#the clockwork lounge

[callahanscorner]

WIP folder tag game

Big thank you to @biptome for the tag (their post here!), and even bigger apologies for the late reply!

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, & then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! Tag as many people as you have WIPS. (optional)

These are mostly actually from subfolders for most of my settings (more on those coming soon!), because I like to group all of my wips by the world they take place in. I'm a GM when I'm not writing, and I run campaigns in most of my settings, so it's nice to keep track of all my realities.

That being said:

The Silver Circle

What Came Before

Amnica

The Seagrin Isles

The Clockwork Lounge

Beacons: Points of Light

Birds of a Feather

Powerless

Masks Lore

Amnica

The Seagrin Isles

Capstone City

The Union of Heroes

I will simply not be tagging that many people, but I will toss one the way of @thesoftestofpetals, @rickie-the-storyteller, @writernopal, @squarebracket-trick, and @captain-kraken

[magicaloneandmystery]

hair

summary: bucky doesn't let anyone touch his hair. well... anyone except you. [written from the pov of Sam.]

warnings: fluff and more fluff. reader is described to have positive, sunny personality. NOT PROOFREAD.

"hey man, your hair is a little messy," Sam wasn't going to mess with Bucky's hair, he merely meant to correct it, but the way Bucky immediately halted his actions and gripped his wrists, Sam understood that Bucky Barnes was incredibly, incredibly protective of his hair.

that was when he realised never to touch it. or even think about touching it.

over the years, Sam has seen countless people try and tidy his unruly locks of hair, but Bucky has had the same reaction to all.

a swift grip on the wrist, a soft glare, and a small mutter of "don't touch my hair" was clockwork at this point.

so when you came along - you with your bright smiles and your cheerful nature - Sam often wondered why you put up with his grump of a friend.

don't get him wrong, he was incredibly happy to see him with you, blossoming out of his shell and all.

but it still puzzled him.

on a particularly slow morning, Sam had dropped in for a visit at the Barnes and (y/l/n) household. Alpine had greeted him like she always does - attention seeking attitude melting away into indifference once she got enough head scratches.

Bucky was still waking up from his sleep, moving around the kitchen with you in perfect sync, both of you preparing breakfast while Sam lounged on the island chair next to the kitchen.

he was busy on the phone, but when he looked up next, his jaw dropped and the phone fell from his grip to clatter on the counter.

there was Bucky Barnes, leaning next to you near the stove, as you brushed your hand in his hair and twisted it all around your fingers, letting him rest his head on your shoulders.

who the fuck is that, Sam wondered.

that can't be Bucky.

when Bucky, ever the skillful assassin, felt Sam's eyes on them, he turned to him with a questioning face.

"since when do you let people touch your hair?" San asked without missing a beat.

"I don't." he replied simply.

"but (y/n) was just now-"

"(y/n) is not people. she's different. special."

that shut Sam up. it was disgusting, really, how sweet Bucky was around you.

you cooed at him softly. "aww, thank you baby," and kissed him on his cheek.

"I need more coffee to deal with this disgusting cotton candy shit so early in the morning," Sam muttered under his breath.

thank you for reading! likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated :)

I know the ending was quite abrupt but tbf I didn't have a very well planned out idea 😭 lmk what you think!

[inkandapex]

everytime

Lando Norris x Y/N

Summary: Lando never learns, no matter how many times he says 'never again,' he somehow always ends up in the middle of his girlfriend’s pranks.

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: swearing

Excuse me

The phone was propped up just right, hidden in plain sight, quietly recording as Y/N lounged on the couch, bundled in a blanket, remote in hand, eyes fixed on the TV like nothing was out of the ordinary.

She fought to keep a straight face. A few nights ago, mid-doom scroll while waiting for Lando to come back from a night out, she stumbled across a TikTok trend that instantly caught her attention: girlfriends wiping away kisses from their boyfriends. The dramatic reactions were hilarious, and knowing just how pouty Lando could get, she had to try it for herself.

It was the perfect setup. Lando was getting ready to head out for a padel game with a few friends, and like clockwork, their usual goodbye ritual included a quick kiss before either of them left.

“Baby, I’m about to head out,”

Right on cue, Lando walked into the frame—duffle bag slung over his shoulder, eyes glued to his phone. He strolled over to the couch, plopping down beside Y/N without looking up.

“Do you wanna grab dinner tonight after I get back?” he asked, finally setting his phone aside to look at her. “Or should I just bring something home?”

She tilted her head, pretending to think it over as casually as she could.

“I don’t mind grabbing food if you’re not too tired,” she replied with a soft smile.

“Perfect.” He leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. “Alright, I’m gonna go. Text me if you need anything.”

As soon as he stood, she slowly reached up and wiped her cheek with her sweater, just noticeably enough.

“Excuse me?”

Lando froze mid-step, his mouth hanging open in dramatic disbelief.

She looked up at him innocently, barely holding back a laugh at how deeply offended he already looked.

“What?”

“What do you mean what? You just wiped off my kiss!”

“I didn’t! I was just itchy,” she said, barely containing her grin.

With an exaggerated eye roll, Lando leaned in again, this time pressing a slower, more deliberate kiss to her cheek.

He pulled back, eyes locked on her, waiting.

And, just like before, she reached for her cheek and wiped it off.

“Baby!” he groaned, collapsing back onto the couch, completely betrayed.

Y/N burst out laughing.

“Lan, go! You’re gonna be late!”

“Are you mad at me? What—was it the stubble? I can shave it off,” he said dramatically, grabbing her hand.

“Oh my god…” she shook her head, completely amused.

“Do you not want me to leave? I can cancel. I’ll stay, we can talk—”

“Lando!” she laughed, cutting him off. “It’s a joke, my love. It’s a prank.”

“You muppet,” Lando said, giving her a gentle shove before grabbing a pillow and swatting her side with it. “You actually had me worried for a minute.”

Y/N was still doubled over, breathless from laughter, clutching her stomach as tears formed in the corners of her eyes. The prank had worked way better than she expected.

She was mid-wipe, dabbing at her tears, when she saw him heading for the door, bag slung over his shoulder, keys in hand.

“Wait! You’re really leaving? No goodbye kiss for me?” she called out with a grin.

Lando scoffed, shaking his head as he slid his shoes on. “Already gave you two and you wiped both of them off. You’ll survive a couple hours without one.”

And with that, he stepped out, the door clicking shut behind him.

Still giggling, Y/N pushed herself up and made her way over to the hidden phone. She was just about to stop the recording when the door suddenly swung open again.

“Back so soon?” she teased.

Without a word, Lando strode toward her, gently took her face in his hands, and kissed her. Soft, warm, and lingering just long enough to make her melt.

“I’m still mad at you,” he muttered with a chuckle, shaking his head before finally heading out for real this time.

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

Say it back

It was the end of a triple header, and Y/N had flown back to their Monaco apartment after the second weekend. She hadn’t seen Lando in a full week, which meant nightly FaceTime calls as soon as he wrapped up his post-race responsibilities.

It was the night before Lando’s flight home. He was lying on his side in his hotel bed, phone in hand, laptop propped up on the bedside table, camera angled perfectly for their usual call. He was casually scrolling through his phone, waiting on a text from Carlos to head out for dinner. Y/N was doing the same, her iPad balanced nearby as she sorted through the closet.

She wasn’t just passing time—she had a prank planned, and she needed Lando to hang up first so she could pull it off.

She finally heard the ping from his phone. Lando sat up and glanced at the screen.

“Just got the text from Carlos, baby. I’ll call you when I get back,” he said, moving closer to his laptop.

Y/N mirrored him, pulling her iPad closer and giving a small wave. “Have fun! Tell Carlos I said hi.”

“I will,” he smiled. “I love you, I’ll call you later.”

She immediately taps the screen, ending their call.

She stared at the now-black iPad screen, biting her lip to keep from grinning too hard. Not even thirty seconds passed before it started ringing again—Lando’s contact flashing across the screen. The hidden camera on the shelf beside her caught the whole thing.

“Watch him whine,” she mumbled to herself, quickly schooling her expression before picking up.

“Yes, Lan—”

“—I think the call cut off, baby,” he interrupted. This time, he was on his phone, holding it close. “I said I love you and that I was gonna call you as soon as I’m back from dinner.”

“I heard you, Lan,” she said sweetly. “I’ll probably still be up when you call. Don’t worry. Go have fun, alright?”

He gave her a soft smile, now walking down the hotel hallway. “Alright, my love. I love you.”

“Okay, bye,” she replied with the same gentle smile—and ended the call again.

She let out a quiet laugh, fully expecting the phone to ring again.

And, as predicted, it did.

When she picked up this time, Lando was in the elevator, now wearing a dramatic pout.

“I love you,” he said, deadpan.

She laughed, finally letting her composure crack. “Okay, Lan, I heard you the first time.”

“Then say it back!” he whined, full puppy mode engaged.

She was full-on laughing now. “This is one of your pranks again, isn’t it?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed in mock irritation.

“I’m glad at least one of us is having fun,” he muttered with a playful scoff.

“Alright, you big baby. I love you too,” she said, grinning.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. You’re lucky you’re cute,” he mumbled with a smirk, finally ending the call.

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

Come to bed

The apartment was dim, lit only by the soft glow of the TV as the two of them laid tangled together on the couch. The sound of their show played quietly in the background, but Lando had already yawned more than once in the last few minutes, his fingers twitching slightly where they were resting against her arm.

“You wanna move to the bedroom, love?” he mumbled, pulling away slightly to stretch, his voice thick with sleep. “We can keep watching there, I’m getting kinda tired.”

She hummed in acknowledgment but stayed exactly where she was, not budging an inch. That yawn? The perfect cue. Her mind was already spinning with mischief.

“I think I’ll sleep here tonight,” she said casually, eyes still fixed on the screen.

Lando’s head snapped toward her so fast it was a miracle he didn’t give himself whiplash. “…On the couch?”

“Yeah.” She kept her tone light, expression unreadable, fully committed to the bit.

He blinked at her, confusion furrowing across his face. Then, without another word, he grabbed the remote and turned the volume down until the room was almost silent.

“Wait, hold on—why?” he asked, his brows drawn together now, voice softer. “Did something happen?”

She shrugged nonchalantly, like it wasn’t that deep. “I just feel like sleeping out here.”

Lando stood up slowly, still watching her. She stared at the TV like she was completely serious.

She expected him to push back, maybe pout, or try to guilt her into coming to bed. But instead, he turned and walked off toward their bedroom.

She blinked, sitting up slightly. Had she actually taken it too far this time?

A minute later, she heard footsteps padding back down the hallway. Lando returned with an armful of pillows and the big blanket from their bed, dragging it all toward the couch like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“What are you doing?” she asked, trying not to laugh as he started arranging everything.

“Making up our bed,” he replied, fluffing a pillow and placing it at one end of the couch. “Since you’re set on sleeping here, I guess this is where we’re sleeping.”

She stared at him, completely caught off guard.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said through a small laugh. “You can go sleep in the bed, Lan. I didn’t say you had to sleep out here with me.”

“I know,” he said, shrugging as he smoothed out the blanket. “But I don’t want to sleep without you. So either we move to the bedroom, or I’m staying here.”

He looked up at her, eyes a little tired, a little soft. “Unless… are you mad at me? Did I do something?”

That was it. The guilt hit her instantly, followed by a wave of affection.

She sat up and grabbed his hand, pulling him into a hug, burying her face into his shoulder as she smiled. “It was a joke, baby. I was just messing with you,” she murmured. “But you’re so sweet, it actually hurts.”

Lando groaned dramatically, wrapping his arms around her like he was melting into her. “I hate you sometimes,” he muttered, but he was already smiling.

She pulled back just enough to kiss his cheek. “You love me.”

He sighed like it was the most obvious truth in the world. “Yeah. Yeah, I really do.”

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

Rent is due

Ever since moving in together, Lando had made one thing painfully clear—Y/N was not to worry about rent. No matter how many times she offered, no matter how many spreadsheets she pulled up with her “budget breakdown,” he stood firm, arms crossed, shaking his head with a smug little grin. Her only job? Groceries. And even then, he often tried to sneakily pay for those too, claiming he “accidentally” tapped his card first.

That particular afternoon, she was elbows deep in flour and chocolate chips, humming to herself as she shaped the final batch of cookies. The apartment smelled like warm sugar and vanilla, and her camera was cleverly hidden behind a canister of flour, angled perfectly to catch his reaction.

She had seen the trend on TikTok a few days earlier: partners telling their significant others they couldn’t pay their half of the rent. And while technically she didn’t pay any rent to begin with, she knew Lando would absolutely fall for it.

The moment she got his text, “Be home in 5. Want 3 cookies. Minimum.”, she put her plan into motion.

As if on cue, the door clicked open and she heard the familiar sound of keys hitting the entryway bowl.

“In the kitchen!” she called out, casually sliding a warm cookie onto a plate like she hadn’t been plotting for days.

Lando walked in seconds later, still in his hoodie and cap, hair a little messy from his sim session. His eyes lit up the second he saw the cookies, practically tossing his keys onto the counter.

