#I'll just continue dealing with. discomfort

[wolfsnake]

It's so funny when transphobes start talking as if doctors are giving free and easy transition to anyone who asks for it and even forcing people to transition (why????? Who knows).

Because like. I once tried to bring up to my therapist that I MIGHT POSSIBLY WANT TO EVENTUALLY GET ON T. And her immediate reactions was to tell me that I shouldnt do that that we needed to focus on me liking my own body as it is

[bigwishes]

Matching the Inside

"did I ask about side effects?" "no, but I still think you should hear me out"

Aden sat down to get on Nick's level.

"Listen here lil guy, you are the geeky smart guy, I'm the big guy, I asked you to whip me up something to make me the biggest guy and you said you could, now could you or are you fucking stupid and small?"

"Aden I understand but I still think you want to hear about th-"

"DONT CARE! JUST HAND IT OVER"

Nick sighed and handed over the small vial of green fluid over to Aden.

"Is this all?" Aden grunted.

Aden quickly downed the entire vial and flexed his muscles

"So when does this shit make me bigger?"

"s-soon Aden, just gotta wait a few ho-"

"WOULD YOU JUST FUCK OFF PIPSQUEAK!, if this shit fails I swear to god I'll be the fuck outta you then get my cash back"

Nick quickly left Aden to his own devices, he wasn't the best guy to get along with at the best of times and he didn't want to see how toxic Aden was going to become after an hour or so, but it was on him for not wanting to listen to the warnings...

-----

An hour of hard work had gone by and Aden had barely felt anything, sure he had a nasty pump and his skin felt like it was stretching by the second but nothing more than an unusually good day at the gym, however he did find one thing strange.

Aden was no stranger to sweat, but not normally this much, he was used to seeing his ass imprint when he stood up from the bench but not feeling it running down his body, not feeling it squelch in his shoes as he walked.

One of the gym attendants even asked him to please change his shoes as it was leaving huge sweaty imprints as he walked.

Aden sat down on a bench to catch his breath when he smelt something unbearable, it had to be a gym towel that had fallen behind a piece of equipment and left to reek for god knows how long. As Aden looked around for the source he couldn't find anything but when he lifted his arm he was hit by a wave of warm air that made him turn his nose up

the potent order was coming from him, and boy did he fucking reek.

Aden almost gagged on the stench of his own pits and stood up to grab his stuff to head home.

As he stood up his stomach let out a loud gurgling noise. It set in again, this time stronger and painful. Aden grabbed his stomach with both his hands and moaned and his gut continued to complain.

UUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRPPPP

Aden let out a loud belch that rung out through the entire gym.

"wow, eat too much before the gym big guy haha"

BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPP

Aden couldn't control it, before he could even respond he had let rip and belched in the guys face.

Multiple people started to call him a gross pig, and he was in too much discomfort to argue, he could barely get a word in before he burped or belched like a stupid brute.

On his way out he stopped at the mirror, his shoulders looked wider, his biceps fuller, his pecs were stretching out his tank like it was nothing, he couldn't help but admire himself, but the admiration quickly faded when his body automatically cocked open his jaw and forcefully rumbled out another masculine belch.

---

Aden had raced home, doing his best to deal with the horrible stench flowing from his body he imminently got in the shower, scrubbing himself for over and hour until there was no trace of BO left on him,

getting out of the shower he constantly sniffed his pits to make sure he smelt clean and fresh, the stench had seemed to vanish and the odd bloating all but gone, now it was time to see if the formula did anything or if he was going to crush Nick's spine with his own hands.

Aden slipped on his favourite pair of underwear and stood in front of his mirror, to his surprise he did actually look bigger, although barely, he had maybe gained a pound or two of muscle, but something looked wrong....

As Aden glanced down his incredible body he noticed his underwear was much flatter than usual, he tried to adjust himself but it felt like there was barely anything to adjust. As he pulled back the waist band he was horrified to see that his incredibly 10inch manhood and shrunken down into a pitiful 3 inches

"w-WHAT THE FUCK" Aden began to panic, his heart racing

Beads of sweat started to form on his forehead and run down his face. As Aden paced around his room he didnt notice all the sweat forming all over his body, that was until the smell set in, when he finally saw himself in the mirror again he was slick from head to toe, droplets of sweat running down him and he stuck, a stench like he had just spent a month working out non stop.

His gut began to grumble once more as the pain set it, this time more intense, like his stomach was being inflated from the inside. Aden moaned and gritted his teeth in pain.

"w..w...what is...happening..tOO MEEE AAGGGHHHUUUUUUU"

Aden watched as his abs turned red and began to expand outwards.

BUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPP

Aden couldn't help but belch, but it granted him no relief, he watched helplessly as his reflection expanded and grew, sweat dripping off him flooding his floor with a pool of musk and belches escaping him every time he opened his mouth to moan or complain.

-----

A week had gone by since Aden's strange and powerful growth but a lot had changed since then.

In a week he had been banned from almost every gym in town, banned from every restaurant, his car seats had changed colour from the sweat along with every piece of fabric or furniture he owned, on top of which most had broken in some way shape or form.

He couldn't even go to any out door cafe's as he was asked to leave because his terrible BO and constant belches upset the other customers.

Aden had all but ruined his life for muscle and size, still he couldnt help but feel mostly joy when he looked in the mirror, the way his shoulders and traps swallowed his neck, how he couldn't see past his pecs. How only after a week his powerful muscled feet would tear through his shoes. He loved being huge, but he didn't love the side effects.

The belching and stench he had gotten used to but the biggest shock to his system was the hardon he got for guys now, he used to be such a ladies man but now he felt nothing towards women and almost instantly came whenever he saw another bodybuilder flex, but even that he was willing to embrace so long as he could stay this big.

Aden stood in front of his mirror and watched as grey tank slowly turn black as it soaked up his sweat. He picked up a blender from the belch filled with his freshly made shake, he began to guzzle it down like he hadn't eaten in days, the shake spilled out from the sides of his lips, dripped through his beard and onto his tank were it quickly formed prominent stains and marks.

Aden dropped the blender panting for air.

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRPPPPPP

His eyes glazed over as he looked at the sweating monster in the mirror. He couldn't help but notice the freak he had become,

grown too big, stretch marks all over his body, sweat and protein staining his clothes, BO so bad he could see it, and one hand pressed on his abs trying to force out another belch.

He finally matched what was on the inside

A total fuckin slob

[ohnoitstbskyen]

PINNED POST, FAQ, INFORMATION

Hi, I'm TBSkyen. I make videos on YouTube sometimes. This is my main tumblr blog, the "brand" blog as it were, where I maintain my Social Media Presence™ on this site.

I use the ironic ™ to signal my personal discomfort with the work of being a minor media personality even while I still do that work and make a living off it.

I have a sideblog called @tbposting, mostly for shitposts and reblogs, and in my opinion I have pretty darn good taste in reblogs, so you can follow that if you want. It's also where I'll do random personal posting, microblogging, etc.

This main blog is primarily for 1) answering asks, and 2) posting my Original Content™, usually my main channel videos, as well as the occasional longer essay or critique. Sometimes I'll reblog an interesting or useful thing, or boost a friend's work, but I try to keep the spam to a minimum.

---

About Me

I am a thirtysomething content creator whose primary expertise is character design.

I have a bachelor's degree in English, never finished my master's, did most of a bachelor's degree in history, and that's it. These are my academic qualifications, no more and no less.

My professional experience is primarily being a freelancer and self-employed creator. I spent the better part of a decade working as a commission artist, running webcomics, drawing fanart, and the occasional animation work and not safe for work commissions, and I have at this point a decade of experience and self-study in the subjects I cover. I have also done online community management for, god help me, almost twenty years, so that's a part of my skillset I'll never escape.

I do not have any particular professional creative industry experience, although given what I hear from my professional friends, sometimes that seems like a blessing.

Please maintain a critical distance when engaging with my work. I am a critic. My work is very rarely meant to be taken as authoritative or didactic, and when it is, I will make it clear in my writing. Just because I speak with confidence doesn't mean I am trying to assert objective truth.

---

TAGS (to follow, or filter)

#tbanswers is the tag for every single ask I answer on this blog

#tb reblog is the tag for reblogs

#tb essay is for the occasional longer essay or critical writing

#tbvideos is for my videos and Content™

#tb recommends is for the occasional recommendation of a video essay or other creator

Yes, I know the spaces are inconsistent. It's not on purpose, I just typed them in haphazardly when I started using them and it's stuck.

---

FAQ (before you ask)

Q: Will you ever do a video about ____ ? A: The answer to this question is almost universally "maybe someday, if I have time, and if I feel I have anything worthwhile to say." And the more realistic answer is "no, because I already have far too much on my plate and I have burned myself out too many times." In general, please don't ask me this question, I will most likely not answer it because I have given the same answer a thousand times, but I still feel guilty about not answering them.

Q: Will you continue your series of videos about ____ ? A: Yes! I will continue the let's plays I started, I will finish the Boss Designs series, I will do another What's the Deal With, I will do more shorts about the subjects I've got going on. The main obstacle is, again, my tendency to overload myself.

Q: Do you have a PO box? Can I send you something? A: Not yet, but I'm looking into it. It may be a while before I get it set up.

Q: Do you have merchandise? A: A little bit, yes, at tbskyen.redbubble.com.

Q: What's your opinion on [game/movie/comic/book/etc]? A: I struggle to answer very open, broad questions like this. Most things I have opinions about, I have multiple opinions, and different ones depending on the perspective and specific element in question. I'm much more likely to answer specific, bounded questions.

Q: Can I send you fanart? A: PLEASE. Askbox, tag me on bluesky, send it to my email! I love seeing every piece of it!

Q: Why do you never appear on camera? A: A forest witch cursed me to look not quite but ALMOST like Paul Giamatti in all photos and videos ever taken of me, and his laywers sent me a cease-and-desist.

Q: Are you gay/straight/bi/other? A: The decision I've made for myself, at least for this period of my life, is that privacy is precious, and once given up can never be reclaimed on the internet. I am open about being aromantic (not asexual), because it's a sometimes invisible and underdiscussed identity, and I know it would have helped me a lot to see someone speak about it when I was younger.

