#I CHECKED IT THIS MORNING AND WAS LIKE HUH?

[brooke121000]

aftercare • s. reid

summary: in which Spencer and Reader have a rough night together, and in the morning he worries wether he hurt her or not.

contains: vague descriptions of s3x.

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Your heart was rushing, your face was hot, and your nerves were shot to high hell. To say that Spencer had railed you would be an understatement. You two had been up for a while- it was a weekend, so you didn’t have the usual threat of your 8:00 alarm putting a damper on the night. By the morning, Spencer had woken up first.

He sat up and ran a hand through his hair, sighing and turning to observe your sleeping form.

Your neck was riddled in hickeys, your face tear-streaked and flushed. Eyes softening, he ran a hand over your arm and pulled the blanket further over your bare torso, hoping to at least cease your shivering.

The contact was enough to rouse you from your sleep. Your breath steadied, eyes flickering open.

“Hey, sweet girl.” Spencer murmured, his voice gentle and amorous.

You had looked up and seen him- his head was tilted to the side, features tense. “hey- what’s up?”

“Nothing-“ he shook his head. “Do you feel alright?”

“Mhm.”

He pulled you in closer to him, pressing a kiss to your nose- but his expression was unmistakable.

You met his eyes. “Penny for your thoughts?”

There was a comfortable silence for a while- before he finally spoke.

“Nothing, it’s just, uh- you cried.”

You paused for a moment- he was holding your face, his thumb trailing down your jaw and to your neck.

“..I did.” You finally spoke.

….

“It’s okay, Spence.” You smiled. “If I wanted you to stop I woulda told you.”

“Are you sure?” He frowned. “Cus if I hurt you, or made you uncomfortable, or-“

“‘M alright. My legs are still shaking though, Jesus.”

He beamed. “Yeah, they do that a lot. It’s actually the muscles response to an orgasm- your brain releases prostaglandins after sex, which cause muscle contractions. Sometimes it lingers, especially coupled with exhaustion.”

You nodded.

“Are you..” his eyes met you, full and worried. “Sure you’re okay?”

“Spencer, it’s fine.” You said, leaning your head on your chest. He took your hand in his. “ ‘s like you said- you just exhausted me. I’ll be alright.”

He grinned. “Well, now you’re just inflating my ego.”

“Oh, shut up.”

He ran a hand down your back. “Do you want breakfast, angel? I can make waffles.”

Your head perked up. “Waffles? At..” you turned to check the alarm clock. “6 AM? You really love me, huh?”

“Mhm.” He kissed the top of your head a final time and pulled his body away from you, getting out of bed and pulling the sheets back over you. He yawned and pulled on some pajamas, still groggy. When he finally made his way over to the door, you made a noise of protest.

“Spencer, wait.”

He turned, a hand on the doorway. “what’s wrong?”

“..can you stay a little longer?” You murmured.

He smiled. “..yea.”

[tiredeg]

People everywhere sense imminent danger all around. They sense that whatever just happened is the beginning of the savagery, not the end. People abandon their vehicles and begin to flee on foot. They exit buildings, run down stairs and out doors. People in subway trains and on busses, in halted elevator cars, work to pry open emergency exits and doors. They crawl, walk, and run for their lives. The most basic human instinct is to survive.—Annie Jacobsen, Nuclear War: A Scenario

They’re going to die, probably.  

“It was stupid of us to take the elevator,” Oscar says. 

Carlos manages an eye roll back at him. Oscar’s surprised the motion of his eyeballs doesn’t unbalance him, perched as he is on the railing around the edge of the elevator car, calves straining, reaching his phone up towards the emergency lighting strips. As high as possible, as if he can will the texts out of his phone, force the words out of the frozen elevator, up the shaft and out into the sky, send them floating through the air towards the recipients, soaring past the bombs coming the opposite way. 

Oscar’s no expert but he knows enough Spanish to be able to decipher the glimpses he’s managed of the screen. I will be ok. I love you all. Incongruous against the previous message in the thread, a picture of a scrappy white dog asleep on a couch. Oscar had watched Carlos add a heart react to it not two hours ago when they got back to the hotel after FP2. 

God, two hours ago. One hour and fifty minutes before someone told them to check their phones, before the awful silence as they watched the video. A farmer somewhere in California had put it on Facebook, a mushroom cloud blooming over a power plant. It was shared everywhere, Oscar had watched it with Kim, hunched over Twitter, or X, or whatever. The farmer is probably dead now. Facebook certainly is, anyway.

The bomb hit hundreds of miles away from their hotels in Vegas. Not far enough.

Finally, Carlos hops down, collapsing beside Oscar on the floor of the cab. The wall opposite them is a mirror, floor to ceiling, so Oscar doesn’t have to turn his head. It’s easier this way. 

“I think they have gone through,” Carlos blurts out, like he’d wanted to keep quiet but the words forced their way up his throat. “It has the two grey ticks. I think that means it's gone from my phone but I will not get blue ticks without signal.” 

It takes Oscar a second to catch his drift. There’s no way the messages went through. The signal’s been gone for a few minutes, Oscar reckons, about the same time the elevator stopped. Carlos isn’t an idiot, he must know. Oscar knows. 

“I think that’s right,” Oscar says. “They’ll have signal in Spain still, so they’ll have got it.” 

He feels Carlos sag a little at his words. They’re touching from shoulder to knee, something they wouldn’t have risked this morning. Doesn’t matter now. Probably shouldn’t have mattered at the time. 

“How would you go, if you could choose?” Carlos asks.  

Oscar shrugs. “Dunno, never really thought about it.” 

“Don’t be boring, think about it now.” Carlos shoves into him, puts his body weight behind it, but Oscar’s expecting it, can see him decide in the mirror. He braces himself, doesn’t move. Now they’re tangled. Now he can think. 

“I guess I read this book in school. It was nuclear stuff but not bombs, just radiation, so it was really slow. This one girl took her boyfriend’s good car out for one last drive, then floored it off a cliff in the end. I think I’d like that.” 

Carlos doesn’t say anything, just leans his head onto Oscar’s shoulder proper. If they stay like this too long Oscar won’t be able to feel his arm. Maybe that’s how he’d like to go, let Carlos lean on him limb by limb until he can’t feel anything anymore.  

“He was with her? The boyfriend?” Carlos mumbles. 

“Huh?” 

“In the nice car. Was she with her boyfriend?” 

“Oh, well not exactly, he was in a submarine I think, I don’t remember it all. They might not have been boyfriend and girlfriend actually, or maybe they were, I don’t know. They definitely loved each other.” 

