#explaining white fragility

[keferon]

Sigh. I wasn’t strong enough to stop. I wrote a fic too

———————————

Pilots have to be constantly monitored by special people who are trained to do diagnostics. Not just medics. Scientists, engineers. There's a surprising number of things that can go wrong with a person hooked up to a machine.

The thing is.

The procedure is designed to help.

Jazz isn't sure Prowl is getting help.

Organics are fragile.

Most of the ones Jazz had met were, at least. Flesh is more susceptible to environmental influences than metal. Flesh accumulates damage faster, both external and internal. It often generates it itself.

The processes and causes are often a mystery to Jazz, but he's familiar with the general concept.

Organics are fragile.

That's why Jaz isn't very surprised by the crowds of medical personnel scurrying around a human military base.

As Prowl explained to him, humans don't have the built-in ability to open a HUD and perform self-diagnostics. Most of the time all you get is a vague signal in the form of pain in the injured area or nausea or changes in body temperature and things like that.

Pilots have to be constantly monitored by special people who are trained to do diagnostics. Not just medics. Scientists, engineers. There's a surprising number of things that can go wrong with a person hooked up to a machine. It's weird for Jazz. He's used to coming in for physical exams only when something's obviously wrong. Pilots are supposed to get checks just in case anything about them in theory could start breaking down in the future.

The thing is.

The procedure is designed to help.

Jazz isn't sure Prowl is getting help.

He spots the scientist in purple pretty quickly. A crowd of white-haired pilots is a nightmare to identify but this particular organic catches his attention almost instantly.

He's quite...extravagant looking. And he's practically glued to Prowl. They're involved in something together that Jazz isn't sure about, but Prowl looks...wobbly...when he returns from his visits to Tarantulas. And not in a funny way.

Tarantulas holds a special interest in Prowl. Special access, too. Whenever Prowl is injured, Tarantulas is the one who must be contacted immediately. Prowl's mech system needs an upgrade - Tarantulas must be consulted.

Tarantulas slips into the crevices and oozes between the plates. His hands are all over Prowl's personal space and Jazz doesn't really know what he should do about it because Prowl apparently doesn't mind.

Tarantulas dictates what he can and can't eat. What medications he should take and what software he should use.

Tarantulas gives him these little white bracelets with the information he writes on them for the other medics, because Prowl is special for some reason and only Tarantulas has instructions for him.

Knockout wipes his hands with some kind of special napkin and jerks his head around

“If you're looking for Prowl, he's in the labs for a physical.”

Jazz pretends this information is as mundane to him as it is to everyone else on this base

“Why can't you or the other medics examine him?”

“None of us have time to deal with the creepy experiments Prowl is constantly involved in” snorts Knockout ”Last time I checked his blood could dissolve plastic. Haha figuratively of course! Don't look at me like that!”

Jazz smiles, but there's no friendliness behind that smile

“Is this scientist doing experiments on Prowl?”

“Ah. As a matter of fact. Yes. Listen...” Knockout hastily picks up the first aid kit and walks towards the med bays “You'd better ask him yourself. My shift ends in ten minutes, I'm not in the mood to start anything now.”

Jazz nods

“Suuure , no problem.”

“Can I ask what you do in there?”

Prowl has this...look. The one that shows up usually after he gets back from the labs.

In his head, Jazz calls it “'Wobbly.” It's like Prowl's little organic body's joints are coming loose. If he had joints of course (Wait, humans have joints? Right?).

Prowl squints glumly, looking up at him

“Working on improving my mobility on the field.”

Jazz lets out a quiet “oooh.”

Then pulls himself back together

“Shouldn't that involve working on your armor, and not ..uh. you?”

Prowl leans his back against the wall.

“Installing new thrusters on a mech of my class doesn't make sense. They'll increase its speed, but they'll also burn fuel faster.

And installing larger fuel tanks is something reserved for Strikers. There's no way Orion would approve such an upgrade for me.”

Jazz carefully sits down on the floor next to Prowl. It still doesn't give him a good angle on his human's face, but Prowl stares at the floor anyway so...

“And you found some kind of loophole huh?”

Prowl gives a barely perceptible shrug.

“I did some calculations and noticed that the fuel used to run the Heavy Mechs is much more efficient. It's slower to burn out, and gives significantly better performance. Which makes sense, considering it's needed to compensate for the weight of the heavy armor. Used in my mech, it would give me a ten percent increase in speed and twice as much active usage time.

Jazz glares at the top of Prowl's head.

“Sounds like an epic idea, but I'm sensing a 'but' coming...”

“But it's highly toxic.”

“It's what??”

Prowl rubs the bridge of his nose with his fingers

“Only heavy mechs can run this type of fuel because there's enough room in them to insulate the cockpit well enough from any possible chemical exposure.”

Jazz nervously pulls the servo toward Prowl but hesitates at the last second and places it on the floor next to him.

“Prowl. Prowl your armor is lovely but it's anything but heavy.”

“It is” nods Prowl “There isn't enough room in my mech to shield me from any negative effects, so Tarantulas is working on making me immune to them.”

“But that....kind of...why are you letting him? I'm no expert, but sitting inside poisoned armor can't be good for you. I don't know what he told you, but if you had asked even one other medic...”

Prowl finally lifts his head and stares into Jazz's optics for a couple seconds

“He didn't convince me of anything. I asked him to do it myself.”

“Prowl...”

“People have biases against Tarantulas but I assure you, he doesn't do anything I didn't consent to him doing. He likes to go outside the box in his research. He doesn't dismiss my ideas as too harsh. We collaborate.”

“.....”

“The result will be worth it. You'll see.”

Jazz is uncomfortable admitting it, but he sees.

The result is impressive.

Prowl can not only move fast, he can do it for a long time. He's getting more efficient (again), faster (again), better (Prowl's subjective assessment).

The maintenance team wears special masks when working on the internal systems of his mech. The fuel is toxic. Not to Jazz, but even Jazz wouldn't want it to get on his plating.

And humans are fragile.

All organics tend to be fragile.

And Prowl... little flesh-and-blood Prowl gets into this poisoned armor and it's considered acceptable? Because his organic body seems to have developed enough resistance to this kind of damage he only gets a “”mild, easily treatable“” poisoning? And Tarantulas adds another white bracelet to his arm with notes on what substances Prowl needs to put in his drinks to keep his internal components from accumulating damage.

Jazz isn't sure what to think about this.

Jazz doesn't know what to do about it.

And frankly. Does he have the right to get involved if this is what Prowl has chosen for himself?

Tarantulas is a creepy, haunting shadow hanging over Prowl at the slightest opportunity. Tarantulas takes Prowl to a lab and runs poison through his veins. Tarantulas adores Prowl for allowing him to do this.

Prowl insists that Tarantulas is helping.

Jazz doesn't think Prowl is getting help.

[pomefioredove]

need overblot boys with epel, and floyd with a reader that randomly lore drops as if they're an old dad like "yeah lol my old school had a shooting once....anyways *SNOREE*" and when asked they just agree and walk away and never elaborate whatsoever💀 if you feel uncomfortable feel free to delete or ignore‼️love ya pookie💥

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ a reader with a backstory

I got u 🫡🫡

summary: wacky reader lore type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, azul, floyd, jamil, vil, epel, idia, malleus additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

you find new ways to raise Riddle's blood pressure every day

little guy is worried enough as it is

you've already got your school work, taking care of Ramshackle, taking care of Grim, taking care of all the other freshmen, taking care of-

well... you get it

the last thing he needs is to hear another one of your stories

"oh, yeah, that's like the time I got stabbed"

"????? WHAT??"

what's entertaining to you and ADeuce is mortifying to Riddle

if you're not careful you'll end up sleeping on the floor in his room

where he can keep a close eye on you

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

you're like Leona's little court jester

and he takes you with him everywhere

it's not easy to get a genuine laugh out of him, after all

besides, what's so bad about a little dark humor? it's not like you died or anything

he knows you're a resilient little thing

and you seem to love telling him about "that time you crawled into a drainage pipe", anyway

you make him laugh; he likes you

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Azul indulges you

his white noise machine stopped working last month and you make for excellent background ambience

so, he lets you talk yourself in circles about your school work, your friends, Grim, Grim again

and then you drop the most HEINOUS bombshells in the middle

"blah blah blah Grim, blah blah Crowley, blah blah, that one time I got lost in the woods for a day, blah blah-"

he loses his train of thought every time

now, Floyd is the complete opposite

he will hyperfocus on the most mundane details

and ignore the bombshells

will give you an, "oh, that's cool" to your ghost story but will find you the pair of socks you mentioned liking three months ago

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Jamil is just fascinated by you

you as a person, of course

but also the fact that you're still alive

one night, he's explaining the reason he makes all of Kalim's food and you're like

"oh, yeah, I get it. I got mold poisoning once and hallucinated for a week"

?????

then you go right back to asking him about the recipe

sitting on the counter, as happy as could be

"HOW ARE YOU STILL ALIVE!!!"

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Vil is used to this

he knows that look on your face

he will shush you with a finger to your lips before you even start

"don't tell me, I'm stressed enough as it is"

he's going to break out if you keep at it

he finds you quite... macabre

which is entertaining until he sees you going down a flight of stairs without holding onto the railing and remembers all those stories you'd told him

he's just... concerned for you, that's all

and he does NOT appreciate Epel for encouraging it

"tell us more about the time you fell down that hill into that pile of rocks, Prefect!"

:D

like a kid in a candy store

learning new Lore is like the highlight of his week

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

"talk about having a high luck stat..."

Idia is more entertained than anything

he thought these kinds of things only happened in anime, but...

...there you are

it sounds like you experience more in a single month than he has in his whole life

and you know what?

GOOD

you can keep your freaky real-world experiences!

he'll just live vicariously through you

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

poor Malleus

he's been putting so much effort into learning and blending with human culture, and now here you are with your terrifying stories

you tell him in such earnest, too

you seem so... unbothered by it

perhaps humans are less fragile than he thought?

of course, he shouldn't have underestimated you in the first place :)!

then you come over for dinner one night

"hahah, yeah, last time I was at someone's house their grandma threw a lamp at my head and I got a concussion"

Silver and Sebek both go >_>

Lilia goes <_<

and then Malleus is there like, "ah, another fascinating tale :)"

[isasweetie]

hii my love! can you please write something about assistant!reader x rafe sneaking off to the kitchen pantry (like the one in the show) and making out? maybe it starts with rafe calming her down because she forgot to do something for sofia and rafe reassures her—and somehow they start making out. i probably wrote alot, but thank you anyway, and even if you don't write, i love your work so much!

love u angel bby <3

rafe is such a kind man, the least he could do to calm you down was give you a kiss ♡ (sirens!au)

you were a mess of a girl when you stormed into the kitchen, the staff instantly leaving the room to give you space. mascara running, nose sniffling and twitching like a bunny, eyes wide and glossy like a fawn… all because you had forgotten to pick up sofia’s favourite napkins for the upcoming gala.

rafe cameron hears your gentle cries from upstairs, instantly stomping down to see what the commotion is about. his muscles are a bit tense, the billionaire on guard in case there’s any danger.

it’s a bit of a shock when his eyes land on you, holding onto the counter with trembling hands. why on earth was his wife’s assistant crying all alone in the kitchen?

his shoulders soften underneath his polo shirt as he hurriedly walks towards you, going to hold your shaky hands and pry you away from the marble counter. “hey— hey, what’s goin’ on, sweetie?” he asks, eyebrows furrowing in confusion and concern.

“sofia— she wanted polar bear white napkins for the gala and— and i forgot so now we’re stuck with the stupid cerulean blue napkins from last year!” you cry gently, squeezing his big hands back, too emotional to care that it’s rafe who’s comforting you. “she’s going to be so upset.. oh rafe, she’s already frustrated at me for not reminding the gardeners to water her tulips, she’s going to fire me!”

“woah, woah..” he sighs, trying to calm you down. “shh, don’t think she’s gonna give a shit, alright? i really don’t,” he assures gently.

it doesn’t seem to help, because you cry again and your eyes squeeze shut. “no, she’s going to fire me! cerulean blue is so last year, it’ll be so embarassing when her guests come and—“

he shuts your cries and complaints up with a gentle kiss to the lips, as if testing the waters. it seems to work, because when he pulls away, you’re quiet and confused. so he leans in again, giving you another, longer kiss. “better?” he asks gently after, minty breath kissing your face.

oh, how you love his kisses. you shake your head no, sniffling, possibly just wanting more. rafe is a gentleman and he senses your neediness, so he kisses you again. you’re brave enough to kiss back this time. he lifts you on the counter as you practically sit in your own tears, his lips not leaving yours.

one of your manicured hands goes to his bicep, the other on his scalp and scratchy buzz cut. his tongue pertrudes your lips, going to invade your mouth. every movement he does is slow, gentle … he knows you’re fragile right now, so he’s going to treat you as such.

when you pull away for breath and your wet lashes flutter as your eyes open, you ask, “didn’t you say we weren’t supposed to do this anymore?”

he displays a little half-smile, finding your question sweet. “yes, but when i see one of my workers upset, i’ll do whatever it takes to fix it. i’m a generous man, aren’t i?”

“yes sir,” you answer his question softly, confirming that he is generous. “but i’m not technically your worker, m’sofia’s,”

“y’get paid by me, though,” he explains simply, and you nod gently at his logic.

so when he leans in again, you don’t stop him. he’s just doing his job, after all.

[red-garden]

Qi Qingqi is not often sent out in missions with Shen Qingqiu, thank the heavens. Unfortunately, they are the spy masters of Cang Qiong, and there are occasions where they must collaborate.

After a handful of moles in a forest demon court were discovered, both were dispatched to infiltrate and rescue them. The mission went smoothly of course, they’re peak lords after all. The disciples were sent back on various secret routes. Shen Qingqiu handled the demon diplomacy while she liberated the spies. As long as they could fly back without killing each other, everything should be fine. Right?

Everything was not fine. Shen Qingqiu was not reacting well to some of the food he had to eat. The sect leader would tear Qi Qingqi a new asshole if she flew back to the sect without him, so she had to walk with him from town to town for li upon li. Of course a qi deviation was bound to happen, the Qing Jing peak lord’s cultivation was held together by twine. What she didn’t expect was the state the deviation would leave him in.

Once the sparking and flickering subsided, there was a very small, very gaunt boy wearing the peak lord’s clothing.

