#having a normal one. as you can clearly see

[clockwayswrites]

A Bird's Wings - Part 30

masterpost this is a first draft, please no editing or concrit <3

Danny’s first thought when he woke up in the morning was how rested he was.

It was almost shocking.

He’d been so exhausted for for the past few weeks that to feel rested was a relief that almost made him cry.

Danny’s second thought was about his wings, which he still seemed to have. That was a pretty quick revelation caused by the fact that he was asleep on his stomach. The wings pulled at the sheets as he stretched lazily. At least they hurt less than yesterday at least. He was careful as he sat up, a cumbersome affair with the wings. It basically resulted in Danny getting his legs off the side of the large bed and simply standing up backwards, but at least it did result in him standing.

Grateful for Alfred’s thoroughness, Danny brushed his teeth before taking an awkward shower. He kept to the shower wand only and tried to keep as much water off his wings as possible. Despite the care, he still felt (and looked) like a rain ruffled bird after he had dressed in the modified sweater and a pair of his normal pants. He did what he could to at least tame his hair, swallowed his morning medication, and left the sanctuary of his borrowed room.

“Master Danny, impeccable timing,” Alfred said when Danny came across him in what Danny thought was the foyer. “Breakfast will be served in half an hour in the kitchen. Would you like some coffee or tea to start your day?”

“Coffee would be great, if it’s not any trouble,” Danny said with a bashful smile. He still wasn’t quite sure how to handle Alfred’s uncanny ability to show up and offer his service.

“A standard request of coffee is hardly trouble,” Alfred said in such a way that Danny felt bad for trying to be polite.

He didn’t think that his Midwest manners were going to get him very far in this house. Manor.

Still trying to puzzle out how his life got him into things like this, Danny followed Alfred to the kitchen. Bruce was already there, looking still half a sleep as he sipped on his own mug of coffee. For the moment, the table was children free.

“Cream or sugar?” Alfred ask as he headed towards the counter.

“Cream please,” Danny said. He turned to Bruce and gave a little smile. “Morning, Bruce.”

“Good morning, Danny,” Bruce said, his voice a low, sleepy rumble. (Danny did his best to fight the blush that the tone caused.) “Would you like some help drying off your wings?”

So much for not blushing. “Ah, yeah. That would be really nice. I tried to do what I could, but…”

Bruce chuckled softly. “Completely understandable. It’s a very awkward angle to try and manage.” He set down his mug and stood. “Fortunately for you, Damian is quite the animal buff and I was sent some very extensive articles on caring for wings.”

“Oh gods,” Danny said. The words were muffled by the way he buried his burning face into his hands.

“Damian simply wants the best for you,” Bruce pointed out.

“Sure, but still,” Danny said. He rubbed at his face as he let himself lean his head back and stare up at the ceiling for a moment, “I’m not a pet.”

Danny saw Bruce come over out the corner of his eye, towel in hand, and rolled his head a little to glance at him. He thought it was progress that he didn’t flinch when Bruce reached out, clearly telegraphing his motion, to run a hand over Danny’s wing.

“No one thinks that you’re a pet, Danny,” Bruce said with so much sincerity in his eyes that Danny had to look away. “Knowing how to take care of your wings is the same as making sure that Damian has easy access to vegetarian meals or that the computers at the manor have a dyslexic friendly font installed for Dick or that Barbara can easily get around in her wheelchair. Your wings, even if only sometimes, are part of you. And for better or worse, my family and I seem rather intent to see you well.”

Danny rubbed at the back of his neck as he glanced back at Bruce. “Part of it may be that I’m not exactly used to that sort of attention. I mean, Lucius tries to make me take care of myself, as well as some coworkers, but in Gotham that sort of feels more like new rogue prevention,” Danny joked.

Luckily Bruce chuckled at that. “I am sorry that we’re so overwhelming.”

“No, don’t be. It’s… excuse the bird analogy, but it’s just a very full nest, isn’t it? It feels cozy. It’s just something different to try and wrap my head around,” Danny explained. “And I won’t pretend that I don’t still have issues, as much as it’s something that I’ve worked really hard on personally and in therapy, dying at fourteen leaves a person with some issues.”

Not to mention being a super hero, staying half dead, dying a second time, and all of the other things that went on during his high school years.

“Yes, I would imagine so,” Bruce said after a pause. His voice was soft and sad.

“Bruce—”

“Sorry,” Bruce said. “When Jason was fifteen, we thought he had died. He ended up out of reach and with extensive brain trauma and memory loss. I know how much it effected him. I’m sorry you had to go through something at that age also.”

Danny squeezed one of Bruce’s hands where it was clasped tightly around a towel. “He’s here now. He’s alive and he seems happy. He has a boyfriend and everything. I’m not saying it doesn’t still pull at him, but it hasn’t dragged him to the bottom. At least not anymore.”

Bruce smile was a somber, soft thing. “Thank you. And you’re here too.”

Danny blinked at that. Bruce wasn’t wrong. He didn’t know almost any of the story, but he wasn’t wrong. Wings and all, Danny was still alive. He smiled softly back. “Yeah, I am.”

[eclipixels]

Casual

Characters: Yoichi Isagi, Meguru Bachira, Hyoma Chigiri, Rin Itoshi, Seishiro Nagi, Reo Mikage

Content: "Casual relationship with the boys but it’s just you getting ahead of yourself and planning to talk to them about getting serious until you saw a headline about 'your' man going official with another lady." - @captainshindo

Isagi

      You weren’t the jealous type. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

      Isagi Yoichi was never officially yours, not in the way that mattered. Sure, he kissed you like you were the only person in the world, pulled you into his arms like he had no intention of letting go, and whispered things at night that made your stomach flip. But there had never been a label.

      It was fine. You were fine. Until you saw the headline.

      "Blue Lock’s Rising Star Isagi Yoichi Goes Official With Mystery Beauty!"

      Your stomach dropped. The article featured blurry paparazzi shots of him with some woman—her face obscured, but her hand was clearly clutching his wrist. You read every line, dissecting every word like it held the key to your survival of your heart. The journalist speculated, fans freaked out, and suddenly, it felt like the whole world was deciding where Isagi’s heart belonged.

      Except, no one had asked you.

      You slammed your phone down, anger bubbling up, not just at him but at yourself. You had been ready, so ready, to have the talk, to define what this thing between you really was. But now? What was the point?

      When Isagi came home later, he immediately noticed something was off.

      "You’re mad at me."

      "Really?” You scoffed.

      "Yeah, you are." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Is this about the article? I have no idea who that woman even was, I’m pretty sure it was a fan."

      Your eyes snapped to him. He looked guilty. Good.

      "Why would I care?" you asked, voice tight. "We’re not dating, right? I mean, not really. So why should I care?"

      His heart cracked when you said that. Did this mean nothing to you? Truth be told, he was planning to talk to you soon about your relationship. He wanted to be yours officially, now he feels dumb for not doing it sooner. Because now, his baby’s heart was broken and he didn’t know how to fix it.

      "Come on, you know that’s not—"

      "Not what? Not true?"

      And it wasn’t like he could just announce to the world that he was taken. Right? But still, he could’ve done something. At least that's what you told yourself.

      Isagi sat in bed that night, phone in hand, searching for ways to subtly (or not-so-subtly) let people know he was taken.

      What he found was… questionable.

      “Give her your hoodie, post her on your story, make it obvious.”

      Okay. Normal enough. What else, though? He wanted to do something more than that.

      “Hickeys are the ultimate mark of possession.”

      His face burned. He thought about it for half a second, then realized they were temporary. That wasn’t enough.

      And then he saw it.

      A tattoo. Permanent. Undeniable. Forever.

      It was impulsive, but so was he.

      Isagi came home, a slight wince on his face as he rolled his shoulder as he began experiencing the weak symptoms of a tattoo flu.

      "Hey."

      You barely looked up from your phone.

      He hovered for a second, then sighed dramatically. "You’re still mad."

      Silence.

      "Okay, well, can you at least look at me?"

      With an exaggerated eye-roll, you glanced up and immediately did a double take.

      "What the hell is that?" you asked, pointing at the fresh ink on the side of his neck.

      Bold, black letters. Your name. Right there for the world to see.

      "A tattoo," he said casually, like he hadn’t just done the most insane thing in history.

      Your mouth opened. Then closed. "No, yeah, I can see that. Why?"

      Isagi scratched the back of his head, suddenly sheepish. "Well, I wanted people to know I’m taken."

      "That’s the way you went about it?"

      "Yeah, but this way, they can’t argue about it." He grinned, a little too pleased with himself.

      “Check my socials” He said with a smug expression. You gave him a puzzled but cautious look as you slowly opened your social media.

      He posted you. Not just that, he put your name in his bio with a heart emoji.

      You blinked. Slowly.

      "You’re insane."

      "Maybe." He stepped closer, tilting his head with a smirk. "But now you can’t say I’m not serious."

      “That is a good picture of us,” You hummed, squealing on the inside at the gesture. He really did that.

      “Match bios with me before it looks like I’m embarrassing myself.” He said sternly and you laughed, your eyes falling past from his lips to the fresh tattoo on his neck.

      “That’s permanent”

      “So is this,” He smiled slyly, pulling you in for a kiss.

      Damn him. Damn him and his stupid, reckless, insanely hot commitment.

      You exhaled, shaking your head. "You’re lucky I love you, Isagi Yoichi."

      That was the first time you said those words to him. I love you.

      "I know. I love you too.” He grinned. Yeah, and so does the whole world know now too.

Bachira

      You weren’t the type to rush into things.

      Or at least, that’s what you told yourself when you first started seeing Bachira Meguru. It had been casual, fun, and effortless. The kind of relationship where dates blurred into late-night calls, where teasing turned into lingering touches, and where stolen kisses didn’t come with strings attached. You liked him. A lot. Maybe too much.

      That was the problem.

      You told yourself it was just fun. That the way he’d tug you close after a match, sweat still dripping from his bangs, meant nothing. The way he sent you voice notes about the most random things, like how the vending machine near his training center always stole his coins. It wasn’t anything special.

      But you wanted more. And after weeks of convincing yourself it wasn’t just one-sided, you’d decided it was time to have the conversation. The ‘what are we?’ talk. The ‘I think I want to be with you officially’ talk.

      You had it all planned out. You’d meet him after practice, maybe go for a walk, maybe grab something to eat. You’d be subtle about it, ease into it the way you always did with him. No pressure. No big declarations.

      Then, fate decided to punch you in the gut.

      Your phone screen lit up with a notification, the kind you usually ignored. But the name caught your eye. Bachira Meguru.

      It wasn’t a text. It wasn’t even a message from him. It was a headline. A big, bold, soul-crushing headline plastered across a sports gossip site.

      “Blue Lock Star Bachira Meguru Goes Official with Rising Model Hana Yoshida!”

      The article was filled with pictures, ones you’d never seen before. Bachira with his arm draped over her shoulders, grinning like he had no worries in the world. Her hand playfully on his chest. Them standing too close, their body language screaming intimacy.

      You stared at your phone, the weight of your own naivety sinking in.

      Had he ever mentioned her? No.

      Had he ever given you any reason to believe it was just you? Also no.

      You had assumed. And that was your mistake.

      The realization was sobering. The night before, he had sent you a voice note about his latest match, his usual excited rambling filling your ears. It felt normal. Easy. Safe. But now, the words rang hollow in your memory, like they belonged to a different story altogether.

      You inhaled sharply and forced a laugh, the sound bitter in your own ears.

      Wasn’t this a blessing in disguise? If you had spoken to him any sooner, you would’ve made a fool of yourself.

      Dodged a bullet. Saved yourself from embarrassment.

      You locked your phone and tossed it onto the couch, letting out a long breath. Maybe it was time to let go of the idea of ‘what could’ve been’ and accept what was staring you in the face.

      Bachira Meguru was never yours to begin with.

      You had ignored his calls. His texts. His voice notes. Bachira was starting to panic. Had he done something wrong? Had he messed up what you two had, without even realizing it?

      The overwhelming feelings he had for you were impossible to express, no matter how hard he tried. He never quite knew the right words, but he knew this. He couldn’t lose you. After years of isolation, of feeling like no one truly understood him, you had come into his life. You got him. And now, the thought of that slipping away, of you slipping away, was unbearable.

      So, in the dead of night, with anxiety clawing at his chest, Bachira showed up at your door. A bouquet of your favorite flowers in one hand, a bag of your favorite snacks in the other, and an apology for whatever the hell it was he had done to make you pull away. He wasn’t even sure what he was apologizing for, but he knew he couldn’t stand this silence between you two any longer.

      When he stood there, nervously shifting from foot to foot, the words he blurted out took you by surprise, and all the anger you had been holding onto melted away in an instant.

      “Are you breaking up with me or something? What did I do?”

      You blinked, taken aback. “Meguru, you really don’t know? You didn’t see the articles and— wait, you thought we’re together?”

      “Well, yeah," he said, frowning, his eyes wide with confusion. "I’m your boyfriend, right? Or did… Oh no, did I assume wrong?” He looked at you in a mix of worry and uncertainty, and something in your chest tightened. He looked so lost, so vulnerable, and you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy.

      “No, no, it’s not that,” you said quickly, trying to explain. “I just saw you with that model, and I thought—”

      “It was for a commercial for Chris Prince’s brand,” he interrupted, his expression softening slightly. “Wait… people are thinking it’s more than that?”

      “The article says it’s official,” you said, biting your lip, unsure how to explain the confusion that had swept over you.

      He froze, processing what you said, then his face shifted to a mix of disbelief and determination. “The hell? No, no way. I’m fixing that. But first,” he said, his gaze locking onto yours, “I need to fix this.” The cool night air swirled around him, his features glowing in the soft light, giving him an almost ethereal quality.

      You blinked, momentarily speechless.

      He stepped closer, leaning in as he looked into your eyes with such intensity that you couldn’t look away. “We are together. Yes?”

      You felt your heart race. “Okay,” you answered, the tension in your body easing with the words.

      Without another word, Bachira leaned in and kissed you. Soft, sweet, but with a warmth that melted away any remaining uncertainty. When he pulled back, he glanced up at you with a shy grin.

      “Good. Can I, uh, come in?”

      You blinked again stunned from the kiss before quickly stepping aside. “Oh, yeah! Sorry, come in!”

Chigiri

      Chigiri was great—amazing, even. Every moment spent with him was effortless. The two of you didn’t define things; it was simple. Casual. Late night skin care dates, movies, shopping, boba. No pressure, no expectations. Or so you thought. But somewhere between laughing over late-night games and the quiet mornings at his apartment, you’d started to wish for more. You didn’t just want him in your life—you wanted him. And not just as a casual companion, but as someone who would be there in the long run. So, you had decided to talk to him about taking things a step further.

      You reread your draft one more time.

      “Hey, Hyoma. I know we’ve been having a lot of fun, but... I’ve been thinking a lot about us. I think I’m ready for something more serious. What do you think?”

      You bit your lip, ready to send it, but then the familiar buzz of a notification caught your attention. A headline. Your eyes widened in disbelief.

      “Hyoma Chigiri Goes Official with Miku Takeda”

      Your breath caught. The picture accompanying the article was of Chigiri, smiling brightly beside a woman with shoulder-length brown hair and a radiant expression. She looked happy. And he was happy, too. You swallowed hard, trying to suppress the wave of disappointment, but it was too much. The words blurred before your eyes as a dull ache settled deep in your chest.

      You blinked rapidly, trying to piece everything together. You two hadn’t exactly made anything official, sure, but... hadn’t the connection felt special? You had been special, hadn’t you? There had been nights spent tangled in each other’s arms, mornings where you stayed in bed a little too long, stealing kisses between sleepy grins.

      A dark thought crept in, taunting you, Was he even serious about me?

      Without thinking, you grabbed your things, leaving the coffee shop in a daze. The cold wind bit at your skin, but you barely noticed. You didn’t know what you were feeling anymore. You had imagined a future with him, and now it was slipping through your fingers like sand.

      The next day, the confusion still gnawed at you. It was hard to focus on anything other than the image of Chigiri standing next to someone else. The woman was probably sweet, charming, someone who could give him everything you could never offer. Was that why he hadn’t wanted to make things official? You were a fool to have expected more.

      You were lost in your thoughts when your phone buzzed again. A text from him.

      “Hey, can I see you later?”

      Your heart skipped a beat. You stared at the message, reading it over and over. He wanted to see you? What could he possibly want to talk about?

      It wasn’t long before you heard a knock on your apartment door. You hesitated for a moment before opening it, only to find Chigiri standing there, his usual calm expression now tinged with uncertainty. His eyes softened when he saw you.

      “Can we talk?” he asked, his voice gentle.

      “I can't,” you replied, trying to sound neutral, but your voice wavered.

      “Why?”

      “I have to um, walk my pet fish.” You gave a poor excuse.

      “Princess, you don’t have a fish.” He bluntly said, giving you a pointed look. Your heart fluttered at the nickname. Why was he here? Why was he calling you that? Why was he playing with you like this? You defeatedly let him in, his gaze sweeping over the room before settling on you. There was an awkward silence between you two. He opened his mouth, then closed it, clearly unsure of where to start.

      “You saw the article, didn’t you” he said finally, his tone a little more serious.

      You nodded, avoiding his gaze. “I did. I didn’t know you were seeing anyone seriously.”

      “I am,” He said defensively and you gave him a confused look. Was he here to break your heart all over again?

      “If that's all you came here to say then—”

      “You.” He interrupted you. “It’s you. I’m serious about you.”

      “What?”

      “It’s not what you think,” he replied quickly, his voice tense. “That woman in the photo, she was just a fan who asked to take a picture. Nothing more. I don’t know how that rumor even got started.”

      You bit your lip, feeling a rush of embarrassment flood through you. Of course, you hadn’t asked him about her. You’d just jumped to conclusions, letting insecurity take hold of you.

      “Oh.” you murmured, guilt creeping into your voice.

      Chigiri ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated with himself. “No, this is my fault. I should’ve made it clear our relationship so you’d never have to feel this way.” His eyes softened as he stepped closer to you. “But what I’m saying is, I’ve only been focused on you.”

      Your heart skipped in your chest, and you met his gaze at last. There was no mistaking the sincerity in his eyes.

      “Yeah, um, me too.” You awkwardly answered, suddenly feeling small under his gaze.

      “Can I be your boyfriend? Officially?”

      “Yes.”

Rin

      You had always known that Rin Itoshi wasn’t the type for deep emotions. His cool demeanor, sharp gaze, and the way he carried himself on and off the field. it all screamed that he was in control, always. And when you found yourself in a casual relationship with him, it was easy to slip into that mindset.

