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yandere-daydreams · 7 months

Text

Title: Meat.

Pairing: Yandere!Ayato x Reader (Genshin).

Word count: 4.5k.

TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Branding/Burning, Prolonged Imprisonment, Forced Marriage, Possessive Behavior, Descriptions of Gore, Implied Stalking, Mentions of Pregnancy, and Suicidal Ideation. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

You always thought you would wear red on your wedding day.

It was a family tradition – passed down with dutiful care for as long as anyone could imagine. Your grandmother had given her dress to your mother who had gifted it to you, her only child, on your eighteenth birthday, years before you would so much as think about getting something as permanent as marriage. Still, you safeguarded it with a religious devotion, never going more than a week without laying it out to check for signs of moths or mold. When you found yourself on a boat set on a course for Inazuma and could bring nothing but what could fit in the space underneath your bunk, her dress was the only item you truly could not bear to leave behind.

It was one of the few things Ayato let you keep, when he first brought you to his estate. He hadn’t wanted to, but he’d known that you’d throw yourself off the nearest cliff if anything ever happened to that dress. You still would, if he so much as touched it without your permission.

The kimono you were being fitted for now was not red. The fine silk was pure white, the detailed embroidery along the hems and sleeves dark blue and bright, shining gold. The symbol of his archon glowed violet on the swell of the train – meant to appease the other factions of the tri-commission who protested when Ayato announced his intent to not only marry a commoner, but a foreigner. You hated that embellishment most of all, more than the sickly way his colors crawled over your body, more than the irritating smoothness of his favored silks where they hugged against your form and groped at your skin. It marked you as a tool, something to be used to one end or another. It marked you as a sacrifice – and an unwanted one, at that.

“Just as exquisite as I knew you’d be,” Ayato announced, his voice strong and unabashed. You’d begged him not to, but he’d insisted on sitting in on your appointment, making sure you couldn’t correct seamstress or overrule any of the choices he’d made on your behalf. The tailor hummed as she fastened a temporary sash around your midriff, tight enough to press uncomfortably against your ribs. If you needed to cry on your wedding day (which, in all likelihood, you would), it would have to be loosened. “How do you like it?”

You hated it. You despised it. You wanted to claw it apart with your own pristine nails, separate each thread and seam with your very own teeth. You would’ve set yourself on fire just to see it turned to ash that much sooner.

“It’s perfect.” Your own voice sounded distant, distorted. There was no façade of sincerity. He knew as well as you did that there was nothing he could force onto you that you wouldn’t loathe, and you knew that any word uttered as to your hatred for him outside of the privacy of your shared bedroom would result in a collection of fresh rope burns to decorate your wrists, the better half of a night spent bent over his knee. “So long as it pleases you, my lord.”

You dropped your eyes to the floor, attempting to spare yourself what suffering you could, but your resistance didn’t matter; you could hear the sharpness of his smile, picture the way his head tilted to the side as he basked in his own self-satisfaction as he went on, addressing the tailor. “If there’s a veil, you can get rid of it.”

You didn’t think you would ever get used to the way his voice seemed to grate when he was happy with himself.

“I think my heart might give out if I’m not able to see my beautiful fiancé’s lovely smile.”

After meeting Ayato, you began to dream in red.

It was more of a pink, at first – during the first few weeks of his courtship, when the extent of his intrusive affection was a few dendrobiums left on your doorstep and a lingering glance as the handsome young commissioner passed your stall during his weekly stroll through the city market. For a short while, after his possessive habits began to rear their head and you were able to catch his guards in your peripheral more often than not, your subconscious was tinted a near-violent shade of scarlet, the kind that would leave you drenched in your own sweat and half-suffocated by the time you forced yourself to wake up. Recently, since he announced your engagement, they’d taken on a darker shade; choking velvets and deep crimsons blurring the distorted setting as Ayato’s faceless body moved on top of you, as his mouth unhinged and his lashing tongue dragged you down his waiting throat. On your worst nights, he’d tear you apart with his hands, first, divide you into neat, orderly pieces that he could slip past his lips and savor one at a time, one after another, until there was nothing left of you. He’d always preferred you in your most consumable form.

It was ironic, really, considering just how little red he let seep into your waking life. Maybe you had a deficiency; like a pregnant woman craving fish to make up for a lack of calcium. The closest you got to red from the doorway to his study were a few cherry blossoms fluttering past the window, their color dulled by age and their tree nearly stripped bare by the approaching winter. He looked away from his paperwork as you shrugged past the screen door, his pale eyes lighting up as he saw the tea tray in your hands. It was Thoma’s handiwork, but you doubted Ayato cared. He wanted to see you in the role of a caretaker, playing out the part he wrote for you to the best of your limited acting skills. What happened behind the curtain was none of his concern.

“To what do I owe the honor?” he asked as you set the tray on his desk. “I can’t remember the last time you visited me on your own.”

You flashed him a small smile. “Can’t I dote on my soon-to-be husband freely?”

He visibly straightened at the word ‘husband’, a familiar zeal infecting his expression. There was a quirk to his grin, a light tap to his thigh, and the tea went ignored as you obediently fell into his lap, your legs hanging over the side of his chair as his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you snug against him. If he was a monster, he’d be one with a thousand hands and a million fingers; he couldn’t seem to go a full minute without clutching at your hips, groping at your chest, burying his face in the crook of your neck with a deep, relieved sigh. “Husband,” he repeated back to you, all spellbound awe and deceiving wonder. “Archons, I can’t wait to be your husband.”

You wondered, sometimes, if it was his childhood that made him the way he was. After so many years of loneliness, so many tiny disappointments and frigid betrayals, you could only imagine he’d be eager to grab the first warm body he could and refuse to let you go. But, he let Ayaka come and go as she pleased, and seemed to take a certain delight in sending Thoma off on long-winded, far-flung errands. Whatever cruelty his upbringing had bred, it was clearly reserved for you.

His hand slid underneath the slit of your yukata, his breath turning hot and unpleasant against your collarbone, and you drew back with an airy laugh. “I do have an ulterior motive,” you admitted, hoping his curiosity would offset his insatiability, if only for a few seconds. “It’s about my wedding dress.”

“The breathtaking and priceless dress I’m having made by the nation’s most talented tailors so that all of Inazuma will know that I’m marrying the most beautiful person in Teyvat?” He raised his head, clicking his tongue. “What about it?”

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” you said, because he wouldn’t listen to you if you didn’t and you needed him to listen to you. “It’s just— I’m such a long way from home, and I know my family won’t be able to come, but—” You cut yourself off, swallowing back the bile that threatened to spoil your sweet smile. “I was hoping we’d be able to incorporate my mother’s dress, somehow. If it’s not too late.”

It wasn’t. You’d been tracking the progress of his tailors meticulously, counting down the days until your wedding like a prisoner waiting for their execution date, and if it was one of his whims, another row of bedding added onto the sleeves or a new embroidery pattern worked onto the train, you knew that there’d be all the time in the world to make any adjustments he asked for. Still, his smile wavered, a brief sigh slipping past his lips as he shook his head. “My love,” The petname lulled off of his tongue as if it’d been coated in sugar and syrup and all the worst things you could think of. “That’s quite the risk to take. The poor thing’s so old, it might fall apart as soon as the tailor’s needle touches it.”

He'd been crueler, before – called the dress a rag as he looked at you with disdain-tinted pity, swore that your reliance on the filthy relic must’ve been caused by some inherent failure of your homeland – but your heart still clenched just a little tighter in your chest at his veiled disdain. “I’d like to try, at least.” Your hands curled around his collar, your frown taking on a more pleading note. “Please, my lord?” A pause, a tightened hold. “Please, Ayato?”

It was his given name, loving and tender and so rarely spoken in your voice, that did him in. He relented with an airy groan, letting his head roll forward in faux exasperation. “We’ll see.”

You beamed, but he was too lost in you to notice, already preoccupied with pressing open-mouthed kisses into your shoulders, your neck. The sash of your yukata was drawn loose, your sleeves pulled down to your elbows and your body shifted onto his desk, where he could spread your legs apart and bury his face between them. Your eyes drifted back to the cherry blossoms trickling past the window, but whatever tree they’d been falling from had finally been stripped bare. All you could see was the bright, cloudless sky – blue enough to leave you burnt and begging for a storm.