The rest of it is for me to know, and for you to speculate about, although preferably somewhere I can't see it. I accept that this is a part of being a Personality, but it still feels weird, y'know?

Q: Is it weird if I find your voice kinda hot? A: I've put a lot of work into developing this voice and making it nice to listen to, so that's not weird at all and I find it quite complimentary, thank you.

I generally don't mind people doing flirty/thirsty posting about or at me, just so long as we all understand that 1) you should never give a stranger like me information which could be used to harm you. Nicer-seeming YouTubers than me have turned out to be monsters.

And 2) it will never go beyond playful online flirtiness. I like to fluster my live chat, I'll flirt back in an ask or a post maybe, but I am not flirting with you, or inviting any kind of closer intimacy with you, the person I responded to.

Think of me like a comedian doing crowd-work at a show - you can chat to me in the bar after the show, but when I asked you what you do for work I wasn't looking for a personal connection, I was doing my work as an entertainer. Please no sending me nudes, or propositions, or confession letters in my email inbox. We are strangers, and I am always performing a persona in public.

[yanderehsr]

Yandere Lyney, Zhongli, Dottore ((why not)) Neuvillette and Tighnari bring up the idea one day that they want a baby but darling dislikes children so she keeps changing the subject or ignoring the idea all together completely shutting that thought down plus the very idea of it makes her stomach cringe having a baby with them

I have a good idea which 4 I'll pick here, Hope you'll enjoy😄

Trigger Warning: Yandere, Obsessive behaviour, Possessive behaviour, Kidnapping, Suggestive in all of them, proceed at your own risk

Zhongli: You can't tell me this guy doesn't want children with you at all costs, so when you change subject and reject the idea, it honestly hurts him a bit, did you not want to have children with him, isn't he good enough. He can't deal with that, he is going to have a child with you no matter what you say.

All Zhongli needs is to slip you some nice sleeping aids, and he'll whisk you away to somewhere so far removed from society that only he knows about it, you have only yourself to blame here, if you hadn't rejected him then this wouldn't be happening at all, you will wake up sore with Zhongli cuddling you, you have no idea where you are and you feel strange, weird huh.

"This wouldn't be happening if you just accepted it from the very beginning. I am sure you'll be a great mother"

Dottore: Let's be honest here, this freak doesn't do this because he has a kink or because he genuinely wants a family, these children serve two reasons. One, they will bind you to him, it's something of a possessive bond. Two, they are experiments plain and simple.

Dottore also finds a bonus in all of this, he can use children to threaten you to be compliant, he doesn't care about your refusals or your discomfort, he just wants to pump a baby into you so it's easier to get you to obey. He doesn't even hide it and that's what is scariest.

"Wake up, I have confirmed that it worked this time... why are you crying, aren't you happy to have a child? No matter, you are having it whether you want to or not"

Neuvillette: He has brought it up to you so many times and each time you either change subject or completely shut the idea down, it's honestly starting to get to him a little, shouldn't the ultimate goal of any female be to have a child, that is atleast what he understood from other humans.

Neuvillette isn't someone who would force you to have a child, that would go against his morals, or the little morals he has left after kidnapping you, you can at the very least be happy he isn't someone who would force this, he will continue asking tho, hoping that one day you will say yes.

"I just wanted to bring up the subject of potential future childre-... Oh, ok, I understand, could you tell me how your day has been at the very least"

Tighnari: Fennec foxes mates for life, meaning they only get together with one person ever, and that so happens with you, Tighnari does want children but wont force anything if you don't want it, that is until he enters his heat.

Tighnari before a heat will force you away from him, but this time he forgot, and you happened to walk in on him during the heat, he would catch you quickly to have his way with you, he can't really control what he's doing here, but when he goes back to normal he finds himself happy instead, he is sure you'll make a great mother.

"Well there's nothing we can do now about it... you don't need to be so sad about it, I'll be with you every step of the way, MY mate"

[bat-mom-writer]

Not Just A Mother

Reader(wife) X Bruce Wayne(husband)

Summery: You married Bruce Wayne, not out of love, but because Bruce wanted a mother figure for his sons. But what happens when Bruce starts showing a more caring side?

Want a more angst and spicy arranged married come together? Check out Closet Confession.

(I do NOT own any DC characters)

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

"Tim, did you finish your homework?" You called out, your footsteps echoing through the grand hallways of Wayne Manor as you made your way to your non biological son's room.

"I'll get it later," Tim's voice drifted back, a hint of procrastination in his tone.

"Not a chance, young man," you responded firmly, your heels clicking against the marble floor. "You know the rules. No gadgets or superhero shenanigans until your schoolwork is done. So get off the computer."

Tim sighed heavily, his eyes never leaving his computer. "Ten more minutes," he protested, his fingers typing away at lightning speed.

You signed but said nothing more upon stopping at the open door of Tim's room. You knew Bruce didn't appreciate you interference in nightly heroics, but you had your own way of managing the boys. Just as you was about to remind Tim of the consequences, a deep voice resonated from behind you.

"Listen to your mother, Tim."

You spun around to face Bruce, who had emerged from the shadows of the hallway. His gaze was stern but not unkind, the same look he often gave when you discussed the boys' schooling. You felt a small twinge of relief that he wasn't upset with your intervention.

Tim looked up from his computer, his eyes wide with surprise. He had never heard Bruce call you "mother" before. It was always Mrs. Wayne or by your name. The change in tone was subtle but significant, hinting at a shift in their relationship that none of them had anticipated.

Your cheeks flush under Bruce's eyes. "Thank you, Mr. Wayne," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. You noticed the warmth in his smile and the way he held your gaze for a beat too long. You felt a strange mix of comfort and discomfort, the kind that comes with the sudden realization that the ground beneath you is not as solid as it once seemed.

Bruce gave a curt nod before turning to leave. His footsteps grew quieter as he moved away, the sound of his retreating figure leaving an unsettling silence in its wake. Your mind raced, trying to piece together the puzzle of his behavior. Was it the stress of their sham marriage finally getting to him? Or perhaps a genuine affection that had been buried beneath layers of duty and obligation?

Over the next few days, Bruce continued to act more affectionate towards you, slipping in gentle touches and kind words where there had once been a stoic distance. You felt torn between acknowledging the change and fearing it was just a temporary shift in mood. After all, their marriage was built on a foundation of convenience, not love. You're there to provide a stable home life for his sons, not to be the object of his affection.

One evening, as Bruce sat in his study, you gathered your courage and approached him, clutching a set of documents in your hands. "I need to talk to you about something," you began, your voice tentative. "It's about a new deal that's been offered to the company."

Bruce looked up from his paperwork, his eyes reflecting the glow of the computer screens. "What is it?" he asked, his tone neutral.

"It's about a new acquisition," you said, looking down at the papers. "The board thinks it's a good opportunity."

Bruce took the papers from you, his hands brushing against yours for a moment longer than necessary. You felt a spark of electricity, and you quickly withdrew your hand, hoping he hadn't noticed. You watched as he skimmed through the pages, his brow furrowing slightly as he digested the information.

"What's your take on it?" he asked, his gaze still on the contract.

"I...I don't know if it's my...my place to say, Mr. Wayne" You stuttered, your heart racing. You had never been one to voice your opinions in matters like this.

Bruce's gaze lifted from the documents, his eyes locking with your. "Your opinion is important to me," he said firmly. "We're partners in this, remember?"

The words hung in the air, thick with an unspoken promise. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. "Well," you began, your voice stronger now, "I think it's....sketchy. There's something about the terms that doesn't sit right with me."

Bruce's eyes never left yours as he listened intently. His thumb traced the edge of the paper, the only sign of his contemplation. "Then tell them I'm not interested," he said abruptly, handing the contract back to you.

Your eyes widened in shock. You had expected him to disagree, to argue the merits of the deal and the importance of the board's suggestions. Instead, he had deferred to your judgment, something he had never done before. "Are you sure?" you asked.

"Absolutely," Bruce said, his voice firm. "If it doesn't feel right, then it's not worth pursuing."

You took the contract, your hand trembling slightly. "But the board…" your trailed off, unsure how to voice your concerns without overstepping your boundaries.

Bruce leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving hers. "The board's job is to make suggestions," he said. "My job is to make decisions. And if my… wife," he emphasized the word, "thinks something's off, then I trust her judgment."

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words. It was the first time he had ever called you his wife without it sounding like a mere formality. You held the contract, your mind racing. "Thank you," you murmured. "I'll handle it."

Bruce nodded, his gaze lingering on yours. "You're welcome."

You retreated from the study, your thoughts in a whirlwind. The weight of the contract in your hands felt heavier than ever before. As you walked, the echoes of their conversation seemed to follow you, whispering of a newfound partnership and trust. You paused outside your study, taking a moment to collect yourself before returning to work. The manor felt different, as if the very air had shifted to accommodate a burgeoning emotion you hadn't anticipated.

Over the next few weeks, Bruce's affection grew more pronounced. He would join you for dinner, engaging in conversations that delved beyond the superficial. They discussed books, art, and the future of Gotham, sharing smiles and laughter that felt genuine and unforced. You found yourself looking forward to these moments, the tension in the air charged with something you dared not name.

One evening, after the boys had retired to their rooms, Bruce found you in the dimly lit Batcave, your eyes reflecting the glow of the monitors as you reviewed the night's intel. He approached you slowly, his footsteps muffled by the rubber soles of his boots. "I thought I was the night owl around here," he said with a teasing smile.

You startled, spinning around in the chair. "Mr. Wayne," you gasped, hand flying to your chest. "I didn't hear you come in."

Bruce chuckled, the sound echoing through the cavernous space. "It's Bruce," he corrected gently. "And I can see you've got everything under control."

Your cheeks colored as you nodded. "Just keeping an eye on things," you said, your voice quieter than usual. You felt self-conscious under his scrutiny, unsure how to react to his sudden interest in your nightly routine.

