#my one cat that has never been in the street and had the opportunity to hunt did it

[microfeelings]

Mystery of the day: just walked into the living room to my cat next to a dead bird. My cats are indoor cats, everything is closed off. I have no idea how the bird got in, and how my indoor cat that has never been able to succesfully hunt anything killed it...

[hellenhighwater]

May I ask you a potentially sensitive question (and please feel free not to answer if you'd rather not) but how did you come around to adopting Malice and Vice after your cat before them passed away. I lost my own cat, my baby boy, two years ago, and it seems an opportunity to have a new cat in my life has come up, and while I would love a new fluff in my life, I still have these feelings of ... wrongness? of sadness at the idea at the same time. I guess I'm asking, when you got your kittens, did you feel something like that? Is it something you wait to go away before welcoming a new pet into your life, or does it ever go away?

That's a really good, really hard question. I don't know that I can say anything objective about it. I can only tell you what it was like for me personally.

I love cats. I will probably have cats for the rest of my life, and I will adore each and every one, but none of them are ever going to be able to hold a candle to the Terror. She was just the best cat, and losing her was devastating. She was old, though, and I knew it was coming a while before it happened, so I had some time to start making peace before Nimitz actually passed.

There is nothing anyone could do or say that would have made that easier, and no new cat would have ever been able to replace her. I didn't want them to. I knew that losing Nim would gut me, and I decided that I would rather put that grief to work by taking in and caring for a cat that needed it. I had planned, actually, on an adult cat; Mal and Vice as kittens sort of fell into place accidentally. I didn't expect to feel less grief by having a new cat; I just wanted something to do with that feeling. I often find that I can't work through that kind of feeling until I've made something of it; I knew I wanted to make a home for another cat.

I still miss her. I think I will never not miss her; she was a phenomenal cat. I'm tearing up now, like I do every time I think about her for more than a few minutes. Taking in the kittens was almost...a tribute to her memory, I guess? The Terror was left on the street before she decided she lived with us; I think she would maybe appreciate the same being offered to other cats, now that she no longer has need of my home.

Malice is really nothing like Nimitz--there is a reason I mostly call her Meatball, but I think that for the rest of my life I will always have a black longhair, to keep just a shadow of the Terror of the Underbrush near.

[gay-dorito-dust]

❛ c’mon, we’d look cute together. ❜ promt with Aegon! I feel like he would be a little shit even to the ones he likes.

Summary: Aegon has been on your ass for a while now, so you barricade yourself within the library for a moment of reprieve.

Aegon Targaryen, second of his name, bane of your existence and a pain in your fucking backside. The twerp was like a thorn lodged in your side, too fickle to be removed by traditional means. For as long as you could remember Aegon had been your shadow, following you wherever you went whether that be the gardens, courtyard, library, kitchen, even to your own fucking chambers, Aegon was there with a smug smirk that you’d love nothing more then to wipe off by the means of your first to his face. His entire existence annoyed you to the point that you intentionally hide from him in whatever room was within the closest vicinity.

Once you hid in the library for an entire day knowing for certain that Aegon wouldn’t ever dare step foot in there; Especially when Aemond was known to occupy the library as though it were his chamber. The younger brother was made more then aware of Aegon’s incessant pursuit towards you by how often he would see you rush into the room; Slamming the door shut behind you whilst looking as though you had just set one of the dragons loose within the castle. “I have never, not once, ever seen my brother so determined about something before.” He said as he quickly finished reading a passage out of his book. “You haven’t slipped anything into his drink by any chance.” You only gave the prince a glare, “ha ha, very funny Aemond, don’t you think I would’ve done that just if it meant getting him off my arse for a fucking second?”

“Considering that this is Aegon we are talking about, I’m certain he’d rather be in your arse then on it.” Aemond put it bluntly, his lips graced with a small smirk when you groaned in annoyance, “all joking aside, I have never seen him this determined in perusing someone. It’s quite frankly horrifying to see him up so early.” Aegon was known to be a heavy sleeper, more so during his ventures out to the streets of silk; So seeing his brother get up anytime other then midday brought a lot into question for Aemond. The answer to all of his inquiries was currently attempting to blockade the door with a chair. “Well tell him to quit it or find another, less invasive method in perusing me before I end up hitting him where his future kids will most definitely feel it.” You replied, stepping back to view your work before turning your attention to Aemond who’s eye was gleaming in amusement.

“So your telling me there’s an slight window of opportunity for you to accept my brothers advances?” He hummed, his chin resting within the palm of hand as he caught onto the look of realisation that flash across your face as you recollected the phrasing of your prior words. “No I didn’t.” You curtly answered. “I’m afraid you did, sweet y/n.” Aemond taunted, thoroughly enjoying what he was now learning, “your putting words in my mouth.” You hissed as you turned to addresses the prince who looked about as smug as a cat in his chair. “Am I? Or are you in denial of the possibility that you do, in fact, like the attention my brother has been giving you recently?” You knew what Aemond was doing but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of getting under your skin, edging you to the point of an accidental confession; Mind games have always been his forte.

So you did what you could’ve done in that situation, change the subject and put him in the hot seat. “Why are you so invested in your brothers love life all of a sudden Aemond? Normally you wouldn’t give two shits with whom he fucks but right now your acting as though you were a gossiping lady of the court.” Aemond scoffs, fully aware of what you were doing. He didn’t blame you, forcing to admit favouritism towards his brother’s company was damming to one’s pride indeed. Even he has a hard time finding anything remotely favourable out of his brother’s company, especially ones that didn’t involve chasing him down the streets of silk and flea bottom whenever he were to allude his duties. “Oh please why would you-“ just as Aemond was about to finish his sentence, a voice from the other side of the door belonging to that of Ser Criston Cole.

“Prince Aemond, the Queen Alicent requests your audience.” You knew that Alicent didn’t liked to be kept waiting, so you walked over to the door and dislodged the chair from underneath the handle before suspicions were raised. “You wouldn’t want to keep the Queen waiting.” You told him, you see his eye linger on the stack of books on the table he was occupying and you sighed, “I’ll clear away your books, just get going.” Aemond wordlessly got up and crossed the room to the door, though not before casting you a thankful gaze before leaving the library with Ser Criston hot on his heels. With nothing else to do and no one else to talk with, you began clearing up and putting away books to their proper shelves which took you a substantial amount of time, and before you knew it afternoon had already fallen upon KingsLanding.

“I think I’ll head down to the gardens for a bit, just to stretch my legs and get some fresh air.” You told yourself for no other reason then verbal confirmation of what you were planning on doing as you stepped out of the Library, making sure to shut the door behind yourself before you were greeted with a pair of mischievously beautiful lilac eyes and a head of short platinum locks. “Aegon.” You breathed out, “what do I owe the pleasure of your company on this fine afternoon.” You continued through gritted teeth when the prince only smirked in response as he proceeded to grab a hold of your arm, linking it with his own before leading you both down the hallway. “No need to act so cordial towards me, I merely wanted to spend time with you today but couldn’t seem to find you anywhere. Little did I know you were tucked away in the library with my brother.”

The way Aegon’s voice seemed uncharacteristic towards the end made you look at him properly, just in time to see his lilac eyes darken with insecurity as his jaw subtly clenched whilst his grip on your hand tightened over yours absentmindedly. You almost completely forgot that underneath the facade was a boy born into a loveless family and crippling expectations; You almost felt upset for ignoring him, only to be rudely remembered that this was the same boy that tripped you over into a mud puddle and faked innocence along with the time he stole your clothes while you were bathing. How he had gotten in without you hearing his heavy ass breathing still alludes you and frightens you simultaneously. “Apologise my prince, I didn’t know my absence would affect you as much.” You replied, squeezing his hand.

“You can make it up to me by walking through the garden with me.” Aegon quickly suggested and when you didn’t reply fast enough for his liking, he began to whine and lean his weight into you. “C’mon, we’d look cute together, strolling through the gardens, hand in hand, arm in arm. Don’t you think?” Aegon at this point was on the brink of desperation. He hadn’t been lying when he said that he had been trying to find you, almost turned the red keep upside down in the process throughout the duration of his search for you. All he wished for is that he got to have your company even if it was for a short period of time. Aegon just wanted to let his guard down and the only way he could do that was whenever he was with you. So when you sighed and agreed to accompany him, the prince was practically dragging you do the hall with his long strides as you struggled to keep up.

Despite regretting your easy acceptance towards his offer, you found yourself looking upon Aegon’s face to see that the shadows of doubt and regret have retreated from his features and the worry lines usually seen across his forehead had subsided for far happier ones. If Aemond’s words from earlier were to be believed and that Aegon had been determined in being within your presence and how your body receipted to his…peculiar advances. Then yes, you might’ve favoured Aegon’s undivided attention being on you and solely you. The mere thought of being desired and sought after to the point it drives that person into desperation because of how sorely sought after you were. It made you feel things. It made you feel wanted. “You’re a brat you know.” You said softly as you rested your head against his shoulder, feeling the muscles within his body tense at your words, “however I’d rather you be my brat then anyone else’s. I’d want you to be my problem to deal with for the rest of my life.”

“As long as you be mine in return,” Aegon replied softer then usual, pressing a kiss to your head, “for now and for always.”

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

thinking about ivy who runs hot but polyvessels !!! iii gets a cramp in his leg? he gets ivy to massage it out with his warm hands. vessel who has frog hands (hands that are always cold)? hes holding ivys hand or slipping his hands under his shirt at any given opportunity. ii who cant seem to get warm in the winter? finds ivy immediately and is cuddling with him naked to get as much warmth as possible. you have bad cramps? youre getting ivy to rub your stomach and back.

just thinking (i have an ivy bias)

All the sleep token x ivy x reader

Warm hands

Look, sharing is caring. And what kind of friend would Ivy be if he didn’t share a gift of warm hands with the ones closest to him? It started as a joke at first. It was Vessel who had been blowing at his palms for as long as you all sat around ii’s garage writing music. “Fucking freezing”, he had mused in frustration. “It’s not that bad”, Ivy chuckled but once he was met with all of you glaring at him, he simply lifted his hands in defense, “My bad, balls are shivering in my underwear”.

He watched III wrapping both of his arms around you and II, bringing you closer to his chest. All seeking that extra warmth. That left him and Vessel, Vessel whose hands were nearly turning blue. Ivy put down his guitar and stepped closer to him. Vessel let out a little hiss once the warm hands touched his freezing ones. “Should have said you were that cold”, Ivy muttered, rubbing both of Vessel’s palms between his. “It’s nothing”, the lead singer grunted, watching as Ivy reached for the hem of his hoodie, slowly moving Vessel’s hands to lay alongside his lower stomach. The two males let the eye contact linger as Vessel slowly let his fingers trace shapes on Ivy’s skin.

iii never asked for help. That was just how he was. He handled it all by himself. iii thought that no one noticed when something was wrong with him but he couldn’t be more wrong. “What did you do this time?”, Ivy muttered, stepping out of the shower after watching iii limping across the bedroom the whole time. “What do you mean?”, iii frowned turning to face his bandmate. “Don’t bullshit me, long John. I have two working eyes, while you have only one working leg” Ivy sassed back, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the doorframe. “Well, you should see a doctor 'cause you are blind, mate”, iii grunted, turning away from him. “Iii, make it easier for both of us”, ivy cut in, walking closer to him, “sit”, he gestured to the bed. iii hesitated before following the orders. Ivy watched him trying not to frown as he sat down. Hands instantly reaching for the waistband of iii pants. “Hey”, iii grunted, wrapping his fingers over Ivy’s wrist. “Don’t be dramatic, I want to feel your thigh”, ivy rolled his eyes, fingers digging into the knots forming in the upper leg. “Fuck”, iii let out a deep sigh once Ivy’s warm fingers pressed into his flesh, “shit, that feels nice”, he whined, letting himself fall backward into the sheets. “Could have done it sooner if you weren’t acting like a little bitch”, Ivy snorted, making iii flip him off.

ii was a regular in Ivy’s bed. Just like iii he would go all mean about it. Bickering with ivy until he dragged him beneath the covers. Feral street cat ivy called him at times. Desperate for attention but not knowing how to ask for it. That’s how the two were now. With Ivy pulling the blanket higher up my shoulders. His cold feet pressed against Ivy’s warm skin. “Fuck you”, ii grunted, cuddling deeper into Ivy. “For what now?”, Ivy chuckled, rubbing his fingers through my hair. “For being so warm when we all are freezing all the time”, the drummer grunted, making Ivy chuckle, “I apologize, truly”.

You were as much of a regular as ii. Especially on your periods. By now Ivy knew your cycle to the tea so for most times even the pre-period cramps were chased away by his hands. But he was especially vital when it all got bad. He would slip into your room after you would miss dinner. And the sight of the dim room would tell him all that he needed to know. Making his way to you Ivy would slip into the bed, trying to disturb you as little as possible. Slowly letting his hands dig into your back at first, putting pressure on the lowest points.

“Ivy”, you would whine, face all scrunched up. “I know, gorgeous, I will make it all better”, he would breathe against your ear, slowly letting his fingers trail towards your stomach. Pulling the semi-warm water pouch away before replacing it with his palms. “Circles”, you mutter, leaning into him. “I know, baby”, he would do just that, putting that sweet pressure onto your lower stomach. “You try to sleep and I will be here”, kissing the side of your head, he would nuzzle closer, “No cramps will find you when I’m near”, and he would keep his promise, warming you up through the night.

[poraphia]

Maybe the soap opera drama has a tight grip on my braincells BUT

imagine siren with a love interest who keeps. Getting. Into. Bad. Relationships.

not BAD bad relationships, just— people that are kind of pricks. One guy accidentally leaves the door open and their cats escape (and he doesn’t give a single fuck, just keeps watching tv and when the reader comes home from work he’s like “oh yeah ur cats escaped a few hours ago”), another never shows up on dates, one is just an arrogant prick, the other is boring as hell and has nothing in common with the reader——

Just

that must STING for siren. Like—— he’s right there????? He’d never think that he would be ENTITLED to a relationship with the reader, NEVER— but why can’t he be your type??

10/10 angst for him id say

he can’t even convince himself that he would be BETTER for the reader because he’s a villain

idk

"i found your cat, not him."

➵ PAIRING! clinic!siren!wilbur x civilian!taken!reader

➵ CREATING! 12.17.23 | 3631 words

➵ CONTAINING! jealous wilbur, reader has a cat, reader has a bf, jester talking some sense into siren, heartbroken wilbur

➵ SAYING! this took some days to work on but look! it’s finally done! i had a lot of ups and downs and probably switched up the plot a couple times but here it is :D thank uuu @listenheresweaty for suggesting this honestly i was thinking about writing this the moment u suggested it and now i have free time so yippie. hope yall enjoy :D

My masterlist :)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

(y/n) had a reputation to have a terrible taste in partners. Whether it be a girlfriend that refused to take them on a date and made (y/n) plan all of the dates out, or the boyfriend they had now, who “accidentally” left the door open, letting their cat escape. Wilbur watched from the window as the desperate (y/n) approached any passerby, showing a picture of their feline, just to have any sort of direction as to where it might be.

