#cp fics

[brycesfav]

was @luvvtrent !

a || she/her || black || leo || american

main posts: football, f1, nfl, nba, & nhl

- charlotte fc, fc barcelona, liverpool fc, & borussia dortmund

- carolina panthers & los angeles chargers

- charlotte hornets & golden state warriors

- carolina hurricanes

things i like: music ( frank ocean, sza, brent faiyaz, beyoncé, aaliyah, the weeknd, kendrick lamar, steve lacy, daniel caesar, & destiny’s child ), running, the beach, marvel ( wandavision, black widow, & black panther ), thrifting/shopping, going out, eating, going to games, summer, traveling, reading, beta squad, dogs, sports, alone time, shoes, the color green, & clothes

my main tags ( fic recs )

jalen hurts: jalen fics

justin herbert: herb fics

andrei svechnikov: svech fics

gavi: gavi fics

pedri: pedri fics

oscar piastri: oscar fics

mason mount: mm fics

christian pulisic: cp fics

joao felix: he hay bf fics

& any other x readers ( jobe bellingham, finnick odair, ferran torres, fermin lopez, levi colwill, marc guiu, logan sargeant, cole palmer, & carlos sainz )

#asks 💫 #mutuals 🫂 #tag game #herb fics #gavi fics #cp fics #pedri fics #oscar fics #mm fics #he hay bf fics #jalen fics #svech fics #🎧

[cluelesspigeons]

This is written for the prompt “careless” from @drarrymicrofic

Word count: 197

Drarry microfic: poisonous

Cw: being poisoned

“I can’t believe you were that careless!” Draco exclaimed. He ran around the room, taking ingredients left and right and throwing them into his cauldron. “You know those plants are dangerous!”

Harry sighed from where he was sitting on the examination table. He had lost count of how many times he had been here. “I’ve been through worse.”

“You—” Draco turned around, his silver eyes ablaze. He pointed a long finger in Harry’s direction. “You are unbelievable.”

Harry huffed a laugh, a fond smile on his lips. He stood from the table and stumbled his way over to Draco. “I love you,” he said softly as he fell into Draco’s arms, ignoring the searing pain that shot up his back. “You’re amazing.”

“Oh, Merlin.” Draco sighed. “The poison must be spreading quicker than I thought when you’re spouting such nonsense.” He led Harry back to the examination table, making sure he was comfortable. “Hold on a little longer,” he continued. “The antidote is almost done.”

If Harry wasn’t currently fighting the side effects of the poison streaming through his veins, he would have thought he saw a deep blush on Draco cheeks when he turned back around.

Prompt from March 28th

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#drarry #drarry microfic #drarrymicrofic #drarry fic #drarry fanfic #drarry fanfiction #draco malfoy #harry potter #draco x harry #harry x draco #my writing #cp writes #cluelesspigeons #march 2023 #healer draco #careless harry #poison #poisonous plant #love confessions

[hennike]

hide & seek

i want to escape from princess lessons AU. in which damen is clark, laurent is letty, and they are - as always - caught in a game of laurent's own making

“You’ve caught me,” says Laurent, “again.”

“Well,” Damen says, adjusting Laurent’s body over his shoulder. He carries Laurent like he weighs nothing, which Laurent finds deeply, deeply irritating, “I did say I would always catch you.”

“Charming.”

“Aren’t I?”

Damen laughs. Laurent resists the urge to kick him in the stomach.

Despite Laurent’s protests, Damen only puts him down when they get back to the palace. There is no one around to watch them, thank the gods, but Laurent’s cheeks still heat when Damen places his hands on Laurent’s waist to steady him. If his own hands wrap themselves around Damen’s arms, then it is simply because he needs the extra stability.

“So,” Damen starts, smiling in a way so self-satisfied that Laurent immediately feels a headache coming on, “you think I’m charming?”

“Whatever gave you that idea?”

“I’m sure I could jog your memory.”

“Brute.”

“You have a leaf in your hair,” says Damen, suddenly. He reaches out, hand hovering just above Laurent’s head. “May I?”

Laurent wants to say no, wants to say you’ve already caught me once today, I won’t be caught again, but Damen is watching him with too-bright eyes and a kind of affection Laurent has only just begun to comprehend, that Laurent finds himself saying, “You may.”

Carefully, Damen plucks the leaf out of Laurent’s hair. His fingers brush softly against the strands, displacing the leaf, and Laurent wouldn’t even have noticed it if he weren’t paying attention – but he is. His skin prickles with goosebumps at the sensation, and he hopes that Damen doesn’t notice.

“There,” Damen says, soft enough to be a whisper. Then, “Will you let me catch you again next time?”

“Do I have a choice?” Laurent says. He means for his tone to be more dry, more derisive, but instead the words come out sounding entirely too genuine. “Somehow you always seem to be one step ahead of me.”

“That won’t do,” Damen says. He steps closer. Like this, Laurent thinks, Damen’s affection is so warm it burns the both of them.  “All I ever want to be is right next to you.”

#lamen #mine #cp #captive prince #SORRY. self-indulgence wins again #lamen fic #laurent #damen #laurent of vere #damianos of akielos #what do you call it when something is too long to be a drabble but too short to be a ficlet?