“Oh,” Carlos says, “that’s nice.” 

“Yeah. What about you, what way would you go?” 

Oscar watches in the mirror as Carlos looks up at him.  

“I had a different answer but I like yours better, I think.” 

“Copycat. I suppose you can come along.” Oscar shifts, rearranging Carlos’s arms around him. 

“Who would drive?” Carlos asks. 

Oscar wants to be the one who wants to drive. He could take that role, let Carlos hold on as their imaginary car gets closer to the point of no return, make the decision to keep the car pointing forward, his foot to the floor. He could take the wheel, if he had to. 

In the mirror he can see Carlos is still looking at him. He meets his own eyes in the reflection, then lets his head turn, lets himself look for real. 

“I don’t want to drive,” Oscar whispers.

“Okay,” Carlos shrugs, easy. “I’ll do it.” 

The emergency strips go dark. Oscar doesn’t know what that means, why they worked when the power went out or why they’ve stopped now. He’s annoyed at how he expects his eyes to adjust, blinking hard when they don’t as if he can force the nonexistent light into his pupils.  

He can still feel. He’s shaking, he thinks. Carlos’s arms tighten around him, unsteady too. Oscar revises his previous answer, overwhelmingly glad of the elevator; they can’t get lost in here, it’s too small. He doesn’t really know the timeline on these things, maybe it’ll take a day, maybe a few seconds. They’re here for now. 

[windser]

where the apple falls

pairing: amnesia, exbf! caleb x reader rating: t wc: 1700+ a/n: based off this post. this will be a series of drabbles. i will also be working on other exbf! caleb verse. that is the trope for him the resonates most with me. after reading his story, i'm soooo excited to write about him. happy to take requests relating to both tropes!

“hmm, jian bing? normally i have to accumulate quite a bit of favors to wake up to this. what’s the occasion?”

a homemade cure to job memory loss, sits on your tongue like a secret. but you swallow it down, tasting every word you can’t admit. it’s only been a week. since then, caleb has seen the physicians once more—three days since returning to your home for a follow-up.

but just those seventy-two hours had felt like distant memory. the first morning had been the most jarring. caleb had walked into the apartment as if he’d only returned from a day at work, not nearly a week in the hospital, though even the small missed him longer. his only moment of hesitation was the brief pause when his eyes caught on the small changes you had made since the breakup.

the furniture remained the same—too much hassle to replace—but you'd taken quiet, deliberate steps to erase him. gone were the photos of shared milestones, absent were his awards and accolades. the tangible pieces of caleb had vanished, leaving only the slowly healing void in your heart.

the physician had given you ample time to prepare your home for his discharge, clear instructions to recreate a familiar space that mirrored the fragments of his memory. but you’d balked at the thought of resurrecting the past. now the remnants of the last four years were still stored away in the recesses of your closet. 

selfish, perhaps. misguided, maybe. but a part of you refused to accept the accident—not just the memory loss, but the implausibility of it all. caleb, always composed, prepared for anything? reduced now to a vulnerable man clinging to fractured echoes of what was? 

it didn’t sit right with you.

you watched as his gaze drifted over the near-barren walls and mismatched artwork. his jaw tightened, barely perceptibly, lips parting as if testing words that refused to form. his shoulders rose once, twice, then sagged in quiet surrender before he turned to you with a smile so perfectly broken it felt like a carefully crafted illusion.

"still in the middle of some deep cleaning, huh? i appreciate you getting everything ready for me to come back home. why don't I help get it back in order?"

at the check-up, the physician warned you: patience was crucial. recovery couldn’t be rushed without risking setbacks. most cases resolved themselves with time, they assured you.

just be patient.

“i thought some of your favorites would help you remember” you offered instead, glancing over your shoulder quickly before turning your attention back to the stove. “it’s almost done.”

caleb didn’t respond at first as he sat down at the kitchen bar, still dressed in his sleepwear. he couldn’t have been up for more than a few minutes, likely just long enough to take his part of medication before arriving. the others would require a meal to go with them.

“i couldn’t have missed that much,” he said finally, voice laced with casual dismissal. “i don’t see what all the fuss is about.”

it was eerie, how easily he brushed off nearly a year of his life.

you set a cup of coffee down in front of him with a mishandled grimace. “this is serious, caleb. you can’t just report a wrong date and think everyone is going to write it off. ” it was becoming just a bit more than a little frustrating how light he took the situation. 

his hand shot out, catching your wrist before you could turn away. his grip was firm but not unkind, his thumb brushing absently over your pulse.

“i am taking it seriously,” he said quietly, his eyes steady on yours. “do you understand how troubling it is to hear you've lost months of time?”

“could have fooled me.” you mumbled under your breath, tugging half-heartedly at his arm.

“what was that?” his voice sharpened slightly. “it doesn’t help when you mutter.”

you exhaled sharply, meeting his gaze. “i said you’re not exactly helping yourself, caleb. It was okay at first to adjust. i know you were in pain, and it was jarring, but—” your voice cracked, the words caught in your throat. you cleared it hastily, averting your eyes. the physicians had warned you to avoid accusations, anything that might exacerbate his confusion or headaches. caleb’s expression tightened as he read the unspoken in your hesitation.

“but?” he pressed. his grip on your arm loosened, though he didn’t let go.

“it doesn’t feel like you’re trying to get better,” you said, wincing as you braced for his reaction.

instead, you felt the soft press of his lips against your temple.

“i don’t even know what ‘better’ looks like,” he murmured. “I’m doing what i was told. resuming routines. beyond that…” his thumb brushed your cheek as he trailed off. “you’ve got your orders too. sure you’re doing your part?”

you shoved at his chest, though there was no real force behind it. “that’s not funny.”

he didn’t laugh, though his eyes glinted with suppressed amusement. “okay okay, i know. it’s just... a lot to process. being told your life isn’t what you thought it was.” he sipped his coffee. “i mean, what could i have possibly missed?”

your gaze dropped to the mug, a relic of the past—the one you’d gifted him when he got his fleet position. “a lot, caleb. a lot.”

“well, they told me to take it one step at a time. i’m still processing it all. still can’t believe the news headlines”

“pretty sure you were told to not overwhelm yourself,” you countered.

he shrugged. “i binged all the new seasons of our sitcoms. i get bored.”

“and nothing triggered even the smallest memory?”

“it might help if you just told me what i’m forgetting.”

you stiffened, jaw tight. “you’re supposed to recall them naturally.”

caleb leaned back, studying you with quiet intensity. “then we just keep going as we were. i have you, and you have me. what else matters?”