Wilbur wasn’t a hero of any sorts. The clothes on his back were purchased with money robbed from the bank down the street, and the laptop he was using to do his work on was stolen from some tech store in the mall. And don’t even get him started on his body count that could fill a graveyard. His powers were venom dripping from his tongue, and he was nothing but a snake.

So what made Wil get up from his seat to tap the shoulder of a helpless (y/n)?

Maybe because this person was an interest of Wil’s for quite some time now. From seeing them inside the coffee shop from time to time, to even catching the glimpse of the back of their head as they boarded the bus— It was like this person was meant to be in Wil’s life. Though he just never had the excuse to go up to them. So instead, for weeks now, he has been admiring this person from afar, seeking for some type of opportunity to spark up a conversation.

“Hey.. Are you alright?” He asked. (y/n) turned around, a little out of breath from quickly speaking to anyone who approached them.

“Y-Yeah— no! No..” She sighed, breathlessly. They slumped against a nearby wall, almost defeated. “I— I lost my cat. She’s this sweet white ragdoll with a pink collar and big black eyes. My boyfriend left the door open and she just snuck right out! He said the cat’s been gone for a while now and he didn’t even bother helping.” They trailed off. “I know she’s here somewhere.. I don’t know..” They buried their face into their hands, frustrated with themself.

Wilbur looked at them with a tilted head and puffed up cheeks. Despite this being a stranger, he couldn’t help but feel a panging guilt in his chest. “Hey,” He placed a hand on their shoulder. “I think I might be able to find her.”

“..You think so?” They responded in a meek voice.

“I’m sure..” He replied in a gentle tone. “I usually work like really late in the city. Maybe I could find her on my way home? Just give me some form of communication and a picture and I’m sure I can find her.” He smiled reassuringly. (y/n)’s head perked up, and suddenly their face was beaming with hope. It was a look Wilbur wished he could screenshot with his eyes and keep it in his mind gallery.

“Thank you! You don’t know how much this means to me.” They gleamed. “Hold on— Let me give you my phone number. What was your name again?”

Something about this question made Wil freeze up a little. This complete stranger, telling him that he’s a good person, is also asking for his name? I mean, it’s not like its the first time someone asked his name. But being asked in such a kind and polite way, it almost took him back to when he first met Phil.

He shook his head, snapping out of his thoughts.

“Wilbur,” He finally said. “Call me Wil.”

After exchanging contact information they parted their separate ways. Wil decided to pack up his stuff and head back home. He took the train to his neighborhood and spent the whole ride staring at this picture of (y/n) with their cat he learned was named “Anvil.”

The picture was a selfie taken by (y/n) with Anvil pressing her fluffy face against her owner’s soft skin. It was a cute sentiment captured by their phone camera, and Wilbur knew it was a treasured picture of theirs. He took the time to admire the cat’s features. It had a mess of white fur, and would definitely stick out like a sore thumb in the midnight dark. The train came to a halt as it had arrived to Wil’s destination. It didn’t take but a fifteen minute to arrive home.

Wilbur inserted the keys into the doorknob before pushing the door open. He kicked the door behind him closed as he placed his coat and shoes by the shoe cabinet and dresser.

“Hey, Wil,” Phil called from the kitchen.

“Hey, dad.” He shouted back. Wil threw his bag onto the couch before sliding against the sleek wooden floor to the entrance of the kitchen. Phil’s wings were loosely hanging behind him as the man stir fried some ingredients into a wok. “What’s for dinner?” Wil asked.

“Oh, just some fried rice.” Phil shrugged. “Whatcha do today? Hang out at the cafe?”

“Ah, yeah, pretty much.” Wil said, leaning against the fridge. “I, uh, met someone today.”

“Oh?” Phil said, raising an eyebrow. “Someone, you say?”

“What— Hey! It’s not like that..” Wil rolled his eyes while crossing his arms. However that wasn’t enough to convince Phil.

“Well if you say so.” Phil smirked. “So, what happened?”

Wil turned around and grabbed a glass from the cabinet before pouring himself a glass of ice cold water. He took a sip before speaking. “Well, there was this person and— I’m not quite sure what it was about them but.. They had lost their cat, and I felt really bad, so I offered to help them. They sounded so kind and stuff, but like— Apparently their cat ran away because their stupid boyfriend decided to leave the door open?! And he didn’t ever bother to help—!” Wil took a deep breath before bringing the glass back to his lips.

“—Oi, what are you bitching about?” As if on queue, Tommy emerged from the stairs. His hair was a ruffled his mess and he stumbled a little as he walked as if he had just woken up.

“Oh, Wil is just upset about someone he just met losing their cat—” Phil tried to explain, but Wil was quick to butt in.

“They didn’t lose their cat! It was their damn boyfriend!” He corrected. “Like, for hours he even knew the cat escaped and he just let it happen?!”

“Uh oh, looks like big Wil over here is catching feelings!” Tommy snickered as he wrapped an arm around Wil’s neck.

“Ugh, stop—” Wil pushed him away, but Tommy was persistent with his teasing.

“Little Wilbur has a crushy wushy and will find that cat and propose to them OoOoOo!” Tommy chirped.

“—Dad! Tommy’s being a bitch!” Wil cried as he struggled to escape Tommy’s grasp. After enough pushing, Wil was able to shove Tommy away before forcing Tommy into a headlock.

“Hey! Agh— Get off me you big bastard!” Tommy exclaimed. But Wilbur stood firm as he restricted Tom’s limbs by embracing him tightly.

“Both of you stop playing in the kitchen! Now, go get Techno because the food is ready.” Phil ordered, sternly.

Reluctantly, Wil released his grip from Tommy. Tom rubbed his arms and gave a big side-eye look to Wil.

“Bitch.” Tom muttered.

“Tommy! Go!” Phil ordered again, leaving Wilbur a snickering mess as Tom did his walk of shame toward the steps.

After dinner with the Soots (and some convincing to the family that Wilbur was not in love with this stranger he had just met), Wil dressed in his disguise and entered the night as Siren, a profound villain known in L’manburg city. His first task at hand was to find Anvil in Eastside.

He sauntered through the night with his hands in his pockets and his eyes lurking the streets. The night was cold and quiet with only the hum of the streetlights occupying his ears. But his only goal was to listen to the sweet meow of a cat lost and frigid. Every alleyway he came across he made sure to go through it thoroughly, making sure that the cat wasn’t stuck in a garbage can or in a cardboard box.

“Fuck, where is this cat..?” Siren muttered under his breath. He began whistling, making any noise imaginable to summon the feline. To no avail, no cats came running his way. Instead, a rather confused Jester jumped down from a building and right in front of Siren.

“What.. Are you doing?” Jester asked. Though he was wearing his mask, Siren could already tell he was furrowing his eyebrows.

Siren scoffed before continuing to walk. “I’m looking for a cat.” He replied. “But I can’t find her anywhere. I’m supposed to get her before the morning so I can return it to its owner.”

Jester followed behind him, his hands behind his back. “And this is important because..?”

“I-It’s important to me!” Siren retaliated, but if anything, it made him seen more desperate.

Jester sighed before shaking his head. “Don’t tell me you’re doing this just to impress someone.”

“I-I don’t know man.” Siren finally admitted, though he continued looking left and right in an attempt to find (y/n)’s cat.

“Siren, you know we can’t be doing this— y’know, trying to date and all of that. We’re villains. What do we do if they find out, and the whole syndicate is reported? Plus, you know how we are. We’re ‘evil.’” Jester made sure to put the last word into air quotes. “At least to society we are. We have to face the truth—”

Though Jester’s words were going one ear and out the other, some of them still stuck in Siren’s head. Sure, this wasn’t the first time Siren wanted to form a close bond with someone outside of the syndicate— I mean look at Tommy. He adjusted comfortably. But I guess this time it was different. This was a complete stranger that he met as a civilian, and now he was out as Siren looking for their cat! The more Siren thought about, the more he felt foolish.

Suddenly, a loud meow could be heard from an alleyway just to the left of Siren. Jester ceased his talking and looked at Siren, who was staring at Jester right back.

“Is that the—”

“Shhh..” Siren brought his finger to his lips to quiet down Jester. Slowly, Siren approached the alleyway with Jester steadily following behind him. Lo and behold was Anvil, perched on top of a cardboard box that sat right on top of a garbage can.

“How’re you going to get it?” Jester whispered.

“Just watch.” Siren cleared his throat. He picked up a spare cardboard box that was lying around and held it up near ground level for the cat to easily jump into. “Anvil, come and sit in this box.”

A moment of silence passes between the three of them as the cat laid comfortably in her seat, not planning to move anytime soon.

“Uh, was that supposed to do something?” Jester asked sarcastically. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion.

“What the.. Anvil, come here now!” I demanded once again. As if taunting me, the cat simply licked her paws in response. Jester couldn’t help but to burst out laughing.

“Are you telling me your powers don’t work on cats?!” Jester gasped between laughs. “That’s fucking hilarious! Hopefully the Heroes won't find out about this one!”

“Shut up, dude!” Siren fussed at him. It took a bit for Jester to settle down his laughter with hands up out of protest.

“Sorry, sorry.. I just think it’s way too fucking funny.”

“Help me get this fucking cat, dude!” Siren exclaimed, clearly annoyed now. Siren turned around, now facing the cat again. He decided to kneel down to ground level with the box now on the floor.

Siren whistled to grab the feline’s attention. “C’mere, Anvil! Come here, buddy!” But the cat simply ignored the masked man.

“Hm, do you have a picture of the owner?” Jester asked.

“Oh, uh, yeah—” Siren took out his phone and tapped on a few things before pulling up the picture of (y/n) and Anvil. Siren looked at it one last time before showing the screen to Jester. He studied the face carefully, even grabbing the phone himself for him to examine.

Then with a simple head shake, Jester transformed his face into (y/n). It was an uncomfortable sight seeing their head on Jester’s body, but it definitely sparked the interest of Anvil.

“Come here, Anvil, come here!” Jester exclaimed as knelt down. Even his voice was near identical to (y/n). Obediently, the cat hopped off of the garbage can and into the arms of Jester, purring gingerly as she snuggled into his chest. I gave Jester an amused look as he smirked smugly.

“So, am I getting paid for this?” Jester asked as he carefully placed the feline into the box.

“To be fair, you volunteered to help. I didn’t ask.” Siren replied.

“Touche.”

Siren and Jester walked together until they were able to change into civilian clothes to avoid any conflict. It was important for Jester to maintain the face of (y/n) to keep the cat as calm as possible. Despite Siren knowing that it was just his friend and business associate under that form, he couldn’t help but stare at the face of (y/n). How their hair flowed as they walked and how their eyes glowed even under the moonlight. It felt too enchanting to even be real.

“Hey, you good bro?” Jester’s voice was the only thing to throw Siren out of his delusions.

“Yeah— yeah I’m fine.” Siren muttered, looking away. Jester rolled his eyes before sighing.

“Dude, what did I just say about getting attached to anyone?” Jester lectured once again.

“I— I know.” Siren replied defeatedly. “I know..”

“It’s dangerous for you, and whoever this—” Jester pointed as his own face. “—person you’re so infatuated with. It would be dangerous for not only you, but for them too. Imagine how much trouble they would be in knowing that they’re in relations with a supervillain.”

“I know, Jester!” Siren cried. The both of them stopped in their tracks. Even the cat laid still in it’s box. The midnight crickets filled the empty air between the two villains. “I get it— it’s too dangerous for me. It’s too dangerous for them. I’m evil. I’m going to put them in danger— I just— ugh!” Siren tilted his head back in frustration.

As he bit the inside of his cheek to hold back any bitter words he had the urge to say, Jester stood there and stared at him. It hurt even more seeing the person of interest saying these words to him. Jester quickly transformed back into his regular mask and placed a hand on Siren’s shoulder.

“Look man, I’m sorry..” Jester apologized. “I’m just worried about you, alright? Don’t want anything happening to you, especially what went down this past year.” Siren tilted his head back to look at him, and though his eyes were shielded, he could tell they were full of sincerity and reassurance.

“Yeah..” Siren voiced. “I guess I’m just tired. I don’t know. Let’s hurry home soon.”

“Alright.” Jester agreed.

The two were able to change out of their villain disguises in an abandoned warehouse without anyone noticing them. They then made their separate ways, leaving Wilbur and the cat in careful silence on walk home. Once Wil made it to the front door, he was careful in making up the steps to his room where he would keep the cat. Thankfully, he didn’t have to worry about disturbing anyone’s sleep considering that Phil and Techno were at a meeting and Tom could be quite the heavy sleeper.

Wil shut his bedroom door behind him and placed the cardboard box next to his closet. Though the cat was sound asleep now, he made sure to tuck in the feline with any spare blankets he had lying around before changing into his sleepwear and laying down in bed.

Wil pulled out his phone and texted (y/n).

Wilbur Hey, able to meet me at the cafe sometime tomorrow morning? I have you cat :)

Surprisingly, they responded.

(y/n) OMG really?! Thank you so much! I’ll see you tomorrow x

‘x’? Don’t those usually mean kisses? They probably just meant it in a friendly way. Or maybe they’re showing an interest in Wilbur? Nah, that can’t be possible. But what if? What if they’re interested in Wilbur?

Regardless of what (y/n) intended when they signed off with that little letter, Wilbur only slept a mere two hours.

The next day, Wil was ecstatic despite his lack of sleep. It was as if in a blink of eye he was in bed, but then the next moment he was scarfing down his breakfast and bolting out the door with Anvil’s box in his arms.

After all this time, he finally was able to do some sort of action to get (y/n)’s attention. To finally place himself in their field of view, and maybe, just maybe, they would have some sort of interest toward him. The thought made Wilbur’s heart flutter, making him feel like his body lifted which each step he took.

Wil had finally made it to the cafe, and right on time for that matter too. The building was just up-ahead. Wilbur took a deep breath, his chest pounding from adrenaline, anxiousness, and maybe a bit of excitement sprinkled in there as well. He looked down at the cat, who was previously buried in a sheet. She was now looking up at the man with big beady eyes staring right back at him. The charm to her collar clinked as it waved side to side.

“Okay, Anvil, I’m gonna return you to your owner now, alright? I-I’m sure she’s missing you.” Though he was just simply talking to a cat, this was (y/n)’s cat. And he was returning (y/n)’s cat! He was! Not some other kind stranger, not her family, not even her dirtbag boyfriend. It was Wilbur who would be returning this cat. Without him, Anvil wouldn’t be safe and sound in someone capable to protect a feline from the treacherous night.

With a proud smile, Wil approached the cafe with confidence radiating off his strides.

This was it, he thought.

This was it.

But was it?

He looked in the window to locate (y/n), but instead he found a sight more displeasing. the sight made his heart drop and his knees weak, but it took all his strength and awareness that he was holding a cat to keep himself steady. (y/n) was huddled up next to what seemed to be their incompetent boyfriend. Their head leaned against his shoulder, but the boyfriend did not return the affection. Instead he sat with his hands both placed on his phone, seemingly playing some idle shooting game to occupy his absent mind.

