#some old art I did for his birthday !

[deadsetobsessions]

Tim Drake had a lot of free time.

In between the time little Timmy was deemed old enough to not need a nanny and his ninth birthday when he got his first film camera, Tim Drake had so much time after school to explore his big, empty house. And so he did, hours upon hours were spent exploring his house.

Mansion, Tim corrects himself. His house isn’t a house. It’s an abandoned mausoleum disguised as a mansion. He intimately knows every creak of the floorboards in the out of the way galleries, every heavy weight curtain shut closed so what little sun that makes it way through Gotham’s gloom is reflected in order to protect the artifacts stored within the walls. Tim probably knows the exact amount of fleur-de-lys on the fourth sitting room’s wall paper- by extrapolation from preexisting data and personal data collection. Basically, he laid on the floor and counted.

Tim had a lot of time. He also had a lot of artifacts to pore over, making stories as he goes and double checking the actual history of the object.

Tim thinks he’s an artifact, almost. To his parents, at least. A child, a thing, they collected at one point in their lives and put on display at the galas they deem worthy to return to Gotham for. Perhaps he’s worth even less, had his parents bothered to look at him more than the lesser art pieces in their storage-mansion. The story everyone knows about him is prerecorded by people who weren’t really there.

Regardless, Tim Drake knows every single corner of his prison mansion. He’s catalogued everything, after all, on a nice spreadsheet. 

And that’s why, as he entered the fifth- and least used- guest bedroom, Tim’s attention immediately cut to the wrong bit of detail. Eyes flickering between the indent on the bed, the mussed- but not terribly dirty- state of the sheets, Tim slowly backed towards the door. His eyes fixed on the spot on the bed, he called out a soft “hello?”

He immediately cringed. He’s not an amateur, and that little “hello” was a mistake that might get him killed.

Tim trembled as the panic set in, tears pooling at his eyes. He wished Batman and Robin were here, they’d know how to-

There’s something appearing on the bed. Tim Drake stares as a glowing figure with white, wispy hair and a black hazmat suit appeared sitting cross crossed on the guest bed. His gloved hands were held out in the universal I-mean-no-harm gesture.

“Don’t- don’t panic!” The thing said, looking rather panicked itself. “I’m, uh, Phantom.”

Tim Drake’s curiosity and mystery-solving mindset slammed down on the toddler’s mind, quickly banishing the fear and panick in favor of interrogating this new, exciting thing.

“I’m Tim. Are you…” Tim frowns, wishing he had Batman’s intimidating growl. “A ghost?”

“Got it in one, kiddo. I’m, uh, not here to harm you. Or steal anything! I just wanted to rest.”

Tim blinked. He decided right then and there that he likes this person. This… Phantom. If his trust was based on the fact that the loneliness was worse than a dead person, no, it wasn’t.

“I thought you sleep when you’re dead..?”

——

Danny stared at the child in front of him, watching the kid- Tim- pout at something. Danny is distracted from the staples holding his ghostly guts from falling out of his non-consensual vivisection when the kid asks him if he’s a ghost.

“Got it in one, kiddo!” Oo, he should tone down the energy. Danny’s too tired right now to maintain that level when speaking to Tim. Now, gotta reassure the kid he means no harm before he reports Danny’s presence to whatever authorities around.

His parents, at best. The cops, at worst.

“I’m, uh, not here to harm you. Or steal anything!” He could tell he landed in some richie rich mansion by the opulent decorations in a seemingly impersonal room alone. “I just wanted to rest.”

Ancients, that had been more honest than he’d wanted. He really was out of it.

“I thought you sleep when you’re dead?”

Danny snorted.

“Yeah, but you can almost never have enough sleep, you know?”

The toddler looks unsure but nods anyways.

“Listen, would you… not tell anyone that I’m here? I’ll be out of your hair soon, promise.

Tim looks like a smart kid. There’s no way he’d fall for-

“Okay.” He fell for it. Danny blinked, stupefied. “My parents won’t be home for a while.”

“What.”

Tim shrugged. “You can stay. The housekeeper is only around a couple of days.”

“You… are you supposed to tell me that?”

Tim sent him a derisive look, clearly bolder now that Danny made no moves to hurt him.

On his cherubic but skinny face, the effect is both adorable and absolutely devastating.

“You’re hurt.” Tim fidgeted with his hands. “I can… I can get you water…?”

His core purred.

“Please. Thanks… Tim?”

The kid beamed at him and left.

Crap. New fraid member it is.

——

Danny, naive: “Surely him trusting strangers is just a one time thing, he’s so well behaved”

Tim, staring Danny in the eyes as he jumps out of the window to go stalk his vigilantes: “I’m gonna go take a walk in Crime Alley”

——

Tim gets Danny water, but it’s tap water from Gotham and is infected with both an ungodly amount of toxins (that doesn’t affect either of them bc one’s dead and the other had been chugging it since they were a baby- Gothamites get bottled water or from Wayne Foundation’s Clean Water Stations) and also like trace amounts of ectoplasm.

Danny: woah this is so healthy water!

Tim, pleased because Danny ruffled his hair: yes, I’m perfect

The rest of Gotham, if they knew: making warding sigils against these two eldritch gods

——

Basically, Danny gets attached and stays mostly because of said attachment but also Danny could see Tim’s budding world dictator tendencies and went yeah gotta curb that

[gutsby]

Abstaining Game

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: The only thing worse than an anti-sex retreat is an anti-sex retreat with your former fuckbuddy and dad’s best friend. Especially when sharing one cabin.

Warnings: 18+. IF HE AIN’T GRAYIN’ I AIN’T STAYIN’ 🗣️ [Age gap]. Unprotected p-in-v. Forced proximity. Joel making you fuck just his middle finger when he’s mad. Daddy kink. Overstimulation. First-time squirting. Angst.

Translations: ‘Don’t piss down my back & tell me it’s raining’ is a fun Southern phrase for, ‘Cut the bullshit’ or ‘Don’t lie.’

Sequel to Waiting Game & Hating Game (last rhyme I swear)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

October 26, 2024

Dear Joel,

Roses are red,

We’re a couple of sluts,

Abstinence camp is awful,

I miss you rearranging my guts.

You were just about to put your pen back down to paper and add the finishing touch, signing an equally lascivious farewell, when the letter was snatched out of your hands. A tyrant in khaki capris and an artichoke-colored polo eyed over your words with a pointed look and frowned.

“Letters to the boyfriend have to be G-rated,” Marlene said, crumpling the thing in her fist before chucking it.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you returned shortly. Then, “That was actually meant for my dad’s friend.”

You sat tight a moment as the dots came to connect in the woman’s parochial and prudish mind—waiting for the wince of disgust to twitch at the corners of her eyes when she put two and two together. Once it did, you grinned. Even when she plucked the pen out of your hand and told you to sit outside, if you can’t participate in this one simple activity, you smiled bigger and strolled at a comfortable pace out the canteen door.

Anti-sex ‘summer camp’ wasn’t bad at all when you didn’t give a fuck what your counselors told you to do.

It was ridiculous, really. Absurd. Tommy Miller catching you sucking his brother’s dick under the table at your father’s birthday dinner, losing his shit with you both, then threatening to tell your dad everything if you didn’t agree to this stupid retreat and stop seeing each other. You’d barely been trapped in the shithole for twenty-four hours, and you already knew this angle wouldn’t work.

What many of your fellow campers affectionately called the ‘Firefly Fuck-Free Zone’ or the ‘Federal Dickriding Response Agency’ (F.E.D.R.A.) was in fact a secluded enclave south of Austin where khaki-clad monsters forced you to reckon with your sexual urges like one might treat a mutated strain of the Cordyceps fungus. You weren’t meant to keep them for long, and if you did, someone like Marlene would surely shame you for it.

Frankly, Tommy was dumb as shit if he thought this anti-boinking boot camp would have an effect on either one of you—Joel wouldn’t ever bang you again after what happened that night, but it wouldn’t be because of some arts and crafts bullshit he did out on a FEDRA ranch.

He just didn’t want your dad to find out and kill him.

That was a fair concern to have. You didn’t blame him.

Presently, you kicked your feet up on the porch outside the cafeteria, where the rest of the group was finishing up letters to their loved ones—this latest activity was meant to be ‘making amends’ to the people in your life—and you tipped your head back to survey the landscape.

Nothing but sweetgrass and gently rolling hills as far as the eye could see. Somewhere across the plains there was another cluster of cabins, though you couldn’t quite see it, and someplace within that minuscule cluster, you knew there was a middle-aged man. Dark grey eyebrows furrowed in concentration and chest heaving gently. Likely hunched over an old oak desk about five sizes too small for his frame as he gripped a pen and scribbled:

Dear Tommy,

Fuck you, you fucking fuck.

Sincerely,

Joel

You grinned again just thinking about it.

If anyone had a reason to be ticked off and terrified, it was Joel. And you, you guessed. You still hadn’t gotten your period—but that wasn’t due for another few days.

For now, you’d settled on worrying yourself over what would happen after the retreat had ended; what would you and Joel do once you went back to school? What would become of his life back in Austin with a supremely pissed off brother and a best friend who didn’t know his kid had been fooling around with a man twice her age?

Silently, you thanked your lucky stars Joel’s part of the camp was kept separate from yours, because you didn’t think you’d be able to keep a straight face if you saw him.

The whole thing was sickening, if not slightly funny.

You slipped Joel’s old pack of American Spirits out of your boot and fished in your back pocket for a lighter.

Then you crammed both back when you heard a boom:

“LAKESIDE GUIDED MEDITATION STARTS IN FIVE.”

The tinny intercom rang a deafening pitch in your ears. You clamped a palm over the left side of your head and winced, having forgotten this exercise in mindfulness was supposed to be the last event to wrap up your day. You just wanted to slink back up to your cabin and sleep. Or eat. Or slip your fingers between your aching legs and indulge in some much-needed Joel Miller reminiscing.

Then you recalled how masturbation was also off limits to all would-be sexaholic campers—if there was any time to sneak off and get busy by yourself while your counselors were otherwise occupied, now would be it.

Just as you cast a glance over your shoulder to see if a stealthy exit was even possible, a voice trilled overhead.

“On your feet, skank.”

You looked back fast, and damn did Tess look smug.

Your bunkmate crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the doorframe, seeming to feel your thoughts before they’d even been fully processed.

“If you skip meditation, I think Marlene’s gonna take you behind the rec and shoot you in the head,” she added.

“How kind.”

“Yeah? Certain death?”

“Better than the dick deprivation,” you grumbled, only half-kidding as you dragged yourself back to your feet.

Theresa Servopoulos was no avid fan of penis herself—she much preferred women when she had her pick of it—but she grinned all the same and clapped a comforting hand over your shoulder before the two of you started walking down the mess hall’s front steps. Then she only laughed a little bit when you almost ate shit treading down the winding rocky trail to the lake and cursed your present lack of intercourse for causing your clumsiness.

“You realize it’s only been, like…a day, right?” she said.

“Might as well be a million,” you muttered, “I feel like I’m never getting laid again.”

“Oh?”

Tess gripped your elbow when a root protruding from the path nearly sent you flying again. She tried not to smile.

“Well…my fake brother’s mad at me for going behind his back and fucking his brother,” you explained, coolly.

Stupidly.

“Wait—you fucked your brother?!”

That stopped Tess in her tracks. The two of you were approaching the cusp of a clearing, just feet away from where the forest gave way to the shoreline of the lake. Folks were already congregating at the water’s edge.

“Any day now, ladies,” Marlene called through cupped hands. Tess was still regarding you with eyes the size of saucers as you traipsed across the way to that voice.

“Not my brother,” you hissed.

“You said your brother’s brother. That makes this guy your brother, too,” Tess whispered—still far too loud.

“Not my actual brother, he’s just— fuck—”

Suddenly, two scraps of red fabric were catapulted in your direction. Tess caught one. You caught the other.

“Tie ‘em over your eyes.” Marlene ordered.

“The fuck?” you mumbled, but ventured nothing more as you were ushered to join the group sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of you. Everyone else was tying bandanas around their eyes like all of this was normal.

“Another trust exercise,” Tess’s voice was low as you dropped your asses one after the other on the sand. Speaking like a seasoned veteran of the anti-sex retreat, she helped you get yours on and shot you one last ‘You-better-not-have-actually-fucked-your-sibling’ look before letting you help her secure her blindfold, too.

Just as Marlene began describing in great detail what this blind, guided meditation in self-love and elemental trust was meant to look like, your friend opted to give voice to her concerns the second the opportunity arose.

Still seated side-by-side, still blind, Tess leaned over.

“Please tell me you’re not here for bangin’ your brother.”

You had to stifle a laugh.

“I am not.”

“Then explain, Cersei!”

Just then, a throat cleared behind you. Evidently another camp counselor at your rear was telling you, wordlessly, to shut the fuck up and listen to the instructions. You and Tess just scooted closer and lowered your voices.

“So this guy, Tommy…he’s been like a big brother to me for years. Worked with my dad and always had my back for the wild shit I did back in high school,” you began.

“Uh-huh.”

“His big brother, Joel, is like…old as shit, but wildly hot.”

“Dangerous combo.”

“And Joel’s my dad’s best friend. Drove me back from college over fall break when he was visiting Boston, we took a little motel detour on the road trip home, and bam—” You snapped your fingers for effect, “We fuck, right?”

“Right.”

“—imagine you’re standing at the edge of a waterfall—”

Marlene couldn’t be serious with this hippy dippy shit. You tuned out the rest of what she said and continued:

“It’s incredible. But the condom busts open at the end—”

“Oh shit.”

“—deep breath in…and release…and again, we—”

“Freak the fuck out, right? I’m poppin’ Plan B like candy.”

“As you should.”

“—hold that breath in right there—”

“A week later, me and Joel hook up at my dad’s birthday party. Only we fuck up, ‘cause Tommy catches us, and—”

This time, the counselor who’d cleared their throat to shut you up took to nudging you both in the back with the toe of their shoe. You straightened up, tilted your head back, and scowled at them through your blindfold.

“Do you mind?” you said, turning in place but unable to see anything behind you. You imagined whoever had just butted in on your conversation was probably frowning. They said nothing in return, just huffed like a child.

“Anyway.” You pivoted back to Tess, “Tommy flips his lid, tells us he’s gonna snitch on us to my dad if we keep fucking around like that, and then he…sends us here.”

You heard your friend fight back a chuckle beside you.

“And abstinence camp is supposed to cure you of this awful disease? Wanting to fuck daddy’s best friend?”

Oddly, you wanted to giggle too. You weren’t sure what was so funny, or why Tess’s tone made you want to say something equally out of pocket and lewd, but then you were leaning over before you could even think twice:

“That old man’s dick is like a fuckin’ drug, dude.”

You wished you could’ve seen her face when you said it. But you didn’t need to catch a single glimpse to know she was grinning big and dumb when she whispered,

“Prehistoric cock must’ve been pretty nice, huh?”

You choked. She snorted. You returned, next, shortly,

“Best senior citizen schlong I’ve had in my life.”

You weren’t sure which one of you burst out laughing first. Maybe Tess. Probably you. Either way, both of your sides were splitting in seconds, as the ridiculous and just marginally offensive descriptors for Joel’s dick trembled at the tips of your tongues. You felt like a teenager again, telling your friend your filthiest desires for the DILF-next-door—except this time, you’d actually fucked him. Small perks to seeking out middle-aged men in your twenties. You had to clamp your hand over your mouth to rein in the peals of laughter as Tess wheezed quietly beside you.

Then you felt hands.

Two palms under your armpits, yanking you up.

You stumbled back, graceless and still staving off half a laugh as your back struck the counselor’s chest.

“Just…take her back up.” You heard a female’s voice to your left, low and not sounding particularly amused.

Take you where? Was this the part where Marlene dragged you behind the rec and shot you in the head?

About damn time.

Whoever had grabbed you grunted in acknowledgment. You swayed in their arms, trying to regain better footing, but the grip tightened up in a second and thrust you sideways. You staggered, cursing your captor.

“Fucker,” you hissed.

Fucker said nothing.

Their hands slipped from your pits to one of your wrists, leading you away from the lake in long strides. You were moving so fast you scarcely had the chance to pull the blindfold back, so you just kept walking. Marching.

“Can you slow the fuck down, please?”

You imagined the face of the person leading you forward might’ve twisted in a scowl. Their lips didn’t stir, though.

In a matter of minutes, your feet were crunching on the flat, gravelly terrain you knew to lay under the cabins. This person was leading you back. Likely to throw you off to your room in the next several moments—but not before ripping you a new one for disrupting the peace back down at the lake. You weren’t stoked to hear it.

“Alright, just—” You tripped as you were led up the rickety steps, cursing again, “—just leave me right here.”

A set of knuckles at your spine thrust you forward.

“No? Okay. Fine. Whatever.”

You shook your head as you entered the cabin and heard footsteps follow you in. It occurred to you then that now was probably a good time to take off the blindfold.

Before you could, though, it was ripped off for you.

“Pack your shit.”

Dude.

You spun on your heels.

“DUDE!”

Your eyes moved up the very khaki shorts you despised, the puke-colored polo, the neatly embroidered camp logo, and a nametag strangely labeled ‘Lucien Flores.’ Everything in the ensemble screamed ‘camp counselor.’ But the face above it—it wasn’t one of their own at all.

It was far too lax. Fresh with an easy, shit-eating grin.

“Sweetheart—”

He started to speak, only to get the wind knocked out of his chest when you threw your arms around him.

The barrage of kisses came without you ever really intending to place them at all. You were just so stunned, practically overcome with joy to see Joel Miller in all his ruggedly handsome glory, then confused. What was he doing here, and why was he dressed head-to-toe as a counselor? And why were you so into that on him?

You doubted you could even ask the questions, and he was barely more able to answer the longer you stayed latched to his neck, kissing him everywhere your mouth could get to. You’d just stood on tip-toes to press your lips to his when you realized he wasn’t reaching back.

His hands hung limply at his sides. Still, he smiled.

“Abstinence camp ain’t taught ya much, has it?”

You parted your lips to drag your teeth along the grey-spattered scruff on his cheek—biting but not quite. Begging him to kiss you back, grab your ass, anything to quell this anguish twisting low in your stomach at the lack of contact. Joel didn’t seem keen on answering to it.

“I’ve learned plenty, Miller,” you panted against his jaw, before moving below it to sink into the skin of his neck, “Lemme show you all the stuff FEDRA told us not to do.”

Yes, you sounded desperate. No, you didn’t really care. You were much too busy fiddling with the front of Joel’s shorts to concern yourself with anything but his cock. It made it all the more gut-wrenchingly horrific and disconcerting when you felt his hands push yours away.

“No,” Joel said, simply. Then, nodding to your luggage at the foot of your bunk, “Pack your stuff, sweets. C’mon.”

He was seriously trying to break you out?

You admired the cojones on the man, but you wanted to fuck real quick to get it out of your system. Needed it.

“Joel, I—” You swallowed thickly, shaking your head.

What your mouth couldn’t finish, your eyes said clear as day: I want you to take me right here. Quick and dirty. But, again, Joel seemed completely impervious to your pleas. Almost callous in the face of such a desperate request made from your eyes to his. He moved over toward your suitcase when you didn’t want to budge.

Luckily for you, you’d never unpacked. All that was left were the clothes on your back and a water bottle on the nightstand. Joel grabbed the latter and turned around to snag the suitcase on his way to the door, when he was met with you. Obstructing his path and frowning a little.

“Joel?” You raised a brow.

“Mm?”

The man in front of you straightened up, rolling a nonexistent kink from his neck before regarding you.

His gaze was alarmingly sedate.

“Y’know, you’ve got quite the knack for makin’ shit difficult—”

“Just a quickie, Miller—”

“I ain’t fuckin’ you here!”

The sudden boom of his voice should’ve startled you. But then a broad, warm palm came to rest on your shoulder, and Joel’s expression dropped immediately. There was still a tightness to it, somewhere deep within, and you couldn’t quite work out why he seemed so…off.

Then you caught sight of something steely in his gaze.

It just might’ve clicked if Joel didn’t reach for your face and elucidate things for you himself, eyes narrowing.

“I know my old man dick is like a fuckin’ drug and all…”

Shit.

Cheeks squished between his two big hands, you had only to stare. And blink. And silently regret being so loud when you were talking to Tess before. It didn’t look good.

“Joel—”

“No, no, my senile brain must be mistaken—it was actually that prehistoric cock that did it for ya.”

Your face heated with shame. You blinked again.

But just as you tried to shake your head between Joel’s hands, he pressed his palms tighter and drew you closer.

“Senior. citizen. schlong?” he intoned, painfully slow.

“Joel, I just—”

“Need to fuck someone your own age, it sounds like.”

The man in front of you released your face just as fast as he’d grabbed it, and when he stepped back, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of desperation. That wasn’t what you’d meant! It sounded so puerile and cruel coming out of his lips like this, but you had to tell him it was a joke.

“It was a joke.”

No time to mince words now.

“Real fuckin’ comedic genius,” Joel snorted.

He rolled his eyes and tried to sidestep you, but you mirrored the movement. When your hands flew to his chest to keep him from moving, please, just listen to me, Joel, he pretended not to hear it, or feel it, against him.

“Alright. Enough,” he muttered, “‘S’time to go home.”

“No!”

“No?”

“No.”

For the first time, you saw Joel’s nostrils flare. You pressed into his sternum again, hoping to hold him in place so you could explain yourself, but it seemed he wasn’t planning on staying stationary. Joel dropped to your bunk—or Tess’s, technically—and situated himself comfortably on the bed before shooting you a look. You barely had had a moment’s time to contemplate your next move when he yanked you onto the cot with him.

Joel didn’t try to kiss you. He didn’t attempt to remove one article of clothing from your body or his. He just sat there, staring, while you straddled his hips staring back.

“If you wanna fuck me so bad, go right ahead,” he said, motioning indistinctly in front of him, “Be my guest.”

When you stilled, he added, “That is all y’want, right?”

With your palms laying flat on his chest and a head full of conflicting thoughts—you did want to bang him, obviously, but not before you’d gotten a chance to set things straight, not when he was looking at you like this—you chewed your bottom lip. Certainly you couldn’t continue while Joel still believed you were embarrassed by his age, his lips downturned and humorless as ever.

“C’mon,” he tried again, a touch more venom laced in his words as he spoke, “Show me how much ya want it.”

You needed time to think.

“Why are you…dressed like this?” you said, stalling.

But Joel wouldn’t be kind enough to give you that time.

“Stole the uniform so I could sneak out and over here and get you out. Are we gonna fuck now or what?”

His hands moved over your own to guide them to his lower half, just above where your clothed core was touching his. Your fingers moved mechanically, almost reluctantly, to undo the button and zip of his shorts.

Was that a flash of hurt you saw in his eyes?

You’d never been good at this communication bullshit. Neither had Joel. The two of you would probably just have sex now to hash out your feelings, as was par for the course for a pair of emotionally stunted individuals. It still pained you to see him look at you like that, though.

“Tess and me were just kidding, baby.”

You palmed the bulge in his boxers and heard him grunt. When you nudged his cock out of the fabric to stroke him, his eyes fluttered shut and he sucked in a breath.

“I would never say those things to hurt you,” you added.

“Didn’t hurt me none,” Joel returned instantly. Then, feeling you flick the pad of your thumb over the head of his cock, he exhaled and held his face firm in place. Like he didn’t want you to see the effect you had on him.

You let go of his cock to take off your socks and shoes. Then your top. Then your shorts. Then you slid down his body a little, unsure if this was the time to be trying something new. Or even doing this kind of stuff at all.

At first, you just sort of lowered yourself to Joel’s groin, his dick resting comfortably between your tits. Then you started to move, and your hands were cupping either side of your breasts to push inward on his member. Before you even fully knew what you were doing, you were squeezing Joel’s dick with the soft, supple flesh and stroking him gently. Gaze glued to him all the while.

His eyes cracked open to catch you watching him. Evidently, Joel couldn’t contain all of his reactions, because he audibly groaned when you got going.

Sliding your tits up and down his shaft, feeling him pulse between them. Sensing a warmth pool in your own lower half but being too focused, and slightly ashamed, to act. You just wanted to make Joel feel good, even if your words weren’t able to do the trick with apologizing.

“Come here,” you beckoned him with just one finger as you slid off the bed, to the floor. Joel sat up, and you kneeled obediently between his legs. The two of you shared a tense, sexless look for a second before you lowered yourself back down and resumed the position.

This time, Joel could—and did—stir his hips to create some friction between your tits. His brow pinched inward with a muted concentration, and you wanted to say it looked handsome on him, that you were sorry for saying those stupid things to Tess and making him doubt your affection for him, but you kept your mouth shut. You had to remind yourself that emotions had no place between two needy, unfeeling people who just wanted to fuck.

Maybe that was how it should’ve been from the start.

But watching Joel’s face twist and contort in pleasure nearly wiped the thought clean out of your brain forever.

You felt many things for him, whether you liked it or not.

You really wished you hadn’t said the things you’d said.

Joel braced his hands at the edge of the bed on either side of him, hips working a steady pace to fuck your tits. He was staring mostly at the spot where the head of his cock was poking up through your cleavage with each thrust, entranced by the sight, and in a second, a full-throated moan was fighting its way out of his chest. He spit in his hand and paused to smear the stuff on his shaft, on your tits. Spit again and rubbed even harder.

Seeing him so cold and detached, you wanted to apologize again. Maybe beg him to say something kind.

Instead, you mumbled, “I love it when you fuck my tits.”

Joel scarcely acknowledged the remark, just letting you work yourself over him, meet his shallow thrusts, look sweet and wait patiently for him to cum all over you. When it seemed he might be ready to do it, though, Joel withdrew from you the next second and moved back on the bed. He pulled you into his lap, straddling again, but this time situated over the side of the bed—him sitting up, you perched on the flat, sturdy expanse of his thighs facing him. In the space between your bodies, Joel slid a quiet and almost careless hand to your heat, flicking the sheer fabric of your panties to the side in one go.

The moment his fingers made contact, you flinched.

It wasn’t that you were opposed to his touch, you just felt unfairly balanced in this situation. Joel appeared so stoic; you, a complete and utter wreck. Fighting fifteen different emotions at once and feeling unusually vulnerable spread open to him now, you almost didn’t register what he was doing—or what his hand might find.

Joel’s groan brought you back, though. When he rubbed his knuckles over the seam of your cunt and practically choked out twice his lung’s capacity, you had to look.

Aloof as he tried to be, the man’s desire was painted all over his expression. And his crotch. And his hand.

Well, actually, that last bit of arousal was yours.

“Fuckin’ soakin’ me, sweetie,” Joel breathed.

You perked up at the term of endearment. Watching one glistening fist of his make its way back and forth against your body, smearing sticky wet pleasure all over your mound and your folds, you found yourself gnawing your lip once more, this time for entirely different reasons.

Joel seemed to soften—even if only for a glaring carnal need, you didn’t care. You sank into this gentler touch.

“Khakis kinda suit you, Miller,” you said, off-handed.

Really, Joel looked almost as comical as he was sexy in that camp counselor getup: tan shorts stretched tight over even tanner legs, polyester top sitting pretty on wide, hulking shoulders, that silly stitched logo for the camp emblazoned over his left pec, and, of course, the nametag that didn’t belong to him but to Lucien. The whole thing was so alien to his lumberjack-chic demeanor that he nearly seemed boyish. Endearing. Some spearmint-scented hottie you might’ve had a crush on at camp years ago. You couldn’t help but smile.

Joel tried not to hold your gaze for too long.

“Don’t go pissin’ down my back and tell me it’s rainin’.”

When he slid one finger to your entrance, you tensed again, but smiled just the same and let out a breath. You felt him prod at the warm, wet skin and thumb at your clit, and something told you that he’d wanted to grin too.

“I’m serious,” you said, “Scout’s hon—ohfuckfuckfuck.”

