#and doesn’t flea look SO FINE

[mactavishsgfandwife]

Simon "Ghost" Riley and Your New Cat 🌷

simon having beef with a stray cat you brought home silly little idea i had no content warnings, just cute fluff, female reader :3 not proofread!

i just realised the cat’s name changes half way through 😭 i’ve fixed it now - 04/11/2024

"What the hell is tha’?" he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck as he stared in disbelief at the little black kitten in your lap.

"I found him. He’s called Lettuce," you grin, cuddling the cat to your chest. You’re well aware that lettuce is a stupid name for a cat, but it just seemed right at the time. The kitten was tiny, and had seemed very weak when you’d discovered him shivering in a box outside your apartment block. Now, he seemed a lot more comfortable, making a little home for himself on your sweater. He was so small - he literally fit in the palm of your hand - but his frizzy black hair stuck out at every angle so that he looked less like a kitten and more like a wiry pompom.

"Love," Simon laughed, rubbing his face with a sigh, "Lettuce looks like a flea. Where the hell di’you find ‘im?"

"Oi, he does not! Well, maybe a bit. I found him in a box. He was meowing at me, he looked so cold…" you stroke the kitten’s cheek with your thumb as you he meows up at you.

"You can’t keep him, he might have diseases. You should give him to a pet shelter." Your boyfriend wasn’t being harsh, he was just worried about you - he didn’t want your little heart breaking because you’d got all attached to a poorly little kitten who might not last the week. But it didn’t come off like that.

"Wh… what..?" you frown, cupping the kitty in your hands to protect it.

"I’ll drive you to the shelter tomorrow, okay?"

"What? Si, no!"

"Baby…" he sighs, trying not to upset you "you can’t just find a scruffy animal on the street and take it home."

"S’what I did with you ," you pout, pulling the same face at him as Lettuce pulls at your sweater sleeve as he paws at it.

"Look," he crosses his arms, about to explain to you the reasons why you two don’t have the space for a cat, nor the prior knowledge. What if the cat walks in on the two of you in bed? What if it bites you and his pretty girl gets hurt? What if you end up loving the cat more than Simon and it steals you away? But your pleading eyes and the tiny, stupid looking kitten chirping in your laps convinces him. If you really wanted anything, you know he’d get it for you, so he’ll let you have your silly kitten.

"Alright, fine. For now." He laughs, ruffling his hair.

"I love you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I love you!" you squeal, gently placing the cat down before jumping up with and wrapping your arms around your boyfriend. He rubs your back softly, watching the stupid fluffy ball on the sofa chirp for your attention. Just because he’s letting you have the cat doesn’t mean he won’t see it as his mortal enemy.

The next morning, after having gone out to buy cat food for you, Simon is sitting on the sofa, softly kissing your neck from behind. You’re sitting in his lap… completely ignoring his affection in favour of the kitty.

"Si, look! He can walk!" you grin, holding the kitten up so it looks like it’s standing on two feet.

"Mhm… cute…" Simon mumbles into the nape of your next, a strong hand wrapping around your waist to pull you into his chest. He is not watching the cat, he’s busy with you.

"I know right!" you ignore his advances still, gazing at your new pet with adoration, "I should make him a little hat, he’d look so sweet."

"Yeah, fuck, you’re so sweet…" Si keeps kissing you, moving between your neck and your shoulders, which are hidden inside his old tshirt.

"He’s so cute," you grin, stroking the back of the kitten’s head until it purrs, "I love him so much… he’s my baby."

That catches Simon off guard. He would never admit it to anyone, but he loves it when you call him your baby. He’s the only one you should be calling baby. This cat is stealing his girl. [gasp]

Si shoots the kitten a death stare.

"Oh yeah, he’s your baby?"

"Yeah, he’s the cutest…"

"Mhm. I’m sure," he pouts. When you’re not looking, he glares at the cat and points from his grey eyes to its little beady ones, like he’s trying to intimidate it.

A few days later, the two of you fall asleep together, with Simon spooning you and holding you close. But you forgot to shut the door. So your boyfriend is rudely awakened by a very small, scruffy kitten stomping on his chest.

"No, oi, get off of me," you can hear him grumbling sleepily as you start to stir, alongside the cute chirping of your kitty.

"Listen, Lettu- cat. Stupid name anyways. We can’t have you disturbing the Mrs, alright?"

You can hear him pause until he hears the kitten meow softly in response.

"Tha’s right, soldier. She’s my Mrs, not yours, and if you so much as try to change that, I will never let you see her again. My girl. Mine," he pouts.

The kitten meows again, as if he’s responding to Simon’s orders. You have to try your hardest not to giggle, biting your lip in the dark as you listen to your big, tough boyfriend have an argument with a little kitten.

"Alright, now leave the lady alone." You almost think you can hear him plant a kiss on the cat’s head before he sets it down at the side of the bed.

You’re away for the weekend, visiting family, without your boys (Simon and the kitten). :(

Simon’s fine, he’s a tough guy, he has no issue being alone - that is, until he’s poorly and he needs you to cuddle him and make him tea. But you’re not there, and talking to you over the phone only makes him feel worse.

So he resorts to laying in bed, in the shade, trying to nap. Poor boy feels too ill to do anything else (he has the man flu).

With the back of his hand over his forehead, one leg over the covers and one leg under, not quite sure whether he’s awake or asleep, he closes his eyes and frowns. A little black ball hops up onto his bed, waking him up a little.

It plods around in a little circle, looking around and exploring its new environment. When the fuzz creature spots Simon, he waddles over curiously, his little feet sinking into the soft duvet cover.

"Hey, cat," Simon smiles softly, watching the fluffy baby wander and get closer to his face. It looks up into his eyes, chirping, and brushes its fur against his cheek before settling into the crook of his neck.

He chuckles, closing his eyes as the tiny guy curls into a ball against him. The rivalry isn’t quite over for Simon, but that funny looking kitty is a little piece of you, and he’s happy to have its affection.

When you come home, it’s to the two of them, cuddled up on your bed. Silently, you change into a t-shirt and slip into bed behind Simon, planting a little kiss on his cheek.

"Told you he was cute."

how i imagine your kitten 💗

i spent way longer on this than i thought i would but it’s so cute and i loved writing it! hope you enjoy lovieeees

[moonstruckme]

hello mae ! could i ask for an apple pie with any of the marauders with these prompts?

“a flea market wedding dress” & “hands stained with pen ink”

it would also be alright if it’s just the first one if ever you don’t feel like writing with two of them in mind !

- 🧸 (i always forget to sign off with this 😭)

Thank you for requesting <3

cw: some non-sexual nudity (it's hardly mentioned only really implied)

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 749 words

“Do we need eggs?” Remus asks from the other room. 

“I don’t think so.” You zip the dress up in the back, relishing in the smooth feel of the fabric on your skin. It fits like it was made for you. “I’m not feeling very eggy lately. Our last ones went bad.” You smile at yourself in the mirror, going to show Remus.

“It just feels strange not to have eggs…” he trails off as you come into view. It’s not your appearance that surprises him—you’ve been showing off your finds from the flea market since you got home—but the dress itself. “That’s pretty.” He sounds a tad breathless. “It’s, um. It’s white.” 

“Yeah,” you laugh, “it was someone’s wedding dress, once. Isn’t it nice?” You give him a little twirl. “I think if I take out some of the layers in the skirt it could be cute for summer. Very flowy.” 

“Very.” Remus caps the pen he was using for your grocery list, amusement coloring his tone. “You look lovely in it, dove. You know everyone will think we’re getting married when you wear it out, though, don’t you?” 

“With the way you dress?” You grin. It worsens when he stands, coming over to you with a grin of his own. “Doesn’t seem likely.” 

“My jumpers are very dapper,” he says, smiling into a kiss. 

You hum noncommittally, and he gives your middle a playful warning squeeze. A quick peck to your lips, then another, longer and sweeter. You set your hands on his chest, feeling the soft material of the jumper he’s wearing now. 

“I don’t know,” you tease, looking down at your contrasting outfits. “I think—oh, Remus!” 

You move away from him, but the damage is done. Two smudges of ink remain on your dress where his fingertips were. 

Remus is quick to follow your gaze. “Fuck.”

“It’s okay,” you say, even as your heart sinks. 

“No, dovey, I’m so sorry.” He looks like he wants to reach for you again, but he looks at his hands and swears instead. “I can—wait one second.” 

He goes back around the counter, and you hear the sink running. 

“Really,” you say, “it’s fine. It was only a few quid.” 

“No, but you were excited about it. I think I can get it out.” 

“It’s ink, Rem, it’s…” 

You trail off as he comes back around the corner, soapy dish sponge in hand, and presses it to your dress. 

“What…” You move your arm out of the way. Remus settles a hand on your hip, holding the both of you steady as he bends closer to your waist. He swipes the sponge over the fabric with a concentrated furrow between his brows. “Are…are you washing me?” 

“I’m getting the stain out.” 

“I don’t think soap is going to do it, honey.” 

The look your boyfriend casts up at you is equal parts loving and exasperated. “It usually works for me. This isn’t my first time getting ink on clothes.” 

That, you can believe. The writing in Remus’ notebooks is always smeared, the culprit to be found in his inky hands. Sometimes you swear he gets black and blue stains up to his elbows. You’ve no clue how he manages it.

“Now we only need to put baking soda on it, and it should come out.” He gives your dress one last good scrub with the sponge.

“Right,” you say hesitantly. “So should I just lie down for that, or…” 

“I probably should have had you take it off first,” Remus admits. “I panicked, a little bit.” 

You laugh. He looks relieved to hear it, some of the guilt easing from his expression. “That’s my fault, I guess.” You unzip the back of your dress, trying to step out of it without disturbing the stain. 

“No, I think it’s all still mine,” Remus says, but he takes it from you.

Once he’s done arranging it in the sink and piling it with baking soda, he comes back to you, slotting a hand behind your ear and letting his fingers slip into your hair. 

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He kisses you. 

You roll your eyes. He knows you can’t be cross at him when he does that. 

“You just didn’t want me to be better dressed than you,” you say, though there’s nothing but fondness to be found in your tone. 

“You’re always better dressed. As you’ve said, the bar isn’t high.” 

“Oh, shut up. You know I like your jumpers just fine.”

[bucksaiga]

The very first time Buck spent the night at Tommy’s, he couldn’t shake the excitement. Tommy invited him over a handful of times beforehand, and Buck loved learning about all the things Tommy collected. Many of his belongings had some history, or a great story and Buck loved to hear every single one.

Sometimes, when he couldn’t sleep, he’d peruse Tommy’s shelves, or read some of the old books he picked up from a rare book store in some little town he flew to.

This one particular night, though, Buck was feeling restless and uneasy. He had a rough shift, and it left his body in a world of pain.

When he stumbled down to the kitchen for some water, Buck accidentally knocked over a vase on an end table.

His heart dropped and shattered right along with that vase.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” He whispered to himself, frantically glancing up the steps and hoping Tommy didn’t hear anything. He scrambled to pick up the glass, mentally berating himself for being so stupid and careless.

Tommy trusted him. He trusted him in his house with his belongings that he collected over the years. A house he lived in alone and when he finally lets someone his space after so long, he breaks something that was probably incredibly valuable.

Buck assumed this vase was rare and expensive, probably the only one of its kind and Tommy was going to be so disappointed in him. What if Tommy thought Buck didn’t respect his space or how much time he put into his collections?

Buck hissed in pain when a shard of glass nicked his finger. He hopped over to the kitchen to toss the glass into the trash and grab a broom to finish cleaning up.

His heart was racing, practically beating out of his chest. He was so worried about hurting Tommy’s feelings, letting him down—

“What’re you doing, Evan?”

Buck jumped the moment he heard Tommy’s voice.

“Ah—he-hey, Tommy, I-I didn’t see you there.” Buck nervously laughed. “I was just uh…getting some…water. Yeah, water.”

“Are you okay? I heard noises—“

“I’m fine!” He exclaimed, quickly withdrawing. “I’m fine. A-all good.”

“You sound nervous. What’s up?” Tommy asked worriedly.

It wasn’t like Buck could hide it. He sighed, walking around the counter to face Tommy in the dim light.

“I uh…broke that vase you had on the end table. My legs were wobbly and I kinda lost my footing and bumped into the table. I’m so sorry.”

Tommy narrowed his eyes. “That blue vase?”

“Yeah…the-the blue one.”

“Hm…I bought that at a flea market because the end table looked pretty bare. I paid, I think…2…no, 3 dollars for it.” Tommy chuckled. “It doesn’t mean anything, if that’s what you were worried about.”

“I thought you’d be upset. I know you have a lot of valuable stuff that means a lot to you—“

“Oh, Evan.” Tommy cupped Buck’s cheek. “It’s just stuff. You mean more to me than anything in this house.”