It took (y/n) noticing that Wil was at the window for Wilbur to break out of his mind. Their face beamed at the sight of their cat, and immediately they got up and rushed out of the door to greet him and her feline.

“Anvil, sweetheart!” They exclaimed. The cat immediately perked her head to face her owner before jumping out of the box and into (y/n)’s arms. Wil smiled contently at the sight, however his brain felt all kinds of fuzzy. As if he wasn’t really there.

“Thank you so much! You don’t know how much this means to me. Thank you, Wil, seriously!” Something about (y/n) saying his name made him wince. It felt like a hug before a stab in the chest. Regardless, he pushed through.

“Yeah, of course. I told you I would get her as soon as possible.” Wilbur said.

“You’re an actual lifesaver! I’m sorry if she put you through any trouble. Can I buy you a coffee or?” (y/n) offered. Though the offer was tempting, he didn’t feel comfortable spending another second seeing him and them together. Especially at such a close proximity.

“I-I’m fine,” Wil quickly muttered. “I have to go somewhere in a bit. I’ll catch you later, yeah?”

“Of course! Thank you again, truly.” (y/n) smiled. He simply nodded before turning and walking away.

Though Wil could argue that the man (y/n) calls their boyfriend is a prick, it’s not like he would be any better. Just like Jester said. That man could sit on his ass all day, not care for their cat, not care for them, and yet, he would still be the better option between him and Wilbur.

Wilbur is evil.

Wilbur is a villain.

Wilbur has killed countless living people compared to that prick killing digital npcs for fun.

Though, the argument stapled in Wil’s mind.

Wil found (y/n)’s cat. Not him.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

a / n ~ poor lil baby siren he just wants love :(( mayb ill do a part 2? i loved this concept ngl. notes of all kind are super duper appreciated :)) thank u for supporting my writing!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

I have a light one that’s kind of dumb.

🐶🐱

AITA for wanting a dog even though my sister/housemate does not?

To start, nobody is allergic to dogs or has a fear of them, she just doesn’t want it.

(if ages and gender are important, we’re both f in our early 20s)

I grew up on a farm with lots of animals. There were always cows, I had goats, there were chickens, ducks, barn cats and of course, 1-3 livestock guard dogs at a time.

When I was 16, I had a senior spaniel who had to be put down due to heart problems. Ever since I have been asking if I can have another dog but my parents have said no.

Around a year ago now I sold my goats and moved out of my parents house into an apartment. The apartment didn’t allow any pet bigger than my little gecko.

Then, about January, my older sister started messaging me with images of houses on a realtor site. So we looked at houses. I agreed to buy a house with her 1) so she could move out of our parents house and 2) because being by myself in the apartment with no real friends wasn’t really that good for my mental health.

To her credit, she did get a kitten from our farm and let me keep it, although I didn’t really want a house cat. The main reason I wanted a dog was for the amount of exercise it would need, and I would have to take it for long walks. Not to mention litter boxes aren’t my favourite thing to deal with. Still, I am glad I have a little animal to cuddle.

Additionally, most of the times when I bring up wanting a dog or getting a dog, it’s either in a jokey matter or it’ll be in contrast to something (for example there was a shady guy hanging around our street the other night and we don’t have an actual alarm for our house, so I went “yknow if we had a yappy little chihuahua it would be an alarm enough” or something like that) to which she will reply something short and growly along the lines of “you’re never getting a dog in my house”

Her reasons she gives for not wanting a dog? Number one, it’s “her” house. (It’s in both of our names, I paid half the down deposit and I pay half the mortgage and bills, and I pay for the Wifi. I’m not paying her rent, we both own it) Number 2, her friend is allergic to horses. (A friend that never comes over to our house anyway, and I understand fur allergies are complicated but it’s a dog. We aren’t anywhere NEAR horses! We live in town!) (this one is also BS because sister wants to buy a farm and have Clydesdale horses) Number 3, it sheds. We have a cat. The cat sheds more than the breeds of dogs that I really like or want. One of my favourites are the Xolo dog. Which has no hair. At all. Number 4, the cat is scared of dogs. (She isn’t. She’s never seen one in her life. I can get her used to having a dog around easily, even if she starts afraid. I’ve done it before when our parents have gotten new dogs around new cats.)

I’m not going to go behind her back and bring home a dog (even though there have been opportunities to get a free puppy multiple time) but I’m not going to stop wanting to have a dog or wanting to get one or talking about what dogs I like.

Our grandparents are moving to town and selling their farm next year, which sister wants to buy with me. I told her I’d like to move out of town into a farm, but only if she let me get either a dog or a donkey to protect our property against coyotes. (Especially considering we both want chickens if we get a farm)

She got really pissy at me about that, and stormed off. AITA here? I think she’s being a little unreasonable. I’m not a bad pet owner at all, I work with my animals as much as possible. I had my billy goat following me around the farm without a lead before I sold the goats, for pineapple’s sakes!

What are these acronyms?

[whorety-k]

Ebony Coasts [Part 6]

I'm sorry this took so long!! Between my busy life and wanting a quick change up so I could practice to make this chapter better, I definitely took my sweet time on this chapter. It's another long one but it was genuinely fun and I hope you all think the same. Thank you for your patience!!!

Pairing: Merfolk!Corvus Corax x fem!Marine Conservationist!Reader (second person POV)

Song recommendation: Witchcraft - Graveyard Club “It’s midnight on Main Street / and this town’s all asleep / But you’re still here with me / and I know that / Darling your love's like witchcraft.”

Warnings: Ocean mentions / potential thalassophobia, culture shock and misunderstanding between species, food, using the word chips instead of crisps because author is American, fluff

Word Count: 4.5k I AM SO SORRY

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 7 (NSFW)]

Waking up three hours later, sticky and crusted with salt was a lot less comfortable than the dreamy atmosphere you had drifted off to sleep in. Corvus was reluctant to let you leave to go home and change, but he recognized that there was no feasible way for you to clean yourself up while you were in his den; the salt water would have wedged sand into more unsavory places. You promised him it would only be thirty minutes to an hour before you would return and, after explaining what an hour was, he relinquished his protests and encouraged you to be safe. You leaned up on your tip-toes for a kiss goodbye, which the mer bashfully gave. 

The soothing stream of warm water coursing down your back makes you wonder just how difficult it would be to install a shower within Corvus’s cavern, before kicking yourself for the thought of modernizing any part of the beach that you’re technically supposed to be protecting. The thought of being able to live more readily with Corvus has your brain misbehaving. You hop out of the shower and towel off, changing into a significantly-less-saline outfit than you had been in previously. 

Before leaving your apartment, your eyes stray to the dusty picnic basket beneath your desk. For years, the woven wicker has sat unused and taunting you, waiting for its opportunity to see the light of day. The lack of luck in relationships previously had halted any usage of the item, but perhaps today was the day it finally saw usage. You grab the basket. 

But what to bring on a picnic with a literal merman? What does a giant fish-person like? You realize you have no idea where to start with him, so when you stop by your pantry you toss two random junk foods inside. Oreos and potato chips. Perfect. It still doesn’t feel like enough though, and you quickly check the time. You still have another fifteen or so minutes to make it back to the coast before Corvus should start to worry. On a whim, you toss the picnic basket on the passenger seat of your car and speed over to the only grocery store between your apartment and the coast.

You’re just as clueless and indecisive as you were at home, but now you were clueless and indecisive with options. The lady behind the meat counter gives you an uncertain look the longer you stare at the identical cuts of salmon. 

“If you’re struggling, the Alaskan wild-caught is a better–”

“-Thank you!” You don’t even let her finish before you’re throwing three filets into the shopping cart then speeding off, completely missing the stunned look she throws your way. You barely make sure to wrap them enough to hide the fishy smell.

In the checkout lane, you give in to the crow brain and grab a random rainbow bag of sour candy from the hanging, as well as a pack of four chocolate strawberries from a vendor outside of the store. Are mermen able to eat chocolate? Is it like a dog and cat scenario? You’ve never tried giving a chocolate bar to a fish. Wasn’t there someone who fed their fish Kitkats and it survived? Well, if he can’t have it, it’s just more for you. 

You slam the door to the Bronco and gun it for the beach when you arrive. With the picnic basket and a large blanket in hand, it’s not particularly feasible to make it down the cliff face, so you take the long way around. It’s only just been an hour, so hopefully–

A milk white limb wraps around your midsection and lifts you from the ground, causing you to drop your freight in the commotion. Corvus holds you like a kitten, a look of concern plain in his voidish eyes as he intently studies your body.

“You are not injured? It has been greater than an hour. Has something occurred?” He inquires, gently lifting and turning you as he looks you over.

You shake off the shock of being startled, simultaneously chuckling at the doting behavior and irritated with having been snuck up on again. “I’m fine,” you say, prompting the anxious mer to stop twisting you from side to side. Corvus relaxes and lowers you gently back to the sand. Once back on solid ground, you look down at your watch. An involuntary sigh leaves your lungs.

“Corvus.”

“Yes?”

“It has been an hour and three minutes.”

“Yes.”

“This? Over three minutes?” 

The merman nods his head, that stoic expression never once faltering. “I worried for your well being.”

Realizing that pressing the matter will get you nowhere, you decide to find the action endearing. When you step to the side to pick up your fallen items, Corvus quickly beats you to it, relinquishing you of the blanket and grabbing the picnic basket before you even have the chance to turn around. It looks comically small in his large hands, cupped like a ball. 

“Are we returning to the den?” Corvus asks, readying himself to head that direction. He slides past you, shielding you from the focused rays of the looming sunset. 

“That depends,” you start, placing a hand on one of his ebony side fins. The giant stops, twitching from the contact. “How do you feel about trying some human foods?”

Corvus stops, glancing down at you before his attention turns to the basket in his hand. He lifts it to his nose and sniffs at it, and you resist cooing at how cute his ear fins look when they subtly perk up. “I am not opposed to it, however…” His head turns to the horizon, looking out over the waves. 

The setting sun casts the sky in a brilliant red, leftover clouds from the earlier storm reflecting the light in a kaleidoscope of pinks, oranges, and yellows. The charcoal rocks of the cliffside bleed into sandstone, cast coral in the dying glow. Lava flows of sand quench in the dusky ocean waves.

“It’s perfect,” you interrupt, grabbing the blanket from his clawed hand. Corvus turns back as you march to the embankment and set up the massive blanket. He watches happily (for someone so usually reserved) as you buzz around like a bee, trying your hardest to get it flat on the sand. Mercifully, the giant holds a corner steady to help you lay out the swath of cloth. When you come back for the picnic basket, he already has it lowered to your level for easy access. 

“Get on,” you say, patting the blanket and folding your arms to wait. Corvus spares you a final glance before he carefully slides his way onto the cover, the translucent black fins of his magnificent tail reflecting the threads beneath them. He rests his back against a smooth face of the cliffside and hums his contentment. Enthusiasm at the mer’s comfort thrums through your veins.

Unfortunately, the blanket that’s normally so large on you is nothing compared to the large fins of the black mer. There’s no room for you to sit with him, so you start to kick a clearing beside him for you to sit beside him instead. “I didn’t have a blanket larger than this, so–” 

“Would you like to sit on my tail?” Corvus extends a hand towards you, offering you a way to climb up onto him. He adjusts to create a flatter surface.

The marine biologist in you screams ‘I thought you would never offer!’, but the polite person in you wins and instead asks, “Are you sure?” Corvus bows his head and calmly helps you clamber up onto his tail, holding the picnic basket in one hand as he steadies you with the other. He’s cautious to set you low on his lap, below the fins that adorn his waist. You resist touching them, lest you get (literally or figuratively) thrown off of the tail you were just allowed to sit on.

You reach for the picnic basket and Corvus places it before you, allowing you to trifle through it. Strategically, you keep the salmon hidden in the cold compartment at the bottom beneath some ice, drawing out the bag of oreos. A gentle hand rests upon your thigh as the mer watches.

“So these are called Oreos,” you explain, holding one up for Corvus to see, “They’re sandwich cookies with cream in the center.”

Corvus nods as if he understands and scents the item, before opening his mouth to take it. He wants you to feed him you realize, and you carefully place the cookie on his tongue, avoiding his sharp teeth. The cookie is gone with a few crunches. You use the moment to take an oreo for yourself: sweet filling and crunchy cocoa, just as you remember. 

The mer isn’t as receptive, nose minutely scrunching as he swallows. You laugh at the face he makes. “Are all humans so fond of sweetened chemicals?” Corvus asks, clearing his throat. 

“Some. Not everyone’s a fan,” you reply.

Corvus nods, thinking for a moment. The dwindling light of the dusk has come to a near end, pale moonlight glittering over his visage as his head bows near to yours. Eventually, the mer comes to a conclusion, “The ‘cookie’ half was fine, but I did not enjoy the filling.”

“You’d be surprised how many people agree with you on that,” you note, lean forward to place a kiss on his cheek—

Corvus places a hand over your mouth as he abruptly perks up, stilling completely. His head snaps to the side, eyes glaring in one direction: the rocks in the shallows. You feel the brush of soft flesh before his tail completely blocks your view.

“Is everything okay?” you whisper into his hand, trying to lean around it.

He doesn’t let you. “We are being watched,” Corvus deadpans, eyes fixed on the same invisible spot in the distance. He doesn’t comment further, but his hand moves to your back to curl around you protectively.

The lack of reaction from Corvus and the uncertainty of the situation sets your mind racing. Watched? Watched by what? By who? Are there other humans nearby, looking upon the merman with uncertain eyes, calling the authorities? Your heart begins to palpate in your chest, thumping against your ribcage like a drum. Something’s going to happen to Corvus and it’s going to be entirely your fault, having gotten the mer comfortable with your presence and having him sit out in the open like this. Corvus is going to lose his freedom and his blood is going to be on your hands—

“At ease, little gem,” Corvus calls to you, stroking a soft knuckle down your spine, “You are in no danger.” You snap up to look at him, seeing his midnight eyes now peering down at you. You take a deep breath, and the pounding in your chest slowly begins to steady. 

Corvus’s eyes turn back to the shoreline, a swish of his feathery bangs revealing just how furrowed his eyebrows are. He looks disappointed, and you wait for an explanation. With a sigh, he offers, “It is nothing more than someone not knowing that I would prefer privacy.”

A slight droop in his tail allows you to finally see into the partially-illuminated waters. You strain your eyes to find whatever Corvus has been staring at, looking between jagged rocks and soft swells, but absolutely nothing reveals itself to you. Confused, you ask, “Where are you looking?” Corvus doesn’t answer, but eventually you take the hint to follow his eyes to another rock. Still, you see nothing.

The giant startles you by calling something out loudly in a language you do not understand, but finally you notice what he’s been staring at. What you had been fully convinced was just a normal rock lifts itself from the water, revealing a wall of black metal before removing a beak-like helmet. Pale skin begins to reflect the moon’s rays back at you, framed by a mop of black hair straight out of 2005’s top emo bands. As it approaches, you’re surprised to see that it looks strikingly similar to Corvus himself: a large frame with a betta-like tail that’s a tad more narrow, but still visibly powerful. This mer is shorter than Corvus by a substantial amount, but still definitely much larger than you are.

