#attack on penguin? lol

[stardust9905]

✨ 💖 you deserve and are worthy of love 💖 ✨️

akcyiwbgixtuwbtve SO DO YOU !!! <3

Omg omg omg thank you!! Literally cannot express how much i appreciate this since i've been having such a rough time recently - truly means a lot to me 😭🥰💕🩷

[bogglecatboxx]

platonic!sagau seeing you cry behind the screen (freminet, yaoyao, ningguang, neuvillette, lisa)

notes: inspired by me having a rough day and crying while i farmed mats LOL (also neuvillette’s is mostly my own hc for him, sorry if it’s ooc)

freminet:

panic

probably keeps putting his helmet on. it’s not that he doesn’t want to help, it’s just that he doesn’t know how…

tries extra hard in any fights to try to make things a little easier. this, at least, is one way he can help, even if only a little. his damage output is higher, his cds are shorter, he’s powering through any hits he takes - not enough for you to notice anything odd, but enough to speed up any annoying commissions.

(lyney and lynette might be a little upset at him later for pushing himself too hard - though they understand more when he explains. they would do the same for you, after all.)

if he knows you like pers and who doesn’t, he’ll do his idle animation holding the mechanical penguin more often (hopefully you’re not paying too much attention, though, because you might find it odd that he’s wearing his helmet during the pers idle animation…)

yaoyao:

D:

surprisingly, she’s actually not too worried - even if she doesn’t like seeing you sad, she knows you’re strong enough to pull through whatever it is that’s upsetting you.

but just because you can handle it doesn’t mean she can’t help!

any of her voicelines that you think are cute, you’ll suddenly be hearing much more. (although it is a bit odd to hear her talking about the “silly frogs” when it’s not even raining.)

any cooking you do seems to go much better than usual - not only are you getting specialties first try, but you get high quality dishes without even trying.

(you might also find a few extra qingce household dishes in your inventory.)

ningguang:

she already wishes she could whisk you off to liyue. this is not helping.

whenever she sees you sad, she thinks about how well she could take care of you if you were in teyvat; thinks of the gifts she already has prepared, the spare room she keeps unoccupied just so she’s ready for whenever you decide it’s time to descend. seeing you cry just heightens those feelings.

her voice might sound a bit harsher than normal, but it’s not directed to you - rather, to whatever it is that has upset you.

whenever her idle animations play, she tries to summon brighter, sparklier gems than normal, hoping that the sight will lift your spirits, or at least take your mind off your problems.

if you stop at any shops in liyue, the prices might be mysteriously lower than normal. not by enough for you to notice, but enough to save you at least some trouble - the loss of a few thousand mora is nothing to ningguang, if it can help you even a little.

neuvillette:

hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don’t cry!

for some reason, when you’re sad, fontaine is always raining…

neuvillette hates seeing you upset. as someone who has spent much time crying himself, he knows what it’s like to suffer in silence - something he would never want for you. he hopes that being with him, even with a barrier inbetween, makes you feel less alone.

he longs to wipe your tears away, but that’s not an option behind the screen, so he’ll settle for smaller ways to cheer you up.

if you go underwater, you might notice more sea creatures than usual; not attacking you or even interacting with you, but just… hovering around, sharing neuvillette’s desire to brighten your spirits.

neuvillette’s voicelines will also sound quieter; not quite a whisper, but definitely softer than normal. it’s not an extreme difference, but he hopes you find his voice comforting.

lisa:

seeing her cutie sad just breaks her heart!

speaking of cutie, you might notice her tacking the nickname onto the end of voicelines that don’t normally have it.

lisa wishes she could rest your head in her lap and read to you - never has she hated the barrier between you so much!

similar to freminet, lisa puts her all into any fights you bring her to. it doesn’t matter if it’s a slime or the fatui, she’s hitting them with enough lightning to completely fry them, trying to wrap up any fights you need to complete as fast as possible so you can relax.

although she wants to spend as much time with you as she can, she knows that she shouldn’t be selfish, and that often sleep is the best medicine for heartache. for once, she’s not just upset when you leave - she’s also hopeful you’ll come back smiling.

[cokou]

First of all: I absolutely adore your writing style. Can i request something for my favorite penguin boy? He needs way more love. Something like your reaction, seeing him without his hat for the first time or some enemy to lover trope. I guess we all know that he is just a sweet and caring guy but i cant help but think how he would react in this case. Like being attractive to reader but at the same time disliking reader (maybe due some sort of misunderstanding?)

I hope this makes sense. Have a sweet day and I really hope you would feel comfortable writing for him. <3

Troublesome 面倒な

Penguin × F!Reader ペンギン×エフ！読者

event. 100 followers event! Requests all open till 17th of July 2024. ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ sum. Accidentally revealing his face in front of you stirred up some misunderstanding. ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tw. SFW! No warnings tbh. ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ a/n. THANKYOUSOMUCH. Yes, yes, YES! I will definitely write this rn, I love this rq my fave one so far!! AND I KINDA PUT THIS UP MY EVENT ONG LOL <3 SORRY IF THIS WASN'T WHAT YOU EXPECTED D:// Do not translate or transfer my works, this is my only account. Will not be crossposted anywhere. // Masterlist♡

Another day inside the Polar Tang was definitely nothing different nor anything special from the other days spent with the Heart Pirates. The sounds of small bickering and some loud laughter could be heard once again from the room besides the corridor. The Polar Tang was docked on an Island, and now it was ready to venture into the seas again. The days went by so fast.

As you make your way into some random submarine window, you felt the slow motion of the submarine slowly backing up, making you lose your balance and almost falling into the floor. Although before you fell, someone had caught you just about time before you had hit the floor, giving you time to try and grab into the wall to stabilize yourself.

"Caught you! You really should prepare yourself ya'know! You've experienced this lotsa' timesss." Penguin teased you as he slowly placed you down onto the ground after catching you. "You owe me one." He sticks his tongue out.

"What the hell?! I didn't even need your help!" You rise back up immediately and almost losing balance again from the sudden motion of moving, you grabbed the wall pipe for dear life. You finally managed and dusting off your butt from the fall. "Look i don't owe you anything! I didn't even wanna get caught by you." You cross your arms and look at another direction.

Penguin snorts at your stubbornness and rolls his eyes at your comment. (Not that you saw him roll his eyes.)

"A simple thank you would've been enough." He didn't bother letting you say anything and immediately passed by you, scoffing. You mock him behind his back, copying his facial expression as his footsteps fade into the distance.

The submarine submerged into the ocean waters by now, hearing nothing but vibrations of the underwater tides and bubbles popping. You peek into the small rpunded windows that allowed you to see marine life animals once again. After dozing off for half an hour by the sub's window, you had realized that you still had duties to fulfill.

Sighing and dragging yourself onto the engine room, you hastily open up the door that it hit the wall connecting to it You enter the room stomping on the ground heavily. You suddenly shrieked as you see someone wearing a boiler suit but having no memory of them being on the submarine.

"H— Intrude—!" The man rushes his way close to you and covering your mouth way before you alarm everyone. You smell the faint scent of his cologne, being similar to the ones you had smelt from Penguin. You resist him and attacking his hands that were over your mouth. Biting his palm, making him jump and pulling your hair.

"H-Hey! It's me, Penguin!" Having him loosen his hands over your mouth, you stop resisting his movements and became calmer. The tone of his voice and a sound of what annoyed you was the indeed similar to Penguin, with no doubts you push him far enough to be able to give you two a comfortable space. Your eyebrows furrow in irritation.

"Peng?! Wh.. Where's your hat?!" You shrieked at him once again, your tone so loud it could be heard by the corridors. You take a moment to look at his face up and down and up, admiring his face that you've never seen before. You caught his eyes staring back at you with his mouth carving a look of nervousness and a frown.

"Ah...well, i kinda..spilt something on it, it's in the laundry room." He clarified your questions, his tone having a pint of nervousness on them. Fidgeting quietly with his fingers and giving you a slight smile.

"Your fault— but i never thought that I'd see your face this clear like before! I've only seen your mouth all the time."

" Could it be that....You find me handsome?! Awh you're so kind (Name)!" He laughs at his claim for you, making you look stupid and a blushing mess infront of him, making you much much more irritated than before. You felt veins pop on your forehead as you launch a kick on his knees as he drops into the floor laughing.

"No way!" You pinch the bridge of your nose as Penguin stopped laughing and stood up. Brushing his boiler suit dusts away, his playful and happy tone disappearing, being replaced with a much more serious one.

"Whateverrr....you suck (Name).." he claims. Crossing his arms as he felt disappointed with your answer, lowering his head and shooking them in distress.

"...Okay just a tiny bit handsome!" You grit your teeth at the guiltiness that you received with his unusual tone, changing your opinions to a much better one. You cross your arms just like him and stared at each other with furrowed eyebrows and a serious gaze. His eyes squinting, your teeth gritting hardly that you swore they were gonna break.

"Hah, thanks anyway..i never thought you'd actually give in." He lets his arms go and resting them besides his torso again, gaining a smile that always painted his facce on a usual day in Polar Tang. His gaze now softens and had a much more presenting look.

"Fuck off!...." Silence.

"Okay fine, I'm being quite serious!" You sigh at the honesty that you had revealed. Giving him the slightest smile you could ever give.

"You aren't that bad sometimes."

"I've never been bad! You just don't understand me is all!" Trying to clarify your defense, Penguin just laughs at your take for an excuse, causing you to punch him in the face a bit too hard. He drops to the floor hardly, making a loud tud.

Attracting the attention of the captain who passed by the corridors in hopes of room inspections. Instead he was met with you on your knees and saying sorry repeatedly to Penguin as he grabbed his face and curl into the floor in agony, having no work in progress. Law decides to never pair you two up ever again in duties. Making you gasp as you try to calm Penguin down by holding of his shoulders as he kick his feet into the air, covering his face with his hands.

Even the captain was shocked with finding Penguin without his usual hat. Making him wonder what rhe hell was happening in the Engine Room. After that incident, you ahd soften your side with Penguin as you two were never paired ever again for submarine duties. Law said it was for the best for you two. After all you two didn't have a progress that was started with.

©Cokou 2024, all works belong to me.

[sprinkleonthatcriticism]

Just finished the new Helluva boss short: Mission: Wee-a-boo-boo and I want to say, it's pretty good (warning for spoilers)

I really love the design for the woman that Blitz has to kill for his cilent because of, what I assume is the client was being cyberbullied by this woman or the client was being brutally harassed by her fans to the point that they'd killed theirselves.

Honestly, They don't really explained how the client died so I just assume that it's either because of suicide because of what the girl did or they simply just died in an accident or whatever and decided that they want to put a hit on her lol

Also just realize that in this scene Blitz is activating the asmodean crystal by just rubbing it.. I'm gonna assume it's suppose to mimic how you rub someone's ya know because if you remember in the infamous penguin short (the one where the penguins are calling them slurs) the crystal only activates if you perform a sex act on it or something, idk lol

Also, I have a lot of questions about this scene.. she is wearing this sort of necklace that blocked Blitz's attack which she claims that it's official merch from an anime that she had watched.

Which if that's the case, how the hell is it magical if it's just some piece of plastic?? I'm guessing it's the pentagram on it and not gonna lie, when that scene happened I thought this girl was gifted some sort of magical ambulant by the Cherubs to protect her (as well as to fuck with Blitz because they probably somehow know what he is up to) or that she's secretly an angel but that was until I saw the pentagram and of course, what she had said.

Also, miss opportunity to use the word "Monster fucker" instead of "Monster lover" since that's what some people who want to fuck a monster or mythical creature are called :P

Also, love the Rawr paddle in the background, obvious nod to the infamous yaoi paddle

And finally, I love her sinner design.. the color scheme is so adorable and I love that ironically she's suppose to be a chubby cat demon considering what she called herself in that episode before her death.

Not sure about the wings though, I would've personally kept the wings out while keeping her cat like appearance but I do love the fact that her stockings turn into little demons or evil cat stockings.. I think that's really funny/creative :3

Unless their actually now fused to her legs considering there's two pink hooves on them.

[penkura]

Do you think penguin would accept law dating his little sister? I'm imagining it in my mind, and all I can think of is an overwhelming protective penguin!

Oh my goodness, yes! Protective big brother Penguin for sure!

Like, I can imagine Penguin's little sister confiding in him her feelings for Law, and he's like "all right, bet, it's just a crush, no worries", so he doesn't think much about it. She's in her twenties too (imo), but that doesn't mean she's immune to puppy love or fleeting crushes, he gets that and he's totally fine with it.

But then he hears that Law, his captain, just might feel the same way towards her?

Protective big brother mode activate, Penguin is watching very closely to see what happens. He's watching their every move and nearly has a heart attack when he sees them holding hands on the next island the Heart Pirates dock at, his sister wouldn't have told him anything about her and Law quietly getting together because she knew he'd freak out.

But I also think that over time, watching them, seeing how they more than likely make each other so, so happy and how much softer Law seems, Penguin would still absolutely be protective of his baby sister but he'd be just as happy for them. :)

Gosh this is giving me ideas for little scenarios lol.

[jasntodds]

Penance [4]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader

Words: 7,682

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, a little bit of angst, some fluff, mentions of death, some blood, panic attack (jason), bits of ptsd, some violence, hurt/comfort

Summary:❝Thesus: Stop. Give me your hand. I am your friend. Herakles: I fear to stain your clothes with blood. Thesus: Stain them. I don’t care.❞

It’s been a month and a half since Crane’s reign of terror was stopped, leaving Gotham to finally return to normal. But, what is normal? After everything Jason and you have been through, it seems normal might be some unobtainable dream state. But that’s not going to stop either of you from trying and maybe, you’ll get lucky in the end. At the end of it, the two of you have suffered enough, right?

Right?

A/N: I might have gotten this idea from 911 but that's fine lol I hope you guys like it!! You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary  and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

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As the next day comes around, it takes Jason some time to convince Tim not to go looking for Venta if they’re going out later. Tim is thrilled to be helping with the Penguin to the point Jason finds the whole thing a little funny. Jason was always excited to go out as Robin. It was the coolest thing ever but Tim really is over the moon about it. Jason doesn’t think Tim has ever been happier about it and it actually worries him.

As much as Jason is happy for him, he is worried. He’s worried Tim will put his all into Robin and lose himself in it, just like Dick and Jason did. Robin was never something they got to do. It was given to them as a way to cover up their grief. It was a way to weaponize their grief rather than work through it. Jason hopes that won’t be the case for Tim. It doesn’t seem that way. It seems he just wants it for the greater good and he’s just excited. And the way he’s excited is still very serious like he knows he can’t let that excitement out onto the field so he lets it out now where it’s safe. It’s something he knows he has to take seriously. Jason worries but he hopes it’ll work out because he can tell that Tim will be a good Robin.

You meet the boys back at Jason's around midnight, a case in hand with your suit. You're pretty excited to go out on a mission with not only Tim for the first time, but also Jason. You really miss that stuff with him. But, with Tim, it’s new and you're excited to see how he does. No one can’t stop him from being Robin and being out there, so you might as well embrace it and that’s what you're doing even if you're terrified of it.

“Really gonna take down the Penguin.” Tim says almost in awe once you're dressed and back in the main corridor downstairs.

“Pretty sure we’re not taking him down, really.” You nod your head as Tim moves his staff around with pent-up energy.

“Kind of.” Tim defends.

“We’re just securing the guns and turning them over to Babs.” Jason reminds him as he walks in now in his Red Hood suit, the helmet on his hip. “Not taking out Penguin, he’s not even supposed to be there this time.”

“The fuck he is doing that he’s not gonna be at his own shipment?” You question, your stare directly at Jason and you can't help but feel maybe that's a bit weird.

“Fuck if I know, Penguin things.” Jason lets out a scoff. "Could think we wouldn't come for him since we haven't." Jason shrugs casually, it's not the first time Penguin hasn't been around so he isn't too concerned about it.

“What a weirdo.” You let out a sigh, shrugging the uneasiest from your bones with the ease of Jason's voice.

“Yeah.” Jason chuckles softly. “Alright, let’s get going. Tim, you ride with her.” Jason hands Tim a spare helmet. Jason heads for the exit, the two of you right behind him. “And just make sure you do what we say.”

“Got it.” Tim nods.

“Then, let’s get out of here.” Jason nods once as the three of you exit the building.

