#when rats have to be put down so much of the time its because they are horribly and traumatically sick

[thevoicefromanotherworld]

I was wondering if I could get a chibs fic maybe 😊😊♥️ where him ans reader are really good friends people always think they're dating and they literally do everything together she even sometimes goes on runs... but its when chibs gets blown up and is in the hospital and shes there all the time never leaves and sleeps in bed next to him waitinf for him to wake up and when she meets Fiona she hates her immediately (bc i do😫its a slot of feelings there) and they bicker and argue and glare until he wakes up and Fiona finally says shes his wife and reader pretends not to care and just focus on chibs..... anyway fast forward to thw scene with chibs and Fiona in the bathroom and thwy end up hooking uo and readers been looking all day for him worried and he comes back and tells her everything and when he tells her that part he sees her go through every emotion and she slaps him and instantly feels bad bur feels like shes been cheated on... anyway but it maybe ends smutty 🙈🙈🙈🙈 sorry that was so much😭🤣🤣🤣 but also when they do it Chibs just keeps grunting " i love you." Like it's a fact he does and the reader can't say anything shes just moaning 🥵😫🙈🙈

I LOVE THIS REQUEST OMG. It is a lot of information indeed, sooo I tried my best on writting a fic including it all!

I hope you like it! 🖤😊

WARNING: EXPLICIT SMUT UNDER THE CUT

"WHAT DO YOU WANT TO TALK ABOUT?, LOVE"

Your relationship with Chibs was so close that the kids thought there was something going on between you, except you hadn't put a name to it yet.

After all the deliveries you made, Jax watched surreptitiously as Chibs came to visit you at your house to tell you how it went, a smirk on his lips, while Tig whispered to the president that he had a crush on you, but he didn't know how to tell you.

Everything was going well until one of the transactions went wrong, and the Scotsman came away badly injured.

When you got the call from Tig telling you your best friend was in the hospital, you thought you were about to die.

It wasn't possible someone with Chibs's strength could be taken down so easily.

But in that world, it didn't matter who or what you were; bullets affected everyone equally.

You rushed into St. Thomas's.

The kids were already there, and as soon as they saw you, they rushed over to greet you and tried to get you to calm down.

"Where is he?" "You asked nervously, looking from Tig to Rat, then back at the President. "Jax… Him?"

"He's alive," he replied, calming you down a little. "He's resting," he murmured, nodding toward the door at the end of the hallway. "He'll be really happy to see you, but I don't think now's the time."

"Why?" you asked, your eyes wide open. "Is there someone with him?"

"It's hard to explain, doll" Tig intervened. "You'd better stay here for a while, trying to relax"

"Don't tell me to relax, Trager, because that'll only make me more nervous," you said, causing him to nod, understanding what you were saying. "I'm going to see him, and I don't care who's there"

You headed down the hallway toward the room where the Scotsman was, walking at a brisk pace.

Tig tried to follow you, but Jax placed his hand on his chest to stop him.

"No, bro" he whispered. "She has to do this alone"

Tig nodded, realizing he was right.

So the kids stood in the middle of the hallway, watching you disappear around the corner, where the bedroom was.

You took a few deep breaths before gripping the door handle in your hands and turning it to open it.

As soon as you were inside, you saw a woman standing next to her bed.

She had long, curly hair and a sour face.

The expression on her face didn't improve as she looked you up and down, as if she was evaluating whether or not to let you in there.

Too bad, because you didn't need anyone's permission, much less hers, to be there.

You were going to stay no matter what, and if she wanted you to leave, she'd have to kick you out of the room herself.

You observed each other for a few moments in silence, until, fed up with her scrutiny, you broke it with a question.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Fiona, his wife," she said, frowning as she crossed her arms over her chest. "And you are…?"

"His best friend, y/n," you introduced yourself, using the same tone she had used. "What are you doing here?"

"Taking care of my husband," she muttered, as if offended by your question. "I couldn't possibly say what YOU are doing here"

"I have the right to be here as much as you do," you defended yourself. "In all these months of friendship, he has never mentioned you," you blurted out. "That must be for a reason, don't you think?"

"Stupid bitch," she growled. "If you think that wearing leather outfits and looking like a cheap whore is going to get you anywhere, you're sorely mistaken"

You clenched your fists at your sides, containing the rage that was starting to build up in you.

You had an overwhelming urge to kick that moron's face in, but you knew you shouldn't make a scene, especially not here.

So you did what you knew would piss her off.

You spoke to her calmly, as if everything she said didn't matter to you in the slightest.

"Be careful what you say, or I'll be forced to ask the hospital staff to throw you out of here"

"You can't do that," she whispered. You raised an eyebrow defiantly

"Do you want to check it out?" "You asked, nodding where the Scotch was lying. "The fact that he hasn't mentioned you says a lot about your relationship," you blurted out. "Look, where you two are is none of my business, what is," you murmured. "He's my friend and I care about him, and you're not the one to tell me whether I can or can't worry, because no matter what you tell me, I'll do it anyway. Do you understand?" Fiona nodded slowly. "Why don't you go get some coffee? I heard the one from the machine next to the X-ray room is really good"

With a grimace of anger, the girl silently got up and without saying a word, she got up and left the room, which left you free to be with Chibs.

You slowly watched as he opened his eyes, and the first person he saw when he woke up was you.

A weak smile formed on his lips when he saw you. You held his hand gently in yours.

"Hello," you murmured when you saw that he started to look around. "You're in the hospital," you explained. "Relax, everything's going to be okay."

"What happened?" he asked, wincing as he sat up in bed.

"You were shot," you explained. "Tara says the bullet almost pierced your spine," you murmured. "You're lucky, two centimeters higher and you'd be dead."

"Lucky," he repeated, laughing. "Fuck, it hurts so much," he complained, and you couldn't help but laugh.

"I can imagine," you murmured, helping him lean his back against the pillows. "You'll be okay. I'll come check on you every day."

"Thanks for doing this, Y/N. You don't have to…"

"You would do the same for me," you whispered.

And the look he gave you next told you he would do it without needing to say a word.

Days and weeks passed, and just as you'd told him, you'd sit on the couch in front of his bed and talk to him about your day and how the boys were doing until one of you fell asleep.

There were many times when you fell asleep first, and Chibs would have to call a nurse to cover you with a blanket to keep you from getting cold at night.

Time passed so quickly that before you knew it, the Scotsman was walking again, as if nothing had happened.

The club took care of paying for his hospital stay and the rest of his expenses.

Meanwhile, you had no idea where Chibs was.

You thought maybe he needed a little time to process everything and would be talking to Unser, with whom he had a good relationship, so you weren't worried about that.

Back at the TM, Jax gave you a comforting hug while whispering in your ear how proud he was of you.

"You've behaved like a true Old Lady" he smiled, placing a loving kiss on your cheek. "No one had ever taken such good care of Chibs since he was very little, not even us"

"You have to talk to him, sweetheart" Tig murmured, watching you closely with his intense blue eyes. You nodded.

"That's just what I was going to do," you smiled nervously. "Thanks, guys"

"Don't thank us, honey," the president smiled as he lit a cigarette. "You're part of the family, and we take care of our own"

You nodded before walking down the hallway to the bedrooms before stopping at Chibs's.

Just as you were about to knock on the door, he yanked it open.

You stared at each other intensely for a few seconds before he spoke first.

"I was just going to come find you," he whispered. "I need to talk to you"

"I was going to…" you shook your head. "I need to talk to you too"

He nodded and stepped aside so you could enter.

"Come in," he said before closing the door behind you. "Sorry for the mess, I'm still settling in," he murmured as he stood by the door. "What do you want to talk about?"

You took a few deep breaths before starting.

"When you were in the hospital, there was a woman in your room," you blurted out, getting straight to the point. "Is she really your Old Lady?"

"It's complicated," he replied, avoiding your gaze. "Fiona and I… our relationship isn't what it used to be…"

"But you fucked her."

"What?" I don't…

"Don't lie to me, Telford. I can see it in your eyes," you whispered, feeling your eyes watering. "How could you? I thought we…" You shook your head. "Forget it, it doesn't matter."

Chibs held your chin between his index finger and thumb, looking directly into your eyes, where he could see all the feelings you were experiencing at that moment, the same ones you saw reflected in his own.

"Let me explain, darling. I…"

You didn't give him time to continue. Your body acted on its own, causing you to slam your hand against Chibs's cheek. He didn't flinch from the blow. In fact, he knew he probably deserved it. "Fucking sorry, I didn't mean to…" you murmured. He shook his head. "It's okay, I'm sure it wasn't deliberate." He gave a half-smile. "I'm so sorry for whatever you might have thought about Fiona and me, but I promise there's nothing between us anymore, and…"

You didn't give him a chance to continue, as you had leaned in to kiss him.

His lips covered yours with desperation and affection at the same time, as if he wanted to show you that his relationship with Fiona was in the past, and that at that moment, in the present, the only person he wanted to be in a relationship with was you.

You soon removed each other's clothes.

Chibs tortured you, tasting, sucking, and licking all the spots on your body that after a while he discovered were his favorites.

"You're beautiful, love" he murmured as he began to move gently inside you. "I love you" he growled, placing his hands on your hips as you moved in time with his. "I fucking love you" he said in a sound halfway between a gasp and a growl

"I love you too, Scotsman," you replied making him laugh

[trans-yllz]

hey can random fucking strangers on the internet please stop recommending me ways to kill my own rats every time I have to put one to sleep

[beloveds-embrace]

Part two of the Lavender Marriage au! Considered adding smut to this but I chickened out lmao if the ending is abrupt it’s because of that 🙂‍↕️

The four men are fuming.

Since witnessing the lip-lock battle, they’ve been stewing in barely-contained anger. Every time they see you- on your porch in one of those sweet sundresses, humming to yourself as you water the flower boxes or hand them freshly-baked cookies- they’re consumed by a burning desire to tell you the “truth” about your cheating husband. But the ring on your finger, and your seemingly cheerful demeanor, stop them every time.

Still, they’re restless. It’s wrong to let you live in ignorance like this. But also, it’s not their business even if they want it- even if they want you. The thought of ruining your cozy life, despite your husband’s unfaithfulness, isn’t an easy one to swallow.

It becomes easier to think of admitting it all to you with each passing day, though.

“He’s walking around like he’s done nothing wrong! The bastard. How does she not see it?” Kyle grumbles, gesturing wildly with his tea mug. He grits his teeth, watching your husband saunter inside the house without offering to help you. He just puts down a plate of steak Kyle knows is too fucking cooked. Heathen. Bastard. Ughhh.

“She’s either blind or loyal to a fault,” Johnny agrees, sprawled out on the couch, looking far more despondent than usual. “Breaks ma bloody heart, lads. She’s makin’ us lemonade an’ cookies, an’ he’s aff canoodlin’ wiith some bloke under her roof.”

Simon grunts, his eyes narrowing as he joins Kyle’s side. “What kind of man cheats on her? She’s…” He trails off, unwilling to finish the sentence, but everyone knows what he means: She’s perfect.

Meanwhile, John leans back in his chair, puffing thoughtfully on a cigar. He’s been unusually quiet, though it’s clear he’s just as agitated, fist clenching on his lap. Finally, he speaks, his tone commanding.

“We wait until he leaves,” he says, much to the others’ dismay. “We don’t meddle now. If she finds out on her own, we’ll be there for her. Until then, we keep our mouths shut.”

The others grumble, but they nod in agreement. For now.

You, meanwhile, are oblivious to the internal warfare raging next door. Your days are filled with your usual routine of pretending to be the dutiful wife, gossiping with the neighborhood ladies, sweetly cooing about your hardworking husband, and pretending you don’t know they will gosspi about you after you leave. On the way, you also deliver a basket of homemade muffins to your handsome neighbors.

Such good men; they didn’t even yet know they were your little kitchen rats to taste-test everything you make for the annual baking contest. This year, that bitch Beatrice will not win and you swore it.

“Oh, these look incredible,” Johnny says when you hand over the basket. He flashes you a cheeky grin, and you can’t help but smile back, cheeks warm. “Y’know, if yer husband does not appreciate all this, I might just have ta steal ye away, lass.”

You laugh, waving off the comment as a joke, but the other three men go rigid. “Not the time, mate.” Kyle mutters, elbowing Johnny, though you really don’t notice. Their house is coming along so nicely and so fast; the perks of having handy men as its owners, you suppose.

Later that day, while you’re trimming the hedges of your precious little garden , you spot Simon working on their roof. You catch him staring at you- not that you blame him, you are wearing your one of cutest skirt and top- and you give him a small wave. He almost falls off the roof even if he does wave back, so you decide to just focus on the damned hedges and hopefully avoid any more incidents.

They’re so distracted by your lovely self that they almost forget their rage toward your husband. Almost. Because just as Price and Johnny are helping you carry bags of groceries back to your house, your husband- traitorous bastard- walks out of the house all patient and whistling.

“Be back soon, honey! You know how long my business trips take.” your husband calls over his shoulder, giving you a quick wink before he hops into a car and drives off.

Unbelievable.

The tension is palpable. John glares. Johnny looks like he’s seconds from sprinting after the car. Simon mutters, “Unbelievable,” under his breath from where he and Kyle are watching from the window.

“Oh dear,” you sigh, though on the inside you are very happy. You know your husband’s boyfriend has a nice surprise picked for him- you helped get it, after all- and now you have the house all to yourself again. Perfect.

You turn to John, batting your lashes up at him and it is as if all his anger melts away. “Be my guests this evening, John? I’d be terribly lonely, all by myself in this big house.”

John really, truly, fucking hates your husband for doing this to a precious, lovely thing like you. But at least it means they’ll be the ones in your company.

“Alright, doll,” he nods, fond as he watches the grin stretch across your face. “Let me just go tell the muppets, then we’ll come by and help.”

“There’s no need-“

“I insist, sweetheart.”

That evening, as promised, the four of them come by to “keep you company” and help. You’re in your element, flitting around the kitchen in an apron as you serve drinks and chatter away, oblivious to the tension radiating from the group. You are practically glowing; your pretty flowers were complimented and the food looks so good you can’t wait to post it on your instagram.

Simon leans against the counter, arms crossed, staring daggers into the walls- into the portraits of you and your husband. Kyle is poking at one of the cookies you made like it’s done something to offend him, his mind adrift. Johnny’s chopping away at vegetables, muttering under his breath and wishing it was something else under his knife. And John? He’s nursing his whiskey like it’s the only thing keeping him sane. It might as well be. You talk so nicely about your husband and what he’s customized for you in the kitchen, still so unaware of the truth.

John contemplates just telling you right then and there, but then it happens.

The front door swings open, and in strolls your husband, laughing loudly with none other than his boyfriend- the one the group saw kissing. They’re holding hands, both grinning like idiots.

“Sorry we’re back so soon!” your husband calls out, completely unbothered by the fact that your house is now hosting four very large, very angry military men. “I forgot my wallet-”

The rest of his sentence dies in his throat when he notices the four men staring at him, expressions ranging from pure disbelief to murderous rage. His boyfriend freezes too, glancing nervously between you and the men like he’s walked into a firing squad.

“What the bloody hell is this?” Johnny practically shouts, pointing between the two men with the knife. “You’ve got the audacity to bring him here? Here?”

Kyle crushes the cookie when he slams his fist on the table, standing abruptly. “Under her roof? After all she’s done for you? Again?”

Simon doesn’t say a word because he truly doesn’t need to- he’s just staring, fists clenched, practically vibrating with barely-contained fury.

John finally speaks, his voice low and dangerous, pulling your surprised self against his side protectively. “You’ve got some confessing to do.”

Your husband just… blinks, then glances at you. “Wait, you didn’t tell them?”

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I didn’t think it would come up like this.”

“Tell us what?” John demands, his tone sharp. He is still glaring at your husband and the boyfriend

You wave your hand dismissively, like this is the most normal thing in the world with a soft sigh. “Oh, we’re not really married for love, John. It’s just for the benefits- y’know, keeping his parents off his back and mine off mine.”