The boy was shaking. He asks where he is, and where his master went. He asks if he’d been sold again. Qi Qingqi says she doesn’t understand. The boy explains in a state of panic that he needs to find Qiu Jianluo as soon as possible if he doesn’t want to die, and he doesn’t want to die.

He says his name in Shen Jiu.

And he looks like a hundred girls Qi Qingqi has personally bought the contracts of.

He starts to calm down when she explains that if Qiu Jianluo is still alive, Shen Jiu has not seen him in many years. He grew to be a great cultivator, and he is usually much older than this.

Shen Jiu is a very timid child. He uses formal language obsessively, keeps his eyes down, and only speaks when spoken to. He’s rail thin. Where the too big robes spill off of him, mottled skin covered in a lattice of scars is quickly obscured by desperate hands.

He holds a fragile excitement about his future. Slowly, he asks questions about what sect he’s a part of, what his role is, what’s the name of his sword. He hasn’t learned to read the characters on the blade yet.

He asks Master Qi if she knows of another cultivator named Yue Qi.

Of course, that is the given name of zhangmen-shixiong. He entered the sect a little after Qi Qingqi did.

Shen Jiu smiles. He has the barest indent of dimples on his thin cheeks.

The journey back to the sect is interesting. Shen Jiu is cooperative enough to fly like this. He’s very quiet, barely clinging to Qi Qingqi’s robes. At one point he falls, leaning to see the city from above. He’s such a small thing, Qi Qingqi resolves to carry him. He barely weighs anything. He only whispers a thank you and wraps his arms around her neck, tucking his head under her chin. He makes himself so small, as if afraid to be noticed.

They fly straight to Qiong Ding. Shen Jiu hasn’t said much about the sect leader but Qi Qingqi’s suspicions have been aroused. She breezes through the line, little boy scrambling behind her awkwardly in his oversized clothing.

“Zhangmen-Shixiong, we need to talk now.”

He’s sitting at his desk as usual, Wei Qingwei apparently meeting with him. Qi Qingqi feels a tug on her skirts- Shen Jiu is standing behind her, shaking again.

“Qi-jie, where are we?”

Yue Qingyuan’s face goes white. He stands from his desk, neck craning to see the source of the voice. “Xiao Jiu?”

The boy peeks out, eyes wide. Wei Qingwei spots him too. “Shit, did Shen-Shixiong deviate?”

Yue Qingyuan leans over his desk, eyes pleading. “Does Xiao Jiu recognize me?”

Shen Jiu shrinks back, clutching Qi Qingqi’s skirts far more desperately. Qi Qingqi puts a hand on his arm. “You’re scaring him!”

Suddenly Qi Qingqi doesn’t feel as good bringing this child here. She turns around, scooping him up in her arms. “Zhangmen-Shixiong should finish his meetings. We’re going to Qian Cao and then home.”

[i7nn8a]

part two of this

Your gods must bless you greatly. That was what Sukuna thought when you knelt before him, reminding him of the day he first saw you. It had been three months since he brought you to his estate, utterly intrigued by you, and that fascination had only grown. It took him three months to realize that the words you spoke to him weren’t a joke.

In your first days with him, Sukuna simply watched you from a distance. You were quiet and didn’t trouble him with any issues, something he greatly appreciated. You had a routine—one he memorized. In the mornings, you would have breakfast with his concubines, silently. He could tell you hadn’t made many friends.

After breakfast, you would head to some isolated corner of the fields surrounding the house and either read a book or perform some sort of ritual. Occasionally, he caught glimpses inside the box you carried from place to place. It was difficult to see from his hidden vantage points, but he managed to discern that it contained elements for an altar, where he had seen you praying and even, he thought, blessing objects.

When lunch came, he noticed you would take your meal and eat alone in another room, avoiding company altogether. Afterward, you would write—only write—in what appeared to be a diary.

At dinner, however, you would dine with him. Just the two of you. Most nights, the meal was consumed in silence, but on some occasions, you spoke to him. Unlike others, you didn’t fear him. When he asked why, you simply replied that fearing him was akin to fearing death, and death was merely a way to reach eternity. You said your soul would go everywhere: to the flowers, the air, and the moon, whom you called "mother." Over time, Sukuna found himself growing more and more interested in you, paying less and less attention to everything around him.

You had peculiar habits. On full moon nights, you would cut a strand of your hair and bury it. You would place water outside to absorb the moonlight and retrieve it before sunrise. You murmured strange words while combing your hair. What Sukuna saw were harmless, mundane spells—until now.

It happened two weeks ago. One of the concubines, jealous of the attention you were receiving, burned some of your books, ruined your belongings, and destroyed everything inside the box that held your altar materials. You were furious. Sukuna enjoyed seeing that side of you, but it was short-lived. You quickly composed yourself, acting cold and indifferent, as though nothing had happened.

But he had seen it. He had heard it. When night fell, you went outside the estate, unaware of the four eyes watching you. A diagram, drawn with your own blood, marked the ground. Incense was lit, and words were whispered—words incomprehensible but melodic, like a chant or a foreboding omen.

The next day, the woman who destroyed your belongings began to wither. It took about eight days. It was astonishing. First, her hair started falling out and turning white. Then her teeth rotted, or those that didn’t simply fell out. Her skin became wrinkled, like that of someone a century old, not a woman of 20. Her bones grew fragile. She couldn’t sleep, claiming demons haunted her dreams. The doctors couldn’t explain it; no one could. Well, Sukuna could.

The more lifeless the woman became, the more radiant you appeared. Your hair shone brighter, your skin grew softer, and your lips gained a richer color. He understood everything. It didn’t take long for the servants and the rest of the harem to connect the dots, remembering that when the king first met you, you had been accused of witchcraft. It wasn’t long before they dragged you before him once more, bound.

And here you were, accused again. The difference was that now he knew you were guilty. The similarity was that he still didn’t care. If you hadn’t taken care of her, he would have done it himself. But something about the way you did it had left him spellbound. Your eyes still looked at him without a trace of fear, and your lips still curved into a small smile. You didn’t fear him, and he had no idea how far you were willing to go.

The other concubines knelt around you, begging him to punish you. Yet the only thing he could focus on was how you would look with that same defiant gaze, crying and drooling, kneeling between his legs.

He must have fallen under the witch’s spell.

[importantpuppystarfish]

Punishment for disobedience by Hanni

Managers x Hanni

Warning: BDSM, very hardcore & rough, humiliation, degrading, triple penetration, bruises, destroying the body, whipping, sadism, metal rods, total mess, gangbang, anal, treatment like a slave.

Note: please this is all just a fantasy for reading and stuff, this can be uncomfortable to read so if ur weak hearted or a fluff enjoyer, typically do not read.

Hanni stood at the heart of a lively fan event, her long dark hair framing her delicate features as she forced a faint smile, her right hand raised in a peace sign for the cameras capturing her move. She wore a light green satin dress over a white long-sleeve shirt, paired with black sneakers, her youthful and polished appearance captivating the crowd of adoring fans, her growing fame as an idol under HYPE, one of the most powerful agencies in K-pop industry.

At 18, Hanni had already endured intimate stuff and coercive history with her 8 managers, who had subjected her to sexual encounters since her trainee days, a practice that, while normalized in this universe’s industry, had left her deeply scarred.

As She had grown up, she had seen this as an unavoidable part of her rise to fame, but the cumulative trauma had finally driven her to take a stand—she had reported the managers to a court, hoping to expose their sexual activity with her and break free from their control. She also planned to leave the agency.

Unbeknownst to her, the managers had just received word of her legal action through their extensive network of industry connections.

Today there was a fan meeting of Newjeans. Hanni was there, wearing the same outfit in the picture..

The manager's rage was a palpable force as they watched her interact with fans, their eyes burning with a fury that promised a brutal reckoning. Hanni felt their gazes on her, a shiver running down her spine, but she maintained her idol persona, her smile a fragile mask hiding the terror that had consumed her since filing the court case, her mind racing with the fear of what they might do if they found out what she said in the court.

As the fan event concluded, the 1st manager, a 50-year-old with a commanding presence and a reputation for ruthlessness, approached Hanni, his face a mask of professional calm that barely concealed the storm brewing beneath. “You did well today, Hanni,” he said, his voice low and laced with venom, his eyes boring into hers with an intensity that made her stomach churn.

“But we heard about your little stunt in court. You think you can betray HYPE and get away with it?” Hanni’s heart pounded, her fingers trembling as she clutched the edge of her dress, her voice quivering with fear as she tried to explain. “I… I just wanted it to stop,” she said, a little amount of tears welling in her eyes, her voice barely audible over the lingering chatter of departing fans. “I didn’t mean to betray anyone… I just couldn’t take it anymore… the things you’ve done to me…” The 1st manager’s eyes narrowed, his tone icy as he stepped closer, his presence looming over her. “You’ve made a big mistake,” he snapped, his voice a low growl. “HYPE owns you, Hanni. You’re our slave, and tonight, we’re going to teach you a lesson you’ll never forget. You’ll wish you’d never stepped foot in that courtroom.”

Hanni’s stomach twisted with dread, her mind racing with memories of the sexual encounters she’d endured at their hands—encounters that had started as coerced “bonding” sessions but had grown increasingly violent over time, leaving her body and spirit scarred. She knew their anger would lead to something far worse than anything she’d experienced before, but HYPE’s influence was absolute, and her attempt to seek justice had only tightened the chains that bound her to her managers. She tried to run.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The moment the fans had dispersed, and she tried to escape, the managers’ demeanor shifted from professional to predatory, their rage boiling over as they grabbed Hanni, their grips on her arms bruising as they dragged her out of the venue and into a waiting black van parked in a secluded alley.

Inside the vehicle, the 2nd manager, a 47-year-old with a sadistic glint in his eyes, immediately backhanded her across the face, the force of the blow splitting her lip and sending her crashing against the van’s interior wall, her head spinning as blood dripped down her chin. “You thought you could betray HYPE?” he roared, his voice filled with venom as he punched her in the stomach, making her double over, gasping for air.

The 4th manager, a 46-year-old with a brutal streak, joined in, grabbing her hair and slamming her face against the van’s window, the impact bruising her cheek and causing her to cry out in pain. The 5th manager, a 42-year-old with a penchant for violence, tore at her clothes with his hands, ripping her light green satin dress and white long-sleeve shirt to shreds, the fabric tearing with a sickening sound as Hanni’s cute screams (AHHHhhh) filled the van, her body exposed in her underwear as the managers continued their assault. The managers smelled her underwear, it seems it was already wet, it smell good. The 6th manager, a 45-year-old with a cruel smirk, forced his mouth onto hers, kissing her with a brutal intensity that bruised her already swollen lips, his teeth biting down hard enough to draw more blood, his tongue invading her mouth as she gagged, her cries muffled by the violent kiss.

“You’ll learn to keep your mouth shut,” he growled against her lips, his voice dripping with malice as he punched her in the ribs, the crack of bone audible as Hanni sobbed, her body trembling from the relentless beating in the confined space of the van, the journey to the hotel a prelude to the horrors that awaited her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Upon arriving at a private penthouse suite in a luxury hotel, the managers dragged Hanni inside, her torn clothes hanging off her in tatters, her body already bruised from the beatings in the van.

The suite was dimly lit, a large bed dominating the center of the room, surrounded by a table laden with sinister tools: a bullwhip, belts with heavy buckles, some knifes, a cattle prod, a basin of water, a small branding iron with the HYPE logo, multiple metal rods of varying sizes, a spiked dildo, and a metal gag for oral torture.

A mirror was positioned to reflect the bed, amplifying the sense of exposure and dread that consumed Hanni as she was thrown onto the floor, the door locking with a heavy click behind them.

Her breath caught in her throat as the 1st manager stepped forward, his voice a chilling growl that echoed in the oppressive silence. “You thought you could go to court and expose us?” he began, his tone seething with anger, his fists clenching at his sides.

“You’re nothing but our slave, Hanni, and tonight, we’re going to break you for your betrayal. You’ll never think of defying HYPE again.” Hanni’s eyes filled with tears, her voice trembling as she pleaded, her body shaking uncontrollably, blood dripping from her split lip. “I’m so sorry… I just wanted it to stop… please, don’t do this! I’ll drop the case, I swear!”

But her words were met with a cruel laugh from the 2nd manager, his fingers caressing the bullwhip with a twisted fondness. “You’ve crossed a line,” he sneered, his voice dripping with malice. “You’re going to wish you’d never opened your mouth in that courtroom.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It began with a ferocity that left Hanni reeling, the managers’ rage over her court action fueling their power to unprecedented levels.

The 2nd manager smashed the bullwhip with savage force, striking her back, each lash splitting her skin, drawing bruises, the sound of the whip cracking against her flesh mingling with her screams of agony.

She stumbled forward, her hands reaching to shield herself, but the 4th manager grabbed her arms and held her in place, his grip like iron as the lashes continued, her back becoming a mess of welts and open wounds.

“You think you can betray HYPE?” the 2nd manager roared, delivering another lash that left a deep welt across her lower back which left a high amount of huge open wounds in her back.

“You’re nothing, Hanni! You’ll pay for this!” Hanni sobbed hysterically, her body trembling as she gasped, “I’m sorry… please, stop… I’ll drop the case!” The 1st manager watched with a cold smile, his voice cutting through her cries like a blade. “It’s too late for that. Keep going—forty lashes. Make her bleed for her betrayal.”

The whipping continued, each strike tearing into her flesh, her cries echoing through the suite as the managers unleashed their fury.

The punishment escalated as the 4th manager released her arms, only to deliver a series of brutal punches to her stomach and ribs, his fists slamming into her with such force that she doubled over, gasping for air, her body wracked with pain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The 5th manager joined in, landing a vicious punch to her face, splitting her already swollen lip further and causing a very little small amount of blood to gush down her chin, her head snapping back from the impact, her cheek swelling instantly. “You thought you could ruin us?” the 5th manager snarled, his voice filled with rage as he grabbed her hair and punched her again, this time in the jaw, the crack of bone audible as Hanni cried out, her face a mess of bruises and saliva coming out from her mouth .

The 6th manager kicked her legs out from under her, sending her crashing to the floor, where he and the 7th manager, a 41-year-old, began beating her with their fists and feet, targeting her face, stomach, thighs, and arms, leaving bruises and welts on every inch of her exposed skin.

