#so when you use it the player locks all the buttons all the time so it got really difficult to use it

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Without Parole.

Pairing: Yandere!Neuvillette x Reader x Yandere!Wriothesley (Genshin).

Word Count: 3.8k.

TW: Implied Non/Con, Prolonged Imprisonment, Wrongful Imprisonment, Unhealthy Relationships, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Blood, Possessive Behavior, and Gratuitous Old Man Yaoi.

“You reek of mortal blood.”

Neuvillette watched through half-lidded eyes as Wriothesley glanced over his shoulder, a careless grin already tugging at the corner of his lips. He paused, letting the shirt he’d only just started to button hang limp over his chest, and turned to face Neuvillette properly – albeit, never removing himself from the edge of the mattress. “I wonder why,” he murmured, keeping his voice low, playful. “It’s not like I’ve been carrying six liters of the stuff around or anything.”

Neuvillette softened, as he always seemed to when gifted with Wriothesley’s full attention, but didn’t relent. “It’s not yours. You’ve never been so—” He couldn’t stop himself, grimacing. “—sweet.”

Such a simple description didn’t do justice to the extent of the wrongness currently laid over Wriothesley’s pointed, metallic scent. It was almost sickeningly saccharine; overripe fruit and overused perfume and sugar boiled to the point of caramelization. It was a haze more than anything, the type of numbing agent used to dull the senses and hide something more vile, more cutting. Neuvillette didn’t care for it, but then again, Neuvillette didn’t care for most things that placed himself between him and Wriothesley.

“…I don’t like it,” he admitted, nearly under his breath. He let his eyes fall shut and, as if in response, felt Wriothesley’s hand cupped his cheek, the calloused pad of his thumb tracing over his jaw. “Someone’s been putting their hands on you. If it’s one of your guards, I’ll have them transferred to—”

“Careful, love.” At least Wriothesley was delicate with his interruption. “You’re starting to sound a little jealous.”

Neuvillette stiffened, more out of reflex than anything. Despite his best attempts at self-restraint, possessiveness was simply in a dragon’s nature. No part of him wanted to treat Wriothesley like a precious object to be locked away without sympathy or softness, and even if he had any desire to be so domineering, it would’ve been impossible; he had his duties to Fontaine, and Wriothesley had his to the fortress that lied under its seas. Taking him away from his station would be irresponsible, if not cruel. Wriothesley was not a man who could live under the heel of another.

And yet, while the humanity within him knew Wriothesley could only ever be a lover (a distant one, at that), his draconic nature howled for something soft and pliable and able to be captured and kept, something he could dig his fangs into and never release. For a mate, as primal and primitive as the idea seemed.

He forced himself to relax, to exhale, to open his eyes and pull himself into a more respectable position. One hand found Wriothesley’s where it was laid over his cheek while the other found a thigh – his pointed nails burrowing into well-scared skin. Kissing Wriothesley came naturally, as unfamiliar as he’d once been with such human gestures of affection, and his lover posed no resistance, even as the defined points of Neuvillette’s teeth dragged across his bottom lip and the iron tinge of fresh blood joined the taste of Wriothesley’s mouth. Neuvillette couldn’t stop himself, letting out a raspy groan, pushing himself against Wriothesley with all the tenderness and all the misery of a wild animal, desperate not to tear apart what it loved most.

And, for the most part, Wriothesley was kind enough to pretend he felt the same.

~

He met you a month later, tucked within the iron walls of Wriothesley’s underworld.

You were already in his office, sitting at an ancient player piano he would’ve sworn hadn’t been there the last time he’d visited the fortress. He’d mistaken it for one of Wriothesley’s records, at first – your playing paced and melodic, hesitant in a way that could be regarded as pleasant if your listener happened to be rather patient. You only paused as he crested the staircase leading to Wriothesley’s loft, snapping towards Neuvillette with an expression only comparable to that of a small, frightened animal. You recognized him quickly enough, relaxing somewhat when you did, but not before he recognized you.

Or, rather, the sweetness you absolutely reeked of.

It was more overpowering than it had been, when he’d only been taking in the residuals of it left on Wriothesley. Rotting fruit abruptly seemed like an inaccurate comparison, too simple, too blatantly vitriolic. If your scent could be linked to anything, it would’ve had to be caramel – sugary and fresh and cloying in its inescapability. It took more self-control than it should’ve not to bare his teeth, not to let his anger rise to the point of visibility. It grew easier to control himself as your eyes fell back to the keys in front of you, as you shrunk into yourself – his presence not so great of a relief as to completely undo your meekness. “Monsieur Ludex,” you muttered, nearly under your breath. He had attempted not to think of Wriothesley’s hypothetical lover, but if he had, he might’ve pictured someone more brazen. “I… I’m not sure where His Grace is, at the moment. I know he’ll be returning eventually, but if you’re in a rush, you might be able to find him in—.”

“I can wait.”

It wasn’t a question, but you nodded regardless, never looking away from your instrument. It wasn’t until he fell into the seat slotted against the opposing wall that your hands found the keys and you spared him a quick, almost skittish glance over your shoulder. He caught your gaze and held it, and although he’d never confess it aloud, his more primal aspects relished in the way you seemed to wither under the weight of his gaze. “Please, don’t let my company disturb you.”

You didn’t need much more incentive than that. Admittedly, your playing was far from insufferable; not quite as polished as the musicians of the Opera Epiclese, but far from that of an amateur. It would’ve been impossible to guess how long he listened to you for; one song seeped into another without pause, forming a medley that you’d either memorized long ago or, more fantastically, made up as you went along. You seemed used to your instrument, too. Wriothesley must’ve had you play for him often.

It was also, admittedly, difficult to reconcile the image of you in front of him with that of the conniving, sugar-sweet seductor he had pictured upon first noticing the new tinge to Wriothesley’s scent. The bland, standard-issue clothing of a prisoner hung loose on your form, clearly a size too large by the most generous of measurements, and no aspect of your posture nor your expression communicated that you found any amount of comfort within the walls of Wriothesley’s office. When he thought to look, he could make out discoloration encircling your wrists, painted over your knuckles, but minor injuries were common in the fortress. It would’ve been unwise to make assumptions based only on a handful of bruises.

Your medley only faltered upon Wriothesley’s arrival – unpredictably abrupt and endearingly violent, you and Neuvillette given only a moment to acknowledge that the door to his office had opened before he showed himself. His attention fell to you, first, as did his affection. You bit back a grimace as he pulled you into a crushing embrace, his mouth brushing over your temple, then falling to the corner of your jaw, as if he intended there to be something more intimate than a fleeting kiss. Before he could make contact, though, his gaze darted to Neuvillette. There was an unpolished grin, a teasing glint in his eyes, and then he was drawing back from you, muttering something as he pulled away. Neuvillette forced himself not to want to hear it.

And yet, he watched intently as Wriothesley separated from you and came to him, instead. A single knee was propped against the worn velveteen cushions of the loveseat, two bandaged hands clasped over the bronze gilding of the backrest – Wriothesley once again choosing to put himself in the position of the cager, rather than the caged. Neuvillette allowed himself to be guided into a shallow kiss, but when Wriothesley pulled away, he didn’t chase after him. It was pathetic as far as shows of discontent went, but Wriothesley let out an airy, knowing chuckle regardless. “Do I owe this visit to business or pleasure, monsieur?”

“Business.”

Wriothesley’s grin quirked into a defined pout, but he didn’t protest. Neuvillette feigned disinterest as he collapsed into the chair behind his desk, and you fell back into your song as if you’d never missed a note. The conversation ranged from middlingly polite to stiflingly bureaucratic; Neuvillette careful not to broach any topic more personal than the number of prisoners the fortress should expect in the following six months. It was only as their discussion neared its end that you seemed to shift, your music drifting in and out of audibility as you pushed yourself to your feet and, after gathering the sheet music you hadn’t bothered to touch, started towards the staircase leading—

“(Y/n).”

Whatever Wriothesley might’ve been saying was immediately forgotten with a snap of his fingers, a vague beckoning gesture. You stiffened, but complied, leaving your burden on the corner of his desk as you shambled to your warden’s side. Your routine seemed practiced, albeit still rough around the edges. An arm lashed out as soon as you were close enough, catching you by the waist and dragging you into his lap, keeping you there with a forearm bared over your midriff.

It’s almost impressive, just how blank you manage to keep your impression – the pinnacle of passivity. Wriothesley was not so aloof.

“Monsieur Neuvillette’s been asking about you,” he started, his hand finding your wrist. You tried to pull away – an automatic response, Neuvillette guessed – but Wriothesley’s hold was tight, unyielding. “I’m sure you can find it within yourself to thank him for all the time he’s spent thinking about you, now, can’t you, dear?”

Your eyes flicker to the ground. “…thank you, sir.”

“And for keeping you company while I was away. I know how much you hate being alone.”

Your fist balled around the hem of Wriothesley’s coat. Neither of you seemed to notice. “Thank you, sir.”

“See what I have to deal with? I promise, they’re normally more well-behaved. It just takes them a few minutes to come out of their shell.” Wriothesley’s head bowed low as he guided your hand to his mouth. You didn’t resist, this time, only flinching into yourself as his pointed canines burrowed into the tender apex of your wrist. You held onto that shut-eyed, furrowed expression as the flat of Wriothesley’s tongue ran over the twin pair of puncture wounds and then, with no particular ceremony, held your wrist out for Neuvillette’s careful evaluation. “For your trouble, monsieur.”

Wriothesley’s intention was clear, as was Neuvillette’s refusal – signaled with little more than a quick shake of his head, a steeper arch to his frown.

He had no need to taste you. Not when his senses were so sharp compared to Wriothesley’s, so refined.

Not when he could already feel his twin cocks hardening against his thigh.

“No gratitude is needed.” He stood abruptly, eager to be on his feet. For whatever reason, Wriothesley’s office suddenly seemed several times smaller than it had, before. He could feel saliva pooling underneath his tongue, his vision growing sharp and predatory, and he fled with no further commentary; only nodding curtly to the fortress guards as he escaped from Wriothesley’s office altogether and started for the elevator, the only way back to the surface and all of its wonderous open air. It was an abuse of power, of position. Failing that, he could be tried for inappropriate conduct, or public indecency – something defined and sterile that Neuvillette could put a name to and assign an appropriate sentence. He needed to—

“Monsieur Ludex!”

He felt a smaller hand catch his sleeve and bit back the temptation to claw, to snap, to bite. Instead, he turned slowly, eyes flickering downward to find you standing behind him, glancing from side to side as you held the frill of his sleeve in a pale-knuckled grip. He could see a flush dusted over your cheeks, making out the slight, shallow panting you were attempting in vain to suppress. You must’ve been chasing after him for quite some time.

“It was—” You paused, swallowed, bowed your head. You cupped his hand between both of yours, clenching your eyes shut entirely. “It was an honor to meet you.”

He waited for you to release him, which after a stilted beat, you did hastily. “Likewise.”

You said nothing else, only nodding stiffly as he turned away from you. It wasn’t until he boarded the fortress’ elevator that he noticed the scrap of paper tucked into his glove; clearly torn from the corner of some yellowed sheet of music, if the measured bars and dotted notes were any indication. Two words had been messily scrawled across the yellowed parchment, almost endearing in their predictability. Despite himself, Neuvillette found himself smiling as he read over them.

‘Help me.’

~

It wasn’t difficult to find your file. It wasn’t kept in his office, but a smaller wing of the Palais Mermonia, one meant for trails that never made it to the Opera Epiclese. He opted to retrieve the file in the dead of night, so as not to disturb his dedicated staff, and review its contents in the privacy of his personal chambers.

No detail was particularly interesting, but he read over each page with a meticulous sort of care, careful not to let any word or figure go without loving appreciation. You were born to a small farming village north of the city, orphaned at the age of ten and released into your brother’s custody at twelve, after he served a minor stint in the very fortress you were currently resigned to. At eighteen, you enrolled into one of Fontaine’s premier preforming art academies on scholarship and withdrew at twenty due to familial difficulties, resigning from your position among the Opera Epiclese’s in-house orchestra in the same year. Your crime was equally unremarkable; petty theft, only a single count to which you plead guilty. Neuvillette wasn’t surprised. Theft was not an uncommon crime, especially for those unused to the overwhelming splendor of Fontaine’s courts, although it rarely resulted in a criminal change. He would have to look into the details of your case later on.

No, it wasn’t the crime itself that surprised him, but the sentencing information scrawled underneath it – the assigned length of your sentence, followed immediately by time served. The former was four weeks, the recommended length for first-time, non-violent offenses.

The latter, updated as of three days prior, was seventeen months.

Neuvillette rarely found the time for sleep, and when he did rest, he rarely dreamt. That night, he plagues with visions of Wriothesley kissing his neck, honey and caramel dripping from his lips and drowning them both.

~

The next morning, he penned a letter to Wriothesley – not as one lover to another, but the Ludex of Fontaine to the Duke of Meropide. The contents were blunt, polite, consisting of little more than a request as to the documentation behind your extended sentence. The letter he received back, delivered by one of Wriothesley’s couriers, contained no written response, but a tattered scrap of pure ivory silk, stained with scarlet blood and still damp with a transparent, viscous, saccharine substance.

 He spent the remainder of the day with the cloth pressed against the lower half of his mouth, his fist moving over his cocks as he pictured you bound in silver at the bottom of the sea.

~

The arrangements were made as quickly as could be expected. Neuvillette took care to lend your plight his personal attention, muttering your name aloud for the first and only time when he had Wriothesley pinned to his desk, both cocks hilted entirely inside of his lover. His lover and yours, he supposed. He found that the thought no longer revolted him the way it once had.

Wriothesley, for his part, was agreeable. Where his enthusiasm failed, his dedication to maintaining peace within his fortress saw the matter through. Paperwork was drawn up and signed, guards were given their orders, and soon enough, he was standing at the entrance to the Fortress of Meropide, watching on as you blearily stumbled out of the rustic elevator – one of Wriothesley’s more trusted officers to either of your sides. He waved them off quickly. This was a joyous occasion, but a private one. He wanted no more witnesses than there absolutely had to be.

You were a doe-eyed thing; standing in daylight for the first time in more than a year. He’d chosen for an accommodating time of day, opted to schedule your release for the soften hours of a post-sunset twilight, but it seemed any amount of natural light would’ve been enough to render you senseless. It took a long moment for you to find your footing on solid land, another to remember to blink, and yet another for you to notice him. Instantly, he knew any amount of preparation he might’ve done was useless – his scheduling, especially.

Your smile was enough to rival the sun at its brightest.

“Monsieur Ludex!” Still unsteady, you wandered towards him, taking both of his hands into your own. You were tactile, despite your meekness. It wasn’t often Neuvillette was touched so casually. “I—I really can’t thank you enough, and I’m—I’m sorry for the hassle, but the warden, he wouldn’t let me go, and I didn’t know if you had any jurisdiction over the fortress, but Wriothesley wrote to you so often, and—”

“I ought to be the one apologizing.” He kept his tone gentle, even, only a touch warmer than the stunted greetings he’d exchanged with you weeks ago. Despite this, you melted as if addressed by your oldest, closest friend; your shoulders dropping and your eyes glimmering with all the radiance of a rising tide. “The inflation of your sentence was a grave and unforgivable foresight. If you wished to leave Fontaine altogether, I would understand.”

“I… I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” You released his hands, clasping them in front of your waist. Reluctantly, he allowed you to. “Honestly, sir, I’d really just like to go home.”

He couldn’t help but mirror your smile back, albeit not quite as shining. “If that’s so, then the necessary accommodations have already been made.”

With your arm tucked in his, you allowed him to escort you to a waiting carriage (secured as to avoid forcing to travel by sea so quickly after escaping your imprisonment underneath it). The first leg of your journey passed in comfortable silence, your attention rarely leaving the glass-paned window. As you passed through the countryside outside of the Court of Fontaine, you glanced toward him and beamed. “My village isn’t far from here. I don’t suppose you’ve contacted my brother?”

His response was a curt nod, a contemplative hum. “We’ll be arriving shortly.”

As you passed through the city’s gates, your smile dimmed some, taking on a strained undertone. “Is there anything in the city we have to do? I’m afraid I never got the chance to ask the other prisoners about release protocols.”