It– He, you believe, converses with Corvus in that unfamiliar tongue the entire time he comes closer, awkwardly dragging himself forward in sand until he’s within a few feet of your blanket. You think Corvus is asking this new mer a few tense questions, based off of the scolding tone of his voice and guilt in the new mer’s eyes, but any communication is lost on you. When Corvus fully lowers his tail, you see the new mer’s eyes widen, but it restrains from any further movement. Corvus finishes whatever conversation he was having and directs his attention back to you eventually with a call of your name.

“This is Shadow Captain Kayvaan Shrike,” he says to you, gesturing a hand in Shrike’s direction. You introduce yourself, unsure if he understands you, and hesitantly reach a hand out towards Shrike for a handshake. He stares at it dumbly, until Corvus mutters something to him in their shared language and Shrike gently takes your hand in his. Incorrectly, just as Corvus had. You’re beginning to notice a trend with the seafolk, and you would call it cute if it wasn’t for the unquestionable strength in the hand over yours.

Corvus directs another inquiry at Shrike, and Shrike takes his hand back to point behind you. Before you can fully turn around, a new voice incredibly near to your head causes you to all but fling yourself off of Corvus’s tail. The giant mer catches you and your picnic basket with a huff, turning his head to address the second newcomer. You follow to see another pale face looking at you inquisitively, standing adjacent to Corvus. He bears similar armor to Shrike, but instead of a shaggy swoop, he wore a slicked-back mohawk. All three merfolk possess the same blacked-out eyes.

“Nykona,” Corvus grunts, before delving into another scolding. ‘Nykona’ doesn’t wear the same kicked-puppy expression Shrike did, instead continuing to observe you in silence. His gaze carries the intensity of someone who has seen and done things in his lifetime that you wouldn’t be able to stomach, sending shivers down your spine. At the end of Corvus’s speech, he gives a simple response and a nod.

Your mer finally turns back to you and directs you towards ‘Nykona’, saying, “And this is Nykona Sharrowkyn, Mor Deythan. Both he and Kayvaan are Astartes.” You have no idea what the second half of that means, but you acknowledge it anyway. You opt to cling to your basket instead of offering a handshake to Nykona, checking the inside contents to make sure they’re alright. Everything appears to be in place.

Nykona and Shrike shift to listen to Corvus speak again, that rhythmic guttural vaguely similar to what it sounds like to list a species’ proper name. You try to make sense of it, but only occasionally do you pick up on names.

The quiet exchange continues on for a fair while longer, before a fantastic idea causes you to jolt upright. Each of the raven-colored merfolk look at you, and you beam at them. 

“Do they want to try some human food?”

Corvus had to set a few ground rules with the Astartes, and he had gently placed you down upon the blanket before explaining that it should only take a short moment. 

It did not, in fact, take a short moment.

Shrike and Nykona seemed to have an interrogation of their own for Corvus, but in the end, you were actually grateful for the opportunity to see how merfolk interacted with each other. Perhaps it was just these individuals, but they were incredibly formal with each other by your human standards. Respectful distances, no yelling, what seemed like actual discussion. You dare say that Corvus was affectionate with them the way a father was with his sons, reassuring any perceived outburst with a hand on the shoulder and gentle words. The two smaller mer even doff their armor, broad in build even without the augments. You avert your gaze respectfully.

Eventually, Corvus seemed content with the state of things and led the two newcomers back over to you. Corvus curls around your back protectively, leaning against the cliff face again. Nykona makes his way to your right, resting his front on the comfortable blanket while his tail remains on the sand. Shrike has no qualms sitting on the blanket directly beside you.

A strongly-accented voice prods about the basket. “So we are eating what’s in there?” Shrike asks, head tilted like a curious dog. 

“Oh! Yes, that’s the plan.” You had no idea whether or not the ‘Astartes’ could understand you, let alone respond to you, so the question comes as a surprise to you. You open the basket, showing him the contents. 

Shrike inspects them, then reaches within to pull out a package: a desaturated baby blue with a potato chip on the cover. The captain sniffs at the bag and is confused when he can’t smell much outside of the plastic. “I have seen these floating in the waves before, but they are not often sealed.”

The sentence makes you frown, and you gesture for him to hand you the bag of chips. “Not every human cares about the ocean the way I do. They’ll eat the contents and leave the trash behind. It’s awful behavior.” You pull the sides of the bag open to reveal the salt-and-vinegar chips within. The acrid smell of vinegar makes all three of the mer recoil with varying intensity when you happily pop a chip in your mouth. 

In an attempt to ease them into the other foods, you withdraw the strawberries. The smell of the sweet chocolate coating catches their attention instantly, and Corvus, despite all of his politeness, doesn’t wait for you. He tears open the clamshell with a gentle claw and plucks one of the large confectionaries for himself. You give him a playful glare before you take your own berry, noticing that a second is already missing. Nykona chomps away at his from the edge of the blanket.

Only Shrike dares to take a chip from the bag, both Corvus and Nykona passing up the offer politely. Each of you watch as the pungent acidity and saltiness causes the Astartes to wince, gills fluttering awkwardly as he breaks into uncomfortable coughs. Shrike spits the chip out into the sand with groan, wiping off his tongue. You place a hand on his shoulder to comfort him through it, and you’re surprised to see it actually seem to ground him. So is he, by the way he gently pushes your hand away. When Shrike is calmed down enough to focus on another food, he reaches for the remaining strawberry– then lets out a short growl. Shrike’s eyes instantly snap over to Nykona.

Nykona, rather contently, chews on Shrike’s allotted berry. He wears a face of perfect nonchalance.

Corvus covers you protectively with a hand as Shrike glares down his fellow Astartes, but you break the tension by offering Kayvaan your berry. He looks down at the strawberry reluctantly, eyes flicking between it and your patient face. Tentatively, Shrike takes the berry and plops it whole into his mouth, and the instant relaxation in his eyes makes giving up your treat worth it. 

You feel a gentle rumbling against your back, and you look up to see the tender expression Corvus casts your way. A careful hand places itself at your shoulders and strokes the muscles there, and you return the soft look. 

Nykona crinkling the rainbow bag of candy pulls you from the moment. “These are sweet too. I can smell it,” he mutters, using a claw to open the larger bag and spill out the individually wrapped pieces within. 

Warheads. You had bought Warheads. You may have loved Warheads, but you seriously doubt they would given the collective reaction to the salt-and-vinegar chips. 

Nykona picks up one of the packaged candies and makes an unreadable face, with Shrike following suit. You take one for yourself and Corvus, offering it up to your betta. 

“These are called Warheads. They’re sour candy, so they’re not really for everyone, but I like them.” After your brief explanation, you show each of the boys how to open the packaging and plop the hard candy into your mouth. The instant burn on your tongue causes you to shiver, but after a bit of intense salivation, it quickly gives way to the sweet candy underneath. 

The hesitation on each of their faces is clear, but after Corvus places the candy in his mouth, the Astartes follow suit. 

You’re surprised to see each of the merfolk maintaining a straight face. Honestly, you had expected each of them to absolutely hate the taste. Hell, most humans hated the taste of warheads because of the extreme burn of sour each of them packed. It was a pleasant surprise to know that Corvus and his… pod(?) must enjoy sour candy—

A shuddering choke to your left catches your attention. Shrike breaks first, letting out an uncomfortable hiss of air and shaking his head, hair covering his face. A groan from your right, and Nykona is removing the warhead from his mouth, dropping the sticky sugar onto the blanket with a less-than-amused look. You only just notice Corvus reach up and take the Warhead off of his tongue, holding it between his claws and frowning at it. 

He looks at you with sad eyes, “That was… unpleasant.”

It’s enough to break you into a fit of hysterics, throwing your head back against Corvus’s tail as your core shakes with laughter. Each breath wheezes out of you uncontrollably, limbs feeling gooey as you sink further and further into the blanket. 

No one else seems as amused.

Once you get yourself mostly under control, you fall forward onto your hands and knees and reach into the basket with unsteady hands. The merfolk watch as you rummage through it and pull out the hidden salmon filets from within. With pride, you present the orange meat towards the sky.

You don’t even see each of them move– you can only feel the air move around you before your hands are completely empty. The tang of fish fills the air from every direction, then the wet sound of teeth ripping into flesh. You could only describe the scene as feral, sharks tearing into unsuspecting seals in an attempt to wash the taste of the warheads out of their mouth. Only to another marine biologist could you describe it as “cute.”

Corvus wipes off his mouth as he finishes, a soft huff of relief leaving his gills. He gives you a pensive look before his hands snake beneath your arms, lifting you up and drawing you close. You hold yourself against him with a hand on his chest as he adjusts his grip to support your weight better, missing the look the giant casts to the other mer. Movement behind you causes you to look over your shoulder, and you’re surprised to see Nykona and Shrike completely clad in their armor once again, Shrike’s white helmet making him easy to identify in the low light. Both Astartes salute Corvus, hands crossed over their chest, before slithering back towards the ocean. You wave at them in goodbye, receiving a nod of acknowledgement as they go.

Corvus bends down to gather your blanket and basket, cradling you to shield you from the change of gravity then starting off in the direction of his den. With Shrike and Nykona gone, a warm silence fills the air. You smile up at your black betta, and he returns it. You glance back towards the water.

You can't help but wonder more about their relationship, and you make it known, “I know their names, but who are they?” 

Corvus trails your glance towards the sea. “Nykona and Kayvaan are my sons.”

His words drop like a bombshell, and you freeze. The thought that Corvus has sons fills you with unease and… jealousy? Sure, you know Corvus has a life outside of yours, and you knew that he had one before you were around, but the thought still does terrible things to your heart.

Corvus can smell the dismay on you, and as soon as you two are within the safety of his cavern, he drops the items he’s carrying. He uses his freed hand to lift your chin, tilting your head to look up at him, “Do not be troubled. They are only my sons in name…”

You find relief in his reassurances, but the way he trails off leads you to feel suspicious once more. You know there’s more he has more to say, and you motion for him to go on. Corvus’s jaw tenses.

“They are made with my genetic material, but I had no hand in making them myself.”

Well that statement causes distinctly more heretical thoughts that you have to force yourself to tamp down. It still doesn’t explain very much, instead replacing your former question with less tasteful ones. With a shake of your head, you admit, “I still don’t understand.”

“It is better that way,” Corvus sighs and continues carrying you all the way into the bedspace, sequestering you both somewhere private. It comforts him to have you completely to himself without anyone to intrude on the moment. 

Perhaps there are better times to be a biologist, you reason as Corvus settles the two of you into the bed of furs, placing you on the un-scaled half of his lap. You look up at him with hearts in your eyes, leaning forward to rest against his cold chest. The sensation of something metal digging into your sternum causes you to sit up, looking down your shirt. You move to shift your raven necklace out of the way so you can lean against Corvus more comfortably, but your hand catches on a second necklace that you don’t remember putting on.

Cautiously, you withdraw the pendant and turn it over it in your hand, examining the teardrop of metal cradling a familiar black pearl. Warmth blooms in your cheeks as you gaze up into Corvus’s eyes.

That handsome face of carved alabaster smiles down at you expectantly.

----------------------------------------

these two pictures had me dying laughing

this is permanently in my search history now because I was also curious

I tried to base Kayvaan Shrike off of pre-heresy, as well as Nykona, but it can be difficult with such little source material so they definitely have aspects of their later personalities.

If you don't want smut, it's perfectly feasible to stop after this chapter!! This story can comfortably conclude here :)

If you do want smut, though, please enjoy:

[Part 7]

[tessiex17]

MY CHILDREN I HAVE PROVIDED YOU WITH ANOTHER RAYMAN FIC

You will be happy to hear that this is a 2 parter (second part is in development) since this is infact already 2,147 words WHICH IS KINDA LONG FOR ONE CHAPTER

This does have a fem reader BTW!!!

Short description: set when rayman is attending collage in America before he became famous and he gets invited to a party where he meets y/n

(Also if there are any mistakes/errors in my spelling PLZ let me know as written helps me improve with my dyslexia so any feedback will be amazing 😋)

Tw: alot of swearing, smoking and alcohol, abusive behaviour

"What am I doing?"

Rayman muttered to himself regretfully as he walked down the cold grid iron streets to the address the party was supposedly located. Rayman has always been a social creature, he loved the idea of meeting new people and going on adventures with them but that mindset had been slowly chipped away during his time in America. Specifically American school. He struggled to make social connections in his classes and was quickly deemed an outcast by his peers which was heart breaking for Rayman because he know it was only because he was alien, the people that liked to make fun of him made that fact pretty clear. It was something he couldn't change and even though he didn't choose to look the way he does or be where he's from he still got hate for it and he never really understood why.

Which is why he was shocked when he was invited to a house party by one of his class mates. He just knew he couldnt miss this opportunity to finally mend his social status and make a friend! Which leads him here. Walking towards the door of a house he's never been at before. He let's out a Sigh before raising his fist and firmly knocking the door. He knew he was at the right place, the sound of music and enthusiastic people could be heard quite clearly through the door (it made him almost feel bad for the neighbours).

Before rayman had the chance to knock once more the door swung open revealing the very drunk but very happy class mate that invited Rayman in the first place

"BROOO! You made it! I thought you where gonna be a no show"

The class mate ushered rayman in shutting the door behind him.

"Hehe what can I say, im a man of my word"

Rayman chuckled slightly nervous but intertained by how friendly his class mate was being. He finally takes a look around the house to see that this party was a lot bigger than he thought. There was at least 10 people in each room. Some where in groups chatting away to eachother, some where playing drinking games and others where dancing. A small smile started to grow on raymans face. Everyone seemed to be having fun so it shouldn't be so hard for him to join in right?

"If you wanting a drink feel free to grab whatever you want in the kitchen!"

The drunk class mate spoke a lil more slurred but still sounding enthusiastic. Rayman just gave him a smile and a small thanks before watching him stumble back to a group of people he must have been previously chatting with. 'Now what?' Rayman asked himself as he looked around anxiety curling in his gut like a snake. Does he just go up and chat to someone? He decides before doing anything he should take his coat off which he then hung up on the pegs by the door. He walks further into the house seeing people having fun. ' they make it look so easy' he thought to himself sullenly but a small creature in the corner of his vision distracts him from his thoughts.

"A cat!"

Rayman says aloud to himself before following the cute Calico cat into the kitchen. He doest pay much mind to the people as they seem to be talking amongst themselves. He crouches down In front of the cat petting it gently

"Arnt you just a sweetheart~"

He cous while scratching behind the cats ear. He spots a purple collar and a little silver name tag around the cats neck reaching for it to find out what the cats called. He flips the little silver tag and reads it

"Well hello kaya, aret you a cutie~"

Kaya looks at him Acknowledging he is speaking to her. She let's out a high pitch soft meow that makes rayman chuckle. He always loved animals.

"Of course your making friends with the animals considering you practically are one"

A voice filled with poison and Sadistic Humor spoke from behind him. He looked away from the cat and up to the owner of the voice. It was a guy in a very generic outfit and a blue hat.

"Excuse me?"

