#but in the movie he is only calling for his oldest brother

[greasegotahold]

During the first scene where Ponyboy gets jumped by Socs and during The Rumble when Ponyboy's getting walloped you can hear that he's calling out for Darry and only Darry and I'm so Normal about that

[acid-ixx]

ch.4: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)

directory: preq, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four

read until the end for an author's note.

tw: self-esteem issues, alcohol abuse, allusions to self-harm.

"baby bird, i know i haven't been talking to you much as of lately. but i just want to let you know that we miss you alright?"

not delivered.

"i really regret ignoring you, we all do. i'm-"

he hesitates, then deletes the last word of his message.

"—we're the ones in the wrong for everything, alright? you blocked me, i'm sure you did for everyone else too, i get that, but we care for you now and that won't change anytime soon. please remember that."

not delivered.

"and it pains me seeing that you're not replying to my messages at all, baby bird. but i promise i'll-"

dick bites his lips at the mistake of addressing himself only rather than that of the family, but a greedy part of him wants you to read the messages and to see only him in spite of everything rather than them, feeling a sense of... need to be the first and only one you see when you think about accepting their apologies, even if he's writing to you whilst simultaneously trying to get his family in your good graces.

dick doesn't know it. why he's suddenly obsessed with you. you? yes you, his stupidly precious sibling, the one who looked up to him, frail and wronged by the world, with so much drive behind that stare. third child of bruce, yet second youngest in the family. the one that got away, the one he has never once saw outside that one memory of glinting, awe-inspired eyes that told more stories than poets, drew more emotions than artists.

nobody saw you outside of your status as the manor's ghost— but compared to your other siblings, he knew you the most. he wants to be the only man good enough to be considered your brother, your oldest brother; an obligation he's willing to uptake just for you. he wants to be the only one with the authority to call you his baby bird. he doesn't know why, despite the thirteen and a half years, it's him wanting, no, needing to see you again.

you, just you.

every bits and pieces of you.

in his mind, it's just him and you. in your tiny little bedroom, with your dozens of sketchbooks and diaries, with only your brother, dick, to accompany you. in your own little world, as you speak to him of your dreams and passions with nothing else in your mind. you'd look up at him with sparkling eyes, look at him like he means everything in the world to you, and he'd see you as his world.

when he thinks of that, the more he hopes of the possibility of you reading his messages; his declaration of never leaving you alone anymore. and with hope comes along this dread that you'd reply with a nasty reply, or that... you'll never bat an eye him anymore.

dick doesn't take a second glance to correct his mistake again this time.

"i promise i'll be better for you baby bird. my little hatchling, my little one. i discarded you, someone so precious. you must've felt hurt, no? i get that, i'm so sorry you have to go through that because of me. but look! you have me now, we have each other now! and that might not be enough yet to mend the bridge i left to fall, but if you just, please reply to me, or anyone else, then we can fix this. i promise, baby bird."

not delivered.

"you won't ever feel hurt anymore, or sad or lonely. hell, even bruce is getting you a new bedroom fixed up, isn't that great!? i'll even convince the old man to make sure your room is close to my old one so you can visit me anytime. i'll even stay over at gotham for even longer, just for you! and i'll spend my time with you, with just the two of us, okay? nobody else can disturb us. i'm sure you'd like that too."

not delivered.

"and we can hang out anytime you want, no? sleepovers, movie nights, journalling— all the cool stuff you wanted to do with me in the past, we can do now! and it'll be fun with you, i can see it happening alrrady, i just know it. you can't convince me otherwise, baby bird."

not delivered.

"that's why i'm begging you to unblock me, little one, or to at least read all my previous messages, please? :( i'm still so sorry over how i treated you in the past. i've nothing to defend myself over how i acted towards you. i was so delusional, ignoring you when all you clearly wanted was to spend time with me, with the family."

not delivered.