"Mind if I join you?" Bruce asked, his tone casual, yet it held a hint of something more.

You hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Of course," you said, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart. You watched as he made his way over to you, his movements fluid and silent. He leaned against the console, his eyes on the screens, but you knew he was really watching you.

"You know, this isn't where I expected to find you on our anniversary," he said, his voice low and warm.

Your breath caught in your throat. You had almost forgotten about the date, lost in the whirlwind of their new dynamic. Your swiveled the chair to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. "Anniversary?" you echoed, trying to keep your voice even.

Bruce nodded, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Yes, it's been a year since we made this… arrangement." He paused, searching for the right word, and you felt the weight of the unspoken truth hanging in the air.

"I… I had no idea at how quickly the year went by," you murmured, your eyes flicking to the floor before meeting his gaze again. "So much has happened."

"Yes, it has," Bruce agreed, his expression softening. "But I think we've made it work, don't you?"

You nodded slowly, your eyes moving to the side of the floor. "We have," you conceded. "For the boys."

"For the boys," Bruce echoed, but there was a hint of something more in his voice. He reached out and took your hand, his touch sending a jolt through you. "Dance with me."

You looked at him, bewildered. The Batcave was the last place you'd would have ever imagined sharing a dance with your husband, especially considering their relationship had been more of a business transaction than a romantic union.

"What?" you asked, your voice a mix of surprise and doubt. The cold metal and concrete walls of the Batcave didn't exactly scream romance.

But Bruce didn't seem to notice the oddness of his request. He held out his other hand, his eyes earnest. "Just one dance."

Your heart racing, placing your hand in his, allowing him to pull you to your feet. He led you to the center of the Batcave, the place where so much strategy and planning took place. But now, it was just them, standing in the shadow of the Dark Knight's armor, the only music the hum of the computers and the distant echo of the city above.

He pulled you closer, his hand on your back while the other held your other hand. You could feel the warmth of his body against yours, a stark contrast to the cool air of the underground lair. He was close enough that you could make out the scent of his cologne, the faint metallic scent of his suit mingling with it.

He leaned down and whispered in your ear, "Let's pretend, just for a moment, that we're not Mr. Wayne and Mrs. Wayne, but a couple who met under different circumstances."

Your pulse quickened. You knew the rules of your arrangement, knew that love had never been a part of the deal. Yet here you were, in the most unlikely of settings, with the potential for something you had never allowed yourself to imagine. Hesitating for only a moment, you stepped into the embrace, your body fitting against his as if it had always belonged there.

He began to sway gently, guiding you in a slow, rhythmic dance that seemed to defy the gravity of their situation. His hand rested on the small of your back, his other hand holding hers firmly, yet gently. You felt the muscles beneath the fabric of his suit, the strength and power of the man you had only ever known as your husband in name.

The sound of his deep, rich hum filled the cavernous space, a tune you didn't recognize but found oddly soothing. It was a moment of vulnerability you had never seen from him before, a side of Bruce Wayne that was as unguarded as the batcave was protected. As they danced, your head leaned into his chest, the steady beat of his heart echoing in your ears, mimicking the tempo of your own.

The tension between them grew palpable, a silent crescendo that seemed to vibrate in every atom of the room. You felt yout resolve wavering, the walls you had meticulously built to maintain the façade of your marriage threatening to crumble. You knew the truth – that you had developed feelings for him, feelings that had grown from a seed of respect and duty into a full-blown bouquet of love and longing.

"Bruce," you murmured, your voice shaky. "What are we doing?"

He leaned down, his breath warm against your ear. "I'm just… trying to be a better husband to you."

The admission sent a tremor through you, and you pulled away slightly to look up at him. His eyes searched yours, a question and a plea melded into one. Your chest tightened as you read the hope and uncertainty in his gaze.

"Why?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "What changed?"

Bruce's expression grew serious, his eyes holding yours captive. "I've realized that life is too short to ignore what's right in front of us," he replied, his thumb brushing gently against the back of your hand. "I've watched you care for my sons, for this city, and for me. You've become more than just a part of this arrangement. You've become a part…of me."

The words hung in the air, a confession that resonated through the very foundation of the Batcave. You searched his eyes, looking for any sign of doubt, any hint that he was just playing a part. But what you found was a vulnerability you had never seen before, a crack in the armor of the man who was both Bruce Wayne and Batman. You were speechless, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

Leaning closer, his cheek brushed against yours, sending a shiver down your spine. His mouth hovered near your ear, the heat of his breath sending a rush of emotion through yours. "Please," he whispered, "give me a chance."

Your heart was a tumult of emotions – hope, fear, confusion. But you knew that you couldn't ignore the feelings that had been growing within you for so long. You nodded, the barest of movements, but it was enough.

Bruce's hand slid to your cheek, cupping it gently as he leaned in and kissed you. It was a soft kiss, filled with a year's worth of unspoken emotions. You melted into it, your arms slipping around his neck as you gave in to the warmth that had been building between them. The kiss grew deeper, more urgent, and you could feel the tension in his body, the years of holding back finally released.

You broke apart, breathing in quite pants, your eyes locked. Your heart raced, your mind reeling with the implications of what was happening. "Bruce," you whispered, your voice trembling.

"My wife," Bruce said, the words sounding unfamiliar, yet right. He searched your face, his thumb stroking your cheek gently. "You are my wife. I want to act like the husband I know you truly deserve."

"What about the boys?" You asked, your voice a soft murmur.

"They're our priority," Bruce assured you, his hand sliding from your cheek to your hand again. "We just now have… some extra perks to our partnership." He offered you a tentative smile, and you couldn't help but return it, feeling the weight of your situation lighten just a little.

For a moment, you two just stood there, holding onto each other, the reality of your feelings finally out in the open. The silence was comfortable, filled with the steady rhythm of your breaths mingling together.

[the-lying-heavens]

kaz brekker x reader where reader is hurt and kaz helps tend to her wound and then he tells her how much he loves her and it’s soft and super fluffy

"Comfort in Chaos"

[Kaz Brekker x fem!reader]

Masterlist

Summary: After a reckless adventure leaves you injured, Kaz Brekker takes a moment to care for you.

Warnings: injury, fluff, not proofread

Word Count: 580 words

A/N: hi!!! so the reason this took so long was because I was trying to figure out how to write it and still stay true to Kaz's character. I tried my best, so enjoy?

You shifted and winced as the wound pulled. Kaz sat across from you, a concentrated look on his face as he gathered supplies from a small box.

"Stay still," he instructed, his voice low but steady.

You nodded, biting your lip to suppress a wince as he carefully cleaned the injury.

"Why do you always get into trouble?" he murmured, more to himself than to you.

"Maybe I like the thrill," you teased, trying to lighten the mood despite the discomfort.

His eyes remained serious. "The thrill doesn’t feel as great when you’re bleeding," he replied, applying the ointment. His touch was surprisingly gentle, as he wrapped the bandage around your arm.

As he worked, silence settled between you. The way he looked at you made your heart race.

"Kaz…" you started, but he hesitated seeing a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. First time for everything.

"I dislike seeing you hurt. You mean more to me than I can say," he said, his voice softening.

You smiled. "I care about you too," you confessed.

Kaz finished wrapping the bandage, his fingers lingering on your skin for a moment longer than necessary.

Maybe I should start taking care of myself better," you suggested, "I wouldn’t want to keep you from your… important plans."

He scoffed. "Plans can wait. You’re more important than any job I have." his tone was dismissive, but his words were sincere.

"What if I got better at dodging trouble? Would that impress you?"

The corner of his mouth twitched upward. "You’d have to do better than that. You’re too reckless for your own good."

"Kaz, I know what I’m doing. I wouldn’t put myself in danger if I didn’t think I could handle it."

"Right. And yet, here we are," he replied, "Just promise me you’ll try to be more cautious. You are an investment that is difficult to replace."

You snort. "Gee, thanks."

"You’re infuriating, you know that?," he sighed, "But you’re also brave. You challenge me in ways I didn’t think were possible."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"Good. You should," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Because it’s the closest I’ll get to admitting I’m fond of you."

You laughed, the sound light and joyful, as Kaz tried to hide his smirk.

"Then I guess we’ll both have to work on being less infuriating," you teased.

"Or we’ll continue to drive each other mad," he said

"Either way, I’m glad you’re here." You leaned closer, the warmth radiating between you almost palpable.

Kaz’s gaze held yours. "You really mean that, don’t you?" he asked, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down your spine.

"Absolutely," you replied, "You make everything—"

"Dangerous?" he interrupted.

"Exciting," you corrected, "Every moment with you feels alive."

He tilted his head, studying you intently. "Alive is one way to put it. Other people might call it reckless."

"Recklessness has its charm," you countered, "Besides, you thrive in chaos. I think you secretly enjoy it."

"Do I?"

"You love it. And me," you said, grinning.

"Love is a strong word."

"Is it?" you shot back.

Kaz raised an eyebrow. "Maybe I just tolerate you because you're entertaining."

"Entertaining, huh? I’ll take it," you replied.

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. "You’re incorrigible."

"And you’re impossible," you shot back, "But that’s what makes us work."

"Just promise me you’ll be careful," he said, his tone suddenly serious.

"Only if you promise to keep looking out for me."

"Deal," he replied.

You both shared a moment of silence, the air thick with unspoken words. Finally, you broke it, teasing, "So, when are we getting into trouble next?"

"With you? I can’t imagine it’ll be long."

[webshooterrr9]

Take Care

Act Two Astarion x gn!reader

just fluff and angst if you squint, no smut

Sigh. "You don't have to do this, darling. I'm not some sort of child in need of coddling."

Despite his standoffish tone, Astarion makes no attempt to move away as you tend to the cuts on his arm. It had been a long day of adventuring, and your party most unfortunately ran into a horde of goblins on your way back to camp for the knight. Being stronger after a recent feed, Astarion fought most of them - giving him the most injuries.

You're being far too gentle. He watches closely in the dim lantern light as you wet the rag for cleaning. A part of him wishes you'd just hurt him instead. He knows how to deal with pain. He doesn't know how to deal with this.