“caleb…” your voice faltered, a lump rising in your throat. “that’s not—”

“i’m sorry.” his tone softened as he tugged you closer. “i know this is hard for you too. there are probably things you want to tell me…” his hands steadied you as he guided you onto his lap.

your faces were so close now that you could feel the faint heat radiating from him, a warmth that sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. it struck you as almost cruelly ironic how, in a way, you were both reliving memories—but only you felt the hollow ache of the gaps between them. you could count every one of his dark lashes, each one a delicate frame to the deep gaze fixed on you. and then your eyes betrayed you, flickering downward to caleb’s mouth: light pink, nicely shaped, and far too familiar. you knew, if you gave in and pressed your lips to his, they’d taste soft, warm, and faintly of coffee.

“yeah,” you replied, though your voice was barely more than a breath.

“yeah,” caleb echoed with a faint, lopsided quirk to his lips. “just… give me a bit more time, okay? right now, despite the aches in my body, nothing has ever felt more right. it’s always been like this with you.” his voice softened, becoming something raw and fragile. “i wouldn’t trade this for anything. not even for the memories I’ve lost.”

“that’s not okay, caleb,” you said tersely, the words rising unbidden in your throat. “you can’t just disregard the past—or the future.”

his head tilted slightly as he studied you, something unspoken glimmering in his eyes. for a moment, silence stretched thin between you before, without warning, caleb stood up. you barely had time to react before you were flipped upside down, your world spinning as blood rushed to your head.

“caleb, what are you doing!?” you yelped, hands scrambling to clutch the fabric of his shirt in tight fists.

“just hang on,” he said, voice far too calm for the chaos he’d just unleashed.

he carried you the short distance to the couch with an unsettling ease, his shins pressing against the edge before he lowered you onto the cushions. a pillow fell to the floor in his wake, discarded like an afterthought.

in the shock of it all, you barely registered his hands threading gently through your hair, the sensation grounding you even as your mind reeled. his gaze traced the lines of your body as though committing them to memory, an intensity that made your breath hitch. caleb had always been intense, after all—a force that could bring everything in its path to kneel. that much hadn’t changed. but now, there was something else. a weight behind his actions, a shadow you couldn’t quite name.

he wasn’t holding you down, but his presence blanketed you, toeing the fragile line between comfort and constraint.

when his lips descended, it felt inevitable, like the pull of gravity. a soft, tentative brush at first, before returning with more intensity, more hunger, as if savoring the moment like a man starved. his kiss was familiar in all the ways that made your heart ache, every motion perfectly attuned to what you liked, what you craved.

when Caleb finally pulled away, you instinctively leaned forward, chasing the warmth of his mouth. but he had already shifted, his lips grazing along your jaw, leaving a trail of nips and feather-light kisses in his wake.

it was still caleb. caleb, who always knew exactly how to undo you.

your eyes fluttered open, stealing a glance at him as he kissed the curve of your neck. you weren’t sure what you were looking for—a sign, a clue—but all you saw was caleb. just caleb.

despite it all.

despite your suspicions.

he was okay.

and despite everything, the thought of losing him still felt unbearable.

caleb sighed softly, leaning back to look at you. his hand drifted to your face, a knuckle brushing against your cheek in a gesture so tender it made your chest tighten. you leaned into his touch without thinking.

“i’ll figure it out,” he murmured, his voice low but steady. “i always do.”

and in that moment, as his words settled in the space between you, you couldn’t quite recall why that wasn’t a good thing.

[enchantedtomeetyou1113]

Friends don’t look at friends that way

Levi x reader

~

A/n: helllooo so this is loosely inspired by the song ‘that way’ by Tate McRae. This is also part one of my oneshot book on wattpad ( @saige_1313) enjoy!

Summary: you and Levi are just friends. just friends….

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  The mixed signals drive her crazy. Crazy might be an understatement, but more or less Levi runs her around in circles like he always seems to do.

It seems to her that there might be two different Levis in the regiment.

  There's one that invites her to his office for tea at late hours, and another who ignores her in-front of the others. There's one who checks on her after every mission and one who acts like he doesn't know all her past traumas (that she told him after several late night tea sessions) .

There's the Levi who would listen to her rants and sit close to her while they do paperwork. Closer than socially acceptable for 'friends' and then the other the next morning would sit on the opposite side of the table and throw jabs at the way she likes her tea. But didn't he say it was tolerable last night? Why did it seem like he tried to embarrass her in-front of everyone else?

  The whole day she felt exhausted physically and mentally. Everything captain related was weighing on her heavy and Levi-well he was making it worse. Today he was extra rude in-front of Hange and Erwin and the other captains  saying things like "Captain y/n shouldn't be in that position-she's not nearly strong enough."

Her eyes glared at him as he stood with his arms crossed and a bored look on his face. He didn't even acknowledge it which made her more mad. And of course Erwin listened to him.

   So now she sits in her office with her head on her desk completely drained from the events of today.

It was late hours and she barely felt like sleeping.

A knock was heard on her door and she knew that knock. She's grown used to it after all these months. The uninterested woman didn't pick her head up, instead hoping he'd just walk away and assume she was asleep.

  "I know you aren't sleeping." his usual flat voice was muffled by the door but she could just imagine his eyes roll. He opened the door and leaned against the frame, looking at the sight infront of him. "Someone looks miserable."

  She sighs picking her head up from the desk. "What do you want? I'm not in the mood for tea."

He raises one brow, "not in the mood,huh?" "Nope" she quips back.

  He gazes at her, not just looking at her,but peering into her very being as if he possesses the ability to see through any wall she puts up. Of course when he looks at her like that (which he does a lot) her walls come crumbling down.

  "What's got you so upset,brat." He walks towards her desk plopping into the chair infront of her. "Nothing, alright? Can't you just give me one night of solitary?" She pinches the bridge of her nose. "Hmph..I didn't know was presence was so overbearing ." He says not taking any real offense. "It seems like it's the other way around." She muttered. He cocked his brow at the words she mumbled. "What makes you think that?" He asked.

  Her eyes gazed at his,disbelief plastered all over her face. Could he really be that incredibly dense or is he completely unhinged? She was unable to fathom how he was so oblivious to the situation.

"You have to be joking." Her voice heated.

"Tch, are you mad because I made fun of your tea?" He had the audacity to smirk, which made her even more furious. "I don't get it Levi-" she starts sitting straighter her body language tense.

"Why do you act like-like you LIKE me then act like you hate me infront of everyone else? It's like you mess with me on purpose! Why?" She demanded.

  He looked as if he wasn't phased one bit by her outburst. "Y/n, this is never gonna happen."