Two springs ago, the Kamisato Estate had been overrun with finches.

It’d been a comedy of errors, in hindsight. Ayaka had taken up a fondness for a new kind of flower – one native to Sumeru, introduced to her by an outlander with golden hair and knowing eyes. Thoma, the miracle worker that he was, quickly found a way to propagate it in the estate’s garden, and within the month, little violet blossoms had consumed all that they could reach despite the best efforts of the gardeners to keep them in-check. It would’ve been a delightful problem to have on its own, but the peak of the infestation happened to align with an annual migration of a type of finch that happened to hold a particular shining for a plant with a similar shape and color and— well, anyone could’ve guessed what happened next.

It was a nightmare for Thoma and the other groundskeepers and, since Ayato was staying in the city on business, paradise for you. You spent your days in the courtyard, showing the servants’ children how to braid crowns out of vines and press flowers between the pages of books stolen from Ayato’s personal library. You and Ayaka fed seeds to the red-crowned invaders and coaxed them close enough to pet and sketch, as little talent as you had for the latter, and she listened as you rambled excitedly about the crane-headed whistles you used to make every summer for a very wealthy ornithologist with very slippery fingers. She was just as lonely as her brother, albeit significantly less deranged, and you – trapped, isolated, desperate you – were the perfect victim for her. The two of you were never quite friends, but you came close that spring.

And then, Ayato returned. The flowers were uprooted, the children sent back to their chores, and the finches driven away with nets and stones and salt. You sobbed for hours the day the final flock left, and by means of consolation, Ayato presented you with a blue-speckled wren in a cage of pure silver, silk flowers bound to the bars with yellow ribbons as a reminder of your lost haven. To this day, you still aren’t sure if he meant it to be as cruel of a gift as it was.

You made it all of two days before risking another month spent shackled to Ayato’s bed and sneaking past the guards posted at the estate’s frontmost gates, the golden cage tucked against your chest. You released it in the woods, somewhere with plenty of tree cover and places to hide while it remembered how to be a wild creature, and watched with a smile as it fluttered past the cage’s door and into the open air, eventually landing on the leaf-littered ground.

It hopped all of three tiny steps before a fox emerged from the underbrush and swallowed it whole.

“Are you still with us, love?”

You should’ve gone limp. You should’ve acted as if the pain had gotten to you. You should’ve pretended you were dead to the world and that you couldn’t feel his cock languidly thrusting into you and that you’d gone numb to the searing iron slowly cooling into against the small of your back but, for as resentful as your mind was to him, your body was entirely subservient to Ayato. You tried to respond verbally, and when your voice caught in your throat, you forced yourself to nod, the motion small and shaky. Ayato rewarded you with a breathy chuckle, a fleeting touch to the curve of your spine. A hundred pinpricks of purified agony accompanied his touch.

The silver brand had been commissioned from the finest metal crafters in Inazuma City, made to resemble the warped camellia that was the Kamisato Clan’s crest, and you let out an agonized scream as Ayato drew it back and pressed a calloused thumb into the tender patch of burnt skin. “You always do make such pretty noises for me.” He circled the shape of the white-hot bloom, drawing out another ragged whimper. “It’s a shame I only get to hear them when you misbehave.”

You wanted to apologize, to beg for his forgiveness, but try as you might, you couldn’t seem to remember what you’d done wrong. You hadn’t tried to run away. You hadn’t talked to any of the servants. You hadn’t done anything aside from smile and sit beside him as he spoke with the head of another clan – an older man whose eyes burnt into you for the entirety of their brief conversation. As far as you could tell, he was just a particularly shameless nobleman trying to decipher the curiosity that was the Yashiro Commissioner’s reclusive bride, but Ayato hated letting other men gawk at you at the best of times. Such prolonged exposure would’ve surely brought out the worst of his possessive habits.

You felt something tighten in your chest, catch in your throat, but you only realized you were crying when Ayato’s lips ghosted over your cheek, the gentleness of the gesture quickly replaced with the brutality of his fingers tangled in your hair, your head forced down and into the plush of his bed. You body threatened to collapse, but his free hand fell to your hip, keeping your back arched and your ass raised as he ground lazily into your cunt, in no rush to put you out of your suffering. “I think,” he groaned, lust heavy in his voice. “We’re going to have a big family. Half a dozen kids, at least.”

You beat your fists against the mattress, shaking your head violently, and he twitched inside of you. “They’ll have your eyes,” he went on, a sadistic delight in his voice. “And my swordsmanship, and I’ll love them as much as I love you.” He paused, the head of his cock scraping against something deep and vulnerable inside of you. “Well, almost as much as I love you. As much as I can.”

You tried to struggle, to get away from him, but Ayato held you close, his grip as unrelenting as his slow, aching tempo. With a calculated sort of grace, he leaned towards you, slotting his chest against your back and bringing his mouth to the shell of your ear. “You don’t think it’s too soon to start, do you, darling?”

All you could do was try and fail to scream in response.

The first gift Ayato ever gave to you was a necklace the color of freshly split sapphires.

He insisted that you not think of it as a present, that you consider it little more than justified repayment for an item from your stall broken by the clumsy fingers of one of his couriers, but it was a present, it couldn’t be anything else. His courier had paid for the ruined pottery days prior, and yet, he’d sought you out in person to apologize with that sun-bright smile, to let his fingertips brush against yours as he passed you a satin-lined case with a perfect, ocean-blue velvet choker tucked safely inside. It was a beautiful thing, embellished with silver and dripping with transparent crystals, but you’d liked the color most of all. It’d reminded you of Ayato, and there’d been a time when you treasured any excuse to think of him.

You’d worn it the first time you saw each other properly, too. The occasion wasn’t formal enough to warrant something so needlessly extravagant, but you couldn’t seem to stop smiling for the entirety of your brief-meal-turned-seven-hour-conversation, and as your night came to an end, perched on the edge of a cliff underneath the Raiden Shogun’s palace and breathless from laughing, he told you that if you weren’t careful, he might just fall in love with you. You’d told him that, if he waited a few more days, you might fall in love with him, too.

You’d been wearing the same necklace when he broke your heart for the first time. It’d been an overcast day, the sky a clouded blueish grey and the shogun’s fury just barely audible in the far distance. He told you, with that perfect grin and those lonely eyes, that it really was terribly improper for the lover of a commissioner to run some meager stall in a sweat-soaked market, that he owed you better than a cramped room on the outskirts of the city where you had to wade through hours of farmland to reach anything of importance. When you said that you enjoyed your work, that you adored the back-breaking labor of your craft and loved having neighbors who would leave baskets of cabbage and lavender melon on your doorstep in exchange for misshapen cups and off-pattern bowls, he laughed as if you’d said the funniest thing in the world and cupped your face in his hands, pulling you into a kiss deep enough and sweet enough to make you forget whether or not you’d agreed with him.

You were brought to the Kamisato estate less than a full month later and had yet to leave since.

The final garment was delivered two weeks before your wedding day. You watched from your pavilion as Ayato met the courier at the estate’s gates, accepting a large package wrapped in scarlet silk and brushing off the guards’ attempts to carry it on his behalf. You were embroidering, that day – a delicate, time-consuming art that Ayato praised in comparison to the messy, unpredictable medium of clay. You loathed the monotony of it, the strictness of the patterns, but it meant Ayato was less likely to break your fingers when he found you scrounging away spare mora in the hopes of some perpetually eventual escape and so, you embroidered.

“My mother’s dress,” you said, as soon as he was close enough to hear you. The wooden hoop was forgotten in your lap as you stared up at him, hope written clearly across your expression. “Do you know what they did with it?”

His grin widened. “Eager, are we?” You nodded frantically, and he added, “If I’d didn’t know better, I’d say you care about a dress more than your own betrothed.”