“They’re still warm,” she said sweetly, offering him one. “I’m about to put the last batch in.”

He took a bite, groaning dramatically as he leaned over the counter, melting like he hadn’t eaten in weeks. “You’re actually a witch,” he mumbled through the cookie. “A dangerous, cookie-making sorceress.”

She giggled and kept scooping dough onto the tray, timing her moment perfectly.

“I do have to tell you something though,” she said, lowering her voice just a touch and furrowing her brows for maximum effect.

Lando glanced up, still chewing, immediately on alert. “Okay… what’s up?”

She hesitated, pretending to avoid his eyes, fingers fiddling with the cookie dough scoop. “I, um… I don’t think I can pay rent this month.”

He blinked. “What?”

“I had to use the money for something else. It was urgent. I’m really sorry.”

“Baby… baby.” Lando sets his half-eaten cookie down slowly, like he’s afraid any sudden movements might make things worse. He gently takes the spoon from her hand, brows drawn together in full confusion.

“What are you talking about? Since when do you pay rent?” he asks, voice calm but clearly alarmed.

She looks him straight in the eye, her expression painfully serious. “Since I moved in. I’ve just… been sending my half directly to the landlord.”

Lando stares at her, blinking slowly. “What do you mean the landlord?”

She shrugs, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. “I messaged her when I first moved in, asked for her payment details. Been paying her every month since.”

His jaw drops, cookie forgotten in his hand. “Wait. Elodie? Elodie from downstairs? Our Elodie?!”

She nods casually, scooping more cookie dough like she didn’t just drop a bomb.

“Babe…” He drags a hand down his face, the kind of motion that screams I’m too pretty to be this stressed. “I pay her. I’ve been paying her. Full rent. On autopay. Every month.”

“Well,” she says with a shrug, “so have I.”

He groans, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Okay. Nope. I’m messaging her right now. She’s either been robbing us blind or you’ve been sending money to some random woman impersonating our landlord.”

Her eyes widen. “Wait—Lando. Lando, I was joking. It’s a prank, baby. A TikTok thing! Don’t message her!”

He freezes, thumb hovering over his screen. He slowly lifts his eyes to hers, blinking like he’s buffering. “You’re kidding?”

She nods, bursting into laughter. “Yes! Oh my god, you looked like you were about to write an angry landlord Yelp review.”

Lando tosses his phone onto the counter like it personally betrayed him. “Fuck me,” he mutters, picking up his half-eaten cookie and dramatically biting into it. “I genuinely thought we were bankrolling a secret apartment downstairs.”

She’s still laughing when he points the cookie at her. “You owe me. I want another dozen of these. For emotional damages.”

“Done,” she giggles, walking over to kiss his cheek. “Sorry for the stress, landlord.”

He groans again. “I swear, if I ever hear the word rent come out of your mouth again, I'm billing you in cookies.”

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

Watch it

After weeks of watching Lando get relentlessly pranked by his girlfriend, and loving every second of it, Max Fewtrell finally slid into her messages with a proposal.

“Tag me in for the next one. I’ve got ideas.”

They landed on a viral couple's prank: the partner’s best friend acts rude to the girlfriend to see how the boyfriend reacts. Simple. Effective. Potentially explosive.

The perfect setup unfolded one chill evening in Lando’s gaming room. All three were squeezed into frame on Max’s Twitch stream, headsets on, fingers flying over their keyboards as they played a chaotic round of Repo together.

Midway through a match, Max dramatically slammed his headset on the desk. “Fucking hell, mate, can we take five? My ears are bleeding from the strategic nonsense I’m hearing.”

He and Y/N exchanged a quick smirk. Game on.

“I’m gonna get some water,” Max said, standing up with a loud stretch.

“Could you get me some too?” she asked sweetly.

Max scoffed like she’d just asked him to run a marathon. “What do I look like, your butler? Get it yourself.”

Lando looked up so fast he nearly dropped his phone. His eyes flicked from Max to Y/N, brows furrowing. “I’ll get you water, baby,” he said immediately, standing and brushing past Max with a suspicious glance.

Max bit his lip to stop from laughing. Phase one: complete.

Back at their seats, they dove into another match. That’s when Max really turned it up.

“Christ, are you even trying?” he snapped at her mid-round. “It’s like playing with a blindfolded hamster.”

Y/N bit her cheek to keep from laughing.

Lando didn’t even blink. “Nah, she’s doing great. You just suck at support, mate.”

Max rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t pop out. “Support? I’m carrying this team!”

Still no reaction.

So Max went nuclear.

Another loss. Another dramatic sigh. “Right. I’m done. Y/N, Fuck You’re like deadweight”

Lando froze. His entire vibe shifted.

“Max.”

His voice was low. Too low.

Max blinked innocently. “What? She knows she’s bad.”

“No, mate,” Lando said, leaning forward, elbows on the desk, stare locked on Max like he was calculating how long it would take to physically throw him out. “Don’t talk to her like that. Seriously. You've been a dick the whole stream.”

Max tried to hold it together. “Mate, relax. I’m just saying—”

“I don’t care,” Lando snapped, slamming the mute button on the mic. “You don’t get to act like a complete twat just because we’re on stream. You think it’s funny to shit on her all night? Grow the fuck up.”

Max’s eyes widened as he looked over to Y/N for a lifeline.

Lando caught that too. “Don’t look at her! Apologize. Now.”

At that, Max and Y/N burst into uncontrollable laughter.

Lando’s mouth fell open. “You’re joking.”

Max clutched his stomach, wheezing. “Mate. I thought you were about to physically eject me from the chair. Like WWE style.”

Y/N was doubled over laughing, wiping tears from her eyes.

Lando just leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, jaw tight. “I can’t believe I fell for that. You two are insufferable”

Max unmuted the mic, letting the stream hear their chaotic laughter. The chat was already spamming “PRANKED” and “protective Lando mode”

“I’m still sweating,” Max panted. “That vein in your forehead? It had its own heartbeat.”

Lando groaned. “You know what? Next time you both prank me, I’m calling your mum, Max. I swear.”

Y/N giggled, wrapping her arm around Lando. “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

“I was ready to throw him out the apartment” Lando smirked, finally cracking.

[science-hoes]

You Are In Love: Chapter One

Jack Abbot x Reader

Warnings: canon-typical medical descriptions, a dad joke, VERY FLUFFY

Chapters: Chapter One, Chapter Two

Description: Jack needs the reader to help him with a VIP patient, but she soon learns about his chosen family.

——

Jack Abbot was the reason you wanted to go into emergency medicine. Watching him under pressure was like watching an Olympian in their medal-winning sport. He handled every case with control and diligence, and that lured you into the specialty even more. It only took one medical school rotation with him to know that you wanted to play the game.

So now, in your third month of your internship, you spent nearly every moment with Jack Abbot on the night shift. You rarely had a different attending. The scheduling gods seemed to be in your favor. Of course, you had gotten to know everyone else on staff. You had made friends with the other residents and attendings. Dana had become your favorite charge nurse. Even the social workers were happy to see you walk through the doors.

You arrived an hour early for your night shift, hoping to practice some more suturing in the skills lab before shift change. Just as you were about to escape the doctors lounge and head to the lab, a voice called out behind you.

“Hey, kid, I could use your help.”

You turned to see Jack pulling a pair of gloves off and tossing them in the trash. “Oh, hi.” You replied as you walked toward him. “What are you doing here this early?”

Jack raised an eyebrow, that smug asshole smile on his face. “I could ask you the same.”

You shrugged. “I was gonna go to the skills lab and suture. But not if you need me.”

He nodded and pressed a hand on your back as he lead you to one of the Central rooms. “We have a VIP.” He explained.

He swung the curtain open to reveal a little girl with long, dark hair and big brown eyes. You’d seen those eyes before…

“Uncle Jack!” The five year old exclaimed at the sight of your attending.

It was like magic, the way Jack’s usual stoic demeanor turned into one that would rival a Disney hero. “Hey, princess!” He returned her enthusiasm, a wide grin on his face. He dropped to his knees in front of the child and grabbed her tiny hands in his. “What are you doing here, huh?” He took a quick glance at the mother, who was holding a small blue bundle in her arms.

“I’m hurt.” The child replied, albeit vaguely.

The young woman let out a strained sigh. “We were at the park, and Eliza jumped out of the swing when she saw some older kids do it. Landed on her arm.” She explained.

Jack nodded, giving a don’t-blame-yourself look to her. Then his eyes flicked back to Eliza. “Can I see your arm, please?” He asked, a voice so gentle that it had to have been someone else’s. A moment of hesitation from the child. Then a head-tilt from the silver-haired man. “Uncle Jack is gonna make it all better.” He promised.

That seemed to convince her because she slowly, feebly presented her swollen arm. Jack delicately held the arm in his hands and examined it.

“Bump her up to next in line on X-ray. We’ll get her some IV morphine to help her relax. Could need realignment and screws.” He said to you.

Just as you were about to walk out of the room, you bumped into someone rushing into the room. A mumbled apology was the only thing you heard before a shrill “Daddy!”

You turned to see Michael Robinavitch kneeling to the ground in front of the little girl. “Hey, sweetheart!” He greeted.

Oooh. VIP. This was Robby’s family. The patient was Robby’s daughter. You left while the family reunited to order the X-Ray. When you turned to enter the room again, Dana was leading Robby’s wife, who held a tiny baby, to the cafeteria.

“X-Ray order is in. Next in line.” You announced to the attendings.

Jack gave you a thumbs up. He was sorting out the materials needed for IV morphine. He pulled the butterfly needle out of the packaging, and like clockwork, Eliza began to cry. Robby knelt to meet his daughter’s eyes, the ones that were a perfect mirror of his. “Sweetheart, look at me. Look at me.” He whispered. “We have to get you the medicine so your arm will stop hurting, okay? Just a quick poke.”

Eliza shook her head, more tears streaming down her face. “Daddy, please, don’t do it.” She begged. “Don’t hurt me.”

And if you’d never seen a man’s heart break in real time, the look on Robby’s face would be ingrained in your memory forever. His body seemed to go limp at his daughter’s words, unable to insert the needle if he tried. Jack quickly intervened, kneeling next to Robby. “Daddy isn’t gonna hurt you.” He assured the child. “He’s gonna hold you while Uncle Jack gives you the medicine. Does that sound okay?”

Eliza still continued to cry. You remember being her age and having a paralyzing fear of needles. So, you stepped forward to distract from the two pathetic men on the ground. “Hey, baby. I’m gonna show you how it works, okay?” You said.

You grabbed the blue elastic tie from the tray and wrapped it around your forearm. “First, Uncle Jack is gonna wrap this around your arm. It’s gonna give you a big hug for a few minutes!”

You picked up the alcohol swab package and opened it. “Then, he is just going to give your hand a little bath to get it all clean. Like this.” You said, swiping the wipe across the back of your hand. “See? All clean!”

You tossed the wipe and grabbed the J-tip, pressing it on the cleaned part of your hand. “Then, he’s going to give you a stamp that makes your hand tingle. What’s your favorite soda?” You continued.

Eliza followed your every move with an intense curiosity. “Sprite.” She sniffled.

You smiled. “When Uncle Jack gives you the stamp, it’s going to sound like you’re opening a Sprite can. It’s just air.” You explained.

Eliza nodded, rubbing chubby fingers across her wet eyes. You reached for the butterfly needle after placing the J-tip back on the tray. “Last, he’s going to let this little butterfly give you a kiss where the stamp was.” You finished, inserting the needle into one of your own veins. “See? It doesn’t hurt!” You lied through your teeth. It always hurt more to get an IV on the back of your hand, but that was Eliza’s best bet.

You yanked the blue tie off your arm, then removed the butterfly needle. “Think you can let Uncle Jack try now?” You asked.

Eliza didn’t answer, but she didn’t protest either. You smiled, motivated mostly by pride, and looked to your senior attendings. Both men stared back at you. Robby with a look of relief, mostly because you got his daughter to calm down. But Jack…you couldn’t read the look on his face. He broke your gaze to pat Robby on the back, standing up with him.

“Alright, princess, let’s get you that medicine.” He said, grabbing a fresh butterfly needle.

Robby sat on the bed, crossing his legs, and pulled Eliza carefully into his lap. He cradled the little girl in his arms, using his free hand to smooth her dark hair as she whimpered. “Shh…Daddy’s got you.” He soothed.

Eliza melted into her father’s embrace, blinking slowly when he brushed stray tears from her reddened cheeks. Jack tenderly grabbed her uninjured arm and wrapped the blue tie around her forearm still loose. “Alright, Eliza. You’re about to feel that big hug, okay?” He explained, then pulled the blue tie snug.

A small sound of discomfort escaped the child, but she remained docile in her father’s arms. Jack traced the tiny veins on the back of her hand and found his target. When he turned around to reach for an alcohol swab, you already had it ready for him with an outstretched hand. For a brief moment, Jack was caught off guard, but he took the swab from your palm, fingers brushing against the sensitive skin for a beat longer than normal.

