#Kitty Writes

[kingofthe-egirls]

Hear me out, y/n and Zoro are working out, and they like train fight together and y/n wins somehow, Zoro gets all grumpy and pouts and y/n says that they will make it up to him, and Zoro being Zoro, gets an idea, and then rest is up to you my dear writer!!

ooooooooooo ok

SPARRING ROOM: ZORO x Y/N

(cw: sword fighting, sweet self indulgent combat descriptions, minor stab wound, etc., sword language, kissing)

(a/n: so i tried to focus less on just the stage directions this time, since i've been wanting to delve more into the narration and what's going on inside reader's head. snakelike imagery as well as a lot of "S" words. sometimes it felt a lil clunky but we made it through lol)

Songs: "Ain't It Fun" by Paramore, "Sexy Villain" by Remi Wolf

words: 1.9k

"That's my girl," Zoro says, strong hand on your back as you finish up your set of push-ups (thirty second reps with fifteen second breaks between). He lets you sit up, stretching out your back.

"Thanks, Zo," you say, pushing up to standing. You take a long drink of water, drips tickling down your chin and onto your sports bra. Zoro clears his throat, and looks away. You smile.

Swordsmen are so noble.

"Wanna fight?"

Zoro scruffs his hand through his hair, pushing up to standing himself. He towers over you, a good several inches. Maybe a full foot. You knock your forehead into his chest. Headbutting is your way of showing affection, kinda like a cat.

He scruffs your hair, too, from where it's pulled back into a messy ponytail. "Sure," he says, and moves over to the side of the crow's nest where his three swords sit against the wall. You watch the ocean way below, swishing and sparkling as it laps against the Sunny.

You bend to pick up your own rapier, the silver filigree wrapping around your hand comfortably in a decorated knuckle guard. The dancing tiger that stalks its way across the sweepings guides you to victory, all the way down to the rapier's gleaming point.

You swipe it through the air, relishing the swiftness and flexibility of your sacred blade. Nightingale. She is a snakelike, hissing thing that speaks to you in whispers as she flies. You pair her with a short blade, held in your other hand with no less care.

Meadowlark.

Swordsmen are always worried about the length of their swords: the bigger the better. Typical. What they don't account for, however, is the deadliness of a shorter blade. The duck and strike, the rattlesnake bite, the venom of your speed strikes straight through their lowered guard. They always overestimate themselves, since your opponents usually have a longer reach than you. But your rapier is not alone.

She bites.

And so do you.

Swordswomen do not play fair.

You grin over at Zoro, who's checking the edges of his blades so as not to cut you. Speaking to them softly, caressing their sides and gripping their handles like a lover. His voice rumbles lowly across the glossy wooden floor, sweetly beckoning the swords to follow him, obey him, let him rule over them as he spars with his friend.

You almost hear them rattling in his hands.

Purring to your own blade, you remind her sharp edges not to bite so dangerously, but not to go too easy on him either. It's a delicate balance, talking to your swords. She whispers back seductively not to worry, that she'll swing with accuracy but not deadly force. She sighs in your hand, shivering as she readies for battle.

"Easy," you murmur to her, and she sings. Meadowlark buzzes in your hand, adding the bass to her soprano. "Ready?" You ask Zoro, swiping your sword through the air. You stalk towards him, stepping carefully across slats of glossy Adam tree.

Zoro smiles wickedly, placing his white blade between his teeth. He cherishes the handle of Wado Ichimonji as if she were sweetness itself. His sister's spirit lives inside this sword. You respect his three-sword style, and have yet to beat him in a sparring match.

Swiftly, you bow.

Zoro returns the gesture, and brandishes his two swords aloft. Wado Ichimonji gleams in the sharp florescent lighting of the crow's nest. Swiping the air, you stalk around your opponent, noting his strong biceps and flexing center. He lowers his center of gravity, bending swiftly before leaping forward to strike against your guard.

You swipe away the sharp edge of Wado Ichimonji, ducking aside as Zoro lunges forward, sword tilted in his teeth. He steps away from you, just barely, so that your swift disarming counter strikes harmlessly against Sandai Kitetsu's guard. Sparks glint off where the strong metals meet. You swipe Nightingale across his side, but he dodges. You stumble forward, slightly off balance.

"Shit."

Zoro laughs, growling around the white-wrapped handle of Wado Ichimonji. "Start again," he says, standing wide with a lowered stance. Enma gleams sharply in his strong fist. You turn, stepping around in a circle as he counters your movement across the floor.

"Stumbling is never a good sign," Zoro says, swords snickering in their triangle shape. She is making fun of you in particular: the sword singing softly in his right fist. Smirking, even. Zoro matches her sneer as he closes the distance between you in swift, even strides.

"Stop it," you whisper, tightening your grip around Nightingale's sweetly wrapped handle. She has a soft, white leather made from a doe's hide. She is a flourishing, sacred blade.

"Stop what?" Zoro asks, clashing his two swords against your rapier overhead. Sparks fly down between you, and you just barely dodge out of the way of Wado Ichimonji's strike. His three-sword style is a bitch, sometimes. Stepping back, you catch your breath.

He swings, again.

Sweet Meadowlark counters the sharp edge of Enma, screaming across the sharpened steel. You grit your teeth, bringing your dagger all the way down to the hilt of Zoro's katana.

"Not you," you hiss out through a clenched jaw. Staring at Sandai Kitetsu, you push forward even more, enough to get Zoro to stumble backward. He counters, quickly. He faints with Sandai Kitetsu, before slashing sideways at your open side. You yelp, a sharp, high-pitched noise at the back of your throat. Zoro smirks.

"Swords are makin' fun of ya?"

Snickering, the three katanas all bear down on you from overhead. He's so fast. You grunt, blocking them with rapier and dagger crossed above you. He knees you in the stomach.

"Ouch!" You scream, winded. You stumble backward, clutching at your abdomen. You spit saliva onto the floor. Zoro chuckles.

He plants both feet on the floor, standing shirtless in front of you, with nothing but his leather pants and green bellyband. You're only in a sports bra and shorts, yourself. Swiping Nightingale through the air, you sprint toward him at full speed.

Fainting with Nightingale, you strike at Zoro's blind side, before ducking quickly and jabbing Meadowlark straight into his chest.

"Shit!" You squeak, ripping your steel dagger out of Zoro's bloodied chest. You hit right between the ribs, on the side with his good eye. Blood trickles down his abs in a scarlet ribbon. You smile.

Strike One: Y/n.

But the victory tastes sweet for only so long, as Zoro bears down on you with a counterattack. You dodge out of the way, but only slightly, as Sandai Kitetsu shears off a lock of your hair.

"Fuck!" You scurry backward, a rogue at heart, meant to strike and retreat as quickly as possible. Zoro stalks forward again.

This time, he twirls Enma in one hand before striking down viciously at you with a barrage of attacks. Slashes, stabs, lunges. Swipes at your side, especially the side where you hold shorter Meadowlark.

"Shut up," you tell his sassy sword, who's been snickering at you this whole time. She chides your balance, your sword play, the way you're standing with too much weight on your left side.

She glides snakelike against your dagger, bouncing off the side. Your arm stings with the recoil. Shit. You barely keep your stance in place as you're forced to shuffle backward. Sandai Kitetsu bites your upper arm, and you hiss.

"Stop dodging," Zoro commands you, striking the wall behind you, right next to your head. "You have to fight back, or else you'll be dead." Sandai Kitetsu giggles in his hand.

You're panting, sweating with exertion. Zoro's strikes are so strong. He's stepping away from you now, giving you room to breathe. You hate when he goes easy on you. Snarling, you charge forward again.

Zoro meets you halfway, growling in his throat.

Your swords clang together harshly, metallic singing reverberating throughout the room. You both back up, stepping in tune with the other's movements. He stalks around you like a tiger, and strikes at your backside. He hits you with the flat of Sandai Kitetsu's blade.

"You're weak."

He challenges you, and you see red.

It's a spin, a stab, and a dance backwards, before your vision clears. Zoro is grimacing, another bright red stripe decorating his bare chest. It's right above his sternum, and a little to the left.

He grunts, and charges after you.

Swinging at your weak spot, Zoro brings Enma down toward your side. You block the strong, sweeping arch with the silver side of Nightingale's cross guard. She resonates with the sound of the blow.

You both hold for a second, struggling to push the other's weight off.

Eventually, you let go with a huff.

"That's enough," you decide, whipping your sword through the air with a signature flourish. Zoro nods, sheathing his own blades.

"Good job," he nods, heading back over to the side to wipe his face with a towel. He throws it into the dirty clothes hamper that one of you will eventually take down to the laundry room when it gets too full.

"Yeah, right," you seethe, jaw clenched. "I wish I was anywhere near as strong as you. I can be fast, and invasive, but...," you raise your shoulders, and let them fall with a defeated sigh. "Sheer strength-wise, you've got me beat."

Zoro shakes his head, "You're not that far behind me, actually." He sits down on the bench, elbows on his knees with a canteen in his hands. He chugs a lungful of water, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows.

"Yeah?"

You sheath your swords, and start a cool-down stretch routine. You lean over to one side, and then the other. You shake your legs in their sockets, trying to loosen up your hip flexors.

Zoro nods. "Not everyone can fend off Enma." He regards you steadily, his green eye flicking you up and down. You stretch your arms over your head. "Especially with a blade that flimsy." He smirks at your rapier, and you huff.

"She is not flimsy." You cross your arms, nose in the air. Nightingale hums in agreement at your side. Zoro sneers a laugh.

"Plus, you can understand sword language better than any other swordsman I've met. Not even Mihawk can hear his sword so well."

At that, you pause.

Your fingers flutter around Nightengale's hilt, and you grin. "Thanks, Zoro. That means a lot."

His face flushes, and he looks away.

"Well, yeah...," he says, gruff, before pushing off the bench to make his way over to you. He skims his knuckles over the outside of your arm. His fingertips dance along the diamond pommel of your sacred blade, and you gasp. He arches an eyebrow. "Feel that?"

You nod, stunned.

"That's the bond between a swordsman and his blade."

"Her blade," you correct, and he snorts.

"Rematch after dinner?" He pulls away, and leaves you aching. You stumble after him, a step or two. He turns, pausing, with his lips parted. Your swords are clattering at your side. He looks you up and down, a question paused in his mouth that you can't quite read.

"Kiss me?"

Zoro blanches, and for a moment you're stuttering, shocked at your own bravery, boldness, yours and his swords are all clamoring to be heard above the din of blood rushing in your ears, and--

Zoro cocks his head, smirking, and closes the distance between you.

He takes both your arms in his hands, holding you by the shoulders, and leans forward to place a kiss on your waiting lips.

"How's that?"

You smile like a little kid. "Perfect," you say, before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in to deepen the kiss.

You can't wait for the rematch.

#this is so hard #sword fights #hard to describe #zoro #zoro x you #zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #zoro fanfic #one piece fanfic #zoro fluff #dumpster dive #kitty writes

[kitty-is-writing]

📝 in the mood to post a short story today 📝

this one is called Reunions, set in the same world as my novels are, as the old gods are returning from their centuries of slumber.

- Reunions -

“Hello brother.”

The unexpected greeting startled Ralor-Kanj out of his meditation. His eyes snapped open, immediately fixing on the barrel-chested man leaning against his doorframe.

“It’s been a long time. How have you been?” the visitor continued.

Ralor stood. “What do you want?”

The visitor gave a mocking pout. “Aw, nearly four centuries trapped in another realm and you can’t even pretend you’re pleased to see me? I’m hurt, dear brother.”

“What do you want, Chaos?” Ralor asked again.

“Ooh, I do like it when you call me that... so much more fitting than the name Mother gave, right Order?”

Ralor took a step forward, one hand twitching towards his sword. “Don’t make me ask you again.” The sword flashed as it zoomed from its place on the wall to his hand.

