#I can do whatever the hell I want with the guy as long as I make sure they're still a little unhinged and silly

[zyafics-recs]

reblogging comment review by @zyafics

ok i can't contain myself to write so i will be reading (sorry for all the tiktoks send over dms hahaha) ⬇️

He hated physical therapy, but what he hated more was sitting on the sidelines, watching his teammates on the ice while he was stuck on a cushioned table with resistance bands and an overenthusiastic sports medic, with hair pulled into a no-nonsense ponytail and a pair of blue scrubs that somehow still looked cute on you.

always obsessed with your descriptions and im grinning so hard knowing that's ME hehehe

It was kind of cute, the way you tried so hard to keep things strictly professional between the two of you.

NOT FOR LONG I READ THE WARNING

He liked the way you said his name—like you were in control, like you were the one calling the shots. It was refreshing. 

my dom girlyyy

You weren’t the kind of girl to fall for a player, especially one with a reputation like Rafe’s. Besides, you were already with someone. Logan—the clean-cut, dependable defenseman from a rival school. You’d been together for over a year, and things were great.

SCREAMINGGGGGGGGGG (muffled behind a pillow)

He grinned, like a stupidly in love sick puppy, unbothered by the jab. “Maybe that’s why I like you so much.”

me rn: login who???

"Good guy?" he interrupted, raising an eyebrow. "I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone describe me like that."

im so giddily rn, their banter is TOP TIER

 “Logan’s a lucky guy.”

OH I SPELT IT WRONG LOLLLLL

He hated Logan more than he hated the pain in his knee.

🤭 im like a schoolgirl rn

“Did he hurt you?” His voice was low, a dangerous edge to it that he usually kept hidden. “Because if he did, I swear to God—”

imma be so honest i thought WE were gonna be cheating but i guess HE'S cheating that scumbag

“He’s not worth you,” Rafe said softly, stepping closer, his anger replaced by something gentler,  “You deserve better than that. Way better.”

I KNOW so give me that dick 😁

Rafe’s knee had healed remarkably well, and now the day had arrived: his first game back on the ice. As it drew near, a strange sense of anxiety creeped in. Your life had become so closely tied to Rafe’s recovery over the past few months that the thought of him no longer needing your help—or your company—left you with an unsettling emptiness.

i need him to SLAM into logan ohmygod

He skates straight at Logan, not bothering with any pretense. If Logan wants to play dirty, he is more than ready to play dirtier. Logan barely has time to react before Rafe drops his gloves, his intent crystal clear.

LET'S FUCKING GOOOO

You don’t let him finish. Instead, you grab the front of his jersey and pull him down to your level, crashing your lips against his with a force that takes him completely off guard.

ANGRY MAKEOUT SESSION LETS GOOO

You break away just long enough to breathe, your lips brushing against his as you whisper, “You’re such a fucking idiot.”

“Been waiting for over an hour to do that,” you breathe.

oh im horny

“Then do it again,” he murmurs, “Do whatever the hell you want to me.”

oh HE'S horny

Rafe lets out a low, almost guttural sound as you rock your hips against him, the pressure making him tighten his grip on you, holding you in place as he grounds himself against you. The sensation makes your breath hitch, a needy whimper escaping your lips that only spurs him on. 

ok im at a cafe, reading this smut on my 14'' screen where everyone can surely see. let me pack up and go home and i'll be back to react.

“Fucking idiot,” you whisper again, your voice rough with desire as you nip at his bottom lip, pulling it between your teeth before soothing the bite with your tongue. 

I'M BACK

Without another word, he pulls you toward the locker room, his grip firm and unyielding as he leads you through the maze of benches and lockers. Your heart races as he pushes open the door to the showers, the sound of the water echoing off the tile walls. The room is empty, the air thick with steam, and the second you step inside, he’s pouncing on you. Clothes are gone in the blink of an eye.

Oh. My. God. this is so fucking hot what the FUCK

Rafe nearly passes out from the sight. Watching himself disappear inside you has to be his favorite sight in the entire world. 

it's me, but THAT SHOULD BE ME!!!!!!

"Cameron? You in here, man?" Rafe freezes, his body tense, his cock still buried deep inside you as he glances toward the door, his breath ragged. 

IM GRINNING my favorite part of public sex smut is the fact they're almost caught hahahahaa

He chuckles softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he looked down at you with a mixture of affection and desire. "Yeah, but I’m your fucking idiot."

my baby my baby my babyyy

final thoughts—i'm obsessed with this. ur writing. you. ohmygod, as always, the first thing that comes to my head is your descriptions. when you were describing reader, the medical training, the equipment and the environment, i always feel so immersed by your vocabulary and imagery. next, the fucking BANTER, oh you got me clutching my chest, giggling in the middle of a cafe. thank god no one was looking over my screen. but truly, i love how lowkey smitten rafe is with reader. he's always in love with her before the story truly begins and i love how much softer this version of rafe is. don't get me wrong, he's possessive and a beast on the ice, but something about him is so baby girl. thank you, gigi, for doing my request justice, i swear i want more!!!!

looking like motivation - hockey!r.c (+18)

requested by my #1 @zya4lifers

warnings: meantions of cheating; SMUT.

Rafe’s day started the same way it had for the last two months: with a groan of pain that shot up from his knee and settled into his mood like a stubborn storm cloud. 

He hated physical therapy, but what he hated more was sitting on the sidelines, watching his teammates on the ice while he was stuck on a cushioned table with resistance bands and an overenthusiastic sports medic, with hair pulled into a no-nonsense ponytail and a pair of blue scrubs that somehow still looked cute on you.

At least that was what he thought when he first met you. 

But two weeks in, his hatred had morphed into something else entirely, something way more complicated. He wasn’t sure when it happened—maybe when he caught you singing quietly along with the radio while taping up his knee, or when you’d given him that first, honest-to-God smile that wasn’t out of politeness but genuine amusement at some stupid joke he’d made. And he made a lot of those. 

Now, sitting on that same damn table, Rafe found himself looking forward to PT in a way that had nothing to do with his injury. You walked in, clipboard in hand, looking as professional as always. It was kind of cute, the way you tried so hard to keep things strictly professional between the two of you. Rafe knew he got under your skin—hell, he made sure of it. He could tell by the way your eyes flicked up to meet his for just a second longer than necessary before you quickly looked away. You tried to be cool, but he knew better.

“Alright, Cameron. How’s the knee today?”

He put on his best wounded-puppy face. “Terrible. I might never skate again.”

“Shut up.”

“And I could be better,” Rafe drawled, his lips curling into that signature smirk. “But seeing you always helps.”

You rolled your eyes, but he saw the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “You say that every time.”

“And I mean it every time,” he shot back, winking at you.

You tried to ignore him, busying yourself with adjusting the equipment. “Let’s focus on your knee, alright?”

“Whatever you say, Doc,” Rafe said, stretching out on the table with a lazy grin.

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth twitched up. “We’ve got to work on your pain tolerance.”

He couldn’t resist. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to keep me on my toes.”

Finally, you looked up, your expression deadpan. “And if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to avoid actually doing your therapy, Cameron.”

Touché.

He liked the way you said his name—like you were in control, like you were the one calling the shots. It was refreshing. 

The first few minutes of the session passed in relative silence as you guided him through the exercises, your hands expertly working his injured knee. Rafe winced, but it wasn’t all from the pain. It was from trying to resist the urge to say something that might actually cross the line. But resisting wasn’t really his style.

“So, what’s your boyfriend up to this weekend?” Rafe asked, his voice casual, but his eyes sharp, watching your reaction.

You weren’t the kind of girl to fall for a player, especially one with a reputation like Rafe’s. Besides, you were already with someone. Logan—the clean-cut, dependable defenseman from a rival school. You’d been together for over a year, and things were great.

You looked up at him, a little caught off guard. “Out of town.”

Rafe snorted, unable to help himself. “Figures.”

You frowned, straightening up to give him a look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Rafe shrugged, feigning innocence. “Nothing.”

“He’s busy,” you said defensively.

“Too busy for you?” he pushed, his tone dripping with faux concern. “That’s a shame. If you were mine, I’d make time.”

You gave him an unimpressed look, “I’m sure you would.”

“You don’t think I would?”

“I think you’ve already got your hands full with the cheerleading team.” 

He liked to pretend you sounded jealous and not critical. 

Rafe chuckled, the sound low and rumbling in his chest. “Cheerleaders are fun and all, but they’re not really my type.”

Okay, that was half a lie, but in his defense, he hadn’t slept with anyone on the cheer squad since sophomore year. 

You raised an eyebrow, feigning disinterest as you adjusted the strap on his knee brace. “And what exactly is your type, Cameron?”

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a flirtatious whisper. “Complicated. Smart. Gorgeous.”

You didn’t miss a beat, even as your pulse quickened. “So, basically the opposite of you?”

He grinned, like a stupidly in love sick puppy, unbothered by the jab. “Maybe that’s why I like you so much.”

You shook your head, trying to hide the smile threatening to break through. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“Only when it comes to you,” he replied smoothly, his eyes locked on yours.

