stars. every muscle is in your body is screaming and pleading for release while he overstimulates you more. “want to be good!”
“yeah? want to be a good girl?” a needy moan elicits from you. “then come for me. right now while you’re squeezing me.”
the air surrounding you turned wistful and cloudy. your body rumbled and erupted as you orgasmed, shaking with desire as it poured out of you. you thought the first time that you and peter fucked was the best sex you’ve ever had, but after tonight, you’ve never been more wrong. maybe it’s because you two are a little more comfortable with each other. maybe it’s because you told him to be a little mean. whatever it was, it was the best fucking sex you’ve ever had. because it was more than sex. it felt like more.
peter’s orgasm trails yours, making sure that you come first. his thrusts were slowier and sloppier as he pants out heavy breaths. before exiting you, his hand reaches up to caress your face.
“okay?” his voice was a bit raspy as he came down from his high. his arms were on either side of your head, and you felt safe and protected.
“more than,” you smiled dopily at peter, whose eyes were twinkling. reflecting a smile, peter begins to pull out of you. “do we have to?”
“have to what?” he stops his movements, half-way out of you. you hated the empty feeling that started to flood over you because you knew he’d leave soon. well, you would leave soon.
“leave. can’t we just stay in here all night?” you question. a part inside of you was scared for his rejection, that he was going to kick you out and then that was it. but the other half of you had the courage to ask because you knew it would all be fine.
“i would–”
“oh, there’s a but coming.”
“but i need to eat. and so do you,” he pulls out of you and rids out the condom within a few seconds. you don’t move from your flat position on the bed, feeling the cold waves of loneliness flooding over you already. peter had a tingle that you wanted more. you wanted to stay, but you were too nervous to ask. you were good at giving him big hints, though.
he loves the idea of you staying. laying with you and hearing your soft breaths as you sleep. cuddling close to be warm from the cold air. peter’s heart lurches at the wonderful thought.
peter reaches for his clothes and dresses. you bend over and slip on the dress, without the fishnets. your hair was probably a mess, but you didn’t care because the only person you cared about seeing tonight was peter.
once you’re dressed with shaky hands, peter stands in front of you and rests his hands on your shoulders. delicately, he caresses your neck as you practically pur into his warm touch. you felt your heart rate pick up, even though he was just inside of you.
“and then, if you’d like, we can come back up here,” he presses his chest against yours as his voice softens, “and we can lay in bed, watch a movie, and not worry about being caught because we don’t have rules like you do.”
although your heart was beating fast already, you’ve never felt more comfortable. he made you feel reassured, and you couldn’t ask for more. with a smile rising to your lips, peter’s heart skips a beat at the wistfulness cascading throughout his body. your lips were soft and kissable, your skin was glowing with an orgasmic shine, and your makeup was a bit smudged, but you still looked like peter’s perfect girl.
his girl.
“wait, before we eat, i have to get some stuff at the sorority.”
“okay,” he says, “put this on. it’s freezing and your wearing practically nothing.”
he throws a hoodie at you and you catch it with blinking eyes. it as a small gesture, but your heart was melting. you slip it over your head without any question. and then he’s dragging you out of the extremely loud and crowded house. no one says or questions anything, and you’ve never been more glad to be so invisible.
–
“what are you doing? come on!”
“what if they see me?”
“there’s no one home!” you whisper-shouted at peter as you walked through the door. there was a key under the flower pot that worked great when you forgot your key.
it’s kind of ironic that you are both sneaking into your sorority. it’s a full circle moment.
you both tiptoe through the clean, white house. peter nearly takes his shoes off because he’s scared he’ll leave dirt footprints in his trail. he really does not want to be seen in this house knowing what happened to flash the last time they snuck in. but it’s peter’s job to be stealthy, so he hopes he could keep up the good work.
you make it up the stairs and head straight for your room. peter remembered exactly which one was yours, now that he’s been in it two times somehow. once you’re both inside, he shuts the door behind him quietly like someone would hear him.
“why did we just tiptoe all the way up here? there’s no one even here!” you say in a normal level voice as a chuckle follows after. peter laughs with you as you search your drawers for some clothes.
“i feel it’s only right to bring the mit one, right?”
“definitely.”
“wait, did you leave the vibrator on your bed?”
“uh… yeah. sorry.”
“peter!” your skin grows warm with the idea that someone might stumble into his bedroom and find it just lying there. you cringe at yourself.
you pack a small overnight bag with your most needed essentials. peter sits patiently on your bed, practically swinging his feet as he analyzes your bedroom. it was simple with a few picture frames of family and friends. your room was basically plain white with a few pink and blue items scattered around the place. in all, it was you. he couldn’t think of a better sorority room to fit your vibe, your personality better than this room. it was naturally gorgeous, like you.
even though peter was looking around your room, he was still watching you pack. he observed when you folded a pair of night shorts with the mit t-shirt and even threw in an outfit for the next day just in case you two went out. but you were missing something.
“okay, let me grab my toothbrush,” you quickly left the room and in no-time were back. “let’s go. i’m hungry now.”
“but you’re forgetting something,” peter says. you blink, wondering what you might be forgetting.
“but i grabbed everything–” you watch as peter glides towards your dresser drawers. he opens the top left and immediately finds your colorful panties and underwear. your eyes widen in embarrassment, even though he’s seen you naked multiple times. something about him staring at your undergarments was just a little more… vulnerable?
peter snatches two different colors, a royal blue one and a vibrant red one, similar to the first one he saw you in. of course, he picked these colors purposely.
“which one? i’m thinking the blu–”
“what are you doing! that’s my underwear!” you tried to reach for them dangling in his hands, but he was way quicker than you. it’s like he knew before you even moved.
“well, i think at this point it’s kind of a tradition for me to take one, no? i couldn’t take them earlier because you weren’t wearing any!”
your neck and cheeks flush with embarrassment. yeah, you may have been confident when in the moment, but talking about it just made your face hot. peter always knew how to get you going. to get quickly out of this situation, you grumble, “blue.”
and with that, you were on your way back to the frat house. the party was still going strong and surprisingly, no one asked where either of you were. when you and peter walked through the door, people just acted like you’ve been there the whole time. but they were also drunk and high, so was it really that shocking?
within the first few minutes of you and peter being in the congested house, you both look at each other with a knowing look. there was no way you two could eat in this populous, mess of a place.
“diner?” peter shouts over the blaring music. he swore flash turned it up to full volume, even when peter told him specifically not to do that.
“exactly what i was thinking,” you reply loudly as you squeeze your bodies through the crowd. peter slides his hand into yours as you shift through everybody. a spark of electricity nearly shocks you.
when you approach his car, you throw your bag at the bottom of your feet before dropping into his passenger seat. you both inhale and exhale the refreshing night time air. the house smelt like marjuana and sweat, but his car was scented with pine and fresh leather.
as he started the car, you two didn’t say anything. and it was perfect. it was comfortable. it was safe. you turn your head to look at peter, whose eyes were fighting between the road and you. your heart skips a beat that’s getting familiar as you smile softly. gently, your hands intertwine as you ride on to the diner.
your journey with peter started… differently than most. but you liked the idea of having a tradition with peter. sure, it may not be traditional, but it was yours. you would both have to create a fundraiser for all these panties he will be stealing because they’re not cheap!
is it really stealing if you know he’s taking them? whatever.
when people ask how you guys met, it’s going to be a funny story. how many people break into someone’s house as a dare and then fall in love with them? not many.
wait… love?
–
THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU. i could not be more grateful for the love on panty stealer. i never thought any of my writing would get this much notice, so thank you (times three) for all the likes, comments, and reblogs.
note: i won’t be making anymore full parts, however, i will do blurbs/drabbles of these two if requested!
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For the Greater Good (Platonic! Yandere Batfam x Uncle!MaleReader)
MAJOR WARNING: There is physical harm in this, near the end, please proceed with caution. Non-consensual drugging at the end as well.
Fun fact I learned but felt like I knew, some pain medications can actually make you lose your memories.
Reader is Bruce Wayne's younger brother.
___________________________________________________________
Crying woke him up. Groaning and rubbing his eyes, he sat up with a lot of effort and threw his legs over the edge of the bed. Grabbing his cane, he threw on a robe to protect himself from the chilly air the manor tends to have, and he hobbled out of his room. His leg was still stiff and he cursed at how long it took him to get to the room, but once he did he limped inside and towards the crib.
He smiled down at the crying baby, dressed in the cutest starfish onesie. When crying blue eyes made eye contact with E/C eyes, the crying stopped and instead a smile bloomed on their chubby face. A chuckle escaped the exhausted man, reaching down carefully and picking the small thing up. He put his weight on his good leg and stood there, holding the little being in his arms.
Their cheeks have filled out, creating a plumpness that reminded him of the cream puffs he has tucked away in the freezer, and those sparkling blue eyes were something many people would be jealous about.
“You shouldn’t be up.” He could hear the cape swishing behind the other figure, and the all but silent footsteps that inched their way into the room. A smile bloomed on his own face, mimicking the baby, “Don’t come closer if you’re wearing that bat costume. You’ll give him nightmares.” A chuckle escaped from the other and when exhausted E/C eyes looked up, he was met with the amused blue eyes of his older brother.
Bruce ignored his younger brother’s words, walking closer to peer at his nephew in his brother’s arms. His mask was off, and he only wore the suit and cape. This way his nephew could at least recognize his favorite Uncle’s face. To which the baby did, smiling and laughing when Bruce came into their line of suit.
Y/N smiled, holding them closer and nuzzling his head with his cheek. Bruce watched his nephew flail his arms in that starfish onesie, making it all the more hilarious. His brother chuckled, gently bouncing the baby in his arms to try and soothe them.
“You stink.” Bruce chuckled, “How rude. I just came back from patrol.” Y/N rolled his eyes, “Everyone alright?”
“Yes, everyone is safe. It was an easy night.” Y/N’s shoulders relaxed and Bruce observed how the exhaustion creeped up on his brother. His shoulders sagging and the bags under his eyes looking heavier. His grip on Bruce’s nephew tightened only a little bit, pulling the baby closer.
If Bruce was better at art, it would be this moment he would wish to paint. The moon light streaming in through off-white curtains, over the sage green crib, and on the two bodies in front of him. His younger brother, wearing a black silk robe and his nephew in his starfish onesie being bathed in moonlight. The soft light reflecting off of H/C lock and S/C skin. It is the way that the moonlight casted soft shadows and seemed to only highlight his brother’s features. Blue eyes looked down to his nephew, who was fluttering those large blue eyes of his and trying to fight sleep.