He settled next to you, the package laid across his thighs. He moved to unwrap it, then pivoted – his attention shifting as his gloved hand took hold of your wrist. He’d been touching you more delicately, lately, something you couldn’t help but link with his long-brewing but only recently materialized desire for children. It was a problem you elected to deal with later on, after the wedding, if only for your own inability to process just how horrific of a problem it was.

(There was a part of you which knew, even before your conscious mind could bear to accept it, that you would never be able to love something he put inside of you. Ayato’s obsession was enduring, able to feed off of nothing and contort reality to suit its needs, but your love had always been a rational thing, bound to end the moment it became inconvenient to house. Your love for your homeland died with your mother. Your love for Ayato died with your abduction. And, whatever love you could’ve had for a child— no, a shackle would die the moment the foul creature was born. You could hold no affection for a child that was made in Ayato’s image, that would be cleaved from your flesh for the sake of his happiness, and if by some miracle you did love the monstrosity, then you could only assume it would be because you’d abandoned all hope for yourself. Both futures seemed equally grim.)

“Ayato,” you simpered, leaning against his side. “Please?”

He rolled his eyes, playing soft as he handed you the oversized package. “It should be wrapped separately. I said I didn’t want to see the finished product until the day-of.”

Your hands shook as you undid the many knots. A smaller bundle sat within, separate from the tumor of ivory fabric you forced yourself not to linger on, and you took it up with a desperate sort of keenness, practically trembling as you tore it open with no regard for the integrity of its packaging. The crimson silk was torn away to reveal—

Blue.

Dark, never-ending blue.

“The color came out so beautifully. I’m glad you protested the way you did – otherwise, I might’ve never known we were missing something on our wedding day.” This time, you didn’t fight as he tore the remains of your mother’s dress out of your hands, holding out a sash the shade of apathetic night. You searched for something familiar, for something you could use to ground yourself, but it was absent of all recognizability, desecrated to the point of being all-but alien to you. “It had to be dyed, of course, but I’ve been told the process only cost it a moment of its integrity. The tailors—”

You blinked, but your vision remained black when you opened your eyes. Your body was lurching forward, and then you were in Ayato’s arms, limp and buzzing. Ayato was laughing, as shocked as you were drained, and you made no effort to pull away from him. “My poor little wife. I know – the anticipation’s almost too much to bear.” He pressed a kiss into your forehead. “Why don’t we spend some time together, like we used to? I think I can push my obligations aside for the day, considering the occasion.”

You didn’t respond, but he gathered into his arms regardless. He had always seemed to prefer you as dead weight.

You did end up in red on your wedding day, but you doubted you’d be getting married, anymore.

His own sword slid and out of his back with a wet, gripping noise – only interrupted when the blade slipped in your hands and hit bone rather than viscera. Blood splattered against the white of your kimono with every plunge, staining the susceptible fabric easily and leaving you struggling to keep your feet underneath you as the puddle of scarlet grew deeper, as the screen walls began to drip and your lungs filled with copper and iron. Ayato, the ever-worried lover that he was, had come to check on you before the ceremony, fussing over your blank eyes and the tear-tracks that had ruined your make-up twice, by then. He’d been concerned, but giddy, unable to keep himself away from you despite his many promises of tradition and decor.

He'd made it three, maybe four minutes before beginning to toy with the clasps running down your chest.

You’d taken up the first thing you saw – a hand mirror gilded with shining rose gold – and brought it down on his head.

That, on its own, would’ve left him with a scar and little else, but you’d worked quickly, drawing the sword from its sheath on his belt and bringing it down into anything that seemed vital, anything you could reach, anything that bled calming, soothing red. He stopped moving on the fifth strike, his uncalled upon Vision going dull on the sixth, and on the seventh, you heard someone call for the guards.

You waited until you could hear their footsteps before falling to your knees, bringing the point of your blade to your stomach and clenching your eyes shut, praying to any archon who would listen that you’d hit something they couldn’t be healed, that they’d lend you a more merciful fate than another jail cell, another lifetime of entrapment. You plunged the blade into your stomach and—

And were met with little more than a cold, blunt sensation and a bottomless pit of despair.

You opened your eyes, your gaze flickering from your ice-coated blade to the doorway of your dressing room, now occupied by Kamisato Ayaka, one hand raised and her Vision pulsing at her side. Guards rushed in on either side of her, grabbing at your shoulders and wrists, but your stare never left Ayaka, her parted lips, her flushed cheeks.

Her bright eyes, just as blue and just as lonely as her brother’s had ever been.

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that1emowitch · 2 months

Note

Bruce, high on painkillers, is being babysat by Jason. Jason has to do an emergency Red Hood thing, and lacking an alternative, slaps a stock domino on Bruce and drags him along.

Bruce proceeds to say/do the most unhinged shit. The goons are suddenly viscerally aware of where Hood got it from.

WOW okay you guys are unhinged, you know that?

(And I love it <3)

A/N: I fully intended to write a crack fic, but the feels crawled in through the plot holes I missed and made their homes in the heart of the story. Also I don't know what you mean by 'stock domino' so I'm assuming it's one of those dollar store ripoffs.

(TW: Accidental overdosing on painkillers, mentions of blood, Jason's usual level of swearing, some goons almost dying but like in a funny way.)

Word Count: 2328

Jason wants to scream.

Like, let it rip out on an abandoned cliff in the howling rain kinda scream.

But no, he's stuck babysitting Brucie Wayne who accidentally OD'd on fucking painkillers after trying to treat himself in Alfred's unfortunate absence (how does that even happen?!).

Dick and Damian are out doing some brotherly-bonding thing, Tim's with the Titans, Duke and Cass are at the movies, and Steph has declared herself "not one of Bruce's kids." Leaving Jason as the only one free to look after their "Dad".

Jason pushes Bruce down on the Batcave's gurney for the billionth time after he attempts (keyword: attempts) to walk again, scowling. None of them are getting any waffles from me again. Or pancakes. Or scones. Or anything I make for them out of my sweet, kind heart. Those little shits.

Jason puts two fingers on Bruce’s wrist, checking his pulse. His skin is cold and clammy, breathing slow, but at least he’s not vomiting anymore. He sighs, collapsing on a chair beside Bruce. He's tired. So fucking tired.

Just as Jason's eyes flutter shut for a moment, the Batcomputer's alarm suddenly blares.

Bruce shoots up, shouting, "ALARM!"

Grumbling, Jason drags himself to the computer, pushing Bruce down along the way. He opens the glaring red notification, brows creased.

Black Mask's goons have intercepted some military shipment...

"Ugh..." Jason groans, and moves to put on his helmet (he never changed out of his costume), checking his guns, when a sudden crash from behind him snaps his attention to the man-child he's supposed to be babysitting.

Bruce has stepped off the gurney and collapsed face-down on the med bay's floor.

He can't just leave him there, can he?

Jason considers his options: He could either strap Bruce to the gurney and leave (in which case Dick will have his head), or he could take Bruce out on the streets with him (in which case Dick will absolutely want to murder him.)

Jason smirks. It’s obvious which one’s the right choice.

Ten minutes later, Jason’s riding through the city at over a hundred miles per hour, with Bruce strapped to the backseat of his motorcycle. Bruce is wearing a dollar store ripoff of the Robin domino and a Robin-themed cape made of Tim’s bedsheets, looking absolutely ecstatic at the high speed.

They arrive at the warehouse where Black Mask’s goons have transported their stolen goods, parking in a shadowed spot a building away. Jason gets off, helping Bruce onto his feet, and says, “Now, I’m going to go shoot some people, you stay hidden and quiet, got that?”

“Guns are bad,” Bruce replies, holding a finger to Jason’s helmet. “Just like clowns. And ducks.”

Raising an eyebrow, Jason shakes his head. He doesn’t have time for this right now.

Jason quickly scales the nearest building, grappling to the roof of the warehouse. He peeks in through a hatch in the roof to survey the area. There are about a dozen armed goons, none of them looking very bright. There are 4 crates they’re guarding, likely filled with ammo.

Cocking his guns, Jason jumps down through the hatch, landing right in the middle of the warehouse with a ‘thud’ sound. “Surprise,” He grins, raising his guns.