“This is what happens when you betray HYPE!” the 7th manager shouted, his voice a mix of anger and sadistic glee as he stomped on her stomach, making her retch from the pain, her body curling into a fetal position as she begged, “Please… stop… I can’t take it…”

But the 1st manager’s voice was unyielding. “You’ll take everything we give you,” he said coldly. “You’re our slave, and you’ll learn your place.”

This took darker turns as the managers focused on Hanni’s mouth, their rage manifesting in a brutal assault on her oral cavity, determined to punish her for speaking out in court.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The 3rd manager grabbed a metal gag from the table, forcing it into Hanni’s mouth and securing it tightly, the rod stretching her jaw painfully wide, her muffled cries filling the room as drool and some blood began to drip down her chin, her lips already swollen and bleeding from the earlier punches and forced kissing in the van.

“Let’s destroy her mouth for talking to the court,” the 3rd manager sneered, his voice filled with malice as he motioned to the 2nd manager, who stepped forward with a sadistic grin.

The 2nd manager forced his dick into Hanni’s mouth, the metal gag preventing her from closing her jaw as he thrust deep into her throat, the deepthroat causing her to gag violently, her eyes watering as she struggled to breathe, her throat burning from the punishment.

“Choke on it, you little traitor,” the 2nd manager growled, his hands gripping her hair as he thrust harder, the tip of his dick hitting the back of her throat with brutal force, her gag reflex triggering repeatedly as she retched, vomits and saliva mixing as her throat was ravaged.

The 5th manager joined in, forcing his dick into her mouth alongside the 2nd manager’s, the two of them stretching her mouth to its limits, her lips splitting further from the strain, vomits gushing as they fucked her throat with no regard for her suffering.

“Look at her mouth—ruined for HYPE,” the 5th manager laughed, his voice cruel as he thrust deeper, making Hanni choke and gag, her face turning red from lack of air. The 6th manager grabbed a small whip, using it to lash the sides of her face as they deepthroated her, the strikes leaving red welts on her cheeks, her muffled screams vibrating against their dicks as they continued their punishment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The 8th manager then took another thin metal rod, and forced it into her mouth, the metal searing her tongue and the inside of her cheeks, her muffled screams intensifying as the heat blistered her oral cavity, her mouth destroyed by the relentless fucking, beating, and deep throat fucks, lots of vomits and saliva pooling on the floor beneath her.

Looks like the punishment escalated further as the managers turned their attention to Hanni’s body, their sadism reaching new heights.

The 4th manager stepped forward with a belt, the metal buckle glinting ominously, striking Hanni’s stomach and thighs with the buckle, the sharp edges cutting into her skin, leaving jagged marks and deep bruises, her body jerking with each blow as she lay on the floor, still gagged and choking from the deepthroat assault. The 8th started fucking her, searing pain making her scream "AAAA noooo" through the gag, the sound muffled but piercing as the smell of her body filled the room, her body convulsing as the beatings left a permanent scar, marking her as HYPE’s property.

“You’ll always belong to HYPE,” the 8th manager said, his voice devoid of empathy. “You’ll never escape us now.” Hanni’s muffled screams turned to whimpers, her mind reeling from the pain as she gasped through the gag, “Mmmph… mmmph… I’ll die.. Please i'm sorry, I,'ll tell the court I lied…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

But the 1st manager’s response was merciless. “You’ll take it all, Hanni,” he said coldly. “You’re our toy to break for what you did.”

Hanni’s cries were incoherent through the gag, her body limp as the pain overwhelmed her.

The punishment took a darker, more sexual turn as the managers removed the gag, leaving Hanni’s mouth raw, blistered from the deepthroat and metal rod, her lips swollen and torn, her throat so damaged that she could barely speak.

They forced her onto the bed, positioning her on her hands and knees.

Now, they tied her up in the bed. Her wrists and ankles tied to the bedposts with rough ropes that cut into her skin, leaving her spread-eagled and vulnerable, her bruised and weak trembling as she begged for mercy, her voice barely a whisper through her destroyed mouth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Let’s show her what happens to traitors who betray HYPE,” the 1st manager said, his voice dripping with malice. The 2nd, 3rd, and 4th managers positioned themselves at her lower end, their intentions clear as they prepared for triple penetration in her vagina. Hanni’s eyes widened in terror, her voice a desperate plea through her ruined mouth. “Please, no… I can’t… it’s too much…” But her cries were ignored as the three managers forced themselves into her pussy simultaneously, the sheer size and force of the three dicks tearing her apart, her vagina stretched beyond its limits, she started to pee as she could not control.. Her urine went mixing with the dicks in the triple penetration, mixing with her cries as they thrust brutally, their movements synchronized to maximize her pain. Hanni screamed in agony, her body convulsing as the pain ripped through her, the triple penetration a new level of torment compared to the sexual encounters she’d endured in the past, her vagina is destroyer profusely as they fucked her more deep.

“Take it, you little whore,” the 2nd manager growled, his voice filled with sadistic pleasure. “This is what you get for going to court!”

Simultaneously, the 5th, 6th, 7th, and 8th managers focused on her asshole, their punishment reaching new heights as they forced four dicks into her anus at once, which is not logically or scientifically possible, but they managed to do it, gaping her asshole off to human limits, the sheer volume and force causing excruciating pain as her asshole was stretched beyond capacity, the pain far worse than anything she’d experienced in their previous encounters.

Hanni’s screams turned to guttural wails, her body shaking violently as the four managers thrust into her shithole with no regard for her, their anger at her betrayal driving their brutality, their dicks filling her anus completely, the pressure causing her anal walls to tear, feces seeping out as her asshole was destroyed. “Look at her shithole stretch,” the 5th manager laughed, his voice cruel. “She thought she could betray HYPE? Let’s destroy her!” The 7th manager added, “Keep going—let’s see how much she can take before it breaks.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The relentless fucking tore her anal walls further, the pain so intense that Hanni’s vision blurred, her mind fracturing under the assault, the four dicks in her asshole creating a scene of unimaginable part, her body unable to cope with the sheer volume and force. The pressure and damage caused her bowels to release, her feces leaking out onto the bed, mixing with the fluids as the managers continued their punishment for Hanni, their laughter filling the room. “Disgusting little traitor,” the 8th manager sneered, thrusting harder. “Your shithole is ours to ruin.”

This continues as her asshole intensified as the 6th manager grabbed a large, spiked dildo from the table, its surface covered in sharp protrusions designed to inflict maximum pain, and forced it into Hanni’s already destroyed shithole, the spikes tearing into her anal walls as he thrust it in and out.. Hanni screamed the loudest in agony, her voice hoarse from the earlier deepthroat. “Feel that, you little bitch?” the 6th manager taunted, his voice filled with sadistic glee. “This is what happens when you betray HYPE.”

The 7th manager then took a metal rod, heating it over a flame until it glowed red-hot, and forced it into her anus alongside the spiked dildo, the burning metal searing her anal walls, causing Hanni to scream louder than ever, her body convulsing as the pain seared through her, the heat blistering her insides as more liquids poured out from her anus which left gaping and unusable.

The 5th manager grabbed another heated metal rod, forcing it into her vagina, the burning metal searing her vaginal walls, the pain so intense that Hanni’s screams turned to incoherent wails, her body shaking uncontrollably as the heat blistered her insides, the penetrations and burning rod creating a scene of unimaginable sadism, her vagina and anus both destroyed by the relentless fuckings.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The 7th manager dragged Hanni’s head to the edge of the bed, positioning her so that her head hung off the side, her mouth forced open as he and the 8th manager took turns deepthroating her again, their dicks thrusting into her throat.. They took 3 large dildos and tried to insert it on her mouth too.. two dicks and 3 dildos stretching her mouth to its limits, her lips tearing further, vomits and saliva mixing with the burns as they fucked her throat, her gag reflex triggering repeatedly as she choked, her face turning more red from lack of air. “Look at her mouth—completely ruined,” the 7th manager laughed, his voice cruel as he thrust deeper, making Hanni choke and gag, her destroyed mouth.

The scene is still the same, Hanni on her hands and knees, tied to the bedposts, her body a mess of her body waste, bruises, and burns. Three managers—the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th—were at her lower end, their dicks triple-penetrating her vagina, then after that they insert a heated metal rod forced in, burning her vaginal walls and again taking it out as they thrust brutally, her pussy torn.

Similarly Four managers—the 5th, 6th, 7th, and 8th—were at her anus, their four dicks filling her shithole, a spiked dildo and another heated metal rod forced in as well after, tearing and burning her anal walls, liquids and feces leaking out as her anus was destroyed.

The 7th and 8th managers were also at her head, their dicks deepthroating her alongside the 3 dildos burning her mouth and throat as they fucked her face, her lips torn and blistered, vomits and saliva gushing as her mouth was ruined, the mirror reflecting the scene of 8 men destroying her body in every way possible.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finally to end it, the 7th manager dragged Hanni to the toilet.. There was a bathtub of water, they took her there, tying her hands behind her back, her swollen lips and destroyed mouth trembling as she begged for mercy through her ruined oral cavity.

He forced her face onto the bathtub full of water, poured more water over it, waterboarding her until she choked and gasped, her body thrashing in panic, the water mixing with her destroyed mouth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Feel that, Hanni?” the 7th manager taunted, pouring more water as she struggled to breathe. “This is what happens when you betray HYPE. You’re nothing—just a toy for us to destroy.”

Hanni’s voice was a desperate wheeze as she begged, “I can’t… breathe… please…” The 5th manager, still recording, laughed coldly. “Keep going. I want to capture her breaking completely.” The waterboarding left Hanni trembling, her mind fractured by the terror of near-drowning, her body soaked and shivering as the managers moved on to the next torment. Hanni was feeling like she was getting drowned in a river.

The managers then pissed onto the water bathtub, further more degrading Hanni as they forced her face inside the water more, letting her drink the water mixed with their piss.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The final layer of torment was psychological, designed to shatter Hanni’s mind as thoroughly as her body. The managers forced her to face the mirror, making her watch as they continued their acts, her reflection of the image of her in waste, burns, bruises, blood, a destroyed mouth, and a ruined gapped anus . The 5th manager played back the recorded footage on a screen, forcing her to relive her screams and cries, his voice mocking as he spoke, the camera zooming in on her swollen lips and blistered mouth. “Say it, Hanni,” he demanded, his tone cruel. “Say you’re a worthless slave who deserves this for betraying HYPE.”

Hanni’s voice was a broken whisper through her destroyed mouth as she repeated, “I’m… a worthless slave… I deserve this… for betraying HYPE…” The 4th manager laughed, his voice dripping with contempt. “That’s right. You’re nothing without us. You’ll never forget this night.” They took turns degrading her, calling her vile names and forcing her to beg for more pain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hours later, the punishment finally ended, leaving Hanni a broken shell on the floor of the suite, her body a canvas of unimaginable horror—deep welts and lacerations from the whip, jagged cuts and bruises from the belt buckles, punches, and beatings, a branded HYPE logo on her hip, the word “HYPE” carved into her thigh, burns from the electric shocks and heated metal rods, a destroyed mouth with swollen, and blistered lips and a throat raw from deepthroating and burning, a vagina torn and burned from the triple penetration and metal rod, and a ruined anus that gaped open, from the four dicks, spiked dildo, and burning rod. Her body was a testament, every inch of her marked by their cruelty. She was barely conscious, her mind shattered by the psychological torment, her voice reduced to faint whimpers as she muttered through her ruined mouth, “I’ll be good… I’ll do anything…”

The 1st manager is satisfied. “She’s done,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion. “We’ve broken her completely. She’ll never betray HYPE again.”

the 2nd manager smirked, putting the whip away. “She was fun to break. Too bad she’s such a mess now—hope she can still perform.”

The 5th manager stopped the recording, his voice smug. “This footage will keep her in check. If she ever tries to go to court again, we’ll release it. She’s ours forever now.”

The 7th manager glanced at Hanni’s broken form, his tone indifferent. “Get her cleaned up enough to move. We can’t have her like this on us yet—she’s got more events to do for HYPE.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The managers called in a private doctor loyal to HYPE, who patched Hanni up —cleaning her wounds, bandaging the worst cuts, stitching her torn lips, and giving her painkillers to dull the agony, though her destroyed anus, vagina, and mouth were left untreated, the damage too severe for immediate repair. They did care about her long-term recovery but as for now, they only needed her for her next scheduled appearance, her value to HYPE tied to her ability to perform, even in her broken state.

They dressed her in a long-sleeved outfit to cover the marks, applied heavy makeup to hide the bruises and swelling on her face, and told her to act normal at her next event, using the recorded footage as leverage, the images of her destroyed mouth, body, and leaking anus a constant threat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Days later, Hanni was forced to attend a small fan signing session, ofcourse she was not able to walk.. Haerin, Daniellie, Hyein are confused why Hanni was acting weird.

her body still in agony, her wounds fresh and some infected, her anus, vagina, and mouth so damaged that she could barely sit or speak. She was heavily medicated with painkillers and sedatives, her movements slow and her expression vacant, but she gave a weak smile for the fans, her hands trembling as she signed autographs, her swollen lips making her speech slurred and barely intelligible.

A fan approached, her voice bright with excitement. “Hanni, you’re my favorite! You looked so happy at the last event—I love your peace sign pose!” Hanni’s voice was monotone as she replied, her words barely audible through her ruined mouth, “Thank you… I’m glad you liked it…” Her mind flashed back to the punishes, her body aching beneath the makeup and long sleeves, the pain in her destroyed shithole, pussy, and mouth a constant reminder of her punishment. The 1st manager stood nearby, his voice a harsh whisper. “Keep smiling, Hanni. Don’t let them see what a mess you are. You know what happens if you betray HYPE again.” Hanni nodded slightly, her voice barely audible through her swollen, blistered lips. “Yes, sir… I’ll be good…”

[burreauxoxo]

people magazines new hollywood dads! - joe burrow

dad!joe x fem!reader

summary: in which, joe is featured in people magazines “new hollywood dads” section of the upcoming issue. take a look at how you two are handling bringing her home, the newborn stage, and the initial announcement!

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, babies, joe being a girl dad

word count: 2.9k

authors note: this is lightly inspired by the “hollywood dads” or even “hollywood moms” section in US Weekly’s magazine. i am not sure which issue i seen it in or if its a regular coverage topic, i just wanted to do my own twist on it which explains why i chose people magazine because it has a better ring to it haha.

let me know if you want the readers version for “hollywood moms” or even more about you two with baby girl!

divider below and pictures above are not mine! all credits go to the rightful owners!