The room falls silent. Dead silent.

“What?” Simon finally growls, his voice low and dangerous. All this time…

Your husband grins sheepishly, wrapping an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders. “Yeah, I’m gay. This is my boyfriend. He’s great, isn’t he?” He says, kissing his boyfriend’s cheek.

Johnny looks like he’s just been hit with the frying pan the vegetables he’d been chopping was meant to go in. “Yer what?”

Kyle stares at you, wide-eyed. “You knew? This whole time?”

You shrug, popping a cookie into your mouth. Ohh, Beatrice should count her fucking days. “Of course I knew. We planned the whole thing together. It’s not that complicated, really.”

Simon mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like a curse.

“Anyways, we do have places to be,” your husband sighs. “I’ll just get my wallet and leave you all be to your date.” When he returns with his wallet a few minutes later, he kisses your forehead. “Bye, love. I snuck some of the cookies too- Beatrice is absolutely not winning this year, trust me.” And then he leaves at last.

John exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “Let me get this straight,” he says slowly. “You’re married but it’s just… out of necessity, and you’ve just been… pretending to love him?”

“Exactly!” you say brightly, clapping your hands together. “See? Not so hard to understand.”

The four men just stand there, utterly gobsmacked.

“You mean to tell me,” Johnny starts, pointing an accusatory finger at you after placing the knife down. “that we’ve been stewin’ for weeks over a cheatin’ husband that doesn’t even exist?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” you reply with a giggle, pouring a drink. Your eyes widen then. “But you cannot tell anyone here, in this shitty town, about this!”

“We won’t, love, promise.” Kyle groans, slumping back into his chair. “I need a bloody drink.” And then he perks up when you slide him the drink you just made. “…fucking lifesaver you are, love. Thank you.”

Simon just shakes his head, muttering, “Unbelievable.” under his breath.

John sighs, downing the rest of his whiskey in one go. “You’re going to be the death of us, doll.”

You grin, completely unfazed. “Oh, come on, boys. It’s not that bad.”

The four of them exchange a look- one of disbelief, exasperation, and maybe just a hint of relief. Because as much as they’re reeling from the truth, one thing’s clear: you’re technically single. And that, at least, is something they can work with.

[stromblessed]

Mizu, femininity, and fallen sparrows

In my last post about Mizu and Akemi, I feel like I came across as overly critical of Mizu given that Mizu is a woman who - in her own words - has to live as a man in order to go down the path of revenge.

If she is ever discovered to be female by the wrong person, she will not only be unable to complete her quest, but there's a good chance that she'll be arrested or killed.

So it makes complete sense for Mizu to distance herself as much as possible from any behavior that she feels like would make someone question her sex.

I felt so indignant toward Mizu on my first couple watchthroughs for this moment. Why couldn't Mizu bribe the woman and her child's way into the city too? If Mizu is presenting as a man, couldn't she claim to be the woman's escort?

However, this moment makes things pretty clear. Mizu knows all too well the plight of women in her society. She knows it so well that she cannot risk ever finding herself back in their position again. She helps in what little way she can - without drawing attention to herself.

Mizu is not a hero and she is not one to make of herself a martyr - she will not set herself on fire to keep others warm. There's room to argue that Mizu shouldn't prioritize her quest over people's lives, but given the collateral damage Mizu can live with in almost every episode of season 1, Mizu is simply not operating under that kind of morality at this point. ("You don't know what I've done to reach you," Mizu tells Fowler.)

And while I still feel like Mizu has an obvious and established blind spot when it comes to Akemi because of their differences in station, such that Mizu's judgment of Akemi and actions in episode 5 are the result of prejudice rather than the result of Mizu's caution, I also want to establish that Mizu is just as caged as Akemi is, despite her technically having more freedom while living as a man.

Mizu can hide her mixed race identity some of the time, and she can hide her sex almost all of the time, but being able to operate outside of her society's strict rules for women does not mean she cannot see their plight.

It does not mean she doesn't hurt for them.

Back to Mizu and collateral damage, remember that sparrow?

While Mizu is breaking into Boss Hamata's manse, she gets startled by a bird and kills it on reflex. She then cradles it in her hands - much more tenderly than we've seen Mizu treat almost anything up to this point in the season:

She then puts it in its nest, with its unhatched eggs. Almost like she's trying to make the death look natural. Or like an accident.

You see where I'm going with this.

When Mizu kills Kinuyo, Mizu lingers in the moment, holding the body tenderly:

And btw a lot of stuff about this show hit me hard, but this remains the biggest gut punch of them all for me, Mizu holding that poor girl's body close, GOD

When Mizu arranges the "scene of the crime," Kinuyo's body is delicate, birdlike. And Mizu is so shaken afterward that she gets sloppy. She's horrified at this kill to the point that she can't bring herself to take another innocent life - the boy who rats her out.

MIZU'S ONE MOMENT OF SOFTNESS AND MERCY, COMING ON THE HEELS OF HER NEEDING TO KILL A GIRL TO SPARE HER THE WORST FATE THAT THIS RIGID SOCIETY HAS TO OFFER WOMEN, AND TO SPARE A BROTHEL FULL OF INNOCENT WOMEN WHO ARE THE CASTOFFS OF SOCIETY, NEARLY RESULTS IN ALL OF THEIR DEATHS

No wonder Mizu is as stoic and cold as she is.

And no wonder Mizu has no patience for Akemi whatsoever right before the terrible reveal and the fight breaks out:

Speaking of Akemi - guess who else is compared to a bird!

The plumage is more colorful, a bit flashier. But a bird is a bird.

And, uh

Yeah.

I like to think that Mizu killing the sparrow is not only foreshadowing for what she must do to Kinuyo, but is also a representation of the choice she makes on Akemi's behalf. She decides to cage the bird because she believes the bird is "better off." Better off caged than... dead.

But because Mizu doesn't know Akemi or her situation, she of course doesn't realize that the bird is fated to die if it is caged and sent back home.

Mizu is clearly not happy, or pleased, or satisfied by allowing Akemi to be dragged back to her father:

But softness and mercy haven't gotten Mizu anywhere good, recently.

There is so much tragedy layered into Mizu's character, and it includes the things she has to witness and the choices she makes - or believes she has to make - involving women, when she herself can skirt around a lot of what her society throws at women. Although, I do believe that it comes at the cost of a part of Mizu's soul.

After all, I'm gonna be haunted for the rest of this show by Mizu's very first prayer in episode 1:

"LET" her die. Because as Ringo points out, she doesn't "know how" to die.

Kind of like another bird in this show:

[ridingtorohan]

hey!! i saw ur recent post about the tulpar crew walking in on reader touching themselves, could u do the same but vice versa?

Ask and ye shall receive!

𓇻 ft. tulpar crew x gn reader

𓇻 content. 18+ content, minors dni. possible second hand embarrassment. masturbation, sexual propositions, the whole shebang. this is a sequel to this post. this one can definitely be read on its own though. lightly implied that reader didn't accept swansea or daisuke's offers in the prequel but that can be left up to interpretation. jimmy's definitely happened though.

𓇻 enjoy! feel free to like, reblog, or send in asks!

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Curly is just so damn tired. Tired of the reports, faxes, checking the straps in the cargo bay. One of the few downtimes he gets is when he can sit and watch the constellations pass on the common room monitor. The Augira, Constantine and Mitena were all ones that he recognized from this sect of the system, all penned from the eyes of Saturn and further.

Movies are a scarce commodity on the screen, given Jimmy's track record of not wanting to hook the systems up, but it helps him nod off most times.

Working out, though? Working out he can do. Pony Express has given him permission to bring his weights on board, alongside a slew of magazines and audiobooks to listen to.

While Curly doesn't think of himself as a gym rat, those moments to himself are some of the best. Nothing but the burn of iron, the strain of his muscles with each rep. It's methodical work, one that sets his mind at ease and off of reports for once.

Some days, he can get Jimmy in on the action, but most of the time his co-pilot bemoans it. Each time they worked out, the stretches between the next session grew longer.

He's pleased when you agree to attend a few sessions with him. By then, it's almost amicable between you two, as if him walking in you didn't even happen. He's very much acted the part of a dutiful captain, though, he can't help his own eyes from wandering when he sees you stretch. Can't help himself from putting his hands firmly on you when he goes to correct your stance. It doesn't linger, doesn't wander, but goddamn, does he wish he could throw propriety out the window.

It's after one of his solo workout sessions when he chooses another way to unwind. Really, that's the only explanation for it. One that he tells himself anyway, because the strain of propriety is heavy. If he still thinks of you from time to time, if your face crops up in his thoughts while he touches himself, that's his business.

The only places you'd catch him in the act is either in the bathroom or his room.

Curly has always been imaginative, thoughts trailing to roads not travelled, paths that burn out of sight. Of you, sprawled out on the bed, and how he wished he had stayed. How he'd have given anything to hike your legs over his waist and kiss you senseless when he slid against you.

As it always is, every fantasy comes to an abrupt end. Every night that he had dreamed of walking in to find you waiting, you found him. Wifebeater drenched in sweat, towel draped over his shoulders, every line of his well built body on display, hand fisted around his cock.

There's a difference between wishing you'd walk in on him and actually receiving it.

A painful, terse moment lingers between you two, tension so thick he swears he can cut it. His hand completes the motion, wiping from his base to the tip, each breath deep. Despite how uncomfortable he felt (for more than one reason), he also felt more prepared. "Hold on a minute." He'll cover himself, boxers and uniform hiding himself from view.

If you believe you could flee from the room without Curly following you, you're dead wrong. He'll track you down, put this to bed once and for all. He'll catch you, half-dressed in his uniform, blue workwear draped around his waist, hand against the wall. "We have to talk about this."

Regardless if you stay or leave, not talking about it is no longer an option. You've both seen more of each other than was warranted, then what you both signed up for, but dammit he wants this. And he's so tired of shying away from things that he wants. From the person that he wants. All because of some higher-ups sitting cozy back home saying that it's wrong to do. He can't do it anymore, not when he feels like he's on the cusp of something great for once in his life.

"I know that what happened isn't what either of us expected," he'll start, voice low and perhaps far too sensual to be appropriate considered his half-dressed state. "And frankly, we can keep it to ourselves, pretend we never saw it." Biting the bullet is one of the fewest things he's done in life, but this is something that he wants to do. By fractions, Curly leans in closer, his voice entering a low murmur. "But... it doesn't have to be. We could give each other a.. hand, so to speak."

Routine. That's one thing that the Tulpar is good at. Routine. Each meal time, the rigid necessity of clocking in and out on time, even bathing. Pony Express may be a shit machine but it's well oiled, worked raw by the people under it. Delivering the payload is a smooth easy task because they all work on it together.

Part of that routine is shift work. Jimmy, ever the night-owl, works evening and night shift. This makes it so incredibly easy to avoid him if you wanted, especially since he walked in on you tending to yourself.

But he doesn't let you forget it. Since that moment, there's a smoldering heat in his gaze, eyes hooded as he watches you go about the room. Watched as you did your tasks, always standing too close - enough that you can get a whiff of his woodsy cologne, or feel his arm against yours.

He's almost helpful, even when your tasks really don't necessitate the need for another. His hands linger, hot against your uniform, his hips against the back of yours whenever he steadied you, or reached above you. Each word a rumble in his throat.

Except there's never really any change to talk to him about what happened. Not when every moment is tense, fraught with unresolved desires and need. Not when Daisuke or Curly walk into the room, silencing the burning questions and words that haunt your lips. Jimmy seems especially disgruntled about the interruptions, getting almost snappy towards the other crewmembers.

All in all, you rarely have a moment to speak with him. It's the furthest thing from your mind when you step out of the shower, more than eager to collapse face first into bed and sleep the weariness away.

If you're the sort to bring clothes into the washroom to change into, the absence of them is noted fast. No amount of scrounging around turns them up either. At a loss, it's to your sleeping quarters to wrangle up something else to wear.

Except you're very much not alone the second you step into your door. The door swishes behind you but you're effectively grounded, eyes drawn to the man lounging on your bed.

His head is tilted, messy hair falling across his hooded eyes, a dark and smoldering look to them. A slow stretch of a smirk crawls across his face, a pleased look darting into his eyes.

Jimmy is just as bare as the day he was born, an arm languidly thrown over your pillow. A leg bent up, not at all coy about having himself on display. His other arm is resting against his thigh, one hand smoothing along his flushed cock in a slow, slick motion. His fingerstips are all but slathered in precum - or actual cum, as you might suspiciously think when you look at your clothes haphazardly thrown onto the floor, looking sticky.

"There you are. Took you long enough." He breathes out your name, chin tilted upward, something primal lurking deep in his eyes. Jimmy clicks his tongue, ever the disapproving copilot. "You should know better than to keep someone waiting." Despite the curt, wanting tone to his words, he doesn't move towards you. Letting you go to him. Like he knows you will.

"I've been thinking," each word is low and deep, husky in his mouth. Jimmy's hand very much doesn't stop moving, stroking himself as you're rooted to the spot. Whenever you glance down between his thighs, his smirk deepens. "That you owe me for what I did for you."

It's not like you could dance around the topic forever; each touch, every interrupted conversation, it all would have culminated to this. Jimmy waiting for you, eager to put his hands back on you, to feel you tremble and shudder beneath him as he pulls you apart.

The thing was, you realize, it'd be terribly easy to leave him here. To not respond to his advances. The door was to your back and even Jimmy had enough sense not to walk out nude in pursuit of you. It'd be easy to walk to another crewmate's quarters and pilfer clothes. It'd be laughed off, brushed under the rug just as another incident, excused as you being unable to enter your room because of 'technical difficulties'.

The thing is, though, you can clearly remember how his hands felt, the way he moved. How Jimmy watched you with the same intensity now, his eyes a dark promise of a repeat experience, if not more.

You don't really want to refuse such an offer, do you?

Try as Anya might, she can't get the image of you out of her head. The sounds you made, how your hands moved. She'd tried to be civil, though how quickly she averts her gaze and fidgety hands betray how much it affected her. Nerves, she'd try to excuse it. Nothing ever related to you, of course, because that sounds too much like blame. She blames herself for walking in on you masturbating, and blames herself for wishing that she hadn't left.

But by god, did it make her needy and so sexually frustrated. She's found every excuse under the sun to touch you then jerk back, at war with herself. She has to act professional. Doesn't she?

Something about you, seeing you like that, had coiled something burning inside of her. Something hot, that festered low in her gut.

For the most part, she can act professional. Mostly. But she can only get so far from letting her eyes trace your silhouette, from sitting on her leg whenever you talk to her. It's risky business, even riskier when she decides to keeps a few tokens of yours. Things that smell like you, even distantly - papers, a bracelet. Things that you've lent to her before.

It's been a while since she got laid, since she's even been attracted to anyone. But something about you just sets her on fire, burning with want and need. She needs you like she's never needed anyone before.

Realistically, Anya knows it's because of the forbidden nature; because of the close proximity day in and day out, but there's something so tantalizingly beautiful about it too. She's a sucker for it.

One of her favourite places to get off is in the medbay; she can lock herself in it - but she doesn't. Because it's so much more tantalizing when she thinks about you walking in. When she thinks about pressing you against the desk and using her medical expertise on you. She wants to hear you - taste you - feel you. Is that too much to ask for?

That's exactly where you catch her. Her breath coming out in hot breaths, eyes shut tightly, uniform pulled open. It'd be so easy to mistake it for something else, such as the room being hot - if it weren't for where her hands were.

One has all but ridden up her shirt, rolling the peak of her breast between her fingers. The zipper has gone all the way down to her waist, one hand curled tightly in her underwear, motions jerky as she fingers herself.

Every inch of her wishes that it was you, your fingers working her over, touching her clit and prodding at her walls. She feels so close, having edged herself for a bit until you came in.

It was just to ask her her input on supper, or for a nonsensical question that very well could have waited for another moment.

The door swishes shut behind you and her eyes flutter, dark as she looks up at you, flush all but crawling up her neck.