"we can even have that dinner together, remember?! at that fancy restaurant you talked about, yeah? my treat, of course. you can order the entire damn menu and i'll leave you room for seconds and desserts. i can even make arrangements to get bruce to rent out the entire restaurant so it would just be the two of us plus the family, but mostly just us— that would be good! then you can sleep at my room after we get home to the manor since we're turning your old one into an atelier just for you! i'll even carry your cute little figure up any flight of stairs whenever you get tired."

not delivered.

"i promise i'll really make it up to you baby bird!!! <3"

not delivered.

"for all the times we neglected you, left you thinking you didn't deserve a spot in the manor (which you truly do, it's us to blame for never seeing it that way), made you feel negative emotions towards us— i'll take your pain and turn that into joy, i promise."

not delivered.

"and if you do manage to read through all this, please remember..."

not delivered.

"i love you so much, alright? we'll find you soon, and you'll be happier with us, i'm sure of it. i love, love, love you so much my baby bird."

not delivered.

he sighs, resigning his thoughts all to himself as he checks his phone every minute for a simple ring of notifications just from you. he prefers to leave his phone in silent mode from the multitude of other contacts bothering him, but god forbade if that means he'd scroll past to a single reply of yours, then he'd rather burn in hell.

and anything is better than the pain inflicted on him when it comes to the thought of you ignoring him.

because after all, he does mean it when he says he loves you, his baby bird, his adorable little sibling.

he'd rather hell than you seeing him any less of an older brother.

what takes longer? is it a seed growing into a bud, a bud into a bloom, or a flower to fully shrivel and die?

how long does it take for it to be considered worthy? deserving of attention and the rightful spotlight to attain its needs for life?

what takes its time? what other variable does it need for it to survive in such harsh conditions? if it's forcefully pried open as a seedling, as a bud growing in a field full of weeds sapping, draining it of its nutrition, or in a scorching, desolate desert, or pestilent lands; would it still be considered a flower?

what does a seed need to grow into a flower? beautiful, treasured, with vibrant colors reflecting off the surface of each petal, growing pollen for every pollinator to spread its bountiful success you call development?

what does it require?

everyone knows the answer, some could only be ignorant enough to turn the other way and reject the idea altogether.

it needs care, nourishment — healthy soil building a strong foundation, its home with roots carefully embedded in the ground, then it also requires water, a source of life given to it in specific times with just the right dose, and sunlight kissing its stems and petals warmly — and finally, love.

lots of love, attention, and patience from mother nature herself and its caretakers we call humans.

but how could a flower receive any, if not, all it needs, if it's raised under a marshy, overgrowth rainforest that speaks of death and cruel poachers that could step on the bloom of any moment?

how could a flower live, let alone survive, if its careless caretakers who took it away from its fertile lands neglect it of its requirements to grow and bloom into its rightful imagery?

just how?

you are a flower.

and you will wilt soon the longer you live in what you once thought was your home.

growing in cracked, dry soil, with no water nor sunlight aiding your growth.

you are a flower.

who had been loved by your creator, mother nature herself; your mother. but you've never once felt the care nor love of your cruel humans you call family, your father had never once saw your budding petals, kissed it, patiently watered or spent time outside in the sunlight with you. your brothers don't notice your dehydrated pets, shriveled leaves and bent stems, nor do they tend to it. your sisters don't decorate the pot you reside it, they don't talk to you every time you sag down in loneliness and isolation as you are forced to stay in the same place and witness the same scenarios over and over again.

not much knows it, but flowers, much like any plant, can communicate, they can feel. and when they do, they do deeply.

and you are a flower. a flower worthy of being pressed into books, storing your beauty forever. a flower worthy of being situated into a stunning arrangements of bouquets, worshipped through birthdays, dates, weddings, and even funerals.

you're a flower, and you're beautiful and deserving of praise and honor from your stages in life as a seed, from a bud, to a blooming flower. yet you're neglected the same way ignorant trespassers would step on growing blooms, uncaring for sabotaging their life completely, and oh-so easily.