He spoke confuse hoping maybe the guy was meaning it as some sort of distasteful joke? Oh lord how he hoped.

"Who the fuck invited this thing to the party!"

Blue hat guy shouted loudly while pointing at rayman looking around the room as he did so. A few people began to giggle and rayman could feel all hope for having a fun night disappear.

"I'm not a 'thing' dipshit!"

Rayman retorted embarrassment making his face feel hot.

"Well what are you then huh?"

He leaned in close to raymans face. There was a short moment of silence before he continued

"Because all I can see is some sort of alien freak!"

The smell of alcohol was reaking from his breath. Rayman didn't like how close he was. How angry he was getting the more he talked. He opened his mouth to speak.

"I-"

"What the fuck is your problem!"

An angry feminine voice spoke causing both rayman and the drunk guy to turn and face her. She stormed towards the both of them before pushing the drunk guy away from rayman.

"You asshole!, what gives you the right to speak to anyone like that!"

Oh lord was this girl mad. Rayman looked up at her in disbelief as she shouted at the guy who was previously insulting him. Was she defending him? She stood tall in front of rayman making sure she was blocking him out of the drunk guys line of site.

"Hes a fucking freak just look at him!"

The drunk guy slurred his words trying to justify his point but the scowl on the girls face just grew deeper.

"Your fucking disgusting"

She spoke lowly to him

"Thinking you have the right to speak to somone like that, do you think your better than him because he's not from here or something?"

She asked with genuine confusion In her voice

"Is that why? Do you feel more entitled than him because he looks different from you?, because if that's the case then that sound pretty fucking racist if you ask me"

She quirks her brow as if asking a question. He stays silent but his anger is clear on his face

"Men like you disgust me"

She spoke her words laced with anger before she turned around and faced rayman. She jerked her head to the side indicating towards the door

"Let's go"

She said kindly to Rayman who looked up at her like she was some sort of godess that saved him. He nodded quickly before grabbing his jacket and following her outside.

"Well that was a shit show"

He muttered to himself while following after her. She made her way to the sidewalk before taking a seat on the edge of it. She looked over to rayman and patted the place next to her offering him to sit down which he does. The air is chillie enough to see your breath as a moment of silence fell apon them. She pulled a packet of cigarettes out her pocket before offering one to him which he decides to take.

"Thank you..."

Rayman spoke timidly.

"Not just for the cigarette obviously but for everything that went on in there"

That got a little giggle out of her. She brought the cigarette up to her lips taking a long inhale of it.

"It's okay, that guys was being a prick"

She faced rayman with a slightly sullen expression.

" I'm y/n, I don't think I got your name?"

"It's rayman... thank you y/n"

She chuckled again a small smile growing on her face.

"You've already thanked me"

She spoke sweetly

"besides I couldn't just stand and watch. That guy was being cruel for literally no reason"

"People stand and watch all the time"

Rayman spoke sadly but honestly his eyes avoiding hers

"Your the first person who hasn't..."

He looked back up at her to see her intently watching him. There was something behind her eyes he couldn't quite place. Anger?, sadness?, he wasn't sure but he just knew that the feelings weren't directed at him.

"Don't say that man, your gonna make me cry"

She joked half heartdly the sound of her voice wavering was clear.

"Oh nonono!, im so sorry!"

Rayman spoke in a panic

"I wasn't trying to upset you-"

"No no, don't worry!"

She placed a finger over his lips in order to get him to stop talking. He's silent. Pleading eyes staring up to gentle one's as she moves her hand away from his mouth.

"It just makes me upset that nobody was willing to help you before. Don't feel like you need to sensor yourself for my benefit"

She spoke softly to him. Rayman was starting to feel like he didn't have to be so much on edge now that it was just them two alone which was new for him. Usually he had to be more alert if hes gonna be by himself with somone. Even thought he didn't know y/n that much he still felt safer alone with her than back in the house. She took a deep drag from her cigarette and so did he.

They sat there together for a while. Talking and laughing between cigarettes and alcohol. Y/n decided to share a good few bottles of her own alcohol with rayman. It wasn't the nicest of drink but it was good enough and strong too. It didn't take long for the both of them to be intoxicated. They where sitting closer together now the alcohol making them loose the concept of personal space as they chatted.

"Hey this place blows, why don't we go back to my place?"

Y/n suggested as she took another swig out her bottle

"We have been sitting outside getting drunk ourselves, would be warmer at yours too"

Rayman spoke semi to himself as he pondered on the idea

"Kmonnnn~"

Y/n whined as she grabbed one of raymans shoulders and shook him playful chanting "My house! My house!" Over and over while laughing

"Okay okay!"

Rayman laughed placing his hand ontop of the one y/n placed on his shoulder in hopes it would get her to stop shacking him

"It is better than staying outside the party we kinda just walked out on"

He chuckled as he stood up reaching a hand out for y/n to help her up. She takes it as rayman pulls her up onto her feet. Y/n thanks him before giving herself a big stretch followed by a pleased groan

"Ahh~ Alright!, let's go!"

She glanced over the floor making sure she didn't leave anything behind before looking at rayman a smile spreading across her face.

"We're actually not that far from my house probably like a 10-15 minute walk roughly"

She tilts her head a little to see if raymans okay with that. He gives her a smile and a goofy thumbs up.

"All good, lead the way!"

He smiled enthusiastically. Y/n just laughs before turning around and walking down the street. She checks over her shoulder to see if rayman is following and motions with her hand for him to catch up. Rayman jogs up next to her before sticking to a walking pace. He doesn't know if it's the alcohol or not but he's having more fun tonight than he has in a while but whatever it is he doesn't want this good feeling to go away. Then suddenly y/n gasps

"Oh my god! I just released somthing"

Y/n spoke in a shocked voice

"What is it?"

Rayman look up to her worried as they walked.

"I can order McDonald's!"

Rayman playful hits her shoulder while chuckling

"You bitch, I though you where gonna say something serious"

"I am serious!"

They both laughed as they walked

"Somthing to eat does sound good though"

Rayman agreed and nodded with this idea they began cooking up

"I just want food"

Y/n whined as she walked down the street and before they knew it they where at her house.

"Home~ glorious home~"

Y/n sung aloud to herself while approaching the door making rayman chuckled in amusement. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her key sticking it into the door and opening it. She stood to the side of the door before doing a little bow while gesturing rayman to enter

"Ladies first?"

She teased as rayman walked by rolling his eyes but the smirk on his face was hard to hide. She chuckled at his lack of a reaction before closing the door behind them

End of chapter 1

So what did u guys thinkkkkk 😋😋

I gave the reader and rayman a silly lil dynamic bc I love bammy interactions I think it's so funny so I made them bams

If you have any feedback LMK and i wanna hear ur opinions of if it should stay platonic between rayman and the reader or should I make it more romantic 🤭

THANK U FOR READING IF U MADE IT THIS FAR XOXO

[bonefall]

who is a character that you love in BB (for better or for worse lol) that you haven’t talked much about yet?

These kinds of questions can be difficult because my brain will just forget completely the minute I'm asked. Who am I. What's warriors cat

BUT it's probably some of the little random background guys who have interesting stories I haven't gotten into yet. I've actually been thinking about WindClan a lot.

Galerunner is one of them. Galerunner and Smokehaze are now the kittens of Brushblaze and Whitetail-- both exes of Onestar. They're born near the start of AVoS, and are pretty young when their dad dies collapsing a tunnel to save a ton of Kin escapees.

Smokehaze dies like she does in-canon, to the Impostor, but Galerunner is going to be present to the modern arc. He's Heathertail's little half-brother, in an odd way. Whitetail wasn't involved in raising Heathertail, but openly offered to Onestar that she would if he wanted.

So Heathertail's relationship to Galerunner is closer than her relationship with their mother, bringing them ALL together, and it's just really sweet. She tells him a lot of stories of Brushblaze (who was a really good friend of hers!) and eventually becomes his mentor.

Gale's a cheeky bastard, too. Very smug, self-assured. He thinks he's a cool guy but he just looks like a goober.

There's also Gorsetail, the mother of Thistleheart and Sedgewhisker. She has a lot going on but I haven't figured her out entirely yet.

First of all, she's Crowfeather's childhood best friend. They had a massive falling out over some dumb shit neither one of them even remembers, and drifted apart as young adults. If they ever remembered what it was, they would feel bitter that THIS is why they stopped talking-- but before a certain point, would just blame each other for not making the first move to reconnect.

She fell head over heels for Beechfur on the Great Journey, but he was waaay better at hiding his forbidden love than his sister Swallowtail. He saw it more as a fun fling. When she got pregnant in Po3, he ghosted her immediately. Gorsetail held out hope he was just busy for months-- even naming one kit "Marsh Thistle" as a secret reference to RiverClan.

In terms of personality, I know she was vaguely fun-loving as a kid and probably still has that goofy streak if you can get her to relax. There's probably a bit of a bitterness inside her, and she's not satisfied with her life. She never got to have a happy mateship, she lost one kid, not really powerful or significant. I think she gets more adventurous the older she gets, looking to make some sort of change in her life.

Her and Crowfeather reconnect, once they're older and a bit more self-aware. Passing each other a heatherhoney lozenge like it's a smoke break and commiserating in how wrinkly they are now.

WindClan's full of some interesting dudes now in my effort to distribute more personality outside of ThunderClan. Stoneclaw and her traumatic muteness, Willowclaw the ferocious and her love of kibble, Cranberrysplash the ex-street urchin whose old name was Spaghetti Bolognaise. Leaftail and his onesided rivalry with Hallowflight of RiverClan.

Shame they neglected WindClan so badly and there's so few warriors there with established personalities, but hey. Opportunity for me to build cool stuff.

[skazoo]

fire to the rain.

↳ min yoongi x f!reader x jung hoseok

a crime lord, a mental hospital escapee, and a sociopath detective enter a bar.

length. 2.3k

genre. angst, thriller!au?? i REALLY don't know how to label this, agust d and jack do their own thing ig

warnings/tags. language, mention of mental illnesses, murder, arson, implied organized crime, dark themes overall. in this fic's seoul mental hospitals still exist, like arkham asylum/ahs: asylum stile idk it doesn't really serve anything but i imagined it this way.

networks. @kflixnet k-labels

notes. i finally get to publish this fic after soso long can i get an hallelujah?!?! also jack and agust d need to be in a movie together i really need it.

last but not least infinite thanks to the best beta reader i could ask for <3 @l00pyluluo7 MY angel 🫶🏼

hope you like it!

i'm desperate for feedback and i love comments with your opinion!

(cross-posted on ao3 only)

navigation

a crime lord, a mental hospital escapee, and a sociopath detective enter a bar.

you think back to yesterday and you have a hard time recognizing which part of the so-called joke is funny but it was one of the rare times yoongi laughed when hoseok said it so you guess it’s just a you problem.

rain falls relentlessly on seoul’s concrete streets, the raindrops biting into your skin like needles. you walk slowly, hands in your pockets and the hood of your jacket pulled over your head, almost covering your vision. you let your eyes scan the dark alley you’re about to enter, but you see nothing other than a few plastic bags from the restaurant in the front of the building and a stray cat looking for something to eat.

according to the message you received in the dead of night from a —ironically— familiar unknown number, the meet-up is supposed to happen early in the morning but as of right now the sky is dark, the rising sun completely hidden behind a thick layer of ominous clouds. a milky mist bathes the city that has yet to wake up in a gray hue and morning seems nowhere to be seen. 

you grimace. 

if anyone were to ask you, seoul doesn’t deserve anything. 

the freezing cold in winter, the scorching hot summer, the rancid smell, its unforgiving nature, the city you were born in has never done anything for you. not when you grew up in foster care, not when you were denied the same opportunities as your peers because of your ‘slightly disturbing’ nature, not when you joined the police. if anyone were to ask you, in all the years you’ve been alive, seoul has never shown kindness and you’ve come to the point you’d rather see it burn than be a silent victim of its cruel ways. 

no one ever asked you, though. not until you met him first and the other second.

they knew what you were talking about when you told them what went on inside of you and be it in loneliness or personal gain, they enabled you in the only way they knew how. with gasoline. setting fire to the rain.

the phone in your hand says it’s 5:26am. you still have time.

you fish for the unopened pack of cigarettes in your pockets. 

it’s weird how the first thing you think about is sergeant kim and his passionate hate for your addiction. sergeant kim and the conversation you had almost four hours ago.

his voice was a quiet thing when he found you outside of the police station when it still wasn’t raining.  

“detective L/N.”

“sergeant kim.”

“the fires are getting more frequent.”

you let the smoke wash soothingly over your lungs. kept it there before lazily pushing it out. “they are.”

he stood in silence, leaning on the other side of the door, looking at you with a grave frown.

“it’s dangerous, detective.”

you buried yourself further into your jacket and turned your head in his direction, a minimal movement that spurred him to go on.

“and it’s arson,” voice low as he looked around the outside of the station. it was late. uncharacteristically so for him but your case must have been keeping him up at night more than you thought it would. maybe you underestimated his love for the job or his fear for his failures, you don’t know. you don’t particularly care either.

“i thought we’d already agreed on it when we took the case, sergeant. it is malicious. it is arson.”

he frowned and shook his head.

you’ve noticed he often gets these fits of frustration in which he struggles to make you understand exactly how certain things make him feel, as if he needs to explain the reason he’s not comfortable. you think he does it unconsciously but you wonder if sometimes he catches a glimpse of what goes on in your head and his desperation it’s just him trying with all his might to pull you away from something you both know is not pretty. something he knows would put a premature end to whatever relationship he created between the two of you. 

“it’s murder,” just above a whisper. “Y/N, we’re looking for a single man, a madman, a psychopath that uses the same brand of matches every time he burns something down but i’m starting to think it might be a group? do you think it could be possible? i just can’t think about the actions of a single person causing so much pain i–”

“what? so it would take this case from having a chilling lack of ethics to just being ethically questionable? would it make you sleep better at night?”

he stared at you as you let out another puff of smoke that curled around itself and vanished in the night air. it smelled like rain. you thought you saw a gust of lighting from behind a building.

“Y/N, i’m worried about this. i’m worried about you.”

that was a weird thing to hear, naive too, you thought.

sergeant kim namjoon. you’ve known him for years. polite, respectful, driven, maybe too driven. your partner in this last case. he took a particular liking to you after you helped him catch an abuser his first year of being sergeant and as much as it was inexplicable to you it was very easy for him to consider you in no time something more than a mere coworker, a friend, even. you realized with time that he craved human connections no one around the station or the city was eager to give him and he found in your uninterested passivity a sign of acceptance of a new friendship. but you don’t think he’s the clueless, clumsy man he portrays himself to be most of the time. you think he’s just a person who’s so desperate that he’d turn a blind eye, a deaf ear to the wolf in sheep’s clothing working alongside him if it meant he could keep someone close to his pathetically lonely heart. you think he’d be considered wretched and rotten and insane just like the rest of you.

when you didn’t answer he shook his head again. a slow hand passed over his tired face as if to wash away the stuff of nightmares you both have to work with.