Seeing how you look at her - how you came to look for her- needing her for something, a question halfway on your lips - and it's her undoing. She moans your name, guttural and hoarse, hips jerking, dripping over her knuckles. "Wait-" Singlehandedly one of the better orgasms she's had, better than when she pined endlessly.

When her senses come back, Anya is breathless and shaken - and you're long gone.

She's not letting you go this time. Not when a new, burning question lodges inside her. Did you like what you see? Did you wish you weren't there?

Anya approaches your door at night, knocking crisply and when you grant entrance, she stands there, the atmosphere almost palpably awkward. She takes a few steps closer, feeling flighty and desperate, eyes searching your face, whispering your name.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," she whispers, voice low in the room, nerves biting at her throat. She can't not know anymore. "But I'm... glad that you did."

"Is this.. tension between us all in my head, or, do you want me too?"

It's one thing after the next. Couplings came loose, Daisuke's homework is not up to par, the lightbulbs need to be changed but no one seems capable of doing it. It all amounts to a sort of frustration winding up in him. Swansea has enough grace not to lash out at anyone, but it's there, palpable in his tone.

By some saving grace, you're willing to help him out with his work. Passing over screwdrivers and wrenches, new copper wire as he needs it. Swansea has noticed that you're attentive and eager like that; willing to help. Sometimes, he really wished you were his intern instead of Daisuke, not that he blames the kid.

He really needs a damn beer.

Wanking out his frustrations as a teenager and young adult had really suited him just fine, and with each passing day, it becomes a far more likely possibility.

It surely does not help when every little moment with you feels charged. Knuckles brushing when you supply him with mechanic tools, or when his arm brushed against your thigh as he steadied the ladder for you.

Swansea finds his gaze lingering.. on how your uniform bunches, the sway of your walk, the excited chatter to your tone when you've launched into some spiel or other. Each look he gives you is in quiet contemplation, though perhaps not as obvious as to why.

He's long since brushed off your curious questions.

It's when Anya outright slipped and fell over an oil spill that Swansea called it quits. There's only so many small annoyances that he could take before it became a hazardous snowstorm.

After it's suitably cleaned, he tried to find a place to tuck himself away. Keyword: tried. Something else always needed to be fixed, and he had enough years under his belt to know the ins and out of everything. Leaky faucet? Hold his glass. Vaccuum given up? He's got it. Curly, goddammit, he has it.

It's so grueling to find a moment of peace, so he takes what he can. That just so happened to be in the utility room, frustrations to a boiling point.

He knows his body, knows just the right way to stroke himself, the perfect amount of pressure. Learned it long since his youthful days, since his amicable divorce from his wife. Sure, it might feel mechanic at a certain point, but to him, it was a small reprieve. A getaway that only booze came close to.

Foreskin pulled back, his head is tucked low, eyes heavily lidded, fingertips pressing under the tip of the head just like he likes.

Swansea has himself sticky with precum when the utility door rattles and open. "Swansea, I found your keys-"

His eyes track up, eyebrows raised. Whatever hasty attempt you may have made, it's blocked by the aging mechanics of the utility door. It's from an older rig, one that still uses keys instead of the security bars that the medbay and cockpit use. Which means it's faulty as shit.

He sighs, head tipped back, eyes still on you. "That's on me for not leaving a sock out there," he grumbles, voice gruff and husky. A reference to how he told you to ward off people when he caught you masturbating earlier.

Moving his hand from his cock, his gaze is surprisingly steady, arm draped against the back of the chair. "Listen, kid, I won't say shit about this if you don't. Keep it jammed tight better than a olive jar when making margaritas. But." He rolls his neck, feeling a satisfying crack run through him. "I can show ya a few things that the ole cap' or other men won't, if yer interested."

Daisuke has been, for lack of a better word, edgy around you. Hovering, then trying to create distance. He can't seem to decide how to act around you. Not when he's seen you that way, pleasuring yourself. When he wishes you'd involve him.

He's seen plenty of naked people before, got hard over them, but wow, did you take it to the next level. Even how you tilt your head or roll up your sleeves has him in an outright tizzy, straining hard in his pants.

Daisuke often has to excuse himself from your presence. Ignoring Swansea's rolling eyes and knowing scoffs is easy; ignoring you is harder.

It's during one of those mundane tasks, where you're prattling about your work to the others, his eyes glued to your form, absorbing every word that he can't take it anymore. Excusing himself, he pops right out of the room, awkwardly striking towards his bunk.

But of course that is the exact moment you decide you need to return his gameboy - or comic, or whatever he had lent you a few weeks prior.

Daisuke is completely in the groove, pants folded down, back propped to the wall, knees folded and lips parted with each heavy breath. He's always been loud, noisy and boisterous. But his saving (and falling) grace is that he's also often playing movies in his room, and what muffled sounds you may hear from the other side of the door is easily chalked up to that. (Or perhaps, you knew.)

You catch him like that, hand fisted around his lean cock, shirt ridden up over his stomach, his movements sharp and jerky. It's bad enough that you walk in on him like this - but another to hear Daisuke rattle out your name, the sound breathy and full of want coming from his lips.

He's a poor, flushed mess, eyes wide when he looks up at you - and it's so plainly obvious to the both of you that he didn't call out because he heard you come in.

"I- I can totally explain." Except he really can't, can he, when he has his dick in his hand, just moaning your name literally seconds ago.

Any attempt to backtrack out of the room will be greeted with a hasty, "Oh my god, no, pleasewait!" As he all but tries to leap from his bed, tripping over his pants in his haste to get to you. Daisuke is nothing but determined and will try to talk to you about this, even if you manage to successfully flee.

Choosing to stay has him utterly red-faced, almost ashamed as he rambles through a tirade of, "Okay, so," punctuated by repeated, stumbled phrases before he manages to get out, "So, me calling out your name just now - total accident. Unlessyoudon'twantittobe? But, like, I definitely understand if you want to leave but I'dreallyratheryoustaybecause I really can't stop thinking about you and, - oh hey, is that my gameboy? You can just set it-- that's not important! I just. Really don't want you to leave. Please."

[limethefirst]

Hellooo, i hope your having a beautiful day. I saw your requests are open and that you wrote for movie shadow once. Would it be okay if maybe i requested movie shadow x a reader who prehaps eggmans niece. Maybe then when its just shadow, stone and her on the crab prehaps she takes shadow to her room on the crab and trys to play and show him some of her stuff not scared of him. Then maybe she remind him of maria 🥹? Idk i have sonic brainrot after seeing the movie today lol and ive had this idea since.

Do I look like her?

pairings: Shadow the Hedgehogs x reader (platonic)

warnings: sonic 3 spoilers

summary: as the niece of Eggman you are left behind on the crab with Shadow as the men finish their mission, but every time Shadow looks at you he sees someone else.

a/n: hii thank you so much for the request! I’ve been wanting to write more Sonic 3 fics because I love the movie so much! I hope this is to your liking and you have an amazing day!!!

You watched your uncle Robotnik and Gerald walked away together, planning to sneak into GUN and steal the final keycard they needed, leaving you, Stone and Shadow.

“I have avocados in The Crab. Let’s go make guac!” Stone chimed, both you and Shadow turned your head to look at him.

“Revenge guac.” Shadow responded, his brows furrowed watching as Stone slowly helped you back into the sewer drain.

You were warned about Shadow, he was dangerous Robotnik had told you. Robotnik was somewhat caring when it came to you, he wasn’t harsh nor rude, he saw you as a responsibility but not a burden. He was kinder around you, maybe he saw a bit of himself, being all alone in a world that tended to abandon.

Whatever it was, you knew his warnings were usually right, but having been around the hedgehog for a while you honestly didn’t believe your uncle. Shadow, although seemed tough, you could tell there was more behind the persona and all the walls he’d put up.

Stone walked over to the island in the middle of the Crab, preparing the avocados for the guacamole he planned to make.

You took the opportunity to show Shadow around. Being the youngest of the bunch you didn’t have many friends and this was a chance to make a new one.

Quickly you walked in front of Shadow, a bright smile on your face highlighting the innocence in all your features, it was eerily reminiscent of someone.

“Come, I wanna show you around!” You told Shadow, grabbing his gloved hand unannounced, making him slightly more on guard. Stone looked up from the guac he was currently working on, he seemed happy; smiling at the two kids.

Shadow didn’t say much as you dragged him to your room, he just looked at you. Watching as your hand gripped onto his, he couldn’t help but hold on as well. Fearing that if he let go he may never find it again.

As he watched you near the closed door, he couldn’t help but take in all that you were, your demeanor, your way of speaking, your bright attitude, it was just like hers.

“This is my room!” Your hand started letting go of his but his grip only tightened. You looked down at his hand and back up at him as his eyes scanned the small room. You only smiled at his gesture, not feeling the need to point it out.

As you guided him around still hand in hand you saw his eyes checking every corner of the room, “It’s small,”

Your sudden laugh catches him off guard, his head quickly turning to see your free hand covering your mouth, “Sorry sorry! It’s just that’s the first thing you say to me?” You jokingly tell the hedgehog.

He watches you for a little bit longer, his eyes widening. As he stares up at you, all he sees is her. It wasn’t physical, it wasn’t that you looked like Maria, no not at all, it was the fact your personality towards him resembled her so much.

You weren’t afraid, you approached him and didn’t see him as a weapon or some type of lab rat. It was like he was really a person around you, like he was capable of caring again.

Shadow didn’t say much, and that was okay, you could do most of the talking anyway, you enjoyed being able to finally talk to someone.

You sat Shadow down on the floor, letting go of his hand so you could show him some of the toys and games you owned, knowing he lived 50 years in the past you wanted to keep him up to date on all the newer stuff that had come up. While you were grabbing some items you decided to also play a movie, it would be cool to show him the new films they’d come out with.

He silently watched you hurry around the room, dropping strange toys onto him. He felt some weird string toys get stuck in his quills.

You heard him rustle around, seeing him pull out your worm on a string, “Very colorful,” he grunted, as he tossed the toy in the pile in front of him.

All you did was smile as you sat in front of him, describing each toy and how they worked, as the latest Godzilla movie played in the background.

It was ironic really, back then Godzilla was a monster and now he was a friend protecting the people from the other monsters.

He no longer sat with Maria watching movies and playing games, now he sat with you. Oh how things really have changed.

[itsnesss]

𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐭 | thanos (player 230) × fem!reader

summary | Thanos constantly harasses you until you stand up to him

warnings | strong language, drug use, physical confrontation, kissing

word count | 1.6 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me thanks ᡣ𐭩

It all started with a look—one of those glances people give you when they underestimate you. Of course, you were used to it. Here, no one expected much from a girl like you: small, quick, and quiet. And Player 230, whom everyone called Thanos, was no exception.

From day one, that jerk had decided you were his personal entertainment. He provoked you whenever he could, shoving you as he passed, making sarcastic remarks about how "weak" you looked, and making it clear that if he ever had the chance, he wouldn’t hesitate to crush you.

You put up with it because there wasn’t much choice. In this place, showing weakness was a death sentence, and an open confrontation with someone like him could be just as dangerous. But today, something inside you snapped.

It was the fifth game, a test of endurance and precision. Everyone was tense, including the guards patrolling the room. You focused on your strategy, ignoring the murmurs and stares. Then, as always, he showed up.

“Look who’s here, our little rat. Ready to run away when things get tough?”

His voice echoed behind you, and you could hear the smug grin in his tone. You didn’t bother turning around.

“Don’t you have anything better to do, 230?” you replied, trying to stay calm.

He let out a laugh. “No, not really. Watching you fail is the only entertaining thing here.”

He placed a hand on your shoulder, a gesture that was anything but friendly. You swatted it away, turning to face him.

“You know what? That’s enough. I’m sick of your crap.”

His eyes widened slightly in surprise, but he quickly recovered his mocking expression. “Well, well. The little rat has claws.”

Your heart was pounding, but you weren’t going to back down. Not this time.

“And what about you? What do you have? Besides a big mouth and a small brain?”

A murmur rippled through the room. The other players were watching the scene unfold with interest, some even smirking. It was rare for anyone to stand up to Thanos, let alone in public.

For a moment, you thought he was going to hit you. He stepped closer, and you could feel his heavy breath, mixed with the unmistakable stench of something chemical. Drugs. You’d noticed it before—his dilated pupils, his slightly clumsy movements.

“You know what’s funny?” he said, leaning toward you. His voice, usually loud and commanding, sounded almost… confused. Like he couldn’t decide whether to laugh at you or with you.

“What?” you snapped, not breaking eye contact.

“I like your attitude.” The grin on his face widened, but this time it didn’t seem mocking. It was different, disoriented.

What happened next took you completely by surprise. Before you could react, his hands grabbed your arms��not forcefully. He looked at you as if he were seeing something new, something he didn’t fully understand, and then… he kissed you.

It was quick, clumsy, and so unexpected that for a moment, you didn’t know how to react. Your brain took a few seconds to process what was happening, but when it did, you shoved him away with all the strength you had.

“What the hell are you doing?” you yelled, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

He stumbled back, a satisfied smile plastered across his face.

“You’re sexy when you’re angry, you know?”

Your blood boiled. The air in the room seemed to freeze. The other players stared at you—some horrified, others trying to stifle their laughter. The guards, as always, did nothing, letting the chaos unfold on its own.

“You’re insane,” you said, not bothering to lower your voice.

He took a step toward you, but this time, you stepped forward first.

“No. I’m warning you—don’t come any closer.”

Something in your tone must have reached him because he stopped. He blinked a couple of times, as if trying to process your words, and then let out a low, almost raspy laugh.

“You know, I think I like you more than I thought.”

You couldn’t believe it. This idiot was definitely high and didn’t seem to have any idea how inappropriate his behavior was. But instead of feeling intimidated, a wave of fury surged through you.

“If you ever touch me again,” you said, pointing a finger at him, “I swear you won’t walk out of the next game.”

For a moment, he just stared at you. And then, to your surprise, he nodded.

“Fine, little rat. But don’t be surprised if you change your mind someday.”

[7arami]

i love a dapper anthropomorphic Tawky Tawny as much as the next person. Like, seriously, I love how polite and cartoony Tawky is. But I think just a giant ass magical tiger that appears out of nowhere at the most random times would be, not just hilarious, but amazing.

I know Tawky Tawny does transform into tiger, but I feel it isn't used a lot. He tends to stay in his anthropomorphic form more often than not. And I like the idea of a giant ass, protective mama tiger to a tiny and sweet Billy. I also like the idea of people watching Billy be so domestic with this intimidating beast, that can barely be classified as an animal.

Like imagine a street rat Billy Batson just minding his own business, running around doing errands and odd jobs for money. doing his thing. Then some thug or bully knocks him down and starts messing with him. Billy can't really do anything because he refuses to use powers against civilians since he feels its unfair. He pushed and kicked around a bit, cornered in the back of an alley. Then a giant ass tiger, like I'm thinking practically the size of a car, just walks out of a shadow standing protectively over Billy's bruised body (heh alliteration).

Like wouldn't that be sick! I love giant animals :)

Or maybe has to use his transformation to finish off some big bad, and it left him past out and vulnerable. The league is crowding around him, a range of emotions on each one of their faces as they realize the Captain is actually just some child. Maybe Batman is the first one to break out of his stupor and approach Billy only to be stopped by a loud growl. Tawky pushes through the crowd of superheros and jumps towards Billy.

At first the league is scared that this tiger was trying to attack Marvel, that it was gonna eat the kid while he was vulnerable. Only to watch as Tawky protectively circles Billy. And as the league was going to make a move to grab the child and restrain the tiger. Tawny roars into the sky and lighting bolt engulfs both him and Billy. All that is left in their wake is a scorched mark on the ground where they had just been and a confused/concerned Justice League.

I dunno if any of yall have read Kaiju No. 8, but one of the main characters, Mina, has a white tiger, named Bakko. It can regenerate and is super strong and fast, it is also extremely loyal and cares a lot about Mina. It is not afraid to put himself in the line of fire when it comes to protecting her.