you're a flower, a symbol of nature's fertility, resilience, and tranquility.

you symbolize your mother's long standing determination to care for a child whose father looked other ways but her. who raised her seedling with care, watered them with stories of fairytales: fantasies about prince charmings who take their flowers away from barren lands to spoil them with rich soil and neverending sunlight, about princesses who stop by flower shops to awe at the arrangements of bouquets, eyes glazing with fervor as they recount each and every symbolism every unique flower shares.

your mother places you in your favorite, decorated pot: your shared bedroom with her, and she kisses your cheeks, your forehead, your chubby little fingers, the same way the illuminating sunlight kisses at your flushed body whenever you two would go out for your walks.

she was your mother nature, and you were her precious flower.

you were once a blooming bud then, and you wished you would still bloom now.

how could you grow into what you're worth, when even you couldn't grow without the love that was taken from you?

what about the care, the patience, the determination she once held in her warm gaze, now cold and fading with life the last time you saw her; would it all be a waste?

how could you grow now?

and yet you don't even need to ponder for solutions. the answers were clear, clear as the water your petals used to bathe in, clear as the rain that pitters against alfred's car windows the same day you were taken away from your mother's hold—

you simply wilt.

8:31PM.

your friend said she'd pick you up quarter to nine, so you'd at least have the time to prepare and make yourself look good. but right now...

god, right now, you don't feel anything good, not even a wee bit of it at all. ever since he texted you, you feel like shit, utterly repulsed. vile, like the image of you vomiting every contents of your stomach— and now you're going out drinking with an empty one. you can already feel the bitter taste of heavy alcohol mixing in with the acids of your stomach.

you can already feel the breakdown you're having right now as you remember how fucking broke and useless you are for having to ask your friends to treat you to drinking because you have nothing left to offer beyond the fucking taxes you have to pay and the nearly due rent and bills.

you have nothing to offer. you're so shitty. you deserve to die.

the more you stare at the mirror, the more your eyebags seem to deepen, your lips began to dry, and the pit in your chest sunken.

and that makes you exhale even deeper, ignoring the way your throat constricts on itself in instinct.

your eyes flitter to your fingers, nails bitten, skin ripped at the seems with dry blood staining chipped cuticles.

when you looked back at your reflection, you want to cry even more, seeing an image of a moving pile of flesh. all puffy skin and sagging eyes.

you don't remember the last time you felt pretty about yourself.

whether it was in the manor, or back when your mother was the only one raising you— it seems like your memories are in shambles right now.

you don't remember the last time you looked in a mirror, looking healthy, fresh, and proud of yourself for dressing up in your style. in the back of your mind, there will always be hatred, resentment for how you look. and right now, you hate how you every bit of your appearance because...

because you look exactly just like an image of your mother and bruce wayne. a reminder, your punishment for your parents' beautifully tragic affair with one another. a billionaire who courted the lowly dirt-class slut of gotham.

yet you're uglier because you're not them, you couldn't be them. you're not picture-perfect brucie with slick-black hair and a face like fine-aged wine, or the image of your sultry, "man-eater" mother in her lingerie. you're just, you— you've inherited all the stupid flaws you wished you could shave off your damn body.

you remember seeing your father's face in television with your mother beside you by the couch, combing your hair and giggling when your eyes had lit up at the sight of the rich man. you haven't once took your eyes off the news channel whenever he appeared, looking at bruce, always enamored with his aesthetics, only to never notice your mother's tired eyes, or how shaky her fingers would sometimes become.