Once again, his response was brief. “You shouldn’t worry yourself with unnecessary specifics.”

As your carriage came to an ambling stop in front the Palais Mermonia, your smile fell away entirely. “Monsieur Ludex,” you tried once more, your voice now shaking so delectably, it nearly rivaled the sweetness of your scent. “I… I’m afraid I don’t understand what’s going on.”

This time, he made no attempt to answer you sincerely. “Please, call me Neuvillette.” And then, as he stepped out of the carriage and signaled for you to do the same, “Come with me.”

You shrunk into your seat, but even the most skittish creatures knew when to attempt submission rather than escape. Given another second’s worth of patience, you followed him up the palace’s steps and through its vacant halls, its usual attendants sent home in anticipation of your arrival. No part of him expected you to run, but there was a small, paranoid faction of his mind that had anticipated an attempt to distance yourself from him – a passing glance towards possible exits, a widening gap between you and him as you proceeded. Your eyes remained fixed on the floor in front of you, though, and you were never more than an arm’s length from his side. However Wriothesley had treated you, it had apparently not been with much leniency.

Finally, you reached his personal chambers. You paused for the first time as he ushered you through a pair of tall, wooden doors, but the hint of a scowl had you scurrying inside before he could think to flash his teeth. Still, you only made it a step or so into the room before coming to a halt yet again. Neuvillette didn’t have to imagine why. He was unable to dampen his grin as he followed your gaze to the far wall, or rather, to the four-poster bed slotted against it. He’d done the utmost to ensure your comfort, but rationally, he knew it wasn’t the Liyuan silk sheet or the down-stuffed comforter that had you so transfixed, nor the antique grand piano that stood some paces to the left.

No, as far he could tell, your eyes were solely locked onto the sleek, velvet-lined collar sitting on the center of the mattress, connected to the headboard by a thin, silver chain. He couldn’t be surprised that you were in such a state of shock.

Wriothesley had always preferred bronze.

“I suggest you get on the bed,” he started, a hand already moving towards the stiff collar of his suit. “You may undress if you wish, but I won’t force you to. Your cooperation is appreciated, but unnecessary.”

For a moment, you stayed where you were; motionless and quiet, trembling ever so slightly. For a moment, you didn’t do anything at all.

Then, with a quick nod and a sniffle of a sob, you moved towards the bed, as unhappy as you were obedient. It should’ve broken his heart to see you in such a state of distress, but for now, he could tolerate your misery, your scorn. It was only proper that a lover should be kept happy, but a mate’s discomfort could be tolerated.

And Neuvillette already knew you would make a wonderful mate.

[happyvalkyrieofdoom]

I think my trusty MP4 player that I’ve been using on an almost daily basis for about a decade is preparing for a happy retirement

[writing-mlm]

Blue-pilled man [D.W]

Summary: Sophomore year of college and life is good-- until Bruce invites your family to Thanksgiving. Thankfully your boyfriend is there to distract you-- wait, boyfriend??? Pairing: Damian Wayne x male!reader WC: 9.3k

A glitch in the system is what you’d considered yourself. There wasn’t supposed to be anything special about you, the middle child born from the rare chance the birth control didn’t work. The failed plan B. The unimportant middle child in a large family living along the West Coast. You hadn’t been anyone special, you hadn’t done anything remarkable with your life. 

You’d graduated high school and flew across the country to Gotham of all places. Low housing costs, honestly, was the only reason. You’d been going to Gotham University for what? Five or so months before you’d gotten an internship at Wayne Enterprise for your major in business. It was going fine, you met some other interns and made fast friends and went out with them as often as you could. 

Which is probably where you fucked up. You’d gone out to someone’s birthday party in a club, fake IDs locked in. It was fun, from what you could remember. And you were all going to head out since it was a Sunday— poor choice, you know but you went to use the bathroom when someone shoved some blue pill into your mouth. But at the time you were too drunk to care about what it was. It tasted like a mint though, so you assumed that’s what it was and thanked them for the breath mint before heading to meet your friends in the Uber. 

The next morning you woke up with a raging headache and the need to vomit. Unfortunately for you, you had a meeting with the Bruce Fucking Wayne. Apparently, he interviewed each intern a couple of months into their internship and it was your turn. Surprise!

But thankfully, it led to where you are now. 

As a Junior in college, you like to think you’ve been doing this long enough to get the hang of it. You’ve also been granted off-campus housing. Which was fucking amazing. You lived with one person and get this… he’s Bruce Wayne’s son! Honestly, for a nepotism baby, he was cool. 

Plus, he was Robin. So it made going out to fight crime at night so much easier, and his dad— your boss in more ways than one, always understood why you were late to work. But it also meant he called you whenever Robin was called in. 

“Player!” Robin shouts as you leap from roof to roof, leaving an animated dust cloud after you. “Player!” He repeats this time his voice cutting through your comms. “You’re going the wrong way!” He groans and you land on the roof, confused. He watches as you tap in the air and a holographic map pops up, taking over your field of view. 

   “Oh, shit!” You say, tapping a button on the bottom of the map and it shoots back to the corner it came from. “My bad, Rob!” Tapping on your waist bag, you see a selection of food and swipe to find a glowing lollipop. “Heading your way now!” Popping the lollipop into your mouth, you feel a surge over you and look down at your boots. There’s a green glow on them and you nod to yourself before jumping to the roof that was closest to him. 

He nods when he sees you following him, taking off towards the robbery happening at a local, beloved restaurant. 

“You think they’ll be open tomorrow?” You ask, catching up to Robin just as the two of you jump down from the roof and land across the block from the restaurant. “I was thinking we get some of their food for dinner tomorrow.” He glances at you then sighs, heading towards the restaurant.

   “Considering no one’s dead, yes.” He says once he's halfway across the block. You grin and catch up to him, already scanning through your inventory for where you kept handcuffs. 

—

“Do you reckon I could be a mad scientist?” You ask Damian as you walk into his bedroom, not even looking up from your laptop. “Or could I get roped into a cult? Am I cult material?” Sitting on his bed, you tuck one leg under you and let the other dangle off of the bed. “I don’t think I’m cult material, I’m not easy to peer pressure,” You mutter. 

   “No,” He sighs, setting his own laptop down next to him but he doesn’t close it. “You couldn't be a mad scientist but you would get sucked into a cult.” Gasping, you look up at him and blink. 

   “Nuh-uh! How?” Crossing your arms, you sit properly on his bed and shut your laptop. 

“You almost signed up for the Church of Scientology last week because they asked if you wanted to take a personality test. Every time you pass by a club that asks you to join, you sit on it for a week before declining because I remind you that you’re a full-time college student with a job and a vigilante!” He lists and you huff, throwing yourself onto his bed. “It’s not your fault, though. Growing up in an environment where you didn’t feel loved would lead to a person being more susceptible to a cult. They make you feel needed, wanted.” God, you hated that he had taken that psychology course. 

“Ouch,” You mutter, resting your hands on your stomach. Looking over at him, you see he’s gone back to doing his work. “Do you want me?” You ask and he glances up at you before looking back to your laptop. 

   “In my room? Depends on my mood.” He shrugs.

“In your life, I mean.” He looks at you this time, his hands ready to close his laptop. 

   “I do,” He gives one strong nod. “Considering I agreed to live with you until we graduate, I would hope I’d… enjoy your company.” Smiling, you look back to the ceiling. His ceiling is bare, although you can see the marks from the times you’ve thrown sticky balls to the ceiling and pieces got left behind. You wonder why he hadn’t taken those off yet. 

Damian’s room isn’t what you had expected it to be. He has various art materials set up around his room, an entire section of his room is dedicated to his pets like their beds and toys, and his walls are covered in various items. You see drawings, news clippings, posters of various famous people he enjoys, and a full-length mirror was nailed to the back of his door. He doesn’t have a rug, he says Alfred the cat likes to tear those up. But he does have a curtain that looks like a rug. 

Not to mention his swords. 

His bed is nice, too. Bruce had spared no expense furnishing the place, he’d gotten the best beds possible for the two of you. Damian preferred a firmer bed, he never liked the feeling of sinking into a bed and not being in control of that. He also needed space for his pets, since there was no rule about how many could sleep in his bed now that he no longer lived in the manor. Prior to moving in, you’d pegged him as a one-pillow type of guy. But he had an absolute mountain of pillows, most of which he didn’t even use. 

Tapping on the transparent food icon that was always in the corner of your eye, you watch as your inventory materializes above your body. You widen the bar into a grid and scroll until you reach a water bottle. 

“Want one?” You ask. “They’re cold.” He hums and you pluck two water bottles out from the bar and toss one to him. Of course, being Damian, he catches it without looking up from his work and you roll your eyes. 

   “Thank you,” He says as you close out your food inventory. 

Honestly, major fucking thank you to that blue pill guy. Whatever was in it had made you into your very own video game character. You could even change your appearance! It was so fucking cool, you could find random items lying around and literally create a bomb in two seconds! 

Not that you’ve ever done that. 

Sitting up, you take a slow sip of the water as Ace trots over to you and lifts his paw. Grinning, you pat the bed and he jumps up, bumping his nose to your arm as a greeting before curling up at Damian’s side. He glances down at his dog and mindlessly pets him along his spine. 

“Have you studied yet?” He asks, lifting his eyes from his screen to meet yours for a brief moment. Capping the bottle, you toss it back into your inventory and lean back on his bed. 

   “A little,” You admit. “Between jobs and class, I haven’t had time. Was gonna during break, though.” He raises an eyebrow and you shove his foot. “Sorry some of us won’t be visiting family and will have an entire week to do nothing!” 

“Oh, and where do you think you’re staying?” He asks, finally fully closing his laptop and setting it on his nightstand. 

  “Here,” You shrug as if the answer was obvious. 

    “Father wants you at the manor, he’s invited you to Thanksgiving,” This is news to you. Looking at him, you see Damian is looking at you before he turns his attention back to Ace. He’s old, you note. He’s gotten the powered face and you’re pretty sure he’s been sleeping on the sofa while watching late-night game shows. He even snores now. 

   “Oh, thanks so much for the heads up!” Scratching his backside, Ace’s leg kicks and you chuckle. His eyes crack open when you stop and he moves to nudge your hand, letting out a small howl. 

“Don’t be cruel, he’s old.” Damian gestures to the dog who’s doing his best to look like he’s about to cry. Where he learned that, you’ll never know. But you lay down properly on the bed and continue to pet him. Damian pets his head, and you just barely register that he probably doesn’t want you to smash his pillows underneath you. Adjusting yourself, you look around for Alfred. 

He’s awake in his cat tree, but his tail is slowly swishing in the air. A little harshly, you might add.

“Someone’s jealous,” You joke, and Damian follows where you’re looking. “Come and get pet, Alfred!” The cat lets out a chipper merwl and leaps from his place on the tree and onto the floor. There are two small thumps, one from the front paws hitting the floor and the second from the back paws. Alfred flicks his tail as he lands before jumping onto the bed in one big jump. 

He nudges your free hand and when you lift it, crawls underneath forcing you to pet along his back before he settles on your chest. One thing about cats is that despite their small size, when they’re sitting directly over your ribcage they all but quadruple in weight. 

“Ow,” You bite back a groan, closing one eye and slowly easing onto Damian’s pillows. “Lay down, please,” Whispering to Alfred, he blinks and then plops down as if his bones had just gone away. Chuckling, you pet wherever he asks and close your eyes. 

“Fathers texted,” Damian mutters, shifting down on the bed so he could comfortably lie down. “We’re patrolling tomorrow,” 

“Thank god, not tonight,” You huff, looking down at Alfred whose content on your chest. He’s purring loudly, and his front paws are neatly tucked under his body while his lower half is splayed out to the side. His eyes don’t leave your face, though. They’re half-lidded like he’s fighting sleep and you see his head rocking a bit. Scratching his forehead, he pushes his head further into your fingers and gives one lick before laying his head flat on your chest. 

“He likes you too much,” Damian chides. “He’s a traitor!” Alfred doesn’t miss a beat as he rolls to turn his back to Damian, letting out the loudest sigh he can muster in his very tiny body. 

   “He’s a baby!” You protest. “Ain’t that right, Alfie?” In response, Alfred flicks his tail once, slowly lowering it back down to your stomach. “See,” Looking over at Damian, you see him watching his cat with an almost envious glare before he looks at you. 

“You know it took me five hours to train him?” He asks as Ace gets up and jumps off of the bed. You watch for a second as he paws the door open before slipping into the hallway. Damian scoots a bit closer and raises his hand to pet Alfred. “He was totally feral before me.”

“Ah, so he was you before Bruce?” The tease is clear in your voice, your eyebrows wiggling and your chest shakes a little bit when you see his reaction. 

   “I wasn’t feral,” He bites, looking over at you. 

   “You stabbed your brothers,” You softly remind him and he scoffs, laying his head down on the same pillow you were using. But neither of you seems to notice or care. 

    “If they could get stabbed by a ten-year-old, they deserved it.” 

Alfred stands up, his back rising to comical heights before he spawns and stretches over to Damian. 

“Traitor,” You frown, rolling to your side and watching as he lays down on Damian, his tail curling under his body. 

   “He knows where home is,” Damian jokes, making you scoff. 

“I’m gonna go take a shit,” You mutter and press a kiss to Damian’s forehead. Somewhere in your mind, it was intended for Alfred, but you missed it and didn’t realize it until you were at the door. 

“I don’t mind,” Damian said when he noticed you had paused at the door. 

   “…Okay…” You hum and leave his room. It’s not like you’ll make a habit out of it. 

—

A week later you’re both in the apartment's living room, Damian is busy working on this art project he’s been working on and you’re cramming for your last final of the semester. You’re sure if you read another word in that stupid textbook you’re going to explode and huff, slamming it shut before tossing it onto the pile that had amassed on the floor. 

You need to do something else. Looking towards the kitchen you squint, food? No. Sighing, you look towards Damian. He’s focused on his drawing, you’d hate to disturb him. Your attention drifts down to your phone that’s vibrating on the coffee table. 

Perfect timing. 

You grab your phone and stand up before leaning down to kiss Damian’s cheek and say a quick “Call,” before heading into the kitchen to fix yourself a snack. 

Okay, so habits quickly form, according to your track record. 

Apparently, anytime either one of you leaves a room, you announce it with a kiss on the cheek or forehead— whichever is closer, and then the location. You’d actually grown to be fond of it. And it didn’t really affect your previous relationship with him. If anything, you spent more time with Damian now. Which seemed impossible considering you go to the same college, live in the same place, work at the same place, and fight crime together. 

But, still. It’s just bros being bros. 

“Hello?” You answer the call just before it stops ringing. Slipping the phone between your shoulder and ear, you open the fridge and lean inside for a better look. God, you need to go grocery shopping soon. 

   “God! I’ve been calling you for twenty minutes!” A woman shouts from the other end and you pull the phone from your ear and check the caller ID. It’s not saved and you don’t recognize it. Probably the wrong number. 

   “Who is this?” You ask, grabbing the butter tub and opening it. Yogurt-covered fruits. Jackpot. You set the tub on the counter and reach for a nearby bowl. 

“Your mother! Hello, this is (Y/n), right?” Standing up straight, you disregard the fruit and rush into the living room and wave to get Damian’s attention. He doesn’t notice and you almost shout at him; he’s Robin and he can’t tell when his best friend is literally silently calling out for help five feet away?

   “Hey, mom!” He looks up at that, slowly setting his pencil and sketchbook down. He mouths something but you don’t catch it between your blinking and pacing. “How’d you— how are you?” You cringe, biting your fist to stop yourself from speaking. 

“Horrible! Where are you? We’re in Gotham,” She huffs and you whip around to Damian, eyes wide and you’re so close to lowering yourself into a squat and banging your head on the table. 

  “You’re here! In Gotham!” Damian sits up properly, motioning for you to put it on speaker and you do, setting the phone on the table. “How long are you here?” You ask, tugging your hands down your face. 

“Two months,” Your mother answers and you swear you almost passed out right then and there. “Ujjwal, no! That place looks like it has bedbugs,” She huffs and your step-father starts to complain in Hindi. “Where are you?” She asks over the complaining. “We’re coming over!” 

“I dorm, actually!” You quickly spit out, covering your mouth immediately afterward. 