She blinked,shaking off the initial wave of anger that had washed over her face,as it quickly transformed into one of hurt. Her eyebrows furrowed "what...?" She asked her voice tinged with puzzlement "Levi,so...what are we?" He looked at her like the question was deranged "Friends?" He replied matter of factly. The nonchalant response felt like a dagger to her already battered heart. "Right..." she murmured.

  "Well I need to get to sleep,so you can see yourself out." She didn't meet his gaze.

  The next day at training she kept catching him staring at her. Quickly looking away when she noticed as he tried to play it off. At lunch Hange asked what's going on between the two and she told them they were just friends. Which makes no sense because later that day Hange told her that he was staring at her with a 'endearing expression' and kept going on about the 'tender look' for the whole evening. This only made her more and more lost at the situation between the two. "Friends don't look at friends that way." Hange smirked at me.

  5 days pass by with little to no conversation between the two but they both sneaked longing glances to another without the other noticing-most of the time.

   the late hours of the night engulfed her,and a craving of tea with milk and honey made her get up and sneak to the  kitchen of the HQ. To her absolute delight (horror) Levi had the same thought. He sat there drinking his black tea in the dim kitchen area.

  "Sorry, didn't expect you to be here." She trails off before spinning on her heel to leave, without her tea. "Stay. I don't mind."  She stops herself at his words,and cautiously walked towards the small kettle to make her tea.

   She sat down with her steamy cup and before realizing that we were out of milk he spoke up. "I'll make sure there's more milk tomorrow." How could he say such sweet things with such a bored look on his face all the time? "Thanks.." she mutters. The small talk was overbearingly awkward-though it seemed that way only to her.

when she went to follow him as he stood to put her cup away the proximity of their faces made it even more awkward. "I..I can take your cup, don't worry." He says softly. She blinks a few times waiting for him to grab the cup from her, but he doesn't.

  Time stops as they look into each others eyes and his dark gray eyes flickered to her lips for just a moment but she picked it up. She felt herself moving closer without realizing. Like he was a magnet and she was being pulled in. She looked up at him glancing at his lips as he did the same.

He felt himself begin to lean down to kiss her before he stopped himself, clearing his throat. Backing up he gestured for her to give him the teacup. "Don't want you being whiny at tomorrow's meeting, I'll wash these. You get to bed." He says quietly but back to his usual stoic tone.

  "Y-yeah.. goodnight,Levi."  She says before practically tripping on her own two feet trying to get back to her room as quick as possible.

"Goodnight, brat."

-

   The next evening she couldn't take it anymore. She raised her hand up to his door and knocked twice. "Yes?" She heard his voice and twisted the handle and rushed into the room closing the door behind her and moving closer towards him.

   "I'm fed up! I don't even know if I love or hate you anymore-why did you try kissing me last night? You say we're friends but I catch you looking at me several times a day! friends don't look at friends that way-!" She was out of breath by the time she finished her sentence and she looked at him waiting and preparing for whatever answer he saw fit.

    "You don't want to be in a relationship, trust me." Is all he says. Looking back down at the paperwork he was working on. "How do you know what I want? And who are you to decide that for me!" She felt her face get hot.

     "You don't understand, you brat-" he sighs. "What don't I know?! I know that I can't stop thinking about you-I know that I wanted you to kiss me last night and practically every other night we spent together-?!" He looks at her with an unreadable expression, one she's never seen on him.

     "Im afraid to.. to let myself love you, because then it'll somehow hurt less when you're gone." His voice is barely audible. "I thought If could act cold with you that you'd simply utter 'fuck you' and move on, but I was selfish and couldn't stop myself from looking forward to drinking tea with you or even something as boring as doing paper work. Because it was you. Everything was bearable when I was with you."

  She felt her heart beating out of her chest, "I don't want you to shut me out because you are afraid of losing me..I think if we at least try the rewards will be better the risk-because I'm not gonna just walk away and forget you. Even if we spend the rest of our lives only bonding over tea and signing stupid papers I'll do it."

   He didn't understand the feelings going through his mind and he definitely didn't understand the feeling in his stomach from her words. "I was stupid thinking pushing you away would be the answer. I'm sorry for being so stubborn and shutting you out,I just didn't want to lose you, even though the fear made me do just that."

    He came closer to her his hand cupping her cheek. "I don't want to miss out on a single moment with you, and I'll try..to understand how this stuff works."

   She puts her hand on top of his for a moment before interlinking their fingers. "How romantic." She say teasingly rolling her eyes. "Don't be a brat." She slowly presses her lips into his and the kiss was the final confirmation for them both that there truly nothing else they could want in this world.

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A/N okay I wrote this while basically sleeping my eyes are working against me I can't keep them open but I hope you enjoyed. Pretend this is good 😗

Request are open! <3

[deluxewhump]

The Fundraiser

Cameron takes Zee to a fundraiser and someone from Zee’s home state recognizes him. Middle of frathouse arc timeline.

CW: bbu, previous identity

On an overcast Saturday morning in October, Cameron told Zee to shower and get dressed. He obeyed, and when he came down the stairs a grey windbreaker was thrust into his arms. He followed Cam out the door of their off-campus house and ducked into the passenger seat of his car. The door was stiff with the cold. He had to pull it firmly in order to get it to shut again. It slammed louder than he’d intended and he winced, waiting for a reprimand. None came.

“Cam?” he asked, trying to gauge his mood by his reaction to his name alone.

Cameron turned his eyes to his passenger as he turned the key and his 88’ Mustang growled to life. He was wearing khakis with a navy university hoodie and his green eyes were sleepy but not stoned. “What.”

A what with no inflection was a good response from Cameron. It was neutral, not fake-friendly but not tinged with warning, either.

“Where are we going?”

“Oh.” He actually laughed as he checked his dash’s gas gauge and rpm’s. The needle jumped and dipped as the Mustang idled in the unseasonably chilly air. “Nobody told you, huh?”

Zee shook his head. A few months ago, Cam would have let him ride in mystery or said something cryptic to make him nervous. Something like questions are above your rank, aren’t they? Or why spoil my fun, Z2?

But lately Cam had been more tolerable. Zee didn’t know if this was because he’d finally figured out what it is Cam wanted, which was not a perfect WRU product but a self aware, would-be equal demoted to the rank of subordinate— someone a little afraid of him but not too much, someone who would give him pushback if he went too far, but submit if he persisted. The other explanation was that it could be some strange change of heart after the time he’d come into Alex’s room and hung out with them. Maybe he just got sick of the performative bullying he’d spent so much of his hard earned money on for laughs, and was moving on. Either way, Zee was just glad moving on looked like more eye contact and conversation between them, and not being locked in a room somewhere forgotten, or abandoned to the brothers he considered even worse.