“whatever organization or– or crazy person– i don’t know but whoever is doing this knows we’re looking for them. you and i, Y/N. and i’m used to your indifference but i’m worried you’re not taking this seriously. they’re getting closer, i can feel their eyes everywhere i go and i–  this group is–” 

“sergeant…”

he squeezed his eyes shut. to avoid tears from falling from his watery eyes? to ground himself in the shitty reality he’s cursed to live in?

“will you ever call me by my name?”

fuck, he really was naive. still is. always will be.

“sergeant,” you smiled more to yourself than anything but you saw him clinging to it as if it was his lifeline. “don’t compromise yourself over things you wish were true because they’re easier to come to terms with.” he hung from your words. he alway does. “don’t compromise yourself. you’re all you have, sergeant.”

on that occasion you don’t know why you said those words if to really speak to him and reassure him or to drive him away from your business. you just know you did and it seemed to free him of something and burden you of something else. you just know that sergeant kim namjoon passes through your mind numerous times in the weeks that follow the conversation.

you’re walking further in the alley when you’re forced back to the rainy present by the sound your ears capture in the drowsy silence of the early morning. you take off your hood to listen.

someone is following you. you can hear their footsteps, speeding when you are speeding, slowing down when you do the same. you stop in place. you can feel their presence, hear their breathing, their arms stretching out towards you, a hand coming from behind and reaching out. 

a single lit match floats in front of you held by a bodiless fingers.

“surprise.” barely audible, whispered into your neck.

your mouth pulls into a small smile as you stretch your neck to light the cigarette you’re keeping between your lips.

“it’s 5:37.”

a silent kiss is placed on the exposed skin between your jacket and your hair.

“i know.”

“you’re late.” you muse. a drag of the cigarette and you gently blow the smoke in the dark in front of you.

the voice talking to you finally gets a face when the man behind you slowly circles you. he lets his hands travel from your shoulder to your waist as he comes standing in front of you. his eyes are crinkled with glee, his usually mischievous grin softens when he sees how you’re looking at him: amusement hidden by a thin veil of annoyance.

he takes your face in his hands, a rough thumb swipes over your cheekbone. the smell of sulfur hides his usually earthly perfume. 

“seven minutes, love.”

“seven minutes late.”

he huffs out a laugh and lets his hands pass through the wet strands of his hair.

he looks good even with ash in them and eye bags under his eyes. 

it makes you feel weird when you think about these things. when you find yourself admiring him as if you’ve finally found something worthy in the pool of mediocrity you’ve been swimming in since you can remember. it never occurred to you that people —insipid, dull, hypocritical— could make you feel like you didn’t want the world to end anymore. 

they both made you change that about yourself and at first it was alarming how quickly you fell into them. you don’t know what it was but for the first time, you felt seen. not understood or full, no they couldn’t do that with you just as much you couldn’t understand or fill them, but you were visible. you were there, and they were too.

hoseok lazily looks around the dark alley one last time before taking your hand in his and gently pulling you along inside the building, to the flights of stairs that take you to the roof. 

you know that with his silence he’s giving you the time to come back to yourself, to hide again what you know he’s already seen time and time again. it’s still hard for you to freely show what you feel but they’ve never pushed you and often you find yourself wanting to tell them how glad you are about it.

“he’s late too, you know. i hope he gets the same treatment when he arrives, mh?” he quips once you reach the roof and the other man’s dark mop of hair is not standing there, tapping an impatient foot on the cement floor. 

“he has responsibilities. he’s gonna be late sometimes.”

hoseok gasps, “and i don’t?!”

“your only responsibilities are lighting a match and hiding from whatever mental hospital you ran away from, jack. stop whining, you know i don’t particularly like it when you do it.”

he pouts as you blow smoke in his face. you know he wants to argue against words that are nothing more than simple truth but he settles on whining more. “and i don’t like it when you call me jack.”

“i know.”

“then why do you do it?”

“you’re cute when you’re upset, hobi.”

he sputters out something about indulging crazy people just as the rusty door of the rooftop creaks open.

he stands there. the healed scar on his eyes casts a dark shadow on his porcelain skin. he looks the part, you think. born and raised in the same city that doomed you from the start. you also think that’s why you found him and he found you. you’re not that different.

you take the last drag of the cigarette and throw the butt on the floor, putting it out with the heel of your boots.

“did you finish the job?”

you look up at him as hoseok stands behind you. his hand sneaks to your waist. you know he’s sending a proud smile to yoongi.

“you know we always do,” you answer calmly, truthfully. it’s just facts. you always do. you always follow through with his requests. this time it was seoul police getting too comfortable snooping around his business, the next time could be one of his allies threatening his authority a little too much. he trusts you. you trust him. it’s a mutual act of something akin to what people call love. it’s not even that absurd if one thinks about all the things people say they do for love. you’re just humans like the rest of them. fragments of decay.

“and they said i had ‘behavioral issues’” hoseok scoffs from behind you.

yoongi smiles at the picture in front of him. he takes your hand in his, kisses your knuckles. does the same with hoseok. sweeps a thumb over a dark smudge of coal on his cheek. 

the sun must have risen behind the thick layer of clouds —the bubbling of the tempest can be heard in the distance. the three of you stand there, huddled close, subtly holding hands. dark smoke, the blaring siren of an alarm, and faint screams rise from the police station in front of the office building you're in while the rain still cascades unforgiving from the heavens.

a crime lord, a mental hospital escapee, and a sociopath detective enter a bar.

you still don’t get it but you let out a silent chuckle anyway. if it made your partners laugh that much in bed last night then it truly must be funny.

end note. i didn't want to put this at the beginning bc i didn't want to spoil anything but i started writing joon's texts/ voicemails to Y/N after the 'incident' and if you're curious pls tell me i can finish them and maybe do a little drabble spin off on that! lmk <33

[ladylooch]

Loving & Leaving- Part 3

Visit the series page here.

A/N: Eep! I am so excited you all are loving this. It bring me so much joy. I am legit giddy posting this next chapter 😁 I hope you love it. This fic is consuming so much of my writing time. I'm very focused on getting these two right. I know I've nailed it when I'm editing and feel the way I want the reader to feel.

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ Content!, Swearing, Angsty, jealousy, poor choices. ha!

Halloween was five days ago, but by the look of the streets of Hoboken, you wouldn’t know. Being from Switzerland, we don’t celebrate Halloween. But when I surprised Nico with a quick visit to America, he insisted I needed to join for the team’s get together, which had to be moved into November because of a Halloween away game. Usually, it’s done at someone’s house, but this year, no one really wanted to host, so we are heading to the bar the team frequents after home wins. Currently, I’m doing the female right of passage by freezing my ass off as we shuffle down the street. Tinker Bell was probably not the warmest choice for me, but it is definitely the sluttiest. Paired with a short, sequined green dress and a thin pair of wings, my emerald high heels reflect the yellowy hue of the New Jersey street lights.

Despite the cold, I look hot. We walk by several groups of people loitering around. I can feel eyes follow me as I move forward. My confidence grows as I smirk, weaving my arm through my brothers for balance as the sidewalk gets a little rocky. Nico wraps a secure hand around my waist before pointing to my right. There is a line to get in, unless you’re with a professional hockey player. The bass of Salt Shaker by Ying Yang Twins rattles my teeth in my head when we step into the dark space. It’s packed with any character you can imagine. I grin, looking at Nico, silently agreeing that this is going to be just as fun as he promised.

Which is exactly what I need.

Ever since Timo left me at the end of the driveway, life has taken on a shade of gray. Work has felt more like a chore than a passion. I passively agreed to a few dates with a friend’s friend, which has been fine, but nothing I want to pursue further. I’ve found myself dreaming of America, which is why I booked a quick ticket two weeks ago, then called Nico to share the news. He was surprised. I’ll be back here for Christmas and two, long international trips in a row is new behavior for me. 

“I’ll never say no to a visit from you.” He concluded. And it was set. 

In a red wine clouded night, I texted Timo last week to let him know I would be in town. I’m still waiting on a response. Despite his silence, I know he’s here tonight, and ignoring me when I look this good, won’t be easy for him. The group of Devils is sitting at the back of the bar in their usually spot. Nico leads the way, my hand on the back of his firefighter costume to not get lost in the sea of people. 

When we reach the group, my eyes immediately find Timo. He is to my right, chatting with Dawson Mercer. He looks up as he laughs, eyes catching mine. I see him visibly suck in a breath before his eyes rake over my whole costume. He tries to hide the flicker of desire, but I know him better than that.

“Boys, you remember my sister, Emma.” Nico introduces me to the table. All the boys give drink tilts or waves except for Timo, who is suddenly fixated on a busty cat at the other table. My eyebrows tug together. He’s not fooling me, but fine, he wants to be like that, I won’t make it easy. I make my way around the table, patting each of the boys on the back until I get to the empty seat next to Timo. I plop right down next to him, grabbing his beer from his hand and chugging the rest of it. 

“Uh. You’re welcome?” He questions with a snip.

“Just couldn’t wait. Go get me another.” He stares me down, blue eyes tumultuous. The cat is distracted by Ted Lasso and leaves to trail after him. Timo sighs in reservation of an opportunity blown. His chair scrapes the wood floor harshly as he knocks back from the table to go to the bar. 

“Here.” He slams the golden liquid down on the table. Some of it sloshes down the glass and puddles on the table. “Kinda bullshit considering you don’t like beer.”

“Oh, I like beer. It just doesn’t like me.” It turns me into a sloppy lightweight drunk, which he is well aware of. I chug a few more sips, licking the foam from my top lip without taking my eyes from his. A whole conversation silently passed between us.

“I said I’m done.” He reminds me. Not sure who he’s trying to convince here cause he devours my lips as they plump in disbelief.

“We’ll see. Too cool for a costume?” I gesture to his white tuxedo. It’s probably a little fancier than his usual attire, but not completely out of character.

“I’m James Bond.”

“Without a martini?”

“What are you?”

“Tinker Bell.” I point to the wings on my back. His eyes hover at the way my skirt hikes further up my thigh as I cross my leg. My bare ass is practically hanging out.

“I can’t believe your brother let you out like that. And where is your coat? It’s like 30 degrees out.” I have to suck my cheeks in to avoid a smile. Even when he’s hurt and mad at me, he cares.

“Hot girls get hypothermia on Halloween. It’s like a right of passage.” I shrug.

“What do you know about Halloween?” He squints, licking his lips after a taste of his beer.

“Not much. But I know how good I look tonight.” I flick my hair back off my shoulder, scrunching it up and tossing him a kiss. “Play your cards right, Bond, and you’ll be the one in my bed.” He laughs without humor, leaning forward until he crowds my space. His cologne assaults my nose, mixing with my flowery perfume. They’re complimentary scents. His gaze drags over my face; a hint of interest is quickly squashed with a cold stare.

“I think it’s time for me to be the clear one. All you are to me tonight is my teammates’ sister.” My eyebrows draw tight together in shock. “Have a good night, Emma.” He pushes back from his chair again, following a few of his teammates across the bar to the pool tables.

What the fuck just happened?

- - - 

My ears pound in steady pulses at both the loud music and my beer buzz. I sway as I attempt to return from the bathroom, bumping into Waldo. 

“Sorry.” I mutter, patting his arm in acknowledgement before moving on. I get back to the group of Devils, standing next to my brother so he knows I’m back from my bathroom break. Nico hands me back my beer without looking at me. 

I feel so invisible tonight. My brother doesn’t care- too busy chatting up a Powderpuff girl. Timo has been gone from the group since he referred to me as his teammate’s sister. I drunkenly snort at the memory. Sure, he must cum in all his teammate’s sisters then. I slump against Nico’s shoulder, slinging my arm around them and drawing his attention.

“Ah..” He coughs out, wiggling away from me. “My sister, Emma.” He tells the Pink Powderpuff.

“OMG! My Big is named Emma!” She shouts excitedly. I glance at Nico who shrugs. I stare back at him like, really? This one? He grins, shrugging again, silently indicating he is interested in her for only one thing… and one night. 

“So fun.” I respond, tossing a fake smile on my lips. The sounds of Party in the U.S.A. blast over the speakers, so Blossom drags my brother out onto the makeshift dance floor. I shake my head at him, rolling my eyes at his choices.

That’s when I see him, pressed tightly up with another blonde. What is with him and blue eyed blondes? I have dark, chestnut hair and eyes. What’s he trying to prove here? I grab my beer, chugging down a few hefty sips before slamming the glass back on the table. He’s doing this to torture me. They’re standing close together, talking and taking fast drinks of their High Noons. He told me he didn’t like those. His smile is genuine, crinkling the corners of his eyes. I can almost hear his soft laughter from here.

She snakes an arm around his hips, stepping closer. He does the same, putting his hands on her hips. I swear a piece of my soul dies when he leans even closer to hear her speak. After months of feeling numb, I want to feel something. Anything. And he’s right here in front of me, acting like I’m nothing to him now. I can’t stand it. I want to lash out, scream, pull his face to mine and shove my tongue into his mouth until he kisses me back with as much desperation as I feel in blood right now. Instead of going to tell him that, I grab the first Devils player I can, stepping into his embrace. It’s John Marino.

“Hey.” He grins. I smile back, then slide behind him to look at Timo. His eyes are still on the blonde. If it was quieter in here, John could hear my whimper. John's hands are firmly in respectable places on my waist, barely touching me. I give him an easy smile, stepping closer so our bodies touch all along our fronts.

“You look like a good time.” I murmur to him, running my hands through the long strands of his brown hair. He’s dressed as Buzz Lightyear, dome helmet flipped up. “Can you breathe like that?” I joke, fingering the plastic.

“Barely, but not cause of the helmet.” I laugh easily, crossing my wrists at the back of his neck as we sway together. His hand slides down my lower back. A heat runs through my body that has nothing to do with John. It’s Timo. He’s watching now. I encourage John to put his hands lower, going to my tip toes to whisper in his ear. 

“Must be my pixie dust.”

“It’s putting a spell on me.” His obvious interest guides his hands further down until he grips my ass in both hands. I’m guided by the ache in my chest for Timo and the undivided attention I’m getting. Maybe I could have someone else tonight, just to forget about him. He doesn’t care. He’s obsessed with anyone who isn’t me in this bar. I grin at John, tilting my lips up towards his. They never meet. A different hand comes around my waist, pulling me back into a solid, familiar chest and out of John's grip.

“That’s enough. She’s Nico’s sister for fucks sake.” Timo growls. John holds his hands up, backing away, clearly heading the warning from his left wing. It’s not John's fault. He doesn’t know who I used to belong to. Which is exactly the look Timo gives me when his blue eyes pierce mine.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Timo snarls, strong hands holding my hips in place when I try to wiggle away.

“Leave me alone.” I shoving off his chest. It’s a weak attempt and my fingers curl in, groping him more than anything else.

“You’re just doing this shit on purpose.” He spits out in disgust. Like he wasn’t just feeling up a cat? Pfffft.

“At least I’m not grinding with Jersey TRASH.” I snort. “That girl? What the fuck does she have that I don’t?” I gesture to my short green dress that doesn’t leave much to the imagination.

Woof, I’m drunk. And desperate.