   “Ah, why don’t you have an apartment yet?” Your step-father asks. “You know, your sister, Nadia has a house.” He says, forgetting the fact that Nadia was 27 and had won the lottery before moving to the countryside and buying her own house with her roommate since elementary school. 

    “I know, abbā.” You strain. 

“I still don’t know why he went to Gotham for college,” He mutters and you wouldn’t have heard it had it not been for them being on speaker. 

“Come meet us!” Your mom demands. “We’re in front of Gotham Bright Hotel! Diana is tired.” 

“I’m busy, mom.” 

“Nonsense, come and pick us up!” She huffs. 

You at Damian, silently telling him see, crazy! He nods and thinks for a second before grabbing the TV remote and hurriedly opening YouTube. 

“I’m studying and I’m pretty busy,” You repeat, watching as he looks up Fire Alarm noises. “Just stay there. I heard it’s a go—“ The video plays and you thank god there wasn’t an ad and it’s loud enough to seem real. “Sorry, abbā, mom, I gotta go! Fire drill,” Hanging up, you sigh and press your forehead to the cold table. 

“Why are they in Gotham?” He asks, stopping the video. 

   “Fuck if I know,” You grumble into the wood. “I should get a new number…” Sitting down, you stare at your phone and groan. It’s not worth it. “I’m gonna take a nap, don’t wake me up until the sun comes up, please.” Getting up, you kiss his cheek and head to your room. 

—

It doesn’t take long for you to bump into your family. The very next day, in fact. Dick had all but begged you and Damian to come along with him and the rest of the Waynes to go and check out the tree they put in front of Gotham City Hall every year. Like the New York tree. Just way smaller and probably will be stolen before Christmas. 

You’re next to Damian, your hands stuffed into your big coat and your chin trying to retreat into your scarf watching as the crane lowers the tree. It’s already decorated in yellow and red ornaments, There’s some Gotham Vigilante ornaments, too, you note and grin when you see your insignia. 

“It looks nice,” You chitter to Damian who looks over at you. He laughs at your state and moves in front of you to fix your scarf. You watch him as he carefully unwraps it and measures it to an equal length. He does it incredibly fast and you hope one day you’re as good as him with— everything really. 

He looks back up at you and carefully draws the middle in front of your neck. He has to lean a bit forward to wrap the material around your neck but he doesn’t mind the fact that you can see your breaths mixing with the small gap he created. You don’t either, though. His fingers graze your neck as he tucks the scarf into itself before he admires his work and nods. 

“Thanks,” With a noticeably less chatter of your teeth Damian is satisfied with his work and stands next to you again. You peer over at Dick who’s grinning ear to ear, watching the tree and putting his phone back into his pocket. 

“He’s like a kid or something,” You laugh and Damian follows your eyes.

   “He’s up to something,” He shakes his head and glares at his brother. Feeling the glare, Dick looks over at the two of you and waves his hand wildly. “Suspicious,” Damian confirms to himself. You roll your eyes and look back to the tree. There are some people helping set it in place as it’s lowered. Hopefully, there are no bombs in it this year. 

“(Y/n)?” Several heads turn to the voice and you see your younger sister grinning and rushing over to you. She’s dressed in a fancy blue winter coat, the one with a small cape on the shoulders and white fur along the edges. 

   “Diana…!” Behind her, you see some other family members. Your parents, both your step-parents, your siblings, and two cousins with their mom. “Oh my god.” You whisper. In truth, you probably should’ve expected they’d be there. That’s your fault. 

“We should run.” You tell Damian and he considers it. But your mother must be the flash with how fast she’s in front of you. 

“Where’s your hat? And you don’t have gloves!” She immediately says while removing her gloves and holding your face for a second. She removes her hands as you try not to move away from her grip, then places the back of her head to your forehead then your ears. “You’re going to get sick!” 

“Is this your mother?” Bruce smiles as he stands behind you. 

   “Yes,” You nod, putting your hands in your pocket. 

    “I’m Bruce,” He introduces himself and holds his hand out. It doesn’t click fast for the others, but for Diana it does. 

“Like Bruce Wayne? So, you’re Damian Wayne, right?”

Diana’s eyes gleam as she asks and for some reason, it leaves a bad feeling in your mouth. You don’t like the way she looks at him and the idea of her touching him makes you angry. He notices, you don’t know how, and places a hand on your shoulder. 

   “Yes.” He nods. “And you are?” Her smile falters for a second and her eyes dart to you for a second. She composed herself and removed her hands from her pocket. 

    “Diana, his sister!” She holds her hand out for him as the rest of your family catches up. “He must’ve talked about me a bunch!” She flashes a grin to you. 

   “Not at all.” He shakes his head and turns to the rest of your family. You hide a grin and he shakes their hands, he already knows their names and he’s seen their faces before so it’s just a formality on his end. 

“I had already invited (Y/n) to Thanksgiving,” Bruce starts, getting everyone’s attention back to him. “Would you like to join?”

Oh god no. Please. 

Damian looks over at his father with barely hidden distaste as you stare at nothing. You know they’ll jump at the chance. They’ll ruin everything. 

“We’d love to!” Your father says as your stepmother nods in agreement. The rest of your family agrees and maybe it’s the cold air that makes it hard to breathe but for some reason, you can’t. You blink, trying to take in as much as possible but it’s hard and you’re sure you don’t have asthma. Not anymore at least. Subconsciously, you tug at your earlobe to try and calm down. 

“We need to leave now, though.” Damian cuts off your step-father as he’s about to speak. “We have finals to study for. It was nice meeting you.” He grabs your wrist from your ear and tugs you after him; you follow him without hassle until you’re back at the car Bruce had driven in. 

“I truly do not understand father's thinking. Inviting them without consulting with you was a brash and out-of-character thing for him to do.” He frowns, unlocking the car with the keys he snagged from Bruce’s pocket. You used to wonder how he did it, but you’ve learned to not truly question him and his methods. Just hope he teaches you then one day. 

   “Yeah,” Is the only thing you manage to say. Only Damian really knew about your family, the others just knew you weren’t very close with them. 

It was one night, you figured. You’ll be fine. 

—

Bruce had requested everyone be at the manor before noon, which to Damian reads as being at the manor by nine. It’s less than a two-hour drive from your apartment to the manor, so you had to be up since four in the fucking morning. Which, honestly, you didn’t mind all that much. 

It was a little homey just sitting with Damian in the living room and the sun wasn’t up yet, and then taking turns getting ready. It was nice. Different too. It almost distracted you from the fact that you were about to see your family.

“Is this okay?” You ask Damian as you enter his room, tugging at the hem of your sweater. He was already dressed, in a simple black shirt and brown pants but he made it look expensive. You felt stupid and like someone pretending to be important. God, your pants didn’t even fit right! You should probably go and change, find something from one of the gala’s you’ve attended. 

   “You look perfect,” He says as he removes your hands from the hem and locks your hands together to stop you from leaving. “Cuff the ends of your pants, perhaps.” He adds offhandedly. You frown and look behind him. He has a small bag packed and you look back at him. 

“I don’t wanna go,” You whisper, searching his face for a sign that he’ll agree and you’ll both stay in your apartment for the night. You won’t have to see your family and probably finally block them. He won’t have to deal with his brothers. It’s a win-win situation. 

    “Take this opportunity,” He says and lets go of one of your hands to grab his bag from his bed. “Show them how good you’re doing. You’re basically a Wayne, you’re above them in every way possible.” Shouldering his bag, he guides you to your room and hands you your bag. 

“But…” You bite your cheek and take the bag. “What if… I dunno— I do something stupid! I slip up and reveal everything… I’m probably better off just sitting there. Diana will do most of the talking anyway.” You huff the last part. “Did you see the way she acted? I mean, she definitely toned down the spoiled and entitled energy but still. She’ll probably try and get with you, too.” His face scrunches at the thought and it makes you laugh. 

   “You should know she’s far from my type.” He says as he checks his phone and you don’t really understand but you pretend you do. 

“Can you grab Alfred? Pennyworth is here.” Humming, you enter the living room and grab the carrier that Alfred is less than happy to be in from the table. You try and keep him as stable as possible while Damian gets Titus and the two of you head out. He locks the door and you add an extra measure from your toolbar before going to the elevator. 

“You’ll be fine,” He swears as the two of you step inside. There’s no one else in the elevator seeing how early in the day it is and all the students have already gone home. “Besides, I’m sure one of my moronic brothers will do something embarrassing and do all the talking for us. And Pennyworth has promised knafeh.” 

“I love knafeh,” He grins and steps out of the elevator. 

   “That’s why I asked him to make it.” And they call him a demon.

Following Damian, you spot Alfred waiting in front of the car with a warm smile. 

“Good morning, Mr. Pennyworth,” You greet him while giving him a one-armed hug. 

   “Good morning, Mr. (L/n),” He pats your back then moves to open the car door. “Young Master Damian,” He nods and Damian nods back. The two of you scoot into the car and you set the cage in front of your legs. Alfred meows when he realizes he’s going back to the manor and begins to scratch at the bottom of the cage. 

“I’m sure he misses the open space,” You comment, trying to peer down inside of the cage but you can only lean down so far without fearing you’d break your back. 

   “Alfred is truly a pampered cat,” Pennyworth says as he enters the car. “Buckle up.” 

The ride is spent with you and Damian discussing random topics from your next patrol to your finals. He had even gotten Alfred to join in on the topic and the two of them all but yelled at you to study for your finals. Eventually, you did cave and promised them you would and you just know Damian is going to hold you to that. 

“Now,” Alfred sighs as he parks the car in front of the door to the manor. “I have to retrieve your family along with Master Dick. Do not tell the others this, but I trust you two the most in the kitchen. Could you please continue my preparations?”

“Of course, Alfie!” You grin while Damian just nods. Alfred smiles and looks at the two of you through the rearview mirror.

   “Thank you, I have a list on the fridge. Simply follow it until I get back.” With the promise not to fuck anything up, the two of you head into the manor and quickly put your things into his room and let Alfred out. 

“You’re better with a knife,” You mutter as you read over the list on the fridge. A  list probably isn't even the right word for it. It’s four pages long and double-sided, explains what’s being made and the steps to make it and you’re not sure that’s even all of the papers he’s created. Alfred tends to go big for Thanksgiving, you think it’s because the Wayne’s hadn’t been a big family until Bruce got addicted to taking in kids. Not to mention now your family was joining. “I’ll season the food.” 

Damian peers over at the list as you move to wash your hands and sees that everything has a time next to it, they’re already a little behind schedule so he’ll need to work quickly. He’s sure that the two of you can catch everything back up to speed and hopefully allow Alfred some breathing room. 

It’s vegetables after vegetables for Damian. He’s sure he’s cut up an entire acre of carrots and onions by the time he sees the two cars pull up to the manor. You, on the other hand, are having fun mixing and mashing various foods. You just hoped it was to Alfred’s standards. 

You see both of the cars pull up and take that as your sign to wrap up whatever you’re doing and you wash your hands. 

“I’m a pro fucking chef,” You grin at Damian as he sets the last of the stuff he chopped into a bowl next to the sink. 

   “It smells good.” He agrees, watching as the cars pull to a stop just long enough for everyone to get out. Your family piles out of the cars and you cringe as Diana is quick to insist on a family photo. You, of course, are not included in it but that’s nothing new. That fact doesn’t do anything to satiate your mood, though. 

“Bathroom,” You say as you kiss his cheek and head down the hallway. He watches with a frown before he wipes his hands on the kitchen towel and decides he’s not going to greet your family at the door. 

He stops at the first-floor bathroom and hears the faucet running. He knocks on the door once with his index knuckle and hears the water stop running. 

“I’m going to be in the family library,” Looking up from your spot on the top of the toilet, you wipe your face and clear your throat. 

  “Okay, be there in a second.” 

—

Entering the family library, you’re glad your family wasn’t inside just yet. They were probably still taking pictures in front since god knows how many individual and group pictures they like to take. Damian is sitting on the middle couch, Titus and Ace are sandwiching him together but Ace moves when he sees you. Like he knows you’re going to sit there. 

It makes you smile and you greet Tim who’s on a chair, he gives a small wave without pulling his head out of his laptop. You wonder what case he’s working on, has to be important if Bruce couldn’t force him to keep it in his room. The others aren’t downstairs yet, so it’s just the three of you in the room. 

Damian moves his left arm to the top of the sofa as you sit down and only when you’re comfortable does he move it to lay across your shoulders. He doesn’t do that often, but whenever he does it’s a welcomed interaction. You lean into his touch, just a little. 

You hear them enter the manor, but you’re more focused on the fact that he started to play with the hair on the base of your scalp. He’s probably doing it on purpose, but you don’t care; you’re glad he does because you didn’t even realize they had entered the library until you felt him greet them. His shoulder bounces a bit as he nods to them. 

“Oh,” Nadia says and you look over at her. She says it in the same way you’d say oh when you catch onto something. But you’re not sure what she’s caught onto. Her roommate, Kendall, waves with her fingers and you wave back. “Hey, squirt.” Your eyes turn back to your sister and her hand that twitches to grab Kendall’s. 

“There you are!” Her hand snaps back to her side as your mother speaks. You sit up straight as you see your mother, you don’t know why. But it felt wrong leaning on Damian with your family there, you’ve never felt that way before. “Why didn’t you greet us at the door?” Your mother asks. 

   “I was busy.” You say, looking over your family. “How was the ride?” 

“No one shot at us,” Your cousin laughs, throwing himself onto one of the sofas. You cringe, watching the wood bend at the sheer force he’d thrown himself down with. “But there was this one lady with the only gyatt!” He says and oh my god, you’d forgotten he was a middle school boy. 

“How’s school going?” Your step-mother asks, sitting in your father's lap. Your mother eyes them and you try not to as well, but you’ve never liked them together. She’s twenty-five, hardly old enough to be with a man in his fifties. 

   “Good,” You hum. 

“So,” Diana grins as she crosses her leg over her right. “Damian, what’s it like— living in Gotham? I bet it’s scary.” She’s sitting on the sofa next to the one you’re on, but closer to Damian. You bet if your folks weren’t in the rooms she’d try and reach for his hand. You try and not to focus on that. 

   “It’s not,” He shrugs. 

    “Really?” She grins. “Because I was thinking of transferring to Gotham University!” She says and Damian’s fingers twitch along your back. 

   “It’s not scary for me, someone who isn’t used to life here will never make it.” He quickly adds and she frowns. 

“It can’t be that hard,” She waves her hand to you. “I mean, (Y/n) is doing fine and he’s… him!” She laughs as she says that and you look at your parents, they’re clearly listening to the conversation but as per usual, no one will ever stop Diana. 

   “What’s that supposed to mean?” Damian asks while leaning forward in his seat. 

“There you two are!” Dick shouts as he runs into the library. His eyes look between the two of you and he makes the same face he does when he sees a cute dog. 

   “Richard.” Damian greets. 

“Kori!” You gasp and rush over to the woman as she walks into the room. Damian grumbles something but stands up and follows after you. “Oh my god, Dick didn’t mention you were coming.” You glare at him but he holds his hands up. 

   “We wanted to keep it a surprise,” She laughs and holds onto his shoulder. “His father has the baby.” Two months ago, Kori had given birth to their daughter, Mari. You had yet to meet her, but Dick made sure to spam-send you photos whenever he could. 

“Aw!” You frown. “Why does that old man get to see the baby first?” Damian hides his laughter and you nudge his side with your hip. 

   “Because she’s my grandchild,” Bruce says as he walks in behind them. He walks next to Kori and you see her swaddled in a purple blanket, sound asleep. 

   “And I’m the godfather!” You remind him, looking down at Mari. 

   “As am I,” Damian reminds you and you roll your eyes, waving your hand at him.  

“Can I hold her?” You whisper, afraid you’d wake her up. Bruce nods and you grin, helping him slide Mari into your arms. “She’s so small,” Turning to Damian, he holds your shoulder with one hand, and the other scoops under the hand that holds Mari’s head. He’s trying not to smile in front of Dick but you can see it. 

   “She has your hair, Richard.” He notes, turning to his brother as he puts his phone back into his pocket as quickly as possible. He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t broach the topic. 

“And her mother's eyes,” Dick smiles at his wife. 

“Let’s sit,” Bruce says and you nod, unable to look away from Mari in fear of dropping her. Damian guides you back to your seats and you slowly lower yourself onto the couch. 