“Really?” Buck’s eyes widened. “Even your home brew kit?” Buck asked with a smile.

Tommy sighed before nodding reluctantly. “Yes, even that.”

“You hesitated.” Buck’s smile widened.

“I do love that kit more than a little bit, I suppose.” He pulled Buck into his arms. “But I love you even more than that.”

Buck let himself fall into Tommy’s embrace, sighing in relief.

“Let’s get you back to bed, okay? I know you had a long shift and you really shouldn’t be up and about.”

“I didn’t want to bother you.” Buck murmured into his shoulder.

“It’s no bother.” He promised. “You’re never a bother.”

Buck let Tommy carry him upstairs and back into bed while reassuring him that he was the most precious thing he’d ever had.

[stnkiconverse]

Hello I was wondering if you could a masky/tim & eyeless jack x trad goth. That goes all out. Also love your work. I hope you have a good day. And make sure to take care of yourself.

Tim/Masky & Eyeless Jack x TradGoth!Reader (separately)

It’s gonna be Pre-Relationship to Established Relationship :3

M A S K Y / T I M

BEFORE:

- Noticed you immediately.

- How could he not? You walk in looking like you crawled out of a crypt and he’s just standing in the corner like: 🤨…the fuck? (NOT IN A BAD WAY 😭😭)

- The kind of guy who stares way too long trying to figure you out, but won’t say a word.

- Just mask-on, arms crossed, silently judging (but not actually judging).

- The more he sees you, the more he starts hovering. Not talking. Just appearing. Quiet as hell, somewhere behind you 😼

- Definitely thought you were too “extra” at first. But then you patch up a wound like it’s nothing, or throw hands with some creep over a disagreement, and he’s like… oh.

DURING:

- Doesn’t comment much on your appearance. But he notices everything :3

- If you ever feel self-conscious? He shuts it down with one quiet, blunt line: “Don’t change it.” 😼

- If you make fun of him (jokingly 🙄🙄) for being so beige and plain next to you, he just shrugs. “You shine enough for both of us.” That’s as romantic as it gets with him. (he’s so cute I’m gonna run him over)

- You get weird stares in public? He’s standing right behind you, arms crossed, full resting murder face. People stop real quick 😼😼

- You mention Victorian mourning fashion once and this man deadass shows up later with some dusty-ass antique brooch he “found.” 😭😭

- Your eyeliner gets smudged and he tries to fix it with zero skill. “You look fine.” You don’t. He tried. 🤷

- Will never match your vibe, but silently supports the hell out of it 😛🤷

E Y E L E S S J A C K

BEFORE:

- Intrigued. Deeply. Doesn’t understand why someone would choose to look like a vampire in mourning, but he respects the dedication 🤷

- You walk by and he literally pauses whatever he’s doing, he goes: “Hm.” and then back to dissecting something 😭

- The first thing he noticed about you was your confidence. The way you make something so intense look effortless 😼

- Assumes you’re into death and decay because of your style, asks if you’re interested in anatomy or pathology like it’s a normal first question 😭😭

- Whether you say yes or just go: “Nah I just like bats and corsets.” He blinks, and goes “…Fair enough.”

- Starts recommending gothic literature to you. Stuff you probably already read, but he likes the idea of sharing it anyway 🤷

- Wouldn’t admit it, but he was fully charmed when you complimented his claws.

“I like your claws, they’re naturally horrifying.”

“Thank you.”

DURING:

- Will straight-up sit in silence while you do your makeup just to observe the “ritual.” 😭😭

- If you leave black lipstick marks on his mask? He leaves them there for a while, he likes them :3

- You call him “my favorite monster” and he melts. Doesn’t show it, but internally? Screaming. 😼

- Finds you a beautiful, lacy, black parasol at a flea market and hands it to you with zero comment. Just: “This seemed… your style.”

- If anyone mocks your look, he steps forward very slowly and just stares 🧍. “Say it again.”

- Your aesthetics match weirdly well. Like you’re both a little cursed-looking in different fonts :33

- Loves reading while you lie on his lap looking like a Tim Burton sketch. You fall asleep to his voice and it’s one of the rare times he feels safe :3

- Your fashion might’ve drawn him in, but your morbid sense of humor and quiet loyalty sealed it 😼😼

HERE YOU GO BBY!!

I hope this was up to standards 😼😼

[carlsangel]

BIRTHDAY

carl grimes x reader

(you find carl the perfect gift.)

tags: fluff fluff fluff

masterlist here! (i fixed it btw)

send some more requests!!!

You could never keep a secret from Carl, no matter how serious or how stupid he could always manage to get it out of you. All he had to do was ask repeatedly or when you got really stubborn he’d tickle it out of you. He’s just that kind of guy, he likes to know everything going on in that brain of yours. But more importantly he hates secrets.

That’s why when his birthday rolled around you had no idea what to get him or how you would even keep it from him. You’d done the classic comic gift maybe two times before already. Last year you had gotten him a vinyl for his record player and he was happy with it.

Carl didn’t care for gifts at all, he believed your presence was enough but gifts sort of just gave him something to enjoy with you. Every time you’d gotten him a comic, you read it with him. When you got him that vinyl, he listened to it with you. He was happy, so you knew whatever you got him this year was something you should enjoy too.

You decided to go out to scavenge with Glenn to see if you could find anything. You went out to a shopping center nearby and looked around there. You thought maybe you could get him a new flannel but you weren’t sure if he’d like it. You found a red flannel and realized he’d hate it.

“Hey, is this ugly?” You asked Glenn who was also digging through racks to find something for Maggie since her birthday was coming soon too. He looked over and cringed at the sight of it. “Yeah that’s- that’s pretty bad..” He looked back to the racks to dig through. “Fair.”

You were so stumped, what could he possibly want? You walk through the store some more, looking around the aisles when you hear something behind you. A small meow. You stop in your tracks and just pause. You loved cats probably as much as you loved Carl. You turn around and look to the floor to be met with the cutest little siamese kitten.

You crouch to the floor and let him walk to you. You melt at how adorable he is before gently picking him up. You need to show Glenn. When you find Glenn, his eyes are locked on the racks of clothes still. “Glenn.” You try to get his attention but his eyes wouldn’t pry away. You stick the cat out in his direction. “Glenn look.” He rolls his eyes and turns to you to be face to face with a cat and he almost jumps a little.

“Oh- jesus christ. Where…” His voice trails off when he realizes what you’re asking. “No. Nope. That thing probably has fleas.” He replies backing away. “But he doesn’t I already checked and even if he does we can treat it, can’t we? Cmonnn for Carl’s birthday.” You smile pleadingly. Glenn sighs and agrees. “Fine but if I get in trouble with Rick or Michonne, you’re dead.”

You smile and thank him. You look around the store for some more stuff you might need like the cats food or maybe a collar or something. You find everything and a couple a toys before you guys leave back to Alexandria. You knew getting back home would be tough, Carl’s birthday isn’t till tomorrow so you needed a way to hide the cat.

When you approached the gates you knew you’d have to be quick to hide him. You couldn’t ask Glenn since he’s already at risk of being scolded because Rick would usually never agree to letting you bring an animal home. So you thought of someone Rick can’t get mad at.

“That ain’t happenin.” Daryl says as you’re standing at his doorstep practically begging him to let you keep the cat there for the night. “Daryl it’s just for tonight? Please? It’s the perfect gift for him and I can’t keep it at our house he’ll find out and I don’t want it to be spoiled.” You pout. It kinda worked.

“If it shits in here you’re cleanin it up.” He grumbles, taking the cat from your hands and your bag of supplies. You thank him and praise him for doing you the favor. Now it’s just a matter of keeping it from Carl until the morning.

You and Glenn had come back from the run quite late so it shouldn’t be that hard. Maybe an hour and you can spend half of it in the shower. You walk into the house and Carl was feeding Judith dinner. “Hey how was the run?” He asks, trying to get Judith to eat the food off the spoon. “Fine.” You muster up. He’s confused as to why you’re being so short with him. “Find anything interesting?” He adds. “No. Not at all, I think i’m gonna go shower.” You make your way over to the stairs and he chose not to push it. He knew something was up, maybe you actually hadn’t found anything and you were upset about it. Or you were up to something else.

You had to wake up early the next morning in order to surprise him properly. You walked downstairs to see Carol cooking his breakfast and she flashes you a smile before going back to work. You head back over next door to collect the cat. You walk in and Daryl’s looking down in the box he had kept him in. He notices you and looks at you for a moment before speaking. “He shit in the kitchen.” He tells you before walking past you and out the door. “What the fuck, Daryl?” You giggle.

You handle it of course due to your guys’ agreement. You gather everything and head back over to finally surprise Carl. Rick and Michonne didn’t even realize you’d gotten him a cat so they found out when Carl did. They didn’t care, however, they knew the both of you would parent that thing like it was your damn newborn. You walk into your guys’ room and see he’s still soundly asleep. You gently place the cat on him as he sleeps and you poke him to wake up.

“Wh- woah what-“ Rick and Michonne giggle at how delirious he was. “Happy birthday.” You smile, waiting for him to process. He sits there for a moment to do so. “Wait we can keep it?” He croaks out. You look to Rick and Michonne and they look to each other. They look back to the both of you and nod, finally giving in. “Thank you.” He smiles as you lean down to kiss his forehead.

The rest of the day went perfectly, you guys spent the whole day together and got to do whatever it was you wanted, like going out to the woods with your new cat. Carl had his birthday dinner and afterwards you both went upstairs to rest from your eventful day.

His birthday ended perfectly. Laying in bed with his favorite person and his new kitten.

It couldn’t get any better than that.

a/n: i hope you likedddd ittttt this one’s one of my favorites now UHHH i didn’t give the cat a specific name bc i wanna leave that to you guys to name him muehehehe lowkey reply with a name you’d give the cat :P THIS REQUEST WAS ADOOORABLE THANK YOU ♠️

[pileofmush]

you don't know what i deserve .·:*¨ ¨*:·..·:*¨ ¨*:·..·:*¨ ¨*:·.

ft. okkotsu yuuta

it’s 1 a.m. on the fifteenth of February and there’s a corpse on your kitchen floor. still fresh: odorless and warm to the touch. you're on your own—just you and the dead body.

info : ̗̀➛ tags: gn!reader, neighbor au, strangers to lovers, yuuta & reader are a little strange, happy ending // cw: death, light angst, vulgar language, canon-typical violence...but pretty mild imo

thoughts : ̗̀➛ helllooo. back on my bullshit. let's call this a very belated birthday present to my beloved <3 // read this on ao3

wc : ̗̀➛ 5.1k

The human body contains a shit ton of blood. 

Which is not something you think about often, but now you are forced to confront this fact in real-time. People… have a lot of blood.

And it stains. No matter how many times you wash your hands. There are still flakes of blood wedged underneath your fingernails. Part of you thinks it'll never go away.

...And then there's Sailor Moon.

“I am the pretty guardian who fights for love and justice! I am Sailor Moon! And now, in the name of the moon, I’ll punish you!”  

Cue trumpets and flashy poses; the makings of a battle. Your comfort anime blares in the background of a morbid scene, the flickering TV casting a soft glow on a sight that will inevitably haunt your nightmares. 

Because it's 1 a.m. on the fifteenth of February and there’s a corpse on your kitchen floor. Still fresh: odorless and warm to the touch. You pace in your tiny living room, unsure of what to do, of how to proceed. The pretty Sailor Guardians won’t save you now. You’re on your own. Just you and the dead body.

How romantic.

The chill from outside has swept into your apartment thanks to that annoying fucking prick who left your window open. Honestly, people these days have no decency. The least he could’ve done was close your shutters after tumbling through your bedroom window like a deranged acrobat. Now you’re, like, moderately cold. 

“What a fucking mess,” you sigh.

Blood seeps into the earthy Persian rug that you got for half-price at a flea market a few months ago. It’s dark; puddling, like... like a knocked-over glass of chocolate milk, spilled all over the kitchen table. Or, maybe chocolate syrup would be more apt. It doesn’t matter, though. You can always get a new rug. You know, if you make it out of this situation of yours intact and not in a dingy prison cell for homicide.

Hmm. You might be sorta kinda screwed. 

The police, of course, are out of the question. No matter your side of the story, it wouldn’t hold up in trial. No, no, no. A foreigner murdering a Japanese citizen? Even if it was in self-defense, it wouldn’t matter. Forget prison—you’ll probably be hanged.

So, you could run… But you probably wouldn’t get far. Or, you could do what every naive murderer in the movie about karmic retribution does and try your darnedest to get away with it.

“Option two it is!” you quit pacing and announce to the room. Thankfully, the body doesn’t respond.