“Chapter fundraiser,” Cam answered mildly as he reversed out of the overcrowded driveway and onto the street. Zee could smell the car’s exhaust, and something like drifting smoke from a backyard brushfire in the dry air.

“A color run. You know, like a 5k but they dump a bunch of colored powder on everyone as they run? I’m manning a photo-slash-donation booth at the finish line today.” He pulled into a Dunkin Donuts half a mile from their street, on a divided highway dotted with office parks and medical buildings, ENT’s and orthopedic clinics with meticulously maintained black mulch landscaping.

The Dunkin had cream siding and tan trim, like it was trying to blend in with a more sophisticated neighborhood than its bright pink and orange colors warranted. Cam parked out front and absently told him “sit.” A few minutes later he returned with two cardboard gallon-boxes in each hand.

“Coffee and hot chocolate,” he said, setting one by Zee’s feet and the other in Zee’s lap. The warmth of its sides felt delicious on his hands. The Mustang’s heat was touch and go. “How anyone goes straight from a 5k to hot chocolate is beyond me, but I do what I’m told.”

Zee didn’t think it would be that hard, for people used to running in all sorts of weather. He’d seen Dominic mainline back to back tuna melts not ten minutes after a practice that had him as soaked in sweat as if he’d been swimming. Cameron was discerning and catlike in comparison— economical with his movements, apt to go a full day without eating and not even notice.

The thought of food made him hungry, but he was with Cam today, which meant he was on a Cam schedule. If Cam happened to eat, he might be offered food. More than likely though, Cam would have nicotine for lunch and not eat until much later when he was high. He put the thought from his mind.

The event site was already packed with people. Zee carried the gallon containers like dumbbells while Cameron got a backpack out of the trunk and led the way to the finish line. Their booth was already assembled. Anthony Shorey, always in shorts even if there was snow on the ground, was there with his hands crossed over his chest and tucked under his armpits for warmth, talking to a couple of girls wearing white hoodies and pastel leggings.

One of the girls saw Cameron and did what was meant to be a cutesy whine of his name, dragging out the N at the end. She saw Zee and her eyes slid to the boxes he carried. “Ohh, what’d you bring?” she asked, ignoring Zee entirely.

“Coffee and cocoa,” Cam answered, lifting his arm as she tucked herself under him into a hug. “Help yourself.”

There were two races scheduled, he learned. One started at eleven and the second at one. Sunlight was breaking weakly through the clouds as Cam set up their gear— a scannable QR code he taped to the table, a card reader, a cash tip jar with their Greek letters taped to the front of it. A cardboard box that had been left under the booth contained color run event lanyards and t shirts, which he set up tabletop in neat rows.

Zee set up the drinks on his end of the table, closest to the photo booth. He sat back in one of the plastic chairs and startled like an idiot when something touched his legs. It was a blanket, and Cam was holding the other end of it. A quick scan of his surroundings told him neither Tony Shorey nor the girls in running clothes from the next booth had noticed his flinch, but Cam had. He gave Zee a centimeter’s tilt of the head that Zee had begun to understand was an olive branch, a momentary reassurance of truce. Zee tucked the blanket around his legs and torso. “Thanks,” he said softly.

The first run brought waves of color-spattered participants past their booth, with many stopping in to take post-race photos together with their magenta, indigo and canary-yellow faces, hair, and clothes. Cam chatted and sold t-shirts. Zee spent most of his energy on just trying to look normal, glad he wasn’t covered in colored powder and made to run with his ankles tied closely together or something equally stupid. They would’ve if it was a frat backyard event. This was too big, too public. For all anyone knew he was a brother.

As the waves of completionists came through following the second race, he was more comfortable. David Shoaf brought new Dunkin containers and paper cups and replaced the nearly empty ones on the table. He took Cam’s place and Cam disappeared to a nearby booth where Zee kept glancing over his shoulder for him, uneasy being left without him in the way he used to be uneasy without Alex or Dominic. He was talking to a group of guys, two of which were covered in powder, and one girl, a ponytailed Amber Malloy who was not.

“Jamey?!”

Zee’s attention snapped back to the booth. In front of him was a twenty-one year old named Marshall Sains. His brain knew it immediately— provided the name with the face that was looking into his with a mixture of surprise and the specific delight that comes with encountering the deeply unlikely. Though Zee knew him immediately, it took a moment to place him. He rarely thought of anyone from before, except for the judge and his own mother, though he tried very hard to block those thoughts, banish them to his subconscious. There was discomfort in his life that he could control and discomfort that he couldn’t. Thoughts of before— of who he really was, belonged to the former category.

Marshall Sains belonged to before, he realized slowly. Not a brother, or a friend of theirs, or a guy someone knew who came around sometimes. Not a teammate of Dominic’s he recognized or one of Alex’s siblings. Marshall Sains was his friend in highschool. They had biology together, and B lunch. He drove a Toyota Camry, and his star athlete older brother had died in a car accident in 2010. People still stopped him and offered condolences when he was a junior in 2014, Zee had witnessed it more than once.

“N-no,” he muttered weakly. Absurdly. Adrenaline flooded his gut like a writhing pile of snakes. A group came out of the photo booth covered head to toe in garish colors like warpaint. Marshall Sains studied him, his smile freezing and dying on his familiar face, a few years older now but not much changed.

He was looking at him like he couldn’t believe it, like he was looking for something that might indicate he’d made a mistake— a cluster of freckles or the bridge of a nose that was not quite right. Zee knew he wouldn’t find it. He was right, of course, he was two feet away from his friend Jamey who’d disappeared from the face of the earth with nothing but rumors of where he’d gone and why.

He’d rather they all thought he was in prison. Or dead, really. Less humiliating that way.

In his peripheral vision he saw Cameron break away from the group he’d been talking to and come slowly back over to the booth, hands in the front pocket of his university hoodie, not inserting himself in the situation but hanging casually back as if to survey the runners as they completed their race. But Zee knew he was listening.

“Jamey. Oh my God. Dude. It’s Marshall Sains?” he laughed uncomfortably, like he was waiting for Zee to admit he was just messing with him and stand up to hug him and clap him on the back. “How the fuck are ya?”

“I’m sorry man,” Zee managed in his most offhanded, who-is-this-weirdo voice. “I guess I have a twin. But I don’t know a Jamey and I don’t know you.”

