#somehow it...........bypasses everything

[always-a-joyful-note]

Really fascinated by how Nu Wang/Queen DOES seem to be working for someone for some purpose that is still yet unknown to us (what with the boss of the hero corp she's working for giving major suspicious vibes and her dad being the journalist who saved Cyan). But it also seems that Nu Wang herself really seems to be self-motivated to work to being Number 1 for her own ideals - but her family, her corporation, and the media is pushing her to be an icon of sorts. A feminist icon, a representative for the company, a symbol of world order or the like.

[thegreatyin]

What, precisely, is fallen London, and how can I play it? Ive been told it's a browser game, will it work on my phones browser or only my computer's?

SWEEPS EVERYTHING OFF MY DESK. SLAMS MY HANDS ON THE COUNTER. you're in luck because advertising this game is apparently my specialty.

fallen london is a free browser game that works on anything with an internet connection!! laptops, phones, tablets, the decade old 3ds you have stashed in the back of your closet- if you can open a web browser, you can run fallen london. the UI obviously differs between desktop and mobile, and desktop has the benefit of extensions that can make your life marginally easier, but that's all a strictly optional affair.

as for the game's actual contents; fallen london is a text-based horror game closely reminiscent of classic "choose your own adventure" books. you play as a new arrival to an alternate history version of victorian london that now flourishes in a deep, dark, marvelous (and more than slightly eldritch!) cavern known as "the neath", with the goal of making your name and ultimately pursuing one of the four possible ambitions that brought you here to begin with. along the way you encounter a wide variety of strange and inexplicable things, including but not limited to;

men with the faces of squid (who are not truly men)

actual real soul-stealing devils (who originate from Actual Real Hell, which is also london's next door neighbor)

snakes that are eternally bound to the realm beyond mirrors (who have an infamous feud with sapient talking cats)

treacheries of time, law, and all that which the gods hold dear (including the ability to bypass death itself)

sirens who are convinced they're dead (in a place where, as stated, death is easily bypassed)

sentient landmasses that get REALLY annoyed if you don't pay your taxes on time (and are also single and ready to mingle)

fabric that is not fabric (which is held in quite high value by certain giant bat monsters)

spiders that eat eyeballs (but are, fortunately, easily distracted by shakespeare)

genres of colors you didn't think possible (in seven fantastical flavors!)

batkissing (not canonically, but in our hearts)

batfucking (this is, somehow, marginally more canon than the above thing)

batmarriage (no.)

batdivorce (in comically large spades)

The Hat Man (who's in love with and yearns to become like a sentient island)

gay people (a lot of them)

trans people (also a lot of them)

doomed love, in all possible forms (as well as those who try and collect it)

this thing (this thing)

and last- but certainly not least-

a pitiful hope that perhaps, just perhaps, all shall one day be well. (even when you know it won't be.)

it's a game with lore as deep as the ocean, and a staggering wordcount (4.5 million!) to boot. it's not perfect, but it's something i've grown to love deeply, and in my experience? if it doesn't click for you, that's understandable. but if it clicks for you, it really does click for you. i recommend it to anyone and everyone who so much as looks its way. who knows! it may just surprise you 🦇☀️🦀🌃

as a further incentive, here are some out-of-context items and excerpts:

as stated, you can play it right now for free at fallen london dot com. there is a subscription and a small bounty of microtransactions on offer if you want to support the development team, but at no point is this ever required, and you will be playing for years before you reach the end of stuff to accomplish. all major content updates are free and available to all players, and FOMO to this day remains virtually non-existent. as once again stated, the browser specs are non-existent. if you can run google, you can run fallen london.

so head on down!! give the neath a try!! follow admiralty orders and dump a bunch of bombs directly into the zee (underground sea) whilst accidentally waking up a giant grieving sea urchin that screams fire and violently pursues your demise!! (that's what we're all doing right now, anyway.)

if the browser game isn't for you, there's also other outlets with which to explore the universe. you can find the spinoff games Sunless Seas, Sunless Skies, and Mask of The Rose available to purchase right now on steam, and there's recently been a very successful kickstarter to adapt the game into a TTRPG. it looks very cool so far. im very very very excited for it :)

in lieu of having to come up with a conclusion for this ask, im instead going to direct you to the MoTR stupendium song (which you'll find linked below). it says far more and advertises far better than i could ever dream of. also, it's a straight bop, and "all ends/swords pens" has lived rent-free in my brain for months.

welcome to the neath, delicious friend. we hope you enjoy your stay ❤️

[moonstruckme]

what about blanket fort : “here, you can sleep in my shirt”, a rainy night and Remus? With some fluffy comfort? 🫶🫶🫶

Ty <3

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 902 words

Remus knows he ought to be letting you dry yourself off. Ordinarily he would, but in bringing you the towel he somehow found himself winding it around your shoulders, and once he starts doing it for you it becomes nearly impossible to resist. 

“Why would you come out in this?” he mutters, half to you and half to whatever ingenious, deranged divinity made you this way. 

“I thought you liked my banana bread.” You seem mostly amenable to his coddling, though you gave Remus a strange look when he first bypassed your hands to squeeze the ends of your hair out himself. You tilt your cheek into his hand as he rubs the towel over your neck. 

“I do like your banana bread. I don’t like you giving yourself hypothermia to bring it to me.” 

“You’re so dramatic.” This is a characteristic you’ve assigned to him. You haven’t been seeing each other long enough to have met Remus’ friends, but he knows when you do meet them (on that inevitable date when he can no longer manage to keep you squirrelled away for himself) they are going to laugh and laugh at this. “It’s just a bit of rain,” you say. “The bread’s never as good as on the first day.” 

This is true. Remus really is embarrassingly excited to have a piece—he’s already fantasizing about the softness of it, the way the chocolate chips you add in melt in his mouth and stick to his palate—but he does wish you at least grabbed an umbrella in your mad dash to deliver it to him. 

Your head and shoulders are thoroughly dried now, and with no more excuse of touching you anywhere unscandalous Remus hands the towel off to you. “I can't have you walking back in this,” he says. 

You scoff. “Oh, it’s not that bad.” 

A flash of lightning precurses a powerful cracking sound, loud enough to rattle the windows. Remus levels you with a look. 

You wince. “I didn’t bring anything for the night, though.” 

His stern look dissolves under a smile. “That’s alright, love. Come on.” 

You’re familiar with Remus’ home. You haven’t stayed over before, but you know your way around, where he keeps his linens, his clothes. You watch with interest, his towel wrapped around you, as he goes to a drawer you’ve not seen before. 

Your laughter is loud and bright when you see what comes out. “Is that yours?” 

“It was a gift,” he qualifies. The shirt he’s holding up has two arrows. One, pointing up, indicates The Man, while the one pointing down alludes to The Legend. James thought it would be a fun gift to have Remus open in front of the Potters at Christmas. “I don’t think he thought I’d actually wear it.” 

You’re biting your lip to contain your smile. The sight makes Remus’ stomach riot. “No,” you agree, “it doesn’t seem like something you’d wear.” 

“Here.” He tosses the shirt to you. “You can sleep in this.” 

As he predicted, your amusement at this proposal makes you forget any notions you had about trying to get home. “I get to be the legend?” you ask eagerly. 

Well, really, you get to have the legend, but Remus doesn’t feel like correcting you. “Sure.” He goes to leave, but you don’t move, only looking at him delightedly until he takes you by the shoulders and you understand that he’s trying to move past you. You really are adorable. “Do you need anything?” 

“Oh, I think I’ve got everything I need right here.” You grin, brandishing the shirt. “Just a minute.” 

He waits outside his bedroom door while you change. Or, that’s what he plans to do, but the first wet sounds of your clothes hitting the floor are enough to ignite Remus’ blush and they drive him into the kitchen to make tea instead. He unwraps your banana bread, cutting off a slice for each of you and setting them on plates. By the time he’s succeeded in forgetting that you’re undressing in his bedroom you’re back, and that’s another shock. 

Aside from knowing you’d find it funny, he picked this shirt because it was big. Remus doesn’t have an abundance of t-shirts, but he didn’t want you to feel like he was trying to make you traipse around in nearly nothing for his entertainment. What he didn’t consider was that seeing something this big on you might be just as problematic. You’re darling. The shoulder seams hang halfway down your biceps, your skin is still shining prettily with rainwater, and worst of all you’re smiling like the cat that got the cream with an arrow that says The Man pointing up at you. 

“You totally wear this,” you say, grinning. “It smells like you.” 

And oh, god—if that isn’t enough to send his heart into a tizzy. “Does it?” 

“Mhm.” 

“And what do I smell like?” 

You shrug, as if Remus can’t see the flicker of bashfulness in your gaze. “Like you,” you hedge. “The point is that you wear it.” 

“It’s soft,” he admits. 

Your grin widens. “Am I wearing your favorite pajama shirt?” 

He sighs, but some of the reluctance is for show. Remus only loves to see you excited. “Yes, you are.” 

“I love it,” you say, pushing up onto your toes to kiss his cheek. “I love being the legend.” 

Remus snorts, and you laugh. “What?” 

[shanesevikasfuckdoll]

Surprising Sevika with nipple piercings

Imagine teasing Sevika about getting nipple piercings, and when she goes on a 2 week business trip, you surprise her with it.

Warning: Smut

🚫Men and Minors Dni🚫

"Babe, I'm serious! I think they'll look cool!" You say to Sevika, trying to convince her it's a good Idea to get your nipples pierced. "Plus, you have that lip piercing, and you look cool as hell, babe!" She rolls her eyes at you, clearly not persuaded by your efforts of convincing her. "Who said they don't look cool? But I assure you. It'll hurt." She wasn't entirely against it, but the thought of not being able to play with your tits for more than 3 days was inevitably going to drive her insane. Also, she hated seeing you in pain, and would probably have to deal with you, while you were sore.

That was her argument, atleast. You shut up about it for awhile, thinking about the pain. Contemplating on whether you should disobey her or not. But the more you thought about it, the more enticing the thought had been. You could NOT die, without getting a nipple piercing, and you already made up your mind. You have to get those piercings.

A month has passed since the conversation, yet you were still looking for ways to get that piercing without Sevika noticing right away. You wanted it to be a gift for her, since her birthday was coming up in 11 months anyways. (That's just what you said to yourself to make you feel a little better for going against her.) Regardless, you were getting it one way or another. You just have to make sure she doesn't catch on to you plan beforehand, so she doesn't threaten every piercing and tattoo shop within a 20 mile radius, to refuse serving you. You had to think smarter somehow.

You couldn't think of a single thing to bypass Sevika. Even if you tried.

- "Babe, I'm going shopping, want anything?

"I'll go with you."

- "Babe, I'm gonna meet up with some friends, I might be home late."

"I'm coming with you."

- "Babe, I'm going to take out the trash"

"I'll do it."

- "I can't stand you! I need some fresh air." She grabs your wrist, and pins you down, and kiss you where you stand, giving you a night of passion, and falling asleep in her arms. ending with you still being with her at the end of the day with her death grip that comes with her cuddles.

You tried everything, anything that you could do to make Sevika not suspicious of you. It was a success, she was not suspicious at all, but the reason being you couldn't get past her at all. And you come to the realization of how clingy your girlfriend truly is. You don't mind it, you love it actually, but you just wanna be rebellious and surprise your girlfriend, but now even thinking of it, it seems hard to do.

Until 3 months later, the opportunity was handed to you on silver platter.

"Babe!" You girlfriend shouts from the living room. You quickly run to her, worried something happened, but she just stood there with a briefcase brought to her by Silco. She was making a serious transaction, and she was the only person Silco trusts to do the job well. The job that requires her to leave you for 2 weeks, since the shipment was in Bilgewater. She explains.

"I'll call you everyday babe, I promise. I'll make this up to you when I get home, okay?" She caresses you face, and kisses your cheek, and your forehead, and you try to give her your best poker face, trying to hide your excitement from her. You just pout, and coo at her "Aww, baby, I'm gonna miss you. Before you go, I'm gonna make you your lunch, okay, bubba? Oh, my poor sweetheart, I'll miss you every night, call me okay?" Of course, you are still going to miss your girlfriend. But there was also opportunities to it. For you and her. A win-win situation, really.

You pack her lunch, and send her off with a long kiss, and hug. You stand at your door, and see her walking away, as you wave her goodbye. And once she turned the corner, you shut the door behind you, and you squealed and jumped in excitement.

You go put on some loud music, and open a beer, eat your snacks, and make an appointment tomorrow, 4pm sharp. You dance in your apartment, and get drunk thinking 'tomorrow's gonna be a breeze.'

You text Sevika goodnight, and you fall asleep, happily ever after.

Except. Tomorrow was NOT gonna be a breeze. You woke up at the sound of your alarm clock at 9am. You shut it off with a loud groan. You feel your head pounding, and you just lay there and sulk. Missing your Sevi, and the bad headache. You go to her side of the bed, and smell her pillows, thinking to yourself 'Janna, I miss her. I should call her'

You check your phone to see 2 messages from Sevika from this morning with a selfie, and a text saying 'Just got here. Sleepy as shit. Goodnight my princess, love you. ❤️' You text her back, and lift your shirt up to show her the last time your nipples were going to be unpierced. You take a picture of your tits, and send it to her. "g'morning, love. I hope you had a nice sleep, baby" She's probably still asleep, considering the fact that the timezone in Bilgewater was a couple hours behind, and the fact that she got there so late.

And with that, you get up, and stretch. You go to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of coffee, and breakfast. You eat your breakfast, while watching dumb cartoons (They're not dumb, You fucking love cartoons) You like watching them anyways. You keep checking your phone for the time, checking for Sevika's message, but you see there was no response. Again, she was probably still sleeping anyways.

It's now 3pm, an hour before your appointment. Still no text from Sevika, and you're just about getting ready to leave the house. You are worried that you might come across someone that knows Sevika, and'll probably snitch on you, so you wear an oversized hoodie, and sweatpants to hide yourself from potential snitches that'll rat you out to your wife. You grab your keys, wallet, and phone and head out.

You text Sevika "I'm going to buy some groceries baby" with a selfie, and a kissy face emoji. You smile through your lie, and thinking this was the best idea ever. You walked for a bit, nearning the piercing shop, everything going smoothly. Until you come across Ran. Ran is a coworker of Sevika, and may potentially tell on you by accident. You have no choice but to entertain them, since they'll probably get suspicious of you, and you're just nothing but a nervous wreck.

Your eyes go wide as you see them walk over to you. It was still only 3:30 anyways, and you did have time, but who knows how long they'll stick around. "Hey! How are you? where ya going? They wave to you with their bionic fingers, and you just swallow the lump in your throat, and smile at them, trying to hide your nervousness. "H-Hi, Ran, I was just out to get some... Groceries! yeah, groceries!" They just blink at you, with their mouth agape, and they spoke "Uhm, Y/N, the grocery store is that way" They said, pointing the other direction. You mentally slap yourself, and act surprised "O-oh? Is that so? I might have gotten lost or something" Your voice clearly oozing with anxiety, but you might've just come across as weird. "Cut the bullshit, where are you actually going?" They said, raising their eyebrow at you.

You finally break. "F-fine! I'm going to get a piercing, okay? Happy? Just, please don't tell Sevika, please!!!" You get flustered, and your face turns red. You don't really wanna specify on where you're getting a piercing, but you still plead to them not to tell on you. "Hmm, why? 's it a surprise?" they ask. "Yes!!! Yes, so please, do me a favor, just this once." You look at them with puppy eyes, and your hands together. They look you up and down, and chuckle at you "Alright fine. But that's because you know I can't say no to you. I'll keep my mouth shut." You smile, your eyes sparkle a bit. "Oh thank you, thank you, thank you, thabk you, thank you! But, can I ask one more thing?" You look up at them again. They burst out laughing, but you pout at them "Sure are abusing your power over me. But yes, of course. Anything you need?" You giggle them "Please please please don't let anyone else find out, and if you can, please get them away from the piercing shop. I don't want to blow uo my cover." They smiles at you "Sounds like you're going to murder someone, and trying to hide it. But yeah, sure Y/n." You give them a big hug, and you part ways, and you run towards the piercing shop, panting as you open the door.

The time was 3:50 already. And you were just about time. The piercer comes up to you, and asks you what piercing you wanted, and if you're comfortable. They tell you to wait for a bit, as they finish up a client, and you sit there finally able to be calm, with no one familiar in sight.

Until...

*Ring ring*

Your phone rang. It was Sevika. You were panicking, not knowing what to do. You can't turn off your phone, and she knows your notifications are never off for her. You resist the urge to answer it, and you just out your phone on silent. You were nervous on what to say to her later, even more nervous now, for what you're about to do. You don't like not answering her calls, and texts, but you only have to wait a little bit, and then you'll answer it. 'Oh, I'm sorry my baby, I'll make it up to you, I swear, just give me a couple minutes.' You say in your mind. the ringing stops, and you hear yourself get a text message. Another one. And another one. You were able to read it from your notifications, and it reads

3:56pm (Sevika)

- Missed a call

- Babe? Where are you?

- You busy?

- Why aren't you answering my calls?

You were so nervous. You never intentionally ignored Sevika, and you never wanted to. But she only has to wait a little bit more. She calls you agsin, but this time, you put your phone in your pocket, and sigh, as you put your phone on silent.

"Okay, Y/n, you're up. Are you ready?" The piercer asks, as she sterilizes the needle. "Y-yes." At this point, you're starting to feel very guilty. You don't want to make her worry and you're already second guessing yourself. You just suck it up, and think that this is for her. All for her. And selfishly, for you too, but it's all hers. You sigh, and lift up your shirt. "Ready?" The piercer asks. You nod. "Take a deep breath for me." She counts from 1, 2, 3— "AHH! THIS HURTS LIKE A MOTHER FUCKER!" the needle went through. She puts the jewelry in. You breath heavily, and wince from the pain, when she takes it out. "Oh Janna, is this how it's gonna feel for the other one?" You say, with worry. But, maybe you deserve it, just a little bit. The piercer chuckles, as she sterilizes her other needle, and places the needle to your other nipple. "Deep breath for me, okay 1, 2—" "SON OF A BITCH!!! OH MY JANNA!" You howl from the pain. She puts the other jeweltry in, and you try your best not to touch it.

The piercer leaves you a while, to let you see the piercings. You deserved the pain anyway, and it's gone now, just notably uncomfortable. She suggest that you don't wear your hoodie when you walk home, and suggest you just wear the shirt underneath it. Your nipples were hard, and sensitive. They were still healing, after all. You payed, and walked out of there a new woman. You went to your phone, and finally read what Sevika had been texting you. There was a fuck ton of texts, and miss calls, and suddenly, the pain was well deserved. You quickly text her back

4:18pm (You)

- Oh my

- Im sorry, Sevi, I didn't see your texts, and calls

- I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry

At this point, you feel like a bad girlfriend. You head to the grocery store, and finally call her there

"Where have you been?" She asks, clearly angry, "Oh, my, I'm at the grocery store, and my phone didn't ring" You hate having to lie to her, but you're doing it now. In other circumstances, you could never lie to her, but, she'll find out in a bit anyways. "Never ignore my calls again. I swear, I almost went home, because of your ass!" She exclaims, which you gladly accepted. "Oh, please do. I miss you badly, Sevika." You say, while touching your breasts, but avoiding the nipples. She smirks, and now, her mood just changes completely. "Oh yea? I saw your photo earlier. Better be more where that came from." She winks at you. You smirk, and wink back. "Oh, trust me. There will be."

She got home in a week, the shipment was a success, and she got to go home early. You were just getting out of the shower, topless. You didn't expect her to just come in the door. "Honey, I'm hom-" She just stared at you. Your eyes go wide. And you try to cover your nipples. "B-baby, I can explain!" She looks at you with a glint in her her eyes. she quickly throws her bags on the floor, and pins you down on the counter, by your hand, and stares at your hard nipples. "S-surprise, baby! welcome home!" You smile at her, and you lift your chest up a bit to her, to show it off even more. She doesn't talk, she just stares at them, while pinning you, and she looks at you with a raised eyebrow, but still has that hunger in her eyes, that makes it seems like she wants to devour you. "I wasn't expecting you home so soon~" you coo at her. Her face finally resteing, but her eyes are still studying you. She finally speaks. "This looks healed. When did you get this?" She raised a brow again. (Janna, this woman is the CEO of eyebrow raising) It makes you a little nervous, but you finally told her the truth.

"I'm sorry for not telling you, my sweetheart. But, this was supposed to be a surprise for you. All for you." You coo at her, your face inching closer to her. And she grabs your face, and forces her tongue in your mouth. It caught you by surprise, but when you finally processed that she wasn't mad at you, you finally kissed her back with the same amount of hunger as her. There was a firey passion in your kiss—Heavy make out session, really. She pulled back, and smiled at you. "I love you so fucking much, you know that?" You smile back at her, and pull her face towards you, and kiss her nose, and cheeks. You giggle at her. "And I love you, my Sevi" She presses her forehead against yours, and you both smile at each other, and it quickly became a weird form of foreplay again, and you both have that look in your eyes again.

She leans in for another kiss, and you put your hand on the back of her neck, and she plays with your nipples. You moan in the kiss, and pull back "mhm, baby, they're sensitive" You whine at her. She smirks, opens her mouth, and goes to them. Her right hand playing with your right nipple, and she's sucking left. "S-sev, p-please, ah~" You moan her name, making her more eager to tease you. She puts her hands under your ass, and she smacks it. You bite your lip, and you wrap your legs around her, she's pulling you into a deep kiss again, and you kiss her back hungrily. You pull back, and lean on the counter, and she's giving you hickies on your neck, and going down to your breasts. She's gentle with your nipples though. She just touches them lightly, or lick them, but not too hard. "hmm, you look perfect, my baby. I was wrong. Nipple piercings are awesome. On you, atleast" She teases. You roll you eyes, and look up at her. You put your hand behind her neck again, and you smile on her shoulder. "Told you, baby. You were right though, hurts like a son of a bitch. Made it extra sensitive too"

She smiles, kisses your neck again, although you can hear, and feel her chuckling between kisses. It suddenly turns darker quickly, though. She unbuttons your pants, and throws it from across the room. She sits you on the counter, to look at your soaked panties. "Mhm, I've missed this pussy, baby" she puts her thumb near it, but not touching it. Just, teasing. You moan "not as much as it missed you, Sevi. I haven't touched myself, since you left" You tell her, you lean forward, to feel her thumb on you, but she pulls back. "Impatient, are we?" You nod, "P-please, Sevika. T-touch me already, baby. Fuck me, please" You beg. "Oh baby, you know how much I love it when you're like this. All desperate for me. All for me." You nod. You can't take it anymore. You put your fingers in your panties, and touch yourself. She grabs your wrist, and puts them above your head, and she kisses you. Her finger is now circling your cloth clit. You panties now ruined. She smirks in the kiss, and she finally puts your panties aside, and she quickly pumps a finger in you. "o-ah! Sevika! ah! hmm! a-atlea-st w-warn me!" You complain, but you got lost, as her fingers pump in and out of you. She plays with your nipples with her tongue, as she's looking up at you. You look down at her, but your eyes are getting heave as you get closer to cumming.