"momma, that's daddy, right?!" you asked her whilst the side of your body was pressed against hers, with all the enthusiasm a child could muster. your grin was wide, eyes peeled to the screen, enough to ignore the flinch in your mother as you had once thought it was her igniting with the same excitement as yours.

she simply leans down and kisses your cheeks, her eyes, a beautiful shade of your eyes color, albeit lighter in hue, never once left the crown of your small head, ignoring the headline for the news about 'brucie's new fling caught on camera!'.

your mother was so glad you were still illiterate at your age. she wish she could never break off the illusion that it was her who simply birthed to you, with no face for a father. maybe you would've never ask her about why he had never once came to visit your small family, why you could never meet your other siblings, or why he's seen with multiple other women by his side every time you open the television.

you ask at frequent intervals; it makes her wish to strip away the past in which she chose to tell you who your father was. you would've experienced less heartbreak, she would've never seen the way your eyes would dim at her every excuse, or the way she felt your heart crack at the seams, only further breaking hers.

yet after a while, she replies and buries her thoughts, ignoring the tears that lid her eyes. with not so much enthusiasm in her light voice, with the undertones of guilt and sorrow digging deep throat her throat, but it was enough for young, little you to jump on your springy couch with her response.

"... oh, yes, that's your papa...! isn't he so nice looking—?"

"and handsome! i'm so lucky to have such beautiful parents! i wish i was as pretty as you, momma, and daddy too!"

when you had looked up with haste, glinting eyes staring up at her with a wide grin, some baby teeth still present, others absent from your gums, yet you displayed admiration no less; your mother just as quickly wipes her red eyes and sniffling nose with the worn sleeves of her sweater and reciprocates your beaming energy with a small smile.

she wishes you'd dismiss her previous melancholic expression, replacing it with the same fond, yet tired gaze she always offers you, wishing you'd be as oblivious to the pain it brings her to see your hopes and dreams of meeting a father you could only admire through a screen or article. yet you're always so perceptive, so interlinked with her reactions that she's sure that one of the few positive traits your father had given you. she should've expected your words, yet her broken heart finds a path to heal whenever you sense her pain and soft a bandage to the cracks of her bleeding scars with your kindness.

you would always be her little flower. the one she'd nurture in a garden filled with rosy bushes and scarring thorns.

"—you're so beautiful, momma, even if you cry because daddy isn't here with us, or you're too tired taking care of me. you're beautiful because you're my mother, and i'll take you over everything in the world..."

and you tell her, an inaudible whisper to your voice, with eyes that were once wide, beaming with joy, now gazing at her with softness like the wind kissing blades of grass in a gentle dance. you look at her, and she stares back, eyeing your chubby cheeks and lips the same shape of hers, the ends of your lashes curves the same way as hers, and your voice matches her like a lullaby when you speak every vowel in a soothing lilt.

you calm the hurt in her chest, replacing it with a mellow warmth. she even forgot the tears that slowly dripped her eyes, all replaced with the comfortable softness of her precious child's palms, smooth and cozy, resting on both of her cheeks as you pepper her crying face with kisses.

she holds both your palms caging her, and allows the your hold to linger for longer. the silence ensues, yet you both embrace the unsaid assurances.

it's times like these where she realizes you encapsulate the beauty of both worlds.

it's moments like this, she sees herself in you, and maybe she could lead herself to believe that she is beautiful, because she sees her beauty through her child, her grace.

the memory only further deepens the guilt in your heart.

if there's one word to describe you now. it would be disgrace. to your father's honor, and your mother's legacy. for easily letting yourself go, for being so weak, for being the line that jumps between two polar opposites of one another; trying to traverse their path of belonging.

you're a disgrace, a mistake, and you deserve to be treated as such.

it was why you never find yourself beautiful. a person such as yourself would always find allure, worth in all things chaotic - you live in gotham after all - but never find that same value in yourself as you look at your reflection that distorts your image even more, making you uglier and uglier the longer you look.

split ends everywhere, hand tangled, reddish eyes from nearly crying again.

even if you beat at yourself, erratic and impulsive, even if your skin is colored an ashen blue and purple, rotten shades of yellow and red, you think of yourself ugly and repulsive.

no matter how much color you try to bring into your bleak, repulsive life, at the cost of hurting yourself to become pretty— every part of you will always be that ugly, little duckling in comparison of your siblings who always outshone you.