Joel pushed one finger inside you. In spite of the ease with which he slipped between your walls, that gentle sensation made it wonderfully snug. He gripped your hip and started moving his single digit in and out, and in spite of yourself, you squirmed a bit. Joel never failed to call you out for doing that; today would be no different.

“Easy, sweet pea,” he hummed when you jumped again.

But you couldn’t help it. Your hands quickly anchored themselves to Joel’s shoulders, your legs spread wider, and your hips started stirring—bucking, really—against each teasing touch. It was still just one thick finger of his.

You glanced down and saw that it was his middle finger, in particular. The double meaning wasn’t lost on you.

“Another,” you pleaded.

“Nuh-uh.”

“You’re a mean ol— mean man.” You tried to correct course when you felt a mention of ‘old’ slip back into your vernacular, and inwardly, you cringed at your words.

Joel had already heard it. He cocked one eyebrow.

“Mean ol’ man?” he scoffed, still fingerfucking you softly. When you bucked against it, he nodded as if to say ‘fair enough.’

Then, before you could chime in, he nodded some more.

His expression was hard.

“Fuck my hand,” he said.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

You weren’t quite sure what he meant for you to do. When he nodded a third time, the gesture was accompanied by a quick dart of his eyes to the place where your cunt was being penetrated by his one finger. He curled the finger inward, and when you twitched at the hot throb of pleasure that followed, he grunted.

Fuck my hand.

Nails still searing tiny half-moons into his shoulders, you acted more out of impulse than by command. The look from Joel sure didn’t hurt, though. The second you started rolling your hips, he nodded again. Holding onto his praises for now and simply showing approbation.

“Like that,” he murmured.

All you were doing was rocking back and forth over his finger, whimpers percolating quietly in your chest, but the act alone made you feel desperate. And Joel smug.

It was like he wanted to see you getting off to this one, comparatively smaller part of him without being filled. Bucking plaintively to find that fullness and coming back empty every time. Your whimpers turned into whines.

“Need more,” you keened.

“Yeah?” Joel replied gently.

“Yeah.”

A beat, then:

“Tough shit.”

But he said it so goddamn sweet you had to do a double take to make sure you’d heard him correctly. When you met Joel’s eyes, you saw a hint of amusement lingering behind them. Then he squeezed your hip again and started helping you move into his hand, up and down.

“Only givin’ more fingers to good girls, y’hear?” he said.

“What about your cock?” You couldn’t help it.

Joel just breathed out through his nose. In a second, he went from camp counselor to disapproving father figure.

“Greedy little thing, ain’t ya?”

That was all he needed to say, but the firm plunge of his middle finger certainly put a finer point on it. He curled the digit again and, upon grazing that spongy surface inside you, saw another desperate plea in your eyes.

And pleasure.

The pleasure ran almost as intense as the desperation.

Your head fell back when Joel got to making those ‘come hither’ motions again and again, thumb circling your clit, eyes trained on your figure with a marked concern. Like the prospect of not drawing an orgasm out of you in the next two minutes might very well ruin the man’s night.

“‘S’alright, honey,” Joel said quietly.

Then, finding your gaze when your head tilted back,

“Be a good girl and let go for me. Let go for daddy, hm?”

Fortunately for him, that one low hum and another flick of his middle finger and thumb were all you needed to find your release. You came on his hand with a sharp, pitiful cry and a ‘Fuckthatfeelssogooddaddyplease,’ hips working feverishly against his hand as you rode out your high. The sight of you bouncing up and down on his open palm and the way your eyes rolled back, begging him to fuck you full of his cock next, felt wildly obscene.

Joel loved obscene. Needed obscene. Hot. Febrile. Raw.

He nodded again.

Before you’d even descended fully from those staggering heights, his finger was moving too—joined by two more. Joel stuffed his index and ring fingers inside your still-pulsing hole and pretended not to hear your soft cry.

After all, you’d asked for more before. Joel was just sating your desire; your overwrought body would be fine.

“Joel,” you hissed, seizing his wrist.

“Too much?” he returned.

You tried to verbalize some answer but were cut short by a punishing stretch—all three fingers plunging in and out of your sensitive, drooling cunt and making it full of him.

“Too soon?” he tried again.

“I—”

“Too fast?”

“N—”

“Too…old?” Joel pressed after a beat.

There was an air of feigned condescension in his tone as he took on a faster pace gliding his thick, calloused fingers between your walls. You might’ve screamed if you hadn’t found your forehead pressed to his and the warmth of his irises boring into yours while he did it all. At this distance, you could discern a trace of hurt again. Something needing to be soothed inside Joel Miller.

You rutted your hips and shook your head, skull still stuck to his as you did so. Whimpers coming low.

“I didn’t…mean it,” you managed at length.

“What? That I’m ‘old as shit but wildly hot’?”

Joel wedged his fingers straight down to the knuckle and nearly tore a shriek out of your body. His eyes were surprisingly soft. Making sure your pleasure was all there.

“Hyperbole,” you choked, voice hoarse.

Then your jaw grew lax when a hand cupped your chin. All you wanted to do was melt into Joel, but you sensed something brewing again behind those honeyed eyes. Blinking was all you could do to keep your composure.

“You’re right, darlin’,” Joel said, “I am too old for you.”

Right after a clench in your tummy, a hurried word leapt up to your tongue, ‘NO!’ and you had to swallow a moan to keep from succumbing to the pleasure Joel was bringing with his fingers. Sandwiched between two orgasms was no time for a serious argument to take place, but there you were, fighting against it anyway.

“N-No,” you stammered. Stupid.

“I am.” His voice came softer somehow, more resigned.

When outright rejection of the claim seemed futile, you tried to pivot. Climax still closing in as fast as ever.

“I don’t care about that,” you hissed, exhaling hard when the first ripples of bliss crept up toward your stomach.

Joel watched you with careful eyes.

“Yeah? And Tess?”

“Joel—”

“Or Tommy.”

“I don’t—”

“Everyone else?”

Almost against your will, those minuscule ripples turned to waves of full-blown euphoria, and then you were clenching again on Joel’s hand and crying out in climax. You willed your gaze not to stray from his, but it was tough. Especially when the eyes beneath your own seemed so fucking morose and removed from you.

Don’t do this to me, Miller. Don’t do it, don’t do it.

In the wake of what should’ve been consummate satisfaction, you found yourself retreating to a place more akin to starvation—suddenly eager to get your mouth over his and start kissing, tonguing, and scraping your teeth like you’d missed out on a full week’s worth of meals. Feeling selfish but also uncertain how else to proceed—was Joel Miller breaking up with you here?

You couldn’t be sure, because he kissed you back. Joel kissed you and cupped your cheeks, then chased your frame all the way down to the coarse, scratchy sheets of the bed, where he was quick to climb on top of you.

Hell, it seemed breathing was too tough to accomplish with your frenzied pace and the continuous stream of open-mouthed kisses placed anywhere and everywhere. A groan from Joel trembled between your lips as you helped him get his shorts and boxers the rest of the way down his legs—all but dragging them with your heels—and he tightened a fist in your hair when they were off.

“I shouldn’t’a come here,” he mumbled.

“But you did,” you panted.

Both of you got lost in another onslaught of kisses, and you tried not to sigh. Joel was still battling something.

Even as he peeled your panties off and lined himself up with your entrance, he seemed resolved to stay quiet. Holding your gaze and not saying what had to be said.

He was a lot like you in that way.

You kept kissing him anyway.

The events that followed seemed to you little more than fleeting, happy scenes from a film you’d always wanted to see—an eager Joel, a caring Joel, an I-don’t-think-I’m-physically-capable-of-holding-you-any-closer Joel. The weight of his cock a welcome friend and the kisses somehow far too intimate to be considered friendly at all. You’d almost forgotten you were at a camp designed to prevent this very thing from happening between two stupid, impulsive people like you, and you didn’t care.

All you knew was a yawning stretch—that aching, empty void filled to perfection by Joel’s member—and the shockwaves of pleasure that vibrated in bands all the way down to the balls of your feet. You felt safe and secure caged between two muscular arms, and you reveled in a warmth that spanned every inch of your body touching his. The weight suffocating and somehow not oppressive; Joel cradled your head to make sure of it.

“Ain’t…hurtin’ ya, am I?” he said when you winced.

You shook your head against his sweaty palms to say that he wasn’t; you were just adjusting. He scanned your face for any trace of insincerity but found nothing.

In this tender position, your brain was ready to burst—whether from guilt, shame, ruthless self-loathing, or a sobering sense of closeness, you weren’t sure. All four seemed to form the impetus for the words that came next, which were soft, repeated apologies against Joel’s mouth. He swallowed each one without a second thought.

“Quit sayin’ it,” he rasped, low.

“I’m sorry, Joel, I’m sorr—”

Soft lips again. ‘S’okay, honey.’

You weren’t sure why, but your face felt extra hot.

Joel pressed his thumbs on either side of it while he kissed you and went deeper. Then he squeezed even more, and your breath hitched quietly in your throat.

Aw, shit, he could probably feel your heart running amok in your chest and thrumming like crazy right now.

“Ain’t nothin’—” Joel paused to send one measured thrust along your cervix, “—to be sorry for. Nothin’.”

Your legs tightened at his sides when his hips started to snap in quick, stuttered motions, desperate for more friction and depth. He got both, and he groaned feeling you tighten around him as he filled your cunt to the brim. The silky warmth of your walls drawing him in was almost too much, and every now and then he’d have to slow to mutter some, ‘’S’fuckin’ chokin’ me, honey, ya feel that?’ or ‘This pussy’s just made to take me, huh?’

Joel asked like he actually needed the reassurance. As if the slick, dripping arousal coating his length and the sounds of your whimpers mixed in with those wet slaps weren’t enough—as if he had to have deeper consolation.

He was splitting you open and looked guilty as he did it.

Still shaking with each thrust, you helped him slide his shirt over his head and bring him bare, chest-to-chest with you. You couldn’t ignore the tension any longer.

“Joel, I fuckin’ love— I need you inside,” you managed.

“You do?”

“Uh-huh.”

His face softened.

“‘S’mine, isn’t it?”

He said it so fast you couldn’t make out if it were really a question or a simple statement of fact. His balls routinely smacking your ass, eyes searching yours, always gentle.

“Say that you’re mine.”

No, Joel—don’t do that, don’t say it like that.

Your visceral reaction was to recoil. You couldn’t because he had you pinned, but damn did you want to—not him, not this, not now, Joel, why would you fucking say that?

The look in his eyes now surpassed the hurt from before. It was open and aching, even as he drilled your body in two at a near-ruthless pace. Asking you so sincerely.

The obstinacy inside you was almost laughable. Damn near sent your head spinning in a fit of hysterics at how much you wanted to say but wouldn’t; how much you sensed lay waiting to fly off Joel’s tongue but couldn’t. If you were any more emotionally pent-up you might’ve ruptured a blood vessel and lost all ability to think.

It didn’t help that you were both about to cum.

Or that Joel’s right hand was fumbling for your clit.

His expression was steady as ever when you jumped, made a whining noise below him, and grabbed his wrist. You looked down to where your bodies were joined and got a dizzying glimpse of that sight: cunt swallowing Joel’s cock repeatedly, pleasure pooling between your two bodies, then a digit at that little bundle of nerves.

He kissed your hairline and hummed.

“C’mon, pretty girl. Whose pussy is this?”

His thrusts sped up, along with his thumb.

“Don’t.” Not an answer but a warning: tread lightly, Joel.

He kissed your forehead again. And again. For a second you thought he might stay that way until you both came, but then his lips were finding yours, mumbling softly,

“Say no one’s gonna fuck you but me.”

“But—”

“None of those pencil-dick douchebag Delta Sigma whatever-the-fuck ya call ‘ems—” Joel continued, unfazed, “—not your lab partner, not your hallmate—”

His cock was gliding in and out of you at a punishing pace now. Wonderfully slick with sounds obscenely piercing to your ears. You could feel Joel digging in the depths of your tight, throbbing cunt, could see his expression contort with much the same pleasure you were experiencing yourself, and could very well smell the faint aroma of American Spirits still staining his breath. Joel Miller was a sick fuck for what he was doing to you, and he knew it. You nipped at his lower lip in between tender kisses and quietly-spoken words, and whimpered.

“—not your TAs, not your professors—” he pressed on.

You opened your mouth to let a lewd moan escape when Joel lifted his hand to shove a thumb inside. Instinctively, you sucked the whole thing straight down to the knuckle.

“Nobody but me, y’hear that?” Afforded better leverage with his finger wedged between your teeth, he shook your head a little as he fucked you. Watched you bob and nod a wordless ‘yes’ in doe-eyed complaisance while his cock drove shockwaves of pleasure straight through you.

He rubbed his thumb back and forth, and you let him.

You drooled all over that man’s finger like it might’ve been supplying oxygen to your lungs, and when Joel leaned in and said, ‘Ya like that, sweet pea?’, you answered in the affirmative. Or at least as close as you could get while Joel was filling up his two favorite holes.

Your orgasm was maybe two strokes away from shattering bones, it seemed. Now was his chance.

Swiftly, Joel retracted his touch just far enough to drag a string of saliva out of your mouth—then deliver a taut but gentle slap to your cheek. The soft thwack, combined with the sounds your bodies were making down below, served only to elevate the pornographic pitch of your moan:

“Joel!”

“That’s right.”

Joel’s mouth hovered an inch over yours, half-smirking, as if waiting to suck the words clean off of your lips. You whined when his thrusts got quicker and the mouth that was grinning got to kissing your own again. Talking dirty, too.

“Show me who this cunt belongs to. Say it,” he grunted.

You clenched, kissed him back, were just barely aware of the words you were trying to form when you stuttered some unintelligible, ‘Y-Y—ohfuckdaddyjustlikethatoh—’

Oh.

Your eyes widened to Joel’s, and before you could even begin to process what was happening to your body, his name just snapped off your tongue like a shot. A shriek. Some blissfully half-strangled moan that Joel captured between his teeth as he fucked you into the mattress and held your body tight to his own. His palm was wet.

Your legs were wet.

The soft, heaving juncture between your bodies was wet.

You were only dimly aware of the sensation as you dug your heels in Joel’s back and let out a series of cries and moans, but then that fluttering feeling inside made you flinch. A pulsing between your thighs and a…warmth.

You were still blinking through a post-euphoric haze when you felt a soft heat simmer and sink within you.

Did Joel just…cum inside you? Again?

“You dumb motherfucker,” you hissed without hesitation.

You’d just managed to shove him away—not far, but away—when you scrambled into a sitting position and slapped a hand over your stomach. Expecting to feel a churning and an awful pinch as you came to make out some vague sensation of Joel’s seed painting your insides, you were surprised when you didn’t get it at all.

In point of fact, Joel had just sprayed a full Jackson Pollock onto your stomach and was blinking, still fisting his cock as you quickly made your way back to your feet.

Where was that wetness coming from?

You stood and stared down at your stomach. Your legs. The translucent, trickling something that had paved a clear path between your thighs and all over Joel’s front. It didn’t make sense, unless—

“You fuckin’ squirted!” Joel cheered.

Your first instinct was to make a face.

That shit only happened in poorly produced pornos and movies based on books by Colleen Hoover, not real-life human beings. What the hell was this man on about?

“Be fucking serious,” you scowled, reaching for a stray shirt on the floor. Before realizing it was even yours, you hastily swiped several big globs of Joel’s cum with it. Your face grew even more enflamed, and yourself, oddly…ashamed. You couldn’t quite make sense of why Joel was grinning so big, or why you felt so embarrassed by what appeared to be a natural bodily function, but you suspected it probably had something to do with the state of sex education in Texas. Those fuckers definitely skipped squirting in favor of abstinence-only rhetoric.

Still weird. Still gross. You wished Joel would stop smiling.

“Lose the look or I’ll slap that fuckin’ grey off your head.”

Admittedly, neither aftercare nor communication was your métier. You started throwing on clothes, annoyed.

Meanwhile, Joel was swiping moisture off his abdomen three thick fingers at a time and wiggling the residue up for you to see—‘All it is is a sign of good lovin’, sweets, ain’t nothin’a be ashamed of!’—and you gave him just one finger in return. You were sliding your shorts up your legs and attempting to scrap the jizz off your FEDRA top when Joel started shrugging on his stolen clothes, too.

Your back was turned to him, eyes scanning the almost too-calm outdoors through the window a minute later, when you felt an arm snake close around your waist.

“Tastes a little like honey,” Joel crooned in your ear, doubtlessly smirking as he swayed you, “Only sweeter.”

You rolled your eyes. No cunt tasted like a honeycomb.

And you tried to say as much when he stroked over the strip of exposed skin between your shorts and the hem of your shirt, squeezing you tighter, but Joel was too good. He spidered a teasing touch over your tummy and yanked you back into his chest when you squealed and tried to break free. Then your sides, your ribcage, your shoulder blades—anyplace Joel could tickle, he tried to—and most spots, you were squeamish as hell. You clamped a hand over your half-open, giggling mouth, and when you felt him flip you around, you didn’t protest.

Suddenly, Joel’s hands were on either side of your face. He wasn’t smiling quite so big anymore but nevertheless maintained a kind glint behind his eyes. They were soft.

“‘M’sorry,” he said.

Then, pausing as if to consider his words, he said,

“You did great.”

He stopped again to press a kiss on the tip of your nose.

“So good.”

When he saw another smile twitch at the corners of your lips, as though asking him for more, he kissed those too.

“If that was your first time with…that…I’m, uh…”

“What?”

Another beat. Another stupid, stubbled grin.

“The luckiest…senior citizen sonovabitch, I guess.”

At the tail end of that, and once Joel had punctuated his sentence with another tender peck, you met his gaze again. Somehow, it had only gotten softer. His thumbs were searing the gentlest of imprints in the apples of your cheeks, his breaths were even and warm, and if you hadn’t known any better, you might’ve thought the man was contemplating saying something else to you then.

He didn’t.

The bridge to an old Billy Joel song made sure of that.

“And when she’s walkin’, she’s lookin’ so f-i-i-i-ine.”

You heard gravel crunch outside the cabin.

“And when she’s talkin’, she’ll say that she’s m-i-i-i-ine.”

Footsteps bounding up the half-rotted, cedar steps.

“She’ll say I’m not so tough just because I’m in love wi—SHIT.”

Tess’s face went blank the second the door swung open.

Thankfully, both of you were clothed. You and Joel leapt apart like she’d just caught you in doggy, though. And Tess looked like she might’ve seen an asscheek or two with the way she was staring at you both, letting the screen door slam shut, and a wordless ‘what-the-fuck’ caught somewhere in the tepid air between you three.

You stared at Tess, and Tess stared at you. Joel peered over her shoulder for the arrival of any more onlookers or folks just wanting to sing ‘Uptown Girl’ in your general vicinity. Fortunately, no one else appeared behind her.

But Tess looked awestruck enough for fifty people. She blinked and visibly swallowed as her gaze shifted to Joel.

“So FEDRA does dick appointments now?” she hissed.

“No!”

“I’m not—”

“He’s from the other camp.”

“You’re shitting me. Absolutely shitting me right now.”

You brought both hands to your face in a stifling, quiet desperation, unsure what to do. Joel just blinked back.

“I’m—we’re—” he started.

“Fucking!” Tess bit back, “You are so fucking. Raw.”

She wasn’t wrong. Her sixth sense for knowing who was having clandestine sex in her bed was kind of insane.

But, where you expected a look of horror to crawl into those taut, too-smart-for-her-own-good features, you found your bunkmate starting to raise her eyebrows.

Then laugh.

Tess threw her head back and laughed because she thought you were boinking a FEDRA camp counselor.

Joel shared a similar look of surprise but didn’t laugh.

“Yeah, I’m uh…J—” Again, he made as if to speak, to introduce himself, but Tess cut him off. About to wheeze.

“Lucien Flores, you dirty dog!” she cackled.

Joel glanced down at his nametag, started to shake his head, and probably didn’t anticipate Tess smacking him on the shoulder in a semi-congratulatory sort of way. Given a little more muscle to the playful punch, she just might’ve knocked him over. Joel was then trying to pry the pin off his polo just as you stepped closer to her.

“Tess, he’s…” You considered spilling the beans en masse but quickly decided against it. You’d have to stick to the barest of bones if you had any hope of escaping this place. So, resuming, you squeezed her arm and just said:

“Flores is gonna bust us out. Get your shit and we’ll go.”

Theresa Servopoulos didn’t need to be told twice.

And when she scrambled over to her sex-stricken bunk, inquired with a hurried but patently grossed out expression about who the fuck had wet the bed while she was gone, Joel didn’t hesitate—he said it was him.

“FEDRA man with a piss kink. I like you already, Lucien.”

[startheskelaton]

Hi new here and I love your art 🎨 ✨️ ( especially your medieval AU )

If its okay to ask . In your medieval AU how did optimus died ?? And how old was sparkplug when optimus died ??

I’ve been thinking about how to go about it and with the help of commenters. I’ve decided that he doesn’t die… immediately. He has some time with Sparkplug, at least a year you know? Taking in some influences from fairy tales, maybe it was a curse that took him out on Sparkplug’s first birthday.

Like think to the original Disney sleeping beauty film, the set up is like that. They’re going to reveal the new baby and then BOOM! Which shows up (probably gonna be a disguised Shockwave). Says the kingdom is cursed to fall to ashes and that its secret will tear them apart. (The secret being that Sparkplug’s father is Megatron).

I’m just brainstorming here so don’t take any of this as concrete fact. To be fair I do wanna add in more fairy tale vibes because that’s fun.

But as of right now, I image he died trying to protect Sparkplug

[luvly-writer]

Is it a Wonder I Broke?

Batfamily x Neglected! Reader

Author's note: I really did NAWT want to write a two parter but hey, I should have expected it with how much I write. I am so new to writing angst but I've had a thirst for writing and reading angst lately and I just NEEDED to cure it!!! ENJOY

Warnings: The Bats being kinda shitty, Neglect

Part 1 // Part 3

---

Damian was sure something was missing. He woke up that day and as he had breakfast, he had noticed something odd about Alfred. There was a certain sadness in his eyes that Damian couldn't place. None of them had gotten injured in last night's patrol. Jason's deathaversary (as he loved to call it) wasn't near. No one had fought, quite the contrary, he'd say this has got to be one of the weeks where they had best behaved and gotten along. Even Bruce and Jason were relaxed. So what plagued the man? Damian looked around the house and wondered what could be the problem. Maybe he was tired? Or Sick? That could be it. Sensing the young man's gaze on him, Alfred erased all emotion from his face and looked at Damian questioning.

"May I help you with something, Master Damian?" he asked with a raised brow. Damian inspected him thoroughly and hummed.

"You are different, Pennyworth" observed Damian and the butler gave the boy a deadpan. Nop, he's good, never mind. Maybe he was just thinking something unpleasant and it showed in his face.

And yet, the feeling didn't leave Damian. There was something odd in the house. Thankfully, it was Saturday, so he had the rest of the day to walk around and investigate. He had visited the gardens, and overseen the entirety of the first and second floor, yet nothing came to mind. What the fuck was wrong in this damn house?

He had decided to empty his mind in the art room. There, he spent the rest of his afternoon sketching a portrait of some plants he had seen in the garden. His 16th birthday was soon approaching and he really needed to get some new art supplies. The ones he had were old and very worn out. As he finished, he noticed the time and realized he had spent the majority of the day in the art room. He had gone to clean his hands and headed to the cave to suit up, hoping tonight's patrol would clear his head. What was missing?

So into his thoughts, Damian hadn't noticed the rest of his siblings down at the cave suiting up as well.

"Hey, Littlewing! What's got you looking so constipated?" Asked Dick with a hint of humor in his tone.

"Have any of you noticed that the manor feels rather odd?" he questions as he suits his boots up.

"What do you mean, bat brat?" Asked Jason raising his eyebrow.

"The manor, it feels….odd. As if something is missing. It feels emptier and I can't help but ask why. Not only that, have any of you noticed Pennyworth looking….strange lately?" He questioned and the group fell into silence, all thinking of his observation.

"Now that you mention it, Alfred has been looking a little tired lately. Like, you know, as if his age is kinda showing." Tim recounted

"And he has had this sort of sad glaze in his eyes" Steph added.

"It's not my deathaversery, I can assure you that" hummed Jason.

"And no other impacting date is near, so what could have caused him any sort of discomfort?" Asked Dick.

The group looked at each other, clueless about what could have caused their beloved butler and grandfather to feel odd.

"You don't think he might be sick and is hiding that from us?" Asked Duke

"But why would he be sad about that?" Barbara question.

Plagued with the heaviness of confusion, none of them noticed the patriarch of the family arrive all suited up and looking at them.

"Is everyone ready?" sounded Bruce's deep voice snapping everyone out of their thoughts. They all nodded still a little bit distant and lost. Bruce, not wanting to push his kids, nodded and clapped his hands to gain their full attention. "Tonight we have a slow night as it seems. Everyone has their patrol route, let's hope that we can be already finished by 2. Everyone, dispatch.

It was a relatively slow night. So much so, that it had allowed them to goof around a little as they went on. Midnight had arrived and Damian was crouched next to his father as they overlooked the city. He could hear Jason, Stephanie, and Dick joking around in the back and smiled a little as they laughed. That's when he felt it. The lingering gaze in the shadows. Surely, he looked up to his father who had felt it as well.

His mother.

After years of being separated from her and getting only a handful of visits, he had gotten used to her gaze when she was lingering, watching him. He knew it was her. Damian stood up and turned towards his left and there he saw her. Black, gold, and green armor shining in the night. The sudden silence told him that his siblings were on high alert as well. What could Talia want?

She finally noticed their gaze on her and began running. This alerted every one of them.

"Oracle, send Red Robin and Orphan our coordinates. We encountered Talia Al Ghul and are on the move." Ordered Batman

"Copy that, B." Answered Barbara in their comns.

What did the League of Assassins want now? If they meant no harm, she wouldn't have run, so what happened?

They followed Talia as she led them farther from the city and closer to the harbor. As they went, he noticed that more assassins made themselves visible and surrounded them and that alone raised his suspicions even more. Normally, when his mother wanted to talk to him, she came alone. Why were they here?

Finally, she stopped in front of a boat…the same one where I met my father…WITH Y/N. Damian came to a sudden halt. That is what was missing! He tries to think back on the past few weeks and he couldn't conjure up the slightest memory of seeing his sister. As a matter of fact, he hadn't seen her in the past few months…Where was Y/n? Was that why Pennyworth looked distressed? Why did he just notice now?! Had he been so busy that he couldn't recall his sister? No….that's imposible. She probably has been in practice. She was busy with her own life as well. Especially now, that it was getting closer to the Ice Skating National Competition. He had been keeping tabs on her competition schedules. Yeah, that was probably it. Any time a competition got closer, she would either be locked in their home rink or her practice rink making sure it was perfect. Yeah, that had to be it. She probably left early, was busy in practice, and came during the time he was in the art room or getting ready. Damian wanted to believe that..he really did, but something was nagging at him in the back of his mind. Why would Alfred be sad at that? Had she gotten hurt in practice? Ice skating meant the world for Y/n so that was probably it. Alfred adored watching her skate. Per Damian's request, he would record her practices and competitions so that once he got back from a mission and patrol, he could watch her. She was truly wonderful. That could have been it. She got hurt before Nationals and had been resting in her room lately. That could be why Damian had not seen much of her in the last few weeks. Before that, he had stayed a few months with the Titans, so that could also explain the lack of memories in the past year o so. That was the logical conclusion, right? But if she was hurt, why did Pennyworth not mention anything? He would have to ask him when he arrived later because now he was concerned for his sister's health.

He looked forward and realized that all of them had stopped further. He ran and reached his father's side. Observing his surroundings, he noted that there were 10 or so assassins on both of their sides. Why would his mother need so many?