“Now, let’s give your hand that cold bath.” He said.

Jack rubbed the wipe across his tiny workspace, and Eliza let out the smallest, softest giggle. Robby smiled, probably for the first time since he stepped foot into the room. “That tickle? Yeah?” He teased. Eliza nodded, just a little bit.

“You ready for that Sprite can sound?” Jack asked, once again reaching, and you already met him halfway with the J-tip.

“Yeah.” Eliza whispered, her face half nuzzled into Robby’s chest, but still enough to keep an eye on Jack’s movements.

Jack placed the J-tip over the vein he wanted, and just like you said, it sounded like a can of Sprite opening, minus the sugary fizz that followed. Eliza jerked her hand pack at the odd sensation of carbon dioxide shooting across her skin. Robby reached his finger under her palm for her to grasp, and she did, just like she always had since she was born.

“See? That wasn’t so bad.” He said softly.

Jack rubbed the spot on the back of her hand. “Once it starts working, we’re gonna let that butterfly land on it, okay?” He explained.

“And it will give me a kiss?” Eliza asked, looking to you, her source of information.

Jack and Robby both chuckled, and the latter pressed a kiss to her hair. “Yeah, just like that.” He replied.

Eliza giggled, but in her joy, she shifted and moved her broken arm. The laughs quickly turned to screams of pain again, and Jack winced.

“Oh, you gotta be still, princess. We’re almost ready for the medicine.” He said. Then, he leaned in, like he was trying to keep his voice from Robby’s earshot. “You know, if you keep being a brave girl, once you’re all healed up, you can come to my house and go swimming.” His voice was playfully sly.

The cries reduced, just a little. “I can?” She blubbered.

Jack nodded. “Sure. As long as your mommy and daddy say it’s okay.” He replied, glancing up at Robby, hoping he didn’t just make a promise outside of his power.

Robby smiled and nodded. “Of course. You need to show Uncle Jack how you can swim without floaties now.” He said.

Jack’s eyes blew comically wide. “Without floaties? Only big girls can swim without floaties.”

Eliza nodded, her bottom lip still quivering, but a glint of pride was in her eyes. The same one you’d seen in Robby’s eyes many times. “Can Abby come, too?” She asked.

Jack nodded, a smile playing at his lips. “Absolutely. We’ll have a pool party.” He reached back for the butterfly needle, and once again, the brush of your fingers against his. He kept it out of Eliza’s view, continuing to hold her hand. “Your daddy and I will grill some hamburgers and hot dogs. You can teach Abby how to swim. We’ll invite Nana, too.”

Eliza didn’t even flinch when Jack inserted the butterfly needle. You carefully concealed your morphine syringe and connected it to the line. But just as you could see her entire body relax in Robby’s arms from the push of meds, she looked to you with those big brown eyes. “Are you gonna come to the pool party?” She asked.

You froze, unsure of how to answer. Does an invitation from a five-year-old have enough warrant to show up at your boss’ house? Jack placed a hand on your back, lower than he probably meant to. “Yes, she’ll be there, too.” He confirmed for you.

You snapped your head to his direction. Those hazel eyes bore into you, and you couldn’t find the words to respond. In that silence, he winked at you, a smug smile on his face.

“Uncle Jack, she’s pretty.” The little voice broke your small moment.

Your eyes widened, heat crawling up your neck. Robby let out an involuntary sound, a mixture of a laugh and a choke. But Jack never looked away from you. In fact, he doubled down with, “I know.”

Before you could melt away in a puddle of embarrassment and giddiness, the curtain swung open, revealing Dana and Robby’s wife, still cradling a tiny bundle.

“Nana!” Eliza sluggishly squealed.

Dana leaned over and gently tickled Eliza’s shoulders. “There’s my girl!” She exclaimed.

You tilted your head, confused by the connection. “Nana?” You questioned.

Robby chuckled. “Eliza couldn’t say ‘Dana’ when she was little, so she kept calling her Nana.” He explained.

Dana gave you a stern but playful look. “Keep in mind that I am not old enough to be a real Nana.” She stated.

Jack raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “I know plenty of people your age who are grandmothers.” He said.

Dana pointed a finger at him and jabbed his chest. “How would you like to lose another foot?” She threatened.

Your jaw dropped at the comment. That wasn’t allowed, right? Surely, that crossed some kind of line. But Jack just chuckled and swiped her hand away.

“I’d love to. I’ll be one step closer to becoming a robot.” He replied. “Literally.”

Robby’s wife groaned at the unfortunate pun. “Please, stop. I already have to listen to Robby and his dad jokes.” She begged.

Robby grinned proudly. “Yeah, leave it to the professionals.” He teased, but his eyes moved to the bundle his wife was holding. “How’s my little man doing?” He asked.

She smiled and moved to sit on the bed next to Robby and Eliza. “He’s been a sleepy boy all day. Better than testing out his lungs though.” She leaned her head on her husband’s shoulder as she spoke. “How’s my big girl?”

Eliza grinned sheepishly when her mom reached to gently pinch her rosy cheeks. “Uncle Jack said we can have a pool party at his house.” She stated, beginning to slur her words in sleepiness. “He said Nana can come. And he said Abby can come.”

Dana chuckled. “Still calling him Abby, huh?” She asked.

Robby smiled, shifting so that Eliza could rest horizontally as she began to doze off. “We’re working on it.” He answered. “Somewhere she learned that nickname. Can’t imagine from who.” He joked.

Jack huffed and moved to where Robby’s wife sat, offering his pinky to the baby boy’s tiny hand, activating his palmar grasp reflex. “Have they been desecrating our name, buddy?” He asked, a lilt in his voice. “Us Abbots are fighters. We don’t take shit from anybody.”

Dana’s swat at Jack’s shoulder for cursing in front of Eliza and his following defense of “She’s asleep!” didn’t distract you from your new piece of information.

“He’s an Abbot?” You questioned, a feeling of warmth in your chest.

Robby’s wife smiled. “Michael Abbot Robinavitch. We stuck with Michael for about a week, but…” She trailed off, looking to her husband.

Robby’s shoulders hunched a bit. “She calls me Michael when I’m in trouble. I got a little scared every time she said his name.” He admitted, but his smile remained. “So we settled on Abbot.”

Jack carefully cradled Abbot as Robby’s wife passed him over. His tanned biceps that strained against the sleeves of his scrub top made the baby look incredibly small. He slowly walked over to you, his right foot stepping heavier as usual, his eyes focused on the baby. A deep smile graced his lips. And just on the edges framing the smile were huge dimples. You wanted to save that image forever. You brushed a finger against the baby’s tiny hand, smiling when he moved in response.

Meanwhile, Robby was elbowed by his wife, who exchanged an excited but knowing glance with Dana at the sight of you and Jack sharing that unintentionally tender moment. All he did was nod in response, eyebrows raised in a silent confirmation.

“Why Abbot? Is Jack that important?” You teased.

Dana threw her hands up in exasperation. “Thank you!” She said. “That’s what I said. I’m still waiting for a little Dana.”

“Working on it.” Robby said with a wink, quickly receiving an elbow in the ribs from his wife.

“Michael!” His wife hissed.

Robby cowered slightly at his birth name. Jack nodded his head towards them. “See? That’s why this is Abbot.” He said.

You giggled and gently ran a hand over the baby’s soft hair near his forehead, afraid to venture too far back towards the fontanelle. “Well, Abbot is very cute.” You complimented.

A simultaneous “Thank you” filled the room. One genuine, from Robby’s wife. The other facetious, from Jack. Laughter filled the room, and you felt oddly a part of a family. Their family.

Perlah entered the room with a pediatric wheelchair. “X-ray is ready for Eliza.” She said, smiling at the sight before her.

Robby stood carefully, holding his daughter snug against his chest. “I’ll go with her. We can walk.” He said and followed Perlah out of the room.

As if it were a snap back to reality, Jack walked back over to Robby’s wife and carefully transferred Abbot back to her arms. “I’m gonna go check on that DUI kid in Central Four.” He said before looking over to you. “Go ahead and get the cast materials ready. She’s gonna want pink.”

Jack left the room, holding onto the ends of his stethoscope as he walked. You found yourself frozen for a moment, processing everything that had happened in the last thirty minutes or so. Someone cleared their throat, and you snapped your head in that direction, embarrassment coursing through your veins.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” You said, moving to the drawers of the room quickly to grab the liner and plaster.

Robby’s wife looked to Dana with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. Dana nodded, intercepting her question in the air.

“So, what do you think of Abbot?” She asked.

You smiled, bringing the supplies back to the tray near the bed. “He looks just like Robby.” You answered.

Dana rolled her eyes. “No, not Dana Jr.” She deadpanned, then nodded her head toward the Pitt. “The Lieutenant Colonel.”

Your hands froze where they were, sorting out the supplies. Slowly you looked up, and you were met with both women staring intently at you. “Oh, Doctor Abbot…” You corrected yourself. “He’s nice.”

“Do you think he’s cute?” Robby’s wife immediately responded.

Dana gave her a look of way-to-blow-our-cover. You let out a nervous laugh. “I mean, yeah. But he’s way older than me. And we work together.” You answered, using your answers to ground yourself as to why your crush was a dead end.

Robby’s wife shrugged. “So? Robby is almost 20 years older than me. And we work together.” She countered.

You tilted your head. “Wait, you work here? In emergency?” You asked.

She smiled and nodded. “Yeah. I’ve been on maternity leave.” She explained.

“Ohhhh.” You drew out, finally connecting the dots.

Dana smiled. “See? So what are your other excuses?” She pried.

You laughed slightly and shrugged. “I guess I don’t know if he’s interested.” You replied.

The two women shared another glance, debating on revealing any other information. “But you are?” Robby’s wife asked.

You smiled slightly, looking down at your hands. “Who wouldn’t be?”

The conversation ended there when Robby reentered the room with a slightly awake Eliza. “Distal radius fracture. No surgery.” He announced.

His wife let out a sigh of relief and smiled when her husband sat next to her again, still cradling the little girl. “That means we can all go home tonight.” She said, pressing her forehead to Robby’s shoulder.

—

After you followed Jack’s careful instruction while shaping the cast on Eliza’s arm, the little girl begged everyone to sign it. By the time she left with her family, there was a “Mommy”, “Daddy”, “Nana”, and your name with a smiley face on the hot pink wrapping. And as soon as you finished writing your name, Jack had snatched the sharpie from your hand, scrawling “Uncle Jack” right next to your signature.

As you watched the Robinavitches leave the Pitt, you found yourself smiling. You wanted that. The devoted parents, the precious children, the caring friends who became family.

You knew Jack was approaching by the uneven foot pattern, but you didn’t turn around. “You think I’m pretty?” You asked.

He stood by your side, brushing his thick shoulder against your frame, looking down at you with a trace of a smile. “I’d be a fool to think otherwise.” He answered honestly.

You looked up to meet his gaze. Those bourbon eyes were intoxicating, but you fought to maintain eye contact. “You’re really great with kids.” You complimented. “Eliza loves you.”

His smile deepened to a sincere one you weren’t used to seeing. “Thank you.”

The stare off continued. “Do you want kids?” You blurted out, and you nearly clamped your hand over your mouth at the word vomit.

Jack tilted his head, smile unfaltering. “If I find the right person to have them with.” He replied, leaning down closer to you just slightly. “Before I turn to dust.”

You laughed and nudged him with your shoulder. He laughed with you and crossed his arms, the muscles rippling across his skin. You didn’t notice when he leaned down, his lips dangerously close to your ear.

“What you did in there with Eliza. Walking her through the process. Got her to stop crying. Good job.” He whispered lowly.

The hair on your neck stood at attention at the praise, and you could feel his hot breath on your skin. You tried to brush off the feeling. “Thanks, Doctor Abbot.” You replied.

His face twitched when you called him by his last name, like he forgot you were his intern and not his. “Jack.” He corrected you.

You looked up to him again, taking in another drink of his eyes. There was vulnerability this time. “Jack.” You repeated in a whisper. “I didn’t know you had dimples.”

It was Jack’s turn to get flustered. “What do you mean?” He asked, and you could see the red creeping up his freckled neck.

You gently poked at his cheeks where the divots had appeared earlier. “You have dimples when you smile. It’s really cute.” You teased.

You could see the muscles in his face actively working to hold back a smile. He shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t smile.” He answered as seriously as he could.

You wrapped your hands around his bicep and rested your head on his shoulder. “It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone. It’ll be our secret.”

And the smile Jack held back flooded onto his face. Dimples and all. He placed a hand over yours and pressed a gentle kiss to your hair. Nobody said another word. You didn’t have to. You could hear it in the silence.

——

A/N: this is probably gonna get a Part 2 featuring the pool party because I can’t help myself. Also this can technically be a Robby x Reader fic because I intentionally didn’t give his wife a name so you can have the best of both worlds here 💙

[novelistwriter]

The Undead Shop Owner

DP x DC Prompt

The shop, Nightingale Services, has been around since the start of Batman's Vigilante work. The owner, Daniel Altair, is a young man who has stayed looking like he is in his early 20s, despite the many years that had passed, with the appearance of the newest Stabby Robin, Nightingale Services is going ti he requested by the Bat to help with training him, like with all the other times he was requested to do so with the other birdies and sidekicks and the Bat himself.