Whatever this is, his mind tells him it needs to stop. Stop before he starts to care. He doesn't want to care about you. If he does, you'll be another thing for Cazador to use against him when the time comes.

He can't have that.

"Oh, shut up." you wave a dismissive hand before resuming your cleaning, gently wiping away the dirt and grime from his wounds. You sat comfortably in his lap as you worked. Another form of intimacy he was unsure about.

"I've received worse and lived, love. I'll be alright without your babying."

He would never admit it, but Astarion almost... enjoyed the way you so carefully tended to him. But it felt wrong. Why would you do this? It wasn't like his life was on the line, the goblins only inflicted minor injuries.

"I know you have, I've seen the poem that... he carved into your back. You showed me, remember?"

Astarion winces at the memory, and you feel sort of bad for bringing it up. But he just rolls his eyes, covering up the discomfort with a scoff.

That wretched devil. That evil, evil man.

"We're still travel companions, so I want to help you. Regardless of how minor it is." you continue, speaking slowly as you bandage up the cuts.

"Because I'm incapable?" there's a bite to his voice, one that he didn't mean to be there. But he couldn't help it. This was so... odd. "I managed to take care of myself just fine before you came along."

You look up at him, almost with a glare at his accusation. "I never said you were incapable, 'Starion. But you have to let others help you once in a while."

Gods, he hated it. He hated how caring you were, how sweetly you spoke to him, even when he was rude. How fondly you pictured him in your mind, even when he had done nothing but manipulate you so far.

How could you he so naive? He was obviously using you. And yet, you seemed to care about him, which pissed him off more.

He doesn't deserve someone as tender as you. As kind and caring.

Astarions grits his teeth as he speaks. "I don't have to let you do anything. I don't deserve that."

Why did he say that? How stupid of him so seem so vulnerable around you. And why does he want to curl up against you and let it all out? Why does he want you to wrap him up in your arms and whisper into his hair and tell him everything is going to be okay?

What is wrong with him?

You wrap up his cut tightly, giving him a glare. "You're wrong." you replied, short and direct. Your stare made it clear that this wasn't up for debate.

"You deserve just as much as everyone else. If not more, given what you've been through."

Astarion glares right back. If there was one thing he could do, it was argue. "You know nothing about me. I barely even told you half of it."

You don't know why he has to be so stubborn about this. Maybe it's his nature. Or maybe he's just too much of a coward to admit that he's actually starting to develop feelings for you. Astarion doesn't know which.

"I'm objectively the worst person on this team. You should be helping the others. Lae'zel got all scratched up too, you know."

"They've got each other." you argue back, just as stubborn as the elf. "But you, you've closed yourself off from everyone. Shut them out."

"If I don't take care of you, no one will. The Hells know that you wouldn't take care of yourself, either. You're too self-loathing for that."

When the hell did you become so perceptive? How in the world did you come to that conclusion? He wasn't self hating, he was just telling the truth. He was awful, evil. He knew it to be true.

...

Shit. Maybe you were right.

"Fine. Maybe your words have some truth in them." he sighs, not daring to look you in the eyes as he admits it. "You're right. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Damn it. Now he wants to hug you. The feeling he's been trying to avoid the entire time is bubbling up, threatening to engulf him.

Does it make him weak to want to be coddled and comforted by you? Would it make him just as pathetic as he was under Cazador's thumb? Would allowing himself this pampering, this affection, be nothing more than something to regret?

"I'm always right." you scoff. "You'd have picked up on that by now if you weren't so aloof."

You slide off of his lap once you're done bandaging, giving him some space. But you don't leave his tent.

You stay there, sitting in front of him, as a silent show of solidarity. "I'm not going anywhere. No matter how much you try to push me away."

The urge to pull you close and never let you go is overwhelming him. Astarion's not sure if he can trust himself to resist it.

"Why are you doing this?" he asks quietly, lowering his head a bit shamefully. "Why are you so insistent on helping me? I'm not worth it."

"Because you are worth it. And I won't stop until you believe it."

"I will not allow you to fall into tragedy when you can be so much more than that. I've seen your potential - on the battlefield and in camp. I refuse to let you waste your life in solitude."

Astarion wants to believe you. Desperately.

The evidence is staring him right in the face: the way that you care for him, how he feels secure in your presence.

But if he believes you, he can't hide any longer. He can't seek shelter behind the walls he's carefully erected within himself. And he can't shield himself from the vulnerability of admitting that he needs you. So instead he just says:

"Shut up."

You sigh. No matter how much you try to break him down, he stays persistent. "Fine."

"I'll stop talking, but you'd be a fool if you think I'm leaving."

He scoffs. "So what, you're just going to sit there and watch me all night?"

"If that's all you'll allow me, yes."

Allow. Such a sacred, unheard word to him.

Astarion didn't even have a response to that. In the end, he didn't have enough energy to make a snarky counter. And before he can form a coherent sentence and protest, his body makes a decision for him.

The elf slumps forward and places his head in your lap, curling up in a way that resembles a kitten. A stray seeking shelter.

Despite his efforts of stubborness, he closes his eyes and lets his body go slack.

He wants this.

You're relieved. For a moment, you sit still, not wanting to scare him away with any sudden movements. He needed this peace, and you wouldn't dare take it from him.

Slowly, you start to rake your fingers through his curls. Slowly, gently. Like a mother comforting her child.

He needs it. More than ever.

When you begin to run your fingers through his hair, it's like all his defenses dissolve away. Astarion lets out a quiet hum of contentment and presses his head further into your warmth, making himself as comfortable as possible in this precious moment.

Time seems to slow down as you sit there. There's no need for words. After so long of being taken and abused by his master, Astarion finds himself oddly calm. Safe.

It's strange to feel this comfortable. Even now he should have to urge to try and escape your touch, but he's not feeling those impulses.

He takes a deep breath and relaxes into your touch. The tension and discomfort that seemed to define his existence is melting away. For the first time in centuries, he feels he's where he belongs.

As you continue to pet his hair, you hear a quiet whisper come from your companion.

"Thank you."

[ks-dreams-fantasies]

TEACH ME PT.4 | TRAVIS KELCE

a/n : I've been swamped with Universty 🫠 sorry for the wait but I hope you like this 4th part 💕 Enjoy !!

Warning : None, Some kissing

Words: 1,473 (Not proofread)

Pairing : Travis Kelce x Reader

Part 3

TEACH ME PART 4 | TRAVIS KELCE

‘’Y/N?’’ he slurred, a mix of surprise and recognition in his eyes. ‘’I’ve been thinking about you.’ 

Time seemed to slow, and your heart raced. He took a step forward, his presence, unexpected and unwelcome, sent a shiver down your spine and you took a step back, getting closer to Travis. 

‘’I’ve …I’ve tried to call but…’’ You instinctively tightened your grip on Travis’s hand, drawing strength from his steady presence.

"Is there a problem here?" Travis's voice was calm but firm, his protective stance unwavering.

Christopher’s gaze shifted between the both of you, a mix of surprise and discomfort in his eyes. You knew from his look that he was aware of who Travis was. He cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure. "Since when do you two know each other?’’ he asked, shocked and hurt when he saw your hands intertwined. 

‘’It’s none of your business anymore, Christopher.’’ You responded looking at your feet before meeting his gaze again, feeling uncomfortable. He went on to speak but Travis cut him off before he could. 

"I think it would be best if you go back inside with your friends, don’t you think?" Travis’s powering figure was imposing. Christopher hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering on you, before turning and stumbling back into the bar.

You let out a shaky breath, your heart still pounding. Travis turned to face you, his eyes filled with concern. "Are you okay?"

You nodded, trying to find your words. "Yeah, I... I didn't expect to see him. Thank you, for being here."

He squeezed your hand gently, offering silent support. "You don't have to thank me. I'm just glad you're okay."

As you continued your walk, the weight of the encounter lingered. Your thoughts were a whirlwind of emotions, and you couldn't help but be grateful for Travis's unwavering presence. He didn't press for details, understanding the complexity of the situation.

His protective instinct and genuine concern were a testament to the kind of person he was, caring, strong, and ready to stand by your side.

In that moment, you knew that this unexpected encounter had only deepened the connection between you guys. And as you continued to walk hand in hand through the city, you felt a sense of trust and comfort settling in, solidifying the special bond you were building. You had made your way to Travis’s car, riding back towards your place.

"You know," he began, his voice low and conspiratorial, "I was thinking we should do this again sometime. Maybe catch a game together?"

You turned to face him, a playful glint in my eye. "Are you trying to impress me with your football prowess, Mr. Kelce?"

He chuckled, a deep, melodic sound that made your heart flutter. "Maybe just a little. But mostly, I just enjoy spending time with you."

You couldn't help but smile, the sincerity in his words washing over you like a warm wave. "I'd love to catch a game with you. Just promise not to quiz me on the finer points of the sport."

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Deal. I'll fly you out to KC and stick to teaching you the basics."

‘’When are you going back?’’ you asked him, realising he played in a totally different state. 

‘’Tomorrow, I hope it doesn’t stop us from doing this again, because I really like you’’ he said as you reached your apartment.  His gaze locked with yours. "You know, this has been one of the best evenings I've had in a long time," he admitted, a touch of vulnerability in his eyes. 

He stepped closer, his free hand gently cupping your cheek. His touch was tender, sending a wave of warmth through you. "I feel the same way," you confessed murmuring, heart pounding in your chest, blushing as your gaze locked with his. He looked down at your lips. His gaze lingered there, making his intention obvious as you moved even closer to him.

With your hearts racing, Travis leaned in, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin, a silent caress that spoke volumes.

Your breaths mingled and his mouth worked against yours. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you suspended in a cocoon of intimacy. You could feel the soft press of his lips, gentle yet filled with a quiet intensity, as if he was pouring his feelings into that kiss. 

His lips were warm and soft and there was a sweetness to it, a tenderness that carried all the unspoken emotions that had built between the two of you over the past few days. It was a kiss that tasted like promise, like the beginning of something beautiful and profound.