dick with his playboy body, jason and his towering one, tim with soft boyish features, damian's silky tan and smooth skin, and duke's baby face.

you couldn't even have your hair frame you as perfectly as steph's light blonde hair does, or share barbara's proportionate face, or look as gracious yet deadly like cassandra.

you're nowhere near as special, you're not like them. you have features too unique, yet out of place, and you couldn't bring yourself to be conventionally good-looking.

you hate yourself so much. you hate every little mole, every little pimple, every damn imperfection that litter your body, making you even lesser than what you already are.

your family; mother, father, brothers and sisters, god, even your fucking friends! every time you sit by them side-by-side, you'd feel insecure, imperfect, an eyesore and you just want to strip away every part of your limbs one by one if that meant replacing it with even better ones; all for the sake of at least feeling pretty.

you remember the first time you tried to find a sense of style, and damian's comment and– god fucking damn it—!

your hands found its way to your brushed hair, tangling itself through already fragile strands to rip at the seams. you don't care, you don't fucking care, you pray to any god out there to get them out of your head, pleas unheard, you're always left to hurt.

"what are you trying to achieve with that, huh? what even are you trying to think with that horrendous color combination? what are you, a clown? even that damned joker has more coordination than you think you could achieve."

in front of his friend, jon kent, with a scowl on his ever-so angry face and his hand already making a way to grip his sword; an absolute threat to dice you up shall you ever bother being in the same room as him.

he said that to you... you're older, you could've been stronger, could've at least found a semblance of fight in your bones. but no! god, no. your life was ruled with fear with damian wayne being the demon haunting you in the manor, always making living harder, making breathing a heavy task.

how could you ever fight back? not when you've conditioned yourself to tear up at the slightest bit of noise, feel goosebumps prick your skin when you hear someone raise their voice at you, and your heart rate hasten at the slide of a knife against any surface?

you! you who's so fucking weak to even make a comeback. you, who ran away with wide, traumatized eyes. because you're scared, so fucking fearful of an even bigger cut to your skin marked by damian— even if you're accustomed to cutting yourself with even deeper gashes.

because it's him that you fear, not the pain, not anymore. just him and his contempt at you for ruining his pure bloodline just by you being his half-sibling.

you don't want a repeat of your first meeting, or any meeting with him at all. not when you'd drown even deeper in a pit of fear every time you stare at his glaring, emerald eyes. one that tells you he chose to merely not kill you out of the goodness of his heart. but he will, god he will if he feels you've been too comfortable in his presence.

every damn time, everytime you feel fear, you see green. you hate green, any literal meaning of it, every implication of itx even seeing it, and fuck! your outfit has green embellishments.

you feel even uglier, yet the twinge of fear immediately overpowers any concern your had with your appearance. it's as if eyes were suddenly on you, and it's not only yours staring at you in the mirror.

your lips wobble, snot began blocking through the passage of your nose.

fuck, fuck, fuck.

why?! why can't you just forget about them all. why, why, why?!

you bite your lips harshly to conceal the pained whimpers from the back of your throat, but it doesn't work. it only makes the fear worse.

tears rim at your eyes, you merely wipe them away. your heart attempts to beat out of its gilded cage, yet you swallow your quivering chokes and proceed to continue staring at yourself in the mirror, dressed in a rush, with nothing to conceal your ghastly eyebags and sunken skin.

and green. you'll see it everywhere now. fuck, would dick send out damian to kill you now? you don't know, you're scared but you can't chicken out, not when your friend is already near to your apartment. god you wish you had beer in your cabinets instead, but you're broke and unprepared for life and your hair's all in a tangle and you just fucking want to die.

your hands grip at the edge of your sink, you look at your mirror and see the blood on your already bitten lips.

not even concealer can cover the damn scars all over your face all through the neck.

calm down.