That's what I'm thinking of for Billy and Tawky. Tawny has magic, he's also faster, stronger, and more impervious. I'm also thinking he'd have a few lighting related abilities, nothing to crazy. And when I was talking about Tawny just appearing out of the shadows, I'm not strictly thinking teleportation, but like it would definitely be something adjacent to that lol. Cause I can't decide whether I want this tiger to be able to like shadow travel or something or if I want it to be more of like Tawny just mostly lives in this like spiritual realm and he just sometimes travels between that realm and Earth. It could also just be that he just likes to chill at the rock mostly and decides to check in on Billy every now and then. Maybe at first it started with the Gods giving him a heads up about the new champion and he decided to check them out. And then the visits began to become more reoccurring. Then he and the Gods came to this agreement that the Gods would alert Tawny if anything happens to Billy, especially when he is Billy and not Marvel. He had become very protective of this new champion.

Billy loves Tawky, he showers the tiger with love whenever he decides to visit Billy. Doing his best to take care of him, provide him presents/toys, to give him treats, love, and care. To Billy, Tawky is the only constant in his life. When Billy isn't to sure he'll have enough money to eat, when his favorite cheap diner is destroyed due to a villian attack, when his friends and other kids appear and disappear for a multitude of reasons, Billy can always trust that Tawky will come back to him. And at first, it took him a while to realize that. When he first started getting to know Tawky, the tiger was basically a giant, more like colossal, house cat. It came and go as it pleased, their behavior was sporadic, Billy never knew if the tiger was just gonna watch as Billy struggled to fight of Black Atom or save him when he's pinned. But overtime, they warmed up to one another.

Tawky Tawny would still come and go as he pleased, but he'd also visit more. He always knew when Billy needed him and he was always their to help and comfort. Cold nights when Billy was curled up in a cardboard box, shivering, Tawky would curl around him. And Billy just couldn't help but dream of a summer's day, him and his parents out on a picnic laughing and smiling.

That's another thing, Billy always had good dreams when Tawny was around. Most nights he was plagued with nightmares and would rather spend the night staring at a molding ceiling than confront them, until Tawny came along.

TLDR: Tawky Tawny is Billy's giant emotional support cat, and they love and care for one another very much ♡(◕ᗜ◕✿)!

[thehealthyfearofeverything]

Healing Hands|| Damian Wayne x Reader

100 follower special <3

warnings: blood, referenced child trafficking, I'm plied violence. If I missed anything please tell me!

Crime alley was a lost cause, it’s where petty criminals and the poorest of the poor and other unwanted members of society lived. There was always something happening, always the wails of police sirens, or the sounds of a crime happening. 

Gotham was a dangerous place, especially at night. Petty D-list villains liked to roam about, knowing the local heroes won’t stop them. It’s not because they didn’t care, it’s because there was too much crime, too much corruption, and not enough of them to thwart it. Besides, some things are bound to be swept under the rug or overlooked altogether. 

A domestic dispute, cat burglars, or a murder, if it didn’t involve putting the larger than life villains in Arkham, or unraveling a large scale crime ring. You wouldn't see hide nor hair of the city's vigilantes. That was just how life worked, someone was always being screwed over.

Drunk people stumbling down sidewalks, some laughing in groups, some alone, others muttering strange things under their breath. Rats darted out of the alleys and scurried into the gutters, looking like blurred shadows under the flickering streetlights. 

Strange things happened at night, if it wasn’t a druggie going on a paranoid rant about the second coming, or the sound of a gun going off in an apartment. It was something else, less dire but equally strange.

But this current situation wasn't one that you had ever hoped to come across.

You've been taking the closing shift at some seedy bar( that really shouldn't have hired you) and you had long since gotten used to the strange shit you saw on the walks home. You were convinced that you saw everything this side of the city had to offer. 

However, finding one of the city’s most famous juvenile hero, bleeding out in an alleyway wasn't something you had experience with. Now, you have seen people  get stabbed before. Found some poor sod beaten up and left on the side of the road, and every time you’d called the cops and stayed until you were told to leave.

It was a miracle that you even noticed him at all. You had been walking down the sidewalk, pausing to snap a photo of a mangy black cat and its kittens when you heard a ‘thud’ come from the alley beside you.

This wasn’t a horror movie, you’d usually wouldn’t go investigating the strange noises you hear in alleys at night. The smart thing to do was to continue walking and mind your fucking business.

But… You wouldn’t call this impulsivity, nor a call to adventure, but the lingering voice of your dad telling you to check, to see if someone was hurt, and to do the right thing. Be nice, and someday it might be paid forward. So you turned on your phone’s flashlight and stepped into the alley.

Which is how you ended in your current position, kneeling in some dark corner of the alley, hidden by a nasty smelling dumpster, staring dumbly at the unconscious body of Robin. 

“Oh fuck.” You said a bit breathlessly. You had recognized him the moment your flashlight landed on him. You hadn’t had many run-ins with the local vigilantes, or their villains for that matter, no close encounters with the Riddler for example, besides having the train canceled because he planted a series of bombs in the subway station.

When you realized that the unconscious person was Robin you wanted to walk away, not even bothering to call the cops, just pretend that you hadn’t seen a thing. Not because you didn’t care, but because you’re sure that one of his brood would find him. Nightwing or Red Hood(since Crime Alley was his turf) or even Batman himself. 

And you didn’t want any fingers pointed at you. You didn’t want anyone to assume that you were responsible for injuring the youngest of beloved heroes. You bit your bottom lip eyebrows furrowed in contemplation, you could help him…

The cops in Crime Alley were crooked at best, corrupted at worst, if news of one of Batman Brood was found bleeding out in an alley almost were to reach news outlets… You weren't stupid and you weren't going to get on Batman’s bad side by calling the cops. So the logical thing was to let fate run its course, turn around and go home. After all, he wouldn't even be the first Robin to die on the job.

This wasn’t your circus, he wasn’t your monkey, he was a problem, one that you don't have to solve. Normal people like you shouldn’t get involved with people like him. You needed to stay far, far, very far away from his kind. 

But as you approached the unconscious Robin, you heard a splash and realized you stepped in something wet. Shining the flashlight on the ground, your jaw clenched when you saw you were standing in a pool of blood. 

Robin’s blood.

He was hurt, badly so. There was a gaping hole in his stomach, and although this Robin strayed from the bright traffic light colors his predecessors wore, his suit was a light gray, and you could see a dark spot blooming out from where you think he'd been stabbed. 

You had no idea what happened. You hadn’t heard anything about a fight going on while you've been at work, and usually, the news made sure to keep citizens updated on any hero-villain altercations going on so they would know to avoid the area.

Maybe it was a fight that would break news in the morning, like a cartel or trafficking ring. It would happen sometimes Batman and Co™ Would work on a case and then would turn over all information to the proper authorities. It happened with that one school teacher who was involved with child trafficking. 

Robin’s dark hair splayed out behind his head in a mess of knots. His lips that were always seen curled into a smirk weren't smiling for once. Instead, his mouth was slightly open, with shallow breaths coming out.

If the blood pool wasn’t a dead giveaway, Robin’s skin was deathly pale. You knew that if you left now, He would bleed out very very soon.

“C’mon just walk away,” You muttered to yourself, unable to tear your gaze away from the giant wound in the boy's abdomen. 

You willed your feet to move. To carry you to the end of the alley and go back to your apartment where your dad was waiting for you.

But you couldn’t. You were frozen. Robin may have been a hero, placed on a pedestal and deemed unstoppable but he was still a person. A boy who had family and (probably has) friends. A boy not much older than you. People who would miss him if he was gone.

While you wouldn’t necessarily call yourself a good person, you knew that no one, no matter who they are, deserved to bleed out in a dirty alleyway.

“Well, shit,” You cursed, dropping your bag and kneeling down next to the teen hero. If you were going to do this, you had to do it fast before someone else showed up. 

While you didn’t think there was anyone around, it was clear Robin had been in a fight, and whoever had inflicted this wound might want to finish the job. Or Batman might swoop in. You definitely didn’t want to be around if either one found Robin. 

You unbuttoned and took off your only clean work shirt and stuffed it into your backpack along with your phone. Now in your black tank top, you cracked your fingers and gently tried to lift the fabric of the boy’s shirt away from the wound. The dark fabric clung to the blood, and you winced as it tugged at the raw skin, nervously glancing over to Robin to see if he stirred.

Thankfully, he stayed unconscious.

Once you lifted the shirt, you sucked in a breath at the sight of the wound. It was nothing short of a literal hole in the gut, as if he’s been impaled with something. You didn’t see any spear-like object that could’ve been used as the weapon nearby, meaning Robin likely didn’t pull it out himself. 

If he did, he was an idiot because the one thing a person should never do is try to pull out the thing that stabbed them. Either way, it didn’t seem like he had been the one to pull out whatever had gotten him this good, so you couldn’t fault him too much. 

You narrowed your eyes, noticing the ragged edges around the wound itself. It wasn’t a clean slice, meaning it wasn’t a knife. It was more likely something not meant for stabbing but was going at a high enough speed and force to slice through him anyway. A pipe maybe? You weren't sure, but it didn’t matter much now. 

Taking a breath to steady yourself, you put your hands on the edges of the wound, doing your best to push the skin together. Then you closed your eyes, and concentrate.

For the longest time, you were completely unaware you were a meta. You had always thought it was just plain luck how you healed slightly faster, or how injuries that usually took weeks to heal for others would only last a few days for you. 

Then one day your dad sliced his palm open while trying to open a box. You had run to the bathroom to find something to wrap it, dragging your dad along, when you noticed a strange warmth coursing through your body. Then, you watched with wide eyes as your hands began to glow green, and the cut on your dad’s hand knitted itself back together. 

That was when you learned you could heal, and that's when your dad made you promise not to show off this ability of yours. You understood why, you were a meta with the power to heal, not only yourself but others as well. If the wrong person were to find out…

Well, you didn’t like thinking about that. 

A wound like this though… This was way bigger than anything you had ever tried to heal before. It didn’t matter though. If you could ease the pain in your dad’s joints then you could fix this.

As soon as your hands began to glow a dull green, you could tell this was going to take a lot more out of you than any other wound had healed before. You kept your eyes closed, focusing on the energy flowing from your hands. 

Underneath your fingers, you could feel his skin knitting itself back together. But as the seconds ticked on, your head began to pound. There was a throbbing behind your eyes that you’d only felt when overusing your powers, and it was getting worse with every second.

You grit your teeth, struggling to keep focus. It fucking hurt healing this wound. The pain behind your eyes was like being bashed in the head over and over again, and it was getting hard to breathe. You just needed to get the wound to stop bleeding.

Finally, when your head felt like it was going to explode, and you tasted the blood drip from your nose you lifted your hands from Robin’s stomach. 

You breathed a sigh of relief, the pounding in your head fading almost instantly, but the blood was still flowing from your nose. You took a few moments to catch your breath, shoulders shaking with exhaustion, before opening your eyes to see your work.

The wound wasn’t fully healed. Healing a wound as massive as that wasn’t something you could do in one go. But the gaping hole was much smaller now and had stopped bleeding entirely. Along with that, color was added back into the boy's cheeks, and you wondered briefly if your powers had helped fix some of his blood loss.

Either way, your work here was done. Looking at your hands, you winced when you saw they were slick with blood, and ended up using the edge of the boy's cape to wipe them off. Hopefully, he wouldn’t mind. It was his blood anyway.

As you wiped at the blood from under your nose with the hem of your skirt, you didn’t notice the way Robin’s lip twitched. Nor did you notice the way he flexed his fingers.

No, you didn’t notice any of that until Robin was bolting upright and lunging for you. You yelped as the villain grabbed you by the neck, slamming you into the hard dirt and blood-covered floor.

“Hey! What the fuck?!” You croaked, clawing at the hand around your neck.

“Where am I?” Robin hissed in a scratchy voice.

“Crime Alley.” you said. You watched the boy's lips pull into a frown, his green eyes were swirling with emotions that the pain in your head wouldn’t let you decipher.

 “ Yeah, that sounds right,” he muttered, nodding to himself. “What happened? How did I get in this alley?”

“I don’t know! I was walking home when I found you in a pool of your own blood!” You told him, still trying to remove the hand on your throat. 

“Blood?” As if he had been too confused by his situation to feel any pain, Robin winced and glanced down to his stomach, pulling his shirt up to see the partially-healed wound. 

He stared at the wound for a moment, pursing his lips, before he whipped his head back up to you. “I should be dead right now. How am I not dead?”

You attempted to shrug, but it was kind of difficult with Robin pressing you onto the ground. “ I healed you! I saved your life! you’re welcome.”

“But there’s no bandages. What did you do?”

Removing your hands from his, you let your hands fall limply beside your head. “ I guess you’re just lucky, that I’m a meta.”

Robin was frowning again as he glanced at your hands. “You have healing powers?”

“...Yes? But don’t ask me to do it again, healing you hurts. So you're welcome.”

There was a beat of silence as the boy considered you, a faint dripping noise echoing through the alley. Robin stared down at you for a moment, the confusion practically radiating off of him. Even so, after a few tense seconds, the grip on your neck loosened and he backed off. You didn't sit up right away but when you did it was slow as you rubbed at your neck. 

“Shit, man it’s a good thing I'm not a villain.” you muttered. You hated pain and discomfort, did everything to avoid it. But as a dull warmth ached through your body you knew you’d be sore for the next few days.

“ Why did you help me?” Robin asked, sitting on the opposite side of the alley from her.

“Humm... I dunno. I didn’t really have a reason. I just didn’t think it was right to just leave you to die.” You paused, slumping against the brick wall behind her.

 “Besides, I figured it would’ve been really embarrassing for Robin to bleed out in a random alleyway. I’d thought to save you the humiliation.”

It was quiet for a moment. “Does anyone know about this?” ‘This’ as in the situation? or ‘This’ as in you being a meta? You weren't sure but you’d answer the ladder.

You grimaced, partly because your nose started to bleed again and… “No, besides my dad, I'm just a normal civilian.”

Robin pressed his lips into a thin line. You didn’t answer the question he wanted you to answer, but oh well he should’ve asked a better question.

“Thank you,” He said in a low voice.

You glanced over at him blinking in slight disbelief. This Robin had the reputation of being abrasive and quite prickly. You weren't expecting thanks.

You should've said ‘ your welcome,’ or ‘ no problem, any decent person would help you.’ You  wanted to, you were going too, but you didn’t.

“ I wanted to leave you there, I’d thought that if you died, you died. It was too much of a risk to help you— but…”

You weren't a good person, you didn’t deserve his thanks. And if Robin was another person you’re not sure if you would’ve helped him. Maybe you would've, maybe you wouldn’t, but there was no point in dwelling on that now.

“... Don’t tell Batman.” You knew meta’s weren’t welcomed in Gotham. Batman implemented that unofficial ban out of fear of another superpowered villain going to his ever expansive gallery, but then there was Signal, the daytime hero. It was easy to come to the conclusion that a meta in this city was either working with or against Batman. You wanted to stay under the Bats radar and live as normal a life as you can.

The boy grunts at you, a curt ‘hm’ that shouldn’t have made you smile, but it did. You decided to take that as ‘ yes I wont tell my boss.’ 

“What’s your name?” He asked suddenly.

You gave him your name, with little resistance. After this you're sure Robin would look into you, after all you were a meta with a healing ability. And the Bats had this all–seeing all knowing ‘ big brother is watching you’ image to uphold. Therefore you couldn’t lie even if you wanted to.

There was a lull in the conversation. It was quite in the alley, well it was quiet as an alley can be; the sound of dripping water echoed and noise of the cars zooming past the mouth of the alley was loud and abrupt. It is getting rather late.

Gripping the edge of the wall, Robin pushed himself to his feet, wincing as he held a hand over his stomach. “ Do you need help getting home?”

“ Do you? Besides, are you gonna be able to make it back to your lair or whatever like that?” You asked, standing up as well.