“She’s less fragile than you think,” He softly reminds you and you finally look away from her. Damian looks away from Mari and looks at you, his eyes flickering across your face before they settle on your eyes.

   “She’s so small, though.” You frown and he nods, moving some of your hair from your face. “Wanna hold her?” 

“Wish Jay took that much of an interest in her.” Dick frowns, watching the two of you. “First grandchild of the family!”

“Hopefully only grandchild for a while,” Bruce says as he unbuttons his jacket to sit comfortably. 

   “I doubt you’ll have a baby problem anytime soon.” Tim laughs, finally putting his laptop away. “Dickie is the only one of us to date a woman.” Dick laughs and Bruce genuinely has to think about it. Had he raised a home filled with gay people? Did he make kids gay? He’s one for four at the moment but he sort of wishes Duke and Cas would even the scores out a bit. No— he’s zero for five. He corrects himself, remembering Dick’s boyfriend from a few years back. 

   “Not true,” You cross your arms, oblivious to Bruce’s spiral. “Steph—“

“You know what I meant!” He rolls his eyes. “He’s the only guy in this family who’s dated a woman.” 

“No,” You shake your head while looking at Damian. “Didn’t you date uh… what’s her name? Nika?” He looks almost offended that you said that. 

   “(Y/n), she’s gay.” He corrects. 

“Alexis?”

“She was delusional.”

“Emiko?”

“Friends.” 

“Maxinne?”

“Friends. Why do you think I’ve dated these women?” The man himself walks into the library with Alfred. 

“…Jason…” You admit and he gives you a Are you fucking serious look. Jason looks confused for a second but he can get a hint of what’s happening based on Damian and Dick’s face. 

   “You believed Todd to tell you the truth of my love life?” He stresses and now you feel stupid. 

  “When you say it like that!” You huff, turning your head away from him. “I mean he also said you dated Jon.” 

“And that didn’t give you a sign he was lying?” He chuckles. 

“So, are you single?” Your mother asks and you catch Diana pretending not to listen but she leans in closer. 

   “No.” Damian answers in a tight tone and you frown. 

   “No?” You echo and he looks at you, bewildered. 

“No shot,” Jason laughs, his head tilted. “You two with me.” He points between the two of you and you look between his family, a similar look spreading across their faces. What the fuck is going on? But you follow Jason after Damian handed Mari back to Dick. He doesn’t look happy, you note as he walks two paces ahead of you; something he hardly ever does. 

Jason guided the two of you into a smaller library that Bruce uses when he’s having meetings. You stand on the carpet while Damian stands close to the fireplace. 

 “Damian,” Jason says as he closes the doors. “Are you single?” 

“No.” He snaps. 

“(Y/n),” He turns to you. “Are you single?” 

“Yes…?” You trail. “Why?”

“Figure it out!” Jason laughs and then leaves the room. Staring at the door, you sigh and sit on the couch, leaning your arms on your legs. 

“(Y/n),” Damian calls. “Why didn’t you tell your family we’re together?” His voice is smaller than before and he doesn’t look at your face, like he’s ashamed. 

   “We’re what?” You shout, your head snapping over to him. “Dude, since when?” He realizes it then and now it makes sense. 

“You kissed me.” He stresses and sits down across from you. 

    “Yeah, on the cheek!” You roll your hand. “That’s normal and totally not romantic!” He crosses his arms and you shrink into your seat under his gaze. 

   “Do you kiss all of your friends?” He asks, an eyebrow raised in the air. You humor it for a second, thinking about kissing one of your college friends on the cheek like you did with him. It seemed gross, wrong. As if it was some sort of violation. That those kisses between you and Damian were sacred and to even think about it with someone else was somehow an act against god. 

“Well, no,” You blink down to the floor.

   “Then why me?” He asks. You don’t understand at that moment, but when you look back on the conversation you realize he was guiding you to an answer you already knew. 

    “I mean, it just feels right with you.” Looking back at him, he’s smiling and his eyes are bright. “But I’ve never liked a guy before.” You admit, taking in a deep breath. “I dunno how to be in a gay relationship.”

“It’s the same as any other relationship.” He reassures you. “If that’s what you want.” He adds, holding your hand. You look at your hands together and smile. Do you want that?

You imagine yourself, going on dates with him and announcing each other as your boyfriend. Kissing him. Like actually kissing him. And it makes your face hurt with how much you’re smiling. You’re giddy, like some kid with a crush and you feel stupid for not putting two and two together sooner. 

“I think I do.” You look at him and hold his hand back. “I do.” You nod. “I want that— this.” 

“Good,” He sighs, his shoulders relaxing. “Because my family already knows.” He admits and you look at the door. Jason is probably still there, listening and reporting back to the others. 

   “Do you want other people to know?” You ask. “I know you consider your private life… private.” 

“I would love nothing more than to introduce you as my partner.” He says, his thumb rubbing against your flesh. 

    “If I knew you liked me this much before I would’ve made a move sooner,” You laugh, looking between his eyes. He rolls his eyes and stands up, pulling you with him. 

Once you’re on your feet, he holds you by your hips and you don’t exactly know what to do with your hands. You settle on holding his waist, you’ve never realized just how toned he was. 

“Can I?” He asks, bringing his left hand up to brush against your bottom lip. Understanding what he’s asking, your heart hammers in your chest as you nod. “Use your words, Habibi.” 

“Yes.” You nod feverishly and he dips in without a second thought. His left hand cups your face, trying to pull you closer and you’re doing the same with his waist. Digging into his skin, you’re sure your lips are going to bruise with how needy you’re kissing him. It’s almost shameful how easily you’re crumbling under his touch. Your stomach is doing tricks that only Dick could perform and for some reason, you don’t know why you didn’t do this sooner. 

Never has a kiss felt this good, this right. His right hand moves from your hip and travels up, surely messing up your shirt but that’s a worry for another time. You can only focus on how it’s now holding the back of your head, his nails dragging across your scalp and you can’t help the noise that comes out. 

“Oh?” He utters against your lips. You laugh and take the time to catch your breath, looking between his eyes, listening to your shared panting. 

   “Again?” You’re almost pleading, your eyes stuck on his lips. 

    “Of course.” This kiss is different, it’s less of a release and more of a we have all the time in the world now type of kiss. It’s slow and it’s tender, you feel all the details in his lips and how yours moves against his. This one feels like a hum you’ve known all your life and it’s wonderful. 

This time, your hands find his hair and you don’t realize it, but you’re dragging your nails across his scalp and playing with his hair. He does, though. It makes his heart hammer and he moans into the kiss, unable to do anything but focus on you. 

“Alright, that’s enough!” Jason says as he opens the door. Without breaking the kiss, you open your hot bar and with pure muscle memory, grab the water gun and spray him until he leaves. Damian laughs, pulling away from the kiss, and looks at Jason who’s trying to avoid getting sprayed but it seems like Damian’s rubbed off on you more than you realize it because damn, even when he moves you’re still hitting him!

He looks back to you and you’re still looking at him, your pupils blown wide and he can feel the light panting coming from you. Your lips are glossy, coating in both of your spit and he’s sure his are too. He can get used to that. 

“We should head back,” He reasons, lowering your water gun. “Before father sends Grayson and he starts crying like before.” Throwing the gun back into your hot bar, you give him a questioning look. “When I announced we were dating… he cried.” 

“You’re joking?”

“Unfortunately not.” He rolls his eyes and stands up straight, fixing his clothes and his hair. You do the same while Jason is going on about cleaning up the water and having to change. There’s no water on the floor, you note as you walk out of the library. None on the walls either. Every single one of them hit Jason. 

Back in the family library, you return to your seats and Tim is the first to notice both of your elated moods. It’s more visible on you, but it’s harder to spot with Damian. It’s more of a feeling he gets, his face is as neutral as he can be when he’s around you but he’s so clearly happy. His steps are different, he imagines if he had less dignity he’d skip around the manor. The two of you settle in your seats and he’s pleasantly surprised to see you lean into Damian without a care of who else is in the room. 

He’d gotten the text, along with every other sibling from the NO BRUCE!!! group chat. Jason, only seconds after closing the door had told everyone that you didn’t know of your own relationship. Safe to say you knew now. 

Tim looks at your family and the only happy one seems to be Nadia. She’s a somber type of happy, though. She’s happy for you, but she can’t bring herself to be half as bold as you are and it hurts. Diana is trying to wrap her head to a different conclusion, she’s holding onto hope that you’ll be pushed away. It almost makes him laugh. Your older brother is in his own world, as he’s always been. He’s quiet, hardly noticeable but it seems to be on his own devices as he had picked the furthest seat from everyone. 

But it seems to be from more of an air of misplaced pride than anything. His nose is turned up and he’s wearing an expensive suit. But it’s clearly not his, Tim would know. If there’s the money to splurge on that type of suit there’s always a tailor to get the proportions right. 

Then there’s your half-sibling, from your father's side. She’s around ten and he wonders just when did your parents separated. Then he remembers there’s a seventeen-year age gap between the oldest and the youngest of your siblings. She’s sleeping, her head on her father's shoulder and the forgotten iPad discarded on her lap, about to fall off and hit the carpet. 

Your father sees the two of you and looks at your mother who’s trying to keep her calm around the company— rich company at that. Tim doesn’t know why, but if he were them, he would at least try and pretend as if he’s happy for the relationship. Their son was dating the richest bachelor in the world and could very possibly give them a comfortable life. But he doesn’t think they see the bigger picture. 

And yet, despite the clear disgust throughout your family, no one says a single word. The entire library is silent save for Mari and the two of you, talking as if no one else is in the room. 

He wants to gag. 

“Kids,” Bruce says as he sits straight in his seat. “Could you leave us for a moment? I’d like a word with the adults.”

“Half of us are adults,” You chide and he gives you a look. 

   “A word with the parents.” He corrects. 

    “I’m still in, baby!” Dick silently cheers to not wake Mari. But it only makes Bruce sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose. 

   “A word with (Y/n)’s parents and aunt. Alone.” He stresses. Curious as to what he’s up to, and mostly afraid of what’s going to happen while you’re gone, you open your hot bar without causing too much attention to yourself. The Hotbar is only visible to yourself, so no one sees the vast list of gadgets you pull up and quickly find the listening device Tim created. 

   “Don’t need to ask me twice,” You grumble and stand up, pulling Damian up after you. 

Jason and Tim are already out of the room, there any fewer interactions and they’ll jump at the opportunity. Dick and Kori, despite wanting to enjoy the snow in the yard with the others, retreat to Dick’s room to nap while Mari is sleeping. 

You hold the door open for your siblings and cousin, but Damian sees you place the device on the door and raises an eyebrow

“(Y/n),” Bruce says in a low tone. Of course, he’d seen it, too. 

“Gotta go!” You urge and slip out of the room. 

—

Diana, alone in the yard as her family had drifted away, finds herself bored and honestly, she’s at Wayne Manor and she just has to show off. She hasn’t posted the pictures yet, she still needs to edit them so no one knows she’s there. And she’s sure her followers would love to see a snowy Wayne manor. 

Thankfully, the wifi was stable enough in the backyard that the connection for her Instagram Live was crystal clear. 

She waits until she sees five digits on the view counter before he even starts speaking. 

“Hey, guys!” She waves at her phone. “Bruce Wayne invited my family to his manor for Thanksgiving! Super grateful for that,” She nods towards the large manor and then at the comments, begging to see the man in question. “He’s inside, talking to my parents. But his kids are here too! I think Damian went into the maze…” She looks off to the green hedges coated in a thick layer of snow. “I’ll go and find him.”

She flips the camera around, and her viewers watch as she walks inside. She doesn’t notice right away, but nearly gasps when she sees she has just over two million people watching. Maybe you are good for something, she almost laughs. 

It takes about twenty minutes of aimlessly walking before she finds the center of the maze. The two million viewers had gone down to just a million but she’ll take it. 

“I think that’s it,” She mutters, seeing a clearing of bushes. It’s incredibly cold, so she’s shivering and her teeth are chattering but she can’t blame herself! She’s not used to snow. “There’s Damian!” She whispers, seeing his head of hair sitting on a bench. Pointing her phone in that direction, she decides it’s better to hide herself and look through her phone. 

From what people can see, Damian is sitting next to someone. They can’t tell until she turns the phone a bit more and it’s you. Gotham citizens know you, of course. Over the past couple of years, everyone in Gotham knows the two of you are friends but no one really cares to post about it. 

She rolls her eyes, of course, you’re still stuck to his side. The two of you are talking, but you’re too far away for Diana to hear the conversation. You’re laughing, though and Damian is explaining something. Your laughter slows down and the two of you just sorta of look at each other. 

Damian asks something and you scoff, looking away before he grabs your chin and leans in. The viewer count is going up and before Diana can fully process what’s happening, the two of you are kissing. Honestly, she’s furious! You knew she liked him, she’s sure of that. This— whatever game you’re playing is just to get at her. She’s sure of it. But she can’t act on it, the views are around eight million and she doesn't want Damian to think she’s crazy. 

He’s holding you dearly, it’s the gentlest he’s ever touched a person before and you’re proud to say you’ll be his first and only. 

His lips detach for yours and trail down to your chin. 

“Habibi,” He mutters and you shudder, feeling the vibrations against your neck. Honestly, at that moment you genuinely could not give a single fuck about your family. About their feelings towards you, about the ways they treated you growing up, and about them. As people. Each and every one of them, none of them could ever compare to this. 

Thank that blue-pilled man, seriously.

[vixensdungeon]

Alright, time to talk about one of the hot button issues in D&D today: skills, and how they've evolved over the 50-year lifespan of the game. We'll start, of course, from the beginning.

Dungeons & Dragons (1974)

So there actually isn't a skill system here. But the primordial origins are there, in the various neat little procedures of adventuring. Firstly there are languages. Humans know the "common tongue," which at this point isn't a single language, it just refers to the local Lingua Franca. I think all non-human player characters are assumed to be in 20% of other creatures who speak the language along with their own one. You also know an alignment language (Lawful, Chaotic, or Neutral), and one additional creature language for every point of Intelligence above 10.

NPC reactions. This is rolled on a simple 2d6 table for recruiting hirelings. Another 2d6 table is for monster reactions.

Surprise rolls. There are no stealth or perception skills, and adventurers are simply assumed to be sneaking around while in dungeons, with surprise rolled when monsters are encountered.

Doors can be listened at and secret doors found, with simple d6 rolls.

There's also a chance of getting lost in the wilderness, which sort of implies a general ability to not do so in most situations.

And that's basically it! You can already see several different skills we know today forming in the primordial soup.

But you feel like something is missing, right? Ah, of course! We must take a little detour to

Greyhawk (1975)

Did you know that in the original game, the only classes were fighting man, magic-user, and cleric? That's right, the now classic thief would not be introduced until the first supplement! And with them came for the first time actual named skills.

Thieves could open locks, remove traps, listen for noise, move silently, pick pockets, and hide in shadows. Additionally they could read languages, treasure maps, and even magical scrolls at higher levels.

Now, these skills are only for thieves, so what are other characters to do? Well for most of them, nothing. It simply is not a fighter's job to pick pockets, or a cleric's job to open a lock. Certainly an item can be forcefully taken from an NPC, and a door bashed open, so they are not completely helpless in these tasks. But the thief simply excels at doing such things with superior ability and grace. And of course any character can hear noises behind doors, thieves are simply better at it. Moving silently and hiding are two slightly odd skills, as they overlap with surprise rolls but don't interact with them. It can be assumed that a thief moving silently can scout ahead and report back without actually encountering the monsters they find, and a hiding thief can let wandering monsters pass by even when there isn't sufficient cover (as only shadows are needed, other characters can obviously still hide behind cover if they are aware of the need to do so). Other characters can also climb using ropes and other tools, but won't be able to climb sheer surfaces unaided like thieves can, so again the thief can simply do something general in a superior manner.

There are many classes with their own skills to be found in various magazines, but I'm not going to dig through them. So let the totality of original D&D skills be the above.

Next time: we get Advanced

[corroded-hellfire]

Prompt Day 17: "This One's For You."

Word Count: 1k

Rating: G

Pairing: Eddie x Reader

CW: None

Summary: Snowed in during a blizzard, Eddie’s daughter Eliza proves just how like him she is.