[lamonnaie]

i love the way nawa loves

there's this guy he's been looking at for Years at this point, just waiting and observing him, and now that he finally has the opportunity to get closer, he still doesn't take advantage of it to begin with

Because he knows what Guy's like and he knows that just being upfront about it will get them nowhere

so he makes up nonsense about fights, breaks down his walls the only way he knows how, the only way he knows will work with guy, because he knows him

but that doesn't mean he stops observing, he's still looking out for guy, covering for their fight, always showing up at the hospital, taking him to see the stars, doing it all with the teasing that they've both grown familiar and comfortable with

but that breakdown scene with the two of them, god it really just felt like nawa's breaking point right there with guy's. he didn't want to have to see this boy he'd fallen in love with hurting so much, to give up something that nawa knew, had seen, meant so much to him.

so he starts off the only way he knows how to broach things between them, by riling guy up, using his anger because guy doesnt feel anything else towards him, right?

but i think he saw that he was really hitting a nerve with guy, and nawa is well aware of his feelings, he knows that the last thing he wants to do is hurt guy any more than he already is, to accidentally cross the delicate line between the cat and mouse game they have going on, and something actually threatening. you can just see the mask slipping off nawa even as he's still spitting nonsense

the way his voice gets softer, his eyes get glassy, his words get a bit shaky

because he's always seen through guy's exterior demeanour, but now he's not hiding it from guy anymore

and his little smile as they hug !! he's been supporting guy from afar, quietly, for so many years now, but he gets to do it up close now, be guy's shooting star

i just love the way nawa loves :")

#can't believe the silly goofy bathroom cp has me so emotional #haven't ever felt this strongly about a side cp 😭😭 #they mean the world to me <33 #dangerous romance #dangerous romance the series #guynawa #already planning so many guynawa fics for after exams ahsdkjf

[baejax-the-great]

I don't actually think the archive should start banning things but I DO think it would be very funny if they locked Harry Potter as a fandom and were just like, "actually, we're good here. Enough stories have been made. No more need to be added. Archive is full."

#brought to you by me browing the r/ao3 subreddit and getting annoyed today #been a bunch of threads this week calling fic CP which it by definition is not #brought up so often the mods made a new auto responder to define CP so people would stop misusing it #as if they give a shit about definitions

[silverhandsamurai]

Headcanons • Rebecca/Tall!GN!Reader

" C'mon choom! give me a lift will ya!

Every chance she gets, Becca uses your height to her own benefit. She loves sitting on your shoulders to get a better vantage point for a kill shot.

In order to get a free piggyback ride from you, she will often claim her feet hurt or that she is sore from walking too much. Because of this, it has become a common sight for the rest of the crew to see Becca dangling off your back.

As a result of her affection for you, Becca often refers to you as "Long Legs" when she is flirty or teasing you. 

Becca has stolen half of your closet and most of the time, when she isn't wearing her favorite jacket, she will be wearing one of your clothes. You usually have to go to her apartment every week to retrieve your clothes she's gathered.

Becca loves physical affection, so she'll usually sit on your lap and demand you hug her. Whenever she can, she steals kisses, even in the middle of combat, she calls it her " rechargin' time."

#cyberpunk imagine #cyberpunk fic #cyberpunk #cyberpunk edgerunners #edgerunners #cp edgerunners #rebecca x reader #rebecca edgerunners #edgerunners rebecca #x reader #gn!reader #gender neutral reader #headcanons #headcanon #tall!reader #cyberpunk rebecca #cyberpunk x reader #cyberpunk 2077 #tall reader

[the-autistic-spider]

danny phantom x marvel prompt

Danny gets a job at stark tech after moving away from amity with jazz

ether with jazz as his legal guardian as she was legally old enough to be self caring

or they were adopted by pepper/tony

#danny phantom fandom #danny phantom #fic request #danny fenton #jazz fenton #tony stark #pepper potts #dp x marvel #marvel x dp #marvel #dp #dp x ironman #fic prompt #cps finally got them away from there #jazz was happy #danny was confused but ok with it because they will be there #for a long time because of lack of safety or structural integrity of the building

[beauregardlionett]

you've walked a hundred times before

AO3 Link

“That’s pretty much the lay of the land,” Lydia said, boosting herself up onto one of the plinths. She leaned back on her hands and smiled cheerily as she knocked her heels against the plinth supports. “Any questions?”

Mar hummed, shoving their hands into the pockets of their scrub pants. “How busy is an average night here?”

“Depends on a few things,” Lydia said, crossing her ankles and tipping her head to one side. “Usually the main driving factor is how safe the city is on a day to day basis.”

“Why would that change so frequently?”

Lydia went still, gaze zeroing in uncomfortably on Mar’s face. 

“You have worked in a city before, right?”

“Yeah?” Mar said, hesitant. “During school I had placements in two different major cities.”

“Which ones?”

“Trenton and Philadelphia?” Mar said, failing to see how this was relevant.

“Hm, condolences,” Lydia said, pushing herself off the plinth as Mar made a face at her. “You probably only worked during the day, didn’t you?”

“You know many physical therapy clinics that are open after seven at night?”

“Fair,” Lydia smirked. “Anyway, my point is, Gotham is a fucking nightmare when it comes to crime and weirdo villains - sometimes during the day, but mostly at night. So, the more active they are, the less patients we tend to have. It’s kind of like when the weather gets bad and all the elderly people cancel? Of course, there’s always people who just do not care and show up regardless, so we never have absolutely nothing to do.”

“Hey,” Fariha called, poking her head out of the tiny front office. “I finished organizing the schedule for tonight since Jiro had to take off. First patient should be here soon.”

“Thanks!” Lydia said with a wave. She turned to beam at Mar, brown ponytail swinging and teeth blindingly white under the fluorescents. “I almost forgot to mention, there’s an emergency clinic across the hall you might have spotted on your way in. So if you hear any commotion, it’s probably them and not a robbery. If it is a robbery, Fariha has it covered.”

Mar blinked, opened their mouth, then closed it. They decided to just take that statement at face value and hopefully never find out the details.

“Do we take walk-ins?” Mar asked instead, gaze shifting to the door as it opened. An elderly looking Hispanic woman toddled in, grinning brightly as Fariha called out a greeting.