The kiss deepened, though still retaining its tender nature. Your mouths moved in a slow, synchronous dance, expressing a deep affection that had grown between you both. There was no rush, only the quiet assurance that you wanted to savor this moment for as long as you could.

When you finally parted, it was with a gentle shyness, as if you were both aware that this was just the beginning. Your eyes met, and in his gaze, you saw a reflection of you own feelings - a mixture of longing, hope, and a promise for the future.

"I don’t want to sound clingy but, I wish you didn't have to go," You murmured, a touch of longing in your voice.

He gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "I know," he replied, his voice carrying the same wistful tone. "But we'll see each other soon, and until then, you'll be in my thoughts every day."

You couldn't help but giggle softly, your eyes locked on his. "That's a lot of thoughts, you know."

His grin was infectious, and his hand cupped your cheek. "Well, you're worth it. Besides, we'll make plans, video calls, and send each other cute messages. It'll feel like no time has passed at all. Plus, I promised to fly you out to KC"

You leaned in, wrapping your arms around his neck as you got on your tiptoes, and whispered, "I'll hold you to that." 

Your noses brushed, and you shared a tender laugh. You knew that goodbyes were hard, but they were only temporary. With one last lingering kiss, you reluctantly stepped away from each other, your hearts feeling a little lighter.

That night as you laid in bed, a whirlwind of emotions swirled within you, and you couldn't quite pinpoint the source of it all. Perhaps it was the unexpected encounter with your ex-fiancé earlier in the evening, a painfull reminder of a past chapter. Or maybe it was the knowledge that Travis lived in a completely different state, a geographical distance that seemed scary and daunting.

However, amid the chaos of those emotions, one feeling stood out like a beacon. The butterflies that danced in your stomach from the magical evening with him. The way he made you feel like you were the only girl in the world, the laughter you guys shared, and the electric anticipation before the moment your lips collied. 

As the morning sun gently streamed through the curtains, you rose from bed and with a quick glance at the clock, you knew it was time to get ready for another day at work with the little kids. 

After a brisk shower and a fresh cup of coffee, you got dressed and made your way to school, where you found Camille waiting for you in your class. 

"Tell me everything, from the beginning!" she rushed as you fumbled with your bags. 

As you recounted each moment, from the charming restaurant to the heartfelt conversation, you could see Camille staring at you with her infectious grin. Her support and genuine happiness for you made the memory even more special. She freaked out when you told her about running into Christopher, but she freaked out even more when you mentioned you and Travis kissing.

Later, as you stood in your bustling classroom, children flitting about like little whirlwinds of creativity, a soft knock on the door drew your attention. Opening it, you were greeted by a breathtaking bouquet of flowers, their colors a vibrant celebration. Gasps of delight echoed from the kids, their eyes wide with wonder.

A small note was nestled among the blooms, its message a testament to the thoughtfulness of the man who took you out the night before.

‘’I couldn't wait to brighten your day as much as you brightened mine last night, I hope you take me on my offer" it read, the words etching a smile on your face that could rival the sun's warmth.

To the note was attached a plane ticket to KC, scheduled in a little bit more than a week. 

Part 5

To Be Continued

Taglist : @kkrenae @spencerreidisbootiful @nabiiturner @ilove-tswizzle @legit9thlunaticwarrior @evernova @kelcemenow @bellstwd @my-regrets @green-lxght @thecubanator2 @corvusmorte @vznggh @kxllanxtdoor @youareadistraction @blackstabbath6 @queenmendes @@maryleclerc

[moonxytcn]

Hey I have a billie request! Fem reader has type 1 diabetes. We have been having a bad day, we kinda feel insecure. Billie helps us change our insulin pump.

a not so bad day

Billie Eilish x fem!reader

summary – you wake up with high blood sugar and billie helps you

warnings – fluffy, reader has diabetes

English is not my first language so there may be some errors.

–––

It was a cloudy Sunday morning, and you already knew the day wasn't going to start well. Waking up with high blood sugar was always a warning that the next few hours would be a constant battle with your body. You looked at the insulin pump screen, the number blinking in red: 287 mg/dL. A tired sigh escaped your lips as you tried to process what to do next.

Billie was still asleep beside you, her face relaxed in deep sleep. You didn't want to wake her, but the restlessness and discomfort were palpable. Slowly, you got up, trying not to make any noise. The house was silent, except for the faint hum of the air conditioner.

While you were in the kitchen, getting a glass of water, you heard soft footsteps. Billie appeared at the door, her eyes half-closed but full of concern.

"Hey, love, what's going on?" She asked softly.

You tried to smile, but you knew you wouldn't fool Billie. She always knew when something was wrong.

"My blood sugar is high again." You admitted, looking at the floor. "I think the pump is failing. I'll need to change it."

Billie approached, wrapping you in a warm hug. "We'll fix this together, okay? You're not alone."

You nodded, appreciating the comfort of her embrace. Together, you went to the bathroom where you kept the diabetes supplies. Billie started preparing the new infusion set while you removed the old one.

"This is so frustrating, Billie." You vented, feeling tears beginning to form. "It feels like I can never have a peaceful day without worrying about this."

Billie paused what she was doing and held your hands, looking deep into your eyes. "I know, love. And it's unfair that you have to deal with this. But I'm here with you, always. We'll get through this together, one step at a time."

You took a deep breath, feeling the calmness that Billie's presence brought. With a gentle gesture, she continued the process of changing the pump, guiding you when necessary. Her skill in handling the situation, even without being diabetic, always surprised you. Billie always made it a point to learn, to be by your side in every difficult moment.

"There." She said after a few minutes, gently pressing the new cannula into your arm. "How do you feel?"

You grimaced as you adjusted the new insertion, but soon gave a shy smile. "Better, I think. Thank you, Billie. I don't know what I would do without you."

Billie kissed your forehead gently. "You'll never have to find out. I'm here for anything, always. Now, how about we have some coffee and then watch that movie you like?"

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. It wasn't just about changing the insulin pump; it was about having someone who understood your struggles and stood by your side to face them. With Billie, the bad days were a little easier to endure.

Together, you went to the kitchen, where Billie started making coffee. The house, which previously seemed full of uncertainties, now felt a bit lighter, full of hope. And as you watched Billie, you knew that with her, any battle was possible to win.

[libby-for-life]

So, can you do a sick one-shot with Adam and Lucifer? Maybe Adam has a fever and Lucifer reluctantly takes care of him. But then he starts to hallucinate things. Stuff that makes Lucifer question things about what he believes.

Oh? A challenge, hu? Since you didn't specify if this was my version of Adamsapple, I'm just going to assume that this is more traditional Adamsapple and go from there.

Sinner!Adam under contract with Lucifer.

Lucifer stood before Charlie with a sigh, feeling irritated. "Are you telling me that there isn't anyone else who can take care of him? I don't have time to deal with a whiney brat who is probably faking all this just to get attention," he grumbled. The devil was not convinced that Adam was genuinely sick. He wouldn't put it past him to fake it to receive special treatment.

Charlie replied, "Normally, I would take care of it, but I have a lot of paperwork to deal with." She gestured towards her desk, which was piled high with papers, making Lucifer wince. "Vaggie is busy with Niffty, Angel Dust and Husk are working, and Alastor is not an... option."

Lucifer shivered at the thought of Alastor taking care of Adam. The devil was under contract to protect the idiot from harm, but it would end badly for Adam if Alastor was involved. "Alright, I'll do it," he said, resigned.

"Thank you, Dad!" Charlie beamed at him, making him feel a little better. Teleporting to Adam's room, Lucifer hoped to catch him in the act of faking it but found himself in a dark room with the curtains drawn. The only thing he could see was a lump on Adam's bed.

Frustrated, the devil snapped his fingers, and the lights turned on. Adam let out a whimper, making Lucifer roll his eyes. "Oh, stop it. Nobody is buying this pity act," he said sternly.

When he got no reply, he growled again, "The hard way it is then." He stomped over to the sinner's bed and ripped the blankets off him. "Get up now!" Lucifer was done playing games. If Adam was going to continue acting this way, he didn't mind using force to beat some sense into him.

However, to his surprise, Adam didn't yell, swear, or even glare at him. Instead, he let out another whimper. This time, Lucifer actually looked at Adam and saw just how different he looked. His gray skin had an ashy color, his breath was labored, and his shirt was missing, revealing how sweaty he was. It was clear that Adam was genuinely sick.

Lucifer felt slightly guilty for making Adam uncomfortable when it was clear he was miserable with a fever.

Placing a hand on the sinner's forehead, he hissed at the heat. "Oh, you are sick, aren't you?" He murmured. "Alright, let's sit you up."

Soon, Adam was propped up on pillows, wrapped up in comfortable blankets, and looking at Lucifer with dazed eyes. The devil knew that the demon wasn't truly seeing him due to his sickness.

Gently draping a cool cloth onto Adam's forehead, he noticed how the sinner's eyes followed his every move.

"You're so beautiful...." Adam slurred.

Lucifer froze and looked at him confused. "Hu?" He must've been really out of it if he was complimenting him.

"Beautiful...so beautiful. I can see why she left me...I didn't stand a chance."

Lucifer grimaced when he realized that Adam must've been talking about Eden. Whether it was Eve or Lilith he was referring to was still being questioned in Lucifer's mind.

"Let's not waste your energy." Lucifer finally said.

Adam whimpered again but he continued talking. "Lilith was beautiful too...but she didn't like me...why did she not like me?"

"Maybe because you were a narcissistic dick who wanted to control her?" Lucifer said with a glare. Any kind of sympathy he had for the sinner was gone. How could Adam even ask that?!

Adam shook his head, clearly too out of it to understand that the devil was insulting him. "That's not what she said..." He slurred out. A look of sadness came over Adam and, to Lucifer's growing discomfort, looked like he was going to cry.

"She told me I was disgusting...that she didn't want to stand next to someone so ugly." Lucifer was too stunned to speak. What?

"She didn't like me talking. I talk too much. She liked to gag me when she couldn't stand the noise. It hurt...." Adam was now crying, big tears rolling down his chubby cheeks.