The Bats and even the Rogues of Gotham had tried to figure out who Daniel Altair was before he came to Gotham. When the Metahumans started appearing, the Gothamites just thought that Daniel Altair was a meta with powers related to aging, none of them questioned his pale skin, sharp fangs, and a Thermos that's always filled with a red liquid.

Nightingale Services is a neutral zone, given that Daniel Altair has stated so many times while escorting beaten goons, rogues, and occasionally a vigilante in the past, the most memorable ones were Daniel tossing the Joker in a dumpster after the Clown tried to do something to the store owner, and Batman being calmly escorted off of Daniel's property with a warning, with Batman having some visible injuries, despite the night just starting that day.

Danny had escaped his home, leaving it for the Infinite Realms/Ghost Zone, and found his way to a new dimension. His parents didn't accept him being a Halfa. He wanted Jazz, Sam, and Tucker to be with him, but they had to stay behind to keep his parents and the GIW from trying anything.

He changed his last name to Altair, the brightest start in the Aquila constellation, and opened a store that would help fulfill his obsession, Nightingale Services. He would basically offer almost any type of service, cleaning, tutoring, business advice, managing group efforts he is paid to do, and training are some of them.

His first year in the new dimension had his biggest event being the Batman coming after him because of falsified evidence the Penguin left that painted Danny as the culprit for smuggling illegal stuff into Gotham. After that, Danny used some of his Ghost King inheritance to buy the Iceberg Lounge from the Penguin. He still has it, but the Penguin has a fraction of the place to earn some money from it when the Penguin stopped his attempts at ruining the new life Danny had after Danny showed the Penguin that he can and will kill the man if it continues, which he rewarded the man with the partial ownership of the Iceberg Lounge.

Then the Joker tried to get him to do things that would go against his obsession the next year. When he rejected the Jokers job offer, he had to beat up the Joker and tossed him into the dumpster next to his store.

Danny learned from Clockwork that his body is still connected to his home dimensions time flow, so he ages a lot slower in his new home, and the fact that he is compared to a vampire by the Hero community doesn't really bother him, he already proved he isn't one of the malevolent ones with the help from a British Magician that is the source of his headaches from his Ghost King paperwork.

Danny had to deal with each new batfamily member when they appeared. He gave closure to both Bruce and Dick with their parents, gave Jason a charm that would protect him from a fatal incident, gave Barbara a concoction that could heal any wound, slightly messed with Tim whenever the kid tried to learn about his past, out pranked Stephanie whenever she tried to prank him, plays a version of tag with Cassandra that involves them both sneaking up on each other, gave Duke some advice for his powers, and now he is tasked with both being a training instructor to Damian and getting the kid to be less high and mighty about himself.

[moralityandmusings]

DP x DC: STOP FUCKING WITH TIME!

Barry Allen was a pro at the hero gig at this point. He'd stopped Reverse Flash, he'd kind of adopted his child who time-jumped from the future with minimal anomalies, dealt with cross-dimensional gorillas, and had recently managed to secure himself a spot on the Justice League. He was confident that he was pretty good at all this.

He was not, however, confident about how this child (teenager?) managed to sneak into his apartment.

Said child (teen?) was currently lounging on his sofa, fiddling with the remote for the television, and pointedly not making eye contact with Barry.

And Barry had just come in using his powers.

"What- uh. What are you doing here?" Barry questioned, slowly putting down the bag of groceries containing the chips he was asked to bring for the cookout at the West's house later that night.

"Dude, why do you even pay for cable? There's literally nothing on to watch! Look at this: cooking channel, news, minor league sports, news, news, black and white movies, ugh! This is a waste of your money." The kid didn't move from his relaxed position on the couch.

"To be fair, I rarely have the time to sit and watch any shows nowadays, but I can take that into consideration." Barry calmly said as he started inching towards the seat beside the sofa.

The kid seemed to ponder that for a second, actually pausing his aimless flicking through the channels.

"I guess that would make sense. Can't save the world and watch soap operas at the same time, can you?" The kid smirked at him, finally looking his direction. Barry stilled at the edge of the sofa, shocked by the statement. Now that he was closer he saw several unsettling things. One, the kid wasn't actually laying on the sofa, he was floating about an inch above the cusions. Two, The kids shocking white hair was moving as though there was a breeze blowing through it, but there was no airflow in the apartment. The AC was not even running at that moment. Three, the kids eyes had lasered in on him, and those eyes were a vibrant, glowing green. It was unnatural. All of it was.

"I'm not sure I know what you're talking about kid." Barry stated. "Yeah, sure. Now you'll tell me that you aren't about to hit the panic button that Cisco and Caitlin installed in your earpiece."

Barry's hand, which had been coming up to his head to play off hitting his earpiece's panic alarm by pretending to rub at his neck and face out of stress, paused halfway up.

"How do you know about that?" Barry stuttered out.

"Oh, same way I know a lot of things. Not something you should worry about right now though." The kid shrugged and started flipping through the channels again.

Barry, admitting defeat somewhat, sunk into the armchair across from the sofa.

"Right now?" He sighed out.

"Oh no, definitely not right now." The kid smiled with teeth that were a little too sharp and a mouth a little too wide to be fully human. A meta, maybe?

"No, Flash, right now you should definitely be more concerned about what my friend ClockWork wants me to do with you if you don't STOP FUCKING WITH TIME!"

[zhelin-thames]

Bruce has another kid........but this one is not adopted #2

Danny lounged on the couch in the Batcave, his feet propped up as he casually flipped through some of Bruce’s files. Damian stood nearby, arms crossed, scowling.

“It doesn’t matter,” Damian huffed. “I am Father’s heir. It is my birthright.”

Danny smirked, glancing at him over the top of the tablet. “Hate to break it to you, little bro, but I’m older. By all of three minutes, but hey, it still counts.”

“You have no proof,” Damian snapped, his voice sharp.

“Actually,” Tim interjected, walking in with a file in hand, “it’s right here. Clockwork dropped the records off yesterday. Danny’s technically the firstborn.”

Damian’s face twisted into a mix of shock and outrage. “This is preposterous! I trained for years in the League to be the heir. He—” Damian gestured at Danny, who was now grinning smugly, “—is a half-ghost nomad raised by peasants!”

“Whoa, peasants?” Danny said, holding up his hands. “I’ll have you know I was raised by two highly educated ghost hunters who built portals to alternate dimensions in their basement. So technically, I was raised by nerds.”

Jason, leaning against the wall, barked out a laugh. “This just keeps getting better.”

Things escalated when Danielle made her debut in Gotham. She’d been causing a bit of chaos in Amity Park, and Danny figured bringing her to the Manor might help her channel her energy.

When Dani strutted into the Batcave, grinning like a gremlin with her wild energy, the reactions were... mixed.

“She’s my clone,” Danny explained, his tone casual. “But I kinda see her more like a daughter.”

“Daughter?” Damian repeated, his voice low and dangerous. “You... have a daughter?”

Dani, ever the instigator, threw her arms around Danny’s waist. “Yup! My Dad’s the best!” she chirped, shooting a cheeky grin at Damian. “He’s way cooler than you, by the way.”

Damian bristled, his hands curling into fists. “You’re barely older than me, yet you have already claimed an heir?” His voice trembled with a mix of indignation and something close to panic.

Danny raised an eyebrow. “She’s not an ‘heir.’ She’s just... Dani. And technically, she’s my clone, not my biological kid. It’s complicated.”

But Damian was already lost in his own spiraling thoughts.

Late that night, Damian approached Jason. “Todd,” he said, his tone serious. “I require your assistance.”

Jason blinked. “Uh, with what?”

“I must find a suitable candidate to bear my child.”

Jason stared at him for a long moment before bursting into laughter. “You’re joking. Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I am not,” Damian replied, his expression unyielding. “If Daniel has already produced a successor, then I must act swiftly to secure my own lineage.”

Jason clutched his stomach, wheezing. “Oh, man, this is rich. Demon Spawn wants to have a baby just to one-up his ghost brother.”

“It is not a matter of one-upmanship,” Damian insisted, though the faint pink tinge in his cheeks said otherwise.

The next morning, Danny caught wind of Damian’s... ambition. He found his younger twin in the training room, furiously sparring with a practice dummy.

“Hey, Dames,” Danny said, leaning against the doorframe.

“Do not call me that,” Damian growled, landing a particularly vicious strike on the dummy.

Danny held up his hands. “Okay, okay. But I heard a little rumor. Something about you wanting to, uh, find a lady to have a kid with?”

Damian froze mid-strike, then turned to glare at Danny. “Who told you that?”

Danny smirked. “Doesn’t matter. Look, man, you don’t need to go all ‘League heir’ about this. Dani’s not my biological kid. She’s a clone. Like, literally made from my DNA. I didn’t exactly sign up for the whole ‘parent’ thing—it just kinda happened.”

Damian’s glare softened slightly, though his posture remained stiff. “And yet, you claim her as your own.”

“Yeah, because she’s family,” Danny said simply. “She needed someone, so I stepped up. That’s what family does.”

Damian lowered his gaze, his fists unclenching. “I see.”

A few weeks later, Talia’s clone assassins made their move. But instead of eliminating them, Damian captured and brought them to the Manor.

“Father,” he declared, standing proudly before Bruce, “I have decided to take responsibility for these clones. They are my family, and I will train them to uphold the legacy of the League.”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “Damian—”

“Not bad, kid,” Jason said, clapping him on the back. “But you might want to workshop the pitch. Sounds a little murder-y.”

Tim groaned. “Great. Now we have more mini-Damians running around.”

Danny, watching from the sidelines with Dani by his side, couldn’t help but laugh. “Guess I’m rubbing off on him.”

“You think he’s doing this to one-up you?” Dani asked.

“Absolutely,” Danny replied, grinning. “And I love it.”

While the Bat-family adjusted to the sudden influx of clones, Danny and Damian’s relationship began to shift. Though their rivalry remained, it was tempered by a growing mutual respect.

“I still do not approve of your cavalier attitude,” Damian said one night as they patrolled Gotham together.

“And I still think you need to loosen up,” Danny shot back.

Damian huffed but didn’t argue. Deep down, he was starting to appreciate having an older brother who wasn’t afraid to challenge him—or support him.

And for Danny, seeing his once-distant twin slowly open up was worth all the sibling squabbles in the world.

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition)

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus (+ maybe the other MLs!) and an oblivious player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, maybe some suggestive language?? will add more tags as the story progresses A/N: This is gonna be a multi-chapter fic! I’m still not sure whether to do the boys in rotation, or just focus on one ML per series. Don’t take my word for it atp tho – I’m not even sure if I can actually finish a series lol.  Also, I’ve had the creative liberty of changing stuff from the actual gameplay here and there. (Except for the self-awareness. That’s most definitely real.) Hope you enjoy~!

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10 - Epilogue

It’s a quarter past eight and you’re still on your desk working overtime on a Friday night. 

You let out a big sigh, leaning back on your office chair after an unhealthy duration of bad posture from hours of slouching down in front of your computer. There’s nothing ergonomic about the way this job is killing you, and the ache in your lower back can attest to that. 

An irate orange tabby plops himself in front of you, blocking your view of the glaring screen and you figure that it’s time for a break. 

“Me-oow.”

“I know, I know,” You answer tiredly, standing up to dodge a stray paw clawing your way and you hear cracks in three different places that are honestly unbecoming of a woman your age. You haven’t even reached thirty yet, for god’s sake. “I’m a bad mother. But mom also had to skip dinner to make it to the seven PM meeting, so cut me some slack, okay?” 

A high-pitched “meooowr!” is the only response you get; it seems like there’s no excusing late dinner time this time around. 

As much as you’d like to hem and haw and complain, the main reason why you’re still keeping this job is because you can work remotely. If it weren’t for the fact that you’re stuck most days at home working hours past your regular nine to five, having to be on-call around the clock at all times, and that you’ve consumed more sodium than a nitrite victim with the way you live off cup ramen, then, really, it beats working in an office where you’d physically have to clock in and out from exactly nine to five. 

Your right eye twitches. No, I have not fallen in love with the system that exploits me, thank you very much. 

“Here is your Fancy Feast, your highness,” you tell the hungry feline who’s already ignoring the hand that feeds for the bowl full of white fish paté. He eats healthier than you, sure, but you work like this for him to eat like this. The life of a single mom is an uphill battle, but extremely rewarding. 

You raise your hand to pat your son’s head lovingly, aborting the gesture halfway when you hear a warning growl. Alright, tough crowd. 

After nuking a half-eaten takeout box in the microwave and grabbing a cold Bundaberg from the fridge, you hunker down on the “chaise lounge” (see: an old wingback and a rattan ottoman you’ve refurbished as a makeshift seat a few weeks back when you had guests over) for a late meal. 

