#i’ve seen it and started on it a little!

[one-green-frog]

Family Knows Best

Platonic Yandere Batfam x male reader

(I couldnt really find a good gif)

The signs had been obvious. Almost too obvious. But here you were, trapped within the walls of Wayne Manor, surrounded by a family whose love for you was more intense, more consuming, than anything you had ever known. The strangest part? You didn’t mind.

Maybe you should be scared. Maybe you should be fighting to leave. But, really, wasn’t this what you had always wanted? A place where people actually cared about you? Where they loved you unconditional?

It all started with a simple visit.

Damian Wayne had walked into your small pet clinic one late afternoon, accompanied by a boy his age. In his hands, Damian held a tiny duckling, its fluffy yellow body trembling against his hands.

"It was alone," he had said, his voice sharp but carefully controlled. "I suspect its mother is dead. What are the chances of its survival?"

The look in his eyes told you just how deeply he cared and how scared he was for it's survival. He was young, but his concern for the creature in his hands was genuine. You reassured him that with the right care, the duckling would grow strong. You even offered him advice on raising it, though, deep down, you had wanted to keep it for yourself. Unfortunately, due to the lack of space you opted for another option. This boy, Damian Wayne, had probably enough space for the duckling, not to mention the resources he had and most importantly, the heart to care for something so small.

What you didn’t realize then was that your kindness had sealed your fate.

In the weeks that followed, the Waynes began appearing in your life in a frequency that couldn't be coincidence. First, it was Jason Todd, walking into your clinic to ask for advice for a "stray" cat he "found", you later realized that the cat was already part of the family for years. Then Dick Grayson, whose excuses were flimsier—he had seen a stray dog outside and thought he should check if you had seen it, then he lingered in your waiting room, babbling on and on about the most random things. Tim Drake came next, standing awkwardly in your doorway as he asked for information on exotic pets, his eyes scanning every inch of your tiny clinic as though analyzing everything about you.

It felt... odd. Wayne money didn’t typically find its way into the rougher parts of Gotham, yet here they were, weaving themselves into your routine, your space, your life.

Then the flowers started arriving.

Every morning, a fresh bouquet sat at your doorstep—rare, expensive arrangements that made it clear this wasn’t some random act of kindness. No name. No note. Just a silent reminder that someone was watching. At first you thought it was an accident, but the bouquets continued to show up, it made it obvious they were meant for you.

You told yourself you should be creeped out. But no one had ever sent you flowers before. No one had ever gone out of their way to make you feel special. No one would be bothered if you took them into your flimsy apartment. No one would complain and the flowers made your apartment kinder, nicer and just lovelier to wake up to

Then, one evening, Bruce Wayne walked into your clinic.

It was different from the others. The moment he stepped inside, the air in the room shifted. He didn’t rush, didn’t hesitate. He moved with an easy confidence, his deep blue eyes fixed solely on you. His usual playboy smile on his lips that could melt anyone, and yet here he was, looking at you as if you were royalty.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said, his voice smooth, warm.

You were frozen in place. The billionaire, the man Gotham worshipped, was standing in your dingy little clinic, smiling at you like you were the most fascinating thing in the world.

That was the beginning of the end.

He returned often. Sometimes he brought gifts, small, thoughtful things that showed he had been paying attention. A book you mentioned wanting to read. A coat after he “noticed” the thin fabric of your usual one. Every gesture was perfectly calculated, yet felt so natural, so effortless, that you found yourself leaning into his presence without a second thought. He came by at the same time everyday and you found yourself watching the clock closely, heart speeding up whenever it was almost time for his visit.

When he invited you to dinner at Wayne Manor, it felt inevitable.

And when he suggested you stay the night after a few glasses of wine? That, too, felt natural. It was late, Gotham is dangerous, not to mention that you didn't want to bother the nice butler.

When you woke the next morning, disoriented but warm beneath the heavy silk sheets, Bruce was already there, waiting with a tray of breakfast. His smile was soft but filled with something deeper, something darker.

“I’m so glad you’re here", he said with the same sweet voice.

Something was wrong. You knew something was wrong. The prince of Gotham not only invited you to dinner, let you stay the night and now he is in the room with a tray of breakfast? It was simply to weird to be true. But he was looking at you like you were the most precious thing in the world, and for the first time in your life, you felt seen. You felt like you belonged on this place

So you stayed.

And stayed.

Days bled into weeks. You told yourself you could leave if you wanted to. That nothing was keeping you here. No one really forced you to stay. And yet... you couldn’t leave, it was like i higher force told you that you were right where you belonged, where you were cared for and loved. And then there was the family, so warm, so eager to keep you close. You weren’t a prisoner. Not really.

You were theirs.

Dick was the easiest to get attached to. He was light, warmth, and safety all wrapped into one human.Movie nights with him turned into deep conversations about life, love, and loss, his struggles with relationships, especially with his family since he works outside of Gotham. He would confide in you, let himself cry against your shoulder, and then whisper how much he needed you to stay, how no one had ever made him feel this way before. “You’re the only normal one here,” he would say, his fingers tight around your wrist. “You make everything feel right.”

Jason was different—quiet, intense, always hovering near but never too close. He would accompany you on walks through the gardens, listening more than speaking. When you talked about books, about the things that made you happy, memoriesfrom your childhoos, he would nod along, his face unreadable but always at peace. But you noticed the way he would subtly recommend books you might like, covering it under the guise of "a friend recommended it, but i haven't had the time to read it yet, why don't you give it a try", the way he perked up when you actually listened and bought the book and said you enjoyed it. He was quiet, but you could feel it—the way he held on to every word, the way his presence lingered long after he was gone. His action spoke of how much he looked up to you, a father-figure that he had a normal relationship with.

Tim was an enigma. He barely slept, barely ate, but he always seemed to be there. At dinner. During family time. During late-night kitchen visits where he would sit across from you, a coffee cup in hand, while you ate a bowl of cereal. He would ramble about theories, about mysteries in books he read, some "case" from a the series he watched and though you hardly understood half of it, you nodded along, letting him talk. He needed that. He needed you. A presence that didn't tell him to quiet down, didn't butt in to tell him he was a bit too paranoid.

And Damian? Damian clung to you. Always following you around, like a puppy. It started small—sitting beside you, leaning against you, watching you with sharp green eyes. Then came the possessiveness, the way he would glare at his brothers when they got too close, the way he fell asleep in your bed without asking. Not much time had passed before he called you brother

“I will not betray the honor of being by your side,” he had murmured one night, curled up against you. It was meant to be a statement, not a question.

And then there was Bruce Wayne. The man that looked at you as if you hung the stars. He cared for you like no other, always making sure you were alright. He spent most of his free time with you and he made sure you knew that he appreciated the way you brought the family together. Family time before you would often lead to fights, regret or just utter silence, but with you here, someone so ordinary in a special way the time spent together was peacful. Even Alfred the butler always smiled at you.

At this point you couldn't leave, be it because of you or because of the family that would made sure you wouldn’t.

They weren’t going to let you go. You were part of their family, their brother and son, the light of the manor.

And worse?

You didn’t want to leave.

Because no one had ever loved you like this before. No one had ever looked at you like you were the most important thing in the world. It was sick, it was wrong, it was obsessive.

But it was also love.

And maybe that was enough.

Being a part of this family was probably the one thing in your life that felt right.

DC has a grip on my life rn, so feel free to request something. But other than that, i hope you all have a great day :)

[vershautece]

you and lu watching your own sex tape together :)

the two of you are cuddling in bed - you’re watching a movie curled into lu’s chest, legs entangled in his, while he scrolls through his phone, playing with your hair absentmindedly and pressing soft kisses to your forehead. there’s comfortable silence between you for a while as the movie plays, and you’re starting to fall asleep so you’re not really paying attention to it. you move down his body a little to lie completely on him, head nuzzled into his neck. your eyes start to flutter shut, so content in the moment when suddenly you feel lu’s erection against you. you shift a little against him, seeing if he reacts, and you hear his breath hitch and his clothed cock harden even more. he’s still on his phone, and you sit up on his thigh, wrapping your arms around his neck and looking over at his phone to see what he’s looking at. before you manage to get a look at his screen, he turns to look at you with a teasing smile. ‘just going through my camera roll, beautiful’ he kisses your forehead. ‘every picture i have of you is perfect. you’re so pretty’

‘mm, baby’ you kiss his cheek, moving your hands to his curls. ‘i felt you getting hard under me’ you giggle, and he smirks at you in response, before going back to scrolling through the pictures. his camera roll is basically just you and pictures of his travels - he takes pictures of you whenever he thinks you look cute and sometimes when you’re not looking; he’s got pictures saved that you’ve taken yourself and sent him, and he’s got so many pics and videos of you on your knees for him, of him pounding you into the mattress, of you riding him, for those times when he can’t be around you and needs to see you. of course you’re right next to him now, and he didn’t mean to get hard but he was sorting through his camera roll and ended up lingering too long on certain pictures.

you watch as he scrolls through a few photos of you on holiday in mexico, and you’re blushing at what he says to you. ‘you looked so beautiful in this dress, bambina, i couldn’t take my eyes off you that night. always so perfect.’ and then he scrolls to the next photo, of you guys that same night a few hours later, with his thumb in your mouth while he’s above you in missionary. you choke out a gasp, forgetting he had that picture, and you start to feel your panties dampen because you’ve been sitting on his thigh for a couple minutes at this point and now you’re desperate for his fingers in your mouth. he bites his lip gazing at the picture, a slight smirk evident on his face again. ‘baby - so pretty f’me looking up at me like that. bellissima’ he kisses your cheek, and scrolls again. it’s a video in your hotel room, 20 mins long, and you remember the sex tape you both made that night. you’ve made a handful of them together, including two that went on for several hours, but you’ve never actually watched one back. luigi has, because they’re on his phone and he watches them when you’re away - he hates porn, instead using these videos of you as a healthy alternative to get off.

‘remember this night?’ he looks at you with those pretty hazel eyes, before kissing your nose softly. ‘i love this video, it’s my favorite of us’ he moves his arm around your waist, his thumb rubbing softly on your hip as you start to squirm on his thigh. ‘i’ve never seen it’ you reply, keeping your eyes on the screen as he presses play. ‘i know - you can watch yourself now, beautiful’ he tells you softly.

in the video, the camera is set up to get the perfect view of luigi on top of you while you make out. you’re wearing a tight mini dress, boobs spilling out because he’s pushing your dress down from your chest while he kisses you. watching this, you instinctively open your legs a little on his thigh, rocking on him without even thinking. too fixated on the video, you don’t see how he smirks at the feeling of your slight movement on him, but you do feel him grip your waist tighter. ‘look at your pretty tits, my love, hm’

‘i remember this night so well’ you say, but it comes out almost as a whine as you start to rock your hips on his thigh. ‘yeah, you do? me too, baby, i’m so glad i have it all recorded’ he looks at you, and then a teasing smile forms on his face. ‘mm, you okay, princess? you trying to get off on my thigh, huh?’

all you can do in response is let out a soft moan, and your hands around his neck move to his curls; you’re still moving slowly on his thigh in your tiny shorts as the two of you watch luigi grip and knead your breasts in the video. you start to knead one of your breasts while you watch, and you look down to see how impossibly hard luigi is right now, only turning you on more. he looks back at you: ‘you getting wet watching your pretty tits get played with, hm?’ & you nod, biting your lip as you move a little faster. ‘you need something, dolcezza? yeah?’ his eye contact is insane, and you nod, then respond: ‘mmm, baby, want you to make me feel good’

‘yeah, the way i do in the video, baby?’ he speaks so softly to you, and you can’t ignore the teasing glint in his eye. ‘carry on watching yourself, and you can tell me exactly what you want me to do for you, okay?’

you whine in response, as the video shows luigi, still on top of you, start to play with your clit as he sucks and massages your boobs. you’re both naked now, and the camera angle showing luigi’s muscular back and side profile is too much for you to handle. you can’t take the sexual frustration anymore, so you slip your hand into your panties under your shorts, and start rubbing your clit. luigi is transfixed on the video, hand starting to palm his cock through his boxers, but of course he notices your moans getting louder from beside him and he turns to look at you. the sight of you pleasuring yourself on his thigh sends a rush through his member, and he grips it tighter, while his brows raise at you in amusement. ‘i told you to tell me what you wanted, baby. take your hand out of your panties, if you wanted me to play with that pretty clit you could’ve asked me, my love.’ you whine as you remove your hand, the loss of contact frustrating you like hell, and you’re getting even more soaked as you watch him palm himself through his boxers while he looks at you. in the video your soft moans and his quiet grunts against you are getting louder, and you’re so desperate for him now.

‘cmon, what do you want from me, dolcezza? tell me’ as he speaks he turns his gaze back to the screen again to tease you, pulling his cock out of his boxers. you’re a whiny slut on his thigh, letting out a desperate gasp at the sight of his fully erect member. his hand slowly moves up and down the shaft as he bites his lip, watching how his fingers begin to slip down from your clit into your entrance in the video.

‘want you to play with my clit, lu, want your fingers inside me’ you moan, all you can do is continue rocking yourself on his thigh because he won’t let you do anything else - he knows he can pleasure you way better than anything you could do for yourself. he smirks at your words, pumping his shaft faster as he continues watching the video, where you’re now moaning his name loud, back arched as he fucks you with his fingers.

‘yeah, you want this right now, huh?’ he asks you, a soft moan escaping his throat. ‘mm, luigi, don’t tease me, god, you know i need you’ you’re getting so restless just straddling his thigh, riding it pathetically in your soaked panties and your frustratingly tight shorts while you wait for him to give you what you need. ‘i’ll give it to you, baby, i know. take your shorts off and push your panties to the side for me’

you breathe a sigh of relief that he’s ending the teasing, and you move off his thigh to take off your shorts, before you quickly begin pulling down your panties. as soon as you try to, he stops you by gripping your thigh, looking at you with those pretty bedroom eyes. his hand slows on his cock a little but still maintains a steady pace. ‘i said push ‘em to the side, baby, don’t take them off’ he speaks to you so softly; he’s telling you what to do but in that same honeyed voice he always speaks to you in, and you’ll do whatever he says. ‘they’re soaked, lu’ you say, put you pull them back up and push them to the side like he asked. ‘yeah i know princess, i can see from here, that’s why i want them on, okay?’ his gaze on you is insane, and you feel your wetness start to spread down to your inner thighs. ‘sit against my chest, dolcezza’ he says, caressing your thigh softly with his thumb before you move over to sit in between his legs, back pressed against his chest. you sigh in content as you lean back on him, anticipating how good he’s about to make you feel. it’s difficult to act normal though, when you can feel his 7 inch cock pressed up against your lower back. he smacks it against you a couple times and you giggle, rocking your hips instinctively. ‘luigi, stop messing with me, need your fingers’ you grab his wrist on the hand that isn’t holding his phone, and you drag it to your clit. you feel him laugh softly behind you, and he leans forward a little to whisper in your ear: ‘so desperate f’me, hm? gonna give you everything you need, baby, i’m gonna make you cum, don’t worry. just watch yourself on the screen while i get you there, okay?’ he taps your clit suddenly, and you jolt at the feeling, before leaning back onto him comfortably as his fore and middle finger start to draw slow circles. ‘that’s it baby, just relax, and keep those pretty eyes on the screen, mhm’ he continues whispering in your ear, pressing soft kisses and bites on your neck and earlobe. you’re moaning quietly in content, your hand drifting upwards underneath your tank top to knead one of your breasts. he starts giving you a running commentary on the sex tape: ‘see how beautiful you are underneath me? while i’m fingering that pretty pussy, getting you so close to the edge - yeah, baby, so beautiful for me’

his fingers start to work faster, sliding up and down your slit to collect more of your wetness, and the feeling of his hard cock pressed against your back with his soft moans is literal heaven. the video would be enough to make you cum on your own, but resting against your man as he pleasures you and praises you while you both watch your own sex tape feels surreal. he’s moaning directly in your ear: ‘you’re so wet - fuck, you smell amazing, baby - you’ve soaked my favourite panties’

he moves the phone to rest against a pillow in front of you both so that he can make use of his other hand, to pull down your tank top and replace your own hand with his, kneading one breast at a time. you’re moaning louder than you’d like to admit at this point, your eyes shut, back arched against his chest as you rock against the sheets. you reach up to grip his bicep as the pleasure increases, and each time he looks down at you and notices your eyes are shut, he gently pushes your face back to watch the phone screen, tongue pressed to the side of his cheek in frustration that you keep looking away. you can’t help it though, you’re feeling so dizzy already from just his fingers on your clit. you’re leaking all over his hand, and you don’t know if he’s aware you can feel his precum also leaking onto your back.

in the video he’s taking his fingers out of you and moving you closer to the camera by your legs as you both giggle, and you’re squealing underneath him, drunk from the many cocktails you’d consumed that night at the bar. he slaps his cock on your pussy a few times, sliding it over your clit to tease you, and the camera gets the perfect angle. luigi has seen this video a million times over, meaning he knows exactly how it goes, so the second he’s slapping your pussy with his cock in the video, he surprises you with a sudden slap to your clit while you watch. ‘oooh my god, fuck’ you moan out so loud at the shock, and grip his bicep tighter. in the video he starts to guide his cock into you, and your gaze flicks between his huge size slowly pushing into you and the look on your own face as you struggle to adjust. as you both watch, lu starts whispering in your ear again: ‘you watching how my cock slides into that tight pussy, hm?’ ‘mhmmm’ you moan in response. ‘let me stroke your cock, lu, i wanna get you off at the same time.’ you feel his dimples widen against your neck, and he moves you to sit next to him, both of you against the headboard. he’s fucking you now in the sex tape, so deep in missionary, your legs wrapped around his waist as you scream - you know you pissed off a lot of people in the hotel that night.

now that you’re both sat up, you immediately reach for his cock, wrapping your fingers around his shaft without another second to waste. ‘you wanna feel my cock, baby, yeah?’ he shoots you that teasing smile. ‘let me carry on working that pussy, c’mere’ he grabs your thigh and moves it across his so you’re as close as possible, and wastes no time in slipping in a finger, while his thumb pleasures your clit. ‘oh, fuck baby, yes’ you moan out, gripping his cock tighter as your hand moves quicker on his shaft. ‘oh, fuck, that’s it baby girl, pump up and down for me, so good.’ you adore his moans, not only are you obsessed with the feel of his hard cock in your hands but those soft whiny moans he lets out are so beautiful that you could probably cum from the sound of them alone. you love that only you can get this reaction out of him, only you will hear those angelic sounds in your bedroom. nevertheless, he still tries his hardest not to end up a complete moaning mess for you, wanting to stay in control but he ends up like this for you every time. ‘baby, fuck - your nails look pretty, i like that colour’

‘yeah, lu? thank you for paying for them, i love you, mm’ you try to respond through strangled moans, and he slips in another finger without warning. he’s skilfully thrusting and curling upward two fingers into your pussy, thumb still rubbing your clit. it amazes you every time how skilled he is, so undone for you as you work his cock but able to pleasure you with so much precision at the same time, never slowing the pace. you’re both still fixed on the video, where luigi is on top pounding you into the mattress, your tits bouncing underneath him.

he continues with his commentary on the video as you pleasure each other: ‘look how gorgeous you are, hmm, so pretty underneath me’

‘cum for me, bella ragazza’ his fingers are thrusting into you at an insane pace, and the movement of your hand on his cock slows down because the pleasure is too distracting. you’re so dizzy, rocking against the sheets as you reach your release, and luigi stops watching the video to watch you cum for him. ‘that’s it, baby girl, get it all over my fingers, cmon’ his mouth is open, gazing at you intently as you moan for him. ‘oh, luigi, fuck i’m gonna cum, ohh baby i can’t-’ and then you scream, as you squirt all over his hand and the sheets beneath you. luigi chokes out a shocked laugh, slowing the pace of his fingers to bring you down from your high. ‘fuck baby, i know i’m good but i wasn’t doing anything different tonight’ he laughs. you’re blushing at him, breathless as you try to pick up the pace on his cock again. the sheets are completely soaked underneath you on the side of the bed luigi usually sleeps, but of course he won’t mind, and he slides his fingers up and down your pussy to spread your juices, before bringing both fingers to your lips. ‘open’ he orders, and you open your mouth to taste your release. his dark eyes watch you intently, and as he removes his fingers you remember you’re supposed to be helping him cum. ‘lu, i’m sorry, let me suck you off, i got distracted’ you move between his thighs, immediately taking his leaking cock into your mouth. ‘oh i know, princess. sorry for distracting you’ he winks, shooting you a teasing smile that fades the second you start to kitten lick his tip. ‘oh just like that, dolcezza, mm’ his whiny moans get louder again, and he tightens his hand in your hair to create a makeshift ponytail, caressing your cheek with the thumb of his other hand. ‘that’s my girl, so pretty with my cock in your mouth.’ you try your best to deepthroat him but it’s impossible, so you work your hand on the rest of him that you can’t fit in your mouth. the sound of you gagging on his cock is bringing him so close to his release, and he starts to buck his hips up into your throat, but slows down a little as soon as he realises he might be going a little too rough. you look up at him with doe eyes, mascara running, watching his pretty face as he gets close. the way you look right now, gazing up at him while gagging on his cock is like something out of a porn video, and luigi knows that’s enough to make him come undone. ‘oh I’m so close, beautiful, fuck, that’s a good girl, make me cum, oh i’m gonna-’ he cuts off his whines with a guttural groan, as his hot cum shoots down your throat. you swallow it all, and give his tip a couple of kisses as you bat your lashes up at him.

‘you like that, lu?’

‘i don’t know what i’d do without you, beautiful girl.’

[hrrtshape]

GIRL, NEW YEARS??????? Omg if you're staying for a minute, SPILL THE DR TEA

i shifted for a quarter of a year.....does the cia want to know my location??

it’s soooooo over for you all. i have seen the light (coryo). i have tasted the forbidden fruit (no..not coryo). i have held hands with fate and made out with destiny in a dark corner of a new york rooftop bar (coryo!!!!).

hi. so. i shifted. with this method.

and listen, the universe is a freak. it’ll knock the wind out of you, throw you down the stairs, steal your wallet, and then, while you’re still gasping for air, go, ‘oh, my bad. here’s a gift card. also, you can shift now.’ so. hi. i’m back. i lived in my better cr for three months. an entire fiscal quarter. and now i’m here again, blinking in the fluorescent light of this reality, trying to form sentences like a war vet just back from the frontlines.

what do i even say? where do i begin? i guess the first day. let’s set the scene: september 20th. autumn in new york. cinematic. LET'S GOOOO.

i shifted back. cried. obviously. cried some more. then locked in (queen never crumbles) and promptly lost my entire mind on the balcony. squealing, jumping, doing the full carrie bradshaw excited little twirl in paris before she got fucked over the russian short guy. if my neighbours were watching, they were getting a show.

i got dressed for school. threw on something casually devastating. drank matcha on the way as i picked up lily-rose. business as usual, except i was vibrating at a higher frequency than ever before. every nerve ending in my body was singing. i was so happy.

then. okay. i know i said i got with coryo. and i did. (everyone say: ‘she won.’) but. not yet. patience. restraint. delayed gratification. all that. i saw him that first day, and did i think about jumping him? yes. did i? no. but he winked at me.like the absolute menace he is. imagine me, gripping my books like a regency heroine whose gloved hand was just brushed by a suitor. i nearly blacked out. then it was onto the usual: maths, english, lunch, philosophy, p.e. (where i spent the full hour contemplating coryo in gym clothes. blessings upon this timeline), history.

post-school, me, lily-rose, and malina (@chaaistained you made a cameo, my ride-or-die) went shopping on fifth ave because of course we did. the girls were girl-ing. capitalism was capitalism-ing. i know you’re nodding. i know you get it. we all get it. then home. girl dinner. filmed some deeply unserious tiktoks. stalked coryo’s instagram (two days apart and i was already checking for potential threats. he had none. heh). chatted with my car, caesar. absolute king. i was, in a word, thriving.

and now i know what you’re thinking. ‘emma. you were there for three months. why didn’t you stay longer?’ and lovies, i hear you. i do. but last time shifting ate me alive and spat me out, so we’re doing things differently now. a little here, a little there. back and forth, like a woman with multiple lovers in different countries. balance. we're ed recovering this stuff.

oh ! also. minor detail but i started an anonymous page in the shifting community over there. what’s it about?????? well. let’s just say i’ve been documenting.

more soon. xoxo. gotta organise these rogue thoughts first

[777bae]

WITH YOU JACK HUGHES

Summary :: After a brutal injury, you’re left to navigate recovery on your own. But Jack, despite the distance, becomes your lifeline—calling every day, offering comfort, and doing everything he can to be there. When he finally returns, his unwavering love and support help you heal, proving that together, you can overcome anything.

Warnings :: description of injury

Word count :: 5.6k

It all started at an NHL-run community skate event. You’d been invited along with a few other women’s league players to skate alongside the NHL stars, giving young fans a chance to meet their idols in a laid-back, personal setting. You didn’t expect much from the event—just another community outreach, another day to interact with fans and grow the game you loved. But that was before you met him.

Jack Hughes had been one of the NHL’s rising stars for a while, and despite the buzz around him, he was surprisingly down-to-earth. Tall, with his bright blue eyes and easy smile, he was exactly as you’d imagined him—charismatic, charming, and somehow completely approachable.

As you laced up your skates, adjusting the blades on your boots, you’d heard his laugh first, a genuine, warm sound that made it hard not to smile. You hadn’t even looked up when you realized he was skating toward you until you felt the brush of a glove on your shoulder.

“You here to show us how it’s done?” Jack’s voice was playful, but there was a hint of curiosity behind his words. You glanced up, met his gaze, and for a moment, both of you seemed to just… stop. He wasn’t towering over you, but there was a light in his eyes that made you feel like you were suddenly the center of attention.

“Me?” You raised an eyebrow and smirked. “You’re the one who’s been stealing all the spotlight. I just came to get some practice in. You know, to make sure I don’t show you up.”

He laughed again, this time shaking his head as he lowered himself into a comfortable skating stance. “I’m not worried. I’ve seen how fast some of the girls on your team can skate.” He leaned in a little, his voice a touch quieter. “But I have to admit, I’m hoping I’ll learn something today.”

It was all playful banter, but somehow, there was a connection that flickered between you in that brief exchange. Something about his easy confidence mixed with a genuine curiosity about the women’s game. It wasn’t like the typical interactions you had with male players; there was no condescension, no weird power dynamic. Just a guy who appreciated the game and the players—regardless of their gender.

The rest of the skate went by in a blur of friendly competition and shared laughter, with Jack occasionally pulling you into a race around the rink. You couldn’t deny that his speed on the ice matched his charm off it. It was fun—refreshing, really—especially since you were used to competing against men who sometimes didn’t seem to understand the level of skill and commitment women brought to the game. But Jack, he didn’t seem like that at all. If anything, he seemed eager to learn, to listen.

Afterward, while most of the other players were heading off to grab something to eat, Jack caught up to you again as you were packing your gear away.

“Hey, you wanna grab some dinner?” he asked, his voice casual but with that little spark of hopefulness. “I promise I won’t make it weird—just thought it’d be nice to hang out, talk about the game… maybe see if you’re as competitive off the ice as you are on it.”

It was a little unexpected, but something about the offer felt right. You’d spent so many years in a world of competition, sometimes too focused on the next game, the next practice. The thought of having a simple, easy evening, talking about something other than hockey, sounded like a refreshing change.

“Sure,” you agreed, trying to hide the small smile creeping onto your face. “I could use the company.”

That first dinner was nothing extraordinary—just a low-key meal at a local diner, where you both dug into greasy comfort food and swapped stories about your respective teams. But the conversation never lagged. Jack talked about his early days in hockey, his family, his goals, and somehow, you found yourself opening up in ways you hadn’t expected, sharing things you usually kept locked behind a barrier of professionalism. It felt natural, easy, like you’d known him much longer than just a few hours.

By the time you were leaving the diner, you felt something click. It wasn’t just the conversation. It was the way Jack made you feel seen, valued. He didn’t view you as just a player; he saw you as someone who belonged in the same conversation as the men he idolized.

That night, as he walked you to your car, he hesitated before speaking.

“Do you think we could do this again?” His tone was soft, uncertain—nothing like the cocky attitude you sometimes saw from athletes. There was a real vulnerability in his question, an openness that you hadn’t expected from someone with so much attention on him.

You smiled, already knowing the answer before you even said it. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

The following months passed in a whirlwind. The connection you’d felt that night only deepened as you found yourselves spending more time together, whether it was over quick dinners after games or stolen moments between practices. The distance between your homes had been a challenge at first, but Jack made it work. His busy NHL schedule and your packed NWHL calendar had their limitations, but you made it a priority. Phone calls, FaceTime, and text messages became lifelines, bridging the gap when you couldn’t be in the same place.

And then came the moment when it all felt a little more real. One night, after a game where you’d scored the game-winning goal, Jack called you to congratulate you. As you chatted about the game, the conversation shifted.

“So, I was thinking…” Jack’s voice dropped a little, a teasing edge creeping in. “What if we make this official? You know, like, ‘dating’ officially. I mean, we’ve spent enough time together at this point, and I’m kind of starting to like you.”

You’d laughed at first, but when you heard the sincerity in his voice, you felt that flutter in your chest.

“I think I could be okay with that,” you’d said softly, feeling something in your heart shift.

And just like that, what had started as a casual meeting at a community skate turned into something real, something deep. The spark between you two grew into a full-blown flame, one that, despite the distance and the challenges ahead, seemed unstoppable.

That was how it all began. From a community skate to something much bigger. And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you weren’t just fighting for your place in the game—you were fighting for something real, with someone who understood and shared your passion for both hockey and life.

It had been a few months since you and Jack had officially started dating, and even though the connection between you two had only deepened over time, the long-distance nature of your relationship had taken its toll. Jack was a rising star in the NHL, and your team’s season in the Women’s Hockey League was just as intense, if not more so. So, when Jack had to leave for a week-long stretch of West Coast games, the distance felt particularly harsh. But you both had your routines, and you had become experts at making the most of what time you had together.

The first night Jack was gone, you walked through your shared apartment, the silence of the space more apparent than usual. You had been here before, used to being away from each other for stretches of time, but it didn’t make the loneliness any easier. Still, you had your own games to focus on, so you pushed aside the feeling and settled into your familiar routine of stretching, preparing, and strategizing for your upcoming match.

That week, your team was on a roll. You managed to secure comfortable victories in your first two games, and no matter the late hours or time zone difference, you made sure to FaceTime Jack after each of your games. His voice was always a small anchor that pulled you back into a sense of normalcy. His tired face would appear on the screen, grinning with excitement or offering words of encouragement as you recapped your performances. The calls were a lifeline, a reminder that even though the miles between you stretched across the country, you weren’t alone in this. You’d FaceTime on his days off, too, taking solace in the familiarity of his presence, even if it was only a screen away.

But it was that third game that shook everything.

You had been feeling sharp and focused, your team’s momentum riding high. You were confident going into the match, your movements on the ice instinctively flowing with each pass and play. The puck was on your stick as you skated into the offensive zone, eyes locked on the net ahead, the crowd’s roars swelling around you. But just as you prepared to make your move, you felt a brutal shove from your side. The force was unanticipated, and before you could brace yourself, you were sent spiraling off balance.

The hit slammed into your leg, pain shooting through your entire body like a bolt of electricity. Your vision flashed white for a moment, the rink around you spinning as you crumpled to the ice, unable to register anything other than the excruciating ache in your lower body. You could hear voices, distant and muffled, but you couldn’t focus on anything but the raw agony. Your leg felt like it was on fire, every inch of it screaming at you in ways you didn’t think possible.

The next few moments were a blur. You were helped off the ice, each movement sending shocks of pain through your leg as your teammates rushed to your side. You were placed in an ice bath to try to numb the swelling, but it was clear from the first glance—the leg wasn’t just bruised. It was broken.

At the hospital, the diagnosis hit like a hammer to the chest. You had multiple fractures in your leg—some clean breaks, some more complicated. Surgery was the only option, and it needed to be done as soon as possible. You were too overwhelmed to process anything. The pain was all-consuming, and the physical shock of it was enough to dull your thoughts. The one thing that kept repeating in your mind, though, was that you hadn’t messaged Jack. You had forgotten. You had promised him you’d let him know if anything happened, but now, you couldn’t even remember if you had the energy to tell him.

You were rushed into surgery, the doctors prepping you quickly for the procedure, but you couldn’t shake the guilt of not reaching out to him. When you fell unconscious from the anesthesia, your thoughts faded, but that nagging feeling remained.

Meanwhile, in California, Jack had just finished his game. He had played well—scoring a goal and getting an assist—but his mind was elsewhere. His phone buzzed as he walked into the locker room to cool down. As he picked it up, his heart stopped for a second. It was a video message from one of his friends, a clip from the game he had just missed. It was you.

The footage was grainy, taken from the stands. He saw the hit happen in real-time, the moment when your body was slammed to the ice. And then, the terrible sight of you crumpling, unable to move as pain clearly overtook you. His breath caught in his throat, and panic surged through his chest.

Without thinking, he immediately called your number, but it went straight to voicemail. His hands were shaking now, his mind racing with worry. Why hasn’t she answered? He called again, and again, his anxiety growing with each unanswered ring.

“Come on, come on,” he muttered to himself, growing frantic. He tried texting you, then calling your teammates and coaches, but no one picked up. The seconds seemed to stretch into hours as he dialed number after number, panic creeping up his spine.

Finally, one of your coaches picked up. The calm, steady voice on the other end didn’t help to alleviate Jack’s mounting panic.

“Coach, what happened to her?” Jack’s voice was tight, strained. “Is she okay? Why isn’t she answering? What happened? I saw the hit—she looked… she looked like she was in so much pain!”

Your coach’s voice was reassuring but firm. “Jack, calm down. She’s in surgery right now. She fractured her leg pretty badly. The doctors are taking care of her. They’re going to monitor her recovery closely. But she’s going to be okay.”

He froze, his heart still pounding. “Surgery? Is she awake? Can I talk to her? I need to talk to her.”

“She’s still under, Jack. They’re finishing up. She’ll be okay. You can’t be here right now, and I know that’s hard. But she’s in good hands.”

Jack closed his eyes for a moment, trying to steady himself. “How long is she going to be in the hospital?”

“At least a couple weeks. They’ll want to monitor her closely to make sure everything heals properly.”

The words barely registered at first, but Jack’s mind finally began to slow, even as frustration and helplessness gnawed at him. He had a whole week of games ahead. There was no way he could be by her side—he would have to wait. And the thought of being this far away from her, with nothing but the distance and his uncertainty, felt unbearable.

After the call ended, Jack sat in silence for a long moment, trying to collect himself. He wasn’t sure how he would make it through the next few days, but he knew one thing for sure—he couldn’t just sit there and do nothing. He would call her every day. He would check in, even if it was through a screen, and he would make sure she knew he was there for her, even if he couldn’t be there physically.

Hours after the surgery, you began to stir, the soft beeping of machines pulling you from the thick haze of anesthesia. Your body felt heavy, your head foggy, and the ache in your leg was muted but persistent, a constant reminder of what had happened. Blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights, you slowly registered your surroundings—the sterile white hospital room, the IV taped to your arm, and the faint murmur of voices outside the door. Everything felt surreal, like you were caught between waking and dreaming.

The door creaked open, and your coach stepped inside. She offered a soft smile, her familiar presence grounding you amidst the disorientation. “Welcome back, kid,” she said gently, pulling up a chair beside your bed. “How are you feeling?”

You managed a weak laugh, though it sounded more like a croak. “Like I got hit by a truck,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

“That’s about right,” your coach replied, crossing her arms. “But the surgery went well. They said you’ll be back on your feet eventually—it’s just going to take some time.”

You nodded slowly, letting the information sink in. The details of the injury and the hit felt blurry, distant, as if they belonged to someone else. What you did remember, however, was the pressing need to call Jack. You opened your mouth to ask about him, but your coach beat you to it.

“Your boyfriend,” she said with a knowing smirk, “has been losing his mind. He’s been calling non-stop since he found out. I had to take one of his calls during your surgery just to calm him down. I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone freak out that much in my life.”

Despite the lingering grogginess, you chuckled softly, though the motion tugged at your sore muscles. “Did I… Did I at least tell him I’m okay before I went under?” you asked, your voice cracking slightly.

“Not a chance,” she said, shaking her head. “You were out cold before you could even grab your phone. But don’t worry—he knows you made it through the surgery. Barely, though. The poor guy sounded like he was about to hop on a plane mid-road trip.”

You smiled faintly at the image of Jack pacing in some hotel room, his phone glued to his ear as he pestered anyone who would answer. Your heart ached at the thought of how worried he must have been. You motioned weakly toward the bedside table, where your phone sat, its screen dark but promising missed calls and messages. “Can you hand me that?” you asked.

Your coach retrieved the phone and placed it in your trembling hands. As you fumbled with the screen, your fingers clumsy and unsteady, you saw the barrage of missed calls and texts from Jack. Over a dozen calls, countless messages—all timestamped from the moment he must have seen the hit. Swallowing hard, you tapped his name and brought the phone to your ear.

It barely rang once before his voice burst through the line. “Hey!” Jack’s tone was frantic, a mix of relief and worry. “Are you okay? Are you in pain? Is there someone there with you? Do you need something? God, I should’ve been there—I should’ve been with you—”

“Jack,” you interrupted softly, but he didn’t stop.

“I saw the clip. I saw it. That hit—it looked so bad. You just went down, and I—God, I felt like my heart stopped. I’ve been calling everyone, and no one was picking up, and then your coach finally called me back and said you were in surgery. Surgery! I should’ve been there—”

“Jack,” you said again, more firmly this time, though your voice was still weak. His words slowed, but the panic in his tone was still evident. “I’m okay,” you assured him, even as your own voice wavered. “The surgery went well. I’m sore, but I’ll be alright. I promise.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, the silence filled with his uneven breathing. “You’re sure?” he asked finally, his voice quieter but still laced with worry. “You’re really okay?”

“I’m sure,” you said, your lips curling into a faint smile. “They said I’ll make a full recovery. It’s going to take a while, but I’m okay, Jack. You don’t have to worry.”

His sigh of relief was audible, but it was short-lived. “How could I not worry?” he said, his voice rising again. “I saw the hit, and then I didn’t hear from you, and I was stuck here, a thousand miles away, with no idea if you were okay or if you were—” He stopped himself, his voice breaking. “I hate this. I hate that I’m not there with you.”

The raw frustration in his voice was enough to bring tears to your eyes. “It’s just hockey,” you said softly, trying to reassure him. “Stuff like this happens. It’s part of the game.”

“Not to you,” he snapped, the sharpness of his words catching you off guard. “It can happen to anyone else, but not you. You’re the last person I want to see getting hurt, and now you’re stuck in a hospital bed, and I can’t even be there to hold your hand.”

“Jack,” you whispered, but he was on a roll now, his frustration spilling over.

“I can’t believe this stupid schedule,” he muttered. “I should be on the next flight home. Screw the games. They can deal without me for one night—”

“You can’t do that,” you said quickly, your voice firmer this time. “Jack, I need you to focus on your games. I’ll be fine. You’ll see me soon enough.”

He sighed again, the sound heavy with reluctance. “I just… I feel so helpless,” he admitted. “You’re hurt, and I can’t do anything about it.”

“You’re doing plenty,” you told him gently. “Just hearing your voice right now is enough.”

The conversation eventually calmed, though Jack’s worry never fully faded. He promised to call every day—and he did. Over the next week, he became your lifeline.

The first night after your surgery, Jack called you just as he promised he would. The moment your phone buzzed with his name on the screen, a sense of comfort washed over you. You answered immediately, his face appearing on the screen before you could even get out a greeting.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft but still edged with worry. His hair was damp from a post-game shower, and you could see the dark circles under his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” you admitted, shifting slightly against the pillows propping you up. Your leg throbbed dully beneath the cast, but seeing Jack’s face helped dull the ache. “Sore, but okay.”

“You look pale,” he noted, his brows furrowing as his eyes scanned the screen, like he could physically assess you through it. “Are you sure you’re okay? Have you been eating? What about water—have you been drinking enough?”

“Jack,” you interrupted gently, your lips quirking into a faint smile. “I’m fine. They’ve been taking care of me here, and the doctors said the surgery went well. You don’t have to worry so much.”

His sigh was audible even through the small speaker of your phone. “How can I not worry? I hate that I’m stuck here while you’re dealing with all of this alone.”

“You’re not stuck. You’re doing your job,” you reminded him. “And I’m not alone. My team’s been in and out, and the nurses here are great.”

“It’s not the same,” he muttered, his tone low. “I should be there.”

You reached up and adjusted the angle of your phone, so he could see your reassuring smile. “You’re here, Jack. Maybe not physically, but this? These calls? They help more than you know.”

His face softened slightly, though the worry in his eyes didn’t entirely disappear. “I just wish I could do more.”

“You’re doing plenty,” you said firmly. “Now, tell me about your game. How’d it go?”

Jack hesitated for a moment, but when you raised an expectant eyebrow, he relented. “It went alright. We won, but it was closer than it should’ve been. I missed an open net in the second period, and the guys gave me hell for it.”

“Missed an open net?” you teased, your tone light. “Wow, Jack Hughes is human after all.”

He groaned, though you caught the faint smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I’ll make up for it next game.”

“I’m sure you will,” you said with a grin. “You always do.”

The conversation shifted after that, Jack asking about your day in the hospital. He wanted to know everything—what you ate, what the doctors said, how much pain you were in. His questions were relentless, but you didn’t mind. If anything, it warmed your heart to know how much he cared. By the time the call ended, your eyelids were heavy with exhaustion, but the lingering sound of Jack’s voice in your mind made falling asleep a little easier.

The calls became your anchor over the next week. Every night, without fail, Jack would call you after his game, no matter how late it was. Some nights, he’d FaceTime you, propping his phone up on a stack of pillows in his hotel room while he lounged on the bed in sweats and a hoodie. Other nights, he’d call you during his downtime at the rink, his voice echoing faintly in the empty locker room as he checked in on you.

On the third night, after another win for his team, Jack’s call came through just after midnight. You answered groggily, your phone resting on your chest as you blinked sleepily at his face.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” he asked, his voice soft with concern.

“No, it’s okay,” you murmured, shifting slightly to prop yourself up against the pillows. “How was the game?”

“Good,” he said, though his expression was a little sheepish. “I scored a goal, but I got into it with a guy on the other team. He cross-checked me, and I might’ve, uh, shoved him a little.”

“Jack,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him playfully. “You can’t get yourself hurt. One of us in the hospital is enough.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and familiar. “Don’t worry, I can take a hit. But seriously, how are you feeling? Is the pain manageable? Do you need me to call someone for you?”

You shook your head, smiling at his endless concern. “I’m fine, Jack. They’ve got me on some good meds, so I’m not feeling much pain right now.”

“Good,” he said, though his gaze lingered on you for a moment, as if trying to detect any hidden discomfort. “Tell me if that changes, okay? If you need anything—anything at all—you call me.”

“Jack, you’re on the other side of the country,” you pointed out, your tone teasing. “What could you possibly do from there?”

“Plenty,” he said stubbornly. “I could call your coach. Or your doctor. Or the president, if I have to.”

You laughed, the sound soft but genuine. “I don’t think the president can help with a broken leg, Jack.”

“Then I’ll find someone who can,” he shot back, grinning. “I’m serious, though. Just tell me if you need anything.”

“All I need is for you to win some games,” you teased, your voice light. “That’s all the help I need.”

Jack rolled his eyes, but you could see the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Yeah,” you said, smiling back. “But you love me anyway.”

By the end of the week, the calls felt like second nature. Jack would update you on his games, sharing every detail with the enthusiasm of someone desperate to distract himself from his own worries. In turn, you’d tell him about the progress you were making in the hospital, even if it was slow. You joked about how the nurses were starting to recognize him just from the sound of his voice, and he teased you about how bossy you were getting with your requests for snacks and drinks.

Through it all, Jack’s constant presence—whether through a screen or a phone call—was what kept you going. And even though he couldn’t be there in person, he made you feel as though he was never truly far away.

Finally, after what felt like the longest week of your life, the day finally arrived when Jack’s West Coast road trip came to an end. He had called you every day, just like he’d promised, but it wasn’t the same as having him by your side. Through the screen, you could see the worry etched into his face and hear it in the tone of his voice. He hated being so far away from you, and every conversation ended with him muttering how much he wished he could teleport home.

The waiting had been agonizing for both of you. Jack barely slept, the guilt of not being able to be there gnawing at him, and you had spent your days in the hospital, frustrated by your immobility and longing for his comforting presence. So when you finally got the text that he had landed and was on his way, the anticipation became almost unbearable.

You sat up in the hospital bed, your leg propped up in a brace and wrapped in layers of bandages, staring at the door like a puppy waiting for its owner to return. You heard the sound of hurried footsteps in the hallway, and then the door swung open.

“Jack,” you breathed, and there he was.

He looked exhausted. His hair was messy from the flight, his eyes shadowed from lack of sleep, but the relief on his face was so palpable it nearly brought tears to your eyes. He crossed the room in three long strides, not even bothering to set his bag down before he wrapped you in the gentlest hug he could manage. His arms circled you carefully, mindful of your injuries, but the embrace was so full of love that it made your chest ache.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he pulled back just enough to cup your face in his hands. “God, I was so scared. Watching that hit… hearing you were in surgery… I didn’t know what to do. I felt so useless.”

You could see the guilt swimming in his eyes, and you shook your head, resting your hand on top of his. “Jack, you’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

“I should’ve been here sooner,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I hate that I wasn’t here when you needed me most.”

“Stop,” you said softly, your fingers brushing against his wrist. “You did everything you could. You called, you checked in—Jack, I knew you were with me, even if you weren’t here physically.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his emotions flickering across his face like a storm. Then he leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’m here now,” he murmured, as though saying it aloud made it more real. “And I’m not leaving until you’re back on your feet.”

The first day of Jack’s visit was spent catching up—he pulled a chair close to your bed, his fingers intertwined with yours as he asked about every detail of the surgery and recovery process. He flinched when you described the pain of the initial hit and visibly winced when you told him about waking up after the surgery. His worry was written all over him, and it didn’t fade even when you assured him that you were healing.

But he didn’t just stop at sitting by your side. By the next day, Jack had transformed into a one-man care team. He brought you your favorite coffee every morning, carefully maneuvering around the hospital room as though he’d been doing it for years. He kept your water bottle full, adjusted your pillows to make sure you were comfortable, and even insisted on helping you wash your hair when you mentioned you felt gross from lying in bed for so long.

“Jack, you don’t have to do all this,” you said one evening as he helped you shift positions, your leg still immobilized in the brace. “You just got back from a road trip. You should be resting, not waiting on me hand and foot.”

He scoffed, his hands steady as he fluffed your pillows. “Resting? What kind of boyfriend would I be if I wasn’t here taking care of you?”

“A tired one?” you offered, raising an eyebrow.

He smirked, but his expression softened as he leaned down to kiss your temple. “I’m exactly where I need to be. Don’t fight me on this—I’m taking care of you whether you like it or not.”

And he meant it. Jack spent every moment he wasn’t at practice by your side, helping you with the little things that had become impossible with your injury. When you were finally discharged and sent home, Jack took charge of setting up the apartment to accommodate your limited mobility. He rearranged furniture, set up a cozy corner on the couch where you could elevate your leg, and made sure your favorite snacks were within reach.

At night, when the pain was at its worst and sleep felt impossible, Jack was there. He’d sit beside you, his hand resting on your arm as he talked you through the discomfort. Sometimes he’d read to you, his voice low and soothing, and other times he’d just sit quietly, his presence enough to calm your racing thoughts.

One evening, as you lay curled up on the couch with your leg propped up on a stack of pillows, Jack sat beside you with a bag of takeout from your favorite restaurant. The smell of your favorite dish filled the room, and you smiled up at him, your heart swelling with gratitude.

“You’re kind of amazing, you know that?” you said, watching as he carefully plated the food for you.

He looked up, his face flushing slightly. “I’m just doing what anyone would do.”

“Not everyone would fly across the country after an exhausting road trip and spend every waking moment taking care of their injured girlfriend,” you pointed out. “You’ve been… incredible, Jack. I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through this without you.”

His eyes softened, and he leaned down to kiss you, his lips lingering against yours as though he was trying to convey everything he couldn’t say. “You don’t have to go through anything alone,” he murmured. “Not as long as I’m here.”

In the weeks that followed, Jack became your rock. He helped you through the frustration of physical therapy, cheered you on as you regained strength, and reminded you every day that you were stronger than you thought. And though the road to recovery was long and grueling, the love and support Jack gave you made it feel a little less daunting.

As you sat together one evening, your head resting on his shoulder and your cast resting across his lap, you realized something profound: this injury, as difficult as it had been, had only brought you closer. Jack’s unwavering dedication had proven, without a doubt, that he was in this for the long haul. And with him by your side, you knew you could face anything.

[gracie-eilish]

i loved your babygirl imagine, and i’m just thinking about how billie would be an awesome and encouraging partner while giving birth, could you write something like that please? 🫶🏻✨

an: of fucking course i can!

HAHA y’all thought i was done with the baby fics. NEVERRRR!!! the baby fever is RAGING and i’m starting to get concerned 😀

jk jk. i’ll be done in like ten minutes i promise.

warnings: mild descriptions of birth, mention of needles/epidural, mention of breastfeeding, not a warning but it’s a baby girl bc i wanna be a girl mom so bad hehe anywhosies enjoy the fic

also there’s gonna be a part two to this fic like super soon cause it was gonna be so freaking long if i made it one part OK THATS ALL BYEEEEE💋💋💋 edit: part two is now posted!

our girl💞 (pt. 1)

A sharp, rolling ache pulled you from sleep, making you suck in a breath as your fingers instinctively gripped the sheets. The room was dark and quiet, the soft hum of the ocean outside barely audible through the cracked window. You lay still for a moment, trying to process what had woken you. Then, another wave of pain built deep in your stomach, stronger this time, radiating downward. Your heart pounded as realization hit.

You reached out, pressing a hand against Billie’s warm skin. “B-Billie?” Your voice came out shaky, barely a whisper.

She stirred immediately, her sleepy mumble turning into full alertness the second she saw your face. “Baby?” She pushed up onto one elbow, blinking at you in the dim light. “What’s wrong?”

“I think…” Another contraction hit, and you clenched your jaw, gripping her wrist. “I think it’s happening.”

For half a second, she was still, as if letting the words sink in. Then, all at once, she was moving. “Okay. Okay, uh—how far apart?” She reached for her phone, fumbling with the timer as she sat up. “How bad is it? Like, one to ten?”

You exhaled shakily, gripping your belly as the pain ebbed. “Like… a six? Maybe a seven?”

She nodded quickly. “Alright. Let’s time ‘em.”

She stayed pressed close, watching the seconds tick by as she cradled your hand in both of hers. When the next contraction came, she hit the timer, murmuring soft encouragements as you breathed through it.

“God, you’re so strong,” she whispered, kissing your knuckles. “You got this, baby.”

When the contraction passed, you let out a long breath. Billie glanced at the screen. “Eight minutes apart. We’ve got some time. Wanna stay in bed or move around?”

You swallowed, wincing as you shifted. “Move.”

Without hesitation, she helped you sit up, guiding you onto your feet with steady hands. “Let’s do some laps around the room. Just tell me if you need a break, okay?”

You nodded, gripping her hand tightly as the two of you began to pace. Billie stayed close, watching you carefully, her free hand rubbing slow circles into your lower back. Every time you needed to pause, she was right there, letting you lean into her.

“Breathe, baby,” she murmured as another contraction hit, her arms firm around you. “I’ve got you. Just like that. In… out… good girl.”

You groaned softly, forehead pressed against her shoulder. “It hurts.”

���I know, baby. I know.” She kissed your hair, voice thick with love. “But you’re doing so amazing. I swear, I’ve never seen anyone stronger.”

You huffed a soft laugh. “You’re just saying that ‘cause I’m pushing out your kid.”

She grinned, squeezing your waist. “That, and ‘cause it’s true.”

When the contractions got stronger, she guided you to your birthing ball, lowering you down gently. “Bounce a little, see if it helps,” she suggested, kneeling in front of you. You rocked your hips, exhaling as the pressure lessened slightly. Billie watched you with soft, loving eyes.

“That better?”

You nodded pushing some hair out of your face. “A little.”

“Good. Hey, let me do your hair. Keep it outta your face.” She slipped behind you, her fingers working gently through your strands as you continued moving around on the ball. “You’re gonna look hot as hell delivering this baby,” she teased, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

You snorted. “Oh yeah. So hot. Nothing sexier than labor.”

She laughed, tying off the braid. “You say that, but I’m still fully obsessed with you.”

For a little while, the two of you stayed like that—her whispering soft encouragements as you breathed through each wave of pain, her hands never leaving your body. But as the contractions got closer together, you finally groaned, “Billie, I think it’s time.”

She didn’t even hesitate, already grabbing the hospital bag and her keys. “Alright, baby. Let’s go meet our little girl.”

“Billie?” You whimpered as you both were halfway out the door.

“Yeah baby?” She turned to face you, nothing but love, and maybe a bit of nerves, in her eyes.

“Billie, I’m scared. How am I gonna do this? What if I can’t do this?” You were starting to ramble, your eyes shifting as the anxiety started to flood your brain.

“Hey, hey, no no baby. None of that,” She guided you other to the little porch swing attached to your porch next to your front door, guiding you to sit before sitting next to you.

“You, are going to be the best mom in the world. I sweat to god, you have taken care of everyone in your life every single day, you are kind and gentle and loving and soft and supportive, you have spent your whole life being a mother without a child,” You were officially tearing up at Billie’s little speech, making her chuckle softly and wipe away the stray tears ft at had fallen.

“If there is anyone who can do this perfectly, it’s you. You’ve got this and I’ll be there the whole time okay? This baby is the luckiest baby in the world because she had you as her mama. I’m so excited to be a mom with you my love,” she finished, holding your hand and stroking your cheek.

“Let’s go have a baby Billie,” You said strongly, smiling so wide, making Billie’s heart skip a beat in a way it hadn’t since your wedding day. She (softly) pounced to kiss you passionately, ready to enter the next chapter of your love story.

The moment you arrived at the hospital, Billie stayed glued to your side. She helped you change into the hospital gown, tucked the blankets around you, adjusted your pillows—anything and everything to make sure you were comfortable. When the next contraction hit, she was right there, rubbing your back, whispering, “You’re doing so good. Almost there, baby.”

Between contractions, she fed you ice chips, brushing her fingers over your cheek. “You okay? Need anything?”

You exhaled slowly, shaking your head. “Just you.”

Her expression softened, and she leaned down, kissing your forehead. “I’m not going anywhere, my love.”

Then, the nurse mentioned the epidural. Your stomach dropped. You had always hated needles.

Billie knew that. She saw the flicker of fear in your eyes immediately. Without a word, she climbed onto the bed in front of you, wrapping her arms tightly around your waist.

“Just hold on to me,” she whispered. “Don’t even think about it. I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you.”

You buried your face in her neck, gripping her arms as tightly as you could. Billie could feel your tight grip on her shirt, your nerves evident.

“Baby can I tell you a secret?” She mumbled into your hair. She continued after she felt you nod.

“In a few hours, you’re gonna have a soft little snuggly baby, sleeping right on your chest. And her little hand is gonna grab at your skin looking for you and wanting you.” You whimpered softly at the thought, your heart melting. Billie knew that was your weakness.

“And I’ll be right there to help you breastfeed her, I know how important that is to you. And I have another secret too,” She continued to ramble, her own nerves softening when she heard a slight giggle come from you.

“When you feed her, she’s gonna look up at you with the biggest little Bambi eyes you’ve ever seen and she’s gonna love you so much and just cuddle right up to you because you’re her best mama.”

The sting of the needle barely registered over the sound of her voice.

“You’re so strong baby,” She said peppering kisses to your hairline, and rubbing your shoulders before helping you lay back down in bed.

When the doctor finally said, “It’s time to push,” Billie squeezed your hand, eyes shining with pride.

“You ready, baby?”

You let out a shaky breath, nodding. “Yeah.”

She helped hold one of your legs, her grip steady and sure. “Alright, mama bear,” she whispered. “Let’s meet our girl.”

With every push, she was there, pressing kisses to your damp forehead, wiping away sweat, whispering, “You’re doing perfect, my love. You’re almost there.”

The pain was overwhelming, exhausting, but Billie’s voice grounded you. “One more, baby. Just one more.”

You gave everything you had, and then—

A cry filled the room.

Your whole body trembled as the doctor lifted your daughter into the air, the tiny, wiggling baby letting out a strong, fierce wail. Tears blurred your vision. Billie let out a choked sob, her forehead dropping against yours.

“She’s here,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Oh my god, baby. She’s here.”

The doctor placed your daughter on your chest, and the moment her tiny, warm body pressed against yours, everything else faded away. She was perfect—tiny fingers, round cheeks, a little scrunched-up nose. You let out a breathless laugh, fresh tears slipping down your cheeks.

“She’s so beautiful,” you whispered.

Billie was crying, her hands covering her mouth, her whole body shaking with emotion. Then, she reached out, her fingers tracing over your daughter’s tiny hand. The baby curled her fingers around Billie’s, holding tight.

Billie let out a soft, broken laugh. “She’s got a strong grip,” she whispered, wiping her tears. “Just like her mama.”

You turned your head, catching Billie’s lips in a soft, tearful kiss. “We did it.”

She smiled so big it hurt, her hand cupping your face. “Yeah, baby. We did.”

And as your daughter lay against your chest, as Billie held you both, crying and laughing and pressing endless kisses to your skin, you knew—your world was finally complete.

[mybelovedsylus]

My hand slipped. Uh 18+ pls. Minors, keep it moving even though I know this doesn't come close to other's spice lol. ANYWAY the boys may have been feral in the promos - but uh anyway this is for my fellow Sylus girlies. (Also my first go at smut so I can’t promise anything great- but gotta get it out before we probably find out the cards are actually angsty as fuck) Potential Caleb one in the works cause the whole shoving his necklace in his mouth moment… aaaaaaaanyways no beta and no proofreading cause that’s who I’ve always been and it’s a pain on the iPad - forgive any mistakes.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The Sylus I had gotten to know over the last several months was gone. He had disappeared out of the N109 zone in the middle of the day while I had been off on a mission hunting wanderers. Luke and Kieran had blown up my phone, but by the time I got the messages the trail had gone cold. That was until a few months later and that’s how I found myself in a giant cage, Sylus chained up across from me. The usual shine of red glimmer in his eyes was gone, instead it was a preditorial black glaring back at me.

“What have they done to you?”

“You’ve come to help? Why your idea of help is heartwarming,” he stuttered out stumbling towards me, pulling against his chains. His head tilted to the side and his tongue swept across his bottom lip as he looked me up and down. Before I could stop myself I flinched back a step, backing away just an inch but he noted it right away. His lips lifted into a eerie grin and then before I could blink he was on me, twisting my body so my back was perfectly molded to his front. I gasped as he ground his hips into mine and his arm locked around my throat, letting me know exactly what thoughts were filtering through his mind.

“Sylus, focus, we can worry about that later. Now’s the time to get you out of here.”

It was a weak beg honestly. It had been weeks since I had seen him and I wasn’t immune to him even knowing that he wasn’t himself. It’s as if he could sense that, huffing a sardonic chuckle into my neck as his mouth trailed up to my ear.

“Why would we leave?” He whispered and I felt the cool metal of chains sliding around my waist and winding over both hands. That was the shock I needed to start trying to pull out of his grasp, twisting to face him - who knew how long we actually had to get out of here? He gave me a teasing ‘tsk’ and then yanked my hands together and looped the remaining chain through cage, pulling until my arms were secured above my head.

“Now you’ll never fly away little bird.”

That was the last warning you got before Sylus was on you. His hands were roughly pulling on your hair as his mouth slanted over yours. His pace was punishing, like he was trying to make up for lost time and also like he was blaming you for whatever had happened to him in the time it took you to track him down. You whimpered into his mouth and that provided the perfect opening for him to lick inside your mouth, tangling your tongue with his. He pulled back, his hand giving another firm tug to your hair before pulling them free.

“Now where do we start? I mean the outfit is something else, I think we keep that,” he whispers his hands trailing down the front of my chest, stopping to pull at my nipples now straining against the leather before they continue on down to the skirt. I feel the familiar callouses trail down my leg, hooking under my knee to wrap my leg around his waist as he presses closer to me.

“I can feel the heat pulsing off of you here,” he growled out as his hands were suddenly under the skirt, pushing my underwear to the side. He bit down on my neck and I groaned as his fingers ghosted over my slit, gathering some of the wetness that was rapidly pooling, before using them to flick my clit roughly.

“Fuck, what are they giving you?”

“I thought you were trying to get me away from this,” his words ring true, but my thoughts are muddled by the way he’s playing my body.

He shifts his attention from my clit, roughly plunging two fingers inside me. I squirm, desperately wanting to grasp at something and only being able to pull uselessly on my chains. He sets a punishing pace, the sound obscene in the otherwise silent area. After a few thrusts he adds in a third, his eyes fixated on my face and reading all of the responses that I’m sure are flickering across my face. I don’t even realize my mouth is hanging open until I’m being fed said fingers, tasting myself on his skin. He’s pushing them deeper down my throat, testing how much I can take.

“Suck,” he commands. I hear the sound of his chains rattling, his free hand grabbing at my other leg so my body is now supported by his body, and held up by the chains. I moan around his fingers as I feel the head of his cock pushing at my entrance. My hips roll into him, needing him. He lets out a cruel laugh at my desperation before slamming himself home. I scream against his fingers, rolling my body into him and pulling uselessly against the chains. My eyes are watering and his little control left seems to snap. The hand around my thigh moves up to collar my neck and he pulls almost all the way out, dragging against all the sensitive spots, to slam home over and over.

“This is what I’ve needed, why didn’t you get here sooner, so warm, feels like home,” he grunts, pulling his fingers from my mouth, using the soaking digits to flick my clit as he pounds into me. I can feel and hear the slam of his balls as he bottoms out, then the head of his cock hooking on my slit as it fights to stay inside.

“Please, Sylus, please let me have my hands back, I need to feel you just like you need to feel me.”

He falters for a second, and I wonder if the medicine makes it where he can’t trust me like normal. But eventually the chain loosens. My hands aren’t completely free, but they’re loose enough that I can loop them around his neck and pull myself even closer to him. I grab the longer hair at the nape of his neck and pull, which causes him to let out a deep groan and piston even harder. At that point I’m tearing lines into his upper back, wherever my hands can find purchase as I am taken on a ride. His fingers twitch around my neck before closing in and giving the illusion of cutting off my air supply. I can’t help the moan that tears out of me, and then I’m trying to push myself back on him, to get him deeper, to get him to leave a permanent impression inside of me.

“I’m not gonna last much longer Sy,” I warn in a horse tone, struggling the words out. He uses the grip on my throat to pull my head towards him so he can swallow my cries with his mouth. The finger on my clit flicks even faster and I’m screaming as I fall apart around him. He groans as my walls clamp onto him, making it harder for him to keep up his bruising pace. It’s only a few moments later that he’s pulling away from my mouth and biting down hard on my shoulder as he finds his own release, a few small aftershocks wracking his body as he gives me small little thrusts as he pulses inside of me. We spend a second still wrapped around each other, both breathing heavily. He starts to pull away, and I whimper as he slips out, a warm gush going with him.

He looks down and smiles when he sees the mess of my thighs from where our releases are combined. With a snarky smirk, he moves my underwear back in place regardless of the mess. In fact, he seems to like the idea that I’m sitting here with clear evidence of what just happened.

“Hands Sy, play time is over, it’s time to get moving,” I remind him, rattling the chains to draw his attention, “and I need a shower.”

“Mmmm except now you smell like me." He says as his nose follows the sensitive path up my neck, causing my skin to pebble and my shoulder to shake in a shiver. Oversensitive at this point, I put my hands on his chest and shove.

"Ugh. Fine, time to fly little bird,” he whispers as he frees my hands, and as he looks down at me I can see a tiny bit of the usual red returning to his eyes as the drugs lose a little of their control. There’s a glimpse for a second of the Sylus I’ve been missing. I grasp his wrist and pull him towards the exit, time to fly indeed.

[occamstfs]

MuskMask Up

Found footage of the missing persons Eddie Leon and Bowen Chen, last seen vlogging at a new gym with a mandatory mask policy. Well documented is what seems to happen when one forgets theirs.

Mixing it up a bit! Diary entries within a short metanarrative police investigation- Meat of the story is coworkers bulking up at an advanced rate after borrowing masks from the gym, hope you enjoy! -Occam

The following footage was found by the now missing-in-action Detective Smith during a missing persons investigation of civilians Eduardo “Eddie” Leon and Bowen Chen. If you have any information on the whereabouts of the pair or Detective Smith please call APD with information.

February 1st:

The scene opens with Eddie’s face inches away from a tripod he’s setting up. Behind him, stretching outside the entrance to a gym, is coworker Bowen Chen. Eddie smiles once he sees the camera has begun recording and backs away to start the first vlog on his journey to better health. Hopping up and waving both hands with abandon, he does just that.

“Heyyy guys! Today’s day one of hitting the gym with Bowen! Obviously he knows what he’s doing so this whole thing should be a piece of cake- I mean look at him!” He gestures to his friend mid-drink of water and Bowen quickly chokes it down before shyly responding. Face blushing pink as he’s clearly not nearly as comfortable on camera.

“Ah, uhm- Yes. Hello, audience? I’ve been ah uhm, steady? At the gym for a few years now and Eddie was wondering if I could show him the ropes. Sooo, uhm.” Eduardo was very clear that he was going to be doing a vlog about the whole thing but Bowen had no idea how much a camera would put him on edge. Seeing him flounder and hearing every word come quieter than the last Eddie quickly picks up the slack.

“So yeah! We’re going to a new gym that opened up, all their ads brag about retention rate and quick results which is what I’m all about haha!” Seeing a man in a face mask come through the automatic doors behind him Eddie claps his hands and tacks on, “OH! They also still require face masks which, I don’t mind,” he playfully grasps his friend’s jaw causing blush to return over a shy grin, “it does mean you might be seeing less of this little cutie’s face but so it goes~ When in Brome hee hee!” 

Bowen’s phone goes off as a timer set to ensure the pair stretch for long enough comes to an end. He then chastises Eddie for spending so long of their prep time vlogging before crossing his arms and resetting the clock to make sure his trainee stretches. Eddie quickly turns off the vlog with a wink, “Yikes already on his bad side haha~ See y’all later!”

February 9th:

“Helloooo guys~ Took my mask off real quick to record this.” He pauses to sniff the air and almost gags as he smells the musk of the gym, usually covered by his mask. “God is this what all gyms smell like?” Looking down at his sweat stained body and glistening chest he grimaces as he guesses he’s certainly not helping. Shaking it off he returns to his vlog, “Hm. I’ll edit that out- Helloooo Guys! You would not believe how much progress I’ve made already!”

He does a small flex and it’s clear he has put on more weight than would be expected, or rather more weight in a week than should be possible. “No one tells you how much you have to eat to put on mass, guys! Or I guess- Bowen told me huh?” He giggles and then jolts upright and turns the camera to his trainer working at a machine. “Speaking of gains there Mr. Mass is himself.” Behind the lens Eddie continues, “I forgot my mask today so the sweetie let me borrow his. Hear that ladies? This hunk’s also a gentleman. Someone get a ring on that finger!”

As Eddie continues to film Bowen’s reps it’s clear that something besides the effort is causing him discomfort. In fact it almost seems like the workout isn’t bothering him at all as he rolls his eyes before bending down to put more weight on the machine. With a free hand he plugs his nose to have the slightest moment of freedom from the musky scent that must be distracting him. Then as soon as he grunts through his first rep at the new weight a figure appears behind him, wearing a mask over the whole of his head and taps on his shoulder before clearly preparing to confront him.

“Oop, oh shit-” Eddie whispers, too far from his trainer to know what exactly the little confrontation is about, but after a few gestures to his maskless face it’s pretty clear. The sound of Eddie quickly putting his mask back on can be heard behind the camera as across the gym Bowen clearly nods a few times, assumedly acquiescing, motioning to pack up and head back later. He apologies and gestures for Eddie to head to the locker room but then the sweaty masked man waves him off and pats him on the back, pulling out a mask from his sweatpants.

Bowen’s gasp is loud enough to be heard enough on camera as he backs into the machine in shock as the brute holds out a mask retrieved from his sweaty pants. He waves his hands clear as day that he’s not about to put on that must-be stained mask. Eddie quickly gets off his machine and starts to head over check in on his friend. He knows Bowen hates attention and is wont to fold at any confrontation but surely he’s not about to be pressured into putting on that dirty rag.

Keeping the camera trained on Bowen just in case, he’s too focused on the shot to really notice the fear in the man’s eyes as he stares up at the masked figure. And then, with a gulp, Bowen shakily accepts the mask, close enough to read lips one could just about make out Bowen’s whispered apology, “I’m sorry sir it won’t happen again” And then he does the unthinkable and puts on the dirty mask. Eddie reacts quietly enough only for the camera to pick up, “Jesus Christ- Bo!? What are you doing?!” 

After the masked man pats Bowen on the back, harder than one surely should, and offers a rough handshake, he departs. The camera captures a few more frames as Eddie walks the final few feet over. While not covered in sweat, it’s clear that the mask on Bowen’s face is wrinkled and has a small dark patch in its corner. Either from the workout or from the anxious confrontation, the trainer is clearly breathing heavily. 

With each breath his eyes begin to glisten glassy. Staring off into the middle distance he adjusts his pants and seems distracted as each heaving breath strives to be deeper than the one that came before, as each gasp of musky air tries to instill more of the essence trapped within the wretched mask. His eyes almost begin to cross in the last frame before Eddie puts his phone in his pocket, leaving the last few seconds of the recording audio only. “Uhhhhm, Hey Bowen? What the fuck was that?”

There is a few seconds pause followed by the sound of presumably Bowen swallowing saliva before he answers “Oh! Uhhh yeah? I don’t know dude?” “Dude?” “Sorry my head feels like it’s swimming, Eddie? That was so uhh, intense-” The sound of adjusting clothing again comes through, someone pulling on the elastic band of their underwear.

Realizing the whole confrontation only happened because he forgot his own mask, Eddie apologizes, “That wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t take yours. Look we can swap if you-”“NO.” Silence follows once more before Bowen continues, “No I uhm- don’t mind br- Eddie. How about we call it there and head home?” Eduardo agrees and the pair head off to the locker room. After a few steps the recording ends.

February 15th:

The image begins as usual of Eddie from afar, though the sound of weight’s clanging is far louder than usual. After a few false starts interrupted by the din of falling metal, the vlogger walks a few feet away and begins talking to the camera, “Hey everyone, quick update this time-” Flexing to himself he takes a moment to address his continued growth before in the distance he hears brash, deep laughter and what little of his face is revealed makes his worry clear as day.

“I’m still chugging along but Bowen has, well blown up? Ever since the last vlog when that asshole made him wear a dirty mask it’s almost like he’s a totally different person? Here, look-” Eddie quickly pans the camera over to a man almost unrecognizable resting on a bench. Beyond having arms as large as Bowen’s legs should be, the man’s demeanor is indeed entirely different. He flexes his arm and moans to himself as he sees a central vein pushing against the strained shirt sleeve.

“Is it steroids? Do you think? OH! He’s also started using the masks the gym provides- Are there like, inhale-y steroids?” The vlogger quickly heads to the web to research, paying no mind to what the lens catch as the camera unintentionally witnesses the massive man lumbering up from his bench, leaving an unwiped sweat stain in his wake.

Massive pecs bounce with each step and thighs strain his shorts as he makes his way over to Eddie, “YO! Edster- Come help me stretch!” Eddie flinches as he’s shouted at, groaning uncomfortably he obeys his trainer. Forgetting he was taking a vlog at all he sets his phone down. The air fills with groans, cracking bones, and almost deliberately loud grunts from Bowen.

“You know I seem to remember you wanting to not put on too much weight Bo?” 

There’s a deep guffaw, “Pshyeah, but y’know, when the muscle-bug bites huhuh!” The sound of his sleeves straining from a performative flex covers up his breathy moan from hyperextension. “Woah bro, why do you look so down?”

Clearly not thinking his mood would be caught by a man whose only gear has suddenly become self-obsessed, Eddie stumbles, “Well I don’t know, I guess? I’m just worried about- You just seem a little different is all.

“Huh.” There’s a long silence interrupted only by the buzz of music and clanging weights far off. Then there’s a quick gasp as in one motion Bowen stands and hoists Eddie into the air, “woAH! Bo! Put me down!” 

“Huhuh no bro I get it- You don’t know why you’re not seein’ results as good as mine I totally get it!” Eddie grunts and gags in arms that truly could snap him in half, “Ugh B- you’re so sweaty ple-ugh.” Squirming in the behemoth’s grasp his face is forced into sweaty pecs that promptly stain his mask a dark blue. “God you’re going to get your b.o. All over me dude-” 

There are a few more seconds of complaint before Bowen finally drops his little buddy. Picking up his phone there’s a look of concern or questioning on his face, any number of thoughts soar through his mind, has Bowen always been that tall? Why has he grown so much? What happened to him, is it going to happen to me? And then he takes a deep breath. A sigh in relief or irritation, it’s unclear, but it doesn’t matter. The camera gets a much better glimpse this time as the gym-goer breaths in the oh-so musky, mask filtered air.

Under the mask his mouth squrims into a grimace, but already eyes begin to give way to thoughtless longing. With another breath one twitches while the other falls open wide, wanting nothing more than to mainline the scent directly into his nervous system. Pupils dilate large enough to almost hide his cacao irises before a meaty hand pats him on the back, “Earth to Eddo- Bro? You comin’ to wash up or what huhuh!” Jarred back to sentience, Eddie nods and follows him, the recording ending a few moments after.

February 22nd:

The camera alights on someone unrecognizable baring his torso for fans he doesn’t yet have, though the glazed look in his eyes is more than enough hint to prove it is the vlogger before he introduces himself. “Yoooo guys! Back at it again with Bowen, how’re we lookin?”

Eddie flexes a thick bicep and smirks under his mask, adjusting it as he laughs. It’s deeper, slower, a far cry from his usual giggle. “oh yeah, I’ve been usin’ the gyms masks just like Bowen said. And I gotta say, I think they’re the real secret of this place, I’ve just been packin’ on muscle since I started borrowing them.”

Standing to his side, Bowen makes himself known, somehow even bulkier than last time. Veins criss cross his forearms and shoulders stretch wide enough that it’s a wonder he was able to even get the suctioned compression shirt om. The thin elastic straps of his mask almost snap as he speaks up, the meek camera-shy man he once was clearly erased from his mind, “I’m saying Ed! Don’t know why you were holdin’ out on trying them after seeing how much I’ve grown!” Bowen crosses his arms and his top is stretched to his limits.

Eddie laughs before his eyes go dull as laughter leaves him with no choice but to take yet another deep breath. Lost in a thought that seems to never come, his words are barely audible enough to be caught by the camera almost mistakable for a moan, it may as well be one. He whispers “need more.” Drawn out like a death knell his vocal chords creak as they lengthen. And then, the camera captures the impossible.

It looks as if it’s edited. Arms go limp as they hang lower, bloat larger, heavier, barely staying in their sockets before his shoulders similarly bulge into thick balls of muscle. Pecs that have existed for less than a month push his sweaty tank top to its limits. The bench on which he rests creaks under his weight as thighs send tears through athletic shorts that were already too tight to wear. 

Behind him, his massive trainer’s eyes widen as he pauses his workout to stare at Eddie’s growth. Hungrily watching as individual strands of muscle flex and surge. Were his own mask not already sweat-stained, the drool frothing from his mouth may be more apparent. Bowen lets his weights clatter to the floor as he staggers close and leans in close to Eddie’s neck, sniffing like a predator, releasing something in between a whimper and grown as his scarred palms clench at his prey-apparent’s biceps, still bulging larger in his hands.

Bowen’s chest, over doubled in size since he began frequenting this gym, produces a rumble low enough to barely register as words. Through his mask he teeths the man’s neck, “Think I got another idea to get some gains Eddie.” This stirs the man from his reveries though does not for minute stop his growth as he bolts to his feet, almost falling forward from the new weight on his chest. Surely he would have had the man about to work him out maintained the iron grip on his arm.

Not another word is heard from the pair as they swiftly retreat to the locker room. The tripod continues filming until Eddie’s phone dies and contains little else of note. Other gym goers wander around the background, all of them masked and many of them stare forward with the same glazed eyes as they sit at various machines, laughing to themselves, breathing heavily, and lifting more with each heaving rep. Just before his phone dies and the recording ends, the man who gave Bowen his mask collects the tripod, through his mask a smile is clear on his face.

On March fifteenth newly promoted Detective Archie Smith follows up on a lead from coworkers of the missing men that the pair had recently started hitting up the Musclerade Gym. something about vlogging. The detective didn’t care. Miraculously, almost immediately did he find a pair of men who identify as Eduardo and Bowen. The only thing is-both resolutely deny ever having worked in an office building. Beyond that, it barely takes a glance to tell that despite their names and races that they cannot be the men in question. By sheer body weight alone, it’s impossible

Sure Mr. Chen looks healthy enough in his license photo but that massive hunk that stands before him could punch straight through the Detective. With a gulp Archie finds his eyes desperately wanting to trace the powerful muscles, begging for his attention through spandex and strained nylon. He finds his attention drawn to his own crotch as he can’t help but trace the veins on ‘Eduardo’s’ flexing arms to a hairy armpit dripping with sweat. Before he’s lost to his lusts however, he comes to his senses as the acrid musk pouring from both men sears his nose.

With a grunt he shakes off the beyond unprofessional distraction and meets the eyes of both men, neither too pleased to see the officer in their space. He fakes a smile and turns to continue his investigation before being intercepted by a man who seems to be of some authority, pulling him off to the side. Only his eyes are visible which sets Archie on edge. “What seems to be the problem officer?”

He explains his case and the mystery man calls the pair over, their harsh glares soften and Eddie laughs as he’s reminded of his little vlogs. Apparently the pair are trainers at the gym which despite some strange ping at the back of his mind, ignoring something screaming from his gut, when he sees their sculpted forms, smells their noxious odors, he can’t help but believe them. The masked man even offers to give him the recorded film, that is as long as he’s okay adhering to the gym’s guidelines while he waits.

There’s a glint in the eyes of both massive men now standing behind him as they each dislodge wrinkled masks from stained pants that have clearly suffered at least one gym session. Prepared to suffer more discomfort than this to sate his curiosity he throws on one of the hopefully unused masks. It’s at this point that the case goes cold. 

This recounting of events, along with a copy of Eduardo Leon’s ‘vlogs’ were found sloppily scrawled on some magazines near the shredded uniform of Officer Smith. It doesn’t seem to be his handwriting unless he were racing quite hastily against, well. I haven’t quite the idea what. I suppose it is of some note that they were next to a bloated member of the gym who didn’t have any I.D. on him. His clothes seemed to be from a lost and found as they didn’t fit quite right. We were unable to further investigate his identity, but without a doubt it simply could not be Officer Smith.

The junior officer who retrieved the evidence could scarcely spend five minutes next to the man, and given Smith’s predilections towards order and cleanliness it simply could not be him. Unfortunately the state of the gym put the officer in such unease that he did no further investigation. It’s a shame as when an investigation team was sent the following day it was as if the gym was never there. I am not one for flights of fancy, it is my belief that the whole situation was simply some drug front, perhaps steroids. At any rate should you see, or perhaps smell any of these men. I advise caution. And under no circumstances should you borrow one of their face masks, obviously.