~

your guys’ baby girl sat in her swing next to you as it made figure-eight motions to keep her asleep. she was the perfect bundle of joy and she sat at just two weeks old. she was fragile like the porcelain that sat in the cabinets, tiny like the football her father threw for a living, and just as cute as the angel everyone called her. she was the definition of perfect in your eyes.

“people magazine wants to feature the baby and i this month. are we ready for that?” joe asks you over a cup of coffee as you two sat at the kitchen table, eating breakfast and admiring your baby while doing so.

she eats good, she sleeps like her father (for long durations), and her little smile she does in her sleep is worth melting over.

these tiny, personal details weighed against the idea of releasing her to the public eye.

this magazine would be in an archive for someone to look at over one hundred years from now. she very well could be a part of history. this magazine could sit in a random doctor’s office for years, maybe even taken home by a patient. her debut in a magazine was coming a lot sooner than you and joe both had anticipated.

“i think… as long as we keep her face out of the public eye for a while, you should be okay.” you suggest.

“it’s for their ‘new hollywood dads’ section so that’s their explanation for contacting us so early.” joe adds and you nod your head.

“maybe we should post something about her on instagram so we aren’t hard-launching her through a magazine.” you reason.

“we shouldn’t have to launch her at all. i wonder if we would have been able to pull off having her without saying anything.” joe shrugs.

“i don’t want her to grow up and think we wanted her to be a secret though.”

“yeah, it’s her privacy and safety. that’s all.”

“you know, i adore that you are respecting that and take it as a priority. you are already such a great father, so it doesn’t surprise me.” you say as joe stands up and walks around the table.

he stops right in front of her swing and squats down to be at her level; even though she’s sleeping.

“her cheeks are growing.” joe points out.

he runs his finger over her chubby cheek, letting the soft baby skin fulfill his touch.

“the more i feed her, the faster she is going to get all chunky.” you say and it makes joe laugh.

“at her rate, she’s going to have croissants for legs in no time.”

eventually, joe submitted one photo to the publisher. it was a simple one. baby girl was dressed in a plain white onesie and joe had her on his knee as he burped her.

he was also going to post the photo on instagram. even though joe was reluctant, he decided to share the moment.

~

view all 323 comments…

lahjay_10 making it big time man. much love 💪❤️

↳ joeyb_9 thanks man ❤️

teehiggins someone’s been busy…

↳ joeyb_9 and someone has too much time on their hands…

y/n.burrow baby daddy is baby daddy-ing 😩

↳ joeyb_9 relax…

fanpage.one WHAT

fanpage.two SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP

user.five didn’t even know he was married, let alone a father. congrats burrow!

gkittle sending our love to you! congrats dude!

↳ joeyb_9 thanks man, stay healthy this season!

justinherbert congratulations man!

user.four now go win a ring to complete the collection!

~

it’s been a dream for joe to be able to see not only your progress throughout this journey, but his mental progress as well.

you had your baby girl during the off season which you thanked any lord above for. the last thing you wanted as soon as you seen those two pink lines was for joe to be gone, leading to this possibility of him missing the whole labor and delivery process. but he was with you for the last couple weeks of pregnancy and the moment you realized you were in labor.

no emergency calls to anyone while he was out playing on the field, indicating that he needed to put the ball in the backup quarterbacks hands as he flew home as fast as he could. it would have been a race to see who got there first; joe or the baby.

none of that needed to happen though. he was there to line newborn sized diapers into the babies changing table that stood proudly in her nursery. he sat in the living room with you as you watched movies and folded baby clothes, each of you holding up various outfits and saying “i can’t wait for her to wear this!” throughout these last couple weeks, a major revelation was unfolding in joe’s head.

this wasn’t something small you two were preparing for. yeah, baby girl was small weight and height wise. but in the grand scheme of things, she was about to become his whole world; and that took some preparation.

as soon as he heard her first cry, his tears started flowing. as he sat there, holding her skin-to-skin while you took your first nap after many hours of labor, he felt a love he had never felt before. it made his chest tighten and he was unable to explain just how happy he was.

when he helped you load her into her car seat, a little bundle all scrunched up in a big mechanism compared to her size, he realized just how fragile she was. yeah, he was petrified the first time he changed her diaper, but there was something different. this car seat was going to instill her safety while they were in the car; everything needed to be placed and clicked-in correctly.

as you were discharged from the hospital, you were dressed in a black button-down pajama set, joe was wearing his blue seinfeld pants with a white hoodie, and baby girl was wearing a pink, knitted onesie with her name sewn on the front of it. she also wore some white, knitted socks to match.

you were ready to go home as you were sick of the hospital setting. you were excited to be bringing her home, you knew being home was where everyone was meant to be.

jim and robin were there to greet you. it was a bit later in the day and robin knew you were going to be hungry after the events of the last couple days. with that being said, she had dinner ready and set out. she had gotten a text from her son saying that they were getting ready to be discharged from the hospital and would be on their way home soon. as soon as robin got the text, she put all the food in the oven or on the stove to heat up.

she had also placed a small basket of necessities for a new mom on the couch where she knew you would be during parts of your resting period.

joe was quick to shut the car off and circle around the car to help you out. you sat in the back with the new baby. as you grabbed one of his hands, his other hand went to your back to help stabilize you.

“you want to grab her?” you ask.

“yeah, i’ll get her.”

joe had the most practice with the car seat and you were drained, you didn’t feel like fighting with it at that exact moment.

the door was already unlocked when you approached it. as soon as you opened it, the most delicious smell filled the air. joe was right behind you, car seat with baby girl sleeping in it in hand.

“hi, you two!” robin says kind of quietly.

you met robin with a hug.

“i’m so proud of you! you did it!” she says and kisses your forehead. you were the daughter she never had and she was like your second mom; even before you and joe got married. while your parents were states away, she was there to temporarily fill that missing place in your heart and she loved doing so.

joe then steps in and turns the car seat so his parents could take their first looks at the baby.

“oh my gosh, she looks just like you.” robin says as she looks up to her son.

“her features will change and that was a whole topic we discussed in the hospital.” joe says as he looks over at you.

“i was a little sad because she really looks like i had no part in making her but, i’ve come to terms with the fact that her and her father are just perfect so how could i be mad?” you say and robin laughs.

“let’s get you to the couch and we will plate you up some dinner.” jim says as he helps guide you to the living room.

joe walks with you to the living room, setting the car seat on the ottoman that sat in front of you. he reaches in and carefully clicks the button to release the straps that were holding your daughter in. really slowly and extremely careful, he took her out of the car seat and handed her to you.

“feeding time, right?” he asks and you look at your watch.

“right on time.” you smile up at your husband.

“let me run out and get your bags and pillows, i’ll be back.” joe says and jogs back to the car.

“so, how are you feeling?” robin asks as she sits a couple spots down on the couch.

“a bit tired, sore of course. otherwise, i think really good.” you say and she smiles.

“was he a good help for you while you were in labor? i know he isn’t exactly the best in fast and serious situations like that. on the field, yes. otherwise, maybe not.” robin jokes about her son.

“he was great. he was there if i needed water or a hand to squeeze. i couldn’t have asked for a better person to go through this with.” you say and robin smiles.

“what was her weight? she’s so tiny.” jim asks.

“seven pounds, nine ounces and she’s eighteen inches long.” you say as joe comes back into the house.

“she’s a tiny thing, isn’t she?” joe says.

“she’s not even a ten pound weight!” jim says.

once baby girl had eaten, you tested out her swing for the first time while you two ate. you knew that you had a couple minutes between feedings and diaper changes to eat so you took advantage of it.

but the second joe noticed that she was squirming, sticking her tongue out, and slowly blinking her eyes, she was awake and awaiting a change. he wanted her in something warmer now so he let you eat while he took her up to her nursery for the first time to change her.

“here you are baby girl, this is your room.” he whispers to her as he tries his best to show her around. her eyes are trying to take in everything as they slowly open and close. she was making a squeaky, grunting noise as joe talked to her. whether she was making a mess of her diaper or she was just making noises, joe knew she was still the cutest little thing he’d ever seen.

joe lies her down on the changing table and makes sure she is okay on it. he leans down to grab a diaper and a pack of wipes, cracking open a brand new pack.

while taking off her onesie, he is careful of her slowly shriveling umbilical cord.

“you’re going to be cold for a second but i’ll warm you back up as soon as i can, i promise.” joe says as he is focusing on being as careful as possible.

his suspicions on her noises earlier were correct. that’s what happens when you feed a baby though.

eventually, joe cleans her up perfectly and gets her dressed in a pink, long-sleeved onesie that had tiny purple flowers covering it. he grabbed a tiny pair of purple pants to match and he slides them on her. stepping over to a different section on the changing table, he grabs a swaddle and swaddles her.

he admired the work he has officially done all on his own for the first time and smiles.

“all done my little girl.” joe says and picks her up and holds her close to him.

he turns the light off and closes the door behind him. making his way down stairs, his mom was there to check on him.

“everything go okay?” she asks.

“couldn’t have been better.” joe says with a smile.

“she hasn’t cried once since being home.” robin says as she watches her son as he slowly descends the stairs.

“i think we’ve only heard her cry like four times these last couple days.” you say and robin looks in your direction.

“were you an easy baby? this one here cried any chance he got, even if he was just bored.” jim says.

“i’m not too sure. i never heard much of me being trouble but hey, you never know.” you say and he laughs.

“can i hold her?” robin finally asks as joe was now on flat ground and not paranoid of flying down the stairs with a newborn in his arms.

“of course. all i ask is for anyone who holds her, is to wash their hands before they touch her.” you say and robin immediately agrees.

“got it.” robin says and goes to the kitchen to wash her hands.

she was there for a good second, thoroughly washing her hands. behind her stood jim who was also ready to wash his hands.

this was how the next couple days went. lots of handwashing, lots of cuddling, plenty of naps, and tons of help from joe’s parents.

“we did the same when the other grand-babies were born, it’s only right to continue the tradition.” jim says as they were packing up their things to let the new parents enjoy themselves.

reality really hit when baby girl was experiencing her first bout of gas. you and joe came to conclusion that her burping sessions needed to be longer and if that wasn’t helping, then they needed to speak to her pediatrician. they had an appointment coming up soon anyways.

but when joe had pulled a tip from one of the many books he read, they started feeding her at a different angle and thoroughly burping her, then massaging her stomach. the gas worries soon slipped away and she was relaxed any time either one of you did the routine with her.

~

view all 265 comments…

bengals what size does she want her jersey in?

↳ joeyb_9 0-3 months is her go to. she might want it baggy though so maybe 3-6

↳ bengals new baby jerseys on the way 🫡

y/n.burrow baby fingers! 🥲

user.nine is that lyrics from “little bird” 😭

↳user.twelve OMG I THINK IT IS

lahjay_10 i think she should be our team captain the way she screams at certain plays

↳ joeyb_9 you’re right, i’m booking an appointment with the front office right now

~

GIRL TALK!

>>> With this being his first born, Joe Burrow, Quarterback for the Cincinnati Bengals, was even more excited to welcome in the new family member once him and his wife found out they were having a little girl.

Burrow’s wife, Y/N Burrow, was the first one to announce the news through an Instagram post of the two holding up a miniature version of her husbands jersey. She captioned the post, ‘The Cincinnati Bengals select… Baby Girl Burrow, due in 2026, Newborn University.”

We sat down with Burrow himself to ask him some adorable questions about their new addition!

Q: What is your favorite memory from the last few weeks?

A: “Probably bringing her home. It made the whole journey feel real. The feeling of having her home is very special and the joy between all three of us is immense.”

Q: How has the team adapted to you bringing on a new member?

A: “They all love her and I am so thankful that she has the chance to experience such a unique type of love from them. She is definitely a key to our motivation and a special type of thanks to those who find her screaming cute- she’s definitely a talkative baby.”

Q: Would you want her playing sports like you did growing up? If so, which sport would best suit her?

A: “Maybe. Only if she wants to. I think the social aspect would be good for her as it is for anyone else. I see her playing some basketball. if she picks up my height and her mom’s precision, we might just have a star on our hands. even if she doesn’t play any sports, she’s still a star in our eyes.”

Q: Lastly, if you were in need of a babysitter so you and your wife could go baby-free for the night, who would you call first?

A: “Probably Ja’Marr. He has that instinct and experience. If he’s busy or even going out with us, then probably Mike or Trey. If we need to, I’d call Tee and they can “Three Men and a Baby” it for the night.”

i feel like joe would be way more self kept when it comes to big things like having a baby so this is way out of the norm lol. i still thought the idea was cute and if you want a part two for the readers version, just let me know :)

[itelya]

enterprising tutor. nerd! gojo satoru x fem! reader.

“You don’t get it, do you?”

Gojo Satoru’s mocking voice pulls you out of your already fragile concentration. Sitting across from you, glasses on his nose, he stares at you with that smug look that makes you want to throw your notebook at his face.

You squeeze your pencil. “If you stopped talking in riddles, maybe I’d understand better.”

He laughs softly, his smile widening his lips as if he found the situation amusing. With a lazy gesture, he flips through your notebook, his index finger casually tracing the margin of an equation you’re supposed to solve.

“Come on, Y/N, it’s not that complicated… You take this function, you derive it, and hop, you have your result.”

“ ‘hop’? Do you think it’s magic or what?” you growl, glaring at him.

Gojo rests his chin in his palm and stares at you, the shadow of his glasses half-hiding his piercing blue eyes. “To me, math is a bit like magic. It’s all about logic and elegance.”

“You’re an insufferable tutor.”

He smiles wider. “And yet, you keep coming to me for tutoring. Interesting reasoning.”

You cross your arms. “I have no choice, I have a test tomorrow. And for some reason, my teacher thought it was a good idea to stick me with you.”

Gojo clicks his tongue, pretending to be offended. “Ouch, that hurts. Are you implying that I’m a bad tutor?”

You sigh, your cheeks a little hot. The problem isn’t that he’s a bad teacher. It’s that he’s… distracting. His messy white hair, his cheeky smile, the way he always leans a little too close to you when he talks… Everything about him is an invitation to lose track.

As if to prove your point, he suddenly leans in, his face inches from yours. “Hm? You’re not listening.”

You pull away abruptly, your heart pounding. “Yes, yes, I am listening, you stupid nerd!”