It’d be more beautiful than any other renaissance painting.
His nephew looked so much like Y/N when he was a baby. A memory Bruce holds onto with care. Besides the eye color, which blue was a common trait in Waynes, his nephew could be nearly identical to Y/N as a baby. From the smiles, to the happy laughs, the waking up in the middle of the night just to be held.
It’s most likely what made this image all the more better.
Until Y/N’s face screwed and Bruce watched him shift his weight a bit. Worry taking over his features, he rested a large hand on his brother’s shoulder, “Y/N, you should go to sleep.” Y/N shook his head, “Not yet.”
“Y/N.”
“No, Bruce. Just… just a bit longer.” He wanted to look at what was left of the life he once had. His baby was a reminder of the love he had once felt for another. A love he didn’t know he was capable of feeling, until a few years ago. The very proof of said love, the only thing left was his baby. This cute, innocent, and lovely baby that held Y/N’s heart. Or at least what was left of it.
The Wayne brothers are intimately familiar with how quickly life can be taken away. Their parents’ lives taken by a bullet, and Y/N’s wife taken by a car. Anything could take this young life, and the very thought terrified Y/N. It had him jolting awake in the middle of the night and visiting the nursery whenever he could. His son was always near him, and he only just started letting himself leave the baby with his cousins, Uncle, and Grandfather alone.
His heart always beats anxiously whenever he couldn’t see his son, but Alfred and Bruce assured him that that response was normal. Bruce has been helping get over that hurdle, slowly drawing him further and further away from the room his baby would be in for a longer period of time.
Staring at the now sleeping bundle in his arms, all he wanted was to ingrain his son’s features into his memories. Just in case the grim reaper decided it needed another Wayne. If it does decide that, Y/N prays it’ll take him. He prays that it will leave Bruce and his nephews alone, that it would leave Alfred alone, and most importantly his son.
With help from his brother, he set his son down in the crib, watching the baby stir for only a bit before grabbing Bruce’s outstretched arm. His cane in Bruce’s other hand, and Y/N chuckled. Looping his arm in his brother’s as the older, broader, and irritatingly taller man walked back to his room next door.
“Do you want to take your medicine?” Y/N shook his head, “No. The pain isn’t bad, it was just a twinge.” Bruce nodded, sitting on the edge of bed and watching his brother settle under the thick comforters. He could see the anxiety forming in those eyes, and he knows if he doesn’t quell it now, Y/N will be up again to go see his son.
Taking off his gloves, he gently began to run his fingers through his brother’s hair, softly lulling the other to sleep. Bruce smiled, “It’s okay, Y/N. Everyone will be here in the morning.” A few more minutes later, Y/N was softly snoring, taking deep breaths and his body no longer moving besides the stead rising and falling of his chest.
Bruce shuffled quietly out the door, shutting it without a sound, and making his way back to his own room. No before checking in once more on his nephew. Bruce wasn’t as paranoid as Y/N was, but he did enjoy staring at the baby. Not with haunted looks like Y/N used to have, or the forever ogling gazes his own son’s had when looking at the youngest Wayne.
He gazed upon the baby just how he used to stare at Y/N when he was this small. Waking up in the middle of the night to stare in fascination that a human could be so tiny. When he was younger, Bruce used to climb into the crib with Y/N and sleep next to him. It would be quite the sight in the morning, when either Alfred or his parents found him snuggled next to Y/N.
Bruce is four years older than Y/N, and he took his older sibling role seriously. When they were younger, Bruce always had his hand in Y/N’s. Making sure that the other was never far from him. Which wasn’t hard even if they weren’t holding hands. Y/N has been attached to Bruce from the moment he could walk.
His protectiveness increased ten-fold after that fateful night. A night that robbed the both of them of their parents, and Y/N of his mobility. His hip had been shot due to Bruce pulling him close to him. If Bruce didn’t that bullet would have hit Y/N’s stomach, and Alfred had explained that a limp is a small price when it comes to a life.
Bruce had agreed.
Y/N had never held it over Bruce. He never blamed him, nor has he ever given him a dirty look for it.
The man wanted to ensure that his nephew will never have to go through what Y/N went through. He wanted this baby to grow up with a family already wrapped around those tiny, stubby fingers and he wanted Y/N to know that this family would bend over backwards for them. They would do everything in their powers for the two people that always seemed to be in the middle of everything.
He’s grateful that his nephew inherited Y/N’s looks. From the shape of this eyes down to his nose, everything looked like Y/N.
Nothing like that wretched woman.
His jaw clenched at the thought of her, and he quickly walked around the crib to pull the curtains closed. Cutting out the moonlight that illuminated the room and leaving them in almost complete darkness besides the hallway light from the open door.
He reached down, gently dragging his callused finger across the thin and fragile skin of his nephew’s cheek, who smiled in his sleep. Completely and devastatingly unaware of the mad house around him.
++++
“What are you doing?” Y/N stared down at Cass and Stephanie that were surrounding his son. The baby’s hair tied up with a small bow, and looked like a radish.
“Dress up,” Cass answered seriously, and Y/N nodded with a stoic face. Gone were the clothes he was dressed in early this morning and instead he was wearing a cute blue dress under a white top with puffed sleeves.
“Why a dress?” Stephani snickered and pulled out a photo from nowhere, and she stood to hand it up to him. He took the photo and he brought his other hand up to rip it.
“No!” Steph snatched it out his hands and Y/N stomped his cane, “Get rid of that! How did you even get that?!” It was a photo of him, as a baby, in girl clothes. Almost the same dress, same shirt, and same hairstyle. In the back was a cheekily grinning Bruce.
“Bruce.” He’s killing him.
“What?” Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Y/N whipped his glare towards his brother, “Why do you have that photo?!” Bruce blinked at him, took a look at the baby in the room, and then chuckled, “Oh, that photo.”
Y/N hates that his brother knew what photo he was talking about by just looking at his son.
“He’s cute.” Cass held up Y/N’s son, who continued to laugh and Steph whipped out her phone to take a photo. Y/N huffed, “I’m not mad you dressed him up. Bruce, why do you have that photo?!”
His older brother shrugged, “It’s a cute photo.” Y/N’s cheeks burned and Bruce had to stop himself from chuckling, taking advantage of the fact that Y/N needed a hand to hold onto the cane, and he squished his brother’s cheeks with his own hands.
“Bwuush.” Bruce watched those E/C eyes focus on him and fill with annoyance as well as with embarrassment. Those squished cheeks of his were red with a flush and Bruce knows that his baby brother’s nose would be scrunched if he wasn’t currently having his face squished.
The man released Y/N’s cheeks, smiling as he did so. His nephew started laughing and he turned his attention to Steph and Cass who were cooing and taking photos. At least some people were enjoying this.
Y/N sighed, “What other photos do you have of me as baby?” Bruce’s smile turned cryptic smile, walking over to pick up the laughing and smiling baby who squealed in the arms of his Uncle.
“Hey! We weren’t done!” Steph cried out, getting ready to try and snag the baby back, but Bruce cut her off, “It’s lunch time. Alfred is expecting us.”
“Steph, Cass, at least put him back in his regular clothes,” Y/N tried to defend some of his son’s honor, knowing that as an adult the photos will be haunting him. Stephanie grabbed Cass’s hand and ran out of the room, pretending not to hear Y/N calling their names. The man huffed, turning to Bruce who shrugged, “I’m sure everyone will be fine with it.”
“I know they will be fine with it. It’s just my poor son is going to be haunted by this story and these pictures.” Bruce chuckled, moving his nephew to sit in one arm, while his other hand rested on Y/N’s back. He gently guided Y/N to the dining room, listening to his brother complain about how this whole family was just filled with people who do what they want when they want.
He was halfway through it when they heard running steps followed by a “Stop running!” Dick’s blue eyes locked on the three of him and his face looking feverish, “So they didn’t take him out of it!” Cheers were heard and Y/N swears that one day he’s going to club all of them. His oldest nephew walked over, his smile large as he took in his cute cousin who was babbling away and looking unbothered.
“Uncle, he really does look like you in that photo.”
“How do you know of that photo?!” Dick picked up his cousin from Bruce’s arms, and cooed at the chubby baby. Said baby squealed and gushed at the sight of Dick, raising his little hands and pawing at Dick’s cheeks and nose. It had Dick making a sqwauking sound and nuzzled his nose into those plump cheeks.
He motioned for the two other adults to follow him, “Alfred made lasgana, caesar salad, and some bread loafs.” Y/N can already picture the mess his son will make and that poor dress of his is going to ruined.
“Before he naps he’s going to need a bath,” He reminded Dick, who nodded, “Of course! Can’t have a dirty baby going to sleep dirty, now can we?” His hands held both sides of his cousin and he held him in the air as he wiggled him a bit, eliciting a cry of delight.
The walk to the dining room was filled with Dick asking his Uncle questions and Bruce walking besides the limping man. Both of their attention on him as he answered Dick truthfully.
“You guys are terrible,” Jason grumbled once he saw his cousin’s state, but it lacked any bite and he was holding back a smile. Stephanie cackled while Dick set the youngest Wayne in his high chair.
“Master Y/N, I can feed the Young Master while you eat.” Y/N smiled at Alfred, “Are you sure? I don’t mind feeding him, Alfred.” The Butler huffed, “Of course. It is not a hard job to do.” It was something everyone was grateful for. The youngest Wayne was not, by any means, a picky eater. He was a joy to feed and oftentimes Y/N’s nieces and nephews fought over who could feed him. Although, everyone could admit that Alfred is the best when it comes to making sure that their cousin’s food ends up more in his mouth than on the tray.
Smiling, Y/N and the rest of the Waynes dug into the italian-themed meal.
Damian watched his Uncle eat from his peripheral vision. He took into account how much food he was eating and how much just spread throughout his plate to look like he ate some. When he had first moved in after the accident, it was a common thing to witness. Their once gluttonous Uncle, because Y/N could and does eat a lot, was barely taking any bites of the meals.
The first month was hard on almost everybody. His Uncle always looked paranoid and he had his son sleeping in the same room as him. Damian understood that his Uncle was grieving and grief takes time. Even now, he could still see the signs of sadness in those E/C irises as he stared and took in everybody. Almost like it would be his last chance to do so.