Marshall grew flustered then. The group that had come out of the photo booth were trying to pour themselves cups of coffee and he was in the way. Anthony Shorey was watching the exchange now with faintly raised eyebrows.

“I’m sorry,” Marshall said. “I could swear…” he looked into Zee’s face one more time, reluctant to accept that his own eyes would lie to him so boldly. Zee stared back, fully committed to his story now that the initial shock and panic of seeing someone from before had subsided. His ears still rang like someone had boxed them from the word Jamey tossed out in proximity to Cameron Byrne and Anthony Shorey and all these people who belonged firmly to after.

“You gonna buy a shirt or something?” Zee asked with a little more sting behind it than he would have liked. Marshall was a good guy. But it did the trick. He gave an awkward hands-up gesture and backed off. Zee watched his friend’s back disappear into the colorful crowd.

Cam offered to take back his post behind the card reader and Anthony gladly gave it up. Cam said nothing at first, blowing warm air into his big-knuckled hands and rubbing them together near his lips. Finally he turned to Zee, which spiked his adrenaline all over again and made his teeth clench in his skull.

“He was right, wasn’t he?”

Lying to Marshall Sains and the rest of the world was one thing. Lying to Cameron was pointless, and it would only irritate him. Zee nodded.

“Who is he?”

“A guy I knew in highschool.”

“Where was highschool?”

Zee swallowed. They’d never talked about any of it, and he didn’t want to get into it here, in the middle of a crowd of people. Cam didn’t like when he acted too much like a mindless boxie, but he didn’t think he’d like him talking about his life before either.

“Kentucky,” he answered flatly.

Cameron scanned the crowd absently. “Mm.”

Zee stared at the fine print on the back of one of the Dunkin boxes, too small to read from where he sat and therefore too small to set off the needling discomfort that reading larger font brought onto his vision like a migraine.

Cam’s hand was chilly but not unpleasant on the back of his neck. It was a gentle weight, and he squeezed lightly with only the pads of his fingers. Zee turned in surprise, wondering what he would find in Cam’s eyes. They met his intently.

“I can call someone to come pick you up,” he said. “Alex is around I think.”

“No,” Zee shook his head. “I’m good.”

Cam gave him a questioning look, and now the pads of his fingers were almost petting the back of his neck, a touch that could be controlling or casual— certainly common among fraternity brothers to clasp each other by the back of the neck like it was a scruff— and turning it into something intimate. His skin tingled.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Drink something.” He nodded towards the boxes. “Either one, just get a drink.”

Zee reached for a paper cup and fumbled with the lever of the coffee box til steaming black liquid poured out. He hadn’t run the 5k at all but he felt like he’d sprinted it— his legs were shaky and his mouth was thick with saliva. He thought sweet cocoa might make him feel sick, and hoped caffeine would snap him out of his daze.

“Atta boy,” Cameron said under his breath, sliding the hand away from his neck. It wasn’t as condescending as it ought to be, or fake, or even really meant to be heard. It sounded something like simple camaraderie, even bordering on affection.

He sipped black coffee and felt the cold air on his neck where Cameron’s hand had been.

[pa-pa-patato]

Is there a chance we could have another bendystraw one shot? Theres not enough bendystraw fics in the world 💔

It was a calm day, a really calm day. There wasn’t anything cup had to do or anywhere he had to go, so he took this chance to take nap.

He wasn’t hurt or anything, Which is why he was surprised to wake up seeing bendy holding his hand-well more like holding his wrist.

It took him a moment to wake up fully and realize that Bendy was checking his pulse, Again he wasn’t hurt or injured so this was confusing to say the least.

“..Bends?” The man didn’t even look up at him as he answered eyes still glued to his book “morning Cup”

The silence that followed was uncomfortable, so Cuphead continued speaking

“Mind telling what your doing” this actually managed to make him look up with a confused expression. The dish flicked his head towards their hands to show him what he meant, that resulted in Bendy immediately pulling his hand away and going back to him book pretending nothing happened.

“Can’t help but notice you didn’ answer my question shrimp” He snorted trying to keep a laugh out, “Hmm? What question? I don’t recall you asking a question” the demon was all smiles and didn’t even react to him calling him shrimp

Uh oh. That means this is serious.

“You know is ain’ mad at you right?” Bendy looked away staying silent. “I’m serious! It’s kinda weird when you suddeny decide to hold my hand!” Cup said in a joking manner mostly to keep the demon calm.

“I didn’t know if you’d wake up” Bendy mumbled his voice barely above a whisper, but it was still loud enough for Cuphead to hear. “Wha-Ben-I was only taking a nap!” The dish man couldn’t help but shout, “Not now!” Bendy yelled “I-..I meant before.. in labyrinth” his voice was low.

“I-…I didn’t know if you were alive..” he continued his voice shaking, “I didn’t know if you’d wake up” squeeze. “ I didn’t even know that whatever I was doing back then was my magic and not it’s!” Bendy barked out a dry laugh.

“I was so scared yet hopeful that somehow you survived that I held your wrist trying to feel a pulse”

squeeze

“At f-first I didn’t feel anything but I still kept it on holding your wrist”

Squeeze

“And then I felt your heartbeat! It was slow at first but it quickly went back to normal and I was so relieved you were alive”

Squeeze

“But of course like all other things that happened in that hell hole I started having nightmares about it”

Squeeze

“So I started sneaking into your room and holding your hand to calm myself down a bit”

Squee-

“Oh yea I figured as much out from this interaction” Cuphead’s voice cut him from his thoughts

“…huh?”Cup smiled at him pointing at his hand that was once again wrapped around his wrist, Bendy could feel the blush creeping on his face and immediately tried taking his hand away

Key word ‘tried’

Before he could get free Cuphead grabbed his hand intertwining their fingers.

The silence that followed afterwards was awkward, For Bendy it was at least Cup seemed very pleased.

Demon refused to look at the man turning his head to the side, Not that it bothered the man in question, he just kept holding onto his hand humming to himself.

And after some time Bendy squeezed his hand again. Out of habit? Maybe, but Cuphead still took it as a victory and kept them there for a bit longer.

[yell0wsalt]

Fic: I Can Fix That

For @meljaymicrofics Day 21 Be With You by Sekou

Relationship: Jayce Talis/Mel Medarda

Rating: T

Summary: Being a homeowner was a lovely privilege but so. much. work. Lucky when Mel's heater fell apart, she came across a handyman to help out.

cw: Mel being thirsty af for her handyman

word count: 1076

The thing about home ownership especially in the early stages was just how often everything would fall apart. Garbage disposal? Busted. Tub spouts? Rusted over. Current situation that ate away at Mel’s nerves was stupid heating system. The dead of winter was not the time to be fighting with the heater. She could swear her breath was visible in the early mornings. Not great conditions to be a functional human being.