      For weeks, it had been nothing more than stolen moments. Quiet, private conversations after practice, a few casual dinners here and there, and the occasional late-night texts. You were often there for him during his more emotional problems. You knew Rin wasn’t big on showing affection, and in return, you respected his boundaries. But in the back of your mind, you started to wonder if there was something more. Maybe you were getting ahead of yourself, but you couldn’t help it. Every time he looked at you, there was a flicker of something deeper, something he wasn’t ready to share.

      You told yourself it wasn’t a big deal. You were enjoying the moments you shared with him, and that was enough, right? But as the days went by, something inside you told you that you wanted more. You had no idea how he would respond, but the thought of asking had you nervous.

      You planned it all out. You’d wait for the perfect moment, maybe after one of his matches when his energy was high, and then you’d talk. Just the two of you, no distractions. You’d explain how you felt.You hoped he wouldn’t brush you off, maybe, just maybe, he’d feel the same way.

      But of course, life had a funny way of throwing curveballs when you least expected them.

      It all started on a random afternoon when you were scrolling through your phone. You were at home, taking a much-needed break from work and from your thoughts of Rin. The screen flickered to a news headline that made your stomach drop.

      "Rin Itoshi Goes Public with New Girlfriend—Is the Blue Lock Star Finally Settling Down?"

      Your eyes went wide, and your heart skipped a beat. There, on your screen, was a picture of Rin and a woman, someone you had never seen before.

      It felt like the wind had been knocked out of you. Your mind raced as you scrolled through the article, each sentence tightening the knot in your stomach.

      Was this it? Had you been just a casual fling for him all along? Was this the end of whatever bond you thought you had? The thought of Rin moving on with someone else. Someone so glamorous and perfect for him, of course. It lleft you feeling small and foolish. You had been planning to have that conversation, and now, it felt like everything was too late.

      With trembling fingers, you dropped your phone on the couch and buried your face in your hands. It was the ultimate slap to your pride, the crushing reality that your feelings were never going to be returned the way you had hoped.

      What had you been thinking? You had let yourself get carried away, fantasizing about something more than what was real. You had never asked him where you stood, and now it was too late to fix it. You laughed bitterly at yourself, feeling the sting of embarrassment.

      The next day, you avoided Rin. You weren’t ready to confront him, not yet—not with the painful sting of the news still so fresh in your mind. It hurt more than you expected, this grief, and you needed space to think. You decided to take a walk, but somehow, your feet led you to the one place you always went when you were hurt—a quiet pond tucked away near the park.

      You hadn’t expected to find him there.

      As soon as you spotted him, your breath caught in your throat. You froze, a sharp pang of discomfort settling in your chest. You considered turning and walking away before he noticed you, but it was too late. He saw you.

      "Y/n..." Rin's voice broke through the silence, and there was something in his tone that made you pause. Relief. You didn’t know how to explain it, but it was unmistakable.

      You took a step back, instinctively wanting to retreat, but he caught it. Panic flashed in his eyes, and the urgency in his voice grew. “Don’t go.”

      You stood still, unsure of what to say or do, as he closed the distance between you. The cool air felt heavier with the weight of the moment. Rin’s usual composure was gone. He looked almost vulnerable as he started to speak again.

      “I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said, his voice softer than you had ever heard it before. “The woman in that article... I’ve known her for a while, but we’re not dating. It was just a misunderstanding.”

      You blinked, your mind racing to process his words. "Oh... okay."

      You didn’t know how to respond. The silence stretched between you, thick with all the things unsaid. Now didn’t feel like the right time to voice your feelings, not with everything still so raw.

      Rin seemed to sense your hesitation, though. He took a deep breath, his gaze steady but intense. "I think... we should be together."

      Your heart skipped, confused by the sudden shift. "What?"

      “I don’t like the thought of us not being together,” he continued, his voice firm yet vulnerable. He was a mess. His emotions were all over the place. He was so scared of messing this up with you. “So, will you...?”

      You blinked again, unsure if you heard him correctly. “You’re asking me to be your girlfriend?”

      His expression softened, the edges of his usual coldness melting away. “I am.”

      You hesitated, the doubts swirling in your mind. "I don’t want to get hurt."

      Rin stepped closer, his eyes locking onto yours with a sincerity that took you by surprise. “I promise, I won’t do that to you.”

      You took a shaky breath, the tension in your chest easing slightly. "Okay."

      As soon as you responded, he shocked you with a chaste kiss, his face heating up immedietly afterwards.

Nagi

      It had been an unusually calm week for you and Seishiro Nagi. Despite the usual chaos that surrounded him, whether it was from Blue Lock’s relentless competition or his fanbase constantly buzzing about his status, you and Nagi had settled into a nice routine. There was no commitment, no promises. Just the two of you enjoying each other’s company in a casual, laid-back way. He’d show up at yours some nights, you'd binge-watch youtube or play video games, and the occasional kiss was exchanged, but it was never anything too serious.

      It was comfortable. Simple. And deep down, you felt like it was enough for you.

      But lately? Lately, something has shifted. Maybe it was the way his hands lingered just a bit longer when they brushed yours, or the way his smile made your heart beat faster than it ever had before. He didn’t say it, but you could feel something brewing underneath the surface. You wondered if maybe, just maybe, it was time to talk to him about what this was, what you two were.

      You stood in front of your mirror one morning, nervously adjusting your hair. The moment had to be right. You’d already rehearsed what you were going to say. “Seishiro, I’ve been thinking. Maybe we could try something more serious?” The words sounded perfect in your mind, a perfect reflection of your growing feelings. No turning back now.

      However, fate had other plans.

      While scrolling through your phone that afternoon, you stumbled upon an article. The headline hit you like a ton of bricks:

      "Seishiro Nagi Officially Goes Public with New Girlfriend!"

      Your heart stopped. You felt like the air had been sucked out of your lungs. Your hands trembled as you read the article further. There was Nagi, smiling in a photo with some unknown woman. The words “new girlfriend” loomed over the image like a cruel reminder that whatever you and Nagi had shared, whatever you had hoped for, wasn’t real.

      You had been overthinking things. This was just a casual thing to him, wasn’t it? You’d misread everything.

      Suddenly, the message you had planned to send him felt ridiculous. Why bother talking about getting serious when clearly, he was already with someone else?

      At that moment, the emotional whiplash was too much. You needed space. You couldn’t face him. You locked your phone screen and pushed all thoughts of the conversation aside.

      For the rest of the day, you tried to distract yourself. You threw yourself into your work, watched mindless videos, but it was all in vain. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw that headline. Your Nagi, someone you had been secretly falling for, was with someone else.

      Meanwhile, Nagi had no clue that his whole world had just fallen apart.

      He was sleeping soundly, sprawled out in his bed, his phone discarded on the nightstand.

      The evening sunset pierced through his window as he blinked his eyes open, groggy but still content. He missed you, he wonderd if you were busy. A small smile tugged at his lips as he sent you a message. You always knew how to cheer him up after a long day.

      But there was no reply.

      Weird.

      Nagi tilted his head, frowning as he locked his phone and stretched his arms above his head. He figured you were just busy or had fallen asleep early. Still, he felt a little disappointed. You two hadn’t played together in a while.

      He got out of bed, grabbing a quick snack before going back to his room to play a few rounds of valorant on his pc. Yet, something gnawed at him, something felt off. He decided to call you.

      But you didn’t pick up.

      Weird.

      He tried again. Still, no response.

      Now, Nagi was starting to get that feeling in his gut. It wasn’t like you to ignore him like this. His thoughts were interrupted when his phone buzzed again.

      This time, it was an article. The same one from earlier, only now it was everywhere. Nagi’s eyes widened as he saw the headline about him and the new “girlfriend.” He froze.

      What the hell was going on?

      His first instinct was to brush it off as some stupid gossip, but his feelings quickly turned into panic as he realized you must’ve seen the article.

      You were sitting on your couch, trying to make sense of everything, when you heard a knock at your door.

      Your heart skipped a beat. Part of you wanted to believe it was him, but the other half knew that was unrealistic. Even if he was here, you didn’t want to face him. Not like this. You didn’t want to explain the mess in your mind, the whirlwind of emotions, and the jealousy that had sprung up when you saw that article.

      You opened the door and there he was. Nagi.

      And before you could say anything, he kissed you—firmly, his lips pressing against yours in a way that made your mind go blank. His hand cupped your cheek, and when he pulled away, his eyes bore into yours, a mix of determination and something else you couldn’t quite place. He hoped you could feel all of his love for you through it.

      “You’re mine. Not anyone else,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “That news article? Fake. All of it.”

      You blinked, completely shocked. “What… what do you mean?”

      Nagi sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what was going on until just now. I didn’t even realize you saw it. But I wasn’t with her. I was never with her. It’s all some stupid misunderstanding.”

      You could hardly process his words. Your heart pounded in your chest, and suddenly the flood of emotions that had built up came rushing in. But before you could speak, Nagi kissed you again before pouting.

      “Now that we’ve cleared that, can we play Overwatch?”

      It was absurd. You were still trying to digest the fact that he’d kissed you that passionately and now he was asking to game? Your face was still red from the gesture.

      “...Okay,” you finally muttered, still a little dazed.

      “Good, I’ve missed playing with my girlfriend.” He smiled, ruffling your hair as he walked past you to get to your room. You almost choked. You’ve been his girlfriend? Since when?

Reo

      You had always known your relationship with Reo Mikage wasn’t exactly typical, but that never stopped you from dreaming. Reo had a way of making everything feel effortless. He was charming, with an enigmatic allure that seemed to make everyone gravitate toward him. And yet, he always found a way to make you feel special. Whether it was through a text, spoiling you with gifts, late night walks, a shared glance during class, or a quiet dinner date at one of the many upscale restaurants his family frequented, Reo knew how to make you feel like you were the only one in his world.

      You weren't from the same social circle as Reo, and that difference stung every time you allowed yourself to think about it. Reo was the heir to a vast fortune, a golden boy in the world of soccer, destined for greatness. His family’s wealth and influence were legendary. Meanwhile, you were just another girl trying to make it through school, scraping together money for lunch while juggling part-time jobs. You didn’t feel like you belonged in his world, even if Reo never seemed to care about that. He had a way of looking past the things that defined people’s worth in the eyes of the world. But the reality of your difference in status was something you couldn’t fully ignore.

      It wasn’t as if Reo was outwardly dismissive about your life or background. No, Reo was sweet, considerate, and—frustratingly—always seemed like he genuinely enjoyed your company. But lately, you were starting to wonder if you had been kidding yourself. Maybe you were just another fleeting thing in his life, a distraction before he inevitably moved on to someone more suited for him. Someone from a wealthier, more established family. Someone who could fit seamlessly into his world.

      That was why, after months of casually seeing each other, you found yourself sitting on the edge of your bed one evening, staring at your phone screen and rehearsing what you were going to say to him. You’d been thinking about it for weeks now. Maybe it was time to have the conversation, to ask him where you stood and if there could be something more between you. You had convinced yourself that it was the right time. Reo was always warm toward you, his touches tender and his words soft. Maybe he was waiting for you to make the first move.

      But then, as you scrolled through your social media feed while absently flipping through notes for your upcoming exam, you saw it.

      The headline nearly knocked the breath out of you: "Reo Mikage Goes Official with Korean Chaebol Heiress, Seung Hae."

      Your heart dropped into your stomach as your finger hovered over the screen. Was this some kind of joke? You blinked twice, then read the article again. It showed pictures of Reo with a beautiful, tall woman at a high-profile event. Her arms draped around his, smiles exchanged, the kind of chemistry you never seemed to get from him.

      The worst part? The woman was breathtaking, with long black hair, flawless skin, and a designer outfit that screamed money. Her family was a significant part of the Chaebol world in Korea, and she fit perfectly into the realm of Reo’s lifestyle. Someone his family would approve of.

      A strange mix of anger, sadness, and embarrassment bubbled up inside you. You could feel your face flush with humiliation. It wasn’t the first time you had thought about the possibility of Reo seeing someone else, but this felt different. It felt real.

      Reo had been so kind to you, so sweet, that you thought maybe you were building something together. But now it all felt like a lie. You had been foolish to think he could ever be serious about someone like you. Maybe this was his way of showing you that your relationship could never be more than a fleeting thing.

      I guess I was just a phase, you thought bitterly.

      The next day, you avoided Reo. It wasn’t easy, especially since he always found ways to pick you up after school or find a day to hang out but you kept your distance. Whenever he texted you, asking if you could meet, you came up with a vague excuse about needing to study or work. Every time your phone buzzed with his name, you winced.

      But despite all your avoidance, Reo never seemed to give up. His persistence only fueled the fire of your insecurities. What could he possibly want from you now?

      Then came the day he appeared at your school’s courtyard, standing by a bench, watching you from afar. His expression wasn’t one of frustration or confusion; it was one of pure determination. It was oddly nostalgic back from when he used to go to school here.

      “Y/n, we need to talk,” he called out.

      You froze, clutching your bag tighter as you forced a tight smile. “There’s nothing to talk about, Reo.”

      “Don’t give me that,” he said, closing the distance between you. “You’re avoiding me, and it’s clear something’s wrong.”

      Your breath hitched. You could feel the tears starting to prickle at your eyes as the weight of it all hit you.

      “I saw the article,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I saw the pictures of you and her.”

      Reo’s face paled for a second before his usual calm demeanor returned. He raised a hand, gently cupping your face. “Love,” he began, his voice steady. “She’s just a family friend.”

      Your heart stuttered in your chest as you looked up at him, uncertain. “Then why was she wrapped around you like that? You and her, together like that... it didn’t look like business.”

      “She was posed up like that with several other sons of prestigious families there. I promise you, you’re my only one.”

      You swallowed, the tightness in your throat easing slightly. “But I’m not... I’m not like you. You have your world, Reo, and I’m just... me. It’s not the same.”

      Reo stepped even closer, his eyes soft and focused on you. “You are my world, and that is more than enough for me. Don’t ever think it isn’t.”

      The sincerity in his voice hit you like a wave, and suddenly the weight you had carried for so long felt like it was lifting.

      “I’m sorry I didn’t explain it sooner,” Reo said, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear. “I should’ve told you about the event but I didn’t know the press would spin a story like this.”

      “Oh”

      Reo chuckled softly, his hands still gently holding your face. “I hope you know that you’re it for me, Y/n.”

      Your heart fluttered in your chest. This was real. In that moment, all your insecurities seemed to vanish. Maybe you didn’t come from the same world as Reo, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t share a future with him.

      “Does that mean we’re together?” You asked.

      “My heart was yours since the day we met.” He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

[iteratorsex]

How Gravity Disruptors Work

We all are aware of the gravity disruptors inside of iterators, right? They... disrupt gravity.

I believe they do this through fluctuating karmic fields in parallel planes of existence, which affect spacetime and gravity by rapidly decreasing or creating "negative" mass.

Let me break down what I mean

Karma as a force, and alternate planes

Karma is like a force of the universe alongside that of gravity, electromagnetism, and weak/strong force. The iterators have an incredibly pragmatic view of karma and the cycles, treating it more like a science with odd spiritual elements involved. The iterators calculate and solve through traditionally empirical means, yet still pray and meditate.

- "It became the symbol for enlightenment as it momentarily enables a creature to let go if its carnal self, and to contact the selves of other planes - dreams, memories, imagined worlds."

Moon mentions other planes in her Karma Flower dialogue. We can understand there's a "dream" or "cerebral" realm that you could see through with this flower.

These dream plane(s) are HEAVILY associated with karma, and karmic fields, as your ingame deaths experienced in this plane cause your karma to decrease, and the karma flower that lets you contact these cerebral plane selves ... affects your karma!

As well as this, Hunter in vanilla is described as having a "karmic imbalance", once again wording it like it's a force that can be measured and somehow imbalanced

The behaviors of gravity disruptors

Having established karma as a universal force, and also alternate realities, let's actually look at the gravity disruptors themselves.

They appear to very clearly have an orbit, and drag nearby things into it. They also distort light they're so powerful!

But... you can't get to the center. The center of a gravity disruptor repels you. Violently. You can't get to the center naturally through gameplay due to the force.

So rather than this being like a black hole, it's actually closer to theoretical white holes!

The distortion of time and gravity

This leads further into my next point. According to general relativity, the mass of a black hole causes a huge sink in spacetime, slowing it down. So a white would be the opposite, wouldn't it? Something that REPELS matter because of its negative mass!

How do karma and gravity interact with each other then?

Well, like a black hole, the Void Sea slows down your perception of time until you enter it, at which point you return to normal speed. However, unlike one, gravity seems to get lower

So perhaps the Void Sea- and by extension void fluid- are somehow manipulating the spacetime continuum to both lower gravity and slow down perceived time?

Now this leads me to my biggest point...

Parallel planes!

I believe that karma and gravity are intertwined, as the boundaries between realities in rain world seem to be very vague and blurred, as you can never tell in the void sea when you actually enter the other reality. And as mentioned in the above Karma Flower dialogue, apparently you were able to contact other selves in other planes of reality.

By warping the karma fields in a parallel plane, you can warp gravity in a localized area, creating the effect of a 0g environment! This was done most likely through the use of void fluid

These parallel planes of reality between cerebral and corporeal planes already interact with each other to a noticeable degree!

How do iterators manage to "smooth out" this flux? Well, I'll be honest I'm not sure. But the fact they have the technology to do that to begin with is rather impressive!

What about Mass Rarefaction Cells

Rarefaction is an actual thing, for those who didn't know. I actually found this out recently.

From Wikipedia: "Rarefaction is the reduction of an item's density, the opposite of compression. Like compression, which can travel in waves (sound waves, for instance), rarefaction waves also exist in nature. A common rarefaction wave is the area of low relative pressure following a shock wave (see picture)"

And if you refer back to the examples of general relativity I brought up... you can see it's doing the opposite of compression. It's stretching- being rarefacted!

And in some ways, it reduces density- or gives the illusion of such.

So yes! Rarefaction is actually relevant and isn't some odd technobabble thing.

So how do they produce energy?

The orbit formed by rarefaction cells can produce kinetic energy, replacing the role of a force spinning the turbine inside of a generator. This kinetic energy is then converted into electrical energy, transported on those powerrails/busbars

This might also be the explanation to the "washing machine" look...

Closing notes

I know I've said in the past that rarefaction cells are probably not the safest and wouldn't be used very often, and how much I dislike their existence.

I still think that.