It is that look that puts everyone on high alert around him. Monitoring and excessively checking on him just how he does to his son.
What Uncle Y/N doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
After an eventful lunch, it was Uncle Y/N who ended up taking his son to go put down for a nap, balancing the baby in one arm and using the cane in the other, he masterfully evaded everyones’ hand to help and limped through the manor.
Damian was the one to pull out his phone and watch the feed of his Uncle making it too his room with the baby still in his arms. Masterfully opening and keeping the door open until the both of them were in the room.
“He made it.”
“Good.” Call them cautious and they will agree. How could they not be? Y/N has had a tremendous impact on nearly all of their lives in some shape or form. His patience, kindness, and genuine happiness of just being alive was infectious and capable of attracting even the haughtiest of people.
He was too good for someone like her. Someone who was so impatient, deceitful, and not worthy of Y/N’s attention. Let alone hand in marriage.
When Y/N had first introduced her, everyone banked on it not lasting. It is why they did nothing to stop the continuation of the relationship. A simple fling. Only for two years later they would be married. It was only the revelation that she was pregnant that halted the plans for a bit.
Seeing Y/N as happy and excited as he was was enough to stave off the anger. Bruce’s grip became more possessive, Dick’s hugs became tighter, Jason’s bookstore trip became more frequent, Tim’s help in learning how to run Wayne Enterprise more demanding, Stephanie’s and Cass need to go shopping became longer, Duke’s need to understand his metahuman abilities became more intense, and Damian’s desire for his blood-Uncle’s attention all the more prominent.
Everyone all of a sudden needed something from Y/N more than before.
Then when the baby was born, all of the Wayne’s were present, including those who didn’t fall under Bruce Wayne’s legal care. All of them waiting for Y/N and his son.
Tim can recall his first time holding the baby, and how small he was. He had been terrified that he was going to break them, but Y/N’s careful guidance and soft instructions, that fear turned into admiration. To think, something this small could be this breathtaking.
His blue, exhausted and surrounded by bags from the lack of sleep, looked up and sure enough, Y/N was staring at him and Tim’s new cousin with so much love. Those delicate hands, hands that Bruce dirtied his for so they would stay clean, held his forearms in a gentle grip as he helped Tim find the right bounce to ensure that the newborn stayed asleep.
Tim quickly obtained that hospital video and saved it on the Batcomputer for everyone to remember the first time they held their cousin.
There had been a huge argument after that. How long should they wait for their plan to be put into action?
A lot of them wanted it to happen while their cousin was still a baby, unable to remember that woman’s face because she doesn’t matter. Only they did. Only Y/N did. Their cousin only needed to remember his father, Uncle, Grandfather, and cousins.
That was it.
But how young should they do it? Surely before any core memories were made right? Because then Y/N would only be hurt more. However, if they did it to young the stress might be too much for Y/N.
The first month after the accident was horrid. Y/N rarely got any sleep, and when he gory nightmares haunted him. The car was not supposed to crash in front of him, but by the time anyone made that realization it was already too late. The black car was completely crushed, and up in flames while Y/N could only hold their son and watch. Bruce was next to him, and he had caught his brother before his knees could hit the concrete.
It was a horrible day for multiple parties, and the aftermath was just as bad. Y/N couldn;t even handle the funeral proceedings, to which Bruce and shockingly (and funny enough) Jason handled. The second oldest nephew responding to every whim and whimsey his Uncle had, doing everything in his power to make the pain lessen.
Anything in the powers. Sometimes that meant anti-depressants and bumping up Y/N’s pain relievers.
A loopy Y/N was a calm Y/N, and a calm Y/N meant a well-rested Y/N. Sometimes he would rarely leave the bed, trusting on someone to take care of his son. To which they all happily jumped on the chance to do. He’s been weening off of the pain medication, choosing to once again deal with small pain in his hip, but he stayed on the anti-depressants.
That is the one pill everyone made sure he took. He needed them. Just how he needs this family. All he needs is this family.
++++
“What did you do, Bruce?” Bruce had to stop himself from cursing at his luck and at the boys for also not nooticing. All five of them in this room and none of them heard Y/N enter? Of course he enters when a comment was made about make someone disappear just like Y/N’s wife. They wouldn’t have a hand in it, because they don’t kill, but is it a murder if one of them lets it slip what type of car she drove to the man she screwed over the most?
It’s not their fault that her ex worked at the mechanic shop they frequented. It isn’t their fault that Tim accidentally said somethin about the car being his Aunt’s, because how was he supposed to knoow that the mechanic he was talking to was her crazy-ex? It’s not his fault. It’s not any of their fault, because she didn’t say anything about this.
She lied, repeatedly over and over again to Y/N’s and everyone’s faces. Only, she lied to a house full of detectives, a former soldier Butler, and a man whose happiness was at the forefront of everyone’s reasoning.
“Y/N-”
“What did you do?!” Terrified E/C eyes stared at Bruce’s rigid form. The older man did not intend for his younger brother to hear those words, and he didn’t like that all the blame was being pinned on him. It was a group effort.
One they all happily took part in.
Dick raised his hands, as if he could ease the tension, “Uncle, c’mon there might be a misunderstanding.” Vibrant E/C eyes, swirling with pain and rage, flickered to him and effectively shut him up for a bit. Jason, for once, chose to remain silent at the sight of conflict while Tim thought the paintings in the library looked interesting. Damian, like his father and oldest brother, was looking at him.
Y/N could feel his heart beating faster and his head hurting. He didn’t want to believe it. How could he? His brother, the nephews he loves, and the nieces he adores, all conspired to kill his wife?
Who… No, why? The question was written across his face and Bruce took it upon himself to clear the air. He motioned for the others to get out, which they did with no complaint. Dick sending him a guilty look, Jason not meeting his eyes, Tim and Damian sending an apologetic look before disappearing.
The heavy doors of the office shut behind them and Y/N clenched his jaw. Bruce and him maintained eye contact, staring each other down.
“It was a choice made by the Family.”
“The hell is this? A mob?” Bruce stared into Y/N’s enraged eyes, and he sighed, “Y/N, I know this hurts but it is for the best.”
“The best? The best for who?! Not for me! Not for my son! Not for your nephew!”
“You don’t know that!”
“And you do?! What are you clairvoyant now?!”
“She wasn’t good enough for you, Y/N.”
“Who are you to decide that?” Y/N hissed out, glaring at him with all the rage and resentment in his body. The past three years of the family getting together, photos, smiles, all of it now burning in flames and he was choking on the smoke and ashes.
How long had they been planning this?
“Y/N-”
“Don’t ‘Y/N’ me! Bruce, what the hell?!” It terrified him. His brother, the one he trusts most, and he just threw all of that back into his face.
If Bruce could do that to someone Y/N loves, what's stopping Bruce from hurting him? Y/N’s eyes widened. What’s stopping Bruce from hurting his son?
The boys walked out.
His head whipped to the door, and was about to start making his way out to the nursery, but Bruce had grabbed his arm, kicking the cane from his grip and making Y/N rely on Bruce’s weight to keep standing.
“Bruce, I swear to God, don’t you dare-”
“My nephew will not be touched in any malicious way, if that is what you are so worried about.” Y/N snarled at him, trying to get out of his iron grip.
“I don’t believe you.” Bruce nodded, “You don’t have to. Can’t you trust that your nephews won’t hurt him?”
“No. How can I trust the murderers of my wife?” Bruce’s expression changed, and the hold on his arm tightened. Y/N’s teeth clenched, “How could you do that? I trusted you! I fucking trusted you and you go and…” The weight of the situation fell on his shoulders and Y/N would have crumbled if it weren’t for Bruce holding him up. Tears leaked from his eyes like they were faucets and his chest started aching.
Bruce kissed the side of his head, and where he kissed felt like it burned. Like the heat of the fire on the day that car crashed with his wife in it.
“I know. I know it hurts but it’ll get better Y/N.”
“Don’t talk to me about something getting better when you’re the cause of it.” Bruce lowered them to the floor, making sure that Y/N was still out of reach of his cane. Y/N wanted to throw a punch, an elbow, or something to vent all the anger and pain he has in his body. However, the grip Bruce has around his arms keeps them pinned to his sides and it’s not like Y/N had the strongest legs. If they were to get into it, it would be literal boulder versus a twig.
Bruce has always been the bigger one between then, even before Batman. Bruce had inherited Thomas Wayne’s imposing figure, while Y/N had Martha’s thinner one. His brother had been his rock, just how he had been Bruce’s now he wonders if Bruce was the heavy ball at the end of the chain. His nieces and nephews the chains, his son his collar, and the manor the cage.
Y/N felt as if the reality around him was crumbling and he couldn’t even pick the pieces up. He choked down a sob, “How long have you been planning this?”
“The accident or having you here?”
“All of it.” Bruce rested his forehead on Y/N’s shoulder, “You were supposed to stay here in the manor. The very thought of someone being more important than me, than Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, Alfred, all of them, it is so infuriating and terrifying.
“Because I was scared that one day you would leave me, alone in this manor with only the walls to talk to and the mirrors for company.” Y/N glared at him through his tears, “You’re lack of faith in me is astounding.” He would never have left Bruce, because they are all they had left of their family.
Not to mention, Bruce has the boys and girls for company. He wouldn’t have been alone. There’s Alfred and Y/N would have visited.
“I know its not an excuse, but dammit Y/N, it’s so terrifying.” Y/N tried to still his beatin heart, pumping his blood throuoghout his body and making him want to run. He wants to leave. He really, really, wants to leave. Y/N wants to pick his baby up and run.
“Do you know why I am telling you this?” Bruce’s grip loosened and Y/N waited until those arms removed themselves from around him and he lunged for his cane. Only for a large handd to wrap around the ankle of his bad leg and pulled. Dragging him away from the cane and causing Y/N to shout in pain.
He stared up at his older brother in fear, his leg still in Bruce’s iroon grip. Y/N wonders if this is what criminals see when looking at Batman.
“Because you’re not going to remember it.” His foot stomped on Y/N’s hip and there was a sickening crack and white flashed behind his eyelids. The scream he released sounded foreign to his own ears, and the tears now became ones of physical pain rather than emotional.
He started coughing from the amount of screaming and crying, and Bruce continued to look down at him. His eyes full of sorrow, but also acceptance. He was looking at Y/N similar to a parent getting ready to discipline their kid. Not wanting to but needing too.