You met his deadpan stare with your own.

“ Lair?” He questioned.

“I dunno where you Bats live! You guys have lairs and fuck of towers, right?”

A smile tugged at his lips. “For the record, that’s classified information,”

“ So you guys do have lairs and huge fuck off towers.”

“You're such… huh…so strange.” Robin muttered, slurring his words and shaking his head.

You were worried for a moment, you didn’t want him to pass out and you’d have to call the police or something, because then revealing your biggest secret would be a complete waste.

But before you could ask again if he was alright, Robin was limping out of the alley with one hand over his stomach, waving at you with the other.

You watched as the shadowy figure turned left out of the alley, disappearing from sight. When you followed, you looked down the street trying to see where he went, but only saw empty sidewalks bathed in the orange glow of the streetlights.

He was gone.

While it felt a little strange to just go back to her apartment after saving the life of one of Gotham’s heroes, you didn’t exactly have much else to do. So you ignored the way your legs shook with fatigue, swung your backpack over your shoulder, and continued down the street like nothing had happened.

It was a cool night out in the city. The air was thick with the promise of rain, the stars blotted out by the dark clouds that hung overhead. By the time you got back to your neighborhood, you breathed a sigh of relief you hadn’t even known you were holding. 

Trudging back into your apartment building, you slumped against the back wall of the elevator and closed your eyes as it began to go up. The vibrations of the elevator reverberated through your head, and all you could think of was how excited you were to pass out in her bed.

“ I’m home,” You announced as you swung open the door to her apartment. The stained carpet crunched under your shoes as you stepped inside, the door slamming shut behind you. 

There was no reply, so dad might have picked up an extra shift at work. You dropped your bag and tossed her keys into the punch bowl at the foot of the door, you walked down the hall and peeked into the only bedroom of the apartment. 

You walked into the room and headed straight for the pile of clothes that was folded and placed in a swivel chair. Pulling out a black bleached stained t-shirt, this would have to do for the night. Walking out of the room and heading for the small bathroom that was across from the bedroom. 

Hot water was a rarity in this shitty building and more often than not when it was time to bathe you had to boil water to use. And tonight wasn’t any different; the water was freezing, and your apartment was cold, leaving you hating everything more than you already did. 

Bundled up in a thick wool blanket you sat at the rickety coffee table doing the rest of your homework that you started on your breaks at work. Besides what happened in the alley the day was ending like it usually did.

Monotonous, that's how you’d describe your life, the same thing rinse and repeat.

You woke up with your body aching and the smell of smog lingering in the air. Pulling yourself up and looking around, it was early. Early enough that the morning traffic noise hadn’t started, the sun wasn’t even up. you tried to sink deeper into the shitty second hand couch. It probably was too early to get ready for school, and too late to go back to sleep.

Dad still hadn’t come home, he’d usually carry you to your bed so that he can have the couch. But since rent had increased, dad decided to pick up another job.

You wondered what Robin is doing. You hoped that he got home safe.

Tag list:

@jsprien213 @vxsire @sick2mystmch @not-aya @seemeee3 @wendee-go @mileskisser @cynniee @djpuppy-kittens @pix-stuff @godoreo22 @mmentallyelsewhere @isabellamorettosworld

[satinestales]

❝what was rule number #2 again❞ I.| bucky barnes x reader

pairing: tfatws bucky x reader summary: messing around in banner's lab, the night before your mission wasn't as good an idea as you thought, and you begin to question your actions the moment you step out of it. things worsen when you realize the super soldier serum isn't immune to an unknown contagious disease. warnings: sex pollen, no warnings this part, the II one? hahaha

a/n: I may have insulted the reader a few times in the beginning, so I apologize for that. but let's be honest, we'd do the same. I decided to split this fic into two parts because if I wrote it all into one part, it'd have 10k words. I'm not an english native speaker, so forgive me my sins and bad grammar if you find something.

m.list

You weren't stupid. But you also weren't exactly smart. If you were, you would've minded your own business, stayed in the gym, and went through the plan for tomorrow's mission. Maybe even go to bed a little sooner, to be ready for the next day's alarm. But Banner was away for a business trip, and seeing his lab silent and alone didn't exactly sing you lullabies to sleep. That's why you found yourself standing in the heart of it at 3 a.m., in your pajamas, praying everyone was asleep. It was well known around the compound that Banner's and Stark's labs were a faraway island, and anybody with a brain would circle around them. But you were an excellent swimmer and sharks didn't scare you.

10 hours later, you realised why Banner turned green every time someone even glared the glass door of his science play room. You were a fast swimmer but not exactly a bright one. The only bright thing related to you was that you were easily struck by it. And the glowing pink flowers in Doc's terrarium took you down faster than the sharks. It was bright pink with purple shadows. It reminded you of passionflower, but it was bigger. Way bigger, and you weren't sure if you were hallucinating, but the feeling of the flower's filaments moving was too strong. They were moving in waves, then circles, then each moved in its own way. It was mesmerising.

It was too late before you realized you moved the flower out of its enclosure to get a closer look at it. The smell hit you hard, filling your brain with colorful fog. You smelled a dash of cinnamon, mixed with ginger and lavender. You couldn't miss the powerful vanilla and pumpkin filling up the room. You didn't realize how bad the consequences of smelling Doc's flower would be until you came undone under your fingers nearly seven times. And it still wasn't enough. The scheduled time of your and Barnes' meeting was quickly approaching, and your skin didn't feel less on fire than it did two hours ago.

You managed to get out of the sweaty mattress and put some clothes on you, loose ones, hoping that your skin could breathe a little. You prayed some air would cool you down, clear your head, and slap some sense into you. It was now obvious why Banner was so determined not to let anyone close his lab. He was experimenting with aphrodisiacs, and you, unwillingly, became one of his lab rats. Thoughts didn't stop multiplying in your head until one landed steadily on its feet. Tony has been visiting Doc's labs the last few weeks, five minutes on the dot after curfew. You knew because you were always stationed on your balcony, which gave you a clear view of the other building, and its glass windows didn't hide much. It only became pitch black when Tony came in, and Banner didn't even flinch when he heard the door shut.

Chuckle left your lips when you connected the dots, ignoring how amusing you must look for Barnes, sitting right next to him.

"Something funny?" he asked, not dropping his gaze off of you. You were now on your way to the target's last seen place, being lucky enough to get a ride in Tony's self-driven car. You wanted to drown him in kisses because you can only imagine the suffering if you had to walk all the way from the compound to the other side of the city. Your skin was still on fire, your hair was sticking to your neck, and salty drops chased each other on your skin. You certainly were an amusing sight to Bucky. Or a terrifying one. You wished he got used to it by now. After all these years of fighting against each other, then with each other, and now forced to fight by each other's side, he saw you through worse conditions. But as far as he knew, you were locked in your room all week. You had no reason to look like you had an early meeting with the reaper.

"Just, thinking," you mumbled back at him, forcing yourself to keep your head rested against your seat, begging your body to not betray you for looking back at your partner. Your body fighting the chemicals in your body, you could only imagine how it would end if you stared at Barnes for more than five seconds. Worse, let alone if you touched him. You read about aphrodisiacs and scientists' failed attempts to know what you were going through. You were prepared to die before touching Barnes.

You were secretly jealous. It wasn't fair of you, but Barnes' serum running through his veins protected him from anything related. You almost abandoned your morals, but the pain you were going through justified it. You had no idea how you were going to focus on the mission, communicate with James, and, if it came to it, fight the target. You could only focus on the heat between your legs and how touch-starved you were. And your, undeniably, attractive coworker wasn't helping the case.

You and James had a complicated history. Both born in the 40s and dated for a while before he fell from the train. Years later, he comes to kill you for Howard's successful experiment on you. Immortality would definitely suit HYDRA and their planned assassinations. James, back then, the Winter Soldier, failed to capture you, so they decided your family's fate. And your friends. Then, years later, Howard's. You forgave him. All of it. Because you knew it wasn't him. But when he came back from Wakanda, with no traces of HYDRA in him, and didn't spare you a glance, you couldn't forgive him that. Seventy years of tolerating the actions HYDRA made him do, and he couldn't even look at you. It broke your heart but rather to act like a cunt than a weepy baby, begging for attention that will never come.

"Well then, do it fast. We're almost there." You hear his grumpy voice, making the butterflies in your stomach double their count. The decades-old memories of you together overwhelmed your brain like a tsunami. You couldn't swim out of that. The way his tongue circled your clit as you played with his hair at the theatre restroom. Or when he made you ride his face with Steve in the house. The way he pounded into you against the wall so you wouldn't forget him when he gets shipped out the next morning. And the way he had to cover your mouth that night at the bar, celebrating his unit's rescue. Now he was sitting millimetres away from you, and he wouldn't have done any of it. You still hoped, subconsciously, he'd dick you down like he did all those years ago. But that was a fantasy. Very vivid, real fantasy.

"Yes, sir," you let out, closing your eyes, tugging on your shirt so your fingers wouldn't accidentally slip in between your thighs. You didn't wanna make a scene. Even tho at some point, you knew you would.

You didn't catch James' hungry gaze when he heard those words slip from your mouth. At the back of his head, he reminiscent the amount of times it was him, slipping out of it.

It took you exactly 17 minutes before you got yourself out of Tony's car. You accidentally grinded yourself on his leather seats, causing you to accidentally moan, and of course, Barnes caught it. He'd never miss that sweet sound leaving your lips. At nights, he wished he'd made you sound like that, even louder. But that was ages ago, and you were over him. It was the only thing that made sense to him.

Five minutes into your romantic stroll to the target's office, the wetness in your panties got worse. You figured the more you moved, the less it hurt, but the pleasure doubled. And the Avengers training lessons didn't exactly cover how to act if you're orgasming every five seconds just because your thighs rubbed against each other.

Correction, you didn't actually cum. It was more of a frustrating edging that made you wanna rip out your hair. You were sure Barnes had already figured something was off or had at least suspected something. The suppressed moans and the tugging on your crotch weren't exactly subtle.

"Alright," he stopped walking, a few meters away from a huge building. It was surrounded by a deep forest, straight from a horror movie. "he was last seen inside. If Steve's correct, we should..." You kept nodding, not actually paying attention to what he was saying. It was the way his metal arm moved when he talked and the way his fingers curled while explaining the plan. You never got the answer to your question if he could feel through his amputated arm. He had to, you thought. You heard him groan every time someone pulled it too hard. You were embarrassed how much it roused you when you heard him whimper in pain, but it was also one of the things that circled your head when you were alone in your room.

You'd imagine, would it feel different. It would definitely be cold, rougher, you suspected faster. And with the serum running in his veins, he'd definitely last longer. That, you were one hundred percent sure, for it was Natasha's moans you heard for over two days after she and Steve finally hit it off. But Nat was also a super soldier. Bucky would probably tire you out by the 2nd round. But you were willing to risk it.

"If you're not gonna be listening to me, then you can turn around and go back." Was the first thing you heard after you forced yourself out of Bucky's hand around your throat fantasies. It probably wasn't the best idea, but seeing Bucky frustrated and annoyed by your incompetence made you feel things. And you wanted more.

"Whatever you want, Sergeant." You smirked, walking past him towards the building. His smell punched you in the face, making your walls clench around nothing. Fuck. Your self-control was harder to put in check. You were sure in a few minutes it'd be non-existent.

"Whatever is your problem today," you heard him behind you. You didn't look at him, focusing on keeping a steady pace towards the building so you could finish the job, get home where you could fuck yourself to oblivion. No one, but your fingers were currently available. And even they couldn't sometimes do the job you needed. But you knew whose would.

"I'm talking to you." Your heart dropped when his hand landed on your shoulder. Your skin got warmer again, and the pulse between your legs was impossible to ignore. You didn't know if you wanted to kill him or fuck him.

Ideally, both.

Turning around, you found the strength to twist his arm, finding out it was his human one, making it easier to push him back. He looked so taken back that it was amusing. But not amusing enough to stop the aching of your cunt.

"Touch me again," and I won't answer for the consequences. You wanted to add. But you didn't. Instead, you stared back at him, praying to god you'd drop dead or something would happen to stop the throbbing pain. You wanted to push your pants down and do something about it, but Bucky's presence wouldn't let you. It would, seventy years ago.

God, the number of times he made you rub yourself in front of him, fuck yourself while he watched. Couldn't he do it now? You'd happily obey.

"You've been acting distant ever since morning," he said, taking a step closer. "I just wanna know what's wrong," he said, lowering his voice at the end. You were sure it was just the stupid plant making you see things, but Bucky's dark eyes were hard to miss. Or the sweat on his forehead. Or the way he clenched his jaw when his eyes dropped to your lips.

Your heart sank. Holy fuck.

You couldn't help but laugh. It was, after all, comical. You looked manic but that didn't bother you. You felt so many emotions at once that you struggled to choose one.

"What the hell are you doing," you heard his voice interrupt your laugh. You were out of your mind. Your legs weak and sweaty, your cunt covered in your wetness, your head filled with migraine, skin on fire, and thoughts surrounding only one thing. And now, cherry on top, you realize Banner discovered an aphrodisiacs that make the super soldier serum its bitch. James motherfucking Barnes joined the lab rats of Banner's sex research.

[superbat-lmao]

Jason Todd never gets picked up by social services when Catherine dies. Instead, the alley protects its own.

Jason had spent most of his daytime hours looking after his neighbors kids. He was basically family. They paid him in meals and a shared bed when Willis would kick him out sometimes.

When people hear his Mom died, he couch surfs amongst families with small children that need supervision while their parents are at work. He manages well enough, and he rotates what families he stays with so CPS never catches wind. He’s the alley’s secret amongst working immigrant families.

It also means he knows how to deal with kids.

So when he watches one tumble off a fire escape on the roof opposite where he’s been smoking, he knows he has to check it out. Make sure the kid’s alright.

When he finally gets a good look at him, both his camera and leg are busted.

More convoluted take below the cut!

Tim, who broke his leg actually, is too little to be taking care of himself or get himself home. He needs to be looked after.

He gets the kid to Leslie, lies and says he’s watching him over the weekend and the kids parents will be back Monday, and gets the kid in a cab before figuring out where he lives.

Tim isn’t super aware of what’s going on around him since he was given something for the pain, but he knows there’s someone asking him a lot of questions. When he is more awake, the following morning after waking up on his living room couch, he realizes there’s a kid watching him.

Tim feels like hell and while he appreciates Jason taking him home, he can handle himself.

Jason snorts at him, asks if he’s ever had a broken leg or knows how to use crutches, and what he wants for breakfast.

It takes two days before Tim is willing to admit his parents won’t be home for a few months. They’re lucky school’s out or someone would have noticed Tim’s absence.

Jason becomes Tim’s babysitter, or as much of one as he can be without Tim’s parents finding out. Jason takes care of him the whole time his leg is healing. Tim teaches him to play videogames and Jason reads to him.

When Tim’s finally healed, he wants to go back out at night to chase after Batman. Jason gives him an unimpressed look, but asks if the kid wants to tag along to his babysitting gigs in the alley. He misses some of the little twerps and thinks there’s a few Tim would like.

Tim and Jason become brothers early, going from apartment to apartment looking after other people’s kids. Jason gets someone who follows him around, gives him shit, and is almost as good as wikipedia in a pinch. Tim gets someone who gives a shit about him, a social life full of people who aren’t snotty high society brats, and Jason’s special brand of aggressive caring.

What the two don’t know is that Two Face has been looking for Jason’s dad. No one had been able to rat him out when he was staying with Tim because no one knew where he was.

It takes a while, but when the wrong people figure out where Jason is, it isn’t pretty.

They interrupt him while sitting an overnighter. There’s a loud knock at the door and when Jason checks the peephole, it’s two of his Dad’s old buddies. Jason rounds up the kids, yells “just a minute!”, gives Tim a kitchen knife and tells him to sit tight and lock themselves in one of the bedrooms. Tim doesn’t hear anything after the front door opening and an initial shout. He waits 15 minutes before he’s sure the coast is clear. Then, he rounds the kids up, puts them to bed like Jason does, and heads up to the roof.