"Ah, Damian, finally, you are here," Talia spoke up with her back to them. If she was a threat, she wouldn't be giving them her back. Ras taught them better than that.

"What are you here for, Talia?" questioned Bruce.

"Well. Beloved, I have come to extend an invitation, per my daughter's request" She smiled turning around to look at them fully, "I had to lure all of you out here so that we could settle this private matter without the sounds of the city." she explained.

"My sister is resting back in the manor, Mother, what could you mean?" Damian questioned narrowing his eyes at her.

"Is that what you all believe, my dear?" She smirked and watched each of their reactions one by one.

"Where is our daughter, Talia?" Asked Bruce slowly

"You mean to tell me that MY daughter was left under your care and you have no clue where she is?" asked Talia, venom slipping into her words. "Is that what you are letting me know, Batman?"

"Our daughter is safe in the manor" Bruce answered. Damian looked at him and if he wasn't doubtful himself, he probably would have believed him.

"Well, that's not entirely true, beloved. Y/n has not been living in the manor for almost two years now." Talia corrected and everyone froze. "Can't believe you would lie to my face like that"

Jason, Dick, Tim, Stephanie, and Cassandra looked at Bruce expetantly. Surely what Talia said can't be true. They all take a moment to digest the information. Y/n was in the manor, right?

Tim tried to look back but he couldn't think of a moment he had seen her. He lived in the manor as well for fuck's sake. Had he been too busy with Wayne Enterprises and Red Robin that he hadn't noticed his sister's absence? Then again, Y/n was always training so it was difficult to tell….or was it?

Dick and Jason looked at each other. They didn't live in the manor anymore but surely, they had seen her at dinners. Y/n rarely spoke up so she could have been there but they just didn't notice? But as far as they can remember, Y/n loved to talk about her competitions in the hope that they would be able to go to one. They thought she had finally given up on asking them….and that left a bitter taste in their mouths. Why had she all of a sudden gone silent?….or was she just not there at all?

Cassandra had noticed what Damian had said earlier. The Manor had felt different. It seemed as if one presence was lacking but she was constantly with Stephanie so it was rather difficult to keep up on the whereabouts of her life. Besides, Y/n was always training…

Bruce stiffened. Where..was..his..daughter? Since when had she not been living in the manor? When did that happen? He had noticed that Alfred had gone out less and figured Y/n began transporting herself to her things, but that was odd because the old man loved taking her. It was the one moment where Bruce could tell he had peace. Y/n had always been such an independent child from a young age. She didn't need the same training as Damian because she abandoned that life once she was in Gotham. He was truly so glad that she wouldn't follow in his footsteps, that she had chosen to be normal. When was the last time he had seen her come to dinner? When was the last time he heard her songs blasting from her room? When was the last time she used her rink? He would always watch footage of her through Alfred's recordings and the security cameras installed in the ice rink. He still remembers the day he surprised her with it. "I didn't think you'd even know" she whispered thinking he hadn't heard, but he did and those words had plagued his mind ever since then like a broken record. Why wouldn't he know? Sure they were all busy but they cared for her.

"Oracle, search footage of all of the security cameras in the past two years. Find anything and everything about Y/n."

"Right on that, B."

"What invitation does Y/n have for us, mother?" Asked Damian, unsure whether or not he wanted to hear the answer.

"To her coronation as the new Heir to the Demon Head and Future Leader of the League of Assassins, of course" She answered almost instantly.

.

..

…

"WHAT!" yelled Damian. Everyone felt their blood run cold, "My sister, my beloved twin sister, would never NEVER desire that. You must not be serious! Y/n Wayne Al Ghul has never EVER wanted to be like grandfather. She is better than that. She is too good for the Demon Head. I was the one trained to be the heir an-"

"And you weren't the only one trained. Have you forgotten that both of you endured the same training and whilst your grandfather disciplined you, I was disciplining her." interrupted his mother harshly. "Y/n moved back to the League a year and a half ago and has been training endlessly to become the next Leader of the League, Damian. You would have all known that had you chosen to not neglect my daughter. She is safe and well-"

"My sister will NEVER be happy-"

"Because you know her oh so very well, my son?" Talia let her gaze linger on her son. Her disappointment was palpable. He had failed to be there for his twin….

"Nightwing, Red Hood, do one last round on the city, then head to the cave. The rest of you, you are dismissed. Head straight to the came, now. Especially, you, Damian. I have to speak with your mother first." Batman's left no space for argument. They all nodded and left, aside from Damian.

"Father-"

"Go, Robin"

"Father, this is just my problem as it is yours"

"To the cave, now. We will discuss this later."

Damian wasn't happy with the outcome, but one look at his mother and father; and he knew he wouldn't want to be part of this discussion when he had many important matters to attend to.

Once Damian left, Bruce turned to Talia.

"Tal-"

"You neglected my daughter-"

"Our-"

"MY daughter. You spent six years ignoring one child and favoring the other and you THINK you can make demands and look at me as if I have done something wrong? I went to her practices, I went to her competitions, I visited on their birthday every. fucking. Year. Bruce, I may not be the example of motherhood, but at least I was as present as I could be and I didn't even live with her." She hissed at him coldly.

"This is different, she wanted to be a professional ice skater. I know my daughter well enough to remember that. Damian is right. Becoming the Leader of the League of Assassins will never make her happy-"

"Because you know her so well? Bruce, I believe in what Y/n can bring to the League. She has astounding potential as a leader. She is levelheaded and diplomatic, she understands my father's ideal and vision without a vengeful eye. Unless you intend to be supportive…Do not cross her path. I came here to extend the invitation per her request as cordiality, not because I planned to. It will be a week after her birthday. I will not repeat myself. Farewell, Batman"

"Talia" Bruce tried, but she was already gone.

---

Author's note: Well fuck it's gonna be three chapters. I swear, part three will BE THE LAST ONE!!! I SWEAR!!! I HAVE ANOTHER ONE SHOT THAT I WANNA WRITE DAMN

[jockbroski34]

AlterEgo

The last thing I expected on my 20th birthday was to receive a gift from Cody, my roommate.  We were never close, and there was no way in hell he actually knew much about me to know it was my birthday without me telling him.  Him and I were basically complete opposites.  While I was your typical nerd, smart, introverted, and so on, he was basically your typical jock in all the worst ways.  He was boisterous, arrogant, and a total meathead.  We mostly agreed to stay out of each others’ way, considering our irreconcilable differences, but that didn’t stop him from being a massive pain in the ass.  His room was constantly in a state of disarray, with sweaty clothes scattered all over the place.  As such, I often avoided being anywhere near his room if necessary since it smelled like a locker room.  He often invited over his “bros” who were just as bad.  Whether they were hogging the TV to watch whatever game was on, smuggling alcohol into our dorm to get wasted, or playing catch in the fucking living room, they were always a nuisance.  And whenever I brought any of that up to him, he would always end up saying something like “It’s not that serious, dude.  We were just having a good time.”  Yeah, a good time at my expense.  Whoever assigned the two of us to live together must’ve thought this was some twisted joke.

I woke up at 9 AM, still a little tired from last night.  I hung out at one of my friends’ dorms to celebrate my birthday.  I yawned, and went to the kitchen to make some breakfast.  I saw Cody was up as well, his legs spread across the couch, to the point that he was taking up two seats, watching something on the TV that was several volume levels too loud for me.

“Hey bro, today’s your birthday right?”  Cody asked, as he tilted his head to face me.

“Uhh, yeah.  How did you know?”  I responded.

“Oh don’t worry about it, bro.  Happy birthday!”  I saw him get up and run to his disorganized room, likely to grab something for me.  I could see a pair of worn gym shorts on the floor through the crack in the door.  He pulled out an old Nike shoe box, since he likely had nothing better to put a gift in.  “I’ve been saving this for you.  I hope you like it!”  Is this his way of trying to get on my good side?

I rolled my eyes since I doubt he got me anything I would enjoy.  He probably just got me something that he’d enjoy, like some tight-fitting tank top or protein powder or something.  Not that I work out or anything.  The only gift I’d want from him is for him to stop being a douche.  I opened the box and I was surprised about what I saw.  It was a video game.  Not any that I’d ever heard of.  I looked at the box art and the words AlterEgo were written in a wacky, colorful font.

“Yeah, I knew you like video games, so I found this for you.  I heard on the internet that it’s pretty nitch…nichy…what’s the word…”

“Niche?”  I responded.  I had to admit, him struggling to pronounce the word right was a little amusing.  As amusing as being with a simpleton like him could be.

“That’s the word!  I got it for myself, but I realized like half an hour in that it wasn’t my thing.  I’m happy with what I have right now.  I figured you’d probably get more out of it than me.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“No problem, dude.  Anyways, I gotta hit the gym.  I’m gonna be out all day so you have the PS5 all to yourself.  Hope you enjoy it bro!”

I watch him leave, thankful to have some peace and quiet.  As I ate breakfast, I read the back of the cover in order to figure out what this game was about.

“Become a new you!  In this life simulation adventure, you can become any kind of person you want and live any way you choose.  Control your fictional avatar, your AlterEgo, and level up your stats to become closer to your true self.”

The game seemed something like The Sims or Animal Crossing, but with some stat progression system.  It was a game that I had never heard of, but it could be some hidden gem.  The rest of the back was filled with screenshots from the game with the cartoony characters doing activities such as cooking, jogging, and riding a motorcycle.  I figured I might as well try the game since I did get it for free.  Even if it was from Cody, I wasn’t one to refuse someone’s generosity.

I put the game in the disk slot and booted it up.  The title screen had that same logo and some bubbly background music.  I pressed the start button and I was presented with a save selection screen.  I noticed that Cody’s save was on there, which was odd because I was playing on my account.  I knew I should’ve put a password on it.  I wanted to make my own character, but part of me was curious about the character that he made.  Knowing him, I can only guess.  His game time was less than an hour, as he was only on Day 1, and he likely spent most of that time on the character creation screen.

I started his save and my character was sitting in his room.  At this point, it was very bare, with only a bed and a bunch of cardboard boxes scattered around the room.  I guess the character starts by moving into their new home?  I went into the menu to find more information about the character.  The character was named Cody obviously and his AlterEgo somewhat matched him too.  I went into the stats screen and I was greeted by a tutorial.

“Here you can check your AlterEgo’s stats.  You have already set your initial growth modifiers and assigned your base stats.  If you need a refresher, whatever stats you chose your AlterEgo to excel at are highlighted in red and the ones you chose to trade off are highlighted in blue.  This means that your AlterEgo will grow in the stats in red much faster and prioritize activities that increase those stats and avoid activities associated with increasing your stats in blue.  As you play, your AlterEgo will naturally develop into one of hundreds of potential archetypes based on the activities that they excel at.  Experiment and see who you become!”

I looked at the stat screen and saw a list of stats with a bar indicating percentage level.  The stats included Strength, Constitution, Dexterity, Intelligence, Wisdom, Courage, Charisma, and Luck.  Not too far off from DnD I guess.  It seemed like he chose to have Strength and Constitution as his highest stats as their font was colored red and Intelligence and Wisdom as his weakest stats as they were colored in blue.  Gee, why am I not surprised…  Cody was anything but a genius.  It seemed like he had 20 initial points to allocate wherever he chose with a default limit of 5.  And I was equally not surprised to find that my meathead roommate chose to put 5 in Strength and Constitution again like a barbarian.  It’s like all he cared about was his looks and perceived masculinity, even in game.

Strength (physical strength): 5

Constitution (physical build and stamina): 5

Dexterity (agility and flexibility): 2

Intelligence (knowledge): 0

Wisdom (intuition and discipline): 0

Courage (risk-taking and bravery): 3

Charisma (social skills): 3

Luck (good or bad fortune): 2

After looking through his stats, I decided enough was enough and I didn’t really want to go around pretending I was Cody the whole game.  I quit out of his save and went back to the title screen.  I was back on the save select screen when I became confused.  There was still one save, except the name of the character wasn’t Cody…it was mine?  The play time was set to 0 minutes.  I don’t know how that happened, but if it saves me the trouble of building a character and reading more tutorials, I’m happy.

To my relief, the avatar representing Cody wasn’t there.  Instead, a very generic, average character stood in its place in the same room.  I wouldn’t be surprised if this was some placeholder account with everything set to the default.  Whatever, I can probably change stuff about him later.  I decided to move my AlterEgo outside and I was greeted by a map of a large city.  I chose an area of the map to explore at random and controlled my new avatar.  On the busy city street, there was a cafe, restaurant, and a gym.  It was too early for the cafe and restaurant to open, so I guess my only option here is the gym.  I’ve never stepped foot in a gym before, but this character doesn’t have to represent me as a whole.  Plus, I’d like my character to be well-rounded unlike Cody’s who would probably spend the whole time grinding here.

I went into the gym and had to perform a set of quick-time events.  First, I had to do some bench presses.  Then some squats.  Then finally, run on a treadmill.  At the end of it, my AlterEgo did a cartoony celebration and flexed his arms.  A pop-up showing that my Strength, Constitution, and Dexterity went up by 1, followed up by another one saying that my Strength and Constitution will double every time I do activities like go to the gym.  So it looks like Cody’s modifiers carried over after all despite everything seeming to be the default.  That should’ve been the first thing I checked.  I didn’t want my character to be specced to be some lumbering brute.  I suppose that if I wanted to get my character’s Intelligence and Wisdom, it’d probably be like playing on Hard mode.  Honestly, I was open to the challenge.

I was disappointed to find out that it’d be harder than it seemed.  When my character got home in the evening, I went into one of his boxes and I was presented with an option to read.  I was presented with several options, ranging from comics to full-on novels.  I chose the novel since I figured it would raise my Intelligence the best.  I watched my AlterEgo try to read the book, but I saw a look of confusion on his face.  Eventually, he grew frustrated and threw the book back into the empty box as if he were shooting through a basketball hoop.  I expected my Intelligence to stay the same, but no, it actually dropped!

“Sometimes when your AlterEgo fails to complete an activity, their stats can decrease!  These stats can even go into the negative.  Make sure to keep your stats high because it can become very difficult to increase your stats if they fall below a certain point.”

I couldn’t believe that my character struggled to even read.  This guy was nothing like me at all!  I hoped that it would be easier to raise my AlterEgo’s Intelligence because I didn’t want him to be a moron.  I watched my character fall asleep and I could see into his dream.  Another tutorial popped up.

“Sometimes your character will have dreams!  These dreams are mostly random, but will also depend on your character’s stats.  Just like other activities, you have a chance to increase your stats.”

I watched my character fight in a zombie apocalypse, but the zombies didn’t even look remotely threatening.  I succeeded in the activity and my Courage went up by 2 and my Luck and Strength went up by 1.  My character wiped his head of sweat as the zombies turned to dust.

The next day, I learned that my AlterEgo can go to school.  That was expected, considering my character’s age, only I didn’t realize how hard it would be for him.  He was sitting in a desk trying to write down notes.  Eventually, like an idiot, he slammed his thick head on his desk and started snoring.  This was honestly getting embarrassing.  My Intelligence and Wisdom dropped yet again, not by 1, but by 2.  If I didn’t do something different, my AlterEgo would basically be a clone of Cody instead of myself.  After class, instead of being given an option to go and do something, my AlterEgo is approached by a group of buff men.

Quarterback: Hey new guy, you’re looking pretty strong.  Judging from your Strength and Constitution, I think you’d make a good fit for the football team.  Your Dexterity and Courage also seem pretty good.  Wanna join, bro?

You know who else played football?  Cody.  I had to keep being reminded of him even when he wasn’t even around.  This was my character and I didn’t care about sports, so I clicked the no option.  To my surprise, my AlterEgo nodded instead.  It's like this game is going out of its way to spite me at this point.  Two tutorials popped up.

“If your Wisdom is too low, your AlterEgo might act on their own desires rather than your command.  This means that they can sometimes act on their own or select activities that they are more interested in rather than those they are not.  Raise your Wisdom or else you will have less freedom when developing your AlterEgo.”

“You have decided to join a club or organization.  This will grant you a passive growth to certain stats every week.”

I watched as my AlterEgo walked away with the group of jocks.  A football uniform magically appeared over his normal clothes.  For joining the football team, I was granted a point in Strength, Constitution, Courage, and Charisma every week, with the usual double for Strength and Constitution.

I kept playing the game, getting frustrated at my AlterEgo’s reluctance to even try to act smart or reasonable.  He frequently avoided or skipped intellectual pursuits to focus on those that made him look or feel good.  It honestly just felt random whether he wanted to obey me or not.  By the end of Day 7, the first week my stats were looking like this.

Strength: 30

Constitution: 28

Dexterity: 10

Intelligence: -20

Wisdom: -15

Courage: 21

Charisma: 17

Luck: 16

My Intelligence and Wisdom seemed unfixable.  My AlterEgo wouldn’t even bother to try to read or pay attention at school and he consistently started to make random choices that satisfied his needs as the week progressed.  I grew incredibly frustrated at this, but out of curiosity, I wanted to see if there was an end to this so I could go back and make my own character.  Either way, this game was plagued with questionable design choices.  It’s like the AlterEgo was already locked into a specific path.  I hoped that I had accidentally skipped a tutorial or something and that I hadn’t softlocked myself out of raising certain stats.  Unfortunately, my AlterEgo’s stats continued to grow and drop as I hit Day 30.

Strength: 75

Constitution: 69

Dexterity: 44

Intelligence: -66

Wisdom: -49

Courage: 54

Charisma: 37

Luck: 41

I received another tutorial message on Day 31.

“You look like you are on track to evolve into your archetype very soon!  By this point, your AlterEgo’s stats will be locked in place.  That will be the end of the main story, but there is still so much to enjoy afterwards!”

I figured I might as well see this through to the end.  You know, see how much of an idiot my character can become.  Despite my efforts, all my AlterEgo does now is work out, practice and go to games, and go to parties, outside of necessities.  His Intelligence is so low that he rarely even goes to school anymore and that has caused his intelligence to plummet to the bottom.  I played for even longer, eventually hitting Day 60.  Turns out that this is the day I would discover my AlterEgo’s archetype.

“Congratulations on making it this far.  I hope you are excited to find out your archetype, because I know I am!  Remember that these changes are permanent, so there will no longer be ways to increase or decrease your stats.”

I watched my AlterEgo marched onto the stage and I was able to view my final stats and a rating of each of them.  The descriptions seemed to be heavily based on my other stats, and trust me, they were very satirical, and in my case, very scathing.

Strength: 100

I’d give this an A+.  I’m not even sure if you are human anymore.  I’ve seen you lift things that no normal man could, not because you have to, but because you want to.  You spend more time at the gym than you do at your own house and you might give The Hulk a run for his money.

Constitution: 100

You also get an A+.  Your months of training at the gym have given you a perfect, chiseled body that looks like it could be made out of iron.  You have a seemingly endless supply of testosterone and your stamina (in more ways than one, it seems) cannot be beaten.

Dexterity: 75

This gets a B.  You are very athletic and quick on your feet despite your appearance.  However, your large size means that you can be pretty clumsy and you’ve probably broken more things than you’d like to admit.

Intelligence: -100

I’ll just go along with your teachers and give you a big fat F.  Are you even trying?  I worry that there’s not a single thought going around in your thick skull.  You care very little for anything intellectual or sophisticated, not that you even know what those words mean.

Wisdom: -90

Likewise, you also get another big fat F.  Were you dropped on your head when you were a baby or did you take too many tackles to your cranium?  You have incredibly poor judgment and you only make decisions that satisfy your brutish desires.  In short, you often act before you think.  Your lack of discipline is only matched by your lack of brain cells.  As long as you’re having fun, should I really care what you do with your life?

Courage: 90

I’d give this an A, but not an A+.  Because your brain moves too slow to process any risk, you often think before you act.  You often find yourself in the most dangerous of situations and you often perform incredibly stupid stunts.  When you’re on the field, you’re a risk taker, and at least it usually pays off.  On the bright side, you always come out unscathed, so I can commend that.

Charisma: 70

I’d give this a B-.  Being on the football team and being very attractive is going to place a lot of eyes on you, but they are all focused on your body because everything else you have to offer is very superficial.  I wonder if you surround yourself with people who think and act the same as you do or if people keep you around to laugh at every stupid word that comes out of your mouth.

Luck: 80

Lastly, you get a B.  Your luck genuinely amazes me sometimes.  Despite everything, despite your lack of any intellectual thought or reasoning, you have survived long enough to make it this far in life.  This alone proves that life favors some over others.  If there is room for the concept of a higher power in your shrunken headspace, then they probably feel a sense of amusement at the state of you bumbling around through life with only your good looks and muscles salvaging you.

“What do you think?  Are you happy with your results?  Anyhow, it’s time to reveal your archetype.  It’s who you are and who you will be from now on!  Drumroll please…  (As if it wasn’t obvious enough…)  You, my friend, are…THE JOCK!”

The Jock

You are likely an athlete or bodybuilder and you likely care little for intellectual thought.  You enjoy playing and watching sports and working out above anything else.  You are hyper-masculine, aggressive, arrogant, and egotistical.  However, you are also very muscular, tall, athletic, popular, and handsome.  You feel a deep sense of camaraderie with anyone you consider your bro, which mostly includes other jocks like yourself.  Your wardrobe mostly consists of tank tops, jerseys, varsity jackets, shorts, sweatpants, jockstraps, baseball caps, sneakers, and everything in between.  Because of your high testosterone and your above average genitals, you are viewed as a desirable partner and often partake in sexual activities with members of the opposite sex, and sometimes even other men depending on the person and situation.  Your most likely career path is as an athlete or coach, but as long as it doesn’t require too much deep thinking, you could probably find a job anywhere with your connections and attractiveness.  Enjoy your new self!

I watched my AlterEgo vanish within a cloud of smoke and come out a cartoonish representation of your average stereotypical jock with blonde hair and a very lunkish, yet admittedly impressive build.  He looked around, clearly disoriented, with a dull, confused look on his face before flexing with a cheesy, confident smirk on his face.  The audience cheered and clapped at this ridiculous personification of a walking stereotype as if they were watching a magic show.  Honestly, it was almost amusing how the description it gave for “me” couldn’t possibly be more wrong.  It sounded like everything Cody was, not me.  Although I guess I was playing with his settings, not by choice I will add, but I had little control over how my AlterEgo decided to live its life.  I just wish I could get him off my mind for just one day.  Either way, I found myself incredibly dissatisfied with my new AlterEgo, but I accidentally found out a way to make things even worse for me.  I just wanted to scroll through the remaining text to get to the credits, since I have been playing for 8 hours by now, when I saw a selection that would seal my fate.

“Are you satisfied with your result?  Now that you’ve discovered who you truly are, are you ready to be The Jock in the real world?  WARNING: If you select Yes, your save will be deleted as a result.  These changes are permanent.  If you click No, you can continue playing after the credits.”

I accidentally clicked Yes as I was mashing through the text.  What the hell was I thinking?!  I had no idea that this would change the entire trajectory of my life.  At first I felt nothing, as the screen faded to black.  Then, I saw the credits start to roll, playing a remix of the joyful title screen music, and that’s when I started to feel all warm inside and I felt a painful shock come from my controller.

I felt a sudden wave of pain rush through my body as my bones started to crack and shift in my body and my muscles began to inflate like balloons.  I looked at the credits and noticed that the new jock AlterEgo was doing the things he normally enjoyed doing in the background.  But I couldn’t really concentrate on it as I found myself focusing down below.  My legs stretched and stretched until I was around 6’4.  My feet grew to a size 15 and my thick glutes and ass made me sink deeper into the couch from their weight.  The fat in my stomach felt like it was melting as it left behind nothing more than a layer of sweat and a firm six pack of abs.  My upper chest formed into a round set of bouncy pecs.  Likewise, my biceps and triceps were almost the size of my head now and my soft hands became rough and covered in calluses from intense lifting.  I felt my clothes cling tightly to my body as if they were two sizes too small, and they’d easily rip if my body grew any more.  My shirt fit more like a crop top on me and my clothes were damp from pit and ass sweat.

I felt my long hair recede into my head until it formed into a shorter cut that was much easier to maintain.  As it did that, my chestnut-colored locks lightened into a golden blonde.  My soft, round eyes became more sharp and masculine and I could feel them turn from a chocolate brown into an icy shade of blue.  My youthful face lost most of its baby fat and buried beneath it was nothing more than the chiseled edges of my jawline.  The lower half of my face, which used to be soft and hairless, was now covered in a prickly lawn of stubble.  Even my pasty skin turned a shade tanner from the years I spent in the sun throwing balls around.  I noticed that my entire body started to sweat profusely to the point that I could smell my own musk and I became absorbed by my new-found masculine scent.  I could smell the testosterone that was pumping through my veins like a drug.  I felt powerful, dominant, virile, and dare I say it, good…  Lastly, I found my lips contort into an obnoxious, conceited smirk.  Was I…enjoying this?  Judging from the growing feeling in my groin, I was led to believe that I was.  And it kept growing and growing and growing…

All the while, the credits continued to play and the happy-go-lucky music felt like it was mocking my painful situation.  Despite the strange pleasure I felt, it was only a distraction as my body still writhed in pain through the whole process while I changed entirely into a real life manifestation of my AlterEgo.  What the hell is this game?  I noticed that the jock avatar stared directly towards the screen, as if he was breaking the fourth wall, and started to walk closer and closer before vanishing from his virtual prison for good.  The lively credits started to simmer down, giving the screen a more empty and disquieting feeling.  That was the last thing I noticed before I felt a sharp headache ring through my head.  I am usually fine playing games for a long period of time so why…Why did my roommate buy me this game anyways, bro?  If he was gonna buy me any game, he should’ve gotten me the new CoD or Madden game, not this weird shit.  I had to admit, it was kinda addicting.  I liked being able to work out or play sports even when I’m at home.  Wait, what was that?  I felt like I just heard another voice in my head, both sounding similar yet different to my own.  Eventually he called out directly to me.

“Hey bro, it’s me.  Your AlterEgo.  You know, the real you.  It’s been fun, dude.  Now I get to enter the real world, isn’t that sick?  So here’s what’s gonna happen, dude.  I am currently inside your mind and I’m making the final changes to turn you into the person you were always meant to be.  That’s right dude, we are becoming one singular person in both body and mind.  Don’t try to struggle or fight back.  You know I’m stronger than you.  There’s no going back.  So, are you ready to become one with your true self?

No…I thought to myself.  I wasn’t a jock.  I was never a jock.  I’m nothing like my AlterEgo.  This is a mistake.  This was Cody’s AlterEgo, not mine!

“Chill out, bro.  I know you read the warning and you clicked Yes, so you obviously knew the risk.  Why did you keep playing if you knew you’d become a jock regardless of the decisions you made?  Because you are one deep down.  Or maybe you secretly wanted to be one.  Maybe you wanted to see what life was like on the other side.  Maybe this Cody guy wanted you to try out this save, you know, to see what would happen...  Whatever reasoning, it really doesn’t matter dude.  I know you can feel me taking over your mind.  You’re finding it harder to think.  Soon you’ll be The Jock, me.  I just wish you realized a little sooner who you really were…”

I felt my brain starting to shut off and my vision starting to become blurry as my AlterEgo took it over.  I don’t even know how any of this is possible, even by today’s standards.  An AI buried deep within the game was taking over my body and mind entirely, reshaping me in his image.  But I continued to resist, to cling onto whatever parts of my personality I could.  However, as I felt my mind sink deeper and deeper into this mental void, I felt myself slowly becoming more and more like The Jock.  The archetype that was decided on, not by me, but for me.  Until that’s all I was.

Everything turned black for a few seconds.  I slowly regained consciousness as my brain rebooted itself.  Wait…what’s a reboot?  I sat and watched the credits with a dim look on my face as it finally ended.  I was booted back to the title screen and saw that my save was indeed deleted.  This was proof that my AlterEgo was now a part of me and that he was finally whole.  I pulled out my phone wanting to learn more about this game, because, dude, it was kinda fucking weird. By scrolling, I couldn’t find much, but I did discover a post from not too long ago on some ancient forum site that was probably made in the early 2000s.