There was no denying the chemistry, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it. But you were with someone else, someone who, despite his flaws, you cared about. Still, Rafe made it hard to remember why you were trying to resist in the first place.

“Rafe, we really should focus on your PT,” you said, trying to steer the conversation back to safer territory.

“Trust me, I am focusing,” he replied, his tone suggesting he wasn’t talking about his knee.

You rolled your eyes, standing up straighter to put some distance between you. 

“Right. Well, you need to focus on this next exercise. We’re going to work on your range of motion.”

He sighed dramatically but didn’t argue, watching you with a lazy smile as you moved to demonstrate the exercise. He couldn’t help but admire the way you carried yourself—confident, knowledgeable, and completely fucking beautiful. It was a challenge, and Rafe Cameron loved a challenge.

As you guided his leg through the motion, your hands firm but gentle, Rafe couldn’t resist pushing a little more. “You know, you never answered my question.”

“What question?” you asked, though you had a feeling you knew where this was going.

“What you’re doing this weekend,” he said, his eyes locked on yours, the intensity of his gaze making your breath catch.

You glanced away, focusing on the movement of his knee, your fingers brushing against his skin as you adjusted the angle. “I’ll probably just catch up on some work. Maybe relax.”

“Sounds boring,” Rafe remarked, though there was a playful lilt to his voice. “You should let me take you out.”

You looked up sharply, caught off guard by his directness. “Rafe, I’m—”

“Taken, I know,” he interrupted, his tone still light but with an undercurrent of something more serious. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun, does it? Just as friends.”

“Just as friends?” you echoed skeptically, knowing full well what his idea of ‘just friends’ probably entailed.

Rafe shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. “We could get dinner, maybe hit up a bar, talk about something other than my knee for once. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

“No.”

His smirk faltered, just for a second, before it came back stronger, more determined. He leaned back on the table, pretending to stretch as he tried to mask the sting of rejection. "No?" he echoed, as if the concept was foreign to him.

You crossed your arms, standing firm even though his eyes on you made your heart race. "No. We both know what you're trying to do, and it's not going to happen."

"And what exactly am I trying to do?" he asked, feigning innocence with a smirk that told you he knew exactly what he was doing.

You rolled your eyes, refusing to get drawn into his game. "You know what. I’m here to help you with your injury, not to entertain whatever fantasy you’ve got going on."

"Who says it’s a fantasy?" he shot back, his voice lowering, taking on a more serious tone that caught you off guard. "Maybe I just want to get to know you better."

You paused, searching his face for any sign of sincerity. But Rafe was hard to read when he wanted to be, his playful exterior a well-practiced mask that he rarely let slip. "Rafe, you're a good guy, but—"

"Good guy?" he interrupted, raising an eyebrow. "I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone describe me like that."

"Fine," you conceded with a small smile. "Maybe ‘good’ is a stretch. But you’re not as bad as you want people to think."

Rafe’s smirk faded. It was a rare moment of vulnerability, and it made you hesitate, made you wonder if there was more to him than just the cocky, relentless flirt.

But before you could dwell on it, he was back to his usual self, flashing you that devil-may-care grin that made it hard to stay mad at him. "You know, I’d actually take that as a compliment if it came from anyone else."

"Don’t get too excited," you replied, trying to keep things light. "I still think you’re a pain in the ass."

"Yeah, but I’m your pain in the ass," he teased, stupidly blinking his lashes up at you.

You shook your head, unable to stop the laugh that bubbled up. "You really don’t give up, do you?"

"Not when it comes to something I want," he said, his voice dropping an octave.

"Cameron, this isn’t going to happen. I have a boyfriend."

He shrugged, unbothered. "And? You’re no fun. You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

You handed him a water bottle, expression neutral. “You’re just out of shape.”

“Out of shape?” He looked at her, incredulous. “Do you see this body?”

You didn’t take the bait. “I see a guy who’s been slacking off on his conditioning.”

He laughed, low and warm, as he took a sip of water. “You’re tough. Tougher than most of the coaches I’ve had.”

You shrugged, as if it was no big deal. “Someone has to keep you in line.”

 “Logan’s a lucky guy.”

The hockey world was small, and word got around, of course he knew his name.

“Logan’s great,” you said, a little too quickly.

Rafe nodded, his expression unreadable. “Yeah, I’m sure he is.”

He didn’t push it further, though. Instead, he fell back into his usual routine of teasing and flirting. Every time you guided his leg through a stretch or adjusted the equipment, he found his mind wandering, imagining what it would be like if things were different. If he were the one you were coming home to after a long day, if he were the one you smiled at without that guarded look in your eyes.

But you were with Logan, and as much as he hated to admit it, Rafe wasn’t the kind of guy to cross that line. Not when you were clearly trying so hard to keep things professional between the two of you.

As the session wrapped up, you handed him his schedule for the next few days, your demeanor as cool and composed as ever. “I’ll see you on Thursday. Make sure you keep up with the exercises over the next couple of days, and don’t overdo it.”

He took the paper from your hands, his fingers brushing against yours for the briefest of moments. It was enough to send a jolt of electricity through him.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be good,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

“Try to stay out of trouble, okay?”

 “Can’t make any promises.”

He spent the weekend bored out of his mind, thinking about you—wondering if you were with Logan, if the guy was actually smart enough to know what he had.

He hated Logan more than he hated the pain in his knee.

The guy was too perfect, too dependable, too fucking boring. And Rafe had been praying, in a way he wouldn’t admit to anyone, that something would happen—something that would make you see Logan for the jackass he really was. It wasn’t that he thought he was a better guy; he knew his own flaws better than anyone. But he also knew that he could make you happier, make you laugh harder, make you feel things that Logan never could.

So when you walked in late to the next session, he was ready to make a joke, to tease you about finally deciding to show up. But the words died on his lips when he saw you. You weren’t looking at him, not really, just muttering a half-hearted apology as you dropped your bag in the corner. But when you finally met his gaze, his chest tightened.

Your eyes were bloodshot red, the kind of red that came from hours of crying, from tears that wouldn’t stop no matter how hard you tried. You looked exhausted, like you hadn’t slept in days, and your usual spark was nowhere to be found.

His first instinct was to make a joke, to lighten the mood the way he always did, but he couldn’t. Not when you looked like that.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice void of its usual cockiness. “You okay?”

You nodded, but it was the kind of nod that was meant to shut someone up, not because you actually meant it. You were far from okay.

“You’re late,” he said, his tone teasing, but even he could hear the concern underneath.

“I know, sorry,” you replied, your voice small, almost defeated.

Rafe frowned, his eyes narrowing as he studied you. This wasn’t like you. You were always so put together, so in control, and seeing you like this was…so unsettling.

“What happened?” he asked, more serious now, the joking tone completely gone.

You shook your head, avoiding his gaze as you busied yourself with the equipment, but Rafe wasn’t going to let it go that easily. Not when he could see the pain written all over your face.

“Come on, what’s going on?” he pressed, his voice soft but insistent. “Did something happen with Logan?”

The way you flinched at his name told him everything he needed to know. His chest tightened, protectiveness swelling inside him. He’d always thought Logan was too good to be true, but seeing you like this confirmed it.

“Did he hurt you?” His voice was low, a dangerous edge to it that he usually kept hidden. “Because if he did, I swear to God—”

“No,” you interrupted, your voice cracking slightly as you finally looked at him, “I mean, yes, but… it’s not like that.”

His jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “What did he do?”

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat as you tried to hold it together. But there was no point in pretending anymore, not when Rafe was looking at you like that—like he actually cared, like he was ready to go to war for you if that’s what it took.

“He cheated,” you finally whispered, your voice trembling as the tears you’d been holding back threatened to spill over. “I found out through a fucking DM on Instagram. Some girl… she just messaged me out of the blue and told me everything. And when I confronted him, he didn’t even deny it. He just—just said it wasn’t a big deal.”

Rafe’s vision blurred with red-hot anger. He wanted to find Logan and beat the shit out of him for making you cry, for being stupid enough to let you go. But more than that, he wanted to make you feel better, to make the hurt go away, even if he didn’t know how.

“That fucking asshole,” He growled, his voice trembling with barely controlled rage. “I swear to God, I’ll—let me get on that ice and I’ll wipe the entire ring with his face.”

“Rafe, don’t,” you said quickly, cutting him off. “It’s not worth it. He’s not worth it, okay?”

His heart twisted at the broken look in your eyes, the way your voice wavered as if you didn’t quite believe your own words.

“He’s not worth you,” Rafe said softly, stepping closer, his anger replaced by something gentler,  “You deserve better than that. Way better.”

You looked up at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. It wasn’t like him to be so serious. But here he was, looking at you like you were the most important person in the world, and it made your heart ache even more.

“I don’t know what I deserve anymore,” you admitted, your voice small and lost.

He reached out, hesitating for just a second before he gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing away the tear that had finally escaped.

“You deserve someone who knows what they have when they have you,” he said, his voice steady, his eyes locked on yours. “Someone who would never make you cry like this. Someone who would never, ever cheat on you.”