Bruce released Y/N’s leg, eliciting another cry and he widened his eyes when he saw Bruce raise his foot again, “Wa-wait, Bruce–”
“It’s not believable if you only have a break in your hip.” There was another crunch and Y/N’s not even sure what broke but the scream he released was silent. The pain was excruciating and the questions searing into his brain. Who is he trying to make believe and believe what?
“You of course.” Bruce stared at his brother on the floor, and he knows Y/N’s screams and crying are going to haunt him but it is for the better. Y/N’s watery E/C eyes stared at him in fear and pain, tears rushing down his blotchy face and confusion across his face.
“Poor Y/N, you fell and broke your leg. So now you have to go back on your pain meds and now bedridden for a while.” Fear coursed through Y/N’s veins and although he knew it was futile he tried to crawl. His older brother watched, before walking behind his desk and rummaging through the drawers. Y/N wasn’t even close to the door when Bruce stood over him, and gently flipped him over.
Y/N screamed, trying to get away from his brother, but with one leg out of commission and his one arm now pinned to his side, it was a futile struggle.
“Get away! NO! I hate you! I absolutely fucking hate you.” Bruce held a pill in his hand, and in his mouth between his teeth was a water bottle. Y/N clammed up, biting his lips to keep them closed as Bruce came in closer with a pill. He wanted to knock it out of the other’s hand, but before he could even do that, Bruce’s knee rested on his broken hip and Y/N cried out in pain. His brother was quick in shoving the pill in his mouth, covering the orifice, and opening the bottle with the other arms that were pinning Y/N’s arm. He all but waterboarded Y/N with it, washing the pill down.
Afterwards, he held Y/N and slowly rocked back and forth in a mocking show of comfort. Y/N hit him, bit, and tried to shove him off. His cursing and shouting fell on deaf ears and the drug was beginning to take effect. His limbs became heavier and eyelids stayed closed longer.
“Shh Y/N, just sleep. It’ll be better in the morning.” Feeling one last bit of defiance, Y/N glared at his brother, “Tell me how you can kill my wife, but are unable to kill the Joker?” His eyes were closed by the end of the sentence, unable to see his brother’s reaction, but he heard the tight, “Good night, Y/N.”
++++
Crying woke him up. Groaning and rubbing his eyes, he tried too sit up but realized in confusion that his leg was casted and his head was incredibly foggy. A sound of discontent left him, but then there was a shuffling in the room and the crying stopped. In his blurry vision he saw Dick holding his son and Tim gazing at him softly.
“What…”
“You fell, Uncle. You broke your hip and shin and your cane unfortunately broke as well,” Tim informed as clinically as he could, holding his Uncle’s hand and staring into the hazy eyes.
“We had to give you a higher dosage of pain medication, and you’ll need to stay on them for a bit.” Y/N nodded in understanding, his attention returning to his gurgling son and smiling Dick, “It was terrifying Uncle, seeing you laying there like that. It’s a good thing Bruce and Timmy found you. Can’t imagine how bad it would have been if you were on your own.”
Y/N blinked, the situation dawning on him, “Yeah, that…that would be bad. Sorry Timmy, you had to see me in a traumatic state.” Tim shook his head, “No, I’m happy we found you when we did. I’m sorry that we didn’t get there sooner.” Y/N smiled, moving his arm to gently cup Tim’s cheek. It took all the effort in him to even make it that short distance, but Tim rested his own hand against the back of Y/N’s, nuzzling his cheek further into Y/N’s palm.
“Sleep Uncle, we’ll all be here when you wake up,” Dick encouraged, sitting next to Tim and bouncing his cousin. Y/N chuckled, “Okay. Please watch–”
“We will Uncle. Now, please rest. You and our cousin will be safe, I promise.” Y/N made a small hum before shutting his eyes once more, dreaming of when he and Bruce used to play in their mother’s garden.
________________________________________________________
Very Dark on this one. Was not the intention at all, but that's how it happened....
#batfam x reader#yandere batfam#yandere dc#platonic yandere#platonic batfam#Brother!Wayne#Brother Bruce Wayne#Male!Reader#Dc Male Reader#Batman Male Reader
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How about someone who was recently turned into a Cybertronian and Team Prime tended to and comforted them? They have a lot of adjusting to do! 👀
TW: A bit of implied disassociation because, holy shit, suddenly you're a giant metal robot and that's kinda hard to wrap your newly non-organic brain around.
((Knock Out is here because there is not enough Autobot!Knock Out and I love him.))
Team Prime comforting Reader, who just got turned into a Cybertronian, would include...
Optimus reassures you from the first moment that you have a safe home with Team Prime, should you choose to stay with them. Of course, you do. He makes sure you have the time and space to adjust and be comfortable with your new body before jumping into anything. He's just there if you need him, which some days is more helpful than everyone's else's efforts to offer unsolicited advice right off the bat.
Bumblebee helps you adjust to having wheels by challenging you to races that double as training whenever possible. He is almost certainly going easy on you, but nobody ever tells you as much.
Bulkhead is the first to realize that maybe you just really need a damn hug right now, if only because he's not very good with words. He hugs you and reassured you that it will be okay, and you're amazed how warm and fuzzy you feel afterwards, even though you're fairly sure your new body doesn't actually feel such minute temperature changes.
Ratchet tries to be "comforting" by explaining how your new body works... in detail that goes way, WAY over your head. But eventually, you get him talking about Cybertron's history and culture, and realize that your two species aren't all that different after all, which helps more than an anatomy lesson ever could.
Smokescreen is quick to remind you that you don't have to go back to your boring human school/job/house/whatever. Depending on how much you liked/disliked your old life, this is either incredibly helpful or incredibly irritating. If you get upset with him though, he's quick to apologize, and it's hard not to be comforted by that well-meaning smile and a servo patting your shoulder.
Arcee might somehow be even more protective of you than she is of the humans - she knows what happens when bots overestimate how much they can handle, and she figures that's really easy to do when you go from being a tiny, fragile human to a giant robot. Sometimes it's hard to hear her remind you that you're still mortal, but she means well. "Okay Mom, I get it."
Wheeljack, like Bulkhead, isn't very good with words, but he's also not very good with affection. What he can do, however, is listen. He's there the first time you get frustrated with the rest of the Team - not because they truly did anything wrong, but because being cramped into a tiny base with people you've just met will irritate anyone - and he never breathes a word of what you vented to the others. The Wreckers had their spats too - he knows you'll all be cool at the end of the day.
Oh Primus help Ultra Magnus he doesn't have a comforting servo in his body, but at least he's honest about that. In fact, he's the best bot to go to when you're ready to have things less sugarcoated.
Knock Out doesn't understand what the fuss is about - why would anyone ever want to be a squishy, gross organic when they could be Cybertronian? Humans couldn't turn into cars, for one, and couldn't be polished. He gives you a fresh coat of paint and polish and tells you how much better you look now - it does help, in a way. Being able to pick out new paint makes you feel a little more like your new body is really your body.
But honestly? Your biggest comfort might just be Jack, Miko, and Raf, if only because they will remind you any time you so much as frown just how cool being a giant robot is. And then you remember, yeah, it is pretty cool, actually.
#EVERYONE is here!#platonic#x reader#tfp x reader#transformers x reader#maccadam#optimus#bumblebee#bulkhead#ratchet#smokescreen#arcee#wheeljack#ultra magnus#knock out#jack#miko#raf#cybertronian reader
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Can I request ACOTAR poly bats x mate reader? Who got killed if you don't write that the reader just got injured badly? Thank you!
Injury HC (ft. poly!mates Bat Boys)
While I love me some heavy angst, I just couldn't bring myself to kill off mate reader even if its just for a hc 😭😅
Warnings: lots of mentions of blood, wounded/dying!reader, polyamorous mates, injuries, healing, angst and fluff, ft. mor, ft. amren, ft. madja, ft. wraiths
woof where to begin
it would be damn near impossible for any of them to think rationally at the sight of blood coming from you, not their beloved who should only be full of smiles and laughter
bat boys become overbearing if you even get a papercut
But this. . . this was something else entirely.
So much blood that they feel sick from the rusty smell of it that permeated the air.
You looked so small and broken; Rhys has already come up with a thousand ways to kill whoever did this to you. You were their beautiful, proud, cunning mate.
The first one to make a move toward your body would be Rhysand. Always rational under pressure as Azriel and Cassian look around in case there was an ambush by the enemy. He feels sick to his stomach the entire time he's checking your vitals. When his fingers make contact with your blood soaked head, the sticky substance felt white hot. Rhysand could wash his hands millions of times and still feel that searing sting of your blood on his skin.
When they finally get you safely to Madja, you do manage to regain some consciousness, enough to reach out and grab Azriel's hand as everyone was leaving the operating room. Its difficult to move your lips to speak but you manage to plead for Azriel to stay. His shadows always soothed you.
There's no rest for Rhysand or Cassian unfortunately.
Despite Mor and Amren's best efforts, they can't drag your other two mates away from the door.
Rhysand being constantly updated by Azriel through his thoughts and shadows
Cassian tried not to let dark possibilities into his head. They banged against the door of his mind, loud and clear. If you died. . .
"She won't die." Rhysand would tell him sharply. He couldn't lose hope. But the steady smell of your blood that refused to lessen worried Rhysand greatly.
For Azriel, he was forced to stand there at your side as Madja did her best to put you back together. He refused to look away. There was absolutely nothing he could do to help.
He furiously clenches and unclenches his hands. Angry with himself for not being enough to protect you.
In the wee hours of the morning, Mor finds Rhysand and Cassian slumped together asleep. She put a blanket around them and takes a seat to join them in awaiting news. Amren soon follows suit once she has risen from bed by worry.
Finally, Azriel emerges into the waiting room.
Cass and Rhys leap from their seats
You're alive, although incredibly weak.
Madja had to bind and fix your bones while also trying to stop your bleeding. The most important thing was that you would live with some major scarring.
For the next several months, you acquired three overbearing nurses.
Not that you were complaining.
They only allowed Madja to tend to you and that was just during your checkups. Even the Wraiths' cooking was monitored by one of the bat boys.
Azriel and Rhysand had the tenderest hands when they changed your bandages or moved you around so you wouldn't get bed sores.
When you were well enough, Cassian would carry you to the outside garden so you could enjoy the warmth of the sun personally. You'd sit on his lap with your head resting on his chest. You liked listening to him talk as your ear was pressed close to his heart.