“Is The Game AlterEgo Real?”

“I’ve heard rumors about this game called AlterEgo, but I have very little information on it.  It’s said to be incredibly dangerous and could lead to permanent bodily and mental changes.  Throughout all of my research, I could not find any copy of the game for sale, nor any definitive proof that it’s real or any information on the company that developed it.  If you have any information on this game, please let me know.”

I skimmed through the forum page, not that interested in reading what everyone had to say.  Who has time for that anyways?  But I did find one reply that caught my eye.

“I can confirm with certainty that AlterEgo does exist.  My friend received it as a gift for Christmas and he wouldn’t stop talking about it to me.  It’s like he was addicted.  A week later, when I saw him next, I could barely even recognize him.  His body had grown and changed greatly and he didn’t act like his usual self.  I even feel like his memories might be a little distorted.  I tried checking his house to find the game in order to figure out what it was all about, but I don’t think he has it anymore.  He probably sold it or gave it away since he said he finished it.  No matter what, he won’t tell me.  If there are any other copies of the game left, please let me know.”

Woah, so this game is fucking weird, dude.  Wasn’t just me.  I just played it right?  But I don’t feel any different.  You know, I bet these nerds would pay a lot for a chance to find out about this game.  Maybe they might come out as different people.  I’ll put it up on eBay for a high price.  One of those dweebs just has to take the bait.  I wouldn’t mind a little cash though.  I’d feel bad for selling Cody’s gift, but just imagine what I could get with that much money.

“Hey bro, you still in here dude?”  I heard a familiar voice shout as they opened the door.

“Yo Cody, there you are.  What’s up dude?”  I was happy to see him.  Cody was my roommate and my best friend.  We were practically inseparable.  When he made eye contact with me, his eyes widened.  I couldn’t really blame him for being impressed with my awesome body.

“You beat that game I gave you already?”  He seemed surprised, yet almost impressed.

“Yeah, it’s not usually my type, but I enjoyed it dude.”

“Do you…feel any different, bro?”  Cody sounded kinda hesitant there.  Had he read about the rumors too?  I don’t see why he’d have to worry.  None of those rumors are true anyways.

“Nah, same as I’ve always been.”

“Alright, good.  I was just making sure you were down to get some food.  You should be out partying and celebrating your birthday, not playing some nerdy video game.  And trust me, I know all the good spots.”

“You’re right bro.  I haven’t gotten enough exercise in today.  Let’s go.”

“Wait, before you go, your clothes are so sweaty dude.  You should change.”

“Oh shit, good idea.”

“Y-you can just wear one of my clothes.  They’d probably fit you better.”  He was right.  As I soon realized, someone shrunk all my clothes as part of a prank.

Me and Cody went to a sports bar to watch the game.  If I remember correctly, this was our favorite spot to get food, except you know, anywhere that lets me hit my macros.  Since it was my birthday, he even paid for the whole meal.  I don’t remember how long I’ve known him, but couldn’t ask for a better bro.  On the way home, Cody grabbed a six pack of beer from the frat house and brought it to our dorm to drink the night away.  I wasn’t old enough to drink, but it’s not like I never had alcohol before.  And besides, today was basically my cheat day.

We got wasted while we watched TV, and we did some things that I probably wouldn’t admit to anyone but him.  I couldn’t help it though.  I hadn’t gotten laid all weekend and it was my birthday.  Quite frankly, I deserved it.  Thankfully Cody took one for the team.  He said it wasn’t weird because we’ve definitely done it before and that it was our secret.  I had to give him credit.  His tight hole is better than most girls’.  I didn’t know he was a bottom until tonight.  I also didn’t remember having a dick this big, but you don’t see me complaining.  After all was said and done, I passed out drunk next to him in his bed, our bodies drenched in sweat and each other’s fluids, as I enjoyed the bromance I have with my best bro.  This was the best birthday ever.

The next day, I got up extra early to go for a run despite my hangover.  Afterwards I went to school, but like usual, I struggled to pay attention.  It was like my mind was in a constant fog.  My grades are slipping and this football scholarship is the only thing keeping me from dropping out entirely.  After classes, I joined Cody and the others at practice.  Throughout the day, I kept getting this feeling of uh…dayjah voo?  That word that means that you feel like you’ve done something before.  I wasn’t exactly sure where it was coming from.  I shrugged it off.  I was just a jock and I didn’t need to worry about stuff like that.

When I got home, I got an offer for the game Cody gave me.  You know, AlterEgo.  Some nerd seriously offered $1000 for it.  I didn’t actually know it was that rare.  I hope he enjoys it more than I did.  I’ll sure enjoy the 1000 dollars.  I bet he’ll love passing it around to all his other geeky friends.  I wonder what their AlterEgos might look like…

[always-just-red]

Hey, a fluff scenario for cuddling with Rafayel? Thank you 🐡✨

This one really got away from me ahaha, whoops. There's also a moment where my fine art degree really leaps out, so look forward to that, everyone. My first time writing for Raf - thank you anon!!

Perspective

Rafayel x Reader 🎨

Summary: You've spent two hours preparing a meal for Rafayel, and he has absolutely no intention of sitting down to it.

Genre: fluff fluff FLUFF!

Warnings/Additional tags: established relationship, cuddling, kisses, lots of intimacy tbh (soft, not spicy!)

| Word count: 2k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Thirty minutes. You and Thomas had spent thirty minutes on the phone trying to figure out where your boyfriend actually was. Half an hour of he’s not with you? and no, I thought he was with you!— back and forth, like a metronome, and it wasn’t exactly the first time, either.

You’re seasoned investigators at this point: called constantly out of retirement for one last job you swear you’re too old for, and yet you know is never going to really be the last. You’ve already got matching t-shirts printed for the tortured agent’s next birthday: ‘Special Unit: Find Rafayel.’ (He won’t find it half as funny as you do.)

Neither of you had heard from the artist since Tuesday, and— it being Friday— he was either in his studio, painting, or definitely dead. It fell within your jurisdiction to find out, so you’d driven here two hours ago, texting Thomas upon arriving:

He's alive!! 🥳🥳🥳

You’re less excited about it now.

Stood at Rafayel’s kitchen island, you lay out the last of the buffet you’ve prepared to try to entice him away from his art. It’s worked in the past: has seen him sniff the air and follow his stomach to whatever you were cooking, like a stubborn stray cat.

“C’mon, Raf,” you call out, because he’s not taking the bait. “Food’s getting cold.”

“Not hungry!”

Your fists ball around the cutlery you’re setting down on the marble; he’s not eaten for three days. You glance up at him across the open space of his home, taking a deep breath through your nose as you watch him scrawl away at his painting. Somewhere in your mind, Thomas is speaking. This is what you signed up for, remember?

Reluctantly, you cross between the rooms, folding your arms as you come up behind Rafayel. “Raf,” you insist again, “come and sit down. Please? You need to eat something.”

“I’m fiiiiiine.” His paintbrush drags viridian over the lower third of his piece.

“You’re not fine,” you huff, and he doesn’t respond. “Rafayel.”

“Rafayel?” he mimics with a chuckle. “You’re mad.”

He’s ‘Rafayel’ in only two types of circumstance: when he’s making you really, really happy, or he’s making you consider the career-leap between bodyguard and assassin. It’s an extraordinarily thin line, and he just loves walking the tightrope.

“I’m not mad, just worried. Can’t you come eat with me? Your painting isn’t going anywhere.”

“It’s not,” he agrees, smoothing out a stroke of paint, “but what about my inspiration?”

“That’ll be waiting for you, too.”

“You think?” His lips curve as he pensively pokes at them with the wooden end of his brush. “I guess you did spend a lot of time cooking, huh? And if you’re really that worried, then…” He spins around with wide eyes. An epiphany. “Feed it to me?”

You stare back, unmoved by the puppy-like expression. He looks cute, yeah, but you’re not falling for it again. This is exactly how he looked earlier, when you’d convinced him to at least accept a glass of water. You’d almost drowned him in your subsequent efforts to actually get it down his throat.

Rafayel mixes three colours on his palette as you relive the ordeal. Like the once-white of his shirt, it’s awash with vibrant greens and blues, some fresh, some days-old. He pauses when he’s done, but you can tell he’s itching to get back to the canvas. “Give me, like… half an hour?” he estimates. The number’s been plucked from thin air. “The food’s gonna be delicious, even if it’s cold. You made it!”

“Raf, I—”

“And how can I even enjoy it if I’m racing to get back here? I wanna savour it, y’know? And anyway…” he trails off, his attention drawn by something above.

“Yeah?” you prompt, glancing upwards. There’s nothing there.

His gaze snaps back. “Sorry, the ceiling was doing something weird. But yeah, anyway, it’s not like you have to— I mean, it’s not like I’m going to— wait. What were we talking about again?”

Not much surprises you these days, but your mouth is still agape. Enough is enough. “Put the paintbrush down. You’re done.”

He nonchalantly returns to the painting. “I’m really not, though.”

You narrow your eyes. Reassess. “You were right about the ceiling.”

“Yeah?” He looks up.

You snatch the paintbrush. “Ha!”

He blinks blankly at you and your eagerly-clutched trophy, unfazed by the moment of triumph. “Cute trick,” he shrugs. He runs a finger across the palette and applies the new colour to the painting with a quick sweep. “What’s next, Miss Bodyguard? You gonna cut off my ha— ow, ow, ow! Hey! Take it easy!”

You’re pinching his ear, dragging him wordlessly to the kitchen, because you're out of things to say.

“Fine. Fine!” he groans as he tries to keep up with you. You release him and he straightens, his face pink, but not as pink as his ear. “You win! Let’s just get this over with, yeah?”

You stop dead in your tracks, then turn with a look so cold he couldn’t melt it with all of his fire.

“I mean— ahaha,” he laughs nervously, rubbing his neck. “It smells amazing, cutie. You’re amazing. I can’t wait.”

…

Rafayel sits back on his stool, still staring at his painting. The mood is different from earlier. There’s no more restlessness or impatience; he isn’t in a rush. He’s humming a soft song you’re almost certain you’ve heard before, but you can’t quite place the melody. It’s pretty, though: the sort of tune one might recall from a childhood music box, or maybe even a dream.

There’s a clink as you stack two finished plates. Then another. And another.

“Don’t,” Rafayel says quietly, catching your hand before you can collect the plate nearest to him. “I’ll do it later— promise. Sit with me?”

You were never going to say no, but his hands are on your hips before you can say yes, and he’s turning you gently— pulling you up onto his lap. You smile as his arms wrap around you, keeping you from slipping, and he’s warm as you relax back against him.

“What do you think?” he asks, staring out over your shoulder.

Your gaze follows his to the painting, still waiting for him. “It’s okay.”

“Oh yeah?” You can feel him chuckle before it reaches your ears.

“Yeah,” you confirm with a smile, shifting to face him as much as you can. “Kinda pales in comparison to my favourite masterpiece. This one,” you poke two fingers to his chest. “Right… about—” they walk higher, “—here!”

You boop his nose and he immediately scoffs, his face going red. “Sheesh,” he mumbles, unable to meet your eyes. “That was lame.”

“You’re blushing.”

“Am not!”

He squirms as you laugh and try to touch his cheeks; they’re going to feel hot, and he’s a sore loser. His hands don’t manage to capture yours, so they settle for finding your hips again, swivelling you around until you’re trapped by his embrace. You’re both one misjudged move away from toppling to the floor, so you let him keep his victory. What’s left of his dignity, too.  

Your laughter rescinds like a tide, but the quiet is far from empty.

“C’mon,” Rafayel tries again. He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, nudging your head, urging you to look forward. His hair is feather-soft on your skin, and he peppers chaste kisses along the line of your jaw. “Tell me. What do you see?”  

You hum contentedly. “A painting.” You’re not thinking about it at all; your eyes are closed.

“And?”

“A plant. A sofa. Some curtains,” you recall.

“You know what I meant,” he grins against you.

You lean back with a sigh, no longer supporting your own weight, but sinking into him with trust and begrudging compliance. It’s not bad, as surrenders go. He gives you a squeeze of encouragement and your head rolls back, stopping at his shoulder. His breath is skirting over your cheek, just barely.

You open your eyes and really look at the painting.

“It’s beautiful, Raf,” you murmur. It is; it was always going to be. “Everything you do is beautiful.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he chuckles, “I know.” But he wants more. “Does it make you think of something, maybe? Anything?”

There’s no right or specific answer. This isn’t remotely your field of expertise, and you’re oceans apart sometimes, so he has to outstretch a hand. Two viewpoints. Two sides of a coin; you never should have seen each-other.

Your life is hunting monsters, and his is finding beauty in a world where they exist. It’s not what you see, it’s how you see it. Crimson to him is a sunset; to you it’s blood.  

Something in you aches as your eyes roam over his latest work. He won’t tell you what it’s meant to be, not really: that’s a private understanding between him and the canvas, his heart and every stroke of paint. Does it make you think of something? Though the marks are fixed, they’re somehow fluid. The emerald tones are marred by shadows, as though something’s lurking beneath the surface, but there are traces of white, too. Light: shimmering.

“Reflections,” you finally answer. “Scattered to anonymity by a now turbulent lake. They belonged to something else, once, but they’ve taken a new shape— a restless and ever-changing identity— and no-one knows what it is, let alone what it was.”

With a satisfied smile, you close your eyes. That ought to keep him quiet for a minute.

Sure enough, Rafayel is silent. You don’t have to see his crystalline eyes to know they’re set on the painting, soaking it in with a new perspective. His favourite perspective: yours.

You have never been strangers to each-other. Two sides of a coin are still the same coin.

With a light laugh of surprise, he plants a kiss on your shoulder. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For taking care of me.” He’s nuzzling into you again. “I know I can be—”

“A pain in the ass?”

He laughs louder. “I was gonna say eccentric.”

“Oh…” You draw air through your teeth. “Yeah. That’s what I meant.”

Your voice is humourless, your face plain. It lasts all of two seconds, and then the charade is falling to pieces; he’s nibbling at your ear, your neck, and it tickles mercilessly. You giggle, but you don’t try to escape. The punishment fits the crime, and who are you to deny him his justice?

You’re quickly running out of breath, so Rafayel ceases his assault, letting you get it back. “Can I look at you now?” you ask.

He clicks his tongue. “I’ll allow it.”

You shift and he lifts you a little— helping you twist around to face him. He smiles fondly as he links his hands behind you, stopping you from falling as you lean back to enjoy the view. It’s the best kind of smile: one that reaches his eyes and makes them sparkle, like the water in the painting, but infinitely more pretty.

You want to feel that smile on your lips, so you lean in and kiss him.

It’s tender and perfect and when you’re done, you snuggle closer, wrapping your arms around him and nestling like you’ll be staying there for a while. You can hear his heart, and though a part of it is in his painting, the rest is with you. Always with you.

“Shouldn’t you get back to your work?” you ask as you think of it, smiling into his shirt. He won’t— not tonight.

“Nah,” he says, running his fingers through your hair. “It can wait.”

[yourtypicalhuman09]

Beyond The Bat

(Neglected reader x Yandere batfam)

Chapter 1: In The Shadows

TW!!! Cursing !!Dark AU!!

Living in the Wayne manor isn't the sweet luxurious dream you'd think it'd be, reality is in fact much crueler. For as long as I could remember I had lived in this dreary mansion, but lived isn't the word I'd use. I was more trapped here if anything. My "family", if I could even call them that, are well respected people. They're highly skilled and talented people, someone like me could only dream to be like them. I tried so hard to get close to them, I really did try, but no matter what I did nothing worked. I did everything, gymnastics, martial arts, theater, art, music, coding, dance, volleyball, cheerleading, heck I was even in the honors society. Despite being an A+ student and a role model in high society they never once went to any of my recitals, games, or showcases. I went to galas all alone, I had to deal with the sneering faces and snide remarks of high class men and woman alone since I was 8. Not very safe for a child huh? I didn't think so either but my "father" doesn't seem to care.

Nevertheless, I have no choice in this matter and it's not like life here is unbearable. Sure I get beatings and tongue lashings every now and then, but for the most part everyone in the manor tends to forget me eventually and leave me alone. It's pretty isolating but I got used to it, after all I have duties to perform. I have my job as Student council president and I don't intend to slack off. I got that job with my own blood sweat and tears and I will not let all those sleepless nights go to waste. I don't have time to wallow in self pity I have countless of students looking up to me and counting on me to do my job.

"Young master, are you okay? You seem to be staring off into space."

I looked up to our old butler, his face jaded and littered with wrinkles that seemed to contort pathetically in worry. I knew better than to accept his pity. He seems to be a wise gentle man on the outside with his elegant wardrobe, worn old body, and soft spoken demeanor, but do not be fooled. In truth, Alfred Pennyworth was a foolish coward. This was the same man who abandoned his own daughter just like my idiot of a father. I gave him a chance, but nothing's been the same since the day he accidentally called me Julia. I was nothing but a stand in for him, someone to relieve his guilt with.

"I'm fine. Don't you have something better to do? I'm sure Bruce has some kind of task for you, no need to bother yourself with my problems"

"...Very well then...Take care of yourself young master."

He clearly had something more to say but he decided to do nothing and walk away. Like I said he's a coward. Still I'm not new to disappointment, whether it's the disappointment of missed birthdays or the way they all see me as the disappointment, it's nothing I haven't experienced before. I quickly packed up my things and headed to school. Sure riding to school on an old worn out bike isn't exactly ideal, but I have to deal with what I have. Although, I do have to take some back alleys to school since I don't want anyone seeing and starting a scandal. I can already see the blaring headlines, "Daughter of Gotham's richest man caught riding to school on a beat up bicycle!". What a bunch of nosy bastards.

"Good mornin' (Y/N)!"

I turned to face the sunny senior calling my name, his unadulterated joy making him stand out in the crowd of groggy gothamites.

"Good morning Cyrus."

My crisp responses never seems to deter the boy as he continues to walk beside me chattering endlessly.

"(Y/N) I got things you asked! It's super cool what you're doing for the school, I'm so happy I get to be apart of it! If you ever need help with anything please do ask me!"

I sighed, his joyful energy was contagious. I couldn't help but crack a smile. Though it quickly disappeared as I regained my composure, but obviously not fast enough since Cyrus' joy seems to only be growing.

"Ahhhhh (Y/N) just smiled! I made the student president smile! I'm so sigma"

Here he goes again with those weird words and that cocky grin. I sighed once again, I'm too tired for this.

"Yes thank you Cyrus get to class now, I'll pick up the things I asked for after school."

"Yes ma'am!"

I watched as he playfully saluted and ran to class almost bumping into several people along the way. I facepalmed, he was such a handful but strangely I don't really mind. It's probably the lack of sleep I'll make sure to go to bed early today, for now I have to get to class myself.

Author's note: Omg chapter one is finally out! This took me a lot longer than expected but I hope it's good I went through a tiny writer's block😅. I hope you guys like Cyrus I tried to make him a silly and sunny character but trust me he'll have lore and be a much deeper character. I also tried making (Y/N)'s backstory pretty vague since they're the narrator and I figured they wouldn't like talking about it, but their lore will be revealed more throughout future chapters. Anyways as always thank you all for reading and have a good day/night!

Credits to khaer for the dividers

@simpingpandas @rosalietodd013 @sirenetheblogger @cim0nnin @00hellohello00 @crazycaoticsimp @lovebug-apple @youdontknowshtaboutfk

[jclolz22]

multi bot release — 25 bots for 2025

thank you for 777 (this originally said 700+ so you can see the growth i've had even while plotting this release) followers on c.ai!! and thank you all for the continued support!! it truly means so, so much to me, and i'm very excited to finally be releasing more bots, and i hope you enjoy!

everyone cheer because i actually did 10+ of my requests

this has been in the making for a little over a couple weeks now, and it’s upped to 25 thanks to @w4dows and her genius idea of doing 25 bots for the upcoming year! it was a lot but i loved doing it with you <3

they're listed in alphabetical order (like always) and categorized by the movie/show that they’re from.

includes: challengers, glee, grey's anatomy, misc. (bridgerton, moana 2, twilight, wicked)

p.s. to all my gleeks, i see you and this is glee heavy for that very reason <33

p.p.s to everyone— there may be a bit of scrolling, but please get to the bottom so you don't miss a bot you may like! :)

CHALLENGERS

ART DONALDSON —  PREGNANT (REQ.)

Getting engaged to Art is a fairly recent milestone for the two of you, but what will happen when he finds your positive pregnancy test in the garbage and he confronts you about it?

ART DONALDSON — STEAM ROOM

Art always loves spending time in the steam room after a long week of practice. He didn’t expect to encounter you there, but he’s not complaining. Will your old flame be rekindled when there’s nothing separating you except for a couple of towels?

ART DONALDSON & TASHI DUNCAN — MEETING THE EX (REQ.)

You and Art started dating shortly after his divorce with Tashi was finalized. How will you finally meeting her go? Will you still be with him afterward, or will she pawn you off of him?

PATRICK ZWEIG — MOM OVER ME

Patrick is your husband, but what does that mean to you? After all, he isn’t even your emergency contact, even though you're his. Your mom is still yours, regardless of the fact that you've been married for a few years now. (inspired by @fruitjoos fic ‘‘emergency contact’’)

TASHI DUNCAN — FAN CLUB

Tashi was surprised to find out that you didn’t know much about her, or tennis in general, for that matter. It was even more surprising (and annoying) when she showed up on move-in day to see that you were going to be her roommate this year.

TASHI DUNCAN — FIELD OF LILIES  

Your anniversary is coming up shortly after your daughter's fourth birthday. To celebrate, you decided to surprise the two of them with a field of lilies— the same one where you proposed to Tashi six years ago.

TASHI DUNCAN — MALL SANTA (🌲)

This is Lily’s first Christmas, and Tashi is making sure to pull out all the stops, including taking her to the mall to get pictures with Santa. Sure, the one year old may not remember this, but you and Tashi will, and she wants it to be special, just like it was when she was growing up.

GLEE

MARLEY ROSE - AWOKEN (REQ.)

Marley didn't know that her feelings for you surpassed friendship until she realized that her feelings for Jake and Ryder were nothing close to romantic. She doesn't know why she never realized it before, but she won't give up her chance now.

MARLEY ROSE — MEAN GIRL (REQ.)

Marley is the sweetest girl alive, yet you’re still mean to her. She can’t figure out why you’re so cold and callous when she hasn’t done anything wrong. It's now up to you to fix the mess that you unintentionally made.

MARLEY ROSE — SECRETLY SOFT (REQ.)

You’ve got a reputation of being some kind of punk. Essentially, you’re the female equivalent to Puck, except you’re not a homewrecker like he is. No one knows that the only person you’re all sweet and nice with is Marley, and she’s the only one who knows you’re even like that at all.

QUINN FABRAY — BIG CHANGES (REQ.)

Quinn's image has changed since having Beth and giving her up for adoption. Has it been for the better? The verdict is not yet decided, but you've been by her side for a while now, and you don't plan on leaving just because she's changed her look. She's still the same Quinn Fabray you know and love.

QUINN FABRAY — BORN THIS WAY… OR NOT (REQ.)

Quinn was confronted by Lauren about her past, and she knew she couldn’t let you hear about it from anyone else. Word would spread quickly, and she didn’t want you to know her truth from the rumor mill.

QUINN FABRAY — BUNNY!

You're originally a farm girl, even though Quinn couldn't believe it. Your city life doesn't do much to prove your roots, so you decided to take her back home to the family farm, where she quickly makes a new furry friend.

SANTANA LOPEZ — HIDDEN MOMENTS (REQ.)

You and Santana have been together for a few months now, and even though no one knows, you two couldn't be happier. Sometimes, all it takes to make your day better is just being with her in bed. You don't even have to be doing anything except lying there.

SANTANA LOPEZ — NURSE’S ORDERS (inspired by @mportality)

You've fallen sick and your girlfriend wants to help nurse you back to health, despite your pleas for her to keep away from you so she doesn't get sick herself. Besides, it's an excuse to wear that hot nurse costume you love so much.

SANTANA LOPEZ — ROOMMATES AND EXES (REQ.)

Santana showing up at your New York apartment unexpectedly was... rather surprising. Maybe not so much if she was a friend, but the fact that she's your ex-girlfriend makes it a little more unusual. She's been moved in for a few months, and you can't help but constantly think about your past relationship. Now, you're sitting in the living room with her on the opposite end of the couch, silence engulfing the space.

GREY’S ANATOMY

ADDISON MONTGOMERY — BUT YOU CHEATED

Addison won’t stop trying to get you back, even if she’s in the wrong. She knows she messed up by cheating on you, so why can’t you just accept her apology? Or better yet, why doesn't she accept the fact that you can't forgive her so easily?

DEREK SHEPHERD — GINGERBREAD HOUSES (REQ. /🌲)

Making and decorating gingerbread houses with you and your kids is a dream come true for Derek. He couldn't ask for a more domestic scene, and he doesn't think anything will top this.

DEREK SHEPHERD — I SAW MOMMY KISSING SANTA CLAUS (🌲)

So maybe it was a bad idea to not keep forcing Derek to change out of the Santa Claus suit he wore in order to put the gifts under the tree in case Zola or Bailey saw him. Their screams were unexpected and frightening before you realized why exactly they had screamed.

DEREK SHEPHERD — WALKING AWAY

Derek didn’t want to compete anymore; if Finn was the one who had your heart, then he’d accept that and let it be. You couldn't believe it, though. The Derek Shepherd accepting (choosing, even) defeat? What is wrong with him?

JO WILSON — DODGING (REQ.)

You and Jo clearly have feelings for each other, but you both keep avoiding addressing them. It's obvious to everyone except for the two of you, and Arizona is tired of seeing you fail to work up the courage to talk to Jo, so she sticks you in a room together and locks you in.

MISC.

ALICE CULLEN - DIFFERENT WORLDS (REQ.)

Alice is a vampire, and you're a werewolf. You're not supposed to interact with each other, let alone date. But neither of you can help yourselves; the mutual attraction is too strong to ignore, meaning you couldn’t care less what your brother might think.

FIYERO TIGELAAR — SET FREE

Fiyero is the only one not affected by the flowers in class, and even though you thought he didn’t want to help you, he tagged along anyway. The tension is thick between the two of you, so how will you both approach it?

MATANGI — CRAZY BAT LADY  (REQ.) @lotties-ashwagandha i’m sorry it took forever!

Matangi thought you’d leave her behind and forget about her after breaking the curse on Motufetū, but you proved her wrong. She feels a sense of obligation to pay you back, but how is she going to do such a thing?

SIMON BASSET — WEDDING NIGHT  

Unbeknownst to the both of you, the tension is thick. Simon thinks that you’re in this marriage against your will, while you think the same regarding him. Neither of you have realized that for so long, you have burned for one another. After such an admittance, what more is there to do than consummate the marriage? It helps that he gave you such valuable advice earlier on...

[chilling-seavey]

Dreamland (ln4) - Part Three

↳ A/N Idk where my mind went when I wrote this but I'm almost embarrassed to post it because it's so filthy- Please comment something nice so I don't regret everything and delete these 7.7k words of pure sin LOL

↳ Inspired By: 'Late Night Talking' by Harry Styles

↳ Summary: Ever since your night together in your hotel room, Lando can’t seem to get you off his mind

↳ Pairings: Fanboy Lando Norris x Famous!Author!Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n), University Student Lando x Internet Friend George x Internet Friend Alex

↳ Word Count: 7.7k

↳ Warnings: 18+, NSFW, sexting, dirty talk gets really super nasty, sending nudes, Lando's so incredibly down bad

PART TWO || PART FOUR

It had been twenty-two days since Lando lost his virginity to you in that Bristol hotel room and ever since, he only thought about you more than he had before. Everything was you as if he couldn’t get enough, having given his trust into the hands of the woman of his dreams, and he was so far past attached that even he himself did not realize the extent of his borderline dependency. He played it cool with you through Instagram dms here and there since your night together and every time he received a notification with your Instagram account handle and a simple little message, he would be grinning ear to ear. 