"Why didn't you fight back?" Lucifer immediately asked. If he hated how Lilith treated him, especially if it hurt, then why didn't he make her stop? Adam certainly never backed down from a fight. In fact, he was usually starting them.

"I wanted her to like me..." Adam replied with a groan. His breathing seemed labored. "If I did what she wanted...then she'll like me....even if it hurt. Even if it made me cry." Adam furrowed his eyebrows, his hazy eyes looking into the distance. "No...she didn't like me crying. She said it was annoying and ugly so I don't do it anymore." It was ironic with the tears streaming down his face.

Adam turned his golden eyes to the devil who flinched at the devastating but resigned look on his face. "I guess I didn't do it good enough...she found someone better...someone smarter...."

A large hand cupped Lucifer's cheek. "Who can compete with angels?" And then he passed out. Lucifer didn't know that he was holding his breath until he started gasping. What the fuck?

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Lady - 5

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Eddie Horniman x Female Reader

Summary: After fifteen years away, a step-daughter returns for her Duke step-father's funeral, only to inherit a staggering 8 million pound debt and strike a risky deal with a criminal underworld figure.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Chap 1, Chap 2, Chap 3 , Chap 4 , Chap 5 , Chap 6 , Chap 7.

I'd really appreciate it if anyone who likes this series could leave a comment or reblog with a GIF.

Could you let me know what your thoughts are? Reblogs and comments are the main things that keep me posting new stories. ❤️❤️❤️

"Oh my god. Oh my god. What am I going to do?" You paced back and forth, your mind racing with worry.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, his usual smirk replaced with a concerned frown. "Why are you the one stressed out?" He assured you that you wouldn't have to deal with dirty work.

This was the first time Bucky had seen you lose your composure.

You grabbed his collar, desperation evident in your eyes. "You don't understand, the last person I want to deal with is my stepsister."

Returning home, you realized that if there was an investigation, your job profession could make you a suspect, too.

Trying to calm you down, Bucky suggested, "For the alibi, if anyone asks, just say that you were with me."

You scoffed, feeling frustrated. "Like they're going to believe that I wanted to spend a day with you."

Everyone in your household knew how annoyed you were with Bucky. On numerous occasions, they had heard you complain about him to Cedric, the family lawyer.

You were quiet as you picked up the phone to make a call.

"Y/N?"

The sound of his voice brought a sense of calm over you. "I need your help."

"I'll be there."

A few hours later...

Bucky chimed in with his usual teasing tone. "Ooh, so you choose him over me?"

You rolled your eyes while Eddie checked on you.

Eddie interjected, "Her family will believe me if she spends the night with me."

Your cheeks flushed slightly at his words.

"But there's something missing," Eddie continued.

"What?" you asked.

"They won't believe it if you only say it was a sleepover," Eddie explained.

"What are you trying to say?" you inquired.

Bucky caught on. "Hangover."

Eddie nodded in agreement. "You have to make yourself look hungover. That strengthens your alibi."

"Right," you acknowledged.

Bucky rolled his eyes, realizing that he had suggested the idea first, but you were only listening to Eddie.

"Perfect. I have plenty of alcohol here. What do you want to drink?" Bucky offered.

You replied confidently, "Start with the strongest."

"Yes," Bucky agreed.

After downing three shots of vodka, you started to lose yourself in the night. With the alcohol, the music, and the vibrant atmosphere of Bucky's club, you found yourself enjoying the moment and forgetting about your troubles.

######

As you awakened, the sensation of your stomach churning made you groan. It felt as if your insides had shifted, causing discomfort to spread throughout your body.

Slowly, you managed to sit up, only to discover that you were sprawled atop Eddie, who was still fast asleep and holding you close. Relief washed over you as you realized that both of you were still fully clothed.

However, the memories of the previous night flooded back, each one hitting you with increasing clarity.

"You're awake?"

Your eyes widened at the sound of Bucky's voice. Glancing over, you saw him standing nearby, his shirt rumpled and a distinct lipstick stain marking his lips.

A wave of nausea swept over you, prompting you to grab the nearby champagne bucket and empty its contents in a fit of vomiting.

"Urggh."

Bucky's remark cut through the haze of your discomfort. "Well, that hurts my feelings. You see my face and vomit."

"Urrghh," you groaned, the sickness still plaguing you.

Eddie winced, his hand moving to massage his throbbing head. "What kind of drink did you give us last night, Barnes?"

Bucky shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eye. "It's a new drink I picked up from a celebrity brand."

Eddie chuckled ruefully. "That explains everything."

He rose from his makeshift bed and reached over to pat your shoulder gently. You noticed a faded lipstick stain on his lips, the same color as yours. A blush crept up your cheeks as you realized the implications of the matching marks.

Meanwhile, the incessant ringing of your phone filled the air, causing your head to throb even more.

"Ring, ring."

You cringed, covering your ears to block the sound, but Eddie took the initiative to answer.

"77 missed calls," he informed you.

You grabbed your phone, reluctantly answering the next call.

"Where the hell are you?!!!" your mother's voice pierced through the line.

You sighed. "Mom, don't scream."

"What—? Are you drunk right now? Come home now. Your sister's fiancé died."

You negotiated, "Give me 2 hours."

"One hour."

Turning to the two men beside you, you sought their reassurance. "Do you think they're going to believe me?"

Eddie, suppressing a burp, offered some confidence. "I believe so. You rarely get drunk, and you have a reasonable reason after your fight with Charlotte."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Wait, how do you know about me and her?"

Bucky yawned lazily. "You spilled the beans last night."

You were shocked.

Bucky leaned back, a smirk playing on his lips as he added, "You spilled your guts about how you missed your stepdad, how your mother missed your birthday for five years straight, and how you had a row with your stepsister."

Eddie chimed in, his expression sympathetic as he confessed, "I did try to stop you."

You sighed heavily, a sinking feeling settling in your stomach. "Oh no."

Bucky, ever the opportunist, concluded, "But it supports your alibi, since half the club heard your sob story."

You couldn't help but huff in frustration, feeling the bile rising in your throat once more. "Great."

Amidst the conversation, Bucky's smirk only widened while Eddie wore a more concerned expression, his brow furrowed in sympathy.

Your body language betrayed your discomfort, with tense shoulders and a hand clutching your churning stomach, while your eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape from the mess you found yourself in.

########

Watching everyone in grief, especially Charlotte, who was sobbing as she watched her fiancé's casket being lowered into the ground. Charles stood beside her, offering what comfort he could.

Susan stood next to you, her voice barely above a whisper, "Give me one thing that would justify your actions."

She sounded grief-stricken seeing Charlotte cry like that, but she seemed oblivious to your own stress.

Wearing sunglasses to hide your red, teary eyes, you replied softly, "He cheated on her."

Susan clenched her fist, her anger palpable. "Good, he deserved it then."

After the funeral, you found yourself face-to-face with Bucky once again. With a roll of your eyes, you couldn't help but remark, "Now I feel like you're the angel of death."

Bucky merely smirked, seemingly unfazed by your comment. "I'm here to meet my client."

Drawing closer to him, you whispered, "You mean the one who ordered the hit on the prince?"

A nod from Bucky confirmed your suspicion, and he subtly gestured towards a woman standing on the fringes of the grieving family.

Your eyes widened in recognition. "Rosie?" Memories of encounters with her during summers spent at Eddie's manor flooded your mind.

Bucky's response was chillingly matter-of-fact. "You know her? Great. She's only paid half. The other half hasn't come through yet."

Your incredulity peaked. "Are you kidding me? Right now?"

You attempted to intervene, but your attention was diverted when you noticed Eddie approaching Rosie.

Bucky's voice cut through the tension with a teasing tone. "Oh-oh. Someone's jealous."

You shot him a glare, cursing inwardly. If even someone like Bucky could pick up on it, then your feelings must be glaringly obvious.

With a dismissive shrug, you replied, "It's just an old crush."

Bucky's smirk widened as he observed your reaction. "Seeing you like this makes me want to tease you more, Your Grace."

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[blingblong55]

Somebody to you-Simon "Ghost" Riley

Based on a request: Hear me out … 141 gets a medic. Ghost gets injured BAD, and considering his shitty childhood (if ykyk) he's lowkey scared because he likely never saw a GP. He's always dealt with the injuries on his own. Also the medic's nickname for him is 'the grim reaper' lol ---- GN!Reader, medic!reader, platonic!relationship, trauma!medic ---- A/N: for me "Grim" is the name used for all my GN, M and F Readers, which is why instead of Ghost saying "Grim reaper" he just says "Grim"...just to clarify

Ghost was always the one to treat his minor injuries when alone, and if it was something serious he would let a doctor help him. When 141 became a known group amongst base's Price was advised to get a medic, one that would know their medical history, know how to treat them and know how to deal with the lieutenant himself. Laswell recommended you, a young medic with expertise in trauma medicine.

The first time you met with the task force, you were told to run the medical centre on base. Price, Gaz and Soap were fine but Ghost sustained a gunshot wound to his abdomen and it seemed critical. "Get the doc, Price," Ghost said through gritted teeth. After one long run to Ghost room and an hour-long trying to get the bullet and close the one later, he shook your hand. He didn't want to be medicated but to Price's recommendation, he accepted morphine.

As the assigned medic to the team, you became close to them, except Ghost, who gave you tough love. Tough love in the definition of Ghost that is.

At around two in the morning, you walk to his room, checking his vitals and ensuring he is comfortable. "Doc-"

"Grim reaper, that's my call sign," you smile and he nods.

"What a shite name for a medic," a low chuckle escaped his lips. "I'll call you Grim," he continues. You nod, "So, how are ya feeling, Ghost?"

"Shit. what else would I feel?"

"Discomfort, pain, embarrassment-"

"I don't ever feel embarrassed."

"I heard Ghost never gets any major injuries, I'd say this day should be the first in your books and mine."

He shakes his head, "Y'ain't a good doc if you shit talk your patients, Grim."

"Who says I shit talk my patients?"