Chaos smirked. “I just want a little fun. Do you have any idea how dull it was, stuck in Nowhere for three hundred and eighty nine long years? You should have known Mother’s little ritual couldn’t keep me there forever, especially after she messed up and lost her following. I suppose that was why she went and made you, wasn’t it? She knew I’d find a way back eventually and thought you’d be able to keep me in line,” he taunted.

Losing his patience, and riled by the other god’s taunts, Ralor slashed at him with the sword. “Get out!”

Chaos vanished in a flash of sickly yellow light, the blade missing him by a split second, and reappeared behind Ralor’s desk. “You’ve had your turn, dear brother. Now it’s mine,” he said, a wicked smirk on his lips as he flicked the end of the golden scales. Another flash of light, and he was gone.

Ralor dropped the sword and reached to steady the see-sawing scales, only to be repulsed by a sharp jolt of electricity. As he shook the numbness from his arm, staring at them as they yawed wildly on their pivot, a strangled yell came from the pavilion. Thinking Chaos had wrought yet more of his namesake already, he willed himself there, expecting to find pandemonium.

Instead, the pavilion seemed as calm and peaceful as ever, except for Vrenid-Malchor. Where the Creator usually sat upon his throne, now he knelt on the floor, clutching his head and groaning in apparent pain. Talri-Pekra was already kneeling at his side, looking more concerned than Ralor had ever seen her. “What’s happening?” he asked her, hoping the goddess of knowledge would know something about it. She looked up at him, and he could almost see her mind forming and discarding ideas at blinding speed, but she said nothing.

“It’s started,” came a voice from behind them. Ralor turned to see Dranj-Aria, watching the Creator with a strange expression.

“What’s started?”

She kept her gaze on the kneeling god, slowly approaching as she answered. “They’re coming back. The lost ones were returning, and he’s going to break apart.” She drew level with Ralor, and turned to face him. “It’s a shame to see him go, but I couldn’t say I wasn’t pleased to see my sun again.”

“Returning... all of them?” Ralor asked. “So it’s not just Chaos, they’re all coming back?”

Talri-Pekra jumped up from the floor. “Chaos is back? When did that happen?”

“He just showed up in my domain, taunted me a bit and unbalanced the scales,” he said.

The three were silent for a moment, considering the implications of that. Each of them knew that Ralor-Kanj’s golden scales were linked to the balance within the mortal world, and whatever happened to one would affect the other.

Their thoughts were interrupted by a drawn-out scream from Vrenid-Malchor, and they turned to face him again. “Is there anything we can do for him?” Talri-Pekra shouted.

“No, but we needed to be here for the others. They’ll be confused and need our help after they split,” Dranj-Aria replied.

Cracks appeared in the kneeling god’s skin, and a blinding light shone through. His screaming continued without pause, and Ralor shut his eyes, wishing that someone could at least ease his pain. Suddenly, the screaming stopped, and the entire pavilion was saturated with a pure white glow for a second. Once the light faded, the three standing could make out four forms lying on the floor, clustered around the spot Vrenid-Malchor had been moments before.

One, a dark-skinned woman wearing a clingy, web-like dress of some golden material, stirred faintly and groaned. A stocky, brown-haired man wearing hunter’s garb slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, and squinted around the place. Another man, tanned and tall with broad shoulders, simply lay on the floor staring upwards. The fourth, a younger man with pale skin and rather fluffy auburn hair, was the first on his feet, and stumbled into Dranj-Aria’s arms. “Mum,” he whispered as she caught him.

She held him close, stroking his hair flat and murmuring words of comfort into his ear. “Call the others. They needed to know what’s happening,” she told Ralor-Kanj.

“Does this mean I’ll get to see my mum again too?” came a little voice from behind them.

Ralor turned to see Aikra-Lora standing there, eyeing the four newly-reformed gods. “Yes, I suppose it does. Would you stay a moment and help these three? I need to fetch the rest,” he said.

She nodded, and made her way across to the woman on the floor. “You must be Venri. Mum told me a lot about you before she went away.”

Venri sat up, gently encouraged by the youngster. “Your mum... Alrin-Fora, yes, I remember her. You... Aikra-Lora, you were even littler the last time I saw you,” she said slowly. “What happened? The last thing I remember was being pulled here against my will...”

“We all got merged together,” said the man still lying on the floor. “Forced into one being by the humans, because their beliefs changed. “You, me, Alch, and Renir over there,” he waved towards the stocky man who Talri-Pekra was speaking softly to. “I remember... there are flashes, bits of the last few years... how long has it been?”

“Almost two centuries now, Chor,” came a leaden voice. Fakro-Umdar had arrived in the pavilion. “When Ralor said you had all returned, I wasn’t certain I believed it. I suppose this means the rest will be back soon?”

Dranj-Aria nodded. “They all started coming back the day Vrenid-Malchor broke apart. Of course, someone already woke Rolar-Triak a few months ago...”

“Chaos is back?” all except Talri-Pekra exclaimed.

“Uh-huh, weren’t you following the mortal drama last year? They’d started up old cults again, the Mistress and Chaos, plenty were already worshipping Alrin-Fora again, so she was back a couple of weeks from now, if I remember right; I think even old Baltakor started getting a following again and rejoined us soon,” Dranj-Aria said. “You really should keep up with the mortals more, you might have a better idea what was going on.”

A grating laugh rang through the pavilion. “I know, right? Did you see the dragon battles over Tewen a few months back? So much glorious pain, so many grieving families,” Somri-Galin said, an ecstatic smile on his lips.

“You don’t have to sound so pleased about that,” said Ralor, returning behind the god of suffering. “I know it’s your thing, but still,” he jerked his head towards Aikra-Lora and the newly returned gods. “A little sensitivity now and then would be appreciated.”

“Oh, don't be such a killjoy. Besides, haven't you got a wayward brother to go chasing after?”

Ralor-Kanj tipped his head back, eyes closed in exhaustion as he mumbled to himself. “He’s only been back five minutes and I’m sick of him already. I suppose he is my responsibility though,” he sighed as he turned to the rest. “If the others are returning, someone will have to be here at all times to welcome them back. I suggest we take it in turns, and keep watch for those more likely to cause harm. You know the ones I mean.”

“We shall watch for our brother, and keep him in check as we always have,” came the leaden tones of Fakro-Umdar. He stalked over to Somri-Galin and clapped a not entirely friendly hand on his shoulder. “I am, of course, what follows them both. Sometimes they need reminding of that fact.”

Ralor nodded. Of the three – war, suffering and death – Fakro-Umdar was the most reasonable, if only because he lacked the others’ impatience. He also had some degree of control over their more sadistic impulses, which Ralor could respect even if he didn’t like it much. “I will take care of Chaos, and Mother if she also decides to rejoin us.”

“When can we expect them to begin arriving?” Talri-Pekra said, turning towards Dranj-Aria.

The time goddess grinned. “It wasn’t that simple. Some of them are going to appear elsewhere, and others didn’t remember what they were, so couldn’t have come here until one of us goes to find them. Then of course, the others interfered, and there’ll be the old deal to consider. You needed to figure out how that thing works,” she pointed over to the vision orb Vrenid-Malchor had so closely guarded, now dark and empty as its master was no more. “Once you got it up and running again, it’s going to be simple to keep track of who’s returning and where. Off to your library, Talri,” she wiggled her fingers.

Talri-Pekra vanished so abruptly that the air currents ruffled everyone’s hair. Renir, who she had been talking to, gravitated towards Chor and the two began talking quietly. From the snatches of conversation that drifted across the pavilion, Ralor-Kanj thought they were trying to separate who’s memories of the last couple of centuries were whose. Aikra-Lora disappeared with Venri, talking about Wirba and Astator, while Dranj-Aria settled onto a puffy chair that hadn’t been there a moment ago, catching her son Alch up with recent events. With things at least vaguely under control for now, he left the pavilion himself to begin searching for his brother. There would be no point in trying to restore any semblance of balance to anything until Chaos was contained once more.

#kitty writes #kitty's short stories #my work #writing #fantasy #writeblr #short story

[kitty-thinks-stuff]

woah i actually sat down an wrote something, everybody cheer and clap

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No archive warnings apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: 文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs

Relationships: Dazai Osamu/Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs)

Characters: Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs), Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs)

Additional tags: Post-Corruption Ability Use (Bungou Stray Dogs), Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Soft Dazai Osamu/Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), Literal Sleeping Together, dazai washes chuuyas hair, i wrote this in one day (and while watching commentary yt), Clingy Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), flustered soukoku, theyre affectionate but they dk how, rating is for swearing and stuff, Port Mafia Executive Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs), Port Mafia Executive Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), they are still in the pm in this, dazai thinks chuuyas beautiful (but he'll never admit it), no beta we die like... wait everyones alive??, Non-Sexual Intimacy

Language: English

“I need to clean the wound. It’s going to sting, okay?”

The lack of a taunt or tease bounced around in Chuuya’s mind as he groggily nodded, bracing for the pain. He’s done this before. Clean the wound, dress it in bandages, and hope that it heals properly.

OR Dazai gives Chuuya some much needed comfort after he uses corrupted.

#soukoku #skk #skk fic #ao3 fic #my first ever fic jeezzzz #kitty writes #woah writing tag

[resonating-kitty]

An idea rolling around in my head:

Soulmate AU that follows nothing particular

-

Ghost didn't have a soulmate. Not anymore.

There was a time - before the betrayal, before he was shot, and before he was buried alive and left to die, that he did have one. It wasn't anything grand, just a small flower. He hadn't even known what kind of flower it was, he never bothered to find out. He often brushed his fingers against it at nights when he had some semblance of privacy.

But that was before and something must've happened when he was buried. Perhaps he did die at one point and came back, Ghost didn't know and he didn't want to think back on it at all.

He got out. Drug himself to safety. Radioed Price. Got saved and tended to.

It was days before he was able to look at himself in a mirror and notice that the spot on his chest - right above his heart - was now bare of the flower.

He didn't mourn like he thought he would have. Of course with all the trauma, he was numb. Perhaps that had been it. He just accepted the fact that he no longer had a soulmate and that worked out for him.

Didn't have to worry about losing them if he didn't have one.

He lived his life, pouring his time into his mission and training and intel. Simple.

Then a Scotsman was brought into the 141 and suddenly everything changed.

Starting with a familiar burning in Ghost's chest when he laid eyes on the man for the first time.

#kitty writes #fic ideas #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghost/soap #soulmate au

[kitkins13]

2 truths 1 lie

Thanks for the tag @leahnardo-da-veggie! I'll go with my current main character since she's pretty much taken over my brain right now 🙃

I'll tag @eli-t-spoon and anyone else who feels like playing!

#kitty writes #fantasy #my work #polls #writer games #2 truths and a lie

[bumblingbriars]

Bird in the Garden

My labor of love has been published! The next chapter's posting date is unknown, all I can say is "soon!"

The Link

Five years before The War, a newly of age Samwise Gamgee is introduced to an old friend of the Took Family on his birthday. An Elf by the name of Kestrel, who immediately has him smitten. He does all he can to get closer to her and be, if nothing else, her friend. As the years carry on and peril seems ever so near, the two begin to truly fall one another through the careful art of Gardening. -- "I know so. I cannot garden very well myself. I’ve been trying to teach myself, but I haven’t had quite the time to myself to learn new skills. Plus one of our best gardeners who promised me she’d teach me has…” Kestrel sighed. “Well, she’s gone. I quite admire someone with such talents...”

Sam felt the world go muffled a little as his cheeks turned a pink color. Somewhere in his gut, the words “I cannot garden very well myself” digested. Something like bravery rose from his nerves.

“I could teach you.”