@corrodedcoffinfest

[As You Wish masterlist]

Eddie hasn’t taken many classes in his life, let alone any philosophy ones, but he couldn’t help but ponder one philosophical question these last three days: how long can someone be locked in the same house as two teenage boys and a four-year-old girl before they go absolutely insane?

The blizzard outside had sealed the five of you in the house together for the third straight day now and it’s becoming maddening. There are only so many activities one can do with a four-year-old that will, one, hold their attention, and two, not make you want to tear your hair out after an hour. 

Some of the things you’ve done as a family have been very entertaining, like when you all played Pretty Pretty Princess and somehow Eddie kept winning and Ryan and Luke were having a great time adorning him with the pink plastic jewelry. The pictures you took of that will forever be cherished—as long as you can keep them out of your husband’s hands. 

Having Luke and Ryan try to teach you how to play some of their favorite video games was amusing as well. The boys more so than the game, though. It quickly became apparent to you that your sons do not possess the patience to teach anything to anyone—let alone a first-person shooter game where they expect you to master the use of a dozen buttons on a controller that you’ve never held before. 

“I don’t think this Hollow game is for me,” you say after “Master Chief,” as your kids called him, gets killed for the fourth time.

“It’s Halo!” both boys shout, one on each side of you so you get it in stereo.

It takes all your willpower not to laugh as you press your lips tightly together to suppress a smile. You remembered the name of the game the second time they told you, now you’re just messing with them. 

An afternoon of you and Eliza looking through an old photo album springs to life an idea in her little mind.

“That Daddy?” she asks, pointing to a picture of Eddie in action up on stage. He’s in the middle of headbanging, so his curls are flying wildly around his head.

“That’s Daddy,” you tell her. “Being a rockstar, showing off in front of everyone.” You smile down at your daughter before playfully poking her in the belly. “Reminds me of you.”

Eliza’s eyes light up at the comment and you can’t help but wonder what sparked in that head of hers. 

“Be back!” she shouts as she hops off the couch. Her tiny feet make thunderous booms as she runs down the hallway, calling out for her brothers. “Ryan! Luuuuuke!”

After dinner, the four-year-old instructs you and Eddie to sit on the couch and to stay still and wait for her. Keeping quiet, you and your husband trade amused looks until the door to the pink princess room opens, and Eliza re-emerges, decked out in her Tinker Bell costume from Halloween. On each of her small legs is a black sock that clearly belongs to Ryan. They are also clearly meant to be knee socks, yet they go up the small girl’s thighs. Finishing up her ensemble is her pink Piglet sunglasses. 

Gripped in her tiny fist is the music player with a microphone that she was gifted as a toddler. The way she enters the room with all the gravitas and confidence of a model walking the runway almost makes you think you’re the one who’s dressed unconventionally. 

Behind her, Ryan has a toy guitar that has been passed down through all three children tucked under his arm and Luke carries the gray garbage pail from the bathroom in one hand and a CD in the other. 

While Eliza takes her place front and center before you and Eddie, Ryan positions himself behind her, yielding the spotlight. 

Luke steps over to the stereo and pops in the CD he was holding before following his big brother’s lead and assuming the position behind the star of the show. Ryan tugs an ottoman over to sit on, the toy guitar resting on his knee while Luke sits on the floor and flips the garbage pail over so he can use it as a drum.

“Are you ready?” Eliza asks, mouth right up against the yellow plastic of her microphone.

“Yeah!” you exclaim.

“Woo!” Eddie cheers. 

“Hit it!” Luke says. 

The music begins, notes floating over from the stereo to this impromptu performance space. It takes a moment, but you recognize the song before Eliza starts singing Part of Your World.

The CD turns out to be a compilation of different Disney songs covered by Disney Channel stars, and Eddie makes a mental note to ask you why the hell you bought that for her. 

Ryan and Luke are surprisingly into it, having fun performing while their little sister hams it up. They’re like their own little version of Hanson. 

The instrumentals of the next song drift through the air and Eliza tosses her pink sunglasses aside and points at Eddie.

“This one’s for you!” she shouts, which is very mismatched with the slow, melodic tune that’s playing. 

You rest your head on your husband’s shoulder as your little girl starts to serenade him with her rendition of Go the Distance from Hercules. 

Once she sings the last note (and you hide your wince as best as possible), Eliza lets the yellow microphone fall from her hand. She bends at the waist, bowing so far down that her curls flip over her head and brush the navy carpet. 

It’s your cue, so you and Eddie both clap, cheering for the adorable performance.

Luke stands and takes a bow next, and Ryan figures he might as well follow his lead. 

Eddie whistles and a rare blush tinges Eliza’s cheeks. 

“Thank you!” she calls, arms raised over her head, addressing her crowd.

The true daughter of a rock star. 

“Goodnight!”

[sc0tters]

All For Us - Nico Hischier & Jack Hughes

summary: when Jack walks in on you and your boyfriend things that a turn when he is invited in to join.

request: yes/no

warnings: mature themes, p in v (unprotected), oral (fem and male receiving), swearing, mild use of degradation (slut mentioned once).

word count: 2.71k

authors note: this was an idea I’ve been working on for days and I loved it. If nobody asks for that bucket list part I might actually cry… Kei this is the full thing of what I’ve been showing you! Part of me thinks I’ve forgotten how to write smut so if this was shit I’m sorry!

Nico swore you were his little goddess.

It seemed like everything he threw in your direction you succeeded at, and this was no different. With the team making playoffs Nico felt like it was his job to host the celebration for it.

And who better to be in charge of planning than his girlfriend of eight months, you. Luckily for Nico it was a job that you always did well at but tonight you seemed to hit it out of the park “you did so good baby.” Nico mumbled into your ear as his lips nipped at your neck.

The two of you were stood in the back of your shared apartment watching as his teammates interacted with their girlfriends, wives and other teammates “stop it Neeks.” You warned sending your boyfriend a serious look as he wrapped his hands around your waist.

You had been on your period for the last week and the week before that the boys were away for ten days. So to say that Nico felt deprived and horny “nobody would notice if we just went back to our bedroom.” The captain pointed out tracing his fingers on your stomach as it sent shivers up your spine.

It made you shiver “behave,” you shook your head pulling his arms off of your stomach as you stepped away “hi Jacky.” You smiled locking eyes with younger hockey player as he walked back inside of the apartment.

Jack tried to hide the fact that he had a crush on you “h-hi,” he stuttered cheeks turning pink.

The boy never said that he was good at hiding that. But in Jacks defence he was actually the one who introduced you to Nico when you were still in college working as a bartender in your free time “baby don’t punish me!” Nico groaned watching you wrap your arm around Jacks.

You turned your head to face your boyfriend as you stuck your tongue out at him “so what have you been up to?” You asked giving the Hughes boy your attention once more.

Part of you would have been proud to say that you lasted two hours before Nico’s advances came out on top “don’t you want me to make you feel so good?” Nico proposed digging his thumbs into your sides causing you to let out a whimper “you think you can get through this in twenty minutes?” You shot back scratching his jaw as you leaned against the counter.

It made the boy scoff “I could make you come in two.” He mumbled into your ear as you pushed off of the counter “gonna hold you to that.” You wanted to hate how Nico could get you feeling horny but as he pushed your buttons you knew you loved how well he knew you.

Nico smirked as you locked your hand with his “not a word,” you grumbled shaking your head as you pulled him in the direction of your room.

You sent one final look to your friends who were all so focused on themselves “think you can be quiet?” You asked making your boyfriend laugh.

His hands were on your hips as he pushed you past the door letting it shut behind you “you’re the one who is going to fucking scream.” Nico’s warning made your thighs clench together.

As you both made your way into your bedroom you dropped to your knees grabbing at his belt “uh uh baby,” Nico clicked his tongue as he took your hands in his “said this was for you.” The hockey player mumbled placing his hands on your shoulders giving you a soft push before your knees hit the corner of your bed forcing your upper body to land on the mattress with a bounce.

Nico took in the sight of your body as he smiled letting his fingers dance over the waist of your shorts “don’t tease me Neeks,” you begged getting cut off as his lips hit yours.

He swore he was going to melt tasting your cherry lipgloss on your lips “so fucking pretty.” Nico gasped pulling away as he went to focus his attention in your shorts.

You didn’t know what to grab as he hooked his finger in the band of your shorts taking your panties with it letting the fabric drag along your legs “so pretty.” The hockey player repeated blowing warm air on your slit as he went face to face with it “don’t make me wait.” You whined trying to drive your pussy in the direction of his face.

The hockey player rolled his eyes wrapped his arms around your thighs pulling you closer to him “don’t start thinking you’re in charge all of a sudden.” Nico warned not giving you enough time to argue back before he let his tongue lay flat against your slit as he licked the line from your pussy to your clit.

You gasped locking your fingers in his hair “oh god,” your eyes went wide as he sucked at your sensitive nub “it’s just me baby.” Nico spoke against your core sending shivers up your body.

That accompanied by his fingers that began to thrust into your pussy made you moan “don’t stop.” You begged grinding your hips against his face.

The sound of him sucking on your clit was like music to your ears as it was accompanied by his gaze that you felt in your soul “want you to look at me.” The boy mumbled punching your clit with his other fingers so you’d look at him “fuck Neeks.” You cried only begin able to watch him for a few seconds when his tongue went back to working on your clit.

After only a few weeks of being sexually active with you Nico learnt that the way to get you to your high the fastest was to have you watch him eat you out. There was something about having him stare back at you that made you come so much quicker “they can’t hear you over the music baby.” He reminding you as your hand slapped over your mouth.

As much as Nico wanted you to go all night he knew he only had a few minutes before someone would start thinking things “I’m gonna come.” You announced driving your head into the mattress as your hands gripped at the sheet beneath you.

It made Nico smile “let go for me baby,” his words were like music to your ears as you cried out in pleasure with your body shaking as you came.

Like always Nico helped you through it before you pulled his head up from between your thighs “you did so good baby,” he cooed capturing your lips in a kiss as you moaned teasing your release on his tongue.

The moment was one of many that you two usually shared after sex “oh shoot,” the door to your bedroom opened causing you both to whip your heads around to see Jack stood at your door “I should call you back.” He added quickly hanging up the phone as you two locked eyes with him.

It didn’t take Jack long to see that you weren’t wearing panties making his cheeks grow red as he froze with fear “you want him to stay for round two?” Nico asked turning his attention back to you.

Nico wasn’t one for sharing usually so it surprised you “really?” You cocked your head as he smirked “know you wanted a threesome for a while now.” Nico let his lips move down your neck “who better than to have it be the boy with a crush on you?” His words sent a chill down Jacks spine.

He had been caught.

You sent Jack a smile “why don’t you shut the door and come in?” You cocked your head being all friendly as Nico got up “you can suck him off.” Your boyfriend explained as he pecked your lips “this pussy is off limits,” he explained cupping your core as you gasped.

Jack almost felt jealous seeing how your boyfriend didn’t have to try hard to make you feel as good as he did “you’re gonna work for your second one tonight.” Nico’s words made you smile. You were getting your second favourite position tonight.

Reverse cowgirl was arguably one of your favourites as he had you bouncing your ass on his lower stomach as his fingers dug so hard into your sides you swore you were going to have bruises the next day.

As Jack walked closer you pulled him down by the collar of his shirt as you kissed his lips. It was softer than what you were used to with Nico but you also thought that the boy was probably holding back because your boyfriend was watching you “help him get undressed baby.” Nico ordered from behind you as he now lay naked on your bed.

You got off of your bed as you smiled “not fair having so many items on now is it?” You asked batting your eyelashes at him “fuck no.” Jack grunted as your hands undid his belt.

There was minimal lipgloss left on your lips but it had now been replaced by your come that Nico had on his tongue “you’re so hot.” The younger boys confession made you smile as his boxers hit the floor revealing his cock that hit his torso. From behind you the sound of Nico’s soft grunts could be heard as he obviously found this situation hot.

Jacks shirt was the last thing to go as you threw it across the room before he cupped your cheeks pulling you into another kiss “think you’re in too much now.” His voice was low as you raised your arms letting him pull your shirt over your head leaving you in your red bra that Nico loved “my dirty little slut knew she was gonna get fucked didn’t she?” Nicos voice reminded you that he was there.

You nodded letting out a whimper when Jack used one hand to undo your bra “fuck me.” His eyes went wide seeing your pierced nipple.

It was a surprise for Nico during one of the road trips “she loves getting her nipples sucked.” Nicos words shot to your core as you rubbed your thighs together watching Jack lower his head to wrap his lips around your nipple “fuck Jack,” you moaned tugging your fingers in his hair.

His tongue swirled around the sensitive peak letting the taste of the titanium bar linger on his tongue before he decided that he had enough “go sit on your boyfriends cock f’me.” He ordered taking you by surprise.

Nico let out a grunt when you didn’t move “listen to him princess when he tells you to do something.” Your boyfriends words made you turn around to him as you nodded making your way back over to the Swiss man on your bed.

You swung you leg over his torso bringing his cock up to tease your clit before you let your warm pussy sink down onto his cock swallowing it whole “fuck baby.” Nico moaned digging his fingers into your hips as you began to bounce on his cock.

Jack watched the situation in awe “c’mere Jack,” you whimpered opening your eyes as your hands gripped at your boyfriends thighs beneath you.

The Hughes boy made his way to you stopping between his captains legs “you think it’s hot watching your captain fuck his girlfriend?” You asked barely getting the words out before a moan left your lips hearing Nico grunt from behind you.

You ran your hand over his cock palming it as you waited for an answer “so hot,” he gasped when you removed your hand “don’t tease me,” Jack warned at your little kitten licks at his cock.

A smirk on your face was short lived when Nico landed a smack to your ass “when he asks you to do something baby you do it.” Nico ordered causing you to nod “sorry Neeks.” You mumbled letting your lips form a pout.

Your boyfriend laughed “don’t apologise to me,” he shook his head “apologise to the boy you’re about to suck off.” His coarse voice made you clench around his cock.

Jack ran his fingers through your hair as they formed a makeshift ponytail at the base of your hair “‘m sorry Jack.” You frowned continuing to bounce on your boyfriends cock “you know how to make it up to me pretty girl.” Jack voice had your pussy squeezing around your Nico’s cock as your lips wrapped around Jack’s.

The Hughes boy let out a grunt “see how lucky I am Jack?” Nico asked turning his attention to his teammate who was enjoying how your mouth took his cock.

Jack nodded seeing how you looked through your eyelashes “makes me feel spoilt knowing that I get this everyday.” Nico smirked as your moan was swallowed by Jack’s thrusts that went deeper into your throat ��whenever I want.” He added clearly wanting to remind his teammate that you were still Nico’s and that he was sharing you for the night.

You honestly had to make a mental note to make Nico jealous sometime if he was going to talk like that as he fucked you as dirty talk was a totally new territory for you two “would have kept her a secret.” Jack confessed as you swirled his cock around with your tongue.

Nico let out a laugh “had to give my girl what she wanted.” Nico found your sex bucket list a month into your relationship and he decided that he would spend the rest of it helping you tick things off. The next thing on the list was sex in a public space and he had just the idea for that.

Both boys went quiet shortly after that as it was clear you were getting close as you were still sensitive from your first orgasm “you getting close baby?” Nico grunted feeling you clench around his throbbing cock.

Your head bobbed Jack’s as you nodded letting out a whine “just a little bit longer,” Jack was getting close but it seemed that neither boy wanted to come before you.

The air in the room was hot as the sound of skin slapping and male grunts bounced off of the walls “fuck baby.” Nico groaned hearing your gurgles around his teammates cock.

Neither boy thought that they could last much longer “I’m gonna come,” you cried feeling your vision go blurry.

Jack took over thrusting his cock into his hand “come on my face.” You barely got those words out coherently as Nico practically fucked you into oblivion.

Your orgasm hit you like a truck as your body shuddered “shit baby,” Nico was right behind you as your pussy clenched around him squeezing his cock as he shot his release into your pussy.

That finally gave Jack the green light as he shot his hot ropes of release spurting it onto your face with most of it landing in your mouth “swallow it baby.” Nico ordered smiling as you listened to him before you stuck your tongue out to show both boys that you had listened.

Nico slid his cock out of you placing you onto the bed as he got up “I’m gonna put you in the bath tell everyone you weren’t feeling well.” Nico explained seeing as your fucked out look was no state for you to be interacting with your friends.