Included above are to our best knowledge are the most recent sightings of Bowen Chen, Eduardo Leon, and finally a third depicting Eduardo alongside who we believe to be the man of interest found nearby Officer Smith’s uniform. It seems they haven’t stopped growing, that is, if this all isn’t some wild goose chase. Again, if you have information do report to APD. Though please refrain from submitting any, biological material. We have lost enough of the forensics department to this mania as is.

[billiesbabygirleilish]

Billie x guitarist reader where Billie and reader are friends but there is obvious tension between them. Reader loves to post guitar thirst traps on her socials and Billie is seen by fans in the readers comment section flirting. There is some chatter and fans are starting to notice when Billie is out with her friend group, they see reader and Billie kind of all over each other. Can take place at one of billies shows, billies guitarist is sick so asks reader to fill in (even though reader is just there to help in the background) reader agrees and Billie gets reader to play next to her in one of her songs (you can pick which one baby) and they interact in a cute flirty way in the show.After the show they have a moment can be fluff or smut up to you. They get spotted kissing later at an after party (set at an LA show) Billie posts a pic on her ig story kissing reader (like the Odessa pic) then deletes it and just refuses to talk about it. But people definitely think something is going on because they see that Maggie, Finn and Claudia follow reader on ig.

I’ll leave it up to you to fill in the inbetween but it’s just a thought I’ve had in my head 🤭

an: OK FIRST OFF DAMN I LOVE THE IDEAS IN YOUR HEAD AND SECOND HERE YA GO

Strings of Fate

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.*.*.*.*.*➳➳➳➳➳┄┄🎸┄┄➳➳➳➳➳.*.*.*.*.*

The stale beer smell of the Forum backstage clung to your clothes even before you stepped foot into the madness. You loved the organized chaos, the pre-show jitters, the energy crackling in the air like static electricity. Tonight felt different, though. Beyond the familiar hum, there was a nervous thrum in your gut.

You were usually just here to help out. Lugging equipment, fetching water, making sure Billie's notoriously picky team had everything they needed. But tonight, Billie’s guitarist, Justin, was down with a nasty flu. And Billie, in a moment of sheer desperation, had practically begged you to fill in.

“Please, you’re the only one I trust!” she'd pleaded, her eyes wide and genuinely worried. “You know all the songs, you’re a damn good guitarist, and… and you just get it.”

You hadn’t played a show this big in years. You’d been content with your Instagram guitar thirst traps, short snippets of riffs and soulful solos that garnered a surprising amount of attention. Especially from a certain Billie Eilish, who had a habit of leaving flirty little comments like, “Damn, those fingers do more than just play guitar, huh?” or “Can I borrow that guitar? For… reasons.”

Those comments were half the reason you agreed.

Now, standing backstage, tuning Justin's guitar, you could feel Billie’s eyes on you. You glanced up, catching her leaning against a road case, arms crossed, a small smirk playing on her lips.

“Nervous?” she asked, her voice low and husky.

You chuckled, trying to keep your voice steady. “A little. Haven’t played in front of this many people since… well, ever.”

“Relax,” she said, pushing herself off the case and walking towards you. “You’re gonna crush it. I know you will.” She stopped right in front of you, close enough that you could smell her signature vanilla perfume. “Besides,” she added, a playful glint in her eyes, “I’ll be there to hold your hand… metaphorically, of course.”

The night flew by in a blur of flashing lights, screaming fans, and the adrenaline-fueled roar of the music. Your fingers moved instinctively, years of practice kicking in as you navigated the familiar tunes. But the real highlight was “The 30th.”

Billie walked over to you mid-song, a mischievous grin on her face. "Alright, superstar, show 'em what you got.” She nodded towards the sea of faces, her eyes sparkling.

The spotlight hit you and you launched into the guitar solo, a bluesy lament that echoed the song’s bittersweet melody. You poured every ounce of feeling into it, lost in the moment, your fingers dancing across the fretboard. When you finished, the crowd erupted, and Billie grabbed your hand, holding it aloft as she sang the final verse, her voice tinged with a vulnerability that sent shivers down your spine.

After the show, backstage was a whirlwind of congratulations and high-fives. You found yourself pushed up against a wall, Billie’s body pressed close to yours.

“You were incredible,” she breathed, her voice a low rumble. “Seriously, that solo… wow.”

You couldn’t help but grin. “Thanks. You weren’t so bad yourself.”

The air crackled between you. You could feel her gaze burning into you, and you knew, without a doubt, that she felt it too.

“Can I… can I steal you away from all this for a second?” she murmured, her hand finding your waist.

You didn’t even have time to answer before she was leading you out of the chaos and into a quiet storage room. The only light came from a single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling.

She turned to face you, her expression serious for a moment. Then, she reached up and gently brushed a stray strand of hair from your face.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” she whispered, and before you could say anything, she leaned in and kissed you.

It was soft at first, hesitant, a tentative exploration. But then she deepened the kiss, her lips molding against yours, her hand tightening on your waist. It was everything you’d imagined, and more. It was a kiss that tasted of longing and unspoken desires, a kiss that promised so much more.

Later that night, at the after-party, surrounded by flashing lights and pulsating music, the tension between you and Billie was palpable. You kept finding yourselves drawn to each other, whispers and stolen glances exchanged across the crowded room.

Then, it happened. Someone snapped a picture. You and Billie, locked in a passionate kiss against a graffiti-covered wall.

The next morning, your phone was blowing up. The picture was everywhere. Billie had posted it on her Instagram story – a grainy, blurry shot, but undeniably you two – and then, just as quickly, deleted it.

The internet exploded. Theories ran rampant. Were you dating? Was it just a one-time thing? (absolutely not)

Billie, true to form, remained silent. She didn’t address the picture, didn’t deny or confirm anything.

But then, you noticed something. Maggie, Billie’s mom, had started following you on Instagram. So had Finneas, her brother, and Claudia, his girlfriend.

It was a small thing, a seemingly insignificant detail, but it spoke volumes. It said, "We see you. We know what’s going on. And we approve.”

You still hadn't talked to Billie about it. Not really. You’d exchanged a few texts, mostly just emojis. But you knew. You both did. Something had shifted. The kiss had opened a door, and neither of you seemed inclined to close it.

You scrolled through your Instagram feed, stopping at a new post from Billie. It was a candid shot of her laughing, her eyes crinkled at the corners. The caption was simple: "Life is weird. (and sometimes, really, really good.)"

You knew she was talking about you. And you felt a slow smile spread across your face. Life was weird. But you had a feeling it was about to get a whole lot weirder. And you couldn't wait to see what happened next.

[yangjungwonisms]

Dress- YJW

warnings: NSFW| dirty talk, semi-public sex, choking(only a little), MDNI 18+

You knew as soon as Jungwon stepped through the door today that you were about to have an interesting night. For one, he was in a much better mood than he normally was after work and secondly, he was clingier with you than usual. Not to say he was ever in a bad mood when he came home but today it was different. He hadn’t let you out of his sight once since he got home, immediately wrapping you in his arms for a hug and planting a kiss on your lips. You two stood like that for a while just enjoying being with each other. But every time you tried to walk away to continue with what you were doing he’d just pull you back into him and pout whenever you tried to leave. “Baby no don’t move please. wanna hold you, missed you so much today”. You never could deny him when he started asking so nicely. “Wonie, what has gotten into you today? Is everything okay”? At that he finally released his hold on you and walked into the next room. You followed him just a little confused about what he was doing. “I’m perfect baby, just missed you is all. Hey, I’ve got an idea, let’s go out tonight. We can get all dressed up and go out for drinks and then go have dinner”. You had to admit, the idea did sound nice, it would give you a chance to actually spend time with your boyfriend which is something you hadn’t gotten to do much of recently. “That sounds like a lot of fun baby. But are you sure everything is okay? You seem different today”. He simply turned to you, smiled and winked before answering “I’m fine baby, I promise. Just wanna take my pretty girl out on the town and spoil her”.

You’d never seen Jungwon get ready as fast as he did tonight. He was showered and dressed within 30 minutes leaving you to take your time. Eventually you had to lock him out of your room because he was starting to become a distraction. It had started with him sitting on the bed watching you with what you can only describe as a predatory look in his eyes. Then when you weren’t looking he had come up behind you placing little kisses up and down your neck. “You look so beautiful princess. Can’t believe how lucky I am to have you”. You turn around quickly dodging his embrace “Jungwon baby thank you but I need you to go away. If you want us to actually leave the house you need to let me get ready in peace”. He walked backwards towards the door putting both of his hands up in surrender “sorry baby, I’ll leave you to get ready in peace” and with that he closed the door behind him. You felt a tiny bit bad for kicking him out of your room like that so you thought you’d reward him later for being so good to you.

Once you had finished getting ready, you walk out to the living room to grab your jacket signaling that you were ready to go. Before you could go anywhere Jungwon looked up at you letting out a wolf whistle “damn my baby looks gorgeous for me”. No matter how many times he complimented you it always made you blush. “Thank you baby, dressed up just for you”. Jungwon was really starting to regret his suggestion to go out, not that he didn’t want to take you out and spoil you, he just really wanted to fuck you more. One look at him told you that. “Hm, I'm the luckiest man in the world, baby. We should get going now yeah”?

The entire ride from your place to the bar was one filled with tension, you were both displaying extraordinary amounts of restraint so as not to jump each other's bones in the back of the cab. The bar Jungwon took you to was very fancy and in a great neighborhood. He was able to steal you two a booth tucked away in the corner. Over the course of your time at the bar you two may have been drinking more than was planned originally. You two weren’t drunk by any means but you weren’t exactly sober either. But the thing that always seemed to happen when you two were tipsy was that you both became less aware of your surroundings and more aware of each other. The touches started out innocent, but quickly became lingering. Eventually that meant Jungwon placing a hand on your thigh, inching it up ever so slightly. If you were sober it might’ve been nearly imperceptible but the slow drag of his palm against your skin made you feel like you were on fire. Without the watchful eyes of anyone else he leaned in and started kissing you, pulling back just enough for it to appear innocent from the outside. “Baby, you look so sexy for me. Can hardly control myself right now”. You didn’t want him to either, one word from either of you and he’d have taken you right then and there even if you were in public. You grab his hand slowly inching it in between your thighs but stopping it inches away from the intended destination. He tries to move his hand so he can finally touch you the way he’d been wanting to all night. “Do you wanna know a secret”? He was hoping you’d say you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. “Tell me”. You pull him into you leaning forward just enough to place a delicate bite on his ear lobe “I’m not wearing any panties”. Once you said that, you released your hold on his wrist. With absolutely no hesitation he moved his hand just enough to come in contact with your pussy. He started to touch you albeit with less urgency than he normally would’ve had. “You do this for me baby”? Your only answer was a nod of your head. “Get your things, we’re going”.

Jungwon was eerily silent the entire ride home, you thought maybe there was the slightest chance he was mad at you for doing that, but what you didn’t know was that he was trying to control himself. But it was another story once he got out of the cab, he was perfectly fine waiting until you had gotten up to your apartment but then when you moved to step out of the cab he saw the briefest flash of your bare pussy and he lost all semblance of control. When you had entered the lobby of your apartment building he did a quick glance around to make sure no one was out there before he dragged you into the stare well. You had no time to protest before he had you pushed up against the wall. “Fuck baby, you’re so dirty leaving the house without any panties on”. Before you could wrap your mind around what was happening Jungwon snuck his hand up your dress wasting no time finding your clit and rubbing it. He’s quick to throw his hand over your mouth, silencing any moans that were threatening to slip out. He’s quick to grab your leg and hitch it up before he starts fucking two fingers into you. “So wet for me baby, was this what you had in mind when you chose not to wear any panties tonight”? All you were physically able to do was nod your head. He’d kept the pace of his fingers slow and steady, you surmised it was to work you up further. Just as he’s finally started to pick the pace up he’s quick to pull his hand out of your dress at the sound of someone walking down the stairs.

Before you two could get caught he pulled you out of the stare well and back into the lobby. You knew one look at you two would show how flushed you were and how hard Jungwon was in his pants. The wait for the elevator was torturous, Jungwon was all but flush against your back trying to hide the hard on he was sporting. You two were lucky enough to get an empty elevator. As soon as the doors close Jungwon is back on you once again, trapping you in the corner of the elevator and kissing you like a man starved. You knew your time in the elevator was coming to an end so you snuck your hand in between the two of you and palmed him over his pants. The way his hips immediately start rocking into your hand leaves you both dizzy. If you had the time you would’ve gotten on your knees and given him the best head of his life right there for everyone to see. Instead what you do is pop open the button on his pants and push them down just enough to pull his cock out. You can tell he’s taken aback by the sudden movement. He tries to stop your movements but you’re too quick, taking him in your hand. Your movements are quick and slightly impatient setting a punishing pace for him. “Fuck baby, we can’t do this here, anyone could see”. He was such a hypocrite, having had no issue fingering you in the stare well where anyone could’ve seen you two at any moment. “Hm but do you really want me to stop”? His hips had started to grind forward creating more friction for him. “No please don’t”. That’s what you thought. Taking a page out of his book you speed up your movements and start whispering into his ear, which is a move he always made on you. “Baby, you have no idea how much I need you to fuck me right now”. As he goes to speak the elevator stops, Jungwon is quick to tuck himself into his pants pulling you in front of him to hide what had been going on. He does this in just enough time before someone steps into the elevator. The air is awkward between you two, you could tell by his body language Jungwon was irritated.

You’d no sooner walked into your apartment before Jungwon had you pushed up against it bringing his hand up to wrap ever so slightly around your neck. “Did you think that was funny baby? Answer me”. You should’ve known you wouldn’t get away with your stunt back in the elevator. “Just wanted to make you feel good baby”. He doesn’t buy it for one second, scoffing while tightening the grip on your neck. “Should make you get on your knees for me baby, but I’m too impatient for that. Need to fuck you now”. He takes his hand off your throat to undo his pants and take his cock back out. He’s too impatient to undress you, opting to push your dress up around your hips. He picks you up, wrapping your legs around him. He’s about to push into you before you grab his hand and move it back to your throat. He’d only ever choked you a couple of times, each at your request but never during sex. He’d never be able to put into words how much he liked when you asked him to choke you. He pushes into you, bottoming out in one swift motion. He’d normally wait for you to adjust to him but the way your pussy is sucking him in he can’t find it in himself to care. His pace is so fast that you can’t catch your breath. But it’s also so good that you don’t care about anything else but the way his cock feels inside of you. “Am I fucking you good baby”? You were shocked he even needed to ask you that, especially with the way you were moaning for him. “You- fuck- you always fuck me good baby. Can’t get enough of your cock”. You aren’t sure how he still has the energy to fuck you against the door when he’s pistoning into you how he is. “Always so good at taking my cock baby. Been waiting to fuck you all night”. You’re all but screaming his name at this point, overwhelmed by everything, by the drag of his cock inside of you and how good he smells up close. You’re overwhelmed by the way he’s looking at you and with the sweat starting to drip off of his hair. In short, you’re overwhelmed by him. “Fuck Jungwon, I’m gonna cum, you’re gonna make me cum baby”. His hips falter at that, a telltale sign he himself is about to finish. “Gonna cum too baby. Where do you want me”?

You’re so far gone that when you babble out your answer to him you miss his reaction. “Cum inside me please, it’s okay”. You two had never had sex raw before, even though you were on the pill it just never got brought up. “Princess wants me to cum inside her huh? Fuck- you’re gonna take what I give you then”. With a few more sloppy thrusts Jungwon buries his face into your neck letting out the most sinful moans before cumming inside of you. As soon as he pulls out of you, he all but collapses on the floor pulling you with him. You two lay there for a few minutes trying to catch your breath. Jungwon is content in that moment, but he knows that he’s nowhere near done with you tonight. “What got into you tonight Wonie”? He himself isn’t even sure, he just knows when he saw you once he got home from work that he needed to fuck you good and hard. “You got into me baby. Don’t tell me you didn’t like it. I felt how wet you were at the bar”. He had you there. You were just as insatiable as he was. But before you could go to answer he’s flipped you around so he’s laying on top of you. He leaves kisses down your neck slowly moving his way down your body. “Hmm baby, I’m sorry we didn’t get to dinner tonight. But I’m going to have to insist we skip straight to dessert”. With that, your night was about to get a lot more fun.

[jscrawls]

Grave mistakes

Gotham City is full of a lot of characters, criminals, creepy clowns, man eating plants, eccentric billionaires. But all that rolled into one household?

Warning: contains mentions of blood, witchcraft, dead people, fire, ghosts, general spooky stuff, it's an Addams reader they're gonna be freaky,

Part 3: best served cold

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Dick is a very busy man, between patrolling bludhaven all by his lonesome, the multiple hero teams he regularly teams up with, and trying to manage a job and just the smallest modicum of a social life. in short, dick doesn’t have free time.

so it was odd to him when bruce called him up one day out of the blue and asked him to come over for a visit, no cases or mysteries, no asking him to fill in for him for whatever reason, just a visit and a chat. dick wondered if the older man had something terminal he was gonna drop on him.

“so what’s this all about, afternoon teatime and a chat?” dick asks sardonically as he leans forward and interlocks his fingers on the island counter, two glasses of lemonade, courtesy of alfred, between them.

“i just felt like chatting, i haven’t seen much of you lately.” bruce leans back in his chair as he regards dick, there’s a tension in his shoulders that dick is painfully familiar with. he wants to sigh, the old mans got something on his mind.

“i’ve been busy, B. is everything alright? lets cut the fluff.” dicks fingers drum the countertop, he doesn’t mean to be so impatient but sometimes he can’t help it with the family, he feels like they’re codependent on him like little kids.

bruce meets his eye, his jaw flexes and for a second dick thinks he’s about to get snappy. bruce sighs and drops his arms, dick feels anxiety prickle in his chest, maybe something is actually wrong with the old man?

“…..there’s a new neighbor next door.” dick blinks dumbly, he called him all the way from bludhaven to gossip about his neighbor? maybe the old man is finally living his grouchy old neighbor best self, he just needs his bifocals and slippers and maybe a crossword in front of him. “you coud’ve just texted me if you wanted to complain about new people, what are the moving trucks too loud? are they trying to start an HOA?”

Bruce looks unamused and Dick rolls his eyes, he won't even fake laugh for him.

“They're strange, really strange.” Bruce mutters as he leans forward to grab his drink, giving Dick a stern look when he looks like he's going to laugh at him.

“how strange we talking? Normal Gotham weird or Eldritch multidimensional horror weird.” “Normal Gotham weird is a little too close to Eldritch multidimensional weird, Dick. That's not a great comparison.” Bruce challenges with a raised brow, scratching at his jaw stubble as they have another stare down.

“…why am I here B.” Dick sighs as he looks away, he knows why, he just wants the old man to ask nicely. That'd be appreciated.

After he looks away Bruce relaxes a little, he feels a little bad to drag Dick all the way here for this, but he's the best man he can picture for when he has in mind. “…I was invited to meet the neighbor later, dinner at their home. I need you to come with me.”

Dick grimaces at that, not even a ‘please?’ rude.

“And…? You want me to snoop through some rich people junk, Honeypot them while you snoop, what's the details here.” Dick wants to bang his head on the counter, of course it's work. He just hopes he doesn't end up in something crazy tonight.

“you're the distraction, hopefully. I don't think they've had time to install cameras in that safety hazard of a house yet, so no tapping unfortunately.” Bruce goes into mission mode, speaking clinically as ever about doing something unhinged. Dick again drums his fingers against the counter as he replies. “You can't spy on your neighbor's private property? How annoying.”

“are you going to do it or not.”

Something between irritation and resignation twists behind dick's ribs, he hates when he pulls rank on him and starts with that particular tone. “…..I didn't bring clothes for a dinner with me.”

“you know I have something somewhere, get ready in an hour and we'll drive over.”

“thank you Dick, you're sooo kind to drop everything to come help me on such short notice” Dick mumbles sarcastically as he pushes away from the island counter, lemonade in hand. He's getting ready in his old room before he snaps at the old man.

🔹🔹🔹

First noticable thing, the place is clearly in need of some major repairs. second thing, someone's been gardening in the front, Though it seems they missed all of the weeds and thorny brambles.