The three of you ride over to the warehouse near Harbor that Penguin is using. The three of you get to a roof, laying down to look over the edge as the three of you closely watch as the shipment is taken from one of the boats and moved into the warehouse. Penguin isn’t here it seems and only a handful of his goons are. That’s a red flag, Jason and you can both sense it. You exchange a glance but you're already here and you gave Babs a heads up. It'd be a little hard to leave now so you just keep watching, hoping this won't cause too many problems.

Once the lot is cleared of goons, the three of you make your way to the roof of the warehouse, Tim trailing along well. On top of the roof, there's a skylight where you can see the crates in the center of the room with the goons armed and looking around. This isn't anything you and Jason haven't done before so you both give Tim a quick rundown of a plan. Tim gets two goons while you and Jason will take out the rest and if he's in trouble just call out. Once Tim seems to be up to speed, Jason and you break the window first, using your grappling hooks to lower yourselves down quickly, Tim right behind with his own grappling hook.

You take your own four goons with ease while Jason takes the other four, leaving Tim with just the two. You and Jason find yourselves looking over your shoulders to make sure Tim isn’t laid out but every time you both check, he seems to be holding his own pretty well. By the time you and Jason have your goons down, Tim has his down, a proud smile on his face.

“I got them.” Tim says breathlessly. “Wasn’t so bad.”

You look over to Jason with the roll of your eyes. “Okay, Robin.” You nod once before you let out a breath.

“Let’s make sure everything is here and we’ll put in the call.” Jason says as the three of you start opening the crates finding several automatic weapons.

“What’s he doing with all of them anyway?” Tim asks, standing beside you.

“Penguin things.” You and Jason say at the same time.

“Right…” Tim lets out a breath.

This has gone pretty well so far according to you and Jason but that is what's not sitting right. Nothing with these guys ever goes exactly according to plan. That was one of the reasons Jason wanted to bring Tim so he would have to learn to adapt but nothing else is happening. Penguin isn't here and his goons barely even put up a fight. You need to get out of here, this isn't right.

“You didn’t think this would be that easy did you?” A nasally voice says from the platform above the three of you.

The three of you turn to see Penguin with his right hand right next to him. He looks a bit too excited and happy to be here. Jason wants to bang his head against a wall and you're nearly rolling your eyes into the back of your head. This was too easy and for Penguin to seem awfully pleased with himself, this is about to get very bad.

“We can take your goons all night, man. Or you can just walk the fuck away.” Jason offers as he crosses his arms.

Penguin tilts his head back and laughs. “That won’t be necessary. The two of you really are some replacements. And you even have your own sidekick!”

“Hey!” Tim yells, taking a step forward.

You grab his arm with a tight grip. “Shut up.” You grit your teeth at him. "Sounds like you could use a sidekick or two though." You quip back to Penguin. "Planning this with the Bat to of town? What? You scared or something, Penguin?"

“I'm not scared." Penguin says it so casually it sends a chill down your spine. "I knew you’d get in the way which is why I prepared for that!” Pengiun chimes. "You really should know something about that, Red Hood." Penguin mocks before he pulls out a detonator.

A bomb. Of course, it’s a fucking bomb.

“Have fun.” Penguin smiles at the three of you before he presses the button and immediately starts walking out.

You and Jason exchange a stare as a ticking echoes around you. You won’t have time. Penguin planned this so you wouldn’t have time even with his warning. There's no time to find the bomb and disable it, there's not even enough time to get out of the building. How did you both miss this?

It's all going in slow motion as Jason can see the panic wanting to stretch over your face, Tim looking petrified right beside you. There isn’t time to even reach you. And even if there was, what’s he supposed to do? He can’t catch a building. There’s only one thing to do and it’s as if you share the exact same thought that he does in that single second.

Jason and you turn at the same time to run towards the exit, you grabbing Tim by the arm to drag him along. The ticking quickens from above you. You’re out of time. You’re out of time and there’s nothing else left to do. The ticking echoes and echoes and in a split second, Jason is running behind a pillar and you grab the edge of your cape before wrapping it around Tim as you tackle him to the ground.

And the bomb goes off less than a second later.

The warehouse rumbles and vibrates as Jason is tucked into a ball behind the pillar, his hands covering his neck as if waiting for a tornado to hit. The rumbling shakes his bones and it’s so loud. Every rumble and echo shatter through his bones. His eyes are slammed shut as the warehouse fills with smoke as the roof starts to collapse. Jason’s chest starts to burn and it shouldn’t.

The mask has a ventilator. His chest shouldn’t hurt but it does and he thinks his ears are bleeding. His bones are stinging. Why are his bones stinging? Why is so hard to breathe? His eyes burn and sting even with them closed. Not again. This can't be happening again. Panic spreads itself over Jason like an itchy weighted blanket. He doesn't want to die again. Dying is terrifying and the building is collapsing around him. A part of him thinks he can hear the crude laugh of the Joker echoing somewhere through the shattering concrete. It all feels too much and he can't breathe. Every part of him is shaking as he's been left out to the elements in the middle of February. This can't be happening.

And then it all falls eerily silent.

Jason's breath is quick and uneven as he tries to ground himself. It's silent, the collapsing is over. It takes him a few minutes to try to gather himself, desperately trying to pull his mind away from the edge of terror. This is the first time something like this has happened since the Joker. Jason thinks the fear isn't any better the second time around.

He thinks it's worse.

But, he finds it in himself to finally slowly pull his hands away from his neck, his arms feeling like warm jello as they shake. He slowly sits up partially, looking around what was the warehouse. It’s cloudy, filled with dust and smoke. It’s hard to even see a few feet in front of him but he looks over to where you last were with Tim and he can’t see anything. The dust is too thick and he can’t help but let the panic start to flood his blood again.

He has the helmet. His eyes are protected but what about yours? Your mask has a ventilator but what if it doesn’t work? Do you even communicate enough with Bruce to make sure your equipment is working? And Tim doesn’t have any eye protection or a ventilator. It doesn’t matter if you're on your own, you and Tim are Jason’s responsibility. He’s the most experienced. He should have known this wasn’t right. Something should have went off in his head. He should have fucking known. Why didn’t he know?

The dust starts to dissipate with every passing second and Jason gets a better glimpse where you and Tim last were. He swears he’s going to be sick as his heart stops beating as it shoots into his throat. There’s a pile of cement from the ceiling. A long pile where that part of the ceiling collapsed and there is no sight of blue or red. There’s not yellow or black. It’s just brown and grey.

No.

Jason gets to his feet as fast as his legs will allow him and he sprints over to the cement. Not you. Not you. Not you. It can’t be you. He grabs one of the cement blocks and starts trying to pull it away to make a hole in the pile. He can feel the panic taking over again.

It’s been better. It’s been better again since he started seeing Leslie again. He can feel the panic sometimes but it’s better. He can fight through it usually and it doesn’t cause him as much distress out in the field. But, now it’s coming back like a wrecking ball. It’s been easier because he hasn’t had someone to look out for. It’s been easier because he hasn’t had to worry even if he always does. It was always fine if he had to eat it. But, being here and digging through a pile of cement in hopes you’re both alive, that’s different.

If he had to die again, that'd be fine as terrifying as it is. But, the thought it being someone else, being people that he actually cares about, that's an entirely other story.

“Blue!” Jason yells as loud as his can, his voice is raw and he hates the sound of it in his ears. It sounds desperate and scared but he is both of those things. Not you. “Robin!” He calls after, this time stronger, hoping he’ll hear one of you yell back.

The thought of seeing you crushed brings instant tears to his eyes and his stomach twist. He thinks about how you haven’t talked in a month and that’s such a waste. Why the fuck didn’t he just call you? He should have fucking called you. He’s panicking and he hates it but seeing you dead is his greatest fear today. He knows what it’s like to die and to die scared. You were scared. You don’t deserve it. It can’t be you. Please, not you.

And he knows Dick is gonna kill him if Tim dies on his watch. Tim just started and he volunteered for this. He can't be punished for wanting to do something for the greater good, for just wanting to help. It can’t be Tim either. Somehow, you both need to be alive under this pile.

Jason’s teeth grit before he rips the helmet from his head, annoyed by the vision of it. And he gets to work on the cement again. You both have to be alive. There is not another option. You have to be. And then he gets a glimpse of a bright blue fabric.

Jason forgets how to breathe and he works faster, pulling the concrete away as fast as his muscles will even allow. He’s able to make a big enough hole in the pile to reach you and just as he looks into the hole, there’s movement. He still isn’t breathing as he waits to see who it is and not a single part of him can even think to hope who he wants it to be because it has to be both of you.

And then you look up at him.

Jason lets out a breath.

Your eyes are wide and your face is covered in dust, a stream of blood falling down the side of your face. But he can tell by the softness in your eyes that you're relieved to see him, too.

The building fell on you and Tim. The building fucking collapsed on you and you have no idea why you thought your cape would help but it was something you could try. And then you got pinned. You think you’d normally start to panic because you were practically entirely on top of Tim and you couldn’t move. You both could have been trapped there but you know Jason has a habit of living through some fucked up shit. Something in you knew if he made it, he’d be there. He’d never let either of you rot under a pile of concrete. You knew he’d come.

Jason always comes.

And then Tim looks up, too.

Jason shakes his head, looking down for a second to gather himself before he offers a hand. You take his hand in yours as Jason pulls you out. He’s careful but deliberate making sure you don’t slip. Once you're on solid ground, he wastes no time in looking you over, his hands coming to your cheeks.

Besides the blood coming from a small cut near your hairline, Jason doesn’t see any other visible injuries. It doesn’t bring him much relief because internal injuries are still a thing and he thinks you should all go to the Batcave and do some scans. For all he knows, it's a lot worse than a small cut and you have to get out of here quickly just to make sure. He just needs to make sure.

“Are you okay?” Jason asks quickly, still looking over you.

Your hands shake as they come to his hands on your cheeks. “I’m fine.” Your voice is soft as you answer him, your thumbs running over his hands. He looks absolutely terrified. You aren't sure you've ever really seen this look on his face before. “I’m okay.” You nod against him as you watch a small part of his face dissolve into relief as his eyes meet yours.

You feel okay though very shaky and weak. Your limbs and back are sore, your ribs feel a little achy but nothing feels wrong. A part of you feels a little out of body and terrified anyway, like there's leftover panic still running through your veins. Being crushed by a building wasn't something you thought would happen and it definitely wasn't something you were prepared for. Gong toe-to-toe with bad guys with guns and knives and fists is the easy part. The uncertainty of a bomb and a collapsing building is a bit horrifying. But, physically, you think you're okay.

“We gotta do some scans at the cave, alright? Make sure there’s no internal bleeding or some shit.” Jason keeps his eyes on yours, trying with everything in him to control the panic in his voice.

“I’m fine—“

“No.” Jason cuts you off. This is one risk he's not willing to take. Your life is the one risk Jason will never take no matter what you want to argue. “You don’t know that, okay?”

Suddenly, it's as if you're back on Amusement Mile that night. It was dark and gloomy, nothing too unusual for a night in Gotham City. But, it felt colder and it all felt wrong. The pit in your stomach gnawed and begged you to turn around. You remember knowing with the very sight of the yellow on the Robin cape. You remember how terrified you were walking up to his body, waiting for the confirmation of your biggest fear. You're thinking you might have shared a similar look to the one Jason is giving you now.

“Okay.” You agree with a gentle nod.

Jason sucks in a breath, his brows still pulled together with worry. "Good."

“Yeah, uh, a little help, please?” Tim calls from behind the two of you.

The two of you drop your hands and immediately turn around.

“Fuck, yeah sorry, man.” Jason rushes.

“Sorry!” You call as the two of you rush back to the hole in the pile Jason made to help Tim.

Once Tim is out of the pile, Jason and you look him over quickly, making sure he isn’t missing a limb and nothing is deformed.

“I’m fine.” Tim assures the two of you, not missing the worry between you. “That was crazy though.” Tim looks around with ease, almost like he’s unbothered. You and Jason give him a confused look. Why is he so fine? “We caught a zombie Deathstroke and are fighting a few demons. I was also shot and killed by Scarecrow.” Tim shrugs casually, already growing used to seeing his life in danger which is not nearly as reassuring as he thinks it is.

“Alright.” You roll your eyes, wishing he'd give some insight on how he's able to handle things well.

“Sure, man.” Jason nods his head, unsure if he's completely convinced someone can just walk away from major traumas perfectly fine. “We’re still doing a scan. Let’s get outta here.” Jason jerks his head towards where he threw his helmet.

“You, too.” You state as Jason grabs his helmet and starts walking towards the exit.

“Me, too what?” Jason asks, adjusting his helmet on his hip.

“Scans.” Tim adds in as him and you start to follow Jason. “If you’re forcing us, you have to, too.” Tim states, thinking that's probably a good idea for all of you anyway. Jason's limp doesn't go unnoticed by Tim and Tim can feel his shoulder starting to ache. He knows you took the brunt of the force.

“Aww, you’re learning." You chime.

Jason lets out a groan, swearing he's the one that's fine. He was not crushed by a building but he's not in the mood to fight with either of you. “Fucking fine.” He doesn’t bother protesting knowing damn well you will get what you want. You will win. You always win when it comes to him.

The three of you get on your bikes and head out of the city and to Wayne Manor, something Tim is very excited about. He wasn’t really going to complain about getting any scans done. Getting scans means going into the Batcave again and this time, it won’t be taken over by Crane. Getting scans means getting to actually hang out in the Batcave this time. Tim would never turn down the opportunity now.

You still want to protest but you saw the worry over Jason’s face. You feel fine besides a headache. But, you aren’t going to take the risk for Jason’s sake. You think back to the times you said you’d die for each other and you think that’s easy. You’d run in front of a bullet for him even today. It doesn’t matter but making sure you're okay enough to live feels harder. You don’t want to die or anything but maybe you’d normally brush this off and then that might be it. But, Jason looks at you with all the love his heart could muster and you can’t do it to him. You can live for him, too.

Once you’re at the manor, the three of you use the tunnel to enter the cave immediately. Jason and you go to the changing area, Tim following right behind you. There are always extra sweats there, just in case in a variety of sizes. You grab some for you and Tim while Jason grabs himself a pair. The three of you go off into different changing rooms and get changed before you meet out in the med area of the cave. You go for the scan first just to get it over with.

Tim of course sits beside Jason as they watch the imaging load. It was something Bruce taught him to look for when Jason first got hurt as Robin. They look for internal bleeding, broken bones, swollen organs, anything they can't see from the outside. They can’t just go to the hospital every time they’re hurt. That would raise some questions so they do the scans here. If something is serious, they can go. Which has yet to happen in Jason’s time as Robin. But, he takes what he learned from Bruce and he passes it onto Tim.

Once your scan is over, you join the boys, sitting beside Jason. The scan doesn’t take much longer to load and it seems everything is okay. It's a relief for all of you even if Jason isn't totally sitting with ease over it. It's a relief but there is something still making him worry anyway. But he keeps it to himself while Tim jumps up, ready for his turn. Once Tim is ready, Jason gets the scans going.

With Tim is the machine, that leaves you and Jason to yourselves and Jason can't quite keep his stare on the computer. You've been hurt before and he hasn't felt like this. Once you get confirmation you're fine, it starts to fade away but tonight, it's as if he's run out of places to dissolve his worry and paranoia. He's not sure what he'd do if something happened to you.

“Let me help.” Jason points to the cut on your forehead before he gets up and grabs some of the supplies.

“Oh, uh, yeah, okay.” You nod before you sit on the counter.

Jason takes out the alcohol pads and carefully wipes some of the blood, you hissing in response. Jason mumbles a quick apology but continues working. It’s not bad. Jason doesn’t even think you need stitches and he thinks you're lucky. You though, you're just watching him carefully. So much has changed and yet this feels like nothing has changed. It feels like it did that first night after Jerry. Something about him moving carefully, gently, but a little rough. He doesn’t say anything and he dodges your eyes. And you think your stomach is swirling and bubbling just as it did that night.

“What’ve you been up to?” You ask quietly, eyes looking right at him.

Jason pauses, looking at you before he goes back to cleaning the cut on your forehead. He shifts slightly, the feeling of being exposed starting to fade right over him. “Usual.” Jason answers. “Taking out dickwads, reading, researching, helping Babs.”

You looked in the mirror after you changed, the cut wasn't bad. He should be done by now but he's taking his time. He's still dodging your stare and he's minding his right leg. His mouth is pressed into a straight line. He's seemed okay besides tonight, happy even. You really hope this doesn't set him back because he should be happy. It's what he deserves. And you wonder if it was all just some sort of facade because Jason hates people knowing what he's thinking. Maybe it was just an act for Tim or for you for some reason.

You hope not.

“Are you happy?” You whisper to him, hoping he'll be honest if he's not and hoping he really is happy with the life he's making for himself.

Jason freezes.

Maybe in the grand scheme of life he is. Generally speaking, he thinks he’s happy most days. He isn’t miserable. And his relationship with Bruce is getting better and his relationship with all of the Titans is getting better. Molly is still one of his best friends. He likes what he does. But, he can’t quite bring himself to say he’s happy. It’s the ache in his bones he can’t shake and the white streak of hair that won’t go away. The Y scar that stares back at him when he looks in the mirror after a shower. The way his leg still fucking hurts sometimes and the nightmares. The panic attacks sometimes that seem to hit him like a freight train out of nowhere. The fact that he feels lonely.

He was so fine being alone for so long and then he was comfortable not being alone. Now, he’s just lonely. He lives alone and he spends a lot of time alone and it’s just lonely. His heart feels like it’s contracting in his chest while a lump finds its way at the base of his throat. And he misses you. Maybe he could live with that choice if it weren’t for everything else. But, he thinks he could live with everything else if he didn’t miss you so much.

“I don’t know.” Jason answers, not wanting to give the real answer but not wanting to lie entirely. “Are you?”

You think you're happy most of the time. You live with Molly so you aren’t alone and you're eternally grateful for that. And you have movie nights. You even have movie nights with Gar and Tim over FaceTime. You and Rachel talk a lot now and you’re on good terms. You love what you do and you love helping Babs. Bruce doesn’t want to kick you out of Gotham. Things feel like they’re getting better. The nightmares have gotten a little better even if you wake Molly up sometimes screaming. But the guilt always comes at night, weighing down every bit that could make you happy. The guilt of everything that happens just chews away part of your happiness as if you aren't allowed to be happy. And maybe you could live with it, if you didn’t miss Jason like you need oxygen. You miss him more than you could ever miss anything.

“I don’t know.” You answer the same way as if you understand and Jason feels seen so he shifts his feet, tossing the alcohol pads into the trash under the table. Jason presses his hands on the counter, resting them beside your thighs as he leans in slightly. He doesn't even fully realize he does it. “You deserve to be happy, Jay.” You keep your voice quiet as Jason’s brows pull together as if he’s in pain.

“So do you.” Jason nods once.

“What would make you happy?” You ask and aren’t sure why you did. Maybe you hope he’ll even jokingly say you and then that’ll give you a reason to tell your guilt to shut up and take a backseat. And you think he might say it because his eyes finally lock on yours and the pain in his face starts to fade.

He thinks it’s you.

“I don’t know.” He answers anyway because admitting it seems unfair to both of you. You’ve been here before and yeah, you both know. You both know it shouldn’t have been the way it was then but it’s different. He isn’t pushing to self-destruct. He just wants to be ready if he tells you and he isn’t sure he is. “What about you?” Jason asks, thinking if you say it, he’ll say it anyway.

You think it's him.

“I don’t know.” You echo and you shake your head before you lean forward, pressing your forehead against his. You feel him relax and you almost want to cry. Jason's hands slowly move onto your thighs and he wants to burst at the seams. You making the move tells Jason everything he needs to know. And Jason relaxing with his hands on your thighs tells you everything you need to know. It's still him and you. “Happy you’re here though…happy you were there tonight.” You say honestly.

“Me, too. Happy you came along tonight.” Jason says back as he pulls away but he keeps his hands on your thighs.

"Thanks for coming to save us." You offer him a subtle smile.

"Of course." Jason nods his head softly. "You and me?" Jason offers the same smile.

Your hand comes to his cheek, running a thumb along the skin and his shoulders relax. “You and me.” You echo.

It’s silent for a few seconds as if you’re both wanting to see where this will go. Unsure where you want it to go. Before, you both knew. You knew you wanted each other so you’d jump the second you could. But this isn’t that. You want each other but there is so much caution in it. You’re both terrified of overstepping boundaries and ruining whatever you’re trying to rebuild. You’re terrified of hurting each other again. You're both worried you aren't ready for something again. So as much as you both want each other, a part of both of you almost feels okay with waiting to make sure it’s right this time. For each other even if you both want to explode.

And then Tim clears his throat.

“Uh, so…am I gonna die again?” Tim quips making you and Jason pull apart.

“Yeah.” Jason answers immediately, glancing at the screen and earning a light tap from you which makes him laugh. Jason actually takes a second to look over the scans before finishing his sentence. “Eventually but not tonight. You’re fine.” Jason finishes.

“Shithead.” You mutter with the roll of your eyes but a smile finds itself across your lips.

“Babe.” Jason grins.

“You two are weird.” Tim mutters as he walks up to the two of you.

“Your turn.” You tap Jason on the shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, alright.” Jason pulls in a breath and makes his way to the scan.

Once Jason is situated, you get the machine going before you look over Tim. The scans are clear and he seems fine. He actually looks really happy which you know is because he's sitting in the Batcave. He's still looking over the Batcomputer, his eyes wandering around the cave every so often. You can't say you blame him really but you're surprised and relieved he's handling things well.

"You can explore if you want, ya know?" You suggest.

"Really?" Tim's eyes nearly bulge out of his head.

"Yeah? You are Robin." You let out a soft laugh and before you can even say another word, Tim is out of his seat.

“What’s going on with you guys anyway?" Tim questions as he makes his way over to the case holding Jason's Robin suit, the blood still staining it. "Looked like I interrupted something.” Tim glances back at you and then the suit before he moves on.

“No.” You shake your head, keeping her eyes on the screen. “Catching up a little bit.”

Tim rolls his eyes and lets out a scoff. “You guys forgot I was crushed by a building." Tim defends, making his way over to the training area.

"I said I was sorry and so did he." You defend even though you know you'll be feeling guilty about that for awhile. "Don't tell Dick though."

"Wasn't going to." Tim chuckles softly. "Seems like there's something going on." Tim states as the cave falls silent. He looks over as you glare back him, very clearly unamused by his observation. "I'm just saying." Tim states as he shrugs his shoulders, going back to looking at the variety of knives Bruce has.

You let out a sigh and decide maybe you will ask Tim for his input. Everyone else knows so much about you and Jason, not just as a couple but as vigilantes. Tim, on the other, doesn't know that side of it. This is the first time Tim is actually even hanging out with Jason for more than a few minutes. He might actually be the perfect person to talk to.

“Alright, listen, can we talk about it later?” You ask. “I do honestly have a headache and to dig into that right now is not what I want to do. But we can talk about it later.”

“Alright.” Tim sighs as he starts making his way back to you.

“Any word about Bernard?” You ask as Tim takes his seat back beside you.

“No change.”

“I’m sorry, Tim.” You say softly. “You guys will figure it out. He’ll be okay.”

“Thanks.” Tim mutters as he leans onto his elbow.

Jason’s scans finish a few minutes later allowing him to rejoin the other two of you. You look over the scans, feeling relief come over you. You figured he was fine, Jason usually is. But, it is nice having actual confirmation he's okay even a part of you will still be glancing him over and watching him carefully just for extra security. Scans can be wrong.

“So?” Jason questions with a knowing look, knowing he is fine.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re fine.” You wave him off with eyes wide to mock him. “Just to be safe.”

“Yeah.” Jason pulls a breath into his lungs and he knows.

He wonders if you’ll always be more worried about him. With not talking now and the whole shit with Crane before, he hasn’t had too much time to even think about it. And you were so worried that whole time because of Crane and because he had just died. But, he wonders about now. Now that some of the dust has settled and you've been away from him. He can tell by how you're still glancing over him as if expecting him to start gushing blood from an invisible wound that you're worried. And he thinks you're more worried than you normally would be. A scan and a look over would usually be enough but not tonight. He wonders if it’s because he died. Maybe you’ll always be trapped in a spiral of worry knowing it might happen again.

Jason thinks that sounds like torture.

He wants to find a way to assure you he’s fine but he’s not really sure what he could possibly do. He’s not fine since dying. It’s hard to walk every day with that kind of weight around his chest but he is physically fine and he wants you to know that. He breathes today and he did yesterday. Before, he thinks he would have made a joke and then kissed you. It’s what he always did and it always calmed your nerves. You would have slept together and if he were injured, you would have known. It was always harder hiding any type of injury from you because either you’d see it, you’d catch him slipping, or he’d flinch when you laid down together. He can’t very well do any of that now. And he can’t possibly say anything because Tim is right here and the last thing Jason wants is to further expose himself to anyone else. So, he just bites back his comments and shrugs it all off.

“We can head back out if you guys are ready.” Jason suggests.

The three of you grab your things before you head from the Batcave and go back to Jason’s place. It’s quiet in your comms. Tim chalks it up to being tired, the adrenaline wearing off for all three of you. Jason just wants to get home and shake the night from his spine. You find yourself wondering if the gravity of vigilante life will ever wear off when something like tonight happens. You love it and you swear you do, it’s just really hard sometimes and you haven’t quite found the right way to cope with it.

You could have died tonight which is a reality most nights and it never seems like too big of a deal to you because it’s you and the person with a gun or a bomb or a knife. It’s just you. Not talking to Jason or seeing him has made it a little easier not to think about him doing the same thing. But tonight, the weight of loss collapsed your shoulders the second that roof fell. Jason pulled you out of the rubble. You heard the way his voice sounded, the tremble and the fear etched into his windpipe. You saw the look on his face when he pulled you out.

Panic. Relief. Panic. Terror. Anger.

And something else you don’t want to touch with a ten-foot pole.

Something about the idea of him suffering in the way you did makes you want to turn the bike around and go as far as you can without looking back. And you think about how he could have been hurt again. You and Tim were trapped easily. What if he was, too? What if the roof fell on him and he died? You aren’t so sure you’d be able to survive the loss of him again. Even as you are today.

When you get back, Tim says a quick goodbye to you before disappearing into the building. Jason takes his time though, watching your brows pinch together as your stare falls anywhere but on him.

“You alright?” He asks carefully.

You nod and offer him a fake smile. “Yeah, all good.” You chew the inside of your cheek and you just don't want to go home. Going home sounds scary and like maybe it won't feel quite like home this time.

Jason nods back. “What’s wrong?”

He keeps his distance from you. He’s standing three feet away from you and he’s thinking that’s for the best. You aren't normally quiet after missions like this. It's as if talking always reassures you that you're both fine. But, tonight you were quiet and you look uncomfortable in your own skin. Jason doesn't want to overstep. He doesn't want to move closer and that be the real problem. You got a little close in the cave and Jason knows how you are with that. He's betting you still like to run so, he keeps his distance for right now.

“Nothing, why?” You ask and you keep your stance from him.

You want to kiss him and tell him you're glad he’s okay. You said it but you want to kiss him until he knows fully. Jason has never been one to take words at face value. He responds better with action and the only way you know to show your love for him is by touch. But, that's not fair to either of you. You would give anything to go back to how it was even if it's just for one night. You wish you could both forget everything that happened, pretend none of it happened. It would be so much easier that way.

“I always know when something’s wrong.” Jason sucks in a breath and he didn’t think he’d be the one pulling for answers from you.

You shake your head and lying to him never came easy.

You swore you’d never lie to him.

“Scary.” Your voice is so small and Jason almost closes the distance between you to engulf you in the tightest hug he could manage without hurting you.

But he cements his feet to the ground below him.

“You’re okay, though. So, is Tim.” Jason assures, his words careful.

“Yeah…” Your voice is still so small and Jason takes one step closer to you, knowing you and Tim aren't your full concern.

“I’m fine, ya know? Like…all good.” Jason keeps his voice level as his eyes scan over your face, looking for any change.

“No, I know.” You nod softly, your voice bigger this time.

You're worried he isn’t. The scans say he is and he says he is. You know he wouldn’t lie to you with you being worried. You know but you're worried anyway. He gets a second chance and he deserves it. He deserves it so much and you just want him to be happy and healthy. You want him to be able to live as the Jason Todd you fell in love with. You don’t want him to have any more trauma to try and bear. You aren’t so sure he could bear it anymore.

You think what would have happened if you didn’t get lucky tonight.

No part of you has to guess how it would go.

He’d blame himself. He’d torture himself inside and out just like you did.

“Just…” You shake your head. “Can you promise me something even if it’s not very fair?” Your eyes finally land on his.

“What?” Jason asks.

“If-if, uh, something happens to me…like anything, c-can you, uh,…not blame yourself, please?” You ask. “I-I know how you are and I saw the way you looked at me tonight. I know what it’s like and…” Your voice trails off.

“What?” Jason pushes, trying to wrap his head around the question. Of all the things you could be worried about, you're worried about how he'd react to you dying.

“I don’t want you to suffer for it.” You state. “You’ll torture yourself, I know you will. So, if something happens to me, can you promise me you won’t do that? Because I would never blame you.”

“What if it is my fault?” Jason scoffs. “Tonight--”

“It won’t be.” You cut him off entirely with so much certainty, it freezes Jason. “I know, despite it all, you would do everything to make sure I was okay. You, uh, you have always just, uh, j-just tried to keep me safe. So, if something happens, I know it won’t be your fault.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen anyway.” Jason answers back, digging his feet in because even a hypothetical question sends his head into a panic.

“But something did happen, Jay!” You yell back in desperation. “Something did!" Your eyes water before your voice comes back down. "I don’t want you to be like me.”

You nearly beg him and Jason is so thrown by what you say, he has to pause and try to understand. He swears you're the best person he has ever met. He loves you. He knows that it got messy but he also knows between those lines, him dying changed a part of you. It led you into a guilt you can’t shake and that he feels is on him. The least he can do is make the promise and try to keep it but he swears nothing can happen to you. He can’t let anything happen.

“Then you have to stop fucking blaming yourself, too.” Jason states back. “I died. That’s not on you." Jason says it so bluntly you nearly choke on your own heartbeat. "I promise but…you gotta promise me then you’re gonna stop blaming yourself, too. There was nothing you could have done.” The words are sour and bitter on his tongue. Knowing it was his fault he got himself killed is one of the hardest pills for him to swallow.

You nod your head softly and you can’t make the promise but you can promise to try. “I promise to try.”

“Good.” Jason states and he watches you tug your sleeve down over your wrist. Maybe he is very worried about you, too. Tonight was heavy and a lot to handle even if it all worked out. It almost didn't. Maybe it’s stupid but he doesn’t want to be alone tonight and he’s betting you don’t either. “Did, uh, did you wanna stay tonight?” Jason asks.

“W-what?” You stutter, the question catching you off guard.

“Did you wanna stay here?" Jason asks again, this time trying to make his voice sound far more casual than he's feeling. "Look, it’s not like we haven’t done this shit before.” Maybe he’s worried the scans are wrong, too and he just wants to look out for you. He misses you. “Just friends.” Jason assures you.

You were really hoping he'd ask.

“Can you, uh..."

“Of course.” Jason finishes before you get the chance to finish because he already knows. “I get to pick though, you picked the last three books.” Jason says with a tender smile and he gets one in return.

“Okay, Jay.” You nod as you take a step forward. “Thank you.”

“You and me.” Jason offers her his signature smirk with the casual shrug of his shoulders.

You stick your hand out and Jason takes it with ease. “You and me.” You echo while Jason pulls you closer to him, wrapping his arm around your shoulders before the two of you walk into the building.

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@bbiaa420 // @todorokiskitten

[that1sprig]

Homicidal penguin and the gecko that’s the only thing keeping her from a life sentence

Art fight attack for @r04sty

I had fun with this one lol

[jerktournament]

FINAL ROUND - GLaDOS (Portal) VS Herbert P Bear (Club Penguin)

!!! PROPAGANDA BELOW !!!

GLaDOS: "So mot only is she running your character through a series of puzzles with the intention of killing her at the end, but in the second game she spends the Entire. Time. Verbally and emotionally abusing you, including body shaming and bullying you for being an orphan. If it's any consolation, she does have to exist as a potato for the second and third acts of Portal 2."

"Known for being mean (hot). Mercilessly targets the player character's every possible insecurity. Petty and mean. I understand if you don't want to include her since she tends to dominate polls, lol."

HERBERT: "This mf spends his whole life trying to heat up a frozen island and terrorizing the innocent penguins that live on it all bc he was bad at sailing one time and is too much of a wimp to try again. Classic Misery loves Company type asshole."

"operation blackout would have been NOTHING without him (mostly because he caused it). he has a SOLAR LASER. this polar bear is an ass who literally harnessed the power of the sun and froze the top members of the elite penguin force (a group of penguin special agents) and his best friend is an equally villainous crab"

"Herbert may be a fandom darling in our fandom of like, 20 people. BUT DON'T LET THAT FOOL YOU! He is a conniving, EVIL bear, and a professional jerk and some highlights of his jerkishness include...

- Spending ten years of his life (by the time the game closed) trying to destroy the Penguin Secret Agency and Elite Penguin Force (both were agencies that protected the island from disasters and villains like Herbert) with varying success...

- SUCCESSFULLY destroyed the Penguin Secret Agency with a popcorn bomb, which destroyed their HQ. It should also be noted that while doing so, he locked in the player, Rookie, and Gary the Gadget Guy, presumably so the bombs explosion would have killed them all.

-Teamed up with the EPF to stop the Ultimate Protobot 10,000 and the Test Bots, a small group of four dangerous robots after he personally brought them back. When Protobot went "too far" for Herbert's standards by threatening the environment and trying to completely destroy the EPF (despite the aforementioned Popcorn Bomb incident literally destroying the PSA, and also a certain Operation: Blackout), causing him to temporarily switch sides. This might sound like a character growth moment...except for the fact that he immediately betrays them once Protobot is dealt with and attacks and damages the EPF's HQ using a robot hydra made for the Medieval Party that he stole.

- A canonical ex-dictator. Don't believe me? Look up Operation: Blackout on the Club Penguin Wiki! He froze several agents during his reign of terror, was open to freezing innocent civilians, and also wanted to do away with puffles- the pets of penguins. He also banned several hobbies and professions during his reign (being a Ninja, a DJ, a Pirate, etc) for no reason other than disliking them. He also destroyed the EPF'S HQ and exposed two agents' private information to the public. This means Herbert is the first and only character to canonically dox people he doesn't like on Club Penguin.

-Was planning to bomb the EPF literally two months later with a hot sauce bomb (makes sense in context of the game and yes, it is more destructive than it sounds).

-Brainwashed puffles into digging coins for him purely because his henchman, Klutzy the crab brought a coin slot to use for his DIY heater, instead of just removing the coin slot and retooling it to work without one like a normal person."

[whatsnewalycat]

Designated Person | Chapter 8

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Chapter 8: Invitation

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 10.3k+

Content / Warnings: Frankie POV, infidelity, past romantic & sexual relationship, angst, food, AA meeting mention, jealousy, alcoholism, lying, conflict avoidance, crying, unprotected piv sex, dirty talk, internal conflict, suggestion of sexual assault, trauma response, verbal argument, we're gonna pretend i know what i'm talking about w the criminal justice system but lets be real i don't

Notes: HEY HI! First of all big thanks to @frannyzooey for beta reading for me, I appreciate you with all my heart. Ok so up until a few days ago, this chapter was going to be this plus the birthday party. But I made an executive decision I think it will be better. So here's this and just know I already have a pretty solid head start on the next chapter lol. ANYWAY let me know what you think, ok love u bye.

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“…Happy birthday, dear Sarah, happy birthday to you!”

Sarah’s pudgy little feet patter in place on the seat of the dining room chair. Frankie rubs her back and says, “Blow out the candles!”

“Wait sweetie, let me just,” Angie scoops Sarah’s long chestnut curls into a bundle, “Ok go ahead.”

She leans over the small, two-tiered cake and blows them out one at a time.

“One… Two… Fwee… Four!”

All three of them cheer as the ribbons of black smoke dissipate into the air. Sarah claps her hands and squeals, looking up at her parents with big, sparkling eyes. Frankie can’t wipe the smile from his face. His heart aches with adoration.

While Ang plucks the spent candles from the cake and cuts it into sixteenths, Frankie takes a seat next to his daughter and asks, “Did you have a good day today?”

“Yes,” Sarah nods, watching her mom slip a chef’s knife under the biggest slice of cake and plop it onto a plate. Angie slides the plate in front of her and gives her a fork.

“What was your favorite part?” he asks.

“Ummm,” Sarah stabs the chocolate sponge cake with her fork and manages to tear off a wobbly chunk, “The penguins.”

“The penguins! I never woulda guessed,” Frankie chuckles, glancing up at Angie when she hands him a plate, “Thanks, hun.”

Sarah carves a line into the air with her nose, a smile digging out dimples in her chubby cheeks.

“Got to stay at the aquarium for a long time today, huh? What kind of penguins did we see?”

“Mmm,” she pauses her attack on the cake to scrunch her face up and think about this, then resumes as she tells him, “King penguin… rockhopper penguin… emperor penguin… little penguin…”

“So many penguins!” he grins.

She giggles, “Yes.”

“And then we got pizza, and opened presents, and now we’re having cake.”

She wriggles around in her seat and giggles some more, “Yes.”

“That’s a good birthday, huh?”

Sarah nods and plunges a finger into the pink strawberry frosting.

“Use your fork, sweetie,” Angie reminds her, taking a seat adjacent to Frankie. 

Sarah sticks her finger in her mouth to clean off the frosting, then obediently picks up the fork.

“What should we do after cake?” he asks Sarah before taking a bite. 

The little girl hums thoughtfully, tapping one confectionary-coated finger to her chin, “We can… watch Happy Feet?”

Her big, dark eyes sparkle, a mirror of his own, and Frankie grins from her to Angie, “What do you think, Mama, should we watch Happy Feet after cake?”

She checks the smartwatch on her wrist and shrugs, “Sure, we can watch it for a bit before dropping Daddy off.” 

A pleased smile spreads across Sarah’s face as she digs her fork into the cake. Frankie turns his attention to his own plate, and a content silence falls over the table as the three of them eat. 

The silence is broken when Sarah asks, “Daddy, why don’t you sleep here anymore?” 

He stops chewing and looks over at Angie, who just tilts her head at him like she, too, would like to know the answer to this question. 

“Well,” he swallows a mouthful of cake and clears his throat, “Daddy, uhh… Daddy did something bad and got in trouble with the police.” 

She frowns at her cake, seeming to consider this, then looks up at him,  “Like when you and Mommy were fighting?” 

The response zaps him. Stuns him. His lips part to respond, but he finds himself speechless. 

What the fuck is she talking about? 

He combs through his memory and hits a snag. 

They just got back from some kind of a trip. Ang was giving him the cold shoulder. He recalls drinking in the garage, fuming by himself, trying to work up the courage to confront her. Yelling. Not just him, though, Angie too. Both of them just fucking screaming at each other. Blue and red lights outside. Doorbell. Cops. 

The scraps of his memory bind together and he remembers… it wasn’t a trip they all went on together. It was just Angie and Sarah. Not a fun vacation, either. More of a spur-of-the-moment trip to her parents’ house in Texas, inspired by his recently uncovered infidelity. 

Wasn’t Sarah sleeping? How the fuck does she remember that? 

Frankie shifts in his seat, glancing at Angie, whose face is inscrutable, then back to Sarah, “No. Well, kind of, I guess. Except worse. They took me to jail.” 

Her dark eyes go wide, “But bad guys go to jail.”

“Yeah, sometimes.”

Leaning forward onto the table, he presses his fingertips to his lips and watches her sponge-like brain absorb this information. He’s getting into the weeds. Keep it simple. 

“They let me go, but now I have to have a babysitter like you do. That’s why I don’t sleep here,” he reaches over and tucks a loose ringlet behind her ear, “Does that make sense?”

Her brow furrows, “Is Chacha your babysitter?” 

Jesus fucking Christ, this kid. Asking all the right questions to make him squirm. 

“Yeah,” he nods, “Yeah, she’s pretty much my babysitter now—”

Angie scoffs. 

He shoots her a sharp glance, “Until we know how much trouble I’m in, at least.”

“I saw Chacha at the park,” Sarah informs him, as if he wasn’t there. 

The nickname makes him chuckle. She hasn’t used it in forever, now twice in one night? 

When he thinks about how your face will light up when he shares this news with you, warmth sparks in his guts. 

“You did see Chacha at the park,” he gives Sarah’s arm a playful pinch, “She told me she was happy to see you, and that she misses you.”

At this, Sarah giggles, dimples and all. 

And, at this, Angie shoves her chair out behind her and stomps out of the kitchen. Like a fucking child. 

I don’t want to do this anymore. 

The thought strikes him square between the eyes. Brief, but distinct. He sweeps it under the rug of his mind to deal with later. 

“Mommy don’t like her,” Sarah tells him in a loud whisper when the bedroom door slams closed.

He has to stifle laughter. 

“Don’t worry about that, princesa,” he waves off the petulant outburst, leaning in to ask, “Would you like it if Chacha came to your birthday party?”

Sarah studies him for a moment. When the question registers, she smiles wide and nods, “Yes.” 

“I’ll talk to Mommy about it later, ok?” 

“Ok.”

“Whaddaya think, should we finish our cake in the living room? Put on Happy Feet?” 

She giggles, hopping off the chair to spin in circles and clap her hands. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he snorts.

Once the birthday girl is sufficiently distracted, Frankie follows his wife’s warpath to their bedroom. He pauses at the closed door, hand hovering over the shiny knob, grimacing at what will follow. 

Did Sarah hear their whole argument that night? 

What else does she remember? 

Does she remember the days he’d call off work to take the two of you to the butterfly house? Or how he would sneak up behind you when you were cooking and kiss your neck? Does she remember you scrambling out of the house, half-naked, gasping for air, while Frankie held Angie back?

Probably not. 

Hopefully not. 

He takes a deep breath and twists the knob, pushing the door open. 

Inside, Angie is sitting at the foot of the bed, texting furiously. Frankie enters the room, closing the door behind him. He approaches cautiously and sits down beside her. Brings his hand to the small of her back. 

She doesn’t acknowledge his presence. 

“Amor,” he murmurs, sliding his palm up and down her rigid spine, “You can’t get pissed at me every time she comes up in conversation. It’s not—” 

He cuts himself off with a thick gulp. 

This catches her attention. She tosses her phone aside and blinks, “It’s not what? Not fair? Is that what you were gonna say?” 

“Fuck, I don’t know, Ang,” he shakes his head, leg bouncing, “It puts me in a weird spot. Whether you like it or not, she’s a part of my life—” 

“Oh, for fucks sake—”

“And—and Sarah, she picks up on that, you know? That you don’t like her—”

“I don’t give a shit if she knows I hate that bitch, Francisco,” Angie spits, “Why shouldn’t I, huh? Give me one good reason I shouldn’t.” 

Answers deadlock his throat. 

Because I care about her, and Sarah cares about her, and she cares about us. Because she has helped me more than any other human has, more times than I deserve. Because she saved my life, and you should be fucking grateful. 

The thought makes him shiver as it replays. 

You should be fucking grateful.

He tries to bypass the question, clearing his throat before taking Angie’s soft hand and meeting her eyes, “I know this arrangement has been hard for you.” 

Her features sharpen. She pulls away and crosses her arms in front of her chest. Unease rings out his stomach. 

But a sense of familiarity dawns on him, too.

It reminds him of conversations he’s had with you the past two months. Those “State of the Union” discussions that loom, dark and terrifying, but end up making him feel ten pounds lighter when they’re all said and done with. 

And, fuck, he wants this to feel better. Wants to be in the same room as his wife and not feel like he’s walking on the razor’s edge. 

“Hey,” he takes back her hand, “Stick with me, ok? We can talk about this.” 

Angie glares at him, but waits. 

“We are friends. That is it. Just like Santi and Benny and Will—”

“Remind me, did you fuck any of them?” 

I don’t want to do this anymore. 

He stares back into her piercing gaze, with pleading eyes, “Ang.”

Her jaw clenches and she shakes her head, but doesn’t storm off or start screaming at him, so he continues. 

“I know I fucked up by having sex with her. It was—It was a mistake.”

Angie’s features soften. Relief floods his veins, warm and buzzing and sedative. Like the first drink at the end of a stressful day. 

And, much like when he would finish his first drink, he aches for more. 

“It was impulsive. I was so fucking numb, I needed to feel something, and she was around. I’m not, you know, into her, or attracted to her—”

Angie scoffs. 

“I know it sounds like bullshit. I know,” he squeezes her hand, “But if I could go back in time and do anything over, it would be that day.”

She studies him, eyes narrowed in scrutiny. 

I don’t want to do this anymore. 

“It didn’t mean anything, amor. I love you. I mean, fuck, I’m here, aren’t I? I’m trying.”

Her shoulders slump. She swallows hard and looks down at the floor. Her nails twitch against his palm and the rush it gives him flips his stomach upside down. 

“I’m sorry, Ang.” 

“You’re sorry you got caught.” 

“I’m sorry I betrayed you. I’m sorry I broke your trust. I’m sorry I was so fucked in the head I found comfort in someone else. I took you for granted, and I’m so sorry.”

Angie lets out a little sob. He should feel remorse. At the very least, he should feel something other than sick satisfaction at her finally breaking. Just a little bit more. Almost there. 

“But that day is behind us now, and what I have with her is entirely platonic. She has Rory, and I have you, and we are friends. She’s helping me out right now by giving me a place to live, and driving me places while my license is suspended, and just being… a really, really good friend to me. I know that’s hard for you, and I’m sorry that it makes you uncomfortable, but I promise that’s all it is.” 

“I hate it.” 

“I know,” he nods, pulling her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles, “I know, baby. I just need you to trust that I’m doing this for you and Sarah. The two of you are everything to me. I love you.” 

Angie sniffles and straightens her spine, then looks over at Frankie, “Can you promise me something?” 

Her warm gaze is glossy and full of emotion. He leans into it, answering, “Anything.” 

“When the trial is over, and you leave her house—I don’t want you to talk to her ever again.” 

It sobers him instantly. 

He pulls back, shaking his head, “Ang, I can’t—”

A fire comes to life in her eyes.

“If you give a single fuck about our family, you can and you will. You told me your friendship with her is a means to an end. Is that still true, or no?” 

Slowly, he nods, but it feels wrong. The dull blade of guilt rips his belly open. 

This isn’t what was supposed to happen. 

“Then you cut ties with her when this is done. Do that for me and I will put my feelings about her aside.” 

That’s what Angie tells him, but what he understands is this is a reprieve. A stopgap. It buys him some time to figure out what the fuck he’s going to do because—

I don’t want to do this anymore. 

He swallows the thought down with a thick gulp and says, “Alright.” 

Angie blesses him with a peacemaking smile. 

Despite his churning stomach, he returns the smile and squeezes her hand, “Can… Can you do me a favor, though?” 

“What?”

“Let me invite her and Rory to Sarah’s party.” 

She stares at him like she doesn’t understand, then scoffs, “No.” 

“Why not?” 

Jumping to her feet, she shouts, “Because she fucked you in our bed, Frankie, do I really have to explain that?” 

He stands too, “You just said you’re putting those feelings aside, and she’ll be with her boyfriend, I don’t understand what the big deal—”

“Why does she even want to go?” Angie crosses her arms and scowls. 

“She misses Sarah. And Sarah obviously misses her, too. I mean, you heard her at the table earlier.” Frankie approaches her, placing his hands on her waist, searching her face, “I’m with you, amor. I promise. This would just mean a lot to both of them. Especially if they won’t be able to see each other again.” 

She softens a little. Her jaw ticks to the side, then she sighs, “Fine.” 

He represses the smile from his lips and murmurs, “Thank you,” before pressing a kiss into her forehead. 

She hooks her hands behind his neck and drops her eyes to his mouth. His pulse jumps as she captures his lips in hers, alive and wanting. The sugary sweetness of strawberry frosting makes his taste buds perk up and want more. 

Her long, red nails work into the curls at the nape of his neck, scratching that deep, aching itch for her favor. That’s the thing about Angie. She gives her affection sparingly, and when he earns it, it feels so fucking good. 

He can’t remember the last time she touched him like this, with enthusiasm and hunger. 

It was before he quit drinking. Before the failed attempts at marriage counseling. Before Angie came home from work early and caught her husband fucking the nanny.

It’s strange how something as trivial as early dismissal can alter the trajectory of so many lives. His own path seems to be an infinite freefall, always bracing for impact but never meeting the ground. 

Drinking more. Fighting more. Pushing you away again and again and again while trying to transplant these feelings into the right relationship. 

I don’t want to do this anymore. 

Especially now, when Angie kisses him, and all he can think about is your lips, your tongue, soft and slick and writhing on his. The heel of your hand kneading against his stiffening cock. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groans, eyelids fluttering open to meet her gaze, not yours. 

He wishes it was you. 

But he closes his eyes and lets her guide him back to their bed, settling for the next best thing. 

Frankie hears the buzz of an incoming text message from his pants pocket. He kisses Angie’s sweaty forehead and departs from her body, snatching the discarded jeans off the floor. 

> MARIPOSA:  > Rory is over here fyi, let me know when you’re on your way 

A nagging, confusing spring of jealousy bubbles up in his chest. Something else, too. Like guilt, but deeper. An infection festering away inside him. 

“I should get going before the birthday girl falls asleep. I don’t wanna have to wake her.” 

“Can’t you stay?” Angie asks, stroking his arm, “I mean, really, Francisco. Your PO won’t ship you off to jail for spending the night with your wife, will he?” 

Her gentle touch is a branding iron on his skin. Searing. Territorial. He has to stop himself from lurching away. 

He slides his pants back on and shrugs, “I don’t really wanna find out.”

“So fucked up.”

“I know, baby,” Frankie fishes his shirt off the foot of the bed, tugging it over his head, “I have to, I’m sorry.” 

She releases a sigh and pulls her shirt back on, “Oh, don’t forget, on Thursday my parents will be here.” 

Nodding, he stretches his arms above his head. How could he forget? 

“Try to get along with my dad.” 

He rolls his eyes before turning to face her, “Tell him the same, yeah?” 

She snorts and fastens her jean shorts, raising an eyebrow, “I will, but you know how he is. Don’t take his bait.” 

Frankie grunts in response while buckling his belt. Fully dressed, they meet at the door. Angie looks him over, giving him a rare warm smile before telling him, “I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” 

She kisses him, and he places that rotten feeling: shame. 

Frankie walks up the cement path, craning his head up towards the cloudless sapphire evening sky, admiring the way it contrasts the tangerine siding of your post stamp of a house. The sun hangs just at the horizon, and its absence lends relief from the stagnant July heat. 

It’s a nice night, but he’s still a little surprised to find you and Rory are sitting out on the front porch swing, his arm draped around your shoulder with you all tucked into his side. Sure, it may be better than coming home to your closed bedroom door, with just the indistinguishable murmur of your voices to drive him crazy, but still… not ideal. 

The sight causes something deep within Frankie’s chest to clench and pulse, growling, “MINE.” 

Fuck, he couldn’t be more a hypocrite. 

“Whatta we have here, a couple of swingers?” he jokes while climbing the front steps.

It’s a bad joke, and in poor taste given the circumstances, but the sneer on Rory’s lips gives him a rush of satisfaction. 

Conversely, you light up when you see him. Your smile is fucking luminous. A goddamn heat lamp. He feels himself melting into the floorboards. 

Jesus fucking Christ. 

You sit up and put a little space between Rory’s body and yours, “Hey! How’d it go?” 

“Good,” he crosses his arms, leaning against the banister with a shrug, “Went to see the penguins, had pizza, presents, cake, all that.” 

“Did she like her gift?” 

“She loved it. She said she’s going to sleep with it tonight—Oh, that reminds me—Ang gave the green light for you two to come to her party on Saturday if you still want to.” 

“Holy shit, really?” you ask, eyes widening, then chuckle and shake your head, “Sorry, I’m just surprised. She really said that’s ok?”

“Yeah,” he smiles despite the guilt condensing in his stomach, and asks Rory, “Know if you can make it?” 

Rory’s head jerks back a little, and he frowns, “Well, this is the first time I’m hearing about it. But, yeah. I have nothing else going on,” he looks at you, “If that’s ok.” 

“Yeah, of course.”

Your words come out airy and unconvincing. Rory studies your face.

Frankie calls your attention back to him, “Guess what she called you earlier.” 

You avert your gaze from Rory’s, tucking your hair behind your ear before you chuckle, “Oh god, did she learn it from her mother?” 

He laughs at this, shaking his head, “No, she called you Chacha.” 

“Shut the fuck up, did she really?” you gasp.

Frankie nods, “Hand to god.”

You sit with this for a few gleeful seconds before your smile falters, and you say, “I miss her.” 

“She misses you, too,” he tells you, “She’ll be happy to see you this weekend.”

You nod, then look to Rory, whose mouth is flattened into an unamused line. He stares at you a beat too long for comfort. The air around the porch swing seems tense.

Frankie glances between you and Rory, then clears his throat and says, “Anyway, I’ll get out of your hair.”

You mumble a brief, distracted, “Oh, ok,” before he walks into the house. 

As he closes the door and leans back against it to untie his work boots, he hears you ask, “What?”

Both the sharpness in your voice and its volume make Frankie halt. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the curtains rustle from a light breeze. Quietly, he pulls his boots off and sets them on the shoe tray. Morbid curiosity keeps him rooted in place, barely breathing as he listens in on your conversation. 

“You didn’t tell me we were invited to his kid’s birthday party.”

“He said he would ask, but I wasn’t going to invite you until I knew for sure whether or not we could go.”

More silence, then your voice again, “Oh my god, what is your problem?” 

“I don’t like how you are with him.” 

“How I ‘am’ with him? What the hell does that mean?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb. You know what I mean.” 

“I really don’t, could you explain it to me?”

Rory pauses for a beat, then says, “You’re flirting, both of you, right in front of me. I don’t like it. And—and I want it to stop.”

“What am I doing that you think is flirting?” 

“It’s not just you—”

“What he does is irrelevant, he is his own person—”

“It’s fucking disrespectful.”

The silence that follows writhes under his skin. 

This is private. He shouldn’t be eavesdropping. But he can’t bring himself to move. Some fucked up part of him wants to hear what you say to Rory about him. How do you defend yourself? Do you throw him under the bus, too? 

Are you just as bad as me?

Your voice comes through the window again, metered and firm, but shaky. 

“What am I doing that you consider flirting?” 

Rory scoffs, then says, “It’s the way you look at him and talk to him. Always smiling at him, and joking with him, and asking him how his day went—”

“Wow, how dare I ask my roommate—my friend—how his day was.” 

“That’s not what I mean. It’s—it’s—I know it when I see it, ok? There’s obviously something going on between you two.”

“Obviously,” you deadpan, “Because I smile and joke with him, and ask him how he’s doing, we are so obviously fucking. You’re totally right, Rory. You caught me.”

“He’s a fucking loser, you know that, right?”

Another long pause. 

“I want you to leave.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Seriously, get the fuck off my porch.” 

“I don’t have my—”

“I’ll get your shit.”

Frankie hears the porch swing creak and his heart jumps. He launches himself forward and manages to collapse on the couch as you swing the door open. 

You freeze when you see him. Your eyes flick from him, to the open window, then back to him before you scoff and stomp off to your bedroom. 

Rory steps into the doorway, standing at attention with his hands shoved in his pockets. Frankie stares at him. Something protective and instinctual, almost paternal, wells up inside him and fine tunes his nerve endings.

From the back hallway, you holler, “What the fuck are you doing? I told you to get the fuck off my porch.”

Frankie can’t stop himself from laughing.  

Rory glares at him, “Fuck you.”

You steamroll into the room wielding a backpack and shove it into Rory’s chest, “LEAVE.”

“You’re fucking crazy.”

“I sure am. Get the fuck off my property.”

Rory holds your gaze for an intense moment before turning to go. You slam the door behind him and deadbolt it, then go to the front windows and do the same with them. 

“I’m—”

You hold up a hand to Frankie and exit the room. A few seconds later he hears your bedroom door click shut. 

After scrubbing his skin raw in the shower and changing into pajamas more comfortable than he deserves, Frankie tries to go to sleep early, but finds himself restless. 

He stares at the ceiling, at his phone, at the walls. When he hears running water in the bathroom, he wonders if you’re getting ready to go to bed. Wonders if you’re ok, and if you would accept his company. 

He thinks about his wife. Her nails digging into his shoulder blades, her hot breath on his cheek. The electric squeeze of her cunt as he came inside her. 

What would you do if you knew? 

Would it tear you apart, or could you care less?

Fuck, why does he feel so guilty? 

For the sex just as much as the tentative agreement he made. 

You know he intends to stay with her, and there’s nothing going on between the two of you. Not really. Nothing certain, at least. Right?

Sure, there was the slip up the week after he moved in. And the panties. And, yeah, some flirting. Not intentional when Rory is around, despite what he may think. And maybe you got off next to each other once. Then there’s the cuddling, and the hand holding, and this deep, aching, maddening desire to spend every ounce of his free time with you. To know all of your favorite things, and your life story, and your ticks. To make you feel happy and appreciated and safe and loved. 

And loved. 

I don’t want to do this anymore. 

His muscles and tendons vibrate with anxious energy. 

It brings him to his feet and compels him to wander through the dark, silent house, into the living room, confirming its vacancy. He starts off towards your bedroom. The light from your open door slices through the dark back hallway like a beacon. Floorboards creak under his step as he makes his way towards it, and when he arrives, he leans against the door frame. 

You’re stretched out horizontal across your bed, belly-side down, facing away from him, hovering over a thick book. He studies the curvature of your body, lingering on the generously exposed swathes of soft skin that lead to the hem of your shorts. 

“Are you just gonna hang out in the doorway like a weirdo?” you glance over your shoulder, then back at your book. 

“Sorry, I, um... I wasn’t sure if I was interrupting.” 

“You’re not,” you sit up and crawl to the head of your bed, tapping the empty pillow beside you, his pillow, his spot. “Come on in.”

While he walks over to the furthest side, you plump the pillows on your side of the bed and stuff them behind your back, then resume reading. 

“What’s that?” he asks as he stretches out across your bedspread.

You lift the cover to show him and sigh, “Still chipping away at Doctor Sleep.” 

“It any good?” 

“Terrible, that’s why I’m reading it.”

Frankie snorts and shakes his head while digging his phone from his pajama pants, “Are you doing ok?”

“Wow, you’re full of great questions tonight, huh?” 

“Maybe you’re just full of sass tonight, ever think of that?” 

“Doesn’t sound like me.” 

He raises his eyebrows and murmurs, “No comment.” 

“That’s, like, actually a comment though, in itself—”

“Weren’t you reading?” 

“Weren’t you—I don’t know, reading the news or whatever dads do on their phone?”

“Looking for car parts,” he corrects. 

“Same thing.”

Frankie drops his phone on his chest and looks at you, “Not even close.”

You peek around the corner of your book, “It’s like, equal levels of dad-ness, though, so basically, yeah.”

“Levels of dad-ness,” he chuckles under his breath, shaking his head, “You’d know something about that, huh?”

“About what, how daddy you are?” you laugh.

He shrugs, meeting your eyes. You hold his gaze, mouth cracked open in a mischievous smile, then shake your head and look back at your book, “No comment.” 

Grinning like idiots, you both go back to reading and browsing, respectively, although Frankie can’t concentrate for shit with you next to him. His skin aches with the heat of your body so close. 

He listens to every breath you take, every wet swallow, every microscopic wiggle bringing you closer. Minutes go by, but he doesn’t hear your page turn once. 

Eventually, you let out a powerful yawn, and it spreads to him. 

You grab the bookmark off your nightstand and tuck it between the open pages before closing it, “I should go to bed soon—” another yawn interrupts you, “It’s getting late.”

“Yeah,” he sits up, stretching his arms over his head, then looks back at you, “I’ll see you in the morning?”

Your features melt and soften, lips parting as you meet his eyes. This invisible force keeps him anchored there, tugging at his chest, urging him to move closer to you. He glances at your mouth, at the pink flash of your tongue wetting your lips. 

He doesn’t want to go. 

He wants to stay and kiss you breathless, to fall asleep with the warmth of your body lining his, to wake up in your bed and never fucking leave. 

He wants to take back everything he said to his wife earlier today, to defend your honor like he should have, like you would do for him, like you did for him. 

Fuck, he doesn’t deserve you. The hole he dug for himself is a just punishment. He needs to let you go and allow you to find peace with someone else who won’t hurt you like he has. Like he will inevitably do again. 

You reach out and place your hand on his arm, thumb grazing his tingling, heated skin, “Do you want to stay?” 

The contact floods him with feel-good chemicals that his hungry synapses gobble up. 

“I, umm—”

His throat swallows around his thudding pulse. It fucking hurts how bad he wants you right now. He finds himself leaning back on his elbow, gravitating closer to you, resting his hand in the dip of your waist as you roll on your side to face him. 

“Is that a good idea?” he asks. 

“Probably not,” you search his face, your gaze catching on his mouth.

His heart skitters and he doesn’t really notice that his fingertips dig into your side until your whole body shivers in reaction. Doesn’t really notice he’s been inching closer to you until your breath grazes his lips. 

The sound of your ringtone cuts through the thick air between your bodies. 

You sit up and shake your head, trance broken, then reach for the source of the noise with shaky hands, “It’s Rachel. She’s full bridezilla mode, this might take a while.”

“Ok,” he nods, “I’ll go.” 

You look over at him, apologies written all over your face. An impulse yanks hard on his body and urges him forward. Before he can talk himself out of it, he slips a hand behind your head and pulls you into a kiss. 

Your lips are soft and warm, fucking perfect, just how he remembers. They barely have time to respond before he draws back and tells you, “Goodnight.” 

You watch him crawl out of your bed, stunned silent for a moment, then answer the phone, “Hey, Rach—what’s wrong?” 

Frankie glances up at you as he closes the door behind him, and sees you tracing the dumbfounded smile on your lips. 

When he turns out the lights in his room and crawls under the covers, even though he knows damn well he won’t find sleep for hours, he does the same. 

Frankie is at work, elbows deep in the engine compartment of a Bell 407, when the call from his attorney comes. 

“Your case is on the docket,” the voicemail tells him when he returns to his small, shared office space, “Trial is scheduled for Wednesday, September 6th. We might still be able to find a favorable plea deal, so I’ll get working on that, but either way, I’d like to set up a call with you early next week to discuss your options moving forward. Give me a call when you get this, thanks.” 

He takes a seat at his desk and stares at his phone for a minute, then replays the message to make sure he heard correctly. He did. 

The earth tilts. 

Everything seems to crumble as reality dawns on him. All he can see are cold steel prison cell bars and stiff orange jumpsuits. Angie’s words from the other night echo in his head:

“When the trial is over, when you leave her house—I don’t want you to talk to her ever again.” 

A vast, unshakable hollowness overtakes him.

Or… or maybe it’s the opposite. 

Maybe he’s so heavy and full he’s just sinking deeper and deeper into the dark, endless pit of his mistakes, down, down, down… 

He unlocks his phone to return his lawyer’s call, but pauses when he tastes the salt of his own tears. Confused, he wipes his eyes and stares down at his damp hand.

Frankie just sits there for a moment, watching tears splatter onto his palms, stunned. When did he start crying? Why did he start crying?

He knew it was just a matter of time before the consequences of his actions became real. Now it’s happening and he’s blubbering like a baby. 

I need to get my shit together. 

He stands and shoves his phone in his pocket, shaking out his hands.

A string tugs at his chest, leading him to Michael’s desk. He watches the closed door as he carefully pulls open a drawer. Inside, he finds a half-empty bottle of whiskey. The string pulls taut, urging him to do it. 

He thinks about Angie. How her sour attitude always poisons his mind. How this thing between them feels so distant, so vacuous, he doesn’t know how he will ever restore it. 

He thinks about Sarah. How much he’s failed her as a father. He thinks about his own father and wonders if it’s pointless for him to keep resisting fate. Was it always going to be like this for him? Does it matter if he tries to be better, or is this all futile? 

He thinks about you. His chest aches and he feels tears burn behind his eyes again. He wishes you were here. You’d know what to say or do to make him feel better. 

Frankie takes the cell phone from his pocket and dials your number. He glances up at the door again as the line rings. 

“Hey,” you answer, sounding slightly confused, “What’s up?”

Kids squeal in the background as he tries to find his voice. Words catch in his throat, the only thing that comes out is a rasp. A sob. He’s fully crying now. Staring at the whiskey. 

“Frankie, what’s wrong? Are you ok?” 

Your concern is audible. It reaches through the phone and coaxes him to speak. 

“I, um,” he swallows hard and shakes his head, “I don’t know. I’m kind of freaking out right now.” 

“Why, what’s going on?” 

“I just got my court date,” he sniffles, clears his throat, then says, “I feel… hopeless.” 

“Where are you?” 

On your end of the world, Frankie hears a door click shut and the chaotic background noise becomes muted. 

“In my office.” 

“What’re you doing?” 

He pauses, so you repeat the question. 

“I’m staring at a bottle of whiskey,” he admits quietly. Just a whisper. 

“Ok,” you breathe, and he can hear your mind start to whiz into action, “Ok. Did you drink any of it?” 

“Not yet.” 

“Thank fuck,” a sigh of relief crackles in his ear, “Ok, that’s good. Good job. Can I come get you? I—I mean, do you want me to come get you now? Because I can—”

“No, sweetheart,” his eyes flick to the ceiling, trance broken, and he pushes the drawer closed, “You don’t have to do that.”

“But I will—”

He turns towards his desk, “No, really, it’s ok—“

“Oh my fucking god,” you huff, “Look, I am responsible for you. Not only that, but I—I care about you, Frankie. I need to know that you’re safe. And dry.” 

Warmth sprouts up beneath his sternum and branches out under his rib cage. 

“And—and it’s ok if the answer is no, because I can just come get you and bring you h-home,” you stumble a little on the last word, but you recover quickly, “Are you safe?” 

“Yeah. I just needed to, um,” he turns and leans back against the desk, pressing his fingertips to his mouth, then drops them and says, “Thanks for picking up.”

“You promise you’re not falling off the wagon?” 

“I promise.” 

“Good,” you say, your sweet, soft voice tinged with a smile, “If you’re lying to me, though, I’m gonna break your thumbs.” 

“Break my thumbs?” he chuckles. 

“Yeah, you know how many bottles you can lift with broken thumbs? None.” 

He snorts and shakes his head, “Alright, alright. Don’t get out your vice grips just yet, buster.” 

You laugh and Frankie feels his heart swell with adoration. There’s a bit of an awkward pause when your laughter fades out, then you murmur, “Thank you for calling me. Instead of… you know.” 

“Yeah.”

“Still need me to pick you up from your meeting later?” 

“If that still works for you.”

“Of course it does,” you coo, and he can hear the smile in your voice again when you say, “So, about my movie pick for tonight...”

He grins, “Uh-huh. You got a good one?”

“Well, the thing is, I was going to pick The Shawshank Redemption, but that seems a bit too topical now—”

Laughter bubbles up Frankie’s throat, and he shakes his head, “Hey, maybe it’ll give me some pointers for tunneling my way out of a prison.” 

“That is so true. In that case, maybe I’ll keep it. We’ll see,” you chuckle, “Ok, well… I’ll see you tonight, then?” 

“I’ll be there.” 

When Frankie sees your car pull up to the strip mall coffee shop that holds his Friday night meeting, a few thoughts populate his head almost instantaneously. 

At the very forefront is the reminder that he kissed you. 

It was a peck, really, just a quick kiss goodnight. But for three days, the first thought on his mind when he sees you or thinks about you or breathes or does anything really is that he fucking kissed you. 

After being notified of his court date, Frankie should only be thinking up ways to see minimal jail time. But every time he finds a still moment, before anything else, he pictures you sitting on your bed, rubbing your lips and smiling as he leaves your room. 

The thought that follows this one, on par for the past three days, is that he fucked Angie. 

Has anyone ever felt this fucking terrible about having sex with his wife?

Then, on top of that, he said shitty things about you and let Angie do the same. He knows he didn’t just betray you, but he betrayed himself, too. It wasn’t just wrong, it was disingenuous. That knowledge fills him with a heaviness so profound, at times he thinks it might break him. 

Which brings up the last thought that shotguns through his head following the kiss, then Angie: 

I don’t want to do this anymore. 

What “this” is, he hasn’t quite figured out yet. His marriage? His obsession with you? Sobriety? Life itself? 

Fuck, all of the above? 

All he knows is he means it, and that “this” is not sustainable. 

He built a timebomb with no countdown. If he concentrates hard enough he can hear it ticking in his bones, whispering in his ear: 

I don’t want to do this anymore. 

Frankie opens the passenger door to your car and sits down, closing it behind him, “Hey.” 

“Hey,” you throw the car into reverse, craning your neck around to check for oncoming traffic, “How was your meeting?” 

“It was… good, actually,” he stretches out in the seat and shrugs, “Yeah. I, uhh, I think I needed that today.”

“Yeah?” you glance over at him, “So your opinion that it’s, and I quote, ‘total bullshit’ has shifted a bit?” 

He chuckles, “I guess so.” 

“Wow, look at you. A changed man,” you smirk, “You’re almost two months sober, you know that?” 

“Feels like centuries,” he taps his lips, then tells you, “But also days, sometimes. I don’t know. It’s weird.” 

“Is it getting easier?” 

Not at all. 

The thought surfaces from the hungry part of his brain. The beast that just wants and wants and wants, regardless of the cost. But that’s not necessarily accurate, even though it’s the loudest part of him. 

“Sometimes,” he admits, “Sometimes I can’t imagine being that person again. And—and sometimes all I want to do is drink until I don’t care about anything anymore.”

“But the meetings help?”

“Yeah, they do.”

“What step are you on?”

“Well… I haven’t actually started the steps. So, zero.” Before you can ask, he adds, “I don’t know why. I should. I mean, I’ve been thinking about it.” 

You nod in acknowledgement, then a few seconds pass before you tell him, “Last time I talked to Ralph, he suggested I check out an Al-Anon meeting.”

“Oh yeah?” 

“I’ve been thinking about doing it,” you glance between him and the road, “Would that be weird?” 

“I don’t think it would be weird at all,” he answers, tapping his fingers against his knee. 

“Really?”

“It might be helpful, talking to other people in similar… situations, I guess.”

“Ok. Well, yeah, maybe I’ll check it out.”

“You should,” he gives your arm a playful pinch. 

A smirk tugs at the corner of your mouth. Your hand moves towards his, then the fingers curl back and you mutter, “Sorry,” before returning it to the steering wheel. 

Frankie studies your face, watching your jaw gnash around like you’re chewing on your goddamn tongue again. He lays out his hand, palm facing up on the center console. 

You look at it, then release your white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel to place your hand in his. 

Once you do, he interlaces your fingers and pulls your clasped hands to rest on his leg. His thumb absentmindedly works against your skin as he looks out the window at storefronts and restaurants rolling past. And, for the first time all day, he feels sated and calm, like he knows everything will turn out ok.

As the end credits to Moulin Rouge! run, Frankie looks down at you sleeping peacefully with your head on his lap. He rubs your arm, murmuring, “Sweetheart.”

You wake with a start, jolting upright, and clamber to the other end of the couch. Your wide, frightened eyes glow with the ambient light of the TV. Every muscle in your body is rigid and guarded. You look like a cornered animal. 

“Hey,” he holds up a hand, “It’s just me.”

It takes a moment for you to recognize him and your surroundings, but when you do, you slacken, burying your face in your hands, and release a sob.

He stares at you, afraid to move, not wanting to rattle you further. A minute goes by like this, while you cry and he sits there frozen and uncertain. 

“Sorry,” you sit up and wipe your eyes, shaking your head, “That was fucking weird I’m sorry.” 

“No, don’t apologize. It’s ok.” 

“Ok,” you stand on shaky legs, “Well, goodnight.”

When you walk past him, he calls out, “Hey, wait,” and grabs your hand, “Are you ok?”

You don’t say anything, but you don’t pull away, either. For a moment he doesn’t even think you’re breathing. When your breath returns, it’s a sob that racks your body. You shake your head and choke out, “No.” 

“Do you want me to stay with you?” 

You nod, so he stands and follows you to your room. The lights stay off as he crawls into bed beside you, ushering you into his arms. You feel so warm there, fit so perfectly, even with your stuffed panda bear cuddled into your chest. 

When he thinks about your nightmares, your panic attacks, the times like this when you seem stuck somewhere far away, he desperately wants to know who did this to you. 

He can connect the dots. He doesn’t need you to tell him the gory details. If he could put a name and a face to the scars in your psyche, though… 

He cuts his thoughts short, not wanting to see all the methods of vengeance his volatile brain can come up with. Not with you right here, safe in his embrace, drifting to sleep. 

The long, slow breaths expanding and contracting your rib cage lull him into a hypnotic state, and sleep comes to him easily, the way it only does when he’s with you. 

Frankie wakes in your bed at dawn.

Eyes still closed, he frowns when a breeze slices through the thick, stagnant air and cools his skin.

He mutters to himself, “You stole the goddamn blanket again, didn’t you?”

One eye peaks open and confirms his suspicion. At some point overnight, you managed to twist yourself up into a cocoon on the opposite side of the bed. 

“Hmm?”

The noise is muffled and groggy. He chuckles and shakes his head, “Nothing. Go back to bed.”

The heap jiggles a little. Your hand pokes out from underneath it and grabs around for him. He scoots closer, peeling back a poofy duvet layer to reveal your serene, still mostly sleeping face. You wince at the dull light of day, but a smile ticks across your lips when you make contact with him, smoothing your palm against the heat of his chest before worming your way into his arms. He pulls the blanket with you, draping it over himself, even though the air is hot and soupy, just to feel your warmth because it’s yours. 

You mumble something into his shirt. The words all stick together when they dribble from your comatose lips and he can’t make out a single one. 

He smirks, “What’s that?”

This time, you tilt your head to the ceiling, notching the crown of your head between his collar and jaw, smacking your mouth a few times before repeating yourself. 

This time, he understands. 

“IIiii love you.” 

His heart skitters electric through his fingertips. 

He tries to keep his countenance calm when he peaks down at you. Your eyes are closed, breath passing through your slack lips in long, halting strokes. One foot in the door of consciousness, if that. 

Fuck it. 

“I love you, too.” 

Every synapse in his brain shoots off like the grand finale of a fireworks display when he says it. A sweet, sleepy hum sounds from your throat as you feel around blindly for him, patting up his arm like you’re searching for a light switch in the dark. 

When you reach his face, your wobbly fingertips twitch a little. They graze his stubbled cheek, then follow the curve of his smile. Your eyelids flutter open, and it takes a moment for your eyes to focus, but when they do, you don’t go to move or push him away like he was half-expecting. 

No, instead, your gaze slides to where you trace his lips, your own parting with a sharp breath. 

If he says anything, he’ll fuck this up, he’s sure of it. And he wants to squeeze every last drop from this moment. So he just watches you and tries to subdue the wildfire scorching his bones to dust.

“I had a dream about you,” you tell him in a hoarse whisper, as if someone might overhear. 

His pulse surges. He feels his limbs wiggle a little closer to you as he asks, “A good dream?”

You nod.

“What happened?” 

The answer tucks into the corners of your mouth and spreads across your face in a big party banner smile, “I dreamed that you, um…”

You lick your lips and shrug, raking your nails along his jaw, reeling him in closer. He doesn’t want to be the fool that makes the first move. Not unless you want him to be. 

“That I what?”

The question leaves his throat in a rumble. Permission, he needs your permission, baby, please—

Then you kiss him. Delicate and hesitant, like a question: “Do you want this?”

“I do,” every cell in his body cries, aching with restrained force when his lips move in response, pressing hard against yours like a declaration, “I don’t just want this, I need this. I need you.” 

A moan bows your vocal cords, vibrating onto his tongue as you yank on his shirt and roll onto your back, pulling him on top of you. It’s like second nature, how his hips arch into yours, the dull edge of your pubic bone grinding against his already stiff, throbbing length. 

He keeps expecting you to come to your senses and shove him away, but you don’t. You keep kissing him, pulling him closer, tongue rolling soft and wet against his—morning breath be damned, thank fucking god. If you tried to shoo him now, he might die, too much inertia from this pulsing, maddening energy rippling beneath his skin, it would tear him to shreds. 

Your lips part from his and you peer up at him through your lashes, studying his face as you tug at his cock over his shorts. His whole body shudders, a groan spilling from his chest, and you smirk, “Take them off.” 

“Are you sure?”

You glance at his lips, then meet his eyes, “No, but do it anyway.” 

Frankie sits up and strips off his clothes, watching you do the same. You pull him with you as you lay back on your elbows, lips meeting again and again in frantic, desperate kisses. His cock nudges against your slick entrance, and you whine, “Please—” 

He pushes forward, swallowed up by your tight, wet heat, catching the whine of “Fuck yes,” that escapes your mouth. A thick wave of pleasure rushes up his spine, and your hips work against his, taking him faster, the shared movements quickly escalating. 

“So fucking good,” he pants, nipping at the column of your throat as your head falls loosely back, “Sweet girl, you take me so well, don’t you?” 

“Yes,” you gasp, nodding up at the ceiling, mouth hanging open slack, eyes pinched shut, “Oh my god, yes, Frankie—”

“That’s it, baby, say my name,” he growls, this insane gush of hot, writhing ecstasy flooding his body, “Look at me.”

Your head snaps up and you meet his eyes. He slips a hand behind your head and cradles your skull, holding you here, fucking you in deep, long strokes, asking you, “Whose pussy is this?”

“It’s yours, Frankie,” you gasp, nodding, “It’s yours, it’s always yours, fuck—”

“Fuck yes it is,” his voice sounds far away, babbling all on its own as he grapples with the fire growing inside him, “Does your little boyfriend fuck you like this?” 

You let out a pathetic whimper and shake your head, “No.”

“Do you think about me when you fuck him?”

A nod, continuing frantically when he asks, “Think about how you wish it was me to make yourself come?” 

“Fuck, holy shit, Frankie—oh my fucking god—”

You’re so fucking close. His muscles start to clench at the overwhelming pleasure. 

“That’s it baby, come on, let it go, it’s ok, be a good girl let me feel you come on this dick—”

Your moans grow louder, matching his fervid thrusts, and he feels you suck him in, the spasming squeeze of your plush, hot walls yanking him violently over the edge. Liquid static condenses, then pulses through him, and he lets out a guttural noise as he fucks his load into you. 

The rhythm of his hips slow, then come to a stop. 

He looks down at you, panting, and brushes his thumb against your cheek, searching your face for signs of regret, and notices you’re studying him in the same manner.

You smooth your hands over his shoulders, then pull him into a sweet, lingering kiss. When your lips depart his, you release a heavy sigh, dragging your nails through his damp bed head as you ask, “What time do you have to go?” 

An old, familiar ache returns. Reality setting in. He realizes what the day holds in store for him. Sarah’s birthday party. Spending the day with family and friends, playing pretend. 

When he thinks about being around you and Angie simultaneously, how he will have to act neutral or even cold towards you, his stomach twists and a sour taste rises in his throat. He’s been here a million times and it always leaves him nauseous with shame. It doesn’t feel right. It never felt right. 

I don’t want to do this anymore. 

Everything seems to click into place. He understands what he has to do. 

“Pablo is picking me up around 9.”

Your throat bobs and a crease forms between your brows as you avert your gaze, fingers still working through his hair, “Today’s gonna be a fucking nightmare, isn’t it?” 

“Mmm,” he presses a kiss into your forehead, right on the little worry lines, mumbling against your skin, “It’ll be ok.”

“Yeah,” you scoff, “We just fucked, now we’re gonna spend the day with your wife and daughter, what could go wrong?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he chuckles, but you don’t find it funny. 

You flinch and look down, hands curling to your chest. Frankie tilts your chin up. When he meets your eyes, they’re bloodshot and watery. He opens his mouth to say something, frantically searching his brain for some kind of band-aid, but the box is empty. He’s not sure what to say to comfort you. All that comes out of his stupid fucking mouth is, “I—fuck, sorry.” 

“No, it’s ok,” you wipe your eyes and sit up, so he draws back, watching you scramble to put your shorts back on, “I, um… I’ll go make some coffee.” 

He wants to assure you it will be ok, that he’s going to fix this, make things right. Something he should have done years ago. But the words lodge in his chest. What if he can’t fix it? What if it’s another promise he can’t keep? 

So he just sits there and lets you walk away for the millionth time. 

After taking a shower and getting dressed, Frankie pours a cup of coffee and walks into the living room, where you’re scribbling in your notebook, limbs twisted up into a tight knot. Uncertainty paralyzes him in the archway between rooms. He takes a step back, pauses, then steps forward. 

You smack the notebook and blink at him, “Oh my god Frankie, just sit down, you’re making me nervous.” 

He nods and strides over to the couch, lowering himself onto the cushion beside you with a groan. Meanwhile, you return your attention to the notebook, furrowing your brow as you write.

Curiosity flips his stomach. Is it about him? About what just happened? 

Desperately, he wants you to share your feelings on the matter with him like you would your journal. The unfiltered truth. 

Do you want this like I do?

He takes a big, burning sip of coffee, then asks, “What’re you writing about?”

Your eyebrow arches and you continue to scribble as you narrate, “Dear diary, he’s gonna be super fucking weird about this now, isn’t he?”

Frankie snorts, shaking his head while you spear your pencil down the notebook’s wired spine and smirk at him. He tugs at one of your ankles, and you welcome the invitation, stretching your legs out across his lap and he scoots closer. 

“Am I being weird about it?” he asks, glancing down into his steaming mug. 

You exchange the notebook for your coffee and raise it to your lips before shrugging, “A little. But I think I am, too, so…” You take a loud sip, then lower your mug and ask, “Do you regret it yet?”

He doesn’t even think about it. The answer barrels from his heart to his mouth. 

“No.” 

A timid sort of smile curves your lips. It reminds him of the way a neglected animal would react to an outstretched hand. Cautious. Not sure if he’ll slap or pet you, but hopeful. 

“Really?”

He nods, searching your face, “What about you?”

“No. But—” your smile falters, eyes dropping to your coffee cup, “But I’m scared.” 

Guilt pools icy cold in his guts. His throat bobs on its own accord. He takes your hand, weaving his fingers with yours.

Your face twists into a pained expression and you croak, “What are we even doing here?” 

“I don’t know yet,” he shakes his head, “But give me some time—”

“I can’t be your mistress again,” you whisper, shaking your head as tears pool in your eyes, voice escalating, tinged with panic, “Please don’t ask me to do that again, it would kill me, Frankie, I fucking can’t—”

“Hey—no,” he sits up to place his mug on the table, takes yours and does the same, then scoops you up onto his lap.

You bury your face in his neck. Sobs work through your body with violent force—a horrible, tortured sound that pulverizes his heart. All he can do is squeeze you tight and do his best to restrain his own tears. It barely works. Self-loathing bubbles under his skin. 

His voice cracks as he tells you, “I won’t do that to you again, mariposa, I promise. I’ll fix it, I promise I’ll fix it, ok?” 

He clenches his eyes shut, cradling you as a few more strangled noises burst from your chest, each one driving the thought deeper: I don’t want to do this anymore. 

“Give me some time,” he rasps into your hair, “I promise I’ll fix it—”

“You’re just saying that because I’m crying,” you choke out in an accusatory fashion, then take a big, wet, gasping breath. 

“No, I’m not—hey, look at me.”

He pulls back to meet your eyes, but you shake your head in protest, covering your face, “I don’t want to, I’m ugly crying.”

“Ugly crying?” Frankie snorts, “I don’t know about that, let me see.” 

Your shoulders bounce with a soggy, muffled chuckle, “Shut up.”

He smirks at the spunky response as you sniffle and drop your hands, shooting him a glare he knows you don’t mean. Feigning seriousness, he pinches your chin to inspect your damp, puffy face. 

“Hmm,” he clicks his tongue and sighs, “Just as I thought. Too goddamn pretty for your own good.” 

To this, you roll your eyes and chuckle, “You’re a liar.” 

“Maybe,” he shrugs, thumb sliding across the plush of your bottom lip, “But not about this.”

Your gaze softens as you search his face, “Which part?” 

“All of it.” 

“Really?”

Frankie nods. 

You study him, brow furrowed, eyes welling up. Everything is so silent and still, he wonders if the world stopped turning. A fat tear rolls down your cheek and you croak out, “You better not be fucking with me, Francisco.”

“I’m not—”

“Because, I swear to god, if you’re lying—”

He cups your cheeks and holds your gaze steady on his, “I promise, ok? I’ll tell Ang later this week. But today…” He trails off, shaking his head, “I don’t know.”

A few tears break loose, so he wipes them away. 

The column of your throat bobs and you ask, “Do you still want me to go?”

He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, “Do you still want to go?”

“You first.” 

“I’d like it if you did. And it would mean a lot to Sarah,” he slips his arms around your waist and leans back onto the couch. You follow, laying your head on his shoulder, melting into him as he pets your hair and says, “But it’s up to you. It might be hard.”

“Because you’re still… with her, right? Like this?”

His chest aches. You flatten your palm against his heart and he tells you, “Yeah. Well, kind of. It’s different, but yeah.” 

“Different how?” 

I don’t love her. Not like this. 

“I, um… I don’t know how to explain it. She’s just a different person. Our relationship isn’t like this. It’s kind of like it was, but, you know… worse.”

You’re quiet for a moment, then ask, “Do you still fuck her?”

“No.”

The lie slips out automatically. Immediately, his stomach drops to the ground. He wishes he could take it back, and for a second, he considers it. But, at the same time, you don’t need to know about a one-time fuck up. 

He shifts a little, looking down at you, “But we’re still… affectionate sometimes. Which could be hard to see. So, it’s up to you.” 

You smooth your hand up his chest, to his neck, and sit up to meet his eyes, “I’ll go.”

Frankie nods, searching your face. 

“We can behave, right?” your eyebrow quirks, and you glance down at his mouth. 

“Uh huh,” he leans closer, inhaling your breath, brushing his knuckles against your cheek. 

But when his lips meet yours, and sparks ignite under his skin, he knows it’s just another lie. 

[nightmare-foundation]

Hero/villain batfamily swap AU

Okay so I really wanna infodump about my au that I've recently made, which puts the batfamily in the Gotham Rogues' places. I haven't thought through all of them yet, and I haven't accounted for all the batfamily (i.e. Kate Kane, Luke Fox, etc), but this is what I have

The Rogues

Bruce- The Penguin

Dick- Two-Face

Tim- The Joker

Stephanie- Black Mask

Damian- the Demons Head/Ra's Al Ghul

Barbara- The Riddler

Duke- Mr. Freeze

Cass- Lady Shiva?

The Heroes/good guys

Jason- Batman

Nightwing/Robin I- Jacob 'Jake' Grayson

Red Hood/Robin II- Thomas Grayson

Raven/Robin III- Jonathan Crane

Spoiler/Robin IV- [name] Brown (she hasn't been named yet, but she's Stephanie's daughter!)

Robin V- William Todd

Black Bat- Rose Wilson

The Signal- TBD (feel free to suggest ideas)

Seer- James Gordon Jr.

Harvey Dent

Edward Nygma

Jack Napier

Oswald Cobblepot

Waylon Jones

Jervis Tetch

Basil Karlo

Admittedly, the ones I've thought through the most are Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian. Some characters i haven't thought much about at all or I have an idea of what I want them to be (like Harvey having a role similar to Jim Gordon, or maybe Edward works with Lucius?).

BUT- this is an au where an outside force fucked with the timeline (haven't decided who/what or how) and, after regaining their past timeline memories, the batfamily (now Rogues... except for Jason lol) have to work together to figure out how to fix the timeline. The problem being their current states make that task much harder than it'd usually be, especially with their current history with each other, even despite their memories returning. So there's a whole slew of issues, not just internal, but with each other and dealing with heroes. And they have... very complicated histories with each other.

I'll explain a few of them under the cut :)

Dick Grayson aka Two-Face

What differs in this AU is that Dick is, of course, never taken in by Bruce and is instead passed around from abusive foster home to abusive foster home in Gotham. Thanks to a mix of the circus having been not a safe place and the abuse he endures in foster care, Dick develops DID, BPD and OCD from the trauma. He grows up with a close friend in Jason Todd, and while they separate for a while (Jason going to train to become Batman, Dick going into law school), they come back together as adults.

Dick becomes a lawyer because Tony Zucco had used legal loopholes to get out of facing the consequences of murdering the Flying Graysons, and Dick fully intended on trying to fix the legal system in some way and to try to prevent something like that from happening to others. At some point, Dick ends up having 2 sons, Jake and Thomas, who are 8 and 3 respectively when Dick eventually becomes Two-Face.

Since he's very close to Jason, he's actually aware that Jason is Batman. When Dick gets more unsatisfied with the justice system, he joins Jason in crime fighting as the vigilante Robin. Unbeknownst to both of them, Two-Face (not yet called that, but i haven't thought of a name yet lol) is not only unsatisfied with the justice system, but also how Jason and Dick fight crime. (Two-Face believes in the anti-hero kind of lethal justice. No, he's not 'evil')

One day, I imagine something happens and Dick, in his civilian form, tries to defend someone from someone else, but the fight results in the attacker slamming a glass container full of acid into Dicks face. This is obviously deeply traumatizing, and not only that, it solidifies Two-Faces belief that vigilantes should adopt a more lethal form of justice.

This is, obviously, how they become Two-Face :) they're deemed too mentally unstable to care for their two sons, so Jason is the person who takes them in and cares for them.

Jason Todd aka Batman

Honestly, I haven't considered exactly how he gets the idea of becoming Batman, but I'm considering that the catalyst is similar; he witnesses his father's murder. Essentially Willis got on the bad side of some mob boss and gets killed in front of Jason and Catherine. Eventually, after that, Catherine succumbs to a drug overdose.

Jason grows up close to Dick, with them supporting each other throughout their childhoods and helping each other escape foster care. Eventually Jason comes under the care of Oswald Cobblepot (who is the surprisingly kind but tough CEO of Cobblepot Industries) after attempting to steal the CEOs tires. Through him, he gets into training, and he supports Dicks lawyer endeavors financially.

After he comes back from all of his training, he refamiliarizes himself with Gotham and then becomes Batman. There's a lot of stuff he's way more lax about than Bruce is, like killing or temporarily working with criminals if it yields better results, but he still has his limits.

Jason also has his own Robins, but his relationship with them is far more healthy.

Tim Drake aka The Joker

Tim wasn't actually all that unique prior to becoming the Joker. He grew up in and out of boarding school with somewhat absent parents, in a middle class then upper class household. Tim became a photographer and journalist as an adult.

How he became the Joker is simple: he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Because of who he was, he was framed, and dropped into a vat of acid.

What came out just... isn't Tim Drake anymore.

Misc.

This is essentially what I have for the others that I haven't fully figured out yet:

-Duke becomes Mr. Freeze not long after his parents are hit by a lethal form of Joker Venom. He keeps them frozen so that they stay alive while he tries to search for a cure.

-Barbara becomes the Riddler not long after Jim Gordon dies. There's a bunch of stuff that causes her to go villain mode, but her father dying is the catalyst, or the straw that broke the camels back so to speak.

-Damian is not centuries old like Ra's is, but he is on the older side (50s? Maybe older?). Really, a lot of characters are aged up lol. He is still related to Bruce and Talia. He has kids too! William (<- placeholder name, I'm having trouble naming him, I might give him a name that reflects his heritage. He's gone through several iterations already LOL) Todd is his grandson.

-Edward Nygma works under Lucius Fox and helps make things for Jason! He also totally makes escape rooms on the side. Cringefail malewife vibes, as he should always have

-Harvey Dent has a role similar to commissioner Gordon, though I'm debating if he's actually a police commissioner or a Private Investigator.

-James Gordon Jr. Is Seer, and i imagine part of the reason he became a vigilante was to prove people's assumptions of him wrong. He's physically disabled (not sure how yet, but he uses forearm crutches) and is diagnosed with ASPD. He works as a hero both in the streets and behind a screen. I'm not sure yet what kind of day job he has tbh.

[thatgyalfisher]

Loser!ellie Hc’s 🫶🏼

Tw: minors dni thanks honey🙌🏻,not many just a little nsfw treat at the end for my little kittens🤗

Note: rebloging,likes and comments are very much appreciated ly you guys,i want to be mutuals with all of u and grow this acc!!💕🤭

Oke lets begin😏

—————————————————————•

Loser!ellie who definitely tried to tie her shoe laces,and fell over like embarrassingly hard (first time meeting u)

•And deff later on when ur dating says “i fell for you what can i say”

•Loser!ellie who would very softly scratch/tickle ur arm or back for u and won’t stop because she knows u love it

Loser!ellie who would drop her spoon on her plate like 4 times in a row when she has dinner with you and your parents for the first time (my pookies hands sweat 😓)

Loser!ellie who would definitely sneez and hold her nose till she gets a paper towel because a huge booger came out (when she was a kid like 12/13 ish)

Loser!ellie who never gets off the ps5 u got for her birthday

Loser!ellie who oddly loves the smell of dust..

Loser!ellie that has every game u can think off

Loser!ellie who works in a video game store and fell in love (literally) when u walked in to buy a video game for ur cousin

Loser!ellie who asks to many questions about ur cousin to get him the perfect game and ur just there like “just give me a game for 9 year old boys😭”

Loser!elkie who scratched the back of her neck while laughing,then having a cough attack and glowing red from embarrassment

Smut,nsfw!!!

Loser!ellie that accidentally lets out a small whimper when u need to sit on her lap in a crowded car

Loser!ellie who moans so loud when u kiss for the first time and pulls u so close,so tight u cant breathe

Loser/pervy!ellie who before u were dating would go to ur bathroom lock the door and go through your laundry basket to find some worn panties

Deff sticks one in her pocket for when shes home

Loser!ellie that almost came in her pants when u bent down in a short skirt trying to get ur book out of ur bag one time while she was tutoring u

Loser!ellie who practically ran home after unbuttoning her pants in the elevator,and shover her pants down to her enkels (not bothering to take them all the way off) as soon as she shuts the door behind her

After that would walk to her room while already rubbing her puffy clit like a dog in heat, whimpering while sliding her feet over the floot like a penguin

Loser!ellie who lasted only 4 minutes the first time she fucked u with her strap

Loser!ellie who eats pussy for her own pleasure and acts like its an actual meal

And finally loser!ellie who accidentally called u mommy when u were sitting on her face, and just stopping in her tracks embarrassed,u tell her u dont mind and she continues like nothing happened and never does it again

————————————————————•

Note:this is my first time writing hcs i hope i did good,didint proof read lol sue me. But leave ur requests in the comments! And reblog pls my little kittys🙏🏻🫶🏼

[andradrawsstuff]

Gonna start posting bits of my fanfic here since I’ve been working on it for a bit now ✨

This is a sorta continuation/au of the movie franchise set after the penguins movie, since the TV show is considered an au and it inspired me to think of my own thing

I'm still working on writing most of it but I'll post the chapters separately so that this post doesn't get ridiculously long, and I'll link them here ✨

This is my first proper fanfic, so constructive criticism is welcome :)

-The Rise of Dr Blowhole-

Synopsis

Still travelling around with the circus and bored out of their minds, the four penguins seek out a special element core that can upgrade their train to kill some time. As they steal what they are looking for from an unfortunate victim, they unknowingly kick off what is to become the greatest rivalry they have ever known – against the mad scientist Doctor Blowhole. As they now have to deal with the consequences of their actions, they scramble across the US in a cat-and-mouse game of who catches who first, recruiting a familiar companion along the way and re-evaluating their entire past three years.

A bit of swearing in some chapters

Slight skilene later on, but nothing major

I finally gave my OC Otto a role lol

Uhhhh I think that's it for now, enjoy :)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 1: Pondering life and other matters

The golden sun bathed the green hills of California in a warm bliss. Sunrise. The most beautiful thing one could witness, as well as the sound of birds chirping and-

“I like to move it, move it! I like to move it, move it! Ya like to move it, move it! I like to – MOVE IT!!”

The lush landscape was shunned by a cacophony of lemurs yelling and dancing at dawn, as their train sliced out of the rocky mountains towards the green hills. By that time, the entire circus had been rudely woken up… apart from two feathery friends who were already up and eyeing their locomotive in contemplation.

“But will it work, man?” Boomed their leader, the one and only Skipper.

“Uhhh… well, that all depends on whether I can get my hands on a very special element core, also known as-“

“Don’t know, don’t care.” Skipper interrupted Kowalski. “Just make it work, or I might start kicking people off this train out of boredom.”

The truth is, the penguins already started to find their new circus life a little… dull. In hindsight, it was fun travelling around the world, racking up chaos wherever they set foot. But they also had a big responsibility to maintain and organise the circus they so regrettably purchased, which was… not fun. Alex would practically beg Skipper to take them here, take them there, and take them absolutely everywhere, which Skipper quickly grew tired of. It had been a year since their adventures with Dave and the North Wind. In fact, it’s quite a miracle that the penguins lasted here that long without legging it. So, to kill time, they invented crazy contraptions and pulled increasingly daring schemes to suppress their boredom. This invention was no different than any other.