“Oh yeah, if we have room in the schedule for them. Most of them come in without scripts so I hope you’re prepared to do some detective work.”

Mar hummed again in response as Lydia moved to grab her rolling desk and laptop. 

“Hi, Mrs. Jimena!” Lydia said, gesturing to a plinth in the corner of the room. “Got your table all ready for you. How’s that knee doing?”

Mar ducked into the front office with Fariha, shifting through the small stack of patient charts left out for them. The pro bono clinic was only open for five hours, starting at four in the afternoon and closing somewhere in the vicinity of nine. Lydia had said it depended on what their schedules looked like that determined how early or late they could close up.

“Hey, Fariha?” Mar said, leaning against the filing cabinet to face the cheerful front desk woman. She had a heart shaped face, warm brown eyes, and she hadn’t stopped smiling since Mar met her half an hour ago. Fariha had a slight accent that dripped like honey through every syllable, making her friendly disposition increasingly effective. Her golden septum piercing seemed like the brightest thing in the world under the dingy lighting of the clinic.

Fariha turned her rolling chair to Mar and hummed to show she was listening.

“Lydia said if the schedule is light, we could close early some nights. How does that work with walk-ins?”

“Oh, well, it’s been a while since we’ve gotten to close early,” Fariha said, leaning back in her chair. “But I think the policy is, if we have no one on the schedule, and no walk-ins for half an hour, we can call it a night. Since walk-ins aren’t on the schedule, we don’t lose productivity for closing. Besides, it’s pro bono so it’s not like it affects paystubs.”

Mar nodded, glancing down at the folders in their hands again.

“I also had a question about this paperwork.”

After Fariha patiently explained some of their general paperwork, Mar’s first patient came hustling in, on the verge of tears and breathlessly apologizing for being five minutes late. Between Fariha’s sweet reassurances, and Mar fluidly ushering the patient back to the treatment area, there was mercifully little drama to handle. The next three hours passed without further issue between Mar and Lydia’s patient load, which Mar accepted for the blessing it was. They had only been living and working in Gotham for around three weeks thus far at a hospital based clinic four blocks from here. Mar had ended up agreeing to do pro bono work because they enjoyed it during their time at school and it wasn’t like they had anything better to do.

They occupied a mildly shitty apartment two blocks from the pro bono clinic with a roommate Mar trusted to at least pay their half of the rent. This felt like an about average experience for someone who had finished graduate school five months ago and passed their boards a month prior. Gotham was a less than ideal place to work, but Mar leapt at the job offer that promised an income to start paying back their loans.

“Here’s the paperwork from Mr. Boyle,” Mar said around a yawn, placing the sheets next to Fariha’s keyboard. “Have you heard anything from my next patient, by the way?”

“I just got off the phone with her, actually,” Fariha said, scooping up the papers and placing them in her scanner. “She said she wouldn’t be able to make it. She has to take her mother uptown for some last minute appointment, so I rescheduled her for next week.”

Before Mar could say anything, the door in the waiting room swung open to admit a tall, broad figure wearing…a bodysuit? The man strode up to the window at the desk, beaming with a smile that rivaled Fariha’s and eyes shrouded by a domino mask with white outs. As Mar had told Lydia earlier, they worked in a city during school - so Mar was used to seeing a lot of weird shit. But this was…new.

Mar looked down at Fariha for some reassurance that they were not hallucinating, but she was simply beaming back at their latest entry.

“How may I help you?”

“I saw you take walk-ins,” the man said, like that explained everything about this situation.

“We do indeed,” Fariha said, opening up a new appointment on her computer. “What’s your name so I can enter you in?”

“Nightwing.”

Mar watched in stunned bemusement as Fariha typed ‘Night’ into the slot for a first name and ‘Wing’ in as the last name.

“Age?”

“How old do you think I am?”

Fariha chuckled and entered in a random birthdate that dubbed Nightwing as twenty-five years old.

“Gender and preferred pronouns?”

“Male, he/him, please.”

Fariha entered the information and submitted the appointment. A window popped up claiming the chart needed more information and Mar waited for Fariha to fill in all of the required fields as expected. Instead, she flagged a box next to a line of text Mar was not fast enough to read, pressed ‘enter’, and smiled over the screen at Nightwing.

“You’re in luck, sweetie, we have an opening right now.”

“Great!”

Fariha spun in her chair and stared at Mar. They were still standing beside her, baffled.

“Oh, yeah,” Mar said, voice cracking slightly. “That…that would be me. Uhm…”

Mar looked down at Fariha and then back up at Nightwing.

“Follow me?” Mar said, feeling absolutely delirious. They turned and exited the front office, waiting for Nightwing to join them before leading him to one of the few private rooms they had for evaluations. Still uncertain if this was a fever dream or not, Mar gestured to the plinth in the room for Nightwing to sit on and then glanced out to the floor where Lydia was treating her patient.

“I need to grab my laptop, I’ll be right back,” Mar choked out before ducking from the room.

Their laptop was conveniently located near where Lydia was treating her patient, so Mar snagged her elbow and gestured frantically. Lydia left her patient doing a simple exercise and ducked her head close to Mar, an eyebrow raised with confusion.

“Could you explain to me why a man in a mask and skin tight suit just walked in and Fariha filled out an appointment with little to no information and acted like this was a normal occurrence?”

Lydia’s eyes went wide and Mar had all of two seconds to feel relief that someone here was still sane before that hope was obliterated.

“You got a Mask in your room?”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Mar whisper-screeched.

“This is pro bono,” Lydia said, as if that explained anything. When it became clear to her that Mar was not following, Lydia sighed. “Gotham has vigilantes, right? They can’t exactly use their insurance for medical visits without exposing their identities. So we have both the emergency clinic and pro bono for them and for citizens who don’t have insurance or have shitty insurance. Didn’t anyone tell you about the vigilante rules when you signed up for pro bono?”