Bruce gives dick a look when he reaches out to pull a leaf off a briar bordering the path up to the porch, he doesn't miss the eye roll he gets in return as they both dodge grabby plants. Dick shoves his hands in the pockets of his borrowed dark jacket to avoid picking at anymore things. Bruce bites his cheek when he notices the irritated tense in the slope of his shoulders.

Stepping up on the stoop, Bruce reaches over to ring the doorbell, it doesn't work. He'd assume the wiring just rusted out if he couldn't blatantly see the freshly cut power cord under the button, how friendly looking.

With no other choice he knocks, silence, he knocks again, more silence. Him and Dick exchange a look.

“you sure they said tonight? Might not be home.” “Obviously I'm sure, let's try-” the door quickly swings open.

“Hello there my new friend, you must be Mr Bruce Wade. Lovely to meet you! Oh and your companion as well!”

They're friendly sounding, but they're dressed like they're about to attend a devil's sacrament. Bruce knows more than anyone that looks can be deceiving but…. Well Alfred said they're quite a lot to take in.

“yes hi, nice to meet you too! Thank you so much for having me over like this, this is my boy Richard, hope you don't mind the extra guest…” he puts on a charming smile as he offers a handshake, one that's gotten him out of a lot of situations before. It's Brucie Wayne time.

Dick also offers a handshake, a big grin on his face as he eyes them up a little, he's already laying some groundwork as he squeezes their hand. “Nice to meet you, please just call me dick. Bruce Wade and everyone else does.”

Bruce's smile twitches but remains in place, he knows dick's in a mood so he'll take anything he throws at him this evening. Hopefully things go well and that's all that'll be tossed.

“Very well Dick, please come in both of you. Dinners on the stove and I've got tea brewing, come now!” The neighbor ushers them in, that seemed weirdly easy considering they just met.

Both men step inside and close the door behind them, the interior of the house is….. Matching the exterior. Water damage everywhere, possibly from a damaged roof or leaking pipes, peeling wallpaper, rotten out carpets, this place doesn't seem suitable for human living. Bruce glances at Dick, who glances back.

The living room is a whole other story.

“Take a seat, make yourselves uncomfortable while I bring out some drink.” The neighbor gestures to the couch and then energetically strolls out of the room, that thing looks like a tetanus trap. The decorations in the room are more concerning in Bruce's mind.

“…good thing we're up to date on our shots.” Bruce hears Dick mutter under his breath, he bumps him with his elbow and steps around the coffin being used as a coffee table, it looks real.

Once they both carefully settle on the threadbare couch they glance around casually, that's definitely an alter across the room, candles and incense burners are lit on a stand, various artifacts are arranged in a strategic pattern and it looks like there's a vial of something dark sitting in the middle? Possibly blood. The hair on the back of Bruce's neck stands up.

“Bruce, on the right…” Dick murmurs quietly, when Bruce glances over he's greeted by the sight of a damn noose hanging from the neck of a taxidermied moose head, an almost impressive entomology taxidermy case hangs below the macabre sight. Bruce isn't sure if he should be worried about the new neighbor or pull a weapon out.

Before they can find more disturbing things to gawk at, the neighbor returns. Silver colored tray in hand while they carry a hot kettle in the other.

“Apologies for the wait, my dear friends, I'm still sorting out my kitchen.” They set the tray down on the coffin and take a seat in an armchair across from them.

Bruce just smiles at them and shrugs a shoulder carelessly. “It's no problem at all.”

Dick pointedly glances around and then gives them a charming smirk, leaning back and spreading his knees just slightly. “No bother to me, you've got an interesting place here, real unique.”

Bruce has to fight off the twitch in his neck, he asked for this but it's still weird to see his boy act like that sometimes. He tries not to think about how many times dick saw him flirting growing up.

The new neighbor smiles and leans forward to pour some tea for everyone, they put a pinch of sugar in theirs and immediately start to drink the still clearly hot liquid seemingly without care.

“Thank you! Many family heirlooms in here, I believe the spirits like my collections.”

Dick picks up his cup and stirs the hot liquid with his finger with only a slight grimace, Bruce is relieved the clear nail polish he's wearing doesn't change color. “Well i do too, big fan of all your dead things.” Dick sounds playful, trying to prompt a back and forth and build a rapport.

“Mm, you're sweet, dear old Dolores has been quiet in there for a few generations, otherwise I'm sure she'd thank you.” They casually bump the coffin with their foot, a very long silence followed that statement.

“……okay. Yeah okay that's a…shame…?” Dick fumbles for words, he quickly sets his teacup down.

Bruce quietly clears his throat and dumps a spoonful of sugar in it before he takes a sip of his tea, trying to get over that casual statement while dread curls it's way down his spine. He nearly spits his drink out and chokes a little at the taste. “Wha-is this salt?” Did they mix containers in the kitchen? It tastes disgusting.

“Yes, do you like? It's my grandmamas favorite way to take it.”

“….. It's very stand out.” Bruce isn't sure if he wants to make himself drink it just to be polite, this person needs an evaluation at Arkham or something.

Dick interjects quickly. “So, can I ask a little about yourself? How'd you wind up in Gotham of all places?”

“I was suddenly on the market after a little fire incident, I saw this little gem was Going to be demolished and I just instantly fell in love with the place, the views out the back are to die for.”

If Bruce remembers correctly there's a graveyard and a swamp in the backyard.

“Can I ask about the fire incident?” Dick leans forward and puts his elbows on his knees, fingers interlocked as he smiles at them.

They sigh wistfully and take a sip of their hot beverage, for a moment both men think it's a sensitive topic before they answer.

“It's a beautifully tragic story, my ancestral home was broken into and defaced by an angry mob. The people in it accused me of witchcraft and thought I'd been mind controlling the mayor. I tried to explain that I hadn't done anything like that since my college days but they weren't satisfied, things took an interesting turn and next thing I know my home went up in a glorious blazing pyre while I watched.”

Bruce isn't sure what part to focus first, judging by dicks expression neither does he. “…. Sorry to hear about your home.” Bruce says carefully, does he even have to sneak off and go through any of their belongings with how openly crazy they are?

“Yeah, sounds rough. You look like you came out on top though, at least you're alive?”

“Please, don't remind me.”

Another silence fills the room, Bruce looks at Dick who's staring at them with a slight furrow in his brow, are they okay?…

“Anywho, we've just talked about me, please tell me about yourselves. Your boy said you were on Jersey shore, Mr Wade?”

Bruce is caught off guard by that, that's such a random thing to ask “I've never been on-” a timer goes off somewhere in the house.

“Oh, suppers ready! Please come with me I'll show you the dining room, there's a very interesting story about the centerpiece…”

They stand up and grab at both Bruce and dick's arms, energetically pulling them up and out of the room. Just what have they walked into?

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M.List | prev | next

A/n: this chapter got away from me a bit, it's longer than I thought 🤔 Bruce and Dick met the reader! They've got thoughts.

Taglist: @lunarapple

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

I may be a real bad boy...but baby I'm a real good man -Part 2 Oneshot

One of my lovely little darlings asked for a part 2 of this one. Hope y'all like it! Word count: 4834 Warnings: talk of past abuse, scarring

Part 1

“What’s that?” Bucky asked as he walked into Y/N’s room.

“Another letter from my parents,” she sighed, handing it over to him when he sat next to her on her bed.  

He read through it quickly, then scowled.  “Jesus, what is their problem?”

“I’ve been seen with the Avengers, Buck, which must mean I’m rich now, and that obviously means I owe them something since they are the reason I’m alive,” she scoffed, rubbing her eyes harshly with her fingers.  

He crumpled the letter up and stuffed it in his pocket before leaning forward and hugging her tight.  “You don’t owe them shit, babycakes, you know that right?” he said reassuringly.

Y/N smiled as she hugged him back.  “I know,” she said quietly.  “I just wish they would do what they’ve done for twenty years and just leave me alone.”

Bucky sighed heavily, then pulled back to look at her.  “Ignore them.  There’s nothing they can do to hurt you now.”  She nodded and leaned in to kiss him.  He playfully bit her lower lip and she whined at him, making him laugh.  “Come on, let’s go down to the pool with everybody else,” he said.  “The party has already started.”

Y/N’s anxiety spiked at that, but she kept a neutral face.  “Okay, um, give me a few minutes and I’ll be right down,” she said nonchalantly.

Bucky’s eyes slightly narrowed at her, waiting a beat to see if he could read what was wrong, before he smiled wider and nodded.  “Alright, don’t take too long!” he said, kissing her once more before getting up and leaving her room.

Y/N waited for his footsteps to go further down the hallway before she let out a shaky breath.  She hadn’t worn a tank top or anything revealing enough to show her back in years, and even during sex with Bucky she was always on her back, making it so he wouldn’t be able to see or feel it if he tried to wrap his arms under her.  How was she going to hide it from the entire team?

***

Steve, Bucky, Natasha and Yelena were in the pool, splashing each other until Steve and Bucky raced each other across the pool to see who was faster.  With the super soldier serum in their blood it was definitely impressive to watch.  Y/N was sitting on one of the beach chairs with Wanda next to her while Tony and Bruce were grilling burgers further away.

“Aren’t you hot?” Wanda asked her after a moment.  “It’s 92 degrees and you’re wearing a t-shirt and shorts.”

“I’m fine,” Y/N waved her off.  “It’s a white t-shirt, and it’s not that hot.”

“Says the girl who is literally sweating through her hair,” Wanda said, reaching over and swiping off a bead of sweat from Y/N’s temple.  “Come on, just take it off, you’ll feel better.”

“No thanks, I’m good,” Y/N said, taking a long sip of her water.

“Babycakes, come on in!” Bucky called to her from the pool.  

“I’m good, thank you!” she replied, trying to keep the air of nonchalance in her voice even as her frustration grew.  

Why won’t she come in?

What’s going on?

Does she not feel good about herself?

Y/N took a deep breath and closed her eyes, her sunglasses hiding the tightness around her eyes.  She was panicking, which made it so her mental blocks weren’t as strong as usual and she would hear people’s thoughts again.  She heard Bucky pull himself out of the pool, water dripping heavily from him as he walked over to her chair and sat on it by her legs.  “What’s wrong, Y/N?” he asked quietly as he leaned over her.  “Why won’t you come in?”

“I don’t feel like it,” she said quickly.  “Just wanna get some sun.”

He frowned at her, then looked at Wanda.  “Don’t ask me,” Wanda said, throwing her hands up.

Bucky leaned in closer to her ear so no one else could hear.  “What’s going on?” he whispered.

“I don’t wanna take my shirt off, Buck,” Y/N said, silently begging him to understand.

“Why not?  You look amazing,” he asked, looking shocked at her confession.  

“Please just trust me,” she whispered, finally opening her eyes and looking at him.  “Please?”

He looked surprised, his frown deepening, but he nodded.  “Okay,” he said simply before giving her a quick kiss and getting up from the chair.  She took a slow, deep breath, trying to calm herself as she turned on her electric fan and fanned her face.  

A little while later as she was standing by the other end of the pool after eating a burger, she was sipping on a cocktail when Sam came up out of nowhere and lifted her off her feet, heading toward the pool.

“Sam!  Stop!” she yelled, trying not to let her sonic scream overtake her voice.  “Don’t!”

“Oh come on, Y/N, have some fun!” he said, laughing as she kicked and squirmed in his hold.  The others started laughing at his antics, but Y/N was freaking out.  No, please, not this, not now…

He suddenly maneuvered her into a position at the edge of the pool so that he grabbed her shirt and lifted it over herself before dropping her into the water.  Y/N squealed, trying to twist her body as she hit the water.  When she resurfaced she spat out the water that rushed into her mouth and nose before glaring at Sam.  “Fuck you Sam!” she screamed, part of her ability slipping out and making the water ripple toward him.  It splashed his feet and legs, making him laugh harder as she tried backstroke swimming to the opposite side of the pool away from him.

“Hey, glad you made it,” Bucky said, swimming toward her with a smile.  

“I’m not staying,” Y/N said, keeping her back beneath the water as best as she could, facing him so he couldn’t see.

“What?  Y/N–” he started.

“Y/N?” Wanda’s voice carried over from her chair.  “What’s on your back?”

Y/N stiffened, shutting her eyes tight.  “Nothing,” she said loudly as she continued trying to get away.

Bucky frowned.  “What?  What’s on your back?” he asked, trying to swim around her.  

“No, Bucky, no,” she said, holding her hands out to him.  Her constant protests were getting the attention of everybody by the pool, all of them watching on with frowns on their faces as well.  “Just let me leave.”

“Okay, you’re scaring me now, babycakes,” he said, his eyes conveying his worry.  He got close to her and reached for her shoulders.  “Just let me see–”

“NO!” she yelped as she turned her sharply.  The second he saw it he froze, his fingers tightening on her shoulders.  She held her breath, hanging her face into her hands in shame.

“What is it—oh my god,” Wanda said when she walked around the edge of the pool to see.  “Y/N…what…how did you get that?”

She could hear the rest of them all coming over to look, each of them reacting with some type of gasp or sound of surprise.  “Y/N,” Bucky whispered.  “What is this?”

“Scars,” she whispered, pulling away from his touch.  “Please let me go.”

His hands fell away, and she swam to the side of the pool with the stairs and climbed out.  She ran into the building without looking back, her tears pouring down her face as she raced to her room barefoot in a swim top and short shorts.  She didn’t want it to happen like this.  Of course she wouldn’t be able to hide it forever, especially from Bucky, but she couldn’t stand the fact that this was how everybody found out.  When she reached her room she locked the door and instructed Friday to keep it locked before going to her bathroom and turning on the shower.  She turned the water cold to try and cool down her feverish skin, the scars feeling like they were burning along her back.  She washed off the sunscreen smell and let the water relax her as she cried heavily.  Another lovely reminder of her parents’ anger and transgressions, permanently etched into her skin.

***

“It’s been four days and she won’t come out,” Bucky explained to her uncle Teddy as they walked down the hallway to her room.  “She won’t talk to anyone, not even me.”

Teddy sighed heavily when they reached her door then turned to Bucky.  “Thank you for calling me,” he said quickly.  “I’ll see what I can do.”

Bucky nodded, looking at her door sadly before walking back down the hallway.  Teddy turned to the door and knocked.  “Y/N?  It’s Ted–”

The door ripped open and Y/N gaped at him.  “Teddy?” she cried, then threw herself into his arms.  “Teddy, what are you doing here?” she asked, tears streaming down her face.

“Your boyfriend called me,” he said with a sad chuckle.  “What’s this about you holing yourself away in here?”

Y/N let him go and gave him a pitiful sniffle.  “He saw,” she said quietly.  He frowned but nodded.  “They all saw,” she said, trying to bite back more tears.

“Come on, let’s talk,” Teddy said, pushing her back into her room and closing the door behind him.  “You look a mess, honey.”

“I know,” she sighed, flopping back down on her bed with him sitting next to her.  “I just couldn’t face it.  The looks they all gave me,” she said, her voice starting to raise in pitch as her emotions overwhelmed her again.  

“Well they were going to find out eventually anyway, right?” Teddy reasoned.  “What did you expect to do exactly?  Hide away a huge part of yourself, even from him?”

She shrugged her shoulders.  “It was working for a little while.”

“Sounds like you still have a bit of therapy to get through,” Teddy joked halfheartedly.  “You’re surrounded by the most extraordinary but traumatized people in the world.  They of all people would not judge you for what has happened in your past and the literal and metaphorical scars you hold from that.  Why did you feel the need to hide them?”

Y/N knew he was right.  Everyone on the team had been through some type of shit in their lives, some worse than her, especially Bucky.  Why was she so afraid?  “I guess I just wasn’t ready to face it myself,” she said finally.  “They’re just a constant reminder that I wasn’t…wanted.  That I was wrong.  Bad.  Abnormal.”

“Do you think I’m bad?” Teddy asked.

“What?  No, of course not!” Y/N retorted, looking at him incredulously.

“Am I wrong for having my ability?” he continued.  “Am I abnormal?  Unwanted?”

“No!  How could you say that?” she frowned.

“Because I feel the same about you,” Teddy said, reaching for and holding her hands.  “You aren’t bad, you’re good.  There’s nothing wrong with you for having a mutated gene that gives you abilities, just different.  Does that make us abnormal?  Sure.  But so what?  None of that means that you aren’t appreciated, wanted and loved.”  He pulled her into a hug, which she quickly reciprocated.  “Bucky wouldn’t have called me if he didn’t love and want you, scars and all.”

That made her cry all over again.  She had really sold him and the others short.  They had shown no signs of fear, hesitation or hate towards her the entire time she had been here, so why would a few scars make any difference?  “Thank you,” she said, squeezing him tight.

“Anytime,” Teddy said, his teasing tone coming back in his voice.  “But before you talk to everybody, you need to shower.  You stink.”

“Teddy!”

***

Y/N was sitting on a lone chair facing the rest of the Avengers who were all sitting on the couches and chairs across the common room, watching her intently.  “Um, firstly, I just wanted to say I’m sorry for how I reacted the other day,” she started, wringing her hands in her lap.  “And secondly, I wanted to explain.”

“You don’t have to explain,” Wanda said quickly.  The others all nodded in agreement.

“I appreciate that, but I think I do,” Y/N said, giving them all a small smile.  She took a deep breath then stood.  “So, uh, this is what I was hiding,” she said, unzipping her jacket and turning around.  She had a sports bra on so she wouldn’t be completely naked, but she shrugged the jacket off for them all to see.  There was a chorus of gasps and sounds of surprise.  Y/N let them look for a long moment before putting her jacket on and zipping it before she turned to sit back down and look at them.  Wanda was crying, Yelena’s frown was the deepest she’d ever seen, and Peter, Sam, Tony, Bruce and Steve were all upset.  But the worst was Bucky’s look of despair, a look that she’d only ever seen when he was coming out of his worst nightmares.

“My parents didn’t know how to handle my abilities when they manifested themselves,” she explained.  “I was seven when I first heard my mom’s thoughts.  I caught her in a lie, and she freaked out when she realized it was because I could hear her.  Then as she was spanking me I screamed, and it shattered the kitchen window.”  She swallowed, trying to not let it all make her cry again.  “I tried not to let the constant voices get to me, but I didn’t know how to tune them out like I do now.  My dad couldn’t handle the fact that I had inherited the mutant gene, that I was a ‘freak like his brother,’” she quoted with a scoff.  “After a pretty bad day he lost it on me, and hit me with his belt until I stopped screaming.”  She sniffed, quickly wiping her eyes before smiling.  “They shipped me off to Uncle Teddy so he could deal with me, and uh…long story short, I’m scarred, physically and mentally, and it sucks but it is what it is.  And I’m sorry I wasn’t trusting enough in all of you to be understanding about it–”

Wanda stood and walked over to her, kneeling down and hugging her tight.  “It wasn’t any of our business until you felt it was, dearest.  I’m sorry we all pushed you, we just didn’t know.  But we should have accepted your refusal from the start.  I’m sorry.”

Y/N hugged her back.  “Thank you.”

They each approached her with hugs and apologies, Sam especially feeling horrible for being the one to force her to show her scars, but Y/N felt lighter than she had in years at the way they all accepted it and didn’t judge or treat her any differently than normal.  Last to approach her was Bucky, who silently took her hand and pulled her out of the common room and towards her room.  Y/N let him lead her, knowing that they would need to have their own conversation about everything.  He closed her door behind her when she walked in then locked the door, and turned to face her.  Tears were brimming in his eyes and she panicked at the sight.

“Bucky,” she said, reaching up and cupping his face.  “Please don’t cry.”

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered.  “I’m sorry I didn’t see, that I wasn’t someone you felt safe enough with to talk to about it–”

“No, oh my god, no, Buck,” Y/N shook her head fervently.  “I do feel safe with you.  I do trust you.  I just wasn’t ready yet, do you hear me?”  Bucky bit his lower lip to bite back more crying, sniffling as she wiped his tears away.  “I love you,” she confessed.