You barely register the taste of lukewarm rice on your tongue, mouth moving mechanically while your mind runs on autopilot about everything and nothing at the same time. 

Maybe it’s time to check Jobstreet again

Is there like a laundromat near the area that’s open twenty four seven

Eugh, I hate cold peas

What do we feel about Chromakopia? 

I will… die alone

I really need to stock on some fresh produce this weekend—

Ping! 

A notification from your phone pulls you out of your thoughts—and like a well-trained dog pavlov’d into responding, you visibly perk up at the sight of your lock screen lighting up and the familiar banner you’ve already memorized by heart. 

Your Galaxy Explorer rewards are here. Did you put my hotel’s address as the shipping address? 

Ah, just like clockwork. 

You press on it with a quiet, bubbling anticipation, chewing on the plastic spork as you wait impatiently for the silly mobile game that’s been your short respite at intervals—for more than you’d care to admit—to boot up. 

Offhandedly, you wish that the devs would add more variations to the game’s push notifications; more random, personalized stuff like maybe a reminder to drink water, or a fun update about their day. What you’d give–pay–for a: "Less on the overtime, kitten. I miss you,” dialogue from a certain character, but you digress. 

Oh, well. Probably better this way, lest you dig yourself deeper into delusion. 

The game greets you with the usual picturesque view of a silver-haired man sitting cross-legged on a chair, looking all the bit at ease in his signature crimson and white button up. The warm ambience of the Destiny Café at night draws you in, already pulling your attention away from the never-ending stream of thoughts in your brain. 

“Before seeing you, I thought today would be another dull day,“ Sylus comments airily. The way he drawls out the words in that deep timbre of his voice never fails to make your heart flutter – just a teeeensy bit.

“Ever the charmer,” you sigh happily in return, situating yourself more comfortably on the sofa, almost horizontal from how far you’re leaning back on the cushion. “You’re looking awfully normal tonight. What, no pineapple glasses for your favorite girl?” 

Having bypassed the initial cringe of talking to yourself after literal months of gameplay, it almost comes off natural, the banter. You’ve already accepted the fact that you’re crazy about a fictional, pixelated man—what’s pretending to have actual conversations with him gonna do? It’s not as if he actually hears you yap your nonsense; there are worse things in the world than a parasocial attachment to an otome game character. 

Your little jab at the sometimes random addition to his choice of attire earns you a laugh from the man himself—or at least it looks as though it does, making you blink momentarily in surprise. Happy coincidence, I guess.

You shake your head, cracking a smile, then proceed to do the routine of completing the daily agenda and then some. 

It’s tedious business, sure. You’ve dedicated hours upon hours on this game and you’re honestly starting to feel pretty bored with some of the gameplay elements, but you *do* like the ritualistic nature of ticking off the tasks one by one. It’s almost ironic— the way you dutifully do one thing after the other in this game, just to avoid the pile of work that’s waiting for you in real life. 

It’s not as if anything, or anyone’s relying on you to do your daily log-ins, so you suppose it’s due to that lack of pressure as well. 

Pulling yourself away from the five-star Xavier memory card you’ve grinded to level seventy, you stare despondently at the sad little 2 on your remaining energy. The embarrassing amount of materials you lack to ascend the card seem to mock you, even as you exit the Memories window. Another goal for another day, perhaps.

All tasks on the daily agenda are complete, except for one that you’ve always saved for last.

You’re met with a standing Sylus on the game’s home screen, arms crossed and wearing an expression you’d almost describe as impatient, if you didn’t know any better. The sight makes you grin. 

Cheekily, you poke his crotch.

You’re looking forward to getting a playful remark, or if you’re lucky, a blush along with an embarrassed retort about your shamelessness. 

 What you get, however, is a resounding scoff. Your eyes snap back to his face – from, ahem, your prolonged staring at the area below his waist – and you do see the familiar tinge of pink on his cheeks, but what he says in response catches you off-guard.

“You spend that much resource for a card that isn’t mine?” Sylus tsks, both his voice and expression coming across as… affronted? “Kitten, I’m actually hurt.” 

Huh?

You haven’t heard that line from him before. Was there a recent update you weren’t aware of? The man in question then appears to look amused, from the way you’ve been rendered speechless by the unexpected dialogue. 

All at once, you gasp when you realize what the new response means. 

“That’s so smart,” you say giddily. You see Sylus cock his head to the side, synchronously quirking an eyebrow—expectant. “They actually added a feature that lets them know which memory I’ve upgraded last, and make you react to it. Oh, that’s so cool!” 

If you weren’t too busy being excited over what you think is a new update from the game,  you’d see the chagrined look on Sylus’ face. But when you glance back at him, all trace of the emotion is gone before you could notice anything different. 

“Don’t worry, Crow Man. You’re still my favorite,” you assure him, making his mouth tick upwards in a semblance of a smile. He looks pleased all of the sudden, his demeanor shifting into something more relaxed.

Then a pout forms on your face. You crinkle your nose in frustration as you complain, “It’s just really hard to level your cards up at this point. It takes ages and a shit ton of energy just to level you up past seventy five.” Sighing, you add, kind of bitterly, “And I’m too broke to be spending money on growth packs.” 

Checking the time on your phone, you see that you’ve already spent more than an hour on your self-imposed break time and you know that you ought to get back to work soon. With a groan, you pull yourself to sit upright, savoring the last few minutes of free time before you slave off for the rest of the night. 

You’re about to clean up what’s left of dinner when you notice the oddly thoughtful look on Sylus’ face. 

There’s a deep furrow in his brows as he brings a hand up to cover his mouth. He closes his eyes shut for a few seconds. He's never done that gesture before... Ugh, he looks really hot–

Suddenly, you see a flicker—then a weird, sort of graphic distortion happening in the background. Uh, what??

A beat; then a glitch on the screen. “Ah, shit.” 

The game crashes.

You exhale loudly as the game’s interface goes back to the loading screen, tapping your thumb impatiently as the bar slowly loads to 15%... 50%..... 81%....... 

“Maybe make sure to patch up first before releasing an update next time, jeez—huh?” 

For a quick second, nothing seems to be amiss. But then the first thing you see on the home screen is Sylus’ figure standing before you, wearing an expression one could only describe as a cat that ate the proverbial canary. 

He speaks— and it’s another intro you haven’t heard him say, ever. 

“You should’ve told me sooner, sweetie,” he almost coos the words out, making your eyes bug out in shock. 

“Now, why don’t you go check your–” he pauses, and his mouth moves as if he’s rolling the word out, testing it. “Inventory?” 

Sylus slides his gaze towards the upper left corner of the screen, a coy smirk still ever-present on his face. 

There, you see something you haven’t noticed earlier: two notification badges. One on your mailbox, and another on the Hunter’s Info tab. Bewildered, you press on the mail icon first, despite the insistence for you to start with the latter. 

You see a new message: [For You]

A small gift, to bridge our worlds closer. – S 

Nothing is attached to it. You read it twice, perplexed.  

“You’re quite the contradictorian, aren’t you?” Sylus tuts as soon as you return back to the home screen, his gaze boring into you even when he tilts his head sideways in mock exasperation. “Mmm, I suppose it doesn’t matter. Take all the time you need, sweetheart.” 

Helplessly, you open your inventory next. 

Your jaw drops. 

“What. The fuck,” You whisper to yourself, voice wavering in disbelief at what you’re seeing, and the sheer amount of what you’re seeing. “This—this can’t be real.” 

You see that all the materials you own, from the bottle of wishes to the ascension crystal boxes, have been multiplied a hundred times over.

And on top of that–

Ninety nine thousand red dias????

You cannot believe how this—this recent… update (or is it a bug? Infold sure isn’t this generous) didn't make the news. Even as someone as uninvolved as you are with the community and the game’s latest releases, something like this for sure would’ve made headlines on Twitter (X), at least. But you haven’t heard anything. Nada. 

Holy shit. 

You feel a little light-headed, both from incredulity and excitement. Needing a moment to calm yourself down, you exit the Inventory tab in a daze.

You stare at Sylus. He stares back at you with what looks to be mirth in his eyes. 

Skeptically, you mutter, “did–did I get hacked or something?” 

Anticipating another unexpected dialogue to prompt up, you wait for a full minute without saying anything else. And for a moment, the man in front of you looks indecisive, contemplative. 

There’s something very odd, very… human in the way he’s looking at you. He looks as if– as if he’s—

His face falls back into a neutral expression. Not unlike how his idle animation usually looks. 

..

…

….. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to initiate a conversation any time soon, so you hesitantly poke him on the nose. 

“Even in the worst-case scenario, there’s no need to panic.”

You’ve heard that one before.

So he’s back to normal now. You temper the small disappointment that blooms in your gut. 

Shaking your head slowly, you try to make sense of all the stuff that just happened, but a sharp bite on your ankle pulls you out of your reverie. 

“Ow–!” The sight of your cat flopping near your feet reminds you of the time. More importantly, the backlogs waiting for you at your desk. 

“Wait, shit– I gotta get back to work.” This… unbelievable stroke of good luck (?) is gonna have to take a backseat for now.

You grab the carton box and the half-empty bottle of sparkling peach as you stand up. Making quick work of throwing the container in the trash and gulping down the rest of your drink, you rush into your room and back in front of your PC. 

Cracking your knuckles, you gingerly set your phone against the monitor. Setting the timer to one hour in Quality Time, knowing fully-well that you’re going to have to keep extending it until the wee hours of the morning—or until your battery dies, whichever comes first—you give Sylus one last look, letting out a long exhale before locking in.

“Just keep me company for the night, alright? I’ll figure out what’s going on once my shift’s over.” 

-

It could just be your overactive imagination, but you swear you hear a quiet chuckle from the man polishing his gun in your peripheral.

[eraserbread]

growing old with kento pls🥺🥺

for your twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, kento got you a cat, a kitten, to be exact -- golden, like him, hazel eyes like him. he's your baby, taking over that space in your home that your daughter's move back to tokyo brought out.

just like he always wanted, kento retired early in malaysia, and tokyo's where your daughter chose to stay. school in the city was far more riveting than stewing away in a beachside cottage. and alone for the first time again in nineteen years, you had love to celebrate.

so, he hands you that little purring kitten as soon as you stumble out of bed, smiling at the gentle coos you're giving. looking at you in the rising sun reminds him of how you'd dote over your young daughter twenty years ago. he's always loved you, but seeing your motherhood bloom and grow out of you made him obsessed.

"awh, kento." you're pouting, holding the kitten to your heart. you're in a shorter nightgown, cut above the knees he leans down and closes his hands over. for a fifty-year-old man, that mobility has never gotten lost. in fact, you think he looks the best he's ever have -- greyed roots, shaved stubble, fine lines. so familiar.

"happy twenty-fifth." he replies, kissing over your knee. "been with you longer than I've been alone, now. our marriage's brain is finally fully developed."

"you're such a dad." you scoff, lovingly. "it's a boy? I'm gonna name him kento."

"don't. that's not a very creative name." he stands with a grunt, leaning towards to kiss your lips. little kitty purring between your chests, he lingers.

the only thing you got him for twenty-five years together was his steaming bowl of char kway teow he's hunching over as you head through a night market. you were supposed to be sharing, but you'll let him have it. you can taste the umami on his lips when he kisses you, and that's enough.

the nights gone on in street food carbs, and drowned-out music. scooters whiz past you in the dusty streets, and kento keeps his arm strong around your shoulders, staking that lifelong claim in physicality.

always, you end up by the beach, lying out on plush lounge chairs. you're resting on his chest, heartbeat backing the rush of the waves and the pulse of the fire-dancers in front of you, lighting up the sand. you haven't touched alcohol all night, neither has he, but his sound has you nodding off. you trail your settled-in hands across his homey chest, pressing the tips of your nails into his clothed flesh.

you can feel him shiver, then whisper, "tickles."

then, for that thirty-eighth anniversary, your husband, grey and in his sixties, wakes you up with kisses to the neck. windows open, an early-morning sea breeze rushing through the bedroom, you stir to life and savor the touch.

"i have loved you for forty years. can you believe it?" he mutters, keeping his lips pressed to your skin. "and I still want you like it's the first."

you're smiling into the sheets, still so susceptible to his charms in your older years. he knows you inside and out, upside and down. at this point in life, he is you.

at the foot of the bed, poor old little yuji, your thirteen-year-old ginger cat purrs in sleep. kento's rustling makes him flick an ear, but the old boy is far too comfortable to move.

for year thirty-eight, you made him his favorite breakfast and served it to him as he sits on the balcony with a book in his lap. kento's come to wear glasses, thin-framed ones that hang on the edge of his nose as he grumbles at words.

it's all he lives for now, western poetry, wife handling, and cleaning up after a rowdy cat. every night like clockwork, he calls his daughter in tokyo -- sometimes she doesn't answer, but most of the time she does. for hours, or just as long as she allows, she goes on and on about her life, the woman she's seeing, the home she's buying, and the job she's loving.

kento listens with every ounce of his soul just like he listens to his words, and you, and the sound of the warm langkawi breeze as it hits his face.

out here in the seclusion, there aren't any curses -- no angst. all that matters is the life he's hand-picked, thoughtful to the core.

and that night, his final gift is a sweater you sewed for him, and you. sandy hands, warm cheeks -- you present your naked body to him in the night, letting the full moon guide him right to where he knows to touch.

age is just experience. it's been thirty-eight years of memorizing each other's bodies - intimacy is like oxygen. he reaches for the canyon between your thighs on your secluded, beachside balcony, swallowing the sound of his name like he has for a lifetime.

like clockwork, every single time this starts, he whispers between your lips, "I love you."

and you whisper back, "i love you, too."