She circled her thumb on your clit, while she's finger fucking you, and all you can do is take it, and pull her closer to your chest. "F-fuck, s-sevika!" you moan louder. Pretty sure the neighbors can hear you both going at it, the sounds your pretty pussy makes, your loud moans when you scream her name. "Mhm, baby, all mine. This is all mine baby?" She asks, not for assurance, but to tease you a little more. "Y-yes, Sevi-ka, f-uck! I-I l-ove yo-u! a-all yours!" She finds it hot how you find it hard to speak from moaning, and she smirks at you. You're close, and Sevika can feel it, "C'mon, cum for me, princess" she pumps in you again, harder, and faster, the fast, but smooth friction on your clit, you throw your head back, your body convulsing as you climax on her fingers, you pull her closer to you, and your grip on her hair getting stronger. Your moans were now louder, "S-Sevikaa-ah!!! f-uck!!"

She pumped in you a little more, as you calmed down for your orgasm, and she pulls her soaked fingers out of you, and makes you suck on your juices, and puts her fingers in and out of your mouth. She pulls it out, and leans in for a kiss. You breathlessly kiss her back, but pull away immedietly, to catch you breath. "Next time you try and sneak shit from me again, I won't go easier on you." She says, recalling the time you intentionally ignored her for your piercing, and you giggle at her "Yes, baby, I promise, I'll never do it again. Behind your back" You stick your tongue out at her, and she quickly leaned to you, and sucked it. You're both smiling in the kiss, and she grabs a towel to clean you up. "But I gotta say, it was worth it, yeah?" You ask her. She chuckles, and takes another good look at you, before cleaning you up. She hums, "Very worth it." She smirks at you. You kiss her forehead, and she quickly kissess yours too. "Let's go back to shower, you're coming with me, stinky!" You tease her, and make grabby hands for her to carry you to the bathroom. "Oh shut up" She says, rolling her eyes at you, and she carries you to the shower, taking her clothes off, starting with her belt. "Round 2?" She asks, as she pulls her belt out. "Oh hell yeah." You giggle, and answer immedietly. She hops in the shower with you, and you're both giggling like teenage girls. She puts her forehead against yours, and whispers an "I love you" under her breath. You put your hands up her cheeks again, and close your eyes, while smiling. "I love you too. "

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

This is my first ever smut, please be nice.

I must warn you all that I am no writer, and I do this for fun, so if you're a writer, and I fell short on a couple things, I'd gladly take constructive criticism and tips on how to be better at this. ❤️

[vunblr]

Foundations (#5)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+. Slight Angst. Fluff. Possible Smut in the future. Neurological Damage. Depiction of Symptoms (Bucky).

Summary: Bucky is doing his best to build a stable life for his newfound son, rescued from the guts of a Hydra facility. As he struggles with unexpected fatherhood and his own circumstances, he meets someone who slowly becomes part of their lives, establishing a connection he never saw coming.

Word Count: 7.3.k.

note1: In this universe Steve didn't leave, Tony doesn't know that the Winter Soldier killed his parents, and everything is relatively ok.

note2: This is one of the works I'm submitting for the @avengers-assemble-bingo event for Bucky's 108th birthday, running throughout March. The prompt was "Mutual Pining". Card number 4B-016.

Previous Chapter

Bucky hadn’t meant to come out.

But the tension in his back was unbearable, a deep, twisting ache left behind by the force of the seizure. He had managed to sleep for a few hours, but the pain had dragged him back to consciousness, leaving him restless. At times like this, it was easier to sleep without the prosthesis since its weight made things worse. So, as he often did on rough nights, he had detached it before lying down, giving his body some relief.

He hadn’t bothered to put it back on.

Because as far as he knew, he was alone.

He padded sleepily toward the kitchen, wearing only a pair of loose grey sweatpants that hung low on his hips. He pressed his hand idly against the stiff muscles of his back as he rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the discomfort. He was still half-asleep when he reached for the light switch, flipping it on.

That was when he saw her.

Sitting on his couch, curled up in his blanket, a mug of tea in her hands.

She had woken up to the sound of the storm outside. Not wanting to leave in the middle of the night, she had quietly made herself a cup of tea, maneuvering through the darkened apartment with only the glow of the streetlamps to guide her. She hadn’t turned on the lights, there was no need.

She’d been sipping her tea absentmindedly, lost in thought, when the sudden brightness filled the room, momentarily blinding her.

And then there he was.

Standing in the doorway, tired and rumpled, hair slightly tousled from sleep, his bare torso illuminated under the dim light, the ridges of old scars and muscle casting shadows across his skin.

And, most notably, without his arm.

Her eyes flicked to the space at his left shoulder.

Bucky realized too late. Saw the exact moment she noticed, the way her gaze briefly lingered before snapping up to meet his.

His entire body tensed.

“…You’re still here,” he muttered, voice still rough with sleep.

She swallowed, slowly lowering the mug from her lips. “Yeah. Didn’t feel right to leave Thomas alone after what happened, so I put him to bed and stayed a little longer. But… I ended up crashing on the couch.”

The silence between them stretched, thick and heavy.

Then, without quite meeting his gaze, she lifted the mug slightly. “Tea? Water’s still hot.”

Bucky hesitated, then gave a small nod. “Yeah. Sure.”

She could feel his discomfort, the tension rolling off him at being seen like this; so vulnerable, standing half-dressed in his own kitchen, missing a limb. She sighed softly, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be here.”

He exhaled, dropping his gaze to the floor. “I understand why you stayed. And I’m… grateful for that.”

Something about the way he said it made her chest feel a little tighter.

She approached carefully, offering him the cup, forcing her eyes to stay on his face and not drop to his bare torso, the lean muscle, the sharp angles of his collarbone, the scars tracing his skin. She could not think about that right now.

And yet, somehow, her half-asleep brain completely bypassed the normal route of conversation and went straight for-

“Do you always take off the prosthesis to sleep?”

Bucky’s entire frame went rigid. His jaw tensed, and for a second, his expression was unreadable. Too controlled, too neutral, like he was deciding whether to let her question slide or shut her out entirely.

“No,” he said at last. Then, as if preparing for some awkward moment regarding the topic, he added, “If it bothers you, I can-”

“No!” she cut in quickly, horrified. “My God, that’s not why I asked.”

His brows knit together slightly, like he wasn’t sure whether to believe her.

She swallowed, shifting the cup between her hands. “It was just… curiosity. I’ve heard a lot of amputees take theirs off because the artificial limb feels heavy or uncomfortable when they sleep.” Her voice softened slightly as she gestured toward the missing arm. “And since… you know.”

Bucky exhaled, raking a hand through his already messy hair, and she absolutely did not think about how unfairly attractive that was.

“This isn’t a regular prosthesis,” he admitted after a pause. “You’ve seen how it works. It’s… different. Feels natural most of the time. But the strength it has… it strains my back sometimes. Puts too much tension on the muscles that support it.” He rolled his shoulder slightly, exhaling through his nose. “Nights like tonight, it’s just easier to take it off.”

She nodded slowly, watching the subtle tightness in his stance, the weight he seemed to be holding in his posture.

“So you’re in pain right now,” she said, less a question and more of a realization.

There was no point in denying it.

Bucky just let out a quiet grunt, taking the cup from her hands.

She tilted her head slightly, watching the way he rolled his shoulder again, trying to ease the stiffness. “Do you want to take a hot shower before I leave? It might help.”

“Leave?” Bucky’s brows furrowed as he looked at her like she had lost her mind. “At this hour? With this storm?”

She blinked at his tone, then shrugged. “Well, I don’t want to impose. You seem fine now, and maybe you wanted your privacy back.”

Bucky scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re not imposing.” His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. Then, as if the mere idea of her stepping outside in this weather offended him, he added, “And what kind of man would I be if I let you go unaccompanied in the middle of the night, with the skies falling down?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it, slightly thrown by the sharp conviction in his voice.

“Right,” she murmured, taking a sip of her tea to hide the sudden warmth in her face. “Guess I’m staying, then.”

Before he could reply, the apartment was swallowed by sudden darkness as everything went out at once -the light, the subtle sound of the fridge- leaving only the sound of rain slamming against the windows.

Bucky muttered a sharp curse under his breath, setting his tea down on the counter with a soft clink. “Great. Happens every time the rain’s this heavy,” he grumbled, running a hand through his hair. “The wiring in this place is older than I am.”

She blinked at the unexpected shift, adjusting her eyes to the dim glow leaking in from the storm outside.

"Do you have candles?" she asked, glancing instinctively toward the kitchen. The small emergency light on the wall stayed stubbornly dark after a few attempts to make it work.

Bucky sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Probably. Somewhere. I think.”

She arched a brow, amused despite herself. “You think?”

He pushed off the counter, moving stiffly toward the cabinets. “I’ll check.”

“Don’t bother,” she said casually behind him. “I’ve been through every cabinet in there while cooking and organizing, and there are no candles.

He sighed and moved toward the fridge. Reaching up, Bucky grabbed something off the top -a small flashlight- and flicked it on, casting a cone of light that cut through the dark.

“Ah, that’s unfair,” she teased, tilting her head. “I don’t even reach up there.”

Bucky smirked faintly, glancing over his shoulder at her. “That’s ‘cause I had to hide it. Thomas keeps draining the batteries playing astronaut or secret agent.”

She let out a soft laugh, watching him as he limped slightly back toward the living room, shining the light ahead of him.

“Alright,” he said, pausing by the TV. “Check the last drawer in the rack.”

“The junk drawer?” she asked, moving carefully across the room.

“Mmhmm,” he hummed, aiming the flashlight so it illuminated the drawer.

She crouched in front of it and pulled it open, and the soft beam caught on a chaotic mix of odds and ends: some tools, a broken pair of sunglasses, loose screws, a tangle of string, batteries, and other forgotten bits of life.

“Wow,” she chuckled. “You weren’t kidding. Miscellaneous indeed.”

From behind her, Bucky gave a soft huff. "Told you."

He shifted his weight against the wall, metal-free shoulder leaning slightly as he adjusted the beam of light.

"Pull some stuff out," he added after a beat. "It’s probably packed too full, you won’t see anything unless you move things around."

She hummed her agreement and started to carefully take out the tangled mess. Batteries, some pliers, a random cable that looked way too short to belong to anything useful, she placed all of it on the floor beside her, trying to keep some kind of order.

Reaching deeper, her fingers brushed against a small rectangular box near the back. It felt like a matchbox, finally, something useful.

“Aha!” she said with a small grin, tugging it free. “At least we have-”

Her words died on her lips the second she looked at it.

It was not a matchbox.

It was a sealed box of condoms.

Correction. A sealed box of XL condoms.

Her face went up in flames instantly, lips parting in silent shock.

Behind her, Bucky’s brow furrowed slightly at her sudden pause. He leaned forward to get a better look. The moment the saw the box in her hands, his eyes widened just a fraction, and before either of them could say a word, he reached out in one smooth motion, snatching the box and tucking it hastily into the pocket of his sweatpants.

“Uh…” he mumbled, avoiding her gaze like it burned. “Forgot those were in there.”

She pressed her lips together to hold back any kind of reaction, her cheeks absolutely burning. “Right…” she murmured, ducking her head and diving back into the drawer as if she could erase the awkwardness by force of will.

As she resumed rummaging -now definitely avoiding eye contact- Bucky shifted his weight, glancing toward her for a moment before letting out a quiet sigh. He clamped the flashlight between his teeth to free his hand. With the beam of light now bobbing faintly as he held it in his mouth, he discreetly slid the box of condoms back out of his pocket and turned it over in his fingers.

Expired. Two years ago.

He huffed a dry, almost soundless laugh through his nose. Not that he was surprised.

Quickly, he slipped it back in his pocket and took the flashlight from his mouth just as she straightened, holding up an opened package of candles with a triumphant little smile, though her eyes didn’t quite meet his.

"Here."

“Thanks,” he murmured, accepting them, brushing his fingers against hers just briefly, enough to make something sharp and tense spark in the space between them.

She quickly busied herself, gathering all the other junk and stuffing it back into the drawer, sliding it shut like she could shove down the thick tension in the air.

After lighting two candles -one set on the kitchen counter, the other on the dining table- they each grabbed their now-lukewarm tea and sat for a moment, a truce in the dim space.

She wrapped her hands around her mug and turned slightly to look at him, studying his tired profile in the glow. That’s when it hit her.

"You haven't eaten," she said softly. "You went straight to bed after the seizure."

Bucky was mid-sip, and when she said it, he paused, lowering the cup slightly. He was already shaking his head, about to downplay it like always.

“I’m fine-”

"I can reheat the gnocchi in a pot with a pinch of water," she offered gently, like it wasn’t a big deal. "They’ll be perfectly edible in a couple of minutes."

His jaw worked as though he wanted to argue, but in the end, he sighed, nodding once. He couldn’t say no to that.

"I’ll help," he muttered, already rising from his chair.

She arched a brow but didn’t stop him. "Alright. You can set the table."

As she pulled the tupperware out of the fridge and started rummaging for a pot, Bucky moved carefully toward the cabinets, grabbing plates and cutlery with one hand. It took a little longer than usual, he had to take multiple trips to set everything down, maneuvering around her, sometimes a little too close.

They brushed against each other a few times as they both navigated the small kitchen, her reaching over him for a spoon, him moving around her to get place mats for the plates. Neither said a word, though both felt it.

Every brief contact felt warmer than it should have, charged in a way that made her chest tight and Bucky’s gaze drop away.

“Do you want water or more tea?” she asked as she stirred the gnocchi in the pot, now steaming slightly.

“Water’s good,” he said quietly, moving to grab a glass.

His fingers brushed hers when she handed him a second one to help, and for a moment, they paused, not quite looking at each other but not pulling away either.

"Table’s ready," he mumbled eventually, breaking the moment, and went to set the glasses down.

“Alright,” she said softly, a small smile curving her lips. "Dinner’s served."

Bucky looked over at her as she turned around, and for a moment, as she walked toward the table with the pot in hand, all he could think about was how normal this felt, how easy, how… dangerous.

Because this? This was something he could get used to. And that scared the hell out of him.

As she get to the table to set the pot down, her eyes caught something that made her pause. There were two plates on the table.

Her brows lifted slightly in surprise. “You set one for me too?”

Bucky shifted in his chair, running his hand through his hair. He shrugged, glancing toward the candle flame rather than at her.

“I just thought… maybe you’d wanna join me. Like a late snack or something,” he murmured, almost shyly. “Felt weird to eat alone.”

Her heart did an odd little flip at that.

“Alright,” she said gently, giving him a small smile as she sat down. “A snack it is.” She served herself a small portion, careful to take less since it was clear he needed it more.

They settled into their chairs, and as she picked at her plate, she watched him out through her lashes, curious to see what he’d think.

He took a bite, chewing slowly at first, and then something in his expression shifted, and his eyes widened slightly as the flavor hit him.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath, like he hadn’t expected it to be that good.

A smile tugged at her lips as she watched him, and sure enough, after that first bite, he didn’t hesitate, digging in faster now, like once the first swallow settled, his body realized just how hungry it was.

Still, halfway through, he slowed for a second, glancing up at her. “They’re really good,” he said quietly, making eye contact like it mattered to him that she knew he meant it.

Her smile grew. “Good,” she murmured, almost to herself. “I’m glad.”

For a few moments, they just ate quietly, with the candlelight flickering between them, and somehow, it felt less like nanny and employer, and more like something else entirely.

Bucky grabbed a forkful, savoring another bite before glancing at her, trying to sound casual. "Are these… much trouble to make?"

She couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. Ah, there it was, a subtle way of asking if she might make them again sometime.

"Not really," she replied, secretly amused. "I actually make them once a month. They’re pretty cheap to do, too."

Bucky quirked a brow, leaning back a little in his chair, clearly surprised.

"Really? Huh. I bought a package once, about this size," he gestured to the plate with his fork, making a face, "and… let’s just say it definitely didn’t taste like this, and the price wasn’t cheap."

She chuckled, setting her fork down for a moment. "That’s because those barely count as real gnocchi; they use a paste with more flour and additives than anything else and then freeze them to death. This?" She gestured toward the food between them. "Potatoes, egg, flour… oh, and cornstarch."

His brows lifted slightly as if filing that information away like a secret recipe.

"And the time you use to make them," she added. "Which, if you have practice, isn’t that much."

He hummed thoughtfully, glancing down at his plate, idly nudging a piece of gnocchi with his fork.

 "If you want…" she started, casually, "I could teach you how to make them,  someday."

His eyes flicked up to meet hers, surprised, blinking like he hadn’t expected that offer.

She smiled a little, giving a small shrug like it was nothing, even though, to him, it felt like something. "It might be a nice activity to do with Thomas. He’d probably love that."

Bucky stared at her a second longer, as if processing it, and then something warm, -maybe even a little hopeful- lit up behind his tired eyes.

"Yeah," he said, clearing his throat as if to play it off, though the faintest smile tugged at his lips. "Yeah, that would be great. I’m not great in the kitchen, but if it makes the kid happy…"

She chuckled, sipping her water. "Still, if you don’t feel like getting flour all over your kitchen, I can always make them for you two again. Just let me know in advance."

Bucky nodded slowly, but there was something softer, more thoughtful in the way he looked at her now. Because the truth was, as much as he liked the idea of cooking with Thomas, the thought of her in his kitchen, making dinner like she belonged there, like this was something they always did… yeah, he liked that a little too much.

Even if he knew she’d eventually leave. Even if he knew when she walked out the door, he’d sit at this same table with Thomas, and the apartment would feel too quiet again. That was always when the little bubble of domesticity burst, and he remembered he was only playing house in his own head.

"Want a second serving?" Her voice broke through the fog of his thoughts, pulling him back.

He glanced down at his empty plate, surprised to see it already cleared, then back up at her.

A slow, almost sheepish smile curved his lips. "Yeah… I’d like that." She stood up to grab the pot, and he watched her move.

Maybe pretending for a little longer wasn’t the worst thing.

They talked while he ate, and the conversation flowed easily between bites, like slipping into a comfortable pair of shoes neither of them realized they owned. He asked about some of the kids she used to teach, and she told him a story about a girl who had insisted on wearing fairy wings for a whole month, claiming it was part of her "emotional growth."

Bucky listened, and his eyes occasionally crinkled in that rare way when he was amused, and though he didn’t speak as much, he looked... content.

When he finally finished, pushing his plate back with a satisfied sigh, she stood to collect everything without asking, moving toward the sink to wash up. He didn’t stop her, maybe because he knew it would take him longer with one hand, or maybe because, at that moment, it was nice to have her there doing something so normal in his kitchen.

He leaned back slightly, watching her roll up her sleeves, methodically washing each thing like… like this was just another evening for them.

But then she yawned, covering her mouth with the back of her wrist, and something in him shifted. It wasn’t unusual for him to be awake at that hour -he was used to restless nights, to wandering through the dark- but her? She wasn’t supposed to be part of that quiet, lonely world.

Before he could stop himself, his mouth was already moving:

"Want to sleep in my bed?"

She froze mid-scrub, and her fingers went still in the water. Slowly, she turned her head toward him, raising her brows slightly as if questioning if she had heard correctly.

He straightened a bit, realizing exactly how that sounded, and cleared his throat. “Not with me,” he clarified quickly, shaking his head as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean… You look exhausted, and I’m probably not getting any more sleep tonight anyway.”

"I-" she started, hesitating and twisting the kitchen towel in her fingers. "Are you sure?" The offer was tempting -God, she was tired- but part of her questioned the propriety of the situation. Sleeping in her boss’s bed? Even with the best intentions, it felt intimate.

Bucky leaned slightly in his chair, watching her carefully, and gave a soft shrug. "'S fine for me," he said quietly. "I wouldn’t have offered if it wasn’t."

She bit her lip, still unsure, and he must have picked up on it because he added, almost awkwardly, "You can... hum, lock the door if you want."

That made her chuckle softly. "I don’t think that’ll be necessary," she said with a playful lift of her brow. "I’m not exactly afraid that the Winter Soldier’s gonna take advantage of me."

His lips twitched at that, but something in his gaze sharpened.

"It’s just... the bed is intimate, and-" she tried to explain, but he cut her off gently.

"I don’t mind you there."

They stared at each other for a heartbeat.

"You’re here almost every day," he went on, trying to make her understand. "Taking care of my son. You cook for us, do our laundry, inventory the pantry, sometimes clean…" He let out a small, tired breath, holding her gaze. "Hell, you practically manage the whole household. How can I not offer you my bed to sleep in?"

Something in her chest clenched at the way he said it. Not just the words, but the way he looked at her, like she had become something more than just an employee, without either of them fully realizing it.

That was what convinced her.

Her fingers finally relaxed around the towel, and she gave him a small smile. "Alright," she murmured. "Thanks, Bucky."

He nodded, glancing away like it wasn’t a big deal, but his jaw worked a little, as though the moment had stirred more in him than he was ready to admit.

----

She slipped quietly into his room, closing the door behind her with a soft click, with her heart still beating a little faster than it should. The room was dim, lit only by the faint, silvery glow of the streetlights sneaking through the curtains. It was simple but warm, like the rest of the apartment.

She hesitated briefly before pulling off her pants, folding them neatly on a chair by the corner, leaving herself in her T-shirt and underwear. Then, she slid under the covers.

As she settled, shifting slightly to find a comfortable spot, she realized -of course- that the whole bed smelled like him. A mix of soap, leather, and that unique scent she’d come to recognize as Bucky.

Her stupid body tingled in response, betraying her before her brain could even react. She turned her face into the pillow, nuzzling it without thinking, breathing him in before she could stop herself.

God, what a creep.

What would he say if he knew? What would this poor man possibly think if he ever found out his nanny was lying in his bed, clinging to his pillow like some lovesick teenager?

And worse, what if he knew she couldn't stop thinking about that stupid box of condoms? Correction. Stupid box of XL condoms.

She groaned softly, burying her face deeper in the pillow, feeling her cheeks burn.

For fuck’s sake, she scolded herself.

But it was hard to get a grip when working there didn’t even feel like a job anymore. Because it wasn’t just about Thomas, as much as she loved the kid. It was the little things: quiet conversations over some beverage, the three of them going to the grocery store together, the way Bucky watched her sometimes like he wanted to say something but couldn’t.

And now she was here. In his bed.

She swallowed thickly, shifting again under the blanket, trying to will her thoughts into silence.

----

Bucky had already been up for a while by the time she woke up, and when she shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from her eyes, she found breakfast already laid out.

Simple, just toast with cream cheese and jam, a black coffee for him and -he remembered- a milk coffee for her. Thomas was happily munching on cereal, swinging his legs under the table, with drinkable yogurt in one hand.

She blinked, still waking up, and instinctively offered, “Need any help?”

Bucky shook his head, sliding another piece of toast onto her plate. “Nah, just sit and eat.”

So she did, and the moment she sat down, The child beamed at her, absolutely thrilled to find her still there in the morning, and on a Saturday, no less.

“What are we doing today?” he asked excitedly, gripping his spoon with his little hands.

She smiled, stretching a little. “Well, I stayed because of the storm,” she explained. “But I’ll be leaving after breakfast.”

Thomas’s face fell, and his bottom lip jutted out slightly. “Can’t you stay?”

Bucky glanced up at that, but before he could interject, she was already speaking.

“No, buddy,” she said gently. “I have things to do at home, my real home.”

The kid frowned, clearly unhappy with that answer. He chewed on his lip, thinking for a moment before pressing, “And when you finish? Can you come eat dinner with us?”

Bucky was about to step in to remind Thomas that she had her own life outside of them, but before he could open his mouth, she beat him to it, again.

“Sorry, Thomas,” she said, offering a small, apologetic smile. “Today’s Saturday, and I have plans for tonight.”

That, however, caught Bucky’s interest.

Not that he had any right to ask, but-

“With who?” Thomas piped up.

She hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering, “Uh- some friends.”

Bucky took a slow sip of his coffee, feigning complete disinterest, though his grip on the mug tightened slightly.

“Boys or girls?” Thomas pressed, utterly unbothered by social boundaries.

“Girls,” she said firmly, shooting the kid an amused look.

That settled fine with Bucky. Not that he cared. Not that he should care.

Thomas, however, was not done. “And where are you going? Is it a birthday? A party?”

“Not a party, kiddo,” she chuckled, shaking her head. “We’re just going to a pub.”

Thomas frowned in thought. “What do you do there?”

Damn, Bucky thought, hiding a smirk behind his coffee. The kid was relentless this morning.

She blinked, clearly not expecting this much morning interrogation, and struggled to keep up with his rapid-fire curiosity.

“Uh… we drink, chat, dance a little… that kind of stuff.”

Bucky set down his mug a little, fixing his gaze on her over the rim.

Dancing.

Thomas furrowed his brows, clearly trying to grasp the concept. “Oh, so there’s music then. And all the people there dance?”

“Some do, some don’t,” she answered, reaching for her coffee.

The kid chewed on his spoon thoughtfully. “So you dance with your friends, but there’s other people, all dancing there next to you?”

She hesitated, sensing where this was going. “Um… there’s a space to dance, and everybody who wants to dance, well… they just go there and do it. Sometimes I dance with my friends, and sometimes people ask you to.”

Thomas blinked. “Do you know them?”

“Um… no,” she admitted, suddenly regretting the direction of this conversation. “You just… you meet them while dancing or- or later.”

Bucky took a slow sip of his coffee, watching this unfold with a blank expression, but she felt his attention sharpen at that answer.

Fuck.

Thomas frowned, clearly confused now. “But Daddy says you’re not supposed to talk to strangers or take things from them. But it’s okay to dance with them?”

She nearly choked on her coffee.

“Well-” she cleared her throat, scrambling for an explanation, “it’s okay if you’re an adult and you’re in that particular scenario.”

Thomas tilted his head, still piecing things together. “So… if a man you don’t kno-”

“Honey,” she cut in smoothly, offering him a small, patient smile, “finish your cereal, please, before it gets all mushy.”

“Okay…” the kid mumbled, clearly unsatisfied by the abrupt end to his interrogation.

Bucky didn’t say anything at first, swirling the coffee in his mug, staring at the dark liquid like it might have the answers he was looking for.

But then, before he could stop himself, the words slipped out.

“So, a girls’ night?”

She nodded, lifting her mug to her lips. “Yeah, it’s been a while since we dressed up nice and, um… socialized.”

His grip on the cup tightened slightly, though his expression remained unreadable.

“The three of us work with kids,” she continued, swirling her coffee absently. “And, well… sometimes it’s nice to change the jumpers for a dress and just… have some fun.”

Have some fun.

Right. Of course.

She had a life outside of this apartment.

Outside of him.

She wasn’t his. She wasn’t theirs.

And yet, sitting there at the breakfast table, where she had been just the night before, where Thomas had lit up when he saw her, like she was part of their little world, Bucky was reminded, again, that this wasn’t real.

That, at the end of the day, she walked out that door, and she went back to a life he wasn’t part of.

Maybe she’d meet someone tonight. Maybe she’d dance with a stranger. Maybe-

He swallowed, setting his mug down with a quiet thud.

“I see.”

She cleared her throat, shifting slightly in her seat as the silence stretched between them. Something about the way he said "I see" unsettled her, like a door had quietly closed, and she wasn’t sure why.

So she tried to bridge the gap.

“Is your back still bothering you?” she asked, keeping her tone light, like it was just casual concern. “Or your head? You mentioned a headache last night.”

His fingers flexed slightly around the ceramic, a small shift, barely noticeable. “Back’s fine. Just a headache.”

She nodded, setting her mug down. “I have some lavender oil in my bag,” she offered. “If you want, I could rub some pressure points on your temples and neck. Might help.”

Bucky froze.

For a second, he thought about refusing. About keeping that blurred line drawn, that careful space between them almost intact.

But then there was that other part of him. The part that had gotten used to her voice threading through his apartment, the sound of her shuffling around the kitchen, the scent of whatever she wore floating faintly in the space even after she left, the simple, human comfort she brought into a life that had been built on surviving instead of living. The part of him that leaned, that craved, even when it had no right to.

The part of him that wanted to pretend a little longer.

He wetted his lips, flexing his fingers against his knee like he could still convince himself to turn it down.

God, he was so fucking tired of wanting things he couldn’t have.

“…Yeah,” he murmured, rougher than he intended. He cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind.”

She smiled softly. “I wouldn’t have offered if I did.”

And damn if that didn’t make his chest ache in a way he couldn’t name.

As she stood up and walked toward her bag to rummage for the little bottle of lavender oil, she took a breath.

Why was she doing this?

Why did she feel this need to take care of him, to soften whatever storm she felt churning behind his tired eyes, especially after catching that strange shift in him when she mentioned going out?

To prove what, exactly?

To reassure whom?

Her fingers fumbled slightly over the zipper, and she felt the tension in her chest growing tighter the more she thought about it.

Bucky was her boss.

God, she was projecting her own feelings on him, wasn’t she? Projecting something onto the soft edges of this makeshift little life they’d built together without ever daring to admit what it really was. Maybe he didn’t give a fuck if she went out or not and she perceived a shift in his demeanor because she wanted to.

She swallowed hard, biting the inside of her cheek as she finally wrapped her fingers around the small bottle.

Maybe that’s why she had said yes when her friends suggested going out tonight.

Because this, this everyday routine, was killing her. Feeding her crush, her whatever-this-was, letting it grow wild and dangerous in a space where nothing could ever really happen.

She was setting herself up to get hurt.

And now here she was, oil in hand, about to soothe his headache like they were anything more than two people stuck in an arrangement that worked well enough until someone crossed a line.

She blew out a soft breath, composing herself before turning around, pasting on a gentle smile she didn’t quite feel. “Alright,” she said quietly, holding up the little bottle between her fingers. “Let’s see if this helps.”

And as she moved back toward him, her heart ached because part of her already knew it wouldn’t fix the thing she wanted to soothe.

“Oh, do you have a hair tie? This could get messy,” she said, pausing as she realized only then that his long hair might get in the way.

“I’ll get it!” Thomas chimed in enthusiastically before either of them could react.

Bucky huffed a quiet breath through his nose, and before he could say anything, Thomas was already running off toward the bathroom.

She let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head, but her heart was thumping a little faster than she liked to admit.

A moment later, the kid returned, holding out a black hair tie like it was treasure.

“Here!”

“Oh.” She took it gently. Right. Now she had to… Okay. “Thank you, sweetheart.” She ruffled his hair gently before stepping behind Bucky.

From her position at his back, she caught the way he straightened a little, squaring his shoulders like he was bracing for something.

"Alright, hold still," she murmured.

Then, carefully, she lifted her hands to his hair, gently combing through the thick strands with her fingers to smooth them out before gathering them to tie back.

The moment her hands slid into his hair, she felt him tense and freeze for a second. But before she could ask, she caught the smallest sound, a sharp inhale, like he was stopping himself from groaning. Her fingers hesitated, hovering just for a heartbeat, but when he didn’t pull away, she went on.

God, she thought, when was the last time someone touched him like this?

Her fingers were soft -so soft- and his scalp prickled under her touch. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had touched him like that, careful, patient, almost tenderly.

He knew she felt him tense. She paused, just for a second, like she wasn’t sure if she should keep going.

But he forced himself to breathe, to let her. He let out a long, controlled breath as she worked, and his body slowly started to relax under her gentle hands.

She focused on the task, careful not to pull too hard, smoothing down stray strands with her fingertips. She couldn't see his face, which somehow made it easier. When she finally gathered the strands and tied them back in a loose ponytail, her fingers touched him for a second longer than they should have.

“There,” she whispered, almost more to herself. "Not too tight."

His head dipped in acknowledgment, but he didn’t speak.

“Okay now,” she murmured gently, stepping in closer behind him, grazing his neck with her fingertips, starting to work into the knots at the base of his skull, and Bucky let out a slow breath, closing his eyes for a moment.

God, it felt good. He told himself it was just for the headache.

But as her hands moved up to his temples, rubbing slow, careful circles, he knew part of him wanted this for reasons that had nothing to do with pain relief.

His body had been wrecked after the seizure, just like always. It was like every muscle had been pulled to its limit, every fiber burning and sore, leaving him feeling like he’d gone through a war. His back, his neck, and even his jaw felt locked up and raw. But as her hands worked carefully along the tight muscles at the base of his skull, and her thumbs pressed firm but slow into the knots, the pain eased. Not gone, but slipping into something bearable, and God, that alone felt like a miracle.

What would he give to have this every time his goddamn brain decided to remind him how broken he was?

Her thumbs circled up to his temples, rubbing with gentle pressure, and a low hiss slipped through his teeth before he could stop it.

He felt her pause, just briefly, and he almost kicked himself, until she kept going, as if she understood that it wasn’t pain that made him react, but relief. A soft hum escaped his throat next, and he hated how good it felt, how vulnerable it made him feel to want it so much.

And of course, because his brain besides being a mess, was a goddamn traitor, another thought slithered in his mind.

How would it feel to have her hands on other parts of his body?

Not working at the knots in his neck. Not relieving his tension. But in a softer, slower, and more exploring way instead of fixing him. He swallowed hard, shifting slightly in his seat, hoping she wouldn’t notice the way his breath hitched. His hands curled into fists against his thighs, trying to keep himself composed, trying to stay focused on the innocence of the act.

"Feeling better?" she asked softly, still working her fingers gently behind his ears, tracing small, careful circles.

Bucky swallowed, with eyes half-lidded, trying to keep his voice even. "Yeah," he managed. "The ice-pickers behind my eyes seem to have disappeared. All is... numb now." He let out a soft, breathless chuckle, like he couldn't believe how much lighter his head felt.

"I'm glad," she murmured, as her hands slowly slid down the sides of his neck, expertly seeking out the tension that was still tight in his shoulders.

She let her thumbs dip lower, pressing just between his shoulder blades, and-

He moaned.

Low, guttural, and completely unfiltered, the sound slipped from his throat before he could stop it. The moment it left his lips, Bucky's eyes snapped open, and the shame heated his face as his back tensed again.

Fuck.

He felt pathetic, but there was a part of him, buried deep, that thrummed with how good it felt to let go, even just a little.

Behind him, she stilled for a fraction of a second.

She had definitely heard that.

He could feel his ears burning, and before he could gather himself enough to speak, her hands moved again, smooth and calm, as if nothing had happened.

She bit her lip so hard it almost hurt, thanking every higher power he couldn’t see her face right now. Because that sound? That sound had gone straight from her ears to her southern region, sending a jolt of heat through her body so fast it left her breathless.

She swallowed thickly, schooling her features before sliding her hands back up to tend a different spot. But then, guided by purely innocent intentions, she casually, carefully, returned to that same spot between his shoulder blades. Just to... make sure she worked out the tension. Of course.

Her fingers circled there again, pressing slow and deep-

And he didn’t disappoint.

Another low, breathy sound rumbled out of him, not as loud as before but just as raw.

She had to bite her lip harder, pressing her thighs together instinctively as she kept going, pretending not to notice. Maybe if-

"Can we go to the park when you feel alright, Daddy?" Thomas' small voice cut through the thick air between them like a pin to a balloon, breaking the invisible thread that had been pulling tighter and tighter.

Bucky stiffened slightly under her hands, and she froze, suddenly reminded that the child was there. Sitting on the couch, surrounded by toys, watching them like it was just another normal day.

Her face burned as a wave of mortification crashed over her. How had she let herself forget?

Bucky cleared his throat, answering with a soft voice, but there was something on it, like he was pulling himself back together. “Sure, kiddo. I’m all yours today. Wanna… wanna go visit Uncle Steve too?”

Thomas beamed. “Yay! Can we buy chocolate cake too?”

Bucky chuckled. “Yeah. We can do that.”

Taking the cue, she let her hands slide gently away from his skin. “There you go,” she said quietly, more composed than she felt, heading straight to the kitchen sink to wash the oil from her palms. The water ran warm, but her skin felt flushed for other reasons entirely.

She needed to stop imagining things that weren’t meant to be there.

Bucky was her boss. Thomas’ dad.

And if she didn’t want to fall harder, to make this nice domestic fantasy crack open and hurt, she needed to start expanding her social circle, like she had promised herself. Even if she didn’t want to. Even if she’d rather stay right here, tangled up in something that wasn’t hers to want.

She dried her hands slowly, hearing Bucky’s voice behind her as he started chatting casually with Thomas again, like nothing had happened.

“Well, I should... I should get going,” she said, folding the towel neatly over the sink. “Still have groceries to buy and...” Her voice trailed off as she smoothed her palms down her thighs, like she wasn’t quite sure how to finish that sentence.

"Of course," Bucky replied quietly, already pushing himself up from the chair, rolling his shoulders.

She glanced toward the living room area where her jacket and bag rested over the arm of the couch and moved to gather them. Just as she was slipping on her jacket, Thomas looked up from where he was playing and chirped, "Have fun dancing!"

Right.

She blinked, forcing a smile as she bent slightly to ruffle his hair. "Thank you, dear. I will."

Bucky was already at the apartment door when she turned around, opening it wordlessly, filling the doorway with his frame. She walked over, adjusting her bag on her shoulder, and he stepped aside to let her pass first, ever the gentleman.

They walked side by side in silence to the elevator, neither of them quite knowing what to say.

As they reached the building entrance, she turned to him, giving a small, polite smile, holding onto the strap of her bag like a lifeline. “Have fun at the park with Thomas,” she said softly.

He hesitated, tapping his fingers against the doorframe before he forced himself to meet her eyes briefly.

"Yeah... and you-" he cleared his throat, darting his gaze away for a second before returning, almost reluctant. "Have fun tonight. Just... be careful."

"Always."

And with that, she turned and walked away, feeling his eyes on her back until the door clicked shut behind her.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @lazyneonrabbitt @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @sebastians-love @vicmc624 @lucylovexx @ethereal-witch24 @wannabakewithsomebody @unicornqueen05 @ddrewcameron @danzer8705 @mcira@technicallytinyheart@put-trash-here@chinggay85-blog@tulippix@dumblani @chuiisi @calwitch @civilbucky @neyr100 @tanyaherondale @theflowerswillbloom @stars4birdie @soberbabes @greatmistakes @littlesuniee @casey1-2007 @escapefromrealitylol

Dividers by: @/strangergraphics

[erodasfishtacos]

Wedding Band Cuts

prompt: YN goes into a massage and things go haywire quickly

word count: 8k (oooops)

warnings: this is all filth, i couldn't get this concept out of my mind

author's note:

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I recently started a second tier called The OG Tier where 2

one shots (1-4kish) are posted a week.

There are currently 350 + pieces available to read

Tier I - $3 USD where you get access to main stories, everything except the mini one shots.

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=================

YN may or may not have a slight crush on the owner of the health club that she belongs to.

An boujee, exclusive type of place that there was a waitlist for membership and the prices to join were insane.

The only reason she could attend was because she got a massive discount because of her work.

He wasn’t what someone would imagine the typical gym owner to look like. 

No, he wasn’t a meathead with bulging biceps, thick veins protruding from his forearms, and  a protein shake in hand at all times.

Harry was lean.

Built in a way that was quietly powerful, his strength evident but not flaunted. 

The kind of muscular that didn’t demand attention but commanded respect nonetheless. 

He was intimidating in a different way—not because he towered over people or grunted loudly when lifting weights, but because he moved with an effortless grace that made everything he did look easy. 

The men who spent their time flexing in the mirror and slamming weights to the ground were often left in the dust by him. He bypassed them without so much as a labored breath, but he was never condescending about it.

He didn’t rub it in their faces or attempt to show off.

That, somehow, made him even more attractive.

YN knows that she has never, in her whole life, found someone as attractive as Harry. 

It was almost embarrassing how her stomach flipped whenever she caught sight of him in those tiny workout shorts, the ones that made it impossible not to stare. 

She wanted to drool like a dog when he lifted weights shirtless, every muscle in his torso shifting in perfect harmony. 

But she wasn’t the only one who felt this way—every woman at the gym seemed to have the same not-so-subtle admiration.

The issue was with her (and the other women) she was married.

Despite being the owner, Harry was always around.

 Sometimes he was doing administrative tasks, other times he was covering for employees who had called in sick. 

Hiring college kids meant dealing with last-minute schedule changes, so he often found himself playing the role of front desk attendant, janitor, or—on rare occasions—masseuse.

It was a health club, after all. 

The gym offered more than just workout equipment; there was a spa with facials, manicures, and, of course, massages. While Harry wasn’t an esthetician and couldn’t fill in for those services, he was a certified masseuse.

However, he rarely stepped in for that role because his staff was dependable.

That didn’t stop the women from hoping.

It was common knowledge among the female members that if someone called out, there was a slight—very slight—chance that Harry might step in. 

None of them had been lucky enough for it to happen, though. 

And when news spread that Jerry, a seventy-one-year-old man, had received a massage from Harry when his assigned therapist had to leave due to a stomach bug, the collective jealousy among the women was almost comical.

Jerry, blissfully unaware of the silent resentment directed his way, had wobbled out of the building looking loose-limbed and content, oblivious to the scowls of women who had never before envied an elderly man quite so much.

Tiffany, one of the braver women, decided to test her luck. 

With a sickly sweet smile, she had approached the front desk where Harry was working, tilting her head just so as she asked if he might be able to squeeze her in for a massage.

Harry, ever professional, had simply glanced up from the computer screen, offered her a polite but firm smile, and informed her that since the therapist had left early, they unfortunately wouldn’t be able to accommodate her request. 

He didn’t offer to step in himself, and Tiffany had to swallow her disappointment as she rejoined her friends, shoulders slumping in defeat.

YN was excited for the massage because she kept such tension in her lower back, her thighs, her glutes.

And she definitely didn’t get them regularly enough because life was busy so the strain and stiffness built and built until her body ached enough to have her make an appointment.

It was last minute, they were able to squeeze her in at the last session available, eight in the evening.

The gym was closed at that point but the spa was open until nine.

When YN steps into the dimly lit lobby of the building, she immediately notices how quiet it is. 

The usual low hum of voices or the distant clinking of weights from the gym is missing.

 Instead, the only sound is the faint buzzing of the overhead light and the gentle click of the door settling back into place behind her. She makes her way toward the receptionist’s desk, her steps echoing slightly against the polished tile floor.

The desk is empty. 

No receptionist in sight, no signs of life beyond the unlocked door. 

If the entrance hadn’t been open, she would have assumed the place had already shut down for the night. 

It’s unsettling, the stillness of it all. 

There had been only one other car in the parking lot—a sleek black sedan parked near the entrance. 

She could only hope it belonged to her massage therapist because if she didn’t get the relief she was craving, she might actually scream. 

Her shoulders ached, tension coiled tightly along her spine, and she needed to feel like jelly by the time she walked out of here.

YN lingers at the front desk, her fingertips lightly tapping along the smooth oak surface as she chews on the inside of her lip. 

She glances over her shoulder toward the hallway leading to the massage rooms, her nerves prickling when she hears footsteps approaching. 

The rhythmic sound of sneakers hitting the linoleum floor grows louder with each step.

She fully expects to see Pedro—her regular massage therapist. Pedro, who always greeted her with a knowing smirk and a shake of his head, chastising her for letting herself get so tense.

But it’s not Pedro who steps around the corner.

No, it’s Harry.

Harry, the owner of the gym.

He’s always been effortlessly charming, the kind of man who draws attention without even trying. 

Women often mistook his friendliness for flirting, but that was just his nature—engaging, attentive, and naturally likable. He had one of those faces that made it hard to pinpoint his exact age. 

Deep-set dimples softened the sharpness of his jawline, giving him an almost boyish appeal, while the light scruff and the fine lines at the corners of his eyes betrayed his real age.

“Hello, I’m sorry about that,” he says as he moves behind the desk, leaning down to click around on the computer, hiis voice is smooth, deep, the kind that makes you want to lean in just a little closer, “You must be… YN, right? Here for your massage with Pedro?”

“It’s okay,” YN reassures him with an easy smile, a bit fluttery because he was cute, “Yes, that’s me,”

“Pedro had to leave earlier due to a family emergency,” Harry informs her as he clicks around a bit more before looking up at her, “I should have called to cancel but I got distracted with some paperwork. Are you comfortable with having one with me? Or I can reschedule and give you a free massage on the house for the inconvenience.”

YN hesitates. A free massage sounded tempting—nearly $200 worth of pampering for nothing. 

But then there was the other option: a paid session with Harry, the hot gym owner with broad shoulders and an easy smile. 

She hadn’t expected to find herself in this predicament, but now that she was here, her stomach gave a nervous little flip.

“I really need one. I’m really stiff,” YN’s eyes darted away nervously, something akin to the feeling when you’re about to drop down on a rollercoaster creeping into her stomach, “But I don’t want to inconvenience you at all.”

“It wouldn’t be an inconvenience to massage you,” Harry replies, his words slow and this morbid monotone that somehow works for him, his eyes narrow just the slightest, and even though nothing he said was inappropriate.

The way he says it sends a shiver down her spine. 

It’s not the words themselves—it’s how they linger in the air between them, heavy with something unspoken.

 YN presses her thighs together instinctively, pulse quickening as heat creeps up the back of her neck.

YN rolls her lip between her teeth, she doesn’t know when she got so brazen but she gives him a small, unsure smile, “Hopefully you’re as good as Pedro.”

Harry’s grin falters slightly, eyes narrowing at the challenge, “I’ve been told I’m good with my hands.”

“Pedro’s hands are amazing though, not just good, you know?” YN keeps her tone casually like she’s not trying to bait him but she’s pretty sure that she’s not misconstruing the sexual tension for him just being nice, he wasn’t like this all the time. 

“I'm sure you’ll be satisfied with my services. Are you hard to please?” Harry asks with a tilt of his head, a slight smirk she's never seen before.

YN lets out a breathy laugh, tapping her fingers against the desk, “Most people would say no. My husband, on the other hand? He might say something different.”

Harry’s eyes flicker down to her left hand, his expression tightening almost imperceptibly when he finds her ring finger bare. 

His jaw clenches just the slightest bit before his tone turns cool, more businesslike,  “I’ll show you to the room we’ll be using.”

YN wonders if she shouldn't have mentioned she had a husband, maybe she had led him on with the fact that she didn't have her wedding band on.

She knew she would have to take it off anyways, and didn't want to get the lotion rubbed into nooks and crannies that are difficult to clean.

He steps out from behind the desk.

YN’s eyes drop to do a full body scan, she often subtly checked him out when she was here but now with a bit of arousal pooling in her tummy - she had a whole other perspective on him.

How his legs were such a sweet juxtaposition of lean but thick at the same time, she could easily imagine herself sinking her nails into them.

The shorts he wore showed them off entirely too well, he absolutely knew what he was doing when he stepped into those short shorts that morning.

And when he turns to start walking down the hallway, YN can appreciate how broad his shoulders are, and they're accentuated by the way they lead down into narrow hips.

The definition of manly.

As they walk down the hallway, YN peeks into the other offices—empty, confirming that they are, indeed, alone.

 It shouldn’t matter. 

This was a professional massage.

 Nothing more.

“I didn't know you were certified in massages,” YN chimes in as they walk, just to break the silence that had fallen in between them.

YN deemed it awkward but she didn't know if he did.

He doesn't turn around but he does reply, “I got a certification when I got my doctorate in exercise science and kinesiology. It was an elective. I did them more when I started the business but now I have employees for that.”

“So you're rusty, is what you're telling me?” YN teases, she should stop baiting him because he seems easy to react and not always in a good way.

YN has seen Harry yell at grown men over poor form that could have seriously injured their backs or throwing them out for not respecting the gym rules.

He was intimidating to say the least.

“Did I say that?” Harry turns to look over his shoulder, “My wife requests them enough that I don't get to become rusty.”

“Oh,” YN replies lamely, eyes darting down to see that he did in fact have a gold wedding band on his ring finger, hard to miss, and proudly shining.

 It’s hard to miss.

And yet, for a moment, she had.

“Oh?” Harry questions, still glancing back, “Is there an issue?”

YN swallows harshly, his eyes were laxer focused and challenging her to say something that she shouldn't.

She shouldn't because he's married.

She shouldn’t because she’s married.

“N-no,” YN stammers at the sudden question, tightened uncertainty winding in her belly - mixing with the hot, subtle arousal.

“Good,” Harry nods before he's stopping one of the last doors on the left, his hand curls around the knob, “Undress to your comfort. Some people prefer keeping their bra and underwear on, others go nude. Whatever you feel best doing.”

YN hesitates, her fingers twitching at her sides.

 Normally, she’d strip off her bra but keep her underwear on—just enough coverage to maintain a sliver of modesty. 

But something inside her stirs, something unfamiliar yet enticing, daring her to step beyond her usual boundaries.

She bites her bottom lip, the decision swirling in her head as she looks at Harry.

 But his expression gives nothing away, his patience unwavering as he waits for her to step inside.

“I'll give you a few minutes to get settled. Please lay face-down under the sheet, pull it up to your lower back. Do you have any questions?” Harry asks as he flips on the light, the beautiful room already set up, and a twinkling zen music filters through the built-in speaker.

“No,” YN says again, quiet as she steps past him into the space, “Thank you.”

Harry dips his chin in a silent nod before stepping back, allowing her to move past him. 

The door clicks shut behind her, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

++

It takes longer than she expects for him to return.

At least ten minutes pass, maybe more. 

She can tell by the way the medley of soft instrumentals has shifted two or three times, a seamless transition of calming melodies. 

She breathes deeply, inhaling the mix of essential oils perfuming the air, but the stillness is beginning to make her twitch.

The way that she can feel her nipples against the sheet, the way that every part of her skin is touching it actually.

It’s warm in the room, enough that she can feel the perspiration start to prickle at her lower back, and she can’t decipher whether or not it’s from the temperature of the room or the flush of her body.

YN digs her fingernails into her palms momentarily, to ground herself, to get a hold of herself.

She’s not in some fucking fantasy novel.

Harry is a professional. 

He’s probably oblivious to the thoughts swirling in her head.

He’s married.

She told him that she is married.

The last thing he probably wants is a client sexualizing him in the middle of his job.

Before she can scold herself enough to feel guilt of her rather debach thoughts - the door opens and her heart squeezes with anticipation.

He cracks the door before stepping in, “Ready?”

“Yes,” YN swallows as she squeezes her eyes shut, the door clicks closed behind him.

YN had pulled the sheet up over her shoulders, every masseuse had different protocol, and as soons as he steps over - she realizes that she already hadn’t been great at following his very simple instructions.

She hears his measured footsteps approach before feeling his hands on the sheet—his fingers brushing against the warmth of her bare back as he carefully folds the fabric down.

 It settles just above the swell of her bum, exposing the curve of her lower back.

He stills for the briefest moment.

Then, a deep inhale.

It’s almost imperceptible. A barely-there intake of breath that might be nothing—or might be something.

YN convinces herself she’s imagining things.

He’s probably adjusting his stance. 

Or stretching his fingers.

 Or something entirely mundane that has nothing to do with the fact that he just discovered she’s completely bare beneath the sheet.

“I'm going to begin. Please, let me know if anything is sensitive or sore during. Is there anywhere you would like me to focus in particular?” Harry inquired, he sounds formal, professional as he should.

“My glutes and calves,” YN responds after a moment of thought.

The calves part was true - they were tight and sore from her legs days at the gym.

Her glutes, however, did not need any work but she couldn't get the imagine of his hands massaging her there out of her mind.

“Noted,” Harry replies with a gruff, clipped agreement like he was gritting his teeth at her answer.

The beginning of the massage is as normal as anything, his fingers press deep into the knots lining her shoulders, working out the tension that she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying. 

The pressure is firm, methodical.

But the moment his palms cup around the nape of her neck, a shiver bolts through her spine.

She tries to squeeze her thighs together subtly, a feeble attempt at quelling the heat pulsing low in her belly. 

But it’s impossible, her legs already splayed relaxed on the table.

Harry notices the movement.

“Are you uncomfortable? Do you need to reposition?” Harry asks when he notices her fidgeting, concern in his voice that makes her feel even more guilt at her thoughts.

“No, I'm good,” YN’s reply isn't more than a strained squeak.

Harry doesn’t comment on it, but he does press his thumbs deeper into the base of her neck, a silent cue for her to relax.

“Try to relax then. You're tight,” Harry continues to move his fingers and all she can hear is that last sentence on repeat.

He's talking about back muscles, she has to remind herself.

You’re tight.

YN does finally listen, relaxing into the soft, heated cushion of the table, and purposefully clearing her mind.

“There you go, good girl,” Harry murmurs when he notices her shoulders start to loosen, neck letting her head hang more into the face cushion, and her thighs melting into the table too.

Good girl.

YN’s clear mind is now filled once again.

Her muscles should be turning to liquid under his touch, her mind blank with relaxation. 

But all she can focus on is the phantom sensation of his voice curling around those words.

By the time he finishes her back—nothing but completely professional work thus far, she’s half-certain that if she were to open her mouth, she’d be panting like an overheated dog.

“I’m going to start on your calves,” Harry informs her, shifting his stance beside her, “Then I’ll work my way up to your glutes. Since you requested them, I just want to confirm you’re comfortable with my hands there.”

YN knows he’s only being professional, ensuring her comfort.

If only he knew the absolute filth running through her head.

If only he knew just how much she wanted his hands there.

“Yes,” YN replies shallowly, she had been laying down for at least the last twenty minutes and she felt like she’d just ran a marathon, her throat parched and aching.

Harry’s tone sharpens, more assertive than she’s ever heard before. 

There’s a domineering edge to it that sends a shiver down her spine, “Yes, what? Yes, you are comfortable with that, or yes, you do want to change your mind?”

YN feels embarrassment flushing her at the miscommunication, it blends into the heat she already has seeping from her skin so there’s no difference.

“Yes, I am comfortable with your hands there,” YN manages to get out, she wonders if Harry thinks she’s an absolute basketcase or if he even has any awareness of the situation.

If he notices, he doesn’t show it.

 Instead, he resumes his work, his hands slick with the massage oil he had been using. The scent of sweet almond fills the space between them, subtle yet intoxicating.

 It’s her favorite scent—always has been.

 It reminds her of the raspberry almond cake she and her husband had shared on their wedding day, the same one they’d made a tradition of enjoying every anniversary since. 

Her train of thought was interrupted by an involuntary groan that she lets out when he presses on a tight spot right in the center of her calve.

The pain is sharp and sudden, and instinctively, she tries to yank her leg from his grip, but Harry’s grip is firm, steady.

 He doesn’t even struggle to keep her still. 

His hold is effortless, almost dismissive of her attempt to squirm away.

“You should stretch for longer than five minutes before you work out,” he chides, his tone laced with knowing disapproval,“Especially when you’re doing legs. You need to be warming up your hamstrings, groin, calves.”

He punctuates his point by pressing into the same tender spot again, and she lets out a similar sound—somewhere between a whimper and a gasp as the ache flares up once more.

“How do you know I’m not?” YN challenges, trying to regain some semblance of control over the situation. 

She hadn’t even realized Harry was paying attention to her.

 She hadn’t thought he noticed her at all, let alone enough to critique her habits.

Harry chuckles, the sound low and rough, curling at the edges with amusement, “That reaction, right there.”

YN is about to deflate because it wasn’t because of him noticing her until -

“I’ve seen you stretch. You sit on your mat and scroll on your phone for five minutes while barely trying to touch your toes,” Harry calls her out.

His assessment is shockingly accurate, and she doesn’t have much of a defense.

 Instead, she deflects.

“I’m plenty flexible without stretching,” YN quips, allowing a teasing edge to slip into her tone. 

The innuendo is obvious, intentional.

Harry doesn’t rise to it in the way she expects.

 He doesn’t laugh or smirk or falter.

 Instead, his response is delivered in the same flat, unimpressed drawl. 

“Are you?” His thumb digs into her calf again, pressing into another tight knot of tension, “You’re just as tight as you are flexible.”

Touché.

She doesn’t realize just how tightly she’s been clenching her thighs until Harry’s palms press flat against the backs of them. 

Firm but not forceful.

“Spread your legs for me.”

Fuck.

His voice is steady, authoritative, yet devoid of hesitation. 

There is no question in his command. 

She obeys without thinking, parting her legs easily, pliantly.

 But as soon as the sheet shifts—just slightly, the reality of her own arousal crashes over her in a suffocating wave. 

Embarrassment sinks its claws into her as she wonders—can he see?

 Can he tell? Is there enough of a telltale sheen on her inner thighs to give her away? 

A visible wet spot on the table?

“Why are you clenching—” Harry starts, but then he stops.

Silence.

A sharp inhale.

It’s as if something clicks into place, something he wasn’t expecting, and it cuts off his line of questioning entirely.

“Wha—” YN begins to ask, shifting slightly to glance behind her, but before she can move too far, a hand comes down to the base of her neck.

His palm cups it, firm yet controlled, pressing her back down into the face cradle. 

The pressure isn’t rough, but it’s purposeful.

 It’s the first real slip—something that isn’t professional, not even close.

The way he grips her isn’t the neutral, detached touch of a masseuse simply guiding their client. 

No. 

This is something else entirely.

“Don’t move.”

His voice is rougher now, deeper.

 There’s something strained in the way he speaks, his accent thickening as if he’s forcing himself to remain composed.

 It takes her an extra beat to process his words, to pick them apart through the weight of his tone.

“Jesus. S’ridiculous. Just trying to do my fucking job.”

The words aren’t meant for her, not really.

 He’s speaking to himself as much as he is to her.

And yet, they hit her like a slap.

Embarrassment rattles through her, her heart climbing up into her throat. 

He sounds frustrated. 

With her. 

The realization makes her shrink, makes her feel small—like a child being scolded.

“I’m s-sorry,” YN stammers, her mouth suddenly dry, her tongue thick and useless in her mouth. 

She doesn’t even know what she’s apologizing for—only that she feels like she should.

 Because whatever he saw, whatever he realized, it was enough to shift the entire dynamic between them in a matter of seconds.

To Harry’s credit, he doesn’t stop, he doesn’t pull away. 

His hands remain on her, though now they focus on her glutes, kneading into the muscle with a more methodical, calculated touch.

Subconsciously, she starts to clench her thighs again, as if trying to ground herself. 

As if trying to remind herself that this is just a massage. 

That she isn’t some… deviant, reacting to something as simple as his hands on her.

She isn’t.

But then…

His hand moves.

It grips the soft flesh of her ass, squeezing just hard enough that the tips of his fingers press deep into the skin, surely turning it white beneath his grasp.

The gasp that rips from her chest is instant, shocked, sharp.

Because this isn’t just crossing a line.

This isn’t just towing the boundary of professionalism.

This is tearing right through it, shattering it to pieces, leaving nothing behind.

“Stop apologizing and stay still,” Harry orders, his voice rough with unspoken tension.

His fingers remain where they are, digging in just enough to make a point, to drive something unspoken between them.

“Do you understand me?”

YN swallowed hard, her heart was trying to escape her chest at the moment.

Yes.

Yes, she understands.

The massage resumes, thumbs pressing into knots, trading the ache for a different kind.

Should she end the appointment? 

Apologize and never show her face in the gym again?

YN does better, she does, she lasts at least another five minutes as she tries to stay as stock still as possible.

His touches are back to professional and she’s starting to question herself, start to question whether or not he had even squeezed her ass like that.

But then her thoughts start to spiral again, horny and desperate in a way they’ve never been.

It must have been a wiggle of her hips, maybe even a subtle attempt to see if she could find any friction against the table, but whatever it was—Harry had noticed. 

He had noticed, and she knew it the moment the air in the room seemed to shift, thickening with the weight of his attention.

“What the fuck did I just say?” Harry scolded with no more softness in his voice, that upbeat bubbly man that everyone around the gym knew and loved - nowhere to be found and it was as intimidating, thrilling as it was frightening.

The smack comes fast, hard, landing squarely on her left ass cheek with a force that makes her gasp before she even realizes what’s happened. 

The sharp sting spreads out in waves across her skin, the heat sinking into her already sore�� muscles. 

She jerks, instinctively trying to sit up, but she doesn’t get far before his palm is at the base of her neck, pressing her face back into the cushioned cut-out of the massage table.

The stinging sensation lingers, blooming like fire just beneath the surface of her skin

 It’s different, though—not just the typical burn of an open-handed slap. 

It’s sharper, pinpointed.

And then she realizes—

His wedding band.

It had cut her. 

Only slightly, just enough for her to feel the tiny scrape, but still, the knowledge of how it had happened made her stomach clench.

 Her cunt shouldn’t pulse around nothing at that thought, but it does.

 It totally does.

“You’re ruining my sheets,” Harry observes, full of judgement and disapproval, like she was inconvenience more than anything.

YN stays quiet because he had told her to stop apologizing and is she pouting about because she just got smacked? 

Maybe.

Harry leans forward, his body heat radiating against her back. 

The soft cotton of his t-shirt brushes against her skin, and she can feel the cool chain of his necklace ghosting over her shoulder.

 When he speaks next, his voice is quieter, deliberate, “You have four options.”

Her breath catches.

“You can either stay still and get your normal massage. You can keep moving and have an ass that aches for the next week. You can end the massage right now and walk out the door. Or…”

YN waits for him but she realizes that he’s teasing it, edging it, her voice is barely above a whisper,  “Or what?” 

“Or you can tell me exactly what you want me to do to you and I’ll do it,” Harry hums as he stands back up, his hands gripping the back of her thighs, and pushing them apart from where they started to drift together once again.

She could tell him. 

She could put it into words, could give voice to the heat curling low in her belly, but the thought alone makes her want to squirm in embarrassment. 

She’s already acted desperate enough—she refuses to push herself further into that category.

The tension in her stomach, the feeling of his wedding band leaving a mark on her ass.

“I’ll stay still,” YN replies with as much of a steady voice that she can manage.

Harry laughs, deep and mean, amusement tinged with something almost cruel. 

It makes the humiliation simmer hotter beneath the surface of her skin.

“Do you soak Pedro’s table?” he asks conversationally, like he’s discussing nothing more than the weather, “Because he’s never mentioned it. And I think I’d remember something that pathetic.”

She knows exactly what he’s doing. 

He’s trying to break her, to make her react. 

His hand twitches against her skin, like it’s itching to leave more marks. But she refuses to give him the satisfaction. 

She clenches her jaw, grits her teeth, forces herself to keep still even as his hands press into her muscles with increasing pressure.

YN doesn’t bite, has to squeeze her eyes shut but she doesn’t, teeth gritting as the pressure of the massage increases.

Then, he revisits the small cut, pressing his thumb against it, rubbing over it in a way that makes her tense involuntarily.

“Does your husband not fuck you?” His voice is scalding, lips brushing her cheek as he speaks, “You’re squirming like you’ve never been touched before.”

The impulse to shoot an insult at him is hard to not take but she’s staying still out of spite.

Harry’s hands start to dip further in between her inner thighs, his fingers swipe against the damp skin of her thighs, and he then rubs it on her asscheek, “Can’t tell when the massage oil ends and your slick starts.”

Her thighs part slightly wider, a silent offering, even though she knows better than to expect mercy. 

She should have anticipated it—the punishment that follows.

The next smack is harder, sharper.

 It radiates through her lower half, a forceful enough hit that her nipples brush against the sheet below her. 

She swallows back a moan, biting her bottom lip until she nearly draws blood.

“You should be thanking me, do you know how many women wish they were in your position right now?”

Even though it was true, he didn’t have to be a cocky prick about it.

YN stays silent, she didn’t know how he still managed to get up the massage at this point.

“I said thank me.”

Another slap. 

Same spot. 

This time, the band on his finger catches her skin just right—or just wrong. 

She feels the sting of it cutting into her, nothing deep, just enough to make her gasp softly. 

Her breath shudders as she exhales.

YN gnaws on her bottom lip to prevent herself from speaking.

Harry’s patience snaps.

His hand knots in her hair, jerking her head up so that her cheek is exposed to him.

 His lips hover on her cheek, just near the corner of her mouth, but he doesn’t close the distance, “Speak the fuck up,” he growls, “or I’m stopping.”

She can’t believe she’s in this situation.

With a married man.

As a married woman.

But when she speaks, her voice is even, measured.,“I would like my massage to continue.”.

Harry exhales sharply, nostrils flaring.

 He unwinds his fingers from her hair, pushing her head back down onto the table.

“Fair enough.”

He does exactly as she asked.

He massages her like nothing happened, his hands working over her shoulders, the backs of her arms, expertly kneading out tension.

 It’s frustrating. 

Infuriating.

Because he has more energy for edging, doing things out of spite than her.

And fifteen minutes later—she’s the one struggling not to move again.

Harry actually starts to hum, an annoying tune from an old game show, completely out of place in the dimly lit room. 

It breaks into the soft rhythms playing from the speakers.

YN squirms.

Harry smacks her again, sharp and precise, the sound echoing through the space, echoing in the thick air between them.

 It stings.

Of course it fucking does.

 It leaves heat blooming across her skin, a reminder of his control. 

But he does not speak.

 Instead, he returns to the slow, methodical touches that are driving her mad—too firm to be teasing, but nowhere near what she needs.

She breaks.

She fucking breaks.

"Touch me, please," YN throws her pride out the fucking window, off a bridge, down into the deepest black hole where she doesn’t have to face it again. 

Desperation drips from her words, heavy and undeniable.

Harry exhales a long-suffering sigh, unbothered by her distress, "I am touching you," he bleats, his voice laced with indifference. 

His fingers trace aimless patterns along her skin, not nearly enough, "We have about ten minutes left of the hour. Where would you like me to focus the rest of the massage?"

“I need something, please,” YN asks with a pathetic plead starting to work her way into her tone.

Harry, ever unyielding, remains unaffected, "You came in with the complaint of calves and glutes. Are you still not—"

YN wants to cut the shit.

“Please, fuck me. Please,” YN feels like she’s on the line of sobbing for relief at this point, she doesn’t know if she’s even been this worked up, and the inability to see him somehow makes it worse, makes her feel more vulnerable, more desperater, “Please.”

“You could have had it fifteen minutes ago,” Harry chastises but his hands - they slide down her body, teasing the sensitive skin, but they don’t go directly to where she needs them the most.

“Harry, I -”

A smack.

Unraveling her like that wedding band on her sensitive skin.

Then his hands are gone entirely. 

The loss is immediate, unbearable. 

The air crackles with unspoken tension before she realizes—he’s just looking at her.

"Knees," he commands, his voice sharp enough to slice through the thick fog of her arousal.

“I-” YN begins to asks but he’s not patient any longer.

“I said get on your fucking knees,” Harry repeats, louder and thankfully, no one else is here.

Before she can fully process, he takes it upon himself to move her, gripping her hips and lifting them effortlessly. 

Her knees slide inward, bringing them closer to her chest, forcing her body into a position that leaves her fully exposed, fully at his mercy.

He winds his fingers into her hair again, fisting the strands tight enough to pull her out of the cradle of the cushion. 

Her cheek is smushed sideways against the table now, breaths coming in shallow, uneven pants.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Harry has no manners, taking what he wants by spreading her cheeks to get a better look at her.

There is no manners left in him. 

No pretense of control.

YN realizes belatedly that there are fat tears rolling down her cheeks, that Harry must now be able to see, and in a break from the thick tension in the room.

He does something oddly sweet, it reminds her of her husband actually, he presses his lips to her cheek.

His voice is soft, more so like she hears around the gym or when he greets her in reception, “Okay?”

“Okay,” YN nods in agreement, her voice cracks, and she can see him smile before slipping back into a scowl.

She appreciated him checking in, warming  her up in a different way.

“Never seen a needier thing in my life. God, your husband must not do shit for you. You're clenching around nothing—both holes,” Harry murmurs thoughtfully, his tone a perfect blend of mockery and amusement. 

His words are crude, biting, but they set her nerve endings on fire.

YN barely has time to react before she feels it—his spit landing on her tighter hole, warm and slick, quickly chased by the rough pad of his thumb spreading it around.

Her skin prickles, her breath catches, and then he continues, his voice dripping with sinful amusement.

“Everyone around this gym thinks you're this sweet, kind person. I hear them talk,” He pauses, tilting his head as if considering something. “What would they think if I told them about this? A bored housewife coming into a massage and begging to be fucked decently.”

It's a monologue, she knows he isn't expecting an answer.

“Spread out on this table, showing me everything with no shame.”

Two fingers—his index and middle, drag lazily through her folds, teasing, pressing at her entrance but never quite pushing in.

YN is trembling, trying not to move but everything aches.

“I would have subbed in much soone for Pedro if I knew I'd get such a sweet cunt out of it. I should have known you'd have the prettiest one I've ever seen,” Harry accentuates it with tucking his fingers into her, the slight stretch of his two thick digits were welcome with how ready she already was, “Those little bike shorts you wear hide absolutely nothing.”

YN pushes back, pulling him in even deeper, and luckily, he doesn't scold her.

But he makes her work for it.

“Ride ‘em. My hands are tired from the massage,” Harry curls them forward against her spongy front wall, hitting her spot head on like he had it memorized on a map.

YN was sweating, hair matted to her skin, and visibly droplets of west gathering around her temples as she started to push back on him.

She couldn't believe what she was doing right now.

“You hear that?” Harry asks, thrusting his fingers a few times to make the sound even more obscene, slick and lewd in the quiet room, “Should record that and make it the spa soundtrack. S’that sound like a good idea, baby?”

Her head drops forward, a loud moan tearing from her throat when his thumb presses into her tighter hole, sending pleasure ricocheting through her body. 

She’s never been this full before—never felt this close to unraveling without even having her clit touched.

Harry’s laugh cuts through the haze of her pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re filthy,” he groans, watching her. “You like your ass played with too? This is my lucky day, huh? Is that how you’ll tip me? Let me choose?”

“Yes, yes—you can choose,” YN babbles, her voice high and desperate, her stomach tightening, her body coiling tighter and tighter. 

She’s grinding now, less controlled, more frantic, chasing something she’s not sure she could explain, “Please, I just need to come. I need it, please—”

But Harry pulls his fingers out.

The loss is devastating.

Tears sting at her eyes, spilling freely, mixing with sweat, with spit, with the sheer mess of her. 

Her hair is frizzy from where he’s pulled it, her cheeks damp, her mouth parted as she gasps through the absence of him.

Harry grips her hip harshly, not giving her choice as he helps flip her over until she's on her back.

And it's the first time in all of this that she's been able to really see him.

It was nice to see that he was affected too with huffing breaths, nostrils flaring, and sweat on his temple from the heat of the room.

And then he’s peeling his shirt off, tugging it over his head in a way that looks effortless.

His body is all sharp lines and defined muscle, the kind she sees every day in the gym but never gets to touch.

Her legs automatically close, a futile attempt to shield herself, to protect her most vulnerable spot.

 But Harry frowns at that, smacking her thigh sharply, silently telling her to open back up.

He tuts, shaking his head as he looks down at her, “Puppy, if you were this desperate for cock, you could have just asked me. You’re cute enough. I’d fuck you in front of everyone—bend you over a weight bench, let those little biker shorts trap your thigh and watch your squirms.”

YN can tell he’s about to put his mouth on her—but she can’t. 

She can’t take any more teasing.

Her hands shake as she reaches up, fingers pressing to the side of his neck, thumb pressing beneath his jaw. 

She’s sniffling, trying to speak through her sobs of frustration.

“I can’t—I need you to fuck me. Please, H, please.”

The hour of foreplay was more than enough.

Harry blinks, his gaze locking onto hers, searching. 

And then….

He moves up the table, his hand cradling her jaw as he kisses her, slow and deep, melting away her desperation for just a moment.

“You want me to fuck you?” he murmurs, the rasp was thick in his tone, “You’re ready?”

She nods frantically, clinging to him. “Yes. I’m sorry, I can’t—”

Harry kisses her quiet before pulling back just enough to push his shorts and briefs off. 

She doesn’t get a chance to look at him before he’s guiding himself to her core, pressing in, inch by thick inch, until their pubic bones meet.

He lets out this euphoric, beautiful low moan when he pushing in until their pubic bones meet, and he's big - really fucking big and she's so fucking full that it's insane.

Don’t need to wait,” she breathes, voice trembling with urgency, her fingers digging into the thick muscle of his shoulders. 

Her legs wind around his narrow hips instinctively, locking him in, heels pressing into the firm curve of his bum as if to keep him right where he belongs,“Please move.”

And Harry fucks like he weightlifts.

Hard. Determined. Precise.

Every powerful thrust sends electric pleasure sparking through her veins, his strokes deliberate and deep, like he’s got something to prove—like he won’t stop until he’s got her unraveling completely beneath him. 

His pace is relentless, the force of his movements pushing her up the table in tiny, helpless jolts before he’s tugging her back down onto his cock without missing a beat. 

The friction is dizzying, intoxicating, and YN feels herself slipping closer and closer to the edge with every merciless snap of his hips.

“I’m gonna—if you rub my-” she pants, but she doesn’t even need to finish.

Harry already knows.

With a low grunt, he shifts, his weight shifting back slightly as his hand snakes between them.

 His fingers find her clit with ease, with skill, and he presses down, rubbing tight, fast circles with a very specific intent in mind.

 His voice is rough and coaxing as he groans, “Yeah, fuck, yeah. C’mon, baby. I deserve it, don’t I? Soak me.”

And that’s all it takes.

A sharp, wrecked cry tears from her throat as her body gives in completely, pleasure overtaking her in a crashing, uncontrollable wave. 

YN’s limbs go boneless, loose like a marionette with its strings cut, as her orgasm seizes her, dragging her under with white-hot intensity. 

The overwhelming sensation floods her lower half, a gush of wetness spilling out between them, coating both of them in the aftermath. 

The slick, obscene sounds of him fucking her through it echo in the room, each thrust impossibly louder, wetter, filthier.

“Holy shit,” Harry growls, his voice thick with awe and arousal, “That’s the hottest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen.”

His breath hitches, his control slipping,“You just squirted on me—look at you, all swollen and puffy for me.”

His gaze is locked on where they’re connected, utterly mesmerized, before something shifts in his expression—something primal.

 He grips her hips tighter, holding her open as he starts pounding into her even harder, chasing his own release with ruthless determination.

The force of it knocks the breath from her lungs, and before she can even process the sheer intensity of it all, he’s surging forward, crushing his mouth against hers in a desperate, bruising kiss.

 It’s messy—more teeth and tongue than finesse—but it’s everything. 

A claiming, a surrender, a moment of pure, unfiltered need.

He pulses inside her with a deep, guttural groan, spilling into her with a final, shuddering thrust, his body going rigid before finally melting against her. 

He stays there, buried deep, chest rising and falling against hers as he slowly comes back down from his high.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room is their mingled, heavy breathing. 

Then, Harry huffs out a breathless chuckle, forehead pressed to hers, body warm and weighty on top of her.

“Told you,” he murmurs smugly, voice thick with satisfaction, “Told you you wouldn’t be patient enough for foreplay.”

YN scoffs, though there’s no real heat behind it.

 Her fingers find their way into his damp curls, scratching lightly at his scalp as her lips twitch into a lazy smile. 

“The whole massage was foreplay,” she argues, pressing a kiss to his temple, “I think I did okay.” 

A playful smirk tugs at her mouth as she adds, “I don’t have the patience you do.”

“You never have,” Harry murmurs, his thumb brushing her slick hair off her forehead with a tenderness that makes her stomach flip. 

He presses a slow, lingering kiss to the corner of her mouth, voice laced with affection as he murmurs against her lips, “You’re an impatient little thing for orgasms.”

His tone is teasing, but the warmth in his gaze, the soft adoration in his touch - it’s so much love and fondness interwoven between them.

“Don’t like this one bit,” Harry grumped after a moment, pulling her hand up and giving a pointed gaze towards her bare ring finger, “Made me almost break character.”

YN giggles as she allows Harry to pull her up to sit, he slips off the table, “I didn’t want to get massage oil on it. It makes the diamond all foggy and I have to take it to the jeweler to get it cleaned then.”

“Hey,” Harry grips her chin, buttoning their lips together for a long moment, “Happy anniversary. I love you and I hope this met your expectations of the scene you were fantasizing about. I’m just glad your fantasies are with me.”

“I’m in love with you, have been for ages and never plan not to be. It was absolutely perfect but now I’m worried I’ll get greedy for more,” YN laughs as she spreads her loegs once again, letting Harry start to wipe her off with a warm towel he takes from the towel warmer that’s conveniently in the room.

“You’re always greedy,” Harry argues gently, blinking up at her, “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to walk into this room again without getting a hard-on.”

YN shakes her head with another bout of laughter, “You’re going to be fucked. I have a lot of fantasys about fucking a gym owner.” “Mm,” Harry rumbles as he tosses the towel, his touches getting more full of intent once again, “Lucky you’re married to one, hm?”

+

whew. i hope you enjoyed!

now if you are confused about anything the synoposis - harry and yn are a married couple, they own a gym, and yn wants to roleplay masseuse/client for their anniversary. there is no cheating!

now i recommend going back and reading it and finding all the little hints that they were married couple the whole time.

i would super love to know your feedback on it

[aurumalatus]

𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 1.6k

genre/warnings. pixelprincess!au (princess!reader x knight!kinich), graphic depictions of violence/terrorism

summary.

when the abyssal army attacks the kingdom, you and kinich end up trapped in the chaos. battered and broken and pushed to his limits, kinich gives everything he has to protect you.

author's note. a more serious drabble between the two, a huge contrast to the first one LOL. this one touches a bit on kinich's lore on this universe (i.e. having dragon powers), and a lot of semi-romantic commitment to each other <3 i hope you enjoy, reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!

𝐩𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐚𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Your ears are ringing.

It had been sunset moments ago, you think. Your father had been delivering a speech to the people in the Capital square to celebrate your latest victory over the Abyssal army. Something had flashed in the distance, and suddenly, Kinich was saying something you couldn’t hear, running and leaping at you and tackling you to the ground, and—

What’s going on?

There’s a puff of breath hot against your neck. Your eyes open, and you flinch hard when Kinich is staring directly at you, multicolored irises boring into your own. He’s so close that your noses are brushing, that you’re sharing air.

What’s going on?

He groans, pushing the ruins of the building off his back—off of you. Your eyes sting from the smoke pooling in the sky. The distinct scent of ash and burning flesh permeates the air, and you nearly vomit from the stench.

“Kinich?” you breathe out.

What’s going on?

He hisses in a breath, hoisting the greatsword from his back—it flashes gold in the dying light. Taking a cursory glance around, he pushes himself to his knees.

“Listen. You’re going to stand up,” he commands, somehow calm, “and we’re going to run. Wait for my count.”

What’s going on?

You give him a once-over. He’s already injured, covered in fresh bruises and wounds. Your fingers twitch toward the growing patch of crimson over his stomach. “You’re bleeding—”

“Princess,” Kinich interrupts. There’s not a whisper of mirth in his tone, not like usual—this is the Captain of the Guard that you hear of so rarely. “Did you hear me? You’re going to stand up—”

Another blast rocks the ground, and you wince as dirt and gravel spray across your face. Kinich takes the brunt of it, shielding you with his body, and he coughs when a particularly large piece of debris slices across his back. The smoke grows thicker, you realize; you can see it coalescing above his head, snuffing out the sun.

What’s going on?

Your breathing comes in quick, but it doesn’t come out—in fact, you realize you can’t breathe at all. Your heartbeat quickens, pounding against your chest. You’re panicking.

Kinich glances over his shoulder at the carnage, then quietly curses; it’s probably much worse than you can see. You wonder if the citizens have already safely evacuated. You wonder about the king and queen—you hadn’t seen where they’d gone when Kinich first tackled you down.

What’s going on?

“My parents…where are they?” you choke out in a gasp. He attempts to pull you up, but you resist in your panic. “Kinich, wait—we have to find them. My parents, we have to—”

“Listen to me!”

A roar bursts from Kinich’s chest—it’s nothing compared to the cacophony that pierces the air, but it’s unfamiliar coming from someone like him. It shocks you into wide-eyed silence, and he takes you by the shoulders, touch contrastingly gentle. His gaze is hard, bypassing all your confusion and piercing right into your soul.

“You are my only priority right now.” Something explodes in the distance—he winces at the sound, tucking one hand under your neck and pulling you closer to his chest, protected. His voice echoes again, right at your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “I can fight, and I can kill, and I can die, but you are going to make it out of here alive. That is what matters to me. I will do anything to keep you safe. So please stand up.”

No matter how much Kinich annoys you on a daily basis, deep down you know you need someone like him—someone who doesn’t care much to sugarcoat things for you, someone who rarely bothers with formalities, someone who overlooks your title in favor of you. His words are the gravity bringing you back to earth, and you only nod in reply.

He nods back, relieved. “Good. Don’t be afraid. I’m with you.”

Carefully, he loops your arms around his shoulders, and on his count, you heave yourself upwards. It hurts—you scream as it happens, every single one of your muscles and bones aching in protest. Kinich’s jaw sets tightly, teeth grinding together so hard you can practically hear it.

“I know it hurts, Princess,” he murmurs. Your combined weight is too much; he stabs his sword into the ground, using it as a cane to pull you forward. “Stay with me here.”

Every step is laborious. Battle still rages on around you, and it’s difficult to navigate the ruins in your state. The smoke grows thicker—Kinich tears a piece off his tattered cape, commanding you to hold it over your mouth and nose. For himself, he pulls down his headband, letting it mask the bottom half of his face. His hair is longer than you remember, bangs falling messily over his forehead. It’s a useless detail, but it’s all you can focus on in the havoc.

“You still with me?”

Kinich’s hand falls over yours, squeezing it once—a comfort. You squeeze back, trying to hold back the tears pricking at your eyes.

“I’m still here.”

Your voice cracks.

The sound of Abyssal beasts echoes, and your heartbeat quickens—you’ll be defenseless if they catch you. Normally, it wouldn’t be a problem with Kinich by your side, but he’s more injured than he lets on. He grunts in pain with each step, a sheen of sweat coating his forehead from the exertion.

The more you move, the less everything makes sense. You can’t tell up from down or left from right. All you can hear is screams and moans of pain and the roars of monsters. One of them sounds from your immediate right—Kinich curses, and you sense something coming closer.

“We’ll have to fight,” he says hurriedly, scrambling to find somewhere to put you down.

Kinich always carries a dagger at his thigh, ever prepared in case he loses his sword, and he unsheathes it as he sets you on the ground. He presses the handle of it into your hand—your ribbon is still tied around the grip, a token of good luck, proof of your wish for his safety. 

“If I fall, or the Abyss corrupts me, use this. Don’t forget what I taught you.”

“Kinich—”

“Promise me.”

His eyes say it all—he’s desperate, curling your fingers under his own so that you properly hold the blade, willing his remaining strength into you. Your grip tightens on the dagger, and you nod weakly. Kinich’s body sags in relief.

“May the Abyss take my soul if I ever abandon you,” he whispers, quoting his oath. It almost makes you nostalgic. You remember the ceremony well—he’d exuded a quiet strength even back then. “May my skin tear from bone if you ever suffer.”

It feels like a goodbye.

For the first time in the mess, you take a good look at his face, at the state of him. His left eye is swelling shut quickly. You thumb over the purpling skin, a single tear sliding down your cheek at the sheer damage. He’s already lost so much blood, a crimson flower blooming across his stomach. His armor is dirty and dinged with scratches, even burned away in certain places. You’re not sure how he’s still even moving.

You’ve always held a deep faith in Kinich’s abilities. He’s been the calm in the storms of your life until now, every assassination attempt, every obstacle, every misstep. You know it’s due to your own hesitation that he’d gotten this hurt, and it scares you—after all, he’s still mortal just like you. In his current state, he stands no chance against the army of Abyss monsters around you.

Your hand drags down to his cheek. “Kinich, leave me.”

He pulls away from your touch, gaze flashing with anger. “No.”

Your jaw tightens. “Kinich, that’s an order.”

He rises to his feet, unsteady, his greatsword lifted weakly at his side. The monsters are coming, drawing out of the darkness. “And I refuse it.”

His steps are unnaturally heavy as he staggers forward, cutting down one of the beasts. He fights with grace, even now, not a single movement wasted in his battle. You wish you’d asked him to teach you more—you can’t even move, but your mind screams at you to help him.

One of the monsters catches him in the back, and he roars out in pain before turning and stabbing it through the neck. He’s still fighting, but the fire within him is burning out quickly, and you can sense it. A patch of pixel-like scales flashes over his neck, a power bubbling just beneath the surface, but he can’t seem to draw it out fully—he’s too weak, too tired.

You push yourself up on your arms, trying to crawl toward him. Your throat is raw from the smoke and ash, but still you find the strength to scream.

“I am the princess of Natlan! You are bound by your duty to carry out my orders—”

He turns to you, pulling his headband off his face, and you gasp in a breath—his skin is painted in hues of green and gold, lines of tattoos criss-crossing his arms and legs, cutting across his features. He’s glowing so brightly that it burns the smoke away, until all you can see is your knight standing before you, defiant. His eyes meet yours, and despite the power that pours out of him, his expression is pleading.

“Fire me then, Princess. Exile me. Have me executed for disobeying you. Do whatever you want to me when this is all over, but for now, they’ll have to cut me down before they take another step toward you.”

Three more Abyssal monsters approach, claws flashing, and you scream as Kinich turns back to face them. They lunge before he can react, millimeters from cutting into his skin, and then—

A pulse vibrates under your feet just as a white-hot light explodes in front of you, burning into your eyes. You can’t tell who’s yelling—maybe it’s you, or maybe it’s Kinich, but it makes your eardrums ring and sting. You reach out desperately but find nothing.

Everything goes dark.

[6slux]

.ᐟ+18, pregnancy, lactation kink, nsfw-ish??, husband! onyankopon

clingy men with oral fixations >>>

thinking thoughts about onyankopon who can’t keep his hands or lips off of you.

for the most part it starts innocent—a harmless obsession with his addicting wife and her comforting pecks. but then his love develops as does your marriage and pregnancy.

say he comes in from a lonely day out. maybe he was chilling with his homeboys, maybe he’s coming in from running a bunch of errands. regardless, it was too many hours without you on his tongue. too many hours of not being able to check in with you. he’s not the most expressive when it comes to voicing his feelings, so he would rarely outright declare, “i miss you”. as if the plastic bag filled with your favorite snacks on his arm doesn’t speak volumes.

instead, he creeps into your dark bedroom to find you snuggled up in your padded duvet. at this hour of the night it’s often illuminated by a ceramic side-lamp. you’re either tuned in to your favorite series or your neck is in a New York Times bestseller. he comes in without a word and strips himself of his outside attire. his chiseled body soon bare with the exception of its never-ending ink and boxer briefs. you both don’t officially acknowledge each other until a dip weighs down the empty side of the bed.

onyankopon is a gentle giant— upper body leaning over until he catches your puckered lips. a sweet kiss or two is placed against the plump skin before he settles in. that means dominating the remote control and shifting the channel to something more…his speed. like ‘BMF’ or ESPN highlights. somehow, each low chuckle he belts out brings him closer and closer to your side. before you know it, he’s bridging that drift in the center of your mattress with his wide body.

it’s nothing you’re not used to—captivated by a fantasy the story in your lap tells, yet tilting your neck to give your husband access. a heavy palm rests on your breastbone while onyankopon nips at your neck. his plump lips swirl and suckle softly; only applying enough pressure to elicit soft moans from you. it’s not enough to break neither of you two’s concentration; his darkened pupils still side-eyeing the mounted flatscreen. this type of need can go on for hours and hours if you allow it to.

eventually, his tastebuds grow insatiable. he notices the way your nurturing palm nestles your raised belly every flip of a page. he knows this whole first-time pregnancy thing has been everything but easy on you. he acknowledges how your hormones run wild one half of the time, and your growing body aches the other. you find your little time-passers and hobbies on your own, though. and when onyankopon finally gets back home from providing, you’re always willing to let him consume you.

he mumbles against your skin, “hope my son ain’t give you no issues today”. his head then picks up to find your glassy gaze. your features read tired, yet a small grin weakly tugs at your plump lips. you never fully confirm or deny, unless you felt overtly ill. onyankopon will then pick up the hand that lays on the raised skin, and bring it to his face. he places ghastly pecks into the back of it—along your knuckles and over that big, shiny rock on your ring finger.

he’s so proud to call you his wife, and he’s even prouder that you’re bearing his child. in return, you’ve got this new, radiant glow to you and a confidence to match. this lengthy journey only strengthening your patience and domesticity. it was the next step in building the big, happy family you both desired and deserved.

onyankopon makes it to your wrist—and then he stops. a pregnant pause meaning mischief is brewing in that mind of his. he gently drops your palm and his digits trail to the collar of your shirt. bypassing the small stammer of his name, he tugs until your breasts spill out.

“these givin’ you any pain? they done got a little bigger on me,” your chest is swollen, breasts sitting a little bit lower than the last time. his calloused palms take ahold of both of them to massage you beneath his fingertips. the heaviness from your upper half is relieved as he kneads into the doughy surface. his bottom lip sucked in by his pearly whites as he works out those knots. until—a sudden dampness pauses onyankopon‘s touch. he swears this was meant to be a simple gesture. a way to check on his lady and then head to the shower. onyankopon hesitantly retracts to watch as the eggshell liquid rolls down your mound. he can’t just let it go to waste, so the tip of his tongue laps the drop upwards. right back to your sore nipple that is immediately enveloped by his lips. vibrations buzz around the sensitive skin as he sucks and drinks—your body miraculously seeping out milk the more he encourages the supply.

“you taste like heaven”, he groans out an incoherent phrase, a soft sigh falling from your lips as you lay your head back onto the headboard. your hand abandons the downturned book in your lap, and you drag your nails over onyankopon‘s waves. it’s an intense combination of pain and pleasure as he sloshes your nipple around his wet mouth. he’s careful not to neglect your other nipple—ping ponging back and forth between the two. the man’s got a large appetite and just when you think it’s enough, his palm slides further down past your hump. “what ‘bout right here? i need to taste all of you…,” he stops at your covered center, unlatching from your nipple.

[moomine]

backwash III | daisuke

author's note: thank you to literally everyone who’s reading this! you guys are so so sweet and i love you all <3 if you want to be part of a taglist for future updates feel free to reply or dm me!! (cover image credit)

summary: (daisuke x f!reader) Sleep is increasingly hard to find on the Tulpar. At night the reader spends her time in the cockpit, thinking about home. When she feels the whim to sleep, she ventures back to the sleeping quarters, only to bump into Daisuke. Instead, she joins him for a midnight snack and some conversation in the lounge.

word count: 2,372

warnings: no trigger warnings! all characters are 18+

now playing: Dave Bixby - "Morning Sun"

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

EMPLOYEE STATEMENT 034—

There was this movie I watched once when I was a kid, about a little girl who falls from the sky. Although I can’t remember the title of it now. I do remember that she was a part of another world, a part of something bigger. She was important. I don’t think you have us write these to talk about movies, do you? I’m sure you’d rather hear about the operations on board, or the technical difficulties, or if there’s been any damage to the cargo. You know, the “important stuff”.  Everything is running smoothly so far. Is that good?

I want to be a part of something bigger one day. Hopefully this experience will help me. I’m grateful to have this opportunity.

DAY THIRTY-THREE—

Pony Express allowed a maximum of five hours of sleep to their employees on haul. During those five hours, the Tulpar was shadowed by a veil of utter stillness. A silence not too dissimilar to that of a library, or that painful pause in awkward conversation. It was too quiet, which led you to stare at the ceiling until the fatigue of work or boredom got the better of you. Even when you could fall asleep, it was far from restful. Over the past month you had gotten the worst sleep of your entire life thus far. Worse than when you lived in those co-ed dorms with unruly neighbors and argumentative hallways. Worse than those nights thunder cracked down from the darkened sky and you clutched stuffed animals in your chubby, child hands. After a certain point, you had given up on finding sleep at all.

The computer screens within the cockpit would beep on occasion, the sound barely audible over the soft plucking of guitar strings in your headphones. The coords of some old folk song filled your ears instead. You sat in the captain's chair, curling in on yourself with your knees to your chest and arms around your person. Your head snuggled into the dip in your legs, cheek pressed your knee cap as you stared at the sea of glowing green.

Curly had given you permission not too long ago to sit in the cockpit at night. Within the first month of your apprenticeship, you had grown on him quite a bit. The captain had always been a kindhearted person. He was a people pleaser to his core, a man simply happy to help. Curly saw a lot of himself in you, and he knew what it was like to feel, well, restless.

“As long as you promise not to touch anything,” he had said, prefacing his next words with a comforting smile, “you have my permission to use your clearance to the cockpit at night. But if word gets to the higher ups, they’ll have my head, understood? We wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

Normally, you tried to pay attention to how long you had been sitting there, keeping track of each song that played to count the minutes as they passed, but tonight you hadn’t. With a sigh, you reluctantly stood from Curly’s chair, deciding to give sleep another try. You slipped your Walkman into the pocket of your pajama pants and left the cockpit. Each step you took was quiet, almost imperceivable, as you walked down the hall toward the sleeping quarters. You didn’t want to disturb the others, although you had a feeling nobody else was sleeping all that well either. The rusted, trusty pipes groaned as you passed, their settling moans somehow bypassing the volume of your music. It made you feel uneasy. You reached into your pocket and turned the music up a bit in an attempt to drown out the sound. 

Rounding the corner, you finally reached the door to the sleeping quarters. Just as you reached for the door handle, it slid open seemingly on its own, causing you to flinch. Standing there—holding a flashlight in one hand and with the other placed against his chest—was Daisuke, looking far more caught off guard than you felt. You winced as he shined the light directly into your eyes.

“Holy shit, dude,” he breathed, voice dropped to a raspy whisper. “You straight up scared the hell out of me. What are you doing walking around in the dark?” Daisuke adjusted his aim and shot the beam at the ceiling instead, creating enough light for the two of you to see each other a little better.

With a soft laugh, you pulled your headphones from your ears, allowing them to hang around the back of your neck. “I’m sorry. Couldn’t sleep.”

“You too?” Daisuke questioned.

“I’m surprised anyone can sleep on this thing,” you whispered. “Where are you going?”

His eyes dropped in embarrassment as he used his free hand to rub nervous circles against the side of his neck. “I’m… I’m grabbing a snack from the lounge. You wanna come?”

“Yeah, if you want me to.” You didn’t hesitate. Anything sounded better than tossing and turning. You stepped to the side, permitting him enough space to walk out of the doorway then alongside you.

Daisuke breathed a chuckle at your response. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want you to.”

“Then I guess I’m coming,” you said in a hushed, playful tone.

Daisuke looked at you with a smile and nodded, shining his flashlight down the hall as the two of you began to walk in silence. In the quiet of the hall, the door to the lounge seemed to open with a deafening wheeze. Deep, royal blue illuminated the large room. The night-time window screen displayed a starry sky with wisp-like clouds, bathing the room with an otherworldly glow. It reminded you of going to the aquarium as a kid, surrounded by water and the smell of saltwater. You half expected to look up and see sharks and fish swimming overhead, but you knew all there would be was a dull, blank ceiling and slumbering lights.

Daisuke stuck his head through the doorway, peeking to see if anyone was already inside. When he determined that the coast was clear—although it wouldn’t have mattered anyway considering the noise of the door, he motioned for you to follow him inside.

“Hell yeah! The place is ours,” Daisuke celebrated, speaking louder once the door closed behind you two. He walked toward the vending machines with long, intentional strides. You tread on his heels, gaze fixed on him in amusement as he looked over the different options. 

You pulled your Walkman from your pocket, then leaned against the bar, palms pressed to the countertop as you pushed yourself up, and took a seat on the cool, brown laminate. “Is there normally someone else here?”

“Hmm?” He barely heard you, too fixated on what he was going to eat. As he processed what you had said, the words loading behind his eyes in a turning spiral, he ordered a pack of freeze-dried fruit and tore into the package. “Oh, nah. Not usually. I mean, I’ve seen Anya in here once or twice, but she’s always coming from medical bay. Getting coffee for those late nights, I guess.”

“She works too much,” you noted. “I wish she wouldn’t push herself like that.”

“You two seem close.” Daisuke approached, leaning against the counter beside you.

“Yeah. You could say that.” A tender smile graced your lips at the thought of you and Anya being close.

There was a pause, a brief lull in the otherwise newborn conversation. A series of crunches sounded from your right where Daisuke stood as he popped piece after piece into his mouth. You glanced over at him, the tenderness of your smile warping into something more entertained. He glanced over at you in turn, his mouth full of apple as he mustered a lopsided smile.

“Hey, it’s your Walkman,” he exclaimed after a swallow, pointing at the dated tech in your lap. “Whatcha listening to?”

“Oh,” you peeped with a suddenly flustered look on your face. “It’s a mix my mom made for me. Just a bunch of old folk stuff she used to play for me when I was little.”

“Can I listen?” he asked, shoving another piece of fruit in his mouth.

“S-Sure, yeah.” You unplugged your headphones and played the tape. It crackled, the old speaker not what it used to be. Or what it ever was, truthfully.

Maybe the quality of the sound would have bothered somebody else, but not Daisuke. As your small corner of the lounge filled with the sound of guitar—the stories of rural towns, first loves, and early mornings, Daisuke set his snack on the counter and listened intently. It was far from what he’d normally like, but something about listening to it here, with you made it sound perfect.

“It’s funny, actually. I never used to like this stuff back on Earth, but lately this is the only one I want to listen to,” you said over the music.

“You must really miss her.” Daisuke inched closer, standing less than a foot away from you as he leaned against the counter. His gaze flickered up to your face, quietly admiring the curves and arches of your profile. Under the blue light of the night time window screen, any blemish or imperfection on your face seemed to vanish. Not that he had ever noticed any imperfections on you. Matter of fact, for some reason, he couldn’t imagine seeing any part of you as imperfect. Even if he tried. There was a somber look in your expression as he spoke, one that made his stomach twist in knots.

“So much. I didn’t think it would be this hard being away from home.” Your voice was just above a whisper now. You felt your eyes begin to burn, the familiar sensation of tears welling in the corners as you tried to suppress the ebbing flow. With the shake of your head, you let out a quick laugh, feeling the tension gradually lifted from your shoulders. “What kind of music do you like?”

Daisuke didn’t blink or care about the change in discussion. He didn’t care about what the two of you talked about, and he wasn’t going to pry either. He knew that you would open when you felt comfortable enough to do so, and he was happy to wait however long that would take.

“A bit of everything, I guess. It kinda pisses me off when people say that and, like, they don’t actually mean it.” He slid his snack off of the bar and extended it to you, shaking it as the pieces inside rattled against each other. “I have a pretty impressive vinyl collection back home. Got everything from Etta James to Duster. You should see it sometime.”

Weakly, you smiled and took a piece of the fruit from the package. “Maybe when all of this is said and done. After the haul?”

“I’d love that,” Daisuke responded quickly, eyes trailing over your face. After another moment of silence, a brief break in conversation, he shifted on his heels and looked away. “So, you uh… you got anyone waiting for you back home? Y’know, like friends? A boyfriend? Or uh, a girlfriend? If you, like, swing that way or whatever. Which would be totally cool, obviously. I’ve got a bunch of gay friends-”

“Daisuke,” you said with a hint of that ever familiar amusement in your voice. “Relax, okay?”

He looked back at you and nodded. “Right, yeah… So, do you?”

“Friends? Yeah, a bunch. I miss them too. But a partner, not so much…” You felt your cheeks light up, a soft pink flush dusting the peaks of your cheekbones and the ridge of your nose.

“Hey, that’s cool,” he responded, bumping shoulders with you and trying not to sound too happy about your response. “Me neither. I mean, like I said, I’ve got loads of friends. Just not the whole girlfriend boyfriend thing.”

“Look at us,” you mused. “One in the same.”

“Yup, one in the same.” Daisuke glanced back at you hopefully, then looked away. He downed the rest of his dried fruit and crumpled up the package, tossing it in the direction of a nearby trashcan and missing by a couple feet. He winced, feeling a tinge of embarrassment as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“You gonna go get that?” you asked jokingly, pushed yourself from the countertop, and landed on your feet, securely tucking your Walkman back into your pocket as the music stopped.

“Yeah, yeah.” He rolled his eyes and walked toward the trash before picking it up and disposing of it properly. “It’s on the way out anyway. In fact, I meant to do that.”

You trailed after him, following close behind as the two of you approached the exit to the lounge. “Totally,” you teased, smiling up at him.

Yet again, the door slid open with that deafening screech as Daisuke and you left the lounge. Together, you walked back to the sleeping quarters. At the door, Daisuke turned to you and stopped. His brown eyes trailed over your features once more in the darkness, illuminated only by the light of the flashlight in his hands. Even in the blackness of the hallway, his smile was bright. His gap-toothed grin seemed almost bright enough to flood the entire hallway with light.

“Thanks for coming with me,” he spoke quietly.

“Thank you for inviting me,” you responded.

Daisuke opened his mouth as if to speak, but the words he wanted to say seemed caught in his throat. Instead, he just nodded and displayed that same smile. Your brows furrowed questioningly, an expression that made his heart skip a bit. Before you could say anything, he opened the door to the sleeping quarters and ushered you inside.

“Goodnight, [Name]. See ya in the morning.” He bit his lip, walking backward toward his room and nearly stumbling when he reached the door.

“Sweet dreams, Daisuke.” 

With that, you slipped into your room with a strange feeling in your chest. A tightness you hadn’t felt since high school, since hallway crushes and etching names into wooden picnic tables. An ache at the loss of his presence. How strange.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

previous part: here

next part: here

pookies (taglist): @xcryptk33p3rx @freakyydaisukee @sanctuaryofsmartiess @st4rrysblog @academiq @c4t-n1pp @iiveraii

[dragonshoardofworks]

Reincarnation Everlasting Trio Part 1 (DPxDC)

(I started this when my idle brain was disassociating on a job that I don't dislike but my boss is an ass, so go me, yey!)

And look at that! I managed to finish Part 1 just in time for Valentine's day!

Part 1 (you're here!) | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Prompt: TUE happened (the timeline is a bit messed up, tho, so not everything followed the number of the episodes), but Clockwork didn't reverse the second explosion.

Danny, not wanting history to repeat itself, fakes his death along with his family and friends in the Nasty Burger and after ransacking the lab plus destroying the Portal (& FentonWorks since he's making it look like it was a full Ecto-filter's fault), he gtfo.

Danny's pretty done with life, but since he's a halfa, he's functionally immortal, so the only way to get "eternal sleep" is something similar to Pariah's sarcophagus.

But contrary to what the Ancients did back then, Danny would hide his coffin himself where no one would find him.

In a place rich of ambient ectoplasm (to power up the tech that would keep him “safe”), but inaccessible to anyone who doesn't have intangibility and even then he would put up an Ecto-shield to prevent anyone to bypass the solid bedrock that he would use as natural barricade.

Amity is not a safe Ecto-rich place anymore because of Vlad, so the next best city seems to be Gotham, what with the ley lines and several ghost curses layered on there.

So Danny digs a chamber hundreds meters under Gotham and builds from scratch his prison, going out only three or four times to get some missing scraps and just enough food and water to let him finish the job (completely ignoring the new vigilantes starting to go out at night).

(He meets Robin!Dick once and most likely a still-stray Jason, but he quickly forgets about them, since he's too depressed to care.)

Once finished the project, Danny goes stargazing as Phantom at the highest point of the city one last time, where (a still not overly paranoid) Batman converges to assess him as a threat.

The two talk and have a heart-to-heart (mostly because Bruce sees another grieving kid like Dick and tries somehow to help), but nothing B says is enough to make Phantom desist from what Bruce thinks is commiting suicide.

However, Danny still thanks him for trying and for treating him like a person (Anti-Ecto-Acts are mentioned during their talk and you can bet that later B is gonna check on them) and that Batman is going to be a good dad for his kids.

(This comment leads later to a kinder timeline than the mess that is canon. ꒰(@｀꒳´)꒱ )

Danny manages to snatch one hug from the man, then he flees to the secret chamber, where he “goes to sleep” after engaging every lock and shield.

Even if Batman managed to tag Danny with a bug, he misses his signal once he goes underground and that makes him regret not being able to save him.

Maybe if he had been more open and emotionally reachable, he would have succeeded?

(...and that's how Bruce starts to go to therapy, but shhhhh!)

Years pass and Danny stays as a Sleeping Beauty, however, despite being good at science, he doesn't know everything, so he couldn't have imagined that water would filter through the rock and start pooling inside the chamber (the equipment is luckily waterproof).

However, the passive Ecto-radiation and the small amount of pure ectoplasm that leaks from the top of the filter, makes the water slowly turn into its Lazarus variant.

Though, contrary to LoA’s Water, this Lazarus Pit is pure and uncorrupted due to the filtering machines. 

Over the years (~15… 😏) the water digs through the chamber and shapes it into a cave that eventually connects to the Batcave. 

Maybe the cave-in of a wall, makes some of the Robins go and check if the stability of the ground is still sound and find the Lazarus Pit that covers (almost) completely both the shield and sight of what's under the surface.

When the kids report, B asks for a complete scan of the Pit and it results in discovering that there's something at the bottom.

So they send an aquatic probe to look into it directly and come up to the coffin that has something written on the top in case some ghost did manage to find Danny's spot but not enter the barrier.

(The probe, being “normal”, is able to pass without problem through the shield, though.)

The text is written in multiple languages (just in case) and reads:

“Here lies Danny Phantom. Please do not disturb me while I'm resting, as I want to half-live the saying ‘I’ll sleep when I'm dead.’”

For the first time ever, Damian snorts in genuine amusement aloud and doesn't notice (the other Bats do and start freaking out), but then the camera zooms to the face of the boy inside the coffin and Bruce does a double take as he recognizes the kid he wasn't able to save.

That moment of shock is enough to make the man freeze and not be able to react in time to Damian lunging to the Pit and diving directly inside of it. 

The BatFam starts to freak out even more and try to direct the probe to go and save Damian, but at the end they just manage to see live what he's doing.

Like it's just a normal salvage, Robin!Damian just ignites the instant floating buoys and that makes all the equipment emerge, with Damian sitting on the top of the coffin, completely ignoring the calls of the Bats. 

Immediately, Damian starts hacking the controls of the coffin, but it's not needed since as soon as he starts typing, the computer lights up and seemingly recognizes him, giving him immediate full access. 

Still ignoring the calls (no one can reach him since he's too far from the shore), Damian disengages the lock and “defrosts” Danny.

It takes a bit for him to wake up, but as soon as Danny starts to blink blearily, Damian is into his face, shouting.

“‘I'll sleep when I'm dead’? Really, Danny? You absolute moron!” 

It takes a couple of seconds to register anything, but as soon as he does, Danny gasps and leaps at Robin, snake-bear hugging him, as he climbs and clings all over the other boy.

(If either of them is crying while laughing, no they aren't: it's just the lingering Lazarus Water on their faces.)

Too scared to accidentally trigger the unknown “being” into constricting Damian to death, the BatFam waits, analyzing the interaction.

(Cass silently reassures them that they aren't a threat.) 

“How?!” It's the first thing that ‘Phantom’ says, leaning a bit back to cup their hands on Damian's face, trying to look into his eyes, but the mask is in the way.

Casually, Robin unmasks himself (!!) and smirks smugly, holding the meta(?) by the waist.

“You do remember that incident at the Egyptian Exhibit, don't you?” A nod, accompanied by a desolate puppy-like expression. “Did you really think that I would have waited that long to come back and find you?”

This time the tears are undeniable and, to hide them, the being buries their head in the crook of Damian's shoulder, clinging harder, but not enough to harm him. 

“Where's Sam?” The being asks, muffled, after a while.

“No clue, I just started remembering from reading the pun and seeing your face.”

“Humph, that checks out. ...We'll have to go and look for her, since she's twice as stubborn as you and so she would have come back too.” Damian snorts in amusement, but nods. There's a pause, then Danny jolts, leaning back from him to look at the other better with a frown.

“Wait, why are you drenched in ectoplasm?!” He looks around and sees the Pit. “Wtf dude, this is so not healthy for you, com’on, I have to decontaminate you, you moron!”

(At this, Danny gets so many points in B’s books.)

“Nah, don’t bother.” Damian shrugs, putting a hand on his own chest. “I know my body and with the memory of past me coming back, I think I’m already on the way of becoming a halfa? At least, the humming beside my heart feels much like your Core.”

Danny startles and puts his own hand on the other’s to assess himself.

“Before taking a dip in this Pit to salvage your ass, it wasn’t noticeable, but the ectoplasm must have fed it enough to become active.” Damian guesses as Danny examines the evidence.

“Not ‘on the way’, try ‘already are’. How’s that even possible?” Danny gapes.

“Sweet! Now we can go flying together!” Damian beams.

“Forget that for a second and answer me! This feels like a complete baby-Core, much like mine right after the Accident, but at the same time it’s older?” Danny frowns. “Like 15 or so years old.” Looks up at Damian in confusion.

“That checks out. My current grandfather is a cultist revenant ass (*BatFam gasps in shock*) who’s obsessed with using Pits of corrupted ectoplasm to stay alive. I got tossed inside one a couple of times to be revived as well and I don’t doubt for a second that some of it was used to develop me in the artificial womb.”

“Duuuude, how does your new life sound more crazy than ours back then?”

“The merit of choosing to be reincarnated as the heir of a vigilante Father,” Damian points at the Bats with a thumb, making Danny notice them for the first time, “the ‘curse’ of an interesting life and the chance to meet you again, I guess.”

After a glance that promises ‘we’ll talk about that later’ to Damian, Danny turns properly to the BatFam and startles at seeing Batman. “Oh, it’s the Bat-dude!” Quick glance at the rest of the people, “I knew you would be a good dad! Tucker wouldn’t have chosen you otherwise!” 

There are various splutters from every BatFam member and Damian grumbles in embarrassment.

“Wait, you know him B?” Red Robin side-turns towards Batman, frowning. “There’s no report of him in any file of the Batcomputer. And I’ve read all of them.”

“...Because I never wanted a record of my failure glaring back at me. I already gave myself a hard time as it was, it would have made things worse and Black Canary agreed with that assessment.” B admits.

“What failure?” Jason (who has another vigilante name, since, you know, the Red Hood moniker was to spite B and in this timeline there’s no need for that) gapes.

“Probably me coming down here to get some ‘Eternal Sleep’.” Danny shuts off the barrier, picks up Damian and flies with him on the shore, phasing the residual ecto from their forms. “You thought it was an euphemism for suicide, not literal, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, you did give that impression. Are you alright, son?” B looks at Damian, still not outing his civilian name to be on the safe side.

“Of course, Father. This Ectoplasm Pit has none of the junk Grandfather’s has. Danny knows his stuff and his Ecto-filters are the top notch. (Danny blushes in the bg at the praise) Heck, it could even be used to cure Pit Madness or to revive people without it in the first place.”

“Let’s not try it, please!” Danny hastily intervenes, “No dying for anyone in my family allowed now that I’m back!” 

“Dude, we aren't immortal and you know that.” Damian shoulders Danny in scolding.