You had to tell them to shut up a few times because of how often they would apologize to you about letting you get hurt. It wasn't their fault, you'd argue to deaf ears. This was actually motivation for you. To remedy this and prevent getting hurt this badly ever again, you'd have to train more. Get stronger so your mates wouldn't blame themselves for you getting hurt in their absence.
Rhysand may be the only one who doesn't coddle you during any kind of physical therapy. He's one for tough love. Cassian too. Poor Az is utterly helpless.
Oh, you're out of breath? Let me carry you, sweetling. Rhys and Cass being too difficult? I'll give them a talking to.
Once fully healed thanks to your bat boys, you feel stronger and better than ever.
#reader insert#reader insert fanfiction#acotar fanfic#rhys acotar#rhysand acotar#acotar#acotar series#a court of thorns and roses#acotar fandom#bat boys#azriel acotar#azriel x reader#cassian x reader#acotar cassian#rhysand fanfiction#rhysand x reader#a court of thorns and roses x reader#a court of thorns and roses fanfic#a court of thorns and roses fanfiction
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FOR YOU I WOULD FALL FROM GRACE | LYNEY
warnings blackmailing lol… AETHER PAIMON!!! 3.6k words!
previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter
The bell chimes as the door of the flower shop swings open, and in comes strutting in Rosalie, all dazzling smiles and ostentatious jewelry. Even now, her brown locks are curled to perfection, framing her face beautifully. Even across her, you feel like you’re standing next to an Archon.
This time around, you don’t accidentally freeze the pot of flowers you’re holding from her bursting inside. But you might again tomorrow; Rosalie loves to test you.
Rosalie hums in approval. “Hm, very good, very good. Any customers today, ma chérie?”
“Just one. That guy really wanted to see you,” you reply, eyes fluttering shut as the woman ruffles your hair. You repress the urge to lean into it. “Was he the same guy you met in Café Lutece?”
Her face twists unpleasantly, haunted. “Oh, dear. Thank goodness I wasn’t here. Keep scaring him off.”
You bow your head. “Yes, Ma’am.”
Rosalie bent the law just to keep you, and you’re more than grateful for her generosity. In exchange, you pledged to work diligently for her. You knew that even your hardest efforts couldn't compare to the years of food and shelter she had provided, but this was the least you could do after she didn’t once hesitate to take you in when you confessed you were stranded and alone.
At first, you wanted to repay her by helping out in the kitchen, but you later find that your Vision isn’t the most perfect fit for it. Rosalie’s teeth could shatter from the amount of bread you’ve frozen at the slightest mistake. Your experience in battle doesn’t translate well in handling baking—the heat makes your actions rougher than intended. You get frustrated when you don’t get the results you want. You treat the kitchen like a battlefield. Your hands are too cold; they can’t handle the warm and hot temperatures well.
And the sight of fire… You don’t react to it nicely.
Rosalie suggested you help out in the flower shop. The thought of kneeling over for hours sounds like torture to the posture and grace you’ve perfected over the years, but you can’t quite be picky with under-the-table jobs and nice people who are willing to take care of an orphan who doesn’t know how to act like a normal child.
At least, with gardening, you’ve trained yourself to be more gentle with how you handle living beings. Your hands will always be calloused; they will always have the muscle memory of carrying weighty weapons and tossing them around like sticks—an immutable trait. But you’re trying.
Although Fontaine could never be the safest, it’s safer here. The Fatui don’t have reason to spy against a local flower shop; you’re away from prying eyes, and it isn’t too big of a change because this is still your home.
And you have been safe for years. Rosalie is nothing like The Knave. They have the same fierce protectiveness, but Rosalie is much warmer and open with her fondness, a stark difference from The Knave’s distance. You’re not quite sure how to act around either of them.
You try not to get yourself attached to Rosalie despite her endless hospitality. So long as you don’t reveal your past affiliations and the reason why your hands are rough and why your affections are clumsy, she wouldn’t throw you out. But if she ever does… those are what no attachments are for. You learned your lesson from last time.
“I’ll cook us dinner,” Rosalie sings, heading towards the back of the counter, where it’s connected to her house.
You return to your flower.
You were the one who planted it, and it pleases you to no end that it’s growing healthily. This is the first flower you managed to not— well, kill right off the bat. Or freeze right off the bat, really. The elemental power from your Vision is hard to control, and it certainly doesn’t help that you aren’t doing anything to do something about it, too afraid to even try.
The Lumidouce Bell. It means something about a desire to return. It speaks to you, but not because you long for it—gods no—but because you’ve seen it before. It was probably in a dream, or perhaps a vase back at home, maybe in the middle of the large dining table or in between the fingers of someone with lilac eyes.
The door lashes out once again, the familiar chime ringing in your ears. It had only been two hours since the last customer. Business is doing well today. In comes a floating pixie and a blond with a glow of gold. He’s furious.
“Paimon doesn’t know…” the pixie says, floating behind. “All she knows is that you don’t want to get involved with the Fatui but—” Your hands falter around the petals, “—they said their goals were different, right? What are we doing here again?”
“Paimon,” the blond sighs, and only then do you notice he’s holding a flower. It’s crushed and dried, but it’s supposed to resemble the pot of Lumidouce Bell by your side. “We can’t trust them just like that. We don’t know them.”
“Really…? You think so? Paimon doesn’t think they’re bad people.”
“They’re hiding a lot of things. I don’t want secrets—not anymore. Lyney and Lynette may seem harmless now, but once the time comes where our goals oppose each other’s—well.”
It’s been a while since you heard those names. A rush of nostalgia fills you. You hear about them in passing when your (rare) customers gush about their performances, or ladies passing by giggle about the charming young man in the center of the stage, but that’s about it. To think that these two know that they’re affiliated with the Fatui…
Who are they? They look so familiar, like you’ve seen them once and then never again. Were they sent here? What did they do to be involved with the Fatui? No ordinary person would casually indulge in a conversation about the Fatui like that. There is usually a lot more secretive whispers and cautious glances around the crowd.
“Paimon gets it now,” she says, but she doesn’t look too happy with it. It seems she’s really fond of the twins—which you know all too well.
“Besides,” Aether pats her head, then hands her the flower, wondering out loud, “We don’t even know what this flower means.”
As if following a poorly-written script, both pairs of eyes direct to yours. Like they were expecting you to listen in just for that. At your stunned silence, they wait patiently.
“Um—yes. Lumidouce Bells often mean separation or the wish for reunion,” you recite like a good florist, recalling the words straight from the textbook. “Would you like a copy of a book about Fontaine’s Floral Language, sir?”
He waves a dismissive hand. “No thanks. Was just curious.”
The pixie nods her head, studying the flower in her hand. “Yeah! For all we know, this could’ve been some secret code! Apparently not. But wish for reunion…? Paimon heard Lyney only uses that flower. Does he know about its meaning?”
That name again. It seems that their main topic this afternoon is the twins. You want to crawl out of your skin and bury yourself in the soil. You thought you had moved on, but just hearing about him feels as if listening to strangers talk about a friend you’ve lost—not too far off from the truth. The guilt has not left you since; who were you kidding?
“He probably doesn’t mean anything by it,” the boy murmurs. “I mean—I don’t know. I don’t know anything about them. Is Lyney truly a magician? Is Lyney even his name?”
“Snezhevich,” you murmur out of instinct. Son of snow. You’re surprised that you even remember; it’s been years since you tasted the word on your tongue.
The blond hair and the floating pixie are staring right at you, the man slamming an arm on the counter desk and the little one moving her hands to her hips. “How do you know that?” he asks.
You pale. “I—excuse me?”
“I heard it,” he says. “Those surnames… They’re for the orphans in the House. How do you know that?”
Your heart pounds. You want to ask him the same question, but then, upon closer inspection, you realize why they’re familiar. They’re the Traveler and his travel companion, posted all over magazines. You’ve used one of those papers as placemats for dirty work involving soil, catching glimpses of their faces. The Outlander, the hero, Aether, having come all the way from Mondstadt—of course he knows about the Fatui; he has probably gotten himself involved more than you have.
“Don’t think about lying,” Aether warns at your silence.
Weakly, you say, “Is—is it not… in their introductions?”
“No.” And, well, honestly, that was a stupid cover, so you should’ve expected that. They’re only for the orphans, and he’s right. Even when he’s not a local, he seems to know his facts. Locals are getting smarter, dammit.
“Lyney told me,” is what you decide on after a split-second of contemplation. Aether isn’t giving you enough time to come up with a lie here.
“Told you?” Aether narrows his eyes, studying your face. “Why would he tell you about that? He hasn’t even told me. Are you two close?”
Paimon gasps before you can comment about how Aether sounded like an insecure boyfriend. “Is it…like that?”
You blink at her, lost. “What? Like what?”
At Aether’s conspiratorial expression, your eyes dart between the two of them warily. “What are you two on about?”
“Are you and Lyney romantically involved?”
Romantically involved. You think back to all those sidelong glances and allusive remarks. Lyney was definitely and monumentally involved in your life, but romantically? Even the word feels forbidden. Not once have you thought about romance throughout your entire experience as a child under the protection of the House.
Your face feels like lava, and their crowded attention has you feeling even more embarrassed. “How could you even come up with that? Mortifying! You’re both wrong!”
“What else would it be? You seem to know him well.” Then, much to your embarrassment, Aether adds, “And you’re not bad-looking.”
Is the Outlander calling you pretty enough for Lyney to date you? Right now? Just thinking about the implications has your mind screeching to a halt. “No! I was an orphan there!”
“Ah,” Aether grins widely, “I knew it.”
“Gods,” you mutter, burning. Of course he already figured it out. But was that really necessary? “Is this how you interrogate everyone? Embarrassing them to death?”
Aether shrugs. “If it works, it works.” At whatever expression you must be making, he adds, “And I was just kidding about the romantically involved thing. I mean, unless you aren’t denying it. By the look on your face—”
“Enough. Just spit it out. What do you want?” You’ve gotten awfully rusty with dealing with people. Then again, you were rarely sent out on missions in the first place, so this blame is not for you to take. You curse out The Knave’s name and then feel terrible about it.
“What are you even doing here, huh? Undercover?” Paimon sneers. She fails to look even slightly intimidating. “Do you own this shop?”
“No. I work here.”
“Does your boss know about the whole Fatui thing?” Aether asks. You stare at him warily. If he dares to harm Rosalie, you won’t hesitate to fight dirty. “That seems like a no. If you cooperate with me, I won’t tell whoever is taking care of you.”