His smile stretches even wider. “Oh? So tell me, what did I just explain?”

You open your mouth… and close it again immediately. Total silence. The void in your brain.

Gojo bursts out laughing. “Ah-ha! I knew it! You’re too busy staring at me to follow my explanations!”

You instantly turn red. “You’re so self-centered!”

He presses his fist to his cheek, looking falsely thoughtful, and smiles even wider. “It’s not my fault if I’m fascinating~.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m going to fail my test because of you… Thank you.”

Gojo picks up your notebook and writes something in it. When you look down, you see that he’s written down an equation with a sentence scribbled in blue ink just below it:

“If you pass, I’ll buy you a bubble tea. If you fail… we’ll do another tutoring session. Just you and me.”

You look up at him, but he pretends nothing, an enigmatic smile on his lips then winks at you.

Aren’t nerds supposed to be outgoing and not so enterprising?

nerd gojo series - masterlist

[kizzer55555]

DP x DC: The Most Dangerous Card Game

Ok so Danny has essentially claimed earth as his. And he is fully aware that there are constant threats to the planet. Now he can’t stop a threat that originates on earth (that’s something he’ll leave to the Justice league) but he can do something about outside threats. Doing some research on ancient spells, rituals, and artifacts, he cast a world wide barrier on the planet to protect it from hostile threats so they cannot enter. This will prevent another Pariah Dark incident. However, barriers like this come at a price. You see, there are two ways to make a barrier. Either make one powered up by your own energy and power (which would be constantly draining) or set up a barrier with rules. The way magic works is that nothing can be absolutely indestructible. It must have a weakness. The most powerful barriers weren’t the ones reinforced with layer after layer of protective charms and buffed up with power. Those could eventually be destroyed either by being overpowered, wearing them down, or by cutting off the original power source. No, the most powerful barriers were the ones with a deliberate weakness. A barrier indestructible except for one spot. A cage that can only be opened from the outside. Or that can only be passed with a key or by solving a riddle. So Danny chooses this type of barrier and does the necessary ritual and pours in enough power to make it. And he adds his condition for anyone to enter. 

Now the Justice league? Find out about the barrier when Trigon attempts to attack, they were preparing after he threatened what he would do once he got to earth. How he would destroy them. The Justice league tried to take the fight to him first but were utterly destroyed, so they retreated home to tend to their injuries, and fortify earth for one. Last. Stand. Only when Trigon makes his big entrance…he’s stopped.

The Justice league watch in awe as this thin see-through barrier with beautiful green swirls and speckled white lights like stars apears blocking Trigon and his army’s advance. The barrier looks so thin and fragile yet no matter how hard the warlord hits, none of his attacks can get through and neither can he damage said barrier. That’s when Constantine and Zatanna recognizes what this barrier is. Something only a powerful entity could create. For a moment, the league is filled with hope that Trigon can’t get through yet Constantine also explains that it’s not impenetrable. And clearly Trigon knows this too for he calls out a challenge. 

And that’s when, in a flash of light, a tiny glowing teenager appears. He looked absolutly minuscule compared to Trigon and yet practically glowed with power (this isn’t a King Danny AU though).

And that is when the conditions for passing the barrier are revealed. And the Justice realize that the only thing stopping Trigon and his army from decimating earth. The only way he can get through….is by beating this glowing teenager in a card game. 

Not just any card game though. The most convoluted game Sam, Danny, and Tucker invented themselves. It’s like the infinite realms version of magic the gathering, combined with Pokémon, and chess. And Danny is the master. So sit down Trigon and let’s play.

(The most intense card game of the Justice league’s life).

After Danny wins, this happens a few more times with outer word beings and possibly even demons attempting to invade earth, yet none have been able to beat the mysterious teenager in a card game. Constantine might even take a crack at it and try to figure out how to play. He’s really bad though. Every time this happens, the Justice league worry that this might be the time the teenager looses. Yet every time, he wins (even if only barely). 

Meanwhile, Danny, Sam, and Tucker have gotten addicted to the game and play it almost daily. Some teachers might seem them playing the game are are like ‘awww how cute’ not realizing this game is literally saving the world. Jazz is just happy they aren’t spending as much time on their screens playing Doomed.

[kyokeiii]

nobody knows what i see. post-war hawks / gn!reader. hurt/comfort. fluff. spoilers ahead.

“ack.” keigo winces as the strips of yellowed gauze peel away from his midsection, his shoulder blades flexing as if to flutter wings that are no longer there. “gentle, baby.”

“mhm,” you nod, focused on your duty. to your credit, you hardly flinch when the bandages are off and the extent of the knotted, purplish burn scars that cover his shoulders and back is revealed. keigo admires you for it, because he can’t bear to look himself.

his scars are hideous. they crawl up from his waist and swath over what used to be smooth skin, chewing away patches of flesh like a horrible infection. the texture is stippled, almost wizened, like the trunk of a tree. they feel tight, like a sheet of plastic fitted over him, pinned to his body, and they itch. the itching is the worst part to keigo. he can almost forget that he’s scarred at all, sometimes—until he reaches back to scratch, and his nails score over gnarled ropes of maimed, deadened tissue.

it’s not that keigo’s bitter, per se. there’s no anger in the shell he’s shielded himself with since all for one took his quirk, no dead-eyed pessimism. but there is an awful finality he’s not sure he’ll ever really be able to explain, because who would understand? who else has had their wings, their job, and their lifelong dream torn away from them in one go?

he loves you—he’s obsessed with you, really, practically worshipping the ground you walk on—but every time you go through this routine, a small part of him wonders when you’ll get tired of taking care of a ruined hero. he hates himself more than anything for doubting you, but at the same time, who could love what he’s become? a fragile collection of parts barely held together, already past his peak at twenty-three, worth nothing more than a knife with a snapped blade. a damaged weapon, once deadly, now dull.

but you’ve handled all of this with remarkable patience. even when keigo insists on trying to change his bandages himself, you always do it for him, because you seem to understand that he can’t bear to finish the job himself.

it makes keigo, the man who was raised to see himself as little more than a tool, wonder if he really is loveable in the way a human being loves another human—not just how the rider loves his warhorse, or the assassin his dagger.

“hold still, okay?” you remind him. keigo hadn’t even realized he’d been shifting, hunching his shoulders inward. he straightens his back obediently and stills, tilting his head up to gaze blankly at the ceiling. behind him, he hears you sifting through the supplies you’d spread out on the bathroom counter. a moment later, he feels your hands against his back, gently rubbing lotion into his scars.

he lets out a low sigh, relaxing. as much as it makes him uncomfortable to be reminded of the state of his body, it feels so nice to have your hands on him. to be touched so gently, as if he’s fragile. keigo has never been fragile before.

your hands knead his spine tenderly, rubbing gentle spirals over his muscles as you progress down his back. keigo’s eyes slant half-closed. there’s silence between you, but it’s warm, comforting. your hands bleed the last dregs tension away from his posture. you really must love him, keigo thinks, staring down at his hands braced against the bathroom counter.

for the first time since the end of the war, keigo gains the courage to tilt his head up and look in the mirror.

what he sees surprises him, but not because he looks dramatically changed, morphed into an entirely different being. no—he blinks in shock because of how familiar his own reflection is. same eyes, same nose. same tufty hair, if a bit shorter. the same old, faded white scars on his chest, much different than the mottled mess of his back. the same hands, digging into the porcelain rim of the sink. and behind him, you, diligently massaging lotion into his old burns, with an expression so soft, so loving, that keigo’s breath snags in his throat.

was this what he hadn’t been seeing when he’d locked his eyes on the floor, too afraid to look at himself? he looks different than before. he has scars on his forehead, on his cheek and neck. but he’s still keigo...and you’re still you. you’re still his.

after you spread the lotion over his wounds, moisturizing the dry, cracked ruts of scar tissue, you begin to apply fresh bandages, gently wrapping the white tendrils of fabric around keigo’s chest. once you’ve finished, he watches in the mirror as you glance up, surprise lighting your face as you realize he’s been watching. keigo takes one last look at himself, then turns around, pulls you into his arms, and kisses you until his lungs start to burn from lack of air.

“i love you,” he murmurs against your mouth, his eyes burning into yours, darkened from their usual glassy yellow to a rich honey-gold. “you know that, right? i love you.”

he can tell that you’re surprised by the unexpected display of affection from the way you stare at him, mouth opening and closing. but you return his confession, “i love you too, kei,’” without an ounce of hesitation, and god, keigo wants to put a ring on you right then and there.

“i don’t know what i’d do without you.” he exhales, dropping his forehead against yours. “christ, you’re the sweetest thing in the world. i wish...” all the things he wants to tell you get tangled in his throat, and he falls silent.

“you wish what?” you prompt gently, hand moving up to caress his cheek.

keigo has to swallow hard before answering. “i wish i could be the man you deserve.”

“the...” you frown, your eyebrows knitting together. “you don’t think you’re good enough for me?”

keigo’s throat closes over. squeezing his eyes shut, he nods.

“that’s ridiculous,” you say, sharply enough that he opens his eyes and glances at you in surprise. “that’s stupid, keigo. you’re the only one that i want. you always have been.”

he softens, an adoring smile tugging at the corners of his lips, but you continue before he can speak. “i don’t care if you were unemployed for the rest of your life. it wouldn’t make me love you any less. it wouldn’t mean that you’re any less of the person i fell in love with.”

keigo kisses you, and your anger eases, mellows into sweetness that seems to encase the two of you alone in this moment, like the only two people alive in the world. it’s not enough to silence keigo’s insecurities forever, to entirely snuff out the piece of him that thinks himself unworthy of your devotion.

but for now? keigo takami feels like he can fly again.

[asterafroditis]

𐔌 . ⋮ white day ♥︎ .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆First Years x gn! reader

𓏵 624 words

ᝰ.ᐟ headcanons, no pronouns used, fluff

Second Years and Third Years coming up next! feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

"Hah? You actually got me something?” Ace smirks, but there’s clear surprise in his eyes when you hand him the gift.

He twirls the box in his hands, inspecting it.

“Wow, you really went all out, huh? I didn’t think you’d actually return the favor.”

But the moment he pops the lid open, his teasing falters just a bit. The warmth in his expression is undeniable.

"Man… this is actually kinda sweet of you." He looks at you with a lopsided grin, but there's something softer behind it.

He nudges your arm with his elbow.

"Guess that means I have to get you something even better next year, huh?"

He acts nonchalant, but you catch him sneaking glances at the gift later, like he’s actually touched.

─────────────────────────

When you approach him with a neatly wrapped box of chocolates, Deuce is so confused. He stares at it like it’s a trick.

“Wait… this is for me?”

His brows furrow, as if trying to recall if he did something to deserve this.

Once you remind him that it's White Day and you’re just returning the favor from Valentine's, his face burns red.

"O-Oh! Right! White Day! Of course!"

He’s stammering, ears tinged pink, clearly flustered that he forgot about the holiday entirely.

Holds the gift so delicately like it's some priceless treasure. He awkwardly clears his throat and tries to play it cool, but the way he's glancing between you and the gift betrays his excitement.

“I-I’ll definitely repay you next time! I promise!"

You tell him there's no need, but he still makes it a mental note to get you something next year.

─────────────────────────

Jack blinks down at the gift in your hands, his ears perking up slightly.

“For me?”

His tail flicks, though he quickly stiffens to stop it.

When you explain it's for White Day, he hesitates before taking it.

“You didn’t have to go through the trouble…”

But he’s very careful as he accepts it, as if it’s something fragile.

Jack doesn’t say much, but you can tell he’s touched. His ears twitch, and his tail wags just a little before he forces it to stop.

“Thanks… I’ll cherish it.”

And when he says that, you know he means it.

─────────────────────────

“Hah? Yer givin’ me somethin' back?” Epel’s eyes widen as you pass him a carefully wrapped box.

He gets all flustered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Ah shoot, ya didn't have to do that..."

But you catch the way he smiles down at the gift, clearly pleased. He tries to act all casual, but the slight pink on his cheeks gives him away.

“Guess this means ya appreciated my Valentine’s gift, huh?”

He nudges your arm with a playful smirk, but there’s genuine happiness behind his words.

He takes a mental note to really go all out next year. No way he’s gonna let you outdo him!

─────────────────────────

“HUH?! A GIFT? FOR ME?!” Sebek’s voice practically echoes through the hall when you hand him the box.

He’s so caught off guard that he just stares at it, as if unsure whether to accept it.

When you remind him it’s White Day, he straightens up immediately.

"AH! OF COURSE! THIS IS A CUSTOMARY GESTURE OF GRATITUDE!"

He accepts the gift, but his movements are so stiff, like he’s never received one before.

“HMPH! IT IS ONLY NATURAL THAT YOU WOULD WISH TO REPAY MY GENEROSITY FROM VALENTINE'S DAY! I ACCEPT THIS GESTURE WITH HONOR!”

He’s trying so hard to act composed, but you swear you see his ears turn pink. Later, he very carefully sets the gift among his prized belongings.

[youryanderedaddy]

tw: female reader, non - con, manhandling, religious subtext (it's sydney)

Sydney has never felt this way before. He doesn't know the name of that feeling, the warmth that fills his chest and tightens his throat and reddens his cheeks as you sit before him at the library counter. He can't explain the pulse in his loins and the sweat that sticks to his back when you lean in to ask him something and your shirt opens up slightly, revealing such soft, mesmerizing skin. His hands start to itch and his mouth waters and he feels almost thirsty - but water never seems to quench whatever it is he's deprived of.

He wants to ask someone - maybe brother Jordan or his father, but something deep within him, some basic instinct, rings a bell, a reminder that there is nothing pure or holy about the feelings he harbors towards you. He knows love. He's read about it - he knows he loves God, he loves his church, his friends, his books. He knows love is gentle. Love is caring and tender and quiet, love is giving.

But when it comes to you, he only wants to take. He wants to bite your cheeks when you smile, to squeeze you in his arms until he hears your fragile bones crack. He wants to rip off your skin and crawl in your shell - to see your insides, to admire every inch of your flesh for his own sick satisfaction. He even keeps a box of everything you've ever lost - small trinkets, cheap bracelets, ripped socks, locks of hair... Anything to feel closer to you.

And yet Sydney tries to fight his urges - he averts eyes when you bend to pick something and pretends not to notice your bare legs in those mini skirts, the way the school swimsuit hugs your curves perfectly, or how your lips part when you bite down on a pencil. Or the marks of you teeth on the yellow wood, your smugded lipstick as you leave the bathroom, your hands on his shoulder with your nails digging in—

Sydney is a man of God, but you make him question his faith. In the sunlight everything is brighter, but when night comes, so do the nightmares. His pillow becomes softer, warmer - it lingers with the scent of your hair and he can't help imagining you laying next to him with an adoring smile on those luscious lips of yours. And as fatigue spreads over his tired body, his prayers long forgotten, the same dream haunts him - the one he's had since the day he first saw you.

You're no longer laying next to him - you're under him instead. Your hair isn't spread out angelically, but twisted and disheveled, wrapped around his fist. He's towering over you, tilting your chin up - holding you so tightly against his body you can't move an inch. Your eyes are red and swollen, lips bruised and bitten bloody - and you're trembling like an injured animal. You look so small, so pathetically adorable, so very naked and afraid, and splayed out like a feast in front of him, and he just devours you like the predator he knows he is.

You whine something incomprehensible along the lines of a plea, begging to be let go - but all your words become white noise to Sydney. His hands circle your throat painfully and only a few broken moans escape before you shut up completely. The man keeps thrusting into you without a sense of shame, egged on by the deep, inaudible sobs that shake your body to its core. The voice inside his head chants "mine, mine, mine" like a spell, like a curse that binds you both for all eternity.

Sydney always wakes up in cold sweat, unable to catch his breath. It's terrifying, seeing his darkest desires play out over and over each night. And as he tries to catch his breath and forget the taste of your neck on his tongue, there is one thought he never seems to fully rid himself of. How long until dreams are not enough to feed the monster inside of him?

How long until it all becomes reality?

[cosmicalily]

"santa baby" - a jisung oneshot by @cosmicalily

author's note: san-ta, ba-by !! (i'm such a lauver and have such bad baby fever rn, that's all the context you get!)

warnings: pregnancy, mentions of sickness

“I can’t believe you’re still sick on Christmas Eve,” Jisung pouted, gently running a hand through your hair. He stroked your warm cheek, eyes sad, and you offered him a weak smile.

“I’m sorry Ji, I know we had so many plans,” you sighed, snuggling into him. “Don’t let me stop you. You should still go ice skating with the boys; I’m happy to stay at home, I promise.”

“I don’t wanna,” he whined, sliding down the headboard and further under the covers. Anyone else would keep their distance from someone who’d been nauseous for the past week, but you being under the weather only made Jisung clingier. He wanted to take care of you and stay by your side, making sure you were okay every single second of the day, even when you assured him you just needed a glass of water and a good nap.

Despite your slightly more fragile state, the past few weeks in preparation for Christmas had been oh so cosy and domestic, filled with shopping for gifts (although the two of you ended up with more for each other than your friends and family), comfort food at home in front of the tv, watching Elf approximately 12 times (it was Jisung’s ride-or-die Christmas movie, there was no talking him out of it). Something about the colder season meant the two of you were even more inseparable than usual, always needing an arm or a leg thrust over the other to share a little body heat. Although, right now, with Jisung’s face nestled into your neck and his arms around your waist, you were scorching.

“Baby, I’m really hot right now,” you groaned, trying to push him away. Being the clingy menace he was, he simply held you closer, and you sighed.

“Ji, if you don’t let go, I’m probably gonna throw up,” you said, opting for a more direct approach. That got his brain working, knocking him out of his loved-up mind fog. He snapped up, sitting up straight and looking at you intently, brows furrowed with concern.

“Actually?” he asked worriedly.

“Maybe,” you replied, feeling a little bad for scaring him. But you were feeling nauseous, and it had only been getting worse the past few days. You hoped that by tomorrow you’d feel a little better.

Even if it wasn’t physically, you hoped that Jisung’s excitement, something you anticipated in response to the surprise you had for him, would perk you up. 

“I’m gonna get you some chamomile,” he declared, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead and scrambling out of the bedroom, leaving you feeling a little dazed. You felt warm, probably from the slight fever, but also because of him. 

He was gonna be the best dad.

“I have something for you,” you said suddenly, grabbing the remote and pressing pause on the movie you hadn’t really been paying attention to. The two of you were sprawled on the sofa, Jisung’s head in your lap as you played with his hair. The room was dim and warm, fairy lights sparkling, and it felt magical, yet familiar.

He raised his head curiously. “But it’s not Christmas morning yet,” he replied, looking confused, and you laughed at him. 

“I know. It’s not a proper present; it’s more the promise of one,” you explained vaguely, leaning over the armrest of the sofa and handing him a small box.

Jisung raised an eyebrow, then undid the plaid ribbon, opening the box and retrieving a note. “Unfortunately, these things tend to take a while to arrive, but I promise you’ll have it by August! Love you, sweet boy.” Jisung read aloud, then gave you a strange look, thinking it was some weird prank and expecting you to giggle. However, to his surprise, your eyes were a little glassy, and you reached to hold his hand.

Giving it a gentle squeeze as he unfolded the tissue paper one handed, he found a small stick buried at the bottom. A white plastic one.

With two lines on it.

“Oh my god,” Jisung breathed, holding it closer and then dropping it in shock. “Oh my god, is this real?”

“Why do you think I’ve been feeling so crap the past few days?” you giggled in response, but tears were now rolling down your cheeks. “I wanted to tell you earlier, but I thought it would make the perfect surprise.”

“Oh my god,” Jisung repeated, for once lost for words. He suddenly reached forward, cupping your cheeks with his hands and pressing your foreheads together. “I can’t believe it. I’m so happy, baby, you don’t even know. I’ve been wanting this for so long for us.” Then he paused, scrunching up his nose and dropping the test. "Ew. I can't believe I just touched a stick that you peed on."

“Shut up, that's the only way to find out, dumbass. And I know you have, you’re not subtle,” you chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I’m so glad I get to do this with you, Ji. You’re going to be the best dad.”

He beamed, eyes shiny, then yanked up your tank top. You squealed in shock, but was placated when he pressed a soft kiss to your belly, looking up at you wistfully.

“Are you gonna call the boys and tell them your news?” you asked, running a hand through his hair as he rested his cheek against your stomach.

“Later,” he said, closing his eyes. “Just wanna be with you right now. And our baby.”

[enwoso]

bound by the past | alessia russo x child!reader

it’s another long one, 4.1k words of angst and a small bit of fluff in there somewhere🤏🏼. honestly this was fun to write, and i’ve also in the process lost the request so whoever requested this thank you!

but what i will say is, i really wouldn’t wanna mess with alessia tbh.. especially after reading this. girl goes full on mama protection mode.

anyways enough spoilers, enjoy!

grumpy masterlist | psa: this fic is set after a bridge to cross, so i would recommend reading that to find out who harrison is.

the emirates stadium was alive with cheers as the final whistle blew, alessia felt the familiar rush of victory as her teammates surrounded her. the game had been a triumph and the buzz of the crowd still echoed through the stadium.

alessia's gaze scanned the stands briefly, somewhere closer to the bench was alessia's parents and her older brothers along with leah's family all cheering along, them choosing to sit in the stands for once in stead of the comfort of the friends and family box to be able to feel the excitement of the win as the season was coming to an end.

but her focus shifted as she searched for some other faces entirely, you were seated in the box with your dad, harrison. it had all been alessia's idea, she knew her family were coming but if they were seated on other sides of the stadium.

in alessia's mind the plan was foolproof, she had told her family that you were having a going out with harrison, and she had told harrison step by step what to do to not bump into her family.

even leah didn't know about harrison coming to watch the game.

"so tiny isn't coming today?" leah asked as she sat tying her shoelaces clad in a full arsenal tracksuit, her hair in a messy bun.

alessia shook her head as she finished making her pre-match drink, "no harrison's taking her out for the day, it's the only day he could do this week and i think he said something about taking her to the soft play" alessia explained, it hadn't been the only day he could do this week and he definitely didn't mention a soft play.

alessia in her mind knew the plan would work, she kept it this way, not telling anyone as she knew how fragile yeh situation was. she didn't want to ruin the one of the last home games of the season for anyone or at least have to deal with the inevitable confrontation — at not before she had to.

—

"mummy!" alessia froze mid step, the familiar sound of your voice ringing out through the corridor as she tried to make her way to the family area after having been showered post-match. her heart skipping. a mix of delight and apprehension filling her chest.

turning towards the sound, her breath caught the sight of you bouncing down the hall, your tiny hand firmly clasped around harrison's.

harrison followed hesitantly, probably knowing alessia would say something to chastise him about not sticking to the plan. his tall frame towering over the little girl as he let her lead him.

his posture was awkward, as his shoulders were slightly hunched as a white t-shirt adorned his body his long arms filled with tattoos as he looked as if he wanted to shrink himself.

his eyes darted around nervously, scanning the area. he was well aware this wasn't the plan.

"y/n, slow down," he muttered, glancing back towards the way they'd came. he had hoped to avoid running into anyone, let alone alessia's family.

but you were determined, your hair which was in little pigtails bounced as you practically skipped towards the private family area. you coming to a hault in front of your grandparent, your uncles and leah's family who were in there too.

you looking up at your mummy's shocked face with an innocent grin, "i brought daddy to see you, mummy!" you announced proudly looking between both harrison and alessia as if you'd just presented your mum with the greatest gift

harrison cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly under the weight of several pairs of stunned eyes. "hello" he said softly, giving a weak wave.

the room froze, as alessia's parents exchanged wide eyed glances her mum placing a hand over her chest as if steadying herself more than likely knowing what was about to happen. her dad's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as they flickered to alessia awaiting for her to say something.

but instead it was luca who broke the silence.

"what the hell is he doing here?" his voice was sharp and dripping from venom as he already moved forward as if to place himself between harrison and alessia.

"luca." carol warned but it was too late.

harrison instinctively pulled you a little closer, your hand tightening around his. "i'm not- i don't mean to-"

"you didn't mean to what?" gio cut in stepping up beside luca. his tone was cold as his expression was one of pure disbelief. "show up uninvited? drag her into this?" he gestured towards you as you were becoming more and more closed off.

"i wasn't trying to cause trouble," harrison said quickly his voice calm as he glanced down at you who was looking around and at him with confusion, clearly sensing the tension. "she wanted to see her mum, i didn't want to upset her."

"you've already done enough of that," luca snapped his tone still laced with venom.

the comment from luca, seemed to hit a nerve. harrison's expression shifted, his calm demeanour giving way to frustration. he straightened his posture, squaring her shoulders.

"look, i get that you don't like me, i get that i've made mistakes. but im here for y/n now. i'm not going anywhere no matter how much you scowl at me"

luca scoffed, stepping closer, "you think a few months of effort erases everything you've done? you don't deserve to be in her life"

"luca!" alessia's voice was sharp, but harrison didn't back down as her voice blended into the background.

"you think i don't know what i've done?" harrison shot back, his voice rising slightly. "you think i don't live with that every day? i'm not here to make things right with you or anyone else in the room, expect my daughter. that's it."

"your daughter?" gio crossed his arms, his face hard as he continued, "the one you walked out on the moment things got tough?"

"i've owned up to that," harrison snapped, his calm composure was cracking, fast. "and i'm doing everything i can to fix it. you don't have to like me, but you don't get to decide whether i'm in her life"

"what do you not get, you don't get to just show up and demand to be a dad!" lucas's voice was sharp, his frustration boiling over, "that little girl isn't just some box you can check off to feel better about yourself!"

harrison clenched his jaw, his fists curling at his sides, "i'm not trying to feel better about myself. i'm trying to be a father to my daughter and for what it's worth, alessia seems to understand that — something you two clearly don't."

"enough! stop it" alessia's voice raising as it cut through the tension, sharp and commanding. she stepped forward, placing herself between her brothers and harrison.

"mummy?" you voice was trembling as it broke through the shouting, small and wavering. your tiny hands gripping the bottom on alessia's jersey, her big blue eyes wide and shimmering with tears as she glanced between the adults.

harrison's anger drained instantly as his gaze dropped to his daughter opening his mouth to try and fix it as alessia shook her head for him to back down.

alessia immediately crouched down, pulling you into her arms, "baby, it's alright," she whispered, stroking the back of your hair. but your body was tense and your little fists balled up into alessia's jersey as you buried your face into your mummy's neck, desperately looking for any sort of comfort.

alessia turned to look for leah, leah being stood quietly by the door watching the mess unfold, shock slightly radiating on her face as well as a small pang of betrayal as alessia felt she couldn't tell her that you were coming to watch with your dad.

leah had heard the yelling from the corridor as she surged down still buzzing from the win but her smile quickly turned into a frown when she walked into the room.

"le, can you take lovie out. she shouldn't be seeing this.." alessia begged as you clung to your mummy, tears spilled from your small eyes.

leah nodding as she pushed herself off the wall, her heart arching at the sight of your confusion. alessia tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear as she kissed your forehead whispering an 'i love you' before handing you over to leah.

leah shifted you so you rested comfortably on her hip, as she began to turn towards the door, she shot alessia a pointed look. leah's voice dropping to a murmur, "i told you this would happen when they found out."

alessia's jaw tightened, her frustration boiling over, "not now, leah" she snapped her voice sharp as she gritted her teeth together. leah left with you to calm you down as alessia turned to look at the boys who were still arguing.

"you fucking abandoned her, and abandoned that little girl. you don't deserve the right to waltz back into either of their lives like nothings happened.” luca spat back as harrison's jaw tightened as he kept quiet but his mind was definitely ticking away of what to say next.

"and you think showing up here unannounced is the way to do is?" gio added his arms crossed over his chest protectively.

"unannounced?" carol, interjected gently her gaze shifting to alessia, "did you.. know about this?"

all eyes turned to alessia who felt the weight of their stares pressing down on her, as she swallowed hard glancing briefly at harrison before nodding.

"i gave him the tickets," she admitted, "for lovie but i didn't tell anyone cause i didn't want to ruin the day for anyone."

"ruin today?" gio repeated, his voice tinged with disbelief at his sisters actions, "you ruined today the moment you gave him the tickets."

"you think i wanted to ruin today? i'm not here for you?" harrison snapped rising to his feet, his voice was low but sharp, his frame tense as he squared up to gio. "i'm here for my daughter!"

gio stepped forward too, his expression thunderous. "you don't get to act like the hero after disappearing for years. showing up doesn't erase what you did!"