You swallowed hard, feeling a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over at his words. “Rafe…”

“I’m serious,” he continued, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re… you’re amazing, you know that? Any guy would be lucky to have you, and Logan’s a fucking idiot for not seeing that.”

You shook your head, trying to keep it together, but it was no use.

You started to cry, the kind of deep, gut-wrenching sobs that you’d been holding in all weekend. And before you knew it, you were collapsing into his arms, letting him hold you as you cried, his arms strong and steady around you.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to shush you or tell you everything was going to be okay. He just held you, his hand gently rubbing your back as you let it all out, crying into his chest until there were no more tears left.

When you finally pulled back, your face red and puffy from crying, you only uttered a small, “Thank you.”

Rafe nodded, his eyes soft as he looked down at you. “Anytime.”

And then, without thinking, you leaned up and pressed a soft, hesitant kiss to his cheek, lingering for just a second before pulling away. He blinked, a little stunned by the gesture, but before he could say anything, you stepped back, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

“Do you mind if we reschedule for tomorrow?” you said quickly, your voice still shaky. “I’m not sure I-“

“Of course not.”

You breathed out in relief, “Thank you again. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He wanted to tell you to stay, to tell you that it was okay to not be okay, that you didn’t have to face this alone. But he knew you needed space, needed time to process everything that had happened.

“Yeah,” he said softly, nodding as you turned to leave. “Tomorrow.”

He wanted to be there for you, to be the one you turned to when everything fell apart. But more than that, he wanted to be the one to put you back together again, to show you that not all guys were like Logan—that he wasn’t like Logan.

And as you disappeared down the hallway, he made a silent promise to himself: he was going to make you see that. No matter what it took.

⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷ೃ⁀➷⁀➷ೃ

The weeks passed, each session with Rafe seamlessly flowing into the next. What started as this totally professional thing, strictly business, slowly morphed into something way more personal. His cocky jokes and playful banter had shifted into these deep conversations that actually mattered, and somewhere along the way, you found myself getting closer to him than you ever expected.

Rafe’s knee had healed remarkably well, and now the day had arrived: his first game back on the ice. As it drew near, a strange sense of anxiety creeped in. Your life had become so closely tied to Rafe’s recovery over the past few months that the thought of him no longer needing your help—or your company—left you with an unsettling emptiness.

You had prepared yourself for the possibility that he might distance himself once he was back on the ice. After all, athletes had their own lives, their own routines, and you were just the therapist who had helped him get to this point. But when he invited you to his first game, the gesture came as a welcome. Whether you wanted to admit it or not, he’d slowly lurked his way into your heart. 

It was after a particularly intense session, where you’d pushed him harder than ever before, that he brought it up. You were finishing up, wiping down the equipment while he caught his breath, stretching out his legs on the bench.

“You know,” Rafe started, his voice casual but with a hint of something more in it, “I’ve got my first game back tomorrow night.”

You looked up, catching the subtle edge in his tone. “Yeah, I’ve heard. You must be excited.”

“Excited? Nervous as hell, more like it.” He chuckled, running a hand through his hair, “It’s been a long time coming. A lot of pressure to perform, y’know?”

You nodded, understanding him. You’d seen how hard he’d worked, how much this comeback meant to him. “You’ll do great, Cameron. You’re more than ready.”

He smiled at that, but there was something else in his expression, something hesitant. “I was thinking…maybe you could come. To the game, I mean. It’d be nice to have someone there who’s seen the whole process, who knows what it took to get back on that ice.”

His words hung in the air, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest. It wasn’t just the invitation—it was what it represented. He didn’t just see you as the therapist who’d helped him heal. He saw you as someone important, someone he wanted by his side as he took this next step.

 “I’d love to, Rafe. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

Relief washed over his face, followed by a grin that was equal parts gratitude and something else— “Good,” he said, his voice quieter now, “because I’d hate for you to miss it. You’ve been a big part of this, more than you know.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you found yourself blushing under his gaze. 

“I’m just doing my job,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light, but the look in his eyes told you that he saw right through your attempt to downplay it.

“Yeah, well, I’m glad it’s you,” Rafe said, his voice earnest. “I don’t think I could’ve done this with anyone else.”

The sincerity in his voice, the way he looked at you as if you were the only person in the world at that moment, made it hard to breathe. This was more than just an invitation to a game. This was him telling you, in his own way, that you mattered to him—that you were more than just his therapist, that you were someone he wanted to keep around.

“I’m glad it was me too,” you whispered back, unable to tear your eyes away from his.

“Tomorrow night, then.”

“Tomorrow night.”

Now, as you sit in the stands, watching Rafe skate out onto the ice, you feel a nervous anticipation that has little to do with the game itself.

Just before the puck drops, Rafe catches your eye, giving you a confident wink that sends your heart racing. He knows what this game means, not just for him, but for you as well.

Logan is there, playing on the opposite team. You haven’t seen him in exactly two months. Whatever feelings you had for him disappeared the moment you found out about his betrayal, but your ego still hurts like hell.

The energy in the arena is electric, a buzz that makes his blood hum with anticipation. His first game back, and the stakes couldn’t be higher—not just because of his injury, not just because it’s a rivalry match, but because Logan is on the other side of the ice. Rafe’s jaw clenches at the thought of that bastard, the memory of your tear-streaked face still fresh in his mind.

During warm-ups, he spotted Logan, skating like he didn’t have a care in the world, like he hadn’t just thrown away the best thing that ever happened to him. Rafe’s grip tightens on his stick, his knuckles white against the black tape. The rage simmering beneath his skin isn’t just about the game. It’s personal.

His focus is razor-sharp, every movement precise, every play calculated. But no matter how much he tries to concentrate on the game, his eyes keep drifting back to Logan, who skates circles around the ice like he owns it.

The first period passes without incident, but by the second, the tension is boiling over. Rafe feels it building, that need to do something, to break Logan’s face in half. He doesn’t just want to beat him; he wants to humiliate him, to knock that smug look off his face once and for all.

Then it happens.

Midway through the second period, Logan makes a hard hit on one of Rafe’s teammates, sending the guy crashing into the boards. The hit is clean, but it’s the arrogance in Logan’s smirk that pushes Rafe over the edge.

He doesn’t hesitate. 

He skates straight at Logan, not bothering with any pretense. If Logan wants to play dirty, he is more than ready to play dirtier. Logan barely has time to react before Rafe drops his gloves, his intent crystal clear.

“You think you can just get away with that?” He snarls, his voice low and menacing as he shoves Logan hard in the chest, the force sending him stumbling back on his skates.

Logan’s eyes flash with surprise, quickly followed by anger. “What the hell’s your problem, Cameron?”

He doesn’t bother with a reply. 

He swings, his fist connecting solidly with Logan’s jaw. The satisfying crunch of bone against bone is drowned out by the roar of the crowd, but Rafe doesn’t care. He’s been waiting for this moment, waiting to unleash all the pent-up anger and frustration that’s been eating away at him since the day you walked into that PT room with your heart shattered.

Logan staggers back, his expression twisting with fury. He recovers quickly, launching himself at Rafe with a wild swing, but Rafe is ready. He dodges the punch and counters with another one of his own, this time aiming for Logan’s ribs. He can feel the impact reverberate up his arm, but it’s not enough. He wants more.

“Come on!” He shouts, face red from all the pent-up anger simmering inside him. “Is that all you’ve fucking got?”

Logan grits his teeth, struggling to keep his balance. “You’re fucking crazy, Cameron!”

“You haven't seen shit," He spits back, landing another punch to Logan’s midsection. “But at least I know how to treat someone right.”

Logan’s eyes widen, the realization of what this is really about dawning on him. “This is about her? You’re seriously going to throw down over some girl?”

Rafe’s vision goes red at the mention of you, the casual way Logan dismisses you as “some girl.” He doesn’t care that he’s going too far, doesn’t care that the refs are probably going to break this up any second. All he cares about is making Logan feel a fraction of the pain he caused you.

“You don’t get to talk about her,” He growls, grabbing Logan by the collar and yanking him close. “You don’t even get to think about her.”

Logan tries to shove him off, but Rafe is relentless, landing punch after punch, each one fueled by the memory of you crying in his arms, by the way your voice trembled when you told him what Logan had done.

By now, the refs are on them, trying to pull Rafe away, but he isn’t finished. Not yet.

“You don’t deserve her,” He hisses through clenched teeth, his fist connecting with Logan’s face one last time before the refs finally manage to separate them. “You never did.”

Logan stumbles back, his face a bloody mess, and for a brief moment, he feels a little satisfaction. But it isn’t enough to stop the anger, the frustration, the overwhelming need to protect you from ever being hurt like that again.

He sits in the penalty box, his chest heaving as he tries to calm the adrenaline still pumping through his veins. He can barely hear the crowd over the sound of his own heartbeat, but he knows they’re going wild. The fight has been brutal, and he’s given Logan exactly what he deserved. But as the rush of the fight starts to fade, he starts to overthink: how will you react?

The game ends with a hard-fought win for his team, but the victory feels hollow. As his teammates celebrate on the ice, Rafe’s thoughts are miles away, fixated on you. What if you’re pissed? What if you think he’s overstepped?