He knows Batman’s patrol routes well enough to find him and try to flag him down. Who he actually gets is Robin, who he has to explain to that Two Face took his brother. When Robin finally listens and takes the kid seriously, he radios Batman. Batman, who recognizes the neighbor kid and knows he doesn’t have a brother. By this point Tim is almost in tears of frustration trying to explain that Jason Todd is his brother but Batman also recognizes the missing kid from one of his reports and it’s enough of a corroboration that Tim gets put in the back of the Batmobile while they go to rescue Jason.

He doesn’t get to see any of the fighting and he doesn’t leave the car, but when Robin is half carrying Jason out of the building, Tim leaps out of the car to hug his brother. Jason’s got a few bruised ribs and his face is beat to hell, but it’s all something Leslie can fix.

What Leslie can’t fix is the legal fact that Jason is a missing kid, not Tim’s biological brother. Batman sits with the two, explaining how everything is going to work once they take them to the police.

Three things happen at once:

1. Jason accuses Batman of dropping kids off with traffickers. It’s why he didn’t let CPS pick him up when his Mom died.

2. Robin asks if the two will get to stay together, if they can ask Gordon not to separate them.

3. Tim says they will be doing no such thing, Mr. Wayne.

[howlingmod]

Hi mod!! Can I request Coil x reader who isn’t physical too strong but is a extraordinary mechanic that made adjustments for other people’s gears?

Let reader be Skate’s sibling for more drama if u want pretty plz

summary - coil x reader

misc - this prompt is so cute i had to wait to do it justice

-you two piss skate OFFFFFFF. he cant STAND you guys in the same room he's so mad you guys hit it off so well. all he wanted was to make sure you guys wouldn't kill each other in his apartment and you wouldn't call the cops on coil if you ran into him in the morning, NOT for you two to start bonding over the mechanics of different gears and the modification of them. expect a lot of playfighting with your brother because if he ever walks in a sweet moment its over he's tackling one of you

-Anyway.

-You two really did hit it off immediately. Coil wasn't really expecting much when Skate told him he wanted him to meet his sibling, he's heard plenty about you and you seem nice enough, but he'd never gotten the chance to actually see you before. Skate always claimed you were busy with "work" (something he never really clarified, Coil kinda just assumed you were like. a cashier. maybe a barista.) but Coil figured you just weren't all that interested in getting involved in your brother's crime ring, he couldn't blame you for that. That was up until he saw your room and realized, yes, you were drowning in work, near literally.

-He didn't even think it was your actual room, he just thought it was some little workspace. The walls were covered in all different kinds of tools, case-fulls of screwdrivers sat haphazardly in towering stacks, covering up blueprints for various customers of yours. You were in the middle of it all, hardly even noticing Skate had come in until he snuck up behind you to cage you in a headlock. You two barely got through introductions before you were swatting at each other, shoving and kicking at the others shins. Coil was too stunned to even care, busy analyzing every heap of bolts and scrap metal.

-By the time you could get something other than 'fuck off' out, he already had a million questions about what you did, an amount that'd only double when you revealed you modified gears for a living (and some generic repair work for home appliances, but that was less cool so you brushed over it as quickly as possible). Skate almost had to physically drag Coil out of the room just to get him to stop pestering you with questions, complaining that they'd be late to some meeting later that night if they didn't head out. Rest assured Coil was knocking on your door with a stupid grin as soon as they got back that night.

-He loves that he can talk freely and you just get him, he doesn't have to explain all the work he's done and all the effort he's put into his gear because you've done the exact same hundreds of times over (Maybe not to the same level but y'know). It's those conversations that he cherishes the most, even as they slowly drift further and further from gear and towards your personal lives.

-He's not one to share that much, he likes to keep his hand close to his chest, it's just safer that way. Something about you makes him lose his guard, though, he finds that all his barriers dissolve before he can even notice. The words spill out of his mouth before he can process them leaving in the first place- if you were some secret double agent, he'd probably be cooked. The thought only makes him laugh. He brings it up one night, insisting he could beat you up and take you down before you could even think of ratting him out, you only laugh and kick his leg in response, he hits your shoulder back, gently as he can manage. The conversation dies as soon as it starts, leaving you two in a comfortable silence.

-As much as he loves talking to you, he equally adores just spending time with you, not even directly interacting. You two just sitting next to each other working on something is enough for him. It tells him he's not alone and provides him with some grounding comfort. Something about your presence just pushes him to keep going. He covers it up with little competitions where you two bicker the whole time and then forget to decide on a winner, focusing more on shooting back playful insults and snickering over them in turn.

-Unfortunately, you're not safe from him pushing you to get stronger. It's not because he wants to change you or push you into a life of crime or phighting (God knows he would probably kill his reputation if he had to phight against you, he wouldn't hear the end of it), he just wants you to be safe. He wants to protect you but he also knows he can't always be there not without dragging you on goose chases you clearly don't have an interest in, he couldn't force that kind of lifestyle onto you. So, instead, he settles for helping you build up some muscle, pointing out weak spots and techniques you can use to your advantage. You might not be anywhere near his level, but he always tells you you're improving, that he's proud of you. He'll critique you and tell you where you messed up, but he won't dog on you, he wants you to know he's doing this out of care. You might fall down but he'll be there to pick you up every single time, no matter what.

-There's no real "will you be my partner" talk, your relationship just grows tighter and tighter with time. You can consider the "start" of it to be the first time you kissed, some night you guys spent out on the town laughing in the rain, or some night where he sought you out too exhausted to talk. No matter what it is, know that you have a sole place in his heart, a rent free existence in his head.

-aw how cute. skate mock gags whenever you two are sappy #D1HATER (he is happy for you guys but Why My Best Friend And My Sibling Dog)

[ferigrievous]

IWAIZUMI HAIJIME HCS ⋆˚࿔

first gen filipino from davao, moved when he was eleven. speaks both tagalog and cebuano

triple knots his shoes because he hates tying them in public but then gets annoyed having to undo the knot when he gets home

if he gets angry his accent gets real thick and its much much harder to understand him

has a vendetta against vending machines

had a rat’s tail on his left side but cut it off when he became the vice captain of seijoh

walks on the side closest to the street whenever he’s walking with someone, and walks behind everyone else if they’re in a group to make sure nothing happens to them

tried doing pilates once because he was insecure about how he looked and had more trouble with it than lifting weights and working out ‘normally’

has an entire cabinet full of protein powder but only uses one flavour

has a soft spot for those really shitty action movies

didnt wear sunscreen until he met oikawa because hes already naturally tan and thought that was enough (he didnt know sun cancer was a thing and just thought it was for preventing sunburns)

got convinced by mattsun to get an eyebrow piercing when they were like nineteen and he took it off for job interviews and just never put it back in because it closed up within the hour

has a secret talent in flower arrangement for some reason

is the designated person to bring a water bottle during outings and even in class. had to buy a bigger bottle and it doesnt fit in his bag anymore

has the second biggest sweet tooth on the team, first being kyotani

gets competitive over the dumbest things and literally will not back down even if itll get him hurt

loves cooking and regrets not making more time to do it post-timeskip

surprisingly good at darts and pool but he never tells anyone 

has no playlists. just puts on his liked songs and prays

parallel parking warrior

has an instagram with no profile picture no posts no stories but like four thousand followers

really good at giving advice but rarely ever takes his own because he thinks the iwaizumi giving advice and the iwaizumi taking advice are two seperate people

has a weird talent for directions. after going somewhere once, he doesnt need to use a map to get there, even if theyre coming from a different direction

lowkey enjoys the stretching more than the workout because they feel more satisfying

because of that, he ends up overexerting himself sometimes to ‘feel’ the result of the workout

actually has a really really bad spice tolerance but because he’s so stubborn he wont let anyone know

acts like he doesnt care about aesthetics and how something looks but his room, and post timeskip his apartment, is really well organized

probably an interior designer in another life

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

THE ODYSSEY OF REMEMBERING.

AUTHOR NOTE! As to not offend anyone ( mostly cause I feel like the context of Sinners and writing x Reader stuff is kinda a heated topic to touch - no shame to others who do.. )  I will write an OC with the face claim from the films, but you can read it as Remmick x Reader if you want to. Plus, it really helps cause I’m gonna use him for a fanfic of mine.. <3 pairing: Vampire! OC ( Thomas 'Tommy' Aberdeen ) x Reader or Remmick x Reader if you want to. prompt : Reader is slowly starting to remember the night she was turned, and it's not such a good thing for Tommy after all. word count: 1, 000+ words

You didn't remember the night you were turned, your mind had blocked out the night. Something about trauma and psychology and all that crap kept it hidden away. Though, you did have enough blurry details to make a vague idea. You were in a church, there was music playing⎯jazz, you liked jazz. Then, there was pain. It wasn't the pain of a bite, no, someone had cut your throat. After that, black.

You wanted to keep it that way. You didn’t want to remember. The pain. The emotions of it all. It was better that way, plus Tommy agreed. He always said that the trauma of being turned, it changed a person, haunted them, put a bitterness in immortality. It was better to forget, even if there was a scratching sensation in the back of your brain. Like a rat clawing its way into a wooden coffin, wanting to know, wanting to remember.

It was a funny thing, remembering. Remember what? Who were you before you were turned? She was dead and gone, had been for years now. Of what happened that night? The same blood and pain you see each time you feed. Nah, there was no use. No use in it. You were a changed woman, a better one, and you had Tommy. He was enough, he had to be enough because you knew nothing but him for the longest of times. It was always, you and him. Him and you.

Crossing your leg as you sit back in the seat, Daniel looked over the notes he had written down, brows furrowed together. It had to be the tenth session between the two of you. Or maybe, it was more? Hard to remember when you spoke so much. A lot being of past life that you could remember, growing up in your small town.

A little bit on the mortal lovers you had over the years, men, women, anyone to fill the void of immortality. But, there was still gaps between it all. Ones that was making Daniel more and more angry with each session. And the accusations of 'forgetting conveniently' was making you more and more angry. You weren't. You didn't. It was just blank.

"Tell me, ( Y/ N ), do you have alzheimer's? Is that a thing that you vampires can get?" Daniel asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"No."

"No? Then, tell me why you said, 'I don't remember the night I was turned'. But, back in the seventies, you said you did." He argues, making your jaw clench.

"I must of made a mistake, then." You shake your head, a ringing beginning to form in your ears.

"No, no, you didn't." He argues, shaking his head.

"I did." You argue, not wanting to believe it.

"No, you did not."

You did. You did. You did. You fucking did. Tommy told you that. Tommy had said that was what you told him years ago. Why would he lie? He wouldn't. Hell, you could trust him more than you could of Daniel. You knew Tommy. You didn't know Daniel, not well enough to take his word for it. Not to mention, he was some stupid human journalist, wanting to make a quick buck off your story. Opening your mouth to argue, the words die instantly as he plays the tape back, your face crumbling at the crackle before a throat clearing.

"It is June, year...Um, 1973, I am talking to a Miss ( L / N )." Daniel mumbles, "Now, ( Y / N ), tell me of the night."

"It was Summer of 32', I remember the heat it was the worst back then. No ice, or fans that worked that well, you know? I used to pour a bucket over my head before bed just to keep cool." You joke, voice light-hearted.

"And how did it happen?" He asks, "Was it sudden? Was it something that you wanted?"

"No, no.."

No escape, there was no fucking escape from them⎯from him. They were everywhere. They were fucking everywhere. No matter where you looked, from whichever window or room. They were there, the hairs on your arm raising told you that. Worst of all, they weren’t doing anything. They weren’t talking, or moving, laughing, or even breathing. They were just lurking in the shadows of the treeline, red eyes glowing as they watched. 

If they were doing something, then maybe you wouldn’t be so scared⎯so paranoid. But, there was something far more terrifying in them just not doing anything. It made you twitch, cry, tremble, spiral into the worst of the worst thoughts. It didn’t help that everyone else in the church was always equally spiraling. Running fingers through your hair, you pace between the church pews, heart pounding in your chest painful. You felt like you were going to pass out. 

“We should talk to them.” Oscar argues, shaking his head.

“Talk? Are you fuckin’ stupid?” Todd scoffs harshly, “They don’t wanna talk, Oscar. They wanna kill us!”

“For what? What did we do to em’, Todd? For fuck sake, we’re in church! We ain’t do nothing wrong to em’!” Lottie argues, shaking her head with tears in her eyes.

“It doesn't matter. Just..” Todd looks around the church unsure, “Add salt to the window stills and doorway. Do not talk to em’, do not let them in.”

Letting out a scoff, you shake your head, tugging at strands of your hair. Stupid. It was fucking stupid, just putting salt around the church and not talking to them. You should be doing something more, like killing them. Or planning how to get rid of them. The sun wouldn’t come up for hours, but even then. Was it truly safe to go out? They could follow them back home, like those old folk tales used to say. It was better to kill them when you had the chance. 

“You got somethin’ to say, ( Y / N )?” Todd questions, shooting you a glare. 

“Yes, maybe we should find out why they are here. Isn’t there old folk tales of em’ omens of death? What if they’re just omens, just the dead comin’ to talk.” You argue, “We ain’t gotta go outside, just talk to them from the church steps or somethin’.” 

“That’s stupid.”

“Maybe, but we can’t just sit here and wait for the sunrise. What if they follow us home? We should try to get em’ off our trails, Todd. See if we can send em’ on their merry way.” You argue, getting in his face.

He glares, stress clear in his expression. He was right, about doing what you could to ward them off. But, that would only work for so long. There were still others in town that didn’t know what was going on. You had to warn them, or do something. Anything but wait and wait while they could be plotting something.

Looking around at the others, there was a silence that filled the air, as the creeping realization of your words sunk in with them. Father Peter was dead somewhere outside. The church parking lot and woods around it were filled with those things. What was there for you to do left?

“She’s right, Todd. I got babies at home, I can’t have em’ following me.” Lottie argues, “They’ll hurt my babies.”

“I..Uh, I don’t..” He pauses, before relenting. “If we talk to em’, we do no agree to nothin’. No deal, no letting em’ in. You hear me?”

“I ain’t.” You nod.

“Like shit I will, ain’t got a death wish.” Oscar scoffs, shaking his head. 

A sickening sound fills the air, a knock, as if those things had overheard you all. The air in your lungs gets knocked out, a cold terror going down your spine. Taking a step backwards instinctively, Todd shrugs his shoulders, straightening out his back as if preparing for a fight. Bumping into the corner of a church pew, Todd opens the front door, not enough for whoever or whatever was outside to see in. Just a crack, enough for only his face to peek out. 

“Evening, sir.” An unfamiliar voice pipes up, “My name is Thomas, Thomas Aberdeen, I was just passin’ through town and couldn’t help but stop here at ya’ church.”

“Mm-hm, evening. How can I help ya’, Thomas?”

“Now, now, I don’t mean ya’ no harm. No need to hold the door so tightly. See, I don’t mean none of y'all harm, really.” Tommy shakes his head, “I just want the girl, Miss ( Y/n ). I know she’s in there, can smell that perfume of her’s from here.”

“For what?”

“Ain’t really any of ya’ damn business.” He shrugs, “But, I can assure you, I ain’t gonna do her any harm. So why don’t y'all just cut her loose, yeah? Yeah.”

Yeah, no. Not a fucking chance. You’d rather get mauled by the gators in the marshes than go outside to talk to him. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you cower back from the front door, praying that Todd doesn’t open it for this fellow. Feeling a hand on your back, you let out a yelp of fear at the sudden touch, jolting backwards. The pile of bibles on the church pew tumble to the ground, spewing open to a few pages. Finding a sheepish Oscar there, you turn back to Todd, finding the door opened more as he faces the pair of you. Your heart stops in your chest.