#lotr #lord of the rings #lord of the rings fanfiction #samwise gamgee #samwise gamgee x original female character #oc x canon #canon x oc #oc x cc #writers on tumblr #ao3 fanfic #kitty writes

[kittybells-writes]

hellfur club

stranger things steve/eddie no archive warnings apply hurt/comfort + fluff

Steve was sitting in the chair located in the corner of the guest room of his house. He was on what his friends had been calling “Eddie Watch”, filling the time with various rock magazines that he had taken from Eddie’s trailer and Dungeons and Dragons books that the kids wanted him to read. He turned the page of Metal Edge, glancing at Eddie. Still fast asleep, his chest rising slowly as he rested. Eddie still looked too pale to be healthy. It was a little worrying to Steve, especially since Eddie had just spent a week in the hospital, but he had to assume that the hospital wouldn’t be able to heal Eddie properly from his time spent in the Upside Down anyway. He turned his attention back down to the magazine in his hands.

A few page turns and many more cautious glances up later, Eddie finally stirred a little. It took Steve a matter of seconds to put down the magazine he was flipping through, appearing by Eddie’s side. He did his best to hide his anxiety from Eddie.

“How’re you feeling?” Gently, Steve tucked Eddie’s hair behind his ear.

#kitty writes #stranger things #steddie #steve/eddie #werewolf steve harrington #vampire eddie munson #hurt/comfort #fluff #sickfic #whump

[leviathans-tail]

Chapter 4 of my twst x scream fic is out!!

This is the last chapter before some hardcore problematic smut so be warned!

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst fic #twst fanfic #floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #jade leech #jade leech x reader #smut #smut fic #my fic #kitty writes #twst x reader #fanfiction

[kittymaine]

Two Weeks Notice Ch. 1

// Summary: Tim Drake disappears without warning, and the bats blame the Red Hood. Jason doesn't know who took Tim or where he went, but he knows that finding out before the bats will be the sweetest revenge. What he finds only begs more questions, each one more uncomfortable than the last.

A parallel story to Early Retirement. //

Jason Todd learned that Tim Drake-Wayne was missing when the rest of the world learned about it. It was a normal cold November day when the only real item of note was Tim’s face splashed across the front page of every major newspaper in Gotham.

Despite reports to the contrary, Jason was not heartless. He might not be showing up to Christmas Dinner at Wayne Manor, but he cared about the kids who did. So, he did the only thing he could do. He read the articles printed in the papers, he read the Wayne Enterprises official statement, he even skimmed through a few of the less trashy tabloids to see what the fringe media was talking about. Through all that reading, nothing jumped out as troubling. Nobody was speculating that Tim had been kidnapped or that he was hurt or missing. Everyone was just saying that he had suddenly retired. Tim was barely eighteen and had been a CEO since he was sixteen and Robin since he was thirteen. As far as Jason was concerned, good for him.

So, Jason brushed it off. If it wasn’t exactly what it looked like (Tim finally getting out from under the weight of a whole ass company being dropped on him), then it was probably for some totally batshit plan Bruce cooked up. It would have twenty steps, fifteen of them would be completely useless, and would probably take months for any results to come through. Either way, it was none of Jason’s business.

Jason Todd was the Red Hood, the anti-hero of Gotham city who skirted the line between hero and villain on a daily basis. That was how the public saw him. Through his work with the Outlaws, he had improved his image with the hero community. He would get calls to back up heroes in other cities sometimes, thought it wasn’t uncommon for other heroes to give him the side eye even though he was on their side. But, he was still persona non grata for the Bats. If something colossal went down, he would show up and help to throw some punches, but that was it. He wasn’t on their comm channels, he didn’t show up for Sunday Brunch, and he sure as hell didn’t get tagged in on any of their operations. For the most part, he didn’t fuck with them, and they didn’t fuck with him. It was a pretty shitty setup, but it worked. At this point, Jason just wanted to leave it alone.

So, after checking into it as much as he was able to, he went about his life without a thought to what was going on with Tim Drake-Wayne.

That changed just three days after Tim went missing.

Jason had been following a tip about a human trafficking ring that operated around Hyde Park, at the south end of the Narrows. They targeted preteen girls mostly, but had also grabbed a few young women in the past few weeks. He had been sitting on a nearby roof with a pair of binoculars and a half-eaten meatball sub when the sound of a cape snapping shut sounded behind him.

Jason didn’t turn, and he didn’t flinch. He didn’t even take the binoculars away from his eyes.

“What the fuck do you want, old man?” Jason grumbled, training his binoculars on a portly man walking suspiciously slowly around the duck pond in the center of the park.

Jason’s answer was the prick of a dart hitting him in the neck, right above his armor. He had it out in a second, whirling on Bruce with a feral growl, even as he felt whatever he had been stuck with quickly sap his strength.

“You piece of shit!” Jason tried to snarl, although it came out as more of a slur.

He collapsed to his knees, his eyesight becoming unfocused and blurry. He could just make out Nightwing and Robin land on the roof behind Batman’s ominous black silhouette before his vision faded out, and he surrendered to unconsciousness.

~ ♥ ♦ ♣ ♠ ~

When Jason swam back to consciousness, he was cuffed to a metal table in an unfortunately familiar interrogation room. The table was stainless steel with a single bolt in it that his handcuffs were attached to. He was sitting in a stainless steel chair with a matching chair pushed in across the table from him. A single bright light hung above the table, reminiscent of an old crime noir movie.

Bruce loomed in the corner, the tightness of his mouth testifying to how shitty his mood was.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Jason sneered, his speech slightly slurred. He had drooled on the table and tried ineffectually to wipe the drool off his face with the sleeve of his leather jacket.

“Where is Tim?” Bruce rumbled. His voice sounded like the quiet grinding of stones in a mill, the danger of being crushed hidden between the words.

“How the fuck should I know?” Jason spat.

The punch that landed on his jaw was lightning quick, but he had been expecting it. He let his head roll with it, even as he felt a muscle in his neck jump and scream with the strain.

“I KNOW YOU HAVE HIM. WHERE IS HE!” Bruce screamed about two inches from Jason’s face.

Jason scrunched his nose at the volume and the spittle landing all over him, but kept himself loose and carefully regulated his breathing.

“I told you. I. Don’t. Know,” Jason enunciated very clearly. 

“You tried to kill him twice already. You are the most likely culprit,” Bruce growled, literally baring his teeth at Jason like a dog.

“That was fucking years ago!” Jason shouted before physically reining in his temper. “I haven’t seen or heard from Tim in months. Look me in the eye and tell me I’m lying,” he said. Bruce could do exactly that, since Jason was missing his domino. Based on how painful the skin around his eyes were, it felt like it had been ripped off without any time taken to dissolve the glue.

Bruce stared at him for a long, pregnant moment. Or, maybe it was better to say that the white lenses in Batman’s cowl stared at him. There was no Bruce there, not that Jason had seen any hint of the man he once considered his father in years. He sometimes fantasized that Bruce was gone, as dead as he himself had once been, replaced completely with Batman. A demon from the darkest shadows of Gotham that walked around wearing his father’s skin to smile for the cameras before returning to the darkness.

After a long moment, Batman pulled back and looked up into the corner of the room, just above and behind Jason. Jason knew that a camera was installed there, with an innocuous red light to indicate it was recording. It was a red herring, though. The red light could be flashed by whoever was sitting behind the one way glass to communicate messages to Batman. Whatever message Batman received, he backed off a little bit and stood on the far side of the table.

“If you don’t have Tim, then you know who does,” he said, back to his quiet, dangerous rumble as if he had never lost control in the first place.

“I haven’t heard anything,” Jason said with a roll of his eyes. “Nobody’s talking about a missing bird. The only things I’ve heard are what’s in the papers.”

Another long pause. Jason kept staring at the impassive face of the cowl and, while he couldn’t see Bruce’s eyes, he was sure they were watching the flashing of the light just behind his head.

“You will investigate among your contacts and report back,” Bruce bit out, like the words tasted vile in his mouth, before retreating through the only door.

“Like hell I will,” Jason grumbled.

The door swung shut with a final sounding clank. Jason heard the sound of a lock automatically engaging. He sighed heavily and let his head thunk down on the table in front of him.

How was this his life? It should be illegal for one person to have to take so many hard knocks, even a bad person like him. His own dad (ex-dad?) had hauled him in to interrogate him over his sort of brother’s disappearance. He had even roughed him up a bit. He couldn’t even pretend this was a special kind of hatred, either. Jason imagined the only reason he got the interrogation room treatment was because he was one of their few rogues who knew their identities. It was likely a lot of people had gotten similar treatments in the past few days, just in shady back alleys and basements instead of the Batcave itself.

Jason didn’t know how long he sat there waiting for someone to remember he couldn’t actually leave while handcuffed, locked in, and on the Batcave’s threat list. It felt like a long time of just letting his bruised cheek rest against the cold metal table and thinking about how everything was bullshit and pondering what destructive thing he was going to do to bury the more insidious feelings squirming in his gut. Maybe he would blow up a car? Blowing up cars was always strangely satisfying.

While he was considering whose car he should blow up for maximum chaos and enjoyment (Roman’s? Harvey’s? Oh, the mayor’s???) the door finally opened again and Nightwing stepped inside.

What Jason could see below the domino was stony. Jason didn’t know Dick super well before his death, and they certainly hadn’t bonded after he came back. He didn’t know how Dick felt about him hanging out with his ex-girlfriend and one of his ex-best friends, but he imagined it didn’t exactly make him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Not that Jason gave a shit. Imagining Dick’s constipated face every time Starfire gave him a hug was always a high point for him.

Nightwing stared at him for a stupidly long time, probably waiting for Jason to say something snarky so that he could chastise him and make him the bad guy somehow. Well, he could go fuck himself. Jason knew for a fact he was way more stubborn than golden boy Dick Grayson. He could sit in this cell all night saying fuck all if he needed to. Eventually, Dick sighed and crossed the small space to unlock Jason’s handcuffs.

“This wasn’t personal,” Nightwing said under his breath as he stepped away.

Jason got to his feet slowly and rubbed the circulation back into his hands. Whoever had put the cuffs on him had put them on way too tight. On top of that, whatever knockout juice they got him with hadn’t totally worn off, so he would have to take it easy for a bit.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not like you could have texted. Super reasonable,” Jason snorted, holding onto the table as he took a few cautious steps toward the door. It felt like the room was spinning, and his legs felt like jello, so he didn’t make it far.

“He’s just worried. This isn’t like Tim at all. We’re worried about him,” Dick said, not moving out of the doorway.

“Look, if you think that I don’t expect B to act like a psycho asshole 100% of the time, then you are under some serious misunderstandings about my opinion of him,” Jason sighed. He stopped at the end of the table, when it became pretty obvious that Dick wasn’t going to move. Jason was nowhere near steady enough to make him.

Dick’s mouth turned down into a faint frown at that. His first expression since entering the room. “I know you’re not B’s biggest fan, but I would really appreciate it if you could ask your contacts if they’ve heard anything that might be related to Tim’s disappearance,” Dick said in what sounded like his best little professional voice.

Jason did roll his eyes at that. “Right, because I am just overflowing with goodwill after this little performance.”

“Jason!” Dick bit off whatever he was going to say a second after shouting his name. His mouth and nose were wrinkled with anger, so at least they were back on steadier footing. The whole good cop routine was starting to give Jason the creeps.

After Dick visibly mastered himself, he spoke again, “It would really go a long way to building some trust between you and Bruce if you could help us with this.”

For some reason, it was this last line that really lit the fire of anger in Jason’s chest. Not the screaming from Bruce or the suspicion, but this carefully worded advice from Dick.

It felt like the drugs in his system burned up in a single moment of incandescent rage. Before he knew it, Jason was in Dick’s face.

“There’s that misunderstanding again,” he sneered. “What the fuck makes you think I want Batman to trust me? What makes you think I trust him not to put a knife in my back the second it’s convenient for him? He could eat shit and die tomorrow and trust me, these eyes would be dry as the desert, asshole.” Jason shoved Dick out of the way hard. He knew the door jamb was digging into Dick’s back, but all he did was stand there and stare Jason down like all he wanted in the world was to lay him with a good punch. “I hope the kid really did ditch all you fucks,” Jason whispered viciously, putting his mouth just a scant inch from Dick’s ear. “It would be the smartest thing he ever did.” He felt Dick shaking where he held him still across his chest, and he wasn’t naive enough to think it was anything other than barely leashed rage.

Jason stepped away from Dick and strode down the hallway away from him. His heart was thumping hard in his chest and his hands were shaking with adrenaline. A rushing noise in his ears muffled the chattering sounds of bats and running water as he exited the short hallway into the main Batcave. He hadn’t been inside the cave since before his death, but he couldn’t be fucked to take a single backward glance, he was so mad. He walked down to the vehicle bay, his long legs eating up the distance in no time, jumped on the first motorcycle he saw and revved the engine hard. The rumble between his legs felt like escape. He let the throttle open up and tore out of the cave with a screech of tires.

He drove mindlessly for a long time. It was late (or early depending on your perspective) so he took the highway loop around the outside of the city and drove recklessly fast. He let the thrill of the speed and the near misses with other cars sweat out the stink and hurt and fear from his body. Only once the trembling in his limbs cooked down to hunger and exhaustion did he pull off the interstate.

It was the early hours of the morning when Jason crashed the cycle into the most glorious fireball against a nearby empty warehouse. It wasn’t the mayor’s car, but it was Dick’s Ducati, which was pretty close. He hoped he liked that bike, that he had plans for it. That last little bit of revenge completed, Jason wandered into the nearest 24 hour diner, ordered almost the entire breakfast menu and then went into the bathroom and crushed no less than six trackers that he found all through his clothes. He ended up just leaving his boots in the bathroom. It was too easy to hide trackers in the soles that couldn’t be found with a simple pat down test.

As he munched through toast and pancakes, he finally let himself turn over his encounter with Bats and Dick.

Tim wasn’t just retiring from Wayne Enterprises, he had also disappeared. It had the bats scrambling. They must have had no leads if they were going to such lengths as to drag him into the cave, a place that they had vehemently kept him out of even when he was bleeding and broken after co-op missions. It was probably going worse than he imagined if they were willing to lower themselves to asking him for help. He thought that Dick was going to have an aneurysm during that little bit of making nice in the interrogation room.

The thing was that Batman and his little brood were actually good detectives. It was pretty unusual for them to be this lost when it came to an investigation. If Tim really was kidnapped against his will, he was smart enough to find some way to leave a clue for his mentor, and Bruce was definitely smart enough to pick up on it.

Jason paused to take a swig of his coffee and stare out the window at the early morning wageworkers walking the pavement with their heads down against the early morning chill. 

Unless the bats were approaching things from the wrong end.

Jason had mostly been going for the easiest dig when he said that last thing to Dick, but what if that was closer to the truth than he thought? Bruce and the rest of the bats were probably arrogant enough to not even consider that Tim had left under his own power. But, the police response to the media sure sounded like they weren’t very suspicious. Tim had just turned eighteen last summer, so it was now legal for him to disappear. Even emancipated, disappearing while underage was likely to set off a pretty serious investigation. But, a wealthy eighteen-year-old disappearing? That wasn’t illegal, just concerning.

Was that why the bats couldn’t find him? Because they refused to consider Tim a suspect in his own disappearance?

Jason snorted around a piece of bacon. It all just fit together too well. And, god, what a hit that would be if he was right.

“Oh my god,” Jason said, putting down the huge glass of orange juice he had just started to pick up. The old lady sitting in the booth behind him gave him a derisive look.

If they wanted Jason to investigate Tim’s disappearance, he would. But, not to bring the poor little bird home. No, he was going to prove that Tim bounced out hard and dunk the bat's collective egos into the toilet bowl. And, he would flush too.

~ ♥ ♦ ♣ ♠ ~

Jason starts with the money.

Unlike a normal eighteen-year-old on the run, Tim was a fucking billionaire a couple of times over. There was no way he just grabbed a backpack and a ticket on a greyhound bus. No, Jason's bet was that if Tim had decided to disappear, even if it was a spur of the moment thing, he had used his exorbitant wealth to help things along.

Financial forensics were not exactly Jason's strong suit, but he knew enough to hide his own trail of illicit cash and purchases. A few books checked out from his local library helped him the rest of the way.

Jason wasn't an incredible hacker either, but luckily Bruce had helped the Gotham City Police Department gain access to Tim's civilian hard drive. The GCPD were many things, but digitally secure they were not. It was nothing for Jason to sneak into their network using the login he had pinched from a detective over a year ago and start cruising through what they had and use that to open any other doors he needed.

The picture came together pretty quickly. Just a few days of digging and Jason had a pretty good picture of what happened.

Tim had an absolutely obscene number of alias' and shell companies set up. What half of them were for, Jason had no idea. It seemed like he just randomly cycled money through them for no particular reason he could tell.

But, if you knew what you were looking for, you might notice that one of those shell companies had bought a farm in the middle of rural Pennsylvania just a month ago. Then, just two weeks after purchasing said farm, the deed was transferred to one 'John Timothy Drako'.

The alias was so weak that Jason actually squawked out a laugh at the sight of it. It was almost like Tim wanted to be caught or something.

It seemed obvious to Jason that this little farm must be where Tim had disappeared too, but just the paper trail wouldn't be enough for Bruce. No, if he was going to convince him that his little bird had flown the coop on purpose, he would need proof positive.

The farm was only a few hours away, so Jason decided it would be worth it to check it out himself. He wouldn't get close. Jason didn't want to spook Tim, for reasons that he wasn't willing to think about too much. He would just confirm that Tim was on the farm and then fuck out of there without Tim any the wiser.

In order to do so, Jason had found another farm sitting on a ridge almost a mile from the one Tim had bought. It looked like it had been abandoned for decades, the windows broken out and the door hanging by only one hinge. It had a big barn that looked like it was one stiff wind away from falling down. Regardless of its run down condition, the barn was perfect. Jason scaled the creaking ladder up into the loft and from there hauled himself up onto the roof. The rusted corrugated tin was warm from the sun, even in the November chill.

Jason laid flat on the roof and pulled a huge telephoto lens and camera from his duffle. He aimed it across the valley at Tim's farm.

He didn't even have to wait. There he was, just wandering around the property, trailing his fingers along fence posts and looking up at twisted old fruit trees. He looked happy and calm, an expression that Jason had never seen on his face as he stumbled over tree roots on his way back to the old farmhouse. He was in a red and black flannel shirt and ripped up old jeans over soft brown boots. Tim fit right in to the scenery, so long as you didn't look too close.

Because, if you did look close, you would see that he looked like death warmed over. His hair was long and unwashed, his skin was sickly pale, his face was gaunt with his cheeks and eyes sunken into his already bony face. His hands where they protruded from the worn ends of his shirt sleeves shook faintly. The way his clothes hung on him, Jason suspected that there wasn't a single ounce of fat on his body.

Jason took his pictures, but he remained on the roof of the barn for a long time after Tim retreated back into his little farm house.

His mind was scrambling with questions, but the biggest one was definitely 'What the fuck happened?'

Jason hadn't ever seen Tim out of costume personally that he could remember. So, admittedly, he wasn't an expert on what Tim normally looked like. There were pictures in the newspaper, but he knew better than anyone how expert all the bats were at using makeup and padding and other tools of disguise to hide what was really going on with them. When Jason had met up with Tim during patrols or to work on cases, he seemed fine. But, then, all but the skin of his jaw was covered while they worked and his costume could have been padded out to hide weight loss.

Even if Tim had fooled Jason, who admittedly wouldn't have been looking at him very closely, the Bats had to be aware of something, right? The kid looked like he was ready to pass out any second. How was Bruce okay with him living on his own and working a full time job on top of vigilante work if this was the toll it took on him?

Jason was missing something big. Or, was he? An insidious voice whispered in his ear that maybe the Bruce of his childhood never would have allowed something like that. But, he had changed a lot since Jason had come back to Gotham. Mostly for the worse.

Jason had always assumed the coldness and the vitriol and the judgment were reserved only for him, but what was he basing that on? Did he think that Bruce could only treat people he had a bad relationship with that way? How did he even know that Tim and Bruce had a good relationship in the first place?

There were so many questions, and the connotations of all of them were absolutely tragic to consider. Jason had thought that Bruce was a bad father to him for a long time, but the idea that he was also a bad father to all of his other kids sunk into Jason's stomach like a ten ton rock.

Before Jason could even begin to come to terms with what he had just realized, his phone buzzed in his pocket. This was weird because he had only brought his real phone along on his op, the one he gave to friends only.

He had a text message from an unknown number.

Meeting in cave tonight @ 10 PM. Not optional.

"Fuck my life," Jason muttered as he shoved his phone back into his pocket and packed his expensive camera back into its duffle bag. "This is going to suck."

~ ♥ ♦ ♣ ♠ ~

Jason shows up at the cave at quarter to ten. He comes in through a back entrance hidden in the woods behind the manor that he'd known about since he was a kid.

Even though he was early, he wasn’t the only one there. Three women and one boy were sitting at a large round table in the middle of the main cavern that he didn’t remember being there before. He recognized the boy as Damian Wayne only because his picture has been in the paper from time to time beside Bruce and Dick. Cassandra and Steph he only recognized by reputation. He'd maybe seen one photo of Cassandra in the press and had never run across Black Bat during patrols, which he'd attributed to their territories being too far apart. Steph he only knew from his own research into the bats operating in Gotham. She was the only one visibly struggling with her emotions, her eyes red and shining, her bottom lip wobbling intermittently as she stared intently at her hands where they rested on the tabletop.

The last person at the table had to be Barbara Gordon, someone he hadn't seen or heard from since before he died. She was still beautiful just like he remembered, but she was also older and more mature, whatever girl like warm she had before long gone. She looked like a serious young woman tired beyond her years as she sat in a modern looking wheelchair pushed up close to the table. Barbara was also the only one who acknowledged him as he sat down in a free space and put a manila folder down in front of him. They shared a brief glance, her face completely unreadable, before she nodded and looked away.

It was a long fifteen minutes of waiting in silence. Steph sniffled while Barbara and Cassandra, sitting on either side of her, reached out to reassure her. Jason and Damian were completely still. Dick came in wearing his full Nightwing gear five minutes before the meeting was set to start. He was the only person fully kitted out. Damian appeared to be in pajamas, the girls were all in civvies, and Jason was in his normal body armor but sans mask or helmet. Dick stared at Jason for a long time, frozen just a few feet from the table. Jason didn't know what his deal was, but he stared back until Dick finally shook it off and took a seat beside Babs.

Batwoman and Batwing showed up shortly after Dick, also in full costume. They both stuttered a little bit when they saw him, but Jason could not give less of a fuck about either of them. They took the remaining two seats on either side of him very stiffly.

Bruce came striding into the main cavern at exactly ten o'clock in full Batman suit and gear. He looked stiff and tired to Jason's trained eye. The way he moved in the armor made it look like it weighed five hundred pounds, but Jason and Dick may have been the only ones who knew him well enough to pick up on it. Bruce covered his own discomfort exceptionally well against people who didn't know what to look for.

Batman stood at the head of the table, at the exact other end from Jason.

"What have you found?" he growled out. It sounded painful, the way his voice ground out from between tense lips.

Nobody spoke for a long moment, but then Steph's wavering voice broke the tense silence.

"I've been all over his apartment and talked to all of his friends. Nobody knows anything," she said, just barely choking out the last sentence before she had to cover her face with her hands as a sob finally broke through.

Cassandra put a comforting hand on her back, and Barbara took hold of the hand not pressed to her face.

"Searched all over Gotham. All Tim's favorite spots. No Tim," Cassandra said in a soft, halting voice.

"I contacted my mother," Damian spoke next. He was as still as a statue, unnaturally still for a kid his age. His bright green eyes stared at nothing, looking directly ahead. "She says that there is no whisper of him among the League."

"Batwing, Batwoman and I have been coordinating to shake down all the big players in Gotham to see if they had anything to do with it," Dick spoke up next, his defeated tone conveying what everyone already knew. "Nobody seems to know anything."

There was a long pause. Not a head turned toward him, though Jason could still feel everyone's attention focus on him. He supposed he made it a little obvious with the folder. He was the only one who brought anything, after all.

Jason used a single finger to flick the folder across the table toward Bruce. Batman stopped it from hitting him in his armored stomach with a gauntlet slap.

"Tim is fine. He left on his own, just like I told you," Jason said, folding his arms across his chest.

The table erupted in noise, multiple people trying to talk at once. Dick and Steph were the loudest, but most people had their mouths open. Jason didn't care. He only had eyes for Bruce, and Bruce only had eyes for the folder trapped under his hand.

While Dick shouted angry questions at him and Steph cussed at Bruce while Cassandra held her back, Jason watched Bruce pick up the folder and flip it open. It was a heavily redacted file, a decision that Jason made just a few seconds before he printed everything out. It wasn't as convincing, with addresses and names all blacked out and the photos of Tim zoomed in so far as to crop out any identifying information. But, the idea of just handing Bruce Tim's location made Jason sick to his stomach.

He watched Bruce's mouth tighten, his fingers tighten on the paper until it bent and warped under his thick fingertips. He watched the muscles in his jaw tighten until Jason sincerely thought he was going to crack a tooth.

"Stop!" Barbara shouted, cutting through all the arguing and shouting that swirled around the table. It pulled Jason out of his focus, snapping him back to the present.

Dick and Damian were both on their feet, and Batwing was leaning back from the table like he would like nothing more than to get up and leave. Batwoman looked like it was any other Tuesday, but Steph was glaring at Bruce like she was about two seconds away from jumping across the table to attack him.

Babs had the hand not clutched in Steph's shirt over her forehead, her eyes closed tightly behind her glasses.

"Jason is right," she said, like she had to force each word out between her teeth. "I found Tim too. He left of his own accord and appears to be perfectly fine."

Silence descended again, but it was short-lived this time.

"Explain," Bruce ground out, tossing the folder onto the table like it disgusted him.

"There's nothing to explain," Barbara said, frustration clear in her tone. "The police were completely right. Tim engineered his own disappearance."

"If you expect me to believe that my own son-" Bruce started, his voice deadly soft in the beginning but steadily building before being brutally cut off by Barbara.

"I saw the cave footage," she shouted, looking furious herself. "So, don't act like what I'm saying is so unbelievable," she hissed.

The kids all froze at that (Dick, Damian, Steph and Cassandra), but Jason leaned forward with a frown. He could feel Batwoman and Batwing tuning in as well.

"What the fuck does that mean?" Jason asked with a wrinkle of his nose.

"Bruce," Batwoman sighed, her voice somehow quiet and hard at the same time.

Bruce stared down at the file sitting on the table in front of him. He didn't move and didn't speak, he just stared while Dick carefully edged toward him.

"Bruce, is there reason to believe that Tim would have left on his own? Something you didn't feel the need to share with us?" Luke Fox asked, sounding as exasperated as Jason felt disgusted.

Did Bruce know that Tim had probably left on his own and decided to act like he was kidnapped just to save face? Or was he really in denial? Jason honestly wasn't sure which one would be worse.

"There was no reason to believe that Tim would have left under his own power," Bruce ground out.

"That is not true!" Stephanie shouted, her face flushed red and shining with tears. "He left a note," Stephanie added with a wobble, another tear escaping to run down her cheek.

"What note?" Dick asked faintly. Now that Jason looked at him, he almost looked like he was going to pass out.

"There was a single sticky note on his computer monitor in his apartment," Barbara explained tiredly. "It said only, 'don't look for me'."

"Jesus Christ," Luke snapped, standing up so fast he nearly knocked over his chair. "And you didn't think that was useful information to share with us?"

"It was obviously fake," Bruce snarled.

"The handwriting was an exact match," Barbara tossed back.

"It is incredibly easy to imitate someone's handwriting," Bruce shot right back.

"That may be the case, but it also may be the case that the note was genuine," Batwoman replied as easily as if she were ordering a sandwich at Subway. "But you hid that clue from us because you wanted to make sure our investigations only went in certain directions."

"I was removing misleading information from your view in order to eliminate distractions," Bruce replied through clenched teeth.

"It begs the question," Batwoman continued quietly, completely ignoring him. "Were you aware of Timothy's role in his own disappearance all along and only bringing us in to keep up appearances?"

"This is ridiculous! This meeting is over," Bruce barked, but was immediately shouted down.

"Let her speak," Barbara snapped, Luke nodding along with her.

"It also begs the question of why Timothy felt the need to disappear in the first place. He's surrounded by adults and other vigilantes. There are plenty of people who know who he is and what his struggles may be. So, why was it preferable to disappear than to turn to one of us for help?" Batwoman continued quietly.

"Are you implying that I abused my son?" Bruce asked in a dangerously quiet voice. His hands were visibly trembling where they pressed against the top of the table.

"I am simply asking questions," Batwoman sighed. "I don't pretend to know the answers."

"I want you all out," Bruce said quietly. He sucked in a breath, and it trembled on the exhalation. Jason wasn't sure if he had ever seen him emote so visibly in the last few years. "If I see a single one of you still here in ten minutes, I'll throw you out myself."

With that parting note, Bruce spun on his heel, his cape billowing out dramatically behind him, and stalked back to the door he had initially appeared from. Not ten seconds after he had disappeared, loud crashing sounds could be heard from the other side of the door.

"Well, this was a huge waste of time," Luke said, shrugging his wide shoulders and curling his lip like he smelled something nasty. "I'm sorry, Steph," he said, turning a sympathetic expression on the still quietly sniffling Stephanie. "I hope he comes home soon."

"Thanks, Luke," she said despondently.

With another pitying look at the rest of them, Batwing turned around and headed toward the vehicle bay.

"I'm also sorry that things turned out this way," Batwoman said as she gracefully slid to her feet. "I'm always available if any of you need anything," she said, making eye contact with everyone but Jason before following Batwing out to the vehicle bay.

The rest of them sat at the table for a while, listening to the sounds of equipment smashing in the other room until it finally subsided. Jason considered making an exit that was much louder and angrier than Kate and Luke's, or maybe just turning around and leaving without saying anything. Something kept him stuck to that chair.

Kate's question swirled around in his head. What did they do to Tim to finally drive him off? Jason hadn't even managed that when he nearly killed the kid in his own base.

"Come on, Steph. Let's head back," Barbara finally said, squeezing her hand one last time before releasing it and rolling away from the table.

"Who's taking the kid?" Jason asked before his brain really registered what he was saying.

Dick, Steph and Cass looked at Jason like he had suddenly started speaking Martian, but Barbara was giving him a level look, so he focused on her.

"Listen, I don't like what you're implying," Dick said once he finally got a handle on his words again. "No matter how upset Bruce is, he would never lay a hand on Damian!"

"I am a highly trained assassin," Damian chipped in, scowling straight ahead into the darkness of the cave and not attempting to look anywhere near anyone. "I hardly need a common thug like you questioning my father."

"Jason's right," Babs said, a challenge in her voice. Dick sputtered and Damian shrunk in on himself, but she didn't back down. "Damian, you can stay at the Clock Tower with us tonight. Let B cool off for a while, okay?" she said.

"Babs," Dick hissed. Damian stood up from his seat and walked over to the group of women without making eye contact with anyone.

"Dick," Barbara snapped back. "There are more ways to hurt a kid than by hitting them," she said flatly.

Dick reeled back like she had slapped him. But, Babs only looked tired. "Come on, guys. Let's go."

The four of them got up to leave, which seemed like as good a time as any for him to head out too. He sure as fuck didn't want to be left alone in the cave with Dick and Bruce after that shit show of a meeting. So, Jason got up and walked to the vehicle bay with them.

There was a plain white van sitting among the Batmobile and tricked out bikes that the two girls and Damian made their way toward. Babs hung back and waved them on when they hesitated to leave her behind.

Jason hesitated, not especially wanting to chat with Barbara. He had never had any particular beef with her, either before or after his death. In fact, she was probably one of the few people who might have been able to identify with him, since the Joker ruined her life so close to when he had taken Jason's. Even so, it was hard to reconcile this self-possessed woman with the vivacious girl he had been dazzled by when he was a teenager.

"That was some good detective work back there," she said when Jason finally stopped a few feet from her.

"Yeah, well," Jason shrugged awkwardly. He glanced back at the manila folder still sitting on the table behind him. "When you look into it without bias, it was pretty straightforward."

"Did you see him?" Babs asked, her eyes suddenly focused and hungry in a way they hadn't been since he got there. It was impossible to mistake what she was asking.

Jason nodded.

"Was he really okay?" she asked. There was a wobble in her voice, the first betrayal of grief he had seen in her.

"Yeah," Jason said, talking around a frog in his own throat. "Like, he looked like a skeleton shambling around the countryside. But, he, uh, also looked happy and relaxed? I don't know. It's hard to say from just looking at him through a scope, but I think he's okay."

"Okay," Barbara said, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, struggling with some emotion that Jason couldn't identify. "Okay, thank you for telling me."

"Sure. No problem," Jason said, awkwardly shuffling his weight from one foot to the next. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

"I think it would only be fair," Barbara said, but she looked wary.

"What the fuck happened? To drive the kid away, I mean?" Jason asked, not really expecting an answer, but needing to ask.

Barbara closed her eyes again, but this time he could plainly see the expression of hurt on her face. "I don't think I have the energy to talk about it right now. Rain check?" she asked, the ghost of a smile on her face.

Jason frowned. It felt like a cop out. He never saw Babs, how the fuck was he going to cash in that rain check?

But, he also sort of wanted to get out of the cave so bad that he was probably willing to let just about anything go.

"Yeah, sure. Rain check," he agreed, before turning and walking away toward the little known path he had taken into the cave.

"Don't be a stranger, Boy Wonder," Babs called after him.

Damn if that didn't stick in his chest like an arrow. But, he didn't let his gait miss a beat and waved over his shoulder without stopping.

He walked, and he walked until he got to the tiny biometric scanner that let him through the blast door and into the wild, unmaintained cave beyond Bruce’s defenses. The path was rockier as he made his way farther from the Wayne Estate and closer to the surface. Once he was finally outside, the moon was full and bright overhead.

He just wanted to get back to his bed and his life and forget about bats and missing birds. He wanted to sleep and read and eat until the rock in his stomach eventually dissolved. Most of all, he wished he could just forget about his fucked up excuse for a family forever.

#jason todd #red hood #barbara gordon #oracle #dick grayson #nightwing #tranquilizers #wrongful imprisonment #canon level child abuse #gaslighting #fanfiction #kitty writes

[kingofthe-egirls]

Omg! Omg!

Phone Sex after Part. Luffy is back, late at night, still texting with her and he can't wait to see her agin, so detour to her home, and both desperate and happy to see each other again 👀👀

wait wait WAIT OMG ok ok ok

PHONE SEX: LUFFY x Y/N (part 2)

modern au

(cw: flirting, sweet fluff, self-harm scars, shower sex, spider mention, silliness, sweetness, comfort, blowjob, sex, cunnilingus, food mention)

(a/n: the line "enough to make me supernova" is something i wrote a long time ago, back when i was in high school and had no idea what love was, except that i was sure it had to hurt. guess what, teenage writer? you're still a poet. you're happy now, and you have a partner who loves you so much that you can't even handle it sometimes. he makes you cum, all the time!!! effortlessly and without sadness. i love you, lady.)