“Lydia, do I look like anyone explained that to me before I got here?”

Lydia ran a hand down her face and made a noise of exasperation, like she was the one most stressed out by this situation. “Look, they’re just another patient. Do what you normally do!”

“And ignore the spandex and domino mask and the fact that everything about the conduct of this appointment is a severe breach of several APTA guidelines - sure.”

Lydia dropped a hand on Mar’s shoulder and chuckled. “It’s cute that you think the APTA has any jurisdiction here.”

Mar watched her walk away, resignation feeling like a rock in their gut. Rolling their table and laptop back to Nightwing’s room, Mar tried not to look affected by this development.

“Sorry for the wait, Mr. Wing. My name is Mar, and I’ll be your physical therapist this evening.”

“Please, Mr. Wing was my father,” he said with far too much seriousness. “You can just call me Nightwing.”

Mar’s face went hot with embarrassment, well aware they were being teased, as they locked the wheels of their table with more force than necessary.

“Alright, Nightwing,” Mar said, tone clipped. “What brings you in today?”

“My right shoulder has been bugging me for almost two weeks now and it’s not really getting any better. Someone I know used to get physical therapy and said it was great, so I figured I’d just pop in and see what it’s about.”

“You appear to be…working,” Mar said, hesitant as they looked Nightwing’s ensemble up and down. “Do I need to get you in and out quickly this evening?”

“Nah, it’s a slow night. Plus, I know some others are out and about who can cover for me.”

Mar decided not to think about that comment too much. “So, what happened two weeks ago that made your shoulder start bothering you? Anything significant or out of the ordinary for you?”

Nightwing tipped his face to the ceiling, seeming to contemplate the question before shrugging and smiling at Mar. 

“Nothing I would consider out of the ordinary. Usual patrols through Blüdhaven and sometimes here in Gotham, swinging from buildings and lampposts, the occasional flip and somersault, and getting thrown around during fights.”

Mar had been typing as Nightwing spoke, putting everything in a blank note to try and parse through later, but paused at the last comment. They looked up slowly and really took Nightwing in, assessing his posture, where he was holding his weight, and what they could see of his expression. They had a process for evaluation visits, a systematic flow of questions that were considered important, that provided information for both prognosis and diagnosis. Mar had put a lot of time and effort into figuring out a flow that worked for them during their schooling, and was quite proud of the results.

But between Lydia’s comment about the APTA and Nightwing off-handedly mentioning getting “thrown around”, Mar was beginning to question how to proceed.

“What…what constitutes getting thrown around?”

Nightwing tipped his head sideways at Mar like they were the one saying something unusual.

“What do you mean?”

Mar unlocked the wheels on their desk and pushed it aside to stand directly in front of Nightwing.

“I mean people who practice martial arts get thrown around, flyers in cheerleading get thrown around, and they do it in a way that is trained and practical to their goals. How are you getting thrown around and is there anyone there to catch you?”

Even without being able to see his eyes, Mar caught the strange faltering of Nightwing’s easy-going expression. He only slipped up for a moment, plastering it back in place, but it looked shakier. 

“I work solo most nights,” Nightwing said, clearly trying to seem unaffected and almost getting there.

“Okay,” Mar said, making a mental note for his social history and moving on quickly. “So what are you landing on?”

“Uh, pavement? Cinder block walls? Sometimes my feet.”

Mar was beginning to regret signing up for pro bono.

“Okay, so nothing great.”

“If it helps, I do have training and I land on my feet like…nine times out of ten.”

“It doesn’t.”

Nightwing snorted a laugh and grinned at Mar, their heights almost even where he sat on the lowered plinth. Mar had no idea if he actually was twenty-five, but if he was, that made Mar older than him by a few years. It hurt to think about him getting thrown around and having no one to help him up and no one to go home to. But that was a conversation for another day, when they had more of a rapport to go off.

Mar felt slightly ridiculous for thinking they would ever see this guy in the clinic again.

On that thought, Mar decided, fuck it, just do what needs to be done.

“On a scale of one to ten - don’t give me that look, Nightwing - on a scale of one to ten, ten being I’m calling an ambulance, how would you rate your shoulder pain right now?”

“Right now? Uh…three?”

Mar reached over to their laptop and typed his response out quickly. “What is it at worst and what are you doing when it feels like that?”

“Usually when I’m putting weight through my arm or swinging between buildings, and I guess…a six?”

“Does it ever feel sharp, stabbing, or burning? Or is it more of a dull ache?”

“Dull, like I worked out too much.”

Mar typed those pieces of information out, too. They stared at the lines of text, something like disbelief pinching their throat. It was always like this with athletes and performers. Their perception of pain was less about how painful it actually was and more about how much it affected their ability to do what they deemed necessary. Or how much they were able to muscle through and ignore the pain. Mar suspected Mr. Wing here was no different. These numbers were seemingly average pain ratings, but Mar already doubted them based on the comment about concrete.

“Alright, let me get a look at your shoulder.”

They took Nightwing through a quick exam, subtly making sure his nervous system wasn’t royally fucked before actually focusing on his shoulder. If he had any qualms about said exam, he didn’t make them obvious, instead going through every motion and test Mar requested. Then they had him follow along with arm motions, Mar watching his right side carefully for any differences or abnormalities, and kept asking him if different things changed his pain at all. After a few more tests for his shoulder, some of which were less than pleasant for Nightwing, Mar snagged a rolling stool from outside the door and sat down on it next to the plinth. They dragged their desk over and made a few notes on their laptop before pushing it away and looking at Nightwing again.

“Okay, so the good news is, you don’t seem to have any broken bones, and haven’t torn anything in your rotator cuff.”