The man at the bottom of the church steps. You had seen him before, playing a fiddle in town square for a few coins. You’d given him a quarter or two. He stares at you, the dim light from inside the church making his features more noticeable. If he wasn’t so god damn terrifying, you’d find him handsome. Those dark eyes that lured you in, the light scruff on his jawline that fit him, those brown curls that stuck to his forehead from the heat. 

“Oh, yeah? Then, why can't you just come in and take her with you?” Oscar pipes up, his voice cracking at the end from fear. 

“Would be awfully rude to⎯” 

“You can’t, can ya’, boy? Cause you dead and ain’t welcome here.” Todd argues, shaking his head. 

“No, maybe not right now.” Tommy nods in mock agreement, “But, sunrise is still a few hours away, still got plenty of time to head over to town. I can go to that diner for a bite, or I can go into ya’ children’s bedroom. Quite stupid of ya’ to leave em’ windows open, might let something in one of these days.”

“I ain’t coming.” You pipe in, not wanting to linger too long on his threat.

“Then, I’ll just wait for ya’.” Tommy nods with a sly smile, “I got all the time in the world to wait for ya’, darlin’.”

---

Enjoy this a goofy little meme of my upcoming vampire fic ( OUT OF TIME. ) relationship dynamic! ( bottom sketch is from @somnolenthour )

[whatifitis]

♡ pit in my gut, in the shape of you - CL 16

♡

Summary: After a disastrous breakup, you manage to pick yourself up again and reach goals you always thought were out of reach. But what do you do when you run into your ex who does everything in his power to tear you down? Could you ever love again? And do you see your friend the way he sees you?

Author's Note: Omg another one of my old fics 😍 This one is very reworked though. Also, this fic is very much focused on y/n HOWEVER if it is wanted, part 2 has a lot more Charles with a lovely connection :D

WC: 5999

CW: angst, breakup, mentions of depression and its symptoms, Calum Hood portrayed in a bad light (IM A 5SOS FAN PLS DONT HATE ME), a stupid man being mean as fuck, fluff if you squint

You two were best friends. Everyday, you were stuck to each other's side. Whether you were out on adventures, or just at home watching the worst rom-coms ever made. You never got sick of eachother. Forever stuck to each other by glue. 

You always feared that those who loved you would eventually grow to hate you and get annoyed by you. That even the little things you did would result in them leaving, because they have before. But he never left. He stayed by your side for 3 summers. 

But then something changed. He stopped asking you about things; your interests, your days, your work. He stopped kissing you goodnight. He stopped bringing you lilies, your favorite flower. And one day, he just seemed to stop loving you. He left without a word. All he left in your two bedroom apartment was a note saying “I can’t do this anymore”. 

You had noticed the change in his behavior, but you thought, hoped, it was just a rough patch that most couples go through. You thought everything would go back to normal. You thought that if you tried enough, he would stay. You stopped going on tangents about anything and everything. You took on less hours at work to try and cook for him everyday and be present. You tried to make plans with him. But he still wouldn’t give you the time of day. You began to wonder what you did wrong. Where did it go wrong?. Did youtalk too much? Did he start to think your obsession with things was weird or childish? Or did he simply just fall out of love with you? What could you do to change and bring him back? 

The day he left was the day your whole world fell apart. You quit your job, stopped taking care of yourself, and stopped seeing your friends and family. Those around you grew worried, but there was nothing they could do. They couldn’t get you to eat, bathe, or even open the door to your shared apartment. 

2 years have passed and you have managed to move on. Now you have a new amazing job that you love and some new friends that you care for and know that they care for you as well. You moved out of the two bedroom apartment you once shared with your past lover, and moved into a one bedroom apartment that you absolutely adore. You decorated it to be somewhat like your dream apartment. You’ve got bookshelves lining a whole wall, the bookshelves filled with all of your favorite books and some memorabilia you’ve gathered from traveling and from sharing memories with friends and family. The rest of your walls are filled with posters and pictures of things from your interests to friends and family. 

After all this time, you still fear that if you put yourself out there, that people will start leaving you again. You truly don't think you can go through the heart break again. You’ve closed yourself off in some ways. You stopped sharing your interests with people. When asked about your day, you keep it to a minimum. If you saw a rat on the subway on your way to work, you would say so. But you would refrain from talking about how it was the size of your arm and that it was carrying 2 slices of pizza on its back. Something else that you had started doing that you hadn’t noticed was that you started dressing in more bland colors. No more rainbows, sparkles, odd patterns, but more basics in black, white and beige. All the colors and patterns can come off too strongly to some people, better to keep the brightness to a minimum. But you’re happier now. Happier than you were 2 years ago at least.

You now work at the biggest music production company in the country, hoping that one day, you will be able to touch people's hearts with your music and inspire others to follow their dreams, just like you had. One day, as you were on the way to a coffee shop during your break, you saw him. You saw his brown curly hair and his favorite jacket, the one you used to wrap yourself in on cold nights spent with him, walking along the riverside and just talking. He was waiting in line to order his favorite, an iced latte and a slice of banana bread. 

As you stood and stared in the doorway, you saw someone walk up to him and wrap an arm around his waist. She’s blonde and absolutely gorgeous. Probably the most beautiful woman that you’ve ever seen. Whilst you examine the woman, you notice something on the woman's finger. A ring. An engagement ring. Simple, but elegant. 

You debated whether you should leave or stay and pretend you didn’t see anything, as if the scene before you isn’t killing you on the inside. Before you could make your decision, he turned and spotted you. He stared at you from across the room, almost as if he was trying to place where he knew you from. The woman whispers something into his ear and he looks down at his fiance and laughs. 

You stood there, motionless, wondering did he forget me? Is it that easy to forget me? What we had? Or did he just not want to acknowledge me? How could he move on so easily? So quickly?

It was now your turn to order, so you stepped up to the cashier and ordered your usual,  an iced coffee and a cheese danish for yourself, as well as an americano and blueberry muffin for a friend of yours. Once you’d paid, you stepped to the side and waited for them to call your name, indicating that your order was ready. As you waited, you tried your best to not acknowledge him. You didn’t look in his direction and didn’t stand near them. But he kept taking small glances at you. You didn’t understand why he was doing this. Was it to see if you were jealous? If you were still heartbroken? Maybe he was trying to get a rise out of you. 

After some time, your name was called by one of the barista’s so you made your way to the counter and picked up your order, walking out the door as fast as you could. As soon as you stepped out the door, it felt like you could finally take the breath that you didn’t realize you were holding. Taking the first steps back to work, you looked back at him, but he wasn’t looking. Instead, he was pulling the woman, his fiance, close and kissing her, as if he knew you were watching, wanting to make you feel some way. 

As soon as you got back to work, you dropped off the muffin and coffee at your friend's desk. As you were making your way back to your desk, one of your company's clients and a close friend of yours, the one she had bought a muffin for, walked up to you and told you that her boss wished to speak to her. Charles gave her a shy smile as he walked away. You raced to your boss’ office where you were told that you had to write a song for one of your favorite artists. You were told to write a ballad about heartbreak, a song that would make people's hearts sink when they listen to the song. You told her boss that it was no problem, not wanting to be a disappointment. 

Immediately, you got to writing. You sat in one of the small studios in the building and began writing. You wrote down various lyrics as you played various chords on the piano. You worked for hours on end until the sun began to rise again. You hadn’t eaten or slept, but you believed you had written one of her favorite songs yet. It was something you held close to your heart and you prayed it was good enough. 

Once you had finished writing the song, you noticed it was 5 am. You decided to race home quickly to refresh and then come back to the studio to show your boss the song you had just written, to get their input. To say you were nervous was an understatement. As much as you loved your job, you hated having to share your work, for fear it would not be well received. You were afraid that the songs you worked on wouldn't be enough. But you pushed through your doubts, because at the end of the day, if you don't believe in yourself, then no one will. 

You played the song for your boss, and they loved it. They told you to immediately record a demo of it and send it to the client. With that, you got to work. Stepping into one of the studios, you found Charles, the blueberry muffin lover. You immediately raced to him with excitement, telling him about how your boss had loved the song you had written and wanted you to record a demo for it and send it to the client, who just so happened to be your favorite artist.

“That’s amazing, ma cherie! I’m not surprised honestly, you’re an amazing songwriter and musician. It was only a matter of time before your talent was recognized.” he smiled softly at you. 

With the help of a producer, you recorded the demo and had it sent to the client, who absolutely loved it and wanted it to be the first single off their new album. You were ecstatic because not only did you love it, but so did your boss and your favorite artist. Soon after, the client came to the recording studio in the building and started recording the song with your help  and a few producers' help. 

Once you had finished recording the song, the client stood there in silence. You felt like you were melting in that studio, full of people you respect and admire. What if it turned out that the client didn’t like the song anymore? That they didn’t want it anymore? What if they wanted someone else to write a song for them? What if you really weren’t good enough? 

Finally, the client spoke, looking right at you “You know,  I don’t think I’m doing this song justice. I think you should record it, properly, and release it under your name. You’ve got an amazing voice and incredible song writing skills. I don’t think it’s fair of me to take this song from you.” 

You thought you were being messed with but after a few moments, realized that the client was being serious. It took a bit of convincing, but you agreed to release this song under your own name, totally not due to peer pressure. Of course you were shitting bricks at the thought of putting yourself out there as a singer, but it was something you were excited for? For the first time in a long time, you felt like you were on the right path. 

Leading up to the release of your first single, there were countless meetings and dinners with important people. People who had power and influence in the music industry. People that she had only dreamed of working with, never thinking it could be real. So many contracts that had to be signed. You began to doubt whether it was something you were worthy of. All these people were taking a big risk in working with you. What if you turned out to be a waste of time, money, and effort. 

One specific day, while you worked with lawyers and managers on getting your new career started, you stepped out of your office building to take a breather and gather your thoughts. But, as you did, you saw him, Calum Hood. The man who broke with silence all those years ago. He’s standing there with his big brown eyes looking directly at you. The two of you stood there staring at each other, 8 feet apart, not saying a word. 

After what seemed like hours, he walked to you, not breaking eye contact. Your heart started racing, wondering why he’s here, why is he walking towards you. As soon as you were in arm's reach of each other, he handed you an envelope. You reluctantly took it from his hand and saw your name written on the front, in beautiful cursive. 

“It’s an invitation… to my wedding. It’s in a few months and I want you there. I know I kinda left abruptly and you’re probably pissed at me, but I hope between now and the wedding, we can reconnect and be happy for eachother. I mean I’m engaged now and you’re obviously seeing someone.”

You were taken back by this comment, why does he think I’m seeing someone? 

He sees the confusion on your face “At the coffee shop, you ordered two drinks and two pastries. I assumed that you were getting it for your partner.” 

When he said this, you thought shit but you also thought, since he’s moved on, you should pretend that you have too. 

You looked back up at him and said “Yeah, I’m seeing someone. I met him here at work a couple years ago.” 

“Great, I’m glad we could both move on and be happy for eachother. I was wondering if you wanted to grab a bite to eat or a coffee sometime. We can catch up and reconnect?” 

You agreed. You were curious as to why he left that day. It has been in the back of your mind for the past 2 years. Why not take this chance to find out? Setting a time and date to meet, you said your goodbyes to each other. 

For the next week, you worked and worked, trying to get your new life in order. PLacing everything where you wanted it to be or where it needed to be. All of this was so new to you and now your ex has been thrown back into the mix. You were actively trying not to drown, clawing at the waves to survive. 

You made your way to the coffee shop you and Calum had agreed to meet at. As soon as You walked in, you saw him sitting at a table in the corner. He smiled and waved you over. You walked over and sat down, noticing that he had already ordered for the both of you. In front of you, on the table, sat your favorite drink, but it was hot. You hated hot drinks. Even when it was freezing outside, you always ordered cold drinks. A pastry sat next to the drink, it was a pastry that you’d never tried. 

“I remember these were your favorites. I’m not sure if they still are but hopefully you still like them.” 

“Yeah, thanks” you said, plastering on a smile. You hated that you still loved him, after all this time. Even after he got your coffee order wrong and claimed it was your favorite. 

The two fo you sat there in silence wondering where to start. 

“So uh, how have you been since… you know” Calum says, giving you a toothy smile. 

“Since you left me out of the blue? Yeah I’m doing pretty good” you said with a laugh, almost masking the pain that still pierces your being. 

He lets out a chuckle

“I’ve got a new job, new apartment, new partner. I guess you could say I’m doing great. How about you?” you asked the man before you. 

“Yeah, I’ve been good. I got a big promotion, new house, and I’m getting married to an amazing woman.” 

When he said this, you felt your heart sink into your stomach. 

“Tell me about her.” you said

“Well, she is a nurse. During her free time, she volunteers at an animal shelter. She’s constantly bringing home stray animals as well, hoping she can find them new homes. One of the things I love about her. She uh, she also loves painting. She’s constantly painting something new. We have about 20 of her paintings around the house.” he says with a smile on his face. “She’s literally the perfect woman. I love everything about her. But enough about me. Tell me about your guy. What’s he like?” 

You panicked when he said this. You don’t have a guy. So you thought of someone you could describe, Charles. 

As you begin speaking, you unconsciously smile “Um, well, he’s a driver, like he drives in Formula 1. We met at work when he was looking for a company that could help him bring his compositions to life. We sort of hit it off from there. He plays the piano like it's no one's business. He can also play the guitar and he’s an amazing musician overall. He’s like a chess genius and one day he ran into the studio and told me about a great idea he had. He wanted to use the sounds of chess pieces hitting the board in a song. I mean it’s not a crazy idea. Billie Eilish used an Australian crosswalk sound for a song. Why can’t we use chess piece sounds?” You laugh when you say this, thinking about how absurd it is that Charles comes up with these ideas just out of the blue. 

You continued “He loves getting up early in the morning and going to watch the sunrise. And he loves cooking. He makes the best pesto dishes. Any dish with pesto, he can make into something you can only dream of eating. You should come over one day and try it.” 

“I’d love to. We should all get together one day and have dinner. My fiance and I and you and your mate.” 

“Yeah, just let me know when you two are free. Charles and I are usually only busy during the day.”

“I’ll check with my fiance but yeah, I’ll let you know. What else have you been up to? Any gossip going around that you can share? I’m sure there’s a ton with the amount of celebrities you work with.”

You hate that he’s asking this. You used to tell him everyday that you did not feel comfortable sharing anything you ever heard at work, as it was not any of your business and you wouldn’t want your business being aired out either. 

“Not so much gossip that I can share but, I am currently in the process of releasing a song.” “Really?” he asks in a doubtful tone. “That’s… amazing! I know how much you wanted to be a big song writer, and now you’re gonna be a big star.”

“I’m not so sure about being a big star.”

“Oh no, believe me, you are gonna go on to play in stadiums and sell out tours, and win awards. Trust me, I know you, and I know how talented and hard working you are. You’re gonna be the biggest star anyones ever seen." His tone makes him seem like he’s being sarcastic. 

You feel your cheeks turn red, not from flattery, but from anger? Embarrassment? He never once said he believed in you when the two of you were together. Never once stated that you were talented. Always changing conversation topics when you would bring up your work. 

“Thank you. I’m really excited for this next step in my life.”

“Yeah, no problem. I’m glad we saw each other that day, and that we can talk now. And again, I’m sorry for leaving abruptly all those years ago. I’m not sure what exactly happened but, I’m sorry. I really am” he says. But, you’re finding it hard to believe him. You don’t think he’s actually sorry for his actions. 

“It’s okay. Things happen. People change and there’s nothing we can do about it. Listen, it’s getting late and I should get going, but let me know when we can all sit down and have dinner.” 

“Yeah of course, take care.”

The two of you  stand up and hug before leaving. As soon as you touch, you remembered what it felt like to be with him. Unconsciously, you sank into his arms immediately, not wanting to let go. For a second, you hoped that time would freeze. That you could be his for even another minute. Maybe there’s a chance he could love you again, like you weren’t hopeless. Maybe you could be enough this time. But eventually, you did part. You two walked out of the shop together and then went different directions. 