After months that turned into three years of working with 141, Ghost grew closer to you. If he went on a mission that had to be far from base, you went along with him to the closest base possible. "Get the doc," became an everyday sentence. No longer did he hide his minor injuries. One scratch, he called you. "Seriously, for this little thing?" you'd ask and he would nod. "What if it gets infected? Hm? Will you not care if your favourite lieutenant gets an infected injury and can't work? I mean, what a shit friend you are mate." He was like an annoying brother.

You did do your hair that morning? He would ruffle it, make it messy and then make you do push-ups for not wearing your uniform properly. One loose strand from your hair and he would shake his head. "Y'my favourite, Grim but that hair gets you in trouble." "Mate, you just messed it up!" "Now now, don't lie, no need for lies 'ere," a muted laugh as he noticed your annoyed look.

Watching him train was torture for both of you. "How was that?" Ghost would ask about his aim and you would shake your head. "You could've done better, y'er shit at this." If he messes with your job, why can't you mess with his? "Then shoot the damn thing yourself!" "Now now, no need to pout, Ghosty-" "Grim," he warns and you laugh.

You were brutally honest with him, something others didn't dare do with him. This was all because you knew him under that mask. In the field, you knew Ghost and on base, you knew Simon.

There was one time a close call, he lost so much blood and everyone was telling him he would be okay. One look at you and you sigh. "You die, I'll tell 'em about your secret favourite movie genre," you whisper in his ear and he smiles. "Then find this bloody bullet."

Time and time again, everyone saw him as the guard dog to the sweet medic and vice versa. You and him were a pair of idiots when late at night he would smoke with you, and tell the worst of jokes.

It was nice, to be somebody to someone. The best friend to a medic with a scary name like 'Grim Reaper'. He wouldn't complain. Ghost and the Grim Reaper, fighting enemies and injuries. He was somebody to you and at the end of the day when his body ached, it was all worth it.

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[ilovelyneysm07]

Endless Solo of Solitude - Hazbin Hotel x Furina!Reader

You are a dramatic person, always looking for the most interesting thing to be the focus of the moment. And people love it, people want your performances, people want to see you.

A/N: Here we are, it should be noted that I am not an experienced writer, so if there are errors, I apologize!

CW: SPOILERS for Fontaine’s Archon Quest. GN!Reader. Use of Maistel as a Gender Neutral term instead of Mister/Miss. Big ass wall of text. Bulleted list format. Use of (Name). No beta, we die like Focalors. Word count: 1.4k (1.444)

(So interminable… So lonely… Just… how much longer?)

The red moon shone beautifully over Hell, while applause could be heard at the Opera Epiclese. It was a normal night like any other in that Opera House, with its Overlord's show about to end.

“Thank you all for coming here!” You and the other “actors” bow to the audience with a smile and the curtain closes in front of you. You can still hear the applause and the voices of the demons as you and the actors head to the dressing room.

With every step you take, every actor following you disperses into the shadows, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

The door closes behind you, completely silencing the voices of the inhabitants and making your smile disappear completely, leaving in its place a tired expression. You sit in front of the mirror, leaving your hat on the table as you look at your reflection, you feel your cheeks hurt and your eyes heavy.

“How much longer will I have to do this...?” is a question that was never answered, your hands instinctively going to your neck, feeling the extra joint around it and the cold invisible blue collar. You flinch at the sensation beneath your fingertips. You run your hands through your long hair, feeling the tears fall onto the table.

80 years. 80 years have passed since this whole Overlord facade started. 80 years since you made the deal with that Overlord because you didn't know any better.

You really didn't know any better. It was clearly a trap that your 18 year old self didn't see or sense.

“You will take my position as an Overlord, or rather, pretend to be "me." Act how people feel an Overlord acts, be what they want to see. And in return, I'll help you when the time comes. An equivalent exchange of sorts, does that sound good to you?”

You really didn't know any better when you took their hand.

If people realized that you were not an Overlord, that you were a simple sinner pretending to be one, everything would go down the drain, everything you have worked for, the life you have sacrificed to make this work.

You, the Overlord of the Theatre and “Owner” of the Opera Epiclese, your performances reaching everywhere in the Pride Ring. People pay thousands just to see you perform. Or rather, the perfect mask they created for you.

The perfect mask that took you 80 years to perfect to fit on your face. The perfect mask that you were forced to wear.

Before your mind continues to torment you with gloomy thoughts, a knock on your door snaps you out of them. “Oh? Come on in!” you say, as you put on your hat at the speed of light.

“Maistel (Name)?” Your employee's voice entering the dressing room made you put your mask back on.

“Tell me, dear employee, to what do I owe the honor of being interrupted here?” you say in your best passive aggressive tone, wincing internally at your employee's discomfort.

“Uhm, it's about the Exterminations, Maistel (Name).” Your employee looks to the side, avoiding your gaze, and thank Lucifer they did, because if they hadn't they would have seen the nervousness on your face for a moment.

You look at him carefully, putting one of your legs on top of the other and crossing your arms. “What is it?”

“They have moved up the Extermination. According to 666 News, it will be in 6 months, Maistel (Name).” You can feel the nervousness in his voice, making your grip on your arm tighten.

The deer ears protruding from your head flicker for a moment, moving backwards. You shake your head, shaking your ears in the process. You look at your employee with a smile, forced, but it's a smile.

“Oh, what an unexpected turn of events! Who would have expected it...?” Certainly not you. The Extermination ended a few hours before your performance, why would they want to advance it? What happened? “You can go home, dear employee. Enjoy.”

“Thank you, Maistel (Name).” When your employee leaves the dressing room, you let out a big sigh and look in the mirror again. Your hands go to your head, gripping it tightly, your forehead hits the table and your hat falls to the floor.

“Why is all this happening...? Why?” You feel like screaming, yelling to someone about all this, but when you feel the cold of the invisible collar on your neck, you are left speechless. As if your vocal cords were clogged and burned under the cold of the collar.

You don't know what to do. You never did.

During the Exterminations, you always stayed in the comfort of the Opera Epiclese, knowing that you couldn't do anything. Knowing that you were just a simple sinner, nothing more.

You sigh in frustration as you stand up, walking towards the exit of the dressing room and on your way to your own bedroom, wanting nothing more than to sleep and rest from your thoughts.

Just outside the Opera Epiclese, a couple were walking towards the building, one more lively than the other.

“Are you sure it's a good idea? We are in an Overlord’s territory!” one of the voices said, worried about her companion, while the girl next to her smiled happily. The blonde clutches her papers tightly.

“Don't worry, Vaggie! I'm sure someone like Maistel (Name) would be interested in the hotel, I feel it in my soul!” The blonde smiles confidently, and her partner, Vaggie, sighs, smiling slightly.

The truth is that they had been trying to talk to some sinners for a while to get them to join the Hotel, without having any luck. Of course, until the blonde saw that Opera House in the distance, her spirits rose rapidly.

“Just be careful, okay? They’re still an Overlord, no matter how much you admire them.” The blonde nodded confidently, and opened the large doors of the Opera House. Blue and black walls were elegantly seen in that reception, some Demons were emerging from what seems to be a recent performance. Charlie smiled at seeing an atmosphere so... calm, for hell.

They both walked towards the reception, where the receptionist was looking at some papers a little nervously, her gaze rising from the white mountain in front of her to look at the new faces. “Oh, uh, welcome to the Opera Epiclese.” The receptionist searched through her papers. “Names? What are you here for?” she said, pen in hand.

“Oh, Charlie Morningstar! And she’s my partner, Vaggie!” Charlie could see how the imp immediately fell silent. The blonde looked curiously at the demon, seeing her better. She’s an Imp. Her clothes are elegant and blue, her hat adorned with black ribbons. A strange color palette for Hell, where everything was red.

“C-Charlie Morningstar? As in… Lucifer’s daughter?” The imp quickly looked at her papers, feeling like she was going to faint. “Why does this happen to me...? And it's my first day... I should have gone home when I could...” the receptionist was muttering to herself as she searched through a large book with golden details. Charlie looked at her worriedly while Vaggie raised an eyebrow.

“Are… you okay?” Charlie asked and the Imp flinched at her voice.

“Y-Yes, Your Majesty! Just… searching, give me a moment, please!” The imp continued muttering to herself, something about 'wanting to go home'. “Uhm... okay, it looks like you're not on the recent guest list, Miss Charlotte…”

“Charlie is fine! And no, we’re not here for one of Maistel (Name)’s performances, we’re here to talk to them!” Charlie explains with a smile, and the imp smiles nervously.

“I-I see… Gimme one second, Miss Charlie…” The imp turns around in her chair, heading towards one of the phones. Charlie looks at Vaggie excitedly.

“Maybe we have a chance, Vaggie! How exciting to meet Maistel (Name) in person!” Vaggie could only smile softly at her partner's enthusiasm. Any normal person would say that it should be the other way around, you know, meeting the Princess of Hell.

The imp turns around in her chair again, looking at the pair. “Uhm, Maistel (Name) should be available in a few minutes. If you want, you can wait in their office.” The receptionist smiled nervously, and Charlie, grabbing her hands and shaking them up and down.

“Thank you so much! Let's go, Vaggie!” Charlie released the imp's hands and walked towards the door on the left. Vaggie let out a soft laugh and approached the imp, who was bewildered.

“Where’s Maistel (Name)’s office?” she asks, and the imp mutters.

“It's in the door on the right…”

A/N: This is part 1 of this miniseries, hope you enjoy this, muehehe.

[mustainegf]

kirk comforting his gf on her period🥹

AWWWW kirk is such an awkward sweetheart I love it

𝐌𝐀𝐂 ‘𝐍’ 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄 ¹⁹⁸⁹

I curled tighter onto the bed, clutching at my stomach as the next shot of cramps echoed through me. Aching, relentless pain, no matter how much I shifted or adjusted, there was no relief from it. I reached out for my heating pad and tucked it against my belly, but it hardly touched the discomfort.

My period was never fun, but this time, it was very brutal. Cramps would just not stop, even my back ached, and there was nausea that seemed to lock on to me. All I wanted to do was stay in bed and wait for it to pass.