After the final whistle, he makes his way to the locker room, his mind racing. He’s about to strip off his gear when he hears footsteps approaching, quick and determined. Before he can even turn around, the locker room door flies open, and there you are, marching straight toward him with a look on your face that he can’t quite read.

Shit. You’re mad.

“Hey, listen,” he starts, his voice low and uncertain as he holds up his hands in a gesture of peace. “I know that might’ve looked bad out there, but I swear—”

You don’t let him finish. Instead, you grab the front of his jersey and pull him down to your level, crashing your lips against his with a force that takes him completely off guard.

His mind goes blank as all he can focus on is the way your mouth moves against his. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before—raw, heated, desperate.

His hands instantly find your waist, gripping tightly as he pulls you flush against him, the heat of your bodies mingling in the small space between you. Your kiss is wild, all tongues and teeth, and when you bite down on his bottom lip, hard enough to make him groan, he realizes this is real.

You’re kissing him.

“Fuck,” he gasps against your mouth, his voice ragged with need. But you don’t give him a chance to catch his breath, your hands threading through his hair as you deepen the kiss, your lips moving with a feverish intensity that makes his head spin.

You break away just long enough to breathe, your lips brushing against his as you whisper, “You’re such a fucking idiot.”

The way you say it, half-growled, half-breathed, sends a shiver down his spine, and he can’t help the sound that escapes him, somewhere between a moan and a groan. His grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging into your skin as he fights to keep control, but you aren’t making it easy.

You press yourself even closer, your body flush against his as you kiss him again, harder this time, more demanding. Your tongue sweeps into his mouth, claiming him, and Rafe is more than happy to let you take the lead. He’s never felt anything like this before—this urgency, this hunger that makes him want to lose himself in you completely.

You tug on his hair, tilting his head back to give yourself better access, and Rafe nearly loses it right then and there. He can feel his self-control slipping, can feel the primal need to devour you taking over, but he doesn’t care. All he can think about is how badly he wants you, how desperately he needs to feel more of you.

When you pull back, your lips are swollen and glistening, your breathing just as ragged as his. You stare at him, your eyes dark with lust, and Rafe feels his heart hammering in his chest, each beat echoing with the desire pulsing through him.

“Been waiting for over an hour to do that,” you breathe.

Rafe’s hands roam up your back, tracing the curve of your spine as he leans in, brushing his lips against your ear. When he reaches the curve of your ass, he doesn’t stop. His fingers grip you there, kneading the soft flesh with a pressure that makes you gasp into his mouth, your hips instinctively pressing against his.

“Then do it again,” he murmurs, “Do whatever the hell you want to me.”

His hands are everywhere, sliding up your sides, his thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts before moving back down to cup your ass again, pulling you even closer against him. You can feel him, hard and ready, pressing against your thigh, and it sends a wave of heat pooling low in your belly. You want him—more than you ever wanted anyone—and the way he’s looking at you tells you he feels the same.

Rafe lets out a low, almost guttural sound as you rock your hips against him, the pressure making him tighten his grip on you, holding you in place as he grounds himself against you. The sensation makes your breath hitch, a needy whimper escaping your lips that only spurs him on. 

“Fucking idiot,” you whisper again, your voice rough with desire as you nip at his bottom lip, pulling it between your teeth before soothing the bite with your tongue. 

His reaction is immediate. He groans, a sound so deep and full of need that it sends a shiver down your spine. His hands flex against you, his fingers digging into your flesh as if he’s trying not to loseg control completely.

 But you can feel it—the way he’s trembling, the way his breath is coming in harsh, uneven pants against your neck. He kisses you again, hard and desperate, his mouth moving against yours with a fervor that matches the wild pounding of your heart

But just when you think you can’t take it any longer, the sound of footsteps echoes outside the door, snapping you both back to reality. You pull back, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath, your mind spinning with the intensity of what had just happened. He’s just staring at you, his eyes glazed with desire, his lips swollen and red from your kisses. He looks as wrecked as you feel, and it takes everything in you not to drag him back down for more. 

But you know you shouldn’t. Not here. Not now.

Except there’s no fucking way Rafe is letting you go now. He doesn’t say a word. His eyes lock onto yours, dark and filled with a raw need that makes your breath catch. 

He doesn’t ask; doesn’t need to. He’s done waiting, done pretending he can hold back. 

Without another word, he pulls you toward the locker room, his grip firm and unyielding as he leads you through the maze of benches and lockers. Your heart races as he pushes open the door to the showers, the sound of the water echoing off the tile walls. The room is empty, the air thick with steam, and the second you step inside, he’s pouncing on you. Clothes are gone in the blink of an eye.

He presses you up against the cold tile wall, his body flushes against yours as his lips find yours again, hands running over your wet skin. His mouth moves from your lips to your neck, his tongue tracing a path down to your collarbone as he kisses, licks, and nips at your sensitive skin. You whimper, fingers threading through his hair as he drops to his knees in front of you, his lips trailing down your stomach. 

The sensation was overwhelming, the combination of the hot water and his hot mouth on your skin driving you insane. "If you don’t-" your voice trembles with need as he spreads your thighs apart, “Fuck.” 

He looks up at you, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” 

His hands grip your hips firmly. Without another word, he buries his face between your legs, his tongue flicking out to taste you. The sudden, intense pleasure makes you cry out, your hands clutching at his broad shoulders as he licks and sucks, his tongue working you over with a skill that leaves you gasping for breath. It’s not fair. 

This man can’t possibly be real. The water splashes against your back, masking the sounds of your moans as he takes his time, driving you closer and closer to the edge with every swirl of his tongue. Your body trembles, your legs barely able to hold you up as he pushes you higher, his hands tightening on your hips as he holds you in place.

 "Oh my god," you moan, your voice breaking as you feel the pleasure building to an unbearable peak. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up until you are crying out his name, your body shuddering as your orgasm crashes over you, your nails digging into his shoulders as the pleasure rips through you.

Rafe keeps his mouth on you, drawing out your release until you are trembling, your legs shaking as you struggle to catch your breath. 

Truth is, he doesn’t want to stop. He can’t get enough now that he has finally gotten a taste. He stands back up, his hands running up your sides as he kisses you again, the taste of you still on his lips. You can feel him, hard and ready against your stomach, and it only drives you crazier. Of course, this man had to be fucking huge. 

Without breaking the kiss, he spins you around, pressing you against the wall as his hands grip your hips, pulling them back slightly. You brace yourself against the tile, your body arching as you felt the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. 

"Oh Rafe," you groan out his name, your voice low and needy and he growls softly in response, his breath hot against your ear as he slowly pushes inside you, filling you inch by inch until he is buried to the hilt.

Rafe nearly passes out from the sight. Watching himself disappear inside you has to be his favorite sight in the entire world. 

“So fucking pretty.” The feeling of him stretching you, filling you completely, is almost too much to bear, and you let out a long, low moan as he begins to move, setting a slow, deliberate pace that drives you wild. The water cascades over your bodies as he thrusts into you, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he fucks you with a steady, unrelenting rhythm. 

Each thrust pushes you harder against the wall, the cool tile a pleasing contrast to the heat between you. You can barely think, barely breathe, lost in the sensation of Rafe moving inside you, his cock hitting all the right spots with every thrust. The sound of the water mixed with the wet slap of skin against skin, your moans and gasps echoing off the walls as the pleasure built higher and higher, threatening to consume you.

 "God, you feel so fucking good," He groans, his voice rough with desire as he leans over you, his lips brushing against your ear.

 "Faster," you gasp, your voice pleading as you push back against him, needing more, needing everything. He doesn’t hesitate. His pace quickening, his thrusts coming harder and faster as he drives you both toward the edge. The intensity of it is overwhelming, every nerve in your body on fire as he fucks you with a raw, desperate need that matches your own. Just when you think you couldn’t take any more, you heard footsteps outside the shower, followed by a voice calling out. 

"Cameron? You in here, man?" Rafe freezes, his body tense, his cock still buried deep inside you as he glances toward the door, his breath ragged. 

"Yeah, I’m here," he calls back, trying to keep his voice steady, though you could hear the strain in it. 

"We’re heading downtown to the bar. You coming?"

He looks down at you, all too pleased with himself, "Not tonight," he replies, his voice thick with lust. "Got something else to take care of." 

There’s a pause, then a chuckle from the other side of the door. "Alright, man. Have fun."

 The footsteps retreat, and the moment the door closes, he’s moving again, thrusting into you with a renewed urgency, the near-interruption only heightening the intensity of the moment. You moan loudly, your body quaking as he drives into you with a relentless rhythm, each thrust sending you spiraling closer and closer to another orgasm.

The combination of the heat, the steam, the feel of Rafe fucking you so hard is too much, the almost getting caught. You feel yourself losing it, your entire body tightening as you reach the edge once again.

 "Come for me," He growls, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you are sure there will be bruises tomorrow. His words push you over, and you cry out as your orgasm tears through you, your body convulsing around him as the pleasure crashes over you in waves.