[dcxdpdabbles]

Please update Child Support, it’s hilarious!!!😂

John sighs, slumping on the table. Surrounding him were various bottles of dubious liquids. He found that human alcohol rarely gave him that special kick when he was trying to drink his stress away and would often hop over to a dimension with real fun ones.

He's been under a lot of stress lately.

Danny's potential sutiors were driving him crazy, not to mention the consent fear that he would mess up in a way Clockwork won't take kindly to. His son was slowly finding his footing in this world thanks to the SuperSons. His new school, some posh academy in Gotham, had far stricter policies in regards to bullying, so at least no one had given his boy any grief.

John highly doubted that meant he wasn't facing any verbal abuse. But it was better than the previous five schools he had attempted to send his child to. Danny had even come home one day, waving a permission form to join the astrology club at him, so John figured he owed Batman an enormous thanks. Something like a simple candlelight dinner.

If he could get the stick in the mud to say yes, that was.

"Is everything alright?" Barry asks, patting John on his shoulder. The British man groans into the table top, trying to hide away from the overly cheerful fellow.

He can't handle the Flash right now, not when John has finally gotten a moment of peace.

Sadly, the other didn't seem to get the memo. Barry pats his shoulder again, more insistant than before. John closes his eyes, trying to get the swirling votrex of dancing unicons to vanish from his sight - He did drink far too much Sparkle Shine Ale- as he mutters. "Danny wants to go on a date."

"Ah," Barry's voice takes on a teasing tone. "It's always hard realizing they're growing up."

"You don't understand." John utters in misery. "Dating is different in the Infinete Realms"

"How so?"

"It involves getting parent's permission before hand."

Barry makes a sound that might have been the start of a sentence, but his words are drowned out by a loud and powerful portal ripping the air above them. The rest of the Justice League - for John felt it was safer to get drunk away from his boy and choose to use the company lounge - spring to their feet.

Besides the location of the Watchtower, various security functions had gone into the blueprints of keeping the Justice League safe. Bruce and had installed defenses from paranormal entities. Every inch of the tower had some carvings that were said to be protective wards.

Bruce placed every ward, charm, and protective coating he could find from various cultures of Earth.

John was impressed with the fact Bruce had somehow been able to sniff out the frauds, back when he didn't even know magic was real.

If only they were powerful enough to keep this toerag away from him. John slowly raises his head far enough that his intoxicated eyes can glare at the being, who leaps out of the portal to land on his table with a thump.

"I beg of you, please allow me to date your son!" Klarion, Lord of Choas, drops to one knee and presents a bouquet of the Infinite Realm's most expensive roses. The roses shine and shimmer in various colors and never stay the same for too long. "Our marriage would be a tale for the ages!"

John can't even answer that ridiculous request before another portal rips open, and this time, Asmodeus, a king of demons in a few different realms, falls to his knees beside John's chair. He's in his more humanoid form, having heard the rumor that Danny preference said forms.

He obviously made sure that people would not forget his title of "Demon of lust"with the gorgeous human features he picked out, even if a pair of horns still stuck to his head.

He is presenting John precious jewels that many have lost their lives in an attempt to steal. Mosth had been slain by the lust demon before they even got to glanced at them. "My young lord, I humbly request your approval for your heir's right of dating. I-"

"Get lost! I was here first!" Klarion hisses, flinging magic at the lust demon, "I shall be the one to earn a date!"

"You worthless little worm!" Asmodeus growls, body shifting into a gaint beast that snares at the lord of choas. His once shining jewels now had black spots across them. "Your magic stained my jewels!"

John reaches for his other bottles as yet another voice joins the two arguing higher beings. He doesn't even want to check to see what the rest of the league thinks about all this.

"I, Trox king of the Goblins, have come to humbly request a date with Clockwork's heir -"

"NO! I was here first!"

"I'll shall prove that you worms are not worthy of Lord Danny's hand!"

John wonders, in the far conrers of his mind, if he should attempt to contact Clockwork about this. The emboloment of time was dangerous in a way that would usually mean he would avoid at all costs, but really, he doesn't think he can handle this anymore.

Every day, for the past three months, demons, ghosts, magic users, and whatever else in between would pop up, begging John to approve a date with Danny.

His son unawarely brought this about when he told John one morning before school that he was thinking about joining a dating app some of his classmates were talking about.

His innoccent words had been taken as a request for a mate by every non-human being across the mutiverse and now John was getting bombarded by beings foaming at the mouth, wanting to be the ones that had Clockwork as a in-law.

John was only human, magic powers aside, he couldn't handle this anymore.

Somewhere, he thinks he can hear his ex-lover laughing his ass off.

[callahanscorner]

SUPER late to this but for the WIP Folder thing, can I please know more about The Clockwork Lounge? :)

It’s never too late!

The Clockwork Lounge is a neon noir/cyberpunk-esque mystery set in the near future of 20XX. Nick Layton, a PI/gun for hire, receives a posthumous message from an old contact, asking him to solve his murder. Thing is, the body was found at The Clockwork Lounge, a casino staffed almost entirely by automatons. Shenanigans ensue

[cameronsbabydoll]

If you don’t mind can you do one where rafe is hanging out with his friends showing them nudes of his bimbo!girlfriend and then a few minutes later she shows up and he does sumin with her infront of them not caring if they are watching?

Rafe lounges back on the couch, one arm draped over the back while his other hand lazily swipes through his phone. Topper and Kelce are leaned in, chuckling as he scrolls, flashing glimpses of you across the screen—flirty mirror selfies, a few too-short skirts, and then, finally, the ones he really wanted to show off.

“Goddamn,” Kelce exhales, shaking his head as he takes another sip of his beer. “She really lets you take these?”

Rafe smirks, amused at how transfixed they are. "Lets me?" He scoffs, tilting his phone so the glow highlights the curve of your ass in some lacy pink lingerie. "She fuckin’ lives for it. Pretty little thing wants to be admired."

Topper lets out a low whistle. "Yeah, no shit. I wouldn’t let her outta my sight if she were mine.”

"Good thing she isn’t," Rafe mutters, locking his phone and tossing it onto the table like it’s nothing.

And then, like clockwork, you walk in.

Soft giggles precede you before you even step into the room, your heels clicking against the hardwood as you push through the door, all dolled up in some tiny dress Rafe probably picked out for you. You don’t even acknowledge the others at first—your eyes find Rafe immediately, lighting up when he lazily pats his lap.

“C’mere, baby,” he drawls, and you obey without a second thought, climbing onto him, knees pressing against his thighs as your arms loop around his neck. He doesn’t care that Topper and Kelce are watching—if anything, it fuels him, the way they shift in their seats, pretending not to stare.

Rafe’s hands slide under your dress, palms greedy and warm as they cup your ass, squeezing tight enough to make you whimper. "Missed me?" he murmurs, like he wasn’t just showing them every inch of your body on his phone.

You nod, biting your lip, unaware of the way the guys are looking—eyes flicking between you and Rafe, watching the way he grips you like he owns you.

"You’re so cute," Rafe muses, pressing his lips to your jaw before trailing them down your neck. His hands hike your dress up just enough to make Topper clear his throat, shifting uncomfortably.

"Alright, man," Kelce mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. "We’ll uh… we’ll catch you later."

Rafe only smirks against your skin, not bothering to stop as they shuffle out, slamming the door behind them.

[seasidefallenangel]

she's got those evil eyes

bllk boys and their mean girlfriends ft isagi yoichi, itoshi sae, reo mikage, alexis ness, bachira meguru

notes: reader is a BITCH! (not to the boys), actual horrible shit being said by reader but our boys are too in love to notice or care, suicide mentions, i'm not condoning what reader does the point is that they're feral, part 2

༄ isagi:

✣ you’re his precious angel who can do no wrong, so of course he’s defending you tooth and nail. when you’re at his games flipping off the opposite team he thinks you’re too adorable for words. during practice, kaiser is ragging on him as usual and you’re there before isagi can blink, telling kaiser that no wonder his dad hit him with a shitty personality like that. insanely harsh, but you’re so cute to have his back!

⁀➷ “you need to stop getting yourself hurt like this, princess,” isagi murmurs as he gently applies an antiseptic to your knuckles. he wasn’t expecting you to punch rin in the face after some off-handed comment during practice (mostly stemming from rin’s own insecurities, but you’re not tolerating any disrespect towards your man.) isagi had stepped in right as rin was about to retaliate and you had gotten kicked off the field anyway, leading to the impromptu patch-up in the locker room. 

with a final piece of medical tape, he kisses your bruised hand and smiles softly at you, cupping your cheek in his palm. “thank you for being my knight in shining armor, baby,” he says gently, all the love in the world filling his voice. maybe you’re not the most ethical about it, but your desire to protect him more than makes up for it in his eyes.

༄ sae:

✣ always assumes you’re correct in every single situation. he looks to be nonchalant about your dating life, but he is easily your number one shooter. you’re on twitter telling his fans to kill themselves when they talk about how attractive he is or how he should break up with you and he’s in the kitchen smirking at his phone watching you go to war. never once in his life has he ever gave a shit about what people think about him, but the second something about you is viewed in a negative light? all bets are off. he’ll get just as toxic as you are.

⁀➷ the reporters are crowding him the second he’s getting off the plane. he already knows exactly what it’s about yet it still pisses him off. in his opinion, people are at fault for provoking you in the first place. in an irritating attempt to get his attention, one of the interviewers calls out, “sae! what do you have to say about your girlfriend tweeting ‘if i was your mom i would’ve killed myself too’ to one of your fans?!” 

yeah, he saw that one, and he thought it was funny. someone had been trying to rile you up by saying how re al would be better off without sae on the team. unfortunately for them, they had “rip mom🩵🕊️” in their bio, giving you the perfect ammo to shoot back with. he clears his throat and simply says, “she’s right,” before walking off, leaving the paparazzi stunned.

༄ reo:

✣ you are so awful for the mikage image and reo loves every second of it. having such a stagnant and pre-planned upbringing versus your unhinged nature was just what he needed. barely a week can go by without you trending online for something heinous you said or did. in turn, you have quite a large following for simply how funny your antics and toxicity towards others is. reo must have the most heavily tinted rose colored glasses ever, because he always talks about how sweet and kind you are. the fans are still searching for the person he’s trying to describe, because it sure as hell isn’t you.

⁀➷ you’re lounging in bed, mindlessly scrolling on your phone when reo approaches you. like clockwork, you shift into his arms as he climbs into bed and relaxes next to you. his fingers are running through your hair when he finally asks in the most soft and gentle voice, “my love, why are you being called out on twitter again?” of course, you’re always sure to voice how it isn’t really your fault and that people should stop pissing you off if they don’t want you to come for their necks. 

quite honestly, he’s not really listening ; not because he’s not interested, but because you’re just irresistible when you defend yourself. regardless of whether or not you’re actually at fault (you are), he still sees you as his precious and adorable lover. he simply nods and leaves feather light kisses up and down the side of your neck, mumbling something like, “how dare they?” or “you’re so smart, angel,” every so often. if you ever were to get in any real trouble, the mikage fortune would be there to bail you out - so he sees no real reason to stop your tirades. 

༄ alexis:

✣ “me and my girl don’t argue she tells me to shut up and i do.” ness is honestly thankful for how much of a raging bitch you can be. not only does he never see anything wrong with it, but actively encourages it as well. you’re cussing out the mcdonald’s worker for putting pickles on his burger while he’s behind you with a dopey smile on his face, clinging to you like a lifeline. the only time he had to tug you away is when you were half a second away from clawing kaiser’s eyes out and had his neck bruising beneath your fingers for insinuating ness was more of a dog than a person. the german is still terrified whenever you accompany your boyfriend to practice.

⁀➷ in all the plans alexis had for his future, standing in front of the two people that crushed his childhood fantasies in facts and testing wasn’t one of them. he had left on a bitter note when he joined bastard münchen yet hadn’t found the courage to voice his true feelings on the matter. luckily for him, you had no shortage of guts to lay into his parents without fear.

for the first time in their lives, they’re stunned silent at your vicious words and mockery of their profession, upbringing, parenting, even going so far as to point out his mother’s physical imperfections and saying the only worthwhile thing she did was give birth a child that wasn’t nearly as ugly as she is. they can’t even get a word in before you grab alexis’ hand and drag him out, kicking a dent in his father’s car for good measure. even though your display was nothing short of pure evil, he doesn’t think he’s ever felt closer to god than when you cradle him in your hold, whispering words of love and praise into his ear. being a crybaby was something he was told he should be ashamed of, but the sensation left behind when you wipe his grateful tears is worth it to him.