Skipper sighed and turned to look out the window towards the changing landscape, as ABBA’s SOS played in the background. Kowalski’s choice, no doubt. The vast greenness of the landscape transformed into a deep blue, as they neared the Oakland Bay Bridge of San Fransisco. Skipper had already started to lose himself in a trance, only to be interrupted by a sudden BANG.

“Skipper! Can you see it?” Alex burst through the door, startling the daydreaming bird. “Can you see the bridge? I’ve always wanted to go to San Francisco! And now we’re here!”

“Fish and chips, man! You almost gave me a heart attack!” Barked Skipper. He had a tendency to get jump scared if he wasn’t fully aware of his surroundings.

Alex scans the room in embarrassment as Skipper and Kowalski glared at him, whilst the other two had been rudely awoken by the shouting.

“Huh? A-are we there yet?” stuttered a delirious Private, as Rico simply smacked back down into his pillow.

“No.” Skipper replied coldly. “Do any of you hippies know how to knock? Or contain your excitement?” He continued.

Alex attempted to apologize, but he had already been ushered out by the bird. Perhaps if his daydream hadn’t been interrupted, he may not have been left in such a grumpy state. It also didn’t help that the haunting racket of “I Like To Move It” was looming ever so closer.

“Wake up, boys. We’re almost there.” Sighed Skipper. “And Rico, confiscate Ringtail’s Boombox, I’m starting to get sick of this song.” He sternly added.

Rico grunted sleepily as he made his way down the train cars. Kowalski tinkered with the train controls, and Private stretched his sleepiness away. The light grew dim as they entered the underwater railway tunnel, nearing their destination.

“Get ready, boys… we’re almost there.”

[base0h]

a/n - @countingsheepboi had the idea and now I’m gonna do a part two bec these are funny >:)

Warnings ⚠️ - chaotic g/n reader, crack-ish

Opposites attract p2

- he’s never wanted to cry from stress until now

- he could be just talking to one of his siblings for one second, and when he turns around, you’re gone

- you enjoy messing with him by hanging onto his back so he can never find you until he either uses haki or you scare the absolute shit out of him

- will go to brulee for advice

- he’s the only thing keeping you alive, and you’re singlehandedly shortening his lifespan

- “KURI! Look at this cute mushroom! It’s so small-!” You said, poking the spotted little plant

- it was so squishy and adorable that you decided to stick the whole thing in your mouth to see if it tasted good

- tasted like shit mixed with tree sap

- you choked on it lmao 😭

- ��Y/n did you swallow it??”

- whats the ginormous mochi man wearing platform boots with spurs gonna do-?! (as you can see I love his boots a lot lmao)

- he doesn’t want to hurt you but he also doesn’t want you to keep choking so he’s trying to pat your back with two of his fingers gently

- it still hurt

- he swore he could’ve fainted at some point from anxiety

- you’ve unfortunately introduced him to panic attacks

- cannot sleep without knowing you’re in bed, ok, not eating poisonous things, and that you’re not hurt

- yes he’s stressed now, but you’re the only thing that makes him happy

- and so fucking stressed at the same time

- joins therapy with smoker

- he’s already stressed, and now he’s more stressed

- requires screaming into a pillow every once in a while to blow off some steam

- will make bepo or shachi or even Penguin watch over you

- almost every time you manage to magically disappear

- “CAPTAIN Y/N’S GONE-!”

- the amount of energy and effort it’s taking him not to scream is amazing

- he needs to get you a rope for you to hold onto like a kindergartner lmao

- before he even gets to say a word about his plan you’re already beating people’s asses with no second thoughts

- a little part of him becomes more depressed every single time you rush on ahead

- spends all his time on these plans 😭

- inside he secretly appreciates it when you bring over a marine that’s been beaten up by you with a smile

- makes him happy :)

- you’re so thoughtful and he loves that 🙃

- he’s clumsy enough already 💀

- he ends up setting you on fire as well sometimes

- nooo but his devilfruit with your abilities is so overpowered 😭

- no sound is made when you literally rush in and beat every single person up inside the room while Corazon throws a grenade inside when you’re done

- y’all have the epic moment of walking away from the explosion

- and then his coat catches on fire

- will be by your side whenever you need

- you’re the one who’s dragging him along by his coat into danger because he can’t run a single minute without falling

- imagine seeing a 9’7 man getting dragged by someone half his size 💀

- doffy will always be confused as to how you two got together

- 10 year old law is even more stressed now

- poor kid is surrounded by clumsy reckless people lol

- Cora is the type of guy who would run into danger without thinking just because you were right next to him :)

- he didn’t know wtf to do when you ate something poisonous

- “Y/N-! OH GOD- UH- CAN YOU THROW UP?! LAW WHAT DO I DO-?!”

- he is freaking out

- started sobbing thinking you were gonna die, “Y/N I LOVE YOU SO MUCH-“

- “CORA-SAN Y/N’S FINE SHUT UP!”

- he’s now crying out of happiness while suffocating law in a hug

- I think he sobbed for a solid hour straight into poor law’s ears

a/n - poor katakuri :’)

[dolphingirl1234]

ok I'm back its peso this time

here is our tiny medic

the crown was the closest I could get to his goofy medic hat lmao we can use our imaginations

headcanons yaaaay:

16, joined the octonauts at 14

gender fluid

he/she/they depending on the day (usually its he but it changes occasionally) (I'm just gonna use he/him for this post)

either bi or aromantic I haven't decided yet

bro literally has purple eyes and they're completely natural. no contacts or anything he's just built different like that

his hair is a bit above shoulder length and sometimes he lets dashi play with it but mostly just has it in a really short ponytail

when he first joined the octonauts he was really intimidated by the captain and literally couldn't speak to him without trembling, but after a particularly hard mission barnacles told peso he was proud of him and he immediatly became peso's #1 Role Model

the gup e was made specifically for him, the dashboard is lower to the ground so it's easier for him to reach

he's from Chile, but specifically the part that is part of Antarctica

his whole family lived in Britain most of their lives and even though he grew up in Chile peso kind of adopted their accents

speaks fluent spanish

his massive family group chat which so much spam its crazy

has a whole collection of nice rocks he finds (penguins make nests out of rocks) even though he doesn't need to make a nest its just a habit lol

has severe anxiety but has learned how to manage it after it took over his entire life in med school

he is the youngest of the crew (not counting the vegimals) and he often compares himself to the others

kwazii is basically his older brother and he actually considers barnacles to be his dad. like no joke peso's real dad is dead and peso legitimately thinks of barnacles as his father

thinks barnacles' analogy "to be brave you have to be afraid first" is bullshit but he sees his point and it makes him feel better

he has a passion for mental health studies and he randomly starts spitting facts whenever someone does something than reminds him of a symptom of an illness

he's a great listener

he preens sometimes and kwazii cant get used to it he always thinks peso is stabbing himself

he flaps his wings when he's happy or excited

will stay up late studying medical textbooks to know more even though he literally graduated med school as a child prodigy at the age of 14

he is banned from watching medical dramas because he gets scared he's gonna have to deal with something like that but he watches them anyway and literally analyses everything they do in case he ever does have to do it

bro can swim SUPER fast if he wants to (he doesn't want to)

he likes board games and card games

he's completely obsessed with puzzles. the crew have to physically restrain him from buying them every time they go shopping

has like 23938 family members and at all together they have birthdays every single day of the year so Peso's mornings usually consist of checking his calender and calling like 4 relatives to wish them happy birthday

he wears a scarf most of the time bc its a comfort item and then he overheats and has to take it off and then he cries because he physically needs his scarf to survive but if he wears it he will overheat. its a whole thing

he likes existing. he just has fun yk.

after helping sharks many times in missions he realised how cool and not scary they are and asked shellington to teach him more about them and bro brought out a whole ass series of textbooks

he cries at least 4 times a day (pathetic in the best way possible 💪💪💪)

this man has called barnacles dad "accidentally" so many times

one time barnacles refused to sleep so Peso wrappe his eyes with bandages and tied him to his bed so he would sleep and barnacles had a heart attack in the morning when he woke up and couldn't see or move

he likes lemonade very much. he drinks it religiously its basically the same as water to him

has beef with the diet versions of anything bc he always used to get them bc they have less sugar but then sometimes told him instead of sugar they use other random chemicals and now he's pissed at the companies for lying to him

none of the other crew members ever remember to take their meds so peso asked tweak to make alarms on only the watches of the ones who take meds so they remember to do it

keeps everyones meds and any other medications in a locked cabinet in the sick bay bc the others sometimes joke about k!ll!ing themselves and he's paranoid

he will stand on 14 chairs, 3 boxes and 8 cups stacked on top of each other to reach something on the highest shelf instead of just asking the captain to get it for him (this has happened more than once)

I need to sleep I think my brain is forgetting how to form woords goodnight yallkdnf

[sabo-has-my-heart]

Hello! I'm the anon that asked if you could write a male!reader. I was making sure you do :).

Well... I saw the fic with traffy and reader that has those wings! It was amazing! It made me think, what happens if like- Law had this (rude) awakening. Like he realizes he could be bisexual or pansexual after seeing male!(y/n) shirtless for the first time.

But like-- (y/n) almost has the same body composition as law but just with a bit more muscles since he's like responsible for some heavy duty work around the sub.

Also, I had this occuring thought, a devil fruit of sorts, like... A devil like those performers at wano? (Forgot what they were called 😭😭)

The devil fruit allows the user to turn into a lion or a big furry wolf, only downside is that... Male! (y/n) would have like a fur as a chest? Like a soft fur chest? But the human muscle structure is still there but the fur is just on top like most animals. Like soft cloud pillows 🤤🤤

Anyway- the devil fruit's downside can also vary if it's a lion, the instinct of being on top of everything since lions are the king of the jungle and for big furry wolf is that... It only seems in the darkness, like... He'd hate the light since most wolves hunt at night (I guess...?)

I didn't understand what I typed lol, I hope you do, though 😂😂

(also, re-reading this... Maybe male!(y/n)'s chest would look a bit big if it's under some clothes but it's the fur that's making them big by the volume of said fur {yes, I study volumes of fur because I love lions and big furry wolves lol} as well as maybe, juuuuussst maybe, (y/n) enjoy brushing the fur on his chest every once in a while.)

Don't worry about me understanding, I ramble too. Since you didn't specify if you wanted them to be different fics, I included it all in one thing. I made him a wolf because while I like all cats (big or small) in real life, in the instances of writing, I like wolves better. I hope this is what you wanted and please let me know if you don't like it! I've only written like, 3 things with a male reader!

Warnings: Male!Reader, mentions of arousal, fluffy wolf!Reader

Word Count: 1350

     The Polar Tang had always required quite a bit of maintenance. A submersible ship with hundreds of moving parts that needed constant attention. Subsequently, along with the typical night watch, there was usually a crew member dedicated to roaming the halls and checking or looking out for any problems that might arise with the machinery and either fix them or wake the crew. For reasons he’d never really understood, you usually took this shift if possible. Working late into the night then sleeping late into the morning. Most of the others didn’t much care for the shift, finding the darkness of night on the sub to be rather eerie. Yet you seemed… eager to fill the shift. You’d joined only 2 years back, shortly after Sabaody. An interesting man, about his age, with a similar body build, only with a larger chest and more muscle. Nocturnal as hell, having a surprising abundance of energy at night, yet absolutely dead in the mornings, playful with the crew, yet he’d seen you actively take attacks aimed for the crew or viciously tear into an enemy that threatened them. 

     Closing your file, he leaned back in his chair. You’d avoided his physicals probably a dozen times or more, always stating an excuse, but he was determined to get you into his office this time! This time, he had Penguin and Shachi watching you, waiting for the second you had a free moment before they ‘pounced’, telling you that you should go see Law for your physical exam. It wasn’t long before you were peeking your head into his office, looking around as if hoping he wasn’t there. To be honest, you didn’t mind doctors, it wasn’t that you were afraid of them, but this was Law, the most attractive doctor on earth! How could you just go in there and be… examined by him? Forced to sit still, half naked, on his table, hoping that your body didn’t… react to him, praying that he didn’t get close enough for you to take in his scent. He looked like he smelled like coffee… coffee and sanitizer, the latter of which didn’t seem so attractive, but you hoped for coffee. Part of you knew he probably didn’t care about your devil fruit features, the large, fluffy fur that covered your chest probably wouldn’t bother him, aside from interfering with his stethoscope, but it felt… personal, it wasn’t something you typically showed off to others. 

     Sighing, Law gestured for you to come in, making you duck your head, looking at the floor as you slowly entered the room.

     “Since this is your first exam with me, I’m going to need you to take off your shirt.” Law said nonchalantly, starting to write in your very thin file. 

     “Is that… absolutely necessary, captain? I’m sure the physical would go just fine if I kept it on.” you said, shifting nervously.

     “Yes, it’s necessary, now take off your shirt and get onto the table.” Law demanded, making your heart jump. How many times had you dreamt similar things leaving his lips, though in entirely different contexts. Reluctantly, you removed your shirt, gently setting it aside as you hopped up onto the table. 

     Law sighed, he’d finally gotten you onto his damned table! Looking up, the young man froze. It wasn’t the fluffy fur that had caused him to stop though, rather the young man beneath the fur, shifting nervously on the table. His eyes ran over your body, muscular from working with the machinery, thin and lithe, your size betraying the strength he knew hid under your clothes. For the first time in many, many years, his pencil fell from his hand, clattering to the floor. The sound seemed to startle him out of his thoughts, quickly gathering himself together and starting the exam.

     “You’re a devil fruit user then?” he asked stoically, quickly grabbing one of the pencils from his pocket.

     “Uh, yeah, a special type of wolf user. It’s complicated.” you said, looking away. Those few simple words explained so much about you. Your nocturnal sleeping schedule, your playful demeanor and protectiveness, the Heart Pirate crew was your pack. Law simply nodded, returning to his check up, trying desperately to focus on the check-up and not your body. Not to say that he was the kind of man to only be attracted to a person’s body. Not that he was attracted to you!!! The physical seemed to last an eternity for the both of you, neither of you quite sure what to say or do until he was finished with the check-up. Almost as soon as he gave you the green light, you were bolting out of there, hurrying back to your room.

     Law sat in his chair, staring at the photo of you in your file. His heart was still pounding from seeing you and he felt something strange in the pit of his stomach, tightening and flipping. He was a healthy young man, he was no stranger to the body’s urges and needs, but he’d never felt this kind of desire towards another male before, never desired another male like he was desiring you. He briefly wondered if that fur was as soft as it looked. You’d parted the fluffy looking pile so he could listen to your heart, only able to lightly brush against a few stray hairs, but he hadn’t been able to get a real feel for it.

     Back in your room, you took deep breaths as you ran a brush down your chest, letting the feeling relax you. Feeling the bristles of the brush comb through your fur always brought a wave of comfort to you, allowing you to calm down from your recent encounter with your captain. It wasn’t something you did often, but if you were having a hard time relaxing, it always helped. Your mind was still playing through every second of the physical as you just sat there on your bed, brushing your fluffy mound of fur. He’d smelled like coffee… coffee and hand sanitizer like you’d expected. But also something else, something you couldn’t quite pin down, something that had had your body reacting in ways you really didn’t want it to while sitting in front of him. Vaguely you wondered what it would be like to have him brushing your fluffy chest, stroking your chest with the brush. Would he sit behind you as he ran it through your volumes of fur, his arms wrapped around you in a loving hold as he gently fingered the soft tufts? Maybe he’d kneel in front of you, admiring your fur as he gently pulled his fingers through the silky strands. Perhaps he’d rest his head on top of your chest, using your fur as a pillow, maybe you’d be able to get the insomniac to get some sleep. You might be nocturnal, but you’d gladly sleep through the night, or at least sit still through the night, if it meant letting Law sleep on your chest. Taking another deep breath, you set the brush down, your day dreams would have to wait for another time, it was getting close to dinner, meaning that you should start preparing for your usual night shift. It would be a welcome distraction from the events of the day, finding something so energizing about the night. Your mind could focus on the machinery and any malfunctions, allowing you to take your mind off your captain.

     Law looked at the time. Dinner would be announced soon, maybe he could find a way to sit near you? Could he find a medical reason to ask about the fur? He really wanted to see how soft it was. Shaking his head, he grumbled to himself, he was Trafalgar Law! The surgeon of death! What was he doing getting worked up over someone? Even if that someone was the most attractive person he’d ever seen! Between finding himself attracted to a male for the first time and all the things he wanted to do or say, things were about to get a lot more complicated.