Rafe follows right behind you, his hips slamming into yours one last time as he comes, his body shuddering as he fills you to the brim with a low, guttural groan. 

For a long moment, neither of you move, both of you panting, your bodies still trembling from the intensity of it all. The water continues to pour over you, washing away the evidence of your encounter as you slowly come down from the high. 

Finally, he pulls out, turning you around to face him as he cups your face in his hands, his lips brushing softly against yours in a tender kiss that’s so different to the rough, desperate way he just fucked you.

 "You’re a fucking idiot," you whisper against his lips, a small, breathless laugh escaping you. 

He chuckles softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he looked down at you with a mixture of affection and desire. "Yeah, but I’m your fucking idiot."

He was fighting every fucking player on that ice ring if it meant having you again.

[hiddenlongingsfanfic]

Fresh Out of Luck (Lucky Boys 2)

“So…uh Hood? Are you okay?” 

Danny could feel the flood of fond exasperation that swept through the man across from him and he finally let his muscles loosen. 

The man may have been stand-up enough to pull him from electrified waters but that didn’t always mean much.  The fact that he seemed closer to laughter than anger after a pretty intense, if short-lived, fight was definitely a point in his favor. 

Maybe now that they’d sized each other up Danny could just slink out of this guys haunt without any further problems. 

I mean, he had a lot of problems actually, but this could be one less. 

Maybe? 

Possibly? 

As he struggled to regain his footing Danny felt the other man's full attention settle back on him. 

Absolutely everything throbbed on his body as he got back up. 

The fall and the electric shock would have been enough for him to retreat to his core even a year ago. He was tougher now, more used to pain. So he was up and on his feet even though it was nearly the last thing he wanted to do. If the ground had been just a little softer or the man across from him had been just a little less scary Danny would have stayed face-planted right where he was.  As it was, one of his feet dragged behind him a little as he started to stumble away. 

Ow. 

Ow. 

Ow! 

Behind him the man cleared his throat pointedly and Danny turned his head just enough to see him out of the corner of his eye. 

“I’m fine O; but we’ll need some sort of medical assistance for our…visitor.” 

Danny didn’t even try to hold back the rumbling bass of the growl that erupted from his chest. 

Like hell. 

The other man. 

Hood? 

Raised an eyebrow at him and after a breath of thought seemed to purposefully push a little hesitant reassurance towards him. 

Danny’s nostrils flared wide and on the exhale he pushed out a wisp of frosty air. 

Which hadn’t happened before when Hood had sent emotions his way. 

This was the first time it seemed intentional though. 

As though he’d put some effort into it rather than an instinctual response. 

Which, if this was the man’s first time meeting another ghost-adjacent person, was pretty impressive. 

More than just a very, pretty face whatever he was. 

But Danny had learned his lesson about being led around by pretty people who were able to beat the shit out of him without breaking a sweat. 

Danny relaxed his grip on his solid form and felt the dim shadows of the sewers recede just a little bit more as his skin started to glow. His legs merged together into his tail and he let himself start to float into the air with, if not ease, at least long practice. 

Hood’s eyes widened a little at the transformation but didn’t budge an inch.  Instead, he let his head fall back a little against the wall deliberately making himself look more relaxed and less threatening. Danny may not be able to speak because of the muzzle but his derisive snort spoke volumes. Hood held his hands up in silent surrender. 

“Okay. Fine. No hospital or anything. But we can help you with the muzzle at least. See about getting that off your face.” 

Danny snorted again and this time he let himself float back up towards a thin sliver of night sky that he could see. It wouldn’t be wide enough for his shoulders but the plastic would fit through easily enough through the small gap. 

The man’s voice was fading but he could still feel the surge of worried aggravation when he said. 

“Fine. Have it your way.” 

Whoever O was hadn’t had any sort of audible reaction to what Hood had said so they probably had cameras along with the other equipment that the man was packing. So at least two people in this strange new world had already seen his face and what the GIW had done to him. 

It took a little bit of wriggling, and the painful stretch of the plastic muzzle compressing on his face but Danny managed to slide back onto the streets. 

Camera’s didn’t tend to work too well around him but the tech from this world might be different. 

So with another shuddering effort Danny managed to make himself go invisible and intangible. 

From what he had seen while he was falling from the crumbling portal he had landed in a sizable city. 

The stars were all wrong and he couldn’t quite grasp where he was in relation to where he had been. 

Did this Earth even have the same number of continents? 

Countries? 

Not that it really mattered. 

There was no going back to the life (HA!) that he had had before. 

Wherever he had landed, it looked rough. 

A lot of the streetlights had been smashed, leaving deep pools of darkness that Danny purposefully skirted around.

Even if the only thing that was still visible was the muzzle he didn’t need anybody trying to grab onto his face. 

He flitted through the back alleys ignoring the deals for both drugs and bodies that were going on around him. 

Everything looked as consensual as it could be and he didn’t see any kids involved. 

Frankly, at that point he considered it none of his business. 

He was also just tired. 

Most of the buildings looked like they were occupied; with the occasional spot of warm flickering light from a television. But any city of even moderate size was going to have abandoned buildings. It took him a little while but Danny finally found what looked like an abandoned apartment building. Most of the windows had been smashed and the front door was hanging off of a single hinge at an angle that suggested it had been pushed inwards forcefully. 

Danny cautiously floated up a couple of stories and peered in through a few windows.   He could see the occasional sleeping bag and the small stashes of supplies that some of the city's homeless had left there but between the police tape and the blood stains Danny figured something violent had happened here. 

Violent enough to keep all but the most desperate of people out of the building. 

Perfect. 

The building was steeped in death and when Danny put a cautious hand on the bricks he could feel the treacle creep of the ectoplasm that inundated the porous surfaces. 

He carefully maneuvered the muzzle through the shattered remnants of wood from a boarded off window. 

The rest of his body slipped through the boards with no issue. 

The apartment had never been anything glamorous. 

Wall to wall carpeting in a shade that may have been beige but now had a noxious undertone of green from the mold and the water damage. The wallpaper had once had fat yellow roses peppering the wall in inconsistent rows, mismatched now where the sun had faded the once bright colors.  

Danny took in a deep breath of decay, it felt just like home. 

Danny let himself relax back into visibility as he scanned the room in front of him. 

There were water stains creeping up the drywall, heaviest around the window and in the corners leaving the once cheerful wallpaper peeling up and bubbling. 

He let himself spin around for a moment taking it all in. 

Not a single piece of rubble was anything even close to white in color. 

No medical equipment. 

No weapons, ecto or otherwise. 

Danny let out a low rumble of pleasure. 

Perfection. 

He’d go out and scavenge some blankets. 

See if he couldn’t cobble together some sort of generator. 

He had never been the brains of the family, but he was no lightweight when it came to cannibalizing what someone else had already built. 

Danny dragged the remains of a moth-eaten comforter into the darkest corner of the living room and let himself fully curl up onto it with a heavy sigh. Thin lines of ectoplasm started slowly leaking up out of the floor and made a beeline for his chest. When he finally dropped off to sleep Danny felt better than he had in years. 

When Red Hood slipped onto a rooftop across the road the stranger didn’t even twitch.

Pulling a small pair of binoculars out of one pouch, he also pocketed a small handheld device that was connected to the tracking device he had managed to slip into the folds of the black rubber hazmat suit the other man was wearing.

Whatever he was, and however he turned invisible the tracker had worked fine.

Wherever Jason might have been expecting this strange visitor of Gotham to go it certainly wasn’t here.

Crime Alley was one thing.

This building though was even more decrepit than the usual.

There’d been a mass murder at some point in the early aughts.

Nothing too noteworthy.

For Gotham anyways.

A drug deal gone wrong, amped up with some of the fear toxin that the Scarecrow specialized in.

Red Hood had managed to keep most of the homeless clear of the old apartment building just in case.

He’d funded several halfway houses in the Narrows and tried to keep everyone at least marginally housed and fed.

One thing about his little empire, Jason had no end of odd jobs that he was able to offer to anyone that needed some help to get back on their feet. He’d been deep in the weeds of getting a rehab facility set up for the last several months. Getting funding hadn’t been the biggest problem; if Bruce was good for nothing else he was at least usually willing to throw money at a problem.

He had also given all of his children a thorough education in business and whatever else they were interested in.

Finding good, i.e. non-villainous, counselors was proving to be tough though.

Nearly everyone with a higher education in Gotham seemed to be on a watchlist of some sort.

Anyone with common sense and a Masters degree tended to abandon the smog-filled skies as soon as they were able to graduate.

Hood didn’t feel like he was being particularly picky either.

He sincerely didn’t care about any sort of non-violent criminal history and even then it definitely depended on the circumstances.

A spouse beater wasn’t going to get into the Narrows to profit off of his little growing empire.

A girl that had killed her rapist on the other hand.

Well.

Some people got exactly what they deserved in death.

No matter what Batman thought.

Tossing his hair out of his face Jason finally knelt down to take in what he was seeing.

Oracle was quiet too.

He’d turned on the recording when he’d slipped into the sewers and hadn’t felt the need to turn it off since.

He had heard the gasp of outrage that had slipped out when she had seen the other man’s face.

Whoever had done that to him; it was malicious.

Torture on a human rights level, even if he wasn’t technically human, wasn’t going to be tolerated by any Bat or Bird.

“We’re going to need to figure out who did that to him.”

O’s voice was grim and Jason gave a grunt of agreement.

Tilting his head, Jason watched the throbbing glow of the Lazarus water as it seeped into the man’s chest.

He wasn’t going to lie, at least not to himself, that was spooky as shit.

“I’m not familiar with whatever tech or magic this guy’s got going on but I’d say he’s probably ingesting the Lazarus water to help with his injuries.”

Jason kept quiet.

Oracle was only marginally talking to him.

She was typing quickly; looking for commonalities.

Clues as to what the hell was going on with their newest visitor.

Jason’s voice was the barest whisper but he knew that the microphone would pick it up.

“How is he even collecting it? I’ve never seen the waters in this quantity in Gotham and he seems to be pulling it out of thin air.”

“I’m not picking up any sort of machinery or tech. The only metal I’m picking up is localized around his face. You tussled with him. Notice anything noteworthy?”

Jason bit his lip to hold back a bark of laughter.

Tussled.

Like they were kids on a playground.

Like the guy in front of him hadn’t managed to literally rip his helmet off of him in pieces.

At least Dick had finally managed to convince him to remove the bomb that he had stored in it for a while.

That would have been an interesting way to go out.

“You’ve been unusually quiet even for you. What are you thinking?”

“That he sets off the Pit.”

Oracle’s gasp was bitten off but Jason still heard it.

He ignored it though and plowed on.

“Not. Not in the same way that I’m used to.”

Less blinding rage and more. Jason wasn’t sure if he could explain it to anyone.

They knew about the rage that seemed to envelope him.

It didn’t always have a trigger; just came out of fucking nowhere to ruin his goddamn day.

Sometimes though.

Sometimes it was worse.

The scrape of metal on concrete seemed to be a pretty consistent one.

Green flooded his vision and he could feel that seemingly endless well of rage start to rise in his chest.

If he was in the manor or the cave he always tried to keep well away from everyone.

Jason didn’t know what he would do to himself if he somehow managed to hurt Alfie.

That strange feeling of fear mixed with curiosity had seeped through him like a warm mist.

A hiss from a frightened animal not a roar of intimidation.

Not a hint of malicious intent; even after that frankly epic blow to his mask.

The Pit had risen to meet it, enraged and tinted with his own fear, and then had paused.

Writhing in his chest like a physical being.

Like a heart attack made of magic.

And then.

A feeling he had never felt before.

A deep rumbling purr of recognition.

All of this in the span of moments while he had watched the other man try to catch his breath.

All of it a silent undertone that felt like an alien language that he had never heard before but that made perfect sense.

“I can’t explain it. I’ve never experienced anything like it before.”

“Can you make a comparison? It doesn’t have to be perfect. Just, I’m trying to understand what you’re saying.”

Jason went silent for another long moment.

His eyes were still fixed intently on the other man.

Who definitely wasn’t breathing.

That fact didn’t seem to bother the stranger at all as he twisted into a deeper curl.

His entire body was molding to the shape of the used to be 90° walls and the man was about 70% cube.

Jason bit his lip hard enough that he could taste the faint tang of imminent blood.

What could he compare this feeling to?

He stumbled over his words for a moment, wetting his lips.

“It’s not…not quite the same. You remember the first time Martian Manhunter telepathically communicated with you?”

“Yes?”

“How it wasn’t just words.”

“Yes. There were undertones of his emotions too.”

“Right. That’s kind of what this was like. No words. Just emotions. Communicative emotions. He knew what he was doing and had some control over it.” “

So you felt his emotions but they weren’t just pressing into you the way the Martian’s sometimes do. He was using it as a form of communication that he had control over.”

“Yes, exactly.”

Jason nodded, even though he wasn’t sure if Oracle could actually see him through her cameras.

“I think he could understand what I was saying.”

The man’s sarcastically cocked eyebrows had also heavily implied that he understood what Jason was saying perfectly.

And that he was unimpressed.  

“He just couldn’t verbally respond to you because of that horrible muzzle.”

“Well that and I think I really pissed him off when I grabbed him.”

“No.”

Oracle’s voice is only a little dry.

“A person who doesn’t enjoy being snuck up on and grabbed from behind by a total stranger. Call Ripley. I can’t believe it.”

This time Jason snorted softly. He had always loved those Ripley’s Believe it or Not books.

It wasn’t Shakespeare by any means but he had always laughed a little bit at the sight of the monkey and fish body’s that had been put together to make a ‘real mermaid’.

The tv show was fun too.

In the right light the tv host, (Dean something?) had even looked a little bit like Superman.

Nowhere near enough jawline, but the resemblance was there.

Jason huffed the white patch of hair that hung over his forehead out of his eyes as he came to a decision.

“Listen. The tracker obviously worked. I’m just going to leave our guest a little present and then leave him alone. He hasn’t hurt anybody and he definitely could have knocked my whole block off if he had wanted to.”

“Okay, Hood. I’ll pass this along to everyone.”

As though B hadn’t probably been metaphorically champing at the bit and listening to the entire conversation.

The man was busy; but meta’s put his back up for some reason and he had been a little (psychopathically over-protective) of Jason ever since his miraculous return.

The man had also been trying.

Trying so hard to make up for his past mistakes with Jason and his other children.

A part of that was that he had basically ceded control of the Narrows to Red Hood.

Gotham at large may have been the Bat’s territory but all of his children had started to break it into pieces for themselves.

Nightwing was in Bludhaven, but Bruce’s adoption ‘problem’ was rampant enough that the others had managed to create their own sectors within Gotham.

Batman’s grip on the city hadn’t loosened as he aged but he had started to place his trust in his proteges.

That trust did not extend to keeping his nose out of everybody’s business but at least he had learned to occasionally keep his mouth shut.

Danny’s eyes were a little bleary when he opened them up as the sun slowly crept towards his dark little corner.

It took him a second to focus on the object that someone had placed in front of him.

He could feel the muted presence of the other ghost at the edge of his senses.

Long gone; but apparently fully capable of sneaking up on a (more dead than usual) Halfa in his sleep.

The bolt cutters looked to have been coated in rubber and were a matte black that looked expensive. There was a little note placed jauntily on top of the tool; the paper folded in half so it would stand upright.

THIS IS GOING TO HURT LIKE A BITCH. HOPE IT HELPS. RH

The handwriting was blocky but dark with good quality ink that hadn’t smeared or blotched even with the obvious haste that the note had been written.

Danny let his tail flick out and gently tip the note over so that he could look the tool over with more care.

Even with the rubber it was definitely going to set off that satanic little metal plate that was on his tongue.

The man was right. It was going to hurt like a bitch.

He blamed his exhaustion for why he hadn’t gone out and stolen something like this for himself though.

His brain had been too foggy and his body too damaged to try and figure out how to do anything except find somewhere to go to ground that he would be able to pull the plasma out of.

He felt healthier than he had in a long time after his impromptu nap/meal.

It was still going to be dangerous to do this.

If he hadn’t been able to feel the flood of emotions from the other man Danny might have hesitated.

Humans lied.

They lied all of the time.

The man could have coated the cutters with something nasty.

But it didn’t feel like something the man would do, somehow.

Danny reached a trembling hand out to the cutters and reluctantly pulled them closer. They were sturdy. Heavy-duty and hopefully capable of cutting the sutures and metal bars that wound through his face.

He took several deep breaths as he thought about how he was going to manage this.

The bars that went through his lips were close enough to each other that Danny was able to get two of them at a time between the blades of the clipper and he pushed down hard.

There was a moment of triumph when he felt the click of metal separating before his face lit up again with electricity and he writhed on the filthy carpet for several long moments waiting for the metal plate to stop shocking him.

It was lasting a lot longer than he was used to though.

It was hard to think through the pain and it took Danny several long seconds to realize that there was probably some sort of a failsafe on the tech that meant that if he managed to break any of the connections it wasn’t going to stop shocking him.

His whimpers were muffled as the remaining bars still kept his lips fused together and his hands clenched hard into the carpet and missed the handles of the clippers a couple of times before he was able to bring it up in fits and starts to clip the next two bars.  

Thankfully they split as easily as the first two but Danny was starting to smell burning flesh and acrid smoke tickled his nose as the tech fought against his attempt at freedom.

Two more to go.

Then he could hopefully pull the metal plate out of his mouth and the staples would be cake after all of this.

Horrible.

Bitter.

Poisonous cake.

The last two gave way at the same time as Danny lost consciousness. The plate sputtered out with a sullen click and Danny let himself slump down onto the floor and let the darkness take him.

At least there was enough ectoplasm to keep him going in this city even if he wasn’t conscious enough to reach for it.

Batman let his muscles slowly unclench as he watched the boy through his binoculars.

He hadn’t known if he was going to be able to stand by and just watch for much longer.

The glowing Lazarus water had started to slip back out of the carpet as soon as the meta had collapsed back into it.

The Narrows and Crime Alley were Red Hoods; but Batman was never going to leave his boy behind again and if this new boy, young man perhaps, was going to be a denizen of Gotham he deserved every bit as much of his protection as the rest of the population.

More than that, he needed to contact the League.

 Whatever sort of monsters, human or otherwise, had done this were going to pay for this if he had any say in the matter.

Batman’s lips tightened a little bit before he swung away on a grapple gun’s wire.

He was the goddamn Batman.

He had quite a bit of a say. 

[episodes-ff]

Strong Man

Happy Veterans Day, y'all! As a daughter and niece of veterans, I wanted to give you all a little treat. Especially after remembering Jacob was in fact in a military movie and Aaron plays a former military man. Also Reggie and Terry are Marine Corps men so why not have him join the fold. Enjoy!!!!

P.S. This is just a one-off where Armando always knew his father and joined the Marine Corps with his friends Terry and Reggie instead of leading the cartel...

Armando

Finishing the final strides to my barracks, I came back one last time to say goodbye to my family. "Ohhhh! He's growing so fast!" My uncle Marcus wailed sniffling into his tissue as my dad and I shook our heads. "Will you quit your nonsense, Marcus?" "I can't help it, Mike. He was just a little baby on your hip, now he's going to the Marines." He cried more and more as he suffocated me into a hug. "Don't you have your own family to say goodbye to?" I asked pointing out his daughter and wife as they hugged her boyfriend, Reggie." "Damn, Reggie! You're my nephew, man. I'm gonna miss you."

Chuckling, I hugged him before turning my attention over to my dad. "C'mere, man." He smiled on the verge of tears as he pulled me into a warm hug. "You're not turning soft on me are you, old man?" "I see you got jokes, son. This old man can still whoop yo lil Mexican ass." He chimed as we laughed together. Patting my back, he held my forehead to his and smiled. "I'm proud of you, son." "Thank you, papa. That means the world to me." Giving out all the last hugs and kisses I could afford, I dapped up Reggie before we grabbed our duffle bags and headed inside to start our new lives.

**MONTHS LATER**

Dapping up my boys, Terry and Reggie, I strapped on my gear as we chattered about our plans for the night on the way to our dorms. "So run it by me again, man? What's the plans?" "We hitting the bar on McIntosh in downtown. You in, Reggie?" "Nahhh, not tonight guys. I'm taking a visit to my lady." Reggie said holding his hands up in defense as we groaned. "Ohhhh, baby girl got you pussy whipped, huh?" Terry jibed while he nodded. "Aye, that's my wife you talking about. And yea, I like spending time with my baby." "Awwww, your babyyyy. Answer me this? When you gone make an honest woman outta Megan? It’s been long enough, bro." I said recounting when they met. "If she'll take me, hell tonight." He smirked flashing us the bright ring he had stored in his duffle. "Ohhhh shit! Now that’s what the fuck I’m talking about." Tee hooted as I smiled. "Tryna tell you young bucks, you gotta find the woman for you and her an honest one." "Young buck? Bro, we're the same age." "Hey, I'm just saying." "Whatever, man. Tell us how it goes." "Gotcha gotcha."

Throwing on my shirt, I threw on my watch and chain before hitting myself a couple times with cologne and grabbing my phone and wallet. Headed up to Terry's dorm, I sent a few raps to the door before waiting for his arrival. Watching him come out, I frowned my brows before laughing. "Bro, what the fuck do you have on?" I questioned analyzing his choice of attire. "Hey, what can I say? The ladies love coming to the gun show." He boasted pumping his swollen biceps as I shook my head. "Whatever, dickhead, let's go."

Pulling up to the club, we parked valet before heading in and taking our place at the bar. Ordering a couple beers, we waltzed over to the pool tables as we each scoped the scenery around us. Bumping my head to the music, I stopped squinting my eyes as they landed on this beautiful woman sitting at a booth with her friend. "Aye, I'll be right back." I said leaving Terry as I headed over. "I see ya, boy!" He hooted surrounded by thirsty women. Walking over, I stopped just behind her as friend looked up and smiled. "Well, hi there!" "How are you ladies tonight?" I said putting on the charm as she turned to fully face me. Gorgeous was an understatement with this one. "My name is Armando, and you are?" "My name is Laila and this is my girl, Diamonté." "Diamonté, huh? That's a very unique name." "Why thank you. I can say the same for you, Armando." "Oh can you?" I smirked eyeing her lustfully as I smoothly brought her hand up to my lips.

Terry

Watching my boy work his magic, I cheesed before bringing my attention back to the ladies surrounding me. "You said you're in the Navy, right?" "Marines, little mama." I flirted tapping her chin as she flushed red. "So is that how you got such big arms?" "Nah, I been working out long before I joined. Want me to demonstrate, baby?" Nodding nervously, I smiled a devilish grin before whisking her up into my arms and hitting some bicep curls as she giggled with her friends. Setting her down, I cheesed as they all flirtatiously offered their numbers.

Heading out of the bar with Armando in tow, we drove back up to base and signed in before heading up to our rooms for curfew. Whipping off my sweaty and smelly clothes, I tossed em in the laundry basket before taking another shower. Coming out, I let the steam wrap me in a warm embrace as I looked down at my phone to see if I had any missed notifications. Seeing none from the one girl I actually wanted to talk to, I clenched my jaw as I logged into Facebook. Smiling at the memories of old friends and family as they updated on their current lives, I tapped the search bar and smoothly typed her name. Watching her page come up at the top of the search as it always did, I tapped her profile breathing a ragged breath as an image of her with another man shadowed my view. Clearing my throat, I shook my head quickly logging out before tossing my phone to the side and laying down on my pillow. I can talk to all the girls in the world, it'll never compare to her.

Y'all the outpouring of love I've been receiving is truly heartwarming. I had truly given up on writing after the mishaps with my other stories and you guys are giving me the push to continue 🥹🥹🥹🥹

Tags (Based on interactions, if you’d like to be added or removed let me know): @violetmuses @believeinthefireflies95 @brisunique @kaylaahisthebestest- @madxlov3   @casualsludgeshoetoad @mauvecherie-writes @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @theereina @kumkaniudaku @geneziesm @megamindsecretlair @simpledopeme @goldenjasssy @vivaalenaa @playgurlxoxo @ghettogirly @luuvprincess @perfectlyimperfectme @tbmotw @comfortzonequeen @melanin-honeyy @strawberrymoon45 @luckygirlszn @kindofaintrovert @secretlifeoofmarpessa @cmbmjbfan @summwerella @qdancer22 @ihateyallniggas @rebelrel0987 @x-moonchild-xxxx @1love-rere-spread-the-peace @tamyanicoleeeee @markspliers @armandosbabymama

[stans-kissing]

dipford/stancest but its ford calling dip stan/brotherrrhrrhhrhfhfhfhfh this is probably just gona be me rambling for a bit ok thanks guys. i think it was andy andddd creature? that joked about this which spawned whatever this is buttt i could be wronf idk i have terrible membery #forget everythign or whwtaver

takes place pre-weirdmageddon before he and stan make up. he is an evil dirty old man ok. he is Nasty and has Weird thoughts about his brother. he kinda idolizes the version of stan he keeps in his head, before everything with his science project when they were still eachothers best friends. ford has jerked off thinking about the younger version of stnaley ok So many times hes such a degenerate. so, he notices dipper looks a Lot like stan did as a child, same chubby cheeks and fluffy hair, skinny as all hell just like theyweere. grooming ensues! ford wants that cookie whether that cookie likes it or not.

he finally gets dipper under him, touching him up and strippin his shorts off all the good num nums. dippers bent over the desk in his lab of him, whining n whimpering as ford prepped his ass, stretching him to fit ford's length and jesus fuck fords never been harder in his entire life. here he has this boy, beautiful little dipper, who (espeically from this position, he cant see dipper's face) looks so so much like his stanley, his sweet perfect stanley, young and innocent just like he remembered stan being and he starts to lose himself, getting lost in the fantasy as he pushes inside dipper and groans as he bottoms out (ouch! sorry dipper) and he doesn't even have to close his eyes to pretend he's with stanley becauase he can just look down at the mop of brown hair and his skinny little frame, he can pretend he's hearing stnaley sweet voice before it turned all gruff, he forgets himself, moaning under his breath, mumbling nonsense about how stanley, ohhh stanley, he's waited so long for this, so long, he misses him so much, his sweet little brother, doing so good for him,,

and to be honest dipper is too fucked out to even hear himself moan so he doesnt even notice how ford just flat out forgot dippers name until ford is burying himself as deep as he can, coating dipper's insides white with a shout of stanley's name and thats when dipper realizes oh. oh my god

then dipper gets pregantn the end goodbue

[catemangelsdorf]

Our key players:

Phillipa Soo, of Hamilton fame, who plays a wry, competent nurse. She's practical, ambitious, and done with the boys shit. Which doesn't mean she won't instigate a threesome if the boys are slacking.

Joshua Jackson, aka Fringe for the geeks and Dawson's Creek for the normal people. He has aged like fine wine. His character is an overqualified doctor who had a near death experience and has decided to deal with that by becoming the doctor on a cruise ship.

Rounding out our trio is the gorgeous, funny, wildly entertaining to watch Sean Teal, aka the hot guy from that Shakespeare movie Rosaline that came out a few years ago. He plays nurse #2, and basically does whatever the plot demands of him. Which means sometimes he's a hero who saves the day, sometimes he's a wounded guy with a rough childhood, and sometimes he's a total idiot who is overly obsessed with winning a costume competition. He plays every version of his character with total commitment.

Now this is a medical drama, so naturally it asks the important questions like:

how soon is too soon to sleep with your boss?

what obscure disease can cruise ship passengers get from eating too much shrimp, lying out in the sun too long, and fucking too much?

how many times can people go overboard in six episodes?

what is the most ridiculous outfit a rich person can wear on a cruise?

For all of it's silliness, it's also a weirdly compassionate show? This show loves the tacky older couple with the thick southern accents who eat too much shrimp. It wants you to respect the reality star who gets way too much plastic surgery, or the rich blonde bridezilla desperately trying to ignore everything that is tragic about her life.

The only true villain so far has been a wellness influencer who puts other people at risk by ignoring medical professionals and a plastic surgery clinic owner who pressures people into plastic surgery.

Also, it's just GORGEOUS. Do I want to go on a cruise? No. Do I want to go on this fictional cruise? HELL YES. It's just beautiful pools, and beautiful golden rooms, and beautiful beaches, and beautiful ocean, and a pristine, futuristic medical bay worthy of star trek.

It's like if the head writer said "What should the show be about?" and then all the other writers just kept saying "Yes, and also what about..." until you have a show that is tonally all over the place, but also looks like a Vogue magazine spread.

Everyone is beautiful, everyone is horny, and everyone has an unusual medical disease that can be cured in the next 40 minutes.

10/10, highly recommend.

Doctor Odyssey is a show where everyone is beautiful and everyone is horny but NO ONE is fucking because it's a weeknight abc show

[mercurymacaroons]

arrives 15 min late with a latte

......sup

[blessedmoonsoul]

ok might be my third world privilege but if i had the option to vote for someone who I agreed with 30-40% of their policies i won't be excited or pleased abt it but I'd be in that polling booth doing my part idk

[toxifoxx]

fighting the urge to make a rant post . but once you notice you really never stop noticing!!

[waywardsalt]

probably going to rework my human bellum design again

[graham--folger]

*through gritted teeth* what the fuck do people want from a resume

[weaponsdrawn]

HI i just remembered to respond to this FUCK ok so

I MASSIVELY AGREE with the binjpipe takes. i think ETS was good/iconic if only because it was so like. JARRING in a good way. but it was so lighting in a bottle tbh, and like u said it isnt rlly good horror. only rlly shocking if ur actually attached to cookie, which ppl are. cookie gets replaced by an AI tried to be ETS all over again, and it wasnt, and it kinda rlly showed, like you said, how they shine best with comedy. also I FULLY AGREE. fuck, im pretty sure its one of the reasons ive just grown tired of jackbox by now, both me and my gf (we met thru shared jackbox love), its bc every time binjpipe happened we were just like "THIS SHIT AGAIN?????" like it just made any sort of investment in it or hopes of cookie getting better just. feel so fucking moot. why bother getting invested if its just constantly going to get dragged back up. the "evil streaming service" joke is dead. its BEYOND dead. we havent even heard of the binjlady anymore. its lost any sort of omnious buildup. to me binjpipe's appeal was that it clearly wasnt going to last long. it was a nightmare that was just going to keep on ramping up until it crashed and burned horrendously, and fuck thats SO cool to consider and write about. but they keep dragging it out, and now its just sad. its boring. fucking. selling adult films?? give me a break.

ok about the party packs, HONESTLY SAME. like idk the writing is what really gets me about it tbh. i guess theyre good party games (tho i can get bored really fast, save for roomerang, and even so thats mostly bc of the goofyness of the responses), but YEAH youre so right. like idk if its because theyre ALSO doing the international translations but ithink it goes with the fact that the hosts severely lack character. when its like for some games, its ok if they dont have character (quixort), but its like that means theres A BALANCE. pack 8, ok? games like job job and weapons drawn, that CALLS for the hosts having character because its putting you in a situation WHERE the host is an active part of that situation. its like "wow im really in funny office" or "wow im really doing a murder!!!" right now, yknow? Push the Button, DODE was her own character and had noteworthy quips and she was a vital part of the games story/framing device! todd is iconic bc hes such a chill internet guy and then he sends you to hell! felicia is all morbidly romantic bc youre on a MONSTER DATING SHOW. a lot of the games stand out BECAUSE of the unique situations ur in that envoke unique prompts/unique gameplay, meanwhile something like fixytext? i dont know SHIT about the host. and its kind of a shame that the cannon jackbox lesbian host we have is SO FUCKING BORING GOD. most i can get is that shes introverted, but i gen cant tell if its genuine, if its some kind of "akward bacon unicorn moment! #millenial" type shit, what the fuck even really IS Fixytext at the end of the day. what makes it more than google docs shitposting simulator. its such a fucking shame, esp for the TENTH PACK. like god maybe they rlly do need to take a hiatus bc the change in. writing quality is. idk it just didnt help my dropping fixtation i'll say that.

also wait FR????? JESUS CHRIST thats actually a shame, i wanted to try and play that game!!! (namely bc funny objectum) and like. the ONE naughty pack exclusive host and we get NOTHING about her. i dont even like the fucking conch shell design im sorry. jackbox crew yall are great but how in this green unholy earth do you expect ppl to draw and remember your designs when your hosts are so. flat. fuck, mayonnaise, fucking M BUBZ, is more memorable than nickolas kranrker whatever and dr nanners and jerri, i cant tell you a SINGLE thing about jerri tbh. its such a shame. i want to love these guys i really do but theres nothing that endears them to me.

tbh if they end up not doing anything for ydkj it'll be funny in a kinda sad way tbh. on the one hand it'd BE nice on the other hand yeah its been nothing since full stream, eh. could they even do a YDKJ anymore? i remember once upon a time there was all this hype/discussion of a "ride 2" where the only real roadblock was that buzz's VA has well moved on from voice acting i think, but ppl had ideas for giving him a new voice, maybe even making it a transgender reason, all this stuff. this was like a couple of years back. but its like god i'd be shocked if they even remember guy exists at this point. or nate. hes sorta got a chance given his VA is literally a core part of the crew.

also i getcha. glad i could offer a space to let ya vent like that lawl

roomerang completely fucking fumbled with giving rue any sort of character we could've had a fun host we could've had that snark we could've had ANYTHING to match the sheer amount of swag in her design but we got BASICALLY NOTHING/very vague hints of character ("I'm beside myself... and I look good!" And "dramaaaa!!! :3") which is CRUMBS compared to even the most one note hosts like glargan o'toe or civic doodle's hosts and as petty as it sounds it's kinda the reason I fell out of love with current jackbox </3

.

[future-dregs]

*whispers* I think Dan should grow his hair out a little bit, let the curls really go, that would be hot. Phil too, I know he just got it cut short again but can you imagine?

[amazingdeadfish]

I... I keep forgetting that your fanfics aren't canon, I can't read any other fanfics because I'm like "why do they ignore the whole macaque and mayor's story? It's so important, it shows the motivation of the characters and- oh yeah, that's not canon."

Well, if this isn't one of the greatest compliments of all then I don't know what is XDD. Besides from being able to make people allegedly cry (or, somewhat make them feel emotional), the fact that I must have accidently brainwashed you into thinking what I have written is canon, and not just a jumbled mess of my self indulgent headcanons is single handedly enough of a compliment to make me exactly 1% stronger than previously.

Because it simply means that what I have written is enough to align with canon. So thank you :DDD. I guess this means I am using the source material faithfully after all. Deep down in my heart, I know that Macaque and Mayor must have some sort of beef with each other, and Macaque being handed the Skeleton Key could not have been as easy as LBD just 'handing it to him'. Because how does that even fit on the LMK timeline??? It makes no sense, she should be imprisoned when Macaque died, right?

[idiosyncraticrednebula]

I really wish some of the actresses who have voiced Disney Princesses would stop comparing their princess to the previous ones and claim how she was the "first" one to have *gasp* independence and strength *gasp*. Have they ever watched a Disney movie outside of their own?

[verytendou]

Looks up wikihow for what to do when you realize your office has 5x the amount of budget of every other executive office combined

[aromanticasterisms]

man. i was not at all looking forward to the saurian mechanics in natlan, and i've been proved correct for the most part -- the ground saurians feel like such a downgrade from the travel mechanics we've seen in the past [we all at this point have gotten used to climbing things with character skills, also kachina is free + the sumeru and chenyu vale exploration was a lot smoother]

HOWEVER. i do love the koholasaurs way more than expected. perhaps, dare i say it, even more than the waverider. they blend fun and function way better than the other two. they are so shaped. little creatures. i can do a flip