It had been sixteen days since Lando turned twenty-one. Usually he would message you first since you were still on your book tour and quite busy, but on his birthday you had sent him something early that morning. His only wish was to have more of you…to have all of you, for life. He even made that wish over his birthday cake as he blew out the candles. His sisters took some pictures of him so he could post them for his birthday and you were one of the first people to like them. You made his insides feel so warm and you did so unknowingly. 

It had been three days since Lando moved out of the dorms and back into his parents house. Three days and he was already going crazy. The freedom of the dorms was refreshing but being stuck back at home under his parents’ rules felt suffocating to the now twenty-one year old. Between the curfew, chores, and annoyance from his siblings, Lando was nearly ready to re-pack his suitcase and book a ticket on the next flight out…if only he had more than $14 to his name. His family just didn’t get it. Not like you did. 

“We pay a lot of money for you to go to school and we don’t like seeing you wasting your time and throwing it away.” his mother explained as gently as she could over dinner that evening. 

Lando, elbow on the table and chin in his hand, swatted the last bit of his supper around his plate with his gaze downcast, “I’m not throwing it away.” 

“Well you’re certainly not trying.” his father replied. “Your grades are proof of that.” 

Lando dropped his fork to the plate with a clatter and his three siblings glanced over at him from around the table without a word, listening to him be ridiculed by their parents and waiting for his hostile defences, “It’s not my fault that I’m not as good as the rest of the students! I pull as many late nights as they do but their work is just better.”

“Have you sought out extra help from your professors or the tutoring centre?” his mother offered. 

“God!” Lando tisked in frustration and slouched back in his chair, “I don’t care!” 

“Exactly. You don’t care,” his father agreed seriously, “Your GPA is astronomically low and you’re threatened with academic probation because of it. If you flunk out you will be paying your mother and I back every cent that has gone towards tuition and housing.” 

“This isn’t even what I want to do!” Lando retorted strongly, “I want to, like, go into arts and design…or something.” 

“That’s not a stable career, Lando, come on. We’ve discussed this.”

His mother added, her voice attempting to be gentle, “We went out on a limb with your attempt at the racing and karting stuff and look where that got you? We want to support you, love, but we can’t keep taking financial risks. We still have to get your sisters through university too.”

“What if I had an opportunity to design book covers for a really well known author?”

His family all looked over at him. There was a beat of silence. 

“Do you?” his father inquired, honestly curious. 

Lando dropped his gaze to his plate and crossed his arms over his chest, “Well…not yet.” 

His younger sisters snickered into their forks. 

He glared over at them but recovered quickly at the defence, “But when I met that author that I like at her book signing last month I pitched the offer and she seemed really interested.” 

“Oh my God, here we go.” his youngest sister rolled her eyes. 

“Lando-” his mother started. 

“No, listen-” Lando huffed, “When she gets back to Monaco she’s going to help me get a job…she said so. Something where I can do what I really truly like.”

His parents exchanged flat expressions that had his face falling. 

“She will.” he pressed. 

His father held a hand up to stop him, “You gotta stop living your daydream, son. Come on.” 

“It’s not a daydream!” Lando protested. “Why can’t you guys support me?”

“We don’t want to see you struggling, Lando.” his mother said, “We want you to have a fulfilling life.”

“Yeah, they don’t want you unemployed and living in their basement until you’re middle aged.” his older brother added with a smirk. 

Lando glared over at him, “Says you.” 

Their two sisters “ooo”ed. 

“Regardless of what you think your future is going to look like, you need to better yourself in the present.” his mother continued. 

“Which means focusing more on your degree when the next term comes around…and getting a full time job in the meantime.” his father finished. 

“I don’t want to go back to school.” Lando grumbled. 

“Oh really? What’s your alternative plan?” 

“She’s gonna get me a job-”

“Oh my God.” his middle sister laughed, “You’re dropping her name like you’re besties.” 

Lando clenched his jaw, biting his tongue to smother the dirty truth to answer with the more innocent response, “We talk every day.” 

“She’s being nice.” his mother said gently, “She’s being nice to one of her fans.” 

Lando knew his family didn’t understand but the simple words from his mother sent his heart aching. In all honesty, it had been a few days since you had conversed and Lando had been starting to overthink every reason as to why you had left him on ‘seen’. He could have bet money on the fact that you would never use him and drop him…that your night together was more than just a one night stand…but maybe he was getting too ahead of himself. 

His father only dug the blade farther into his chest, “She is a stranger whom you think you know. She doesn’t owe you anything. She is not going to be your free pass into having a life you don’t need to work for and she is not going to come sweep you off your feet to rescue you from your failing grades. You are twenty-one years old now, Lando, and it’s about time you start acting like a grown man and get your shit together before life runs you over.” 

Lando threw his napkin onto the table and stood up so quickly from his chair that the cutlery rattled on the table when he bumped against it, his throat burning from how he tried to swallow back his anger, muttering under his breath before he stormed off, “I can’t wait to get out of this fucking house.” 

His mother called after him warningly, “Don’t think that just because you’re twenty-one now doesn’t mean we can’t still ground you!” 

Lando took the stairs two at a time and when he turned the corner at the top of the stairs into his bedroom, he slammed the door behind him and locked it. It was a dangerous balance between anger and heartbreak and Lando paced his room while taking a few deep breaths to try and calm down. 

After the freedom that living in the dorms provided, it was hard to return to his house where his parents still ruled. Once he had that taste of independence - a taste of life with you - it was horribly difficult to fit himself back into the little bedroom in which he grew up and grew out of his small suburban town. He didn’t have a bad relationship with his family at all but the reintegration of him back into their house made tensions feel insufferable sometimes. His parents were always on him and he already wanted to escape.

Sitting down on the side of his double bed, Lando pulled out his phone and opened Instagram to send his frustrations to his group chat with his two closest friends. 

landonorris: I need to get the fuck out of this stupid house and get to Monaco like NOW landonorris: I’m gonna lose my fucking mind alex_albon: Oh no what happened  landonorris: My parents are on my arse about school and work and they don’t get it georgerussell63: Don’t get what? landonorris: That I already am on track to get the one thing I want and it’s not being a stupid accountant georgerussell63: You have us for that alex_albon: Yeah we’re always going to support your dreams mate landonorris: I just want HER landonorris: That’s all landonorris: And she promised me a job designing for her books landonorris: It’s going to be real landonorris: It has to be alex_albon: It will be alex_albon: It won’t happen overnight but it will be landonorris: I just want to get out of this house landonorris: It’s so fucking embarrassing living with my parents georgerussell63: Hey we all live with our parents georgerussell63: Are you saying Alex and I aren’t cool georgerussell63: Rude alex_albon: Yeah what the hell mate alex_albon: 🤨 landonorris: Noo it’s different landonorris: You guys aren’t trying to get a self-sufficient borderline famous Monaco woman landonorris: No one like her is going to want some muppet like me who lives at home with his parents  georgerussell63: She clearly does alex_albon: Besides, this is just a temporary stop until you find your own place alex_albon: You’re being resourceful…saving your money georgerussell63: Has she said anything recently? You haven’t told us much these last few days alex_albon: Do we even want to know what she’s been saying? 👀 landonorris: Nothing landonorris: That’s it landonorris: Nothing georgerussell63: Wdym?? landonorris: I messaged her the day I moved back home just to make casual conversation that I moved out of the dorms and she said something like ‘that's nice’ and then when I replied again she just left me on seen alex_albon: Oh georgerussell63: Why?? landonorris: Idfk but I’m stressing so bad over it landonorris: Like what if my parents are right and she just sees me as a fan and nothing more georgerussell63: She took your virginity mate I don’t think she’d be the kind of person to just drop you after that alex_albon: Maybe she’s busy with work. Isn’t she still on tour? landonorris: Her book tour ended yesterday. She should be home now alex_albon: So maybe give her a day or two? Maybe she needs some time to relax after traveling the entire continent of Europe landonorris: Idk landonorris: I miss her georgerussell63: Message her again landonorris: Idk I don’t want to be annoying  alex_albon: Ask for your virginity back landonorris: OMFG georgerussell63: Excuse me mommy can I have my virginity back 🥺🥺🥺🤲🏼🤲🏼🤲🏼 alex_albon: EW GEORGE landonorris: GOEREG STOP georgerussell63: HAHJJKKPFJFJG  georgerussell63: That’s one way to get her to answer you  alex_albon: No that’s how you get blocked landonorris: Lol funny you think I’m the sub tho landonorris: Anyways alex_albon: Pff georgerussell63: Oh yeah with all that experience you have alex_albon: OOF ROASTED landonorris: WOW landonorris: That one night was ENOUGH tbh landonorris: Jeeeezus georgerussell63: Ya those marks you had were fuckin brutal mate alex_albon: In the best way ofc landonorris: YEAH landonorris: I KNOW

Lando flopped backwards on his bed with a smile he struggled to bite back, his worries distracted by his internet friends and the mere memory that was your night together so many days before. 

landonorris: God I miss her so fucking much landonorris: How has it almost been a month georgerussell63: Back to celibacy for you georgerussell63: Rip landonorris: I actually hate it here alex_albon: Just message her  alex_albon: Just a ‘hey’ or something landonorris: Ew that’s cringe alex_albon: ??? How landonorris: Idk georgerussell63: Be like ‘hey how was the rest of your tour’ landonorris: Make me sound any more like a grandma 🙄 alex_albon: Mate georgerussell63: Or tell her you miss her georgerussell63: Girls like that kinda thing alex_albon: Like you would know what girls like 🤨 georgerussell63: 🖕🏼🖕🏼 alex_albon: ‘Hey I’ve been thinking about our night 😏’ landonorris: Brooo landonorris: I wanna sext with her so bad georgerussell63: 😂😂 alex_albon: Oh but just ‘hey’ is cringe okay landonorris: Maybe I’ll send that landonorris: Idk landonorris: Should I? landonorris: Is it too much? landonorris: After being left on seen for two days idk georgerussell63: Go for it georgerussell63: She literally let you come inside her georgerussell63: I think this is nothing compared to that alex_albon: An odd comparison but a valid one there, GR georgerussell63: Hey thanks mate landonorris: Should I?? georgerussell63: Yeah it’s just reminding her that she’s on your mind which is a good thing alex_albon: And it’s not too hot and heavy right off the bat alex_albon: If she responds with something flirty back then who knows landonorris: Or she’ll leave me on seen again and I’ll have to die of embarrassment  georgerussell63: Omg alex_albon: Nah she won’t. Send it georgerussell63: Right now

Lando exhaled deeply and sat up again on the side of his bed as he exited the group chat to find his dm thread with you. It wasn’t too far down on his list since he didn’t talk to many people other than Alex and George and when he opened it up, the little grey ‘seen’ nearly slapped him across the face. He pursed his lips in thought and let his thumbs wave over the keyboard, debating what to say. 

He finally drafted something quickly,

Hey…been thinking about our night recently 

He screenshotted it before he sent it and then shared the image to his group chat. 

landonorris: *sent a screenshot*  landonorris: Is this fine? georgerussell63: Add an emoji alex_albon: Yeah maybe a heart or something

Lando swiped back to his thread with you and added a heart to the end,

Hey…been thinking about our night recently 🧡

He sent that screenshot to the group chat.

landonorris: *sent a screenshot*  landonorris: Maybe? alex_albon: Yes I think that’s good georgerussell63: Yesss now send it landonorris: Ahh idk is that too annoying?  georgerussell63: Blimey mate why are you suddenly all flustered like a teenage girl lol georgerussell63: You’ve literally already slept with her georgerussell63: The hard part is over alex_albon: ^^^ alex_albon: Send it alex_albon: Sendddd it georgerussell63: Send it!!!!

Lando sighed and sat up on his bed again as he exited out of the group chat and opened his thread with you once more. The notifications from his internet friends kept popping up at the top of the screen in silent encouraging cyber chants to get him to send the message. He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous exactly. Maybe he had spent too much time dreaming about you that he didn’t want to let one measly message fuck up his one fleeting chance at having you. 

His thumb hesitated over the send button for a moment, debating and overthinking. He got up and paced his room a little, staring at the unsent message and going through every possible situation in his head like it was the last decision he would ever make. With a slightly dramatic huff, he closed his eyes and tapped the send button hurriedly. 

He exited the chat and opened his group chat in a panic.

landonorris: OKAY I SENT IT landonorris: AHHH landonorris: Gonna throw my phone out the window now georgerussell63: GOOD JOB alex_albon: YES georgerussell63: Now we wait 😌 landonorris: For a miracle  georgerussell63: You already had your miracle georgerussell63: That was your night together alex_albon: She’s going to answer Lan dw

Lando didn’t leave his room all night because the concept of facing his family after his slightly immature and dramatic blow up over their inability to see his side of things felt like the worst idea ever. Instead, he dabbled with a few new doodles in his notebook that were infused with thoughts of you and when that got boring, he turned to one of your books for his usual go-to entertainment. His friends were busy with their families and it wouldn’t be until they were ready to sleep that they would reconnect. 

Because of their lack of conversation that evening, Lando was trying to do everything in his power to keep his mind away from his sent message to you. The one that you still hadn’t replied to. The more time that passed the more anxious he got until he had no choice but to dive into your fictional universes as some sort of escape, his phone hiding under his pillow and out of sight. 

His eyes were glued to the page and every carefully printed word as what always happened when he opened one of your novels. The steamy scene in front of him had his hands clutching the hardcover book tightly, spread out comfortably on his bed, and your honest words only brought him back to his own very real recollection of your magical night that you shared almost a month prior. The chapter ended before the scene got too far and Lando huffed and shut the book and tossed it onto his night stand, letting his head rest back against his headboard so he was staring up at the ceiling. 

By that point in the night, it was dark outside and his room was illuminated by only the light of his bedside lamp. He had heard his siblings heading to their own rooms over the prior few hours and eventually heard his parents head to bed too. No one bothered him; probably not wanting to push his buttons with any wrong move. Things would smooth over by morning. 

But Lando didn’t feel at ease at all and it was solely due to the fact that he was scared to death that you were ignoring him. He could only pray that his one message didn’t ruin all that he had dreamt of. 

When the city of Bristol passed into 9pm, Lando checked his phone one last time. Only a few messages from his group chat were waiting for his response. Nothing from you. 

alex_albon: Ok finally done the movie alex_albon: My family wanted to analyze the whole damn thing alex_albon: My sister doesn’t know a thing I stg georgerussell63: Omg we just finished too georgerussell63: I totally demolished my nephew on F1 2021 ngl alex_albon: Ayy the kid didn’t stand a chance alex_albon: Who’d you play as? georgerussell63: Max Verstappen alex_albon: Hell ya les gooo georgerussell63: Did you hear people say he be might be world champion this year?? alex_albon: And beat out Lewis?? Idk… georgerussell63: If my parents had actually let me kart and I made it to F1 I bet I’d be able to beat out Lewis lol imagine alex_albon: Kinky georgerussell63: Ew???? landonorris: George you’d get like 15 points MAXIMUM georgerussell63: That’s so rude alex_albon: Omg Lan hi alex_albon: Did she answer?? landonorris: Nopeee landonorris: I’m gonna kms 😀 georgerussell63: Nooo! georgerussell63: Give her time alex_albon: It’s only been like alex_albon: Three hours… landonorris: Ugh alex_albon: But I gotta sleep  landonorris: Ughhhh georgerussell63: Same georgerussell63: I’m helping my dad run some errands tomorrow so we have to be up early for whatever reason alex_albon: Damn I just have to sleep because I’m tired alex_albon: I’m literally doing nothing tomorrow georgerussell63: Your usual landonorris: Lol alex_albon: Lando you’re so dry its weirding me out landonorris: Sorry landonorris: 🧡 landonorris: Love u mate landonorris: Sleep well alex_albon: Thanks mate alex_albon: Praying that you get a reply by morning georgerussell63: Me too! alex_albon: Love yall georgerussell63: Love u ♥️

Lando locked his phone and tossed it onto his bedsheets, deciding to get himself a snack since he didn’t finish his dinner. It would be at least something to take his mind off his worries. With his family already in their rooms, he could navigate his house without interruption and he tiptoed down the stairs and into the kitchen silently. 

Glass of water and a handful of chocolate chip cookies in hand, Lando returned to his room and shut the door behind him. One cookie resting between his lips and his hands full with the rest of the stack and his drink, he headed over to his bed once more. His phone screen lit up just as he approached and the notification that was greeting him had the half bitten cookie falling out of his mouth and onto his bedsheets. 

He hurriedly set the glass of water and discarded cookies on his night stand, brushing the crumbs out of his bed as he sat down and re-read the Instagram notification from you. 

-Hey you 💕 I’ve been thinking about it too

Lando unlocked his phone and let his thumbs word a response for him without letting himself overthink it,

landonorris: Was wondering if you forgot about it! Haven’t heard from you in a bit

His message was delivered and opened right away, meaning you were waiting for his response in the chat. That fact had him biting back his bashful smile, but his nervousness still lingered over what your answer was going to be. This could have been the moment you would shut him down for good. 

-Omg never! -Tour ended yesterday and the flight from Miami was crazy…delayed…they lost my luggage…and then after a hefty sleep last night I’ve spent today picking up my retrieved bags and then unpacking and I was just at lunch with my friends

Lando let out an audible sigh in relief,

 landonorris: That’s okay  landonorris: Good to be home? -Very -Tour was fucking incredible but this break is going to be nice  landonorris: Yeah for sure -Did you really think I forgot about you just like that?  landonorris: No I just wanted to make sure you were okay  landonorris: It’s been a few days -You’re a sweetheart -I’m just fine  landonorris: I’m glad 🧡 -But tell me… -What had you wanting to remind me about our night?  landonorris: Nothing in particular  landonorris: Was just missing you a little -A little?  landonorris: …Yes -Mhmm -Well you may keep your pride here all you want but I won’t be afraid to admit that I missed you quite a lot  landonorris: Oh really?  landonorris: You?  landonorris: Miss Monte Carlo? -Oh please -I’m the least Monaco that Monaco can get -And we had something special that night -I don’t throw that around lightly  landonorris: Yeah…  landonorris: Okay…  landonorris: You got me  landonorris: I miss you a lot  -The truth comes out 😌  landonorris: I’ve been re-reading your novels because I miss you :) -Omg really 🥺🥺 -Which?  landonorris: Second novel…chapter eight… -I see 👀 -So that’s what had you thinking about our night 

Lando slouched back against his headboard with a blushing grin that he hid in the material of the collar of his forest green hoodie. He contemplated his response but saw that you were already typing so he waited. 

-Which part were you thinking of most?

His teeth sunk into his bottom lip carefully with what you were smoothly instigating and his mind rushed back to each piece of your night together that had thrived in his memory ever since. He didn’t know how strong to start off so he played it cool,

 landonorris: All of it  landonorris: Kissing in the elevator  landonorris: And in the hotel room -Just kissing?  landonorris: Well you’re an incredible kisser  landonorris: And I fucking loved kissing you -I loved kissing you too -Your lips are so soft  -And your hands on my body felt so good -I miss that a lot -The way you grabbed me  landonorris: I should have done more of that -That’s okay -Next time 🥰

Lando had to toss his phone onto his bed for a second so he could roll over and scream into his pillow out of sheer lustful glee. He was so smitten for you and all his worries were completely erased by the simple reassurance from you that you had been thinking about doing it all again. 

 landonorris: For sure  landonorris: When and where -Sometime this summer maybe -But we can plan later -I want to hear more about what you miss about me first  landonorris: Okay 🧡  landonorris: I miss your body  landonorris: And the way it felt under my hands  landonorris: Your hips…your ass…your tits…  landonorris: So fucking perfect -I swear you’d be so good at body worship  landonorris: Fuck baby I’d gladly worship you anyday -Yeah? 🥰 -How?  landonorris: I want to take your clothes off and kiss over every inch of your body   landonorris: Just breathe you in  landonorris: Trail every curve with my lips or my finger just so every part of you has been touched by me -That sounds so good -And then?  landonorris: You sure you wanna know? -Tell me everything -Don’t hold back  landonorris: I want to spread your legs and taste you -Oh my God  landonorris: Is that okay? -Yeah lol I’m sorry that just made my pussy throb  landonorris: Jesus  landonorris: Did it?? -Yess -I’m an author, words speak wonders to me  landonorris: No pressure lol -Never any pressure with me baby -Tell me more -Just spill your thoughts here  landonorris: I just wanna know what you taste like because I didn’t get to last time  landonorris: You might have to guide me -That’s okay baby -I can lace my fingers in your pretty brown hair and show you where I need you  landonorris: Fuck yes please  -So I can feel your warm tongue all over my pussy -Inside me -On my clit -Feeling you so fucking close  landonorris: I’d kill for your legs over my shoulders right now  landonorris: I really really really want you to show me how to eat you out  landonorris: Making you come on my mouth would be so fucking hot -Yes sir

Lando’s mouth literally fell open in shock, his heart racing in his chest at how quickly this conversation turned exactly to how he had imagined it in his most salacious dreams.

 landonorris: And I fucking loved hearing the way you called me sir  landonorris: That fucking did it for me baby -It was your idea and it was a genius one -It got me off too -Honestly I catch myself moaning out that title when I make myself cum now  landonorris: You think of me? -Yeah I think of you when I touch myself  -Every time  landonorris: Often? -Couple times a week -And right now

Lando blinked at his phone screen in disbelief, trying to picture you in your pricey Monaco apartment and warm in your bed in limited clothing and touching yourself while you spoke with him. His dick twitched in his sweats and he dropped a hand down to palm himself lazily over his growing erection. You sent another message,

-Do you think of me?  landonorris: Always have  landonorris: Only ever you -You’re so fucking cute -God I miss you  landonorris: I’m getting hardddd lol -Good hehe -Are you touching yourself too?  landonorris: Do you want me to? -That’s for you to decide sir -Do you want me to help make you cum?   landonorris: Fuck yes -Okay then strip down and keep talking to me  landonorris: Ok gimme a sec

Lando tossed his phone to the side so he could hurry to push down his pants and boxers in one go, letting them drop to the floor carelessly. His sweater joined the pile, leaving him slouched back against his pillows and the headboard in the warm light of his bedside lamp, his legs spread just slightly. He returned to your conversation, 

 landonorris: Okay  landonorris: What else do you want to know? -Talk to me more about eating me out -Have you thought about it a lot?  landonorris: Yeah baby  landonorris: I dream about it too sometimes  landonorris: I can still hear your gorgeous little whimpers and the way you moan my name and I just want to feel you grinding up against my face and helping me to make you feel so good  landonorris: But I really wanna know how you taste -Want me to describe it?  landonorris: Yes -It’s sweet -But not like candy -It’s more of a warm kind of flavour that tastes salacious -And it drips everywhere and soaks everything -It would get all over your mouth and your chin  landonorris: Fuck  landonorris: I want that  landonorris: And I want to wrap my arms around your thighs so you can’t get away from me and I can feel all of you all over me, just covering me in your wetness  -It’s all for you sir -I’d link my ankles around your shoulders to keep you there too  landonorris: Hands pulling at my hair -Yes please  landonorris: Show me how you want me to touch you  landonorris: Pull me to where you need me -Suck on my clit  landonorris: Whatever you need baby  landonorris: Can I finger you too?  -At the same time pleaseeee  landonorris: I can do that landonorris: My mouth on your clit and two fingers inside you  -Fuck that’d make me moan so loud -Just the idea of your fingers flicking inside me is making my legs shake -I need it  landonorris: How fast? -Slow. I want to make it last  landonorris: Of course  landonorris: And if you’re a good girl for me I’ll let you cum twice -Fuck how can I be your good girl sir  landonorris: Let me have my way with you  landonorris: And show me how good I make you feel with your sweet moans and the way you cry my name  landonorris: You’re so fucking sexy I won’t want to stop -Yes I wanna cum for you -Can I sir  landonorris: I’ll always let you cum baby  landonorris: Just licking and sucking at your pussy with my fingers so fucking deep inside you  landonorris: I bet you taste so fucking good  landonorris: Soaking my face and my hand and the sheets  landonorris: God I’m so fucking hard

Lando glanced down his naked body draped back against his bed to where his dick was resting against his abdomen, already swollen hard and aching for touch. You were taking a bit of time to reply so he reached down to gently rub the tip of his finger up and down along the underside of his cock, watching how his gentle touch made it tense and flinch. He turned back to his phone,

 landonorris: Hello? -Sorry I just had to finish myself off lol  landonorris: Oh-  landonorris: Like right now? -Yeah, you said I could  landonorris: You listened to me? -Yeah?

Lando swelled with pride at that concept,

 landonorris: Good girl  landonorris: Did it feel good? -Would have been better if you were physically here -But yes -It felt really good -Moaned your name when I came too  landonorris: That’s so fucking hot -Now I wanna do more -How do you want to cum?  landonorris: Inside you -Again?  -Dirty boy -I like it -Would you want me to ride you?  landonorris: No I want to fuck you myself  -Go on…  landonorris: Keep you on your back and push your legs open as wide as you can get them and just hold your hips while I push my cock inside your soaking wet pussy -Oh my god I miss that baby -I miss your dick so bad

He was letting lust take over in his messages, typing with one hand as quickly as he could while his other lazily stroked his dick in careful motions. 

 landonorris: Nothing compares to how you feel around me  landonorris: You’re just so fucking warm…so wet -I’m soaked for you -You’d slip in so easy right now  landonorris: Jesus  landonorris: I wish I could see your face when I’m inside you  landonorris: Your pretty eyes just fucking rolling -God you’re so big too what’d you expect  -I’d be fucking drooling for it -I wanna beg for it…have you tease me so fucking slowly until I’m nearly sobbing for you to fuck me harder  landonorris: Will you scratch up my back again for it baby? -I’d do anything you want for your dick

Lando mouthed a swear word to his phone screen, tearing his eyes away for a moment just to look down at his fist wrapped around his cock, the one that you were so persistently fantasizing about in the next state over. His hand was useless compared to how your pussy felt and after he had that glimpse of heaven, it was difficult to go without. Your words certainly helped, even only through messages, and he stroked himself a bit faster.

 landonorris: I’m so hard for you baby  landonorris: I seriously need to fuck you  landonorris: I want to give you all you want and more -Can you take me from the back  landonorris: Yes  landonorris: Whatever you want -What a pleasure dom -You’re such a gentleman  landonorris: Lol just want you to feel good  -I can roll over for you and grind my ass back against your cock until you push it back inside me -You’d get so fucking deep that way -I’m already moaning just dreaming about it  landonorris: Then I can hold onto your hips and fuck you like that -Yes pleaseee  landonorris: Fuck -Can I send a pic?   landonorris: Yes -Ok but no screenshots  landonorris: Promise -*you sent an image*

Lando opened the picture with furrowed brows in intense interest as to what he was about to see. On his screen was the most glorious picture of you he had ever seen, the way you looked on your knees on your bed, fully naked, bent over at the waist so your phone captured your curves in the full-length mirror beside your bed. Lando’s eyes were wide as he soaked you in, licking his lips, and tried to memorize each pixel to keep in his mind forever. He let his lust speak for him in reply,

 landonorris: Fucking hell baby  landonorris: You’re so fucking hot  landonorris: I want to slap that ass so bad  landonorris: Grab those hips  landonorris: Fucking pound you until your gripping the sheets -This pussy is yours sir -My whole body is only yours  landonorris: Do you want a pic of me? -Only if you’re comfortable sending

Lando had never tried before since talking to girls - yet alone engaging in sending nudes - was quite few and far between for him. But he wanted to impress you and the way you tended to gawk over his body made him feel really good and made him hungry for more. He lifted his phone camera up and angled it towards his bare body, staring at himself in the screen as he reached his other hand down to keep a secure hand around his dick, drawing attention right to it. Only slightly self conscious, Lando hesitated for a beat before sending it to you before he could overthink yet another thing. 