His eyes widened at that.  They hadn’t said it to each other yet, but Y/N knew what she felt and didn’t want to keep anything else from him.  He released his lip and his lips trembled as he smiled at her.  “I love you, too, babycakes,” he breathed.  He wound his arms around her waist and pulled her into him, then leaned down and kissed her gently.  Y/N let herself melt into the kiss, but after a minute or two Bucky’s hands shifted down her back to the front of her jacket.  His fingers gripped the zipper and he pulled away to look at her.  “May I see?” he asked, a look of sadness and determination in his eyes.

Y/N nodded and took a deep breath.  Bucky getting up close and personal with her scars had worried her before, but now she knew he was just curious and wanting to make it better somehow for her.  He nodded then pulled the zipper down slowly, helping her pull it off and letting it fall to the floor before his fingers traced up her stomach to her sports bra.  She nodded permission, and he helped her take it off, leaving her top naked.  He kissed her again, pushing her back towards her bed until the back of her legs hit the mattress.  His fingers pulled her bottoms down and off, then pushed her to lay down on the bed.  “Turn over for me,” he said.  

She took a deep breath to steady her heartbeat, then turned herself over to lay on her stomach.  There was a beat of silence, then Bucky’s flesh fingers touched the base of her spine where the scars began.  Most of them were small gashes from the belt buckle and prong, but there were two long ones that stretched along her spine from the length of the leather belt hitting her skin just right so that it made the skin split.  His fingers traced along those two, the worst ones that had stretched her skin and pinkened it.  She heard his clothes jostling for a moment and then the bed dipped as he climbed up, kneeling between her legs.  Both of his hands were now on her back, almost massaging along her spine, until he leaned down and he kissed the first small scar near her ass.

Bucky’s kisses traveled over her back, making sure he touched and kissed every scar reverently before moving on to the next one.  It was overwhelming for Y/N, a fresh wave of tears silently falling down her face.  He was being so gentle, so sweet, and she couldn’t help the emotional reaction she was having.  She took another shaky breath as he finally reached the top of her longest scar in between her shoulder blades.  

“My pretty babycakes,” he whispered against her skin.  “I’m so sorry you weren’t loved the way you deserve.  Thank you for trusting me.”  His hands spread her legs further apart, his metal fingers moved in between her legs, his fingers slipping through her slit slowly.  “Thank you for loving me,” he continued.  “Can I make love to you like this, Y/N?”

She turned her head to look back at him.  His eyes were focused on her pussy, then glancing up at her back until he met her gaze.  “You want to see them while we…?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he nodded, leaning over so he could kiss her again.  “You accepted me, scars and all.  Let me return the favor.”  Her breath hitched, her chin wobbling as she bit back a sob.  She nodded with a small smile and he smiled back at her.  “Thank you.”

His first two metal fingers dipped inside her, making her moan and her head flop back onto the bed.  She didn’t realize she had gotten so wet just from his kisses across her back, but she had, and as he worked her up she couldn’t stop the tears as she thought about how wonderful this man of hers was.   Bucky pumped his fingers in and out of her slowly, taking his sweet time in pulling any and all sounds he could from her until her legs started shaking.  “That’s it, babycakes.”

She stiffened after a moment, then her body fell off that last precipice and she came, a small gush coating his fingers as she moaned into the blankets, her fingers gripping them tightly.  Bucky’s fingers fucked her through it until she stopped shaking, then he pulled them out and she could hear him lick his fingers clean.  “So good,” he mumbled.  “Get on your knees for me.”  Y/N struggled to shift up on her knees, leaning on her elbows as the side of her face rested against the bed.  “Aw, still sensitive?” he asked teasingly, then she felt the tip of his cock rub through her pussy lips. 

She jiggled her ass at him, and he chuckled, his flesh hand giving her right ass cheek a quick smack.  “Good girl,” he said, then started pushing in.  Y/N moaned into the bed, her legs slightly spreading even more to be able to take him in.  She would never get used to this, just how perfect he felt inside her, but now in this position he felt even deeper somehow, making her eyes roll back.  

“Buckyyyy…” she groaned when he was balls deep.

“Shit, baby,” he groaned with her.  “God, as much as I love the way we’ve always done it, this is…fuck,” he huffed, his hips trembling with how far inside he felt.  “This is different.”  She nodded, her arms moving above her head to grip at the blankets more firmly.  “And seeing your pretty ass raised like this for me,” he said, smacking her ass cheeks again, making her squeak.  “I didn’t know what I was missing.  And these,” his fingers traced up her scars again, his hips starting a steady pace in and out of her, “proving just how strong and good and beautiful my baby is.  I’m so proud of you, Y/N.”

Y/N was overcome with emotion, her tears falling harder and her breaths heavy with sobs.  “It’s okay, Y/N,” he said, keeping up the pace as he leaned over and across her back, positioning himself so he was basically mounting her.  “Let it all out while I love you.  I’ve got you.  I’ve got you.”

It felt like he was everywhere, his face tucked into the back of her neck, his huffed breaths heating her skin and his deep, low voice in her ear and vibrating from his chest onto her back, his metal arm holding around her waist while his flesh arm kept him up so he couldn’t crush her.  Feeling his front against her scarred back was somehow relieving, healing, like the skin to skin contact stitched together those last few pieces of her heart from when she was a child.  Her orgasm was fast approaching again, her legs shaking under him as he fucked her slowly, deliberately, letting her feel every little thing.  Her mental block slipped and she could hear him…

My strong girl.

My pretty babycakes.

“Atta girl, cum on me,” he said, kissing and licking her shoulder and the top of the longest scar.  “I can feel you.  Let go.  Let it all go, babycakes.”

Y/N’s breathing picked up even faster, her fingers scratching at the bed until the pressure built up impossibly high, then she was cumming again.  She squealed loudly as her pussy constricted around him, another gush spilling from her as she shook beneath him.  Bucky whimpered at how tight she was around his cock, fucking deep into her a few more times until he stiffened and came, his hips trembling harder as he let it all out inside of her.

They sat like that for another minute or two as their combined highs calmed down.  Bucky nuzzled his face into her hair before pulling himself up. He groaned as he slowly pulled himself out of her then turned her over so he could see her.  Y/N felt like jelly as she slumped to her back, her eyes feeling heavy as she looked up at Bucky.  He smirked at the look on her face, leaning down to kiss her deeply.  She lazily kissed him back, and when his lips moved from her mouth and down her neck she moved herself any way he wanted her to as he kissed across her skin.  “Mmh, sweetness,” she moaned lightly.

Bucky kissed back up to her face, kissing her cheek chastely before wiping away the tears that stained her cheeks.  “I hope those are good tears,” he said quietly.  

“Yes,” Y/N quickly nodded.  “Yes.  Thank you Bucky.  That was incredibly…healing,” she said, sniffling before any more emotions could overwhelm her again.

He gave her a wide smile.  “Please talk to me if you’re struggling, Y/N. Please don’t hide things from me.  Nothing you say or do could make me judge or hate you.  I love you too much,” he joked, nipping at her bottom lip.  

She huffed a laugh at him, running her fingers through his hair affectionately.  “I will, I promise,” she agreed.  “I love you, sweetness.”

***

Bucky sat at the small kitchen table in the old house, waiting as the sounds of bustling movement came from the garage.

“Harry, stop being such an idiot!” 

“Fuck off, Julia!”

Their shrill voices carried through the hallway, making Bucky grimace as he pointed the gun in his right hand, keeping it visible on top of the table for them to see as they walked in.

“How do you fuck up grabbing the bread I asked you to get?  It’s the same bread we’ve bought for thirty years!” Julia yelled as she walked through the door, her arms heavy laden with grocery bags.  She didn’t see him at first, plopping the bags on the floor before straightening herself up with a sigh, and as she turned to walk back out of the kitchen she did a double take of him.  Her eyes widened, and just as she opened her mouth to scream Bucky held up the gun, his eyebrows raising in a dare.  She cut herself off, her mouth shutting fast as she froze on the spot.

Harry walked through the door a moment later with a few bags in his hands.  “Jesus, woman, will you just leave me alo–” he froze when he saw Bucky, glancing at Julia before dropping his bags.  “What the fuck?!” he yelled.  “Who are you?”

“Shut up and sit down,” Bucky snarled, cocking the gun toward the last empty seat at the table.  Harry looked defiant but fearful, his jaw ticking as he slowly walked forward and sat down.  Bucky could see Julia inching towards the sink.  “I already grabbed that gun earlier,” he said to her.  “And you could try the knife block, but it won’t end well for either of you.”  Julia froze again, her eyes staying comically wide.  Bucky focused back on Harry.  “I’m not here to kill you,” he said.

Harry’s frown deepened.  “Then what do you want?  We don’t have any money.”

“Right, you’re just trying to get it from your daughter,” Bucky said, revealing his left arm as he let it fall on the table with a heavy thud that made a crack in the tabletop.  Harry’s eyes widened, his mouth dropping open and Julia whimpered behind him as they recognized him.  “Let me just make something abundantly clear,” he continued.  “You will not contact her again.  No calls, no emails, no more pathetic letters,” he said, unfurling his closed metal fist and letting the crumpled letter he’d taken fall on the table.  “She owes you nothing.  Don’t you ever bother her or interrupt her happiness again.  Do as you have done for the past 20 years, and leave her alone.”

“You have no right–” Harry started.

*BANG*

Julia screamed, cowering in the corner of the kitchen while Harry sat shaking, breathing heavily as blood trickled down from where the top of his left ear had been grazed.  Bucky glared at him, pointing the gun more toward his face.  “Do I need to repeat myself?” he asked dangerously.  Harry shook his head fast.  “Answer me,” Bucky grumbled.  

“N-n-no,” Harry stammered.

“No, what?” Bucky asked, tilting his head at him.

“No s-sir,” Harry said, his chin wobbling as his eyes brimmed with tears.

Bucky glanced at Julia, who quickly nodded and held her hands up.  “No sir,” she cried.

He glared at them both for another moment before nodding.  He stood from the table, putting his gun away before walking toward the door they had come through.  He stopped at the doorway and turned to look at Julia.  “If I ever even hear of either of you again, I’ll end you.  Slowly,” he warned, his metal arm whirring as he clenched his fist.  Julia sniffled sadly, nodding again.  Bucky huffed a laugh at how pathetic they were, then walked out of the house.  If there was anything he could do to protect his babycakes, he would do it.  

[asterafroditis]

𐔌 . ⋮ too late to speak .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆Azul Ashengrotto x gn! reader

𓏵 879 words

ᝰ.ᐟ 3rd Person POV, no pronouns used, unestablished relationship with reader, angst, hurt/no comfort

might give this a part 2 with a happy ending if I feel like it or anyone asks (-ω-；) feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

Azul always knew you were kind.

Not just polite or charming, but truly, genuinely kind. The kind of person who greeted everyone by name, who asked how their day was and actually listened to the answer. The kind of person who saw past his sharp businessman’s smile, his smooth-talking arrogance, and treated him as if he was worth more than just a contract.

But that was just how you were with everyone.

He told himself that, over and over again. That you were just friendly. That there was nothing special about the way you spoke to him, that he was foolish for thinking he meant anything more to you than the next student you happened to befriend.

So he waited.

Waited for a sign. For proof that you might see him the way he saw you. Because Azul Ashengrotto didn’t take risks he couldn’t afford to lose, and losing you—the idea of you rejecting him, looking at him with pity—was something he could never gamble on.

So he said nothing.

And in turn, neither did you.

You used to think Azul would be the one to confess first.

He was strategic, after all—always had a plan, always thought five steps ahead. If he wanted something, he found a way to get it. And for a while, you let yourself believe that maybe, maybe, you were something he wanted, too.

You caught the way he lingered whenever you spoke, how his usually quick-witted tongue tripped over itself when you leaned a little too close. The way his gaze softened when he thought no one was looking.

You noticed it all. And it made your heart race, made your stomach twist in that agonizing, hopeful way.

But Azul never acted. Never said a word.

So, eventually, you convinced yourself you had imagined it.

That if he truly wanted you, he would have done something by now.

That maybe, despite the way you thought he looked at you, despite the way you wanted him to look at you—he never actually felt the same.

But you had to be sure.

So you tested him.

"Azul, I need your help."

He looked up from his ledger, barely registering your words at first. He had spent the past hour going over the Lounge’s weekly earnings, making adjustments, analyzing profit margins—but all of that became meaningless the moment you stepped into his office.

You were smiling. You always smiled.

"Of course," he said smoothly, placing his pen down. "What can I do for you?"

You hesitated, shifting on your feet. That wasn’t like you. You were usually so confident when asking him for favors, teasing him about his endless contracts and over-the-top business plans.

This time, though, you looked... nervous.

"I... well, you know I’ve been spending a lot of time with—" you said a name. Azul barely heard it. His mind had already started ringing, a dull roar drowning out the sound of your voice.

No. No, no, no.

Not that name. Not them.

"I think I like them, Azul," you admitted, fingers gripping the hem of your uniform. "And I—I want to tell them. But I don’t know how to do it without making a fool of myself."

Your heart was pounding. It was humiliating, really, standing here, asking him of all people for help with this.

Because you weren’t just asking for advice. You were waiting. Watching.

For the slightest change in his expression. A flicker of something—anything—that might prove you hadn’t been wrong.

That all those moments weren’t just in your head.

That Azul wanted you.

But Azul didn’t react.

He blinked once, his expression unreadable, and then—he smiled.

The same careful, practiced smile you had seen him use a hundred times before.

"I see," he said, voice perfectly even. "Well, that is quite the dilemma."

A laugh escaped you—light, relieved. That was that, then.

It was never real, was it?

Azul had never liked you the way you liked him.

His throat closed up. His hands curled into fists beneath his desk.

You—you were asking him for advice on how to confess to someone else.

He should’ve seen this coming. He did see this coming, deep down. But he had been too much of a coward to act. Too afraid of rejection to reach for the one thing he wanted more than anything.

And now?

Now you were asking him to help you love someone else.

He couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.

"Azul?" Your voice was so soft, so sweet. So unfair.

He forced himself to smile. To laugh.

To play the part of the perfect, unaffected friend.

And when you beamed at him, oblivious, he knew—he had already lost.

You had your answer.

It stung. More than you wanted to admit.

But at least now you knew.

At least now, you wouldn’t spend another second waiting for something that was never going to come.

You smiled at Azul, one final test, but he didn’t hesitate. He launched into his usual confident spiel, offering you advice like it was nothing. Like he wasn’t crushing your chest with every word.

And for the first time, you really believed him.

Azul didn’t want you.

Not like that.

And if that was the case, then maybe moving on really was the right choice.

[angelpointe]

OH MY GOD , PLEASE DONT APOLOGIZE TO ME , I LITERALLY ADORE THIS SO MUCH ?!?

I AGREE COMPLETELY BTW ,,

I’ve also seen Ink being very bad at communicating and opening up with others about how he’s feelings because of how convoluted and difficult it is to really even Idenify his emotions - I feel like Ink would struggle with that kind of thing when anything goes beyond simple feelings like happiness , anger , sadness , etc . — and he tries to play it off and make it seem like something that doesn’t bother him ! But in reality it really does .. like .

He WANTS to love Error , but he feels like he can’t actually do that , that whatever he’s even giving Error as affection is just as fake as his vials .

HI . I don’t think Ink can SAY “ I love you “ !! And it’s like , a thing for him ?? Like he can’t genuinely give that to Error because it feels like a lie to him , and he doesn’t want to hurt Error in that way ! He wants to be honest with him , but it’s also hard to address the issue because . Ink doesn’t really know how to address it or where to start - it’s all connected ! A lot of Ink’s problems revolve around a central point !

It doesn’t affect him as much with others because he doesn’t really view them as people , more like characters in a story fulfilling their roles and such - something that Error doesn’t seem to really . Be ? To Ink ? Ink views Error as more of a person than most of the others in the multiverse and generally places more value in him than others in his mind because . It’s likely that Error doesn’t have a script or anything that makes him feel like a puppet tied to a string , he feels more real and authentic !! Something something ,,

HI ,, you get a mini ramble for your ramble !! Have a silly little doodle for your time !!

Fuckwads .. I adore them ..

Can you guys tell I have a favorite pair of sillies yet . . .

[numberonetacostan]

(What I have for) Feral Taco :3

Hello my friends!!!^^ Here is the long post to go along with the drawing of feral taco I made the other day because people showed interest!!! :D It made me so very happy. I apologize if this au isn’t as neatly put together as some others I’ve posted, I straight up did not expect to be typing this out. I thought this would be an au that stayed in Loomy’s daydreams but then people asked so here we are!!! :) Please enjoy!!!!

So Taco’s mental health is absolutely awful after Mic leaves her. Just terrible. So bad. And instead of teleporting away with Mepad’s comatose body after Mic quits the game, she just… gives up. Leaves him there, and walks back to her home in the woods, which I like to think of as being on the other side of the island. Judging from the map we see Mepad display in episode 14, the forest stretches out nearly to the other end of the island, yeah? I tend to think Taco only goes to the edge and area closer to the hotel to meddle in the competition and talk to Mic. As for her actual living space, it’s much easier to stay hidden deep in the forest on the side of the island that everyone else doesn’t live on. So that’s where Taco is. Alone. For quite some time. Season 3 happens, season 2 ends (Without the disaster that the finale was, solely because it doesn’t work well with the timeline of this au. So, uh, Cobs tripped and fell off of MeCloud and caught on fire and died. Suitcase decimated Knife in uh. Jump rope contest. Or something. Good with everyone? Good.), and the show has been on hiatus for a good few months, as a nice break for the cast before season 4 starts. Other than Taco, who has just been alone and getting worse for quite some time now. 

SO! The bulk of this would start around the time that said hiatus will be ending, all the contestants are at the hotel, including those who normally live on Paradise Island, because Mephone is getting ready to announce the next season, including who’s going to be participating! (They still don’t know he made them. This is about TACO. We’re not doing finale stuff here.) Most importantly, out of all of said contestants, are Bot and Goo. This is a Loomy AU you thought there’d be no propaganda in here? No. Taco will form relationships with whoever I please. So, Bot and Goo being Bot and Goo, go and play in the woods!! They’re exploring!! Having fun!! Playing tag, hide and seek, and enjoying nature!!! They stay relatively close to the hotel, for safety purposes, but end up going just a tad too deep into the woods as it’s getting dark. And it’s not called the Perilous Woods for no reason, hm? There’s some real Perilous stuff in there!! It could be a bear, a big snake, a wolf, a dragon, whatever you please since we lack a real world would-be location of Inanimate Island and thus we don’t really know what sort of wildlife would be there. I mean, I have a theory or two, but that’s not the point. Anyways, Bot grabs Goo and bolts. Neither of them are particularly edible, but they can’t be recovered by MeLife and would rather neither of them get maimed, yeah?

They get away from the danger, yay! But now they’re quite lost. Not yay. And now it’s become evening, so it’s dark. Bot does glow in the dark, at least their plush does, but we’ve seen how dark that forest can be during the day in episode 9. They’re nowhere near bright enough to see more than a foot or so ahead of them. And with how dense it is, it wouldn’t be easy for them to extend their legs and look back towards where the hotel is. So, to reiterate, they’re very lost in the thick, dark forest. Not good. Spooky noises all around, two very scared little guys. Especially when they hear rustling in the bushes, coming closer. And closer. And closer. And out from the darkness, they see a single eye staring at them, and scream!!! Until a flashlight is clicked on, and a very confused and unimpressed Taco is looking at them. She’s significantly more crack than she was the last time anyone (Mic) saw her, with one of her eyes whited-out and unseeing, but it’s definitely her!! And she’s holding some fishies skewered on a stick!!! Remember the fishies they’ll come back. 

Now, I don’t think Goo would really know much about Taco, if he knows about her at all, but Bot would definitely have heard about her, at least by virtue of having Fan as a Dad. But! They are very lost, and Taco is kind of their only option here!! So Bot asks her for help!! They’re lost, and need to get back to the hotel. Taco doesn’t really respond, but just sort of continues on where she was walking. Bot tries to get her attention again, but she doesn’t say anything. Once she reaches the bottom of a large shrub though, she holds the bushes open behind her, indicating that they should follow. So it seems like she’s gonna help them get back!! Bot and Goo both try to talk to her while they’re walking, but she doesn’t say anything back. Just keeps looking ahead, occasionally stopping to listen out for any potential predators. After a bit of walking, though, it turns out that she hasn’t led them back to the hotel. She pushes the top off of a stump, and points down, indicating for the two of them to go inside. Obviously, when a disheveled homeless woman you only know through tales that don’t paint her in a good light wants you to go down into a mysterious hole, you would not be too keen on doing so. 

So, Goo is spooked, and Bot’s not liking it either, so they insist Taco lead them back to the hotel. Taco shakes her head, and points down into the stump again. They insist again, Taco points again. They get nowhere, until Bot gets fed up, and turns around to try and search for the hotel on their own again, to which Taco stops them, and finally speaks. And it’s pretty obvious why she wasn’t talking before, because her voice sounds awful. Taco hasn’t spoken at all since Mic left. Why bother? She doesn’t have anyone to talk to, and she’s too upset to be talking to herself. So, her voice is quite hollow and hoarse, when she tells Bot that it’s too dangerous. The hotel is too far, and there’s too high a risk they won’t make it with all the perilousness in the Perilous Forest. If Taco, who’s lived there for years were to go, it would be one thing, but with Bot and Goo? Who are in the forest for the first time? No good. She’ll take them back once the sun’s come up, but for now it’s safer for them all if they take shelter for the night. 

Bot isn’t connected to MeLife, and Goo would quite frankly be happy to not be in the scary dark forest, so they concede and go down into Taco’s hidey hole house with her. It’s… well it sucks. It’s just a big hole. There’s a pile of leaves and moss. Uh. There’s a couple lemons. That’s uh. That’s it. Goo is trying to be a nice little fella, as he is, but he can’t really think of anything particularly nice to say, so he just ends up saying “This is a …place you got here!!” Taco is not amused. She sits down on the dirt floor and gestures to the moss/leaves pile. It’s relatively untouched, since although it was where she used to sleep, she hasn’t slept much for a while now, yeah? As Bot and Goo sit down (or whatever Goo does… just kind of droops a bit I suppose) Taco starts preparing the fish to eat!! With… her bare hands. Or rather, claws. She probably did have tools at one point, but after everything she gave up on maintaining them, and they became rather useless. So, she just does it by hand, wiping the blood and gore off on the dirt walls/floor or even her own lettuce. Quite a disturbing sight. Bot gives a polite but strained “no thank you.” Goo nearly cries. And this was not Taco’s intention!! We already know how bad she is with other people and their feelings, and she’s been in a depression for months!! This has just become the norm for her, she is not trying to scare them!! And doesn’t feel good when Goo is upset!! But of course, this is Taco being faced with emotions, so she fumbles around a bit, taking back the fish and trying to give Goo a lemon with the hand that isn’t soaked in fish blood!! It’s sour, but she does not have any other food stored up. She didn’t leave her little hidey hole for quite some time after her break up, so any storage she had is all used up. Besides, I think Goo would enjoy sour things well enough. Bot is a robot so I’m assuming they technically don’t need to eat and would just chill and let Goo enjoy his lemon. 

So Bot and Goo snuggle up and go to sleep, Taco sits in the dark for a few hours because she doesn’t trust them in her den unsupervised and also has barely slept for months <3. But once light starts seeping in from above, she wakes the two of them up to start the trek back to the hotel. Which, they realize as they start walking, is a pretty long trek. So, to fill the time, Goo tells a story!! For hours. Bot does their best to pay good attention!! Taco wasn’t paying attention when he started talking, much less midway through hour 3. And, remember earlier when I mentioned that you could imagine any sort of creature to be the thing chasing Bot and Goo? Well, not this time. I love bears, they’re cuddly and fluffy and don’t actually attack humans that much. Because they prefer fish and fruits and vegetables. Now, consider who of our three characters here would be absolutely scrumptious for a bear to eat. Because she’s full of vegetables. So, a bear comes and tries to eat Taco, Bot and Goo are quite rightfully very frightened, and Taco pulls out her space shooter, shoots it like a sick horse, and keeps walking. The founding members of the cheer factory are surprised, and have to scramble to catch up with her after a moment, because what the actual fuck was that. Well. I don’t think Goo knows the word fuck but still. They ask fair questions, like about how often she gets attacked by bears and why she has a gun, but Taco isn’t talking again and just keeps walking. Goo doesn’t go back to his story, so they just end up walking in silence, until they reach the edge of the forest!! There’s the hotel!! Hooray!! Taco points to the hotel, and immediately turns around to leave. Goo and Bot do thank her for helping them get back though, even if she doesn’t say anything back. 

They are immediately swamped upon entering the hotel. Fan is sobbing while holding Bot, and Test Tube is joining the hug even if she isn’t crying out the entire Atlantic Ocean. Goo is very much checked up on and doted upon too, even if none of the other contestants are his parents, they all probably have a mutual agreement to keep an eye on such a little and whimsical fella, yeah? But anyways, uh, the others had been looking for them for more or less the entire night and very much want to know where they’d disappeared to, of course!! So they explain getting lost and running into Taco which makes the air turn rather awkward, since she’s such a taboo topic in the hotel. When asked how she was, Bot and Goo mostly just look at each other like (⚆₋₍⚆). That would be even more concerning. Goo eventually just says a little “mm, well… if you don’t have anything nice to say you shouldn’t say anything…” Because. All they have to report is that she looked terrible, barely spoke, had blood on her half the time, and killed a bear that tried to eat her without flinching. And that’s. Very concerning. 

I honestly don’t have as much to say from here, since as I said I never expected to actually be sharing this concept, so it’s still really more of a concept rather than an au, but I’d say a small group goes to check on her here, and with Pickle’s permission (remember, only Knife and Soap know Mic had worked with her), offer her a room in the hotel. I mean, they still don’t like her, but Bot and Goo’s description of her ripping into fish with her bare hands for sustenance and having a nearly-falling-apart shell, they feel it pretty inhumane to not try to help her, yeah? And Taco is not having it. She opens up her little stump-roof-thing when Bot knocks and they and Goo call for her, but immediately slams it shut upon seeing they’ve brought more people, and refuses to come out, even when offered the hotel room. Taco is in the pinnacle of her self-hating era here, like she is doing so fucking bad. Remember when Brian said she’d be way worse off without Mepad? Well, here she is without Mepad, very much worse off. She believes herself incapable of changing!!! She would think going into the hotel would be the worst idea ever. She’d think she’d probably kill someone or steal something. She’d think OJ is an idiot for trying to let a kleptomaniac with a history of violence into his and the others’ place of living. 

And it would take quite a lot for her to be convinced, not even to go to the hotel just for a visit or an actual meal, but just to leave her den when she isn’t 100% sure no one else is around. Maybe it would be Mic. Maybe it would be Mepad. Even Balloon or Suitcase. It could be a combination of all of their respective efforts, that maybe things could turn out alright for Taco. Who knows. Not me because I have genuinely told you guys all I have for this concept at the moment. I’ll probably have more eventually but I would feel bad for making you all wait and also that eventually could be days or months so might as well put out what I have lol. 

Hope you all enjoyed!!! <3 sorry if this one sucked byeeeeeeeeeeeeee

[girlyrafe]

──── ᴅɪɴɴᴇʀ .ᐟ

ᡣ𐭩 ❝ ꜰᴀʀᴍᴇʀꜱ¡ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ ⟡ ݁₊ ❞

⌗ with rafe cameron .ᐟ.ᐟ

ᝰ summary .ᐟ Dinner was tense—your father’s scrutiny, Rafe’s stiff composure. But in stolen glances, quiet laughter, and a whispered tease over pie, warmth bloomed. He wasn’t just enduring; he was proving himself. And in that lingering touch, you knew—he was worth it.

₊ �� ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

Dinner had been your father’s idea—a rare gesture of formality meant to welcome Rafe to the farm. The table was set with the usual rustic charm, mismatched plates and worn wooden chairs, but tonight there was a certain tension hanging in the air. Your father, ever the stoic figure, sat at the head of the table, scrutinising Rafe as if he were some rare specimen, while you tried to pretend like this was just another meal.

Rafe, on the other hand, was doing his best to follow all the unspoken rules, his broad shoulders stiff under the pressed shirt he’d pulled out from the back of his closet. His usual, effortlessly rugged look was tempered by the neatness of his outfit, and while he tried to maintain a sense of composure, the faint furrow in his brow told you just how out of his element he felt. It was clear he was making an effort, yet there was something undeniably charming about the way he fumbled through the formalities, that casual air about him constantly threatening to break through.

As your father started asking about Rafe’s past work experience, you couldn’t help but notice how Rafe’s focus kept drifting toward you, even as he struggled to make polite conversation. His brow furrowed as he pushed his food around on his plate, his eyes flickering toward you and catching yours with a soft, almost shy smile that made your heart skip. You giggled involuntarily, the sound light and almost mischievous, as you saw him glance down at his utensils like he had never seen a fork before. He was trying so hard to be perfect, and yet it only made him seem more real, more... human. 

You shot him a quick wink, your heart fluttering as his gaze softened in response. A brief but meaningful moment, lost between you two before the formalities pulled him back.

“So, Rafe,” your father’s voice cut through the air, sharp and commanding, “how do you find working on the farm? Is it everything you thought it would be?”

The question hung between them like an obstacle course, and you could practically hear the tension in Rafe’s throat as he cleared it, his voice steady but laced with just the hint of hesitation. “Well, sir,” he began, with that familiar drawl of his, smooth like honey, “it’s been great. The land here, the animals… It's a good kind of work. I’ve done this kind of thing before, but this place—well, there’s something special about it.”

Your father’s eyes narrowed slightly, an inscrutable look settling on his face as he considered Rafe’s words. “Special, you say?” he prodded, clearly sceptical.

You could see the way Rafe’s jaw clenched, trying to find the right words that would satisfy your father, but all he could do was glance at you again. This time, his eyes softened, a silent understanding passing between you, one that made the whole situation feel like something of an inside joke. You couldn’t help but giggle at how earnest he was trying to be. It was so... endearing.

Rafe’s lips twitched into the barest of smiles, a playful gleam in his eyes that only you could see. “Yeah,” he said with a slight shrug, glancing over at you again, “it’s nice. Peaceful, you know?”

Your father looked between you both, his brow furrowing deeper as the quiet exchange lingered in the air. It didn’t escape his notice, but you were too caught up in the warmth of Rafe’s presence to care. He was always so put-together, but in moments like these, when he let his guard slip just a little, that’s when you saw the real him—charming, a little bit rough around the edges, but undeniably genuine.

You caught his eye once more, and despite the tension in the air, you couldn’t stop the soft giggle that slipped from your lips. Rafe’s lips quivered, and before he could stop himself, a low chuckle escaped, his eyes lighting up with affection for you, even in the midst of trying to impress your father.

Your father’s eyes sharpened, his attention snapping between you both. “What’s so funny?” he asked, his tone a little too sharp for comfort.

You immediately cleared your throat, trying to compose yourself. “Oh, nothing, Daddy,” you said, trying to sound casual, though your grin was betraying you. “Just—uh, just a funny thought. Nothing important.”

Your father leaned back in his chair, the creak of the wood punctuating the silence that followed your light-hearted exchange with Rafe. His eyes were still narrowed, watching him with an intensity that you knew all too well. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, glancing between the two men, as if waiting for the next round of questions to come.

“So, Rafe,” your father’s voice broke the quiet, deep and measured, “how long do you think you’ll stay on the farm? It’s not exactly the kind of work that’s easy to walk away from, is it?”

Rafe stiffened for a moment, his hand pausing mid-air as he reached for his drink. His fingers tightened around the glass, but he was quick to recover, leaning forward slightly to answer, trying to sound casual. “No, sir, it’s not easy, that’s for sure,” he said, the low rumble of his voice betraying the genuine thoughtfulness behind his words. “But I’m here for as long as you’ll have me. I’m not in a rush to go anywhere.”

Your father’s eyes didn’t leave him. “That’s good to hear,” he replied, his tone just a little too even. “Because this farm… Well, it’s not for the faint of heart. You think you can handle the weight of this place?”

Rafe met your father’s gaze without flinching, though you could see the slight tension in his jaw, the way he rolled his shoulders back as if to steady himself. He wasn’t used to being questioned like this, but he wasn’t backing down either. “I’ve worked hard before. I know what it takes,” Rafe said, his voice steady now, filled with that quiet confidence you’d seen a thousand times.

Your father didn’t respond immediately, as if considering Rafe’s answer, and the silence stretched between them like a taut rope. You couldn’t help but feel the weight of it, the disapproving edge of your father’s questioning tone. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Rafe—it was something deeper, something unspoken.

Rafe cleared his throat and glanced down at his plate, breaking the tension just a little. “And, uh, if it’s okay to ask—how long have you been running the farm?”

Your father’s expression softened ever so slightly at the question, but he didn’t miss a beat. “Long enough to know what I’m doing,” he said with a tight smile. “And long enough to know when someone’s not pulling their weight.”

Rafe nodded, but there was something in his eyes now—an understanding that this was more than just about work. It was about respect. Something that wasn’t given easily here, not even to someone like him.

You held your breath, watching the exchange unfold. Even in the quiet moments like these, there was a strange tension between your father and Rafe, something simmering just beneath the surface, ready to erupt at any moment. It wasn’t hatred, but something else. A challenge. A test.

For Rafe’s part, he didn’t shy away. His gaze met your father’s with a steady resolve, as if silently promising that he wouldn’t back down. You could see that he wanted to prove himself—not just as someone capable of hard work, but as someone worthy of respect in your father’s eyes.

The conversation moved on, but you could tell that this was far from over. There would be more questions, more subtle tests to come. But tonight, at least, it was just the beginning.

Rafe’s gaze softened as he tried to hide his own smile, but it was impossible. “Yeah, just—just thinking about how much I’m enjoying the food,” he said, his voice low but teasing, shooting a quick look at you that made you almost lose it. He was impossible.

Finally, your father seemed to relent, focusing his attention back on his plate. But you could see the subtle shift in Rafe’s posture, the way his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly now that the spotlight was off him. He reached for the dessert you had made—a homemade pie, something warm and comforting. He cut himself a generous slice, still trying to maintain that calm, collected persona, but the moment he took his first bite, you saw the flicker of relief in his eyes.

And then, as if on instinct, you made your move. You stood up, slipping quietly toward the kitchen as your father busied himself with cleaning up. You pulled a plate from the cabinet and carefully slid a piece of pie onto it, your hands trembling ever so slightly with excitement. As you walked back to the dining room, you caught Rafe’s eye again, that familiar spark between you two only deepening with every glance.

You leaned down, just slightly, your lips almost brushing his ear as you whispered, “It’s the best part. You deserve it after putting up with my dad.” 

Rafe’s breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening just slightly, as if he hadn’t expected you to be so… daring. But that was you, wasn’t it? Always the one to sneak around the edges of propriety, always the one who took risks with that playful, innocent smile.

Rafe reached for the pie, his fingers brushing yours with the kind of lingering touch that had your heart racing. “Thanks,” he murmured, his voice low and warm, almost like a secret. “You didn’t have to do that, but... I’ll take it.”

You smiled, warmth blooming in your chest, feeling a rush of affection for him that you couldn’t quite explain. It wasn’t just the little things—like how he was so careful with his words around your father or how he tried so hard to fit in—but the way he looked at you when he thought no one was watching, the way he made everything feel a little less stiff and a little more real.

As you both shared that moment, with your father in the other room and the soft glow of evening light spilling through the windows, you allowed yourself to forget the weight of expectations. In the quiet between you, it was just Rafe—loyal, charming, and impossibly handsome—and you. And for a moment, that was enough.

©GIRLYRAFE

[mrs-pianofandom-98]

Words of fate

Different universes and worlds of AgathaRio all bonded through the phrases that’s came to haunt this fandom.

World 6168

Agatha Vidal Harkness laid in her hospital bed squeezing her wife’s hand as the groans and whines from her contractions were shaking through her body.

Rio looked down at her wife trying her best to stay and give Agatha any comfort she could. Rio went to let go of Agatha’s hand to move the hair out of her eyes.

“Amor it’s going to ok your doing so well-“

Rio was cut off as Agatha squeezed her hand back down to her side.

“Please my love. Just stay right there.” Agatha pleaded as her head fell back to the pillow as the nurses and doctor glided to the end of her bed.

After many hours of exhausting and tedious labor Agatha was holding Nicholas Scratch Vidal. Agatha was drained but overwhelmed with the love of the new life in her arms. Rio was leaning against the bed her hand gentle running over Nicky’s face.

“Congratulations my love..” Rio said as she kissed the top of Agatha’s head.

World 7173

Rio was sitting outside of the AAA group home Nicky was staying with Lilia for the day as Rio went to go visit Agatha. It had been weeks since Agatha told Rio to enroll her in a addiction therapy group because she didn’t want it to get bad.

Rio remembered the conversation so vidily she was so glad Nicky had been out with Jen and Alice for his basketball game. The way Rio found the non-prescribed medication in Agatha’s dresser.

Rio had thrown the bottle in front of Agatha. “Agatha, when did you get this?! Who is Janet Morgen!?” Rio yelled the loudest her rage allowed her to while she bit back the need to sob for her love but also for their family.

“Please my love! Let me explain it-I..I didn’t want it to start again! I want help, please love..” Agatha had sobbed into Rio's arms. Rio held her close as she nodded.

Back to the present when Rio was knocked out of her flashback she saw the door out the group home open. And Agatha emerged looking lighter than Rio had seen her the past few months. Rio walked over and met her as she pulled Agatha against her and held her tight.

“Congratulations my love..I’ve missed you.” Rio mumbled into Agatha’s hair.

World 529

Agatha cackled as she ran after her newest victim. She could see the woman was terrified as she tripped and stumbled over the branches and debris in the woods. When the woman tripped over a bluff and tumbled down, Agatha heard the snap of a bear trap her lover had put down by Agatha’s request; she emerged from the shadows.

“Seems you're a little stuck hun.” Agatha stalked her way closer to the woman who was giving Agatha her sick show of pleasure. The woman was sobbing and trying to pry the trap off her ankle but the blood that occupied her hands were making it impossible.

Agatha had grown bored of seeing the pathetic little display as she sighed. “Here I though a detective would give me a much better show.” She grumbled under her breath when she felt two familiar arms wrap themselves around her waist and she immediately relaxed back into Rios hold.

“Well hello there mi Vida~. Your little chase seemed to come to an end.” Rio said as she nipped at Agatha’s next. The hum of content that left Agatha made Rio smirk before Agatha turned to her and flashed that smile Rio could never say no to.

“Rio baby..can you hand me your dagger? Please my love~?” Agatha purred as she ran her hand along Rios jawline. Rios eyes darkened as she slipped her dagger out and laid it in Agatha’s hand.

As soon as it was in Agatha’s hand she turned their victim. “It’s been fun hun!” She said with a sadistic smile. As soon as Agatha was done Rio looked at her lover like she was goddess among mortals.

Rio took her thumb and ran it over the blood on Agatha’s cheek. “Congratulations my love. You successfully have made my last bit of will power snap.” Rio purred in her heat as she had Agatha pinned to the tree and her teeth nipped Agatha’s ear and her hand slid down past her waist band.

World 1270

Agatha was sitting with Rio in the school cafeteria as they sat away from the rest of the student body most days besides from their chaotic friend group. Agatha laid her head on Rio's shoulder with a dramatic sigh.

“Please, my love! I swear I won't make you practice my lines again after this show!” Agatha pleaded with her girlfriend. Agatha had gotten the lead of Elphaba in their school production of wicked.

“Agatha,my love,my life you know I do not get musicals or plays. I’ll gladly support you but this is out of my league.” Rio stated as she shoved her face full with fries. Agatha scoffed as she swiped rios Gatorade off her tray.

“You know you’ll end up helping me in the end Vidal.” Agatha chuckled as she kissed Rios cheek.

The night after Agatha’s last show when they pulled the curtain Agatha didn’t even bother looking for her mother knowing she didn’t show up. But when she seen Rio holding a bouquet of flowers at the end of the stage she rushed off as she jumped into rios arms and Rio caught her.

“Congratulations my love. You did great.” Rio kissed Agatha gently as she pulled back.