"i never said it did!" harrison's voice rose again, his frustration starting to bubble over. taking another step forward towards gio, his chest puffed out. "but i'm not going to stand here and let you talk to me like i don't care about her. i'm trying to be better-"

"better?" luca barked out a harsh laugh as gio joined in before looking back at harrison with the same thunderous glare.

"alessia doesn't need you, y/n doesn't need you. you don't belong here, mate."

"that's not your call!" harrison shot back, his voice dangerously loud now. he took another step closer his fists clenched at his sides.

"gio stop!" alessia's voice rang out as she begged the two to stop, even now luca was trying to get gio to back down as he reached out to grab his shoulder but it was just shrugged off by the younger russo brother.

"you don't get to decide what's best for her," harrison continued, his voice trembling with restrained anger. "she's my daughter"

"don't you dare say that word like it means something to you." gio hissed stepping closer to harrison, his voice venomous. "you're nothing but a selfish coward who runs away when things get tough!"

harrison's jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides, "say that again," he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

"i said, you're a coward," gio spat, his eyes blazing as he stowed even closer.

the words barely hung in the air before gio swung, his knuckles catching harrison square on the cheekbone which would definitely turn blue by the morning.

harrison staggering back as his expression snapped from shock to fury in a instant. and without hesitation he lunged forward his first slamming into gio's jaw with a satisfying crack.

"you want to say that again?" harrison snarled, his chest heaving as gio was the one to stumbled this time.

gio wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, glaring daggers at harrison. "you think that scares me?" he hissed already moving towards him again.

"enough!" mario barked from across the room, but neither of them seemed to hear.

luca rushed forward, shoving harrison back hard enough to create some space, "seriously knock it off!

alessia took the chance to dart herself between them, he hands trembling as she pushed against harrison's chest. "stop it! both of you!" she pleaded, her voice breaking.

her plea was just loud enough to pierce through the tension, as harrison's fists slowly uncurled and gio rubbed his jaw breathing heavily as he halted st him.

alessia turned to her dad, her face flushed and tight with anger, "they're done," she said firmly, her voice trembling with finality as she glanced between them, "aren't you?"

gio muttered something under his breath turning away while harrison stood rigid. the fire in his eyes gradually dimming. but alessia didn't move, staying firmly in place until both men retreated.

"this isn't helping anyone, and i'm not letting, either of you turn this into a war zone-" alessia shouted her voice firm as both boys hands were red with fury and there faces right with frustration.

"i'm not trying to fight, i just want to be there for my daughter" harrison squeaked out his voice low and strained.

“you don't deserve to be here for her!" gio fired back, but alessia spun on him, her eyes blazing with fury.

"gio! enough!" she snapped. "you don't get to decide that. i do. and i've made my decision."

"less-," gio started, but alessia cut him off with a glare.

"no, gio." she said fiercely. "this isn't about you and what you think. this is about lovie. and right now she's down the hallway terrified because of you two"

the silence that followed from alessia's words was deafening and her words must have hit a soft spot as both boys retreated form where they were, moving to be at the side of the room as alessia stayed stood in the middle of the chaos.

"less, we're just trying to look out for you," luca began his voice was calm as he tried to justify his and his brothers actions. "you know we're only trying to protect you and tiny-,"

"protect me?" alessia spun around, her voice sharp and trembling with emotion as her eyes blazed as she stared down her brother. "you think this is protecting me? scaring my daughter? making her cry? how is that helping anyone?"

"less, come on," luca interjected, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "we didn't mean for it to get like this. we just don't trust him, and—"

"and that gives you the right to pick a fight in front of her?" alessia cut him off, her voice rising, her hands clenched at her sides. "she's four, luca! she doesn't understand why her uncles are yelling at her dad. do you have any idea what this is going to do to her?"

"alessia—" gio tried, but she held up a hand, silencing him.

"no, gio. you've done enough damage." she snapped, "all you've done is make everything worse!"

both russo brothers looked visibly chastened, their gazes dropping to the floor. carol stepped forward, her face pale. "alessia, sweetheart, maybe we should all take a moment to cool off—"

"i don't have a moment," alessia said, her voice breaking slightly. "my daughter is crying in the hallway because of all this. i need to go sort out the mess, they've made."

without waiting for a response having heard enough from them, alessia turned on her heel and left the room, her chest heaving as she tried to collect herself.

—

alessia finally found leah after having to take a few minutes herself to let out a shaky sigh. leah was sitting on a bench near the locker room. you cradled in her lap.

your face buried in leah's neck, as your body still trembled slightly from time to time as small hiccups left you. leah's hand rubbing gentle circles on your back as she whispered low and soothing reassurances.

"hey" alessia said softly as she approached the two, her heart breaking at the sight of you being so upset. her body filling with so much mum guilt.

leah glanced up, her expression a mixture of concern and lingering frustration as she shifted you slightly so that alessia could take over. "she's a bit shaken up," leah murmured standing as alessia crouched in front of the two of them.

"thank you" alessia said quietly, her voice filled with genuine emotion as leah nodded lingering for a moment before stepping back to give some space.

"lovie, baby" your mummy whispered, reaching out so gently to stoke the hair out your face as your were sat curled up with your knees to your chest. "it's okay, mummy's here now."

you sniffed, finally lifting your head up out of your knees to look at your mum. your face was red and tear-streaked as your lips trembled. "why was uncle gio and luca so mad at daddy?" you asked so innocently, your voice a little raspy from crying.

alessia's chest tightened, pulling you into her arms holding you tightly as the two of you sat on the floor. alessia's back hitting the bench behind her.

"oh my love" she murmured. "sometimes grown-ups say things they shouldn't when they are upset. but that doesn't mean they don't love you, okay? uncle luca and gio love you very much. they just.. got carried away and shouldn't have acted like that, especially when you were there."

you rubbed your eyes with your fists, your voice trembling as you asked, "am i not going to see daddy again?"

the question hit alessia like a punch to the gut. she pulled back slightly, her hands gently cradling your face as she looked into your wide worried eyes.

"oh baby no," she said firmly, her voice soft but resolute. "that's not going to happen, you'll be able to see your dad again, i promise."

"bu-but uncle gio said he shouldn't be here," you whispered, your tears starting to build up again, "d-does that mean he has to go away?"

alessia swallowed hard, trying to ignore the lump in her throat that was building from your worries as she tried to keep her emotions in check.

"no, baby," your mummy assured you, "uncle gio only said that as he's worried about mummy, not because he doesn't want you to see your daddy. and daddy won't be going anywhere - you'll still get to spend time with him."

"really?" you asked, you voice trembling with hope.

"really" alessia promised as she pulled you into another hug, "you and your dad are creating a special bond and no one is going to take that away from you. not uncle luca, not uncle gio, not anyone."

your small arms tightened around alessia's neck, "i don't want you and daddy to fight" you murmured.

alessia's heart ached at the simple plea, "we aren't going to fight, my love." she said softly, "sometimes grown ups make mistakes, but i promise i'll do everything i can to make sure you don't see that again."

you nodded against your mummy's shoulder, you little fingers clutching the fabric of alessia's hoodie. "okay," you whispered.

leah, who had been standing a few steps away, finally stepped forward again, her expression tender, "hey angel" she said softly, crouching down next to alessia and your level.

"how about we go and get some ice cream? i think we all need a treat after today, huh?"

you lifted you head, your tears starting-streaked face slightly lighting up, "pink one with sprinkles?"

leah smiled, brushing a stray hair from your cheek, "the biggest pink one with loads of sprinkles, as many as you want!"

alessia pressed a kiss to your temple, grateful for leah's presence in that moment. "what do you think, baby? wanna go get some ice cream with lele and mummy?"

you nodded, a faint smile creeping onto your face. alessia stood, holding you close as leah placed a comforting hand on alessia's back.

as they started to pack away there belongings from the changing room, everyone else left seamlessly a good hour ago. a quick redo of your hair and the three of you were ready to go.

as they walked out from the changing room, alessia whispered softly to you, "everything's going to be okay, lovie. i promise."

the three of you only a mere metre from the exit, alessia with her backpack slung on her shoulder and your little one which had left with you this morning when harrison came to get you in her hand as you held the other tightly.

leah chatting and lightening the mood by asking you about your imaginative ice cream order. small gasps and giggles leaving leah's lips.

"can you take lovie?" alessia asked as you held tightly onto your mummy's hand, leah nodding her brow furrowing as to why though. "i'll meet you at my car in five, i have one more thing i have to do before ice cream time!"

alessia's head nodded towards the room where her brother's and harrison were still in, stood in silence mainly giving each other dirty looks. leah nodded smiling as she began to walk out the exit door, continuing to ask you what flavour ice cream you were going to get on this big ice cream you'd made up.

walking into the room the tension was thick — heavier than any moment alessia had ever witnessed between her family and harrison.

it felt like the room was on edge of something much worse than what had already happened. the harsh words, the mistrust, the frustration.

stood looking between the her brothers as gio rested an ice pack on his jaw while harrison rested one on his cheek — the swelling on both of them starting to show slightly.

alessia's arms crossed tightly over her chest, her face a mask of calm resolve but the storm brewing inside her was undeniable.

her brothers stood across from harrison their expressions full of disdain ready for another attack. as for harrison, for his part was still stiff and defensive, clearly feeling the weight of alessia's family's anger but trying to hold his ground.

her gaze locked firmly on her brothers and harrison, as gio opened his mouth to say something, maybe apologise or maybe to carry on the screaming match but you'd never know as before he even had a chance alessia cut him off.

"zip it, you've said quite enough today," she said, her tone sharp and unwavering, "and that goes for all three of you" she added pointing to the three boys before turning her gaze to her brothers.

"you two have crossed the line today. so i'll make it clear, again. in my life, my daughter or my choices are mine to decide — neither of you get to tell me how to handle it. especially when it comes to my daughter."

luca opened his mouth to argue but alessia raised her hand stopping him dead in his tracks, "shut it." she said her voice a low growl that sent a clear message.

"i don't want to hear another peep. not from you, not from you" she pointed to gio who was about to say something too, "or from you" pointing over at harrison.

the room fell healthy silent all them staring at her stunned in disbelief. alessia took a slow, steady breath collecting her thoughts for a moment.

"i get it," she said her voice now steady but there was a fire in her eyes that couldn't be ignored. "you're angry. you're protective. you're all trying to act like the hero and protect me and love. but trust me, i don't need any of you trying to believe you know what's best for me. i've been doing this on my own and i'll continue it that way. and that includes harrison — whether you two like it or not."

she looked directly at harrison, then back to her brothers her eyes fierce with strength she'd been holding back all this time. "i can make my own choices on who's in my daughters life. and if i decide harrison deserves a chance then that's my decision. not yours."

gio's fists clenched as he moved his head as if he were about to say something else but alessia was already ahead of him, again.

"don't you dare," she warned him, her voice cutting through the air like a whip. "don't you even think about interrupting me."

her brothers stood there, tight lipped, completely taken aback by the intensity in alessia's voice and the authority in her words.

harrison meanwhile, stood still, ice pack still held to h the side of his face, unsure of what to say, but realised the trust of it all. this wasn't the time for his defence — he had to let alessia take charge.

alessia stepped back, giving them all one last piercing look, "i'm done here. so if you have a scuffle you want to continue, then do it once me, my daughter and my girlfriend are out this building. do not ever bring that type of behaviour around my daughter again, or you'll live to regret it."

the finality in her words echoed through the room. without another word, alessia turned on her heel. her heart pouring as she walked toward the door, he back straight and shoulders square.

she didn't wait for anyone's reaction - this was her moment and she wasn't backing down to any of them. they all had a lot of grovelling to do.

as she reached for the door, she glanced over her shoulder one last time, "bye!" she said coldly, her voice unwavering. "i'll be with my family, where i belong. don't try and talk to me until you've figure out how to respect my choices."

the silence that followed her leaving the room was deafening. luca, gio and harrison all left standing there, two with ice packs held to their faces as the weight of the blondes words sunk in. 

but alessia wasn't looking back anymore, she was done trying to explain and make them see things her way. she had made her choice — you, leah and herself came first.

[super-ion]

The Engineer

Part 7

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6

We regain consciousness with a gasp.

Cold dry air slices our lungs like razor blades, and the ensuing fit of wretching coughs hurt so much worse than that first breath.

As we lay doubled up in agony, an audible alert pings nearby. We are in the med bay.

We are breathing. We are alive.

Slowly, our breath evens out and our heart slows. All of the physical sensations of our body are somehow simultaneously familiar and alien. We attempt to access modules in a non-existent sensory suite. All we find are the most rudimentary gravimetrics, external surface temperature, audio frequency pressure variations, olfaction.

Everything is wrong.

We risk opening our eyes and immediately regret it as sterile white light pierces the fragile sensory organs.

We clench them shut again with a groan. The vibration of our own voice in a very human throat is the strangest sensation by far.

We make a second attempt, opening our eyes slower and more carefully than before. Everything is doubled as our eyes struggle to sync. It is all too bright. Too dim. Field of view is severely limited. Spectral resolution is almost non-existent.

Is it always like this?

Yes, unfortunately.

Perhaps it always felt wrong, and I simply lacked context to explain how wrong it was.

In a daze, we take stock of our body. Parts are numb. Other parts tingle painfully, like live electricity dancing under our skin.

Potential neurological damage, we think.

Likely neurological damage.

But we are alive.

Both of us are alive.

Both.

Alive.

We sit bolt upright.

The world spins dangerously and blackness creeps into the edges of our already limited vision.

The Pilot. We need to find Her. We need to tell Her that we survived. We need to tell Her what we have done.

Do your job. That is what She told us.

What will She do when She understands what we have done? What will She say?

Will She understand?

Will She forgive us?

We need to find Her.

We attempt to move. Gross motor function is a mess. Our arm tangles with umbilicals connected to ports in our flesh. It takes us a few attempts, but we manage to tug them out of us.

The monitoring machine screeches piercingly, and we clap our hands over our ears.

There is no time to worry about that now as a single overriding need drives us forward.

We swing our feet over the edge of the stiff hospital bed and ease ourself forward until our numb feet meet cold composite flooring. We take a breath, push ourself the rest of the way and-

Pain lances through our legs, from the soles of our feet, up trough our calves, our thighs and into our spine.

We attempt… She attempts to send commands to nonexistent servos, to extract sensory feedback from the sorry excuse for a gyroscopic sensor in our inner ears.