He stares back at me. His hands are still fastened to my hips, squinting in the low lighting of the bar as the world moves around us. Then, he leans forward, resting his mouth close to my ear as he looks beyond me to where the rest of the team still sits.

“Emma, you know how perfect you are to me. But you are killing me. I’m trying to move on with my life.” Fear grips my stomach, icing my buzz and my anger. I don’t want him to move on. I want him to bring me home, falling each other and forget anything else but how good it feels when we are together.

“I think I’m going to be sick.” I stutter.

“Do you need to go to the bathroom?” He looks around for a sign as to where they are. He starts tugging me that way, but I stop him.

“I just want to go home.” Something about the look on my face softens him. His touch becomes gentle and safe again. It reminds me of when it’s been late, our third time around, and he’s trying to soothe the angry, red rashes he made along my hips and breasts. 

“I’ll take you.” He whispers into my ear, lips slicing across my cheek.

I wrap my arm around his waist, putting my face against his pec. One of his hands moves up to my head, caressing me to his chest. He drops a kiss there then calls across the bar to my brother. I feel him motion around and Nico must understand because he doesn’t follow us out. When I hit the nippy air, I chatter in my skimpy costume. Timo shrugs his winter jacket off, wrapping it around my body as we walk the two blocks back to their apartment building. It’s not enough, so he keeps his arm around my shoulder, his body heat transferring to me. He drops his arms when we enter the building together.

“You drive me crazy.” He mutters when we are in the elevator, rolling his eyes and stretching his tense neck out. I think back to the girl at the bar, wondering if he wishes she was here instead. They would ride up to his place together. Maybe she would get on her knees and take him deep into her mouth until he couldn’t take it anymore. My stomach twists again.

I stare down at my heels in silence after that visual. I feel gross. My heavy make up is clogging my pores with each passing second. My feet hurt. The elevator spins and Timo looks like he would rather be anywhere than here with me. Tears make the floor fade as the door opens on the 13th floor. No attempt to stop at the 10th this time. Timo waits for me to step out first.

“Let’s get you in bed.” He encourages with a friendly hand on the upper back.

I dig around in my purse until I find my keys, giving them to Timo to open Nico’s apartment. He pushes the door open, allowing me to walk through first. I sulk in, tossing my purse on the floor, punting my heels off. The door quietly clicks shut. I whip my head around.

“I’m still here.” He kicks his expensive sneakers off and moves towards me with his hands in his pockets. I watch his approach with frustrated eyes. I am riding a rollercoaster of emotions right now. I hate him. I want him. I can’t stand to be in the same room with him. I think I’ll die if he leaves here without touching me. He sees all of this on my face as he stops in front of me. 

“Why are you still here?” I ask. 

“I don’t know.” He whispers back.

He doesn’t remove his hands from his pockets. He doesn’t step forward to touch me. Nothing. He just stares back at me like I’m some ticking bomb he should run in the opposite direction from. I hate it. Agitation builds in my body and makes my skin crawl. The elastic of the wings begins to feel like it’s cutting off the circulation in my arms. I try to wiggle my way out of them, getting frustrated.

“Fucking, stupid, cheap, pieces of crap.” I mutter, tugging at the white elastic to try and get free.

“Let me help.” Timo says, gripping my hand to stop my movements. He easily loops his fingers through the two straps, tugging them off my arms as I let them dangle behind my back. 

“Thank you.” I whisper then bite my cheek. “Can you get my-” I already feel his touch on the zipper of my dress, working it slowly down, tooth by tooth, exposing my bare back and the top part of my butt. I hold my breath as he gets to the end. His strong hands spiral around my ribs to my stomach, pulling me back into his hard erection. I rest the back of my head on his shoulder and sigh.

“All night, I’ve been wondering if you were wearing anything under this. I wish I didn’t know.” He murmurs in my ear. My hair brushes along my cheek from his breath. I hear him swallow hard. “I should leave.” I don’t breathe, just continue to stare straight ahead at the hallway in front of me. I reach for his fingers, lacing mine between them and moving our hands to my hips, pushing the dress out so it falls down my body. Then, I bring them up my body, balancing the weight of my breasts in our hands. 

“Jesus, Em. You’re making this so hard on me.”

“I know. I can feel it.”

“We are supposed to be done with each other.” He swipes his fingers across my hard nipples like he’s already forgotten his words. A flicker of hurt hangs in the air from his tone, but then I release one of his hands to cup his hard erection and it disappears into the desire between us. He rolls his hips into my touch.

“There are some things a girl just can’t quit. You’re one of them, Timo Meier.” 

He spins me fast to face him. My lips tilt up to meet his and he kisses me back with frenzy. Our mouthes devour each other greedily. His hands run everywhere and nowhere on my body. I grope at his back, then run my hands over his taut ass, squeezing us tight together. He grinds his hips into me, pushing his erection against my stomach. His lips move from my mouth to my jaw, then down to my throat where he sucks my skin into his mouth.

“Missed how you feel in my hands, baby.” He murmurs, tongue lapping at the bruise that will go back with me to Switzerland on Sunday. I close my eyes, savoring the way he praises me. God, I missed his sweet words and strong, greedy hands.

We completely forget about being in the middle of the apartment. I shove at his white tuxedo jacket. He helps work it off his strong biceps. I pull back to stare at the suspenders running up and over his shoulders. I aggressively bite my bottom lip and snap them with my hands. He laughs, running his hands along my thighs to pick me up. I shove the straps from his shoulders then get to work on his white buttons. 

“Cheater.” I murmur, unsnapping his bowtie when I’m done.

“Bow ties are not my strong point.” He insists as he carefully lays me down on the dining room table. He pulls his wallet out of his pants, tossing it to the left of me for easy access.  I watch him, legs spread wide, as he gazes at my folds while undoing his pants. “You guys use this table?”

“No. We eat at the counter.” I laugh as he steps out of his pants. His boxer briefs slide down next and I groan at the sight of him jutting out, rigid and already seeping from the tip.

“That’s good. I’m going to ruin it for you.” I chuckle, reaching up for him. His lips come to mine again, a little less aggressive than before. He takes his time, savoring the feeling of me. His tongue glides along the seam then strokes against mine. I melt in his hands as they come around to protect my head from the wood. Timo sighs heavily into my mouth and I hook my ankles around his butt. He moves his bare cock through my wetness, teasing me, building the tension until my inner muscles pulse around an aching emptiness.

“Love me.” I moan out. He pulls back, searching my face. “Please. Like you said you do.”

“Not how I saw this night going.” He chuckles honestly, smoothing my wild hair back from where a piece of it had been stuck between our mouthes.

“Me either.” I answer honestly. But I ache in so many more places than just my core. My heart beats heavy in my chest, needing to feel a connection with him.

He reaches for a condom in his wallet he had tossed on the table. I grab it from his hands, throwing it to the floor.

“I want you like last time.” He hesitates, nostrils flaring, eyes trailing along my bare body, savoring every curve with his blue gaze. “I’m clean. No one else.”

“Me too.” Relief courses through me.

“Really?”

“Yeah, Em. Not interested in anyone else.” He says it to me like it’s a reminder. The familiar sound of his I love you in Switzerland causes my legs to spread wider for him.

“Show me what you thought about doing to me while we have been apart.” He moans, dropping his face to my lips again.

“I love you like this. So needy and desperate for me to fill you.” He says between teasing strokes again. He grips his cock, steadying his head against my entrance, then gliding his hips forward. My body releases in ecstasy at the feeling of him there.

“Ohmygod.” My eyebrows pull tight together in pleasure. I swallow, then gnaw on my lip as he puts his hands under my hips to pull me farther off the table. Then, he covers my body with his. His hands lace with both of mine and he makes love to me just like I begged. His thrusts are slow and sweet, focused only on my pleasure. He’s deep and generous with each thrust. I stare at him, knowing I’m falling in love with him. He brings his mouth down to mine and our tongues sloppily connect. The table begins to rattle from our movements as I match each of Timo’s deep thrusts with a moan.

“Fuck, I missed you.” He sighs into my mouth.

“Me too. Hate being home without you now.” I admit. I shouldn’t say that to him in the heat of the moment, but it’s true. I do. It’s why I’m here, as much as my brother thinks it is for him.

“I’m sorry I left you like that this summer.” He says, stroking a bit faster into me. “I hate myself for it.”

“It’s okay. I know you had to.” I bring his lips back to mine. “God damn it.” I shout as he fucks harder into me. My orgasm is pulsing within me, squeezing him with each pump.

“Say my name, sweetheart.” I moan it back to him. He puts his lips on mine afterwards, fucking me steadily as I shiver beneath him then collapse into the first wave of my orgasm. “Tell me I can come inside of you. Please.” He sounds tortured.

“Yes. God, yes. Please.” The way we both beg for each other causes a wildness between us. I moan as my second orgasm builds with his faster pumps. I shout his name as I come again, fast, harder this time. Tingles of pleasure rush down my legs so they become limp around his waist. His cum shoots out, filling me, coating my walls in the most intimate way. I grip his shoulders, shoving my face into his neck so I can feel every beat of his heart and gasping breath.

That was without a doubt the best sex we have ever had.

Timo turns his head to kiss my swollen lips. He moans into my mouth as he sputters more into me. His hands rock my hips back into him again as my feminine grunt encourages him more.

“Take me again. Just like that.” I whimper when he tries to pull away.

“Okay, but let’s go to my bed.” He kisses along my face before pulling out of me.

The second time, in Timo’s bed, surrounded by the pieces of his life, is even better.

“You fit perfectly here. Like you could just stay here forever.” He coos when we are done with a third round that started in the shower and ended on the floor of his bedroom, fingers brushing my hair back from my forehead. 

“Tell me more.” I sigh, flicking my gaze on his. Fueled by love and afterglow, I barely protest as he begins to say all the usual things about the life he can give to me and all the adventures we can share together. I say nothing, just listen to him speak, thinking about what awaits for me back home. In comparison to this feeling, that life doesn’t matter much to me anymore. I think about telling him that, but it’s late and we’re both high on orgasmic bliss and it doesn’t feel completely right yet.

“You act like Switzerland doesn’t have anything to offer me. You Swiss boys dream too much.” I rub my fingers along his corse stubble. He shakes his head at me.

“Just give in to me, Hischier.” 

“Maybe tomorrow.” A soft smile stretches my lips apart. He sighs out a laugh, pressing his mouth over mine. We lazily twirl our tongues together, savoring the feeling of being in each others arms again.

By midnight, we are asleep in a tangle of naked limbs, having no idea what we’ve just done.

[k-s-morgan]

Hi I how are you? I hope you're doing well. If there is anything at all I can do to help please don't hesitate to ask. I wanted to ask about a theory. What do you think would happen at the end of season 2 if Hannibal decided not to kill Abigail and instead took her to Europe with him instead of Bedelia? I personally think that Abigail would have runaway the first chance she got, she was very manipulative and was clearly using Will and Hannibal as a means of self preservation. Do you think Hannibal would have eaten her like he planned to with Bedelia? Or would he want to reunite them as a murder family once more? If so would Abigail stay with them? Or I have another theory, what if Hannibal planned to brainwash Abigail and alter her personality to turn her into Mischa like book Hannibal tried to with Clarice? How would Will react to that? Love to know your thoughts. Wishing you all the best and don't stop writing.

Hi! Thank you so much <3 I know this is an older ask, but answering it now: unfortunately, Russia resumed its missile attacks. My city was attacked twice in the last three days, in the middle of the night, with explosions sounding before the air raid alarm. All that my cats and my Mom and me could do is run into the hallway, terrified. It's difficult to live with the knowledge that your life can end any single moment - and end in a painful and scary way.

On to better things, though: regarding the first theory, I think it could go in a number of ways. Abigail is an interesting character in the way that we barely know enough about her as a person. Her existence has always been about survival: we have no idea if she actually has darkness in her, if she's willing to act on it, what she wants for herself and how she really feels about her life up to this point. Hannibal held fondness for Abigail; he spent time with her and on planning to have her in his life, but like Will, he was more enamoured with the idea of her, not with her as a person. Abigail reminded him of his sister and she was the way to get Will to consider having a family with him - these were her two primary features.

It's difficult to say if Murder Family would have been feasible without knowing the answers to these questions about Abigail. She didn't seem to like Will all that much, and for a good reason, but she understood that being liked by him is her best chance at survival. She was doing what Hannibal wanted because she realized how dangerous he is and he was the only person she had who accepted the truth about her and welcomed it. With him, she didn't have to constantly worry about being exposed as her father's helper, but at the same time, she knew that Hannibal could change his mind about her and murder her whenever he felt like it.

With all this stress, I'm not sure what Abigail would have done if she lived beyond S2. Running away is an option, but how and where to? She'd have no money, no real documents, and she'd be officially a fugitive who'd be arrested if the police caught her. Living on the streets with no money and no opportunities might be even worse than staying with Hannibal, who was easily toying with her life. At least with him, she had some of her basic needs met.

Maybe one day, if she felt calmer and she had a chance to gain her own self, she'd feel happy with the idea of being a part of Murder Family. Or maybe she'd bide her time, saving money, learning things, and then running away.

I think whether Hannibal decided to eat Abigail or not would depend on whether Will was with him. Will would never allow it, and Hannibal wouldn't risk alienating him. But if Abigail proved to be disappointing like Bedelia, and Will was still separated from him, then yes, I think it's an option.

As for the second theory, I don't think Hannibal would ever want to brainwash someone close to him by changing their personality. His MO with his patients and others is to push people into becoming their true self. He respected their ultimate boundaries - never pushing Margot to kill someone beyond her attacker, sending killers to Will, sending a weakened patient to Bedelia. I think he'd try to help Abigail find her real dark self, but if this proved to be disappointing, and if she couldn't be used to bring Will to him, then Hannibal would probably simply kill her instead of trying to turn her into someone else.

[windchimesgames]

Happy Holidays! I had the good fortune of being assigned your Secret Santa, and I couldn’t be happier! I took the opportunity to familiarize myself with the demo for the fantastic ReAnimation Scheme, and immediately found myself hooked by the absolutely inspired concept of necromancy doubling as a soul-sucking customer service job. I hope that I was able to do Raenelle and Sebastien justice in this min-fanfiction I wrote! 

B.

___________________________________

“By the Ancestors, girl, what do you mean I’m only a Silver Patron? I left those accursed brats enough for Platinum-tier thrice over, and yet you claim--”

The spirit before me swells with inflamed pride, continuing his ranting unabated as I tune him out. I ought to have known he’d be one of those. As soon as I opened the trunk and saw the coin with his name on it, it ought to have been obvious. 

Zianna, I get up early for once, and for what? My transfer request denied yet again, and now--

“...are you even listening? Deities, I’d heard you Reanimators are the worst of the bunch, but to think that you’d be so blatant in disregarding your betters--! Call your supervisor at once! For someone of my stature to be allotted a mere half-day of reanimation is highway robbery! Do you even know who I am, Death Mage?”

Pinching the bridge of my nose in an effort to head off an incipient headache, I nod, eyes flicking back to the scroll. Incarnations, why couldn’t the first summoning of the day be a simple one?