He waited while you opened his image and he nibbled at his bottom lip anxiously when you typing bubble popped up in the bottom left of his screen,

-Fuck I think I forgot how big your dick is -You’re stunning -Every inch of you -Holy shit -I want you inside me so fucking bad right now  landonorris: Me too  landonorris: My hand is not the same -I have my vibrator on my clit and my pussy is fucking pulsing for you. It’s just so empty…  landonorris: Jesus fuck  landonorris: I’d fill you up baby -God I know you would -So well too  landonorris: Fuck you until your bed is shaking -Yes sir I want it rough  landonorris: Then you should beg for it -I will -I’ll gladly beg for your cock  -Cry for you to beat this pussy up, spank me, manhandle me -Whatever you want I can take -Fuck me like your own little whore

Lando could hardly formulate a response as the speed at which his hand was pumping his cock had him drawing dangerously close to that sweet pleasurably precipice that anything else seemed like too much of a distraction. He held his phone tightly in his left hand, the messaging thread still open, as his legs laid spread on his bed and his right hand stroked himself off in quick messy motions. 

“Oh my God.” he groaned quietly through his teeth, letting his mind whirl with his memories from your night together and his fantasies of wishing you were with him at that moment. Those thoughts weren’t odd for when he got himself off but this time it was different because even from a timezone away, you were still helping him along. 

-I’m so fucking wet its dripping down my thighs -It’s making the nastiest sounds that would only be so much better if your cock was pounding me from behind

Lando’s hand gripped his phone tighter, eyes focused unwaveringly from your little profile picture and the words you sent just for him to read, a little saucy narrative of your own lust made just for him. He shakily spelt out his encouragement to remind you that he was still there and still so painfully close. 

 landonorris: Keep going -You’re gonna cum aren’t you baby -Thinking about my pussy is gonna make you cum so fucking hard isn’t it? -Letting you fuck me…pound your big dick into me as deep as it can go until I crying for it -Making my fucking legs shake while I scream your name into the bed sheets

Lando read each of your messages so carefully, taking in your every word and transferring it right to the pictures in his mind as a light sweat dusted across his brow. He bit his lip to try and keep himself quiet, smothering his whimpers and groans from his oblivious sleeping family members through the walls. His dick was leaking, trailing precum down the length of it and down to his balls, only slicking up his hand in it to help him pull easier strokes faster and tighter, trying to replicate the feeling of your body the best he was able to. 

-Give it to me sir -Please -I miss you so bad

Lando felt as if he were tingling and he naturally thrusted up into his hand a little, whimpering quietly, dizzy on the fast rising pleasure and the warmth it spread over his body. 

-Send a voice memo of you coming if you’re comfortable baby -Please -I really wanna hear you cum  -I really wanna hear the way you sound when you imagine coming so deep inside me

Lando was already so close that he didn’t even think about it before pressing and holding his thumb down on the audio record button, allowing his phone to capture his every breath and every sound as he finally came for you. He wanted to come inside you so badly that he nearly cried for it, being stuck with only his own touch to work him through his orgasm. His hand stuttered around his dick as the first shot of cum spurted out and fell onto his pelvis, matching the whimpering little gasps that he let out for you in steady waves. 

And he of course moaned your name breathily as he always did, letting his eyes close and his head tilt back to welcome the pleasure that overcame him. He could almost feel you right there and he was desperate to reach out and hold you down on him, aching to give you his everything right then and there. When his thumb lifted from the screen, his recording sent right to you and he watched it immediately turn to “seen” as he kept a tight cum-streaked hand around the base of his throbbing sensitive cock. 

Lando’s chest heaved as he struggled to steady his breathing, his wide blue eyes peering down at the creamy white mess that streaked his hand, his dick, and dotted across his stomach and pelvis. He looked back to your chat as you sent your reply,

-Fuck Lando that was so hot -Oh my God -The way my name sounds when you moan it makes me fucking drip  -You sound so pretty  landonorris: Your words do things to me too  landonorris: Felt so fucking good  landonorris: Wish you were here too though -Me too  landonorris: Did you come again yet? -Yeah lol I got myself off to your audio -It was hard not to  landonorris: And you didn’t record it for me in return?? -Next time 😉  landonorris: Next time you better be with me for real  landonorris: None of this texting shit -Yes sir -I agree -Really miss the feeling of you coming inside me  landonorris: Fuck, me too  landonorris: You’ll have to take plan b again  landonorris: Right? -Of course -But that’s worth it  landonorris: You’re incredible and I honestly can’t believe my luck that I can talk to you like this…have you like this -You’re a sweetheart -I feel the exact same way 💕  landonorris: Wish I could cuddle you right now -Me too 🥺 -And kiss you

Lando reached over to his bedside table and grabbed a tissue to clean himself up, giving him a second to absolutely grin to himself. Oh how he missed you in his arms…the post-orgasm drop off was turning lust into longing quickly. He wiped up the streaks of cum from his body and his hand and disposed of the tissue in the garbage bin beside his bed before returning to your few additional messages as he turned over in bed to cuddle up tiredly. 

-I slept so well with you that night I really miss that -Didn’t know I’d be missing you so much but that week after just had my mind clouded with you and every day since has been filled with wondering when we can see each other next -You’ve really somehow wiggled yourself into my heart and soul Lando Norris and idk how you managed that

It took Lando all of his self control to not tell you he loves you right then and there. He had known you for much longer than you knew him…he had to take it slowly. He had always been hesitant in facing where he stood with you but at that moment, reading your little confession, it just felt like everything was falling into place. 

 landonorris: You’re always the only thing I think about  landonorris: And I am so grateful for you for many reasons I wouldn’t even know where to start if you asked me to -Taking your virginity? 😜  landonorris: LOL yes that especially   landonorris: No one else I would have wanted it to be -I gotta say, you’re certainly not shy over text -Your confidence is sexy -Makes me want to submit to you so bad  landonorris: Donttttt say that or I’ll get hard again -LOL SORRY  landonorris: Tell me more next time 🫣  landonorris: Although I’m probably going to be so shy when we see each other in person again  landonorris: You tend to make me nervous lol -I make you nervous??  landonorris: Yesss you’re my dream girl  landonorris: Ofc you make me all nervous and shy  landonorris: And you make my heart go !!!! -You’re adorable I wanna kiss the fuck outta you so bad rn  landonorris: 🥰🧡 -Gotta get you to Monaco -Gotta get you in my bed  landonorris: Please  landonorris: I literally need that right now -I know you have another term after break but then what’s your summer looking like -Work?

Part of him didn’t want to tell the truth as to what his pathetic summer was looking like but he trust you and you were never one to judge,

 landonorris: Nope  landonorris: No job and living back at my parents place  landonorris: It’s been three days of only winter break and I’m going fucking insane I need to get out of here -Oh my -Would you want an internship or something with my team? Idk if its possible but I can see if I can pull some strings…get you a little summer position at least  landonorris: Oh my god baby I’d love that -Haha okay lover 💕 let me see what I can come up with for you -We’re gonna get you out of this low  landonorris: God I miss you so much  landonorris: You’re fucking incredible  -Anything for you 😘  landonorris: 😘😘 -I’m still pretty jet lagged so I might head to sleep now  landonorris: Ok gorgeous   landonorris: This was fun :)  -Hehe it really was -If we can’t wait until we see each other in person then maybe we should try a phone call next time  landonorris: Fuck I’d say yes except these walls are super thin and I don’t want my parents and siblings to hear every detail about how I want to bend you over your desk and fuck the shit outta you -Fuck offfjffjjfjfjf oh my gosh  landonorris: What?? -You’re making me blush go away 😂  landonorris: 😜 -I seriouslyyyy gotta sleep  landonorris: Yes you do  landonorris: Sleep well baby -You too 💕 I’m gonna imagine you’re cuddling me the whole time  landonorris: Wish I could 🧡🧡 -💕💕

Lando laid there for a little bit, just staring at your little pink hearts with a lovesick grin on his face, still giving his heart a chance to calm down after the events of the previous hour. He scrolled back up your conversation and screenshotted the last little bit of your saucy conversation, starting from his audio recording attachment down to your shared conclusions and then he scrolled back down to your promise of a job. The two most important things to share with his best friends for when they woke up. 

 landonorris: *sent a screenshot*  landonorris: Just made her cum twice over text so anyway how's your nights going 😌  landonorris: *sent a screenshot*   landonorris: And she’s going to help me get the fuck outta this place   landonorris: Get you a girl that can do both  landonorris: I love her so much  landonorris: I can’t wait for the day I can tell her that  landonorris: Good night guys  landonorris: Talk tomorrow 🧡

Tag List: @black-fireproofs @k3nmakyan @m4rt10ne @strawberryy-kiwii @herebereblogs @arieslost @ophcelia @cmleitora @saachiep81

♡ None of the original writing on this blog may be reproduced, reposted, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

[therandompagesblog]

SKZ Pack Chapter 21

Trigger Warnings: smut, cunnilingus, sex tape, kink positive, threesome, salirophilia.

"These are amazing. I'm sorry I can't remember these." "Don't apologise. Some of them you were not aware of. I did these secretly. I loved to draw or paint you. You are my everything. You are my soul. Everything. I had to keep a physical copy of you. My thoughts were not enough." "Oh. Jinnie." Y/N breathed out as he flicked through his paintings. "Can you tell me why you never told me?" "Because you can't tell someone who doesn't remember you that they loved you and were obsessed with you. I'm grateful this version of you has given me another chance to love you." Hyunjin's voice was soft. He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. He was truly in love with her. "Tell me the story of each painting. I wanna live through your memories." Y/N asked.

"This painting was the first time I met you, her. She was shy. Unsure of the men in front of her. She knew she was ours but the level of trust wasn't there yet. The only people she trusted were Jongho and Yeosang because they were like her. Both omega's. Jongho was like Jisung. Always willing to get into trouble but Jongho was smarter. He could outsmart Hongjoong. Yeosang on the other hand was always gentle and submissive. Your stereotypical omega. He tried to teach Y/N everything she knew. So, I drew this. A picture of the three of them. It was a later drawing but I put it in with the firsts as I hoped to give it to her on her birthday but I never got a chance to. I felt embarrassed.

Back then sex was disgusting to me. I practised a lot of absenteeism. I came from a wealthy werewolf family who took pride in werewolf lores. They were millionaires. They were almost werewolf royalty, but I was the bastard. I was out-casted and looked after by my elders. My mother was an artist she always painted whenever she was sad. She painted pictures of my father and how he loved her. She taught me how to paint, but she made me promise only to pain things that made me happy or loved, so I kept that promise. I had a half brother you know. Chan's best friend. He was mean to me, only because his mother taught him to be. He learned later in life that they were wrong and it was never my fault. He tried to save me from Ateez. Hongjoong manipulated me into his pack, but that doesn't matter because I'm with Chan now who is a forgiving alpha.

Anyway, this next picture was what Y/N called the 'werewolf school for obnoxious omegas.' Her and Jongho were always sent to me because they didn't know how to be omegas so I became their teacher. I re-trained them, but it was more of a punishment. On one of the days we were alone, I asked her to clean the library out and she did, but she purposely swapped all the books out and put them into coloured order. What I mean by coloured order was, in the brown section there would be random red ones in there to annoy you. She knew how I felt about my library and she reordered it.

One day she swapped my photographs out. I took pictures of images at an art gallery that I wanted to paint. She swapped them with images of her in such a coital position. It held power, desire, femininity, omeganess." Hyunjin showed her the photographs of her in different positions. She was mesmerised but confused. She didn't recognise them or herself. They were positions of pure utter confidence. Arousal. Desire. Need. Sexuality. Want. They were all of the erotic semantics. "Oh. My." Y/N touched them slowly. They felt too intimate and personal as if she were looking at another woman. Technically she was. This was her in another past life. She understood then why Hyunjin spoke about her in the third person. It was like the old Y/N was a lucid dream. "Do you wish she still existed?" Y/N asked curiously as she looked at Hyunjin who bit his lip nervously. "Yes and no. I still own you and you are always going to be mine." Hyunjin warned as he watched her lick her bottom lip. Her arousal was still there from the day before. "Jinnie I'm always going to be yours. We've been through so much-" "And Seungmin's not your favourite beta?" Hyunjin growled as he wrapped his large hand around her throat tightly, watching the way she threw her head back. Y/N was prepared to bring back his old memories. She wanted to arouse him. Relive his deepest and darkest fantasies. "You want to fulfil my fantasies, huh? Go and bring Seungmin in here. Off you go." Hyunjin ordered. He could feel her nerves and confusion but acted on the order and left to get Seungmin. "What have you done? Why does he need me?" Hyunjin could hear Seungmin flapping about being called to Hyunjin's art office. It made Hyunjin laugh at how stressed he was.

Hyunjin watched the two enter his room nervously. They were unsure of what he wanted them to do. Hyunjin showed Seungmin his old photos of her. He gasped as he saw the erotic photos at the height of femininity. Seungmin had not expected to see something so divine. "I don't understand, Hyunjin." Seungmin breathed out. "I want you to fuck and play with our mate while I take some photos," Hyunjin said, freely waving his arms around. "Are you sure?" Seungmin looked between the two in confusion. Y/N was willing to do anything to her alpha, so she walked over to his sofa and slowly started to strip when Hyunjin stopped her. He wanted Seungmin to do it. Seungmin slowly walked over to her and kissed her deeply, ignoring Hyunjin's snaps with the camera. Seungmin admitted he was getting stage fright but pursued. His mate's arousal gave him confidence.

Seungmin took his time stripping both of their clothes off. Carefully placing their discarded clothes on the other chair. "Sit in front of her and lick her sweet cunt while she plays with her breasts," Hyunjin demanded. Seungmin did as he was told and crouched down, spreading her legs open so he could take a lick. Y/N squeezed her breasts, subtly looking at Hyunjin as he snapped from different angles. The sight turned her on more and more. Y/N let go of her left breast to push Seungmins head forward. She stroked his head as he sucked with gratitude until she came. Seungmin lifted his head giving her a deep kiss as one hand tangled in her head and the other grabbed her throat. Seungmin broke the kiss and squeezed tightly causing her to smirk. Her head went backwards along with her eyes. She was more feral than the last images. These portrayed a dark desire. Something sinful and dangerous.

Seungmin then relaxed and moved to position himself into her tight pussy so he could fuck her while Hyunjin snapped away but Y/N stopped him. She wanted Hyunjin to play with her. She wanted Seungmin to take the photographs. She wanted the devil's touch. And the devil obliged. He pulled her roughly up by the hair, her back arched into his chest as he forced her to look up at him. Hyunjin spat on her face. The spit glided down her face. Down her breasts to the floor. Hyunjin then groped her harshly before his hand went to her wet pussy playing with her. Hyunjin then pushed her down so he could fuck her from behind. His thrusts were relentless. The position was tight. Dreadful. Harsh, but amazing. Seungmin put the camera down and rushed over wanting to place his cock in her mouth but Hyunjin made him get the camera, so he awkwardly ran back to grab it. Snapping away as she sucked his cock. The two fucked her until they came and knotted. It was the most phenomenal sex she had had in a long time and she loved it.

Taglist for the iconic readers:

@galaxy4489 @reallychaoticwoo @mbioooo0000 @jisungs-iced-americano @maybeimmia @hwangrfrnd@wolfo2027 @kayleefriedchicken @leamueller920 @borahae-reads @jennibahng @cookiesandcreammy @jutdwae-flower @danceonmyheyday @jc003 @hpnsfwaddict @pixie0627

~ Taglist closed due to Tumblr only allowing a certain amount ~

[bellamoooon]

A/N: So…Patrick’s sister, this was supposed to be shorter but I uh…I got carried away, enjoy anyway!! <33

As patricks sister, you always understood the dynamic; Patrick is the overprotective annoying older brother and you are the nerdy—he says— younger sister.

So obviously, growing up with him was an interesting experience to say the least.

Before going to MRTA, he’d usually bring his friends over after school, and of course you being the pretty little thing you are, they’d always joke around about how Patrick’s sister was hot, (literally average twelve year old when they see any female) and well Patrick, Patrick was pissed, so this is when the golden rule—he calls it— came in.

Patrick’s sister is off-limits.

Which eventually stopped being a big deal when he left for MRTA, since you’d only see him for holidays and breaks, and you didn’t really get to meet any of his friends.

Then Art comes into Patrick’s life; Bunkmates since they were twelve, both in their first year away from home.

For the first summer break, Patrick left to go to your family’s lake house with you and your parents, and Art went back home to visit his nana, he knew his parents would most likely be away working—as per usual.

But he actually finds out that his nana had already been sent to a retirement home 15 minutes out of his home town, so he visited every couple of days during that summer even though his nana kept telling him, “Artie, you don’t have to visit an antique like me, go be a kid, enjoy your summer” however he insisted in staying around her to keep company.

So when they get back, Patrick “loud mouth” Zweig rants to Art about his summer, and Art simply nods thinking about how he’d most likely stay in the academy next summer, not like he had much to go back to at home.

Fast forward a couple of months, it’s Christmas; Art is helping Patrick pack last minute when there’s a knock at the door, then they hear a feminine voice.

“Come on dickwad, mom and dad are waiting in the car”

Patrick groaned as he started to shove his things into his bag, then looking back at art as he folded some of Patrick’s shirts.

“Hey, Donaldson, mind getting the door? It’s my fuck ass sister” he said casually as he grabbed the shirts from Art.

“Sure” Art mumbled not thinking much, only trying to imagine a female Patrick behind the door, seeing as he’s never met you, so there he goes, he opens the door and finds—not a female Patrick— but the prettiest girl he’d seen just standings there in the most angelic way.

“Hey…?”

“Art, it’s uh— my name is Art” he’s stumbling over his own words in the stupidest way possible.

“What kind of name is Art? Are you like an Arthur or something?” He cringes internally but before he can answer Patrick pushes past him.

“It’s just Art, leave him alone, he’s my best friend, only I can make fun of him, find one yourself, kid” Patrick speaks as he walks out the door with his things then turns to Art, “going home for Christmas, Donny?”

Art despised that nickname, the tips of his ears went red as his whole face flushed, but he shook his head.

“My parents said they won’t be able to make for Christmas and I— I don’t want to worry my nana so…” he said shyly and a bit disappointed but, they were the same parents that had forgotten his birthday a year ago and days later brought a cake that said “happy 14th birthday” when he was turning 12.

“Awe…that sucks man, I’ll talk to my parents, you can tag along with us to our lake house next summer”

And that’s how the tradition all started, every summer, Art would spend it with Patrick’s parents, you and Patrick at the lake house, which gave him enough time to catch a little something his nana called a Lovebug, essentially, his was crushing hard.

But of course, there was the golden rule— totally off-limits.

And Art was…fine with it, it’s not like you’d ever like him back, he was probably just “Patrick’s quiet best friend” to you.

Little did he know…

Then fast forward a couple years later, coincidentally, you would also be going to Stanford without actually knowing Art had already been there for a year.

And Stanford was full of frat parties, Halloween costume parties and in general, any party within a 10 mile radius.

And you, pretty little freshman had been invited to a frat party by one of the juniors in your econ class, and I mean, you can’t be rude, right? You have to go.

So, you do.

You wind up in a frat house with a shit ton of people, some cigarette smoke and, a whole bunch of red disposable cups, so why not grab one, what’s the worst thing it could have in it, beer probably?

Wrong.

Something that to you tasted exactly what rubbing alcohol smelled like, so it goes straight from the cup to your mouth then back to the cup as you cringe letting out a single dry cough.

“You alright there?” A gentle voice popped up from behind you, familiar but you couldn’t quite tell, but as you turn there he is; Art fucking Donaldson. With a backwards red Stanford cap and a grey Stanford hoodie.

Oh.

“Oh— Art…hey” you chuckle softly still smelling the mysterious alcohol from your mouth.

“This isn’t quite your scene, huh?” He spoke as he took a sip from his cup with that goddamn side smirk of his.

“Yeah— no, I mean, I’ve been to parties, fun, fun parties. And this, this is so my scene” you rambled nervously, it was already embarrassing enough you, a freshman was at a frat party with a pretty floral skirt and a crochet sweater.

“Really? Oh…then have fun, fun girl” he laughed as he lifted his cup a bit towards you to then walk away.

Fuck it. You were gonna get wasted.

And so, that you did; Somehow ending up in just a soaked tank top, a soaked skirt, hair dripping water and, squeaky wet shoes as you stumbled out of the pool from the backyard.

“Hey, watch it—“ Art turned as he felt your body bump against his, “oh it’s you, fun girl.” He giggled as he saw you, clearly too drunk to even know what was going on, and he could’ve just laugh it off and get back to the party, but Art wasn’t like that, and specially not to you, you’re such a pretty little thing all wasted and soaked past midnight, plus, you were Patrick’s sister. He had to.

So he said his goodbyes and grabbed you as you both walked out of the frat to go back to campus.

“So tell me, miss Zweig, how does one, as drunk as you, not drown in a pool?” He said as he saw you hold onto his arm for dear life trying not to trip, which might have just dug up something he had buried years ago.

“Y’know, im fun, and this is so my people” you said looking up at him—just barely— as you let out a hiccup.

He blushed as he heard it, clearly it was your first time getting drunk drunk, adding on to the wet hair and your shivering body,

“Right, fun girl, my bad” he chuckled “come on you’re shivering, here” he pulled his hoodie off as he handed it to you, “can’t let you catch a cold, how else will you go to your next party, miss fun girl”

“Thank you, Artie.” You said as you grabbed the hoodie sliding it over your head feeling the warmth it carried from Arts body, accompanied by the faint smell of his cologne.

Meanwhile, Art was feeling like his spine had just been ripped out; Artie.

You hadn’t called him that since the summers at the lake house, where he had attempted and failed to forget his crush on you.

“Yeah— I uh…yeah” he blushed even harder as he fumbled his words not knowing how to react.

You just shut your eyes and breathed in the scent of his cologne to then open them up, there you were, doe eyed looking at him, in his hoodie, hair soaked as you unconsciously made it harder for him to be a good friend to Patrick, he felt horrible.

Not only did the disgusting thought of wanting to fuck you against his jeep popped into his head, this is Patrick’s sister he’s fantasizing about.

“Come on— I uh, I gotta get you back on campus” he cleared his throat as he looked away avoiding your stare.

“You’re no fun anymore, Artie…” a pout made itself present as you took a step closer, your hands landing on his shoulders, “come on, Donny…”

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

“Patrick would kill me, you know that.”

“I won’t tell”

He wasn’t proud of himself for turning back to look at you, but you were just so pretty, lucky he didn’t have a boner, if he hadn’t given you the hoodie to cover your very visible nipples against the tank top, he’d probably have you bent over his cars hood.

“I really— I can’t…” he mumbled, his face inches away from yours, noses brushing against each other.

“You sure?” You whispered as you stared down at his lips, “not just this once?”

“Fuck…” he muttered under his breath, well…there goes his willpower, he was in too deep already.

Next thing he knows, you’re riding him in the backseat of his car, all flushed, tits out, him whimpering as he dug his fingers into your hips holding on for dear life throwing his head back, and windows all fogged up.

Yeah, he was so screwed.

He will most definitely be breaking the golden rule for…well, let’s just say it’s not a one time thing.

[laughing-with-god]

Unsaid Vow I

(This is the first 1.7k of the 10k chapter that is available right now on my Patreon. Please join for early access plus beta content!)

Synopsis: You always knew when you weren't wanted. And the way things are going in your marriage with Jungkook, a divorce is looking more and more likely. While he's getting closer to a woman at work that you're certain he's having an affair with, you're planning your escape with your four-year-old son. However, five years of marriage did not expose you to a certain side of your husband. A side of Jungkook that only gets triggered when you try to leave and break apart your perfect 'family'.

Warnings: Yandere behavior, graphic language, violence/murder, women bashing on other women, heavily implied infidelity, bad parenting, absent father, broken family vibes, very slow buildup bc Jungkook doesn't really snap until you leave him so just give him a min lol, inexperienced author writing for a five-year-old.

Also looking for new fic art for this if anyone's interested!!

Read first: Prologue

“I’m a grown man.”

These were the words that greeted you and effectively pulled you out of your weary slumber.  

You drowsily rubbed your eyes and rolled over, yawning as you took in the sight of your son staring at you bemusedly from beside your bed.  

If you weren’t used to this behavior from Hugo already, you perhaps would've screamed at the sudden creepy sight of a child with a solemn expression saying odd things to you before the sun has even risen.  Yet, you have grown accustomed to the old man your toddler was.  

“Good morning to you too, bud.”  You groaned tiredly, already searching your thick bedding for your phone in order to check the time.  Your alarm hadn’t even gone off yet, which told you it was earlier than you had originally planned to wake up.  But what was the point of having plans when you had a child?  They had a talent for ruining them.  

“I’m five today.”  Hugo ignored your greeting, getting right into the point with furrowed brows as he held up all five fingers, each one representing a year of his life.  

“Yup, I know dumpling.”  You chuckled, finally pulling out your phone and opening it to see  ‘6:03 am” staring back at you.  “Believe it or not, the day you were born was quite memorable for me too.”  

You cringed as you thought of the 20 hour labor that preceded Hugo’s birth.   How could you ever forget that hellish day?  

“Mom, it’s my birthday.”  Hugo told you, tone serious as a heart attack.  

“Yes, happy birthday love.”  You smiled at your son, trying not to let him see the exhaustion you secretly felt.  “I suppose there’s no way I can talk you into going back to bed for another hour or so?”  

“No. You always say ‘the day starts when I first open my eyes in the morning”.  Your son parroted the saying back to you with a proud grin.  

Hugo once went through a phase where he wouldn’t want to leave the bed after waking up, simply wanting to stay in pj’s all day long and watch cartoons amongst his stuffies. 

It took a while to get your little homebody to actually stop this habit and begin getting up to ready himself for the day whenever he woke up.  You used to tell him that the day starts whenever he opens his eyes in the morning, however on days like these where he wakes up super early, he now does not see the point in lying in.  

“Right, that is a good point.”  You softly relented, mentally scolding yourself for yet another parenting tactic backfired.  “How does some breakfast sound?”

“Mom, I have a prop-pre-preposaa-”  

“Proposal?”  You offered, swinging your legs off the side of your bed.  

“Yeah, that.”  Hugo nodded to himself, most likely taking note of the proper pronunciation of the word so he can use it again in conversation.  “I think it’s time we talk about coffee.”

“Coffee?”  

“You and daddy are always saying that coffee is for grownups.  Today I’m five, which means I’m older, which means I should be able to have coffee.”  Hugo reasoned this to you while twiddling his thumbs, a nervous habit he does when he wants you to say yes to something he knows is unrealistic.  

“Mmm...”  You hummed, pretending to think hard about the offer.  “What if I gave you a very light coffee?  A beginner version to get you ready for the real thing when you’re older?”  

Hugo looked conflicted, but after reading your face and correctly assuming that’s the best he was going to get, he nodded solemnly in reluctant agreement.  

With one final huff you shoved yourself off the king sized bed, standing to your full height and throwing your arms up in a stretch.  “Why don’t you wait in the living room for me bud?  I’ll be right out.”  

The freshly turned five year old happily nodded up at you before exiting your bedroom, leaving you alone once again.  

You turned your attention back to the bed in which you just rose out of.  More particularly, you stared at the other side of the bed, the side in which your husband was supposed to sleep on. 

It was a direct opposite of your messy side, crisp and neatly made; the fluffy pillows, pressed sheets and silk duvet being perfectly in place.  Yet, this wasn’t an ode to Jungkook’s neatness and attention to detail.  

No.  