“They aren't immortal, you mean. You're a halfa now. Death won't stick on us in any way that matters, so I don't want anyone getting KiA at least. If they get to the point of being old and happy, then I'm fine with them going to rest. But don't think that I will leave your side any time soon.” Danny says pointedly at Damian, who bristles.

“That's completely insane, you can't be everywhere and above all you can't stalk me everywhere! I'm Robin, Batman's right hand, I won't be babysat when I have more experience than you no-” Damian's rant gets silenced by Danny kissing him.

Even after he lets go, Damian's brain is still blue screening while the BatFam is either gaping or catcalling.

“Tucker, or whatever you new name is, why do you think I went to sleep there after you all died in your past life?” Points at the coffin. “You remember that ‘Other Me’?”

“Vaguely, details are still a bit fuzzy, but he didn’t say much anyway after he tied us to the boiler…” Damian blinks, still a bit dazed by the kiss, but then grimaces at Danny’s flinch.

“Yeah, well, he actually went insane after losing you since that gave him an Obsession Failure. He broke down so deeply and irreversibly that it twisted him enough that accepting Vlad’s help led him to being the Scourge of Humanity. I-I… promised you to never become like him, so… this was the only way I could do that. I didn’t know what else to do, I’m sorry I wasn’t able to save you after all!” Danny breaks down, crying and sobbing and collapsing against Damian, as he cradles him in his arms.

Damian tries to console him with both physical affection (hugs and caresses) and murmuring reassurances (things like ‘it’s okay, it’s alright, it’s not your fault’) until the outburst slows down and his latest proposition catches Danny’s attention.

“Do you want to meet Batcow? She’s a true sweetheart, her therapist abilities are without equals among the living.”

“...You have a pet cow?” Danny’s voice is still rough with tears, but his disbelief is unmistakable.

“Of course I can have a pet cow! I saved her from an inhumane slaughterhouse, what I’ve seen there even made me swear off meat!” Damian!Tucker says righteously, but then realization sinks in as he stares with growing horror into Danny’s wide eyes.

“Oh Ancients, I’ve become like Sam! And I can’t even go back on the belief of my new life because both she and my current self have a point!”

That seems another breaking point, because Danny starts laughing so hard that he’s crying again.

“It’s not funny Danny, I’m having a crisis here!” Damian!Tucker cries in despair (to hide the relief that his best friend/crush/future boyfriend? isn’t as hopeless and depressed as before) as he lightly shakes the other, making him laugh even harder.

(He won’t let him go either. As Damian, now Tucker has all the skills he lacked in his past life and can protect his People. He won’t fail again.)

[echantedtoon]

RUN AWAY BUT I'LL FIND YOU AGAIN

@hantengus-fuckass-clones

@hantenguclonesimp-minuszoha

This is a sorta sequel to my Yandere Demons And Brides posts. Basically just headcannons of the demons of Y/n managed to escape.

Warnings for yandere themes, kidnapping mentions, possibly death mentioned, panic attacks, Hairou shooting himself, entrapment, mentioned wounds and scars, regular demon Slayer content, Douma/Karaku/Enmu IS his own warning, possibly some innuendos, etc.

If any of these warnings upset you pls don't read. I will be including Daki/Ume/Zohakutan in the line up as part of Gyutaro/Hantengu's part but she/he will be strictly PLATONIC yandere!! Absolutely NO romance between her/him and reader!! And her parts will be minor. Nakime is short and like last post I left her Yn GN while the others I wrote as female Yn.

Buckle up guys. This is gonna be a BIG post with all the demons from the last two posts. Especially Hantengu's part.

KOKUSHIBO:

-How you managed to escape him? Who knows? He's Upper Moon One and that's nearly an impossible feat.

-After reclaiming you as his wife, he expects you to take your place as a dutiful wife should. Which is why he's very disappointed when you're just acting scared and always refusing his advances instead of greeting him like a good wife should be!

-He's only allowed to have you because Muzan allows him too for being so loyal and efficient. But that means he can't pause his duties less his master changes his mind. So maybe that's why you were able to find an opening to escape the house he trapped you in. The one he expected you to clean for him and come to take care of for your lives together now.

-He's not shocked by your want to escape him but he is certainly surprised when he discovers the desperation you had smashed a boarded window open he had made sure to tightly close off. The wedding ring he always forced you to wear around him discarded on the floor amongst the broken glass and boards of wood. He didn't think you were strong enough to get it open.

-He has a mixed reaction. He's disappointed that you managed to leave, frustrated too and annoyed, surprised as said you were able to get out, but mostly disappointed. He's not angry. He's got very good control of his anger, if anything he's just disappointed that you would rather try to escape. Deep down he's very upset with himself, a Deep sting of rejection like all those years ago stinging him.

-Its doesn't matter however. He's patient. And it's not like you'll be able to outrun him for long.

DOUMA:

-Remember how I said that you're best chance to get away from him is when he's still confused about his feelings in the last post? If you choose to escape then, then he won't bother. Not at first at least. He'd still be too confused about everything and not know what was going on to go after you until he finally realizes it or someone explains it to him. By then you might hide well enough to never see him again.

-However if you managed to escape after- Bravo! Somehow you managed to bypass Douma and his cult. Only one piece of advice to give you-

-RUN! Run as FAST and as FAR AWAY as you can! Because a Douma with emotions is actually emotionally and mentally unstable.

-When you aren't there and no one can tell him where you are, he feels scared and panicked like never before. He's almost hyperventilating as he tears apart the compound desperately calling your name ordering his cult to search the compound and comb through the nearby forest and mountainside for any signs of you to no avail.

-When he realizes that you left him he goes through a rage he's never felt before. It's so overwhelming that he kills(absorbs) any and all cult members he thinks even remotely causes you to get away. A bloody scene that for once might make Muzan pleased with his existence. He doesn't stop there he tears apart his room to satisfy his anger throwing and smashing anything he can get his hands on and leaving claw marks all over the walls.

-After he eventually comes down from his rage, he feels numb for a while before he starts crying. He's sobbing uncontrollably and curled up in your bed hugging your pillow to him. A wave of sadness and betrayal stabbing him in the heart over and over.

-Why did you leave him?! Did you not feel loved enough?! Did he not give into every whim you wanted?! He stays there unable to control himself or answer his questions until nighttime. Hope you have a good head start because as soon as sunset hits, he's coming after you and this time you wont ever leave him again.

AKAZA:

-To be fair he'd probably be the easiest demon to escape from outta all the upper moons. It's still NOT easy to do so but because Akaza doesn't harm women let alone the one he's in love with, he'll not do anything to actually harm you other than keep you isolated and trapped in one spot because he's afraid anyone would harm you if he let you wonder around.

-He allows you to go outside (only at night and with him so he can watch you-) since he knows being cooped up can't be good for your health. This might be your only chance.

-Someone might not see being cared for is a bad thing but Akaza seems to almost infantize you. You won't be able to do anything yourself. Want to cook? He'll do it! You can burn yourself! Want to go for a walk? He'll agree with him but halfway through he's seeing you limp with your bad leg and just call it quits before just carrying you all the way home. Want to bathe? Ok but he's waiting for you right outside in case you slip and hit your head! He doesn't allow you to do anything yourself and if he does, he's right there or just outside the door in wait.

-You're best chance of escape is just crawling through a window during the day and legging it as far as you can. If you do do this, expect him to have the biggest panic attack in his life when he sees the open window. Hyperventilating as he pictures the most horrible worst case scenarios of you running into a bear or rogue demon without him there to protect you. Or worse- WHAT IF YOU ENCOUNTER DOUMA?!

-Hope you know a good hiding place because once he catches you, you're never being left alone again.

NAKIME:

-You literally couldn't escape her with her teleportation powers but let's say you did for the sake of this post. Sneaking out by diving through an open doorway she opened for another demon or Muzan.

-Its was a surprise really you made it out. Like Kokushibo she's very good at controlling her anger and wouldn't really be anger even. She's just disappointed and a bit annoyed her Husband/Wife(whichever you wanna go by with the lady demons like last post) would still insist on being childish and trying to run away again.

-She'll be impressed you made it as far as you did but be weary of sudden doors whisking you back home to an annoyed demon 'wife' again.

GYUTARO (+PLATONIC UME/DAKI):

-You could've simply gotten away if you had boarded the train with your soon-to-be husband and never saw either demon again as they never left the Red Light District.

-Good luck escaping Daki's belt and the underground home they keep you in. You're too scared to fight back so you remain casual and polite out of fear (and to try and think of a way to escape).

-It won't be easy. They take turns in rotation. Daki loves dressing you up and chatting with her like always like nothing changed. Gyutaro will hold you to himself and feel relieved just having your warmth against him. If they aren't around then Daki has her talking belt minion guard you or she puts you in a belt for a while. It's rare for all three of them to be busy at once but it has happened more than one time. They don't think you can escape the hole in the ground anyways.

-Well you do. One day while they were all busy. Clawing your way through one of those thin tunnels until you reach the surface freed. You're alive. Dirty, a little thin, and scared out of your mind. But alive and free for now. You better get out of the E District because of you do stick around they'll catch you sooner or later.

-Both have a similar reaction when they come home and discovered you gone. Daki throws a massive half tantrum half crying fit. She tears her talking belt minion to shreds blaming it for your escape. It's ok. She'll make a better one later when she calms down but right now she'll cry and throw a fit while demanding her hyperventilating brother fix this as he usually does.

-Gyutaro has a similar reaction to a emotional Douma. He'll tear apart your underground home, and when he can't find you he'll fall into a hyperventilating mess of emotions. He's absolutely pissed off. That's his default emotion after all so it's his first reaction but he'll start falling into a mess of tears and crying as realization jabs into him. He knew he was ugly. He's so ugly even a practically blind girl would eventually run away from him. He's a blubbering crying mess like his sister for a while until both are calmed down enough to think with clear heads.

-Hope you were able to make it to that train because you don't have just one but TWO demons coming after you.

GYOKKO:

-Possibly the second easiest one to escape from. All ya have to do is yeet his pot off a cliff side or something but the problem is he'll quickly teleport back to you angry in another pot.

-Your best bet is to use flattery and his own ego against him and to your advantage. Tell him how honored you were to receive such beautiful pots from him. Listen to him sing his own praises. His guard will lower as you both talk to each other about his pots, art techniques you both use, and anything else involving art or himself in some way. Honestly if he wasn't a demon and kidnapped you, you probably wouldn't have minded the conversations.

-Play along as his little mise. Holding still as he carved your likeness into a vase or allow him to watch as you shakily work a needle and thread too closely. Eventually his guard will be down enough for you to escape.

-While he's not sun proof his pots are. While he's gone, turn the pot he uses to get inside your home upside down and place the heaviest object you can on it to help delay his entrance as you run into the daylight.

-Oh he'll be furious and throw a fit about you leaving and how you treated his precious vase, but he's more preoccupied by the fact that his precious muse has vanished into the wind. Luckily for you, he's the easiest demon to hide from. Just stay away from vases and any art studios for a long while. He's sure to be close by looking for you.

KAIGAKU:

-All I can say is good luck. While Kaigaku isn't the brightest, strongest, or emotionally adept demon he's definitely not someone you can easily trick or escape from. You can't get more than a few yards away at most before he notices you walking away from his distracted form and barks a demand for you to return to him immediately!

-Doesn't help he also keeps you in the Infinity Castle where lots of demons watch you with hunger. They only don't eat you because you're around Kaigaku's side at all times and no one wants to tussle with Upper Moon Six, especially if it was Kokushibo who brought him in. Kaigaku is smug about having you always paraded around on his arms.

-You have to use the same tactic for him as you did Gyokko. Compliment him subtly and every once and a while. Keep it casual however. Doing it too much with cause him to get suspicious and catch onto your plan. However a compliment here and there that sounds like a genuine observation will boost his ego and slowly but surely let his guard little by little down around you. To the point he leaves you in a room he marked as his own when training with Kokushibo.

-He's absolutely terribly shocked and PISSED when he discovers you gone and later learns that you had taken Nakime off guard by diving into an open doorway as she wasn't looking. Oh now he's not just pissed, he's ENRAGED!! You'd better run, run, run. Because as soon as the sun goes down a cursing black rage filled shadow is hunting you down even if it takes him all eternity.

HAIROU:

-(again couldn't find a gif of him) Outta all the lower moons Hairou would be the hardest to escape from. Not only can he teleport using shadows, but he has guns, and summoned shadow wolves on his side.

-He can get overwhelmed by his emotions and have a panic attack from the PTSD and end up shooting himself. That would be the ideal time to flea, when he's too overwhelmed by emotions to really take in his surroundings and know what's going on. You have to be quick though because he can recover pretty quickly after the gunshot.

-If you're somehow able to escape from him some other way he's having the worst panic attack of both his human and demon existence. It'll take him all night and many rounds of ammo before he's actually able to get his head together enough to really get a hand on the situation.

-You must get creative as you run however. He'll track you down using his shadow wolves like a pack stalking down a deer.

HANTENGU (+ CLONES):

-Hes actually the easiest Upper Moon to escape from. It's just a matter of timing and how you execute it is all.

-You're best bet is to use his own delusions against him and do your plan when he's by himself without any clones present to stop you. Act sweet to him. Tell him you're glad you're 'husband' is home and that you were going to run out and grab him something to make for dinner and to just make himself comfortable. He's so delusional and thinks you're just being a sweet 'wife'(nevermind you two aren't married) that he believes everything you say.

-Wont even put up a fuss as you smile casually and wave at him before walking out the door on your way to town to 'buy ingredients' only you skip right past the town and you don't walk you freaking RUN!! Run, run, run as fast and as far as you can before he realizes that you aren't coming back.

-He's so delicious that he doesn't suspect anything. In fact he takes a nap and wonders about the house for hours waiting for you when you don't show up once it's night time is when he knows somethings up. He doesn't believe you ran away however. No. To the day he died Hantengu believes his poor wife was abducted by another demon or slayer.

-Hope youre far away because he's ripping himself apart and sending his clones out to search for their poor 'wife.'

SEKIDO:

-He may not look it but he's very concerned about their 'wife.' He doesn't know what happened to you and he doesn't care. He wants you back and he wants you back NOW!!

-First thing he does is yell at Hantengu for twenty minutes about stupid he was to let you go by yourself all defenseless and weak. Next he's ripping up himself and Karaku to get the others and ordering them in the scariest most threatening tone ever to get out there and FIND YOU! Even if it was the last thing they did.

AIZETSU:

-Crying, blubbering mess. He knows you weren't happy with them but did you have to run away? Did they do something wrong? No. It must be because something awful happened to you because they weren't there. You'd never run away from them!

-Most emotional outwardly and on the verge of an anxiety attack the entire time they're looking for you. Once they find you(if they do) he's holding onto you and sobbing into your dress about how sorry he is.

UROGI:

-Man is molting in anxiety. He's making panicked turkey noises while he's looking for you. He thinks it's a game at first thinking you're just playing chase but when it becomes clear you're actually GONE he's running around like a headless chicken panicking.

-The most likely to spot you from up above so be sure to stick close to trees and outta sight because if not then you'll find yourself swooped up by a freaked out harpy and flown back to the others...that is if KFC man finds you at all.

KARAKU:

-Is surprisingly the only one that's thinking clearly. He's the clone of Relaxation so he's going to be the calmest one in this situation. But he's still panicked and scared like the others desperately searching for you.

-In a moment of arguing the others blame him for you possibly running away with how he always acts towards you. He has six other clones yelling at his face making him feel very guilty and wonders if it was his fault. He promises to make it up to you and never do it again once they find you. IF they find you.

ZOHAKUTAN:

-THE most likely to find you. He comes out in a last resort when Hantengu and the five other clones are unable to find you. Forces Sekido to absorb the others and let him take over searching with his wood dragons. He can just take shelter and continue looking for you during the daytime with them too.

-Eliminates any and all obstacles in his path until he finds you and entraps you in the mouth of one of his dragons before dragging you back home to everyone's relief. Be prepared for an earful and to be under close observation for the rest of his time alive because Zohakutan will be coming out more often after this.

URAMI:

-Very resentful that Hantengu was dumb enough to let you wonder off by yourself and like Sekido he'll spend a few minutes yelling at him for it too before joining in on yelling at Kataku and going to search for you.

-Be prepared for him to be out a lot more now too to guard you and make sure you don't try anything like this again.

KYOGAI:

-Like Nakime it's going to be nearly impossible for you to escape someone that can teleport to you and shift the mansion around to keep you from escaping. You're best bet is to crawl or jump out the nearest window at the first opportunity.

-Kyogai can't go far from his mansion because that's where most of his power lies so your best chance of truly getting away from him is so flee as far from the mansion as possible. Depending on if it's night or how hurt you are from jumping out the window he might catch up to you.

-He's not the worst demon to be trapped with but his desperation for genuine connection makes him certainly very possessive and he isn't willing to let you go that easy.

ENMU:

-How did you manage to get out of the personal train car he locked you in? He's literally a part of the train and can control how much freedom you have.

-Turns out insomnia is one helluva drug.

-Enmu is not easily fooled. He will not be fooled by flattery, tricks, or challenges. And you're certainly not as strong as him. The best bet is the element of surprise. Pretend you're having one of your naps. He'll sometimes forget your body doesn't work with sleep like a regular person, so when you suddenly tackle him out of the way as soon as he opens the door, he's taken off guard. Take this chance and RUN!!

-Stay away from train stations and trains. You'll probably be able to avoid him as his main body is literally infused with a train. I'm fact stay away from train tracks and towns with stations all together. You never know if a train whistle is just Enmu around the corner.

[directdogman]

Dialtown is the most USA-core game I've ever played. It's so fucking American that it's scary, and I've lived there my entire life! Like, this feels fundamentally tied with the game's themes and narrative, that's how extreme it is. And it's not even alienating OR nationalist?? It makes such genuine commentary? And then there's so much other shit to think about too; Dialtown has a very real identity outside this that anyone could love?

One: I am VERY impressed that you have done the USA and its people this well. I am actually astounded, bewildered, and chuffed. I've never felt so seen by a video game, culturally-speaking. I didn't even know there was a culture to see.

Two: WHY did you do that. Dialtown is like USA Culture Absurdified: The Visual Novel. What drove you to make a game this rich with American culture and ideas???

Hello!

It would've been odd for an outsider (non American) who enjoys reading up on history to make my setting nationalist or alienating. America is a country with a lot of serious issues. You can't really study how America is (and has been) internally run without facing glaring and obvious systematic issues. DT's setting is one of scarcity and most of the main characters you follow in DT are kinda just scraping by without much hope for true mobility/advancement. A lot of Americans (especially younger generations) would agree this sorta encapsulates the national mood of the country right now.

Of course, the systems that run a country don't define its citizens - many of the finest people I've ever known are American and are victims of the whims of those with power, not willing participants in this system. I could be wrong, but that's why I think the setting connected with a lot of people. We all know Randys, Olivers + Karens, people who've fallen through the cracks in some way. To them, America's spirit of self-determination isn't about individual identity - it's more "you're on your own."

Why I chose to set DT in America would be a novel length answer in of itself, but it mainly came down to history + narrative opportunity. I wanted to set the game in the epicenter of where the phone-revolution came from and Crown likely couldn't have pulled his plan off anywhere else and probably not during any other time. It had to be 1960's America.

Of course, some parts of DT are sorta universal and were inspired by the the Great Recession and what followed. I remember there was an area not that far from my house that was full of green fields when I was born and when I was a kid (and when real estate boomed), stuff started being built there. Parts of it looked really nice, not quite like anything nearby. Like the future was coming. Then the economy crashed and stuff was left sitting there, half-built for like a decade. Skeletal, unfinished buildings. DT is much the same.

There's a feeling that the city could've been something better and while things could be more equal, it does feel like there are no easy solutions to fix everything - unless someone very smart and determined somehow bypassed every safeguard that was set up to halt radical change and enacted a genius plan to somehow eliminate scarcity. It happened once and might never again.

I don't think most people understand the intricacies of stuff like global commerce all that well (myself included), but when you're sitting looking at a half built neighbourhood mere hours after speaking to a friend who just kicked out of rented accommodation and doesn't have a stable family unit to fall back on, you'd have to be a real dolt not to understand that things aren't great right now. Most people are scraping by and feel if they could just get affordable housing locked down, if they had maybe one good opportunity - maybe there's hope that things could change for the better.

The end of DT isn't really utopian, things don't massively change for the better and indeed, the town has a lot of rebuilding to do. But, a collection of lonely people are now looking out for each other and through the relationships they have, now feel like they have a place in this world. That no matter how bad things really get - they aren't truly by themselves anymore. Most individuals don't have the means to significantly advance change on their own - but you can live your life, love those around you and support others and plan for when the opportunity to affect change comes about.

I guess that's what life is, in America or anywhere else. Sorry I rambled for so long. Hope this answered the question!

[blushingsastiel]

The comfort of Liam's bed is what draws Theo into the beta's room whenever he can. For some unknown reason (not that unknown but Theo would rather have a gun held to his head than admit to himself why he loves Liam's bed), Theo can fall asleep in seconds in this specific bed.

It doesn't matter what other bed. His own bed in the guest room of the Dunbar-Geyer is somehow not as comfy. Scott's bed where many other pack members (including Theo) sometimes finds themselves in, either taking a nap or wanting to escape a noisy McCall house (this pertains mostly to Theo) does provide comfort for Theo (because Scott is Theo's alpha now and he can admit that now), but it still doesn't make him fall asleep as fast as Liam's bed does.

It's just something about Liam's bed.

(It's actually more about Liam and not the actual bed, but Theo isn't going to admit that to himself or anyone else just yet.)

Liam has long ago told Theo he can crash in his bed whenever he wants for whatever reason he may have.

Usually it's Theo's nightmares that get him stumbling out of his room and into Liam's, hands shaking as he opens the bedroom door. The beta is pretty good at staying on one side of his bed, leaving a big enough space for the chimera to slot himself in (Liam's forced himself to do so because he wants Theo to not see there being no room and decide to leave and not seek comfort with him. He used to sleep like a starfish but not anymore.)

Other times, it's pure exhaustion that makes Theo's feet move towards Liam's room, completely bypassing even the thought of entering his own room. Sometimes, he does it without even realizing it until he opens the door and Liam's head snaps up to meet his eyes.

If it bothers Liam, Theo doesn't really know. Outwardly, Liam merely beckons the chimera further into his space. He lifts covers, calls out Theo's name, and grabs Theo's wrist if he's close enough to pull him into the soft surface.