I don't believe that the vanilla gravity disruptors work the same way. They use void fluid of course, but they're MUCH safer I imagine- at the cost of not being easily transported around like a cell.

but yeah thats what I think

[nvuy]

(new to Tumblr, sorry in advance) but can we get more gentle Sunday? Like, the way he looks at us through his gentle gaze is too much man idec if it's smut or normal I want to see him ignoring reader's teasing/playful tendencies even if we are a little shit

-IA

paparazzi — sunday

summary. aeons forbid mister sunday has a secret private life outside of being the head of the oak family. it just so happens it might be a bit more promiscuous than originally let on.

notes. IA possibly sent me this six months ago. excuse my unexplained lack of content. more may be coming, not sure. come get ur slop.

warnings. gopher wood appears for five seconds.

The Head of the Oak Family almost keeled over on top of his desk the day it was brought to his attention that his name was topping the popularity charts on every site in Penacony. His face was plastered as the preview image on every article attached with his name. 

That wouldn’t have been so bad in itself if the picture wasn’t of him ‘sucking face’ — as The Penacony Tribune so eloquently put it — with a ‘dazzling stranger’ — as Inquirer so eloquently put it — on the ‘whimsical night celebrating yet another successful Charmony Festival’ — as Republicony so eloquently put– 

Sunday almost heaves as he swipes off the news article. His photo stares back at him on the millions of other sites covering the topic. 

It wasn’t any sort of assumption either; the photo was clearly of Sunday, no doubt about it there. Same coloured hair, the distinctive six feathered wings that curled around his ears that not many other Halovians possessed. 

He’d been spotted prior in photos with Robin, who was dressed just as prettily as him on that night, being special guests and important Penacony figures, and so even if his face was obscured in the image he would have been recognised by his clothing. 

The ‘dazzling stranger,’ however, not so much. 

They were dressed like all of the other staff in simple black pants and the white apron. Thankfully, their face was completely obscured by shadows, some of Sunday’s face due to the angle, and the branches hanging from where the mysterious photographer had snuck the picture. 

Sunday wasn’t sure whether this was a blessing or a curse, however. On one hand, they’re safe from the backlash. On the other hand, it only encourages the journalists to play guessing games on who the mysterious person really is. 

There is an entire article featured already on the list of potential suspects, but thankfully, none of them were correct. 

Sunday sits at his desk with his phone burning hot and running low in his hand. He doesn’t want to continue scrolling, but his fingers swipe and swipe and swipe and every article makes him feel sicker and sicker. 

His stomach churns and he opens his messages. 

Ignoring the streams of notifications from work partners, colleagues and his own father, his thumb hovers over your contact. He opens your messages and hesitates. 

You haven’t sent him anything since two hours before he saw you that night. It was a simple “see u there beautiful” that made his heart hammer that night. 

Even now, as his fingers tremble over the keyboard, his face reddens. Nerves spike heavy in his heart like needles made of lead as he thinks on it. And then he thinks, and thinks, and thinks and thinks and thinks—

He quickly turns his phone off when there is the flap of a wing and a raven perches onto his shoulder, light and soft. The feathers rustle against Sunday’s own, and perhaps once that feeling was comforting to him when he was just a boy. Now, it does nothing but make his heart stop.

The bird speaks, “you’ve made a fool of yourself.”

Sunday stammers for a moment. And then, he answers, “it won’t happen again.” It’s a phrase he’s said many times, and he hasn’t been proud each time he has uttered it. In fact, bitterness seeps at the base of his throat when he whispers, and his stomach stirs. Tears prickle behind his eyelids, but he holds his breath.

“Another empty promise,” the bird comments. “You offer a lot of them.” 

“It will not happen again,” he repeats, this time with a steady voice. 

“I would hope so,” the bird says. “You are fully aware this next Charmony Festival will be–”

There is a timid knock at the door. Three taps of the knuckle on the wood on the other side ring through loudly, and the raven’s wings bristle instinctively. It halts its speech as the door is silently pushed open.

Sunday stiffens for a moment. It’s polite to announce yourself, or to ask permission to step into his office, for colleagues or guests alike. Not many people just invite themselves in. 

“Hi.” There’s the familiar click of short heels as Robin inches through the crack in the door and shutting it securely behind her, making sure nobody had seen her wander in. She’s wearing one of Sunday’s old sweaters he grew out of, and her hands are covered in blue and red ink. 

Sunday breathes a sigh of relief.

She pauses for a moment, her eyes flitting to the bird on his shoulder. She nods once in greeting. “Father.” 

He pays her no mind. “You are grown now. You are to deal with the press yourself tonight.” 

The bird merely hums before the weight is lifted off and the raven leaves behind a purple feather as it takes flight out of the office window from whence it came. 

Robin hums worriedly, and there’s a frown on her lips as she watches the bird depart. “I came to check on you.” 

Sunday’s lips twitch upwards into a smile. “What for?” 

She sits down on one of the chairs opposite his desk and pulls it forward. “Well, you’re all over the news.” 

Ah. Sunday grins uneasily. “It will subside.” He glances down at the empty papers awaiting filling on his desk. He hasn’t touched them since the minute before he started receiving frantic messages last night.  

Since then, he hasn’t slept. 

It won’t subside. It never will. This is a permanent scar on his reputation, his image, his entire work he’s put into this position. This person he’s made of himself is tattered and ruined, and he guarantees if he steps outside of his office and trudges into Aideen Park, his photo will be broadcasted on every screen visible in the area.

Robin rests her elbows on the desk. “I was gonna tell you that.” She taps her nails against the wood. “It might be a big deal now, but everyone gets bored of the same old news eventually. In a week, everyone will forget. They’ll move onto something else.” She looks up at him. “But…” 

Sunday raises his brows. 

She raises hers in return and leans back in the chair. “You never told me you found someone. Never thought anyone would be into something as ugly as you.”

He opens his mouth but nothing rolls off his tongue like it usually does. Instead, he quickly shuts it. He swallows hard. 

“It’s not–” 

His phone rings. Again. He has ignored most of the incoming calls today, but this ringtone is different, and Robin notices that too. 

She looks down at his phone on the desk with a sparkle in her gaze. “‘S that them?” 

He does not have to look down at the contact number. “Yes.” His fists clench nervously. “It’s not a relationship. It’s–”

“–Complicated, I’m sure,” she finishes over the ringtone. She stands up nonetheless. “You should answer it. It might make it less complicated.” 

Sunday hums. His thumb hovers over the decline button. 

Only when she arrives at the door she reminds him, “I’m here if you need to talk.” 

She knows he won’t, and even he knows he won’t, but he thanks her anyway, and she closes the door behind her. 

Sundays waits for a while. So long, in fact, that he’s missed your call, and you’ve sent him a quick “hi beautiful. call me back when u can” that makes his heart lurch in his throat. 

And weakly, Sunday returns your call. 

*ೃ༄

The ceremony was but ten minutes away from starting, and it was him and his alone who would be opening with the welcoming speech, and then sticking around afterwards.

He’d much rather go home and scream into a pillow.

Even now, as he stands behind the curtains of the stage, he picks at his gloves and pinches the material around his fingers. He’s already broken a nail from scratching idly at his desk when the tics in his stomach grow too restless, and it catches against the cotton.

He’s supposed to go out there to commence the second night of the festival, and yet his palms are sweating, and his face is pink and white all over in splotches like spilled speckles of paint, and– 

“Ooh. Someone’s nervous.” 

Sunday stiffens, though it’s barely visible. He’d been wrong to assume he was alone for the time being. Backstage has been presently empty aside from a few workers who’d given him curt nods in passing. It was humiliating to even pretend that nothing was wrong, but it was all he could do. 

Sunday turns quickly. 

You pop your head out from one of the side curtains. “Did I scare you?” 

His wings flutter instinctively when your hands reach outward to rest on his shoulders, fingers running just short of the base of his lowest pair of wings. 

Spiders crawl up his throat and Sunday peers behind to check for anyone else that may be passing by. 

“How did you get back here?” he asks worriedly. 

You glance to the left. “I have a key. I work here, remember?” You tap at your badge, the word ‘ESCORT’ printed beneath your name. “We have to talk.” 

“Can it wait?” Sunday glances behind him again. “I’ll be–” 

“Really quickly,” you interrupt. You pop behind the curtain for a second and he hears something rustling. “I wanted to say sorry for… well, everything.” Your poke your head out and offer him a white box. 

Sunday gingerly takes it and lifts the flap. 

Inside is two giant slices of strawberry shortcake, adorned with frothy white cream and strawberry slices sitting neatly atop in rows of three. They look delicious, but also identical, and Sunday’s wings flutter once.

“Made it for you.” 

He glances up.  

“You can eat them later.” You hum in amusement. “I know you like strawberry.” 

He closes the lid and sets the box aside gently on a nearby table. “I don’t remember telling you that.” 

You follow him silently after zipping the curtain shut. “You didn’t. I just assumed from your lip balm.” 

“My lip balm?” 

“Mhm.” You lean forward and press your lips to his quickly. 

Sunday reels back.

He watches your tongue lick at your bottom lip before you smack your lips together to annoy him. “Strawberry.” 

Sunday refuses to make a show of scrubbing the fluster off of his face. If he’s to touch his face, then he has to fix his hair, and then his shirt, and then his pants, and then–

“Hey.” 

He hasn’t even realised your cold hands have moved to soothe his burning cheeks. 

“I know I kinda made your life harder with this whole… rendezvous…” Your thumb nail traces the outline of his lip, collecting smudged shine of his lip balm. “Maybe when you finally quit this suckish job I can live my dream sucking at Mister Sunday’s face out on the streets.” 

Sunday knits his brows together.

The back of your knuckles finds one of his wings and you follow the plush feathers idly. 

Nervously, his eyes search around the room again. 

“There’s nobody here,” you remind him. 

“That’s what we assumed last t–” 

You kiss him then, partly to shut him up, and it seems to do the trick just fine. 

Sunday can’t fight the way he instantly melts in your embrace. His knees almost give out as your knuckle twists into the base of his stiffened wing. His heart pounds ridiculously quickly in his chest, so much so he feels horrifically sick and dizzy, like he could die right there, and he’d be okay with it. 

He returns your affections as best he can with what strength he still has. His grips tight onto your arms and he all but pushes his face closer to your lips. The tip of his nose squishes against the side of yours and his wings flutter beneath your fingers. He feels you pluck a loose, overgrown feather from the base.

You pull away. 

When he gives chase, you tap his feather against his lips. “I’ll give you the rest of the shortcake tonight.” 

Sunday blinks once, twice. Then, he swallows whatever pride remains in his heart and leans forward to press a kiss to your cheek. “Then I look forward to your visit.”

You reach upwards and pinch his nose. “Now go do your sucky job.” 

Since you told him to.

“I’ll wait for you, Mister Sunday,” you promise him with a grin. “I’ve got time.”

Sunday scoffs playfully. “I’ll be in this position for a long time.”

“Yep. Even if you’re all old and wrinkly, I’ll still give you kisses.” You point at him. “Promise.”

“Mhm.” He can be playful if he wants to, you notice. “Then I look forward to the day.”

Your heart stammers.

He notices your cheeks darken with blood.

You laugh and almost trip over your own feet. Then, you raise him a mock salute and disappear around the corner.

Sunday knows he won’t be seeing you for a while. Not while he’s stuck as Head, anyway.

But still, his chest fills with warmth at the idea that one day—and maybe that day will never come. Maybe he will die before he ever gets the chance to really meet you again—you will be there. And he’ll let his feet drag him towards you so he can feel your hands in his. It’s a pull, like a magnet.

He knows patience.

So, he’ll wait. He’ll wait as long as he has to until he has you again.

[atleastpleasetelephone]

NYMPHO ELVIS.

A/N: Hilariously, according to the dictionary nymphomania only refers to excessive sexual desire in a woman. That seems kinda sexist to me, since it suggests any about of sexual desire in a man is perfectly normal. So I'm disregarding the dictionary 🤣

Also, someone else asked me for nympho BDE (all in caps, I wonder if you are the same anon?) and I'm not going to write both I'm afraid. I think BDE would be too tired to be sex-obsessed, he'd rather curl up in his jammies.

One more time

Pairing: 1969!Elvis x reader

Word count: 714

TWs: Overstimulation, praise kink, reader has been/is crying, general smut, Elvis refers to himself as Daddy. Also Elvis is sex-obsessed, if that wasn't already clear.

“C’mon baby, jus’ one more,” Elvis pleads, his head still between your legs. 

You’re sweating, moaning, exhausted on the bed. “I c-can’t El… I’m… oh…” 

You’re not making sense anymore, either. He’s trying to coax a fourth orgasm out of you but your body is wrecked. Your pussy is puffy and sore and every time he touches you now the combination of pleasure and overstimulation threatens to cut your brain completely free of its moorings. 

“Yes ya can. C’mon. You’re my good girl.”

Whining, you twist your body away from him but he’s not having it, pressing your belly down firmly with one big hand whilst he abuses your clit with the other. He’s not going to stop until he gets what he wants. He’s like a vampire, desperate to feed on your pleasure. He’s already cum twice and he can feel himself getting hard again just watching you like this. He’s smeared your lipstick across your face with his sloppy kisses, your hair is a mess and your mascara is running down your cheeks with the tears that slide down them. 

“‘S too much, El. Please.”

He can’t help it. He just wants you too much, all the time. He starts to wonder about pushing his half-hard dick inside you again when he hears your breath hitch and looks at your face to see your eyes widening in surprise. 

“Oh, God!” You exclaim, as another orgasm hits you. You didn’t think it was possible, but he is determined. 

His mouth curls into a grin. “I told ya you could, baby.”

Lying down beside you, he cups your cheek gently in his hand. “Good girl. Now let’s have one more for Daddy.”

Your surprised eyes are back as he takes your hand and wraps it around his dick. It hardens a little more in your firm grip, but you’re not sure you can make him cum again. You thought men only came once and then fell asleep. But Elvis is clearly different. 

As you move your hand on him, gathering pace, it’s his turn to feel the complicated interaction of pleasure and pain, overstimulation and soreness threatening to override any kind of pleasant feelings now. But he wants it. He wants another. He’s sure he can do it. 

“El, you want me to stop?” You ask after several minutes. He’s still half-hard and his breathing is irregular, but he doesn’t seem any closer than he did before. 

His eyes had been squeezed shut in concentration, trying desperately to will another orgasm out of himself, but now they spring open again and stare at you. 

“If I wanted ya ta stop honey, I’d say.” He takes your other hand and moves it to his balls. “Here. Squeeze.”

You do as you’re told, squeezing as you carry on jerking him, watching his face contort with a mixture of pleasure and something else entirely. Being with Elvis is exhausting. He wants you all the time. It’s gratifying and exciting, but sometimes you’re sore and you want to just cuddle. He never shows any signs of wanting to rest, and you’re sure that he’s with other girls too. You can’t quite understand how one man can have such an insane libido. 

“Shit,” he mutters, his hand wrapping around yours to help you squeeze his shaft more tightly and move on him more quickly. “Yes… yes… ohhhh… keep goin’ honey, Daddy’s almost there.”

There’s not much chance of you stopping, since he’s got such a strong grip on your hand, but you nod and take the opportunity to press lazy kisses to his skin as his moans get more insistent. 

“Oh yeah… that’s it honey…” 

He lets go of your hand as a tiny amount of cum leaks out of the head, flopping back on the bed in exhaustion. Until a few seconds ago it seemed like he’d been contracting every single muscle in his body as he tried with all his might to orgasm again. It’s a relief to stop, though the feeling of ecstasy is so addicting. 

You curl your body around his, and kiss his shoulder. 

“Feel good, Daddy?” You ask, sweetly. 

He smiles back at you sleepily. “Real good honey.” You relax, thinking about sleeping soon, and then you hear him speak again. “For now…”

***

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[hoondolls]

PAINTER BABY. 박성훈

pairing: f!reader x park sunghoon

notices and warnings: non idol au, fluff, neck kisses established relationship, cursing, slightly suggestive ?, painter!reader , guitarist!sunghoon, someone for the love of god tell me a good word counter website 🙏🙏

Sunghoon’s guitar is fucked again. or maybe he’s the one who’s fucked, but it’s easier to blame the strings than admit he’s been playing too much.

he’s stretched out on y/n’s lap, fingers twisting at the tuning pegs, brows furrowed like this is some great dilemma. it’s not, but sunghoon likes to act like his entire livelihood depends on this. in reality, he just plays at underground gigs with his friends and makes enough for soju and convenience store ramen.

y/n hums, half-listening. her hands are busy mixing paint on an old plastic palette, the kind that still has dried specks of colour from last week. she’s not painting anything serious, just playing with shades, seeing what looks good together. this is what she does when she has the time—paint for no reason, just because it feels nice, there’s a comfortable silence, the kind that only exists when two people have known each other long enough to not fill it. sunghoon’s weight is warm against her thighs, his hair fanning over her hoodie. his guitar lets out a dull pluck as he tests the strings.

“i think my e string’s about to snap,” he mutters, adjusting the tuning peg. he stares at it for a second, like he’s mourning something. then, without warning, he shifts, sitting up and turning to face her properly. “paint something on it.”

y/n looks up, paintbrush still dragging through cerulean blue. “what?”

“my guitar,” he says, tapping the wooden body. “paint something on it. a flower. a little guy. anything.”

she raises a brow. “why?” Inspecting the clearly worn out guitar.

he shrugs, like he hasn’t just admitted to the most sentimental thing ever. “because it’s dying, and i don’t want to think about it.”

y/n blinks. sunghoon meets her gaze like it’s nothing, like he’s not asking her to imprint a piece of herself onto something he loves, something he spends most of his time with. something that’s carried every song he’s ever played.

she exhales, rolling her shoulders. “fine.”

his lips twitch into a smile. he shifts again, resting the guitar across his lap, fingers drumming against the wood. “what are you gonna paint?”

y/n tilts her head, scanning the scratched-up surface. “something sad, since you’re grieving.”

sunghoon groans, letting his head fall back. “you’re the worst.”

she smirks, dipping her brush into white. “you asked.”

he lets her do her thing, watching as she starts with the base—soft petals forming at the edge of the pickguard, curving slightly where the wood is most worn out. her hands are steady, moving with ease like she’s done this a hundred times before. sunghoon feels something tighten in his chest. maybe it’s the reality of his guitar’s last days, or maybe it’s just her, existing in a way that makes things feel less heavy.

he exhales, leaning back on his hands. “i like watching you paint.”

y/n scoffs, but there’s a hint of pink on her ears. “you always say that” she leans back, brush hovering in the air as she takes in her work. the bouquet blooms across the wood, soft pink petals overlapping in clusters, tiny green leaves curling around them. it looks delicate, almost too pretty for sunghoon’s beat-up guitar, but somehow, it fits.

“there, all done.” she smiles, satisfied, but as she shifts, she doesn’t notice the streak of pink smudging across her nose.

sunghoon does.

he tilts his head, grinning. “you’ve got paint all over your face, baby.”

y/n blinks, raising a hand to touch her cheek. “where?”

“everywhere.”

she frowns, trying to wipe it off blindly. it only makes it worse.

sunghoon watches, amused. then, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world, he says, “can i lick it off?”

y/n freezes before scowling, her hand drops, eyes snapping to his. “what.”

he blinks at her, all wide-eyed and innocent, like he hasn’t just said the most unhinged thing ever. “what? it’s non-toxic, right?”

she stares. “you’re insane and disgusting .”

he shrugs. “So can I ?.”

y/n groans, shoving at his shoulder. “don’t talk to me.”

sunghoon just laughs, leaning in anyway, eyes flicking to the smudge of paint she still hasn’t wiped off. “fine,” he murmurs, voice laced with amusement. “but you should clean it before i change my mind.”

He didn’t even wait for her to finish wiping the pain then he stared pressing slow kisses just below her jaw.

y/n tenses. “sunghoon—” but he doesn’t stop, trailing soft kisses down the side of her neck, his hands already moving to brace himself on either side of her. her breath catches as he pushes her back, his weight pressing her into the couch.

“You’ll get poisoned I have paint on me—” she starts, but her voice is already faltering, and sunghoon smirks against her skin.

“mm?” he hums, lips grazing her collarbone like he’s not doing anything at all.

y/n swallows hard. “you’re getting paint on yourself.”

sunghoon just laughs, low and warm against her throat. “It’s alright .”

[facesittingnightmares]

Bangchan ‘The Daddy’ : Perceptions of Dominance

Post Includes: Facesitting, Face farting, fart sniffing, butt drops, face crushing, slight suffocation, willing sub, different perspectives

You looked all around as the door to Chans dressing room was within reach. Would anyone see you enter? At this point, looking in to see a black leather chair that had two large deep round indents, you didn't care. You close the door behind you and rush over to the chair. Your knees cried out as you dropped with immense speed and hovered your nose just above the indented leather cushion. "Ugh" You moan as the strong scent of Bangchans signature vanilla perfume invaded your nose. The sound of the door opening and then locking breaks you from your trance of analyzing the heat coming from the cushion.

"What have we got here?" Chans Australian accent only further fuels your hard on as he walks slowly over to you. "You like my seat? Maybe...maybe you wanna BE my seat?" He asks with a snicker, looking down at his belt buckle and then back up to make eye contact with you as he took his belt off sexily. He stopped beside you, allowing you to take in how much more muscular he was than you. His glutes protruded out towards your face and you couldn't resist his questions anymore. "Yes please!" You softly respond, unsure if it was the right decision.

Without skipping a beat he pulled his jeans down and showed off his new pair of black Supreme boxers that hugged his curves to the point the fabric was clearly stretching. He carefully handled you and lay you into a seated position with your head down on the seat where the craters were. "Okay test one for potential seats. You've gotta support my weight. As you could see, my massive ass indents anything I sit on with its heavy weight so it's crucial you can handle it!" He turns mid sentence and as soon as he finishes speaking, his ass lowers down. To you, the world was in bullet time, you could feel your heart racing as the black domes of fat ass descended. The black fabric of his underwear, already struggling normally, became slightly translucent at the peaks of his cheeks, and infront of his crack, giving a distorted glimpse at the perfectly smooth pale skin below. Finally you feel the fabric touch the tip of your nose and mould around it. This slight touch broke you from your state of grace and you realised what you were in for.

As if someone set time back to normal, his impact shocks you, and before you have time to think, your head is gone. You no longer feel any outside air, instead the straining fabric of his boxers along with the withering cushion below you. Unfortunately the cushion was to no benefit as his weight pushed your head deep down until you hit the hard support board of the chair. "Oh my, this is so much better. I was starting to worry my ass would go flat from having to sit on that weak cushion. Your head is so much more comfortable. Like how those gel insoles for shoes allow your feet to feel like they are molding into soft support, my butt feels like it's molding around the perfect seat cushion!" While Chan was excited and comfortable, you felt as though your nose was being crushed and your face was being reshaped.

"Chan....im...finding it....hard to breath!" You yell into the fabric. With little room to actually move your mouth, it came out like a completely different language. This didn't matter in the slightest. Any sound made in Chans BBL esque ass was completely inaudible on the outside, only alerting him through feeling. To make matters worse, the feeling of complete suffocation, being crushed, and just being in proximity to chan made you rock hard like never before. "Ohh yeah I completely forgot to tell you to breathe, actually feels nice!" The man said, assuming from your tight pants that you were happily breathing under him. As you also couldn't hear him, you assumed he was being overly dominant and punishing your invasion of his dressing room.

The next ten minutes were a grueling task. Having to manage your air in order to survive until the deadly dom would give you air. "You've been such a comfortable and well behaved seat. Just one more little part for this test and I'll move to the next!" His words of praise overlap with your screams for air, accompanied by slight thrusts, which to Chan, made it look like his praise turned you on. The weight lifts slightly, the muscular aspect of his glutes leaving your face as the fatty layers still drooped down slightly and moulded around your face similar to how slime droops with gravity. Chan had just lifted about 3 inches, but it was undetectable to your struggling face. "One Bang Chan Booty Bomb inbound!" He says excitedly. With the muscles of his glutes having been lifted a little, his words seeped through slightly, muffled to the point he sounded like a dominant australian whisper in your ear, despite him channeling a more excited and fun tone. You took a few breathes, unaware of what was to come, only hearing slight grunts from the perfectly sculpted man above you. The grunts were him focusing his strength into his glutes to crush your face fully. With no warning signs, no noises, and no chance to react, his weight dropped on your face with speed and determination.

You felt as though your nose cracked and blood vessels burst, even the cushion let out a puff as it burst open at the sides. With only a 3 inch gap for momentum, he hit you like a world ending meteor that wiped out the dinosaurs. Fighting the urge to pass out, and fearing brain damage, you would soon experience the aftershock of his butt bomb. The sounds of wood creaking alerts you first, followed by the slow and subtle sinking sensation, finally the wooden bottom of the chair split in the middle just below your head.

Your head followed and slipped into the new cavern. The sensation of his force turned you on further despite the horror you felt. "Oh god...shit I shouldn't have dropped so hard!" Chan moans a deep voice, the sudden force relocating his gas to his anus. It was swift and silent, his protein fueled flatulence invaded your shallow cavern of safety until it became a vacumn of cruel crippling gas. The gags of your struggling form barely echo out of his mounds. His unbearable gas would've ended you right then had it not been for his ass slipping down onto your face and crushing your head again. The heavy dense glutes hugged your face, with his black Supreme boxers now smelling of his vile fart. All the factors resulted in you blowing your load the instant his ass settled it's warm doughy shape on you.

From his perspective his soft approach of trying to give you your desire helped you 'arrive', whereas you perceived his actions as dom like, and almost evil, turning you on despite torturing you. Chan allows the pumping in your trousers to finish, dampening your fabric with sticky liquid, before arising and allowing the bright lights of the dressing room to blind you. If there were spectators to witness the event they'd assume you had a pancake face with steam rising off of it. "Ready for test 2?" He groans while taking his shirt off. You try to lift your body up but can barely feel your face. The effects of his astronomically massive ass dropping on your face culminate and the chair splits in two, your head landing flat on the floor, only the flattened cushion softening your fall.

"Are you okay?" His voice showed concern like you didn't experience before. "Ye...yes sir!" You responded as you lifted your head from the floor, looking back to see the seat split in two, collapsed in the middle with his butt boulders still leaving visable craters. "Oh? yes sir? I kinda like that!" His Eager Australian voice sent shivers to your crotch again. Your servant and sub like attitude sparked a dominant flame in Chan that would later ignite a new passion. You watched, dazed from his booty bombs, as he grabbed the deflated leather cushion which was now as thin as paper. He set it in the middle of the floor and moved the broken chair out of the way. "Lay down, head flat on the cushion." You follow his orders, still under the misconception that he was fully dominant. While staring at the ceiling, scared to tilt and look at him, his large muscular shadow began to cast over you until he finally stood above, now shirtless and showing off a ripped physique, having some hand prints painted on his back for his performance. In its full naked glory his body appeared shredded with minimal body fat unlike his ass which looked like it could provide him nutrients for months.

"The Second test to see if you are a good test is durability. Clearly you have the support in you, but no point in a seat that can support for only short periods of time." His words scratched an itch in your brain, the image of being forced under him for hours on end brought your erection back to life during his descent.

At first he did a deep Asian squat allowing his clothed ass the envelop your face again. Even with his weight not even half focused on your face, you felt suffocated as his boxers, saturated by his earlier fart, covered your mouth and nose but not your ears. Now, not clinging for dear life you got a sense of his stinky gas. You took deep breathes, just like with the chair before he came in. Chan responded to feeling your inhales by rocking back and forth, praising you for the initiative. At first the gas smelt meaty, powerful like his body would suggest, but below the surface there were hints of typical protein sources like eggs and dairy, as your inhales came to an end you got a powerful preview of his spices heating up your airways and burning your nose.

"..... pull me down." You were too busy dissecting his fart to hear what he said in entirety. Thinking he demanded you smother yourself, you obliged and reached up for his waist and pulled down. Chan transitioned from his deep asian squat into a kneeling position, his massive mounds giving your head a bear hug only held back by struggling fabric. His legs folded as his feet faced back towards yours, and his warm crotch spilled over your hair. "Such an eager fan aren't you?" His words turn you on, thinking he is teasing you. For the next half an hour he stayed on your face, completely still as he used the feeling of your deep inhales as a sign you were fine. You couldn't believe you stayed rock hard the entire time. Sure at first, the sensation of his fabric clad mounds crawling around your head like an evil force was intensely stimulating. First your nose was pushed deep between his cheeks. Then you felt the heat reach the midpoints of your ears, only being stopped because they hit the heels of his curled feet. Furthermore, his rocking back and fourth gradually edged your mouth open unintentionally, allowing you to now taste his underwear, secretly sweaty from sitting so long on one spot.

"Since you loved the Bang Chan booty bombs so much earlier, here's a little reward for surviving so long!" Yet again his words wouldn't be heard by your cut off ears. Instead, you simply felt the sensation of his ass turning soft, his muscle parts lifting a few inches. Bracing yourself helped very little as the first drop happened. His impact shook you to your core, disorienting you as the second drop occurred, or maybe it was the third as you were completely unable to keep count. His ass didn't even leave your face and yet had immense force. No longer restricted by a chair breaking, he continued to booty bomb for almost 5 minutes straight. Each drop turned you harder and harder but this time you reached down and freed your boner.

Just as you went to grip it to stroke, you got shook again. This time your entire body flopped and you tried to reach for your burning face, only for him to slam down on your hands too. "Oh good boy, spread my ass!" He moans, slowly being turned on by your continued servitude. The drops continued, speeding up as he approaches the 5 minute mark. Finally, with your hands held in place by his heavy cheeks dropping, you began to shoot your load again. With each drop of his weight you shot another burst of semen until he finally stopped.

The endless assault of your face ended but the banging sound continued as someone knocked aggressively on the door. "Chan....Are you in there?" The fellow group members shouted in. Chan panicking, got up suddenly. The cool breeze of the room air brought life back to your abused body for the second time today. "C'mon, let's get in here!" He says, picking you up with ease and throwing your over his shoulder. Your face meets the middle of his crack, bouncing to give ptsd like flashes of his drops on your face as he walked into the private dressing room bathroom for privacy as the members started screwing at the knob of the lock from outside. He dropped you onto the soft mat in the bathrooms and locked the door behind him before realigning over you.

Now in a seated position, his ass was mear inches infront as you looked slightly up to see it jiggling in his boxers, which were visibly wore from bouncing on you, the stitches at the side coming undone. You were mesmerized by it's movements. His cheeks looking both heavy yet graceful, deadly yet attractive.

"Okay so I know I've been nice so far, but last test of being my seat is the fart test. Whether I'm in the studio, the dorm, or the gym, the boys always complain I bombard them with gas and make the room uninhabitable. I need a seat that can absorb as much of my farts as possible!" His words stun you. Nice? He was a fucking butt demon hell bent on reshaping your face to his liking.

"Uhm that was you being nice? Not to complain...sir...but how was the butt dropping on me without warning nice? The fart from earlier? How about demanding I pull you full weight on my face? Or even when I screamed for air as I suffocated right off the bat?" Your boner reappears as you relive the few hours of torture. He simply looks down at your slightly scared frame in confusion and some regret as his dad like nature mad him concerned. "You thought I was mean? Dominant? Evil? I couldn't hear you because of my massive ass. I thought you were just breathing down there, I even told you to keep taking deep inhales. The fart was an accident that slipped out due to the butt dropping. I only dropped on you cause you looked like you enjoyed the weight. And as for demanding you smother yourself in my ass, my full sentence was if you wanted to indulge yourself, pull me down!" His concerned look slowly turned to a smirk of curiosity. "Wait, so you enjoyed thinking I was dark and dominant? I mean ONE part of you sure did!" He laughed, gesturing to your dried cum. You couldn't believe it, you were so turned on by this evil genius dom that smothered you for hours, just to realise it was just your perception.

"Ye...yes! I loved it Chan. I'm sorry for misunderstanding you." You slightly grovel but notice he continued to smirk. "How about we agree you are officially my seat now, I'll enact test 3 as your 'ceremony' and I'll let out my dominant side. I'm used to holding back around others, but you fucking love it don't you?" His Australian accent starts to fully show itself through his now dominant tone. "Yes..yes I do Chan" You agree. "You're such a good boy for daddy Chan right? You want my BIG, BARE, BREATHTAKING BUM to smother you and fart?" He asks, ripping his boxers off and throwing them into the corner. If you hadn't shot two loads already today, the glistening sight of his massive cheeks bursting from his boxers would've immediately got you to bust. Like a 3D horror movie jumpscare, his fleshy boulders appeared to leap from the confines of his underwear, towards your face as if it was food. "Yes..Chan...Sir!" You call him sir to keep the dominant tone going.

"Chan?? Answer us!" The other guys yell, finally making it into the room but being blocked by the bathroom door. "Okay seat lay down, imma let the flood gates open and smother you, drown you both in ass, and gas!" Following the instructions you lay down, lining up on the mat to comfort your head. "Yea boys I'm just in the toilet, having side effects from all the raw protein I've been taking! Small price to pay to keep the fans happy with my body!" He yells out as he quietly lines up just above your face, cheeks hugging your head lightly. "Ohh shit, you about to let the Bang Chan Bombardment off?" The men laugh through the door. Chan is silent, closing his eyes as he prepares to fart.

Your peaceful sniffs of his ass are disturbed as the blare of a foghorn sounding fart erupts and sends shockwaves across your skin. The fart lasts for thirty seconds, not wavering in strength at any point until silence returned. Now, not distracted by his bouncing, you experienced his glorious fart in all its glory. It's airy form pushed the oxygen from your body with force, evicting any pure air that you had as it's mixed scent of eggs, dairy, and something that clearly didn't agree with him destroyed your willing nose. Anyone else would've held their breathe; you, inhaled like a champ giving your nose to Chans ass. "Fuck that was a banger Chan! Damn the sme...the smell is leaking out. Let's get out of here!" The others leave, gagging as the fart leaked under the bathroom door.

"Fuck...I..stink!" Chan moans as he takes small inhales of his own smell, acknowledging it's stench while basking in his 'talent'. 'You want more?" He asked. But before you could answer he dropped into a full weight position like earlier, this time his legs folding by your side, his feet above your head with him facing your feet.

"I don't care if you do. It's your job to take them all. All my nasty farts! Your nose is my new air purifier and i want results!" He leans into his dominant side, finally embracing it as you get hard from hearing it just before your ears got swallowed by his fatty ass.

A few minutes of toxic farts destroyed your lungs. Long airy farts pushed oxygen from your system as the wet squeaky bursts of milkshake induced gas burnt and made you cry from their concentrated stench. "Time to combine some Booty Bombs and some Bombardment!"

His muscular glutes lifted, his fatty layers stayed, and in a few seconds he dropped. You cock pulsed to life with your nose went deeper than before, nose nearing his sweaty, hairless, slippery pucker. But unlike before, once his cheeks crashed down, he ripped a booming fart. It was like two enormous and surprisingly heavy helium balloons were deflating with sticking toxic gas coming out onto your nose. He continued this for almost twenty minutes. Raise, tense, crush, fart. Half way through it became too much, but it just meant you got harder as his dominant side was truly dominating you past limits you never knew you had. You struggled with the overwhelming dominance, suffocation, and stench. Reaching up to push his back, you perfectly align your hands with the red painted hand prints, something you can realise by the change in texture. Your mind races with thought ‘Has he done this before? Is that why he uses hand prints for shirtless performances?” As you contemplate the idea, you lower your hands back down out of exhaustion.

Raise, tense, crush, fart. You inhaled like it was oxygen, stinking oxygen that killed you slowly with its sewage smell. Your pre-cum began to leak but Chan was too far into his dom side to care. Raise...Tense...Crush...Fart. His final drop made your nose peak into his hole. It smelt devine. Manly, stinky, evil, and like a true Australian dom.

"Last stretch! Imma just unload my whole tank now seat. I know you won't get them all, but appreciate every fart you can!" Even though you didn't hear the message, you didn't need to be told to sniff anymore. Your were his. His seat and his property to sit on and fart on for ever.

You felt the rumble of his stomach trickle down to the flesh around your nose. Surprisingly his warm hand gripped your throbbing shaft, showing off his gorilla like grip. His glutes tensed up around your head, squashing it as his gas made its way through his intestines until it finally hit. "Damn...it's all coming now!" His words couldn't be more true as a barrage of gas, lasting ten minutes unloaded itself onto you. His cheeks relaxed again, feeling like warm cushions hugging your head as his gas was chugged into you like a vile protein shake. Each fart varied, and kept you guessing so you could never be prepared. You simply inhale like a wild animal in between screams for freedom. The screams felt good to Chan, vibrating inside a fart chamber as if you were praising his dominant turn. In return, he started stroking your hard on, one stroke per fart until you finally were near unloading for a third time. Instead he teased you, gripping and holding at the tip for a few minutes before lifting off.

"You wanna feel satisfied? You wanna blow your little load? Give Daddy Chans ass a kiss!" He slams back down onto your bright red sweat drenched face. Your teary eyes didn't deter him at all, giving you exactly what you wanted. The dominant leader that you fantasized about. You pucker your lips and he slams down. Your lips meet those of his ass and he throws his head back in pleasure as you realign your hands with the handprints on his back to add to the immersion. He didn't stroke yet though, waiting for a fart to line up with it. Not learning your lesson, you assumed he was being more dominant than in reality and that he wanted tongue.

His eyes lit up as he felt the cold touch of your tongue enter his hole. The sensation caused him to finally fart and stroke you so you could finish for the final time. He stayed on your tongue, riding it and slamming on your face for a few minutes after you passed out. Once he finally got up he was exhausted from his work and decided to get his private security to take you home discretely before tidying up the mess of the broken chair.

You awake on your bed, in the same clothes, and with the stench of his farts embedded on your nose and mouth. A gift box awaits you on the bed along with note. "Thanks for unlocking my dominant side! I can't wait to have you officially as my seat on payroll. I've got a contract in the box, along with other little gifts. Check your messages on your phone for a little something extra!" Your excitement got the better of you and you rushed to open the box. A deep familiar scent poured put and your eyes watered with happiness. It was his ripped boxers, freshly farted on by the man himself. You bring them to your face, and inhale deeply as the addiction to his smell was too strong to ignore. Other contents of the box included a small bottle of his signature vanilla perfume, some cooling body lotion, and a picture of his newly added handprint on his back to represent you.

Breaking from the trance you checked your messages to see an unknown number with a voice message. "You want a fart?...Say please!" His voice says seductively in his Australian accent. "Please!" You whisper instinctively. After the short gap, a massive ripper of a fart is heard on the recoding that send you over the edge.

*Let me know your favourite parts :)*

[biblical-chronicles]

Clingy

___________________________________

where the others can see that Noel missed you (a lot) while on tour.

___________________________________

When you showed up at one of the tour stops unannounced, you didn’t expect a calm, collected reaction. But you didn’t expect this either.

You hadn’t even stepped into the dressing room fully before Noel had launched himself at you.

“Jesus—”

Before you could even brace yourself, you were flattened against the wall by a very enthusiastic Noel, arms wrapped around your waist like he was afraid you'd disappear again.

“Oh, fuckin’ hell,” Liam groaned from behind. “Here we go…”

“Mate, you’ve got a proper problem,” Bonehead chuckled.

You smiled, holding on to Noel for balance as he pressed his face into your neck, sighing dramatically. “Missed you.” he muttered, squeezing you even tighter.

You barely had time to breathe before Liam piped up again. “Mate, seriously? You might as well start humping her leg in front of us at this point.”

Noel didn’t budge. Instead, he let out a huff of laughter. “Aye, well, she’s mine, so deal with it.”

You couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. Noel Gallagher, the man who would usually grumble at the slightest inconvenience, was now clinging to you like a bloody child.

“Come on, Noel,” you said, trying to peel him off. “I just walked in, let me breathe for a second.”

He let go—barely. His hand still firmly pressed to your back, and as you moved to sit down, he was quick to follow, dragging you onto his lap.

“Christ, mate, you’re arranging a bloody nest for her, or what?” he teased, leaning back with an exaggerated look of mock disbelief. “I mean, just look at ‘im. Never thought I’d see the day you'd turn into a clingy... well, whatever this is.”

“Yeah,” Bonehead continued, “I half expect you to start pullin’ out a duvet and a pillow at this point. Might as well throw a hot water bottle in there, too, and make her feel right at home. Wrap her up in fairy lights.”

You chuckled, but it was getting harder to keep a straight face as Noel kept you trapped in his lap, his hands not letting go of you for even a second.

“I swear, this isn’t normal for him,” you said, half laughing, half trying to understand what was happening. “He’s usually not this clingy, but I can see now… he missed me.”

Noel’s eyes softened, and he leaned his head into your shoulder, clearly not bothered by the teasing. “You’ve got no idea, love.” he mumbled, kissing the side of your neck.

“I think I might’ve missed you a bit too.” you said, laughing, but it didn’t seem to matter because Noel was still holding onto you like his life depended on it, nuzzling your neck.

"Alright, alright," you sighed, giving up. "I actually brought you lot some little gifts."

You tried to stand up, but Noel tightened his grip on you immediately, pulling you back onto his lap.

“No, no, no,” he said, shaking his head in mock protest. “You’re not goin’ anywhere.”

“But I’ve got your gifts,” you said, chuckling at his stubbornness. “I’m not gonna leave you forever, Noel. Just let me go for a second.”

“Yeah, right,” Noel muttered, leaning his face into your hair again. “You’re not leavin’ me.”

The lads snickered, unable to hold it in any longer.

“Mate, you’re not lettin’ her go ‘cause you’ve got a bloody hard on, haven’t you?” Liam said with a smirk, eyes flicking between the two of you.

Bonehead burst out laughing, nudging Liam. “Oh, you can see it, can’t ya? He’s practically glued to her. I bet if she stands up, he’ll have to grab the nearest cushion to hide that situation.”

“Jesus, Noel,” Liam continued, shaking his head with a grin. “At least put a blanket over it, yeah? Make it a little less obvious.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at their relentless teasing.

Noel just groaned into your neck, completely unbothered. “Piss off, all of you.” he muttered, but there was a soft smile in his voice as he tightened his grip on you.

You shook your head, trying your best to keep your composure while laughing at how ridiculous this all was. “Alright, I think you might’ve actually missed me.” you teased.

“I have.” he admitted, without a hint of hesitation, his voice soft. Then, before you could even respond, he pulled you closer and kissed you, long and slow. You could feel the relief in his kiss, like he was making up for all the time he’d been away. When he pulled back, his eyes were a little softer than usual.

“You really have no idea, do you?” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Just then, Liam couldn’t help himself "I have an idea—get a fucking room.”

___________________________________

cute short story for today as I have a blank mind so sorry if it's not the usual quality you lot xx

and no worries Liam nation I will be writin' for you as well soon, as you were x

[ablobwhowrites]

Im starting back my yandere poppy playtime. (Chapter 4 fucking broke me dude also kinda spoilers of chapter 4 so he warned)

(I'm not continuing the you can't leave, poppy playtime series. So I may start a new one but I don't know really)

yandere poppy playtime idea but this one is more platonic yanderes. Cause imagine a y/n who was kid who escaped the orphanage one day but ended up coming back as adult and coming back into the factory. And y/n being remembered by the toys and they don't want to hurt y/n buy know the prototype may find out y/n is in the factory and would try to hurt them so but y/n doesn't remember them well as it was a long time ago but bro imagine the angst as mommy long legs being reminded of happier times and seeing y/n all grown up and wants to keep them with her because she can protect them, she can is what she thinks but when y/n gets away that's when the prototype finds out that they are back in the factory.

Plus y/n saves dog day and he helps y/n to go safer ways around the factory but sometimes wishes that the other smiling critters could have seen how y/n grown and wishing catnap was normal again, but he wants to protect them as the factory in the lower levels are not safe anymore and knowing it'll get harder from here and he'll try everything he can go help them and keep them safe. Catnap remembers y/n clearly and always favored y/n over the other kids he has known as they never were loud or constantly pulling or stepping on his tail or yelling him out of his naps and the other smiling critters and many of the toys in the factory liked y/n as they were the favorite kid. And of course sometimes giving the toys some heart attacks after wandering off somewhere after being busy with other things and somehow end up in the strangest places. Catnap thinks that the prototype will accept y/n and will be able to be in the prototypes graceful imagine.

Poppy does regret having to trap y/n in the factory but she sees them as a way to defeat the prototype. She does try to check in with y/n from time to time and sees how the hope that y/n has doesn't disappear even if they get hurt they still fight but poppy knows what would have happened if y/n never made it out of the playtime co when they were a kid because of not then everything would be worse and maybe become even more than nightmare.

Doey remembers y/n clearly and remembers how nice they were to him and with dog day being alive and the stories of them surviving so many things in the factory has him hoping that maybe just maybe y/n could save them and stop the doctor and prototype. He likes having y/n around as he was friends with them for a while and keeps him calm with them trying to help as much as they can even sometimes finding some boxes of canned food (but was badly injured by the Nightmare critters) so he is protective like dog day but he gets frustrated when poppy has y/n keep going out even if they are clearly injured and need rest so he kinda gets mad but and almost loses his temper but collects himself because he has people to take care of and now y/n.

(that's all for my yapping session rn but if you want more please don't be shy and request any ideas for fics or y/n's plus I might do two series and au where is ex employee y/n and just keeps the poppy playtime characters in their house after escaping the factory and thank God they have a big house for this but the smiling critters like to sleep in the same room so the living room is where they sleep and other stuff for this au idea. But the second will be a hard reboot for the 'You can't leave' series and might come out soon hopefully. But for now please stay safe and drink water!)

[ghiblinsm]

Objective 1: Make Anya's lock

Mouthwashing x Jimmy's Daughter! Reader

part 1-ish?

word count: 2,526 words and 13,690 characters

"Reality, such a strange thing to me,"

warning: jingle bob, reader is morally grey but not in a pussy curly way, you may end up hating her depending who your favorite character is.

You jerk awake look over to see Curly heaving and groaning in agony, thrashing as much as he can with...well with his situation. His pained sounds are like nails on chalkboard as you walk over to the small pile of pain killers on the table grabbing one and stepping towards Curly.

"Ok Grant, open wide..." The grossest part is having to touch his nasty jaw to open it wide enough for him to take the pills. Popping one in and closing it back up as shiver crawl up your spine from the sound of his swallowing. "eugh.."

You sit down on a spinning chair near Curly and rest your head on your hand, needing to wait for him to stop heaving and thrashing to know if the pain killer worked, again. God... He smells like shit, guess that's what would happen though if one were practically skinned and lost four limbs and couldn't shower.

He finally stops thrashing and his heart rate returns to normal, his staring problem hasn't been fixed though, his singular eye staring intensely at you and your permanent scowl which deepens as he continues to stare. You stand up and kick the chair away while maintaining eye contact with Curly's eye.

"...What? What'd you want?" His staring continues as his mouth breathing seems to be getting louder and more unbearable. "well?! Speak up!"

"The voices in my head,"

You look at him then to the table and back at him, sighing in frustration as your fist clench. It would be dumb to get mad at him for doing the only thing he can do, stare.

"Whatever," you finally turn to leave as his eye follows your movement, "Anya will come by later, have fun till then I guess."

The door closes behind your retreating figure with Curly still looking in your direction.

You walk past Anya and Swansea talking about Curly and Repairs or something, and head to the main area, where Daisuke is sitting down by the big screen that's displaying a sunset into water and playing on the small console you made a while back with only a singular pixelated game that crashes if the smallest thing goes wrong.

You could care less where he is so that doesn't matter right now.

Despite clearly seeing what Daisuke is doing you still ask, "Hey, Daisuke. What-um whatchu up to?.."

"My friends from my dreams,"

"Hey! Yeah, I'm just trying to get passed this level but it keeps crashing..." He looks a bit slump but hopeful as the game crashes again from one of his choices. "But I swear I'm gonna get it this time!-"

"uhuh, thats nice. Hey, when you were with Swansea earlier, did you guys find any extra parts that weren't needed for the ship to function?..." you lean against the wall to try and seem as if you don't care what the answer is but truthfully...you really need a few parts, to create at least one lock.

Daisuke looks at you for a moment, as if contemplating whether to tell you or not. On one hand, Swansea had told him not to give you any extra parts anymore because quote, 'who knows what she's doing with those parts', but on the other hand you haven't done anything weird with scraps yet...

"Nah, we didn't find anything, are you trying to make something?" Maybe if he knows what you're trying to make, then Swansea will let him give stuff to you!

"Nothing, nothing...was just wondering, don't worry about it i'll- i'll figure something out," you head to the door to leave the main area barely muttering a goodbye.

"Bye?..huh" Daisuke watches as you leave then focuses back on the botched console.

"They whisper to me,"

You mindlessly roam through the empty halls, deep in thought but not thinking of anything in particular. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, you hear this agitating, grating voice from this greasy haired, internalized homo bitch.

"And what are you doing?" you sigh out in annoyance at the slight accusatory tone in his voice.

"The devil's on my shoulder.."

You look up at his face, his brows furrowed but his eye's show irritation. "Nothing, Captain." you learned pretty quickly, after he appointed himself Captain, that for him to leave you alone most of the time, just fuel his ego to be better than Grant.

"Have you made what I asked for yet?" Right...his 'need' for a master key to the rooms that can lock.

"No, I haven't gotten to it." And even if you had the materials, his key wouldn't exactly be a priority.

"And why haven't you gotten to it?" Ugh, the piss baby's getting upset.

"I haven't gotten to it because there hasn't been as many free materials for me to use." Before he speaks you continue, "And even if I had the materials, Anya was the first to start bitching to me about something she needs."

That grabs his attention, what would Anya need? Before you can leave, he grabs your shoulder and turns you back around to face him. "What exactly did Anya say she needed?" his eyes with a sort of craze look.

"How the hell should I know? I told her not to bother me until i've got materials, which seem to be nonexistent anymore on this barren ship." Thats a lie, you know exactly what she wants and why, but you hate Jimmy more then you dislike Anya so why would you tell him?

He stares intently into your eyes, like he's trying to detect if you're lying or not. "You better not be lying."

"I'm not, she's only priority because I had her save her spot by trading me a few pills..." God, when is he going to leave you alone.

He finally backs up and walks away, purposefully knocking into your shoulder to make you stumble.

"But I like the way he sings,"

With a small, irritated smirk, you try to find Swansea. Considering the state of the ship, it's hard to believe that they truly haven't found any scraps you can use.

You find Daisuke and Swansea in a storage room, Daisuke halfway inside a vent and Swansea watching from below, holding the ladder and instructing Daisuke on what to do.

"Hey, Swansea?" He barely jerks in surprise but turns his head to look in your direction, still keeping a grip on the ladder Daisuke's on.

"What do you need?" His gruff, slight accented voice sounds tired...whatever anyway.

"Have y'all found any scraps? Anya has a request for me and I don't have any materials." You know Swansea knows that something happened to Anya, just not exactly what happened, so hopefully he'll give you something.

He contemplates for a bit, likely debating the pros and cons if you're lying. There's silence apart from Daisuke yelping from almost shocking himself which snaps Swansea back.

He's sighs and nods to his left, a pile of scraps that they did indeed find. "it's over there."

"Great, thanks.." Daisuke almost slips off the ladder from the tone of your voice, knowing his lost aura points with you and most definitely fumbled from lying earlier.

"Love me endlessly,"

You grab all the scraps, using your uniform jacket as a bag of sorts to carry the metal and frayed wires.

Once you leave the room Daisuke peek down the vent to look down at Swansea and whines. "You made me fumble the huzzzz."

Swansea looks at him with a confused look, "I made you fumbled the, what the fuck?"

Anya was in the medical room watching over Curly when you come walking in with the scrap, a few tools, and the pills she traded you for the lock.

Anya looks up at you from beside Curly with her half lidded, very much tired, eyes. They widen with some kind of hope at the sight of your splayed-out scrap and tools on the only table in the room.

"What kind of lock do you want?" You get some water from the sink to take one of the pills which will hopefully kick in before you start working so you focus better.

"Um, I guess any that can lock from inside the room." Anya's obviously apprehensive, not to blame her, it's not exactly reassuring to have someone on drugs, making a safety lock that supposed to be a secret from the captain whom she is also related to.

She receives a hum from you then turns back to Curly, surprised at the slight rise in his heart beats per minutes. She stands and walks over to the pile of pain killers. "How long has it been since you gave him his medicine?"

You look up from your botched looking layout to Anya, "what time is it now?"

"And when I wake, have my soul to keep,"

She groans and grabs about 2-3 pills and walks back to Curly but hesitates to touch his jaw, quietly gagging. Annoyed at her for taking so long and acting like a baby you get up from where you were sitting and walk over, "I got it, just don't throw up in here."

She rushes out the room with a trashcan, leaving you to once again touch Curly's buck nasty bloody, burnt, bandaged jaw.

After giving him his medicine, and Anya has yet to return, probably yakking her guts out. The drugs start kicking in and well, the thin filter you had sorta slips as you get to making Anya's lock.

"This was your fault, know," Curly's one eye looks over at you as you talk to him, "you were the one to enable him," you turn in the spinning chair to face his direction but not looking up from a stubborn sheet of metal that won't bend correctly.

"I may have known what he did, but Anya didn't tell me, she told you, and you barely believed her until you saw him having a pussy breakdown in the halls." You look up from finally getting the metal into the right shape and see Curly staring at you with a shaky chest.

"You're worse than me." He sees your dilated pupils before you turn your back to him again as Anya enters.

"Desperately, they beg me not to leave,"

"Hey, Anya?" She turns to see you holding a few weird mashed pieces.

"Hm?"

"Where do you this to be placed?" Oh! oh... that- that does not look like it'll keep her sleeping quarters locked...

"Uh, yeah, just over here." She walks you over to her sleeping quarters and opens the door. Turning once you got inside and points to a spot on the door frame. "Can it be placed here?"

"Yeah, I guess," you grab a soldering gun to attach it to the frame, "here's the key," your hand pulls out a small key from your pocket with your other holding the soldering gun. "DON'T LOSE IT, I don't have enough materials to create another one."

"Okay, thank you." There's a hint of gratitude in her tone as she grabs the key and leaves her sleeping quarters.

"The fire in my eyes,"

You easily attach the new lock onto the door and frame and make sure it's not loose or anything, otherwise some people may be able to break in. It's still weird that the sleeping quarters don't have locks but at least you can actually add them now without getting credits docked, considering pony express, dumb name btw, went bankrupt.

You leave her room and see Daisuke trying to act nonchalant and leaning on a wall nearby...he's not subtle in his motives with the way his eyes rapidly glance at you to see if you're looking. looking at the look then back at him you get an idea.

"Hey, Daisuke?" you're surprised at how fast his head turns to you with the most...irritating small smile rather than his usual, goofy, big one. "Can you help me test out this lock?"

He tries to cooly stride over but stumbles over a few dead wires and then just walks over. "Yeah! totally, what do I need to do?"

"Go into Anya's room, lock the new lock on her door, there should be a latch option.., and tell me when so I'll try to barge in. Tell me if the lock loosens or twitches or something." you make sure to explain in the simplest way possible, so Daisuke understands.

"Got it!" He enters the Anya's room and you hear a fumble of a switch, another sound of a switch, the jingle of the lock, and then the latch.

"is burning at my feet,"

A heavy sigh leaves from you as he probably thought something else was the lock, something turned on, so he turned it off, looked at the keyhole of the lock then finally saw the latch. "Ready!"

You back up a bit then throw yourself into the door, repeating a few times till getting an answer from Daisuke, a very scared Daisuke who genuinely felt a tad afraid from the aggressiveness of the shoves into the door, like you actually were trying to break it down instead of checking the lock.

He comes out a bit shaken but acts really tough, "Didn't even move an inch," he seems a bit proud until...

"You or the lock?" you snicker at his faux offended look on his face.

"For your information, the lock did infact stay put and so did I." He crosses his arms proudly but melts when he hears your words.

"Mhm, you were a very brave baby." you said it jokingly, obviously, so he quickly regains his composure once he realized.

"miles away from his life,"

You bend down to grab your tools as Daisuke seems to want to ask you something but is hesitant to. "He-Hey? do you want to come to my-"

Here comes the father-in-law, the fun crusher, the erratic homo, Jimmy. "What's going on here?"

Daisuke stifles a snicker at the sight of you rolling your eyes as you turn towards Jimmy's direction. "Nothing, I was talking with Daisuke about dumb stuff."

Seems like he grew something down there since he starts demanding shit you definitely ain't gonna follow. "Listen, I am the captain now and my key should be made first, it should be top priority!-"

Shaking your head you cut him off, "Yeah, yeah, you're right, once I get the materials, I'll get started on your key right away." a big fat lie since you definitely won't be working on it anytime soon, it'd be a waste of time and a waste of material. It's better to just put it off and say stuff to make him happy.

"without his love i'm not alright,"

"You better.." wow. . . so ominous and scary better get to work on that key card right away!

"Don't worry your pretty lil head, okay Jimmy? I've got it, you just go do your important little captain things, okay?" you gently start pushing him back towards the cockpit till he eventually grumbles and walks away.

You turn towards Daisuke, "Get a load of this guy." pointing your thumb back at Jimmy's retreating figure. Daisuke bursts into laughter(calm down it ain't that funny) and you two head to the main area.

Objective completed:

Anya will remember your generosity.

.

..

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Curly's relationship with you:❤️❤️

Becoming strained as your rambles become more personal and targeted.

Anya's relationship with you:💜💜💜

She trusts you enough and doesnt hate you but can't help but feel uneasy around because of yimpy.

Swansea's relationship with you:🧡🧡🧡

Doesn't hate you but because of your relationship to Jimmy he doesn't always trust you to give you scraps.

Daisukes relationship with you:💛💛💛💛

He's glad to have someone near his age to talk to and hang with that knows what references he makes, his heart beat raises when you two talk.

Jimmy's relationship with you:💙

Very strained from y'all's relationship, he didn't exactly raise you, was only obligated to give you shelter when your mom died, but when you were 18 you moved away and y'all only met again 2 years ago when his was 'introduced' to you from Curly before a shipment trip.

A/N: i feel like daisuke is the most out of character, oof.. but yay! first mouthwashing fic!

[darkwitchoferie]

The Moment He Knew You Were The One

A/N: Woke up from a dream with this fully formed in my head, so enjoy some fluff. I am still working on the last chapter of Train Ride, it’s just coming together slower than I anticipated.

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader

Cw/Tw: Fluff; a little angst if you squint, but otherwise exactly what the title says.

Wc: 696

Masterlist

Chan told you later that the moment he knew you were the one for him happened on just a normal day. You had come over for the group’s weekly movie night and were sitting cuddle up against him on the couch. His members were cuddled together on the living room floor, all of them focused on the screen.

You had noticed something off the last several times you’d been with the group. In any other situation, it wouldn’t have seemed off to you. Or rather, with any other group it wouldn’t have been weird. But you knew these men well enough that it was strange.

Quietly, you tugged Chan off the couch and back toward his bedroom, taking note of the sour looks that were hidden as soon as they saw you were looking. You’d never been made to feel unwelcome and, even with those looks, you still didn’t feel that way. Because the looks didn’t feel personal. It was hard to describe, it was like they were directed at a situation, not at you as a person.

In the beginning of your relationship, the other members had been very welcoming to you. They’d been a little hesitant with physical affection, except Felix, until they warmed up to you. But then everything evened out and you felt like part of the group. Then things shifted, and you weren’t sure what happened. They were never hostile to you, they still included you, were still seemingly happy to see you. But they stopped hugging you – even Felix had.

Worse though, they’d stopped being affectionate with Chan. At least, when you were around. You’d even noticed less affection toward Chan when they were on stage, thanks to various fan cams. It wasn’t enough for Stays to notice, yet, but you knew they’d catch on eventually.

This all led to you tugging Chan to his room to find out exactly what was going on.

“Baby, is everything okay?”

“I dunno, Channie. You tell me. Can you tell me why the guys have been pulling away from me? And, more importantly, away from you? Did I do something or not do something that upset them? Because not even Lixie will hug me anymore. I don’t....” You were not surprised to feel tears gathering in your eyes. You tilted your head back, blinking fiercely to force them away. You took a deep, calming breath before continuing, but still couldn’t look at him. “I would like to know what I did. Or what I didn’t do. So I can fix this.”

“Oh baby,” Chan wrapped his arms around you, tucking you in close to him. “You didn’t do anything or neglect to do something you should have. This is on me. We had a... situation a while back. Hyunjin had a situation. He was seeing this girl, things were great. But as soon as they started getting more serious, she got upset at him – what did she say? Oh – at him ‘sharing what should have been her affection’. When we started getting serious, I asked the guys to back off so you wouldn’t feel that way.”

You gave him a look that quite clearly said “are you stupid?” then tugged him back out into the living room. “Can someone pause that for just a moment?” Seungmin paused the movie and they all turned to look at you. You looked around at them all before taking a steading breath. “I did not ask and do not want any of you to change the ways in which you show affection to me or Chan, especially Chan. I get you had a situation like that before,” you gave Hyunjin a sympathetic look. “But that is one of my favorite things about the lot of you. So if you could just go back to normal now, that’d be gr – oof.” You were cut off when Jisung practically crashed into you, quickly followed by Felix, then Changbin, until you were surrounded by all of them. You sighed, happily sinking into the group hug.

Chan told you later, during his proposal, that that was the moment he knew he could never live the rest of his life without you.

[masquayla-the-splendid]

Bolts4Brains Update 1/31/25

Expect me to babble about every detail whenever I post a 2 second WIP.

This is the Paranormal Powerhouse Chica solo of Bolts4Brains. It was really vivid in my head. I just used the instrumental. There's no lipsync here. If anything, it's more synced with the beat.

As you can clearly see, I only have Ballora's roughs done. Funtime Freddy is warning her of the technician's presence.

Her normal spin before she whips around like "what!" at Freddy was a bit tricky, but then I remembered her spin from SL is a straight-on full body animation. It's mostly a silhouette, but there are indicators of which way she's facing. So I pulled the frames I needed and used them for reference.

You may or may not have noticed the way I drew her neck.

Her neck casing is very segmented, and her actual endo neck is a bit of a complex shape. So in my cartoon translation, I turned it into a sort of shirt collar. The fancy kinds that flare out in the back. I may or may not close the gap in the plates. The one right before her neck starts however, I'm keeping and just coloring in black. Her endo neck will just be funny tube shape.

I simplified her hair beads to a one-shape tiara that, realistically, would be held in with a comb.

It's very easy to want to draw Ballora's skirt like a normal tutu, because yknow, ballerina. But her skirt is even more a simple shape than Baby's. I'll only draw the skirt on a compete X-axis if it's a squash frame. I also got rid of the puffball extenders. [Remember, I'm going for model accuracy with a few tweaks to make it cartoon friendly.]

Man I thought the paper sketch for the storyboard was good, lmao.

It was important I pull this expression off, because her face is built for a smile. I don’t want to the animatronic's expression to carry too much facially. They have to be robots in ways other than design. I'll break this rule entirely if it's for one big expression, as shown here. Rarely will I make their mouths move like humans.

This is pretty self explanatory.

Gotta change a couple'a things, but Ballora has the easiest endo face to cheese. All those wires are on points of expression. You can tell I did it from memory, because I defaulted to Ennard around the nose bridge. You might be surprised Ennard isn't the easiest for me, but that's because his weird mouth and jammed-in eye make for some perspective obstacles.

[ladylooch]

Bones - Part 15 [Mack x David]

A/N: I have said this so many times, you are all probably sick of hearing it BUT THIS IS MY FAVORITE CHAPTER!!!! This was the first chapter I wrote for their series and it has stayed mostly the same since I originally wrote it in May 2024. Considering that, I think I've been patient long enough! I can't wait any longer so it's going up a few days earlier than I said. Please, please, please come talk to me about this one 😭 I want to know every single thought that comes across your beautiful brains as you read this. Literally on my knees and begging. Okay, okay, go.. now.. run please! Read! Enjoy 🥹

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: Vivid descriptions of child birth, birth trauma (nobody dies, promise!), mentions of bodily fluids including blood.

July

“It’s David. Leave a-”

Mack clicks off the phone as she gets her husband’s voicemail again. She pouts her lips out, looking out the window at where she can see Felix and two other farm hands in the barn. 

Maybe he knows where her husband is. 

Normally, Mack doesn’t worry about where David is at lunch time because he comes home, or she drives out to meet him in the field. Today, neither of those things happened and Mack ended up eating lunch without him. The unusual behavior makes her want to get eyes on her husband to make sure he is okay. 

The closer Mack gets to giving birth to their son, the quieter David has become. Mack knows it’s not about second guessing their choices or any of that. But it is another moment in his life he is navigating through without his parents. She gets to talk to her parents about what this was like for them- creating life, those last few weeks before everything changed, the delivery room. He doesn’t have that and as such, Mack treats those conversations as a luxury.

Mack kicks off her house shoes, then slides into a pair of sneakers. Her belly is so big now, she has to lean slightly to the side to make sure her foot is going into the shoe. The second Mack opens the door and feels the Iowa humidity, she groans. What was she thinking being this pregnant in the summer? Oh yeah, that her husband would be home for the birth. Crazy of her though, to think that being 39 weeks pregnant in the middle of July would be fun. 

She never wants to do a summer baby again. She would do another baby, but not in the summer. Bring on the winter coolness that would help alleviate the furnace of a baby inside of her. Clearly, this one is going to run hot like his daddy.

Mack braces a hand on her back, then grabs the railing to walk the three steps down the porch. Her tired feet scuff along the dirt as she flips her sunglasses down over her eyes, heading towards Felix. When she gets close to the barn, a tickle sticks in her throat as the wind whips up some dry dirt from the road.

“Hi Felix.” Mack murmurs as she pauses at the entrance of the barn. He is working with another farm hand in replacing a section of rotting wood in the far corner.

“Oh! Mrs. Mackenzie, there’s a lot of dust. Stay out there. I’ll come out to you.” Mack can see the dust flying around and wisely stops her forward progress. She stays in the opening of the barn, edging her way back out slightly. “Hi.” He says breathlessly as he comes out to her. “How can I help?”

“Do you know where David is? I’ve been calling to see if he is coming up for lunch but he isn’t answering.” 

“Oh, uh, he’s right there.” He points behind her. Mack turns around, shielding her eyes over her sunglasses. On his knees in black dirt, is her husband, shaping and working in his mom’s rose garden. She didn’t see him with the angle she took out of the house. 

“Ah… wow, I didn’t see him. So sorry for bothering you!” Mack apologizes with a grimace.

“No worries. He should have answered your calls.” Felix gives her a shrug. Mack supposes that is true. But it is not like David to ignore her, especially 39 weeks pregnant.

She walks over to him, hands crossed over her chest as her shoes kick up dust around her feet. The wind is blowing hard today. A storm is set to sweep into the area tonight, bringing with it some cooler, less humid weather. Music to this pregnant woman’s ears. 

“Hey.” Mack calls to David as she gets to the edge of the garden. 

He is shirtless, tanned skin pulling tight over this muscular back, chest, and arms. He has work gloves on his hands, protecting them from the black soil he is working with. Specks of black dot his forearms up to his elbows. The distinct white of his AirPods against his slightly curled black hair tells Mack he is deep in another world right now. She walks around the garden towards the house, getting in his line of vision. He glances up, then immediately sits back on his heels seeing her. Mack’s heart skips a beat, taking in his sexy, sweaty form looking at her like she’s his next meal. 

“Hi honey.” He says, tilting the brim of his ball cap up and wiping at his forehead with his dirty forearm. Dirt smears across his skin. She smiles as he pops an AirPod out. He looks so good right now- her hard working man, grinning at seeing her hand as she strokes her bump. “You okay?”

“I am now.” She murmurs back.

“Now?”

“I’ve been calling you?”

“Oh shit. I’m sorry. Had my notifications off cause I am listening to a pepper podcast. Tryna figure out what the fuck I’m doing wrong with the bell peppers this year. They’ve all got bottom rot out there.” The peppers were for their family use, not the farms, but David takes anything that doesn’t grow perfectly personally. “What’s up?”

“You thinking about lunch anytime soon? It’s after 1.”

“Ah… I’m not that hungry.” Mack bites her lip with worry at his response. David is always hungry. He also was supposed to be out checking fence this morning, but here he is knee deep in his mama’s garden again.

“Okay.”

“Sorry, honey. Were you waiting for me?”

“No. We can’t.” She laughs, tapping her big belly. “Your son wouldn’t allow it.” 

“Our growing boy.” David smiles. He looks down at the garden. “What do you think?”

“It looks great, babe.” She says. “Will be nice to look out at this from the baby’s room.”

“Yeah.” He nods, hands on his thighs as he scans the various colors of rose bushes.

The bedroom in question is the smallest in the house, normally an office, but the closest to the master bedroom, which is on the main level. The house layout is a little discombobulated, but David wants to keep the integrity of the farm house. He isn’t ready to change what it was like for him growing up here. The only work he has done in the house is re-doing the flooring on the main level, put a new coat of paint on, and renovated the shower into a mini spa for himself after a long day of work in the fields. 

“Mama would love it. Good growth this year. I’ve been working on splitting up a few of these big ones. Thought maybe I could plant them by her and dad.” 

“That would be really nice.” Mack nods. “I’m sure your mom would love that. Your dad would allow it.” She smirks. She never got to meet David’s parents, but she knows enough about them to feel confident saying so.

“If mama was happy, he was happy.” David smiles. “Sound familiar?”

“Mhm.” She grins at him. “Come give me a kiss. I’m going back in. My boobs are melting off right now from this heat.”

“Can’t have that.” He murmurs, pulling his gloves off. “I’m filthy.” He warns her.

“I’m well aware of how dirty you are, sir.” She winds her arms around his sweaty body, pulling him down to her height. He smirks against her mouth, making his mustache tickle her nose. She squeaks, pulling away to rub the tickles away from her nostrils. “That thing is out of control. You need to trim it.”

“Not what you were saying this morning.” He jokes. “Ohhhh baby, don’t stop.” His words hiss through gritted teeth like hers were, then he attempts to nip at her neck. 

“Shush!” She slaps his bare stomach, looking over her shoulder towards the barn. “You’re such a dick.” He laughs loudly, pulling away from her. 

“Then you must like me.” He wiggles his eyebrows. 

“Put some more sunscreen on.” Mack calls back to him, slowly meandering her way back towards the porch. She carefully steps up the porch, hand braced on her back and the railing as she does so. She glances over to her husband who watches her with careful, green eyes, then waves one more time before getting his knees back in the black dirt.

- - - & - - -

While the Iowa weather thunders and soaks outside, Mack tries to get comfortable in David’s embrace. She shifts every which way, grabs extra pillows to stuff between her legs, but nothing seems to work. It’s been like this especially since dinner when the storm clouds started to roll in.

“Ugh. This baby is so damn low.” Mack snaps. “It feels like I can’t even close my legs anymore. I might need to put a mirror down there to make sure he isn’t actually coming out.” She throws the pillow she was trying to wedge between her legs across the room in frustration.

“What can I do?”

“Nothing.” She grumbles. David brings a hand to her thigh, rubbing up and down in reassurance.

“You’re amazing, hon. I’m sorry things are tough right now. I love you.” Mack mumbles a thank you. She deeply appreciates that David has sympathy for what her body is going through, and that he regularly tells her how in awe he is of her, but tonight she is grumpy. She doesn’t want him to make anything better. She wants this damn baby out.

Mack only lasts five more minutes of her sour mood and uncomfortably shifting positions. With a final sigh, she wiggles her way to the edge of the couch to stand. David stands too, giving her his hands to help her get up with a limited struggle.

“I’m going to bed.” She tells him. His lips twist into a disappointed frown, but he nods without much fuss. A loud clap of thunder makes Mack jolt in surprise. “Holy mother of…” She trails off in Swiss German. Her heartbeat sprints in her chest as David chuckles then gives her a kiss.

“Well, you’re at least going to lay in bed.”

“Yeah. I guess.” She shakes her head, moving towards the kitchen to fill up her water bottle.

“Goodnight, baby. I’ll be in soon.”

“You don’t have to go to bed because I am.”

“I know. I want to.” He says simply. “Wanna hold you if you’ll let me.” 

Mack smirks in the kitchen, twisting on the top of her water cup before padding through the living room. On her way behind the couch, she drops a kiss on David’s head. She cups his face, gently tilting it back towards her to smooch his lips, stroking his jaw sweetly before continuing on to bed. 

“I love you.” She murmurs over her shoulder.

“Love you, hon.” He calls back.

Mack goes through her night time routine of washing her face, putting on lotions and creams as well as ten minutes of meditation through her Calm app to try and get centered into a less frustrated state. She reminds herself how grateful she is to be pregnant and have the opportunity to bring life into the world. Being pregnant in conjunction with Savannah has encouraged Mack to be appreciative for how easy her and David’s journey has been. Savannah and her have become close, sharing in so many experiences together.

Mack works on a pair of compression shorts and a t-shirt of David’s that allows for her boobs to breathe. She pulls the covers back on their bed, then slides into the cool sheets. She savors the temperature with a little shiver, but knows this feeling won’t last long. She grabs her phone, texting David to turn down the air conditioner before he comes to bed. Even with the storm blowing through, the humidity lingers more than she would like. 