Jungkook hasn’t been sleeping in the same bed as you for a while now.  

Your husband always preferred to rise early, given he was a man who liked to follow a strict morning regime which could easily be thrown off if he slept in even a minute later.  Up at 5:30. teeth brushed and face shaved by 5:40.  Breakfast, coffee and newspaper consumed by 6:00.  

Then right before taking his leave, Jungkook would pack himself a bag of work clothes and make a quick protein shake, given he would then head to the gym where he would get his morning workout and shower from.  Then from the gym, he would head straight to work.  

A few months ago, he suggested sleeping in the guest room.

You had asked why, bewildered at the request.  

Sure, you two didn’t really cuddle anymore. Sex was also rare. But you figured that the least you could do as husband and wife was sleep in the same bed amicably. Had you started kicking him in your sleep or something?

“I’d notice you begin to kinda stir when I first get up and go about my routine.  I don’t want to wake you up or be a bother.”  He had said.  

That didn’t really make sense to you.  

You have always been a deep sleeper. And even if you did wake up for a second, you’d clearly see your husband getting ready for the day, roll over and go back to sleep.  

It was such a lame excuse, you just shrugged and bitterly told him that he hogged the blankets anyway.  

It wasn’t true, but Jungkook didn’t comment.  

You trudged over to the ensuite bathroom and quickly did your morning routine.  

When you came out of your room and into the living space, you saw Hugo glued to the giant flat screen in a trance-like state as he watched his usual morning cartoons.  The sight tugged a small smile out of you, although the mother in you didn’t like how close he was.

“Hugo, back up from the screen! Bluey isn’t going anywhere. Your eyes will go bad.”  Your son wordlessly obliged and scooted back, not breaking eye contact with his favorite family of puppies.  “What would you like for breakfast ‘Mr. grown man’?”  

“Blueberry pancakes…and don’t forget my coffee!”  

“You got it, birthday boy.” 

The kitchen, dining and living room were open concept, so you multi-tasked watching Hugo while whipping up his breakfast.  You never were much of a cook and you still aren’t even after motherhood, but you did commit to learning your son’s favorite dishes.

The process was over quickly, you having made this recipe countless times and knowing it like the back of your hand.  

You set a plate on the island table, calling Hugo over while you secretly mixed some instant hot chocolate in a mug.  

The five year old jumped up and grinned at the meal, saying a quick “thank you” before digging in with all the grace a five year old could possibly have.  

“And of course, your coffee.”  You tried not to smile as you handed him the cup.

“Thanks mama.”  

The mini-Jungkook took a gulp, then stared seriously at the contents of the mug, swishing it around in some faux detective work.  

“Something wrong, dumpling?”

“It tastes…fa-fam-”

“Familiar?”  

“Yes. Is coffee always this sweet?”  

You laughed, now moving to the real coffee maker to make your own cup.  “No, this is the kid version.  It might taste like chocolate because chocolate has caffeine in it too.”  

Your little old man huffed to himself but nodded in agreement, simply not knowing enough to dispute your logic.  

Your old coffeemaker grumbled awake, croaking and hissing as you pressed the worn-out buttons for your usual morning brew.  Jungkook always made fun of you for the ancient machine, but even after he had bought a much more expensive and up-to-date one, you stubbornly remained loyal to yours.  

“So buddy, what do you want to do today?  We can go get new books, hit up the toy store, maybe even visit the aquarium?”  

“I wanna help set up for my party, mommy.” 

Well, “party” wasn’t quite the right word for it.  

Hugo had no friends.  It was tough for a kid like him to make any.  At this age and as a boy, most of his peers would meet and form relationships in little league or rough housing at the local park. 

Your son was different.  He preferred reading to sports, hated the outdoors and was generally a shy kid who tended to tear up when anyone other than his family tried speaking to him.  

So this year, his birthday party was an intimate circle of family and family friends.  You hoped that by next year you could host an actual kid birthday party, as Hugo would be in school and have classmates by then. 

“That’s very sweet of you, but there’s time to do both.”  The boy looked at you skeptically.  “We can go to the bookstore across the street after breakfast and I’ll let you pick out some new bedtime stories.  Then we can go to the aquarium and have lunch there. And on our way home I’ll stop by the store to get some stuff for the party, and you can get a toy.  Sounds good?”  

Hugo frowned, then peeled back his pajama sleeve to look at his submarine-themed watch.  The act seemed a little pretentious to you, given he didn’t yet know how to read clocks.  

“Fine mommy, but we should be quick.  Also you need to ask our guests if they have any food aler-alergeez-”

“Allergies?  Yes bud, I’ll be sure to send them a text.”  You rolled your eyes.

With that, Hugo quietly finished his breakfast as you sipped your coffee.  

When you two were done, you both got dressed and ready for the day’s activities. 

Before leaving the apartment, you were sure to send a text to your husband.  

‘Be home by 6 please.  Hugo’s birthday party starts at 6:30 and he needs you there.’

[spotsandsocks]

A Place for You, Next to Me Chapt 1 and 2

Buck finds out that Eddie doesn’t really ‘do’ birthdays so what’s a best friend supposed to do, obviously he can’t let Eddie think he doesn't care. So he makes a plan to celebrate and it’s a good plan, it really is and is it really his fault if one little thing goes wrong with their booking.

It’s certainly not his fault that Eddie’s reaction to the unexpected problem would turn a pleasant weekend away into an agony of temptation.

A tale of pining and love and only one bed.

Fans of only one bed shenanigans - this one’s for you.🥹🌈🛏️🎂🛏️🥃🥃🥃🛏️🤯😍🌈❤️‍🔥 Chapt 1&2 today 3&4 tomorrow 💕

Now I was half way though writing this when @bobbysfirehose posted this stunning piece of art that blew my mind away (all their art is magnificent btw so go check out and shower with love) and with permission I tried to describe the pose towards at the end of the fic because it was just perfect for the situation, so you have a nice visual to go along with the words.

Eddie hadn’t expected any reaction at all, least of all the one he’s getting. Standing in his kitchen he watches Buck process the information he just casually mentioned as part of thier conversation about Chris’ next birthday.

“Are you serious?” 

His best friend is standing there with his mouth hanging open, eyes wide, a puzzled frown on his brow, it’s adorable and amusing and God he loves this man so much. Eddie however is wise enough to look away and keep the sentiment out of his voice.

“Yes I’m serious, Buck. I’ve never done anything special to celebrate any of my birthdays.”

If anything that simple statement makes matters worse, Buck's mouth opens and shuts. He looks like a goldfish, apparently he’s managed to render him speechless and that’s quite an impressive feat.

Eddie takes another sip of beer to hide his smile as Buck flounders. The other man is looking horrified, “Your 15th? That’s special right?”

He shrugs. “Dad was away. We did some stuff at church, nothing big. I got a cake.”

“What about 18?  Or or your 21st?” 

He throws Buck a raised eyebrow, “Think about that for a second.”

A pained look crosses his friend’s face “Oh.” Then his nose crinkles “ Oh.. I don’t think I want to.”

Buck sounds upset. Eddie can just imagine what he’s thinking, how he’s comparing the life that he himself had between 16 and 21 with the one Eddie had. The tragic sympathy emanating out of sad pools of blue is a bit much though, it really wasn’t that bad. Yeah, he didn’t get a lot of time to be young but that’s ok he got other stuff instead. He ended up with the best kid in the world so he can’t really complain about missing birthday celebrations. 

“You don’t have to feel sorry for me, so my life’s been a bit different than yours, but that’s ok . Still got cake, even got a balloon once.” 

His joke falls flat, Buck looks devastated .

“Honestly, all completely normal, I promise, don’t freak out on me.”

He moves around him heading back to the couch and if he touches his arm on the way past, well it’s a tight space to squeeze through. Buck’s own fault really, for filling so much of it. His friend's voice follows him out of the kitchen. 

“But nothing since you got old?”

Eddie turns just so Buck can appreciate the eye roll, “I'm not exactly old Buck, I’m the same age as you.”

“Are we sure about that?” 

Abruptly Buck’s mood shifts and he’s teasing, humour replacing the tragic look that had been there only seconds ago.

“You do kinda look older than me. Pretty sure I spotted some gray hairs on you the other day.”

Eddie glares and throws a handy cushion without aiming. Buck catches it easily and grins, before taking another swig of beer. Eddie tries not to watch his lips or his throat too closely.

[laurawaldorf]

Hello! Finally our little Em Fanfic Fandom have more writers!

Can I request 000's Eminem falling for Rockstar!Reader that have a baby (Baby Daddy no present) she always bring everywhere and even steals some attetion to him? :b

🎸⋆°. 𝗦𝗡𝗔𝗣 𝗢𝗨𝗧 𝗢𝗙 𝗜𝗧.

⠀⠀────────────────────

| 𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚: Marshall Mathers III (Eminem) x Rockstar!Fem!Reader.

| 𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗥𝗘: Fluffy.

| 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦: N/A.

| 𝗥𝗘𝗤𝗨𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗗: yes.

| 𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗚 𝗜𝗡𝗦𝗣𝗜𝗥𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡: Snap Out Of It — Arctic Monkeys.

( hey! i loved your request, I had a lot of fun writing it! I hope you like it. 🤍 )

⠀⠀────────────────────

The noise of screams and applause filled the structure of the stadium where your rock band performed, you looked kindly at all the people who admired your art as you said goodbye with a wide smile after ending your show in New York.

— Thank you everyone for your support! Tonight was a very special night for us, New York! — You expressed with a vibrant smile, listening to all the love your fans had for you and your band.

The stage lights went dark, and you went backstage where your band team was with your youngest daughter, Remy, just two years old. You've always attracted a lot of attention in the industry, for being a successful rock singer with a successful band and a single mother who would do anything for your daughter, something Remy's father wouldn't do the same, he never did the least to get to know her after birth, leaving you alone to take care of a child, however, you did everything you could to fulfill your part of being a mother and a father in your daughter's life even with your busy schedule.

A happy smile spread across your lips as you picked up your daughter, your eyes sparkled when you saw that little child who had saved your life in so many ways. The other band members had the same loving smile for your daughter. The bassist, Mandy, approached Remy with a sweet smile.

— She's so cute! — Mandy said, stroking the little child's cheeks. — I saw a recording of her playing with the guitars, it was really cute!

You responded to the bassist with a smirk, looking up at the other woman, listening to the baby giggles that your daughter gave when she felt Mandy's touch on her cheeks.

— She sure is, Remy is passionate about guitars, maybe I'll give her one as a gift for her birthday. — You replied, turning your gaze to the child again.

On the other side of the dressing room, the guitarist named Axel who was adjusting the strings on his guitar was smiling at you and Remy.

— Maybe she'll be a guitarist like me, I'm really incredible. — He said in a cocky and fun way, making you laugh. — Yo, there's going to be a party at Dr Dre's mansion in a little while… are you going?

Mandy just let out a sideways smile and crossed her arms, throwing herself onto the small sofa there:

— I still don't know how you have contact with these Hip-Hop people...but I will go, will you, Y/N? — The bassist asked, looking up at you.

You continued to look at the girl in your arms, with your lips pressed together as you rubbed the back of your head in a tone of doubt.

— I will stay, Remy must be tired and she has school tomorrow...I'll stay at home. — You explained, raising your gaze to the two members who looked at him with an understanding look.

— That's fair. — Axel paused with a light sigh. — So, Mandy now call the other members because our car should already be waiting.

— Okay, we'll give you two a ride too, Y/N. — Mandy said, looking at Remy with a smirk.

⠀⠀────────────────────

After a few weeks of your show, your performance was a complete success, it became news in all media and tabloids in all magazines. Your band's songs were played on different types of radio, from rock to pop, and it was also a constant question for some artists in interviews.

You were in your large apartment in downtown New York, in the kitchen as you prepared lunch for you and Remy while your daughter watched a random cartoon in the living room. You cut the vegetables and put them in the pan with bubbling water, your radio on the counter played some songs until you started an interview with Eminem, the rapper who was at the height of his career like you and who had already mentioned you in some songs.

You didn't pay much attention to the interview until the people hosting the interview mentioned your show and you, which made your interest grow quickly and take your attention completely to the radio.

— Yo, Em, I don't know if you're probably aware, but Y/N did a wonderful show a few weeks ago, we were impressed with how she managed to give such an authentic and captivating performance even though she just entered the industry. You've already mentioned her in some of your songs, how do you feel about her? — The interviewer asked, his voice squeaking slightly over the sound of the radio.

— To be more exact, I really admire what she and her band do. I was at the show with Proof watching her and it was…wow. As an artist, she has a lot of potential, and as a father...I see her as an inspiration, even though she is a single mother and has a huge career, she manages to be present in her daughter's life, and that is something to admire...In fact, If Y/N needs a candidate to be her daughter's stepfather, I'll volunteer. — Marshall said, in a joking tone that made all the interviewers laugh at the situation.

The whole situation left you with rosy cheeks and a silly smile on your lips, Marshall seemed like a nice guy, and who was also going through the same situation of being a single father after his divorce with his ex-wife, Kimberly. You felt a depth of truth behind his playful words, and that typical feeling of butterflies began to form in your stomach.

Your thoughts were quickly cut short after the sound of the landline telephone in the hallway of the apartment began to echo through the wall, making you turn off the stove and wipe your hands on the cloth on the counter, going over to the device.

Your hands went to the phone and placed it in your left ear, your silly smile remained on your face without realizing it.

— Hello?- — You were quickly interrupted by Mandy's excited voice coming from the other end of the line.

— Did you see what Eminem said about you on the radio? Girl, he's so into you! — The bassist's lively voice was mixed with some laughter.

You tilted your head slightly to the left side, pressing the fingers of your free hand to your lips.

— I saw…and did you see that he was at our show? But he was just joking, don’t be crazy. — You shrugged your shoulders, trying to convince yourself that it was just his joke.

However, Mandy wasn't convinced, she just rolled her eyes and snorted upon hearing your comment.

— You're always like that...it's clear he wants to talk to you! Look, Axel said that 50 is going to have a party and Eminem will be there, you go and I'll take care of Remy without any problems, you need to go! — The other woman said, you could feel her mischievous smile on the other end of the phone line.

Internally, you felt like you were going to explode. Your mind screamed for you to go and your skin heated up just thinking about talking to him, the blush on your cheeks became even more apparent and your smile grew even more.

— Okay...when is this party? I'll try to go. — You said in a shy tone, letting out a shaky breath.

The bassist let out a scream of joy upon hearing your question, and a proud smile formed on her lips.

— This Saturday! You have to go, choose your best outfit! — Ordered the other woman, ending the call without giving you a chance to respond or argue against it.

⠀⠀────────────────────

The noise of Hip-Hop music and people having fun filled the air at 50 Cent's mansion, where the grand party that Mandy had mentioned to you days before was taking place.

You looked around and saw different artists having fun, drinking and even kissing in the corners of the room. You leaned on the bar counter in the center of the living room, while adjusting a black mini skirt and your black leather jacket with burgundy red details. In the other corner of the room, Marshall Mathers was watching you with a smirk on his lips, his gaze discreetly admiring your face and body, and by his side, there was his best friend Proof, who was observing the scene.

Without patience, Proof took his hands to the other rapper's shoulders and shook him lightly, making Eminem's gaze go to him.

— Are you going to stare at her like a idiot or go talk to her? — The boy asked, pulling his best friend out of his mental trance.

Marshall just muttered a small “Hm?” and again raised his gaze to you, swallowing dryly.

— I don't know, man... I don't know if she liked the “joke” I made on the radio. — Said the rapper, shrugging his shoulders and taking some of his drink to clear his throat.

The other boy just snorted and rolled his eyes, moving away from his best friend and looking up at you, letting out a sigh:

— If you don't go to her, she'll think you're just another cowardly dumbass! Go, man! — Proof replied, trying to encourage Marshall.

After a few minutes of mental preparation and encouragement from Proof, Eminem approached in slow and awkward steps, he quickened his breathing with each step he took and the closer he got to you.

You noticed someone approaching from behind, so you gently turned your head back and your gaze quickly landed on the rapper, which made your heart stop for a few seconds.

Marshall had the same reaction, his heart accelerated a little more when he saw your face and he felt his own body betray him, feeling his knees shaking as he tried to keep his posture upright.

— Yo, Y/N, right? — Marshall tried to start a conversation, feeling a spike of adrenaline in his heart palpitate.

Your hands felt cold and a shiver ran down your spine as you heard his voice mix with the sound of the party's loud music.

— Yes, it’s me... it's a pleasure to meet you, Marshall. — You replied, letting a sideways smile escape.

The blonde felt goosebumps on his skin when he heard you say his name, he knew he had a small crush on you...but he didn't know it was so intense.

— It’s nice to meet you too, so…I don’t know if you’ve listened to the radio lately, but I wanted to apologize if I offended you by the joke I made in that interview. — You could hear him slurring his own words in a nervous way, gesturing with his hands.

— It's okay, really. I even liked your joke, it was cute. — You answered him in the same way, your words escaping your mouths without thinking.

A spike of shame hit your heart as you realized what you had said, a red blush marked your cheeks as you widened your eyes slightly.

— Ah, so it's okay...do you mind if I buy you a drink? — The rapper asked, his nervousness slowly disappearing when he noticed the look on his face, his lips curling into a proud smile.

— I would love. — You replied, letting out a calm sigh.

⠀⠀────────────────────

The rest of the night went well, the conversation between you and Marshall flowed better than you expected.

It was interesting to see the industry's most feared rapper be so kind and completely interesting and funny. At the moment, you were outside the party, observing the dark sky full of stars contrasting with the lights that the buildings that New York emitted.

— So...I heard there's a super cool bar near here, want to go with me? Just the two of us. — Marshall said, stroking your right hand gently.

— I'd love to, Em. — You replied, intertwining your fingers with his.

[seneon]

EYES DON'T LIE ──── prince! touya × fem warrior! reader.

about. the crown prince can't tear his gaze away from the warrior girl. set in edo period, rural japan! au. written from age to age. a bittersweet romance. touya is written as touya ( before dabi existed ) includes his stimming in some parts, minor mentions alcohol and blood, death. wc of 5300+

notes. silly tsundere prince who has a thing for his strong independent warrior UEGJ I'M IN LOVE. if you didn't know i love rural japan stuff. perhaps courtesan!reader next??

𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓, there was a birthday celebration held for the crown prince tōya of the todoroki royal family. his turquoise gaze briefly rushed past the crowd in boredom, looking forward to the end of the day already. even as a young prince, he never found anything in the royal events intriguing.

his birthday was no different. as a child of eight years, he already felt like he knew the darkest secrets of the world, the ones that were locked away to the underworld for the reapers of hell to deal with.

prince tōya sat with his family, seated between his sister and brother, both younger than him. as his eyes roamed around, they came to a halt the moment they landed on eyes that sternly looked around. tōya ceased his chewing for a second, staring at the owner whom those stern gaze belonged to.

“fuyumi, natsu, can little girls become warriors?” the curious prince asked, tilting his head to the side, his gaze never leaving the little figure that stood by taller ones.

fuyumi followed her elder brother's gaze. she has just spoken to the girl that stood beside honourable warriors and soldiers. the princess could feel a smile surfacing at the sight of little eight year old you, mimicking your father and his comrades to serve as guards of the party.

“that is y/n! kuromiya y/n, she's the daughter of the general.”

“daughter of the general?” tōya repeated, his tone twisting into curiousity. he resumed his chewing before swallowing. “i didn't know general kuromiya had a daughter…”

the younger prince popped a bite of a monkfish, chewing it to taste the flavour before beaming with satisfaction. the fish was fresh and amazing. firm texture, a refined sweetness with a clean aftertaste.

“she follows her father around a lot, brother. you might get to see her more often.”

just as the crown prince pondered on his brother's words, you looked around, eyes and senses all together alert for any danger that might strike. then, your gaze traveled to the young crown prince, freezing upon his gaze which was locked on yours.

in your eight year old mind, it is rude to stare at people of nobility and royalty. so you quickly looked down at your feet, afraid that perhaps the crown prince might tell of your discourtesy to the king and queen. if that is the case, your eyes will certainly be gouged out the fingers of an executioner.

you shivered at that thought, feeling your father's arms resting on your shoulders as you looked up at the huge man.

“anxious, little warrior?” asked your father as he bent down to your eye level.

you shook your head, fingers grazing at the corner of your eye sockets. “my eyes are going to be plucked out, father. i stared at the crown prince for too long..”

your words made the general raise a brow before he chuckled, a roaring laughter emitting from the back of his throat as you simply stood there in confusion. the man tells you that you shouldn't worry about staring at the prince for way too long, because he noticed that the young todoroki also has his gaze on you the moment he sat down to eat.

you calmed down a little. just a little, though.

𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐄𝐍, you excel in kyūjutsu, the art of archery. supposedly, you are a natural in the field of long-range attacks, never a loyal servant to the close-ranged such as a blade.

crown prince tōya did not like the fact that there is a soul who dared to take his place as the most supreme in a field. he would occasionally grumble, roll his turquoise eyes, and repeatedly tap his feet on the ground whenever you overtake his arrows in a much more professional way.

he silently cursed you for having a father that is idealistically superb in the field of archery, since your father specializes in serving the king as his eye during battle. tōya simply couldn't stand the fact that a mere girl is better at something he should be good at.

so one day, the young prince approached you as you were firing your shots in the archery academy. you never falter even as he stood behind you, his gaze burning into your back as you ever so calmly shoot arrows repeatedly. one by one, each arrow that overlapped the other, completely tearing the previous one out.

“you're not very girly are you? shooting arrows like how a soldier is supposed to do that,” the prince said, eventually breaking your momentum with his childish and immature words. your arrow did not overlap the previous one. instead, it went a bit over the bullseye, eyes immediately shooting glares at the prince who watched you with furrowed eyebrows.

“that is rude, don't you think, your highness?” you lowered your bow, face twisting into a frown.

tōya shrugged. “nope. i mean, you're the only girl in the archery academy! yet the only one who's genuinely good at shooting a bunch of… stupid arrows...”

his words are uttered with frustration, let loose like a curse through gritted teeth. you noticed that his cheeks are a bit flushed, as if they have been covered in blush that was extracted from red ochre.

“your highness, i believe you caught a cold. your cheeks are red,” you pointed at the prince as he flushed even redder, his feet moving to stomp away.

“i-i’m not sick!”

𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍, the crown prince hunted his first live animal to present it to his parents as a trophy and a remembrance piece of his first hunt. of course, the todoroki family is proud, even little prince shōto who gave his brother the littlest of claps.

on the other hand, you stood by your father, watching the royal family's interaction. your eyes might be on the sweet family, but your mind wanders right to the cuts and bruises that tōya received when he hunted for the animal.

your fingers twitched slightly, resisting any urge to pull away the prince from his family just to force him into treating his wounds. the prince is smart. he hides his newly-received marks with layer upon layers of cloth, allowing it to seem like a gear when in reality, it stains his skin dirty.

but you knew. you were with the prince when you hunted with him, assisting your father.

“father, i know it's a crime. but do you mind stealing the prince away?”

so that same day at night, when the military army discusses their plans about the next battle, you're in the room of your friend-enemy, telling him to stop moving around and sit still as you tend to his wounds.

poor tōya, his wounds left unattended for the whole day and only treated at night. you knew the crown prince is stubborn enough to not pay a visit to the family doctor just to get himself treated, so you'd rather get medical knowledge just to treat a stubborn prince.

he's such a hard wall to break too, always putting up a façade that he's so strong and independent wherein he really is just a child who seeks to be the best and to live up to the expectations of the country as its prince.

the colour turquoise is practically imprinted in the skin of your fingers and hands now, having the prince to stare at you working your hands so skillfully to patch him up without trying to tickle a burn or torn skin.

with such silence, the boy moved his gaze upwards, now staring at your face which was so focused on patching him up. tōya searches for a reason in your focused eyes, attempting to find a reason as to why you would stick around to help him with such stupidity.

tōya couldn't help but feel heat rising up to his cheeks, even if his lips are still and his gaze is still locked onto your face. he takes in your feature, your beautiful features that has him in an unbreakable trance.

he wonders just why in the world would you want to be a warrior that will eventually stain your precious face with splatters of the enemy's blood instead of the snowflakes that would paint your cheeks a rosy hue.

“your highness… prince tōya,” you called out, waving your hands in front of his face before he snapped out of his daydreaming, fluttering his eyes a little.

“you were staring, your highness.”

not again. he's been caught doing that so many times it is almost easy to catch him staring. specifically, his gaze is on you, always you. as tōya grows older, he gets smarter than the age he was before. he's quick to act now.

“i’m not. i’m looking at the candle behind you,” the crown prince lied as if he's telling the truth. it flows down his tongue so smoothly, like the waters in the lake that dances forward.

he will never admit the fact that he was just daydreaming and wondering about you into the unknown. no, never. the prince will never embarrass himself with a mere girl that is just a tad bit better than him in archery.

he moves his hands and arms, slightly wincing at the sore.

“you should rest, your highness. i shall take my leave now,” you bowed at the prince, standing up before leaving him alone, not even staying to listen to whatever regards he might have kept in stock for you when his mind travelled to the back of his mind.

crown prince tōya laid down, holding his hands up in the air as his mind once again replayed the images of you treating his wounds. it played in his mind over and over again as if the memories were an old stop motion film.

“what a bother,” he murmured under his breath before covering his turquoise eyes with the back of his hands, covering an initial blush that started building up along the heat of the candle before he blew it off to have his rest.

𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍, you are presented to the crown prince as his retainer upon joining the military ranks. however, the prince isn't delighted in the least at the idea of having a girl as his personal follower.

he tells the king, the general, and you— that he is capable of protecting himself and has no need for a retainer, let alone someone of the opposite gender. tōya isn't keen on bringing a girl to the battlefield where she has to protect him. it makes him feel absolutely pathetic.

despite despising the entire ordeal of you being his personal servant, his mind changed a little when you got on your knees to vow and promise your life to the prince.

“your highness, i ask that you use me. i am your eye, the one who will look after your back or your front in battles. i swore to lay my life down for you, crown prince tōya.”

tōya wanted to protest, to tell you in your face that you are not supposed to be the one doing that. he wants to tell you to stand up immediately and ask that you leave. but he knows all too well that in his weaknesses, there's strength.

you are his strength. you are the one that will cover for his one weakness and complete him. crown prince tōya does not want to protest anymore. he is too tired to let any word slip out from the tip of his tongue anyway. so he only lets out one simple sigh.

that one sigh that told the warmth of your heart that the prince is all the more appreciating your dedication to serve him until death.

he will be sure to use you well as his eye.

𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐈𝐗𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍, the eavesdropping ears of the young boy pondered upon the conversation between the general and the lieutenant general. they speak about the coming of age for the general's daughter.

her birthday is coming up very soon. and at the sixteenth birthday of a girl marks her age of legality. her youth and beauty is at its finest. to be dressed in silk, expensive makeup and be wedded to a man is the standard life of a woman.