A weak knock at the door sounds off—a gunshot. Your heart stalls, your head snapping to the entrance of the apartment. Who the hell is at your door? The person at the door knocks a second time, a little bit more insistently, and you start to sweat. “Hello, is everything alright? I—I heard a scream.”

You step up to the peephole and squint. A mild-looking man shuffles his feet outside your door. It’s your next-door neighbor, bathed in the ugly yellow lighting of your apartment complex. He smiles like he knows that you can see him. 

This… isn’t ideal. You could choose to not answer him, but that probably wouldn’t work. What if he called the police? You take a breath. “Everything’s fine,” you call out.

The man’s smile freezes in place, somehow more eerie than a frown; his hands burrow deeper into his pockets. “Oh!” he says. “Are… Are you sure?”

You turn away from the peephole, a little unnerved. “Yeah, why?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to intrude, but I heard a lot more than a single scream.”

A slow, dreadful feeling starts to seep into your gut. “Pardon?” 

There’s a pause. You swallow.

“These walls are thin.” 

Fuck. He knows. Oh God, he knows. 

No—that’s impossible. You were the only one to scream. Yasuhiro… He didn’t get the chance to. So this is just a concerned neighbor checking in on you. Nothing more, nothing less. You can prove it, prove that you’re okay.

You open the door a smidge so that you can peek through, then step outside and shut the door behind you. Your neighbor, what’s his name again? Okkotsu, right? Okkotsu’s brows lift at the sight of you, then relax. He’s wearing a plain white tee and a pair of grey sweats that should probably be criminal in Japan. His eyes flicker up and down your frame. You suppress a shiver.

“Just a horror movie,” you broach, offering him a polite smile. “I’m an easy fright.”

Okkotsu pulls a hand out of his pocket to awkwardly rub the back of his neck. His gentle smile has dimmed. “I’m not sure I believe you,” he says in an apologetic tone.

You both notice the tremor that runs through your body. Nosy fucking neighbors and their lack of sense when it comes to minding their own business. You stare mulishly at the floor. His shoes are simple. Black; scuffed. His left foot taps once against the floor. Whatever. You don't have to answer to him. Gathering up your resolve, you start to speak. “Listen, Okkotsu-san,” you say but are cut off quickly.

“Is that blood?” 

That makes you freeze, eyes glued to the floor. A cold set of fingers dips under your chin and gently lifts it. Your gaze meets his: two pools of an endless, starless night. It flickers to a spot beside your ear knowingly and you reach for it. 

He’s right. Blood sticks to your fingers, not yet dry. Lurking in the crevice behind your ear. You missed a spot.

“Well spotted.” It’s fruitless to lie now. You know it, he knows it. Now it’s a matter of who’ll crack first. 

“Are you… Are you injured?”

Physically? No. Psychiatrically? Well, you just murdered a man, so.

“I’m unharmed.” 

Okkotsu blinks owlishly. “Is that so?” He murmurs curiously, tilting your head to the side to observe the blood staining your skin. 

You readjust your head and mimic him, blinking slowly. “Okkotsu—”

“Yuuta,” he interrupts. 

You blink again. For such a mild, polite-seeming boy, he really is quite rude. And confusing. And terrifying. And you kinda sort of want him to die. “Okkotsu-san” you repeat. “I think it’s best if you leave.”

Okkotsu Yuuta’s smile returns, and it’s dangerously innocuous. He breathes your name out like a question. Starless eyes wander to your front door, then go back to studying your own. “Can I come inside?” he asks, quietly. 

Everything stills, even your heart. You’re not quite certain you’re alive, when you ask, dubiously, “The apartment?” 

Okkotsu just smiles.

You let Okkotsu come inside.

Which is absolutely fucking insane, but you have a feeling that your neighbor’s worse off than you are, and that’s truly saying something. 

You hear him lock the door behind you before you start. Silently, you lead him past your living room, past Tsukino Usagi flying down the sidewalk on the way to school—the start of another episode, then—past your browning house plant hanging from the ceiling, into your quaint kitchen. 

It’s nothing special. A small green stove with two bunsen burners on top. A sink; limited counter space. A couple of peeling cabinets. Tied in together with a white backsplash, shifting colors with each flicker of the TV. To the side, a small table sits, with two mismatched chairs tucked into it. 

Oh, and there’s the dead body, too. Practically dribbling blood, painting your discounted rug muddy red and the surrounding blue tile purple. 

Okkotsu lets out a soft sigh. “What a mess.”

You consider him from the corner of your eye. “That’s what I said,” you frown.

He shrugs, still looking at poor, dead, Yasuhiro. “Well, it’s true, isn’t it?” 

Yeaaaah. It’s true.  

A giggle escapes you, the reality of the situation finally hitting you. “Fuck,” you whisper in between the giggles. “I’m fucked.” It’s true. Utterly and thoroughly—no condom used. 

“Not yet,” you barely hear him say over the fracturing of your composure. This is impossible. You killed a man tonight, then showed a stranger the corpse. You’re an idiot. You’re a freak. You can’t hide a dead body. You really might as well bend over and get it over with. Fuck.

Hands gripping your knees, you struggle to catch your breath. When did you lose it? Ah, who cares? Dead. You’re dead. The noose is looped around your hollowed throat, tightening by the second. Perhaps there’ll be two corpses on your kitchen floor by the time the sun is up. Perhaps you should’ve just let him kill—

“Breathe with me,” Okkotsu mutters, right in front of you, long hands gingerly clutching your shoulders. Which is strange. You had no idea he got so close. His thumbs swipe up and down, around and around, and you are flummoxed. But Okkotsu is patient, his chest compressing and expanding with each measured breath, and you are compelled to follow him. Slowly, you come down from your panicked high. You let out a shaky breath, eyes sliding back to the imposing guest in your apartment. The other imposing guest in your apartment.

The body in front of you lays eerily still, impervious to your mini breakdown. It’s not purple, or rotting, or excreting out the last remaining fluids left in its underwhelming husk. It’s just—laying there. Laying, not lying, because it is no longer a breathing thing that rests; now an object to be placed. Dehumanized, in every way. Then again, what is dehumanization if not just another word for murder? What is murder, if not just the taking away of a person’s autonomy? Dead bodies can’t rest. It will never lie again. 

The dead body lays.

And you wonder for how much longer you’ll keep your own autonomy.

When do the dead start to attract flies? Realistically, you know it can range from a day to a few days for a decomposing body to become…obscene, depending on the environmental conditions. It hasn’t even been a few hours. You doubt flies will start buzzing around any time soon. If you move to crouch down and touch it, it’ll probably still be warm.  

The swipe of a thumb over your shoulder brings your awareness back to your neighbor. 

“Why are you helping me?” You ask, wiping the tears that have beaded up in the corners of your eyes. Your breathing is steadier now, but you’re still trembling. That damn window is still open. 

The hands on your shoulders release, and you look up to gauge his thoughts. He’s frowning. His eyes cloud, then sharpen: lightning against a black sky. “You need to get rid of the body, don’t you?” It’s a rhetorical question, but you nod anyway. 

“Then we’ll figure it out. Don’t worry. I bet we’ll be done before dawn.”

He makes to walk away but you stay rooted to your spot, trying to figure out why this strange, strange neighbor of yours who makes friends with stray cats and tends to the apartment garden is willing to become an accomplice of murder for you. 

“Okkotsu, are… Are you in love with me or something?” 

Your neighbor stops, then snorts, and it sends a shiver down your spine. He turns back to face you. A soft pout lies on his lips as he skillfully evades your question with a request of his own. “Hey, if you’re gonna ask me something like that, why don’t you use my name next time?”  

You don’t ask again.

You have far bigger problems than interrogating Okkotsu Yuuta, so you push it aside and stalk toward the body. Okkotsu joins you, and the two of you peer at the deceased man before you. It’s… Still. The blood has stopped its puddling; a thin line stretches the column of its throat. His throat was slit neatly, gracefully, like an act of love. It wasn’t one, but, maybe you gave Yasuhiro what he wanted, in a terrible, twisted way. How magnanimous of you. 

Yasuhiro wasn’t an attractive man. Limp brown hair framing a slightly uglier-than-average face. At least he had the decency to close his eyes before his last, dying breath. They were blood-shot and wiry, the last time you saw them open. Bouncing haphazardly in its sockets like they couldn’t discern which corner of the room you stood in.  

Okkotsu perks up at the sound of your harrumph. “What?” he questions you, and you slide your eyes over to him. Okkotsu Yuuta is distinctly pale, a trait that you’ve always noticed and have always sort of admired on him. It suits the subdued, yet haunted look he’s got going on. Black lashes feather the whites of his eyes, as well as the endless void of his irises. Yeah, he’s almost doll-like, in that gentle, haunting way of his. 

“You’re creepier than the corpse,” you tell him instead and turn away, just barely hiding your smile. The laugh that rings out from him sounds like nails grating on a chalkboard. 

Just kidding. It actually sounds kind of sweet.

Okkotsu follows you to the bathroom, where you’ve grabbed pretty much all of your cleaning supplies. You stuff them in a bucket and he hauls it out of your arms, the two of you shuffling back to the kitchen. 

“So how should we go about this?” You muse, staring at the body. The movies you’ve seen are the only reference you have for the disposal of dead bodies, but those usually end with the killer getting caught, so you’re not so sure about mimicking their methods. 

“I’m not sure,” Okkotsu says, tilting his head in thought. “Severing his limbs without the proper tools would be difficult. I guess we could carry him and bury him somewhere unassuming—unless you have a car that we could use?” A quick glance at you confirms that you don’t. He rubs his chin, nodding to himself. “Right. A garden cart will do, then. We should check to see if he has any identifiers on him, first, though. Oh, and we can’t forget about the teeth. Do you have any pliers?” He turns to you casually, eyes widening at the sight of your awe. 

Thin black brows furrow in confusion. “What?” He asks.

You blink. “Have you…ever…?” Your voice dies in your throat.

Thankfully, he gets it. “Oh. No! No, I’ve never murdered a person,” he denies, dipping his head and tugging the neckline of his plain white tee. A curious look crosses his face. “But I could,” he tacks on cautiously.

You hug your arms and give a half-assed shrug. You can almost feel the weight of a kitchen knife in your dominant hand; the quick, fluid motion of ending a life. 

“Anyone could,” you acquiesce, dismissing the conversation. Okkotsu hums mournfully in return. 

According to his ID, Yasuhiro Souta is a twenty-seven-year-old male who lives in Chiba. What he was doing tumbling through your window in the middle of the night is anyone’s guess. Well, he did tell you, sort of shakily before he made to lunge at you, that you were supposedly his Valentine for the night. How sweet!

Snip. You met him for the first time a little over two months ago. He dropped his wallet on the train, so you picked it up and handed it to him in a silly attempt to be a decent person. It resulted in the man refusing to let go of your hand for a solid five minutes. Yes, yes, what an adorable meet-cute! Snip. When you managed to pry your clammy hands out of his vice-like grip, it was your stop, and, oh, how fortuitous, it was Yasuhiro’s as well! He followed you off the train into a random coffee shop, and it was only when you got the help of the employees that he backed off, the doorbell chiming as the glass door swung behind his back. Snip.

You thought that was the end of it, and proceeded about your day, running errands for a few hours until you retreated home. It shook you up for a little, yes, but it was nothing too crazy. You doubted you’d ever see him again. 

Snip.

You slice Yasuhiro’s ID with your scissors until it’s a pile of ashes. 

Okkotsu’s on his knees, holding a pair of pliers to the light. Wedged between the metal lies a crooked tooth. He hums to himself, plopping the tooth in a ziplock bag. He wears a pair of green garden gloves he grabbed from his apartment; you’re wearing a matching set. The rubber’s a little too big for you, but you’re making it work.

It's as Okkotsu calmly adjusts the head in his lap, preparing to yank another tooth that you stare at your strange partner, wondering how in the hell you got yourself into this situation. It’s been happening every so often: your acceptance of reality swinging in the opposite direction like the pendulum on a grandfather clock. 

You shouldn’t have killed him.

You don’t care for Yasuhiro Souta’s life. You don’t care for the man who intended to assault you. But there’s not a chance in hell that this won’t get traced back to you. 

You're fucked.

Why did it have to be like this? Why do bad things happen to good people?

That’s the way the cookie crumbles, darling.

And you crumble—crumbled—are crumbling when you turn to your neighbor. “Okkotsu-san,” you say, picking at your dirty nails.

“Yuuta,” the man insists. What a freak. He's a freak, and he's good, and you don't deserve it.

You take a deep breath, mulling over your doomed fate. It doesn’t have to be his, too. “You should get out of here. While you still can.”

There's an awkward pause. The strange man pulls out another tooth and plops it in the baggy. “There,” he says warmly, then draws to his full height. “Do you have a coffee maker?” You ball your fists around the plastic handle in your hands. Calm, calm, stay calm. “Did you hear what I just said?” You ask. 