"You want me to love you in moderation?

Do I look moderate to you?"

Songs: "Moderation" by Florence + the Machine, "Reality Television" by Maude Latour, "No Rush" by Maude Latour, "Lovebomb" by Maude Latour

words: 4.7k

As soon as his plane touches down, Luffy is searching your address on his phone. He's gonna see you, now.

It's been a week.

One whole long week where he's had to reduce himself to jerking off to your smiling videos, or searching your PornHub for new content. He knows you only film one week in advance, videos weekly scheduled as you queue them up. He's watched your latest (a cute clown girl cosplay) and replayed it over a scant thirty times.

Hey, you're hot, okay?

And he has ADHD too: he hyperfixates on things. And watching you suck a silicone dick with a cute red nose and turquoise wig is enough to make him supernova. He stands up as soon as he's able, and reaches overhead for his black-and-red duffel bag.

****

Luffy trudges along the snowy streets, making his way to your apartment complex. He hunches his shoulders against the freezing winds, not so used to the winter weather. He wonders how you can live here all year round. Or, even stay in one place at all. He's got a few houses dotted around the country, plus an apartment in New York City. He travels between them as it suits him.

He likes freedom.

So do you, apparently, as he notes your lifestyle: you're polyamorous, with a long-term girlfriend named Nami. She's sweet as can be (when she needs something). She'd swiped Sanji right away, the first night you all went out together as friends.

The first time you'd kissed.

He hums, smiling at the memory despite the cold. He hugs his arms around himself for warmth, shivering in just his track suit and sneakers.

why do u have to live somewhere so cold??

He texts you, typing with frozen thumbs. Snowflakes gather on his phone screen, as he sees your ellipses pop up.

sorry lol

It's all he gets til he's buzzing his way up to your apartment. It's a one-bedroom you share with your girlfriend (who is politely out of the apartment for the weekend, spending some much needed spa time with friends). He steps through the glass door of your brownstone apartment building, and makes his way up the carpeted stairs.

It's three flights up, with snow falling outside the staircase windows.

Luffy stops in front of your door.

He knocks.

After just one rap of his knuckles, you open the door. You're standing there in shorts and a t-shirt. You're sparkling and alive, and Luffy feels something clench in his chest. He smiles, big as can be, and wraps you up in his arms without a second thought.

"Luffy!" You cry, arms trapped by your sides as he bear hugs you. Your feet lift off the floor. He's strong, you think.

"Missed you so much!!!" He sings into your hair, nestling his nose in the dark strands so he can breathe you in. "Mm, ya smell nice."

You flush, suffocated slightly.

"Missed you too!" You squeak, nuzzling against his cheek. His face is cold and chapped from the wind. "Come inside!" You breathe as he sets you down, "I've got dirty dishes in the sink so don't look."

Luffy laughs, loud and unashamed, as he scoots in after you. He sets his duffel bag down by the door. He kicks off his shoes (designer brand, you notice, with barely a scuff) and skips happily into your studio.

He crashes onto your daybed immediately. It's barely big enough to fit you and Nami, and Luffy's dangling limbs easily take up the whole space. He spreads out like he owns the place, and you snort.

"Want some hot cocoa?" You ask, heading to your tea kettle.

"Yes!!!" Luffy screams, already excited. You turn around to shush him, reminding the professional athlete of your neighbors. "Oh," he says sheepishly, "Sorry, shishi."

He's so cute.

You hum, singing happily under your breath as you start to heat up the water. You're out of milk, so Luffy's just gonna have to deal. It's the Swiss cocoa with marshmallows though, so hopefully that makes up for it. Luffy's never turned down food or drink as far as you've noticed, so you try to let the stress of having him here in your space roll down your shoulders and off your back. You close your eyes, and take a deep breath. The kettle starts to sing, and your pour the hot water into two mugs, the chocolate powder already set in the bottom.

"Here," you hand Luffy his cocoa. He slurps it immediately, and gasps at the heat. "Sorry," you grin, sitting down next to him on the bed. You lean over to blow on his drink, cooling it down. Steam curls around his cute, squishy cheeks. You lean forward to peck a kiss on the one closest to you: the one with the scar.

"Where'd you get that?"

Luffy shrugs.

"Stabbed myself."

You choke, spluttering on the hot cocoa. Hot liquid spurts onto your thighs, staining your shorts, and you grimace. You swipe the chocolate drops away, licking your fingers of the sticky sweetness. "Why?"

"Wanted to prove somethin'."

You nod.

"Here," you say, reaching quietly across your body to show him your left forearm. It's marked up in self-harm scars, uneven and sad. "I stabbed myself, too. Well, more like sliced. Sorry," your cheeks heat up as you realize you're talking way too violent for this conversation. Luffy traces the barcode-like scars on your skin.

"Means you're alive," he says simply. And then, "Sorry."

You shake your head. "S'okay. They're old, anyway." You don't show him the scars on your thigh. Bright red and fresh, you're too embarrassed to admit how current your struggle is to him. At least, not yet.

"So," he smiles, gripping his hand around your wrist. "What comes after cocoa?"

Luffy plants a kiss on your forearm, and your face heats up. You look away, too ashamed to mention how much you appreciate his care.

"Watch a movie?" You suggest, softly pulling your arm back into your lap. He scoots closer, wrapping his arms own, muscular arms around you. His t-shirt smells like sweat. "Was it a long flight?"

"Oh, just a couple hours," he lies.

You smirk, bumping your shoulder into his. "We can take a shower if you want," you suggest, arching an eyebrow. He grins maliciously, and your heart flutters. You swallow.

"Sure, kitty."

****

Butterfly decals line your shower's walls, pink and purple and blue fluttering over the white porcelain tile. Luffy scrubs a washcloth over your back, both of you standing naked in the steaming water.

"Hmm," you sigh, letting your shoulders relax. He caresses your sides with the washcloth, letting his other hand snake around your waist. He's so warm, soap sliding between your bodies as he brings you into his heated chest. He smells like the charcoal-eucalyptus facewash you let him use from Nami's shelf of shower necessities. (Your girlfriend won't mind, will she?) Luffy bites at your earlobe.

"Pretty kitty," he croons, rubbing his soft hands over your breasts. He squeezes gently, washing them with soap. The bubbles gather on your chest, sliding around in slippery iridescence. He presses a hot, wet cheek against yours, his chin resting on your shoulder. He sways with you slightly, in the water. His back is closest to the stream: with you standing in front. You trace the butterfly stickers with an index finger, trying to stay upright. Your heat is dripping between your legs, you can already tell.

"Luffyyy," you moan, complaining almost at what he does to you. To your body. He's got this freaking Midas touch, sending golden shivers down your spine at every flick of his calloused fingertips.

"Whaaat?" He grins against your ear: tightening his arms around your waist. Your ass presses against his already hardening cock. You gasp, slightly, and he giggles. His wet hair presses into your jaw.

"Luffy," you say again, breaths coming heavy in your chest, "Fuck me?"

Luffy's breath hitches, his hands tightening around your ribcage. He slides his palms up to cup your breasts, feeling their heaviness in his hands. He groans, biting softly into your shoulder.

"Say please, sweetheart," he says against your ear, voice raspy. He thumbs at your nipples, and you squeal.

"Please, Luffy!" I want you to fuck me so badly.

"If you insist," he giggles, reaching his hand down to slide along your belly. Rinsing his fingers off quickly in the stream of hot water, he deftly finds your clit and starts swiping at it. His fingers are rough from years of martial arts, but you don't mind.

"Mm, lower," you huff, leaning your head back against his shoulder. He kisses your cheek, wet and sloppy with a pop.

"Like that?" He asks, hoarse.

"Mhmm," you nod, letting your eyes fall shut as hot water sings down your face. It trickles down your neck, your collarbones, in the space between your breasts. Luffy holds you close, taking your weight in his strong arms. He stands behind you with the water running down his tanned back, spraying the side of his sweet face. You turn to plant messy kisses along the side of his neck, too.

He fingers you like that for a bit, waiting for your moans to start becoming headier, edgier, needier. "There...," he breathes, once you start heaving stuttering breaths through your open mouth, "Bend over for me, sweetheart." He gently runs one hand down your back, sending you forward to support yourself against the edge of the tub.

"S'alright?" He asks, poking at your entrance with his rock-hard tip. You see stars, pussy clenching uncontrollably.

"Yes, Luffy," you squeak, spreading your legs so he has ample room. He squeezes your ass cheeks, spreading those apart, too. He sighs as he inspects your pussy, fingering softly at the wet folds.

"S'pretty for me," he praises you, rubbing one hand over your ass. He gives the cheeks another squeeze, humming softly as he presses in.

"Shit," you whine, stretched out. "So big, Lu..."

Luffy giggles, and starts fucking you shallowly. "Let's getcha used to me, hm?" He starts off slow, sliding his cock in and out of your entrance. "Feels so good, kitty," he groans, pressing in just a little bit deeper. It stings, but it's sweet. You moan, biting your lip as you rock your hips back onto his cock. He snickers, "Want more?"

"Mhmm!" You croon, spreading your legs as wide as the narrow tub will let you. Your feet are flat on the tub, hands holding onto the edge next to your shampoo bottles and facewash. A small, spindly shape slips out from behind your shower gel, and you shriek. Spider.

"Luffy!!"

You slam back upwards, away from the spider, and hit the back of your head square against his jaw.

"Ack!" Luffy shouts, reeling backward from the weight of your blow. His back hits the tile wall, and he slips. Soon enough, you're both tumbling down and half-out of the still-steaming shower.

"Spider!!!" You shriek, scrabbling out of the shower to stand sopping wet on the bathroom floor. "Kill it!!!!"

"Ah, shit--," Luffy croaks, shutting off the water finally. He stands dripping in the tub, the shower curtain pulled to the side and tangled up. He shakes his wet hair like a dog. "Where?"

"There!" You point at the green bottle of shampoo, closing your eyes against the nightmare image. Arachnophobia. You squirm, reaching for a towel and retreating out into the living space. You leave a trail of wet footprints on the uneven floorboards.

Luffy shuffles around a bit, but eventually shouts, "Got 'em!"

"Thanks," you whisper, shivering as you sit on your bed, toweling off your soaking hair. You sit naked, with your pussy aching from the short-lived sex. Your mood has quickly soured, however, and you lean down to pull a t-shirt from the drawers beneath your daybed.

"Hey, you okay?" Luffy walks back into the room, raven hair shoved backward from his face, revealing a soft widow's peak.

You swallow, shaking your head. "Sorry," you mumble, "Scared."

"S'okay," he says, wrapping a towel around his waist. It hangs low around his hips, the deep line of his V disappearing into the faded purple terrycloth. He comes over to sit next to you on the thin mattress. Your patchy quilt folds beneath his weight.

"You scared of spiders?" He knocks his shoulder into yours. You nod, jaw set, as you pull your black t-shirt on over your head. You lean forward, gathering your hair into a messy bun. It's unbrushed and tangled, but right now you don't really care.

When you flip back up, adjusting the soaking strands, Luffy is staring at you. His brown eyes are shimmering, slightly. "What?"

"So pretty," he murmurs, smiling. He pokes at your cheek, and then takes your chin in his hand. He makes you face him, meeting your eyes. His are wide, and serious. You try not to shy away.

"Spiders are your enemies, then?" He asks, eyebrows drawn down over his face. You nod, seriously. Luffy thumbs your bottom lip. "So now they're my enemy too. I'll take care of the house spiders, for you."

Suddenly, you burst into tears.

"M'sorry!" You say, sniffing, "I just--really hate bugs."

Luffy wraps an arm around your shoulders. His bare skin slides across yours, still wet from the shower. You lean into him, slightly. He sighs, squeezing your upper arm with rough fingers.

"Is this a bad time to mention that beetles are my favorite animal?"

You snort, sobs subsiding as you wipe the heel of your palm across your face. "Seriously?" You ask, sniffling. Luffy nods, sheepish. He scratches a hand through his crow-feather hair.

"S'that a deal breaker?"

You shake your head, laughing a little. "Nope," you say, standing up off the bed. You squat down to rifle through your daybed's drawers. Lilac panties and short shorts are the way to go.

You dress, casually flaunting your bare lower half in front of Luffy. He grins, standing up to slide his warm hands beneath your t-shirt. They softly circle around your waist, pressing into the skin just below your ribcage. He sways you, side to side.

Luffy nuzzles his nose into your cheek. He smells like Nami's soap, which is kinda weird, but sorta satisfying at the same time. You peck a kiss on his cheek, just below his scar.

"So long as you don't, like, put beetles in my bed, I'm fine."

Luffy snorts. "Has that happened before?"

You shift uncomfortably, under his hold. You scratch your heel against the bare wooden floor. "Maybe."

Luffy scowls, ducking his head to make you meet his eyes. They're sunlit from the window, snow having somewhat stopped. Even in the winter sun, dark brown eyes look golden. "I'm not gonna put bugs in your bed, babe."

You snort, levity brought back into the room at his tone. He has a special talent for that. You squeeze his hipbone. "Thanks, Luffy."

He smiles, nodding once.

"Let's go cuddle!" He says, pulling you back onto the daybed. "We can pick up from where we left off," he says with a smirk, and you gasp. He pulls your weight down on top of his lap, lying on his back while you straddle his thighs. The wet scratch of the towel digs into your skin, the knot at his pelvis bulging against your lap.

"Take this off?" You suggest, pulling at the edge of the towel. Dark hair disappears in a soft trail beneath it, and you wanna touch.

"Sure," he says, letting you lean back so he can unwrap the towel from around himself. He lets it drape over the side of the bed, halfway onto the floor. You resume your place, greedily taking in the sight of his hard cock. It's thick, lightly sticky with precum at the cherry-red tip. His skin is slightly bronzed, darker around his dick and balls, too. You lean forward, scooting your ass back so you can kiss and lick around the base of his shaft. Luffy swears under his breath.

"Shit, kitten," he rasps, "You're so good at that."

You hum, happily licking a stripe up the underside of his lengthy shaft. Luffy groans, bucking his hips. You place a hand on his abs, trying to hold him down. You press into his soft abdomen, feeling the muscles clench firm and hard under your touch.

"Like that?" You ask slyly, raising an eyebrow as you tongue at his tip. His face is flushed, eyes dark and hazy. He brings his shiny bottom lip between his teeth, shuddering out an exhale.

"So much."

"Hm," you skip your fingers across his hips, tracing the prominent arch of his hipbones. "Good."

You take him fully into your mouth, sucking harshly as he gasps. You hollow your cheeks, lapping at his vein with a swift tongue.

Luffy starts thrusting into your mouth, forcing you to take him deeper into the back of your throat. You're not the best at deep throating (gag reflex too strong for that shit), but do your best to take him as far back as you can comfortably go.

Luffy rambles, his voice high-pitched and raspy as he babbles, "Y/n, fuck, that's so good baby--mmph--yes, please, keep sucking me like that--," Until he's shuddering in your mouth, spilling his cum already.

You sit up, triumphant.

"S'good?" You ask, wiping your chin with a forearm. He stares at you, hungrily, before leaping up to capture your mouth with his. He sticks his tongue down your throat, lapping up any trace of himself.

"Perfect," he whines, "Lemme do you?"

You nod, switching spots. He steps onto the floor, straightening the blanket out under you so you can lie down. He fluffs the pillows behind your head, sweetly smiling down at you. The fake string lights you put up with Nami sparkle overhead, giving him a faint, twinkly halo. You spread your legs.

Luffy kneels down between them, hooking your knees over his shoulders as he lies down on his stomach. His breath tickles the bare skin of your inner thigh. He presses a wet kiss to your clothed cunt, lapping at you through the thin fabric of your shorts.

"Smells so good," he groans, closing his eyes as he breathes you in. His hips grind into the daybed, and your pussy clenches at the sight. Rockets flare down your spine, shooting you through with sparks of ecstasy. And you haven't even cum yet.

"S'okay?" He asks, dipping two fingers into the side of your shorts to pull them aside, along with your panties. You nod, salivating with need. His eyes are shiny with lust, and he grins before licking softly through your folds. Your eyes flutter shut, as your head falls back against the pillows. "Atta girl," Luffy says, teething at the outer lips of your cunt, "Relax f'me."

He sucks on your clit, soft lips closing around your sensitive circle of nerves. His tongue works swiftly, sliding up and down from the base of your entrance all the way back up to swipe over your clit. He traces figure-eight motions around your rosebud, preening into you with heated praises of how good you're taking it, yeah just like that babygirl, don't stop, keep saying my name, sweetheart, yeah--

"Faster--," you moan, arching your hips into his jaw. Your fingers thread through his hair, showing him where to move. "...and a little to the left," you say, guiding his tongue there. He hums, lapping now in earnest at your clit. The two fingers that had been holding your clothes out of the way start sliding into your entrance. Birds chirp from outside your third-story window. A car honks as it passes by.

"Mmph--," Luffy moans, face shoved halfway up your cunt. You hiss, back bowing forward as he starts fucking you with his fingers. He rubs them swiftly at your g-spot (with deadly accuracy, no less) as he moans and gasps and sucks on your clit. He's messy and unorganized, but he's so skilled, nonetheless. A lover with hyperfixation issues and an obsession with food is something you can get used to, you think.

Luffy presses the flat of his tongue against your clit, sliding it back and forth softly. His head slowly shakes side-to-side with the movement. You groan, tightening your fingers in his hair. Water droplets slide through your knuckles, falling down onto the tips of Luffy's ears. Your thighs clench around him, whole body starting to shake. "Luffy--," you warn, sparks building into an explosion within you. Gunpowder alights in your belly.

"Cum f'me," he says, breath ragged in between solid licks of your clit and pistoning his fingers in and out of your sticky cunt.

Bang.

It's a sweet death, cumming on Luffy's tongue. He moans appreciatively, grinding his hips into the mattress as he rides you through your orgasm. Your body shakes, sweating and shimmering with the recoil. Luffy is petting your pussy, slowly helping you come down as the smoke clears.

You whimper.

Luffy slides his fingers out of you, popping them into his mouth with a satisfied slurp. "Feel good, baby?"

"Mhmm," you nod, slowly coming back to yourself. Your spine is still tingling, and the arches of your feet are seared with heat.

"Kiss me," he says, leaning forward to place his lips along yours. They slide together gracefully, his tongue poking into your mouth so you can taste yourself on him. He bites at your upper lip, pulling softly. "Did such a good job for me," he croons, rubbing his thumb along your cheek. You nuzzle into his hand, slowly blinking your eyes back open.

"So did you," you whisper, smiling sweetly. He giggles, all shishishi, as he leans down to kiss your lips. He tastes like hot chocolate and marshmallows. His biceps trap you in on either side of your face, as he starts to thrust gently against your cunt. His dick slides against your thigh, tip poking at your entrance every so often. He lets his head fall down into your shoulder, shuddering a breath. He kisses a line along your collarbone.

"Can I?"

"Mhmm," you nod again, already shivering in anticipation. Luffy adjusts himself with little thrusts, angling his hips until his thick head is pushing aside the walls of your entrance. You groan.

"Luffy," you huff, voice shaky, "You feel so good."

Luffy presses his lips against the side of your neck, mouthing sloppily at your pulse point. He sinks himself deeper into your cunt, going slowly until he's buried to the hilt. He shifts, subtle movements from side to side that have you seeing stars.

You grip the back of Luffy's hair, both arms wrapped around his neck. "Faster," you whisper, tugging at the silken locks. Your legs are wrapped around his broad torso, ankles hooked together.

Luffy grins, lips stretching against your neck, as he starts thrusting hard and fast into your cunt. He hits all your sweetest spots, messily kissing your neck, your face, your jawline. He whimpers so prettily against your skin, it has you near-feral with need.

"Harder, Luffy," you tell him, gripping his hair tighter. He lifts his head up to kiss your lips, moaning into you as he speeds up.

"Love when you tell me how ta fuck ya," he sighs against your mouth, tongue slipping out to glide against your lower lip. His cock is deep inside you now, fucking hard and fast and just right.

You buck your hips up to meet him as best you can, sloppily matching his athletic pace with little gasps of pleasure. He growls into your ear, pulling at the shell of it with his teeth.

"Switch," you tell him, "Wanna ride ya."

He giggles, flipping you over with ease. His arms flex as he does, and you gasp with need. He arches an eyebrow, tracking your hungry movements as you grope his biceps, his shoulders, his rock-hard forearms. He flexes for you, sweat shining on his brow.

"Like that, sweetheart?" He teases you, traces his fingertips around your nipples. He flicks them, slightly, as you sink yourself back down on his cock. He hisses, eyes closed.

"Love it," you answer, arching your back so you can start fucking his cock at the exact angle that you need. It's not long before you're cumming, rutting into him with little "ah-ah's!" of pleasure. Luffy strokes your hipbones, urging you on.

"Keep goin', baby," he tells you, command dripping from every slurred syllable, "Cum f'me again." He grips the flesh of your hips, dragging you back and forth on his cock as he starts to fuck up into you again.

He plants his feet on the mattress, lifting his hips so he can jackhammer up into your needy pussy as fast as he wants to. His stamina is no match for yours, especially as you're catching your breath after your second orgasm. You fold forward, moaning all high-pitched and whiny as you let him wrap his arms around you.

"'M close," he whispers, breath hot on the nape of your neck, "Cum with me, angel?"

The pet name is so sweet, so romantic, that it catches you off guard. You swivel your hips into his, clenching your pussy walls around the thick length of his member. All you smell is him, hot chocolate and charcoal, as he pounds up into you from below.

"Sweet girl," he snarls, face hot and flushed with need, "Clench that pussy for me," he slaps your ass, and you gasp. Your pussy flutters around his cock, and he grins. "Good girl, baby."

He pants, thrusting up into you at the same breakneck pace, before he's spasming inside you and you feel his hot cum burst sticky against your velvet walls. You whine, letting him fuck his own spend deeper inside your aching pussy. A fluttering, shy orgasm lifts its wings against your spine. He gifts you with a few more stuttering thrusts, and you gasp. Luffy, Luffy, Luffy--

Sweet as sugar.

Luffy hums, happily relaxing back into the mattress. His fingertips trail little spirals along your ass. You wiggle, and he grins.

"Didja like that?" He peeks down at you with one eye open. His scar is hidden under a scarlet blush. You reach up to touch it with your thumb. You press, gently.

"Loved it."

Luffy sighs, letting his head fall back. You slowly lift yourself off him, letting his slick cock fall out against his strong thigh. You groan, spasms still coursing through your cunt as you stand up. His cum leaks down the side of your leg. Clean up time.

You softly pad back into the (now spiderless) bathroom to wash up.

****

Luffy is waiting for you when you get back, one arm thrown haphazard above his head. His shorts are back on, and when he looks up at you, your hair disheveled and mascara smudged, his dark eyes light up like firecrackers. "Shishishi," he giggles when he sees you, "You're so freakin' cute."

You squeeze your eyes shut, a wave of affection so profound and unbearable that all you can do is grit your teeth against it. He sits up.

"You okay?"

"Sorry--," you gasp, pressing your hands against your chest, "It's just--really sweet when you say stuff like that."

He grins.

You wave it off, coming back over to throw on your comfy clothes again. He skootches over to give you room to sit. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you in. You both lean back against the daybed's headboard, legs folded around each other as the two of you relax. Your body is squishy and sore, and his is probably somewhere near the same. You reach over to squeeze his knee.