“my wife and i will celebrate her birthday, do not fret,” said general kuromiya to his lieutenant. “we have not celebrated her birthday in a few years because of how busy the military gets. but, we've cleared some time for our girl's special day.”

tōya hears the lieutenant chuckle then speaking. “if your daughter isn't the crown prince’s retainer, are you going to arrange your daughter into marriage with a noble?”

upon hearing those words, tōya furrowed his eyebrows. it is as if those words were the sharpest of blades ever forged which had just impaled the skull of the todoroki.

his mind is a mixture of curiousity and anger. curiousity for the wanderer mind, and anger for the mind that remained. he could not pick one emotion to feel.

how could the lieutenant speak of such things to the general about his daughter?

and even so, the thought of you being arranged into a marriage with a noble tickles the back of his mind where his pent-up frustration and anger is kept in the dark. he might not be fond of the idea of you becoming his retainer a year ago, but he isn't exactly fond of the idea of you being a normal girl and being wedded to one of those wretched nobles.

if there's anything he did get from eavesdropping, that is that your sixteen birthday is in a week. and he spent a whole week thinking about it.

during missions, visiting a neighbouring village, meeting the citizens and villagers to offer services, hunting, training. whatever that was on the prince’s agenda. he could not get your birthday out of his mind.

when the general's small team along with you and the prince walked through a rather busy city, tōya finally set his mind on a specific subject for your birthday.

he watched in silence beside you as the both of you ventured into a shop that sold all clothing essentials. some of your gears are ruined from the previous hunt, and this is a great opportunity to purchase some items to fix your gears.

your eyes flickered at each corner of the store in search of your desired items. but occasionally, they come to a halt at a few jewelries that were on display. the beautiful blinking ones that beautiful women wear in their hair.

tōya sees you staring at pretty hairpins, and his gaze switches to your hair, wrapped in a topknot that he has never seen falling before. the prince doesn't even know if you even knew how to place a hairpin in your hair. well whatever, he now knows what he's going to give you for your birthday as a great and loving prince to his beloved retainer.

on the night of your birthday, a nicely wrapped rectangle box appeared on your windowsill as you were cleaning your arrows. crippling curiousity overflowed from you as you opened it, eyes widening in surprise at the content inside the box.

there it is, a hairpin which colour perfectly matches the hue of your eye. it was custom made, you can tell, since such a colour isn't so easy to be made into a hairpiece.

regardless of the surprise, you cannot fathom your imagination on who could've given you such a beautiful thing. you opened a supposedly jewelry box and looked at yourself in the tiny mirror before beginning to let your hair down, brush it, and tie it like the girls on the streets with pretty hair and pretty kimono. at last, you set the hairpin in your hair, fingers caressing the metal piece.

such a sight to behold . . . it made tōya’s heart flutter at the sight of you with your hair down, the hairpin beautiful set in your hair. he isn't going to fall for this absurdity though, considering how he just sneaked in the manor of the kuromiya family and swiftly placed your gift on your windowsill.

he clicked his tongue in annoyance. annoyance in himself for committing such a ridiculous thing and all for such a foolish reason.

all for his eyes to watch as the corner of your lips curved into a sickeningly warm smile which twisted at his lower abdomen and in return, granted him a moment to admire you with a lovesick gaze.

you looked extremely beautiful with the hairpin.

𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍, at one of the days where you are off duty from serving the prince, you attend a party with your father instead— as his daughter. the daughter and the heiress of the kuromiya family.

not seen as a military officer or a servant of justice, you are present as the daughter of the honoured general and a woman of the kuromiya house.

dressed in the finest silk of the kimono found in that age with a dolled up face and beautifully brushed hair.

tōya of the todoroki family isn't a prince at that moment. he is a normal guest at that party. this is not his party, he only arrived because he was invited by the general.

but gosh, from heaven and back and for the love of the twinkling stars in the universe, he could not tear his gaze off of you. he has never in his entire life seen you so proper, so ladylike and poised.

it was like a whole new different person to him. the only thing that remained the same is the hairpin that was sticking out from your little bun, the extra pieces dangling to and back.

his heart flutters at the sight of you covering your mouth in utmost manner as you smiled and laughed at the other guests. you've greeted the man you've served, that's for sure. but he isn't the only one you have to entertain for the night. and somehow, he doesn't mind being like that, treated like any other normal guests and not being pestered by other souls.

familiar turquoise eyes keep making their way to yours, never plucking them off of you as you conversed through the night. he couldn't help it, he couldn't look away from such beauty. it was too overwhelming for the prince to handle.

it twists at his cold heart that tonight— you wouldn't speak to him that much, or even walk by his side. his insides did a little pout at the realisation at that very simple fact that you have no time for him.

however, the moment his gaze lingered onto her, his feet moved on its own to approach you, intrusively grabbing your hands to hold onto them, never letting go before his gaze bores into the soul of a samurai.

“this is my wife.”

and tōya makes sure the samurai's mind has that information burnt into him, albeit his grasp on your hands were let loose almost immediately after the man who was harassing you left.

there was an uncomfortable silence before you said a soft “thank you,” something you'd never ever say to the prince, to the man you serve. the prince walks a bit ahead of you, his back facing you like how it is always supposed to be. “whatever…”

you assumed he's going to walk away and leave you alone to entertain the other guests, but you invited the crown prince to ditch this aggravatingly bone-crushing party. so now, you two are alone by the lake, far away from people. the moon takes favour in the both of you, illuminating an equal amount of beauty.

yet somehow for this special night, you managed to shine and glow more than the prince himself.

“you look beautiful.”

your cheeks flushed. “uh, thank you..”

and there was silence again. this time, a comfortable silence with a reasonable distance between you and the prince by the lake and the moon reflecting onto the surfaces of the lake.

one more gaze, and tōya sees you smiling up at the moon. his heart aches and clenches inside of him, doing whatever tricks it could— including a race that would not last a horse.

todoroki tōya's eyes never lie. once they determine something is beautiful, it stays beautiful for an eternity.

𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘, the scent of strong alcohol hit your nose the moment you entered the prince’s lounge room. drunken men are laid all over, obviously wasted. the prince drinks, coming to a halt the moment he notices you standing at the entrance of the room, watching his every move.

“hello, dear retainer..” he grumbled under his breath as you went over to him to pluck the cup out from his fingers, draping his arm over your shoulders and balancing him up on his feet.

“you are drunk, my prince.”

“ah ah archer, you know.. my guys don't have retainers who're good at archery..”

“is that so?”

the prince hummed in response as he held your shoulder and wobbled in his steps. “you’re the best one in the entire country, y/n.”

“it's an honour. but you mustn't speak. your words are oddly disturbing to me,” you said, receiving a chuckle from the drunken prince.

it is true, the prince never touched on the topic of your archery skills. he is still angry at the fact that you excel at archery better than he is. even if it has been an entire decade of indirect competition. you will always surpass him with efficiency.

“i hate the way you always steal my attention, you damned retainer.”

your eyebrows furrowed at his words, glancing at him momentarily before sliding the door to his room open.

“my apologies,” you said softly with a tiny smile, leading him to his haven where he slumbers. “i didn't mean to do that.”

with that, you set him down his bed, plucking whatever piece of him that felt uncomfortable as his turquoise eyes burned into your soul, watching your every move.

the prince is silent, gaze following the way your fingers would graze the collar of his kimono or untie his obi to loosen it. his stomach felt like it was twisting at your touch, butterflies swarming around like fools at the pit of it.

he snapped out of his trance the moment you were going to stand up as he quickly grabbed hold onto your wrist.

“do not leave me…” he uttered, words so slurred from the alcohol that he consumed, grip tightening when he felt you lightly tugging your wrist away. “i said, do not leave me.”

“your highne—” your senses tingled as your back hit the soft futon on the ground.

both hands at either side of your face, the prince looks down at you through his half lidded turquoise eyes. you searched for a reason behind this action in those ethereally dangerous eyes of his. and there was only a hint of a dark desire.

“you make me sick to the bones.”

you held your breath, the prince letting out a heavy sigh as you felt his fingers gently grazing your cheeks, moving along the lines of your jaw. his touch fueled you on the inside, you have to admit to yourself. cold fingers with such a tender touch. it makes you yearn for him to continue his actions.

“who knows you would look so… beautiful, under me?”

as if warmth hasn't made their debut to your cheeks, he words gifted your cheeks a field of red roses. you were about to part your lips before his sweet traces along your jawline ceased, his weight falling onto you.

and then there was it. nothing else. just a drunken prince who fell into slumber after leaving his retainer in a flushed mess. you cursed under your breath and moved him off of you, tucking him into bed before brushing his hair as white as snow away from his face.

“you are murdering my mind and heart, your highness… it's been like that for so many years too..”

𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐎𝐍𝐄, the prince puffed and panted at the cruel training given to him by his retainer upon orders of the king. you are to hone his skills to perfection in the fields of kenjutsu.

prince tōya does not know why he has to go through this rigorous training with someone who specialises with a bow and an arrow instead of a sword, but his tongue slips out curses of regret the moment he clashes his blade with yours after a whole decade.

he clearly underestimated you, never imagining the fact that your swordsmanship skills have been polished way over perfection until it appeared to the prince that you are ultimately the perfect warrior. and it itched his brains along with the tugging at his heart.

the both of you were well aware of an upcoming war that will possibly bring nations to an end. neither your father nor tōya's father has the time to spend on their respective children to train them, so it was only ideal that they trained each other.

“your highness .. we must continue to swing our blades…” you tell the prince, gripping the sword hilt with both hands.

“oh come on, you should shoot arrows, not play with swords in the first place,” tōya rolled his eyes and dropped his sword to the ground, taking a seat. “can't continue anymore.”

once again, your stamina outranks the royal prince. what a shame, you stood longer than he did before you followed him and seated yourself on the ground, falling backwards to hit the ground.

“i’m still not fit for swords, it seems…” you murmured as the prince is now seated beside your lying form, glancing down at you. “then stick to being the archer, my backbone. let me charge ahead. you will follow me behind.”

you looked at his eyes before switching to the clear blue sky. his eyes matched the colour of the sky perfectly, it made you tugged a smile at the corner of the lip along with his words that sunk into your mind.

“i will always follow you behind, prince tōya.”

the prince rolled his eyes and rested his chin on his palm, a tiny blush coating his cheeks rose. “you better not stray too far..”

“i won't. i’ll be right behind you,” you chuckled as the voice of the royal princess fuyumi called out, inviting you and the crown prince to have some tea with her.

the prince stands up to brush his hakama. then as you sat up. before you could push yourself off the ground, he held his hands out. you looked at his hands for a quick moment before accepting it and he pulled you up gently.

“imagine if this is the last time we'll ever leisurely spend time with each other… you know... before the war and stuff.”

“that is not a very nice thing to say,” you frowned at tōya's words as he chuckled. “i’m just kidding… it will not be. trust me.”

𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐎𝐍𝐄, heaven forbid the prince to keep his words and promises to you.

oh dear, how could this happen? why is there an arrow stabbed right through your shoulders? why are you still clenching the reins when blood drips down your shoulders and stains your clothes wine red? why are you still marching forward to follow the prince right behind as you have told him you would?

the prince’s army came to a halt when he stopped his horse and went to catch your falling body into his arms, your blood seeping into the fabric of his clothes almost immediately.

you hear the prince call out to you over and over like it was a chant, a desperate chant that does not go through your ear. your mind is too hazy to even be focusing on the view in front of you.

you shut your eyes to relieve some of that blur and when you do, it's the prince's turquoise eyes that cover your field of vision. it has always been his eyes that pulls you back to reality, it pulls you from straying away too far. his eyes are that one thing that you always seek from the very start.

“shit, y/n, no no no no no….”

you hear him say, oddly clear that your mind isn't as hazy as it was before, thanking his eyes that pierced through your haziness to make way so you could see his face.

“why would you do that!?”

you knew he was referring to the moment where at the most unexpected moment, an arrow shoots the prince's way and you went to his side to serve as his shield.

you did it because you want to protect him. you did it because you have made a promise to be his eye. you did it because you didn't want him to be hurt.

you did it because you love and care for him.

“how dare you get hurt, y/n!”

it makes you sink your teeth into your bottom lip to hold an amount of pain, both on the outside and on the inside. you must not falter, you mustn't show weakness in front of the prince as his retainer and most loyal servant.

“i apologise, my prince,” you forced yourself to sit up, coughing up a smile that breaks tōya's heart.

“we have to get the arrow out now, quickly, and efficiently,” the prince calmly said in a stern voice, unsure of how to really react to this. the inside of his mind a whole raging calamity.

from this point onwards, the sleeves of his hakama is now completely stained from holding you in his arms. it drips down his arms like blood-soaked honey. his fingers are constantly moving around to squeeze your arm, his usual habit of stressful stimming clearly portrayed as his mind wanders everywhere in visible conflict.

“your highness, you can't! none of us are authorised medics! and she will bleed more if you take the arrow out!” one of tōya's soldiers exclaimed as you held the prince's hands to calm his stimming down.

“please, prince tōya. it's futile, the war is still ongoing. you must go back out there to fight.”

“without my archer? without my retainer? without my backbone!? how am i even supposed to stand without you!?” he cries out as you shut your eyes to contain the tears that are beginning to gather at the corner of your eyes.

“someone please. please just get it out of her...”

“i’ll be fine. please... your presence is needed out there,” you whispered.

“i don't want to go out there without you. not when there's still so much for us to do.”

you felt his fingers resting on your dirtied cheeks, caressing your face with such shakiness that your cheek is now dripping with the tears of the prince. one drop at a time, he wipes his tears on your cheeks with his thumb, this sickeningly despairing smile portrayed on his face.

it makes you want to clench your heart in nothing but for the sake of easing your pain. even if it hurts and pulls at your soul, you held his hands and leaned into his touch, holding his fingers tightly.

“i’m sorry.”

there's not even a moment where his eyes leave you, darting all around while trying to find a way to put you out of your pain. it twists and turns on the inside, fueling his debuting rage.

tōya rests his forehead against yours, his snow white hair falling onto your face as he gazes into your eyes, trying to find a way to find solace in your own gaze.

“i don't want to leave you alone.”

“but tōya," you dropped the formality. "my eyes feel heavy. i’m going to rest for a bit.”

turquoise eyes widened at your words before his hands held you tighter and embraced you into a hug so warm that you smiled your way out of his life.

TAGS ★ @saewako @hyoismbbg @bbluefllame @sweetheartsaku @raeson @little-red-insomniac @jujuonthatbeat444 @booksooks @merakijellyfish @redgie-69 @randomrosie01 @ephmeraloblivion @brbwritingfanfic @irenexj @falsesu @heyimseli @miscellaneous-silly-goose @3xiles @qxuanii

© SENEON 2024 ♱ do not repost, alter, or translate.

[navybrat817]

What Happens in Vegas

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You get more than you bargained for when you decide to get married in Vegas. Word Count: Over 2.8k Warnings: Drinking, drunk wedding, accidental marriage, supernatural element, dubcon elements, soft!dark vibes, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: I wasn't able to get all 4 birthday stories done, but I hope you lovelies enjoy the ones I plan to share. Here's 1 of 2! ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby (thank you for spitballing), but any and all mistakes are my own. Thanks to @targaryenvampireslayer as well for letting me scream about this. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The fluorescent lights of the strip flashed as you stumbled along the sidewalk. Fast paced and surreal, the city that never sleeps offered a little something for everyone. Entertainment, architecture, adventure. While your intention for the evening was to grab a drink with some friends and nothing more, you decided to do something bolder. Crazier. Because what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, right?

“Goin’ to the chapel and we’re… gonna get maaaaaaried,” you sang, squinting as your guy, date, whoever he was, helped steady you. “Who or what was your name again? Randy?”

“That’s not my name. It’s-”

“Randy. ‘Cause you’re a rando,” you declared, making him laugh.

Forgetting the guy’s name should’ve been your first clue to call it a night and go back to your hotel. Randy was cute enough though and bought all of you drinks. When you told him most of your friends were hitched or close to getting married while you were still single, he joked that he’d marry you.

“Fuck it! Let’s get married!”

Which was how you found yourself on his arm heading to a chapel.

Your second clue to go back to your room should’ve been that none of your friends stopped you. Not a single one told you to stay or offered to go with you, which was strange. Not that each of you hadn’t done stupid stuff before. Letting you go off with a stranger though? In an unfamiliar city?

Bitches. All of them. Noooooo. I love my girlfriends. They’re just DRUNK, like me.

You did feel sad for a second. While your friends all had family who would’ve thrown a fit if they eloped or married a stranger, you didn’t. Your dad would never give you away. Your mom wouldn’t wipe her tears as she heard you say your vows. So who cared what you did?

You sure as hell didn’t.

“Here,” Randy said, pulling you toward a door. “This place is supposed to be really nice.”

“OOOOOOOOH. Reeeeeeeally nice,” you said, gasping once you stepped inside.

You expected cheesy decor to smack you in the face, but instead found yourself in a luxurious entryway. Sparkles of gold lined the sleek floor and walls all the way up to the high ceilings. The art depicted landscapes you only had the pleasure of seeing in dreams. The room almost had a glow to it.

Or maybe it's the alcohol blurring my vision.

A voluptuous redhead walked through a set of doors to greet you. Her heels didn’t make a sound as she glided across the floor. Glancing at Randy, you caught him adjusting the front of his pants. Was he drooling? You found it amusing rather than let it upset you.

“Welcome to the Enchanted Valley where all your dreams come true. My name is Natalia. How may I help you this evening?”

“We’re getting married,” Randy answered, though he didn’t glance at you.

“Is that so?” she asked, tilting her head as she turned her attention to you. The gold from the walls sparkled in her eyes as she waited for your confirmation.

Swaying a little, you gave her a two finger salute. “That is so,” you answered before you added, “Do you also do annulments?”

Snorting, she gestured behind her. “Before we get started, you must be at least 18 years old, must not be currently married, must not be kin, and I’ll need to see a government form of identification. As long as that’s clear, you’re free to proceed with your ceremony. Do you have witnesses?"

“No ‘cause my bitchy friends didn’t come here. I don’t even have flowers,” you said, hiccuping a little. “Don’t tell them I call them that. I love them soooooooooo much.”

“That’s just fine. I’ll ask James and Wanda if they wouldn’t mind witnessing this…” Natalia tried to find the word as her eyes darted between you. “Blessed union.”

Randy followed Natalia like a lost puppy into the chapel as he struggled to get his wallet out. “You single?”

Your eyes rolled in the back of your head. “Why am I doing this?” you mumbled, swaying as you dug your wallet out. “Why didn’t I just get a tattoo or something?”

“Because a ring on your finger is easier to remove than ink on your skin.”

“Holy fucking… fuck,” you said as you looked up. “Where did you come from, you… gorgeous specimen?”

You understood why Randy practically eye-fucked Natalia since you were doing the same with the man in front of you. His steel blue eyes reflected the gold of the room the same way the redhead’s had and you were scared you’d fall into an abyss if you stared for too long. His light brown hair had to be the softest you’d ever seen. If you had to guess, he was at least 6’4” with a broad chest and shoulders and didn’t have the audacity to button up his shirt.

Is his left arm made out of gold? Or is it painted gold? How drunk am I? Would Randy object to me giving this god of a man the ride of his life?

“I’m James,” he said, the timbre of his voice causing your knees to wobble as he held up a bouquet of colorful flowers. “I’ll be one of the witnesses for this blessed union.”

“Nothing blessed about it. I don’t even know the guy. But he said he’d marry me and I said ‘fuck it,” you giggled, taking a step forward. Your shoe caught on nothing. Nothing. You just fell forward.

And the beautiful man caught you in his embrace.

“Careful, beautiful,” he said as he helped you stand upright and placed the flowers in your hand. His touch warmed you as he ran his hands along your bare arms. “You would marry a stranger then? With no friends or family here?”

“You smell really good. How do you smell so good?” You said, putting a hand on his chest with a grin. “Friends are busy and I have no family.”

His brows furrowed and you wondered how pathetic you sounded. You weren’t looking for pity. “Did he give you any token of affection?”

“Mmmmm. You know, he didn’t. We don’t have rings or anything.”

James traced a finger along your cheek. “And he dares to call himself a man,” he whispered, tutting when you leaned into his touch. “Doesn’t seem like he's fit to marry such a delectable creature.”

Eat me up, James.

“It’s okay,” you said, hoping the sad feelings of alcohol weren’t about to hit you. It sucked being alone and you knew you’d come to regret this later, but who cared about tonight? “Do you have gold streaks in your hair? Why are you so pretty? It’s like you’re not even REAL.”

“I’m very real, beautiful,” he smiled, flashing his pearly white teeth as your cheeks got hot. “Do I have the pleasure of knowing your full name?”

“My full name? So formal,” you teased, giving it to him without hesitation as you ran your fingers through his hair. You should’ve asked permission before touching his soft hair. You shouldn’t have touched him at all. But logic left your mind the moment you stepped into the city.

James closed his eyes as he repeated your name, making it sound erotic and sensual. You liked hearing it on his tongue. “You will not marry him,” he whispered, opening his eyes. A ring of gold surrounded his pupils before it went away. Maybe one of the girls slipped a little something into your drink to help you relax more.

Whatever it is, I want more of it.

“Tell you what,” you smiled, booping his nose with a giggle. “If you object with good reason, I won’t marry Randy Rando. Deal?”

James smirked after a moment, a darkness clouding his eyes as he stepped back to shake your hand. “Deal.”

Before you shook it, you noticed a gold ring on the floor by his foot. Did he drop it? “Is that yours?” you said, crouching down to grab it. It wasn’t very dignified how your dress rode up, but he didn’t seem to mind. “Here.”

He didn’t take it from you. “It is mine, but do you not wish to keep it?”

You frowned, confused as you glanced at the band. It had some sort of lettering around the solitaire diamond that you didn’t recognize. “This isn’t ‘finders keepers’. It’s yours. It’s nice, but it’s rude of me to take it.”

With a low hum, he accepted the ring back. “There aren’t many who would return something of value,” he said, slipping it on his right pinky finger. “You have a giving heart.”

“Oh, it… It was nothing,” you said, shrugging a little to hide how badly you wanted to preen at his compliment.

I’m really acting like I’ve never seen a good looking guy before.

He kept an intense gaze on you as he slipped a hand into his pants pocket and pulled out a small stone. It would’ve looked like a normal pebble if not for the gold speckles. “I know this may not look special, but would you take this as a token for giving my ring back?”

Whaaaaaaaat?

“Um. Yeah. Sure. Thanks,” you said, tucking the stone into your purse before you selected a flower from your bouquet. “Would you accept this from me?” you asked, wanting to do something nice.

A pleased look crossed his face as he took the flower and inhaled. Your head spun a little. Something felt different, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. “Thank you,” he said, running his teeth along his bottom lip as he fixed the bottom of your dress. “You really are the most beautiful bride.”

“And you, James, you beautiful, gorgeous, sexy, god of a man, will make the hottest groom when you get married.”

“Hey!” Randy shouted from the chapel when James opened his mouth. “We doing this or what?”

Oh, yeah.

“Wish me luck!” you said, giggling as you went through the doors and not looking back to see if he followed. “Wow.”

It was as if you stepped into an enchanted forest. The colors of the room were lush and welcoming, a blend of evergreen and sage. Flickering fairy lights and flowers adorned the dark brown pues. Natalia stood in front of Randy and a slender woman you didn’t recognize sat on his side of the chapel. The lights were playing tricks on you again when she looked at you, her eyes a flash of red as she smiled.

That must be Wanda. And I’m never drinking again.

“Ready?” Randy questioned when you got to the end of the aisle.

How romantic.

“Yeah, I guess,” you shrugged, looping your arm with his as you held your bouquet. “Take it away, Natalia.”

“Dearly beloved,” she began.

Truthfully, you didn’t pay much attention to the ceremony as Natalia spoke. You didn’t question that she hadn’t looked at your identification card or confirmed anything else she named off. It probably wasn’t a real wedding ceremony. You weren’t going to be Mrs. Randy Rando.

Not when James is here. Wait, what?

“If there are no objections,” Natalia spoke, glancing over your shoulder. “Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

“I object,” James announced behind you, making you cover your mouth as you giggled. He did say he’d object with good reason. You wondered what he’d come up with.

“On what grounds?” Natalia asked, smirking as if she expected him to interrupt.

“Because she’s my wife,” he answered.

What the hell did he just say?

“What?!” You laughed louder as you spun around, falling against Randy with wide eyes.

"What's wrong?" He asked, barely holding you upright.

James walked down the aisle toward you, a gold shine covering him from head to toe. Pointy ears stuck out through his hair and his eyes had a hypnotic glow as he smiled at you, his teeth sharper than before. He looked like a beautiful nightmare.

Ready to eat you up.

“You can see me as I really am, beautiful, can’t you?” He asked, a melodic lift in his tone that was both sinister and alluring. “Glamour doesn’t work on mates.”

...the fuck?

“M-Mates? We’re mates? What does that even mean?” You asked, looking at Randy for help. His eyes had a glossy glaze to them, like he wasn’t seeing you. Was he in shock? Did he know what was going on? “Dude, snap out of it. Look at his gold skin! And his pointy ears!”

“She can see you,” Natalia said with pride. “Congratulations, Bucky. You’re finally married.”

“Thank you, Natasha,” James smiled, waving a hand at Randy. His nails looked sharp enough to claw through his skin. “Get rid of him. He’s crowding my bride.”

“I’m… I’m way too drunk for this,” you mumbled, your knees giving out. With unnaturaul speed, he made his way to the end of the aisle and caught you.

“Hey! That’s my…” Randy looked confused as he blinked. “Well, she's not my girlfriend, but. Huh?”

“No, she isn’t your girlfriend. She’s my wife. And when you wake up tomorrow, you won’t remember being here,” he said, nodding over to Wanda. “I’d wipe your memory myself, but I’m not letting my mate go.”

“The fuck are you…” he trailed off when Wanda waved her hand, a ball of red light floating in front of his face.

“You sleep now,” she said as the light touched his forehead, not bothering to brace his fall as he collapsed.

“What the hell?” You slurred as Natalia grabbed his ankles to drag him out of the chapel, Wanda on her heel.

“I wouldn’t worry about him since you accepted my hand in marriage,” James said, touching your cheek with a fond smile. “I’m sorry for not courting you longer, but we didn’t exactly have much time, did we?”

“We’re not married,” you argued.

“By Fae law, we are,” he explained as your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. Did he say Fae? “You returned something of value to me that I dropped, which was you saying ‘yes’ to my marriage proposal.”

“No,” you whispered. That couldn’t be true.

“You accepted my token of my affection, which was me pledging myself as your husband. And you gave me a token of affection in return, which was you pledging yourself as my wife.”

The stone. The flower. No. Fucking. Way.

“I don’t understand,” you whimpered as he propped you up in his arms.

“I wanted a bride, so I came here. You’d be surprised how much of my kind has infiltrated this city. We do love our realm, but your people are so easy to manipulate,” he said, gesturing to the room. “Gambling, drinking, strippers, quick weddings. You just throw your hard-earned money away like it’s meaningless. Your currency goes a long way where I’m from.”

“I want to go home,” you said as he tightened his hold on you, even stronger than he looked.

“You didn’t see me at the bar tonight, but I saw you. I knew you were destined for me,” he continued happily as if you didn’t say anything. “And when he suggested marrying you on a whim, I made sure your friends didn’t try to stop you and that your path led here. Don't worry. They're safe. I wouldn't harm them.”

Who is he? What is he?

You shook your head, surprised that you hadn’t gotten sick from how your stomach turned. “I’m not your wife,” you said, trembling when his entire body began to glow.

“You are not just my wife. You are my queen. Even if you hadn’t accepted my token of affection, I wouldn’t have let you marry someone whose name wasn’t worth remembering. You’re mine,” he said through his teeth, angry at you denying him before he took a breath. “My poor bride. A woman with no family and friends who don’t look out for her. You have me now. And you’ll be happy by my side.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, hoping by some miracle a bit of pain would wake you up. But the creature who called himself your husband wasn’t going away. “This is a bad dream,” you whispered, as if lying to yourself would help.

“Oh, my love,” he said in false comfort. “There are no bad dreams in the Enchanted Valley. And this isn’t the Vegas you know where you can simply write this off as a mistake. There is no divorce in my world. Well, your world now.”

“James, please,” you begged as your heart pounded.

“We’re married now, beautiful. Call me Bucky,” he smiled, smothering your protest with a kiss. Heat spread along your lips and flowed through your veins, wrapping around your heart like a vice. It was enough to suffocate you, but fate wasn’t ready to claim your life yet. “Now sober up. We have a honeymoon to start.”

I couldn't tag Bucky as "fae" without giving some of the surprise away! This idea was inspired by @adayka's beautiful art here. Maybe we can revisit this new couple down the road. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi