#How To Practice Front End Development

[t4t4terezi]

did my hair

[froothytoothy]

Your Idol

Saja Boys x Idol! Reader

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summary - you were a part of the failing girl group, Harmoness. Despite being disliked by both the staff and your members, you somehow managed to capture the eyes (and hearts) of five hot demon idols.

warning - fem reader, light bullying, body shaming, pushover reader (gets character development later on), doesn't follow the movie timeline that well

w/c - 2.3K

a/n - this is my first post/work on here so sorry if it's a bit bad. pls correct me if there are any mistakes, comments, reblogs and likes are much appreciated, hope you enjoy!

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The recent surge of popularity with the Saja Boys left your manager more distressed than ever.

At the start of your idol life your group, Harmoness, had actually been quite popular. Seeing your popularity at the time, Manager Hojin was convinced you were going to make it big and ended up spending way too much money on overused concepts and expensive music videos.

However, once he saw the numbers drop he had to find someone to blame. It ended up being you, seeing as you were the least popular member of the group. Not by a wide margin, but enough to make the manager take notice and choose to believe that you were the issue here.

From then on life had been nothing but endless dance practices for your "sloppy dancing", hours of vocal training for your "croaky voice" and a strict diet for your "overweight body".

Your fellow idol members had been just as critical, believing that they were already perfect and that you were holding them back. You felt isolated within your group.

You were known as the "sunshine" of the group. The girl whose smile never faltered, who always had the most energy and stage presence. But because of the constant criticism and strict diet, you began to lose your confidence and energy, something that your fans loved the most about you, making your popularity decrease further. You were still happy and energetic, but it was hard to keep it up all the time when everyone around you seemed like an enemy.

Although, despite all the suffering you've endured as an idol, you still loved it. Performing had been a struggle as you often went on stage hungry, but seeing thousands of fans so happy to see you, watching their eyes sparkle at you. It was so amusing how high they'd scream if you waved at them. To be needed and wanted by so many, it was a thrilling feeling. Your manager and the other members may not see your worth, but you know they did. The job is hard but if it means making them smile, you’d gladly work even harder. They deserved it. 

The new group, Saja Boys, had been a real hit ever since their debut song "Soda Pop" went viral. You couldn't help dancing along to it whenever you had the chance, it was too catchy not to. When Hojin caught you listening to them, he screamed at you. Belittled you in front of everyone. Accusing you of purposely putting the group down and siding with other idol groups for fun.

You remember how confused you felt that day. 

Why is he acting like this is a competition? That we're meant to only side with our groups. Is it wrong to want to support your junior idols? Hojin heavily disapproved of the idea, and it had only made him angrier. 

He began to insult you in more ways, even as you tried to calm him down, knowing that everyone was staring at you. The shame and embarrassment you felt that day left such a mark on you that you could no longer listen Soda Pop, even outside the company building. Every time you tried to, it only brought back the bad memory. 

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"Good work today girls, I'll see you again tomorrow”.

Your knees almost buckled at the sweet sound of freedom. After several gruelling hours of training, you were finally done. The Idol Awards were coming up and Harmoness's newest song "Bringing Myself Up" was planning to debut.

Whilst taking a sip of your water you overheard your fellow members talking and giggling about something. Eun-jin and Soo-ah were latching onto Jina, fawning over her.

Jina Jeong was the leader of Harmoness, and the most popular member. As the lead vocalist, she often worked besides you, which often made you sound like a dying bird compared to her. She was one of the lead competitors on an idol show, but lost. In the end, she was offered a place here, so things worked out for her. You couldn't help but envy her in every way, aside from her big ego she was perfect. 

Eun-jin, also known as SKY, was a rapper like Soo-ah, and the second eldest. She was known as the “tomboy” of the group and was the harshest when it came to insulting you. 

And finally the maknae of the group, Soo-ah. She had a sweet, innocent-looking face that often resembled a mouse. But in truth, she was a brat. On stage she would treat everyone so kindly and with so much respect, but when she was off the stage she was horrible. Never listening to the makeup artist's instructions, or showing up to practice on time. You saw how she treated service workers as lesser beings than her, and you found it horrible. 

It never used to be like this though, they were all so kind at the start of the group's debut. But things changed once a bit of fame got to their heads. Although, you knew deep down inside that there is some good in them, even if they didn't always show it. 

"You’re so lucky you get to meet Jinu, he's my bias".

This caught your attention. Despite the incident you still absolutely loved the Saja Boys, knowing almost everything about each member and collecting as much merch as your wallet could handle.

The mere mention of them made you bubble with excitement.

You put your bottle down and turned towards your members. Even though you didn't have a good relationship with them, you always made an effort to try. Completely cutting them off wasn't going to help mend things, but trying might!

Plus, deep down, you secretly believed that it truly was your fault that the group had been doing so bad. You always did your best to stay positive but it wasn't always easy when everyone keeps telling you it's your fault. Also, it was a potential bonding moment with them. You felt as though you could finally set aside some of your differences and become friends. 

"Hey girls, what's going on? What are you talking about?" You said casually, hoping to break the very thick layer of ice between you and them. They look at you, their faces shift from glowy excitement to pure disgust. It was obvious they were already bored of you, but you continued. Needing answers.

"I couldn’t help but overhear you talking about the Saja Boys. Are you guys fans too?" Your smile never came down despite the eye roll you got from Soo-ah.

"Was I mistaken? It's just I heard you talking about meeting Jinu and I was thinking Jinu from the Saja Boys, but maybe it's a different Jinu that I don't know, sorry if I was mistaken" you ramble, hands going everywhere in an embarrassingly panicky way. 

Eun-jin moves her head closer to the centre of the group, all whilst maintaining eye contact with you, and whispers "Why is she listening to our conversations like a creep?"

The group began to burst out laughing whilst you stood there, head down in shame. 

Were you really that creepy to them?

Jina stopped her stream of laughter, and the others followed suit. "If you must know, tomorrow the Saja Boys are coming here. I've been chosen to give them a tour of the place," she says nonchalantly, although you could see the joy twisted in her eyes. 

"Yeah, since the Saja Boys aren't actually under any label at the moment, the company wants them here" Soo-ah chimes. 

You couldn't help the wide smile breaching your skin, the Saja Boys coming here? Where you could meet them? Talk to them? 

If they joined the company, you'd be able to see them almost every single day. Different scenarios began to pop up in your mind. 

You could imagine Jinu flashing his signature smile at you.

Getting close enough to Mystery where you could hopefully see past the layers of hair covering his eyes.

Romance putting his arms around you whilst talking to you.

Abby letting you take a closer look at his abs.

And Baby letting you pet the soft hair on his head. 

You blushed, now is definitely not the time to be thinking weird thoughts! 

Jina was so lucky she got to not only see them, but even give them a tour. You assumed the manager no longer saw them as an enemy but as a potential ally. The thought made you giddy inside, imagining them as your juniors. Although referring to them as your juniors sounded a bit odd considering they were older than you. 

"So what time are they coming over? I'd love to meet them". 

"The manager doesn't want you seeing them".

On the outside nothing changed, but inside you felt your heart break. 

"Yeah, he says you'd just get in the way, you know, make the company look bad... like usual".

You couldn't even focus on who was talking, all the sounds muffled together. You knew that once Hojin made up his mind, he wasn't going to change it. You just had to accept that you may never meet the Saja Boys. 

Looking up with a pained smile, you forced out "It's alright. I hope you have fun though Jina, you deserve it”, mostly in envy. Jina was the member you looked up to the most. She was so good at everything. Her vocals were heavenly, and she was a fast learner when it came to dancing. It was like she was born to be an idol. 

Before you could embarrass yourself any more you ran off quickly, taking your bag with you, but not before hearing the burning sound of laughter from the girls. Most likely mocking you for your attempt at connection.

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The next day you walked into the company building, holding a large gift bag. 

After spending the night weighing the pros and cons of meeting the Saja Boys, it was obvious what should be done. 

There were actually a lot more cons than pros, but meeting the Saja Boys was just that important it outweighed all the others.

If Hojin found you talking to them he'd get really mad, but honestly, when wasn't he? 

Since you didn't know when the Saja Boys would be coming you decided to come early in the morning. You had prepared special gifts for each of the members, some things were handmade, and the others were stuff you knew they liked. Considering the lack of time you hoped it turned out well. 

On your way to the cafeteria you spotted Hojin, and you quickly hid the gift bag behind your back once you saw him approach you in frustration. "(Y/N) didn't the others tell you the Saja Boys were coming today? If they see you, it'll mess things up".

You weren't sure how meeting them was going to "mess things up" but you didn't question it. Most likely would lead to another lecture. 

"I know that Manager, I just came to get some practice for the Idol Awards," you said extra sweetly, hoping he'd let you off. It wasn't necessarily a lie, you were going to practice after eating breakfast. But the main reason you came was of course to try and see the Saja Boys. 

"Good, Lord knows you need it. Why are your movements so sloppy? Come, I'll take you to the dance studio so you don't wander off”.

"Oh I was actually going to get breakfast, I haven't had any yet. But I'll make sure to be quick".

"You can afford to skip a few meals, now come on" he commands, grabbing your wrist tightly and dragging you to the locker room. Being an idol meant being so busy you would be forced to skip breakfast a couple of times, but you had gotten so distracted preparing the gifts last night you forgot to eat dinner. You were starving and dance practice wasn't going to help. 

Although you doubt Hojin would care.  The only thing that you could do now was wait for lunch. 

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Unfortunately, you lost that chance once you realized that he had locked you in the studio. You weren't sure if it was done on purpose or not but one thing was for sure, you were starving. 

Three hours into practice you wanted to refill your water bottle, only to realize you couldn't open the door. You tried to look for your phone when you remembered you left it in your locker. At the time you weren't all that worried, you were sure someone would come and unlock the door for you. 

But minutes became hours and panic started to settle in. You started to bang on the door, praying someone would hear you and come to help. Unfortunately due to the dance studio being in an isolated area of the building, it was unlikely unless Hojin came back for you. 

Your body felt like it was shutting down. Black spots started to cloud your vision. Your head ached in pain and numbness. There really was no chance you'd see the Saja Boys now. Who knows what time it is. 

From the distance, you could hear the sounds of muffled chatter and you shot up from your place on the ground. You rushed to the door, banging on it as loud as you could and calling out for help. Your head felt heavier and heavier and your vision started to fade rapidly. 

Hearing movement from the door you backed away slowly, and upon seeing a man's chest you fell forward, passing out in the stranger's warm arms. 

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edit - I'm so happy so many people like this :D

a lot of people have been asking to be tagged in the next chapter, if you also want to be tagged just comment below and ask to be tagged and I'll add you to the list!

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[urmum-lovesme]

Dad!Rafe coming home to an unexpected visitor...

Y/n sat on the couch, her baby gently cradled in her arms as she swayed back and forth, humming softly to soothe her. It was the end of a long day, and despite the overwhelming joy of motherhood, she was hoping that Rafe would come back home soon so she could have five minutes of ‘mommy time’. He had to leave today, much to his complaints, to go and check up on the Cameron Development office. She had encouraged him, why wouldn’t she? She knew how hard he had worked to get where he is, but it felt weird being alone with their daughter, the absence of his everyday presence for the past month was going to take a while to adapt to. Suddenly, there was a knock on the front door- a loud, insistent knock that echoed through the house. The voice that followed was unmistakable,

“C’mon, country club I ain’t got all day.”

Y/n’s lips curved into a small smile, recognising the familiar tone of Barry’s voice. She shifted the baby gently in her arms and rose to answer the door. When Y/n had first met Barry, she had been skeptical. After all, the guy was a drug dealer, and she knew well enough that people in that line of work weren’t exactly known for their warm personalities or moral compass. At first, she had kept her distance, unsure of how to navigate the relationship between Rafe's closest friend and herself. But over time, Y/n realised that Barry was a little different from what she had expected. He had never once treated her like an outsider, and while his exterior remained tough, he always showed her respect. Barry wasn’t as bad as people said. 

In fact, they actually got along quite well.

As she opened the door, Barry stood on the other side, leaning casually against the frame. His eyes immediately flicked to the baby in her arms, but his expression remained unreadable.

“Hey Barry,” Y/n greeted, her voice soft and calm, “Rafe’s not back yet.”

Barry blinked, clearly surprised for a moment, then let out a low laugh. “Shi, my bad, princess,” he said, adjusting the weight of the bag he had slung over his shoulder. 

“Wasn’t expectin' a welcome party.”

Y/n chuckled lightly and stepped aside to let him in. “You wanna come in? Rafe’ll be back in a bit- well I think...” Barry hesitated for a brief second, looking past her into the house before nodding. 

“Aight, why not.”

Barry’s heavy footsteps filtered through the halls of Tannyhill, as he plopped himself down onto the couch getting comfortable, bag once slung over his shoulder now shrugged to the floor. Y/n navigated over to the kitchen, pulling open the fridge door, the cool air brushed past her face as her eyes scanned the shelves. She reached for a chilled pitcher of lemonade, balancing it with one hand while adjusting the baby’s position with the other. Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, she poured the liquid with practiced ease, the sound of it filling the quiet between Barry’s heavy sighs from the living room.

“Here” 

She said softly, making her way back to him. With the baby still cradled in her arm, she handed him the glass. Barry took it, raising an eyebrow as he looked at the lemonade. 

“No beer?” 

He teased, a playful grin tugging at his lips. Y/n’s eyes narrowed slightly as she side eyed him, her head tilting just enough to give Barry a look that was equal parts warning and amusement. 

“Don’t push your luck” 

She murmured, her voice light but firm. Barry chuckled, throwing his hands up in mock innocence. 

“Aight, aight, my bad mama” 

He said, leaning back into the couch, the grin still plastered on his face. She rolled her eyes, but a small smile betrayed her as it tugged at her lips. Y/n eased herself onto the large couch, careful not to jostle the baby, who had begun to settle against her chest. Barry glanced over, taking a sip of the lemonade. 

“You make this?” he asked, she gave him a glance, as she nodded, “mhmm.”

“S’good,”

He admitted, leaning forward to set the empty glass on the coffee table. As he looked to her his gaze softened slightly, he glanced at the baby in her arms, though he quickly masked it with his usual neutral expression. 

“Man, Country Club got lucky with you," he muttered, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, "ain’t no clue how he did that.”

Y/n chuckled softly, her hand gently patting the baby’s back as her little hand fisted her mother’s top. “He’s lucky, all right,” she agreed, looking down at her little girl, “but I think it’s the other way around most days.”

Barry raised an eyebrow at her, his expression changing a little as he took in the sight of her with the baby, a quiet respect in his eyes that he didn't often show. He cleared his throat, leaning back slightly in his seat as he tried to keep his usual tough-guy persona intact. His voice was quieter than usual, and Y/n caught the subtle shift, the care hidden beneath his typically gruff tone,

“How she doin'? Been a lotta noise in here tonight.” 

“She’s good. Just a little fussy,” Y/n replied, smiling softly at the baby, “She’s usually like this around bedtime, but I also think she just misses her daddy…”

Barry grunted, nodding as he looked down at the baby in her arms again, the similarity between the little girl and Rafe was uncanny. The baby had inherited Rafe's striking blue eyes and even her furrowed brow mirrored Rafe's intense expressions, a trait that often unsettled those around him. It was as if a smaller, innocent version of Rafe was cradled in Y/n's arms. Suddenly, a wave of urgency hit Y/n. She gnawed at her lip as she bounced the baby in her arms slightly before she sat up on the couch moving towards Barry, speaking out,

 “Hey, uh, do you mind holding her for a second? I really need to use the bathroom-”

Barry blinked, eyebrows furrowing in hesitation as she now stood in front of him, still gently rocking the baby in her arms.

“Listen, princess, I ain’t ever held no baby 'fore” 

He said, his voice slightly tight, clearly uncomfortable at the thought. Y/n laughed softly before shaking her head, “It’s just for a minute. I’ll be right back. Please?” She shifted the baby in her arms, her gaze imploring. After a beat, Barry sighed heavily, hand rubbing over his face, though there was no real anger in his tone. 

“Shi, alright, I’ll hold her.”

With some reluctance from him, Y/n carefully passed the baby to Barry, watching closely as he took her into his arms. He held her awkwardly at first, unsure of how to manage such a fragile little thing, but Y/n gave him a reassuring smile before quickly heading toward the bathroom.

As she disappeared into the other room, Barry shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a more natural hold on the baby. His hands moved cautiously, but as he adjusted, the baby made a little noise- a content huff- and he relaxed a little. He glanced down at the little face staring up at him, and for a second, his usual bravado slipped. As he adjusted, the baby let out a soft coo and her tiny hand reached up, instinctively grasping one of his fingers.

Barry froze for a moment, his eyes widening slightly as the little hand curled around his finger. His face softened, a rare, almost tender expression crossing his features. He gently adjusted his hold, ensuring the baby was comfortable, and for a moment, he just stared at her with something close to awe in his gaze.