"Sex with you is really sweet," you say, quietly. Luffy grins, nose crinkling in delight. He scratches the back of his head.

"Shishishi, 'm glad you liked it, y/n!"

You smile, leaning your head against his shoulder. "Let's order pizza," you say, tracing circles on his knee. There's a splotchy purple bruise on the side of it: one of many you're sure he has from training.

"Kitty, I love you," he says, slumping his whole weight into you. He nuzzles into your cheek, even as you gasp and try to push him off you. His strong arms wrap around you, pulling you over onto his lap.

"My treat," he says, mouth at your ear, "Whatever you want."

#“he grins” is my most used sentence i think #dumpster dive #my writing #one piece fanfic #luffy fanfic #luffy x reader #luffy x y/n #luffy smut #one piece smut #kitty writes #my fav line is “A lover with hyperfixation issues and an obsession with food is something you can get used to you think” #modern au #luffy modern au #one piece modern au

[kitty-is-writing]

✨ Publishing Update ✨

Both books in the Tales of the Northern Kingdoms series are available for pre-order on Kobo! Actual release is 31st March, check out the links for more info ⬇️

#my work #writing #kitty writes #fantasy #writblr #writeblr #northern kingdoms series #novel #publishing #preorder #novel series

[kitty-thinks-stuff]

here have a fic i wrote while sick and kinda out of it LMAO pumping out these fics before all the new hoyo stuff drops in hsr and genshin

Rating: Teen and up audiences

Archive warning: No archive warnings apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: 原神 | Genshin Impact (Video Game)

Relationships: Alhaitham/Kaveh (Genshin Impact)

Characters: Alhaitham (Genshin Impact), Kaveh (Genshin Impact)

Additional tags: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, theyre dating but theyre new, Alhaitham is Soft for Kaveh (Genshin Impact), Soft Alhaitham/Kaveh (Genshin Impact), kaveh cries a lot im SORRY, Cuddling & Snuggling, Hair Brushing, No beta we die like signora

Language: English

Summary:

“You look beautiful, Kaveh,” Alhaitham smiled.

Kaveh scoffed, ignoring his red face, “I look terrible. I didn’t take my makeup off before my shower and now it’s smudged, and my eyebags have never been worse.”

“I like you like this. Like the stained glass in the Akademiya.”

OR Kaveh has a terrible week and breaks down, Alhaitham brushes his hair

#this was an idea i had foreverrr ago #kitty writes #ao3 #genshin impact #haikaveh #kavetham #haikaveh fic #kavetham fic #genshin impact fic

[resonating-kitty]

Part One of a hypothetical writing of how Phil came to be with the clan and his first interaction with Boarstar, then Boarfang.

Part Two

Edit: Updated with the official warrior names which can be found here.

-

Clan Cats:

Bajanstar, leader, is a handsome brown and white tabby tom with kind amber eyes. Widely known for his wits in battle and his wisdom with leading his Clan in a fair and just manor.

Baccafur, deputy, a very large and long haired dark brown tom with amber eyes. Bajanstar's best friend. He is a very fierce battler and very keen and tricky. He is more agile than one would think.

Boarfang, warrior, a large rust colored tom with black fore paws, a black stripe down his back and tail, and unusually red eyes. A very talented young warrior who served his apprenticeship under Bajanstar himself.

Sootsong, warrior, a lengthy rust colored tom with brown eyes. He is a very cunning young warrior and a very good hunter. He likes to spend his days chatting with the elders or the medicine cat about odd subjects.

Fernkit - a very loud and boisterous light orange, long bodied tabby tom. He is the unofficial "leader" of the nursery and will grow up to be the best warrior the clan has ever seen.

Snowkit - a longhair cream/white sploshed tom. He is smaller than his litter mates but do not let his size fool you, he is very cunning and mischevious.

Halfkit - a long legged, short haired black and white cat. He is quiet and shy and often dragged into trouble by his litter mates.

---------------

"And please, above all else, stay away from the Twolegs and their dwellings at all cost. We've gotten word that they've set out traps and with No Leaf coming up, we cannot afford to lose any of our warriors."

Boarfang huffed as the words of his leader rang through his head as he sat hunched over in the too-small cage just inside Twoleg place. He was silently planning the slow death of Sootsong in his head while he also awaited the warrior's return, hopefully with Bajanstar, and rescue.

He dreaded the words his leader would have for him once free and he probably would be grumbling about the punishment for breaking the order for the next moon or so to come but right now all he wanted was to be out of this too-small cage and back into the undergrowth that mocked him just a few feet away.

A growl rumbled in his throat as he shifted and his shoulders brushed the cooling metal of the cage. Blood red eyes glared at the untouched can of slop that sat before him. He and Sootsong had been out on patrol when they spotted the trap Sootsong had dared him a weeks worth of hunting that he wouldn't go into the trap and back out again. Never one to back down from a dare, Boarfang had doubled down and dared Sootsong to do it first. The rust colored tom eagerly accepted and boldly trotted into and then back out of the trap. Boarfang had been to preoccupied to notice that Sootsong had barely fit inside the thing and it wasn't until he'd squeezed in and accidentally bumped the cage and it slammed shut behind him did he realize, a little too late.

"Looks like you've gotten yourself in quite the predicament mate."

The new voice startled Boarfang. A dark grey tom was perched on top of the fence that boarded the Twoleg's place. His blue eyes were alight with silent amusement. Boarfang scowled, his lips pulling back to show the kittypet that he was not in the mood. Normally a show of aggression was all that it took to scare the Twoleg's cats but this one didn't even blink.

Boarfang was stunned and could only glare in annoyance as the tom leapt from the fence and approached. The stranger circled the cage and Boarfang tensed, not liking his back being exposed but being unable to turn in such a small space. His ears flattened to his head and his tail twitched. He gritted his teeth but luckily the stranger moved back around to where he could be seen.

He had a thoughtful look on his face as he sat down and wrapped his tail over his paws.

"I didn't think you wild cats would've fallen for this trick," the stranger said, cocking his head to the side. He looked curious.

"I didn't fall for it," Boarfang hisses, his tail lashing as much as it could in the space, "it was an accident that I ended up in here."

"Looked more like a dare gone wrong to me mate," the dark grey cat shot back, humor thick in his meow.

Boarfang ducked his head, half hearted growl of embarrassment rumbling in his throat. "Just how long were you watching kittypet?"

"Not so much watching as you and your friend were talking to loud that you woke me from my afternoon nap," whiskers twitched and a dark grey paw came up to scratch a spot behind the stranger's ear. "My folks should be home soon and they like to check the traps when they get home. Don't suppose you still wanna be in there when they get here do you?"

"I don't plan on it," Boarfang snorted, "Just waiting on my friend to come back with our leader."

"What if I got you out of there now? I know how." The stranger offered and Boarfang's ears shot up, "The traps weren't for you guys anyway, they were for a bunch strays that had been wondering the neighborhood. Whatcha say mate?"

"I say, get me out of this thing." Boarfang said. If it would save him the embarrassment of being in this thing when Bajanstar and the others came then it would soften the blow from the punishment sure to follow from breaking orders.

"Alright." the stranger nodded, pushing himself to his feet. He approached the cage and lowered his head, "See the two little prongs there?" Boarfang followed his line of sight and noticed two little black metal pieces on either end of the front of the cage, "Use your paws and put pressure on one of them."

Boarfang shifted forward and done as instructed. He pushed down on one of the prongs and watched as the door was nudged forward.

"Now the other one" the stranger said from the other side of the cage door. Boarfang shuffled over and did the same thing to the other prong on the opposite side and with a metal click the door was unlatched and the kittypet was pushing the door of the cage up.

Boarfang nosed his way under it once it was high enough and squeezed himself out with a yowl of excitement. He shook himself once he was free of the metal confides and turned to the stranger with a grin.

"That was amazing! How did you know how to do that?" He asked.

"You learn a thing or two when living with humans," the stranger answered as he sat back down. He shrugged, "Was nothing."

"You saved my life," Boarfang mirrored the stranger, bowing his head in thanks, "You also saved me great embarrassment for getting me out before my leader came. I owe you... er.. what is your name?"

"Philza but you can call me Phil."

Phil. Boarfang liked this cat. He liked this cat instantly. Phil didn't seem like other kittypets he'd met in the past yet he was much different from the warriors of the Clans.

"My names Boarfang and I won't forget your help." Boarfang said sincerely, "If you should ever need my assistance you - " Boarfang's words were cut off by the sound of fast approaching pawsteps.

Both cats looked up as a patrol emerged from the trees, Bajanstar at the head. Boarfang's shoulders hunched and he dipped his head respectfully to his leader as the cats approached. The other warriors shot curious and narrowed looks at Phil and Boarfang had to resist the urge to stand between the kittypet and his clanmates.

"Boarfang!" Sootsong's relieved meow cut through the space as the rust colored tom sprang forward and all but tackled Boarfang to the ground. "I was so worried that a Twoleg would have come and gotten you before we could get back! I am so glad you're safe! I'm so sorry!"

"It's fine now Sootsong," Boarfang huffed, a purr rumbling in his throat as he gently cuffed his friend's ear. "Wouldn't have been if it hadn't been for him tho."

All eyes fell to Phil, who didn't even blink or look afraid.

Bajanstar stepped forward. "You helped my warrior?"

"Seemed like the thing to do," Phil answered, keeping his voice neutral and his posture lax, "Traps weren't meant for you guys, they're for the group of strays that's been hanging around. Figured I'd save him now and spare both him and my humans stress later."

Bajanstar held Phil's gaze for a few heartbeats before he nodded, "Well you certainly have me and my Clan's thanks. Boarfang is one of my best up and coming warriors and I would've hated to have lost him to some stupid apprentice level dare." Amber eyes, stern and promising a lecture, landed on the two warriors and they both ducked their heads before turning back to Phil, "My name is Bajanstar and I am the leader of this Clan."

"Nice to meet you Bajanstar, my name is Philza and I live there," Phil tilted his head to indicate the house directly behind him, "It was no problem, like I said wanted to spare the stress that would've happened later."

"We appreciate it very much and I thank you again." Bajanstar said with a respectful dip of his head just as the sound of a vehicle cuts through the quiet. The warriors tensed while Phil merely turned his head.

"Sounds like my folks just got home," the kittypet announced, standing with a stretch. He looked at the forest cats as he turned to head back to the fence, "Might not want to let my folks see you lot. Take care and mate," his amused gaze fell on Boarfang, "stay away from traps in the future."

And then he was gone.

#kitty writes #dsmp warrior cat au #dsmp cat au

[kitty-of-mischief]

I kinda want to start writing imagines/requests/drabbles, etc again..?. Should I post me interests and see ? IDK? I’m dying to write but .....like....

-insert brick wall here- 

BLOCKED. 

#kitty writes

[bumblingbriars]

I am working on a Pippin x OC fic alongside my Sam x OC fic. I hope you all check it out when it is published :)

#kitty writes #pippin x oc #pippin/oc

[kittybells-writes]

long story short I survived

yellowjackets lottie/nat no archive warnings apply adult timeline

Giving Natalie’s hands a tight squeeze, “What can I do?” Lottie asked quietly, her voice shaking.

"Nothing. It's fine." She said firmly, leaving no questions to be asked. But the silence between them was loud, louder than anything Natalie could've said anyway.

She frowned, “I want you to be alright, Natalie. Are you sure?” Lottie asked gently, finally properly meeting her eyes.

Hesitantly, Natalie shook her head, no. She squeezed Lottie's hand back. She didn't know how to verbalize what she needed.

Holding onto Natalie’s hands for a moment, Lottie let silence drape over the two of them. Then she spoke up again, “Well. I need to not be alone. Can… Can I stay?” she asked quietly.

#kitty writes #ao3 #smut #fluff #lottienat #lottie/nat #lottie matthews #natalie scatorccio #yellowjackets #yellowjackets adults