Mack is scrolling through Instagram when David comes into the bedroom. He heads to the closet where Mack observes him pulling back on his work jeans and a clean Carhartt grey t-shirt. He grabs another pair of boot socks, which clues Mack in that he is heading back outside.

“Something wrong?”

“Yeah. I gotta head out to help Bob. A fence blew open and his cattle are scattered along the southern edge of our property and into the road. Gotta round ‘em up.” He flips the light off in the closet. “Just gonna help til his hands are able to get over there.” He puts a warn, Coors hat on his dark locks after pushing his hair off his forehead. “Won’t be long.” He comes to her side of the bed. He puts a hand on her bump, then at the back of her neck, stroking fire across her lips when they touch. 

“Be careful out there.” She tells him. 

“It’s done storming. Well East of us at this point.”

“Yeah, but still be careful.” He smiles, kissing her again.

“Always so worried.” He chuckles, kissing down her chin and chest to her bump. He presses his nose in, green eyes closing as Mack places a hand on the back of his head to cradle it.

“Yeah, cause I don’t want to raise this baby alone.” 

“I’ll never let that happen. Promise, mama.” He murmurs against her belly. “Be good.” If he is talking to the baby or Mack, she can’t tell. 

Despite her best efforts, Mack still cannot get comfortable after David leaves. Again, the baby feels so low and the pressure is almost unbearable. She gets up, wandering around the room, trying to find what position relieves the ache of pregnancy from her body. She practices her breathing exercises, then again tries her Calm app. Still nothing is working. She throws her phone onto the bed in frustration, then says fuck it, and heads to the freezer where pints of Ben and Jerry’s is waiting for her. It won’t solve being pregnant, but it will provide comfort. 

“What flavor do we want?” She asks her belly. She opens the freezer, looking down at the tops of the lids, reading off the options she has. “I feel like… Ew, why did Daddy get Cherry Garcia? We hate that one!” She chuckles, picking it up. It has already been opened, half eaten. David likes the weirdest, most out there flavors sometimes. “Mmm brownie or strawberry cheesecake?” She murmurs, tilting her head. “Strawberry sounds good. And it has fruit in it, so we can both lie about it having nutritional value!” She leans down, grabbing the top of it. As she comes back up, wetness begins to dribble down her right leg. 

Mack pauses. 

She focuses in on her body, then realizes exactly what that liquid is.

“Oh fuck.” She squeaks. She drops the pint of ice cream, then puts both hands on her belly. “Buddy…” She trails off. 

It’s David. Leave a message or I’m not calling you back.

Mack rolls her eyes at his voicemail and hangs up, incredibly more stressed than she was this morning when this happened. She immediately dials his number again. From her perch in the kitchen, she faintly hears a buzz. She pauses, tilting her ear towards the living room to listen better. The sound cuts off when his voicemail plays again.

“Oh you have to be kidding me.” She sighs. She presses his name again, then watches between two couch cushions light up. “What the hell, David.”

Mack puts her hands on her lower back, rubbing vertically up and down the muscles. She closes her eyes as she begins to pace, trying to stay calm as she feels some tightness happening in her back and abdomen. She remembers the coaching from the doctor’s that first time mothers tend to be in labor for awhile. She figures she has time, so there is no need to try to find her husband. She can wait until he returns.

Time is not on her side tonight.

Mack starts to experience intense pain in her abdomen while she is cleaning herself up. She grips the counter in the bathroom, moaning out in pain as another contraction takes over her. These are fast, much faster than she was expecting. She feels her abdomen release it’s tension, then stands back up to her full height. She meets her eyes in the mirror, seeing the intensity of what she is experiencing there. This must be active labor. Is it possible for her to be at this stage already?

With immense struggle, she finishes getting clean clothes on, including her roomiest pajama shorts. From their bedroom, Mack looks across the first few fields to the other house on the property. She can see a single light on in Felix and Lorena’s kitchen. She grabs her phone and the keys to the Gator, then makes her way there as fast as she can. Being alone seems like a terrible idea right now.

After parking, she stands up, then immediately bends over, moaning at the horrible pain rocketing through her. 

“Holy fuck. Why does my ass hurt so bad?!” She screeches in Swiss German. Her knuckles go white around the metal pole of the Gator. Lorena notices from where she is washing dishes at the sink. The front door flies open and she rushes down.

“Are you in labor!?” She exclaims. “Where is David?”

“He went to help Bob and- uhhhhhhh.” Mack squats down on instinct. She breathes out the way she learned in the brief Youtube video she watched, then opens her eyes into tiny slits to look at the other woman. “He doesn’t have his phone.”

“Felix!” Lorena snaps loudly, slapping the dishtowel against her thigh. “Get out here!” Felix rushes to the door, looking concerned at Mack’s state. “Go get David from Bob’s. Fast! She doesn’t have much time.”

Mack looks at Lorena, delirious from pain. She has time… right? It’s just painful. This is how labor is.

Felix takes off in his truck as Lorena puts Mack back in the Gator to get her home. Lorena stays with Mack, holding her hand as the contractions continue full force. Lorena times them and they are closing in on three minutes apart. There is no doubt anymore that Mack is in active labor. She thinks about that long, half hour drive to the hospital and tears fill her eyes. She needs relief but the drugs are a ways away at this point. 

“Ooooooo…” Mack trails off as the pain from the contraction steals the noise right from her throat. Holy shit, this is so painful. She is pretty sure cartoon stars of pain are floating in her vision as she looks across the wall at a picture of her and David laughing at their wedding. “Where the fuck are you, babe!” She howls through the room. Lorena pats her hand assuringly. 

“It won’t be long now. I’m sure Felix found him. They’re on their way.” 

On cue, David storms through the front door, bringing with him the smell of wet dirt and the cooled summer breeze.

“Honey, how we doing?” He calls to her.

“Horrible!” She yells. David walks into the living room, tossing his work gloves to the side and kneeling on one knee between her legs. He rubs the outsides of her thighs, collecting her forehead on his shoulder.

“Can you walk?” He mumbles against her right ear.

“Honestly, I don’t think so.” She cries, tears leaking down onto his shirt. “Everything is so intense- ugh.” The next contraction hits her, more forceful than the last one, somehow. She wildly searches for David’s hand. He threads her fingers into hers. 

“Great job, baby. Keep breathing.” He coos into her ear. He keeps one hand in hers, then uses the other to rub her lower back. Mack focuses on his tight, circular motions, letting his skin on hers keep her grounded through the pain. 

“We gotta go. I need drugs. Like now.” She says after the contraction is done. 

“How long between contractions are you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe like two minutes.”

“Damn. Are you serious? Maybe I should have started with that question.”

“Yeah, I probably should have said that.” She nods rapidly.

“Arms around my neck.” He instructs. Mack does so and then he lifts her into his arms. Mack looks up, seeing Felix and Lorena in the doorway.

“Thank you so much.” She says to them both.

“Good luck you two.” Felix tips his hat to them. “I’ll lock up for you. Just go. Truck is running.” 

“Thanks.” David sighs in relief. The truck’s headlights beam across Mack and David as he carries her to the passenger side. The door is open already, so David can slide her in easily. 

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck!” Mack hisses, gripping David’s shirt as he tries to work his way out of the cab. He halts, putting his hands on her thigh and shoulder. This time, he doesn’t say anything. When Mack comes out of this contraction, she looks at her husband. “Are we going to make it?” She may be a first time mother, but she can tell the baby’s head is close to crowning. The ring of fire is so severe she can feel vomit pushing at her esophagus. 

“I don’t know.” He says honestly. “But I’m gonna try, honey.” 

Not even five minutes into their drive, Mack already knows the answer to her previous question. The pressure between her legs has her moaning at every dip and bump in the Iowa highway. This isn’t good. Her eyes screw shut again in agony.

“David, he is coming…” She pushes through her gritted teeth. Her finger nails pierce into the palm of his right hand as his thumb rubs at her thigh.

“I know, baby.” He takes his hand back to put both hands on the wheel, pushing down harder on the right pedal.

“No, he is coming. Right NOW.”

David takes his eyes off the road, looking at Mack’s face. It’s flushed and twisted in pain. Her breathing is labored as she shifts uncomfortably in the seat. That Youtube video didn’t have the best suggestions for when you’re raw dogging labor in an old truck at 90 MPH. Listen to your body, Mack can hear that calm, mocking voiceover of the video. Personally, Mack wants to turn that communication all the way the fuck off right now. 

“Okay. Do you want me to keep driving or stop?”

“Um.. ahh!!!” Mack starts to whimper.

David takes his right hand off the wheel again, giving it to her so she can squeeze. Her fingernails pierce through the skin on his knuckles. A gush happens and Mack startles. Something feels different now, she cups her stomach, feeling it slightly squishy. In concern, Mack brings her other hand down, then gasps at David, looking wide-eyed at him. “I can feel his head. Ohmygod, it is partially out.”

David immediately guides the truck off to the shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Mack panics. “We have to keep going!”

“Baby, we need to focus on getting him out now. There isn’t time for us to get there. I gotta make sure you’re both safe.” He dials 911 as he gets out of the truck. Mack watches him, shocked and dumbfounded at what is happening right now. 

“Hi, we need an ambulance on County Road 63 near Anderson Lake Trail. My wife is giving birth.” He pauses, pinching the phone between his shoulder and his head as he opens Mack’s door.

“Turn, honey.” Mack is horrified, yet finds herself trusting David completely as he tilts his head in. He gently peels her shorts and panties down, looking directly at her spread legs. He works them all the way off so she is bare and spread eagle in the country night.

“Oooohhhh my god.” Mack hiccups in disbelief. “What’s happening?” She slaps a hand on her forehead. 

“She is 39 weeks. And, uh yeah, his head is partially out. I can see his hair.” He looks up at Mack with sparkling green eyes. Despite it all, she tearfully grins back at him. Their son has hair! David reaches for the lever on her passenger seat, tilting her back further. 

“Scoot back a bit, hon.” He rubs her calf comfortingly with his thumb. Mack watches him in awe now, how completely calm he is as he puts a hand between her legs, ready to catch their child when he enters the world completely. Tears collapse over her lashes and she hiccups from the fear of it all.

Another hearty contraction forces Mack forward, she bares down as David tosses the phone onto the dash. Her knees come up her body and she puffs her breaths through the contraction. 

“Perfect, Mack. You’re doing perfect.” Her husband encourages her softly. A sob retches from Mack’s chest as she feels the baby progress further. “Head is completely out.” David calls towards the phone as more instructions are murmured by the operator. 

“Ow, ow, ow!!” Mack’s howl sears through the dark night. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.” Mack grits down on her teeth, shaking from adrenaline and pain. Tears coat her cheeks as she shakes her head no at David. His face is calm and controlled, even his green eyes as they search her face.

“The only way through this is to get him out now, honey.” David says calmly. Mack wants to ask him if he is as scared shitless as she is, but before she can, she feels the build of another contraction. The next scream gets lost in her esophagus. She slams her head back into the headrest, closing her eyes to try and keep from completely losing it right now. Her baby needs her to get him out. She can’t be scared right now. David is here. He won’t let anything happen to them. He is going to get them through this.

And so is she.

“Okay, guide the baby down and to the side for the shoulders to come out.” The 911 operator coaches David. Mack arches off the seat in pain as the pressure builds excruciatingly fast. Then the next contraction comes and she pushes as hard as she can to end this for all of them.  A roar sounds from her chest that sounds nothing like her. Then the baby hits David’s palms as he hollers excitedly, his hearty “Yes!” filling the dark night.

“He’s out!” Mack opens her arms for the baby and David settles their son’s face into the exposed skin coming through her V-neck. “He is on mama.” David tugs his shirt off, gathering the soft cotton to put on their son.

“Great job, mom! Be careful not to pull anything. Is the baby crying?” The operator asks.

“No.” David says, already rubbing at the baby’s back. He has delivered hundreds of farm animals. He knows there needs to be a noise coming from their baby to deem him okay. He needs to breathe. Mack adds her hand too, rubbing limply at him with her husband until that first cry hits their ears.

“Oh!” She exclaims joyfully. Once the baby is consistently sobbing, David leans into the truck more over Mack’s face to kiss her tenderly. 

“You are a fucking badass, baby!” He kisses her harder then works his way over the tear tracks on both of her cheeks, smearing who knows what on her face too. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.” She nods, holding tighter to the baby. David’s eyes drift down to their son and he grins wider.

“Look what our love made, honey.” He whispers as the faint sound of sirens crawls closer. David looks over his right shoulder, seeing the flashing red, white and blue lights. “Hold on.” He murmurs, reaching into the back seat for a blanket. He covers Mack’s still spread legs to give her some modesty until they have to check on her. His big hand drapes over her head, thumb brushing her forehead as she closes her eyes and sighs. “You’re okay, baby. He is too. You’re bleeding some still, but it’s not too much.” David assures her. Fresh tears leak out from her corners. Their son continues to cry in his mama’s arms. Then red and blue lights flood over Mack and David’s faces. She opens her eyes, seeing two paramedics rushing to them.

“How are we doing?” One paramedic asks. David steps aside for them, but opens the back door of the truck to stay close to his wife. He gets in, putting his hands on her shoulders so she knows he is right there with her.

“Um, okay?” Mack laughs, letting them see the baby. He has gotten quiet and curious of his new surroundings. They put a blood pressure cuff around her arm, then put the stethoscope on the baby to hear his heartbeat.

“Baby’s heart sounds good!” The paramedic confirms.”I’m gonna check you, okay?” She moves down between Mack’s legs, assessing the situation. With all the adrenaline pumping through her right now, Mack can’t tell how she is doing. She’s on fire and numb all at the same time.

“We might need a new truck.” Mack says nervously.

“Nah, it’ll come out in the wash.” David assures, kissing the top of her head. 

“Dad, did you deliver?” The other paramedic asks as he checks on Mack’s vitals. 

“Yeah!” David grins excitedly. “I knew all that calf birthing would come in handy one day.” Mack scoffs at him.

“Did you just compare me to a cow?”

“No! You were much nicer than the heifers, honey.” The paramedics chuckle in agreement. 

Mack smiles tiredly.

“Weirdly comforting.”

In another few minutes, they have Mack and the baby strapped onto the stretcher. Mack assures David they are okay and he should drive the truck the rest of the way. He follows behind, using the ambulance as an excuse to rip down these old highways from his childhood. He parks the car fast, then runs to the ambulance where they are unloading Mack. Several nurses and two doctors are waiting for them. They all converge on Mack at once.

“David?” She calls weakly, losing him in the sea of people. 

“I’m right behind you, baby. It’s okay.” She nods, holding their son tighter. 

“Congratulations! What a night for you!” A doctor in a white coat says, holding a clip board. “Did anyone happen to catch a time when baby came into the world?” The doctor asks. “Not that you were busy at all?” David laughs. 

“11:14pm.” Mack swoons, thinking of how incredible he is. Everything felt so rushed and crazy. How did he even think to get the time of birth? Because he is David- calm, cool and collected in the rawness of any moment. She loves that about her husband.

Once Mack is settled into a room, they finish the final steps of delivery. The team checks her over, deciding she will need a few stitches. No one is surprised. Their son came fast and furious and Mack didn’t even quite know it was happening until he was being put in her arms by her husband on the side of the road.

Mack looks down at their son as they work on her. He has been cleaned and diapered, covered by a hospital blanket advertising back is best and a striped hat on his head. David stands next to her, rubbing her scalp gently as a tension headache throbs against her skull. The room is quiet and calm, much different than the last hour. Their son closes his eyes and puckers his little lips, already content in his new world.

“Does baby have a name?” A nurse next to the computer asks from across the room. David looks at Mack, kissing her as they both smile, thinking of the person they are naming their son after, who they hope he takes after too.

“Nico Carlson.” Mack answers. 

“Welcome Nico!” The room cheers excitedly. Mack starts to weep, thinking of her dad back in Switzerland, going about his day having no idea he has a grandson with his name now.

Later, when the lights are dim and everyone has left them alone, David sits in a chair next to Mack’s bed, looking down at their son in his arms. They’ve both already done skin to skin, now it’s time to rest, but David can’t. His gaze lifts from their son, who will go by Nicky, to Mack who is sleeping lightly in her bed. She glows now, even after her hard night. He can’t believe how lucky he is to have her.

The night replays in his head- the storm, Mack’s constant discomfort, how low she kept complaining the baby felt. David should have known. He should have sent Felix to help Bob so he was there to help his wife through labor. Instead, he barely got to hold her hand through any of it like he promised her. David reaches out for her hand, resting by her hip. He is careful of her IV as he threads their fingers together. Mack’s eye lashes flutter open. 

“Is he okay?” She asks.

“Yes. Are you?”

“Yes.” 

“Then we are all good.” He squeezes her hand.

“You need to get some sleep. You’re going on almost 24 hours being awake.” 

“Nah, I run on minutes.” Mack quietly looks him over, then slides her hips back across the bed.

“Come lay with me.” 

David slides into bed beside her, carefully holding their son in his arms. Mack settles on the other side of David’s chest from their son, looking at his sleeping face. His little lips are split open, with fast breathing pushing in and out of them. 

“How did we live without him before?” Mack murmurs, rubbing her fingers along his swaddled arms.

“I don’t know. Suddenly, he’s all the world revolves around.”

“I can’t stop staring at him. He looks like your twin.”

“Minus those big dimples in his cheeks. Those are mama’s.” Mack chuckles. Yes, but before they were hers, they were his namesake’s. David sighs, pressing his fingers deeper into her back as he kisses her head. “I’m so sorry you had to do so much of yesterday alone. I should have checked for my phone and I didn’t. I let you down.”

“You delivered our baby…” Mack trails off, blinking incredulously. 

“Well, I had to deliver the baby in the truck because we were so late. If I had my phone, or didn’t go to help Bob-"

“We will never know.” Mack says quietly. “And as parents now, we need to let that stuff go. The things we can’t change or the paths we didn’t take, like not being parents. We are here- exactly where we are supposed to be- perfect and healthy.” 

“I knew you were going to be an incredible mama and wife. Thank you, honey, for giving me my entire world.” 

Mack puckers her lips. He leans down to kiss her hard, lovingly, relentlessly. His hand cradles her firmly to his chest, then they both turn back down to stare at their son’s face. 

Nico Carlson has already changed the world.