“Oh, I did,” Okkotsu hums. “I chose to ignore it.”

Your hands begin to shake as you repeat his words. “Ch—Chose to—” 

Okkotsu says your name pityingly. “I thought we already had this conversation," he questions with pinched brows. “Why are we—”

“We?!” You interrupt, incensed. We. It's as if the curtains have been drawn open, allowing the rays of the illuminating, scorching sun to trickle through. It blinds you, and you have the urge to pull your eyes out and shove them down his throat. “You thought we? Who are you? You don’t know a damn thing about me!”

“I think I know a few things about you,” Okkotsu smiles sweetly, gesturing to the dead body in your apartment.

“Do you, now?” You laugh and toss your hands up to the ceiling. “Great! I have an idea!" You glare, the metal edge of your scissors catching the light. "If you know what I’m capable of, then you should get the hell out." 

A pause. You pant, more worked up than have been all night and it's fucking ridiculous and you hate it. You want to choke—you want him to choke. On your blood-soaked fingers, preferably. He'd probably lick them clean. 

Unaware of your depraved thoughts, Okkotsu’s lips pull into a frown. He sighs, running a ghostly hand through his hair.

“I’m not scared of you,” he tells you, quietly.

You hold your breath. “Maybe you should be.”

Your insufferable neighbor takes a step forward, that stupid frown still on his stupid doll face. “What’s your plan?” He prompts. “Do you intend to confess? To go to prison?” You shake your head slowly and he softens. “You don’t deserve that,” he says, like he really means it.

Why did you let this man into your house? Why is he offering you hope? It’s too much. The scissors slide out of all your fingers save for one; your limbs sag with a weariness that’s settled deep in your bones. 

“You don’t know what I deserve.”

Okkotsu stops and considers you. Your chest heaves, your heart pounds, and you want out. You want out, and he can get out, and you don’t know… You don’t know why…

“If you want me to judge you, I won’t,” says Okkotsu. 

You shake your head at his dismissal, your eyes squeezed shut. “I can’t judge you,” he continues, and there goes his cold, calloused hand again, gingerly tilting your chin upwards. The pair of scissors in your clutches drops fruitlessly to the floor. When you look up, there’s something like pleading in his endless, starless eyes. “Trust me,” he begs. 

You shouldn’t. You know it with every fiber of your being that you should not trust Okkotsu Yuuta. The man who blinks like an owl and stares at you like you’re a mouse he can’t wait to swallow whole. Who blushes pink whenever you hold the elevator door for him. Who has cold fingers that cradle you so gingerly—who touches you like he knows you—who doesn’t cringe at the sight of dead bodies but gives a damn about a bit of blood staining the outside of your ear. 

You shouldn’t. Trust him. But you—you feel as if he’s reached inside your chest and plucked out your pulsing, blackened heart. 

“Do you love me?” You ask Okkotsu Yuuta again, heart throbbing in his hand.

His eyes don’t stray from yours. “Ask me again with my name,” he says quietly. 

…You don’t know if you want to. 

Releasing a breath, you push past him, snatch the ziplock bag from the floor, and stride towards the stove. “I’ll make coffee,” you say, already fiddling with the grinder.

Okkotsu lets you depart with a sigh.

“So what do you like to do when you’re not helping random people bury bodies?” You ask Okkotsu a couple of hours later. You stumble over a root in the dark, and Okkotsu’s quick to grab you by the waist and steady you. You continue, a bag full of your keys, water, pepper spray, freshly-bleached gloves, a burner phone that Okkotsu already had, for some reason, and two sets of clean clothes swinging against your back. You fidget with the shovel in your hands mindlessly, trying to get it to spin. A garden cart with a tarp draped over it creaks along the grass floor. The two of you have walked for who knows how long, but, according to him, you’re getting close. 

The man beside you hums, surprisingly chipper for the nefarious activities afoot. “When I’m not busy, I like to garden and crochet. I also like making food for my friends from time to time,” he says in a simple, humble manner. The last part doesn’t surprise you. He’s brought you helpings of food on the most random occasions, showing up at your doorstep with self-proclaimed “leftovers” and shoving full plates into your arms with a velvety smile. That does beg the question, though…

“Have you considered us friends this whole time?” You squint at him in the dark, only the moonlight carving out the contours of his subtle, delicate features. You’re kind of surprised. You two made decent neighbors but only ever talked in short bursts outside your rooms. Your conversations rarely ever broke past polite mumblings about the weather.  

Okkotsu pouts. “You mean, we’re not friends yet?” He asks, before breaking into a twinkling laugh. 

“Shut up,” you bite, but you laugh too, lightly shoving at his arm. Okkotsu, bless him, pretends to stumble. It takes you a moment to suppress the heat burning the tips of your ears, but you do get it under control, eventually. “I meant… Before?”

His expression smoothens out before he gives a soft shake of his head. “No, not quite. But, I wanted us to be."  

It’s quiet for a moment, nothing but the rustling under your feet and the ever-present, cacophonous sounds of nature. You spot a nest of sleeping birds tucked in between the branches of a tree and smile.

“Well,” you try to keep your cool, eyes sweeping over the forest's shadows, “Better late than never.”

It strikes you halfway to the burial grounds that Yasuhiro didn’t bring his phone with him to your apartment in his depraved, intoxicated state. He crawled up a tree, through your cracked-open bedroom window—conveniently avoiding cameras. So, once you’re done with this, you very may well be free.

It’s a terrifying notion, freedom.

“What about you?” Okkotsu asks you, something like ten minutes later. “What do you like to do for fun? Besides watch Sailor Moon, I mean.”

You bite your lip to keep from grinning. “Well,” you wonder aloud. “This is pretty fun, wouldn’t you say?” 

Okkotsu lets out a little breath before he softly admits his agreement. 

It rained earlier today, you forgot. The ground crumbles like clay when you swing the shovel into the ground. You and Okkotsu take turns making a grave, taking water breaks in between. There is hope alive in you, you realize, as the two of you work in tandem.

Yasuhiro Souta is lowered into the ground with all the dignity a dead man could possess. He lays atop a tarp and your old Persian rug. A stream rushes somewhere nearby, bubbling like blood, and you pray that the body will make good fertilizer. When your hand shakes, Yuuta grabs it. 

You bury your clothes on the way back, a mile out. The sun peaks over the horizon.

When you return to your room with Yuuta in tow, your emotions overwhelm you: you are terrified and gleeful and sorry for all you’ve done. 

It is mournfully quiet as you mop the purple tiles blue, bleach burning your nostrils and freshly scrubbed gloves. Yuuta’s left to clean the garden cart in the gardens. He returns shortly, though, offers you a small smile, and helps you scrub every inch of your apartment. 

You scrub, and scrub. 

And scrub.

“You’re beautiful,” Yuuta says to you when you’re in the middle of wiping your brow. You’re sitting cross-legged on your rugless kitchen floor, where a dead body once lay. Sweat clings to your skin in uncomfortable places and you reek of bleach. “Shut the fuck up and scrub, Yuuta,” you command. 

Yuuta’s serene smile is unparalleled to anything you’ve ever seen before.

You could probably fall in love with him, you contemplate as you watch your neighbor make fluffy pancakes in the comforts of his own kitchen. If you haven’t fallen in love with him, already, that is. You doubt you’ll ever have a connection with someone as profound as the bond you share with the soft-spoken man who helped you bury a dead body. 

Love, you marvel, in the span of a few hours.

It’s disquieting. 

After multiple showers, and after Yuuta’s stuffed you with more pancakes than you can chew, the pair of you are lounging on his tatami mat, a much-needed change in scenery. You have like, three hours before you need to go to work, which, Yuuta agrees, is crucial to maintaining a veneer of normalcy. Which means this impromptu nightmare date will have to come to an end—as all good things do.

“I should probably get to bed,” you say after a lull in conversation.

Yuuta nods, reasonably. “That makes sense, yeah.” 

“Got work in the morning and all that,” you continue in a nonchalant tone.

“Make sure your window’s locked.”

Fine. “Walk me out, will you?” You request. Okkotsu Yuuta, ever the gentleman, agrees, even though the front door is only a handful of feet away. He pushes himself off his knees and stands at full height, though his starless eyes are, as always, trained on you. You would probably find Yuuta’s full attention a little unsettling if you had not just slit a man’s throat that night. 

You avoid his gaze all the same—stopping at his doorstep with your hands twisting at your sides. Yuuta stops beside you and waits patiently for you to string your words together. 

You clear your throat. “Hey, um—”

“Hi,” Yuuta interrupts, and you smile, filled with the courage to go on. 

“So, the thing is… Well, I probably wouldn’t have made it anywhere far without you. I acted quite amateur back there, you’d think this was my first dead body I was trying to hide, or something, ha. Um, so yeah, thank you—from the most sincere and vulnerable depths of my heart. I guess I’ll see you around? Okay, bye.”

A hand wraps around your wrist before you can run home with your tail tucked between your legs. Yuuta murmurs your name in a soft, dulcet tone, and you’re not certain you’re prepared to hear whatever he has to say. You turn to face him anyway, because, well, you owe him that much.

“Yes?” 

“Don’t you have something to ask me?” He chides.

The pit in your stomach swoops. “Not that I recall,” you lie with a straight face.

“Try again,” Yuuta smiles sweetly, like a haunted little doll.

“It’s been a long day, you know—” 

“Cold, I’m afraid.”

“My brain isn’t functioning at its peak—” 

“Hmm, getting colder!”

“I don’t think I can.”

A pause. You avert your gaze and allow yourself to get analyzed by Yuuta’s doleful, starless eyes. “Hey,” he calls your name, asks you to look at him. 

You look at him.  

“Good," he hums.

You roll your eyes, loop an arm around his long neck, and drag him to you. 

Okkotsu Yuuta tastes like the earth. From dust to dust, you are at the end and beginning when you capture his lips between yours. He responds quickly, hands digging firmly into your waist as he knocks you into his door frame, and you quickly learn what it means to be savored. You intended the kiss to be a quick, rash, thing, but he slows you down, melds into you languidly like you have all the time in the world. When he sucks on your bottom lip, you both moan, breaking apart for air. Yuuta slips his hands underneath your shirt, and for once, his cold hands burn, lighting the fire for something you’re not certain you’ll be able to finish. 

“Go ahead and ask me already, love,” Yuuta murmurs into your ear. And, well, fuck. You melt. “Yuuta,” you whisper as he nips at your neck. “You love me, yes?” 

At that, he bites down at the hollow of your neck. You gasp, then sigh when he instantly cools the wound with his tongue. “Obviously,” he replies, quite simply, thumb swiping delicately at your stomach. 

“Great,” you gasp, and Yuuta looks at you and beams. 

And, there goes your heart again, pulsing in his cold, calloused hands. Cradle it gently, Yuuta, won’t you?

fin. if u made it this far, ily

[in1-nutshell]

Add this to the bottom of the barrel.

I was playing tears of the kingdom and my brain did a hop skip and a jump.

Human body that climbs everything and everyone. has killed a bot with some really archaic weapon, lord knows what they'll do with an actual gun. doesn't really talk but communicates through grunts and hand gestures.

plus

Rodimus who just wanted to get a midnight drink - ...Buddy?

cut to Buddy who just stares back at him for a moment before running into the vents.

Rodimus - HEY GET BACK HERE!

Buddy is chaos. There is no stopping them from climbing anything they can get their little hands on.

Hope you enjoy!

Human Buddy who communicates in grunts, noises and likes to climb with Rodimus Prime, Cyclonus, Nautica, and First Aid

SFW, Platonic, Human reader

MTMTE

The crew picked Buddy up from a planet’s flea market.

Buddy looked so miserable and malnourished.

The crew members were outraged seeing a human so far out in space and being treated like this.

Some go off in a corner to think of a plan to get the human without buying them.

Buying them will only make the buyer rich and chase more humans.

Whirl was the one who stole them from the buyers after causing a diversion.

For once Magnus didn’t put him in the brig for stealing them

The human didn’t speak like any normal human and was very distrustful of all the bots.

Except Whirl.

With time the human eventually warmed up to the bots, but they never really learned how to talk.

They were just fine with the grunts and noises.

It was a random name generator that picked their name since many bots had already gone to the brig for wanting to name them and others not agreeing.

Buddy was a simple name.

And they seemed to like it.

But there were some habits the bots picked up on.

Buddy loved to climb anything they could get their little hands on.

This caused much distress and amusement amongst the crew.

Buddy becomes the crew’s mascot/ friend/ gremlin that lives on the ship.

Rodimus

Rodimus likes Buddy.

He even set up a little chair for them on the main bridge in case they wanted to sit there.

He put it there after too many times seeing Buddy trying to climb the chair themselves.

And that one time they did manage to get on the seat and Rodimus nearly sat on them.

That’s why Buddy now has their own chair.

Do they use the new?

Yes and No.

They use it when they are on the main bridge for more than 5 minutes.

But they don’t sit on it.

At least correctly.

The amount of times Buddy has sat down on the chair wrong nearly glitches Ultra Magnus’s circuits.

Buddy knows this and likes to get a laugh out of everyone.

Rodimus is the loudest.

But not everything is fun and games.

Rodimus hates it when Buddy uses the vents.

He’s scared they are going to get lost up there like one of those Earth videos of families not finding their gerbil until they had to cut a hole in the wall and find it deceased.

Buddy, obviously, doesn’t listen to him.

Rodimus came back to his room after a meeting with Magnus and Megatron.

Turns on the light.

Buddy is sitting on his berth eating some chips.

“…Buddy?”--Rodimus

Buddy stares at him before running to the vent on the ground.

“HEY! NO, NO, BUDDY WE TALKED ABOUT THIS!”--Rodimus

Buddy makes some mocking noises in the vent.

“I HEARD THAT!”—Rodimus

Cyclonus

Being one of the bots on board that they were slower to warm up to, Cyclonus does find himself looking after them.

He blames Tailgate for planting the idea in his helm.

He lures Buddy in with treats and by being calm.

Buddy warms up to him eventually.

Cyclonus wants to teach Buddy how to talk so they don’t have to rely on noises or grunts like some unintelligent being.

Buddy was intelligent, they just couldn’t talk or write, that’s all.

He tries his best and sees that Buddy does try their best.

Even if they manage to make a letter sound, is plenty accomplishment for both.

“Repeat after me. Hello.”--Cyclonus

Buddy tries to say but huffs instead.

“No, like this. Hello.”--Cyclonus

Buddy starts making noises that sound like a cat hacking on a hairball.

“…Maybe that’s enough lessons for today.”--Cyclonus

Hacking noises increase.

Nautica

Nautica is one of the crew members that got along the fastest with Buddy.

Maybe it was her being friendly and kind to them.

Or it could also be the snacks she secretly gave to them after their meal.

Who knows?

Buddy has a habit of climbing on her when they want something or need to relax.

They do this with certain bots too, but she still feels honored to be chosen for this job.

All she needs to do is acknowledge Buddy, then be still until they reach the top of her helm or neck cables.

Gives them many head pats.

Buddy looking at Nautica from across the room.

Nautica was talking to Brainstorm about her new wrench.

Buddy walks over and begins to climb her leg.

“EEP! Buddy! You know better to do that without me knowing.”--Nautica

Buddy still keeps on climbing until they reach the top of her helm and just lays there.

“I guess someone wanted some attention?”--Nautica

Buddy huffs but pats her helm.

First Aid

Also, one of the faster members Buddy warmed up to.

But First Aid doesn’t really know why.

He did help Ratchet in making sure they were okay and helped them around the ship, but he didn’t do anything extraordinary for Buddy to like him.

But he is fine with that.

First Aid rather enjoys the company of the smaller human.

He knows Buddy is smart.

One day First Aid came in feeling a bit under the weather and Buddy was making all sorts of gestures and noises to get him out of his desk and to the med slab.

Even trying to carry his digit to the slab.

They knew he wasn’t feeling well and wanted to help, something First Aid found endearing.

However, …

Giving Buddy checkups were 50/50

They could come into the med bay doing everything he said to do and get a treat by the end.

Or…

They would be ‘clawing’ and squirming at everything that came towards them.

First Aid walks into the med bay.

Buddy is sitting on his desk chewing.

“Buddy? Buddy what are you chewing?”—First Aid

Buddy pauses, but then chews faster.

“NO, NO, NO WHAT DO YOU HAVE SPIT IT OUT!” –First Aid

[priincebutt]

How about Henry who never fell asleep with anyone else around, because he never trusted anyone and had an image to uphold, falling asleep on Alex all the time when they're hanging out (even with other people) because he feels safe. Can be canon or AU. :)

Hey anon!! Thank you for this lovely little prompt! This is a super short response, but I didn't want to drag it out because I think it works as just a silly lil domestic drabble. Hope you enjoy!

Movie night has kind of become a thing for Alex and Henry now that they have a space that’s their own. It feels domestic, like they’re allowed to have their own slice of normalcy despite everything they’ve been through. On Friday nights when most people their age are going to the clubs or hitting up dive bars, Alex and Henry curl up on their couch with a bowl of popcorn, boxes of pizza, and a bottle of wine and choose a movie out of a bowl. The movies they put in there are an amalgamation of favorites, ones that haven’t been seen, and new releases they both were anticipating, and this way they don’t fight over what to watch (which of course happened on their inaugural movie night).

This week, things look a little different. Alex is in his usual spot on the couch with Henry curled up into his side. Nora and June have commandeered the love seat across the way, their sides touching, their legs intertwined, arms slung over the arms of the chair haphazardly. Percy is in Henry’s favorite armchair, a vintage thing they found at a flea market that he had reupholstered in a cream brocade that somehow matches Percy’s overly stylish sweats. Bea occupies the final seat on the couch, her legs tucked underneath her, chin balanced on her hand, elbow perched on the arm of the couch. It’s not often that the super six are all in the same city together – business keeps them all bouncing around the globe, or firmly planted across the pond, or overly worked in DC, but they always found their way back to each other eventually, and this weekend it was a trip to New York City, with Bea occupying the guest bedroom in the Brownstone, and Nora, June and Percy all staying in a local hotel close by.

“The Mummy is an integral part of the bisexual experience!” Alex had yelled in excitement when the title had been announced as their watch for tonight. “I’m so excited for you to see it, Hen, Brendan Fraser is so hot, and it takes place in Egypt, you guys are going to love it.”

June and Nora had enthusiastically agreed, and Percy and Bea and Henry all shared a look and a laugh, an understanding passing between the three of them – they love these silly Americans enough to suffer through any movie for them.

“Fine, but I still can’t believe it wasn’t Notting Hill,” Henry had harrumphed, like it was a real struggle to curl up into Alex’s side and watch a movie full of attractive actors on the screen.

Everyone settles in as the movie starts, and pizza and popcorn is passed from hand to hand. It doesn’t take long for The Mummy to capture everyone’s attention, and only a few hushed whispers are occasionally passed as Evie and Rick run from the bad guys and race to find Hamunaptra.

They don’t even get halfway through the movie when Alex notices it – Henry’s head is heavy on his shoulder, his breathing regular and his chest rising and falling slowly against Alex’s side. Alex ducks his head and peeks at Henry, and the small, satisfied smile that curls across his lips is genuine. Henry’s fast asleep on his chest, despite him being engrossed in the movie only moments before. Alex doesn’t wake him up, though, just runs his fingers through Henry’s golden hair and presses a reverent kiss to his boyfriend’s forehead, then turns back to the movie. They make it a few more scenes before Nora catches on and alerts June to the snoozing Henry, which in turn gets Pez to coo at them softly and Bea to share a small, private smile with Alex.

—

Henry, an infamous insomniac, passed out across Alex’s chest and snoozing like a baby. Bea remembers how hard it used to be for Henry to sleep, how he used to fight sleep like it was giving in to weakness to lay his head down and rest. He deserves this, she thinks. He deserves someone he feels comfortable enough around to fall asleep on, in the middle of a room full of people, in the middle of a loud, action packed movie. Henry deserves Alex, who lulls him to sleep and knocks him out despite it all.

Nora and June are in the kitchen making a box of brownies they found in the pantry, and the credits are rolling when Bea conspiratorially leans in to Alex and smiles brightly.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen my brother sleep in a public space. This is… impressive.”

“Quite,” Percy agrees in a quiet tone, his own smile telling as he looks from Bea to sleeping Henry then back over to Alex. “Henry’s always been so… strange about sleep. Didn’t want people to know he did it or something,” Percy laughs as he shakes his head.

Alex smiles sweetly down at Henry, his affection easily apparent as he brushes a lot of hair from Henry’s forehead. “This is his home, he can be comfortable here. I’m proud of that,” Alex admits quietly, not budging an inch in hopes of allowing Henry to sleep longer.

“I’m so thrilled to see him this happy,” Bea admits, her tone easy and her eyes bright. “You’re so worthy of his love, Alex.”

[specialagentlokitty]

Will Graham x reader - non traditional family

Will with a reader who loves dogs just as much as him and brings home a rescue dog that had been treated really bad in its previous home and them just trying to get the dog to trust them, if you’re willing to write for it that is <3 - @panic-in-the-multiverse 💜

Sitting in the doorway to the bathroom, you smiled a little to the dog that was sat in the far corner of the room, head down watching you from the corner of his eye.

“Here Hugo.”

You placed a treat on the floor and slid it over to him, and he shuffled back a little bit, cautiously sniffing it.

You had set up a barricade to stop the other dogs from coming over, but you did get up, closing the bathroom door and made your way over with some treats for them.

You scratched behind their ears, giving them all treats, not bothering to look up as the front door was opened.

“Why is half the house sectioned off?” Will asked.

“I did a thing. And these guys can’t come into the area yet.”

Will looked at you as he shrugged his jacket off, petting all the dogs as he made his way through them all.

“What did you do?” He asked.

He stepped over the stairgates that you had put up around the place to keep the other dogs away from the bathroom.

You placed your hand on his chest, making him stop in his tracks, and you brought your hand up to his head, touching the bandaid that was on his forehead.

“What’s happened love?” You asked.

“Suspect charged at me, he hit my head of the wall. It’s fine.”

You slowly nodded your head, brushing some hair away from his face.

Will stared into your eyes for a moment before he leant down, and you met him halfway to kiss him.

He placed his hand on the back of your head to hold you in place before he moved away, pressing his forehead to yours.

“It’s fine..” he mumbled.

“I worry…”

“I know. Are you going to tell me what you did?”

You kissed the corner of his mouth and held out your hand to him, letting him decide if he what he wanted to do, and he placed his hand in yours.

You led him over to the bathroom, hovering your other hand over the door handle.

“Gotta keep quiet, he’s scared.”

“He?”

You slowly opened the door, and you sat back down in the doorway.

Will looked at the dog that had laid down, still facing the door.

He crouched behind you, resting his arms on his knees.

“What’s his name?”

“Hugo, he’s a rescue from work, he came in today. He was caged constantly, and was being trained as a fighting dog, we believe he’s a German shepherd but we can’t be sure until his coat grows back properly, but he’s got all the features of one.”

Will nodded his head.

“His health?”

“A little malnutrition, some wounds that need healing, and he was covered in ticks, but we vaccinated him today, he doesn’t have fleas, and he’s not aggressive to other dogs just scared.”

Will reached down into the pocket of your sweater, pulling out a couple a treats.

He sat against the other part of the doorframe, sitting opposite you, his legs over yours.

He leant over, setting a treat on the floor and pushed it over slightly while you just watched, taking mental notes of Hugo’s behaviour.

Will glanced over at you, watching as you studied the new addition to the pack, and he turned back to Hugo.

“How long has he been here?”

“Since this afternoon. He came in this morning but couldn’t handle being in the kennel.”

Will nodded.

“Have you eaten?”

“No, but I did bring some food home. I forgot to make dinner though, sorry.”

Getting up, Will brushed his hand over your shoulder, making his way into the kitchen.

“I can’t see you.”

You moved to the side he was sat on, and sat further into the hallway so he was able to see you from where he was stood.

You smiled softly at him.

“So, what did you do today?”

“You don’t want to know.”

You laughed softly.

“I do, you know I do. I like hearing about your day.”

Will glanced up from where he was stood and went back to preparing the food, telling you about his day.

He went front start to finish, leaving out anything that seemed a little too intense, and you just sat there listening to him, occasionally checking on Hugo.

You ate there, and when it came to going to sleep, you closed the door again, making sure the other dogs couldn’t get in.

Making your way over to the bed you stood at the side of it and Will looked up from his book, smiling slightly at you.

“Are you coming to bed?” He asked.

Will knew full well what you were waiting for, and he just sat there waiting for you to say it and you stood there stubbornly for a few minutes.

After being stubborn your finally sat on the bed next to him, lifting his arm so you were able to get under it, resting your head on his chest.

Will dropped his arm over your shoulder, putting his book in his other hand, resting his hand on your head.

“Are you staying home tomorrow?”

“Do you want me to?”

You nodded a little.

“Okay, I’ll stay. What do you have planned?”

“Nothing really, we both have the day off, and I’m lazy and don’t want to go anywhere.”

“Well, how about ice fishing? Will you come with me if I go?”

“You know I will love.”

Will smiled a little to himself, turning his attention back to his book while you just laid over him, moving every so often.

Now you were laid with your back on his chest, his hand in yours resting on your stomach.

Will was asleep, and you were still awake, unable to sleep, you hadn’t been able to sleep for a few hours, so you finally got up.

You kissed the side of Will’s head, making your way off the bed and grabbed one of his jackets, pulling it on and you made your way towards the bathroom.

Opening the door, you stepped inside and laid down on the other side of the room to Hugo who was watching you.

You smiled at the dog, and rested an arm under your head to try sleep in there.

Thankfully you did after a short while.

Will wake up from a nightmare, and he searched around the bed for you and he shot up when he couldn’t find you.

“(Y/N)?”

Will stood up, throwing the sheets from the bed.

“(Y/N)?!” He whisper yelled.

He checked the couch to see if you went to sleep on there, knowing sometimes you would go there if you couldn’t sleep.

You weren’t in there so he turned to the kitchen, making his way over he stopped by the bathroom and opened the door.

He turned the light on and Hugo shot up from being laid in the middle of the floor and went back over to the other side of the room.

You grumbled a little bit and he turned the light back out.

Will laid down next to you, his arm over your waist.

“Sorry…” he whispered.

He touched his forehead against yours, closing his eyes again and you brought your hand up to run it through his hair.

“Nightmare…?”

He nodded his head, you rolled on to your back, lifting his head to rest it on your shoulder.

“It’s okay…” you whispered.

You and Will went out the next day, leaving a shirt that belong to you both in the bathroom for Hugo, and you carried on sleeping in there with the dog.

You did everything you needed to earn his trust, slowly letting him meet the other dogs, letting him explore every so often.

“I think we should get another dog.”

“Really?” Will asked.

“Yeah, you can never have too many dogs.”

Will looked at you from where he was stood at the other end of the bed.

You grinned at him.

“You’re only saying that because you’ve all taken over the bed.”

You ran a hand over Hugo’s head as he laid next to you, holding your other arm out for Will.

“There’s always room for you.”

“It’s fine, I’m going for a walk. Will you be alright here?”

“Have you seen our dogs? Of course I will.”

Will walked over, leaning down to gently kiss you, and he walked over to the door, whistling and all the dogs aside from Hugo ran after him.

“Will that’s not fair!”

You got up, walked over to where he was already holding out your jacket for you.

You pulled your shoes on and slipped into your jacket, calling for Hugo who nervously came padding over.

“I knew you’d come.”

“You took my dogs…”

“Your dogs? I didn’t know my dogs were your dogs.”

Will opened the door for you.

“What’s yours is mine love.”

He hummed a little bit, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he trailed behind you.

“Does that mean that whatever you have is mine then?” Will asked.

“Yup.”

You carried on walking, occasionally throwing a snowball for the dogs to chase and will just kept a close eye on you and Hugo

[godhandler]

Rent A BF!

#4 | young toji fushiguro x reader | fluff, mentions of prostitution, aged and sometimes offensive terminology, gun violence incredible bilingual usage of slurs | 600 words

previous next series masterlist

25th May, 1996

The distance between two strangers does not decrease just because one is an escort and the other a client. Many a times these two could fuck raw for two hours, but once the pants get back on, they’d rather leave the cash on the table than have their palms touch again. 

Insulting each other’s very touchiest points is a far quicker method to get close. It could go either way– you become lifelong enemies (which is quite intimate by itself) or become … rather chill with each other. 

Only by the third session, Toji and you have realised that you’re more comfortable with each other than you would’ve expected. Rude and passive-aggressive it might have been, but the mussel-pasta debacle led to you setting a precedent of extremely open honesty with each other:

Toji– “I don't like to be scoffed at. Can’t stand it, makes my hair rise, lose my head. Was gonna stab you with your own silverware for a second there, heh. I'd rather you didn't scoff at me. Or around me, that fine?”

You– “Yeah, I’m sorry. I don’t want to hear any talk about my family.”

Toji– “Yes, yes, I’m sorry. I guess. I don’t wanna either.” 

You– “Wait, pardon, but did you say you were about to stab m–”

‘Chill’ is fine, Toji tells himself. Chill is the best thing you can be with a woman. 

Aside from the obvious exception of his blood-related family, he’s chill with literally the majority of the world’s population. Sure, he used to think that the faggots and the chong-gong Koreans were sketchy, but look at him now, friends with both of them. He’s grown so much that he’d even accept a faggot Korean– he had his suspicions about Shiu, though he never could bring himself to ask.  

You’re so chill together, walking around the flea market in Shiori Park, shifting through piles of Chenel scarves and Botega prints. There’s not a lot of customers, but the pretty cherry blossoms waft through the air, sticking to your hair and nose, creating a romance neither Toji nor you are part of. The Sumida river laps by. Songbirds practice for spring. 

No, no, something just isn’t sitting right with Toji. This ‘chill’ is different from the ‘chill’ towards the faggots and the Koreans, because this ‘chill’ doesn’t mean ‘apathy’ or ‘casual diregard’. ‘Chill’ for you is nothing more than a blanket covering pesky little other emotions. Unfortunately, Toji is not emotionally mature enough to unlock these.

The weight of this suspiciously stable word, ‘chill’, sets a frown on his brows, a pebble in his shoe. He glares down at the handmade earrings you put up to your ears. He scowls at the candy floss man. He grumbles at the antique tea set hawker.

“Does it bother you?” He surprises himself asking. “Me grumbling about everything?”

You blink. “Do you dislike it so much?”

The boy just shrugs. 

“We could just leave, Toji-kun. I’ll come here later by myself. Let’s do something you want to.” You suddenly realise that you have no idea what that would be.  He didn’t seem very into thrifting. It made you wonder what exactly he was into. Under the veneer of enthusiasm as fake as the brands here, there didn’t seem to be a topic that he wasn’t nonchalant about. Of course, you understand that this is a business transaction, but aren’t you two still humans who care about each other as humans do? Maybe it’s the age difference. Maybe it’s that he’s a paid whore. It doesn’t matter, because you two were chill. 

“How about bowling?” you ask. “Or a grill restaurant?”

“‘Kay.”

You walk towards the exit over a little cobblestone path, turning sharply into a corner to a gun pointing at your face. 

previous next series masterlist

a/n: open communication but the person communicating is toji ugh

today also marks the declaration of ceasefire in gaza. this isn't a political take of anything, im happy this came about. it's just that i can't help thinking it all meant nothing at the end. thousands upon thousands of brothers, sisters, mums, dads, granny and granpas died, and for what? everything goes back to how it was. nothing has changed. i don't mean to bring down the mood. maybe im too young and naive. i don't know. i cant shake off the feeling that im guilty of something but i don't know what.

[artdcnaldson]

(https://www.tumblr.com/artdcnaldson/754864459441405952/have-a-new-fic-idea-based-around-being-art-and?source=share)

Oohhh, and you start to put on walls again, and ArTashi can't figure out what's going on, maybe just stress (I love them, but they can't always read what the other needs) while you try to separate and get comfortable with being just you again bc you're sure they'll fire you and tell you to be well and send you back to your poor little house

Exactlyyyy exactly!

You’re so caught up in your own insecurities about your position within the relationship and within the family that you don’t even recognize the ways they’re still trying to include you. Like Art has you tugged against his side while you’re watching a movie, or he’s holding your hand, but he looks at Patrick a few times and you take it as a personal slight. Tashi is so caught up in coaching Patrick that you lose a little bit of the time you have with her in the evenings, drinking wine and talking and just being together.

They bring Patrick into the bedroom and you look at him like a flea ridden dog. Has he been tested? (Yes) and that you don’t want to touch him (You don’t have to). But you have to watch them touch him, kiss him, lavish him with all the attention that used to be yours. Like one of the cuckoo birds that implant themselves in nests and steal all the nourishment from the real babies.

So maybe you start isolating, like you’re preparing yourself. You get distant with Tashi and Art, and that’s fine, they expect that you might just need some room to adjust. But then you start distancing from Lily, and she doesn’t know what’s going on, she just knows you’re not playing tea party or reading with her anymore and it’s upsetting.

And then there’s Patrick. Right next door, sharing a bathroom with you. Smarmy, self assured, teasing. He likes to crowd into your space, like he’s already trying to push you out. He’s an asshole, and you always leave the conversations pissed off and seething. He ruined everything, and he’s the one that gets them? What does he have that you don’t?

But you don’t know that’s just how Patrick flirts, that he likes to crawl under your skin, to make your blood run hot. Art and Tashi had trusted him when he said he’d “handle” you, that he’d win you over easy. He just didn’t expect that they’d chosen such an upright, prissy bitch for their third.

Tashi gives up on Patrick’s plan after Lily comes to her crying and asking why her nanny hates her and doesn’t want to be her friend anymore. She’ll just have to fix things herself, like she always does. God knows Art won’t be any help.

[birdie-in-arcadia]

All In

Here's the next chapter! I'll try to have others out within the week :) Enjoy! <3

CHAPTER SEVEN — STATIC  (My Point of View) 

The flea market hums with vendors and customers alike. It’s late morning, and the sky is pale, overcast in a way that makes everything below it feel slightly like light behind frosted glass. The scent of roasted peanuts and old paper lingers in the air, carried on the breeze along with the clink of porcelain and the banter of strangers. I walk beside Vessel through the winding rows of stalls, my weathered black Converses scuffing occasionally on the uneven concrete, scarf wrapped loosely around my neck. He’s quiet, as always, but there’s an easy rhythm to his steps. He moves like he belongs in places like this. A vendor calls out something about rare records, and Vessel perks up slightly. “I’ll catch you in a minute,” he says, nodding toward the corner booth where old records are flipping in a fan’s fingers. I smile. “Don’t get lost.” He offers a quiet half-smile and disappears into the crowd. 

I wander slowly. The stall in front of me is cluttered and charming; vintage trinkets, postcards with foreign stamps, a typewriter with someone’s half-written letter still caught in the roller. I brush my fingertips over the dusty keys, wondering if the last person to use them ever finished their thought. “You look like someone who appreciates a good story.” I turn at the voice. 

The man standing across from me is older than me, maybe early thirties, with sharp eyes and a crooked grin. He’s holding a stack of old Penguin paperbacks and wears a coat that smells faintly of cedar. I blink. “I do, actually.” He smiles. “Knew it. You’ve got that kind of look.” “That kind of look?” I ask, amused. He shrugs. “Thoughtful. Bookish. Bit of mystery.” I let out a soft laugh, unsure how to respond. 

He leans slightly over the table, lifting a small silver locket from the display. “Ever wonder what kind of secrets something like this holds?” he asks, his eyes on mine. “I think about it all the time,” I admit, brushing a thumb over the edge of the locket. “See? Knew I had you pegged.” I raise an eyebrow. 

I open my mouth to reply, but freeze. Because from the next aisle over, just past the corner of the tent, I catch sight of him. Vessel’s there, standing perfectly still, fingers wrapped around a record sleeve. Watching. Our eyes meet just for a second, but it’s enough. His expression isn’t angry, not even annoyed. Just... still. Too still. Unsettling, even. 

The man in front of me continues speaking, unaware. “So, what brings you here?” he asks, gesturing to the market. “You local?” I nod, voice catching in my throat. “Sort of. I’m here for university.” “Let me guess, music?” I blink. “How did you-” “It’s always music,” he interrupts. “Or art. You’ve got that energy. That ‘I stay up all night making something no one else understands’ vibe.” I laugh, nervously. “That’s... fair.” From the corner of my eye, I see Vessel set the record back on the table and walk away. Not toward me. Just... away. 

The man chats a bit more, something about a bookstore he frequents and how I’d love it. He asks for my number, but I decline gently, citing coursework and time. He nods, doesn’t press, and moves on with a wink and a wave. The moment he’s gone, I exhale. And immediately start looking for the man I came here with. 

I find him a few stalls down, standing by a display of old cameras. He’s flipping through a basket of faded photographs of people smiling in places that probably don’t exist anymore. “Hey,” I say, approaching carefully. He glances up. His expression is neutral. Too neutral. “You find something good?” He shakes his head. “Not really.” There’s a beat. I shift my weight. “That guy, he was just talking. I didn’t realize...” “You don’t owe me an explanation,” he says softly. I blink. “I wasn’t trying to-” “I know,” he cuts in gently. “It’s fine.” But it doesn’t feel fine. It feels like a note played half a beat off. Just enough to unsettle the rhythm. 

We walk the rest of the market in near silence. I notice how he keeps his hands in his pockets now. How he doesn’t stand quite as close. How he looks at the ground more than the stalls. And I can’t tell if I did something wrong, or if this is just who he is when he’s thinking too hard. 

At one booth, I pause in front of a stack of handwritten sheet music. Something about the ink, the careful slant of the notes, draws me in. He stands behind me, quiet for a long moment. Then: “He was flirting with you.” The words are barely audible. I glance at him. His jaw is tight, eyes fixed on the paper in my hands. “I didn’t notice, not until he asked for my number. I walked away after that,” I say truthfully. He replies simply, “I know.” Silence again. Then: “It surprised me.” I turn to face him. “What did?” I ask. “How I felt.” he replies lowly. I swallow hard. We don’t speak after that, we just stand there, surrounded by fading music and the ghosts of someone else’s memories. 

@yourgirlisa @houseofsleeptoken here you go! Let me know if you'd like to be added here.

[cakepoppresent]

Trust Me Okay?

Whew, whoever told Chantel Williams about Andre really blew up his life before he was ready. Hopefully, it doesn't ruin anything...hopefully

Previous - Next

Transcript under the cut~

Sebastian: Can you please please PLEASE make chicken alfredo pasta tonight? I’m really really REALLY craving it

Andre: No.

Sebastian: Why!?!

Andre: You can make that yourself.

Sebastian: Okay, fine. I can’t make steaks can you make that then? With mashed potatoes and veggies on the side

Andre: You’re always so demanding. I cook at work then I gotta come home and cook for you too?

Sebastian: PLEASE!!! We have the weekend off and when I do cook it never taste the same!

Andre: Being your roommate is tedious

Sebastian: I’m taking that as a yes! Let’s go to the farmers market!

Andre: *tsk* You’re exhausting

Sebastian: Stop acting like you don’t enjoy my energy! If it weren’t for me you’d be cooped up inside all day!

Andre: Yea, yea, yea whatever you say

Sebastian: Oh! We should also stop by the flea market and see if anything cool is there

Andre: *deep negro sigh* Alright.

*Paparazzi's Comments Start*

ANDRE! ANDRE!

ANDRE! ANDRE!

WHAT ABOUT YOUR YOUNGER SIBLINGS

WHY WERE YOU DISOWNED?

DOES YOUR FATHER DO WHERE YOU LIVE

ARE YOU NO LONGER GOING TO RUN THE VILLAREAL EMPIRE?!?

*Paparazzi's Comments End*

Andre: No Comment!

Sebastian: Andre whats going on? What are they talking about?!?

Andre: Bash let's go back home

Sebastian: Im scared Andre...how did they know my name?! How do they know you?!

Andre: Lets go upstairs first. We’ll talk about it later

Sebastian: But...

Andre: Lets go!

Sebastian: Andre please tell me what's going on! Why the hell are there paparazzi outside our building? How do they even know my name?! Where we live! and what the fuck is a Villereal ?!

Andre: Its complicated Bash but I need you to calm down.

Sebastian: How can you say that!? This is terrifying! I'm scared!

Sebastian: I’m ju-

Andre: Sebastian. I need you to calm down and listen to me.

Andre: I told you its going to be okay. Get changed and we’ll talk

Sebastian: Okay...

Andre: You trust me?

Sebastian: Of course.

Andre: I won’t do anything to harm you. Just get changed and we’ll talk. Okay?

Sebastian: Okay.

Sebastian: “Villarreal”...that’s a really wealthy family back in Windenburg right?

Andre: How are you feeling now...

Andre: Yes...

Sebastian: They own almost all the major real estate in Windenburg...google said that they come from old money...

Andre: Not that old... but yea...

Sebastian: Jesus.

Andre: Bash listen I didn’t mean to lie. I swear, It’s complicated but my father isn’t the greatest person and I had siblings to protect...I just...Its complicated

Sebastian: We’ve been roommates for so long...You’ve been lying for so long...You...You...

Sebastian: That doesn’t tell me anything or explain why you lied to me for so long...

Sebastian: If the paparazzi didn’t show up at our door would you have even told me? Would I have come home one day to find all your stuff gone?

Andre: That would never happen Bash. I always planned on telling you...just after I sorted everything out

Sebastian: I don’t even know what to say...my mind is going crazy. People know where I live, my name, and what I look like! They’re calling me all sorts of things online...how can I even go to work like this?

Andre: I will handle it. Stay off the internet for now but believe me when I say it will be dealt with

Sebastian: Im scared Andre...this is scary for me

Andre: I know and I'm sorry.

Andre: It's going to be okay. Just trust me.

Sebastian:...Okay

[oscquinn]

Hi there! How are we doing on this fine sunday? I spent the day at the beach and of course, that gave me some ideas so ahem ahem ✨beach day with carmy bear✨

First let’s talk about the most obvious thing ever but…this man looks HAWT okay?!!? He already does on a daily basis, doing the most regular things ever but at the beach????? 74 dead, 192 injured.

anyway yeah he looks really good but also:

You manage to whisk him away for a few days, just the two of you to relax and you rent a small house by the beach. Your goal is basically to get him to slow down a bit, catch up on some sleep and have fun, you know?That in itself is tough because he!!cannot!!relax!!!!!!!!! But he’s also very very in love so he agrees for a weekend away.

He carries all the bags because he was raised a gentleman and there’s no way you lift one pretty finger of yours k?

You insist on putting sunscreen on his back and face and okay maybe it’s just an excuse to give him a nice massage and maybe he knows that but plays along too

But he’s just as protective, always making sure you’re hydrated and you’re wearing your hat if you’re seating in the sun.

i might be almost 21 but playing in the waves!!!!!! and making sand castles!!!!! at first he might think it’s a little silly but not in a mean way, just the kind of thing he doesn’t think of to have fun because he just doesn’t have fun yk? but he helps you and realizes it is actually fun. it definitely turns into a competition btw and you end up both winning and eating ice cream as a reward.

Playing cards too!! i feel like he knows one or two great cars games that he’d teach you, something he got from Mickey or Cousin maybe?

also napping on the beach. he lays his head on your belly while you read and you’re playing with his hair and the weather is nice and it’s actually pretty good to feel the sun on his skin and—when you notice he’s sleeping, you don’t move, just let him take whatever he needs.

you 100% make sure to take a billion pictures of him, of the two of you (you send one of him sleeping to nat <3) and he tries to take aesthetic pictures of you, he snaps a few more just to keep for himself.

a lot of talking too!!! he’s been working a lot, you too, life got in the way so you take the time to catch up—you tell him about the new show you want to start with him, he tells you about a flea market he’d like to check out. It feels nice to catch up and somehow it reassures him? Like his anxiety gets too much and he’s scared you might be unhappy but then you talk and you tell him you love him and you want to do things with him and his chest feels less heavy.

who says day at the beach, says watching the sunset together. of course it’s beautiful but carmy keeps looking at you and the way the light seems to hit your features so perfectly well because he’s a sap.

You get a little cold and he’s instantly handing you his sweater. And I just know his heart melts when you nuzzle closer to him <3

I love to think he’d stay up at night to listen to the ocean. He can’t sleep because his mind is too loud so he goes on the little patio and listens to the sounds of the waves on the shore. Maybe you join him, rest your head on his shoulder and enjoy the moment with him. he hasn’t felt this happy in a long time.

-🧸

hey so something you don't know about me is that i love the beach more than literally any other place on earth!!!!! i went to the OBX a lot as a kid and it shaped me into the woman i am today!!!!! i love the beach!!!!!!!!!!!! i even had a finnpoe beach au that was like. god. it was at minimum 10k words and it wasn't even complete yet. i would just work on it when at the beach house my father took me to cause there was no wifi there- but enough ab me!!!!!

i agree that baby boy canNOT relax, poor thing. but you could talk him into it saying he can try all kinds of new restaurants and get some ideas for a seafood course for the bear menu <33 and ughhh i just. staying in a cutie little beach house with him!!! i used to go to the beach every year and when i got old enough to really appreciate the whole day, my fav thing became evening walks and i know those would sooth his soul sooo much

"there’s no way you lift one pretty finger of yours k?" i will sob??? i will actually cry and scream and roll around on the floor???? god i just. carmen carrying your bags upstairs to the house while you take stock of all the general beach things available in the shed underneath. yall know how beach houses are on stilts? yeah like that. and placing your shampoo and body wash and things in the outdoor shower so it can be used first thing, because once everything is unloaded all you wanna do is walk down to the ocean and once you're there, well, who isn't gonna jump in!

massaging the sunscreen into his back, the way he would sigh a little, and you can press soft kisses to his cheek as you do so. ugh i looveeeee him!!!! he would be so so protective, making sure there's plenty of snacks, and if you're hungry he'll walk the beach with you until you find a little sandwich shop or taco place for whatever you wanna eat. he's confused at first why you're making a sand castle, preferring to sit and read his book, but suddenly he's finished with a chapter and spending time with his girl seems so much more fun, so before he knows it he's packing wet sand into the mould sitting across from you, sandy shins and messy hair, but he's all smiley too

the poor thing would get so exhausted from playing in the waves, probably bc he's not used to it. swimming in the ocean really takes it out of you!! so when you're laid out under the umbrella reading he grumbles like "babe, lemme... c'mere," and tugs you just a little closer to rest his head on your tummy :((( playing with his curls while they dry from the salt water, forming them into perfect little spirals, putting a little braid here and there

just talking to each other and catching up in such a relaxed setting is so sweet im gonna sob. maybe y'all snagged a beachfront place so you can watch the sun set over the water ((i have never seen this... #eastcoast)) while you're sitting on the rlly comfy deck chairs, he's got a beer and you've got a little cocktail he made you, and you're playing cards and chatting about what's been going on lately. just sitting out there together listening to the waves, wrapped up in his sweater from his culinary school i- i genuinely cannot. i love him and i love the beach. I LOVE HIM AND I LOVE THE BEACH!!!!!!!

tldr; me and 🧸 love the beach and carmy so much

[alexanderlightweight]

….

I have been having a Time™️ kitchen leak I just finished fixing (for now) and I realized beautiful Nightshade’s paws need ointment. It’s summer (yes I know it’s not but we’ve had a triple digit (in F) day already, okay? It’s fucking summer as in heat.

So we literally can’t keep thinking of it as spring, I had to readjust the water for the garden because normally during this time of the year (for desert plants) 1 a week is fine in spring. I have to turn down the water heater because the water needs less heat because the sun bakes it

However now the water needs to be every 4 days and that will continue to adjust to how hot the days get and if/how low the night cools down. Once we get into those high triple digits it sometimes needs every day, because as urban structures continue to go up, the desert in developed areas isn’t allowed to cool at night like it’s supposed to. The asphalt buildings, concrete etc soak up the heat during the day and it lingers and can make busy places like Phoenix AZ go up to 150f+ on the streets. So the water retention dries up faster and the ground grows harder and less likely to absorb water etc etc and the plants and animals don’t get a chance to cool off and recover

Much more scientific people could explain better but basically, we have to treat it like it’s already summer. Which also means adjusting for high tick and flea, brushing more, massaging and moisturizing paws, making sure he has extra water dishes around the house jic and that sometimes we lock the dog door during the heat of the day (that doesn’t happen until triple digits again tho, he adjusts somehow and can handle bricks that could cook a pizza)

But also the monsoon weather is already acting up and we’ve had several small haboobs despite not being in season.

And this is a problem especially because tourists around us aren’t expecting the weather and are idiots

If you’re going to be a tourist. Don’t be stupid. Look up local natural disasters, the normal weather for that time of the year, the weather that COULD happen and what’s going on rn. I don’t care how fashionable you are or aren’t, if you go somewhere cold get protective gear. If you go somewhere hot, same thing. It doesn’t matter if you’re dark or light skinned or anywhere between, you can get sunburned!!!! Especially if you’re not used to the strength of the sun on a desert!

Also dust is dangerous. As cool as those dust-devils and dust cloud and dust storm and wall of fucking dust look, enjoy from inside a window and sure as fuck don’t let your kids play in it to ‘experience’ it. Where I live not only can it damage your lungs there are spores that can make you very ill.

My cousin (who used to work outside in the sun all day) got heat sick walking two hours on a shaded river while visiting my parents because he came from a state that still has melting snow. Your body needs time to adapt my dear people, you cannot just go and jump into a new climate.

It will get back at you, even if it’s just crashing and getting sick at the end of your trip. Or something worse.

ESPECIALLY PETS AND CHILDREN

A dog that is fine walking on concrete in a different climate, or a child going barefoot can be severely hurt.

The seat buckles in cars here can burn you. To the point you need burn cream. That is on an adult. It’s worse for kids.

BE CAREFUL WHEN SEATBUCKLING CHILDREN. Especially if you they aren’t wearing a lot so they don’t overheat. Especially babies who can’t explain what’s wrong in hot car seats!!

Those things are painful! You can’t just put a baby directly into a hot car seat that’s primed to bake a bun!

Your bun just came out of the oven! Don’t put it back in!

Don’t leave kids or pets or elderly in an off car for even a few minutes. Take them inside and THEN get the groceries or leave your car running with the parking brake down for safety or something.

I’m tired and rambling. Just. Please be safe. The heat and sun kills. It’s not just bright and shiny vitamin d.