you stare even deeper at yourself and ignore the green, trying to think of something else—

something less emotionally scarring, like your appearance. even if it brings you great pain, too, you'd rather that than your family. no more of them, fuck, no more. even if you stare at your eyes and see that familiar mix of colors of your mother and bruce's eyes. the shape of your face, even the curve of your brows all resembled your late mother— and you miss her, her captivating beauty that you never saw aged like fine way before she was taken away from you. you see bruce in the strands of your hair and the way it sometimes fray when too stressed. you see them in every image you wish to erase of yourself.

yet your genetics are nothing to them, not when you can't even care for your tangled hair or ashen skin.

even the dead looked more lively than you ever could.

with a pale complexion, with scars that litter all over your shoulders, wrists, and hidden parts of your body, one you're too ashamed to show anybody— it was no doubt that you looked pathetic and erased the beauty that both your parent's cultivated. and it makes you wonder; would it really be worth it?

would it be worth it if the people around you see you?

you with your melancholic eyes, trying to find an escape in a maze you call your mind? you can picture yourself drinking alcohol until you reach the domain of death, sitting in a stool, alone, as you nearly empty the contents of your stomach remembering the sole reason why you're there in the first place.

would it be worth it if all eyes suddenly were on you? they turn to you to gaze at the ugly bruises on your body, they mock your appearance, call you names, look at your sniveling, red nose and warm cheeks intoxicated from all the heavy liquor you'd down, and whisper. they'll whisper insults, slurs, and every known jab until it's all their words that pierces through your eyes, until the loud bass becomes mere background chatter for all the gossips that ensue.

are you actually going to do this right now?

you don't know, you don't know and you wish never cared as much.

all you could really focus on was your eminent goal of getting out of your stuffy apartment, to rid of the paranoia that somehow, you're being watched over in the confines of your four walls and that the familiar image of green will come attack you. the more you think, the more the hairs on your skin start to raise with every known intention to signal you of your anxiety.

eyes, they may be everywhere.

eyes, eyes, eyes. as you stare at your eyes, you try to ignore emerald eyes, they dilute even further. you gulp, yet your focus remains distorted. images flash at the mirror, and suddenly they're here, with you, with their eyes. bright blue for some, dark green for another, and they all gaze at you with contempt. one's hand claws at your throat, the other pins your wrist down on the edge of the sink. the eyes glare, and they never soften. yours merely shook, unblinking as your breathing becomes heavier; trapped in the cages of their wanton staring.

you yelp, then blink. when you did, they're gone. and you're back to looking at the same image of yourself. you grimace slowly.

ugly, with dry skin and falling hairs. the worst version of you, the normal version of yourself— there was never a best version for you.

as long as it's you, you'll never be enough.

all you wanted was to drink with your friends at a club; some working nightshifts at the location you're going to— yet you want to back down. want to take your phone by the corner of your vision and cancel your sudden plans.

but you're scared, you're so fucking scared of any new messages.

hell, even finding the contacts for your friends was a task in itself you wish to never repeat. with jittery fingers trying to type of messages and blurry eyes navigating through the screen of your slippery, glass screen protector.

you're scared, rightfully so.

you're scared to find his message once more suddenly popping up, your fingers accidentally pressing on it like the clumsy swine you are, and rereading that damn heart over and over again.

you slam your dominant hand against the tiled sink, hard and uncaring for the pain it induced all throughout your body. the tremors of the impact shook you to your core, yet you seethe in your breath and don't allow yourself respite to let the tears flow freely from your already red eyes. you feel your heart beating erratically through your chest, the shivers controlling your body, the shrieks that you contained within you— and you enchain them all with no respect for yourself.

you deserve this. you deserve to be hurt, to be punished for your actions, for your mistakes, for your sins.

even if your hand became swollen, splotched with varying shades of disgusting purples and yellows, you won't treat it with medicine. even if the sharp edges of the sink broke the fragile layer of your already scarred palm, and bled profusely with that familiar shade of red; you won't rush to wrap it with gauze or even spare a droplet of betadine. even if by the next day you'd have to write out your overdue assignments with that specific hand, then you'll force yourself to learn through the other and punish yourself again if you fail once more.