[starscelly]

i (silly) forgot tumblr doesn’t let you add videos on reblogs but to provide example of what i was yammering about at 3am est re: roope’s interviews. here’s a clip of him answering more or less the same question - “what are you seeing on your breakaway goal?” - except one is from september 2018 and one is from last night, january 2025

both answers are roughly the same length but they’re REALLY different in quality and almost understanding?

young roope you’re getting Hockey Facts. klinger passed me the puck. he saw me cutting through. i went between dmen. these are the things that happened. he’s not telling you what HE saw on the breakaway he’s telling you what YOU saw on the breakaway. its not his perspective, it’s just what happened. that’s not a Bad Answer and it fits NOBODYS definition of “bad english” but it’s very practiced. he knows how to talk about hockey in english. it’s probably how he primarily uses the language, but even then it’s still not comfortable. he clearly kinda wants to elaborate more but - “and… i don’t know.” - cuts himself off. he doesn’t know what he’s wanting to say. whether that’s because he doesn’t understand what else hes supposed to say, or he doesn’t have the words, or maybe even he was mentally done elaborating but doesn’t know how to Cleanly and Unawkwardly wrap up an answer.

versus yesterday! “what did you see on the breakaway?” oh I was trying to get ahead and I was trying to get the goalie to move this specific way and I noticed that he moved his pads this way. this is what roope is seeing, this is what’s going on in his head. this is the answer we, in theory, actually want when asking this question (not to say on other nights he isn’t just Listing Objective Events but for arguments sake he clearly understands Intention of unclear/nondirect english direction more). there’s also a sense of comfort in language - they’re still very hockey words in the context but they’re not the basics of shooting and skating, hes talking about goalie movement along with talking about Intention rather than necessarily Concrete Action.

you can also see a vibe change. both games he had two goals and they won but he’s noticeably more upbeat and emoting more in the second clip. which, normally, wouldn’t bother noting that hes Americanizing His Attitude but i think for roope it’s fair to say it’s not an american acclimation but rather him feeling more comfortable, because i feel like when you see him in Finnish Environments hes not fitting the stereotype of Cold and Unexpressive but is still very like. silly laughy very expressive. presumably that change is partially due to a more comfortable and belonging feeling for him in the locker room, but also because of a Comfort and Growth of language ability! he’s not putting all his brain power into conjuring up an answer so he’s able to sound more Natural and Human. idk! it’s just fascinating and really fun to put side by side

[kurthummeldeservesbetter]

all my post-canon Jayvik fics about healing

all the shades i can see above me

Thousands of miles away from Piltover, Jayce wakes up, brews the coffee, makes breakfast, and prepares for the day ahead. | Jayce ponders on the before as he and Viktor have a day that is their new normal. Mature, 7K words. Jayce's perspective, told in a before/after format, the before taking place over a few months, the after is the perspective of one day.

Ducklings and Paired Stars

Jayce did a project once, in primary school, back when his biggest problems were his arms being too short to swing between the bars on the jungle gym and his two front teeth still not growing as fast as he wanted. He remembers reading about imprinting, how ducklings, fresh out their shells and already hungry for the world, looked to their mother and knew who she was, latching onto her and her smell, knowing in their minds was that she was something they could trust. | Jayce and Viktor wake up in a beautiful land, alone. They heal. Jayce's perspective. 6K words, Teen and Up.

Spices and Rebuilt Bodies

A lot of things don’t make sense, right now, to Viktor. It’s like he’s swimming in the thick water of the undercity, hands hitting trash as he paddles and muck wrapping around his waist, trying to pull him down. His mind, once so open, so expanded, so free, feels like a locked chest that’s also been welded shut, squished, and set in another locked chest of it’s own. His body, as always, feels foreign, though clearly back to being human, with pale pink skin and no signs of metallic corruption, cool air tickling at his exposed body. Purple and silver veins, however, mark his body randomly, in the wrinkles of his skinny knuckles at his finger tips. Head dipping down to look at his feet, he spies shimmering blond locks in his peripherals, a reminder of his time in the commune, when he thought he was doing good but was only doing bad. | Viktor's perspective of Ducklings. 9K words, Teen and Up.

What We Deserve (Because I Promised You)

Jayce looks back at his own body and takes it all in. His knee feels sore, but not unpleasant, and when he reaches up, he feels tiny imprints of Viktor’s fingertips. He’s sure they’re colorful as well. Frowning, Viktor reaches up and traces the scars, his bottom lip quivering, about to cry, but Jayce just shakes his head; if a few scars are what he exchanges for Viktor’s life, then he’ll take as many cuts and bruises as the universe can give them. | The Mage gives them a second chance in a world far away, untouched by their hextech, untouched by magic. They take it. 5 Chapters, completed, 40K words. Mature. Set in a universe similar to S2E7, but not that universe. Happy ending, themes of healing. Feat Mute!Viktor

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Ok, after having listened to TTPD on loop, I have a request ft. But, daddy I love him.

Dream sequence fic starring Sunshine x Bucky and the dream is set in the 40s with Nick Fury and Sam Wilson as Sunshine's father and brother respectively. Something magical hit 'em and now the whole team is kind of in a dream while loki is the only one awake (he's a powerful witch duh😂) and everyone has been weirdly cast in the 40s roles.

Feel free to run along as you'd love. As always, I adore your writing 🫶🤍

No because I’ve never written a dream sequence before but like that means I can be a little more unhinged frivolous than I normally am. I know this took a hot minute, but I hope you enjoy! Thank you for the ask! 💛

But Daddy I Love Him

Pairing - Grumpy!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Reader Summary - You weren't really his daughter. He wasn't really your father. And yet, his constant disapproval makes you want to scream 'But Daddy, I love him'.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist | Grumpy Sunshine Series

"Nick," Sam tries for what feels like the dozenth time. "Really, they didn't have anything to do with it. It's on me, I'm- "

"This meeting is adjourned," Nick sharply cuts Sam off. You begin to stand from your seat at the conference room table as Nick Fury's cutting glare meets yours, "Not you."

The moment those words leave Fury's mouth, Bucky freezes.

There's a part of Bucky that knows anything he says or does right now will make this about ten times worse.

And yet, there's an even bigger part of him that doesn't care. He'll defend you to Nick Fury. He'll stand there and refuse to let him tear into you about this of all things.

Nick glares at him, speaking pointedly as Bucky refuses to move an inch even as the rest of the team timidly shuffles out, "I said meeting is adjourned."

You nod as Bucky rests a comforting hand on your shoulder, "Go. I'll be okay."

Bucky's eyes meet yours for a short moment, silently asking you if you'll actually be okay. You nod again, jutting your chin toward the door.

After the door clicks shut behind Bucky, the room is quiet for a long moment.

Your eyes flicker up to meet Nick's, "It was an accident, Nick."

"An accident?" He snorts in disbelief, "Going public with the Winter Soldier is an accident?"

"With James. James Buchanan Barnes."

He rolls his eyes, grunting in distaste, "That's not who the world sees."

You stand up from your chair, fighting the urge to stomp your foot like a petulant child, "I don't care! I don't care what the world sees!"

"You don't care?" he scoffs, resting his hands on his hips. "You don't care that the reputation that you've built is going to be singlehandedly torn to shreds? You're saying you're willing to burn down everything you've worked so hard to build... for him?"

There isn't a moment's pause or hesitation as you utter a single word, "Yes."

"For him?"

"For him."

Nick shakes his head, his muscles in his jaw ticking, "He's not good enough for you."

You scoff at him, "Is that what this is about?"

He rolls his eyes, planting his hands on the table, "No, now, it's about your imminent fall from grace."

"My name is mine to disgrace, Nick! I love him!"

"You're not thinking." Nick forcefully taps his temple, "Think about this. Think about what you're doing!"

"No!"

He throws his hands up in frustration, "So that's it then?"

"Why can't you just support me?" you implore.

"Because you clearly don't care what I have to say!"

"That's not true!" you raise your voice, feeling a wave of defensiveness wash over you. "It was an accident. Sam didn't mean to post that picture. He told you that himself."

"I think he did," Nick sharply accuses. And for the first time ever, he speaks to you like the Director of SHEILD instead of the Nick you've always known. "I think you didn't like that I told you to wait, to bide your time. I think you went behind my back and disobeyed direct orders."

You scoff, "So you're calling me a liar?"

His tone is sharp. Another first, it seems like he doesn't even care about sparing your feelings. His words are as sharp and cutthroat as his reputation, "I think you're blinded by your own feelings. And I think that you're making a big mistake."

This time, you do stomp your foot like his petulant child, "It's my mistake to make! I'm not taking it back."

He raises his chin defiantly, "And I'm not changing my mind."

You cross your arms, refusing to back down, "Me neither."

He stands to his full height, his face blank and emotionless, "Then I guess there's nothing left to say."

The words feel like a punch to the gut, but you still can't bring yourself to back down, "I guess not..."

"You're dismissed."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You've never actually been dismissed. Everyone knew you weren't just an Avenger or agent or Asset to Nick. And now, he was talking to you like that's all you were.

There's a heaviness in the pit of your stomach as you stand out of your seat. You keep your eyes locked on his as you stand up, silently imploring him to see reason, to see how much you love Bucky.

It doesn't happen. You shake your head at him once more.

And you walk out the conference room feeling more distraught then you've felt in quite some time.

You never fight with Nick like that. You hardly ever had disagreements, let alone full blown screaming matches.

The pain of the intense argument just reminds you that he's always been more than just your commander, more than just the director of SHIELD. He's the closest thing you've got to a father figure. But you're not changing your mind anymore than he is.

"I take it that it didn't go well?" Loki asks, leaning against the wall in front of the conference room.

You shake your head with a sad smile, "Not exactly."

He places a light hand on your shoulder, patting it once, "It’s a rite of passage for a child to disappoint their parents. It was bound to happen.”

"Except Nick isn’t my dad.”

Loki raises an eyebrow at you, “Didn’t you refer to him as your father?”

“That was one time and it was an accident!” you huff.

“Accidental or not, it’s a part of growing up. Especially for a precocious, dutiful daughter like yourself.”

A smile tugs at the corner of your lips, “Are you trying to make me feel better?"

Loki shrugs, "I suppose I am. Is it working?”

"Not really, but thank you." You scrunch your nose, shaking your head slightly, "I appreciate the attempt."

He lets go of your shoulder with another pat, "It will work out. One way or another."

"Did your magic tell you that?"

He begins to walk away with his signature, mischievous smirk, "Something like that."

"I didn't like the way you just said that, Loki," you call down the corridor. "Should I be worried about that?"

He shrugs, "Like I said, it will settle. One way or another."

There's a part of you that knows you should go after him and question his plans.

The part that wins out is the one in desperate search of comfort after the blowout with the closest thing you have to a father figure.

“How did it go?” Bucky asks the moment you enter your room. Your only response in a defeated groan as you slump down face first onto your bed. Bucky sighs, pulling you close to him, "He'll come around."

"I hope so." You turn your cheek, looking up at him with a sad smile, "Even if he doesn't, I hope you know that it doesn't change anything, I love you."

He strokes your cheek, "I love you too."

"We should get some sleep. I'm drained."

"Come here."

You rest your head against his chest, allowing yourself to be soothed by the warmth of Bucky's skin.

The last thing you remember is drifting off into a restless sleep.

In the next moment, you find yourself jolted up with a sharp gasp of air.

You stare down at yourself, your normal clothes replaced by a puffy poodle skirt and a neatly tucked in crisp, white blouse. “Wow… this is different.”

You jolt at the sound of the familiar voice behind you. “Tell me about it.”

You can't help the wide grin that tugs at both corners of your lips as you take in the sight of Bucky before you. His normal, short, fluffy hair is entirely slicked back. His dark jeans and henley replaced with rugged, blue denim and a white t-shirt with a snug leather jacket.

You cheekily tug at Bucky's unzipped leather jacket. “Oh, I'm having that dream again.”

He quirks an eyebrow, “Um... did you mean to say that out loud?"

"What?"

He smirks down at you, twirling the ends of your high ponytail, "You dream of me like this?"

Your eyebrows pull together. Your head whips around as you take in the room again. And yes, you're sure you're still dreaming.

A similar realization dawns on Bucky - this isn't normal. This isn't like any dream Bucky you've conjured up.

No, this was really him.

Right here.

In your dream.

He paces the length of the room, the worry in his eyes palpable. “Are you really here right now? In my dream?”

“Am I?”

“Are you?" you challenge.

Nick storms in, the door slamming behind him, "Didn't I tell you to stay away from her?!"

Your head whips toward the door, "Nick?"

Nick blinks a few times, staring down at his hands for a moment, "What the hell?"

"Uh... what the hell is happening right now?" Bucky lilts.

You shrug your shoulders, "I have no idea."

Sam storms in from the stairs behind you, "You're not good enough for my sister!"

"Sam?" you squawk. "What is happening!?"

"Even in my dreams I can't escape him," Bucky grumbles.

"What are you doing in my dream?" Sam demands.

"What are you doing in my dream?" you counter.

"Everyone shut up!" Nick interrupts. "Now, everyone think. What happened just before we went to sleep?"

"Nothing, I went to bed like I normally do."

"Same here."

"I fell asleep in front of the TV in my room," Sam admits.

"So how the hell did we all end up here in the same dream?" Nick rhetorically asks.

"I don't think this is a dream," Bucky interjects.

You look over at him, quirking an eyebrow, "Why?"

"My arm." He glances down at his metal arm, flexing his arms. "I don't normally dream it. In my dreams, I have my flesh arm."

"So then what is this?"

"Magic?" you reply.

"If someone hit the Compound, wouldn't everyone be here?" Sam counters.

Your head tilts as you weigh his words, "That's true..."

"So what if this was targeted?" Bucky offers.

"And what exactly would be the point of that?" Nick argues.

You sharply gasp, "Loki..."

"What? What about Loki?"

"I ran into him in the hallway after me and Nick..." Your eyes flicker up at Nick, whose mouth twists with something vaguely resembling remorse. "He said that we would work things out."

"Is that all he said?"

"Yeah, pretty much. He said we would work things out one way or another."

"One way or another? What if this is 'another'?"

"Who says that we're even stuck in here? Maybe we all just need to wake up?" Sam offers.

"And how would we do that?" you ask.

Without missing a beat, Bucky reaches out, pinching Sam.

"Ow!" Sam shrieks. "What the hell?"

Bucky offers an unapologetic smirk and half shrug, "That would've done it."

"So we're stuck?"

"Maybe this is like an escape room kinda thing. Maybe we're supposed to find a key or something."

“Okay, we just need to figure this out. There has to be a reasonable explanation for this.”

“Or there’s a weird, strange, magic thing going on that we will never be able to explain.”

“Yeah, or that.”

"Hey guys?" You look down at the coffee table. "Were these scripts always here?"

"Scripts?"

"Look, we each have one with our name on it."

"I'm not doing this," Sam announces after a quick skim. The house starts rumbling beneath your feet. Dishes from a kitchen you can't see clatter to the ground. "Okay, okay, I'll do it!"

The moment the words leave his mouth, the ground settles.

"Wait to piss off the magical dream, Sam," Bucky hisses.

"Okay, Nick, you're up first."

He grunts in displeasure, taking a long moment before finally acquiescing, "Fine... Didn't I tell you to stay away from my daughter?"

"Sam..." you cajole.

"Fine," he groans. "You're not good enough for my sister! But for the record, I only lightly threatened Bucky. I was never against your relationship."

"You once threatened to chop me up and feed me to the fish."

"Yeah, but I only did it once!"

"But daddy I love him?" you awkwardly recite. "I can't say this!"

"Just read the damn script!" Sam groans. "I want to go back to sleep. For real this time!"

“And I’m having his baby!” Both Nick's and Sam's jaws hit the ground. You look up from your script to their shocked faces. “No, I’m not - but you should see your faces.”

"Whoever wrote this script, it needs some work!" Sam shouts out into the ether.

"And what will they say about you?"

"I don't care." You take a step out of Bucky's arms, "I'm not coming to my senses. He's the one I want."

Nick makes a sound of open displeasure, "Of course, I have to listen to this in and out of consciousness..."

"Maybe if you would actually listen to me, you wouldn't have to hear it over and over again," you shoot back.

"Or maybe if you stopped acting like a child throwing a temper tantrum the second you don't get what you want-"

"I'm being childish?" you squawk.

"Yes! You're being unreasonable and impractical!"

"You're the one being unreasonable!" You storm over to the front door, flinging it open. "Why do you even care so much?"

"Why do I care? Why do I care?" He shouts back, right on your heels as you angrily pace the front porch of the dream house. "Because if I'm the only father you get, you better believe I'm gonna be a damn good one!"

The words stop you in your tracks. You sharply inhale, the emotions lodging itself in your throat, "Nick..."

The words take him aback, but even he knows there would be no point in denying it. Even if you both denied it, there was really only one reason why he was coming down so hard on you.

He stands before you, shaking his head, "I know it's not much, I know I'm not perfect, and I know it doesn't make up for you being alone for so long, but I'm here now. I'm here. And if I'm what you get, then I'm going to give it my all."

In his short pause, you can say nothing, still mostly stunned silent. Even if you could speak, you know there's nothing that you could say that could accurately show how much it all meant to you, how much he meant to you.

All your anger, all your outrage disappears the moment you realize what this all boils down to.

He cares.

In his own, Nick Fury way, he cares.

You rush towards him, slightly knocking the wind out of him with the force of your embrace.

He strokes the back of your head for just a short moment, “You really love him, don’t you?”

“More than anything.”

Nick's hand drops, sighing with a slight grumble, "Clearly enough to concoct this elaborate dream sequence."

You chuckle, pulling away, "Oh, this really wasn't me. I have no idea how we all ended up here."

"What?"

"Yeah, I had nothing to do with this. We could be trapped here for all I know."

"We could be trapped here and we're having a heart to heart on a fake porch?"

"Hey, Nick? How did we get out onto the porch?"

"What do you mean? We walked right through that-" His words trail off as he points to a door that isn't there anymore. "That door."

A panicked gasp leaves you, "Oh my God, Sam and Bucky are gone too."

Nick rests a comforting hand on your shoulder, "Let's just stay calm. We just need to think this through."

You look down at the script tightly clutched in your hands. "Wait, look, the script changed."

Nick sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Now what?"

"Daddy, I love him," you begin to recite. "And he loves me too. I know it won't be easy, but he's the one I want."

"If he makes you happy, then I'm happy for you."

You look back up at him, your eyes shining with hope, "Do you mean that?"

"That's not part of the script."

"Do you though?"

"Assuming that we ever escape this, yeah, I do mean it. I just worry. I worry about you."

"Thanks, Nick."

Nick violently jolts awake from the dream. He looks around his room in a cold sweat, "Motherfu-"

Bucky Barnes Masterlist Grumpy Sunshine Series

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

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