“Aye, that’s Red Hood, ain’t it?” Comes a goon’s terrified voice. The others around him immediately aim their guns at Jason— they’re clearly untrained.

Suddenly there’s another thud behind him. “That’s a bucket, you morons!” Comes a too-familiar, slurred voice. Jason turns around to come face-to-face with Bruce, eyes wide.

In a fight with any real criminals, this distraction would have cost Jason his life. But luckily these adorably clueless goons are just as shocked as him.

Unfortunately the distraction only lasts for a few seconds. Jason immediately jumps into the fight, shooting three goons in the kneecaps and dodging a few bullets. From the corner of his eye, he sees two more goons running out the door, crying. He punches another guy in the face, instantly knocking him out, and is about to turn back to check on Bruce when suddenly something hard collides with his skull.

Jason staggers slightly, trying to regain his balance, when he sees a goon holding a giant stone, wearing a proud grin.

Fuck, his helmet’s probably busted…

Then suddenly Bruce is running towards the goon, hands fisted and veins popping, screaming, “NO ONE HURTS MY SON!”

Then Bruce’s fist collides with the goon’s with a sickening crunch, splattering blood across the floor as the man crumples to the ground. Bruce doesn’t stop there, and continues to beat him up, yelling profanities.

It warms Jason’s cold, (un)dead heart to watch that— to see his Dad fighting for him. It’s like they say, you’re most truthful when you’re drunk— or high. This is how much Bruce loves him.

Then another thought strikes him— Bruce is going to regret being this violent when he sobers up. It’s going to claw at him, tear him up, and he’s going to compartmentalize and end up punishing himself by overworking.

Jason rushes forward, pulling Bruce off of the man. “B— Robin, stop!” He shouted, looking into the man’s domino-covered eyes.

Bruce’s brows furrow. “Robin?”

Jason points to Bruce’s Robin-themed cape and stock domino.

“Ah.” Bruce nods, pulling away. “You okay? Did you see any duck?”

“Duck?” Jason pauses in confusion. But before he can question it farther, he spies the three remaining goons using a ladder to climb up through the roof of the warehouse, trying to escape.

“Stay here. And do not move.” Jason orders Bruce, and runs after them.

He makes his way up the ladder as fast as he can , exiting under the polluted night sky. The goons, the ridiculously stupid goons, are standing around the edge of the roof, trying to figure out how they’re going to get down.

He doesn’t get paid enough to deal with this ridiculous shit.

Actually, scratch that, he doesn’t get paid at all.

“Wow, you guys are pathetic,” Comes Red Hood’s robotic voice, startling the goons, and one of them accidentally topples over the edge, screaming. Jason ensures that the guy’s hanging on tight— he can wait.

He cocks his guns, aiming both at the two standing goons. Both men are trembling with fear, hands up in surrender. “Hood— Mr. Hood, please—” One of them squeaks, but one look from Jason shuts him up.

“Please. Mr. Hood was my father,” Jason quips, his robotic chuckle sounding sinister.

That’s when he hears another voice behind him (again)— “But I’m your father.”

Jason jumps, whipping around. “How did you— I didn’t even hear you come!”

Bruce just shrugs innocently, waving his bloodstained hands at the terrified goons.

Then Jason hears the distinct sound of a gun being cocked. From the corner of his eye he sees the bolder of the goons, the one that had spoken before, taking aim.

“DUCK!” He yells, falling out of the way.

Instead of dodging, Bruce falls into a defensive stance, looking around frantically. “Where?!”

The bullet barely misses Bruce’s ear as he turns his head.

Jason has had it with sky-high Bruce now. Annoyance rising, he quickly shoots the two goons in the kneecaps, forgetting about the one hanging off the edge, and stalks up to Bruce, glaring.

“What is up with you and ducks?!” He demands, his voice raised.

“Ducks are evil,” Bruce spits, nose wrinkled. “Just like clowns. And bats.”

Jason’s brows raise. “Bats are evil?”

“Yeah, duh, that’s why everyone’s scared of Batman.” Bruce rolls his eyes, his drawl sounding too much like Steph. “Bats are scary.”

“You really took ‘become what you fear’ too literally, huh?” Jason snorts, putting his guns back in their holsters. Then he takes off his helmet, checking the damage— just a slight crack at the back. Not too bad.

“You know, I fell into a hole and into a cave when I was a boy and a dozen bats attacked me. I nearly died.” Bruce continues, gesturing towards the air with his hands.

“Yeah, right.” Jason shakes his head, chuckling. “Now come on, we gotta get you back.”

That’s when another voice rings out, high-pitched and scared. “Um, Mr. Hood? Please HELP! Please, please, please—”

Jason’s attention snaps to the corner of the roof— ah, right, the goon’s still hanging off the edge, isn’t he?

He grumbles, making his way over, and squats above the man, shaking his head. The man below him looks like he’s pissed himself, face ashen, tears running down his cheeks, muttering, “I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die…” On repeat.

“I’ll pull you up on one condition,” Jason looks down at him, voice low. “Never become a gun for hire again. If I see you fighting on the streets…” He pulls out his gun.

“No, no, I won’t, I swear…” The man whimpers, eyes squeezed shut. Jason sighs, and grabs the man by the collar and hauls him up. He crumples onto the roof, curling into a ball.

“Take out your phone and dial 911, tell them you’ve been naughty,” Jason orders, his gun pointed at the man’s head. (What? A guy needs to have some fun.)

The man whines, and immediately obliges.

“Pathetic,” Jason ties the man up quickly, and makes his way over to Bruce, who was sitting on the floor of the roof, taking apart some random crushed handphone he’s found.

“Get up, old man. GCPD will be here soon. We’re going home.” He pulls Bruce up, ignoring how he longingly stares at the dismantled phone.

The two of them grapple down from the roof, landing safely on the pavement. As they walk towards his bike, Bruce says, “Did you know I ate a phone once?”

Jason stumbles slightly. “What?”

“Tasted nice. Like electricity. Crackle-y.” Bruce hummed, his face straight (as straight as someone dating Superman could be). He isn't kidding.

That, or he's delusional.

“Don't try it. You might turn into a computer or something.” Bruce nodded very seriously.

“Oh god,” Jason snorts. “I'm so glad my helmet’s recording all this. Perfect blackmail material.”

“Black's a very, very pretty color.”

Jason rolls his eyes, revving the motor, making sure Bruce is safely strapped onto the backseat behind him. “You're just emo.”

“What's emo?” Bruce raises an eyebrow, words slightly slurred.

“Y'know, when people wear all that black makeup, skinny jeans, with hair covering their eyes.” Jason explains, putting a spare helmet on Bruce's head. “And listen to, like, My Chemical Romance and Fall Out Boy and Panic! At The Disco. The Emo Trinity.”

“Oh, oh!” Bruce's eyes sparkle. “Dickie used to do that! He went to a My Chemmy concert once, but he didn't want me coming along.” He pouts.

Jason thinks of all the times Gerard Way has shoved a mic down his throat and grabbed his junk. “Yeah, I wonder why.”

Then he turns around to look Bruce in the eye. “But, Golden Boy was emo? Seriously?”

Bruce just smiles and nods, saying, “Now go.”

“Going,” Jason smirks and speeds down the streets of Gotham city, not slowing down until their surroundings change from shitty apartment buildings and broken street lights to the eerie quiet of Bristol. He can see the Manor in the distance when he takes a hidden turn, straight down the road that leads to the Batcave.

He pulls into the underground ‘garage’ section of the Cave, parking his bike before helping Bruce off. As he removes Bruce’s ripoff domino and “cape”, he says sternly, “Now, you tell no one of what we did today, got that? Not a soul.”

Bruce just flashes a thumbs-up and smiles in the most un-Bruce-like way possible. It’s a little creepy, honestly.

“And even if you remember this once you sober up you won’t talk, because you swore on your soul not to tell.”

“Mhm. Kay.”

“Good.” Jason smiles slightly, helping Bruce back to the gurney, making him lie down. He checks him over for any symptoms that the painkiller overdose is making his health worse. His skin’s still cold and clammy, but his breathing’s more steady. His pupils aren’t as small anymore, and he’s way more responsive than he was an hour ago.