As soon as you got home, she panicked thinking I gotta talk to “my guy”. You pick up your phone and text Charles, asking him to meet you in front of her apartment building in an hour. He fortunately agrees without questioning it. 

An hour later, you meet Charles at the front of your apartment building. “Hey, What’s up? Are you okay? Why’d you need to meet so soon?” he says while walking up to you, worry sketched into his face. 

“Well you see, I may or may not have bumped into my ex who is now engaged and then talked to him and now he thinks that I’m also seeing someone when I’m not because I need him to think that I have moved on because he moved on and he invited me to his wedding and he needs to think I’ve moved on and that I’m happy.” “I-. Seems like you’ve gotten yourself in quite the predicament.” he lets out a small laugh. “But why do you need me, specifically?”

“I need you to pretend that we’ve been dating for like a year and maybe, possibly, pretty please, be my date to their wedding.” “Oh.” he laughs “I mean, sure. I’m down to help you out. Let me know what our story is so that I can get into character” he jokes. 

“Really? Are you sure? You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I know this is a weird request and stuff.” you explain, beginning to regret your decisions and panicking a bit. 

“Yeah. I’m totally down. It actually sounds kind of fun, almost like I’m crashing a wedding but I'm not. I also sort of owe you for all the help at work. I wouldn’t have been able to get some of those projects done so quickly without you.” 

“Oh, yeah that was no problem. But are you really sure you’re okay with helping me with this?”

“Most definitely. Text me the details when you can. We can begin scheming.” he tells you as he begins to walk away.

Before he disappears from view, you shout back a reply “Alright. Thanks Charles, I really appreciate it.” 

As he turned around, you swore you saw his eyes twinkle. 

Once he’d turned a corner, you went back up to your apartment and took a breath and wondered what the hell did I get myself into. 

A month has passed and it’s time for all four of you to have dinner together. You all met at your apartment. Since you've been working every hour of every day, your “partner” arrived at your apartment ahead of time so that he could prepare dinner for everyone. 

Calum and his fiance, Kayla, arrive and you all gather around the table and begin to eat. You all make small talk with each other, starting with whatever is on the news. As time went on, you all began to feel comfortable enough around each other to talk about what’s happening in your lives and how everyone knows each other. As far as Kayla knows, you and Calum were friends a few years back til work got in the way and you just lost touch.

Throughout the whole dinner, Calum tries to steal glances at you, but you don't give in. He tries grazing your leg with his foot but you ignore it. You don't understand why he’s doing this. He’s happily engaged with a new job and new house. 

Charles soon notices how uncomfortable you are and tries his best to subtly comfort and reassure you. Charles pulls your chair a little closer to himself, not realizing that he’s just saved you from having that man touch your leg again. He asks you if you’re okay and you tell him that you’re fine, giving him a smile that he can see right through. 

You all talk and laugh all night until it’s time for Calum and Kayla to go home. The couple say their goodbyes and leave, thanking you and Charles for hosting and cooking. 

Charles stays back and helps you clean for a bit, even after you’d reassured him that you could do it yourself. 

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks you. 

“Yeah, I just- It was just weird, the whole dinner thing.” you try to brush him off. But he doesn’t let up. 

“Don’t lie to me. I could see how visibly uncomfortable you were. Was he doing something to make you uncomfortable?”

“No, he didn’t do anything. Please just drop it. It’s been a long night.” you say, feeling exhausted. 

“Fine. But this conversation isn’t over yet.” he says as he begins to walk out. 

“Thanks.” you call out to him before he can walk out the door. “For helping me and for cooking dinner tonight. I really appreciate it. The pesto was really good. And thanks for checking up on me, you didn’t need to.” you try to put on a smile for him. But he can’t help but see right through it, and knows right now isn’t the time to push you to talk yet. 

He simply nods and tells you “It was no problem. I’m always here if you need anything.” He smiles at you as he walks out the door. 

A few hours later, you're in your apartment, getting ready for bed when all of a sudden, there’s a knock at your door. You walked to the door to see who could possibly be knocking at your door so late at night. You look through the peephole of the door to see Calum. You weren't sure what to do. Not only did you feel exhausted, but you also wanted to know what was going through his head, why was he here? 

Opening the door, you tell him to come in and ask him why he’s back here at your apartment, especially so late at night. 

He looks at you and just says “I love you. I never stopped loving you. I’ve loved you since the first night I met you. I never stopped loving you.” You’re confused and angry. He left you, out of the blue, and immediately got into another relationship. He made you feel small and foolish. He made you feel unlovable. Unworthy. He made you question your worth for so long. You had to fight claws and chains to come back from the depths of darkness that he threw you in. 

You look him in the eyes and ask “Then why did you leave?”

He holds your stare and says “Because I was an idiot. I didn’t know what I wanted.”

“You didn’t know what you wanted? Really? That’s your answer?”

“Well it’s not like it’s entirely my fault that our relationship ended the way it did. I mean, you had as much of a role in our demise as I did.”

“Excuse me?” You can’t believe him and his audacity “Tell me, what the fuck did I do that made our relationship end? Please, tell me. Go on then.”

“Well I mean, for starters, you were always talking about yourself. You know what, no, you just were always talking. Nonstop. It’s like you couldn’t stand the fucking silence or letting someone else talk. Like who cares if you saw a rat on the subway. It’s New York City for fucks sake. That shit happens everyday.”

“What else?” you asked, trying to keep the tears from falling. 

“You are always so full of yourself. You really think you’re talented? You really think you can amount to something? You write songs. Woo fucking hoo, congratulations. Millions of people can do that, it doesn’t make you special. Just because you got given this new career, doesn’t mean shit. Talentless people make and release music all the time. It doesn’t mean shit. When are you gonna realize that you don’t matter. That people aren’t going to love you like I do.”

“Stop spewing that shit at me. You have no right to say that.”

“No, I have every right considering I wasted so many years on you.”

Eventually, you lost it. Tears were streaming down your face and you stopped holding back.

“I was a fool for loving you and thinking you loved me too. I did everything for you. Everything I did was all for you. But it didn’t mean shit to you. You kept me waiting for your love for years. And I acted like it was fine, like I was fine. I thought maybe someday you’d come around and that it would be something we laughed about when we were older. But I finally learned my lesson. I was naive and foolish to think you could ever love anyone but yourself.”

“Stop with the theatrics for god's sake. All you needed to do when we were together was give me space and be chill and hold your fucking tongue. I’m trying to give you a chance with me again. Just take me back and we can pretend this never happened. You can have a purpose in life again.”

You stare at him not knowing what to say or do, feeling trapped. You can’t believe this man, coming into your home and saying that shit. You can’t believe that at one point in time, you loved him. 

“Go.” you tell him. 

“What the fuck are you saying.”

“Go, get out. Get out of my fucking apartment, I never want to see you again.” You yelled as you pointed towards the door. He looked at you in disbelief “I walk out that door, then this is over for good.” He gestured between you two, “You won’t get another chance.”

“Leave. I don’t need you or your stupid ego.”

“Fine, just remember that you did this to yourself. Have fun spending the rest of your life alone and unsuccessful. No one in hell will be stupid enough to love you, at least not like I did.” 

He walked out of the apartment as you slammed the door shut. 

You had a lot of regrets in your life. But your biggest regret was him. You regretted putting him on such a pedestal. For treating him like he was the sun. For years, you watched him as he tolerated you. You were such a fool for him. You waited patiently, but you were never enough for him. You don’t think anyone will ever be enough for him. 

The whole time he spoke and bashed you, you thought that maybe he’ll never be satisfied. He could have the perfect life with a perfect house and perfect wife and perfect family. But at the end of the day, he will always want more. 

After years of doubting yourself, putting yourself down and believing every word he ever said to you about you, you’re finally at a place where you can confidently say that someday, you will be everything to somebody else. This person will think you’re so exciting. This person will never cease to amaze you. This person will always love hearing you talk, hearing you laugh, wanting to bottle up the sound so that he can listen to it whenever he wants. 

Your first single made it to the top 10 on the charts. YOur schedule was booked full with interviews from various magazines and entertainment channels. Everyone kept asking you “When’s the album coming out?” “Who's the song about?” “Is there a potential love interest in your life right now?” “This man claims the song was written about him, is it true?”. Millions of questions, some that you refused to answer. 

Your first few months of fame were chaotic to say the least. The only time you felt at peace and like you could be yourself was when you were in the studio where you first wrote the song. Oftentimes, you would sit in that studio and just sit in silence, savoring the calm. As you were about to close your eyes and take a little nap, you heard a knock on the door. You call out to the person behind the door stating that they could come in. The door opened and you saw that it was your “partner”. You smiled as Charles walked in, taking a seat next to you. 

“So, how’s fame treating you?”

“It’s pretty tiring if I’m honest.” you laughed.

“It looks tiring.” he laughs with you, “Why are you here alone? Shouldn’t you be mingling with the big names right now? You know, out partying and stuff.”

“Not my kind of thing. How are things with you? What have you been up to?”

“Just the same old stuff. The only difference is that my projects are getting out slower now that my writing partner is big and famous.” he says jokingly. 

“Writing partner? Really? Since when did I get promoted to your “writing partner”?”

“I’m only joking. But yeah, it’s not the same around here without you, cherie.” he smiles softly at you “I never got to check up on you after that dinner. Are you okay?”

“Well I mean, I’m as okay as I can be. No one really teaches you what to do when a “good man” hurts you, so.”

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that. He seems like an ass. ”

“You only met him once.” you stated, letting out a small laugh. You continue “Yeah, you know what’s crazy? He came back to my apartment a few hours after dinner.” “Why? What did he want?” 

“He just asked for me to take him back, and when I said no, he told me it wasn’t just his fault that we ended the way we did. He said it was also my fault. He also said some other fucked up shit but, it doesn’t matter. He was right.”

“Whatever he said, that night, don’t believe him. You guys ended because he’s a dick, not because of anything you did.”

“You don’t know what happened.”

“No, I don’t. But I do know you. I know you, ma belle. You are a talented songwriter. You are a hardworking person with so much fire and passion. You are someone who never gives up. Someone who will put others before herself. Someone who is unstoppable. Someone who loves unconditionally and is also unconditionally loved. Someone who remembers everyone's favorite order at the coffee shop so that no one feels left out. Someone that people look up to and admire. You are worthy of all the good in the world. I know who you are. ” You look at him, wondering if you really are worth it. 

But you simply replied “Thank you.”

When you’re left with your own thoughts, you start to wonder, would you be able to sail through the changing ocean tides? Maybe. Would she be able to handle the seasons of your life? Maybe. 

All you know is that you’ll always believe in yourself. Believe that there are people who love you. That supports you. That appreciate you. That see you, for who you truly are. For as long as you live, there will always be people in your corner, even when you don’t think they should be. So, maybe one day you’ll find your person. Maybe one day you’ll build a life with this person. Maybe one day, you will believe it when someone says they love you. 

Maybe one day.

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

I don't usually write the Papas a lot but i wanted to explore the dynamic between Copia and Perpetua so. There.

"What the fuck are you doing here."

"Hello to you too," Perpetua snorts, pushing past Copia and into the temporary office he's been holed up in.

"Its two in the morning."

Perpetua shrugs, looking around. He avoids the painted eyes of the woman he never knew to be his mother, represses a shiver when it gets him to accidentally meet those of his father's portrait instead. Same eyes as his, same as the twin brother glaring daggers at his back.

"Tour starts in two days. You should rest."

Copia's toned is clipped, his worry directed at the quality of the show Perpetua will have to put on rather than the man himself. Can't really blame him. The new Papa grabs a black and white rat scurrying on the armchair he set his eyes on and plops down in it, curiously holding the squirmy creature at eye level.

"What-" Copia squeaks, "what are you doing ? Set her down !"

Perpetua pets the soft furr on top of the little thing's head, unbothered. Copia makes an aborted move to reach for his beloved pet, but Perpetua keeps her close to his chest.

"Your ghoul bit me," he hums conversationally, deciding to let the rat go for Copia's blood pressure' sake. Relieved, the man deflates, sinks into the cushions of the couch facing Perpetua.

"Which one ?"

"The one that wants my head on a spike."

Copia's chuckle surprises both of them, hangs heavy in the following silence. He clears his throat.

"...doesn't narrow it down much."

Perpetua tugs a glove off, nods toward the teeth imprint, jarring against pale skin.

"Had to get a new pair of gloves, he tore right through them. I hope he's not venemous."

Copia shakes his head, tugging his collar open with a tired sigh.

"The only one who's venemous is Pebble, and it's more a sedative than an actual life-threatening venom. What did you do to piss Dew off anyway ?"

Perpetua glares at Copia with an indignant huff, crossing his arm petulantly.

"I did absolutely nothing, that ghoul just wants me dead in a ditch. And how do you know it was him ?"

Copia rolls his eyes so hard it looks painful, slumping against the backrest with a scoff.

"Fucking V. Those are my ghouls, you don't think I know what their bites look like ?"

Perpetua blinks, slowly, hoping that within the pause he's allowing, Copia will realize how batshit insane that is. Apparently not, because the man just stares him down expectantly.

"...no ? Normal people don't just recognize bite marks ?"

Copia levels him with a stare, eyebrows raising.

"Since when the fuck am I considered normal ? This whole bloodline is freaks after freaks, you included, bat boy."

"Oh, so when Phantom's special interest is bats, or when you dress up as one, it's okay, but when I do, I'm weird ? Rat boy ?"

Perpetua knows he's pushing it, but despite his longing for an actual, non antagonistic reationship with his twin brother, he cannot help how annoyed he feels the second Copia gets snarky. The man in question throws him a dirty look.

"Do not drag Phantom into this."

Perpetua throws his glove at him, which lands with an objectively hilarious slapping noise square on the man's face.

"Oh, settle down, you dick, I meant no harm. He's actually the only one not actively trying to disembowel me."

Copia throws the glove back with a grunt. Not for the first time, Perpetua notices how much older than himself he looks, wiry grey strands running through his hair, deep wrinkles creasing his face. he finds no pleasure in this realization, only sadness and a wave of apprehension. Is it going to happen to me too ?

"He's too kind to you."

"Yes, yes, you think I deserve to get publicly executed for taking your place, I know, we've been over it already."

Though he's trying to play it off as light-hearted, bitterness crawls its way up Perpetua's throat as he says it. To his immense surprise, Copia blanches, straightening suddenly, hands clasping together compulsively.

"Don't joke about that shit," he snaps, voice tight. Strange. Copia's easily flustered, but he usually takes Perpetua's shit better than that. It's unusual to see him wringing his hands and mumbling to himself after just one sarcastic comment. It dawns on Perpetua there might be something else to it when he catches the haunted look on his brother's face, when he watches him get up and rip his gloves off to frantically wash his hands in a small sink hidden in the corner of the room.

"Why are you here ? Because I know you're not going to come crying to me everytime a ghoul bites you," Copia grumbles once he recomposed himself, gloves back on and face almost neutral. Perpetua toys with the fingers of his glove.

"Can't a man want to spend time with his brother ?"

Copia scoffs, kicking a cushion with a somber look.

"We're hardly more than strangers sharing genes."

Okay, ouch, but guess it's not that far from the truth. Perpetua sighs. To think he was considered petty as a child.

"Okay. We'll, i'd like for us to be actual brothers."

Copia tenses, shoulders raising toward his ears. His eyes are lost, far, far away from here, from this conversation. He doesn't sound snappy when he answer, but small. Sad.

"I had real brothers."

His hands are clasped again, with enough strenght to make the leather of his gloves creak. Perpetua leans forward in his seat, too earnest.

"Tell me about them. Tell me about Mom. Tell me about-"

"Trust me, you do not want to know shit about Dad."

But it's not a no. Copia's face scrunches up for a second as he glances at the empty space on his left, grumbling something that sounds a lot like "fuck off", though definitely not directed at Perpetua. It's not the first time he sees it happening, but he decides now is not the time to push his luck. Copia sighs, gesturing toward the man he insist on not calling his brother.

"What do you want to know ?"

Perpetua takes a deep breath, and asks.