You nodded sending Jack a smile as Nico picked you up “have a nice night Jack.” You send him a salute as Nico made his way to the bath tub that sat in your bathroom.

It had been about twenty minutes since Nico went back outside that he then came back into your bedroom “you have fun tonight?” Nico asked crouching down next to your bath.

Often times when he came back from road trips he’d sit by the tub catching you up on whatever the team did “thanks for letting that happen.” You nodded puckering your lips as you signalled that you wanted one “for you I’ll complete that list in a heartbeat.” Nico listened to your request as he pecked your lips.

“So what should we do next then?”

[thedevilrisen]

Prompt Celly - Day Three

Trevor Zegras x Y/N

Description: "Is now a bad time to tell you I'm claustrophobic?" ... "god, here -hold my hand"

A/N: I hope you enjoy! Would be greatly appreciated if you could reblog. I love talking to people so say 'Hi' if you want to. Feel Free to send in requests as well. I'm happy to write for most hockey players.

Warnings: None, I don't think! It should be all fluff and a bit of friendly banter.

-Sincerely thedevilrisen.

"I wasn't being mean-"

"MEAN! TREVOR, you put slime on Jamie's head to wake him up! What part about that isn't mean."

"I-well." he stuttered, smiling.

"How would you feel if I put slime in your hair huh! How 'bout it?" I said smugly, pushing open the door to the apartment block's lobby, sighing at the warmth and holding open the door for my boyfriend of close to 3 years now. We met shortly after he moved to California to play hockey.

Shucking off my waterproof jacket with a sound similar to two pieces sandpaper grinding against each other I draped it over my arm as Trevor walked through the open door behind me, waiting politely so I could straighten out my t-shirt.

Looking up and smiling at him, I offered him my upturned palm which he playfully grabbed and swung around as he pulled me closer so I stood comfortably under his arm.

"All good?" he asked looking down on my small frame.

"All good!" I repeated stretching the 'l' sound in all enthusiastically.

"Ok then, c'mon let's get upstairs I'm starving." he dragged as we started walking toward the elevators.

"What are you going to about that then?" I smiled, nudging his shoulder playfully.

"I'm hoping my beautiful girlfriend will cook me something delicious." He spoke cheekily looking down at me as we approached the lift panel. Pressing the up button and waiting for the lift to come.

The elevator on the left chimed and the doors rolled open smoothly. We walked in onto carpeted floor, I scanned to tag and pressed the button for the 10th floor listening to the methodical beeps and watching the numbers change.

Until with a jolt, the lift stop suddenly and the all the lights but the ones illuminating the buttons cut.

"Trevor. What happened." I tried to ask without a waver in my voice.

"I think the lift just broke." He mumbled, pulling up the flashlight on his phone and clicking the open door button to no avail. "That doesn't work." He spoke quietly to himself walking to the doors, pocketing his phone and trying to pry open the door with his finger. Grunting softly from exertion he turned back to me and look at my tear filled eyes in the dim light emitted from the panel of numbers.

"Is now a bad time to tell you I'm claustrophobic." I whispered, voice wavering significantly more than I wanted it to.

"I-maybe." He spoke quickly, seeing the water in my eyes start to trickle down my cheek, "god, here- hold my hand." he offered said hand to me and with both of mine gripped onto it for dear life.

"It's all good sweetheart. I'll call Jamie and he can come get us out." He spoke gently. To terrified to speak I just nodded, still gripping his left hand. He pulled out his phone from his pocket and opened opened his contacts, hitting Jamie's name and putting it up to his ear.

"Hey Mate, uhm." with a jolt, and a squeal from me, the lift fired back up and continued its journey up to our floor. "Oh, uh never mind. Can I call you back.. thanks, alright talk later bud."

When the doors opened I tore out of the lift and down the hallway to out apartment, fishing the keys out of my pocket I jammed them into the lock.

Slamming the door open I threw my coat off, kicked off my shoes and moved quickly to the living room sofa where my weighted animal was. With a vice grip on the stuffy and a few deep breaths I locked eyes with a concerned looking Trevor and deadpanned.

"We are taking the stairs from now on."

[deblklesb]

[Head Over Heels — Abby x Reader Oneshot]

[rugby player!abby, artist!reader, fluff, pining]

cw: reader is a total mess, abby is brother's friend. there's not explicit content but still MDNI.

a/n: I've put my whole simpussy in this, like... reader is a loser lesbian and this fact is totally self-inserted, sorry not sorry. again, so so sorry for the wait! this is just some fluff with reader being a simp, a mess, all over the place for abby anderson teheehee 👉🏾👈🏾, i hope you like it anon!!!

word count: 3,4k | not proof read

!reblogs are highly appreciated!

The cool winter wind was reaching your face as you pedaled to your class, high speed across campus because you were late. The alarm didn't clock, you took too much time eating breakfast, and now you wish to all the heavens the teacher has not arrived yet.

Your brother was very much confused when you started to run around the house this morning.

"I didn't know you had class, you usually wake up first so I assumed…"

"The alarm didn't clock", you yelled from the bathroom, brushing your teeth as fast as you could, but decently.

Now, the open buttons of your shirt allowed the wind to come in so you wouldn't be as sweaty. Fixing your hair after parking and locking your bicycle, you greeted someone working and headed to the room, so frustrated to get late to your favorite class.

"You're lucky our model for today is more late than you", the teacher said as soon as you got inside.

"Sorry, Ms. Addams", your smile was weak. You wanted to disappear, that was your favorite teacher.

The only tripod available was in the front, no one liked it because the lightning from there was so confusing it messed up every sketch. Lucky for you, during winter the sun isn't that bright, so you fixed your stuff and just got a moment to breathe. Being a teacher's pet didn't mean sitting in the front, that was new for you.

"Hey, what happened?" Gloria, your friend, reached out. "You're never late"

"My alarm", you shudder, sighing. "Well, I'm here now. We just have to wait for the model"

"I heard is some girl from the rugby team"

Well, that's news. Your teacher is doing some work indeed, trying to expose her students to different body shapes and all.

"Nice. Perhaps she's nice and will carry me around, my legs are burning from pedaling so hard", it was a joke, a silly one, but as soon as a woman who wasn't enrolled in that class got in, you knew she could definitely carry you around. You also knew that because you knew her.

She was probably the biggest woman you've seen in person, and absolutely the most beautiful.

Freckled, creamy skin on her arms and face, honey-blonde hair in a braid that fell on her shoulder, a firm and strong body worthy of an athlete. Her clothes were simple, just cargo pants with a plain shirt and boots, but boy, oh boy, she was looking gorgeous. As always.

"Sorry for the time, boss, I had to get out later from early practice", for some unknown reason, her voice, too, sounded too good to be true and made you melt inside with just a simple phrase that wasn't even directed to you. "Hope it doesn't mess around with the class"

"It's okay, Abigail. And you don't have to call me boss, we've talked about it", your teacher smiled fondly, hugging the tall woman and making obvious the size difference. You were probably the same height as the dark-skinned woman, so that means you were as high as Abby's chin. Being next to her on other situations made you very self-aware of that fact.

This useless information would always make you squirm. This time it was on the chair in the middle of the class, hoping for all the God's nobody noticed.

"Kids, this is Abby. She will be our model for today and two other classes, so make use of the anatomy to study properly", she was very comfortable next to the rugby player, which made you deduce they knew each other well. "Well, now go prep yourself, darling, we have to start"

"Do I… Take everything, or something?" Just the mention of her being nude made your mind buzz around and it wasn't a good sign, considering you had to focus to draw.

"Keep your underwear, please", the older woman smiled sympathetically, turning around and heading to the back of the room, her usual initial spot in every live reference class.

Abby took off her boots and left next to an empty chair, starting to undress then.

Nobody was looking at you, but you tried to keep it cool and professional. Ignoring the heat on your face and the sweat arising on your palms, you looked at Gloria to hide your embarrassment and noticed she was looking back at you trying not to laugh.

"You're very gay", she whispered, making you roll your eyes and then look at your empty sketchbook. She wasn't wrong, though, you were very much a lesbian and it was obvious.

Those type of reactions were normal whenever Abby was around, but you could definitely go through that class without it.

You put effort into abstracting the sensations and feelings that make room into you as soon as Abby stands in the small, lifted platform in the center of the room, the ambient light hitting her just right. She positioned herself in a simple form, waving briefly at you from there when she spotted you in the front. You did the same back, a small smile to be nice - but not too big to give it away that being around her made you almost piss your pants - and then you all started to work

It was a figure drawing training, something you usually hated because you had to think too much about form, proportion, perspective and lightning. You loved to do loose sketches and grew very fond of gesture drawing, too much for your liking, so that now that you had to stick to the forms and not the rhythm and movement, your mind froze a little. Despite that, you loved doing art and loved that class even though it had nothing directly linked to your major.

Abby had strong features, in the sense of focus. The muscles of the arms and legs, the shape of her face, the abdomen and her whole posture caught your attention too much. It wasn't just the imagery, but a whole set of little elements that formed a distinctive energy. Even the braided hair was part of that, and at each second, each line traced and marked shadow, you tried to remind yourself that it was a class.

After 10 minutes or so, she took a break - admittedly, you had no idea how those models stood still for so long. While she stretched and relaxed her muscles, people started to talk with each other around the room, the small buzz of conversations surrounding, as you turned to Gloria.

"I'm dying here", you whispered, stretching your hands and fingers a bit. "She's so pretty"

"I have to admit… She is very handsome. I don't usually hang out in your brother's dorm so I don't see her often…"

"They're together all the time, I am very lucky to have my face shoved into a book all the time because then I don't have to have buckled knees around her" Gloria laughed at your despair, the whispers almost a cry for help.

"Let's gather our focus, people", Ms. Addams called, and just like that the break ended.

Although the object of analysis was Abby's body and structure, you just had to make a small drawing of her face. Shading and putting too much effort, you ended up doing another one. And by the time the class ended, you had a main figure drawing of her body in the first pose, two others of her face and another simple sketch. A very productive class, and you felt yourself bursting with inspiration still.

"I have a class in five minutes, so I'll have to go now, boss!", the blonde reached to her clothes as people started to pack their stuff. You tried not to look at her figure too much, but took your time putting the material in place just because, y'know… Care. It had nothing to do with the possibility to look at her from afar a little bit more.

"That's okay, Abigail. Thank you for your help, same time next week. Send a hug to your father!", Ms. Addams waved goodbye.

"Hey" you looked up from your backpack when Gloria tapped your shoulder. She pointed to the door, where Abby was standing, ready to go. The blonde was looking at you, a smile on her face. "Tell your brother he owes me twenty bucks. See ya!"

"Okay, bye", you nodded and chuckled lightly at the comment, imagining the type of bet they both must've done this time.

As soon as the other students started to get out, your friend gave you small punches in the arm, giggling.

"Stop!", you felt your face warm, it was so fucking ridiculous to be like this around her every time. And the worst part is that she didn't even notice you that much, so you were a head over heels with zero hope.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

"What do you mean you were naked around my sister?!" You rolled your eyes with the discussion, ready for the mess your brother was about to make.

"Nobody was naked, I had underwear!" Abby's voice was playful, but you knew your brother was two steps from going serious about it.

"Stop being a drama king, asshole", you grunted while going to the kitchen, not even looking at them to escape the risk of drooling over the tall woman sitting on the couch.

"Hey, I'm the big brother here, I was supposed to be looking over you!" His voice started to get a pitch higher, you could imagine the indignant face already.

"You don't even give me rides home, too busy with your flings", you shout from the kitchen now, filling up your bottle.

You were trying so hard to focus on studying a subject you were not interested in, ready to throw it in the air to watch some Ghibli movies instead. Filling the water bottle was almost an excuse to get out of that madness, but having to hold your reactions because of Abby's presence was not ideal.

"That's right, get him again! Get him for me!" And now her voice is closer, almost like she's in the kitchen with you. It makes you flinch slightly, almost dropping the bottle before you turn around to see her strong figure on the entrance.

"Look, you touch her and I will fucking throw that rugby ball right into your face!"

"Jesus Christ, Matt, shut up! Nobody is keeping you from your shit, leave me alone?! It's just Abby!"

Your mom would be annoyed to be around you both, good thing you lived together alone.

"Yeah, Matt, it's just Abby!" She repeats.

You finally look at her properly. She has a simple shirt on and sweatpants, it's casual but it looks too good on her - as usual. Her hair is down - you loved her hair down - and a scrunchie lies on her wrist. Her freckles are so visible from where you stand, it's almost like cute details painted directly on her face to compose the most beautiful work of art.

"I would like to see it, by the way", you snap out of your trance with her words directed to you.

Her hips touch the kitchen counter when she's one step closer, a sympathetic smile making your hands tingle and her tone weaker now that she's just talking to you.

"What?"

"Your drawings. From the class"

"Oh-", you look away, trying to come up with an excuse. "But… We still have other classes to go. It's better to see it at the end and all… And they're not even that good", you're holding that water bottle for your dear life, afraid that it slips from your hands due to the sweat.

"You don't wanna show me, that's fine", she chuckle, hands up in acceptance.

"It's not that, it's just-"

"No, I'm not being funny, it's serious. If you don't wanna show me, it's okay. Was just curious y'know, after all I'm just standing there. Don't know how you do whatever you're doing"

That's the most you've ever talked to Abby, and she's so nice. Genuinely trying to make you comfortable. And it makes you fucking sick, you just wanna spit out that you would like to have her posing for you every day for ever, to have her like your muse, to kiss her face after drawing it millions of times- You're such a loser.

"Oh, I get it…" you nod, trying to come up with a good response. "Well, I guess after the classes, I mean when you stop posing for us, I could show you whatever I did. Just wanna be more confident, it takes a little bit more of time to be familiar to the subject"

"If that's your saying, boss lady, I absolutely believe it", she's smiling wider now and you just wanna scream into a pillow about how incredibly cute her cheeks are.

"Okay, ahm… I have to go back to the room… To study other stuff that is not art, unfortunately", you point to the corridor, mind going blank with the mere proximity between you both. "So, uh… See you later?"

"Hope so. Good study session", Abby gives you space to get out of the kitchen.

The rest of the afternoon you keep repeating that interaction in your mind. Analyzing you every word and wondering if she thought you were, like, embarrassing.

Still, the image of her cute cheeks when she smiled at you and the way she seemed really interested in your drawings took over your attention, it was all you could think about the rest of the day because you're such a simp and she's so beautiful. Fuck this.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It's now game season, which means that the college campus is a mess. Everybody seems so agitated, a buzz surrounds each corner while posters adorn the walls and murals, calling for the next big rugby game.

The hype around the event kinda mobilizes you too, even though you're not even that into sports. You're actually so out of this type of entertainment, but eventually if you sit to watch with your brother you get so excited and exalted that it almost looks like you've been following the teams forever. Matt actually thinks it is so funny that you keep asking him the rules and then start to scream at the TV once you'd pick it up enough to finally enjoy the match.

"If they don't kick their asses I'll actually lose fifty bucks" Gloria reveals as you both enter the building for the art class.

"Fifty?!" Your eyes almost jump from your skull. "Do you have that much faith in our team?"

"Well, don't you?"

"I don't know", she laughs. "Really, I don't follow them… But if you bet fifty bucks, they must be at least decent"

"Your girlfriend is a good player, if that's what you wanna ask", the taller woman smiles at you with that suggestive manner.

"I didn't ask!"

"But you were thinking about it"

"Shut up." You definitely were. "And she's not my girlfriend" Unfortunately.

As you both enter the room, early enough this time, you recall the fact that it's your last class with Abby as a model. Something inside of you mourns the future absence of such a big source of inspiration for you. Your sketchbook (the personal one) has pages filled with drawings of her - you didn't tell anyone, but you went through her instagram page and used some gym photos as references.

One night you brother stormed in your room and you had to close the book as fast as possible, trying to mask your embarrassment. If he knew that you were so into Abby, he would be a hundred percent more unbearable.

"Hey, teacher", the tall woman soon walked in the class, backpack and a massive bottle of water on one hand. "Last day, uh?"