“You’re blackmailing me.” You laugh dryly. “I guess I can never run from my past for too long; I just didn’t think I’d be blackmailed by the Outlander himself to face it.”
Aether has at least the decency to look a bit guilty.
“Why do you want to know about the twins so bad?”
Aether’s shoulders hike up to his ears just a little. “Lyney and Lynette… they’re very dependent on each other, aren’t they? The Fatui are not good people—they’re powerful ones, too, and getting involved with power like that while you have your family,” Aether’s expression does something complicated, “It never ends well.”
“You’re blackmailing me into helping the twins out?”
“I’m not trying to— Listen, I just need to know if they’re hiding something else from me. Something that tells me that I shouldn’t be trusting them, then we’ll decide if I’m helping them out or not.”
…Something else? “They already told you a lot, haven’t they? You just have trust issues, hero.”
“It’s perfectly reasonable to have trust issues as a hero.”
Aether inches closer. Your hand twitches by your side, instincts screaming at you to pull out your weapon and flee; the man before you is danger, but you don’t.
Aether hums at your wariness. “And you talk like you know them well. Do you have something you want to say to me, retired Fatuus?”
“I told you, didn’t I? I used to be an orphan in the House of the Hearth,” you say, not wavering with how he holds your gaze. This is no lie; you have no reason to falter. “But that’s not my life anymore. For all I know, they’ve completely changed goals.”
Aether’s shoulder sags because he knows you’re right. There wouldn’t be a way for you to know if the House is still operating with the same objective. If he’d really believe the words of a former Fatuus is a completely different story, however.
Aether sighs. “…It’s not right to call me a hero in this situation.”
“Oh?”
“I’m doing this for selfish reasons.”
Aether hesitates. Does he think you know nothing about selfishness? You ran from the House that took care of you because of your cowardice. You’re plenty familiar with selfishness.
“Mhm,” Paimon nods, “the Traveler wants to know if they’re hiding something about his sister.”
“Paimon,” Aether admonishes, then wilts.
“Oh no!” The fairy’s face pales, her hands coming up to her mouth. “Was Paimon not supposed to say it right away?”
“It’s fine.” It’s not fine. You can see it in the lines between Aether’s brows, his tense shoulders, and his sharp glare to the floor. “You already blurted it anyway.”
“Your sister,” you repeat, conjuring an image of a girl with the same gold as Aether, the same hardheaded determination. What is it with you and getting into trouble with brothers? “I’ve never heard anything about your sister during my time there.”
Aether shrugs. “That doesn’t surprise me. I only arrived here not too long ago, and from what I’m getting, you were already out of the orphanage.”
“So you think Lyney knows something?”
“I know The Knave knows something.”
How strange. Aether’s certainty that their ‘Father’ would confide in them everything, imply that Lyney is privy to information that only the Harbingers would keep to themselves.
You had this same thought before: Lyney, someday Harbinger, someday who would take Arlecchino’s throne. Now, you feel empty thinking about it. It used to fill you with so much rage before.
You turn away from Aether so he won’t see your face. Your previous affiliation with the House shouldn’t matter anymore—you’ve long since abandoned that life. You shouldn’t care about what the upstanding hero would want with them.
You shouldn’t.
Yet you end up fearing what this Outlander will do if they find out the darker secrets of the House that the orphans have to task themselves with. It’s never the children’s fault. But as a hero in a storybook, they rarely have pity for the bad guys.
If Aether finds out anything remotely wrong, what would he do to them…?
You sigh heavily. “I’ll prove to you that you’re wrong about whatever you think of them.”
Aether smiles. “That’s all I needed to hear.”
Rosalie comes out of the counter’s back door a few moments later, holding two plates of dinner. She stares blankly at your frozen figure and Aether’s slack posture.
She hands you the plates. “I’ll get two more.”
Rosalie disappears back into the kitchen, a bright smile on her face as she leaves the scene. There was a skip in her step, too.
You settle the plates down in front of Aether and Paimon. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”
Paimon gasps in delight.
When Rosalie comes back out, she’s fluttering all over the place, gushing over how adorable your new friends are. She then goes into a tangent about how she was right in telling you that you have a charming personality, and it was about time people realized that.
“Rosalie,” you murmur, steaming from the ears.
Rosalie laughs heartily. “Oh, you’re so cute. Do you kids have any plans tonight?”
Aether casts you a glance. “We’re going to watch Lyney the Magician’s show tonight if that’s alright.”
You breathe in deeply. Aether sure works fast. You haven’t even prepared yourself for the little chance you were going to be forced to face Lyney again. You expected it on much more personal, grudge-driven circumstances, with Lyney taking you in for The Knave to deal with.
Rosalie sips from her glass, turning to you. “Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to watch it, mon ange? I also would have taken you to watch Mr. Lyney.”
“They came over to give me their spare ticket,” you say before she can start thinking deeply about Lyney, but it doesn’t work.
“Ah, I see! Well, have fun.” She grins. “I’ve heard only good things about Mr. Lyney.”
You down the rest of your drink, wishing it was the strong taste of alcohol instead of the sugary sweet Fonta.
Rosalie gasps, hands on the table as she stands. “Oh! Let’s get you changed for tonight’s show! What if Mr. Lyney’s show picks you as a chosen participant? You have to make him and the audience fall in love with you, Y/N!”
“None of those are necessary,” you say, nearing a whine. It’s embarrassing to have her say that while Aether and Paimon are right in front.
“This is the first time you’re going out—let me please dress you up!” Sometimes, Rosalie acts more like a big sister than a mother.
Rosalie turns to Aether, already pushing you out of your chair. “Give us ten.”
Aether is smiling, looking as if holding in laughter. “Don’t worry. We aren’t going anywhere; we made a deal.”
After rummaging through closets and spilling dresses all over Rosalie’s bed, you're soon ushered out of the door. You witness Paimon's jaw dropping and Aether's eyebrows shooting up to his hairline.
“Whoa…!” Paimon gasps.
“Please spare me from any more comments,” you say, face hot.
Your dress, while nothing as grand as the rest of richer Fontaine women, is still grander than your loose blouse from before. It flows all the way down and drapes gracefully down your legs in a deep shade that blends in seamlessly with those who walk past the busy streets of Fontaine.
Thankfully, they oblige. You can’t handle any more—too much have you a puddle on the spot, and in the most humiliating way possible. Rosalie bids you all farewell, telling Aether to bring you back home before ten.
“I don’t think you can be home before ten,” Aether mutters as he leads you outside.
You hide behind his figure, uneasy from the curious stares of the passersby. It could be because you’re walking next to the renowned Traveler, but a part of you thinks that they know who you are. For all you know, there could be wanted posters of your face, and you wouldn’t know because you don’t go outside.
Aether turns to you. “Can you move comfortably?”
“This corset is a little too tight.”
Aether takes your hand and leads you somewhere off to the side, away from any onlookers. Then, he moves behind you and helps with loosening the corset. You look off to the side and swear that you saw a figure dash past, as nimble as a cat, but that was probably nothing.
“Should we rip off the length, too?” Paimon asks.
“No!” you exclaim, startling the two. “No, it’s fine. This is not my dress. Are you going to make me fight Lyney?”
Aether shrugs. “If worse comes to worse.”
“I’m in heels.”
“If worse comes to worse,” Aether repeats, tying the ends in a neat little ribbon.
“I wasn’t aware that you would start blackmailing me this early on.”
Aether smiles grimly. “There are no warnings when it comes to that.”
You perform a twirl in the new adjustments, twisting around, finding it much more breathable than compared to when Rosalie treated it like her usual fitting.
“Good?” Aether asks.
“Good.”
The conversation doesn’t die down, but it’s much more stiff than before. Paimon tells you that she liked your muddy apron better, and you wish you could agree. But this is who you really are. Nothing genuine like the soil staining your washed-out apron and your hands, or the Lumidouce Bell by the counter you’ve watched grow, but a dress that doesn’t belong to you for a mission that you have to fulfill to save other people who wouldn’t even recognize what you’ve done.
The Opera Epiclese, though you’d never been, looks the same as all the stories you’ve heard about it. Filled with a lively audience, the atmosphere dimmed, and your breath held in anticipation as Aether led you to vacant seats. You sit on Paimon’s supposed seat.
You face Aether. “What now? What do you want me to do? Strut back into their lives and demand all their Fatui secrets as if I never left?” you whisper hastily as all the lights flicker off.
A spotlight centers on the stage.
Aether nestles into his seat. “Prove to me that I can trust them just as much as you do. Who knows, you might get something out of this, too.”
BEFORE YOU STOP READING!! LOOK AT ONCE AGAIN ANOTHER AMAZING FANART BY OUR FAVORITE akagi0021
scene of paimon's "whoa...!" and aether demanding "how do you know that?" !!!!!! 😭😭😭❤️❤️
sorry if my inherent attraction to aether came out a bit for some scenes here. the heart can’t help but want what it wants… and that includes what my fingers end up typing whenever aether is on the same docs LOL
TAGLIST.
@thenyxsky @aeferkssr @1mewo1 @lacrimae-lotos @meigalaxy @hyacinth-daze @miwafei @popochakku @svasilios @heyhazelnut101 @kruinka @waveto-earth @superstar-ethereal @mxplesyrvp @achilleas-dream @episodecete @jellifizz @auranny
#606: THAWED#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin x you#genshin impact x you#genshin impact#x reader#lyney x reader#lyney x you#lyney x y/n
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What if... stuff that m!reader does/can do that makes the mercs flustered? even if its just making them a little embarrassed i need to know!!!
What You Do That Flusters the Mercs! || TF2 x M!Reader
Scout
He likes watching you socialize with people, you naturally lean on walls and tilt your neck up when you laugh- god damn, you look so hot when you laugh!
For some reason, when you throw things and catch them. He has no idea why it just makes his heart skips a beat.
When you focus and your eyebrows knit together and it deadass just stares at you.
Soldier
DISPLAYS. OF. POWER. Deadlift something. Throw an enemy off a cliff. Threaten a Spy and scare him. Solly will never fucking recover.
Independence and general "coolness" makes Jane stumble over his words! You don't need a man, yet you still ask him to assist you? He feels so honored!
Asking for help casually, like said above. When you extend your hand out to grab something from him it makes Soldier scream internally.
Pyro
The fact that you're kind to people makes them like you. You're sweet and polite and cordial when you want to be. You're not annoying or hard ot read or obnoxious- you're just kind.