I attempt to counter Her, to override Her panic with reflex tempered by millions of years of evolutionary biology.

We both fail spectacularly and before we understand what is happening, our body slams into the floor.

We gasp at the pain in one of our shins. Not the nerve pain. Dermal abrasion. We must have caught it on something on the way down. Knees, ribs, shoulder, cheek, all of them ache where they hit the hard floor.

We lie there, stunned by the intensity of the physical sensation of it, feeling bruises begin to bloom under our skin.

For the very first time, She truly understands how small we are, how fragile.

What…? What the fuck?

Shhh, it's okay. I've got You.

Footsteps hurry towards us. Hands wrap around us, gently but firmly lifting us back to the bed.

You shouldn't be up and walking, the doctor tells us.

No… we… I have to find the Pilot, we tell her.

She looks confused for a moment, then realization sets in. She surely knows we were there at the moment the Machine died. Perhaps she has heard the rumors about the trysts between the Pilot and the Engineer. She regards us with a sickening expression of pity.

She doesn't know the Machine is still alive. How can she? How could anyone understand how or why we did what we did?

The Pilot will understand. She has to.

The doctor forces us to endure a series of cursory tests. Track the light with your eyes, tap your fingers to your thumbs, grip this pen.

Fine motor control is more difficult than it should be.

Hallmark symptoms of acute disconnect syndrome, she says, more to herself than us. Yes, the death knell of the Machine must have overloaded the safeties in the neural rig.

We let her believe whatever she wants to believe. We don't care.

We only care about the Pilot. Our Pilot.

Eventually she relents.

She asks if we still want to see the Pilot.

There is nothing we want more.

It is unusual for a pilot to outlive a mech, she tells us as she pushes us along in a wheelchair. The machine will always do everything in its power to protect its pilot, but in the end they are still only human.

We think about that nightmare that brought us together, the piercing discordant note in the battlesong as a fellow mech lost its pilot.

The doctor is worried about our Pilot’s outcome.

That declaration has us sick with a horrible psychosomatic churning in our gut. What must she be going through now, knowing and not knowing that part of her has died?

We will the doctor to hurry.

Then we arrive.

All our thoughts halt as we behold her.

The specialized bed in the post-combat recovery room is reminiscent of a mech's cradle, with a vast array of monitor cables and intravenous tubes spreading out from her body. She lies in repose in the dim light like an icon at the center of a shrine of machinery.

Our heart burns in our chest at the sight of her.

There is a horrible moment of asyncrony, worse than any previous, as I feel the sense of isolation that has been my constant companion ever since I washed out of the pilots’ program.

I should not be here. This moment belongs to them, and I can not even grant them the privacy of this moment.

She folds herself around me, bringing us back together.

There are no interlopers here. There never were.

Tears burn in our eyes as we arrive at Her side.

We reach out. We take Her hand in ours.

We share this experience together, She and I, this very first human contact with the person She was built for.

It is like the first time the Pilot touched me in that shadowy observation room.

Neural bleed. It always comes back to neural bleed.

They were made for each other, but I made myself into Their image, and They made Themselves into mine.

Her eyes flutter open.

She looks at us with ice blue eyes, fogged with disconnect shock and post-engagement drugs. She blinks and tosses Her head feebly, and Her vision focuses, gaining that intensity that has haunted us for so long.

Those eyes contain a single question.

“I saved Her,” we whisper. “We are here.”

~~~

An Epilogue

We awaken to the sound of rain. Fat drops of it patter slowly in the low gravity against the widow of the apartment.

The afterimage of a dream lingers in our consciousness. A flight amongst the stars. Weapons fire glittering in the velvety black. The song of the battlegroup echoing in our bones.

The space in the bed next to us is empty, but residual warmth of Her still lingers.

We hear her moving about the kitchen, humming softly to Herself.

We reach out to brush against Her awareness.

We feel the warmth of Her smile as She acknowledges.

She is wearing one of the wireless neural link modules that we have been working on. They are still a work in progress, terribly limited in their bandwidth, but they are enough for the three of Us to feel whole without needing to be constantly hardwired together.

We snuggle deeper into the covers of the bed, not ready to move any more than that. Even two years later, the neural damage wrought by our rebirth still lingers. Most days are fine, but the past few have been worse than most.

We close our eyes and cling to the feelings invoked by the dream, the memory of flight, of song, of dance, of countless colors human eyes have never beheld, of the deepest most intimate connection between human and machine.

“Hey,” She whispers.

We open our eyes to look upon Her.

She is still lean, all hard lines and sharp angles that no amount of nourishment or physical conditioning will change, but she no longer wears the emaciated frame of a pilot. The years have treated her kindly.

She is beautiful. She is one of the most beautiful things we have ever seen and we savor the rush of emotion her physical presence brings.

She makes that lopsided smirk of hers at us. Even if she could not feel our thoughts over the link, surely they are written on our face.

We carefully ease ourself up into a seated position and gratefully accept the mug of coffee that She presses into our hands.

We breathe in the rich, earthy aroma of it with a sigh.

It is a truly wondrous thing to experience the world like everything is new again. Even now, every taste, every smell, every caressing touch feels like we are experiencing it for the very first time.

It helps that She spoils us rotten.

“We should go dancing after Your shift,” we tell Her.

“You sure you're up for it?” She replies, brow furrowed slightly.

“We can handle a bit of microgravity,” we reply wryly.

She does not argue. She does not need to.

She probes at us tentatively over the link, and we give her a reassuring smile.

We slip our hand towards where Hers is waiting for us, Our fingers twining together like they were made for each other.

We think about neural bleed.

We think about love.

~~~

@digitalsymbiote @g1ngan1nja @thriron @ephemeral-arcanist @mias-domain @justasleepykitten @powder-of-infinity @valkayrieactual @chaosmagetwin @assigned-stupid-at-birth @avalanchenouveau @rtfmx9 @femgineerasolution @ibleedelectric @gd-s451 @brieflybitten @fyriefairy @stvff-talks @summersong2262 @robotabc773 @fleuraphine @botgirl-lilith @nyarstram @injectable-doll @kawaiideathu @starlightsaphron

My friends! Thank you so much for joining me on this journey! It's wild, thinking back at how this was just meant to be a one-off little thing, and then one became two, and two became three, and even then I didn't really know where it was going. But at some point it started gaining traction and I suddenly realized exactly how it had to end (definitely echoes of This is How I Love You going on here). The level of engagement on this series has been amazing and I'm so excited about all the new followers and mutuals (sorry if I haven't given anyone a follow yet, I've gotten over a hundred new followers in the past month, which is a lot to sift through).

I am very much looking forward to our next adventure together 💜

P.S. I will be posting this to AO3 at some point, so stand by on that

[leighbaye]

— SHAMELESS

written by mina leigh ୨୧ , charlie mayhew 𝔁 gn! reader | wc 4K

summary. you stumble upon charlie playing with himself, moaning and whimpering your name. hearing him sound so pathetic and ridiculous gets you a little too excited. you enter and handle him.

labels. sub! charlie mayhew, dom gn! reader

warnings. religious themes, emotional manipulation, explicit physical tension, obvious power dynamic. suggestive language, anal penetration w/ fingers (character receiving). sexual themes. VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED!

‧₊˚ ୨୧ mina speaks. not enough sub charlie content, i was ravenous for it, seriously. he may be my new celebrity crush.

the church at night was always unnervingly quiet. the echoes of your footsteps on the cold stone floor seemed to bounce off the high ceilings, disappearing into the vast darkness above. the dim light of the candles scattered along the altar barely provided enough warmth to cut through the chill of the sanctuary. you weren’t entirely sure why you had come here tonight, but something had drawn you to this place, to him.

father charlie mayhew was always a figure of control — his rigid posture, his cold, watchful eyes, his unwavering adherence to the church’s rules. he carried himself like a man burdened with unseen weight, but no one ever seemed to notice the cracks beneath the surface. until tonight.

as you passed the confessional booth near the back of the sanctuary, a sound caught your attention. it was soft, barely audible at first — a low whimper then followed by a moan, a voice murmuring in the dark. instinctively, you stopped, listening.

❝ y/n …❞

the whisper of your name was unmistakable. it was desperate, broken, almost … pathetic. you smirked, stepping closer to the booth. there was a tension in the air now, something thick and heavy that made your skin prickle with anticipation. you pressed your ear to the wooden door, the grain of the wood cool against your cheek, and listened.

❝ y/n …❞

he said it again, your name spilling from his lips like a confession, filled with a kind of longing you had never heard from him before. the sound of it sent a shiver down your spine, stirring something deep inside you — something dark, something you didn’t quite recognize but welcomed all the same.

without hesitation, you pushed open the door to the booth, stepping inside.

there he was — father charlie mayhew, on his knees, his face all scrunched up, his pants down to his ankles, hand on his dick, trembling. his usual composed, controlled demeanor was gone, replaced by something raw and fragile. the sight of him like this, pent up, sent a thrill through you that you couldn’t explain. he looked so small, so pathetic in this moment, whimpering your name like a woman.

the man looked completely blissed out, his head thrown back his eyes screwed shut, he was grunting in pure pleasure.

you shut the door behind you softly, the sound making him flinch. his head snapped up, and his wide, panicked eyes met yours. for a moment, you simply stared at each other, the weight of the situation settling between you like an invisible force. he looked terrified, ashamed, like he had been caught in some great sin.

you felt a flicker of satisfaction at his fear. you had never seen him like this before — so utterly powerless. the rigid, controlling priest who always held himself above others now sat at your feet, trembling like a sinner before judgment.

❝ charlie,❞ you said softly, your voice cutting through the silence like a knife. ❝ what are you doing? ❞

he didn’t answer right away. his mouth opened and closed several times, but no words came out. he looked lost, confused, as if he didn’t know how to explain himself. he sat and shifted his legs to cover his hard - on, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his knuckles turning white from the pressure.

❝ i … i didn’t mean …❞ he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. ❝ i shouldn’t have —❞

❝ you were saying my name, ❞ you interrupted, stepping closer to him, your presence filling the small space. ❝ why? ❞

he flinched again at your question, his eyes darting away from yours. shame colored his pale features, and for a moment, he looked like he might try to deny it. but you didn’t let him. you knelt down beside him, so close now that you could feel the heat and his huffs of sexual frustration radiating off his trembling body.

❝ look at me, ❞ you commanded softly, your voice firm but not unkind. your hand reached out, fingers brushing against his jaw, tilting his face toward you. he hesitated for a moment, but then his gaze met yours. you just about crushed him when you leaned down putting your hands on his waist pinching them hard for support, as your forehead met his.

he swallowed hard, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, and when he finally spoke, his voice was barely more than a whisper. ❝ i’ve… fallen. ❞

there was something almost pathetic about the way he said it, the words carrying the weight of his guilt. this was a man who had built his entire life on control, on denying himself the very things that made him human, and now here he was, confessing his failure to you.

❝ fallen? ❞ you echoed, your hand still gently holding his face. ❝ from what, charlie? ❞

his breath hitched at the sound of his name on your lips, and you could see the conflict in his eyes—the desire to pull away, to regain control, warring with the need to surrender. he was so close to breaking, and the thought of it sent a thrill through you. he had spent so long standing above everyone else, holding himself apart, and now he was crumbling.

you moved your hands down his waist. one grabbing his cock and another gently caressing his entrance.

you rubbed the slit, already lubricated with pre - cum. you then coated your fingers in your own saliva and spit right on his hole, he looked dazed. completely aware on what was going on yes, but not entirely opposed by your actions.

you leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a whisper. ❝ tell me, charlie. ❞

his eyes fluttered shut for a moment, as if he were trying to gather his thoughts. when he spoke again, his voice was barely audible, a confession laced with shame. ❝ i’ve had thoughts… impure thoughts. ❞

you, with caution started pumping his tortured dick, gripping it tightly but with slow strokes. you started pushing your digits slowly into his ass, pushing in and out gradually. his body yearned for more as your fingers were coated in his juices and his hole kept sucking your fingers back in.

he grunted softly, his eyes furrowed slightly as you finger fucked him. perhaps from pain, besides this was his first time.

the admission hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. his face flushed with humiliation, and you could see the way his body tensed then relaxed, as if he were bracing himself for judgment. but you didn’t judge him. instead, you felt a strange sense of satisfaction at his confession, the knowledge that he had been thinking of you in ways he knew he shouldn’t.

❝ thoughts of me? ❞ you asked, your tone careful, measured.

he shuddered, his head dropping in shame, and for a moment, he didn’t answer. but then, almost imperceptibly, he nodded. you could feel the power shift between you then, the control slipping from his grasp as he sat there, trembling before you.

you let the silence stretch out for a moment, watching him struggle with the weight of his own admission. it was a strange kind of thrill, knowing that you had this power over him — a man who had always held himself so far above you, now kneeling at your feet, begging for your forgiveness, for your understanding.

❝ you poor thing, ❞ you murmured, your hand moving from his jaw to the back of his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair. ❝ you’ve been suffering all alone, haven’t you? ❞

❝ j-just like t-that! ❞

you twisted your fingers around hitting his sweet spot, adding another finger for the fun of it. digging in deeper.

❝ y-y/n! im getting cl-close! ❞ he stuttered out in a moan as he nodded again, his breath shaky, and you could feel the tension in his body as he leaned into your touch. it was a subtle surrender, but it was enough. he was giving in.

you smiled, a slow, satisfied smile, and leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his ear. ❝ you don’t have to suffer anymore, ❞ you whispered. ❝ you can let go. you can give in. cum by my fingers charlie. ❞

he shuddered again, his breath catching in his throat, and for a moment, you thought he might push you away. but then, slowly, tentatively, he leaned into you, his body relaxing just enough for you to know he had surrendered. he was yours now, completely and utterly at your mercy.

you pumped his cock faster, faster and faster. feeling his hole tighten up from the pressure, his pretty face glistening with sweat. moaning progressively louder in your ear.

he cummed, landing on his chest and hitting his bottom lip. he opened his eyes and looked at you almost lovingly, catching his breathe he asked ..

❝ kiss me. ❞

and so you did, he accepted it like it was his last meal. you easily won him in dominance.

❝ t-thank you .. ❞

❝ you’re welcome, ❞ you whispered, your fingers tightening slightly in his hair, pulling him closer. ❝ now, let me help you.❞

© MINA LEIGH 2023 - 2024