"Yes, dear", people started to settle for the beginning of the session, fixing materials and angles. "I would like to thank you for your time and disposition, I imagine it isn't easy to stand in front of a class of stranges that are meticulously looking at you", everybody chuckled. Abby took her shirt in the corner, putting the clothes on a chair. Against your will, you absolutely checked on her. But life wouldn't let you have it, and so, like being conscious of your actions, the blonde glanced back at you, which caused you to face away immediately. Jesus fucking Christ, could you be more obvious? "So thank you, again, and I hope you somehow enjoyed the experience"

"I certainly did, boss" She smirked friendly, going to the small platform in front part of the room and standing with arms on her back, legs slightly spareted. Why on earth was she so good looking? "I don't really mind the looks, after all there are dozens of people staring at the games and judging us all the time, so… Well, thank you too for inviting me, it was truly nice! Needing againg, I'm here for it!"

You felt a tap on your shoulder and looked to the side, Gloria was smirking like she knew something you didn't.

"You'll get your pages wet with all the drooling", she muttered.

"Wanna see who gets the pages wet?" You playfully put a hand on your own watter bottle, having her giggling.

"Well, let's begin, shall we?"

Einstein for sure had a point with relativity, because that class flew away like a lightning for you. The biggest pity of all, since Abby wouldn't be there after that day.

Once again you end up doing a main drawing of her body, using the remaining time to put some doodles of her face around it. It was like this for every class, different than the ones she wasn't the model. However, by that time you were already used to sketching her - hence the alone sessions in your room - so you could do much easier work now. You hoped no one noticed this fact, because a question about how you got so instinctive when drawing Abby would be blatantly dodged.

You already could tell in detail the difference between her arm muscles and the last model, for example, but not only the imagery of it: you thought about the biological singularity of her muscle development.

As soon as the class ended, you closed the sketchbook and tried not to think too deeply about the whole situation. It would be fine. Abby would stop being the model and so you would see her less, consequently thinking about her less and moving on so easily. Like, so easily.

"Hey", you froze with her voice, more specifically when noticing that it was almost next to you. Her face was the first thing you saw when looking up from your backpack. "Are you coming to the game tonight?"

"Should I?"

"Well… I could use some cheers", she was still shirtless. Heck, she was still in her intimate clothes.

You were not thinking about how she used a simple bra and nice black boxers.

"I thought you had plenty. With all the staring", why were you being so sarcastic?

"Your staring is kinda different, if that's what you wanna hear", she smirked, crossing her arms. Good lord, save me from barking in front of her with all this attitude. "And I would like you there"

"So maybe I'll go", you shrugged, trying to be cool about it. Something inside of you said that maybe you were being too cool about it, maybe she would think you don't really care; that's not what you want her to think. Shit, were you doing this wrong?

"Don't tell your brother I asked you this while almost nude, I don't think he would let me get close to you ever again", her chuckles were so cute, she was so cute. You were so done.

"Oh, do you want to get close to me again?" Abby stepped back while still smirking, everybody seemed to be out already - though you couldn't tell exactly, she was still your main focus.

"Maybe" Now she shrugged, finally getting close to her clothes again. "Preferably when he's not around"

What was that? Oh, probably your heart skipping several beats.

"Talking like that, I might as well think you're hitting on me, Abby" The most surprising thing was how you weren't laying down on a puddle at this point. Instead, you were chuckling back, hands sweaty and stomach twisting in a rush.

"Am I?" She grabbed her pants. "You'll probably have to come to the game and see!"

After another smirk from her, you just shook your head and walked away from the room with a simple "See you later then".

The interaction started to play again in your mind, Gloria was standing outside with wide eyes and a smile fighting to appear. That adrenaline rush made your mind a whirlwind.

"What the fuck was that?!" Your friend whispered, holding your arm and following your steps.

[png dividers by @cafekitsune]

[unorchido]

Another Narrator design who appeared in here

This is Benjamin, Timothy's Narrator and although he is turned into a damn statue he is still conscious, and while he can't move, speak or see, he can feel everything around him, so yea funsies

For context vvv

He was locked into the Parable because he was different from the others, and by different I mean he was infected with a type of program, also known as The Solver I may or may not have shown before, and if you're not familiar with Murder drones you pretty much don't know what that is all about. So, he has that Solver, and with that he can create things and destroy them, and that's when he made the Parable, Stanley and Timekeeper, also known as Timothy I've shown in a few of my arts (1, 2, 3, 4), and with making those two he "passed" the Solver to both of them, giving Timothy the ability to go into the void, teleport and gain ability to the settings. Similar thing goes to Stanley, but he only gained the ability to gain access to the player settings.

So then how did he turn into a statue? The skip button ending happened, he 'died' and then the Parable itself started dying with him. And because of that, the resets slowly died too, therefore there were no resets and well Stanley slowly went insane. He got back into the Parable and after realising there wouldn't be any resets he decided to do the zending one last time

Boom, drama! Although Stanley did die there, Benjamin is still alive, just in a state of coma where he can't move his body. His Curator is trying to find a way to bring him back, knowing it is possible, while Timothy gave up on him completly, unaware he didn't actually die. Tim started going through different dimensions, where he met Sebastian, who Timothy wanted to take advantage of at the start, but decided to keep his head because well he can't survive for long in other dimensions. He used Sebastian's body to keep himself alive, and by that yes I mean he got into Seb's body like Venom from Venom and with that, Timothy subconsciously spread the program to Sebastian and now he can do fun shit like lift things up with a hand movement, rotate them, destroy them, fun stuff.

Yeah, just watch Murder Drones if you want context for the Solver

Bonus

[magentas-dystopia]

Something I really lament is the move towards digital media. Slowly we start to never own the things we like. Even if we "buy" a digital game, or movie or show. It's locked behind a certain platform or service. Once it shuts down we lose it forever.

(me when big booby anime girl explosion Is taken off of Netflix)

I also feel like there's a certain charm to owning physical media, like things you can hold and the satisfaction from pressing a clicky button or putting a disc or cassette in and seeing it work.

(oooh so classy so retro so.. expensive in the modern day)

More people should try to make copies of what they own digitally, or try to buy physical media before it's lost from streaming services and digital storefronts forever. Like the case with certain games like Godzilla 2014 and Transformers War for Cybertron. They don't exist digitally anymore. Only hard copies exist outside of emulation and at insane resell prices like... INSANE ones for a mediocre Godzilla game

So yea. Buy some more CDs of those albums you have on replay! Buy a DVD of that niche obscure anime you like! And most importantly PLEASE PLEASE START MAKING HARD BACKUPS OF SHOWS YOU LIKE THAT YOU PIRATE!!! media preservation is important!

(me downloading every episode of Daredevil onto my hard drive to burn to a DVD later so I can give it to all my friends)

This is now going to be a Comprehensive guide on how to rip a CD

POLL TIME!

Burning and Ripping Disc's❤️❤️💕💕🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️

STEP ONE:

BUY A CHEAP BLU-RAY/DVD DRIVE FOR YOUR WINDOWS COMPUTER

here are some I recommend!!!

i personally use this pioneer one :)))

DVD drives in general are relatively cheap from 30-20 smackeroos, but Blu-ray drives are around 80-100 bucks depending on the manufacturer but offer better support for copying HD video such as on a Blu-ray.

STEP TWO:

FIND A PIECE OF MEDIA YOU ENJOY.

in this case its gonna be a CD!!

i really enjoy Vespertine by Bjork, but i wanna have it on my computer just in case anything happens to my CD. SO. ill open Windows Media Player

(she hasn't changed since 2011 <3333 be urself girl)

NEXT

ill insert the disc into the player. and it'll start playing!

Pause the disc and go into Rip settings

NEXT!! select the format!

if you want to conserve space and don't mind sacrificing audio quality select MP3! if you want to hear the same level of audio quality as preserved on the CD, select a format labelled LOSSLESS. I recommend .WAV files as they'll work with most devices including an android phone or iTunes on PC (more on that later ;3 )

NEXT!

create a folder on whatever u wanna save ur music to! (u can call it whatever u want the world is your oyster bestie)

THEN!!! FINALLY

go into more options on the Rip Settings menu!

select ur folder and press Rip CD!!!!

the fun thing of this now, is that you can pull these files on your computer and put it onto your Android device so you can listen to your hearts content without lugging around your CD in a player at high quality without any subscription service with free reign of who you can give your download to!

But Magenta! what if i have an iPhone?

ohohoo fear not bestie because iTunes on PC has an even EASIER way to do it

because simply putting in a disc with iTunes downloaded prompts THIS

(oooo so new age)

and if you have apple music on your iPhone this will sync to your phone if you logged into iTunes on PC!!

thank you for coming to my TED talk

[shima-draws]

OKAY I’ve been playing for a couple hours now and here are some thoughts

-I LOVE that they actually give you time to hang out with the starters and bond with them and see what their personalities are like before you get to pick one. That was really neat

-They were right! This game really do Open World RPG! I haven’t even gotten to the school yet I’ve been too busy running around the map for two hours

-Not sure how I feel about items in the field literally having a neon light showing where they are from a mile away. Kinda defeats the whole purpose of open world if the items are too easy to find. The novelty of “treasure hunting” is gone because of this

-MIRAIDON REALLY DO BE LIKE TOOTHLESS FOR REAL…

-I’m going to kick Arven’s ass if he even LOOKS at Miraidon the wrong way. “Oh this Pokemon is too hard for me to deal with so I’m abandoning it and shoving all of the responsibilities I had caring for it onto you” OH YEAH?? Alright asshole I’ll take it off your hands CLEARLY it was so difficult for you to take care of a living breathing creature that also happens the be the coolest looking motherfucker on this side of the continent. Your loss

-Ohhh the clipping is so bad! It’s so bad! If I rotate the camera too far in my own house I just get a black screen! Yikes 💖

-The concept of being in battle and still being able to see Pokemon doing their own thing in the background is REALLY neat? Like life just moves on around you while you’re duking it out with another trainer. I know we had a specific saying for this when I was in school for animation but I forget what it was exactly RIP anyway just the whole organic. Breathing life into the game kinda thing.

-APPARENTLY WE CAN’T GO INTO OTHER PEOPLE’S HOUSES ANYMORE???? Like that’s one of Pokemon’s staple features throughout ALL the generations, we’re allowed to barge into random people’s homes. At the very least the first town had all their doors locked so all the houses were off limits. I was VERY upset

-The graphics may be janky as all hell but the story is really intriguing so far!! I wanted to cry bc the scene of us rescuing Miraidon really gave me HTTYD vibes. This game is just HTTYD in disguise we are all Hiccup taming and training our Toothless

-Standing on the beach before battling Nemona just gave me a HUGE rush of nostalgia bc it had very very big PMD2 vibes

-The controls for Legends Arceus are ingrained in my brain so I keep pressing buttons and getting confused when they do something different. LMAO

-I’m sorry I don’t like that the Pokemon Centers are outside now;; it just feels Wrong. Like clearly this was some cool edgy thing they wanted to try but I in fact hate it :-/

-THE PLAYER CUSTOMIZATION THING IS SOOOO SICK. The fact we get to customize SO much and at the very beginning of the game is awesome. Props to Nintendo for this I’m really glad they included so many options and right at the start so we don’t have to actually UNLOCK customizing what we look like

-Nemona is just Ash Ketchum but Girl and I love her

-And, most importantly:

[baeddel]

long post abt accessability in games, DMC3, DS1, and control schemes

games like God of War or Devil May Cry can be inaccessible because they have inputs which require button mashing, which is difficult for someone with arhritis or other problems that affect their hands and wrists. but these inputs are generally not required to beat the game; you have a lot of options, so you can just avoid using any move that's too difficult. the main issue is that these games become more demanding the further into the game you want to go; keeping a combo going in DMC requires a very high apm and use of the entire controller, so a person with a motor disability will hit a wall eventually.

this is a design problem which i think is difficult to analyze. DMC starts from a very unique design—it has a huge number of moves, almost all of which are accessible out of neutral rather than hidden at the end of an attack string—which it has to pay for by using a large number of unique inputs (forward + attack, back + attack, forward then back + attack, hold shoot to charge, hold devil trigger to charge [charges can be buffered]). it introduces a lot of complexity, but it's actually less complexity right away than other action games; instead of having to memorize a long list of complicated strings (cf. Bayonetta's Punch, Punch, Kick, Kick, pause, Kick, which is different from Punch, Punch, Punch, Kick, Kick, pause, Punch [click]—have fun with those!), you can learn attack, shoot, devil trigger, then forward attack, hold shoot... etc., one at a time, and mix them into your play and find out when they're good. its combo system is not just complex but also discoverable; players can try out how its different pieces fit together without opening the movelist.

but once a player already knows all the moves, the game starts to ask more and more out of them. not only do you want to use all of the inputs one after the other very fast (try jump cancelling Beowulf's Killer Bee into another Killer Bee for the first time—pretty tough, right? and all you're pressing there is X and △! the inputs get harder!), but since your charge moves can be buffered, you also want to hold O and L1 to charge your shot and devil trigger for when you might need them, and you might also want to lock-on by holding R1. when watching a really good player playing with an input viewer it's not uncommon to see every single button on the controller light up at the same time. doing that stuff is really fucking hard.

so far we don't have any problems; it's a picture perfect picture of a system that's 'easy to use, hard to master,' right? but because the thing thats hard to do in this case is input a lot of buttons at once on a physical controller, we've just frozen out any players with hand/wrist problems or motor issues from high level play, at least without adapting the game somehow. this is a problem that's difficult to predict, difficult to foresee, and difficult to design around; i don't see how you could fix it without making DMC a completely different game than what it is.

so if you started from the premise of designing a game that was accesisble to people with hand/wrist and motor issues (including suckers like me who played a bunch of high apm games like DMC and Runescape and fucked up their wrist), you'd have to come up with something pretty different at a very fundamental level.

this is why Dark Souls is, in a lot of ways, a VERY ACCESSABLE action game. what do i mean? its control scheme is extremely simple. once you press every button on the controller you've learned everything you're going to learn about it (apart from one very non-obvious hard-coded universal cancel, but don't worry about it). all you have to do is dodge or block the other's guys attack and then hit him with yours.

there's a lot of ways that DeS/DS1 approached the action genre differnetly to other games, but right now i'm only going to highlight one: the kind of 'questions' DS is asking its player. if you think about DMC, what is DMC trying to get the player to do? while you can beat the game with one or two simple combos, the system is obviously made in a way that encourages freedom and flexibility, and the game has systems to reward long, varied combos (the 'style' rating). and that's all it wants you to do (apart from in a couple of levels where they want you to do platforming—ugh!). to accomplish this, they lock you in a room with some enemies and only let you out when you beat them all.

in Demon's Souls the main thing they want you to do is navigate complicated dungeons that are full of traps; some levels have mazes in them, and lots of traps kill you instantly. it's similar to Kings Field, which its a spiritual successor to, but it's also similar to other early 3d RPGs: Deathtrap Dungeon, Die by the Sword, Dungeon Lords... (in one interview Miyazaki said part of his job was to play a bunch of 'open world RPGs' for research, and i imagine that included some of these old, weird games; the first dungeon in Dungeon Lords has a rafter-walking section with projectile-shooting enemies, chain-pulley mechanical elevators and highly damage-resistant slimes). they also want you to kill enemies. but the game never forces you to kill these enemies; you're never locked in a room until you kill all the enemies, and enemies never have items that are necessary to progress in the level. enemies are just one obstacle among others. consequently, enemy encounters are designed in a certain way that makes avoiding them difficult and approaching them complex. an enemy that throws firebombs will stand at the top of a long, narrow staircase, forcing you to dodge them on the way up; two enemies will stand behind a doorway and, if you run in blindly, will both attack you from behind. things like that. it was hard to avoid enemy encounters in Demon's Souls because the levels involved suffocatingly narrow corridors and the enemies followed you forever. but it was possible and sometimes desirable. in DS1 running by enemies is often preferable and, with foreknowledge of the level, always possible. it's also a lot easier as enemies don't follow you very far anymore (this change was patched into the game after release).

running and jumping both consume stamina, as do dodging, blocking, and attacking. getting hit costs hitpoints, and falling off a ledge costs all your hitpoints. both aspects of the game (navigation and combat) use all of the same resources, and engaging in combat is generally one of a few options the player has to navigate an area. it is, a lot of the time, by far the easiest option, but most players will find a few areas that they hate enough to always run through. one of the messages players can leave to each other is 'try dashing through.' the game rewards you for killing enemies by giving you souls and loot drops, but it also punishes you for making mistakes by leaving you down on resources—less health, fewer estus, and fewer spellcasts—so the best thing to do at any given time is difficult to analyze.