“Shi-,” he muttered under his breath. “You kinda cute, huh?”

Rafe walked into the living room, a bag of takeout in his hand, ready to settle in for a quiet evening. But as soon as he stepped through the doorway, he froze, his eyes widening in surprise.

There, on the sofa, sat Barry- his usually hard-edged friend, the man who’d never been the type to do anything too tender or gentle. And yet, there he was, with Rafe’s baby girl cradled in his arms like she was the most precious thing in the world.

Barry was leaning back against the cushions, completely at ease now, the baby cooing softly in his hands. His gaze was softer than Rafe had ever seen, his usually sharp and intimidating presence replaced with a strange calmness as he looked down at the little girl. Rafe’s initial shock quickly faded into a mix of amusement and disbelief. He raised an eyebrow, stepping further into the room with a quiet chuckle. Just as he was about to say something, Y/n appeared at the doorway walking to Rafe, looking over at the scene with a smile that immediately softened her features.

“Aww, Rafe, look at that,” 

She said, her voice full of affection as she watched Barry with their baby. Rafe paused, his eyes flicking from his daughter to Barry, then back again. A grin spread across his face as he wrapped his arm around Y/n’s side. 

“I think we got ourselves a new babysitter,” he teased. Barry’s eyes narrowed, and with his usual bluntness, he shot back, 

“Shut yo bitch ass up”

“Hey! Watch your mouth in front of my daughter”

He said, his tone playful but with an edge of protection. Barry raised an eyebrow, but the tension broke when he let out a small laugh, shaking his head. 

“Yeah, yeah- we best friends now, ain't we cuz?”

He muttered, turning his attention to the baby cradled in his arms. The baby blinked up at him with wide, curious eyes, her tiny mouth opening in a silent "O" before a soft, contented coo bubbled out. Her little fists wiggled, and she kicked her legs faintly, her whole body giving that jerky, uncoordinated movement typical of a baby her age. Barry’s grin widened as he pointed to her. 

“See that?

Rafe shook his head, a faint laugh rising from his chest, “Man, she doesn’t even know who you are yet.”

“Nah, nah-” he replied confidently, leaning back on the couch. “She knows her uncle Barry, don't ya sweetheart.”

The baby let out another soft sound, something between a sigh and a happy gurgle, her tiny face scrunching in what could almost pass as a smile. Y/n laughed softly at the exchange, moving closer to the couch, with Rafe close behind her, his arms around her waist as they two looked down at their daughter. Y/n looked at Barry, her expression warm. 

“You’re good with her, Barry,” she said, a note of gratitude in her voice.

Barry gave a small shrug, his usual tough-guy persona slipping back into place, but there was a subtle softness in his eyes as he looked down at the baby. 

“She’s cool,” he said, his voice gruff but genuine, “ain’t as bad as people think.”

Rafe rested his head against Y/n’s as he watched his friend, amused. He teased, eyeing Barry with a grin. 

“Just don’t get too attached.”

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP Fanfic Idea: Not My Business

Danny Fenton develops a unique set of skills throughout his life. He knew how to disarm a bomb when he was seven, thanks to his Dad making minebombs in the front yard as a ghost defense. (They only covered humans in ecto-goo, but it was the same concept of not wanting to have it explode on him)

He knew how to fight with a bo-staff only because he had to fight off the meals his parents brought back to life with a broom. He knew how to balance a checkbook, file tax forms, and properly build credit by the time he was ten, thanks to the years his parents ran a business at the kitchen table.

His sister taught him how to charm rude customers with a smile, how to lie without flinching, and how to complete all his assignments on time, despite having only a few hours to do so. She spent a lot of time volunteering, often dragging him along, which allowed Danny to build up his resume with both soft and hard skills he likely would never have thought there was a name for.

Problem-solving, teamwork, communication, time management, adaptability, data analysis, cybersecurity, data entry, and copywriting were the skills that Jazz focused on the most. She all but beat them into his head.

Along with cooking, sewing, basic plumbing, basic mechanics, and budgeting. Jazz was the one who looked for practical abilities.

That left time for his mom and dad to teach him things like forging, combat training, reprogramming everyday objects into weaponry, defending his position before a board for grant money, turning everyday household liquids into knock-out gas, and how to talk his way out of traffic tickets.

Not to mention everything he learn as Phantom.

Danny knew how to verify jewels and gold due to the years spent in the ghost zone fighting off pirates and treasure hunters. Phantom's reputation made him a target for many ghosts who wanted to add his rarity to their collections.

How to command a room, then a town, and finally an army. Diplomatic missions increased in number as he began meeting with the leaders of various sectors within the Ghost Zones.

Really, Danny didn't make a whole lot of sense, if anyone bothered to ask him how he came to this set of skills. The thing was, unlike the rest of his family, Danny was far too reserved to show them off. He edged the line of shyness from a young age, which sometimes bled into reclusive tendencies.

He didn't get anxious from social interactions; he just didn't feel like seeking them out. Sam and Tucker felt a similar way, as they were always willing to talk to a stranger, but they tried to branch out of their safe little bubble to make friends rather than acquaintances. Then the summer between sophomore and junior year happened.

Sam, Danny, and Tucker left tenth grade as plain losers only to arrive in junior with a splash.

The trio noticed that people were staring at them more intensely than they had been before. That they were used to, what they weren't used to was that the stares were not mocking or dismissive.

It was odd, but it didn't click on why that was until winter break, and more specifically, Star's Holiday party.

Ever since the fourth grade, Star hosted the biggest party of their generation. Her parents owned the local fun center, which featured indoor kart racing, laser tag, arcade games, paintball, and virtual reality pods. Everyone tripped over themselves to be given an invitation as she offered a full day and night of free entertainment at the center.

It always ended with wild stories of teenage fun that Danny always wanted to see in person, rather than hearing about in the hallways the next day. Not that everyone in their grade went. The invitation list was super selective (Star's parents did lose a lot of profit for letting their daughter do that)

You either received an invitation from the party girl herself, or you were asked to be a plus one, which was just as much of an honor as it was a symbol of social status among the teenage population of Amity Park.

The trio was never invited, which is why they were already making their way to the student parking lot when Star stood in the courtyard, holding up the scarred envelopes. Inside them was the bracelet that one had to scan at the door of her center to let people in. It was how her father ensured only the agreed-upon guests stayed at that number.

In the middle of making plans for hot chocolate at Sam's favorite poetry slam cafe, Star had run at Tucker's car, practically falling over to knock on his window. Danny had never been so confused in his life as his friend rolled down his window to arch a brow at the girl.

She stuttered her way through a pathetic request for fashion advice that Tucker easily answered in two sentences. Sam snickered as Star seemed unsure what to do with Tucker's lack of interest in her or her popularity.

Ever since Tucker started focusing more on his self-confidence and joined the fashion community, he hadn't been so girl-crazy nor as desperate to get one's attention.

Just as Danny reminded Tucker that other cars were waiting for them to clear the road, Star had pushed three envelopes into the driver's hand and run off with a red face.

Tucker stared at the envelopes in his hands with a wild look that both Sam and Danny shared. They slowly kicked their brains back into gear when an angry honk from the car behind them sounded, and they ended up silently driving the cafe, still in a daze.

Jazz laughed herself silly when they rang her up to ask if she thought it was a trick (Sam was sure they were going to be Carrie-ed), a mistake (Danny insisted Star had gone to the wrong car, but due to the tinting, didn't realize until it was too late). Or a genuine invitation (Tcuker had always been the most optimistic of the three).

"Haven't you three ever wondered why Spectra used emotion-based ectoplasm for her appearance?" She giggled, "It makes people hot. And you guys literally spend all summer in the Ghost Zone during your internships, feeling human emotions while being exposed to natural ectoplasm. You three came back looking good."

That was a shock.

The summer apprenticeships had been a compromise between Sam and her parents. They were growing tired of her not growing out of her "phase" and were threatening to send her to a military camp to straighten her out.

Thankfully, Jazz had stepped in, brilliantly changing their minds into allowing the college student to match Sam up with a well-known friend as a mentor. She even threw Danny and Tucker into her "program" to further show that it was just what Sam needed to stop her from being a troubled teen.

Since only Maddie and Jack knew about Phantom, it took some effort among all of them to create fake websites and legitimate-looking summer programs before Sam, Tucker, and Danny arrived in the Ghost Zone in different vehicles to spend their summers. It helped that Ghostwriter owed them a favor, and he brought the programs to life.

Danny was learning medical practices of various species with Frostbite. Sam was with Princess Dorathea, learning how to govern and manage a large estate. Tucker had taken Wulf up on his offer to join him through the Ghost Zone's wildness, allowing Tucker to experience life off-screen and learn more about animals.

Jazz had said she placed them out of their comfort zones, but with trusted ghosts that could help them build well-rounded characters. At first, it wasn't for them, but the trio found themselves falling in love with their activities.

By the time they came back, they had many stories and exceptional skills to share with their parents. Sam's parents weren't happy she was still a goth, but they did appreciate her newfound determination to connect with them and her interest in running companies like the family business.

Tucker's parents were amazed by the muscles he gained and how he started to limit his screen time. He still loves his tech, but now he was branching out into fashion, helping out around the house, and appreciating animals and nature like never before.

Maddie and Jack watched as Danny grew more empathic while becoming more sure of what to do in stressful situations. Confidence that their son desperately needed had been gifted to him over the summer. He no longer lowered his eyes or slouched, even if his awkwardness lingered a bit.

That apparently made them hot? Yes, it did.

At Star's party, even though the three kept to themselves, laughing and hanging out as normal, people were constantly attempting to talk to them or simply flushing whenever they made eye contact. Danny, Sam, and Tucker all agreed that they no longer wanted to be popular.

They stay firmly behind unbreakable walls even as the party skyrocketed them to the same level of popularity as the A-listers (they refused to join the club). The three were more excited to return to their summer internships the following summer.

By the time graduation rolled around, Danny, Sam, and Tucker had been voted the most attractive and the most likely to succeed. They were a new type of untouchable royalty walking the halls of Casper High.

It came as no surprise that their resumes and internships got them offers from various colleges, not to mention their looks. Jazz, by that point, was still working on her degree at Gotham U, so the three chose to go there.

Danny was studying to become a doctor, Sam was in business, and Tucker chose computer sciences. They had moved into a house that Sam's parents bought for them, allowing Jazz to move out of the dorms into the spare room. Things were going great for a while, living in the big city and being adults on their own for the first time.

Then Danny applied for an internship at Martha Wayne Memorial Hospital in the administrative area- Sam convinced him it would be a good way to get a foot in the door when he applied to medical school. He needed someone to write him rec letters.- And one night, when he was working late on data entry, he happened to see Batman's maskless fall out of a portal produced by a trenchcoat man.

The trenchcoat man carried Batman to the abandoned operating room that had been left behind when they remodeled the place and converted it into offices, followed by the rest of the Bats. Their faces were covered entirely, but it did not hide their worry as they rushed to catch up with the pair.

A woman wearing scrubs pushed through the portal and the group of masked heroes, barking out orders to prepare the room.

There was a magic spell wrapped around the group that typically would have made them invisible, and erase their importance in the mind of whoever looked at them, as if they were from a forgotten dream. Still, Danny's ecto contamination made him immune to the spell, so he witnessed the whole thing.

Huh. Bruce Wayne was Batman. Neat.

Danny figured it wasn't his business and turned back to his two monitors to finish the Excel spreadsheet he was working on. He later left after saving his work, ignoring the fact that he now knew why the operating room had been left untouched, despite having all that technology on standby.

He would get home, mention it over a plate of reheated pizza, while Tucker would be working on an essay due at midnight. His best friend would shrug, claiming his own ectoplasim had made him immune to Poison Ivy's plants- they were shockingly similar to some of the plants Wulf and he encountered in the Ghost Zone- and had seen Red Robin's face after the man had been sprayed in the face and some of the powder lingered on his mask.

Apparently, Tucker's midnight essay writing had given him a familiar, dazed college look of exhaustion. Still, since he wasn't freaking out at the man eating plants, Red Robin had thought him too gone on whatever Posion Ivy how dosed the crowd of hostages with, to worry about his bare face. He had merely moved Tucker somewhere safe, stabbed him in the thigh with a needle, which had been rude according to Tucker, and run off to fight Ivy.

Red Robin was Tim Drake. Neat.

The two changed the subject to a TV show, but eventually Tucker had to focus on his essay, and they fell silent.

The following morning, Sam reported that she, too, had figured out a Gotham Hero's identity by accident. Her ectoplasim contamination had made her an attractive goth, who was approached by a blushing Damian Wayne to ask her to model her alternative style for his art club.

At the offer of a bit of pocket change, Sam had agreed to follow the art club president to a park where a group of teenagers were setting up canvases and easels. They asked her to sit on the park fountain for a few hours while they tried to capture her likeness in charcoal.

During the session, she noticed a change in Damian's movement as he grew more relaxed and his old habits began to shine through. Princess Dorathea had taught her the dangers of the court and how to notice little changes in body language that could keep her safe.

She thought it was odd that Damian moved like an assassin, reaching for a small knife in the same way he wielded his charcoal. It made sense later when she was rescued by Robin on her walk home from a would-be mugging and noticed the same little habits.

Robin was Damian Wayne. Neat.

If three of the many Bats were Waynes or connected to the famous family, it only logically makes sense that the rest were all Waynes too. Double neat.

The only one who was sincerely shocked by this reveal was Jazz, who had not even a hint of suspicion that Bruce Wayne was Batman.

"This is huge!" Jazz gasps, "Don't you guys realize how crazy this is!?"

"I mean, sure," Tucker slowly responded, sharing a confused glance with Sam and Danny. "But it's not really our business, is it? It's not like Danny is in the hero scene anymore."

"Well, yes but come on it's Batman!"

"I don't think Batman even cares about us, much less his Bruce persona. As someone from the bottom of the first class, trust me, the top of the first class doesn't even notice us taking up space. " Sam laughs, shaking her head. Danny hesitates to mention that Bruce Wayne has stopped by his office multiple times to bring coffee for all his coworkers, but figures the man must do that for all his employees.

Miles and miles away in Wayne Manor, Bruce narrows his eyes at the three screens displaying three newly graduated teens covered in paranormal residue. It's possible that they were all haunted and just didn't know it, which was a common thing, according to the Justice League Dark.

After some digging into their background, he found that companies, summer camps, and internships had all been fabricated by an incredible hacker who provided an oddly convincing cover-up for the various skills the trio possessed. Again, the Justice League Dark also stated that it was common, as that was a tactic the Otherworlders frequently used on humans to leech onto them.

Like a gas station in the middle of nowhere that was there and then it wasn't a few days later.

The three weren't experiencing any negative emotions, which meant whatever was haunting them would soon pass, and it wasn't necessary to intervene. Zatanna promised Bruce that everything was fine.

He had some doubts.

So far, the three have been doing everyday things that first-year college students typically do, and yet, Bruce's children have reported seeing the three often in their civilian lives.

Foley worked out at the same gym Dick did and was often at the ramen shop Jason just helped one of his friends open. Manson began spending time at Cass's favorite café and attended Duke's poetry nights as an observer. Fenton, the male one, was literally working a few floors below Tim.

A coincidence?

Or was it something nefarious at play?

Bruce decided to wait and see what happens.

[holeforzenin]

ׁBoyfriend Megumi that loves your pretty tits ໑ৎ

Tw- Tit fucking, panty sniffing, taking photos. Both are 19+. Not proofread

“Gumiii” Your breath hitches as your skin develops goosebumps from his cold calloused hands touching your soft breasts. He smirks as he moves his head down to nibble on your neck. “Hmm?” He hummed nonchalantly against you, making you shiver when you felt the vibrations against your skin. “S-stop, someone’s going to see!” You pleaded nervously as you closed your eyes and try to conceal the moan that was threatening to escape from your lips as he fondled with your tits from behind as if they were squishy playballs.

His clothed hardened cock thats staining through his boxers—practically begging for attention, twitches against your panty-clad ass as he softly humps it into your cheeks—your skirt all brunched up by him to reveal your ass. “Shhh baby we’ll be quick, they won’t see, m’promise, you know how much I love playing with these pretty tits, can’t help myself”. He opposed, his right hand now snaking down to your panties, rubbing his fingers along your clothed folds, making you moan lowly. “So wet already—is this turning you on baby? Mmm love my horny little slut of a girlfriend sooo much” he chuckled lowly, burying his face into the crook of your neck while he squeezes one of your rounded breasts as he teases your clothed cunt with the other. Two of his fingers rubbing your soft clit, forcing more wetness from your pussy to leak out your entrance, soiling your panties even more.