The sounds it was making were demonic and with the way it hissed and rattled. A series of crude language rolled off her tongue as she dug around for the local directory in search of anyone capable of such repairs.

One person was too far out of the way.

Another was absurdly expensive for such limited services.

And another burned her in a previous repair. Servicing a repair for a repair was irritating work.

But, oh–

Talis Construction and Services…

These people Mel hadn’t tried before. Looked like a small business but knowledgeable in a variety of operations regarding house repairs. Maybe she’d give them a try. She picked up her cellphone and began to dial their number.  At this point there was little she had to lose.

Scheduling the time over the phone to make the repair shped up to be a painless operation. The sweetest older woman on the line seemed quite understanding of Mel’s situation informing Mel she would send her son later that afternoon to check it out. Hanging up the line, Mel held her phone to her chest sliding down on the floor exhaling a breath of relief. Hope was on its way.

When the doorbell rang, Mel darted to the front, eager to close this headache that was creeping up her neck. Opening the door to greet the handyman, Mel’s polite greeting turned with interest. Jeans worn down at the knees and several grease stains fit well enough to make strong legs pop. A comfortable light shirt just as worn was equally flattering to his broad muscular frame.

Since when were handymen this fine? 

Muffled sounds pulled Mel from her reverie and she blinked. “Huh?” She was half-tempted to slap herself on the forehead sounding idiotic with her huh. And now she had to convince herself and him she had neurons capable of firing properly in her head.

The man had a beautiful smile. Solid white teeth stood out from his scruffy brown beard, complementing his strong jaw underneath. And the sweetest eyes, gold like honey. ”The name is Jayce. Jayce Talis. Am I correct to assume you are Miss Medarda?”

Wide-eyed Mel looked down at his outstretched hand. Strong, thick and calloused, mapping years of work from his fingers up to his forearms.

Fuck.

“...Me,” she whispered under her breath.

“Hm?”

“Oh! I’m sorry. Yes, that’s me,” she replied, rushing her hand into his, reciprocating his shake. It felt just as warm and firm as she imagined. “You can just call me Mel.”

Pulling back Jayce bent to his side to pick up his toolkit. “My mother told me there was some issue with the heating unit in your home. Mind if I take a look?”

Stepping aside from the entryway, Mel granted him the space to walk in. “Yes, yes of course. Feel free to come inside.” Her cheeks instantly blazed at the double ententre. She ducked her head slightly rushing through the main hallway to move past the kitchen and living room for the basement.

Why was this feeling dangerous?

While Jayce squatted down to inspect all corners of the HVAC unit, Mel stood hardly a few feet away, diligently watching him work. Did she completely understand what was going on with the heating system in her house? No, not in particular. Jayce’s form eclipsed the majority of what he was actually doing. Not that Mel minded by any stretch of the imagination.

Her mind latched onto the way his strong brows furrowed in concentration. The firm grunts he would occasionally let out needing to readjust his position to inspect the pipes both above and below or when there would be a particularly stubborn bolt that refused to cooperate with him. 

Jayce did his best to narrate what he was working on, but Mel’s brain was preoccupied by the glimpse of his shirt riding up she would occasionally catch in her periphery. It was just enough to catch a wispy trail of dusky brown near similar shade to his beard.

Trying to look anywhere else and regain her composure, Mel quickly became acutely aware of her state of dress at that moment. While she had a loose hoodie to stave off the cold in her house, the relatively thin lazy T-shirt she wore underneath not only did it not give the finest first impression, it keyed into certain assets particularly affected by the temperatures. 

It was cold as fuck inside.  

A change of clothes would be a helpful reset in collecting her thoughts and cooling down the flush to her cheeks thinking about her handyman. One foot on the steps and Jayce called for her.

“Ah, Miss- I mean, Mel?”

Turning around, Mel looked at him like a deer caught in headlights. “Er, yes?”

“Only a little more to do, but I think you should be aware of some of the things I’m finding.”

Each step forward Mel took made Jayce’s smile turn a little brighter. Rude of the butterflies in her stomach to be lively at that very moment. Slender arms wrapped around her middle in a poor attempt to gather herself. “S-sure thing.”

She tried her best to catch all the details Jayce was providing about a leak in the pipes and something about low freon, but his voice was pleasantly distracting. What she did manage to catch onto was his need to order a few additional parts. Not all of them he had on hand.

So he’d be back. Hopefully sooner rather than later.

Grateful for his help, Mel sealed her appointment off with a final handshake and escorted him to the front door.

“It was a pleasure working with you, Mel,” Jayce smiled.

“Likewise. We’ll stay in touch,” Mel said before slowly closing the door behind Jayce. Leaning her back against the door, she took a moment to consider the rest of the house. Aside from the heating unit, surely there were other hot items that needed to be checked out. After all, the work of a homeowner is hardly ever done.

[eye-candy-film-enjoyer]

No one told me yesterday was Richard Winters’s birthday, so I wrote this upon suggestion of @audreyroget and to make up for missing the day

Bastogne, 1945

Dick shivered and pulled his knees closer to his chest. His watch ticking the only other sound in the foxhole besides his chattering teeth, a cruel reminder that he was spending his 26th birthday nearly freezing to death. Lord, what he wouldn’t do to be back at home with his mom making some big fuss as he half-heartedly tried to push her efforts away.

He was stirred from his memories by the sound of the tarp above him quickly being pulled away. He looked up to see Nix drop onto the cold dirt next to him, as he dropped something into Dick’s lap. Dick picked it up to see it was a candy bar.

“Happy Birthday,” Nix replied simply with a proud grin, when Dick looked back at him in shock.

“How did you-” Dick started

“Not important.”

“Lew-”

“I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you’re concerned about. I just traded my smokes for it. A lot of them, to be honest, but nothing but the best for our birthday boy huh?” Nix explained with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Lew, this is-” The nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me, he wanted to say.

“Thank you,” he settled on instead.

“Yeah, well, I do what I can,” Nix smiled and Dick was almost convinced he could make all the ice outside melt away.

Ducking his head, partially to how the blush he could feel rising to his cheeks, Dick unwrapped the candy bar and broke off a piece of it. He handed the piece to Nix, who tried to refuse it.

“Please,” Dick insisted. “It’s my birthday.” He said after a beat, which caused both of them to start laughing from how childish it sounded. But Nix finally took the piece of chocolate.