Today, today has been a bad day for the chimera. He's had one college class, thankfully just the one, but he's had to work the rest of the day at Deaton's clinic, which completely drained him. Not only does he assist Deaton with the regular furry pets that walk into the clinic, but he's also been helping Deaton document everything he remembers from being with the Dread Doctors.

Remembering everything isn't the hard part. Theo can basically remember pretty much anything when he really puts his mind to it. The hard part is having to go back to the headspace of being with the Dread Doctors. Of the images flashing behind his eyes of medical instruments, other children screaming, and hands and shackles holding him down onto a cold table.

It drains him more mentally than he thought it would.

It feels like he's right back there, in the sewer tunnels. Somewhere where he only had a cot in a cage to sleep in. There was no pillow or blanket for him to use.

So, when he gets back to the Dunbar-Geyer house where Jenna and David are gone on their weekly date night, Theo almost collapses at the kitchen table. There's food covered by a paper towel for him, and Theo could possibly cry from the kind act that came from Liam. Underneath the covering is cubed chicken with rice and beans (that Jenna and David must have cooked because Liam cannot cook to save his life).

It's still slightly warm, not cold enough that Theo would have to pop it into the microwave. There's a fork to the side of it, and Theo picks it up delicately and dives into the delicious food.

It's something he needed that warms his tummy up right away. It tastes better than usual, but Theo chalks that up to being tired and exhausted.

When he's done with the food, Theo sets it into the sink, rinsing it quickly before heading up the stairs. He's been thinking about taking a shower for hours at this point, so when the water hits his back, he sighs outwardly.

The chimera tenses for a second before relaxing under the spray of water. The water feels amazing against his skin, but he doesn't stay in the shower for too long. More than anything, Theo wants to curl up underneath a blanket.

He's out of the bathroom as soon as he feels clean enough, but Theo doesn't head for his room.

Theo goes to Liam's bedroom instead.

The chimera pauses for a slight second, hand on the doorknob before he pushes the door open and slips as quietly as he can inside. As expected, Liam isn't asleep since it's too early in the night for that. Instead, the beta is sitting against the headboard with his phone in his hand, seemingly scrolling aimlessly on TikTok (Theo guesses because Liam is always on that damn app).

The beta flicks his gaze to Theo's when the chimera stands in the middle of the room for too long.

Liam raises one of his eyebrows at Theo. "Hurry and get your ass in bed already."

The way Liam says it makes Theo relax even more, and he smiles at the sentence and at Liam. So, with Liam's way of words, Theo falls into the bed on his stomach, the soft blanket Liam always keep on his bed rubbing against his cheek. Theo pillows his head into his arms and turns his head toward the direction Liam's in.

Both of them are quiet as the sounds of the different videos (Liam is on tiktok, scrolling through) filter through into the room. It provides background noise that Theo is thankful for. He doesn't want to be stuck in his head with pure silence, it would drown Theo even more than he already is.

But it isn't enough. Background noise isn't enough. Theo needs... Liam.

With that thought (LiamLiamLiamLiam), Theo shuffles closer to the beta. Instead of laying on his stomach in a straight line, Theo turns to his side and curls his legs up so that his knees are turned up to his chest. He feels Liam still completely for a few seconds before the beta turns off his phone. He doesn't let Theo worry that Liam is leaving the room because the beta turns on his TV and puts on a sitcom to replace the background noise that originally came from his phone. The TV volume is low but high enough for the dialogue to be heard.

Theo doesn't really understand what is happening, especially with his eyes still closed. So he doesn't see Liam move down the bed, making it so his head is against the pillow, but he does feel when Liam wrap an arm around his waist. The hand around his waist rests there for a little bit, as if Liam is testing to see if Theo will run out the room or remove his arm.

But, Theo doesn't. If anything, he feels himself melt. Liam must also feel it too.

That's when Liam uses the arm around his waist to pull him closer to Liam's chest. Theo is a bit lower on the bed, so his head is underneath Liam's chin and he uses this to his advantage. He presses his nose against Liam's neck, nosing along the skin.

Liam smells so good, he can't help it (even if he could stop, Theo doesn't want to. He doesn't know when he's been this comfortable before, wrapped up in Liam's arm).

It shouldn't come as a surprise, but it shocks Theo when he feels Liam press a kiss against his hair, lingering before pulling away. The arm around him tightens, securing him even more against Liam's chest.

The two of them fall asleep in each other's embrace soon after that. How could they not when Theo feels as complete as he's ever felt? How could they not when Liam feels himself settle the more time he has Theo in his arms?

[togrowoldinv]

Hugs

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Note: Not a formal fic, but a quick little thought about Natasha. Enjoy it!

The first time you hugged Natasha, it was just by accident, really. It was after a mission where things had gone not so perfectly.

You somehow got separated from the team for almost an hour. When you finally saw them again, you ran to them. Bypassing Steve and Tony, you ran into Natasha’s arms. Your weight against her caught her off guard but she eventually did wrap her arms around you.

You weren’t sure why you hugged her. It just felt instinctual.

The next time you hugged her it was at a Stark party. She noticed you had plenty to drink and offered to walk you back to your room. The two of you lingered by the door, feeling something more for each other. But it wasn’t the right time to make that move.

Natasha, instead, opted to hug you goodnight. Your memory of that moment is clear despite the state you were in. She felt warm against you and you tried to memorize the way she felt.

A few weeks later, Natasha asked you on a date. From that point on, your hugs with Natasha became more frequent. She would hug you in good times and bad, in crowded rooms or when it was just the two of you, and of course, anytime you asked for one.

Her arms are your favorite place to be. A shelter from every storm of life.

“Are you ready?” A velvety voice interrupts your thoughts.

“I think so,” you reply, standing and turning to see your soon to be wife by the door.

“Wow,” Natasha breathes out. “Look at you.”

“Look at me? Look at you,” you tell her.

Natasha smirks and reaches for your hand. She kisses the top of it before you join her in step. As you walk to your future together, you think back on all of the times you couldn’t even imagine this happening to you.

Everything changed when you fell in love with Natasha.

You exchange your vows and kiss to seal your future together. Before the reception that Tony refused to make a small occasion, you step into a room alone with Natasha.

She immediately pulls you into a hug. It feels so right to hug her as her wife. You hold onto each other tight.

“This is my favorite hug we’ve ever had,” you say.

“Me too, baby,” Natasha agrees.

You hug each other for what feels like an eternity, and that’s how long you want to spend with Natasha.

[theta-walti]

Home Is Where The Heart Is

Summary (requested): Hi! Would you maybe write something for lia wälti were her and reader are really close friends who do a lot of domestic stuff together (think cooking, keeping each other company when studying etc) and everyone except those two knows that they are in love with each other? I just have this scene in my head where reader walks into the living room to find lia on the couch wearing their hoodie cuddling with readers dog and just thinking "i'm gonna marry this girl" and that being the realisation that the feelings are indeed more than friendly. Maybe some confessions and fluff after that

Warnings: Alcohol and fluff

A/N: ahhhhh l love Wally sm, l has bracelet for her, again, this has been in drafts as long as l can remember, this is dedicated to the anon who waited so patiently for so long, thank you and enjoy 🫶

Word count: 2.5k

"Lia!"

You said, lying on the living room sofa, completely bored out of your mind.

You had came over to Lia's this morning, only because you both don't have training today and the Swiss invited you over, usually when both you and Lia are free you would spend the day together, weather it's at hers or at yours.

This started when you met each other in Langnau, when she was coached by her father, you and her were the only girls on the team, so automatically you two became friends really quickly, and ever since you and the Swiss is done everything together, even moved up the ranks together, from Langnau to Huttwill Training Center to Team Bern West to BSC Young Boys for a year before signing to Arsenal in 2018, whenever boys bullied her you stood up for her and vice versa, that's how your friendship bloomed, that is until you started to develop feelings for the Swiss.

"yes kärlek?"

Lia said, looking up from her laptop, she is currently sitting on the kitchen counter, studying for her bachelor's degree.

"I'm bored!"

You throw your head back and groan. Usually, you and Lia would be spending time together, but ever since you arrived, she’s been too focused on studying, leaving you feeling a bit neglected.

Suddenly, an idea sparks in your mind—you know the Swiss won't like it, but you decide to go for it anyway. Rising from your seat, you stride over to where she's sitting, and without a word, you close her laptop and took it. Lia looks up at you, a bit stunned, before letting out a small, exasperated protest.

"Hey, that's my uni work! Give it back!"

She tried to get it back by reaching out, but you were having none of it.

"No! You've been ignoring me since l arrived. You invited me over, so now you have to hang out with me!"

You said, hugging her laptop close to your body, refusing to give Lia back her laptop. The Swiss got off the kitchen counter and started walking towards you.

"please Härlig, don't be so chrildish. Give me back my laptop. This is important!"

You start to back up, leaving the kitchen with a big smirk on your face. Then you start to run, running around the house with Lia behind you, chasing you, trying to get her laptop back.

"I'm not saying this again! Give me my laptop back!"

Lia said with a smile on her face, You yelled back a no and kept running, and you continued to do so until you faced a dead end, somehow you ran into the bedroom and ended up in the gap between the bed and the bedside table, basically tucking yourself in a corner, Lia smirked as she walked towards you slowly, her head high and hand out.

"You have nowhere else to run now. Give me my laptop,"

She said with an outstrached hand and stopped in front of you.

"YES, I do!"

You declared, scanning the room before charging forward with determination, aiming to bypass Lia and return to the living room. However, fate had other plans.

Mid-stride, you stumble over one of the bed's legs, instinctively reaching for Lia's arm for support. Instead, you only succeed in pulling her down with you. Her initial shock quickly gives way to a smirk as she realizes your vulnerable position, now looming over you with a newfound confidence. Despite the situation, you cling tightly to the laptop, refusing to surrender it.

That is, until you notice the position you’re in and froze, realization flooding over you. When you glance back at Lia, a mischievous grin is spreading across her face. Seizing the moment, she swiftly takes the laptop from your grasp, leaving you sprawled on the floor with a blush creeping across your cheeks. As she steps back, you lie there, replaying the scene in your mind, trying to process what just happened.

Just on cue, your phone rang in a notification. Thank gods, it was a text from your favourite teammate (you won't admit it, but she is) and one of your closest friends, Leah.

Hey, me and the team are going out tonight, you wanna come with? Bring Wally too if you want, l texted her, but she never replies

You replied immediately.

Yes! I'll tell her now, where is it?

You and Leah continued texting, and she gave you the address and time. Turns out you and Lia only have two hours left until the meet-up.

"Lia! Lee just told me that the team is hanging out tonight. They invited you too, It's in two hours"

You said as you walked out of the bedroom and into the living room where your best friend is, the Swiss turned her focus to you as soon as you entered the room, telling her the news.

"Where are they meeting up?"

Lia asked with an arched eyebrow. This is the first time she has heard this, or someone has already texted her, but because her phone was on dnd, she didn't know.

"A bar, apparently it's new and everyone wanted to go"

She leaned back, considering the invitation. You knew how she could be, sometimes hesitant to go out when she had work on her plate, even when it meant spending time with the team. Still, you were determined to have a proper night out with her by your side.

"Oh, come on, Lia. It’ll be fun! Besides, we haven’t all gone out together in ages,"

you pleaded, throwing her a hopeful smile. She looked over to you for a moment. Then she sighed, agreeing to go with you and the team.

"Alright, alright, but only for a bit. I still need to finish that assignment later."

You grinned, feeling triumphant.

"Yes! You won’t regret it, I promise."

The next two hours passed quickly as the two of you got ready. There was a comfortable rhythm to it, swapping makeup, sharing jewellery, and debating over outfits. You couldn’t help but feel a little thrill when Lia playfully pushed you aside to steal the mirror for herself, laughter bubbling between you both.

Finally, you were ready, and with one last look in the mirror, you grabbed your things and followed Lia out the door.

At the bar, the energy was electric. Leah spotted you as soon as you entered and pulled you both into a hug.

"Finally! Thought you two wouldn’t show,"

slshe teased, grinning. Leah knows that Lia can be serious when it comes to her work. She had no idea how you did it, but she was glad you did it.

The night was a blur of laughter, drinks, and dancing. You felt yourself relax completely, revelling in the time with your friends and, most of all, with Lia by your side. Every so often, you’d catch her eye across the room, and she’d smile, that warm, familiar look that made you feel closer than ever. A few of your teammates had noticed this, but they didn't say anything.

At one point, after a round of shots, you both found yourselves laughing uncontrollably at some inside joke. She leaned in close, her hand brushing yours, and the warmth of her touch lingered. For a split second, you thought about how easy it would be to just lean in, close the distance between you two, and say what you’d been feeling for so long. But you held back, unsure if now was the right moment.

As the night continued, Lia had looked at you, her eyes soft with something unreadable. "Thanks for dragging me out tonight,"

she murmured as her face s close to yours.

"I needed this."

"Anytime,"

Your heart skips a beat as you respond, barely able to keep the excitement from your voice. Lia’s smile widens, and before you know it, she’s pulling you onto the dance floor. The two of you begin to move in sync, letting the rhythm of the music guide the two of you.

After a few more drinks, you and Lia were completely wasted and could barely walk. Thankfully, Beth and Katie had came to the rescue.

"Alright, let's get you two home, you two have enough to drink"

Beth said, carrying you by your arm and you stumbled out of the bar, Katie had carried Lia and also did the same, when they got to the car you had protested.

"But we haven't danced yettttt!"

You slurred your words as Beth put you in the passenger seat of her car and katie and put lia and herself in the back.

"Yes, you did. You danced with Lia all night, remember?"

You had foggy memory because of the alcohol, but somehow, you had remembered what happened in the last hour of your life.

"Oh yeaaaaaaa!"

You had stopped for a minute before you continued your sentence.

"Where is Lia?"

You looked around frantically trying to search for your best friend, Beth had chuckled at your state.

"She’s in the back, turn your head, and you'll see her"

Everyone in the team knew that your friendship with Lia was not just friendship. It was something more. They can see it through every training, the way you two look at each other, your inside jokes, and the small gestures Lia does for you, no matter if it is after losing a match or winning one, you and Lia was always togather.

When you had turned around, you saw Lia was already asleep, leaning on the Katie's shoulder. A small part of you had wanted to at the back, so her head could be on your shoulder, not Katie's. You didn't realise you had stared at her for so long until Beth had announced that she had arrived at your apartment.

"Come on, let's get you up"

Beth was the first to exit the car, helping you out while Katie shook Lia awake and did the same. It seemed like the smart choice to take the elevator, so the two sober friends led the way. As soon as you stepped inside, you immediately searched for Lia again. This time, she was awake but still groggy and a bit tipsy. You took her hand and held onto it tightly for the entire ride until Beth had to gently pry your fingers apart to take the keys from you.

Once Beth opened the door to the apartment, your Goldendoodle, Peanut, was already asleep, waiting for you. She wasted no time in ushering you to bed, thinking that as soon as your head hit the pillow, you'd drift off to sleep. But that was quickly proven wrong. The moment you landed on the bed, you whined for Lia, who was sprawled on the couch. Beth reassured you that Lia wasn’t going anywhere, but your cries only intensified. Finally, she offered to get you a glass of water to help sober you up before you went to find Lia.

What Beth didn’t know was that the moment she left the room, you slipped out of bed and made your way downstairs. Slowly but surely, you found your way to the living room and joined Lia on the couch. Without a second thought, you lay down beside her. She stirred, blinking sleepily before wrapping her arms around you, and within moments, you both fell asleep.

By the time Lia had settled on the couch, Katie had already left. When Beth returned with the glass of water, she paused at the sight of you cuddled up with Lia, both of you fast asleep. A chuckle escaped her lips as she placed the glass on the table and snapped a quick photo of the adorable scene to send to the group chat. Afterwards, she filled another glass and set some painkillers on the table, then quietly left the apartment, leaving you and Lia in your sleep.

---☆☆☆---

It was after already afternoon when you woke up the next day. The sunlight had filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the living room. You had slowly gotten up from the empty couch, holding your head because of the major headache you are currently having. After you have stabled yourself, you had slowly padded towards the kitchen, planning to get a glass of water. But when you arrived you saw something that warmed your heart.

Lia, a cup of tea in her hand, was sitting on the floor, her slender fingers slowly running her fingers though the fur of Peanut, who was laying contentedly, his head resting on her lap, his tail wagging lazily.

You couldn't help but smile as you entered the room, taking in the sight. Lia looked up, her eyes lighting up with genuine warmth as she saw you.

"Hey Kärlek,"

she greeted, her voice soft and inviting.

"Hey,"

You replied, unable to tear your gaze away from her. She looked so effortlessly beautiful. Maybe last night's alcohol hasn't been completely warned off yet, Lia was wearing one of your oversized grey hoodies like it was made just for her. And in that moment, it hit you like a ton of bricks – you were in love with her.

You took the painkiller and glass of water Bath had left you and took a seat beside her. Suddenly you felt a rush of emotions swirling within you, threatening to burst forth like a dam breaking.

"Lia,"

You began, you voice barely above a whisper, both because of your hangover and the fear of this turning into something bad.

"There's something I need to tell you."

Her eyes had turned to you, searching with a mixture of curiosity and anticipation.

"What is it?"

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage before speaking.

"I... I think I've known it for a while now, but it's taken me until last night to truly realize it. Lia.... l like you, like l wanna be with you."

The words hung in the air between you and Lia. You felt a vulnerability that you feel exposed to. But as Lia's eyes widened with surprise, you saw something else flicker within them – hope? Maybe? Hopefully?

"Really?"

Lia whispered, her voice barely audible above the gentle hum of the room. You nodded, unable to trust your voice as you leaned in closer to her, your heart pounding.

"Yes, really. And seeing you here, wearing my hoodie, cuddling with Peanut... It just made me realize that I never want to let you go. I want to spend every moment with you, making more memories together."

Tears welled up in Lia's eyes as she reached out to cup your face in her hands, her touch gentle yet electrifying. And in that moment, as your lips finally met in a soft and emotional kiss, when you pulled away, a big smile appeared on your face.

"Does that mean you like me too?"

You said excitedly, a bit too loud for a hangover person.

"yes dummy, yes l do, l like you too, now lower your voice please"

Your smile was so big that you had leaned in and kissed the Swiss again.

The next morning, you and Lia walked into the changing room hand in hand. Just as you're about to head to your respective cubbies, you share a quick kiss, savouring the moment. Suddenly, a loud yell pierces the air, echoing through the room.

"Finally!"

The whole room erupted in laughter.

A/N: ANDDDD THAT'S A WARP! thank you sm for reading this. Two fics in a day omg, l hope you had fun <3

This is Theta, signing out, see you next time!

[revelboo]

I literally can't get enough of your writing like I need it like oxygen at this point 🙌 I am not above begging for more of Everything is alright or Over it now

My heart is literally hurting for Star because he genuinely didn't know, and he finally is starting to be vulnerable, and now he knows it's not going to last no matter what. And the inner turmoil of the reader being so torn between him and Soundwave? Wanting both but not being able to hurt Star after he put everything at risk?? It's so good but it hurts my heart 😭😭

And Jazz finally getting someone who would listen to his feelings and get to know the real him under all his masks?? The poor guy needs that so bad, and he's finally opening up (even if she can't understand what he's saying)

All in all, your writing is amazing, and you are literally amazing ✨️✨️✨️

Thank you! I have a lot of fun overthinking why the characters act the way they do and trying to get into their heads

Over It Now Pt 11

IDW Jazz x Reader

• “You could just let me take you,” he says as he watches you lock the door and do an awkward shuffle to put the keys away while trying to not drop one of your crutches in the process. Leaving him for work again. Wanting to help, but also knowing exactly how stubborn you are as you eye the stairs off your porch. He’d also figured out forgiveness was much easier to ask for than permission, reaching to lift you in his servos and carefully set you down in the driveway crutches and all bypassing the steps and then backing up to fall forward into his alt mode.

• Heart racing at being picked up unexpectedly, you warm watching his antics. Because he knows you struggle with the steps and he’d saved you from dealing with them when he didn’t have to. “We both know you have better things to do than chauffeur me around,” you say, trying not to laugh when he opens the driver’s side door and wags it back and forth in invitation.

• “Come for a ride, doll. I’ll behave.” Door still open, he fully expects you to walk past him to your own ugly car, so it’s a surprise when you slide in the driver’s seat and awkwardly lean the crutches in the passenger side. And then you’re right there and he’s more aware of you this way somehow than when he’s held you in his servos. You’re warm against him, soft hands brushing the steering wheel hesitantly as if not sure if it’s okay and he can smell your soap, your shampoo, you. “Alright,” he murmurs more to himself than to you, because it’s a small thing, but you’re entrusting yourself to him. And that means so much.

• There’s no way to not overthink that you’re sitting inside Jazz and it’s weird. You end up folding your hands in your lap so you don’t touch anything you shouldn’t. Inhaling as the shifter moves on its own and then the wheel spins as he reverses. “Doll, you’re going to have to at least pretend to drive,” he laughs and he’s right. Other drivers might notice you’re just sitting there so you just barely touch your palms to the wheel, letting it move freely against your skin.

• Primus, you’re precious. Eyes darting all over his interior, trying so hard not to touch anything. “What do you do normally? I mean a phantom car driving itself has to freak people out,” you mumble, shifting against him as he turns onto the road, wheels humming. Liking the feel of having you there, surrounded by him and safe, it takes a moment to actually understand your question. It’s not nearly the same as holding you in his hands, but still comforting to him that you’re there with him. It doesn’t take a lot of energy, but he does have to concentrate to create a holomatter avatar in the passenger side seat to show you what he normally does, not bothering to make it solid at all since your crutches are embedded in the avatar’s legs and torso and your head turns as it appears. He’s not sure what he expected, but it’s definitely not for you to scream and throw yourself against the inside of his door.

• “It’s me. It’s an avatar,” the glitchy thing in the passenger seat is saying in Jazz’s voice, holding up big hands as you nearly have a heart attack. “Doll, it’s okay. Sorry, I just-frag.” And the human shaped thing flickers and fades, leaving your heart hammering against your ribs. You’re still plastered to the door, hands curled into fists. “Were you going to punch me?” Yes. You absolutely were, because it had just been there so suddenly, a fixed grin on a fake looking face that was staring right at you, Eyes closing you lean your forehead against the cool glass of the driver’s side window and try to calm down and instead start laughing. Covering your face with your hands as he vents at you in exasperation, blowing warm air across your skin and you realize he’s never asked where you work, an address or anything. So how does he know where to take you? Has he been following you?

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