He groaned into your neck—taking a deep sniff as your head fell onto one of his big broad shoulders. “Does our friends being downstairs training while you're slutting yourself out for me makes you horny baby? You’re so nasty” He hummed against your skin with a hint of laughter as your cheeks grew red. “I’m not! You’re the one t-touching me perv” You pouted as your brows furred. He laughed against you as he marauded his hand inside your panties.

Megumi could be so much trouble sometimes, it’s like he doesn’t know the concept of “there’s time and place for everything” because on the contrary, he doesn’t give a fuck, he’d grope and squeeze your boobs together and pull your top down and watch as they bounce out any second of the day. He loves your tits so much, everything about them was perfect.

A part of you was so horny and hazed with lust while the other was scared and frightened that one of your friends were gonna barge into the classroom and see the lewd scene in front of them. But on the other hand—Megumi really couldn’t care less.

That’s how you end up on your knees with Megumi’s cock being choked snugly between your swollen tits as his tall figure leans against the desk—his head falling back, eyes rolling back to his skull as his tongue drags against the creamy crotch of your dirty discarded panties, lapping up your juices as he mumbly groans into the material pathetically—the intoxicating smell of your pussy filling up his nostrils, making him dizzy as you stare up at him with pleading eyes. Your core dripping onto the floor seeing your boyfriend being such a pervert with your used panties. “Fuckk—keep going baby, just like thatt” his jaw falls slack feeling you squishing your tits together around his cock with enthusiasm, dragging it against his length like a good girl.

You whined, feeling your needy hole flutter excitedly around nothing, “That’s ittt, pleasuring my cock so well. Such a good girlfriend to me, aren’t you baby?” He praises you, dark blue eyes piercing down at you. You were so perfect to him, you look so pretty like this, on your knees worshipping his cock. If he could have you like this twenty-four seven, he sure as hell would. His dick twitches seeing your big doe-eyes gazing up at him. He murmured a low “fuck” before placing your panties next to him—grabbing a handful of your hair, “Ya know what, stay still f’me baby, fuck don’t move, keep those tits pressed together around my dick, justtt like that” he groans, thrusting himself between your tits, his tip kissing your throat as his balls slap against your skin, you mewled lowly as he dragged his cock along your soft skin. He lets out broken groans—which you know exactly what it means, he’s about to cum. You did him a favor by sticking your tongue out, sucking and licking on the twitching tip every chance you get as you feel your pussy pooling slick on the floor. “Fuckfuckfuck that’s right, s’good baby, you're so good. Such a obedient little slut for me. Gonna blow my load on those pretty tits, don’t fucking stop”.

You whimpered at his praises, obeying what he says, and kept going till his angry oozing tip shoots out long ropes of cum, decorating your boobs with his seed. “Hah-fuckkk mmmpf! Shit fucking take it, you’re going to be so fucking tainted after I’m done with you baby”, He moaned out as he drained every drip of his balls on your body, biting his lips as his eyes rolled back.

He quickly stops you before you got the chance to let go of your breasts, picking up his phone from the side and opening his camera to snap a photo for memories obviously!! “Smile for the camera baby, fuck you’re so good to me, attta girl. You look so fucking sexy all covered with my cum like this” he laughs out as he snaps a couple photos before pulling his cock out from between your cum-covered tits. Ahhh yes, those photos will definitely be kept for memories! Printed memories actually! That will be hidden in the depths of his wallet for him to jack off to at night when you’re not there.

[rulerofstars]

autumn whispers

oneshot: in the space between being a public hero and a private man, between the chaos of saving the world and the peace of your shared sanctuary, lies the most profound truth—that even after facing the darkness of the void, bucky barnes still finds his way home to you.

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

tags: fluff, fluff... more fluff. thunderbolts. bucky barnes. 1.9k words.

The warm studio lights beamed down on the polished hardwood floor of the talk show set. Outside, autumn leaves danced in the crisp October air, but inside, the atmosphere was charged with anticipation as the audience quieted down. A montage of explosive battle footage played on the large screen behind the host's desk: scenes of the Thunderbolts fighting side by side against the latest world-ending threat.

"And we're back with our very special guest tonight," the host, Marissa, announced with practiced enthusiasm as the camera panned to her and her guest. "The man who went from war hero, to villain, to hero again, to congressman, and now back to saving the world—Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes!"

The audience erupted into applause as the camera focused on Bucky. You couldn't help but lean closer to your television screen, heart fluttering despite yourself. There he was, Bucky Barnes, looking almost unfairly handsome in a navy blue button-down that brought out the steel blue of his eyes. His brown hair, now grown out to just below his chin, was tucked behind his ears with a few rebellious strands falling across his forehead.

He smiled politely, the expression warm but reserved in that way only Bucky could manage. The past decade had smoothed some of the harder edges from his face, but the slight furrow between his brows, the one that appeared whenever he was in the spotlight, remained.

"Thank you for having me, Marissa," he replied, his voice carrying that gentle gravel that always sent shivers down your spine.

"So, Congressman Barnes, or should I call you Sergeant Barnes again?" Marissa asked with a flirtatious edge to her voice, leaning slightly toward him.

"James is fine," he answered with a small, practiced smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"James," she echoed, clearly delighted. "After three years representing New York's 14th district in Congress, many were surprised when you answered the call to rejoin the Avengers for this latest crisis. Tell us about that decision."

Bucky shifted in his seat, his vibranium hand, now sleekly designed with Wakandan tech that allowed it to appear almost indistinguishable from his right except for a subtle metallic sheen, rested comfortably on his knee.

"Well, when you've been fighting as long as I have, you learn that duty comes in many forms," he started, his voice thoughtful. "For the past few years, I thought my duty was best served in Congress, fighting for veterans' rights and rehabilitation programs for enhanced individuals. But when the call came that the Thunderbolts needed backup..." He paused, a shadow of something deeper crossing his features. "Some battles need to be fought on different fronts."

You smiled at the television, remembering the late-night conversations that had preceded his decision. The worry in his eyes, the way he'd held you close as if trying to memorize the feel of you in his arms before leaving.

"And what a battle it was!" Marissa exclaimed. "The footage we've seen is just incredible. Working alongside the Thunderbolts again after your own time on the team—how did that feel?"

Bucky's expression softened slightly. "Like coming home, in some ways. That team—we've been through a lot together. There's a trust that develops when you've fought side by side with people who've also known what it's like to seek redemption."

"Speaking of coming home," Marissa segued smoothly, her tone shifting to something more personal as she leaned even closer, "one thing our viewers are dying to know, is there someone special waiting for you when you return from saving the world? The Internet has been abuzz with speculation about Congressman Barnes' love life."

The camera zoomed in slightly on Bucky's face, catching the nearly imperceptible tightening around his eyes. You held your breath, knowing what was coming.

"No comment on that front," he replied diplomatically. "I prefer to keep my personal life private."

Marissa wasn't deterred. "So you're saying you're single and available?" she pressed, her smile widening.

A flash of amusement crossed Bucky's face, there and gone in an instant that most viewers would miss. But you knew that look, he was thinking of you.

"I'm saying that some parts of life are sacred enough to keep away from the spotlight," he countered gently but firmly. "I learned that lesson the hard way over many decades."

"Fair enough," Marissa conceded, though she looked slightly disappointed. "Well, I'm sure there are plenty of viewers who'll be happy to hear there might still be a chance with the heroic congressman."

Bucky gave a noncommittal smile as the conversation shifted to policies he had championed in Congress and how his perspective as both a veteran and an enhanced individual had shaped his legislative priorities.

You switched off the television with a fond shake of your head. He'd handled that perfectly, as always. The agreement you'd both come to early in your relationship, to keep your love life completely separate from his public persona had served you well. No reporters camped outside your door, no intrusive questions about your past, no scrutiny of every aspect of your relationship.

Just the two of you, living your quiet life together between his more public responsibilities.

You glanced at the clock, he'd be home soon. The interview had been pre-recorded three days ago, before he'd returned from Washington. With a smile, you headed to the kitchen to finish preparing his favorite autumn meal.

The door clicked open quietly just as you were pulling the apple cider from the stove. The familiar sound of Bucky's footsteps—always lighter than you'd expect from a man his size—made your heart leap.

"Something smells amazing," his voice called from the entryway.

You turned to see him standing in the doorway of your small but cozy kitchen, jacket already hung by the door, boots removed. His hair was slightly tousled from the autumn wind, cheeks tinged pink from the cold. The sight of him, not Congressman Barnes, not the Winter Soldier, not even Avenger Bucky, but just your Bucky—made warmth spread through your chest.

"Welcome home," you said, setting down the pot and crossing the room to him. "Just in time. I saw your interview."

His arms encircled your waist as he pulled you against his chest, burying his face in your neck and inhaling deeply as if drawing strength from your scent. "Yeah? How'd I do?"

"Mmm, very diplomatic," you murmured as his lips found the sensitive spot below your ear. "Marissa was really trying her best, wasn't she?"

Bucky chuckled against your skin, the sound reverberating through you. "Didn't even notice," he mumbled. "Was too busy thinking about coming home to you."

You pulled back slightly to look at his face, reaching up to tuck a strand of that soft brown hair behind his ear. His eyes, those incredible blue-gray eyes that had seen nearly a century of history—looked at you with such tenderness it made your breath catch.

"Missed you," he whispered, his voice dropping to that intimate tone reserved only for you.

"It was only three days this time," you reminded him with a smile, though you'd felt every hour of his absence.

"Three days too many," he countered, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. "Congress, Avengers, interviews... none of it compares to this. To you. To us."

Your fingers traced the line of his jaw, still amazed after all this time that this man—this complicated, beautiful, heroic man—had chosen a quiet life with you when he could have had anything or anyone.

"I made something special for you," you said, gesturing toward the kitchen where delicious aromas wafted through the apartment.

His eyes lit up with simple pleasure. "You spoil me, doll."

"You deserve to be spoiled," you replied easily. "Now go wash up. Dinner's almost ready."

He stole a quick kiss before heading to the bathroom, and you returned to the stove with a smile playing on your lips. The routine was familiar, comforting, a pocket of normalcy carved out of extraordinary circumstances.

The small dining table in your apartment was already set, candles waiting to be lit. Outside your window, the trees on your quiet Brooklyn street displayed their autumn finery, reds, golds, and oranges creating a fiery tapestry against the darkening evening sky. You'd chosen this apartment together three years ago, when Bucky had first run for Congress, close enough to his district office but far enough from the heart of the city to give you both room to breathe.

Bucky returned, changed into a soft henley and comfortable pants, his hair damp and combed back from his face. The scent of his cologne, subtle notes of cedar and bergamot—filled your senses as he moved around the kitchen with practiced ease, helping you bring the food to the table, lighting the candles, pouring the cider into the ceramic mugs you'd bought together at a craft fair last autumn. As he passed behind you, his hand brushed against the small of your back, a gentle touch that sent pleasant shivers up your spine.

"So," you began as you settled into your seats, Bucky choosing to sit close beside you rather than across the table. He casually rested his hand on your thigh, thumb making small, gentle circles against the fabric of your pants. The warmth of his touch radiated through you as you leaned slightly into him. "How did the debriefing go? The real one, not the TV-friendly version."

Bucky took a bite of the food, closing his eyes briefly in appreciation before answering. His face was so close to yours that you could feel the gentle warmth of his breath, inhale the intoxicating blend of his natural musk and subtle cologne. "Better than expected. Bob says hi, by the way. Wants to know when we're coming over for dinner."

"Tell him anytime he's willing to cook," you teased.

Bucky smiled, a genuine one that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "Will do." He took another bite, then added more softly, "It felt good, being back in the field. Different than Congress. More immediate. In Congress, you fight for change that might take years to see. Out there, you know right away if you've made a difference."

You nodded, understanding the complex relationship he had with his dual roles. "You make a difference either way, Buck. Different battles, like you said in the interview."

"Speaking of the interview," he said, a mischievous glint entering his eyes, "sorry about the 'single' implication. You know how it goes."

You waved a dismissive hand. "Please. I knew what I was signing up for." You took a sip of cider, the warm spices dancing on your tongue. "Besides, I kind of enjoy being your best-kept secret, Congressman Barnes."

His expression softened as he turned to face you, his hand sliding up from your thigh to cup your cheek. The candlelight caught the subtle gleam of his vibranium fingers against your skin as he leaned in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. He tasted of cider and something uniquely him, a taste that never failed to make your heart race. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with your own.

"Not a secret," he corrected gently. "Just private. There's a difference."

"I know," you assured him. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

The decision to keep your relationship out of the public eye had been mutual from the beginning. After everything Bucky had been through, decades of having his choices taken away, years of fighting to reclaim his identity—privacy had become sacred to him. And you, having seen the media circus that surrounded other Avengers' relationships, had readily agreed.

It wasn't hiding; it was preserving something precious.

After dinner, you moved to the small living room, settling onto the worn but comfortable couch that faced the electric fireplace. Outside, rain had begun to fall, pattering gently against the windows. Bucky pulled the handmade quilt, a gift from Wanda, over both of you as you curled against his side.

"Want to watch something?" you asked, though you already knew the answer.

Bucky shook his head, his arm tightening around you. "Just want to be here. With you. No screens, no cameras, no reporters. Just us."

You nestled closer, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your cheek. His vibranium arm, always slightly cooler than his flesh one, curved protectively around your waist.

"Tell me something good that happened while I was gone," he murmured into your hair.

This was another ritual, finding moments of simple joy to share with each other, a practice that had helped Bucky learn to recognize the good in his life after decades of darkness.

"Mrs. Kapoor from downstairs brought up some homemade samosas yesterday," you told him. "Said they were a thank you for helping her grandson with his history project. I saved you some—they're in the fridge."

"She makes the best samosas in Brooklyn," Bucky said appreciatively. "What else?"

"The maple tree in the park has turned completely red now. It happened almost overnight. And I finished that book you recommended, the one about the lighthouse keeper. You were right, the ending was worth the slow middle."

He smiled against your temple. "I've been reading books long enough to know a good payoff when I see one coming."

"Your turn," you prompted, looking up at him. "Something good from your trip."

Bucky was quiet for a moment, his fingers absently tracing patterns on your arm. "There was this kid at the hospital we visited after the battle. Couldn't have been more than eight. Lost his arm in an accident last year." His voice softened. "He showed me his prosthetic—nothing fancy, but he'd decorated it with Avengers stickers. Had Steve's Captain America mask right at the top."

Your heart squeezed. "Bucky..."

"I showed him some of the basic maintenance I do on mine," he continued. "Simple stuff, things his parents could help with. But the way he looked at me, doll..." Bucky shook his head slightly. "Like having one arm didn't make him less. Like it made him special. Connected to something bigger."

You reached for his metal hand, bringing it to your lips and kissing the palm gently. "You changed how he sees himself."

"Maybe," Bucky acknowledged. "That's worth all the congressional hearings and PR interviews combined."

The rain grew heavier outside, drumming a soothing rhythm on the roof. The warm glow from the fireplace cast dancing shadows across Bucky's face, highlighting the contours you'd memorized with your fingertips on countless nights like this one.

"You know," you said thoughtfully, "if Marissa knew what she was missing: quiet nights, pot roast, and rainstorms—she might have tried even harder to get that dating confirmation."

Bucky laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Not a chance. This isn't for sharing." His expression grew more serious as he gazed down at you. "Sometimes I think about how different my life could have been. All those years as the Winter Soldier, then the fighting, the pardons, the political career... None of it prepared me for this."

"For what?" you asked softly.

"For how it would feel to come home to someone who knows all of me—every part, every history, every name I've ever had—and loves me anyway." His voice dropped to a whisper. "For how simple and yet impossible it seemed that I could have this kind of peace."

You shifted to face him fully, cupping his face between your hands. "James Buchanan Barnes, are you getting sentimental on me?"

A slow smile spread across his face. "Might be. Happens every autumn. Something about the changing leaves makes a century-old man reflective."

"Well, this century-old man better save some of that reflection for tomorrow," you teased. "We promised to help Yori rake his yard, remember?"

Bucky groaned dramatically. "Why did I agree to that? I was just in a battle to save the world."

"Because he promised to make us sushi afterward," you reminded him. "And because you're a good friend, even when you pretend to be grumpy about it."

He sighed in mock resignation, then suddenly moved, pulling you into his lap in one fluid motion that reminded you of the superhuman strength he usually kept carefully controlled. "Fine. But that means we should make the most of tonight."

Your breath caught as his hands settled on your waist, warm and secure. "Any specific ideas, Congressman?"

His eyes darkened slightly as he leaned closer. "Several. None of which I'll be sharing on national television."

As his lips found yours, gentle at first and then with growing intensity, you smiled against his mouth. Outside, the autumn storm continued, leaves swirling in the wind, the world rushing by with all its complexities and dangers. It was an ordinary moment. And yet, as you padded across the room to join him underneath the sheets, accepting every kiss, every touch, every bit of his being— you knew this was everything neither of you had dared to dream possible.