you deserve this.

and as your phone pings, lighting up to show you a notification of one of your friend's messages about being ready to pick you up by the lobby of your apartment's ground floor, you ignore your injured hand and the bruises on your knees from falling so abruptly on tiled floors just moment's ago. you dismiss the ache of your head, the soreness of your eyes and the disgusting beat of your heart.

you ignore the pain that wrecks at your entire body, in favor of destroying it even more, just as you deserve.

you don't recall how many shots you had before you're nearly passed out by the bar, sitting on its stool with your head leaning on one both your arms crossed, drool close to slipping out of the corners of your mouth and heavy eyes lidded, about to fall into the depths of sleep.

you're sure you looked wasted, absolutely drop-dead drunk with no thoughts circulating in your head other than the pleasant buzz in your ears and the flash of colors in the disco balls blanketing the entire room with its neon lights. your face must've been an unearthly shade of red, and you can already feel just how blazen it is, and how your fingertips are ice-cold to the touch (probably colder than the marble you lay your arms upon). in other words, you're actually wasted.

and it's so worth it if it means it gets you to forget. and forget you did, because you can't even dig deep into your head to even remember a single memory of whatever grief you went through earlier in your apartment. not even the throb of your head from when you pulled your hair from its roots, all to the way you slammed your dominant hand on your bathroom sink, bruising it with unnatural shades of purples and yellow.

it makes you omit every type of pain, both physically, mentally, and emotionally. it doesn't cure you of your ails, but god forbid you if you just want to savor moments where nothing but a mind numbing headache is the only feeling present in your current state.

the remix of songs were long forgotten in your mind, they all become an amalgamation of miscellaneous sounds. your body is so inclined towards the flat, rectangular cool surface of the marble glass of the bar that you can guarantee you could sleep here, especially since black behan to cloud both your vision and your mind.

everything feels so hazy, and pleasant, and straight-out peaceful that the screaming tandems of equally drunk clubbers and the occasional sobers holding up their friends who sang along with whatever remix the dj comes up with, or the forming crowd as people began to rock and dance to the bass that shakes up the entire floor to the point you can feel vibrations run along your spine— didn't register within the crevices in your mind.

all you can focus on, is the gratifying pleasure ll alcohol induces in your body. gone is the feeling of fear that emanates off of every inch within your body. your bones don't feel as if it's locking up everytime you feel eyes on you, and your throat doesn't certainly feel constricted with the lack of flow of blood anymore.

god, this is why you've never once regret drinking right after the moment you turned eighteen— not when it's positive effects outweighs all the negative emotions that rule over your body.

you couldn't even notice a man with shades (seriously, who wears that to party? isn't the club dark enough?) sitting beside your drunken form in the corner of your eyes, raptured in the thin line between focusing on reality and drifting off to dream world. you don't even bat an eye to his muffled giggles and the way he twisted his stool just to admire the view: you.

you're oblivious to the entire commotion happening within the depths of his mind because you couldn't feel any aptitude to danger right now— thanks to the effects of the hard liquor overtaking whatever fear you've felt being watched long ago.

or maybe you just felt safe beside the stranger. or, you're merely drunk. you don't know.

fuck, you're so close to passing out.

you don't know where your friends are, where they came running off to but you know you won't be getting out her sooner or later and you definitely don't have a ride home. so your only way back without getting ambushed as a completely vulnerable citizen of gotham, is by a safer, more convenient means of a ride— but that certainly wouldn't be safe if your friends are as equally drunk, or even more so, as you. but does your hazy mind care? no. not when you flip your head to rest on the other side once the other side became hotter that you notice a conveniently attractive man staring right back at you with an entertained grin.