Huh. Maybe all he really needed was some exercise.

Jason sits down beside his father, taking a deep breath. “Hey, uh… Did you really mean that, back there? That… That I’m your son?”

Bruce’s brows furrow. “Yes, who else’s son would you be? Superman’s?”

A short laugh escapes Jason. He moves closer to Bruce, lying down so his head is resting beside the older man’s. “I just…” He sighs, unable to form the right words. “I know it doesn’t always seem like it, but… I love you, Dad.”

“Aww, Jaybird…” Bruce’s hand moves sluggishly to cradle Jason. “I love you so much more than you could ever imagine.”

A small smile plays on Jason’s lips as he closes his eyes, leaning into his Dad’s touch. Maybe… maybe babysitting a high Bruce isn’t so bad.

[BONUS!!!]

Dick walks into the infirmary nearly an hour later with Damian trailing behind him, intending to check up on Bruce. He’s been ringing Jason’s phone for a while now, but he hasn’t been picking up. And… Honestly, Dick’s getting worried.

“Tt. I knew we shouldn’t have left Father’s safety in the hands of an incompetent fool such as Todd,” Damian frowns, scowling.

“No, no, it’s probably just a misunderstanding,” Dick tries to reassure his baby brother, but he picks up his pace. “I mean, we both know what Jason’s like. One moment he’s nice, one moment he’s—”

His voice trails off as he sees Jason sitting on a chair beside Bruce, who’s on the gurney— both asleep, with Jason’s head resting on Bruce’s shoulder, and Bruce cradling him.

“Aww, Little Wing…” Dick smiles, pausing. Even Damian freezes behind him. Dick steers him away, back into the main house, so as to not disturb the sleeping pair. “Yeah, they’re okay. Nothing bad happened.”

#Jason being a little shit who just wants to piss Dick off at first but really gets into the feels by the end #Also Jason didn't consider that to use the helmet's footage of tonight as blackmail he'll have to admit to the fam #that he bought a sky-high Bruce #(who he was supposed to be babysitting)#out into a gunfight #jason todd #bruce wayne #batman #batfamily #red hood #batfam #dick grayson #damian wayne

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heartfullofleeches · 13 days

Text

Moonlight Waves

Yan Alien Human Guy Person + Jellyfish Hybrid Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: None, pure fluff

“If you put some thought into it…The ocean and space have a lot in common.”

Vast, boundless frontiers- Depths and reach never to be fully unveiled to the eyes of man. All imposing surfaces blanketing both heaven and earth. Two opposing bodies that on nights just like this might align, conjoined by midnight and the luminous orb mirrored upon them both. The full moon was a blessed companion for those who found themselves alone on eves similar to this- Solace and guidance found in her radiance.

“Whelp- Guess it's time to throw myself.”

Wiser folk have said desperate times call for desperate measures- While there were lesser extremes he could have gone to, this seemed like the quickest solution to their predicament. Twenty-four years on this planet and they had still yet to conquer the strenuous feat that was learning how to swim. His mothers were gentle in their upbringing- Apparently too gentle as they never pressured their child into braving the horrors of the swimming pool. On one hand, the biggest factor to their child's fear may have been the fact that it was their neighbor’s pool - and it'd be quite difficult to explain the eerie glow to their toddler's tears and the stains they left on clothing.

They were fine with it early on, but as he grew - Alien realized how much he was missing out on being unable to swim. Most humans know how to swim by their age anyway which would give less credit to his claims of an earth born and raised member of the population….Which they were regardless of whether or not they knew how to swim.

Alien squares his shoulders, testing the binds of numerous weights anchoring various parts of their body. Unsatisfied with the distribution, he plucks a stone from the moist sand surrounding his legs - unfastening the velcro of their right breast pocket and adding it to the collection. A horde of trinkets ranging from shells to stones to a couple marbles crowded each pocket from the vest they wore down to the swimming trunks they purchased for the occasion. So what if his body was more buoyant than the average human being- requiring additional weight to avoid floating off into the endless sea. Alien had always been a scrawny person-

“That should be enough- Wait…Is that?”

Srounging for more space to stuff the final stone, a gentle glow envelopes their fingertips following a faint- snap! Alien pushes the rocks and shells aside, wrestling the shining band from beneath them with minimal effort.

*Jackpot! I thought I used all of these already. With this baby on, I'm definitely ready for this. Wish me luck up here!”

Alien gazes up at the moon as they slip the glow-stick bracelet onto their arm. It's the last thing they see as their legs carry the rest of them towards the end of the cliff. Had it not been a full moon or the sky so clear- tonight may have gone different for them. They could've swallowed their pride, and went to bed with intentions to sign up for the nearest swim class come morning. Realistically, Alien knew he'd never go through with that plan, but it was nice in theory. Safer too-

Head lost in the cloudless sky, Alien yelps as the ground is swept from beneath them - their screams swiftly snuffed by gallons of water as they're dragged into a plummet off the cliff's edge. Their body connects with the sea, pockets of air bubbling to the surface from the force at which they collide. The oxygen escaping him would have been alarming - had they any need for it. Whether they could hold their breath or their biology simply skipped the stage where their lungs depended on air was a secret they'd take to the grave.

Sinking fast, Alien realizes what some might call a flaw in their ingenious plan.

Perhaps, just maybe, they potentially added too much weight for them to claw their way back to the surface.

…

Ah well.

Since they're already down here, there's no harm in exploring. Hard to see much beyond the gleam of their jewelry dangling freely around their wrist, but they dig the vibe of it all - drifting weightlessly without aim or reason. The deeper they dove, the brighter the natural fluorescence of their skeleton bled through their skin. Alien had heard of a condition that made people's skin slightly yellow before. Surely the green glow of their bones had to be in the same family. The shine widens their range of sight. By now, it was hard to decipher which way they were facing. The moon had long since faded from view….

Oh, wait. There it is..

….

Is it?

Stranging their eyes through the blackened depths of the ocean, Alien can clearly make something out miles away from them - shrouded by a halo of light. It almost mimics their guideless descent - floating off course before gradually aligning itself in a mostly linear ascent towards them. That alone was enough evidence whatever they were looking at was not the moon. The fluctuation of its surface and the four, almost crescent shaped markings atop only served as further proof. Inch by inch, as the space between them grew narrow, Alien could make out more of its features. Flowing tendrils, a pair of arms floating freely at its sides, a face adorned with a dopey smile.

Face to face, the near angelic like figure raises one of its hands - waving its fingers at the unfamiliar face within its territory. Alien’s eyes tighten from the phosphorescence of the creature's skin. Ignoring the sting, Alien lifts his own hand, mirroring the entity’s motions. The corners of its smile peak higher upon its face, head following the dim glow of their bracelet. The lightly draws focus to the stones bulging from his pockets. The creature's grin falters into tight lipped confusion.

“Hey…Hey!”

Alien struggles to make a sound as its hands paw at the straps of their pockets. Successfully tearing the sleeve open, the creature yanks out every rock, every shell- It pauses briefly to marvel at the eye of the marbles in Alien's pocket before shoving them beneath the cap of their head as they continue. Depleting their vest of its contents was all it took to send Alien on their upwards rise towards the surface. The angel waves again before swimming its way to the top, gliding gracefully as a true angel would through the sky. It grabs onto Alien's wrist, tugging him along with them as he apparently took too long for their liking.

Alien could only watch on in awe as the darkness peeled away - moonlight adding on to the ethereal, otherworldly glimmer that was this being and its flesh. Could this be Alien's first encounter with an extraterrestrial? There was no possible way a creature of this radiance was from earth. They just couldn't be-

The creature releases their hold on Alien's wrist as they breach air. Alien finds himself searching for their touch, and another item he appeared to be missing. The angel, the only term Alien found fit for them, wandered towards the shore without him- back facing the sand as they spun a glowing band around their finger. Alien channels the knowledge of every training video they viewed before their trip as they doggy paddle in the general direction of the shore. Thankfully, there was still enough weight in their shorts to keep them perfectly balanced between drifting off and going under.

The energy is depleted from their very soul by the time they reach their destination. The angel sits with its lower half still bathed by the oncoming tide, rolling a marble through the crystalized sand. It throws its arm into the air as Alien appears.

The angel waves. Alien, running on fumes and the strange heartache that would come from not reciprocating their kind gesture- waves back.

The angel helps Alien sit upright, returning the marbles they had borrowed back into the land dweller’s pocket from which they can. Alien fishes out of the marble they saw the angel toy with and gives it back to them.

“Keep that one… So- you got a name?”

The angel’s mouth falls open in a “O” of both surprise and honor at the present. They brush the sand smooth before rolling the marble through it once more. Inspecting their craft, Alien can make out letters the further along the angel continues.

“Y/n? That's your name?”

You clap your hands in praise, sound and ferocity increased by the wetness of your palms. Cute.

“You, uh, come here often?”

The point of your finger towards the water states the obvious fact that you live here. A murmur akin to laughter slips past your lips at that one.

“You got me there… The sea’s pretty big, though. What I'm asking is can I see you again?”

You tap a finger to your chin in thought, head dipping towards the bracelet now hanging from your own wrist. You point to it, hope and wonder present in your grin.

“You like the bracelet? You can keep that too. I can bring you more if that's what you're asking.”

Clapping again, you latch onto Alien's side - merging your fingers with theirs as you hold them both to the sky. Moonlight pours through your skin and theirs, transparency muddled by the existence of their bones. Your head falls to their chest- a whisper so quiet they almost missed it.

“Like me…”

They're glad that they didn't.

#alien my oc #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere blurb #yandere insert #yandere fluff #yandere drabble

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starkwlkr · 1 year

Note

Is there coming a part 3, then maybe where Charles becomes worldchampion? And celebrates with his daugther Ruby and his wife yn?

cool dad | charles leclerc

more baby leclerc content!! manifesting this happens irl if not i will be jumping off the nearest cliff 😝🫶🏼

Ruby couldn’t contain her excitement. She danced around in the hotel room to music coming from her mom’s phone, Y/N making sure her phone was locked before leaving it around Ruby.

“And I am a material girl!” Ruby jumped in the bed as Y/N finished her makeup in the bathroom. Charles was already gone. He was nervous, anyone could tell. Today was the last race of the season, the race that would determine if by the end of the night he was going to be world champion.

“Mama! Play it again!” Ruby said as she continued jumping.

“Ruby Jules, did you find the dress you want to wear?” Y/N asked. Recently Ruby was going through that phase where she didn’t want either of her parents to dress her, she wanted to do it on her own. Her clothing hooves mainly consisted of mix matched socks, bright colored shirts and once she even wore her fairy dress that she always wore on her birthday to the Spanish Grand Prix.

“I want grand-mère to dress me.” Ruby stopped jumping.

“Oh, okay. She should be here soon so just pick out your clothes and she can dress you when she gets here.” Y/N said and grabbed her phone from the night stand. She hoped Charles wasn’t too busy to answer her call.

“Yes, my lovely wife that didn’t give me a morning kiss.” Charles spoke into the phone.

“You’re so dramatic, Perceval. I’m just calling to let you know that we’ll be at the paddock in an hour. You have everything you need, right? You’re not missing anything? Lucky socks? Lucky shirt?” Y/N listed off as she continued her makeup as she put the phone on speaker.

“Just my lucky wife and daughter.” Charles replied.

“Aw that’s cute. Didn’t know you had another one. Is she cute?” Y/N joked. From a distance she could hear Ruby talking to herself about which dress she wanted to wear.

“Yeah, Pierre is cute, but not as cute as you.”

“Mama! Grand-mère is here!” Ruby yelled as Pascale opened the door to the hotel room, Lorenzo, Arthur and Carla entered behind her.

“I have to go, Love. I’ll see you soon, world champion.” Y/N said.

“Stop, you’re going to jinx it.” Charles chuckled.

“No, I’ve been manifesting. I even went to a crystal shop before this trip. You’re going to be world champion, Charles Leclerc.” Y/N said witch much confidence.

“I love you, mon amour.” Charles replied. He hoped his dream would come true. It would mean so much to him seeing his daughter watch him become world champion.

“I love you the most, Perceval.” Y/N said then ended the call. Ruby then ran into the bathroom to show her mom a dress that Pascale has bought her so she could wear it to the race. “It’s beautiful, baby.”

“That’s what I told grand-mère!” Ruby smiled and ran back to the room. It was still too early, but there was no stoping the little girl.

Y/N stepped out of the bathroom, all dressed up and ready to go. “Hi, how are you?” Carla asked, kissing Y/N’s cheek to greet the mom.

“Nervous, but excited. Ruby’s even more excited.” Y/N nodded as she went up to every single member of the Leclerc family and kissed their cheek.

Pascale chuckled. “Did you see the dress I got Ruby? I saw it last week in the store and I just knew she would love it!”

Everyone looked at Ruby who was still jumping on the bed, but this time she had the dress in her hands.

“Ruby, careful. Come on, you said you wanted grand-mère to help you put your dress on. We have to go see papa race.”

Ruby took Pascale’s hand and led her grandmother to the bathroom so she could change. Carla and Y/N catched up on their lives while the two Leclerc men kept up with pre-race interviews on their phone.

“Y/N, they’re asking Charles about Ruby.” Arthur showed the phone screen to his sister-in-law.

“You’ve got a little girl, Ruby Jules-” Charles interrupted the interviewer.

“Right. But everyone knows her as baby leclerc and she loves the name. I was the one that gave her that.” Charles smiled proudly.

Charles had spoken to Y/N after Ruby’s whole instagram live video. Of course everyone knew Ruby’s name by now and that was something Y/N never wanted to be out in the first place. She at least wanted her daughter’s life to be private since hers and Charles was far from it.

“And is she excited about today? Does she understand that her dad could be world champion?”

Oh, Ruby understood more than that. In school, she had told her friends and teachers that her dad was already world champion. Of course that wasn’t true, (Not yet at least) but the little girl was so proud of her dad that she knew he could be world champion.

“Yeah, she has watched most of the races. She knows quite a few things actually, which surprises me because she mostly watches cartoons and listens to pop songs. But yeah, she even caught on with the whole forza charles and says it to me before every race even if she’s not here she makes her mother call me.” Charles explained.

“Forza Charles or Forza dad?”

“A bit of both. Charles when she’s excited so mostly I hear forza Charles coming from my daughter. It’s funny.”

The first time Ruby ever said that to her dad was in Silverstone. After hearing his daughter say those meaningful words, he pushed through and ended up on the podium.

“Mama! Look!” Y/N stopped looking at the screen to turn around to see her daughter in her new dress. Ruby twirled and did a pose which caused both uncles to take their phones out and snap photos of their niece.

“Where’s your grand-mère?” Y/N asked when she noticed Pascale wasn’t out of the bathroom yet.

“She wanted to ask you something. I think she wants to borrow some makeup.” Ruby ran to tackle her uncles by jumping on them.

Y/N nodded and went into the bathroom to see Pascale waiting for her. “Ruby said you wanted to ask me something.”

“Yes, I know I shouldn’t have looked around but Ruby wanted a little makeup from the bag so I grabbed some of yours and I found this.” Pascale handed her a pregnancy test that had the words positive on the little screen. “I’m sorry, I know this isn’t how you wanted me to find out.”

“Pascale, don’t be sorry. You had to find out sooner or later. I put it here because Ruby knows not to touch my makeup bag.” Y/N chuckled. “I’m planning on telling Charles after he becomes world champion.”

“And he will.”

Charles would think that the two mothers made some kind of magic to make him win or that Y/N was actually serious about using crystals. Whatever it was, he was grateful because it got him an unforgettable moment.

“Charles Leclerc, you are world champion!”

Fireworks went off making Ruby cheer at the bright colors. She pointed at the right lights in the sky as Lorenzo held her in his arms. She was amazed until Lorenzo pointed at the Ferrari crossing the finish line that belonged to her father.