[flowersandskeletons526]

"Mascot" - Warriors Concept Album fanfic

This was based off a prompt @asthedeathoflight gave me and I ran with it. Warriors get a dog AU. Enjoy!

----------

“A dog?” Ajax asked incredulously. “You got a dog?”

Of all the scenes she could have come home to, it had to be this: Rembrandt pacing the living room of their little two bedroom apartment while Fox sat on the couch, a piece of scrap rope in hand, playing tug of war with a fucking dog. Well, puppy, now that Ajax was really looking at it. Ajax didn’t know much if anything about dogs, but the thing was pretty small. Definitely some kind of mutt. A street dog. 

Rembrandt and Fox had brought a fucking street dog into their apartment. The creature had one ear that stuck straight up while the other flopped down and had a piece taken out of it. It was deathly skinny, had patches of fur missing, and the thing reeked of that awful wet dog smell. It had quite a bit of energy for how emaciated it looked. Even so, Ajax would have preferred a large sewer rat. Where the fuck had they even found it? 

Ajax got her answer: a dumpster. 

“Someone threw her away!” Rembrandt said. She’d pulled Ajax off to the side, not wanting Fox to overhear. “We heard her crying under a bunch of trash.”

“But why would you bring it into our apartment?” Ajax hissed. “The thing is probably crawling with bugs!”

“No, she’s not. We gave her a bath and she didn’t have any fleas or anything on her. I checked.” 

“What if it has rabies?”

“She doesn’t have rabies.”

“How do you know?”

“Because she would’ve bitten us already if she did! And stop calling her ‘it!’”

“No way you’re getting upset with me for misgendering a dog.”

“She’s a puppy.”

“Rembrandt!”

“Look at her! She’s just a baby! Ajax, really, we didn’t mean to actually bring her all the way home. We got her out of the dumpster and she was so sweet and happy and she just kept following Fox everywhere so I let Fox bring her inside.” 

“Fox tried to befriend a raccoon by feeding it a bacon egg and cheese, so sorry if I don’t trust her to bring animals into the house!”

Rembrandt lowered her voice, pulling Ajax down to whisper to her. “Look, we’ll bring her to the humane society in a few days and give her up or something. Just let Fox have her for a little bit. Look at her. She’s so happy.”

Fox did look happy, holding the dog in her lap and rubbing its belly. The little rat looked like the most content creature in the world as it wriggled and stared up at Fox with big… well, puppy dog eyes. Ajax gritted her teeth and crossed her arms. Rembrandt touched her cheek, one hand cupping her face and the other resting on her chest, and Ajax looked down to see Rembrandt giving her the same goddamn fucking expression. Rembrandt raised her eyebrows and tilted her head, flashing a little smirk.

“Please?” she purred. “Do this one favor for me?”

Ajax’s face went bright red. She cleared her throat and turned aside, only for Rembrandt to put a finger under her chin and turn her head back to face her, a move that only made her resolve crumble that much faster. 

“You’re evil,” Ajax grumbled, just a little breathless.

“You love it. So?”

“Only for a few days. We’re not keeping it. And you owe me.”

“Ajax, not in front of Fox,” Rembrandt teased with a shit-eating grin.

“Not what I meant!” 

Fox called out to them, blissfully oblivious to the entire conversation. “Can we name her Wonder?”

“Like the Wonder Wheel?” Rembrandt laughed.

“Yeah!”

“We’re not naming it!” Ajax protested, but it fell on deaf ears. Rembrandt gave her a pointed look. She groaned. “Fine. But you keep that thing out of our room and off our bed.”

“Yes!” Fox cheered, and the puppy barked like it was cheering along with her. Which, to be fair, was pretty cute. Not that Ajax thought the little gremlin was cute. No way. They weren’t keeping it. 

Rembrandt gave her quick kiss on the cheek and wrapped her arms around her neck. “You’re the best.” 

“You’re lucky I love you.” 

“I love you, too.”

When Ajax woke up the next morning, Rembrandt was already out of bed. She wasn’t necessarily an early riser, just earlier than Ajax. Ajax got up and turned on her walkman before going through her morning workout routine: regular push-ups before one-armed push-ups, crunches hanging off the side of the bed, jumping jacks, and leg raises. That was her warmup, anyway, before she did anything with added weight. She needed to add more leg exercises to the routine, if only to get Swan to stop picking on her for it. 

Rubbing her eyes and tying her braids back from her face, she went and brushed her teeth before heading into the living room. Fox was stretched out on the couch, reading a comic book held over her head. Rembrandt sat in the tattered armchair across from her and worked on a sketch of Fox’s portrait. 

“Morning, Ajax,” Fox called. Rembrandt waved, not looking up from her drawing. Ajax waved back to them and went to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee.

Something barked by her feet. 

Ajax screamed and jumped a full three feet in the air. She ended up on the counter, growling down at the little rat wagging its tail and looking up at her with its paws on the cabinet door. 

“Dammit, motherfucker!” she hollered. “Fox! Get your dog!”

But Fox and Rembrandt were too busy laughing their asses off to help her. Fox got up, barely able to walk from how hard she was cackling, and grabbed the puppy. It licked the side of her face as she cradled it like a baby. 

“Aw, c’mon, Ajax, she’s not gonna hurt you,” the young Warrior said.

“Fox, don’t let it lick you. That’s disgusting.”

“She’s not disgusting! She’s just a little baby!” Fox lifted the dog closer to Ajax. “Look at her little face. She loves you!”

“Get that rat away from me!” 

“You’re gonna hurt her feelings!”

“Okay, okay, let her down,” Rembrandt said, tugging Fox and the dog away from Ajax. As Fox went to sit on the couch with her creature, Rembrandt offered a hand to help Ajax down from the counter. Ajax took the hand, not that she needed it, and jumped down. “Babe, be real with me. You’re not afraid of dogs, are you?”

“No, I’m not afraid of them,” Ajax said petulantly. “I just don’t want a street dog barking at me first thing in the morning.” 

“I told you she was friendly.”

“Cool. It can be friendly away from me.”

“Well, I’m going to go buy her food today, so would you like to come with me or do you want to stay here with Wonder and Fox?”

“I told you we’re not naming it!”

“Pet store, it is.”

Which is how Ajax had gotten dragged into a small pet shop, staring at the fish tanks while Rembrandt talked to an employee about what food to get for the rat. Ajax would’ve been fine with a fish. Take a bowl, put rocks and water in it, drop in a fish, and you’re done! Or at least Ajax assumed that’s how you took care of a fish. Why couldn’t Fox have just done that if she wanted a pet? 

Rembrandt came back to get her, holding an expensive looking bag of dog food, two small bowls, and a box with a picture of a gray collar on the front. Ajax immediately said, “You’re not putting a collar on it. If you put a collar on it, Fox is gonna want to keep it.”

“It’s a flea collar,” Rembrandt said, rolling her eyes.

“I thought you said it didn’t have fleas.”

“She doesn’t! This is to prevent them, since you’re so scared of that.”

“I just don’t want to have to bug bomb the apartment.”

“We won’t have to.” Rembrandt glanced at the tank Ajax had been staring at for the past fifteen minutes. “These guys are pretty.”

“I guess. Pretty expensive.”

“Do you want one?”

“If you let me trade a fish for the rat, then sure, I’ll get one.”

“Stop calling her a rat.”

“It looks like a mangy subway rat.”

“You’re gonna hurt Fox’s feelings if she hears you say that.”

That put a stop to it pretty quick. At least in front of Fox. Ajax carried the bag of dog supplies home, not because she wanted to, but because she never let Rembrandt carry anything other than her own backpack. She was chivalrous like that. When they arrived back at home, Fox was playing tug of war with the ra- with the dog again, and sitting on the couch were Cochise and Cowgirl. 

Cowgirl grinned at Ajax as she set the bag of dog supplies on the kitchen table. “Never pegged you as the type for having pets,” she teased. 

“I’m not,” Ajax snapped. “It��s Fox’s, and we’re not even-” 

Rembrandt smacked her arm as she passed. “Not in front of Fox,” she whispered. 

Ajax clamped her mouth shut. She wasn’t mean enough to crush Fox’s dream like that. Besides, the thing would be gone in a few days. 

But then gang life happened as it always did, and they got too busy to handle anything but work, and a few days turned into a week. Fox got more and more attached with each passing day. They got the dog a collar. Then one week of housing the thing turned into two. Ajax came around to calling her Wonder instead of “thing” or “rat” or “dumpster creature.” Two weeks of getting used to her turned into three. Fox brought Wonder on a mission that went wrong, but none of the Warriors got hurt due in part to Wonder biting a guy’s leg and scaring off the rest. Swan started calling her their “mascot” after that, a designation that Ajax despised.

Three weeks turned into a month. Rembrandt and Fox were called in by Cleon to handle a mission, leaving Ajax home alone with the dog. She laid on the couch with a beer and a movie playing on the TV. Wonder came trotting up to her with a real rope toy in her mouth, not the piece of cord Fox used to give her. 

Ajax glanced down at Wonder. “What do you want?” she asked, as if she expected an answer. 

The dog put her paws up on the edge of the couch and dropped the toy onto the cushion next to Ajax. Ajax had tried to set a rule of the dog not being on the furniture, but Fox let her up so often anyway that it didn’t really matter. Rembrandt at least kept her off their bed, even if she found it hilarious. 

“Fox is getting home later. Go chill in her room.” Fuck, was she actually talking to a dog? Wonder nudged the toy with her nose. Ajax picked it up. “Smart little fucker, huh? Go over there,” she said, and tossed the toy across the room. But Fox had trained her well, and she brought it back and dropped it next to Ajax again. Ajax threw it to the opposite side of the room this time, and the same thing happened. “I’m not playing with you. Go away.”

Another throw. Another fetch. Oh, god. She was playing. Wonder came back and dropped the toy on the floor this time, opting instead to jump up on the couch and lay down next to Ajax. Ajax tried to nudge her off, not having the heart to fully push her, but Wonder didn’t move. Instead, she shifted closer and rested her chin on Ajax’s stomach. She looked up with those big, sad eyes and barked quietly. 

Ajax heaved a resigned sigh. Wonder copied her, and Ajax narrowed her eyes. “Quit that. You’re not cute,” she grumbled. Wonder barked again in the same quiet, pleading way. Okay, nope, no, Ajax was not doing that, she was not assigning human emotions to an animal. Instead, she made a face and patted the dog on the head. Wonder closed her eyes. Ajax gave her a gentle scratch behind the ears. “Maybe you’re a little cute.” 

The next day, the dog stopped following at Fox’s heels and started following Ajax instead. Ajax let her, throwing only a few grouchy looks at the animal as she went. Sitting on the couch later that night, petting Wonder as she curled up next to her, Rembrandt came up behind her and wrapped her arms around her neck.

“I knew you’d come around eventually,” she whispered as she kissed Ajax’s cheek. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Ajax mumbled. “I could get used to her.” 

She heard Fox cheer in the kitchen and failed to hide her smile. Rembrandt squeezed her shoulders. “You’re such a softy.” 

Ajax would have gotten up to protest, but she didn’t want to move Wonder. 

----

Ajax stood on the stoop of Cochise and Cowgirl’s apartment building, hands in her pockets, eyes downcast. The door opened, and Cochise came out with Wonder’s leash in one hand and a bag with her food and toys in the other. Ajax took them silently and looked down at Wonder.

She was no longer the emaciated, mangy creature Fox had saved from the dumpster so long ago. The missing patches of hair had grown back and she was a little plump from all the treats the Warriors gave her despite Ajax claiming it wasn’t healthy for her. She would never admit back then how much research she put into taking care of a dog, but she was glad for it now. Wonder sat dutifully by Ajax’s feet and looked up at her with wide, sad eyes. 

Of course, she would never know what happened. She would never understand. As much as they all treated her like a baby, she was still a dog. All she understood was that her favorite person wasn’t around anymore and hadn’t been around for a long time. Ajax wondered if she understood that her favorite person wasn’t coming back.

“Thanks for looking after her while I was gone,” Ajax said.

“Of course,” said Cochise. “How’s Rembrandt holding up?”

“Getting better, I think, if what Cleon told me is anything to go off of. Still won’t talk much. I’m hoping having Wonder around will help.”

“Yeah. I’m sure it will.” Cochise hesitated. “How are you-”

Ajax shook her head. “No. Not right now. Please. I… I can’t.”

“Okay. You know I’m here for you if or when you want to.”

“I know. Thanks, Co.”

“Anytime.” 

Cochise pulled her into a long, tight hug and gave Wonder a pat on the head before going back into the building. Ajax took a deep breath, scrubbing the tears from her eyes. She scratched behind Wonder’s ears and managed a sad smile as the dog wagged her tail. 

“Alright, girl. Let’s go home.”