I heard the door creak open, and then I looked up to see Kirk standing in the doorway. His hair was wild with curls all around his face, and his expression was concerned as he took in the sight of me, all curled up and under the blankets.

"Hey, sweetheart," he said softly, stepping into the room. "You okay?"

I forced the stiffest of smiles onto my face, failing to reach my eyes. "Just my period," I muttered in a hoarse voice. "It's bad today."

Kirk frowned, his eyes filling with worry. "Is there anything I can, uh… do? Do you need something?"

I shook my head. "I will… ah.. Just ride it out."

He faltered, and I could practically see those little cogs at work in his mind. A second time, I felt that he was going to press his point home, perhaps even ask more questions, but he just nodded. Turning wordlessly, he left the room.

I watched him go, feeling my heart sink. I'd known Kirk a long time, and we'd been together for a while now, but this was the first time I'd seen him react like that to my period.

It wasn't that I expected him to have all the answers or be perfectly comfortable with it, but the way he'd just left the room without another word… it hurt.

No cuddles? Or kisses? No nothing? I needed him right now.

I bit my lip, trying to suppress the budding tears. It was probably only hormonal. Why had he just walked out? Did he not want to deal with it? With me?

I sighed and shoved my face into the pillow, trying to tell myself it wasn't such a big deal. I hated this feeling, hated that my body was out of control and making me hurt and frustrate myself so much. And now, on top of everything, I felt like I was scaring Kirk off, too.

I was still lying there, trying to get a grip on my emotions, when the door opened again. I didn't look up right away, but then I smelled something that made my mouth water despite my nausea.

Cheese. So much cheese.

I lifted my head to find Kirk standing in the doorway yet again, this time holding a bowl of what appeared to be the cheesiest macaroni and cheese I'd ever seen, and that crooked smile on his face. The steam rising from it carried the comforting smell of melted cheddar, and my stomach rumbled in response as the nausea was forgotten now.

"Hey," Kirk said softly, grinning as he walked over to the bed. "I know you're not feeling great, so I thought maybe this would help."

He sat beside me and passed me the bowl, and for a moment, I continued staring at it before I took it from him.

My hands were already warming up from the bowl, and again I was tearing up, but this time for a different reason.

"Kirk…" I started, my voice choking in my throat. "You didn't have to…"

"I wanted to," he broke in, gentle. "I know it's not much but I figured cheesy mac would at least make you feel a little better. It's your favorite, right?"

I could only nod, my throat too full to ever begin describing what it meant for him to do this. That he had noticed I wasn't doing well, that he'd gone out of his way to make something he knew I loved.

"Thank you," I whispered, through tears.

Kirk's look softened, and he leaned over to press a kiss to my forehead. "Always," he murmured. "I just want you to feel better."

He shifted on the bed to lie down beside me, then drew me gently against his chest, where an arm came around me. He was warm like always.

"Eat up," he smiled. "I'll be right here."

I ate a bite of the macaroni, and indeed, the rich, cheesy flavor covered my soul. That was exactly what I needed.

As I ate, Kirk stayed with me, his hand rubbing circles on my back. He didn't say much, just his presence beside me was enough to make one feel safe.

When I'd eaten enough, I set the bowl aside and turned into Kirk's arms to snuggle deeper. He tightened his hold on me and pressed another soft kiss to the top of my head.

"Feeling a little better?" he asked.

"Yeah," I murmured, letting myself finally relax and closing my eyes. "A lot better, actually. Thank you, Kirky.”

"Anytime," he giggled at his dumb nickname, his lips brushing against my temple. "I love you, you know that, right?"

"I love you too, Kirk," I replied. "So much."

[penelopepine]

Maybe I'll write this later:

Ghost x Reader x Soap: Alien AU

You got abducted awhile ago, and has been trapped in a cell ever since. The only good thing so far is that the aliens all seem to be frightened of you.

Every single day since the first has practically been the same which is why when you hear a lot of noise coming you instinctively move to the back of your cell. Which seems to be the right move because just a few moments later the door is being opened, and a figure is being thrown inside. The door just as quickly is slammed shut once more.

This is the first time you meet Soap. He looks like what you assume a werewolf might look like. Once he sees you though it's not fear on his fear, but surprise; at least you would assume so it's hard to tell when dealing with an alien species. What surprises you though is when he say 'Hello' ... in English. You cried tears of joy for the first time in this cell upon hearing a single word.

The days that pass after that are filled with you and Soap learning how to communicate with one another. He can speak very minimal English, but that is enough for you to put some trust in him. After all another human must have taught him right?

Soap also seemed very interested in keeping you close to him anytime one of the other aliens visited your cell. Always keeping you behind him as he seemingly yelled at them. It's clear that they had planned for you to kill Soap. You know you had been aggressive towards them, but did they really think you would just kill him?

It's a few days of this before they take things into there own hands in getting rid of Soap. Two alien guards show up, and open the door to the cell and attempt to grab Soap. What they don't account for though is when he fight backs you do too. This might be your only chance out of here; you're not going to waste this.

Surprisingly, you two actually do mange to defeat them. Soap does do most of the work, but you still helped as much as you could. As soon as their down he's grabbing onto your hand, and dragging you out into the hall. He had to know more than you so you willingly followed.

It was good you did as well because after a few minutes alarms are blaring through the ship. That doesn't seem to affect Soap though as he continues to lead you around. Eventually you arrive at a door, and before you can even question what's happening Soap is pushing you inside.

Looking around you saw that this was some must be some kind of emergency pod. The first thing Soap does is help you with the straps to your seat before finally taking the drivers seat; starting up the pod up as fast as he can when someone starts banging on the door.

That doesn't seem to affect Soap though as you two very suddenly are taking off at speeds you've never experienced before. Once far enough away the speed slows to be more manageable to handle. He turns towards you, and says 'safe' and 'sleep'. And you do after all the day you've had all you want to do is sleep. You assume Soap knows what to do, and doesn't seem to want to ditch you anytime soon.

The next time you wake up it's because of a loud beeping sound filling the air. Looking out you see that you are actually entering another ship. Panic fills your veins as you look at Soap. He on the other looks to be the calmest you've ever seen him. Soap must know this ship, and hopefully trusting him won't turn out bad for you.

Seeing you're discomfort Soap puts a comforting hand on your shoulder before encouraging you out of the pod now that your fully landed inside. Everything seems to be calm as you step out, but that is before door leading farther in the ship opens up.

The first thing you notice about this new figure is that they have an eerily human look. What concerns you though is the mask that they're wearing; it's looks like a human skull. You instantly think that you've made a mistake trusting Soap.

The figure and Soap quickly move towards each other, and once in reach are pulling the other into an embrace. You watch as Soap whispers something into there ear, and in an instant there eyes are snapping towards were you stand still near the pod door.

Taking a hesitant step towards you they reach up to remove the mask. Underneath is a balaclava, but that's not what get your attention. What gets your attention is the distinct human eyes. The man in front of you is human.

He introduces himself as Ghost.

[carionto]

Do you think aliens would be weirded or freaked out that when we're tickled, it's actually a pain response but laughter (sometimes anger) is the only way we can deal with it? Or that tickling is even a thing?

That startling repeated noise.

Humans often make it, particularly when with other Humans. They say it's generally a reaction to positive emotional and unexpected physical stimulation in certain parts of their bodies. It is quite... disturbing sometimes.

Once a Human asked me to "tickle" them, saying my slender feathery limbs would be a fantastic sensation to experience. They raised their arms up and exposed their bare skin and said: "Go for the sides. My ribs are extra sensitive to that." Hesitantly, I complied.

Upon the lightest touch, they screamed louder than I had ever heard anyone do. It was mortifying, like the death-wail of a raging beast. I instinctively snapped back and my feet jolted me 10 meters away in a second.

The Human kept making this noise for a brief moment, then asked me to come back and continue, saying: "Oh man, I've never felt anything that gently peculiar. It's like a hundred feathers all in one place caressing each individual nerve ending. It's okay, us Humans love laughing like this, it's great."

Despite my initial shock and discomfort at the noise, I decided to comply and "tickle" the Human for a few minutes. It was a rather grueling experience to be honest, but after a short while, seeing more of what their "joy" looks like, I grew accustomed to the noise. Just a little.

"Whoo, damn, that actually tired me out. Haven't had a good laugh like that in a while, thanks for humoring me." The Human said while looking exhausted and catching their breath. I have never seen a Human on this station be physically tired before, even when they run and jump around and recklessly endanger their lives. But a light touch, I barely even had to move, and the Human was all but incapacitated.

"Hey, could you do me a favor? When you go back to your department, give one of the people there a tickle, someone who looks all gloomy or is often complaining about something. They could use a laugh. It won't be as effective through clothing, but trust me, they'll thank you for it. And if they don't just tell them I told you to do it, it'll be fine."

That last phrase raised alarm bells, but the reassurance and how much fun they seemed to have convinced me to accept their request. After all, it is a good thing to spread joy and happiness, so if this is one way I can help out Humans, then I should.

Big mistake.

When I got back and noticed one Human who fit the description, I approached them from behind and tickled the back of their neck, as I was told that is another sensitive spot.

They screamed, turned around and slapped my arm out of the way faster than I could retract it.

The bone is still healing, doctors said it would take a month for all the fractures to fully reconnect and harden, but the nerve connection to my seventh finger was so badly damaged I would never be able to fully extend it again.

I was visited by both Humans who I had "tickled" and the first was in a very apologetic and defeated mood. The other spoke: "I apologize for breaking your arm. I did not mean to. Tickling is one of those things we don't fully understand about ourselves, but it isn't just about having fun and being entertained." This was pointed more to the first Human.

"It's an automatic response, most Humans feel ticklish like this one here, but some, like me, find it painful and our response to external stimuli towards sensitive parts of our bodies is to protect them fiercely, like you had the misfortune of experience for yourself."

"I'll speak to the administration and have them include this in the guidelines for interacting with us Humans. And," turning directly towards the first Human now: "I'll have them include a section for Humans about not teaching our Alien friends to play children's tricks on us." They turned back to me. "Get well soon, and again, sorry about this mess."