“Awesome. Does this mean there’s bad news?”

“I wouldn’t call it bad news,” Mar said, twisting their fingers together in their lap. “But you’ve definitely strained your shoulder muscles. It’s not overly serious, but if you don’t give your muscles time to heal, your shoulder is only going to get worse.”

“I thought these things went away on their own,” Nightwing said, distinctly pouting.

Mar pressed their lips together and cursed - not for the first time - the quality of health education in public schools.

“Have you ever heard the acronym RICE?”

“Maybe?”

“It means rest, ice, compression, and elevation. There are other versions of that acronym that are more involved and updated, but there’s nothing wrong with RICE. Anyway, it compiles the basic ideas of how to best treat an injury to your musculoskeletal system. If you don’t do any of that, your injury will absolutely get worse.”

Mar gestured to Nightwing’s shoulder for emphasis and said, “that includes swinging from buildings, by the way, which I guess is the bad news. You should take a break or find a new means of travel that doesn’t involve stressing your shoulder. I’d also prefer if you were thrown into less concrete-like surfaces.”

“Define less.”

“Zero would be ideal.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“I appreciate that,” Mar said flatly. “I’m going to grab you an ice pack instead of having you do exercises for today. While you sit there with it, I have some papers for you to fill out.”

Mar ducked from the room and came back a few minutes later with two papers and an ice pack wrapped in a towel. They adjusted the ice pack on Nightwing’s shoulder and then wrapped it up to hold it in place so he didn’t have to hold it.

“These two papers are what we call outcome surveys. They’ll give me more information on how this injury is affecting you so I know what to focus on in your treatment.”

Nightwing took the offered papers and pen to fill out. Mar pulled their laptop over and started compiling a list of exercises for him, putting more than usual in case they never saw each other again or in case it took him a while to get back here. As they were filling out the note in Nightwing’s brand new electronic chart, Mar paused the cursor over family and social history. They could make a few guesses based on what he said earlier, but they figured it wouldn’t exactly be ethical to not ask. As much as they had wanted to wait until they knew each other better, there was a high likelihood Mar would never see Nightwing again. It felt wrong to let him leave without asking. Plus, despite how far off the reservation from normal this entire encounter had been thus far, Mar wanted to maintain some semblance of sanity this evening.

“Nightwing,” Mar said, peering over their laptop at him. He glanced up, the white outs of his mask level with Mar’s face. “Do you live alone?”

The white outs didn’t move, but Mar could feel the way he was blinking at them, baffled.

“What?”

“I need to make a note about if there is anyone at home with you in case of emergencies. I suppose…given your situation, I don’t need a name or contact information. But it would put my mind at rest to know if there was literally anyone at home or within a reasonable travel distance should you need them.”

Nightwing was silent for a moment longer and Mar was beginning to regret asking, about to shrug it off and tell Nightwing to forget it.

“No, I–I live alone.” Nightwing’s fingers tightened subtly around the pen in his hand. “But I have…people I can contact that live here. In Gotham.”

Good enough.

Mar added a few more exercises to his list in silence, letting Nightwing get back to the papers. They sent the list to the printer and stood, quietly informing Nightwing they would be right back and to finish the papers.

Ducking into the front office, Mar went straight for the printer and ignored Fariha’s insistent stare. Flipping through the papers to make sure they were all present and correct, Mar sighed and turned to Fariha, crossing their arms and raising their eyebrows as a prompt.

“Is he nice?”

“He’s a mess.”

Fariha waved her hand dismissively. “Aren’t they all?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Mar said, voice heavy with sass. “I’ve never worked in a clinic unregulated by the APTA with vigilantes before.”

“It’s fun, right?”

“It’s giving me a headache.”

“You get used to it.” Fariha twirled back to her computer as the phone on her desk started to ring. She pulled a bottle of NSAIDs from one of her drawers and put it pointedly on the desk beside her. “You haven’t seen anything until you’ve worked the front desk at the emergency department overnight.”

“Sounds great,” Mar muttered as Fariha answered the phone with her cheerful, scripted greeting. Mar took their chance to exit and went back to the treatment room, ignoring the NSAIDs. Nightwing was setting the completed papers on Mar’s rolling desk as they walked in, the ice pack still in place.

“Here’s a list of exercises for you,” Mar said, plopping back down on the rolling stool. “I highlighted the ones I want you to focus on most and wrote down how many times per day and per week I want you doing them. And for the record, I’m banning you from swinging until your shoulder is doing better. If I see you swinging in this city, HIPPA be damned, I’m calling you out.”

“I don’t think that’s legal.”

“I’ve been informed the APTA holds no power here, so I’ll take my chances.”

Nightwing glanced up from his papers in surprise, the white outs of his domino mask widening slightly. “Are you not from Gotham?”

“No, I just moved here a few weeks ago.”

“Oh. That’s surprising.”

Mar glanced up from where they had been typing, eyes narrowed. “Why’s that?”

“You just seemed so calm and unfazed by all this. Usually people who aren’t from Gotham are more…freaked?”

“I have an uncanny ability to tolerate the shit that could only happen in a city,” Mar said in monotone. “I went to graduate school in a city - it’s a survival tactic.”

“Understandable, I suppose,” Nightwing hummed, folding up the sheet and spiriting it away somewhere on his suit. “Still impressive.”

“Thanks, I guess.” Mar stood, closing their laptop before freeing the ice pack from Nightwing’s shoulder. Leaving it on the plinth next to him, they gestured to the door.

“Before I walk you out, do you have any other questions for me?”

Mar was used to patients brushing that off, or immediately firing back with questions about surgery, imaging, or other healthcare visits they might need. It usually provided good insight on how the patient thought the visit went, whether they trusted Mar or not at the end of the session. But Nightwing sat quietly for a long moment, actually contemplating something.