༄ bachira:

✣ might honestly be the biggest enabler on this entire list along with alexis. he absolutely lives for chaos plus he’s too sickeningly in love with you to ever question a move you might make. he can hear you arguing with ego on the phone about bachira being overworked and while normally nothing phases blue lock’s director, the death threats you sent to his office were incredibly convincing and contained information that should’ve been impossible to obtain. he’d probably hire you if he wasn’t positive you’d pipe bomb the entire structure if anyone even gave a dirty look to your boyfriend. 

⁀➷  “whatcha doiiiinnnn?” bachira asks while plopping on top of the couch - in the exact spot while you were resting, mind you. you let out a light ‘oof!’ as his weight crushes you for a moment before leveling out. the second his head falls to rest on your stomach, you're carding one hand through his hair while the other angrily taps on your phone. he doesn’t really think to ask as he’s on the verge of falling asleep, but the sound he has set for your tweets dings from his phone (because of course he has notifications for you on.)

he lazily unlocks his phone and clicks onto the app only to bust out into laughter. whatever useless no-name had decided to say bachira’s playstyle only hinders his teammates was met with your quote retweet stating to ‘go take a long walk off a short bridge.’ in his overly happy splendor, he blows raspberries onto the soft skin of your tummy while you squeal and try to push him off. stubborn as he is he just refuses to let up until you're curled up in laughter. behind his silliness, he’s eternally grateful to have someone so devoted to him after years of isolation from his peers. he can’t help but think he’d do anything to keep you in his grasp - regardless of the consequences that might follow.

[itneverendshere]

I love pogue!reader and rafe sm. I’m so excited every time you post them ❤️ what if reader realizes she’s really falling for rafe and it’s getting serious so she’s tries to self sabotage and end it. She’s thinking he’s THE kook and she’s a pogue. It can’t last and she won’t survive that heartbreak. so rafe starts to panic but then realizes what’s she’s doing by ending it so he’s just like lol no nice try I’m not going anywhere

 i would follow you home - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) word count: 3.1k

hope you enjoy, i love them too 🩵

It was mid-afternoon, that lull between lunch and dinner when the regulars started to trickle in. Like clockwork, you were wiping down the bar, mindlessly watching the condensation drip from a glass of iced tea when you saw Rafe strolling in.

He always had that walk, shoulders rolled back like he owned the place, which, you guess, technically he did, or at least his dad did.

The Cameron Development Group practically built the country club.

He spotted you and the corner of his mouth lifted in that way that made your stomach flip. God, you hated how it got to you. After months of this—him swinging by the bar at the end of his golf games, lounging around the counter like it was no big deal, driving you home, saving you from the storms, letting you kiss him—your heart should’ve calmed the hell down.

But no, butterflies are still fluttering in your chest.

You tossed the rag on the counter, busying yourself with stacking glasses.

“Hey, stranger.” His voice was all smooth, he knew exactly what effect it had on you.

You were still a shitty liar and he learned that fast. 

You glanced up, trying to keep things casual. “Hey yourself.”

He settled into one of the barstools, his blue eyes locking on yours. “You off soon?”

You shrugged. “Depends. Why?”

The truth was, you knew why. You knew what he was asking.

He was wondering if you would have time after this—to sneak off to that little spot by the docks where you'd been meeting up, where things between you had been getting…a little complicated?

And that was why you needed to end this.

You'd seen it coming. You’d known for a while that whatever this thing was with Rafe, it was headed in a direction you couldn’t afford to follow. He was the poster child for Kook royalty. Born with a silver spoon and all that. Meanwhile, you were the bartender, a Pogue, barely scraping by. 

It started with quick conversations after work, long talks on the drive home, those random texts at 2 a.m. that turned into hours of you two confessing things you’d never say out loud to anyone else. You din’t know when it morphed into this—this weird gray area where everything felt more intense. Maybe when you all but kissed him when he picked you up after the storm. That had to be it.

You knew how this story ended, what happened girls like you fell for guys like Rafe Cameron.

Heartbreak.

You wouldn’t survive that.

“I’ve been thinking,” You blurted out, very aware of the way his eyes were still on you. Too aware. You reached for a clean glass, filling it with soda water to distract yourself. “Maybe we should… cool it for a bit.”

His smirk faltered. “Cool it?”

“Yeah,” You shrugged again, trying to seem nonchalant, even though your heart was hammering so loud you were sure he could hear it. “I mean, this was fun and all, but let’s be real—”

“Be real?”

You nodded, not daring to look up from the glass you were holding.

“We’re not exactly from the same world, Rafe. It was bound to end sooner or later. Might as well rip the band-aid off now.”

Silence. He doesn’t mutter a word, you wonder if you had done it, convinced him that this wasn’t worth it, that he should’ve walked away and left you with at least a sliver of your heart intact.

Then he laughed. It wasn’t a mocking laugh, but it was still a sound you weren’t expecting. Your eyes snapped up to his face, and you saw that damn smirk was back.

“Oh, I see what this is.” He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest.

You frowned, instinctively grabbing another towel and wiping the counter again, distracting yourself from the way his eyes were making you feel seen.

“What?”

“You’re scared.”

Your stomach dropped. “I’m not—”

“Yes, you are,” he interrupted, standing up and rounding the bar until he was too close, you could smell the cologne clinging to his skin and the fresh grass scent of the golf course. He caged you in with his body, one hand gripping the counter behind you, the other reaching up to tilt your chin so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. “You’re trying to push me away because you’re scared. But newsflash, sweetheart—I’m not going anywhere.”

You swallowed hard, throat tight, because damn it, he was right. He was completely, 100% right, and you hated it. You hated that he could see right through you like that, see all your fears.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

You didn’t know what to say because, deep down, you didn’t want to believe that it mattered to him. You wanted to believe that he saw you for more than just the girl behind the bar.

“Rafe, you’ll get bored,” you mumbled, barely able to get the words out. “You’ll realize this was just… a phase. I mean, we’re friends, right? We can just… go back to that.”

“Go back to that?” He repeated your words slowly, testing them out. And then he laughed—this disbelieving sound that made you grimace. “You’re trying to run.”

“Am not.”

“You are.

“There’s nothing to run from,” You snapped, though even you didn’t believe that.

He was close enough that you had to tilt your head almost all the way back to meet his stare. “Nothing, huh?”

“Nothing,” you repeated, the word coming out more like a question than a statement. The self-doubt you’d been trying to ignore bubbled up, and you hated yourself for it. 

He dropped his head closer, and you could feel his breath against your skin. “If you think there’s nothing between us, then why does it hurt so much to even think about letting it go?”

His words hit a particular spot, you had to bite your lip to keep from gasping. You wanted to argue, he was wrong, you could walk away and be fine.

Okay. You weren’t fine. You weren’t even close to fine.

The whole time you’d been telling yourself this was a fling, some wild phase that would burn out eventually—because that was what made sense. You weren’t supposed to fall for the guy who came from money and lived in a mansion on the hill, while you were still sharing a room with your sister in a run-down house, after yours got destroyed, on the wrong side of the island. 

“You don’t get it. You’ve never had to worry about—about someone like me not fitting into your life. You don’t have people looking at you and thinking ‘what the hell is he doing with her?’”

Rafe’s eyes softened, his thumb brushing a light circle against your waist, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. “Who cares what people think? I’m not with them. I’m with you.”

You shook your head, more to yourself than to him, stepping back to put some space between you.

"No. No, it’s not that simple. You don’t get it. You don’t get what it’s like to always be the one left behind. You’ll get bored, and then what? You walk away and I’m the one left picking up the pieces."

He opened his mouth to argue, but you weren’t done.

"And don't say you won’t, because everyone does! I’ve seen this before. I’ve been through it. I don’t survive guys like you." Your voice cracked, and shit, you hated how vulnerable you sounded.

It was all spilling out now, the fear you’d kept bottled up.

Rafe’s jaw tightened, there was something different in his eyes. Anger? No, frustration maybe. But not at you. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to keep his temper in check.

“I'm not just some guy playing games. You thinnk I’m gonna wake up one day and decide you’re not worth it?”

You crossed your arms, hugging yourself as if that would protect you from the way his words were hitting you.

“Isn’t that what happens?”

“No. Not with me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do know that!” His voice rose, you flinched a little, caught off guard by the intensity. He noticed and apologized immediately, his hand reaching for yours but stopping short. "I’m here, with you. Because I want to be. Don’t you get that?"

Your eyes fleeted away, focusing on the floor because looking at him was overwhelming.

"Just let me go," you whispered, "It’ll hurt less now."

A muscle in his jaw twitched, and before you could pull back, he stepped forward, closing the gap between you in one swift move. His hand cupped your face, forcing you to meet his stare, no more escape from the intensity in them.

"No," he said, firmly but quiet. "I’m not letting you go. You’re not pushing me away. I’m not leaving, no matter how hard you try to sabotage this."

Your breath hitched in your throat, you tried to argue, but then his lips were on yours, cutting off whatever weak protest you had left.

Rafe was trying to make you understand something without words. 

 And damn it, you kissed him back, of course, you did.

Despite everything you said, everything you feared, you wanted this, him. But the second you felt yourself giving in, you pushed back, your hands pressed against his chest.

"Stop doing that," you snapped, breathless.

"Doing what?" He sounded just as wounded up.

"Kissing me like you can fix this. It's not gonna make me believe you."

He exhaled, keeping you close. "You don’t have to believe me now, but I’m not going anywhere. I’ll prove it to you, okay? Stop trying to run every time it gets hard."

"I don’t know how to do this," you admitted, hands still resting on his chest, fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt.

"I’ll show you," His forehead rested against yours, your breaths mingling. "Stop pushing me away."

You let yourself be there with him, your defenses crumbling piece by piece. You didn’t know how long it would last, or if you could even survive it...He seemed worth the risk.

You couldn’t help but mutter, "You’re so stupid, you know that?"

His lips twitched into a smile. “And you’re still kissing me, again, so what does that say about you?”

You rolled your eyes, hiding how your lips betrayed you.

“Says I’m just as stupid as you,” you scoffed under your breath, fingers still gripping his polo, afraid to let go. “Do you always go around kissing the saff?” You mumbled out.

Rafe’s hands moved from your waist to your back, it was infuriating how easy it was to melt into him. He raised a brow, “Only the ones who can’t seem to stay away from me.”

You groaned, shoving him with just force to make him stumble back a step. “God, you’re insufferable.”

He caught your wrists before you could pull away completely, his grip gentle. “You seem to like insufferable.”

“Do I though?” You quipped, trying to sound indifferent, but your heartbeat was giving you away. You could feel it hammering in your chest, “I feel like this whole thing is a bad idea. You know, like ‘kiss the rich guy, ruin your life’ kind of bad idea.”

Rafe’s expression softened, the teasing glint in his eyes faded. “Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?” You tried to play dumb.

“Talk like this doesn’t mean something. Like I don’t mean something to you.” His voice was low, but there was a seriousness in it that made you nervous. “We’ve been doing this dance for a while now, and every time it starts to get real, you act like it’s… casual.”

Your throat tightened, “Maybe it is casual,” you said, even though the words tasted like a lie. “We're just two people having a good time, and that’s it.”

He shook his head, the corner of his mouth lifting in that way that made your chest ache in a good way.

“Nah. You’re not fooling me anymore. You don’t kiss someone like you kissed me just for fun.”

“Rafe…”

“And you don’t look at me like that when I walk in unless there’s more to it.” His voice softened as his thumb traced your skin. “Stop pretending it’s nothing.”

“I should be working.”

Rafe wasn’t letting you off that easy.

“Yeah, you probably should,” he said, but his hands didn’t move, and neither did his eyes.

“So you’re gonna let me go?”

“Why’d you kiss me that day?” he asked, "I’ve been wondering.”

You blinked up at him, caught off guard by the question. He was so close, it was hard to think, let alone answer something that felt disarming .

"I don’t know," you groaned, feeling like a cornered animal. "I wasn’t thinking straight."

His fingers traced a slow line down your arm, sending shivers through you.

"You sure about that?" Rafe's voice was quiet, he already knew you were lying, knew you too well for you to hide behind that excuse. "Because it didn’t feel like some random kiss."

You scoffed, trying to laugh it off.

"It was— I don’t know, Rafe. It was just the heat of the moment, okay? The storm… everything." You bit your lip, avoiding his gaze because you knew he wasn’t buying it. "You saved me, and I guess I was—"

"Grateful?" he interrupted, his brow arching. “Is that what you’re trying to say?”

You winced. "I didn’t mean it like that."

“Yeah, it sure sounds like you’re trying to make it seem like it meant nothing."

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it impossible to respond right away. That kiss had meant something—more than you were ready to admit to yourself, let alone to him.

“You can’t keep acting like you don’t care, because I know you do. You wouldn’t have kissed me if you didn’t.”

“Why do you care so much? Why does it matter?”