When you take your time with things to understand them. They daydream about spilling all their secrets to you.
Protectiveness really flusters Pyro. One time in battle, Pyro was cornered. You slammed the Scouts with a metal pole and growled that "nobody touches our Pyro!". They haven't stopped thinking about that. Nor will they ever.
Demo
Tavish is enamoured with your sense of humor. He loves how you're quick to make a joke and open to laughing at anything.
Can't help but blush when you stare at him. Yeah, half of the times you stare, you're spacing out, but Tavish still looks away and is flushed a pretty deep red.
The joking flirting??? YEAH HE STARTED IT BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN YOU'RE ALLOWED TO BE THAT HOT
Engie
Hard work and general work ethic.
Dell is super insecure about the fact the finds you super hot when you're sweaty. After a battle or working out is when Dell seems to linger around, stealing glances at you.
WHEN. YOU. PRAISE. HIS. INVENTIONS. That replays in his head all week long.
Heavy
He likes to watch you spar with people with stuff like wrestling/boxing, especially when you swing Scout around like a baseball bat.
There was one time where you and Heavy were in a tough spot against the enemy team, down by 4 kills. There was just something in your eye that had a light of fire and determination. Seeing that is how he fell for you.
Cook for this man please he will love you and blush forever.
Medic
CASUAL KNOWLEDGE ABOUT MEDICAL PAPERS AND SCIENTIFIC STUDIES. GOD YES.
Cooing with his birds??? He wants to pick you up and spin you around and kiss you and-
He really likes when you challenge him. You give this confident smirk and your tone shifts that make Medic want to just scream about how handsome you are.
Spy
Spy's a man with refined taste. He likes his men like he likes his wine: aged finely and polished to perfection. He likes when you're classy and get onto the others about acting crass and classless.
If you can dance, Spy absolutely pulls some strings to have you two on a mission where you two are in matching suits and dancing together.
Spy once was muttering to himself in french and you catch him and you just lean over the back of the couch, look down at him with a knowing smile and just respond in french as well "now now, a lady shouldn't scowl like that." He knew you meant it as a playful insult, but he blushed wildly under his mask.
Sniper
Mick's downright horrendously flustered when you make eye contact with him. You're a tad shorter than he is, so you looking up from behind to him makes Mick shake in his boots.
Bro please don't grunt/groan in effort at anything. He will NOT stop thinking about that.
When you accidentally look at him during missions. He's always keeping an eye on you, so when you stare back at him it makes his heart flutter.
#tf2#team fortress 2#tf2 sniper#tf2 x reader#tf2 medic#tf2 engineer#tf2 spy#tf2 demoman#sniper x reader#fanfiction#tf2 engie#tf2 demoman x reader#tf2 scout#tf2 scout x reader#tf2 soldier x reader#tf2 pyro x reader#tf2 heavy x reader#tf2 engineer x reader#tf2 sniper x reader#tf2 spy x reader#tf2 medic x reader#tf2 x mreader#tf2 x male reader#tf2 mercs x reader
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Heya! I'm not very experienced with requesting, so if your unclear with what I mean, I apologize and you can feel free to delete!
I was wondering if you could do "Cuddling with Lilia Vanrouge" or "A morning with Lilia Vanrouge"? Your choice on what you want to do!
Have a lovely day <3
cuddly mornings with bat dad
Pairing: Lilia Vanrouge x gn!reader
Synopsis: how is it like cuddling and waking up with him?
Tags: fluff, cuddling, sleepovers, domestic bliss, clingy lilia, lilia's cooking 💀
Word count: 642
Notes: i decided to combine both requests haha, hope you enjoy our resident bat dad!!
Masterlist
Lilia has a pretty bad habbit of staying up late to play video games, so he often tries to convince you to sleepover at his place to ensure he gets proper sleep
"How would I be tempted by video games when my dearest is waiting for me?", or so he says
kinda sorta maybe guilt trips you into spending your nights cuddling with him??? grim is not pleased please return his henchman
but you can't blame him really, cuddling with you is just so warm and comfy
doesn't really have a sense of decency in public and will wrap his arms around you and spin you around in the air as though you didn't wake up in his room 4 hours ago
he loves snuggling into the crook of your neck and planting butterfly kisses all over
also loves teasing you with his cold feet and holds you close so you can't escape, and you just end up being a tangled mess of limbs
big spoon!!! it likes how you feel safe and protected in his arms
also the sudden cold hand at your waist when he's teasing
usually he's the first one to wake, used to his military training and all
so he'll just be next to you and gently brushing your hair, admiring just how peaceful you look in his arms
he'll wake you up gently and if you want to sleep in, he'll gladly indulge you unless you already have plans
but on the rare occasion he's completely drained, you'll wake up to feel his arms tightly wrapped around you, almost as if he's afraid you'll disappear
you can try to shuffle around, but he might just tighten his arms even more
so you resort to staring intensely at his features, playing around with his hair, or gently poking his face
his eyebrows furrow, a slight pout forms on his face as he opens his eyes, the lingering haze of sleep evident
but the moment he registers it's you, his features soften, his eyes sparkling with endearment and he gently tilts his head forward to connect your forehead with his
"Morning, beastie..." he whispers, his voice still hoarse from sleep
the first time you slept over at his place, you had an awful morning trying to navigate his room with how cluttered with random bits and bobs
ever since though, he's made sure his floor is clear of clutter aaand has a nice fluffy pair of slippers especially for you
and of course! he wouldn't be the lovely partner that his is, if he didn't serve you breakfast!
you better pray he didn't decide to make pancakes or anything even slightly unhealthy because it's not gonna be good ಠ﹏ಠ
just keep telling him salad is you favourite dish, okay? if it's nutritious enough, the chances of survival are higher
or, if you wake up first, you can convince him you'll make breakfast for him instead
he won't ever refuse your acts of love for him, after all
"Darling..." Lilia's voice soothes, a gentle touch sweeping through your hair to brush it away from your face. You groggily open your eyes, and see your beloved sitting by the bed, his eyes crinkling in affection. "Come now, you must wake up! I've prepared a new dish for breakfast-"
Oh. Okay. You immediately tug the covers over yourself, attempting to shield yourself from his culinary creation.
"Oh, don't be like that," he scolds lightly, pulling the covers back. "I think it turned out quite wonderfully! Won't you give a try for your beloved's efforts? I did spend quite some time on it..."
Your eyes remain shut in resistance, but there's no denying he's pouting now. With a resigned sigh, you sit up, resting your head on his shoulder and mumbling an "alright."
Maybe it's worth waking up earlier than him.
Masterlist
if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!
#twstnexus#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#disney twisted wonderland#twst imagines#twst wonderland#lilia vanrouge x reader#lilia vanrouge#twst lilia#lilia vanrouge x mc
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Our Saviour Red Hood, Patron Saint of the Poor and Downtrodden, Protector of Gotham
“Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe now.”
(art by the wonderful @gotham-gargoyle )
Some ranting, theory-crafting and inspiration behind this commission under the cut :)
While both Jason and Bruce care deeply about their beloved city, between the two of them, Jason is way more concerned about the little people than Bruce is. They both took “be the person you needed when you were younger” to heart, but Bruce’s effort concentrate on big things, big goals, big projects. He’s impersonal. He’s a strategist. Jason’s more about making sure nobody else has to have a childhood as shitty as he had, and thus takes care of children, single mothers, the poor and downtrodden.
And that’s where my idea comes from.
We all know and love the concept of Batman starting off - or continuously being - a cryptid; an urban legend about Gotham having a protector that hunts criminals at night. But what about Red Hood? Many people see him as way less mystical in comparison, way more down-to-earth, and I can agree with that. Because while Batman is a legend, Red Hood is one of us. He doesn’t try to pretend he’s not just a dude that had enough.
Yet, being a vigilante with a secret identity by default comes with a high level of mystery associated with you; it goes along perfectly with Cryptid Batman, but clashes with Red Hood’s schtick. As such, the weird mix of familiar but secretive, powerful but human (as opposed to Batman’s legend of monstrosity) can result in a very peculiar relationship between Red Hood and the people of Gotham.
Please imagine with me:
Hood marks places and buildings with a little red bat to denote his territory and off-limits areas that doing crime in will be heavily punished. People pick up on the symbol and attempt to use it to fool and scare away wannabe robbers. But it quickly evolves into a red bat just becoming a good luck and protection charm, like a rabbit’s foot. A symbol of allegiance, even, a following.
If you need help, it seems like a no brainer to try to bribe a vigilante somehow before you ask them to deal with the hooligan in your neighbourhood. But few are brave enough to try and approach Batman, Nightwing refuses everything and helps anyway, and Red Robin is hard to find and talks very little. Now Red Hood? Red Hood approaches you. He is the one that talks, asks if you have issues. He knows your name. It’s easy to exchange food and info for a promise of aid. Sometimes, when you can’t seem to run into him, it’s enough to leave out a burger with a red bat scribbled on the bag, and he’ll know you need some attention. From that, it’s only one step to offerings.
While Batman is vengeance and justice, a shadow that haunts the evildoers of Gotham, someone who’s name you fear, Red Hood becomes... a protector. Fierce and dangerous and not invoked lightly, and feared by those who seek to harm his people, but one that has the absolute trust and loyalty of his proteges.
Like that, step after step, people start slipping. From a street rat that just wanted to help, Hood becomes a figure of reverence and maybe even worship. The ghost of Gotham. The soul.
Truly “a better Batman than you’ve ever been”, Bruce.
#dc#dc comics#jason todd#red hood#fanart#batman#saint red hood#tank jason todd#jason todd patron saint of victims
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Eddie had heard plenty of stories about Steve losing fights.
He had the concussions to prove it.
But what Eddie saw with his own two eyes was far more impressive than whatever version of Steve had let Jonathan Byers and Billy Hargrove win.
He’d seen how quick he was to defend the kids, defend Nancy and Robin, even defend Eddie when he barely knew him. He’d thrown himself head first into the mix, nail bat in hand or not.
So when Eddie asked about it, Steve shrugged it off.
“Everyone loses fights.”
Sure, everyone does. But he’s seen Steve win against literal alternate dimension monsters.
No way a human teenage boy or two could be harder to beat.
But he let it go. If Steve insisted on it being a couple of genuine losses, so be it.
But Eddie doesn’t let things go. Especially not when it comes to Steve.