Eventually, he asked, “that comment you made about not swinging until you cleared me, were you serious?”

Mar’s first thought was that’s a stupid question, of course I was serious. Their second thought was why did he ask me that?

“I was. Why do you ask?”

“It’s just…usually B is the only one telling me not to do something for my health and safety.”

Mar pulled their stool back over and sat down again. “Who is B?”

“He’s…” Nightwing paused long enough that Mar began to wonder if he was giving them the silent treatment, hoping they would move on. “Someone I work with.”

“And how well do you follow B’s advice, if I might ask?”

Nightwing immediately turned sheepish, grinning and scratching the back of his head.

“Admittedly…not well.”

Mar exhaled a sharp breath that sounded halfway like a laugh. Leaning forward, they propped their elbows on their knees and folded their hands together, staring up at Nightwing.

“Listen, Nightwing,” Mar said, serious enough to catch his attention. “I can’t actually enforce anything upon you. At the end of the day, your recovery is in your hands and depends on the choices you make. All I can do is provide advice based on the medical knowledge and expertise I have, and support you. So, I am strongly advising you to give your shoulder a break before you actually tear something and end up being unable to do the things you need to do, or require less conservative interventions. You’ve got a lot of strong muscles supporting the joint, but you’re stressing something that’s trying to heal and those other muscles can only do so much. Does that make sense?”

Nightwing nodded, shrouded gaze locked in on Mar. They nodded back and asked again, “any other questions?”

“Nope.”

“Alright,” Mar stood, brushing their hands down their scrub pants and gesturing for the door again. “I’ll walk you out.”

They went to the front desk together, standing at the window to schedule a follow up with Fariha. She explained the cancellation policy to Nightwing and said that if he was unable to keep a scheduled appointment, he could walk in again and they would do their best to get him on the schedule. Mar was fairly certain that was strictly a vigilante policy but they didn’t say so. For all they knew, it probably applied to other patients here, too.

Once Nightwing was set up, Mar walked him out into the short hallway that joined the pro bono clinic with the emergency clinic.

“Thanks again, Mar,” Nightwing said with a grin. He turned to go and Mar couldn’t hold back their last niggling concern any longer.

“Nightwing? I have one more question for you, if you want to answer it that is.”

He turned back to them, seeming nervous but still grinning.

“Earlier, you said that B was the only one who gave you health advice. You seemed surprised about something I consider a routine part of my job.” Mar paused, chewing at the inside of their cheek.

“There really is no delicate way to frame this question. Have you been neglected by other healthcare professionals? Because if you have, we can report them. I could submit anonymous information to the HR department if they’re within the hospital system and I can’t guarantee anything drastic will come of it, but the complaint would still be in the system and–”

Nightwing stepped forward and held his hands up toward Mar. “Whoa, hey. No, I wouldn’t say neglected. It’s just that this system of anonymity for vigilantes wasn’t always a thing, y’know? It’s only come about in the last few years, so it takes some getting used to. The system failed a lot of the vigilantes I know, so even with things like HIPPA and PHI in place, it’s not easy to show up and trust healthcare will keep us anonymous and treat us unbiased. And some of the people I’ve seen think we’re a little…what’s the word? Invulnerable? Like we’re all Superman and can heal quickly.”

“Well that’s stupid.” Mar immediately put a hand over their mouth, flinching. “Sorry, that was unprofessional.”

Nightwing laughed, short and loud. He put his hands on his hips and shook his head, still grinning broadly.

“You’re not wrong. But my point is, I appreciate you treating me like I’m a normal human despite uh…” Nightwing gestured to his ensemble. “This.”

“Until you stop being human, you’re going to be treated like one,” Mar said solemnly, making Nightwing chuckle again.

“I appreciate it.” Something at his wrist beeped and Nightwing grimaced, starting for the door. “Sorry, I really have to go now.”

Mar waved him off and called out, “no swinging, and don’t forget to do your exercises!”

“Sure thing!” Nightwing called as the automatic doors slid shut behind him.

Mar walked back into the clinic, already wondering how the hell they were supposed to document this visit. Fariha and Lydia were inside the front office, Lydia’s patient having left during Nightwing’s visit. They both nearly leapt through the door as Mar entered, figuring they should just get the interrogation over with before they sat down to document.

“Was that Nightwing?” Lydia squealed, eyes sparkling. “Was he nice? Is he as hot as the blog posts claim? How did his butt look?”

Mar made a face at Lydia’s questions, holding their hands up to fend her off.

“Yes, yes, subjective, and I was treating his shoulder, not his ass.”

“He seemed like a very pleasant young man,” Fariha said with a sigh. “I wish my boyfriend was as charming as him.”

“Fariha, your boyfriend is a computer engineer, a massive geek, and plenty charming,” Lydia said without moving her imploring gaze from Mar.

Fariha put her hands over her chest and swooned in her chair. “And I love him dearly. But Nightwing has a different kind of charm - so boyish and sweet.”

“As entertaining as this conversation is,” Mar said flatly. “I need to write up his note so I can go home.”

“Wait!” Lydia whined, chasing after Mar as they left the front office. “I have more questions about Nightwing!”

--

“Morning, sunshine,” Raya chirped, almost immediately getting in Mar’s way as they walked into the clinic the next morning. The hospital was bustling already, despite it being barely seven in the morning, and Mar personally thought that was a direct insult to their exhaustion.

Mar grunted a greeting in response, ducking around Raya and making for the back office where the therapists kept all their stuff. Undeterred, Raya trailed after Mar, grinning brightly like the morning person she was.

“I heard you had a fun night.”

Mar, setting their bag down on their desk, paused and turned to furrow their brow at Raya.