“That’s papa!” Ruby screamed.

Charles couldn’t wait to hug his family. After years and years of hard work, his dream of becoming world champion had finally come true. This moment was for him, for his father, for Jules, for Anthoine.

“When can I see papa?” Ruby asked her mom, who was standing beside Lorenzo.

“I’m not sure, chérie. Papa has a lot of people congratulating him. We’re going to see papa celebrate.” Y/N explained to the girl.

The family walked to get a good spot to see the podium ceremony. Checo was given his third place trophy while Max received his second place trophy. Finally, the moment everyone had been waiting for, Charles receiving his world championship trophy. Lorenzo raised Ruby a bit higher so she could cheer for her dad. Arthur made sure to capture everything on video.

That night hearing the Monaco national anthem was something special. This was different. A good different.

Y/N stared at her husband with proudness. He worked extremely hard every year just for that moment. She clapped alongside everyone as Charles celebrated. Y/N wiped away a tear once Charles spotted his family. He blew several air kisses to where they were.

“Mama, he saw us!” Ruby excitedly said.

“And for the last time this year, the celebration!”

Les Toreadors started playing as all three drivers grabbed their bottle of champagne and started spraying each other. After a few seconds, Charles made his way to where the Ferrari team were and sprayed them.

“Is that juice?” Ruby asked.

“Yes, but it’s the kind that you can’t drink.” Arthur tried explaining.

“Why?”

“Because you can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s for adults.”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Uh-huh!”

Having Arthur around was like having another child. At least Ruby didn’t get bored with her uncle Arthur.

It felt like hours trying to get ahold of Charles since everyone was congratulating him on his championship. Ruby was the first to hug him since she ran to him at full speed.

“You did it, papa!” Ruby smiled brightly at her dad as she hugged him.

“It’s because of you. You gave me forza, remember? This is all you.” Charles hugged her tighter as he walked to his family waiting for him.

“Forza papa!” Ruby yelled. Charles set the girl down.

“mon beau garçon!” Pascale cried out as Charles hugged her. “Your father is proud of you forever.”

Charles couldn’t hold his tears in. This special moment was supposed to be celebrated with his whole family, but one special person was missing.

“Congratulations, little brother!” Lorenzo joined in on the hug as well as Arthur, Carla, Y/N and Ruby.

“Ice cream after?” Ruby suggested making everyone laugh. The hug was broken up, but Y/N still held onto her husband.

Pascale knew what the woman was going to do so she whispered to her sons and Carla to let them have a moment. “Come, Ruby, let’s go find ice cream.” Arthur grabbed Ruby’s hand.

The couple stayed in each others arms for a bit. Charles certainly didn’t want the night to end. He eventually let go of his wife to kiss her lips. “I did it, mon amour.” He said after kissing her.

“I’m beyond proud of you, Charles. Everyone is. You deserve this more than anyone.” Y/N kissed Charles once more.

“This feels like a dream.” Charles admitted. “Be honest, on what lap did you take out your little crystals to make me win?”

Y/N laughed and playfully smacked his arm. “I didn’t. I knew you wouldn’t need any type of crystals to help you win. You’re Charles Leclerc, you’re world champion.”

“That sounds so beautiful coming from you.” Charles whispered as he grabbed ahold of her waist. “Would it be bad if we leave Ruby with maman and you and I can properly celebrate?”

“Calm down, world champion. If we go out, I probably won’t be much fun.” Y/N said. Charles raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Just to remind you what happens in Vegas doesn’t stay in Vegas.”

“I am still trying to understand-”

“I’m saying Ruby might fight her new sibling over the baby leclerc title in nine months because I’m pregnant.”

“Oh!” Charles understood.

“Yeah, we are never going back to Vegas if it ends up with me being knocked up.”

“It’s Vegas, baby!”

#formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #cl16 x reader

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etherealstar-writes · 5 months

Text

I WANNA BE YOURS | LIONESSES X READER | PT 4

pairings: lionesses x reader

summary: in which you're accidentally added to a random group chat, not knowing they're all actually famous footballers, and obliviously end up having many of them competing for your love and attention.

part: four

part one here

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

THE NATIONAL DIVING TEAM

elton

how is everyone on this fine evening?

the REAL karate kid

great until you rudely woke me up

from my peaceful nap

stairway

the imposter

eh not too bad

but my friend keeps on spamming me

with these tiktok edits

neev

tiktok edits you say 👀

what of?

the imposter

these girls she's kinda obsessed with

and finds them incredibly good-looking

and wants to know who my fav is or

who i find the most good-looking

elton

ooh really?

i wanna know who

let us google em and say our opinions

the REAL karate kid

and which one did you find

the most good-looking?

the imposter

i don't really know who any of them are 😭

but they're playing football in some clips

so i'm guessing they're football players?

elton

oh 😳

stairway

this will be interesting

earpsy

ah well describe them

so how many were there?

and who was the best looking?

i wanna keep an eye out if they

turn up on my fyp

the imposter

well there were quite a few

there was this one specific blonde

that she continuously spammed me

edits off the most

and i think she was the captain idk?

willybum

i feel like i've seen that blonde before!

i reckon she's everybody's favourite

since she's the most good-looking

stairway

what a big fat lie

elton

as if

the imposter

eh, everyone's fav?

i mean i see where people are coming

from but that's kinda stretching it ...

there are so many more players

that seem to be just as great if not better

the REAL karate kid

see

thank you

you get it

just like everyone else

someone just needs to knock

some sense into leah

and i'll gladly do it rn

BACK TF UP 🤺

lotte

who is your favourite player tho, y/n?

neev

i'd love to know too

stairway

come on, that's easy

it's gotta be stanway

right?

the REAL karate kid

y/n, my love

it's russo isn't it

elton

hey hey hey

we forgetting toone too

the REAL karate kid

shush

the imposter

um i'm still uncultured okay 😭

i don't know any of their names yet

oh but i do know one of their names

i think she's pretty cool

neev

ooh do tell who this lucky person is

that you find pretty cool

the imposter

it's lucy bronze

willybum

NAHHH

SHUT UP

stairway

NOT THAT OLD RUSTY GRANDMA 😭

OUT OF EVERYONE ELSE SHE COULD PICK

rusty metal

who you calling an old rusty grandma?

stairway

YOU

WHO ELSE

rusty metal

i'm very delighted that

she is your favourite y/n

she's mine too <33

earpsy

LMAO 💀

just so you know y/n

you've broken a lot of hearts today

the REAL karate kid

lemme just go and find the nearest cliff

and fling myself off of it

stairway

i'm joining you

willybum

count me in too

the imposter

IM SORRY 😭

ALL THE LIONESSES SEEM AMAZING OKAY

I JUST ONLY KNOW ABOUT HER YET

elton

nah

you've made your choice

the imposter

YOU GUYS

it's really not that big of a deal

you all are acting like i've

personally rejected you guys

lotte

this whole thing was so funny to read omg

meado

honestly

top tier entertainment

made my day

thank you y/n

the imposter

you're welcome ...?

part five here

#lionesses x reader #woso x reader #engwnt x reader #engwnt #woso imagine #leah williamson x reader #alessia russo x reader #ella toone x reader #niamh charles x reader #georgia stanway x reader #lotte wubben moy x reader #mary earps x reader #woso #woso fanfics

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bwabys-scenarios · 1 year

Text

HANTENGU CLONES HCs

Karaku+Urogi

SFW+NSFW

Warnings: pet names, tummy bulge, anal, virginity loss, breeding kink, cock warming

background: you are the wife of the hantengu clones

Aizetsu

Sekido

SFW

Karaku

-you call him your lovebug

-he calls you sweet thing, princess, pretty girl, wife

-the most handsy out of the four

-constantly grabbing your hips and nipping at your neck

-the most physically and verbally affectionate

-if you ever need someone to be lovey dovey with, he’s your guy

-taken you on dinner dates

-bro is a biter not even in a sexy way usually, he just randomly bites you all the time

-enjoys watching you have fun

-very pouty when he doesn’t get his daily cuddle session

-very into the domestic life, very much enjoys having a cute wife to come home to

-his favorite place to kiss if your neck

Urogi

-you call him sweetheart, baby

-he calls you his dragonfly, cutie pie, wife

-so hyper

-wants to do so many things at once, he’s your go to if you wanna have fun!

-usually the one to bring home game from the forest(deer, rabbits, and large birds mostly)

-please touch help him preen his wings, he won’t tell you he wants you to run your hands through his feathers but he does back up into you with his wings all fluffed up and in your face

-hates the cold, will steal you to snuggle with in the winter

-understands your humanity the least. What do you mean you can’t be thrown off a cliff into a waterfall he just wants to see who can make the bigger cannonball!!

-dislikes sharing you the most, is known for taking you away for extended periods of time(which highly pisses of Sekido ><)

-makes you a nest and collects the softest materials and shiniest objects to decorate it 🥺

-loves kissing your lips the most!!

NSFW

Karaku

-second horniest clone

-can and will fuck you until you pass out

-he’s huge, gives you a tummy bulge

-coo at him and give him sweet little kisses and he’ll bust inside you instantly

-being in his lap is dangerous. One moment he’s bouncing you on his knee while you tell him about your day the next second your bouncing on his cock

-likes any position where he can see your face, loves to watch you come undone

-little bit of a breeding kink

-likes to cum inside you or on your face

-can’t get enough of your touch, he needs to be flush against you or he whines about not being close enough

-sooo touchy…

Urogi

-hear me out… huge breeding kink

-he built you a whole nest he wants you to have his babies

-only cums inside you, would be a waste not to!

-will fuck you anywhere anytime. collecting herbs in the forest? bend over real quick. shopping for supplies in town? pushing you up against the nearest wall and pounding you

-is the reason you’re banned from the farmers market

-so good with his tongue, will sometimes just eat you out until you can’t walk

-gets extremely jealous of the other four when they take turns with you

-steals you away to have sex in the nest he made for you

-he’s the most likely to actually get your pregnant

-bro does not understand boundaries will crouch down and start sniffing at your crotch randomly and eat your out with no regard for who’s around

-definitely the type to have you in his lap cockwarming him constantly

-THE horniest

-super dirty mind too, def the first to suggest anal and try it out

-takes your anal v card with PRIDE

-his dick is the smallest out of the four (7ish inches) but it’s thick af, praying for your coochie🙏🙏

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sareeen · 5 months

Text

Meaningful words

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader

Summary: A lonely night without Azriel is hard enough for Y/N, but when she gets a terribly sad book in her hands, she feels a thousand times worse. Luckily, Azriel is always there when she needs him and can calm her down like no one else.

Warnings: nothing, just fluff :)… maybe at the end a little dark azriel

Masterlist

A/N: After months of hard times, today I finally had the time and the will to write. With this little story today I would like to wish you all a Merry Christmas in advance :)

English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistake.

Damn you, Nesta.

Y/N could hardly see the letters because of the tears in her eyes and the bottom of the page was already wet in several places. She felt so miserable that she wanted to throw the book away and lie there for two days, weeping in the depths of the bedclothes.

But the story sucked her in, the heroine's suffering and grief dug into her like sharp claws, and she was unable to put the book down. As Azriel was on a mission all night and she could not sleep for lack of it, she took the book that Nesta had borrowed to her. She told her it was a sad story and surely if Nesta Archeron called something depressing then it must be so.

As she kept turning the pages, the harder it was to restrain herself from reaching for the bond with the spymaster and tugging at it, then begging him to come home. But, with great difficulty, she managed to control herself and behave like an adult. However, in the last few hours, as the sun began to rise, she looked at the clock more and more and sat on pins and needles to hear the front door open.

When she started another chapter and the protagonist was hit with yet another worse blow, as if the poor thing hadn't already had a hard time, she sobbed so much that she missed the opening of the door by just the wrong margin.

Azriel stood frozen, his broad shoulders almost filling the doorframe and panting heavily as if he had run all the way home from the Illyrian camp.

"What's wrong?" he stepped inside immediately after the first shock and rushed straight to their bed.

"Stupid book."

The words were almost unintelligible and Y/N pointed the thick book towards him like some kind of idiot and handed it to him.

Azriel held it in his huge hands, clueless, and it was obvious that he didn't understand the situation at all. He looked so lost, which was so unlike him, that if the situation had been different Y/N would have laughed.

But she felt so lousy she just tried not to cry any harder.

It was almost consuming him, it seemed, to see her like this and not know exactly what was wrong with her and how he could help her. So, he just lay next to her, dressed in his battle clothes as he was, and pulled her onto his chest.

It made Y/N cry even more.

"It's so sad," Y/N poked the hard cover of the book. "Nesta gave it to me and now I feel so awful."

Azriel kissed her hair and mumbled something that sounded too much like I'm going to kill that woman.

"Then why are you reading it, sweetheart?" his warm hand traced soothing circles down her back, making her feel a little better. At least enough to form meaningful and complex sentences, and not like some one and a half year old child.

"Because it's so good by the way," she whispered, pressing her palm against Azriel's chest, right where his heart was beating. A small relief welled up inside her and she stroked the leather.

“But it's so sad because Adja the main heroine is losing her mate. He was wounded during a battle and the healers couldn't save him, and then he died."

A shiver ran through her as Azriel's arm tightened around her, almost pulling her into him.

"I've been thinking about what I would do" Y/N sniffed. "If you died, I don't know what I would do. I'd probably jump off the nearest cliff I could find and go after you."

Azriel took a deep breath at her words and cupped her face in his two scarred hands. Y/N looked at him with teary eyes and the way his partner looked at her, with that devotion and adoration, she was absolutely certain that she would indeed go after him to death.

"My love" he gave her a soft kiss on the lips and then wiped away the tear that trailed down her cheek. "I'm not going to die."

"You can't promise me that" Y/N argued at once. "No one can promise that."

Azriel smiled and gave her another kiss.

His lips were warm and soft on hers, causing Y/N's arm to unconsciously wrap around his neck and pull him closer. Their legs tangled together under the blanket and Azriel's shadows retreated to the corner, as if they didn't want to share this intimate moment.

When they broke apart, Azriel's finger brushed her cheek with a breathless caress. The golden-brown eyes almost glowed and Y/N could have sworn they sparkled slightly. She knew that her mate sometimes still struggled to accept that she really loved him. Every once in a while, her heart sank when she sensed through the bond that Azriel doubted himself and at such times she always made sure to surprise him with something to prove that he deserved it more than anyone.

"Indeed not, but I can promise you that I will do my best to stay alive" he grinned and playfully pinched her bottom. "I'll do my best to come home to this pretty little bottom every night."

To enhance his words, he gently patted the said body part.

Y/N gasped in surprise at the sensation and slapped his shoulder, but her mouth was already up to her ears. She felt much, much better thanks to Azriel.

"Good, because you're never leaving the house again" Y/N raised an eyebrow, then added jokingly. "Besides, it's not nice that your partner tearfully admits what she would do if you were gone and all you could think about was her butt. You know, other men would return the favor in a heartbeat, with words like I'd burn the world for you."

Azriel laughed and rolled over, pushing her body with his huge one almost into the mattress, which made Y/N sigh happily.

"Really?" The spymaster asked, brushing her stray hairs from her forehead.

"Yes," Y/N answered seriously, but there was laughter in her voice.

Azriel slowly leaned in to her ear and Y/N shivered with excitement as he began to whisper.

"Do you want to know what I would do if you died?" the spymaster said, but his grip on the words grew a little steely, as if the very thought of it was driving him mad. "I would cover the whole world in darkness and blood, hunt everyone down and when I had finished with all the sinners and all their loved ones, I would end my life and follow you to the afterlife. Proudly and without thinking, because if you no longer exist then the whole world is meaningless and I wouldn't want to exist in it."

Y/N's fingers tangled in Azriel's dark hair.

"That was better than a I'd burn the world down."

Azriel's dark laughter filled the apartment.

"I would do more for you."

#acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #acomaf #acowar #a court of thrones and roses

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