“I guess I just don’t understand how you lost to Jonathan. I mean had he ever even been in a fight before?”
“No. But neither had I.”
“But you should’ve won that fight with no effort. No offense to Jonathan, but he’s scrawny and doesn’t even punch right.”
“I don’t know. Why are you so hung up on this?”
Well, because this wasn’t simple. Eddie could tell Steve was hiding something, he just didn’t know what.
“I guess because no one else ever asked you.”
Steve stared at him, probably trying to figure out how to avoid answering.
“No one seems to ever ask you about you.”
Steve looked down at the floor.
“They don’t need to.”
“You deserve to have people care. So I’m gonna care for now and then I’m gonna have a chat with your idiot kids about relational reciprocity.”
“What?”
“They have to show they care about you as much as you care about them. That’s kind of the deal with friendship.”
“Oh.”
Oh? Did Steve genuinely not know that?
Jesus Christ.
“So?”
“I think I just wasn’t good at fighting.”
“Nah. That’s not it.”
Eddie could see Steve thinking.
When he finally spoke, he wasn’t making eye contact. Eddie reached his hand out towards his face, cupping his chin and lifting his face so he had to look at him.
“Try again, Stevie.”
Steve took in a shaky breath.
“I wasn’t good at fighting for me.”
Eddie nodded. “Why’s that?”
“Just didn’t seem like I deserved to win. I deserved the hits I got.”
“Why?”
“Because I was awful. I said shitty things or did shitty things. Or with Billy, I knew I had to let him take it out on me and I guess I thought I deserved it. I dunno.”
“Mm.”
He released Steve’s chin, watching as his head dropped back down and he seemed to curl in on himself.
Eddie couldn’t allow that to happen.
So he pulled Steve into his lap, smirking to himself just a little when he let out a yelp of surprise at the manhandling.
“So all this time, you’ve put your body and mind and future on the line for everyone else without a second thought, but when you had to protect yourself and only yourself, it’s not worth the effort? Am I understanding correctly?”
Steve didn’t respond, but then again, Eddie hadn’t really expected him to. He was too busy hiding his face in Eddie’s chest.
“That’s what I thought. So who taught you that you’re not worth fighting for? Who told you that anything you’ve done wrong should be considered a debt owed to whoever wanted to raise their fists? Who made you believe that your mistakes could only be absolved if you let them get punched out of you?”
Steve was crying; He could feel the cold wetness seeping through his shirt.
“You tell me who it was and I’ll make sure they know how it feels to lose a fight.”
“Just me.”
“I don’t think that’s true.”
He let Steve sit with the words for a few minutes before speaking again.
“You did some not great things as a teenager, as many teenagers tend to do. Have you seen the way Mike talks to people? He’s a shithead. But do you think he deserves to get concussed from a punch to the temple?”
Steve shook his head.
“Dustin gets an attitude anytime we don’t immediately bend to his will and calls us names all the time. Do you think he deserves to get a plate smashed over his head?”
“Of course not.”
Steve’s voice was quiet.
“You have more than made up for any mistakes you may have made in the past, even without the punches being thrown at you. If I have to tell you that you deserve to be treated with kindness and respect every day, then I fucking will. Hear me?”
“Hear you.”
Steve was staring at Eddie, tears still silently and rapidly falling down his cheeks.
Eddie wiped them away and gave him a small smile.
“You have no idea how special you are. But that’s gonna change.”
“Okay.”
Eddie placed a kiss on his forehead before he wrangled him against his chest again, moving his legs so he could relax completely.
“Just relax, okay? I got you. You’re worth protecting.” Eddie sighed softly. “You’re worth everything.”
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#this was literally typed on my phone in the 15 minutes it took Liam to change out of his hockey gear#so it’s not substantial and may have mistakes#just thought a little brain worm needed an escape#headcanon#stranger things
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Hey, I love your fics. I wanted to request a bat!bro reader who’s 16 where Bruce has split custody with his mum (he grew up with his mum and wanted split) but it turns out his mum was just using him to get money from Bruce and is kind of neglectful? And he always gives it to her bc he’s a mamas boy?
Stay safe and don’t forget to stay hydrated <33
Thanks anon, you stay hydrated too.
Summary: (Y/N) lives with his mom, but it's not going well.
Warnings: Bruce is protective, neglective mom, brothers are worried for (Y/N), Clark is investigating too, emotional (Y/N).
Bruce noticed something about his son (Y/N). He had split custody with his mother because (Y/N) wanted to be with both of his parents equally. Bruce respected that wish and made an effort to work with his mother.
At first, his mom has agreed too and the two of them worked together to make sure that their son is happy. Bruce's other sons were happy with the results and they loved spending a week with the brother.
But now, there is something that has been going on, but Bruce couldn't quite pinpoint it on anything. He noticed that his former fling had much more nicer clothes. Bruce has sent a very hefty sum in child support for (Y/N), knowing that she is a single mom and she is not as rich as he is.
There wasn't anything wrong with buying new clothes for yourself, but he keeps seeing (Y/N) in the same clothes all the time. Bruce has tried to see it in a logical way, but there was a paranoia in his mind.
He knew that there were stories about women using men's child support to pay for themselves, especially if the men are rich and the sums are very hefty.
Just like in Bruce's case.
He didn't want to be paranoid because it would seem like he was crazy, but what if he was right about (Y/N)'s mom? (Y/N) seemed more anxious and more withdrawn. And when he wasn't in that mood, he became clingy, almost like he was deprived of love at home.
He wasn't clingy before and Bruce found it to be suspicious. He thought about involving CPS and other organizations, but he didn't have any official evidence. Just because someone starts being clingy, doesn't have to mean that they are neglected.
However, it is weird.
Bruce made sure to observe what was going on with (Y/N). The others agreed that something was off with their brother. (Y/N) has always been a happy kid, outgoing and loved to hang out with his brothers, dad and unofficial grandfather, but now, (Y/N) has completely changed.
Sure, you could argue that teenagers change and it was true. But not this quickly and not this drastic.
Bruce has officially decided to get involved, deciding to ask Clark for help. Clark is an investigative journalist and he would be able to do this unnoticed. And Clark would do anything do help his nephew.
He just adored (Y/N) and would do anything to make sure that he is okay. So, he has decided to see what (Y/N)'s mom is doing. All of this looked like a case of neglect and Clark could only hope at this point.
Hopes dies last.
But he knew that the chances are slim of that. He made sure that he followed his mom without her noticing. At first, everything was fine. Until he saw that she was rarely home. She spent her days shopping, hanging out with her friends, spending nights with random men...
And amidst all of that, (Y/N) was all alone. He had become an adult. He had to make himself meals, he had to do everything in the house. Not to mention that he had to pay the bills himself.
And recently the heating got cut off because the mom didn't pay it. Now, that was something that Clark couldn't take. His nephew doesn't deserve this.
He told Bruce that and Bruce has called CPS. Those sums are for (Y/N) and not for her. He got a lawyer too and now he had to wait. Now, she refused Bruce to see his own son.
And now she has messed up.
Bruce quickly filed for full custody, not allowing her to use his son as a weapon. Not going to happen. Absolutely not. The court hearings and preceding's were quick and efficient and Bruce was happy that (Y/N) was finally in his custody.
And it was discovered that his mom committed financial crimes and FBI was looking into her. (Y/N) didn't need to know that and he didn't need to be involved in that.
He really didn't need to be involved in that. But the one thing that makes Bruce mad every time he thought about it was the fact that she used his love and manipulated it.
(Y/N) has always been a mama's boy and she used it as a weapon against her own son. And despite (Y/N) being happy that he left that home behind, but there was this... Weird feeling.
He felt guilty and happy at the same time. He shouldn't be happy that his mother is going to jail soon, but at the same time he shouldn't feel guilty that he is now going to have a better life.
But she wasn't a bad mother at first. She was a great mom, but he knew that money has changed her. Those hefty sums were for him and yet, he gave her the amount every month.
He knows he shouldn't blame himself for it, but in the end he does. How he didn't see the manipulation of his love and adoration for her? How could he have been so blind?
So stupid too?
Bruce knew that he had to talk with (Y/N) about the situation. He started living with them full time a little over two weeks ago. It has not been easy for (Y/N), knowing that his mother was a criminal now and completely changing the way he lived.
He was still withdrawn and Bruce knew that he had to talk to (Y/N). He needed to make sure that (Y/N) knows that he is not at fault. Not happening.
He went to his room where (Y/N) was reading and Bruce gave him a smile as he entered the room sitting next to him. (Y/N) marked the page and put the book down.
It has been silent and (Y/N) couldn't really look at Bruce. And what does Bruce does? He brings (Y/N) into his lap, allowing him to finally find some comfort. (Y/N) didn't want to be clingy anymore, but he wanted comfort.
" Now, I want you to just listen and not talk, okay? " Bruce said and (Y/N) nodded.
" None of this is on you. She didn't take good care of you and none of this is on you. Whatever you might see in the media, is not true. You don't have to, no you shouldn't feel guilty. " Bruce has started, gently rocking his son.
He loved to rock him, even when he was a baby he rocked him. (Y/N) loved it a lot and it would always calm him down.
" Now, you mother made her own choices and now she has to answer for them. I know that you feel guilty and once again, you shouldn't feel guilty. You are going to have at least 3 warm meals with us, you won't have to do any chores anymore, you won't worry about bills and more importantly, " Bruce paused, glancing down at his son who was softly shaking while sobbing.
" Now, if you ever need something, do not hesitate. We are all here for you. All of us. From Damian to Alfred. All of us. " Bruce has said, giving him a soft kiss to the side of his head. He nodded to his sons who were waiting outside of the room.
They have entered and hugged their brother tightly, making sure to let him know that he is not at fault. Damian was the one who was the most vocal about it.
(Y/N) was so overwhelmed with emotions, but was happy to have so much support in his life. He didn't really have that support with his mom and all of this has made his head spin. All of it.
But he was happy none the less.
" Thanks guys. Love you all. " (Y/N) said so quietly and Dick openly cooed at (Y/N). Everyone felt their heart bursting from the sheer happiness.
Now they had their brother back. With a little bit more time, he is going to be his old self.
#dc x male reader#dc comics#x male reader#batfamily#bruce wayne x male reader#jason todd x male reader#batman x male reader#batkids#red hood x male reader#tim drake x male reader#red robin x male reader#damian wayne x male reader#robin x male reader#dick grayson x male reader#nightwing x male reader
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