He frowned, like you had just asked the stupidest question in the world. “Because it matters to me.”

Your chest tightened at that, "I don’t want to get hurt, Rafe."

"I’m not gonna hurt you." His voice was serious, a promise, but you’d heard promises like that before. "I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care. I’m asking for a chance, one chance. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m scared."

“I know,” he murmured, “I’m scared too, okay? I want to be with you. So, please, just… give us a shot.”

You closed your eyes, breathing him in, your mind racing a hundred miles per hour. Your heart was telling you to stay.

 “Okay.”

“Okay?”

You opened your eyes, “Yeah, okay. I’ll give you a chance. Don’t screw it up.”

Rafe’s lips curved into that stupid blinding grin, “I won’t. I promise.”

You wanted to roll your eyes at him, but instead, you found yourself smiling back. 

This was crazy, maybe you were setting yourself up for heartbreak or....you’d really found yourself a soulmate.

[sim0nril3y]

I have an ask for Simon and civi reader! What if he comes home from work one day and is just so sore and physically tired. Maybe he always picks reader up during a special hug or whateves. But tonight he doesn’t do it and thinks nothing of it. Then the following days he notices reader walking/ working out more and eating less? He finds out what is going on and proves to her even when he’s tired he will always be able to pick her up and just needs to prove her wrong 🥵

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Note: This was a great request, I had a lot of fun writing it. Thank you so much for suggesting this! Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), weight mentioned, anxiety, angst, diet talk, body talk, confidence issues, comfort, canon-typical swearing.

It was like some pavlovian response to hearing the door opening, you would sprint from wherever you were in your home to greet Simon at the door, jumping into his arms, having him hold you tight and then carry you to where he was originally heading, the kitchen, the lounge, the bedroom… it didn’t matter because he was home and you were in his strong arms, so safe, so secure.

It was the same each and every time. Like clockwork the front door would click open and off you ran, grinning whilst leaping into his arms. Simon would chuckle, holding you securely, asking you about your day, or complimenting you on some tiny little detail hadn't expected him to notice.

It was always the same, except today…

Today you heard the door click open and you rushed from downstairs to greet him at the door. Simon had been placing down his gym bag when you leapt into his arms. "Mn."

You heard it… a little grunt in the back of his throat as his arms tied around you and then… then your feet were in the floor again, his lips on your forehead and he stepped past you. “You hungry? I'll get started on tea.” Simon mentioned as he headed away on his own, arms empty and you left reeling in the hallway. What the hell just happened?

As you sat there eating dinner with Simon your mind was spirally. He’d grunted when you’d jumped into his arms. Had you put on weight? Maybe… but… Simon just seemed so strong almost nothing seemed to faze him… but maybe he was just pretending all those times and really you were too heavy for him to be carrying around… Oh god, maybe you needed to lose weight then? Maybe you’d start now…

You took a last bite of the amazing dinner that Simon had prepared for you and left half a plate of food on your plate. Simon glanced over at you with a quirk on his brow. “Don’t you like it?” He quizzed tapping his fork to your plate and then pushing it back in your direction.

“Uh, no. It’s really nice, but I had a bit of a big lunch.” Replying with a little shake of your head. You despised lying to him, mostly because you were bad at him, but Simon didn’t seem to fight you this time.

The next couple of days continued the same way, additionally you didn’t come greet him with that usual enthusiasm, you’d come to greet him at the door but you were more reserved, certainly not jumping into his arms. As the two of you sat eating dinner you stopped yourself at half the hearty portion he’d given you.

“Alright, what is going on?” Simon asked then as you pushed your plate aside again for the fourth day in a row. “I’m not accepting whatever excuse you’ve cooked up tonight about not eating dinner…”

“What?” You muttered with a little shake of your head. “I’m just not hungry-” “Bollocks.” Simon responded with a roughness to his voice. “It’s been four days… You’ve been waking up before the sun to go to the gym, thinking I haven’t been noticing… cutting back on your meals. You think I haven’t noticed but I have and I’m getting worried. So, you’re gonna tell me what is going on…” You pursed your lips. “Now.”

After a few more moments of hesitation, you suddenly blurted out your reasoning, it was a mess of words mixed with emotion that broken in your voice. “When you got home the other night I jumped into your arms and you grunted.” You informed him, rushed like you didn’t want to say these things along. “I don’t wanna get too heavy that I hurt you when I jump into your arms-”

“Hold on.” Simon held up his hand then. “I grunted when I picked you up?” He asked, thinking back… it really hadn’t been something that had registered his mind, but to think it had been torturing you so much that it had restricted your food intake haunted Simon. “Fuckin’ hell…” He muttered and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I pulled a muscle in my side doing some training at base.” He explained looking at you then with honesty. “Babe, I can deadlift almost double your weight at the gym, I’m actuallya little insulted that you think I can’t carry you.”

With a huff then Simon rose up from his seat and rounded the table to take your arm and suddenly hoist you up over his shoulder with a practiced ease. “I don’t care if I have to bench press you to make you believe me, but I promise you that the problem was never with your perfect fuckin’ body.” Then he moved you to sit you on the kitchen counter, standing between your legs and cupping your face as gazed lovingly into your eyes. “But I’m sorry if I ever made you think that there was something wrong with you… I love every bloody inch of you, regardless of everything you believe to be an imperfection.”

Leaning in Simon pressed a warm kiss to your lips, tugging back to lean his forehead against your own. “Now, you’re gonna sit your arse in that chair and finished your dinner than I’m carry you upstairs and have my dessert.”

Masterlist | Ask | 29-01-2025

[crimsonbubble]

Happy late birthday!

I'm in my last semester of college and my brain keeps thinking about 'distractions' and/or 'stress relief' with Wooyoung or(.../and?) Yunho 🙃 need my soul and sanity saved

Meet Us In The Middle

cw. nsfw, afab!reader, poly relationship, threesome, fingering, oral, fingering, praise, degradation, overstimulation, nipple play, cum eating, mxm bc wooyoung is a whore and yunho is no better, handjob, masterbation, brief manhandling, implied creampie *not proofread, just pure horny*

[relating a little too hard as I just finished my last semester 😭😭😭]

taglist (dm to be tagged); @sidusvenari @sugarnspice630 @ravenempress101 @autieofthevalley @linearities @wisejudgedragonhairdo @madiexuberant @mifuelarts @straytiny127 @yun-fangz @huen1ngk41 @juyeonshour @uniq-tastic @hongjng8 @miyaluvvsyou @everyonewooeverywhere @hongjoongtime117 @oddracha @kingbloopter @jay-0n3s @ane1o2 @jelly1117 @aftertherain-atr @k-zuzulibrary @lxnnrobin @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @lezleegerguson-120

You heaved a breath as you sat back in your chair, your final sitting not even half finished on your laptop screen. You stare at the blinking cursor, your eyes threatening to close any second. Unbeknownst to you, your boyfriends stood behind the couch you were lounging in, watching as you almost fell asleep right then and there.

Wooyoung acted first, pulling your laptop away from you. You try to protest, but a stern glare from Yunho makes you quiet down. Yunho settled on the couch, tugging you onto his lap, your aching back against his sturdy chest. He placed warming kisses along your shoulder and neck, his hand moving under your shirt.

He cupped your chest in his hand, groping and squeezing it as his other hand kept your hips pinned in his lap. “No more thinking, baby. Just be here with us.” Wooyoung had moved the coffee table, sitting on his knees between Yunho’s parted thighs. Both of their hands groped and toyed with your body, laying wet kisses over all the skin they could reach.

Wooyoung hit his limit first, tapping your thigh as a signal. Like clockwork, you lifted your hips, letting him take your loungewear and panties off. As soon as both pieces were out of his hands, he dove in. Spreading your legs to hook them on either side of Yunho’s knees. “You just couldn’t wait, could you, you pervert?” Wooyoung flushed at Yunho’s words, his tongue pressing flat against your hole.

Yunho kept you steady, a strong hand keeping your hips at bay while Wooyoung feasted on you like it was his last meal. His other hand pulled your, well, his shirt over your chest, letting out a shaky breath as your nipples hardened from the cool air. He was quick to pinch your nipple, tweaking and toying with the bud as Wooyoung’s moans vibrated against your slick pussy, his nose grinding into your clit as he psuhed his tongue into your wet hole.

“Does it feel good, princess? You like getting your pretty pussy tongue fucked, huh?” Your face warmed at his words. Yunho held your face, squishing your cheeks together as he tilted your head down. “Then watch your pretty pussy get tongue fucked. Shit, I can hear how soaked you are, tiny.” Wooyoung’s eyes were glazed over by now, his gaze unfocused as he ate you out.

The noises were heinous, lewd slurping, licking, and sucking as Wooyoung all but made out with your pussy and split it open on his tongue. He looked up at you with pleading eyes, too engrossed in savouring your taste on his tongue to speak, but that didn’t matter as Yunho did the talking for him. “Make a mess on his face, tiny. He’s begging for it, isn’t he? You don’t want to upset him, do you?” His voice is low and grounding. Your body pulls taut, your pussy spasming against his mouth. Wooyoung helped you ride it out, sucking your clit into his mouth with greed.

You writhed in Yunho’s lap as Wooyoung kept going, his fingers gathering your slick before pushing in alongside his tongue. You nearly scream as Wooyoung moves them immediately, a constant in and out as his mouth returned to your twitching clit. His fingers are lithe, working you up all over again just as his mouth did. Your legs are shaking as you can do nothing but bear the pleasure. Wooyoung’s voice was soft as he called out to you. “That’s my girl, so pretty when you come all over my face.”

Yunho groaned in your ear as you squirmed on him, his cock throbbing in his sweats. Wooyoung pulled his mouth off of you, licking his lips as he stared up at Yunho. There was a challenging look in his eyes, a fire that Wooyoung was so determined to ignite. Wooyoung pushed his hand under your hips, stilling pumping his fingers into you, to grab at Yunho’s waistband. The older man chuckled darkly, lifting you ever so slightly to make the task easier. “You little whore…”

Wooyoung nearly came at the view in front of him; your slicked pussy clenching around his fingers ang Yunho’s thick cock throbbing right next to it. Wooyoung spat into his palm, using his saliva to make the slide against the pulsing cock in front of him. Yunho’s head fell back against the couch, his hips bucking into Wooyoung’s slicked hand. Just like he did with you, his hand moved erratically.

Yunho nearly bucked you off him as Wooyoung squeezed his fist around his cock, the slick sounds only piling onto yours. You don’t know where you’re looking as tears blur your vision. Yunho pulled at your shirt again, tearing it at the seams until it was off of you. His hands moved to your chest, groping, squeezing and fondling them as he pinched, pulled and toyed with your nipples. Your head falls back onto Yunho’s shoulder, and every nerve in your body is sparking.

Wooyoung watches with amusement as you both drown in pleasure, too occupied to notice that he’s removed his hands from you and shifted your position again. Wooyoung sits up higher on his knees, watching your faces contort in pleasure as he eases your wet cunt onto Yunho’s pulsing cock. The sudden stretch makes your eyes snap open, peering down at Wooyoung, who only winked back at you. He moved your hips for you, forcing you to take every inch of Yunho’s cock in your sore cunt.

Yunho seems too out of it to notice but he does take note of how hot it feels around his dick all of a sudden. His hands fall to your hips, engulfing Wooyoung’s in his own. He peels his eyes open, groaning as he recognized the familiar tight heat around his cock. Your body was putty in their hands as they worked you every which way. A quick surge of energy was all Yunho needed to flip you onto the couch, your hips raised and your back in a shameless arch. “I’m done waiting, tiny. You’ll take it for me, won't you? Be my good girl and take all of my cum in your pretty cunt, hm?”

He was quick to fill you up again, his nails digging into your hips as he drilled his cock into you. Yunho pressed a hand to your back, deepening the arch as he savoured how your sweet cunt stretched around his length. Wooyoung stayed kneeling beside you, his pants tugged low enough to let his cock spring free. He hissed as he wrapped a hand around himself, using your slick as lube to stroke his dick. He matched his pace with Yunho’s hips, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

Yunho reached over to him, pulling him closer by his jaw. Wooyoung’s mouth parted with a whine, letting Yunho press his thumb to his tongue. Wooyoung whimpered as Yunho held his mouth open, his face flushing darker as he noticed your eyes on him too. “How lucky am I to be dealing with not one, but two whores?” Wooyoung whines again, his hand speeding up as he makes a mess all over himself. His hand keeps going, stroking himself through his orgasm and closer to another one.

You moan along with him, fucking yourself back on Yunho’s cock. He hisses, letting Wooyoung fend for himself as he finally gives himself the righteous release that he earned waiting as long as he had. His hands reaches under you, pressing messy circles on your swollen clit. Your body tenses before going limp, dizzy with the pleasure ringing in your ears. You can feel a warm hand push the stray hairs from your face, before a gentle kiss is pressed to you temple.

“Look at that. Not a single thought is in that pretty little head of yours, is it? Don’t worry, Youngie and I will clean up. Just get some rest, tiny.”