“How the fuck did you hear about that? It has literally been twelve hours since then.”

“Fariha’s, like, my best friend. We talk shit together on Fridays during lunch.”

“Of course you do.” Mar shoved their bag to the back of the desk and swiped up their coffee mug, immediately making a beeline for the office coffee maker.

“So,” Raya said with emphasis. “You met Nightwing.”

“You did not phrase that as a question so I will not deign to answer it.”

“Oh, come on,” Raya groaned, slumping against the wall next to where Mar was persuading the coffee machine to provide them with something to live for. “You’ve got to have something to say about him. He’s, like, objectively one of the coolest heroes in this fucking city and he doesn’t even live here!”

“It seems like everyone who has asked me for details on Nightwing already knows more about him and his ass than I do. You’re just looking for me to confirm some preconceived parasocial ideals, and it is far too early for that.”

“That’s a lot of bold talk for someone who had a five year long ‘delulu’ K-pop phase.”

“One, it was a coping mechanism. Two, I never developed a parasocial relationship about it. And three, Mamamoo is superior and you will pay for insinuating otherwise.”

Raya rolled her eyes and pushed off the wall to head to her desk. “Tell that to the collage of photocards on your bedroom wall, darling.”

“Maybe I will,” Mar said as the coffee maker sputtered out the last dregs of liquid gold into their mug. “At least they won’t talk back.”

Raya snorted an admittedly adorable laugh behind her hand and ruffled Mar’s undone hair as she passed by on her way out of the office.

“Whatever you say, champ. We’ll talk more over lunch.”

“As long as you don’t make me talk about his ass.”

“You’re no fun.”

#batman #batfam #my writing #writing #dick grayson #based off a CPS fic on ao3 #PT but make it batfam in gotham so it's a logistical nightmare #dc

[summerbummin]

Scene from Ch13 of my ghost au in meme format

Constantine: where are your parents

Tim: in Bolivia on a dig

Constantine: a dig?

Tim: yeah they’re archeologists

Constantine, internally:

#tim drake #john constantine #dcu #ghost au #memes #my fics #my writing #constantine knows this kid is cursed #and that there are probs cursed artifacts in his house #and Tim is like no ur not coming to my house #stranger danger #also u might call cps #snitches get stitches #Constantine is disturbed and intrigued by this messed up child #thus Tim gets a cool magic uncle

[civilization-illstayrighthere]

FUNNY YOU SHOULD ASK, a silverVdyne fic | 21k words, rated E |

chapters one | two | three | four | epilogue | playlist

summary: It’s been months since V brought Johnny back from beyond the Blackwall into his own new, cloned body. Physically, Johnny’s recovered. He goes out and does the odd gig with V. Everything’s going relatively fine for a former dead man.

It’s just, now that he’s in his own body, Kerry doesn’t want to see him anymore.

Inspired by @m0cktails artwork

tags: silverdyne, silvervdyne, hurt/comfort, johnny silverhand has a body, post-canon, false memories,

#Johnny silverhand #Kerry eurodyne #silvervdyne #silverdyne #kerry x v #cp 2077 #stomping in a glass house #oooh i know i got PLANTY other things to do and finish but #Wanted to make a nice crisp lil shareable post for this #bc im still really happy w this fic #as well as share the playlist :) happy Thursday everyone

[captiveprincekinktober]

Captive Prince Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

Our 31 days of deliciously debauched prompts are over, and the epic outpouring of creativity has been beyond amazing!

🤍 Congratulations to every writer who took part, whether you were inspired by one prompt or created for each and every day of October—thank you for sharing your work with us! 🤍

From microfics to grand scale fics, and from achingly tender to scorchingly hot, the fics people have created and shared are incredible—and there’s so many ships—talk about a talented fandom!

Here’s the link to the Ao3 collection, there’s some brilliant fics there that weren’t shared on Tumblr so make sure you check them out!

If you haven’t already dipped your toe in then have a scroll through the blog to see the pieces shared here to tumblr, or dive in to Ao3...it’s the weekend...what better than to luxuriate in reading some lush Captive Prince fic?

Stats:

73 *edit: 83 works shared to the Captive Prince Kintober Ao3 collection!

9 Ships

1 Gen

2 Threesomes

Longest word count: 10, 463

Shortest word count: 50

If you still want to create a piece for the challenge then keep on tagging @captiveprincekinktober and sharing to the collection, it will be left open, and we’ll keep reblogging here! The prompts are here!

To all the readers and rebloggers who have supported the writers and artists taking part, a huge thank you! 🤍

See you next October 🤍😉

#captive prince #capri #capri fest #captiveprincekinktober #laurent of vere #damen of akielos #auguste of vere #ancel x berenger #capri fic #cp

[cluelesspigeons]

This is written for the prompt “incoherent” from @drarrymicrofic

Word count: 68

Drarry microfic: incoherent babbling

“What do you think of this?”

Harry looked up from the book in his lap. He was about to say Draco looked good in everything but stopped when he saw what was standing in front of him.

“I… That’s… Yeah… I mean…Wow, I…You…”

Draco chuckled. He walked closer to Harry, taking the book from his hands as he leaned closer. “I’ll take your incoherent babbling as a compliment.”

Prompt from January 24th

<< previous microfic

next microfic >>

#drarry #drarry microfic #drarrymicrofic #drarry fanfiction #drarry fanfic #drarry fic #draco malfoy #harry potter #draco x harry #harry x draco #my writing #cp writes #cluelesspigeons #incoherent #january 2023 #Harry’s a babbling mess when he sees draco wearing that #and Draco’s enjoying it a little too much

[castironnbitch]

My CP Kinktober 2023 Fic List

Since it's the last day of October, here are the links to all of the things I wrote for the Captive Prince Kinktober event.

The E rated damen/laurent boot kink story: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50657215

The M rated damen/laurent impact kink story: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50988313

The M rated damen/laurent rope bondage/suspension kink story: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50519149

Thank you again @captiveprincekinktober for organizing and to everyone who read and interacted with these fics. Means a lot :)

#captive prince kinktober #captive prince #cp #lamen #captive prince fic #mine

[shealwaysreads]

Quarry

Quarry

One that is sought or pursued.

Laurent ran. 

A branch caught his cheek, a stinging slap, and he raised his hand to check for blood.

None. Just sweat. 

Even in the shade of the forest the Akielon summer heat simmered. 

He strained his ears to listen for pursuit, but all he could hear was his own thumping footfalls and breathless pants.

It was a game, but all of Laurent’s games played on the edge of a knife, adrenaline made his hands tremble and his heart wild. It was unfamiliar ground, he’d caught sight of maps, but when he’d first fled he had run wildly and veered from any paths that he encountered. Harder to find the prey that took the unlikely route. 

Laurent ran. 

It felt like he had been racing for hours, but it couldn’t have been longer than twenty minutes. He wished for a flask of water, but all of his supplies had been left with his horse, far behind.

A crack—a twig snapping underfoot—brought him to a standstill. It hadn’t been him. Someone was there. He looked around him, eyes darting between the trees, but he saw no-one. 

He was still alone, he still had time. 

He heaved a deep breath and pushed his aching muscles into a run again, trees flashed past him, and he tripped—just for a moment his balance was lost, his body tilted wildly—and then caught himself upright. 

No sooner was he sure of his footing than a sudden, bruising, impact threw him into the air. Arms wrapped around him, hard, and he was borne to the ground.

“Brute.”

Above him, Damen was a heavy weight, his brows furrowed

“A Veretian, on Akielon crown land. Risky.”

Damen had learned by now the strange ways Laurent enjoyed to play; he sank into facets of himself instead of playing a character—like Laurent tended to—but it was enough for Laurent. Enough to let him ignore the careful hand Damen had put behind his head as he tackled him to the earth.

“I was just walking.” Shrugging was difficult while laid flat and restrained.

“You were running.”

Laurent grit his teeth, tested his ability to move—almost nil, he had fallen inelegantly and Damen had the mass to hold him down.

“You were chasing me.”

Damen smiled, cocked his head, and shifted his hand behind Laurent’s head to grip his hair in a tight first.

“A man only runs if he’s guilty.”

Laurent slowly yielded to the pressure Damen exerted, tilting his head back, raising his chin, exposing his throat.

“Then what were you doing out here?” 

Damen leaned up on his elbow, and between one blink and the next, Laurent felt a blade in the soft hollow at the base of his throat, Damen’s free hand grasping the blade with casual familiarity.

“I was hunting.”

“You hunt with a dagger? What a strange people, you Akielons.”

The point of the knife pressed down, not with force from above, but because Damen had loosened his hold enough to let gravity press the honed point into Laurent’s skin. It was a dull pressure, not the sharp lance of wounding—not yet.

“We hunt boar in these woods, an arrow shot from horseback would do nothing but irritate them. So unlike Veretians, we must risk something to win our prize. We hunt with spears. One man stands firm, and the others drive the boar towards him. A wild boar would impale himself completely at full pace, or gore a man to death.”

“That sounds…imprecise.”

Damen shifted his weight, holding Laurent’s legs down with his own so that he had room to manoeuvre the knife from Laurent’s throat all the way down his body, cutting laces as he went. The dagger was no ceremonial trinket, its blade kissed each thin cord of leather and Larent’s clothes fell to each side of his body.

“I think I’ve managed accuracy today.”

“And yet, no spear. No boar. I’m sorry for your wasted efforts.”

The grip in his hair firmed further still, and Damen lowered himself again. This time Laurent felt the solid heat of him against his hip.

“I think, Veretian, I’ll be able to work with what I’ve got.”

Read it here on Ao3 🖤

Written as part of @captiveprincekinktober for the prompt ‘body hair’

Part of the Such-Like I Love Series

#captive prince #capri #cp #capri fic #lamen #damen x laurent #my writing #such-like i love #mine #things to read

[mail-me-a-snail]

Valentine is done Here but now they're gone Romeo and Juliet Are together in eternity -- or, v learns the right ending is not always the happiest one; sometimes, it's not an ending at all.

happy phantom liberty launch day!! this is the last fic in the "your heart is on my sleeve" series :] ill keep writing for silverv as long as the inspiration flows, but this branch of their story is over <3

chapters 2-4 coming in the following days; keep an eye out for those :3

#cyberpunk 2077 #cbp 2077 #cp 2077 #silverv #johnny silverhand #male v #kerry eurodyne #silverdyne #silvervdyne #fanfic #fanfiction #mine #my writing #whooo NELSON!!!!!!!!!!! #this fic exploded me so fuckign bad. hi #silvervance #vance

[anjanahalo]

Working on the outline of my ghost story which, so far, feels like two fics of the two time periods I’m hoping to release in parallel, and I found the key way to write Heartbroken Kid Danny right is the same reason Damian, of all the batfam, connects with him fastest:

Treat the kid like a formally socialized cat that’s gone feral.

#dp x dc #crack fic idea #Damian might be bad at humans but he’s good at other critters #danny phantom #have no idea if the parallel publishing will work but this idea already has some interesting features #like a Vlad who’s still a douche but not the level he reaches in the show #Jazz also gets adopted cause cps is not into you potentially killing your kid #Need to brainstorm on Sam and Tucker #it’s hard to incorporate out of town eight year olds through since they have even LESS autonomy #Teens getting bus tickets sure #little kids getting tickets is a red flag #ghost story au