After the two stopped laughing they sat in a quiet comfortable silence, eating their respective pieces of candy when Nix spoke.

“When we make it out of here, I’ll take you somewhere for a real nice birthday dinner.”

“...Sounds perfect, Lew.”

Pennsylvania, 1968

Dick rolled over in bed, reaching for the other side of the bed, only to find it empty. Pulling himself up, he heard the sound of someone rummaging around in the kitchen. He smiled fondly to himself, knowing it was Lew making him some special birthday breakfast. It had been his ritual ever since the two had come back to the states together. Ever since he’d gone back to Pennsylvania only for Nix to show up on his doorstep 3 months later.

“I can’t do this without you,” was all he said before he pulled Dick into a kiss.

He cooked breakfast, gave Dick a sentimental present, then they’d have dinner later after Dick got back from work, and fall asleep curled against each other.

It might not sound like much but it was everything to Dick. 24 years later and he loved every second of it.

“Morning old man,” Lew greeted Dick as he padded into the kitchen.

“I’m old? Cause I’m fifty?”

“Uh-huh”

“And should we check how old you are?”

Lew feigned a hurt look as he passed Dick a cup of coffee. ‘I’ve never been so hurt in my entire life.”

“I’m sure you’ll recover.”

“Might not.”

“You have to. It’s my birthday.”

Lew laughed loudly, like it wasn’t still completely annoying and no longer cute for a grown army officer to use that retort.

“Stay right here,” Nix laughed, kissing Dick on the cheek, before leaving to go retrieve something from upstairs.

He returned with a small but heavy looking box that he handed to Dick. Dick opened the top to see a shiny watch face on a simple band inside. It was a watch he’d seen in the store and commented on how nice he thought it was.

“I had a little inscription added on the inside,” Lew added.

Dick turned over the watch to see on the back was inscribe

Forever and Always yours

-Lew

“Oh Lew, it’s perfect,” Dick smiled as he pulled Nix towards him to kiss him softly.

“Happy birthday, darling.” Lew murmured when the two pulled away.

[paisholotus]

A Criminal Hero...

Now Playing: Thought I Was Dead~ Tyler The Creator

Bruce’s Pov

"A board meeting in full swing. Judge Phelan. moving to have you declared dead is not something that any of us want... but as responsible managers it falls to them to act on behalf of Wayne Industries." Alfred said, on the phone as I walked into my building.

I walked past the assistant that sat at her desk. "Morning." I said, smiling, walking past her. The Assistant gets to her feet. "Sir, you can’t go in there!" She yelled. I turned to her and smiled. "Yes, I can." Apparently the assistant recognized me, stands there, shocked.

As the door opened, Earle looks over, annoyed. "I’m sorry, can I...?" Earle stares at me. Dumbstruck. All heads turn. "Sorry to barge in, but I was in the area." Earle gets to his feet, approaching me. He shakes my hand, claps the other on my shoulder. "My boy! We thought you were gone for good." He said, surprised. "Sorry to disappoint." I said, as he nervously chuckled.

-Time Skip-

I worked on the suit adding the utility belt to it. I was so deep in thought that I didn't hear the elevator open.

"So, this what the suit is going to look like, huh Bruce?" I turned around and looked at Dick and nodded lowly. I turned my gaze back to the suit and held it up. I finally finished it and it was everything I visioned it to be.

Dick chuckled behind me and looked around the cave. This was his only second time being in the cave, so I looked back at him for his opinion.

"So, what is all this Bruce? You leave all this time and come back and build all this under the house." I huffed and crossed my arms. He looks at my suit and points with his brow raised, "and what is that? Didn't pick you for the spandex type of guy." He said, with amusement.

I walked up to him and placed my hands on his shoulders looking down at him. "Dick....there has to be a change to this city. And, I'm going to be that change. I'm going to make a difference to the people. I'm going to be Vengeance. I am going to be the Night villains can't hide in." I looked at my suit behind me and smirked looking at Dick. "I am the Batman."

-Time Skip-

Vivica's Pov

I was in the kitchen warming my leftovers for dinner. Today was long and hard and all I wanted to do was to eat and watch TV. I haven't heard from my man all day and I was irritated. I know Bruce been gone for a long time and he had to adjust to get his company back, but damn not even a call?

I took my food and sat on the couch and looked through Netflix. I have a love hate relationship with Netflix because they sometimes never have nothing good on there. I honestly just settled on family Guy because I know Peter Griffin hates seeing me coming.

I heard movement coming from behind me and I jumped a little. I looked around for my cat but he was sitting in the chair across from me. I slowly got up and quietly walked to my closet pulling out my gun from the safety box. No one has ever tried to break in but regardless I don't mind popping a cap in someone's ass.

I carefully crept down the hall and looked in my guest rooms and saw nothing. I saw my bedroom cracked open but Midnight could have went in there but I'm going to check just in case. I pushed open the door with my foot and looked around not seeing anything. I put down my gun and sigh with relief.

"Didn't pick you for the gun type..." A voice said, making my head whip around. A man or whatever the fuck he was, standing by my windows. I raised my gun as my heart was beating out my chest. The man walked closer I clicked off the safety but lowering my gun as the man quickly took off his mask.

"Bruce......" I said, as I turned my light on. He was in this big black suit. He was literally dressed as a bat. He walked in front of me as I continued to look him up and down. "The fuck is this? How'd you get in here?" I asked, now looking him in the eyes.

He cupped my cheeks and smiled lowly at me, "you told me that things needed to change. So, all this time I left to become that change. For you. For me. For my parents. And, for the people." I held on to his wrists gripping them tightly.

"Things are going to be different this time, Viv."

[spaghett-onaplate]

depression is really weird actually wdym i spent 2.5 years of my life in bed

[gendertrickster]

i find very cool how you're dating the writer of the comic you were (still are) swooning over

it's literally so fucking funny. you guys cannot even comprehend all the reasons why this is the funniest shit ever

[honeyvenommusic]

❗️NEWGLASSANIMALSGLASSANIMALSGLASSANIMALSGLASSANIMALSGLASSANIMALSGLASSAN-

[keeps-ache]

why's all the colorful stuff always in the kids' options oTL

[autistic-daydreamer]

Man I am having a shit morning I am so glad for the new Reasons To Worry chapter, it's the only good thing I woke up to this morning

@kale-of-the-forbidden-cities KEEFE HAS ENTERED THE SCENE LETS GOOO

oh- I mean poor guy

[screamingay]

ive always gotten sore tits on my period but never sharp pain in there.. google says it's normal so i wont freak out but im not happy about it either -_-

[y-eontan]

i think my apple watch just died 😟