the questions DS is asking its players, therefore, is to familiarize themselves with the level, come up with a plan, conserve their own resources and make it out with the loot. at lower levels of play the game is mostly about succeeding at lots of combats and navigating lots of traps over a long distance without making too many small mistakes. then, at high levels of play, the gameplay is mostly about movement, exploiting the game's verticality and taking advantage of holes in the enemy placement. but the change from low to high levels of play mostly takes place in the mind of the player, not their hands; they understand the levels better, they are better able to respond to things which were previously unpredictable to them, and they have more confidence in their ability to do what is needed of them.

so our game not only starts off very accessible to players with hand/wrist or motor problems, but it finishes there too. although, i've gone a little too far: the player's hands will change a bit as they improve at the game. like Monster Hunter, the best way to play Dark Souls is to have a claw grip in both hands; the thumbs should operate the analogue sticks, the index finger should operate the d-pad (for toggle escales, the universal cancel i mentioned, as well as changing spells) and the face buttons (for rolling, using items, interacting with doors and items), and the remaining digits manipulating the shoulders/triggers (for attacks, blocks and parries). while running, you want to hold L1 (block) so you can roll (circle) out of a run without jumping. this might be hard for you depending on your condition, but i don't think it's that much worse than holding a controller the regular way.

anyway, the point is this: you might want to think about making your game accessible not just to the general player with disabilities, but to the 'hardcore' player with disabilities. do you want disabled people to not only beat your game, but be really good at it? how would you design systems to accomodate that? i've talked about hand/wrist and motor issues here because it's what i was thinking about (and some games, like Runescape, aren't really accessible to me anymore thanks to my wrists, at least in the way i used to play them), but there are other disabilities you could probably design around. imagine a player who has CFS or ADHD in a way that keeps them from practicing consistently; could you make a game that is rewarding for such a player to try and get really good at nonetheless? Runescape (conceived of competitively, ie. racing to the leaderboard &c) was good for players with certain kinds of disabilities and neurotypes since it required a huge amount of time and dedication, it really rewarded being unemployed, LOL. but what if there was a game that somehow rewarded inconsistency? who knows...

anyway, i'm saying how i tend to think about it as a rebuttal to the way i see most people talk about accessibility in games, which is merely playing games. thus Dark Souls can be criticized for being difficult for a new player to complete, for example. but this always struck me as a bewildering way to talk about games. plenty of disabled people don't just want to complete games, they want to be good at them. and disabled people can and do become good at games and compete and win at them. so the question for me is not so much 'how do i make a game someone with this disability could play?' but 'how do i make a game someone with this disability would want to master?'—a game which doesn't create headaches for them, which works with rather than against them, and which they actually enjoy at all levels of play.

[wishmaster]

Wishmaster, I request your help! I'm a dnd player with a bard character and i love to do the whole ''horny bard''. But my fellow players are annoyed by it because i'm not like that in real life! I'd wish to become my character, a hot male bard able to seduce any guys with my high charisma and charming voice. Please?

New World Order

You've always had a good idea what your character would look like if real, so you plugged him into a drawing program and bam.

Fuck, you think looking at him, fuck your dick twitches as you touch the screen you feel a zap. Suddenly you look down and see your hands are bigger and covered in gauntlet like gloves.. like your guy in the picture, suddenly you feel the rest of you changing, your body muscles up, your clothing turns to leather, your face becomes handsome, chiseled, but it's the intense blue eyes staring back at you that tells you you are now your character, as your dick awakes standing at attention under your soft new leather pants you try to push it down, but even lying against your leg the girth was not hard to miss.

Then you happened to glance at you phone.

The old you was now in the phone where your bard creation just was. Such a pathetic nerd you think, never followed through on his potential to be a real stud. No, you could feel the old you fading away, the bard in you was taking hold, and damn look at him why wouldn't you rather he take over?

You press the button and the old you disappears for good. You strut your new body into your office, your dick outline gains immediate attention from everyone. The girl at the desk points it out.

You like? you say, something about your voice changes her.

Suddenly this gorgeous Asian Archer is staring back at you, his eyes locked on you, obsessed with you now. He reaches over and kisses you, your horniness increases, another colleague stands in shock having viewed the whole thing. What? you as and flash.

Another new partner appears all of theming fitting perfectly into your new look, he reaches over, kisses and grabs your dick. you move through the offices every time someone listens to your heavenly voice they transform into yet another Lover for you. You come to your friend Elisha, a fellow DND player and the one that called you out for your character. All you say us hey and bam.

The new massive stud runs his fingers down your chest sending shivers through your body, you lead your new lovers into the conference room where you proceed to have a massive orgy, when you get excited and cover the room with your cum, the sound you let out transforms everyone in the office into your personal wet dreams, suddenly work has combined with your new DND life and the world around you takes on the land of wizards and dragons and in your case never-ending sex. Welcome to your new life you horny Bard with the magic voice!

Soon the world would be filled with nothing but gorgeous men with eyes only for you! Welcome to your New Life.

[hegoeshardasfuck]

dogs like praise too

wordcount: 0.9K

tags: sub Sebastian, dom reader/player, praise kink, outdoor sex, handjobs, whimpering for the win, gender neutral reader/player, no petplay

synopsis: Sebastian only figured out he wanted to be used and fucked after he married you, thankfullly 'making love' was a tenderness that didn't appeal to either of you

note: my beautiful swagless emoboy billiards player husband should get dominated and i wrote this in one hour after my friend mistook his wrench for handcuffs in the winter sprites. hope ya'll enjoyed and if ya did consider dropping a like or checking the Ao3 port.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54598753

You learned really fast that Sebastian would whimper in bed, unapolagetically so. He'd even say 'nya' if you wanted him to, which he was grateful wasn't that often. Not unless you really wanted to get to him at least, really wanted to get under his skin and force him closer to the edge with words and demands instead of touch.

It worked too, and maybe the fact he enjoyed it was what got to him the most. The fact that despite all odds he enjoyed being put in his place got to him when he'd never even considered it.

Sam always wanted to take it slow, never further than the simplest of sex between friends, he was scared of parts that he kept locked up. Abigail always wanted to be used in the same way he's learning to love, she liked it rough and so did he. But only now is he learning he likes it rough better when hands are tangled in his hair.

That he likes it fast and hard in the dead of night or broad daylight on the ground or on the bed. He likes gasping for words and choking on spit and holding on for dear life when he didn't know sex could whip him into such a state. It left his brain numb as you called him a good boy and he whimpered and moaned and just took it. He found a perverse pleasure in being used, whether it was his mouth you were monopolizing or his ass, he liked it. An unsteady gait or a sore jaw he'd willingly take both as consequence for being yours as long as you needed.

"You're such a good boy," You murmured against his ear, he was pressed up against a fence this time. Your breath was hot on his skin and waged war with the cooling autumn air.

Sebastian can only nod, eyes shut and lips sealed as to not be too loud so soon. You'd barely touched him yet. His grip tightens on the fence nearly to the point his knuckles turn white. He whines wantonly as you nip at the column of his throat, knees shaking as your hands dip past the hem of his boxers.

You give a humming sort of laugh, "You're so sensitive." He squirms as you tease him, words snaking through him and sinking into him. They feel good. He registers them as a sharp pleasure, prickling across the expanse of pale skin.

"I am?" Sebastian managed, voice cracking with a type of lust he'd ensnared a very long time ago. A type of lust he was never allowed to explore with his friends or his dates because they wanted him to do the work in sex. He feels a slight discomfort as you press him further against the bars of the fence.

"So sensitive, shocked you haven't already cum." One hand rests across his chest, slid up under his jacket and popping each individual button. The other keeps a steady pace that keeps his knees weak and his struggle for balance strong. "But despite that, even though you're trying to put on a show and impress me by being so quiet and having so much stamina, you're still such a good boy."

A wrecked and untrained semblance of his voice spills our with a desperate, "Oh god." He slumps against the fence, knees rested on a bar and your front flush to his back. He's panting, breaths catching and inconsistent as he still tries not to moan.

"Go on," You urge like you're the devil on his shoulder, devious and sinister with sadistic charms to your speech.

Sebastian whimpers and mewls and even moans, he bit his inner cheek until it nearly bled to be a show off. To prove he can dominate, to prove he can have control, to prove a lie that you can see through. He's seeing stars now, they crowd out the corners of his vision as he lurches to the edge with a blend of words and touches.

You grip at his shoulder from under his shirt, nails digging into flesh and fabric rising past his midriff. He shudders at the sharpness in his flesh as you speak, "Cum for me."

And he does exactly as told. You can feel his breath hitch the moment before and then he's breathing harsh and desperate. Your name filters out between moans and breaths as he crumbles a bit more in your grip. It'd be a pathetic display if he were anyone else, dropping the reigns and handing them over so easily.

But you like it, someone so sure of himself breaking apart for you. Defiant at moments and with the physical strength for mechanical work. Sharp and distant and attempting to be mysterious with a dart always on hand. A billiards player whose never heard of defeat and is no condition to learn the concept. Yet he comes undone in your fingers so easily, like frayed fabric.

"Good boy," You murmur.

"Yours, your good boy." It's all his frazzled mind can come up with at the moment as he nods and shakes. He presses against you as you raise your hand to rest at his hip for support, "Oh god, Y/N."

You step back and help him not sway and tumble with his steps, "Aftercare time." You say it lightly, almost teasingly, but more out of care for Sebastian. You can't have your husband walking around in such a state, you gotta take good care of him, especially after making it known who makes him feel the best. Who caters to his needs and keeps him satisfied romantically and sexually in ways no one else has yet.

Sebastian groans softly as he follows you precisely, "Okay." He wants to curl up against you but he knows you have farm duty firsthand. Knowing that won't make him turn down whatever aftercare you have planned for him.

[fappinreborn]

Hello this IS NOT the VR Anon but I wanted to say I LOVED that story! Props to you and that anon!

I have a chapter idea for it if you want to continue it? Name: you choose. Pregnancy: 41 weeks Labor: Not yet (First contraction in 2 days, 3 hours, 56 minutes ) Baby: 1 (10lbs) Current Activity: Home alone reading. Birth plan: Hospital The player see's that she's home alone and waiting for her husband to get home in about 2 hours or so, the player also see's that she's in just a tang top and a loose mini skirt, it is summer after all. The player activates her labor and speeds it up. The woman can't even get up and reach for her phone. The player get's to see her spread her legs that shows she's not wearing any underwear and starts pushing. Right as the head starts to crown the player get's a text or something that says he needs to make a call, the player not wanting to miss the birth see's the option: Would you like to pause the labor? You may un-pause at anytime. So the player hit's pause but leave's the head set on but lowers the volume and takes the call for almost two hours, once the call is done he put's the headset back on and sees the woman right where he left off, right as he hears the door unlock he hits play again and the woman gives birth.

Pregnancy Control Part 2

After a good session yesterday, I went out to seek more target. I decided to jog around the neighborhood in my morning run to see if I found my target.

Soon enough, a name popped up, and the status was perfect! Name: Sylvie. Pregnancy: 41 weeks Labor: Not yet (First contraction in 2 days, 3 hours, 56 minutes ) Baby: 1 (10lbs) Current Activity: Home alone reading. Birth plan: Hospital I took control of her pregnancy and began tinkering. Her husband's going to come home in roughly 2 hours, so I got a time to kill. Since the link can't be untethered, I decided to start it by giving her some mild labor contractions, just giving her some small start while I walk home.

When I arrived home, I can see her sitting on the yoga ball to ease her labor, wearing her tank top and loose mini skirt, with some panties underneath. She has called her husband to tell him that she's in labor, but told him to relax as it's still early.

She put the phone on the bed before waddling around the house and I saw a solitary sofa chair that's perfect for where she'll give birth. I controlled her to sat there to relax, while I prepared the acceleration.

With a single button, her labor accelerated quickly into her 2nd stage, followed by water breaking, splashing all over. I locked her in place so she couldn't move to grab the phone and unable to remove her panties.

She panicked and began pushing hard, the baby's head descending slowly since there's still time until her husband's home.

Soon enough, the head began to crown and she screamed in pain and panic as she can feel the panties are still intact, holding the baby in. Still, she persisted and kept on pushing, trying to fight her own panties. I made her struggle to even get the head to fully crown so it took her almost 1 hour just to get the head to fully crown.

I could see the panties are still holding up, so I decided to let the head out. The baby's head slipped out, making a huge bulge in her panties. She took a breather before pushing again with no avail.

This went for a long time, until her husband's just seconds away from entering the house. As soon as the husband opened the door, he saw her poor wife struggling to give birth, panicked and rushed in. At the same time, I let the mother finally push the baby out and into her panties, finally finishing off her birth.

I came hard from that. The app has proven to be really useful and I can't wait to find more targets.

[black-flag-if]

What kind of story is it?

A motorsports IF. You're a formula driver. It's romance-focused and deals with drama and angst while going after what's really important to you.

Can I romance more than one RO?

Absolutely. Be as messy as you want or as loyal as you want. There will be a choice to lock in who you want to pursue, but for the start, it's up to you what you do.

Will there be consequences?

Yes! Some ROs will deal with it better than others.

If I choose to be friends with the ROs, can I get on their romance route later?

As of now, no. It would be nice to explore, but it's not a priority yet unless I see a good opening for it in the story.

Is there an enemy to lovers route?

I was thinking of doing one for Ryder's route but I haven't decided yet. It fits the character the best, but it's a WIP and I will just have to see how it presents itself later on. So maybe? Not sure yet. If there's a good opening, I would like to add it but it'll just depend on how much I have on my plate.

Is Lane canon?

I don't think any of the LIs are canon. This story works just fine with trying to improve MC and focus on themselves and their career. Take out all the ROs and it's still simply about MC finding their place. It is a romance story though so if you're simply here for the plot and don't want to deal with romance, it might not be as fun but do with your time what you will. I try not to push any of the ROs onto the player, so I hope Lane doesn't feel canon. The story makes sense with any branch. Lane comes up a lot, yes, but they're a big part of MC's past. You should not have any scenes with Lane nor should your MC think good of them unless you choose such options. If you simply want to be friends - they're friendly interactions. If you don't want anything to do with Lane, they should hardly make an appearance in the story except when needed and it won't be anything romantic. So, if you feel like you have too much of Lane, then maybe reconsider your choices. The most important one is if you say you still have feelings. That's telling the game you want to explore that part more so it'll offer romantic choices and a way to reconcile but you will still get a chance to choose what to do with it all.

Will there be jealousy/break-ups?

I get this one a lot. Not sure if that's a good thing or something you all want or are just afraid to explore, but yes, this game has all of that. It'll depend on the RO because not everyone is jealous, but expect some angst, arguments, breakups, etc.

Why is there no back or save button?

I am working on a save button for future update. Back button will still not be implemented simply because it will be a coding issue for this game.

There's a bigger chance for errors if I let you go back to fix something because some codes use a variable that tracks choices. An example is I sometimes use "history macro" and if you visit the passage more than once, the code won't work so you'll end up with missing information and it will fail to properly connect you to other passages.

When are updates?

I don't have a schedule. It's a WIP, it's a side project, so whenever I have time or energy to write, I do, and update at the end of every chapter.

Why am I not answering you?

I don't purposely avoid comments unless the messages are rude. If I don't answer, but you want an answer, please try again. I could have simply missed it. Send in with a username instead of anon so I can actually get back to you. If I have something to say or add to your comment, I usually do unless it's repetitive. If it's already answered in FAQ's, it's also another reason I might not answer from now on.

Find spelling, errors, or mistakes in general?

I appreciate people letting me know and yes, send them in, but PLEASE let me know WHERE. The sentence or screenshot will work fine just so I know where to look. If you just say there are mistakes, I have no idea where to look and will most likely stay that way until it comes up again. If you want a reply but not make it public, please give a note stating so and I won't post it publicly. Instead, I can just reply to you personally if you don't write as an anon. Thank you to everyone that sends the mistakes in, especially to some anons that take their time to write out every sentence where they saw a spelling mistake. I appreciate it and you make things loads easier.