Congressman, Avenger, Thunderbolt, Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes, the world knew him by many names. But in the gentle warmth of a Brooklyn sunset, he was simply yours, and you were his, and that was the greatest truth of all.

[delta-chan]

The whole situation with AI is particularly frustrating because all these issues with the horrid swiping people's stuff and doing a nonsense with them is it's spoiling the legitimate applications of this technology within the correct contexts, particularly when it comes to robotics.

AI can be legitimately trained to use naturalistic speech (either written or spoken) for the sake of many legitimate applications--many of them that can be used for assistive and therapeutic technology. AI assistants that keep track of things for people but entertaining besides is the most obvious application, but robots with these sorts of functions are already used for a number of things: there are a couple of commercial companion bots for children that are largely educational, and therapeutic robots are often used in retirement homes and hospices.

Image training can help robots recognize things. While this power can absolutely be used for evil beyond a shadow of a doubt and already has been, it has also been and can be used to help robots identify things and locations. Robots like this can be used in an assistive and service context, and have been. This is what feeding images to an AI was used for, is supposed to be used for, and still is. But people found an entertaining and "easy" use case for it, and now things are... like this.

The thing is, AI can be trained in a closed system. It doesn't need to scrape, but people keep doing it because it's easy. Why create your own dataset when you can just cast a wide net and just use whatever? To me, that shouldn't be the point. That shouldn't be how it's done at all. In an ideal world, people would tailor their AI to fit a specific use case. But it's hard. To do that requires passion, the drive to see something come together. It takes as much work as creating anything else--depending on the sort of bot you wanted--say, a conversational bot that you'd like to have a specific voice--you'd have to write tons of text to draw from encapsulating a wide variety of contexts and scenarios in the appropriate voice. You'd have to bust your ass, to put your heart in it.

I miss when this was the case all the time. People feeding neural nets tons of random data or funny junk just to see what it'd spit back out--like that one time with all of the cookbooks and the cursed recipe that came out of it that called for one chunks and fresh surface. It was funny, but it also felt like we were on the precipice of having something like KITT or Johnny 5 come into reality if you knew what you were doing.

TL;DR: AI is being ruined for everyone because it's laziness all the way down. Developers don't want to put in the work legitimately training, so they scape, so here we are. It is, how do you say, absolute bullshit.

[cosmicalily]

'hormones are high' ot8 skz headcanons by @cosmicalily | skz during your pregnancy

“give me more than just some butterflies.” - ‘juno’ by sabrina carpenter

author's note: lowkey the final entry of my little juno triology! find the previous part here x warnings: pregnancy (obviously)

hormones are high...with chris

so fucking overprepared, but in the best way possible. you don’t have to lift a finger or even think, only sleep, eat, sometimes throw up and tell him about your day. he immediately switches to work from home as soon as you tell him your news, and usually ends up working during the late hours of the night so he can spend most of the day taking care of you. already has researched the best brand of cloth diapers, the safest baby strollers and car seats and the best brands of baby food and prenatal vitamins. he practices putting on the baby carrier for his morning walks and becomes a pro before you’re even at 6 months. definitely protective, no, you’re not allowed to touch the bump, ask first, jesus christ.

hormones are high...with minho

there’s distance between you, but the comfortable kind. he’s not the type of guy to need to have his hands all over you (or your bump) constantly, but just likes to quietly observe you from a distance. even if he’s not touching you, he’s always got an eye on you, making sure you’re happy and comfortable. this doesn’t mean there’s no physical attention, though. he’s a big fan of featherlight kisses down your neck or collarbone while he cradles you from behind, letting you lean into him and distribute some of your front-heavy weight. he’ll be cooking for you regularly, reading articles on pregnancy and nutrition to make sure he’s only feeding you (and mini minho) the absolute best. overall just a very calm, supportive and protective presence throughout your pregnancy.

hormones are high...with changbin

gets so offended when you complain about how the pregnancy weight will make it harder for him to carry you everywhere, and takes it as a challenge. tells you to shut up (politely) about your concerns about the size of your bump, reminds you that you’re beautiful and literally carrying a human, and that for god’s sake, he benches double your weight anyway, of course he can still carry you from the bed to the sofa. how rude to think otherwise! he massages your back when it aches, your shoulders when they cramp and kisses your cheeks when they’re warm from your nausea. he’s committed to becoming a superdad; early mornings, gym, time outdoors. we’ll see how his plans unfold.

hormones are high...with hyunjin

oh, he goes into nesting mode instantly. starts painting pictures for the baby’s nursery, curating pinterest boards for the room’s decor, planning all sorts of mini creative projects to document each stage of your pregnancy. eventually, he settles on painting on your belly (with nontoxic paints, of course) for each month, taking photos on a film camera to have developed after you give birth. he’s anxious at times, getting worried when you complain about back pain or nausea, feeling guilty that there’s nothing he can do about it. he’s absolutely infatuated with your bump, constantly pressing kisses to it or admiring it from a distance. poor guy, he’s down bad.

hormones are high...with jisung

he’s definitely more on the anxious side, but tries to keep it toned down to avoid worrying you. googles anything and everything to make sure your pregnancy is on track, and asks so many questions at every doctor’s appointment that you have to gently remind him that you’re the one carrying the baby, not him. among his nerves, there’s a silly side to jisung that you’re thrilled the pregnancy brings out in him. he makes jokes and giggles, chatting to your bump every evening while you cuddle on the couch. makes silly songs and lullabies, and is convinced that the baby’s first word will be ‘j-one’. he’s already clingy, and the fact that you’re carrying his little human only intensifies this.

hormones are high...with felix

oh goodness, he’s so excited. tries to keep it lowkey to avoid overwhelming you, but every morning he can’t help but giggle, absolutely taken over by how overjoyed he is that he gets to go through this with you. bakes and cooks whatever your heart desires, and isn’t afraid to try whatever horrifying pregnancy craving you’re obsessed with. lots of cosy nights in spent making your little future family in the sims, planning the nursery and discussing baby names. he’s also well educated, doing as much research as he can so you don’t have to worry. so many hugs and kisses, and he’s constantly requesting for bump photos whenever he’s not at home with you.

hormones are high...with seungmin

another very gentle and comforting presence in your life. despite his usual teasing behaviour, his softer side fully blossoms during your pregnancy. still calls you stupid from time to time, but it’s okay, because you’re now carrying his future stupid. immediately switches the beans in your home coffee machine from regular to decaf, and finds the best brand of decaf coffee for you to drink, making sure you stay away from all sources of caffeine (matcha is particularly difficult for him to withdraw from you). you spend a lot of time just resting on the couch with him after a long day, letting him rest a hand gently under the swell of your belly as you talk to him (and the baby) about your day.

hormones are high...with jeongin

a million and one silly nicknames for his baby before it’s even been brought into the world. some of them are sweet, like ‘bean’ and ‘peanut’, and some are downright mortifying (‘pet sperm’ is your least favourite). he’s excited, but also remains pretty calm and tries to keep his focus on you and your wellbeing, checking up on you constantly both in person and over text to make sure you’re alright. he loves coming with you to buy baby clothes, and trust, when they arrive, they will be the best dressed at daycare! likes to keep a hand on the small of your back while you’re out in public; it makes him feel closer to your bump than holding hands does.

taglist: @hyunjiiza @velvetmoonlght @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @btch8008s @heartsbyani @ellemir2404 @bellarellasstuff @starsinagreenskyxx @ashtxrie @pigeonseatmayo @modesttiger @woozarts @zelinkcrossing @urlocalmultigroupfan @shuuporanglinos @lezleeferguson-120 @r1nstaaa @bibibahngg @jessxxxfwd @koiiqqqq @lenfilms @yaniblvsh @dearmini @ilovedallywinston@0sunshinecryptid0 @peskybirdysya @channieschocco - dm, comment or send an ask to be added :)

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[scribefindegil]

Still thinking about how the dominant conception of mushroom-hunting in my (USAmerican) culture is fear and revulsion and the idea that anyone who eats a mushroom they found in the woods is courting a terrible death. And I don't want to push back too aggressively; it's better that people think the hobby is too dangerous to bother with rather than having people who are so blasé about the dangers that they end up poisoning themselves. But it still gets a little annoying sometimes. So, for the record, some more nuanced information:

There are a small number of mushrooms that will kill you if you eat them. Most field guides make sure to describe these species carefully so you know what to avoid.

There are a rather larger number of mushrooms that will make you sick but not kill you. Many of these are also noted in field guides, especially if they look at all like any of the edible species.

Many choice edibles are very visually distinct and don't have any non-edible lookalikes. Many foragers stick with these safe choices permanently. (I do this!)

Some edible mushrooms *do* have poisonous lookalikes. Individual foragers can decide how confident they are in their identification skills and what level of risk they're comfortable with accepting.

You need to learn how to use a field guide if you want to gather mushrooms for the table. For most people, this is not a difficult skill to develop, although it takes practice.

You need to learn how to see what is actually in front of you instead of what you want to see. Many misidentifications come from people ignoring obvious field marks out of wishful thinking.

You need to learn about what grows in your region, and if you move, stop foraging until you've had a chance to research the new region. Sadly, many mushroom poisoning cases are recent immigrants who mistook a toxic mushroom for an edible variety from their home country.

It is extremely possible to forage safely. It is also very possible to forage recklessly. You need to be aware of your own skills and temperament to decide whether it's a hobby that will work for you.

If you want to learn more about mushrooms (both poisonous and edible varieties), I highly recommend the book Chanterelle Dreams, Amanita Nightmares by Greg Marley.

[deadsnakey]

𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒, 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋..𝐍𝐎 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐄'𝐒.

𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐘!𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 𝐱 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐱 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐄

—> Being childhood best friends with both Mattheo and Theodore was an adventure on it's own. Although, what if they start acting more possessive and protective towards you once they develop feelings for you?

Thank you for requesting @slutsluvpaola - your ask here!💗

—> Childhood best friends to lovers trope, very fluffy, maybe a little suggestive, none toxic possessive behaviour & jealousy.

—> When you guys were kids, they were protective of you.

—> If anybody was messing with you or hurting you, they'd do something about it asap like it was on sight and they always left that person scared shitless to even go near you.

—> To the point where ppl just stopped fucking w u like they didn't have the balls to even try.

—> Cool now y'all are in Hogwarts and as they get older, they seem to be more handsy and possessive over you.

—> I mean you weren't complaining all that much. although, it would get annoying sometimes when you just wanted some space or to talk to someone or do something without them breathing down your damn neck.

—> But in third year you started getting feelings for mattheo, then Theodore a month later and you were so confused.

—> You kept the act up, just like they did, but eventually it got harder to pretend in fifth year.

—> When they were always hands on with you - hand on your thigh, holding your hand each, always sitting next to you every chance they got, pulling you into their laps randomly as they wrap their arms around your waist and nuzzle their faces in the crook of your neck.

—> Yeah, you were a goner.

—> The boys probably started falling for each other in the end of fourth year, so in fifth when they started liking you as well they too, were extremely confused .

—> Mattheo was bad especially because he's bad with his own emotions.

—> They will be at every party you're attending too, trust.

—> even if one can't make it and it's js Matty going w you or just Theo, one of them had to be with you.

—> It doesn't matter if you're in the same house or not, better marking on you tbh.

—> Mattheo hands on your waist behind you, Theodore in front of you holding one of your hands to guide you.

"c'mon, sweet girl, let's get some drinks at the bar." Mattheo said, letting Theodore lead the way. Mattheo got a cup, filled it with the drink you wanted before handing it to you. "Here, princess." Then repeating for Theodore and then himself. Satisfied, they go and find the rest of your friends; seemingly in the corner where the seats are, talking.

"look who finally came! The love birds of the group." Lorenzo snickered. "How about you go see if you can get into that girls pants, you know, the one you're practically eye fucking." Mattheo rolled his eyes as he sneered back. "I just might, mate."

You go to sit down when you feel hands clamp down on your hips from behind you, pulling you down with enough force to not hurt you. You look behind yourself, seeing Theo with a smirk pulling on his lips. You let him pull you into his lap.

Mattheo lights a cigarette and inhales deeply before exhaling. He silently offers it to Theodore as he blows the smoke out; Theo leaning in and inhaling the smoke, slightly touching Matty's lips as they make eye contact. Mattheo slithers his hand onto your thigh, you feel the warmth of his hand spread through your skin as you feel the few cold rings he has on mixing with the warmth.

He squeezes your thigh almost the same time Theo squeezes your waist, "you okay, pretty girl? Need anything?" You look at mattheo on your right, "no, I'm okay Matty. You?", "I'm okay. Now that I have you two here with me." He mumbles the last few parts of his sentence, a slight smile appearing onto his lips. Although, he knows you two still heard him.

—> sometimes their clinginess gets so bad where they will not let you get up for breakfast. Good luck convincing them to not miss all your classes as well lol.

—> they love cuddling you and each other but they'd never admit that.

—> they only cuddle each other if you're unavailable or not at school (holiday n stuff).

—> Tiny kisses to the back of your neck, forehead, nose and hand. It's a good excuse to kiss you and they love when you kiss them, too

—> Matty prefers his cheek or forehead kissed, while Theodore his neck, jaw or cheek.

—> tho it'd be better on the lips.

—> they go to the bathroom w you too.

—> they don't care it's the woman's bathroom, they will be guarding your stall!!!!💗💗💗 They can never be too sure.

Reblogs, likes & comments are much appreciated!🫶🏻

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Babyproofed claws

req: I was thinking with Logan/Wolverine where he ends up having a little girl with the reader and for a while like a few months/a year she doesn’t show any signs of mutation until one day they see little baby claws come out of her hand🥹 like they don’t hurt her like Logan’s does since she was born with it. And reader loves her even more and reassure Logan that she’ll be okay and that nothing will ever change. So mostly fluff but a little smut at the end pile be amazing! Like not necessarily a full smut just like sexual tension about “baby number two” hoping they have reader’s mutation

Req by @supernaturalstilinski

Warnings: fem!reader, it’s said logan wasn’t born with his claws (not canon, swapped it out to better fit request) , I did tweak the end a lil, dad!logan not proofread, fluff mostly

MASTERLIST | KOFI

Throughout your pregnancy, Logan’s mind was consumed with worry for the entire nine months as he wondered if his mutation would affect her. The thought of her experiencing the same pain as he did terrified him, and he was willing to endure it a million times over again to spare her.

Everything went smoothly for a year, her first birthday a few weeks ago. He thought that she was safe, he thought that by some miracle, both of your x-genes hadn’t passed onto her. He should have known he was wrong.

It started off as a normal night, him waking up earlier than anyone else, padding over towards the kitchen in an oversized jacket and sweatpants. He turned on the tv, quietly letting out a grunt as he sat down on couch and sinking into the cushions.

He got a few minutes to himself before he heard little whines coming from the room, making him sigh, knowing his time was up. He stood up, to already see you standing up, groggily mumbling to her as you picked her up. You glanced up at Logan, murmuring a sleepy “goodmorning” to him.

He sits down next to you, gently wrapping an arm around you and kissing the crown of your head. You put your head on his shoulder, both of you staring at your cooing baby in your arms.

As she lifted her hands in front of her face, you noticed a small glimmer of metal in the dim light. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and Logan's eyes widened in surprise. He practically flew up off the bed, switching on the light to make sure he wasn’t going insane.

“What the fuck?” You murmured, quickly pulling her hands away from her face, making her face contort up and she began to cry.

Logan was speechless, watching you examine the small metal claws, glancing up at him again. His eyes lingered on her.

“No, this… what? How? Her x-rays were totally fucking normal.” He finally spoke, watching her curious eyes examine the metal claws, tilting her head to the side. You still held her arm away from her face, just as confused as he was.

He then watched her retract her claws back into her hands, his eyebrow lifting when she let out a giggle instead of a cry.

You sighed in relief when you saw it didn’t hurt her as much as it had Logan. “Lo,” you turned your attention back to the man. He finally turned to you, his expression unreadable.

“Calm down.” You murmured, noticing how his eyes were about to pop out of the socket and his veins were about to bulge out of his skin.

“Calm down? Seriously? You’re gonna tell me to calm down? Our baby-“

"She's fine, okay? Look," you interrupted him and gestured towards her, causing him to look back at her once more. She was peacefully sleeping in your arms, and you carefully placed her back down in her crib. Logan stood with his arms crossed over his chest, shaking his head in disbelief.

“This still doesn’t make any fucking sense.” He spoke, sitting on the bed next to you again.

“She developed it late.” You replied, cocking your head to the side, as both of you gazed at the crib. “But for some reason, It didn’t look like it hurt for her.”

“But how? I mean,” he choked out a laugh, “her skeleton is probably covered in fucking metal, and there’s fucking claws retracting in and out of her skin, and god only knows if she has regeneration. That shit is gonna hurt.” He raised his voice at the end, you turning to him with a glare when you saw her stir. “Sorry, but it just doesn’t make fucking sense.”

“I know that, logan.” You snapped, glancing at him. “None of this makes fucking sense. But lo, she’s our baby, we just need to help her. Love her.”

He held his face in his hands, shaking his head to himself. You sighed, wrapping your arms around his large frame, kissing the blade of his tense shoulder.

“Everything will be fine, she will be fine. It’ll all work out, Lo. It always does.” You murmured quietly to him.

He shook his head, mumbling “Fuck,” with a bitter laugh. “I can’t even be a good dad.”

“But you are a good dad. Logan, that girl loves you like crazy. Nothings gonna change that.”

He stared back into the crib, thinking for a moment. “How are we supposed to explain to her that she’s different from everyone else? That she’s not fucking normal and it’s all my fault.”

“It’s not your fault. Don’t blame yourself for this. And we’ll figure it out when that time comes. She’s a year old. We have time.”

He huffed, knowing you were right. You always were. He swore that being right was your mutation at this point.

She was peacefully asleep, mouth agape and chest falling and rising. A soft smile made its way onto your face, knowing that despite her mutation, you both would love her more than anything, you always will.

A few hours later, he was sitting with her on his lap, her giggling wildly with the small metal claws sticking out her hands, and Logan sticking foam on the top of them, baby proofing them for her, grumbling under his breath every time she kept jumping on his lap.

“There.” He murmured when he finished, watching her eyes go to the foam on her hands, making her eyebrows quirk in the way his usually did. He couldn’t suppress the small smile that tugged at the corner of his lips.

His smile disappeared when her claws retracted, the foam falling down. He groaned in annoyance, after taking all that time just for them to fall right off, shaking his head.

“Damnit.”

Once she was put back in her crib, both of you laying in bed, you murmur out something that makes him quirk an eyebrow.

“Maybe our second one will have my mutation.” You thought out loud, him looking at you.

“Second one, huh?”

You smirked, and he just smiled back, shaking his head at you.

“That would be nice.” He replied.

[onlyquinns]

END OF THE BEGINNING, j. hughes & q. hughes

pairing: childhood bsf!jack hughes x pining!reader, bsf brother!quinn hughes x reader

wc: 5.4k (new record 😵‍💫)

cw: light swearing, age gap (19 and 21), mentions of sex but not actually explicitly written, reader is lowkey self sabotaging, kinda angsty to fluff, NOT A THREESOME SITUATION 😭

synopsis: being jack’s childhood best friend is tough, especially when you’re in love with him. but love isn’t hard to find in the hughes family—not when quinn’s always there to pick up your shattered heart.

the rink is split into halves, one side filled with little boys and girls in hockey skates and the other filled with kids in figure skates.

he watches you from the sidelines as you stumble off the ice, nose and round cheeks flushed and wind burnt. you’re wearing a rainbow tutu and a plastic tiara, crooked from falling over one too many times.

you hold yourself with poise, enough to ooze the energy of a princess, to show that you mean business even though you wobble on the padded floors. a teen girl is immediately next to you, taking your smaller hand in hers and helping you to the spot on the bench he’s sitting at.

“wow,” his mom says to you, smiling softly. “aren’t you dressed all pretty?” she turns to him and nudges him softly, “right, jacky?”

but jack isn’t listening. instead, his eyes drift over your tutu and down to your skates where you have your leggings stretched over the tops. his little brows furrow and his confusion spikes as his eyes finally settle on the weird, jagged front of your blades.

“your skates are weird,” he says to you. his mom gasps and urges him to apologize, but you humph and cross your arms.

your nose is upturned, offended at his words—for even daring to call you weird. “they’re not weird,” you tell him. “you’re weird. and haven’t you seen barbie? all pretty princesses wear these skates, not those ones.” you point a chubby finger at his small hockey skates, nose wrinkling as if it’s borderline illegal for them to be near your vicinity.

jack grins at your words even though he should feel hurt, or annoyed that you basically called his skates ugly. he giggles, happy that you know how to chirp back. your face morphs into a tentative smile, childish giggles trickling from your lips. there’s a gap in your grin where your two front teeth are missing, and jack subconsciously runs the tip of his tongue along the gums where he’s missing his, too.

ellen gasps delightedly and claps her hands together, smiling with the both of you. the teenage girl who helped you off the ice is long gone, now skating with the other kids.

“wow!” ellen says. “the two of you are matching!”

from there, you and jack quickly became friends. it was always you and jack—the electric hockey player and the strong headed figure skater.

with every shared rink and skate sharpening sessions, you found yourself falling in love for your childhood best friend. it had started as a childish infatuation—something your mom and ellen would tease the two of you for—but by the time the two of you were teens, it had developed into something more.

it was easy to love jack—he was easygoing, funny, and always doting on you. you were always there for him, going to every game you could attend and cheering for him the loudest. but being teenagers is tough on people and their relationships, even for you and jack.

you laugh at something your skating partner, elijah, said, throwing your head back as he chuckles next to you. the two of you stand side to side outside of the ice rink, waiting for your respective rides home after a tiring evening spent practicing jumps and spins. you’re still dressed in your warm-up clothes, stupidly having forgotten your jacket inside the now locked rink.

the season is on the cusp of winter, windy and slightly frosted over. your hands wrap tightly around your arms, rubbing at the goose flesh on your biceps. elijah glances over and sheds his hoodie, pulling the thick fabric over his head and handing it to you.

as you pull it down, you see jack’s truck pull into the rink’s driveway—really, you hear it before you see it. the rumble of its kitted out muffler thunders through the empty lot, a silly alteration he and quinn saved up for after jim had gifted the two his old truck. truthfully, it’s illegal beyond reason for jack to even drive the damn thing, not yet eighteen, but he doesn’t care—as long as he didn’t get pulled over, he claimed he’d be fine.

he pulls up in front of you and waves you in, and you grab your bag and wave goodbye to elijah.

“see you tomorrow,” you tell him, smiling shyly. “you did good today—i’m looking forward to competing with you.” you step inside the truck, and before he can say anything, jack races out of the vicinity.

“what was that?” he asks you. something strange churns in his gut at the sight of you with another guy—something he’s never felt before.

“what?” you ask. you’re in the middle of pressing your frozen hands to the vents in an attempt to thaw your icy fingertips. “elijah? i told you, rowdy—he’s my partner for the season.”

jack makes a noncommittal sound, something in between a hum and a gruff scoff.

“is that his hoodie?” he asks, turning into his parents driveway. luke shuffles out of the way, cheeks flushed and a hockey stick in hand. there’s a little goal net pressed up against the garage door, a puck nestled deep inside of it.

you blink down at the dark navy cotton, “yeah, is that an issue to you?” you ask. you know you’re being rude, but he’s being unreasonable with his questions. elijah was only being kind; you didn’t see him like that.

jack rolls his eyes, “jesus, princess,” he huffs, knowing the stupid nickname has a slim chance of winning you over. “i’m just making sure you’re not about to get your heart stomped on, okay?”

you scoff, turning away from him and popping the car door open. “as if you give a shit about hearts, jack. you break girls’ hearts all the damn time.”

jack freezes, body halfway out of the truck. you know it’s a low blow, that you don’t really mean it, but the words are out of your godforsaken mouth before you can stop yourself. you steel your nerves, too far to back down now, and slam the door behind you. jack lets out a gruff laugh, like he can’t believe you’re mad at him.

“y’know what?” he scoffs. “i don’t care anymore, but don’t come crying on my doorstep when you finally wake up and realize that not every guy ever is a good person.”

luke stares at the two of you wide eyed, glancing between you and his brother like he’s being forced to pick a side. you know he’s going to pick luke, and something in you boils over.

“whatever,” you growl. you grab your gear bag from the truck bed and toss it over your shoulder, feeling the weight of it pull you down. normally, jack carried it for you but you knew that wouldn’t be happening tonight. “thanks for the ride, i guess,” you say and turn on your heel, stomping across the road to your family’s house.

you ignore each other for weeks, glaring at the other across the road every morning before early practices. it’s easy to stay mad at each other, too stubborn to admit when you’re wrong. it’s stupid, but you don’t want to be the one to admit it.

you sit at the kitchen table, notebook laid flat as you work on homework for one of your classes. you tap the pencil to your cheek, thoughts suddenly interrupted when you hear a knock on the door.

“i’ll get it!” you call out to your parents, pushing away from the table to pad over to the front door.

you swing it open, letting it arc fully open to the sight of luke standing on your porch. “hi,” he says.

you blink at him, unimpressed. “did he send you?” you ask, referring to jack, and luke knows.

luke glances backward to his house and you position yourself to look around him. the two of you watch the living room curtain flutter shut, a clear tell that someone had been watching your interaction.

“yeah,” luke says, pursing his lips. “can you please just talk to him? he’s being really whiny and refuses to drive me to practice because he’s too busy moping. it’s kinda’ inconvenient.”

you sigh, “fine,” you relent, closing the door behind you.

you swallow your pride—because you know one of you has to—and follow luke across the concrete. your guys’ shoes crunch in the gravel that litters the hughes’ driveway. the moment the two of you step onto the wooden steps, the front door swings open and slams into the wall. you hear someone—probably ellen—reprimand jack for letting the door hit the wall, but he doesn’t listen.

“i’m sorry!” he blurts, and you blink at him, unaware that he’d already swallowed his pride before you did yours. “i was being a jerk, please don’t hate me.”

you suddenly giggle at his outburst and he stares at you with wide, worried eyes, as if he’s worried you won’t accept his apology. “jacky, i could never hate you,” you manage between laughs, and he heaves a relieved sigh.

“oh, thank god,” luke breathes, pushing past jack to get inside.

jack wraps his arms around your shoulders and squeezes tight, like if he lets go you’ll disappear into thin air. “i missed you,” he mumbles against the top of your head and you grin, holding him as tightly as possible.

he smells like axe body spray and his deodorant, a basic teen boy combination, but there’s something so jack about it. you breathe him in, unsure if there will ever be another time like this.

“i missed you, too,” you say softly, closing your eyes and pretending for a second that jack hughes—your best friend—likes you too.

your season goes well—surprisingly well. you and elijah finish overall third, better than what you expected and worse than what your coach had hoped.

after a long, loud scolding session from your coach, you’re finally set free. you roam the halls of the arena, still dressed in your outfit for your choreography and your makeup smudged beyond repair. your head aches from how tight your hair’s been pulled and pinned back, and your fingers twitch at the need to just tear it all apart.

you spot jack across the hall, half of his body blocked by the bend. he’s dressed in his hockey gear, standing taller in his skates and leaning heavily against his stick. your exhaustion melts away at the mere sight of him and you start jogging over, the skirt of your glittery teal dress fluttering against your thighs and knees.

you’re about to call out to him when you catch sight of a girl with him—the girl who’d gone after you and elijah and had practically ripped the breath from your chest. she’d been fucking amazing, and you’d texted jack the entire time she’d skated with her partner letting him know so.

you stop a few feet away, eavesdropping on their conversation. you know it’s sneaky but a part of you needs to hear it, needs to hear him just ask her out to solidify that he doesn’t want you. so, you linger and hold your breath.

the girl laughs at something jack said—a joke he’d stolen from you and repurposed. her hand covers her glossy lips delicately, something you thought no one other than preppy girls in movies did, but clearly jack’s intrigued by it.

“so,” he says, “can i get your number? i’d love to see you again.”

you hold your breath, eyes burning with unshed tears. you catch glimpse of a bouquet tucked under his armpit, the petals smooshed and fluttering to the floor from being pressed into his pads. when she agrees, you turn on your heels and run away, ignoring when jack finally notices you and calls after you.

you tuck yourself into a dark corner in the back of the rink—a little area that reeks of mildew and sweat. your knees are curled into your chest as you cry, cheeks stained with mascara. your hair is finally pulled free from the millions of bobby pins that held the locks captive, the little bits of metal laid flat on the tiled floor in front of you. you sniffle and wipe at your cheeks, smudging black tears across the delicate skin there.

“hey, queenie,” someone says softly, and you look up.

quinn stands over you, smile soft. you’d forgotten he’d been in town for the week, having booked a flight to watch you perform and watch one of jack’s games in the same week. you wipe at your cheeks in an attempt to make it look like you haven’t been crying, but it’s too late. quinn crouches down in front of you, eyes tender and lips upturned in that gentle smile of his. he holds out a little bouquet of flowers, the petals pristine and all too perfect.

“you were amazing out there,” he says to you, and you smile back. you take the flowers into your arms.

“thanks, q,” you whisper, and he smiles. he stands from his position and gives you a hand, letting his warm fingers wrap around your own as he helps you up.

quinn walks next to you as the two of you make your way back to the main arena. you cradle the flowers to your chest, something warm blossoming in your chest at the thought of quinn thinking of you.

“what did jack do this time?” he asks you, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his sweats.

you think college looks good on him—makes him look more mature. it makes you feel strangely childish for your reaction to seeing jack flirting with a girl.

you bring the bouquet of flowers to your nose, using the delicate petals to cover the stupid frown on your face and the dark stains on your cheeks.

“he didn’t do anything,” you say, glancing over at quinn as the two of you stop at the boards of the ice rink. jack and his team skate back and forth, playing against another 17u team. “i just happened to see something that made me upset.”

quinn nods understandably at your words, humming as his eyes track jack’s speedy figure dart back and forth. “he asked for her number, didn’t he?”

you lower the flowers slowly, “how’d you know?” you ask, looking at him quizzically. quinn glances back at you, giving you a knowing look.

“c’mon, queenie, i’m not dumb,” he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and tucking you into his side. “everyone knows how you feel about jack—everyone except him, that is.”

you frown, ready to disagree, but your words melt away as two players slam into the boards in front of you. you jump at the loud bang that echoes in your ears, watching the intent looks on both of their faces as they fight for the puck.

“just know,” quinn starts, “he isn’t trying to hurt you. you just gotta talk to him, yeah?” you want to disagree, but you know quinn’s right—he’s nearly always right. “just think on it, okay?” he gives you a crooked smile and you nod, swallowing thickly.

and after jack’s game, he comes up to you with sweat-damp hair and a goofy grin, that crushed bouquet outstretched toward you like a peace offering. you silently compare it to the one you’re already holding, the one now slightly wilted but picked for its perfection by his brother.

summer rolls around, slow and creeping like if it came too fast it would stun you into a heart attack. it’s locker clean out, an annual event at the rink for graduating guys to come in and take their shit home.

“jesus, jack,” you say as you enter the locker room, nose wrinkling. “does it always smell like this?” you tease, looking around at all of the guys spread out in the room. jack laughs.

“you should know,” he says, grabbing old compression shirts and chucking them into his gear bag. “you’ve spent more time here than i have.”

he’s right but you don’t give him the satisfaction, choosing to ignore his words. you linger behind him, watching as he shoves random things into his bag until the wood of the built in benches is visible once more. when he moves to grab a container of clorox wipes, you catch a glimpse of a little picture taped up in his space.

it’s a picture of the two of you as kids, one side of it showing clear cut marks. you know the picture—it’s supposed to be you and all of the hughes boys, but jack had clearly taken a pair of scissors to his brothers. you’re wearing your signature rainbow tutu and plastic tiara—something you’d never leave home without as a kid—and jack is in basketball shorts and a neon green tank top. his knees are scraped and the two of you are missing your front teeth, signs of your adult ones peaking through.

something lingers in jack’s expression as he stares down at the picture, “we were some pretty cute kids, huh?” he says, grinning playfully. he folds it in half gently, creasing—ironically—in between the two of you and sticks it in his wallet. “well, i guess we’re done here,” he says, and you nod.

“yeah, guess we are,” you respond, your words holding bit more weight than they should.

you bite at your nails, eyes glued to the television screen. the camera pans to jack on the bench, the new pretty boy nhler angry and bashing his stick against the boards. you barely hear the commentary that follows his outburst, your mind glued to jack, his name on your mind like a mantra.

the two of you barely talked now, not after you’d split ways during that last summer where you’d helped him clean his locker out. you knew your response sounded like a sort of insinuation, but you didn’t think jack would’ve dropped off the face of your earth—because, clearly, he existed for people.

you feel ill thinking back on it, especially since the two of you had been glued to the damn hip since meeting, but you tell yourself it’s for the best. you watch him breakdown on television nearly every night of the season, watch as people berate and criticize him online. you don’t know what to do, because the harsh words people spread about him aren’t the jack that you know—it’s some stupid persona forced into him, one that makes your mouth dry and taste like sand.

you heave a sigh and force yourself to turn the tv off. you can barely think of anything other than jack’s pissed face, how you know he feels so devastatingly alone in the nhl and you can’t do shit about it. you sit silently in your parents house, mind rerunning the clip over and over.

“hey.”

you look away from the dark tv screen, eyes adjusting to the dim lighting of the living room. luke stands in the threshold, face similar to yours—all broody and probably thinking of jack.

“wanna go skating?”

and who are you to say no.

the rink is empty, no random stragglers so late at night. the two of you lace your skates in complete silence, just two teens side by side in an understanding silence. luke is on the ice before you, choosing one side of the rink to tear up and leaving the other for you to dig your toe picks into—an easy balance that was established earlier in your lifetime with the hughes.

you skate in slow circles, mind barely with you as you glide. luke watches you, looking through curls at your sad figure, stick in hand as he pretends to be interested in shooting pucks. he knows you’re upset, that it’s destroying you beyond belief to be far away from jack even if it was a long time coming. still, he watches, keeps an eye on you, as asked of him by his brother.

you release a breath, emptying your chest, and finally skate like you mean it—because at some point, that’s how you learned to cope. and it never failed you.

luke lets you twirl and leap over the ice, listening to the scratch of your blades as you land each impressive jump after the other. he thinks about what he’s going to tell him, tell jack. for now, luke thinks he’ll tell him a lie—just for a little while, he tells himself, just until he adjusts to the league.

so, by the time you’re done and heaving, luke’s already sent a quick text to jack—a brief ‘she’s okay’ to ease his brother’s feelings, to ease the guilt of leaving you. you’re hunched over on the ice, bottom lip trembling, and overwhelmed with feeling lost without your best friend. and luke gulps, thinking about that text he’d sent, but he knows how much the nhl means to jack—so, he doesn’t say anything.

“let’s go home,” you mumble, tears dripping onto the ice and freezing in little lumps. luke agrees and skates off the ice, scooping up his stray puck. you take your time, still dripping tears and sweat, and still thinking of jack’s broken anger as a rookie.

you curse yourself for being a coward, too afraid to listen to quinn’s advice and talk to jack, too scared to tell your childhood best friend that you love him too much. so, you inhale as deep as you can and steady your breath before skating off, finally joining luke where he stands with your bag and your car keys.

“he misses you,” luke says softly, always the mediator, always the messenger between you and jack because the both of you were too arrogant at times to just text the other. a common flaw that must’ve developed at the same time. “just text him a little, yeah?”

and you curse him in your head for giving you advice you’ve already heard—already heard from quinn—but you keep it in mind, fully ready to text him when you get back home. just a check in, a little hi, a simple good luck.

but it’s never that easy with jack.

he texts you for hours, as if the two of you are middle schoolers again who just got their first phones. it’s easy to talk to him, to let him back in and give yourself back. so, when you see him on tv again, you’re glad that he looks happier again. as if hearing from you fixed his slump. and hearing from you, pulled you from yours.

until he suddenly calls and you’re half asleep, too tired to even say hello.

“i met the one,” he tells you, and that wakes you fully. “well—we met a long time ago. remember rachel?” and of course you do, because she’s the same damn girl he’d asked for her number at your last comp. the damn girl you stupidly let haunt your mind.

“yeah—yeah, i do,” you say, forcing a smile he can’t see. “i bet you guys look good together, huh?” and jack laughs.

“you have no fuckin’ idea,” he tells you, and you let him ramble late into the early morning. until he tells you he’s tired, as if he wasn’t the one to call while you were already half asleep.

you wish him goodnight and good luck with rachel, and hang up.

the next time you see all three of the hughes brothers together again is during summer, having conveniently missed them every other time because of your own family trips.

it’s hard to look at jack, your jack who looks at rachel with hearts and clings to her like she’s his lifeline. your jack who really isn’t yours anymore.

you’re lounging in the backyard, a beer in hand despite only being nineteen—just perks of having quinn around.

you’re in a two piece, colors making your skin basically glow. quinn eyes you from his spot at the grill, squinting his eyes at the way you nurse your beer. he knows you’ve drinked before, knows what your favorite beer is, so he watches to see if you’ll actually drink.

you catch his eye and smile, raising your beer in a toast. he nods and watches as your eyes drift back to jack and rachel, who sit leaning into each other on a picnic blanket.

quinn calls you over and you get up. jack watches, eyes drawn to your figure, a weird feeling filling his chest when you laugh with quinn and let him feed you a piece of fruit from the fruit salad ellen made earlier in the day. rachel stops laughing and draws her attention to where he’s staring, scoffing when she finally sees what has his attention from her.

you giggle quietly next to quinn, wiping at fruit juice on your chin. quinn looks down at you, smiling tenderly that feels different than all of the other times he’s done so. you think he’s cute—handsome, even.

“the nhl looks good on you,” you tell him, teasing and bumping your hip to his. he chuckles and turns his attention back to the grill, flipping burgers.

“yeah?” he goads. “well, what about you, miss-future-olympian? heard you’re skating doubles in the winter.”

you gape at him, shocked that he knows. you always assumed he stopped keeping tabs on you and his brothers after he moved out, but you should’ve known better.

“yeah,” you say finally, picking up another piece of fruit between your forefinger and thumb. you offer it to quinn, who takes it between his lips and sucks it into his mouth. you try not to think too hard on the action. “i’m excited. it’s gonna be fun.”

quinn nods thoughtfully, “i can’t wait to see it,” he says softly, and your chest warms at his words. words that you’d been dying to hear from someone—and then he says more that feeds into the fuzzies in your chest. “i’m proud of you, queenie. insanely.” he smiles at you—grins, even—and your cheeks feel warm at the sight.

when did quinn hughes suddenly become so pretty?

the thought punches you in the gut. it’s like one of those punches in cartoons that make their eyes pop out of their sockets, and leaves a fist shaped mark in your stomach.

you catch jack’s eye, his gaze on you, scrutinizing your sudden closeness with his brother. you think you see a hint of jealousy in his stare but it’s gone in an instant when rachel sighs dramatically and presses her chest into him, her boobs pressed together by her stringy bikini top. you pull your eyes away immediately, suddenly very interested in your fingernails and everything but rachel and jack.

you distract yourself with quinn, laughing and joking with him instead of thinking of jack. it feels easier—to play into quinn’s suddenly long gazes and his smug smirks, instead of letting yourself linger on feelings for a boy who doesn’t seem to care for you.

suddenly, your texts with jack are now texts with quinn. just long talks about vancouver and how he’s doing with the canucks and how annoying and arrogant your new skate partner is compared to elijah. quinn listens and it makes you feel undeniably seen, like he can read into you and in between your lines unlike jack, who skimmed your surface and searched for the easy way out.

your relationship with quinn was always good; he was your best friend’s older brother, someone the two of you always involuntarily looked up to—someone who was supposed to be out of reach. but, now, he was right there—so close your fingers could brush the outline of what could be.

it doesn’t take long until he invites you to a game in vancouver. you don’t tell jack or luke, convinced it’s not a big deal.

you stand outside of the airport, face flushed from the nipping wind. your phone is in one hand, messages from quinn on display and other texts from jack left unread. your brain is too much in awe to even respond or read the texts from your supposed best friend—all you can think about is how perfect vancouver feels to you, how right it is to be in the city away from home.

you’re about to call quinn when you’re pulled into a warm hug, the scent of tom ford thick in your nose. you can tell it’s quinn just by the way he holds you, like he’s making up for time and for lost opportunities to hug you in the past.

“hey, queenie,” he breathes into your hair, lips brushing through the stands and the soft snow flakes that leave dewy marks akin to glitter. “missed you.” and you know he means it, not like when his brother says it to you.

you grin wide and hug him back, squeezing tight. he’s warm and smells good and is everything you’ve ever dreamed of. “missed you too, q,” you say back, and you feel him smile and nuzzle his face into your hair to hide it.

he takes you home after, carrying your bags and takeout into his apartment. it’s so easy to fall into the quiet atmosphere that quinn brings, to let him hold you on the couch while the two of you eat and chat and watch a movie. and it’s admittedly easy to kiss him back when he leans in halfway through the stupid movie and presses his lips to yours, tongue peaking past the seam of his lips to brush the bottom of yours.

your heart nearly explodes, thoughts of jack gone in an instant. really, he’s barely been on your mind at all, quinn having replaced him some time back without your noticing.

quinn’s hands are in your hair, tangling long fingers through thick strands and lightly tugging. a soft keening sound leaves your lips, mind hazy with every touch. the two of you get lost in each other, tangled limbs on the couch and soft touches on each other’s skin. he’s gentle with you, doesn’t rough his way through your body like every other guy you’ve been with, and holds you like you’re his entire world—and he tells you that you are, whispers it when he makes you come undone in his strong arms.

quinn doesn’t let go of you after, instead holding you to his chest and whispering soft praise until you fall asleep with your ear to his chest, the quick pounding of his heart music to your ears.

when the season comes to an end that year, you find yourself at the lake house again. this time, you cling to quinn, body and soul feeling lighter without the constant stress brought by pining for someone who never wanted you.

you laugh, holding tight to the rope connected to the boat. you’d taken the risk to go wakeboarding, letting the boys convince you. cole and trevor cheer you on, luke hooting and recording as you maneuver the board through the choppy waves. your feet suddenly slip and you fall off the board, laughing louder when you resurface. you flip your hair backward and reach a hand out for help. jack gets up to pull you back aboard but quinn beats him to it, leaving his seat as the designated driver to pull you into his arms.

“did you see that?” you ask breathlessly, asking everyone around you. cole, trevor, and luke cheer and chatter like your biggest fans and quinn reassures you he’ll definitely watch the video luke took later.

jack watches the two of you silently. he takes in the way quinn cradles you to him, how his hand is splayed across your side, palm pressed to your damp skin and thumb slipping under the string of your bikini top.

his chest feels weird, like it’s tightening up and burning him inside out. he doesn’t have rachel with him this summer, something you’d commented on at the beginning of the trip. a harmless, “where’s your girlfriend?” turned to an, “oh, i’m sorry.”

jack’s mind is brought back to the present when he watches quinn press a sweet kiss to your cheek, whispering something he can’t hear into the shell of your ear. it’s enough to make your sun-kissed skin warm even more and jack thinks back to what rachel had told him before she’d ended it with him, that he needed to get his shit together and just ask you out.

but as he watches you press a kiss to his brother’s mouth before quinn takes the life jacket from you to wakeboard, jack knows he’s too late.

[electricgg]

Ancient Dreams In A Modern Land

Chapter 5: Get Along With The Voices Inside Of My Head

Masterlist

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 (Here!) / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 (Part 1) (Part 2) /

Adolescence is a broad concept. 

It is the period of transition between childhood and adulthood. It includes big changes, from the body to how they relate to the outside world. 

It also qualifies as the most painful and awkward stage in somebody’s life, which comes hand in hand with pushing boundaries and breaking scheduled patterns.

Patterns that Timothy Drake had taken years to figure out and were now as broken as the old vase he had hidden from Alfred for the past two years.

He didn’t like it. Not one bit.

Clicking furiously at the wide keyboard of the batcomputer before rolling away in his chair with a frustrated groan, Tim rubbed his face roughly with his still-gloved hands, as if the action itself could take his mind off the subject that has been bothering him for the past four days (not that he would ever admit to himself how much it was bothering him).

That girl.

Jesus, where to even begin?

Not only had she disrupted her assigned schedule, but she had also flipped completely on her behaviour and structured habits. 

(Y/N) Wayne had been an easy person to read. From the very moment her existence was revealed to the public eye. Way before he even became part of the family.

A child who had blocked trauma, shoved into the hands of a man who had just found out was her biological father.

A girl exposed to bloodthirsty reporters and paparazzi, developing a fear of the spotlight, and making her look like a fool in front of cameras.

A kid who got the moniker of ‘The Embarrassment of The Wayne’ and made sure to live up to that name.

There were four falls in water fountains, two dresses ripped off in the middle of galas, five accidental stumbles that injured multiple civilians, and multiple newspaper articles about whether she was truly related to Bruce once Damian took the public's attention with his introduction.

She was a walking hazard and a whole meal for the media vultures.

And that was only for the public, personality was a whole different beast.

She was meek, quiet, and too polite. 

Too polite for Tim’s taste. 

Always picking up his stray coffee cups (even when they were so dirty and he was pretty sure something was alive at the bottom of them). Looking over his shoulder, and asking him if he was getting any rest. Leaving him tea outside his door when he hadn’t left his desk for days. Asking him if he was eating. Asking him if he had taken a bath. Asking if he needed any help with a case.

Asking and asking and asking and asking and asking.

It infuriated him to no end.

It felt as if she was faking it. Nobody could care that much without wanting something in exchange. Not without an ulterior motive.

So he took some drastic measures.

Learning her routine was an easy task. She would wake up around four in the morning on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays to do her extensive morning routine. Tuesdays and Thursdays, she would sleep in until seven in the morning.

 In the early days, she would trim her hair ends and retouch her roots so her natural hair color was never in sight. Keeping the same length and not a hair out of place. She was very precise with it and took her time while doing so.

Next, she would take a shower and lock herself in her room for half an hour or so. He never knew why exactly, but it was something she always did. Without a single miss.

After that, she would wander around the manor until she reached the piano room. She would practice until Alfred came to find her for breakfast and take her to school.

Whenever Tim heard the piano in the morning, he knew it was time to either wake up or go to bed depending on which situation he found himself in.

If she didn’t touch the piano, he wouldn’t know what day it was. And depending on the day, he would know how long he would have to wait in his room so he wouldn’t have to listen to her obnoxious questions and see her wide eyes.

(Y/N) hasn’t touched the piano in the past four days.

And it was driving him mad.

“I just don’t get it! She loves hugs!”

Along with Dick’s pity party.

The older man was doing pull-ups by the training mats, still wearing his suit minus the mask. Grunting as he took deep breaths when his head reached over the metal bar he was hanging off.

“She runs at me the moment I come to visit. Every single time. And now she just doesn’t even look my way?”

Tim sighed, giving Dick a glance from the corner of his eye as hands slid off his face.

“When was the last time you even cared about such things?” he deadpanned, turning his chair to face the acrobat.

Dick had his own place. He didn’t live at the manor anymore, hadn’t for years. Tim could count with just one hand how many times Dick had come to visit them in the past three months.

Why was he acting like he knew her better than Tim himself?

“Since she did a switch on her personality!” he said before letting go of the pole and landing on his feet inside the mat.

Dick grunted as he stretched out his arms upwards, making his way towards the computer and picking up a cold water bottle on a nearby bench.

He shook his head, opening the cap and taking big, loud gulps from the bottle as Tim turned once again toward the computer with a roll of eyes.

“She is a completely different person, and don’t pretend you haven’t noticed too.”

Of course, he had. Because he actually lived with her.

Before he could snap back at him, a deep, gravely voice interrupted their conversation.

“What seems to be the problem here?” Bruce questioned, emerging from the zeta tube and pulling off his cowl. His footsteps echoed against the walls as he reached the two young men.

They didn’t even hear the zeta tubes powering up.

Dick crossed his arms with a glare pointed towards the bat, leaning against the table while Tim gave the man a simple side eye.

That made Bruce lift an eyebrow, not expecting that reaction from the boys.

Everyone had been acting strangely as of late.

And he was getting tired of not knowing why.

“Would any of you care to explain what has you both unfocused and distracted?”

“We’re not distracted…” Tim muttered while tapping on his keyboard, hoping that Bruce would leave the subject alone.

“It’s nothing.” Dick shrugged, moving his gaze to the side.

“If that’s true,” the older man grunted while glancing between the two of them. “Then why are we still trying to figure out the missing kids case?”

That made the boys sigh and grunt under their breaths.

True, they haven’t been able to find any other clues on the case. It was all leading to dead ends. No similarities between. Schools, families, extracurriculars, age, neighborhoods, parents' jobs, and even the locations of disappearances did not link to one another.

There was no way the cases could be linked to one another. Too many differences.

And yet, they couldn’t ignore their gut telling them that they had to be connected.

But what?

“It’s just… You know who.” Dick said while rubbing the back of his neck with an awkard air as Bruce questioning gaze landed on him.

“No, I do not who you are refering to.” his stern and direct tone making Tim and Dick share side glances.

Tim spun around on his chair, facing Bruce with a deadpan expression. “It’s (Y/N). He refers to (Y/N).”

Silence fell between them.

“...What about her?” Bruce dragged the question. Shoulders tense and eyes sharp.

“Jeez, I don’t know?!” Dick snapped back, lifiting himself up and moving his arms around as he talked. “Maybe because she has been acting like a different person, refuses to talk to me, or even look my way, and even curses like a sailor?!”

He whipped his head towards Tim, pointing at him with his index finger.

“How does she even know curse words? She is too young to know those words!”

While Dick continued on his ranting, Tim simply spun back to the computer. He was controlling himself from snapping at Dick, since he was acting as if she was some kind of little kid that he knew everything about.

And also, because he was pissed at Bruce. Since he knew very well that the man was not aware of what had been happening in his own house, with his own kids.

“He wouldn’t know, Dick. Bruce has been out for the past few days.” Too busy with some Justice League business. Kon had mentioned on their last call the other day that it had to do with the ruler of Genosha. Something about an alliance of sorts.

The older boy came to a stop from his rant to look at the too quiet man. He suddenly found himself rubbing the bridge of his nose and looking way older than he was.

“...Bruce.”

The man sighed tiredly, covering his mouth and looking at the floor. A deep hum leaving his throat.

“You have seen her, right?”

Tim smiled smugly to himself at the answering silence behind him.

His family always forgets how petty he can be.

╰───────────✧──────────────╮

“How about this one?”

“ .. / -.. --- -. .----. - / .-.. .. -.- . / .. - “

The young girl groaned as she threw out another old cardigan over the overgrown pile of clothes lying by the bed. It varied from shirts, pants, dresses, and many other clothes that she had been fishing out of the old wardrobe for the past three hours.

Who knew a ghost could be picky with what her old body could and couldn’t wear?

It all started when the only way to communicate with Wayne’s Ghost (whom she was calling from now on until she found a better nickname) was by the flickering of the light from her lamp. 

It was simple at first. One flicker meant yes, and two flickers meant no. But it left her unsatisfied and also limited communication. She wanted to have a real conversation with someone who understood what she was actually going through. Which leads to the next step.

Learning Morse code.

It wasn’t hard! After borrowing a few books from the library about the subject (which she did only after she was sure none of the weird guys were wandering around the manor), and speed-reading through the pages, she had learned Morse code in under five hours of relentless reading.

She was not sure if that was normal, but nothing about her situation was normal.

Looking now at the very empty closet, a sense of sadness began building at the pit of her stomach.

Even with her permission, it felt invasive to take out something so personal just to make space for her own stuff.

Especially after listening to the recordings. 

Those words were still rumbling in between her ears.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

Diary Entry: Year 4

“Today, Mister Alfred got me a letter and some gifts from my mom. I don’t know how she got them out of the hospital, but I’m sure Uncle had something to do with it. I’ll write to him and hopefully get Alfred to send it.”

“I’m sure he and Father are not talking to each other yet.”

“I get it. Kinda. He did bad things. But he’s always been nice to me and never fails to send gifts on my birthday. And it’s always expensive stuff too!”

“Sometimes, I wish he were the one to take me in. And it makes me feel bad because I know Father is trying to do the best for me and the family.”

“I wish I weren’t so hard to handle. Maybe, that way, they wouldn’t be so busy all the time and spend time with me.”

“...It’s my tenth birthday today. Alfred got me new pencils and paints. Mom sent me a necklace with a card explaining what it meant, and many of her old clothes, too. And uncle got me a green jacket that’s way too big on me, but it’s cozy at least. I’m sure I can grow into it.”

“Father’s been locked in his office since last night. I knocked a couple of times, but he didn’t answer. He’s probably tired. I’m sure he’ll remember this time.”

“Dick promised to bring ice cream today too, but he hasn’t answered my calls today. He could be stuck on a case, too, so I understand he’s busy.”

“And Jason left some cookies outside my room this morning. I ate them before breakfast, but Alfred doesn’t know it yet, so shhh!!”

“Besides that, this year wasn’t so bad. I got good grades at school and got to visit Mom a couple of times, too. In the last visit, the guards let us talk without the glass window between us. I was happy to be able to hug her again after so long.”

“...I miss her a lot. I miss our old house too. The manor is big and all, but it’s very cold.”

“And lonely.”

“I shouldn’t complain… Father has done everything to give me a good life. But I wish Mom would get better and come back for me.”

“...I want my mom back. I want her back so bad, and it makes me sad, too.”

“I think that could be my wish this year. Wish for my mom to get better soon.”

“I think it’s a good wish for this year, right?”

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

Yeah, that made her tear up and take a couple of breaks in between listening to the recordings.

Mom was a strong word.

It made her heart tight, and so many overwhelming feelings flooded over her. 

Warmth from tight hugs. Soothing lullabies in a language she could not place. Soft fingers running through her hair. Loving words in a voice she couldn’t put a face to. But she knew who it was. It wasn’t hard to figure it out.

She also wanted her mom back.

The flickering of the lamp on her nightstand made her wipe away any stray tears, sniffling her nose with the back of her hand and taking a deep breath.

“Alright, I’m fine. Totally fine.” She muttered to herself as she looked at the closet once again.

On the far corner, a deep green jacket caught her attention.

She took it out of the closet, holding it by the hanger as she looked at the piece of clothing with a growing smile.

On the tag of the neck, the initials U.H. in a very fancy font stood out. The young girl had the feeling that this was one of the gifts of the recordings had mentioned.

It was a forest green, with two vertical white stripes running down the sleeves until they reached the cuffs. The material was lightweight, with a soft fabric on the inside, but breathable. It had a total of four pockets, two outside and two inside on each side.

Without thinking about it too much, she took it off the hanger and put the jacket on.

When she turned to the mirror, there was a grin on her lips.

It fitted almost perfectly. It was a bit long on the sleeves, but she could roll them a bit, and it would look stylish either way.

As she messed around with the zipper and the neck of the jacket, she rambled to her companion out loud about the look.

“I know it’s a gift from your Uncle, and I’m trying to find my style, so if you don’t want me to keep it on, that’s totally fine by-”

The lights flickered brightly.

“ -.- . . .--. / .. - .-.-.- / .. - / .-.. --- --- -.- ... / .-- .- -.-- / -... . - - . .-. / --- -. / -.-- --- ..- .-.-.- “

She was stunned for a few moments. Then, a soft smile and glassy eyes reflected in the mirror, fingers playing with the hems of the soft fabric.

“Thank you.”

A sharp, cold breeze ruffled her hair, making her laugh and swipe at the empty air around her.

╰───────────✧──────────────╮

“-and I need the report of her latest appointment sent straight to my mail, is that clear?”

When the meek assistant agreed to his demands, Bruce hung up the call with an exasperated exhale. Leaning back on his chair as he calmed down his anger and frustration.

The incompetence of Gotham Central Hospital personnel was something to be studied.

It wasn’t exactly their fault. He hasn’t been in touch about Bianca’s case for about a year now, but he had been expecting that the staff had been taking care of her and keeping up with her mental state.

Especially after the last incident involving her.

And that was another incoming headache.

The boys had been acting out of sorts throughout the week. Dick had been actively coming to the manor so often due to current case in his hands and his sudden need to share some of time with (Y/N). Tim is frustrated over not getting any proper sleep and not finding any sort of shared link in the case. And Damian was… well, he kept mostly to himself, but he could see something was bothering him by how much he was muttering and slamming the training dummies harder than usual.

And then, there was (Y/N).

Bruce could admit he wasn’t a great dad. All of his children could testify and give proof of it.

But he knew he had failed her, especially when it came to being a father.

And it wasn’t her fault at all. It was all on him.

Because he was a coward who couldn’t face a child who bore the face of the people he had failed to help.

It wasn’t an excuse, but it was a reason.

Which was why he always paid for packages of gray contact lenses and expensive black hair dye.

If Bianca were in her right mind, she would have shot him right in the head without hesitation for allowing their girl to change herself simply because he couldn’t look her in the eye.

‘...maybe it isn’t too late to fix this.’

Bruce rubbed his face, feeling the stubble on his jaw since he hadn’t shaved in the past few days. The negotiations with Erik Lehnsherr had been draining, and with lots of conditions on how the Justice League could set foot on the country without getting blown up on the spot.

Even then, they weren’t able to reach an agreement.

A sudden notification made his phone vibrate, taking his mind off his deep thoughts. 

It was from the hospital. Bianca’s current lab tests and consults, attached to the mail. That made him relax a little bit.

Until his sight focused on the sender.

Gotham Central Hospital: Psych Ward

All of the reports for the police and files they had been searching for the case, there wasn’t a single document from the hospitals. Medical issues, birth certificates, laboratory analysis, and vaccines up to date.

They hadn’t searched for medical history yet.

Bruce got up from his chair and quickly made his way back to the cave, a thought hiding in the back of his head as the case took hold of his priorities once again.

She can wait. I will make it right, but she can wait.

╰───────────✧──────────────╮

By the time she was done, it was almost 10:30 PM. 

She wasn’t planning on throwing all the clothes away, even if Wayne had told her she could do it. It would be a waste to do so, and at the moment, she didn’t have a style in mind that would suit her yet. So, for now, she would have to use some of the clothes that Wayne agreed to let her keep.

The pattern of shades of green was pretty obvious, but she wasn’t gonna complain. It felt right to use green.

Which was why she didn’t take off the jacket from the moment she put it on.

Instead of shoving all the discarded clothes into trash bags, she put them into boxes that Alfred got her once he knew what she was doing with the clothes.

“A change of style and removing old things is a sign of new beginnings, my dear. Don’t feel shame for it.”

That old man was easily becoming her favorite person in the world.

After Billy, of course.

And her ghost companion, too.

…and maybe her mom as well-

A sharp knock at the door broke her away from the difficult task of tapping the boxes that were overflowing with clothes. She didn’t move from her spot on the floor, sitting with her legs crossed and fingers with pieces of tape stuck on them.

It was usually Alfred who always knocked and asked to be let in before opening the door. The other guys, thankfully, hadn’t come to look for her at her room in the past few days.

So, whoever knocked at her door wasn’t someone she knew.

“Hell, no,” she muttered while cutting another stripe of tape with her teeth, glaring at the door as if it had offended her. 

“I ain’t talking to anybody. I’m too tired to handle their issues.”

Sticking the stripe over the absolute abstract monstrosity on top of the box (better safe than sorry. Wayne had already told her it was too much tape, but she wasn’t risking the box busting open while taking it to the thrift store tomorrow with Alfred after her follow-up visit with Dr. Vidal.) Curiosity began to creep into the back of her head.

Wayne hadn’t said anything for a while, maybe she was resting. ( Do ghosts go to sleep? Do they even need sleep?)

It wasn’t Alfred, for sure. He would have said something, and a few minutes had already passed by.

The gremlin? (Nah, he was still pissed off about the orange juice thing. His fault for being too slow to reach for it.)

The pale hallway ghost? (Pretty sure he only stuck to his room, judging by the pile of dishes outside a door a few halls down.)

Not Touchy Guy, probably. (Almost biting his finger off yesterday was enough warning unless he was THAT stupid.)

…So who?

Before she could think about too much, in the blink of an eye, she stood before the door with a hand already on the handle. A few papers flew off behind her, the gush of wind making the bell wind chime hanging by the window sound off.

Seems like her own body acts before she even finishes the thought.

‘Gotta get a grip on that, too,’ she noted while biting her lips inward, opening the door slowly, and looking into the hallway.

It was empty and dark. Not a person on sight.

Rolling her eyes as she began to close the door once again, her gaze landed on the floor.

Leaning against the wall by her door, on the floor lay a purple backpack. 

She leaned forward and picked it up, noticing how heavy it was with a small grunt. Before going back into her room, she looked back into the hall, waiting for someone to pop by or something.

It didn’t happen.

Once she was back in her room, she climbed on the bed and opened the backpack. It was brand new, the material without a single scratch or dirt on it. And the books inside it as well, the smell of fresh paper and ink emitting from it. In the front pocket, she found something that made her open her mouth in shock.

A phone. A brand new phone.

She quickly turned it on, easily excited over having something like that on her hands.

‘I never had a phone before! Thank you, whoever you are! I owe you big!’

It didn’t have a lot of apps or stuff. The picture roll was still there, judging by the thousands of pics in there. But it had only one contact registered on it.

Jay.

Said contact also had sent a message.

‘Take care of your stuff. You need books to pass your classes.’

‘And stay out of trouble’

That made her snort, scratching her cheek while looking down at the text and at the bag. A smile grew on her lips at the thoughtful gift.

And then it was wiped out when the sudden realization hit her.

“Fuck, I forgot about school!”

╰───────────✧──────────────╮

Author's Note: Hello everyone! Hope everyone is doing amazing and well. My trip was great, I really needed to disconnect for bit before facing finals weeks (which I haven't cried yet so it's a big success!!) Lots of important details in this chapter and I can't wait to see what y'all think about and come up with lol. I'll add on the translation to the morse code later bc I'm posting this at 1:40 in the morning and i got a final presentation in the afternoon, so wish me luck!! Sending lots of hugs and love, GG✨

Morse Code Translation:

( .. / -.. --- -. .----. - / .-.. .. -.- . / .. -) I don't like it.

(-.- . . .--. / .. - .-.-.- / .. - / .-.. --- --- -.- … / .-- .- -.-- / -… . - - . .-. / --- -. / -.-- --- ..- .-.-.-) Keep it. It looks way better on you.

Tag List:

@bat1212 @kneelforloki @1abi @galaxypurplerose @yhin-gg @cxcilla @momentomoribitch @stargirl404 @initial-ari @welpthisisboring @icefox8155 @bunniotomia @alittlelostmoonchild @devotedlyshamelessdetective @shycreatorreview @nirvanaxx1942 @soulsire @ryuushou @rinkydinkythinky @lithiumval @ithoughtthinks @reeyy0-2 @cssammyyarts @lordbugs @ilovecoffe0 @kore-of-the-underworld @fortunatelydifferentqueen

Bonus Memes:

[willowsnook]

Stay with me please (Jack Hughes)

Jack Hughes and athletic trainer where they kind of beef at the beginning of his shoulder problems bc he wouldn’t go see her. Eventually they develop a friendship and when he gets his really bad shoulder injury she clears the room to tell him that he would be out the rest of the season. @jaematthews15

Jack hughes x atheltictrainer!reader

—-------------------------------------------------

“Where is he?” You asked an assistant exasperated. It was ten minutes past the time that Jack Hughes was supposed to be sitting right in front of you, and he still wasn’t there. This wasn’t the first time this had happened this month and you knew he was avoiding you. 

As frustrating as it was, you understood it. No player wanted to be spending any time with you, no matter how much they liked you. It was your third season as an athletic trainer for the Devils and you loved your job. You had always wanted to be in the sports medicine world so ending up at a professional team was a dream come true. It was preferable though when players actually showed up to their appointments. 

Sighing, you headed towards the practice ice to catch the end and wait out Jack. You had noticed a couple of games ago that his shoulder was acting up again but every chance you had tried to talk to him he had either run away or brushed you off completely. Mentioning it to Coach, you were happy to see his name on your calendar but then he rescheduled..and rescheduled again…and didn’t show up. So here you were. 

Nico noticed you lingering by the ice and skated over to you, flashing a sweet smile. 

“Hey pretty girl, what are you up to?” He asked and you smiled. Nico was your favorite Devils’ player by far. He was a major sweetheart and always went out of his way to be nice to you. 

“Looking for a missing Hughes brother,” you said, crossing your arms. 

Nico frowned, “Jack?” You nodded.

“Missed his appointment today, the one he has rescheduled three times.”

“Hughes!” Nico barked out on the ice and two players froze. When Luke made eye contact with you he relaxed, throwing a smirk at his brother. Jack skated over slowly, wanting to avoid the confrontation as much as possible. 

“What’s up?” He said weakly, flinching at the glare Nico had thrown his way. 

“Supposed to be somewhere right now?” His captain asked. 

“I forgot,” Jack said back halfheartedly and you rolled your eyes. 

“Why don’t you look y/n in the face right now and tell her how much you don’t respect her and what she does for this team,” Nico seethed and Jack turned scarlet while you shifted uncomfortably. “Rescheudled three times? Get your shit together.” 

Nico dragged Jack off the ice next to you before he turned to skate off. Neither of you said anything for a minute and you finally motioned for him to follow you. No words were exchanged as you walked to the training rooms and you led Jack to a table which he hopped up on. 

"Take off your jersey," you instructed, keeping your voice professional despite your irritation.

Jack hesitated, then complied with a sigh. As he struggled with the motion, you noticed him wince—exactly what you'd been worried about.

"How long has it been hurting like this?" you asked, gently probing his shoulder with your fingers.

"It's fine," he muttered, avoiding your eyes.

"That's not what I asked, Hughes." Your tone was firm but not unkind. "I can't help you if you won't be honest with me."

Jack stared at the wall. "Couple weeks. Maybe longer."

You bit back a frustrated comment. This was exactly why you'd wanted to see him earlier. Players like Jack—young, talented, with everything to prove—were often the worst patients. They pushed through pain until something broke.

"Look," you said, “I know that you think being here means I’m going to tell you that you have to sit out. I don’t want to do that. But I am going to have to do that if you choose to wait too long to tell me that something is wrong.” 

Jack sighed before nodding. “I know.” 

You tried to maintain clinical detachment as you gently placed your hands on his shoulder, feeling for inflammation.

"Tell me when it hurts," you instructed, slowly rotating his arm. Once you got past a particular point he winced and you honed in on that area. “Okay, I want you to ice it after every practice and then come see me at least once a week.” 

“That’s it?” Jack asked surprised. You let a small smile break through.

“That’s it.”

—------------------------

You and Jack saw each other quite often following that initial meeting and you had grown to really take a liking to him. He had brought you coffee each week when he came in, claiming he had to makeup for being a dick in the begninning and you weren’t going to say no. 

He told you a lot about growing up with his brothers and summers on the lake and you told him about growing up in the midwest and being sports crazed ever since birth. 

“I just feel like maybe he’s not a franchise quarterback ya know?” You yapped to Jack as you were tapping his shoulder. He was watching you amused, knowing better than to interrupt your rant. “Like sometimes he has these elite moments when I feel good but then he does something so fucking stupid on the next drive it’s like what are we doing here?’

Satisfied with the tape job, you met Jack’s eyes that were staring intensely into your own. 

“What?” You asked. 

“I like when you ramble about football, it’s cute,” he said and you blushed. 

“Stop flirting with me,” you mumbled and his grin widened. 

"Who says I'm flirting?" Jack replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Maybe I just appreciate your football analysis."

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest. "Yeah, sure. All the guys find my quarterback critiques irresistible."

His laugh was warm and genuine, making it impossible not to smile back. These sessions had become something you looked forward to, even if you wouldn't admit it.

"How's it feeling today?" you asked, returning to professional mode, gently testing his range of motion.

"Better," Jack said, but you caught the slight hesitation in his voice.

"Hughes..." you warned.

"Seriously, it's better than last week," he insisted. "Just still a little stiff after yesterday's game."

The Devils had played a physical match against Boston, and you'd winced watching Jack take a hard hit along the wall. 

“Mmmk,” you said. “I better be the first to know if that changes.”

He flashed you his signature smile as he got off the table and you knew he wouldn’t. 

—---------------------------------

It was a Friday night and you were out to dinner with your friends for your monthly supper club. Your friend Anna had picked a trendy new restaurant in the city and the five of you were tucked away in a corner booth. Two martinis deep you were feeling it and when you watched Jack walk in your section of the restaurant with a couple of other players, including Nico, your eyes lit up. 

“Hey pretty girl,” Nico called out, walking towards your table. Jack shot you a smirk and you felt your face flush, much to your friends’ amusement. “Can we join you guys?” 

With that, you all ended up moving to a bigger table in the back and you introduced your friends to Nico, Jack, Luke and Dawson. 

Jack slid into the seat beside you, his shoulder brushing yours as he settled in. The casual contact sent a small thrill through you that you tried desperately to ignore.

"So these are the famous friends I've heard so much about," he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

"All good things, I hope," Anna chimed in, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in her eye that made you want to disappear into your martini.

"The best," Jack assured her with a charming smile. "Y/N never shuts up about you guys during our sessions."

The evening flowed easily, your friends meshing with the players better than you could have hoped. You couldn't help but notice how Jack kept finding reasons to touch you—a hand on your arm when he laughed, his knee pressed against yours under the table. Each touch felt electric, dangerous. Your friends weren't subtle with their knowing looks, Anna even going as far as bringing up your ex to see what Jack would say. 

“He was an athlete too,” Anna said and Jack looked at you while you groaned. 

“Really, anyone I know?” He asked. 

“Joe Burrow.” 

Jack choked on his drink while you gave her a look. 

“You dated Joe Burrow?” He asked incredulously.

“It was brief,” you mumbled. 

“And she broke up with him, can you believe that?” Anna exclaimed. Jack kept his eyes on you though, his jaw clenching slightly. Joe Burrow? How could he compete with that? 

"Anna, I met him once at a party in college. We had two dates. It wasn't dating," you clarified, feeling your face heat up.

"Well, he still texts her sometimes," Anna added with a sly grin.

Jack's expression shifted, something flickering in his eyes that you couldn't quite read. You kicked Anna under the table.

"Anyway," you said pointedly, "how about we change the subject?"

The conversation moved on, but you noticed Jack was quieter for the next few minutes, his usual easy smile a bit forced. When you excused yourself to the restroom, Anna followed.

"What are you doing?" you hissed once you were alone.

"Just giving your hockey boy a little push," she said, reapplying her lipstick. "He's obviously into you."

"He's my patient!"

"He's a professional athlete who you get to be around all the time, you’ll thank me later.” 

Later, as the night was winding down and everyone was saying their goodbyes outside the restaurant, Jack hung back.

"Need a ride home?" he asked, his breath visible in the cold night air.

"I was going to grab an Uber," you said, hugging your coat tighter.

"Let me drive you," he insisted. "It's late."

The car ride was quiet, a comfortable silence settling between you. When he pulled up to your apartment building, he turned to you.

“Do you really still talk to him?” He asked and you scrunched your face in confusion. 

“To who?” 

“Joe Burrow,” he mumbled and you laughed before you could stop yourself. “Goodnight y/n.” 

“Goodnight jealous boy, I’ll see you Monday,” you said, blowing him a kiss. He grumbled something at you but you caught a hint of a smile coming through. 

—---------------------------------------

Everything fell apart in Vegas. You watched in horror as Jack flew headfirst into the wall, your hang going up to your mouth as you gasped. He stumbled off the ice and straight into the locker room, your boss following right behind him. For gamedays, you were always stationed on the bench, helping with minor issues while your boss, the Head Athletic Trainer, would deal with anyone bad enough to go to the training room. 

You tried to lock back into the game but your mind constantly wavered, thinking about Jack. Turns out that experience wasn’t one sided - ten minutes after the collision, your boss came back to the bench. 

“I need you to come back with me,” your boss said and you gave him a confused look. “He’s asking for you.” 

You followed him through the locker room and back into the training area where you could hear yelling. 

“Don’t touch me!” Jack yelled as you rounded the corner. He looked crazy, adrenaline pumping and you felt bad for the assistant trying to help. 

“Can you give us the room please?” You asked and your boss nodded before motioning for the other staff members to follow him out. 

As the door closed behind them, the room fell silent except for Jack's labored breathing. He sat on the exam table, his face contorted in pain, his eyes finding yours with a mixture of relief and desperation.

"Hey," you said softly, approaching him with practiced calm despite the worry churning in your stomach. "Let me take a look."

"It's bad," he whispered, and the defeat in his voice made your heart clench. "I felt something... tear."

You gently helped him remove his jersey and padding, your professional demeanor almost cracking at his sharp intake of breath. The shoulder was already swelling, an angry red spreading across his pale skin.

"I'm going to touch it now, okay?" you warned, waiting for his nod before your fingers carefully examined the area.

Jack's jaw was clenched tight, eyes fixed on your face as if searching for clues. You didn’t have to look long, you knew this was bad and that he was going to need a scan and then most likely surgery. 

“No no no,” Jack chanted as he saw your face change, his eyes filling with tears. “Don’t say it.” 

“I’m sorry Jack,” you said, feeling your own heart break. “Let’s just get you changed and we can head to the hospital.” 

“Just give me a second,” he said, his voice cracking You started to move back to give him space but his uninjured arm shot out, fisting your shirt to keep you in place. He rested his head against your chest and you moved your hand to rub his back, laying your chin on the top of his head. “I need you by my side for all of this.”

“I will be Jack, I promise.” 

[rafeshit]

celebrity!drew x assistant!reader

warnings — none other than tensionn and kissin

summary — you surprise him at one his premieres that he begged you to come to

youve been Drew's assistant for months, tasked with managing his chaotic schedule and taming the problems in his daily life. It's a wonder you haven't lost your mind yet, given the constant demands and last-minute changes that come with catering to a celebrity. But somehow, you've learned to navigate Drew's world with ease, all while maintaining a sense of calm that eludes him. It's almost comical, really, you're the epitome of organization and precision, whereas Drew is a walking disaster, always running late and anxiety driven about the next big thing.

despite your different approaches to life, you've developed an unlikely friendship with Drew over the past few months. You've grown accustomed to his anxious energy, and he's learned to appreciate your no-nonsense attitude. As the days have turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, you've begun to realize that your feelings for Drew go beyond friendship. You've tried to brush it off as a silly crush, but the truth is, you're hooked. You can't help but admire the way his eyes wrinkle at the corners when he smiles or how he stutters when he speaks to you. The problem, of course, is that Drew is a notorious playboy, always on the prowl for the next girl to pounce on. You're not naive enough to think you stand a chance.

today is the day of the premier for Onslaught, Drew's latest movie. He's been a nervous wreck all morning, pacing back and forth in front of the mirror as he preps for the red carpet. When he turns to you and says, "I don't understand why you're not coming with me," you know you have to draw a line. You can't keep enabling his dependency on you, no matter how much you care for him. So you say the one word that will likely send him into a wreck "No!" Drew's scoffs, and he storms out of the room without a word.

you have to admit that your relationship is a little inappropriate. drew latches onto you like a child does to a mother and he uses you as an anchor in everything he does because you do things so well. So you have to draw the line somewhere.

fast-forward to the premier, where Drew is currently sweating bullets during an interview. His anxiety is at an all time high, his eyes darting towards the crowd as he forces a smile onto his face. And then, suddenly, a hair on the back of his neck stands on end. He looks up, his gaze locking onto yours as you stand at the edge of the crowd, smiling brightly back at him. The camera flashes, capturing the moment, and for an instant, everyone’s eyes were on you. But It's just you and Drew, locked in this moment feeling as though you were the only two in the room.

As the interviews wrap up, you make your way over to Drew, he turns to you, asking, "You showed up. Why'd you show up?"

You take a deep breath, preparing for the aftermath of your earlier argument. "I'm really sorry, I just—" But Drew cuts you off, "Why?" He says practically demanding an answer.

"You know why," you say, winking at him.

He chuckles, shaking his head, and you both enter into the building engulfed in a room full of his colleagues. He hands you a glass of sparkling champagne. "Well, I suppose you're here now. Let's make the most of it."

As you sip your drink, taking in the atmosphere, Drew fills you in on the reactions to his movie surrounding Onslaught. His hand finds its way to your back, moving up and down in a gentle, possessive gesture that raises more than a few eyebrows among his co-stars.

Just then, a handsome stranger approaches you,"You look stunning in that black dress, miss." he says, his smile wide and his eyes inviting. "May I have the pleasure of your name?"

You feel Drew's hand squeeze your back ever so slightly before it slips off, only to graze your butt in a gentle way. The stranger's eyes flicker to Drew, who was disinterested in the stranger advances from the start, "Sorry, she's unavailable," Drew says, ushering him away.

You turn to him, with a confused on your face. "Unavailable?" you repeat.

Drew offers a downward smile and shrugs. "Yeah. And you're fired."

You're taken aback, "What? Why?" This job has been your lively hood and the biggest break you could ever imagine, it would be catastrophic for you to lose it. You start to wonder where you messed up and if it was even fixable, because his words were certain and clear.

He smirks. "Because I can't date my assistant without it being a problem." Your eyebrows shoot up, and before you can process his words, Drew leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss. His hands pull your waist closer to him, deepening the embrace. You both earn side eyes from everyone in the room but you two were far from caring.

Your hands wrap around his neck, pulling him in closer and finally He breaks the kiss, still holding your waist as he whispers in your ear, “this dress is coming off tonight.”

[neeeooon]

shut me up ;

20 | a day in the kaiser life

ft. kaiser & fem!reader, sae (mentioned)

cw. entire ch is from kaiser’s pov. suggestive, cussing, mentions of sex, descriptive make-out scenes, non-descriptive hints of past trauma

kaiser scrubbed the sleep from his face with his hand and rolled until his bare feet touched the expensive plush rug beneath his bed. it was pure white and a pain to clean, but one of the first things he bought when he started making enough money to buy things because he wanted to, not needed to.

he fought the instinctive urge to flinch when hands moved from his back to his shoulders to his neck. a soft purr left the woman behind him, reminding him where he was.

his room. his apartment.

kaiser exhaled and let the woman run her acrylics over his skin. “morning, handsome,” she cooed.

he didn’t remember her name—he hardly ever did—as most of the people he brought home were satisfied with whatever nickname he’d decided to call them the night before.

“i’m sorry, gorgeous,” he faked the disappointment in his voice as he turned to face the woman and pushed some of her messy black bob behind her unpierced ear. “i have a class in twenty minutes. i’ll call you when i’m available next and we can grab dinner.”

her face lit up. he didn’t have a class, and he wouldn’t be calling, but she didn’t have to know that.

kaiser shrugged on a pair of sweats and grabbed a black tee from his dresser. “feel free to hang out, but my roommate will be back in an hour.”

the woman jumped to her feet. “sorry, kaiser. you’re cute, but i don’t do roommates.” she turned her back to collect her things, completely missing his smug little grin. “text me?”

he let her press her gloss-sticky lips onto his and made her sigh with his tongue. “i’ll text.”

then she was gone, and kaiser flopped back onto his bed. he sighed, content with the quiet. he didn’t have class. he didn’t have a roommate. he didn’t even have the woman’s number and would tell her that if they ever ran into each other again. it always worked; a little frown and a kiss to the neck. “i’m sorry, sweetheart. i tried to call, but i lost your number.”

kaiser raised a fist and knocked against the wall behind his headboard once, expression unchanging when he didn’t receive a reply. he wasn’t expecting one to begin with, but couldn’t stop the habit he’d developed.

he had your schedule worked out by now. every morning, he would tap your wall to make sure, but it didn’t take him long to figure you were out of the apartment most hours of the day—work and school, he figured.

sighing, kaiser wrapped himself in his skewed comforter, lying across the bed on a diagonal, and promptly fell back asleep.

kaiser caught himself grinning in the reflection of his phone and immediately tensed. why was it so fun getting on your nerves? your threats were empty and made something in his chest stir in unfamiliar ways, and kaiser didn’t know how he felt about that.

tossing the device across the bed, kaiser ran a hand through his blond hair, the ends faded blue from the temporary dye, and dragged himself out of bed. he told sae he’d show up to practice, so even though he was fifteen minutes late, kaiser slipped his shoes on and locked his door behind him.

a scoff to his left caught his ear, causing him to lift his head. his grin returned when he spotted you standing in front of your door with folded arms.

you were dressed in your uniform, which didn’t make sense since you usually worked after school to save your evenings for homework. at least he assumed so, given your lack of response to the taps on your wall.

“working late?” kaiser teased as he approached you, allowing his eyes to drag up and down your frame. you huffed, face burning under his gaze in a way that made him feel victorious. he loved getting you mad, loved the way your blush always betrayed the little scowls and glares you shot his way.

you adjusted the company cap on your head. “got called in. so what?”

“nothing,” kaiser beamed smugly, twirling his keys on his finger. “we can take the elevator down together.”

you faked a gag at his offer. “i’d rather walk, thanks.”

he raised a brow. “down five flights of stairs?”

“i could use the exercise!”

the corner of kaiser’s lip tugged, revealing a flash of teeth. “i’ve got another form of exercise you might like a lot more.” your face turned cherry in, what, rage? kaiser was fighting the urge to laugh when you flashed a middle finger and stomped toward the emergency stairs.

before you could shove the door open, he stepped beside you and stuck his foot out to block the door. with the new position, he leaned so close he could smell your perfume. it was the same sweet scent you wore the night you broke into his apartment pretending to be his lover.

your lashes fluttered up at him, and kaiser nearly broke character. instead, he pressed a shoulder against the doorway and hummed. "take the elevator. i need to grab something from my room, anyway."

your brow arched in suspicion, but you didn't wait long before putting distance between you and pressing the down button. he heard a click as you hit the close doors button next, assuring he wouldn't jump on with you, and kaiser wiggled his fingers in goodbye as you very maturely stuck your tongue out at him.

kaiser waited until the number above the elevator glowed 1, revealing you made it to the ground floor, before pressing the down button for himself.

"what a waste," he smiled to himself as he stepped on and leaned against the far wall, picturing just how flustered you'd be trapped in an enclosed space with him. he scoffed, "annoying."

masterlist // previous (ch 19) // next (ch 21)

notes -> is yn really mad kaiser??? or r u dumb

tags -> @x3nafix @n0tbelle @nensi @ohagiyo @tired-child00 @melinana @chaoslibra @kaidostwin @bubybubsters @miss-aesthetic-13 @ihsoti @arwawawa2 @lonigiri @realrintaro @mivqko @sorasushik1 @pookalicious-hq @higuchislut @tofumiarchives @p1z-d0n7jud6em3 @rainychi2 @ch4rstxr @sapph1r3x @sagging-saging @5-laska @tuna-toes @seinuis @sindulgent666 @evilari111 @newinhalerpls @kisses2kanao @sugacor3 @meizumi @90s-belladonna @meowstertruck420 @kyutiipie @ranzess @cookiesandcreammy @nevvynev @stwberri @mikeymyfav @dontmindtheevie @kaikaidenkai @mizukiblogs @ravenbc @yvanllie @cyberasterrr @lily-isalittlegirl @yourlocaleffy @hanamatopoeia

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