“Yes, of course I know who you are. I summoned you after all, Sir Rudiford.”

“Lord! Lord Rudiford!!”

I force a smile that is more a baring of teeth than anything.

“My apologies. Since you have passed, the title is now recorded as belonging to--”

“To no one yet! I know full well my Reanimation Rites never would have been seen to at all, if I’d named an heir while living. If I could take my title and wealth with me, I’d do it! Ancestors take the wretches, not one is worthy of either the name or the coin.”

The spirit before me falls to furious silence, flickering a sulfurous yellow. The portrait depicted on the scroll is not especially pleasant, and I reflect that death has done little to improve upon the (former) Lord Rudiford’s appearance.

“Are you denying your Reanimation Services, then?” I inquire through gritted teeth.

The former lord gives me an excoriating glare in reply. “Of course I am not! I am demanding an extension--half a day is not nearly enough time to wrap up business for a personage such as I! The Silver ranking is clearly in error--I ought to have a full day and a half, at the least!”

My head tips back heavily. Zianna, what did I ever do to deserve this?

Clearing my throat, I meet his eyes again before the spirit becomes apoplectic. “And as I have explained, extensions are not within my power to provide. See?”

I hold the scroll aloft, jabbing a finger at it.

“Silver Patron of the Reanimation Scheme. That comes with a half-day’s reanimation. Your body has been preserved in good condition with that in mind--but any extension without proper authorization, and you’ll be stinking of rot and dropping limbs in the street by day’s end. Hardly in keeping with the dignity of a lord.” I stress the title heavily, trying to suppress a smirk as I do so. The idea of this garbage spirit stinking of literal garbage appeals to me. 

“Your manager, mage! If you are too far down the food chain to be of use to me, surely you have some minder or other that will have authority to act!”

I sigh, eyes flicking to the form shamelessly slumbering on my desk, silver and white fur splayed against the red and brown leather binding of thick volumes I have no intention of reading on my own. 

“Right. You’re right, of course, Mister Rudiford. Let me transfer you--”

“Lord! Lord Rudif--”

With a flare of my magic, the sulfur-yellow shade blinks out of being, and I sigh heavily with relief.

“That isn’t likely to improve your rating, Raenelle.”

I glower at the cat sprawled on my desk. Sebastien has done no more than crack open a single golden eye, but already he is judging me.

“As if you were any help at all. If the Twelve Deities and Ancestors can see just what I have to deal with, I’m sure--”

Sebastien stretches in a boneless ripple of silver fur. “Then they’ll know what I am subjected to with you, and commend me to the heavens while relieving me of my promised duties.” 

Scowling, I give the long, fluffy tail a slight tug, just enough to be annoying without being painful.

“Some familiar you are.”

“And some Reanimator you are. Have you given any thought of what will happen at the morgue, when that cad wakes up?”

I chuckle.

“Sure. They’ll kick Lord Rudiford out to see his family as swiftly as they can, same as me.”

Sebastien shakes his head, obviously unwilling to appreciate the vision that is bringing me so much mirth. 

“And his family?”

I shift my weight with a sigh, annoyed.

“What of them? Will they even care what he thinks, the old skinflint? They carved his name into a single coin, as his reanimation token! I wouldn’t be surprised if one of them killed him,” I observe darkly, scanning his scroll. 

Sebastien appears momentarily taken aback, but soldiers on bravely. 

“You can’t make assumptions--”

I turn a malevolent smile back on him. The headache is building pressure. “Sure, okay. Great. Shall I summon him back and refer him to you, then? As my mentor, I mean. That’s the closest to--”

The golden eyes vanish, thick, brushy tail curling over them almost as a shield. 

“My role is to counsel you, not appease the spirits you upset.”

I sigh, shaking my head.

“Coward.”

I look at the mirror that dominates the room, reflecting both light and darkness in equal measure. I never wanted this to be my job. I never wanted to be a guide for anyone, let alone spirits. 

The glass is cold where I rest my brow against it.

“Raenelle? Are you asleep?”

I let out a mighty sigh, cheeks puffing outwards and breath fogging the glass.

On to the next. Let’s see…

I scan my mental list of the day.

Jori. Jori Halwin.

Here’s hoping he’s easier than the last.

OH MY GOSH!!!!! I'm so happy you're my secret santa, and 🥰is this two gifts in one?!?!! Adorable Sebastien fanart AND a hilarious and beautifully written fanfic!!!! I love these, thank you so so so much! Happy Holidays to you too @brightoakgame!!

(And thank you to @crescencestudio for hosting the lovely event!!)

[oldworldwidgets]

i have been THINKING about miss ginny lately especially since the new 76 update dropped, so heres a lil doodle my friend did of her!!! + her if she was a worm on a string, of course, and some in-game screenshots.

i am also using this as an opportunity to dump some lore under the cut :3 its a lot of words so prepare urself

ginny lore be upon ye:

Her full name is Virginia May Adler, but you can just call her Ginny. She's a 25ish (who's counting?) Appalachia native. Though she grew up in the Toxic Valley after she and her dad left the Vault, she now resides at her cozy camp in The Mire. She uses big guns, is covered in scars from all her forays into garbage dumps, and loves stuffed animals and Nuka-Cola Quantum more than most things.

Ginny is very bubbly and smiley. Human embodiment of :D. She’s the type of person that smiles at other people the very moment she sees them, just out of instinct. Seriously, she’s smiled at more Blood Eagles than she can count, and not because she can’t count very high. She can (INT 15 mf). Don’t worry – despite his hatred for the Eagles, Beckett still thinks it’s sweet.

Yeah, yeah, she’s dating her bartender. He moved right into her heart when he moved into her camp. He’s for sure very awkward about what he wants (her) and skirts the subject every time she brings it up, but she knows good and well by the way he settled himself into her camp (and the sweet things he says to her cat Krypto when he thinks she isn’t around) that he’s in this for the long haul. Plus, once they finally mow down the top-ranking Blood Eagles and save his brother from his otherwise-certain demise, he finally allows himself to open up to and fall for her.

She and Aries from Blue Ridge Caravan Company are inseparable. They met in Big Bend Tunnel. She and Beckett were hunting Blood Eagles, he was protecting his shipment from them. His dark, existential humor caught her attention immediately and, on the spot, he enlisted her into Blue Ridge.

She’s a scavver by trade, and a damn good one too. She picks up and stashes everything she sees, then determines its value only after she makes it home. She’s always excited and eager to buy, sell, and trade with anyone who asks, especially now that she's with Blue Ridge.

Since Beckett works the bar even when she’s away, he always catches word of the best weapons caches, armor drops, and any other rumors of note that might interest her. Only after a firm but loving warning and a promise that she’ll return to him before the street lights come on will he give her what she’s looking for. Oh, and the information too. WINK.

She’s also craaffttyyyyyy. She can make anything you could possibly need and more, just as long as she has some duct tape, a few loose screws, and a cartoon cloud of smoke.

She is terrified of heights. She also used to be terrified of animals, especially the ones with paws and claws as opposed to the ones with pincers, stingers, or poison glands. This changed after her dad came home with Krypto, her cat. She hated the thing at first, but when she lost her dad... Krypto was all she had left of him. Now, they can't live without each other.

She frankly does not care about radiation damage, diseases, mutations, etc at all. It’s inevitable in the life of a scavver. She’s probably had tetanus more times than she can count, but it’s never been a match for a disease cure or some brahmin milk. Plus, she kinda thinks it’s cool.

She used to be a natural blonde, but all the exposure to all the [gestures widely] in the wasteland (primarily radiation, but no one’s ever seen her in a gas mask or a hazmat suit – even in the ash heap region. The best she can do is pull her neck bandana over her nose when Beckett gives her his best sad eyes) eventually broke down all the melanin in her hair, leaving it white. Aside from all the junk that somehow always finds its way back in there, of course.

Beckett is the ONLY one that’s allowed to call her Gin and she only allows it because he’s a bartender. He also loooooves screaming “WEST VIRGIIIIINNNNNNNNIIAAAAA” to the tune of country roads (obviously) when he needs her attention and they’re not in the same vicinity, hence him sometimes calling her West Virginia.

After her long scavving or traveling days, Ginny likes to sit in Beckett’s lap on their front porch while he takes her hair down out of the updo of the day and picks out all the sticks and leaves. If a leaf falls from the tree above them, even if he has every opportunity to catch it before it lands in her almost-clean hair and ruins his hard work, he won’t. He'll do anything to keep her there just a little longer.

OKAY THANKS FOR READING LOVE U BYE

[sadpearonmars]

15 questions meme

Tagged by @saiditallbefore :)

Are you named after anyone? Not really. I choose my name and I picked names that weren't emotionally connected. I considered using my grandfather's name but it is pretty common and a somewhat famous trans guy I can't stand has it.

When was the last time you cried? While watching the graveside flowers being left at Alexei Navalny's grave, seeing the crowds in the streets of Moscow risking their lives to pay their respects. Devastating. I struggled to write for a week after he died. Nalvany was four years older than me and I'd watched him work for a long time. His death felt like the destruction of something so irreplaceable and beautiful. But in the darkness of it, there were people finding themselves and the fortitude to keep going. Navalny's dream for the beautiful future of Russia will not die with his body.

Do you have kids? No. I have never wanted to be a parent. The moment I learned about pregnancy and what was possible when I was around 9-10 years old, I immediately began planning to get sterilized as soon as possible.

What sports do you play/have you played? None. I was not athletically gifted as a kid and opportunities/money were not something I had. I took fencing at university and loved it, but it's an expensive hobby.

Do you use sarcasm? I do, but I like to think I achieve a better balance of sarcasm and earnestness these days. Like a lot of people, I went through that very grim/sarcastic phase. But I value genuine enjoyment more. Death to cringe culture and people afraid to just enjoy things/let other people enjoy things.

What is the first thing you notice about people? Probably their clothes. If they have interesting accessories.

What is your eye color? Green, very green. Possibly the one thing about my physical form that has never disappointed me.

Scary movies or happy endings? Are we meant to think these things are mutually exclusive? Because I think they go together. Look on the very basic level I'm more likely to watch a scary movie just because most happy ending movies are relentlessly heterosexual and I find that boring.

What are your talents? I'm a good cook and baker. I can follow a recipe and improvise as needed. My particular traumas mean when someone needs emergency services I know how to get things done in a crisis and can save the freak out for later. I can spin endless stories.

Where were you born? In the Panhandle Plains of Texas, where the sky goes on forever. You can see a storm coming for miles. It was land that the Comanche roamed for generations, traversing the seas of grass and the Caprock. The second largest canyon in America is there and it is beautiful. They've reintroduced bison and they roam. It is stark and empty and terrible in some ways but also beautiful.

What are your hobbies? Reading, writing, gardening, doing the occasional fidgety crafty sort of thing. Casual bird watching from my windows. I like to try different things and I'm going to try weightlifting next.

Do you have any pets? A cat who is 21+ years old named Jasmine. She is pretty deaf and has two heated beds plus a heating blanket on the couch for her comfort.

How tall are you? Five foot four inches as I have been for about 30 years. Disappointing to me but probably ultimately irrelevant.

Dream job/career? I have now, which is to say I do not have a job. I'm a house husband and a writer. Work is a scam and we live in a capitalist hellscape. My dad spent his entire life doing a job he hated because it was wrapped up in the idea that a Man did certain things. The longest I ever stayed at a job was seven years, the shortest was one week. Quitting is always my favorite part.

Tagging a couple of people if you want to play the meme game @balconyskeletons @yourstrulyknits @by-ilmater @udunie @sineala

[otter1962crystalball]

Lifting the Curtain and Seeing Something Valuable

June 15th, 2024

Happy 15th Day of Pride, everyone! We are now halfway through the month. This is my 15th entry into my blog and it has opened up my eyes and my heart about writing. Yesterday I mentioned that I was skipping over a lot of details in my blogs. This tells me that I could fill in the holes and write a book. I’m still wrestling with the thought of who would want to read a book about an average gay man in his 60’s who’s seen a lot in his time? As I write this, I’m at a Rainbow Craft and Vendor show in Nova Scotia. There is downtime and an opportunity to chat with my neighbours. The idea of an anthology of SLGBTQIA+ stories ranging from religious persecution, coming out, living with HIV and more. Anyway, who knows.

So back to my story about depression and loss. I mentioned that I was deeply depressed and lost when my partner of five years decided to end it. I also mentioned my frequent trips to the bathhouse. There was a certain attendant at the door who often rang me in. He was a really nice guy and I like him. I knew it wasn’t the best to be hitting on the staff while working. One night, he wasn’t working and was in the showers. What struck me the most was he had a very heavy looking round weight around his balls! 

I won’t go too much into bathhouse etiquette, but leaving your door open was an invitation for other guys to invite themselves in. There was a way of saying no to guys that you weren’t interested in, but with the staff member and his weights - he intrigued me. His name was Dean. When he came to my door, there was no need. Let’s just say that we had a rather intense hour together.

Afterwards, we lay there chatting for more than an hour. He had a partner and was planning on moving to London in the UK. I shared what had been happening in my life as well. We parted ways and I went back to my condo. The next time I went to the bathhouse, Dean was working. As I went in, he came to me and I got a hug and a kiss. He asked me what I was doing later and asked me if I would go out to a late night dance club. I said yes.

When Dean got off work, we went to this dance club (I’d never been to a rave before). On the dance floor, it was clear that there were a lot of stoned people. Dean and I were totally sober. I fondly remember pulling off our shirts and playing with each other’s nipples while dancing. Dean had a dreamy look in his face and asked me if I wanted to go home with him. I said yes.

For the next three nights, I spent the night with him. What I noticed the most about my emotions was how the depression that had dogged me for almost a year, seemed to have vanished. For a few weeks we continued to see each other at his place or mine. Then, one day, Dean said that he wasn’t moving to the UK and was splitting with his partner. 

I was at this point in a confused space. I wanted to let go of Jeff and also wanted to start something with Dean. The problem with the confusion was that I really believed that I could not be happy. I felt that life had dealt me so many bad hands that I couldn’t conceive of being happy. Many evenings, I would make dinner and take some to Dean at the bathhouse. On one night, I went in and sat in the workroom as Dean ate. I suddenly told him that I probably shouldn’t see him. I have no idea why - it just seemed that my inner critic was telling me to not take a chance and avoid getting hurt again. Dean sat there silently and I could tell he was disappointed. 

I left and felt the clutches of depression hit me again. I went home and just sat there. There was a buzz on the intercom and I answered it. Dean was downstairs. He came to my door soaking wet as it rains constantly in Vancouver during the winter into spring. I had a vision of the movie “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” when Audrey Hepburn kicks the cat out on the street and she and George Peppard’s characters later hunt for “Cat” in the pouring rain. The scene where she hugs the cat when they find him was what I saw in my head as I looked at the water dripping off Dean’s entire body.

That was the beginning of a relationship with a man I grew to love very deeply. I will continue the story tomorrow.

For Pride, I am celebrating that we can love. No one can take that away from us. It’s also important to note that in my life journey I have learned to love myself. 

Carpe diem, everyone!