as if your existence alone makes him happy. as much as your mind keeps blanking out, that mere implication made your heart pang just a teensy bit. of pain, or pleasure, or mere joy, you don't know. but you do know that it triggered some unknown feelings and you don't want to feel.

you want to drink some more, feeling solemn all of a sudden just from staring at him. you're sure the obvious frown on your quivering lips and the heavy, hot sigh

and it doesn't help that his face seems similar. the longer you stare, the more his grin seems to sharpen. confidently? or shyly? you can't seem to gain a clear image of him; what when rainbow lights are blazing out through the holes of the disco ball and your eyes recently just opened to your near journey to traverse through sleep.

all you can make out to be is his jet-black hair, side bangs framing the left side of his face, a faint outline of an eyebrow piercing

you also took note of his spiky jacket— yet what draws you the most to him are his sunglasses that he chose to wear conspicuously in a damn club of all places.

he's attractive, to say the least, but he triggers a set of emotions deep into the cages of your imprisoned heart that sets itself free. he gives you a sense of nostalgia, of familiarity that you can't pinpoint but feel; like you've seen him before but don't know when. your eyebrows furrow in and your eyes squint at him, unknowing to the judgement you're subjecting him in. your lips wobble, though, because his presence just makes your heart feel something, akin to pain but not quite, and makes your head buzz that you just want to cry as a reaction.

he, the stranger, don't know it, but he makes you all sad, primal emotions overtaking any drunkenness you feel as deep tremors buzzed into the confines of your chest, until all you're doing is staring at him with pouting, downturned lips and sad, puppy eyes; rimming with salty tears.

you don't know why you feel sad all of the sudden, and you can faintly see through blurry, watery vision how his face shifted from entertained to worry, eyebrows raised and eyes wide open at your sudden mood shift.

maybe you or him could've spoken up, you more so, but you're just so emotionally drained and overwhelmed today that you began sobbing silently without breaking eye contact with the man.

despite you wanting to say anything: an introduction, a question opening up as to why he's staring at you, or even a mere phrase telling him to "back off"; the only words that came out from your parched throat, all from trying to reason in your head on what a proper sentence should be, were:

"you're hot," and if you were sober enough, you would've felt sheer embarrassment and shame from eyeing the boy, but you're not— and because you're not sober, or any bit sane, the next few sentences you spewed out were all coherent, yet wonkily pronounced utterances paired with teary eyes and sniffling nose, as you can't seem to control the feelings of melancholy in your heart and the sudden emotional burst from your ramblings.

"thank you, you too, actually— but are you alright-"

"you're so hot, god, please. i don't know..." you gave him no time to speak as you hiccupped, lips wobbling even more than you can imagine. and you're trying your damn best to rid of the urge to punch at your chest as a coping mechanism through the multitude of emotions eating you up and away. but you never realized you were trying for an absolute stranger, palms fisting into itself as he stares at you worriedly all of a sudden.

"like... you're familiarly attractive, i—" the next few sentences were incoherent as your words bubbled around you like detergent soap. your fingers found itself into your face as you try to wipe off both tears and nearly dripping snot as you continued rambling drunkly.

"you just! you're hot, for me, i don't know... i'm just, we all—eughh... i don't know, i'm so sad..." and you truly are, for no reason at all other than seeing the man. poor him, must've felt so ashamed that he's the reason you're crying but at the same time... nothing can really stop you from ceasing your tears.

at least, that's what you've convinced yourself to believe in. that you're truly incurable of the ailment of being constantly depressed with nobody to aid you with your troubles. not even your friends, nor past therapists that you've consulted.

you've nothing to comfort you, and that makes you even more solemn than ever.

the simplest of emotions felt, the deeper and complex you take it out to be. sadness, or moreover depression, the horseman of apocalypse that destroys any hope you've tried to kindle with your life.

it makes you all the more burst into a wave of even more tears.

"... okay, okay, wait here for me, alright?" he suddenly stood up, hurriedly, probably unsure, or disgusted by you. you're unsure about what he's saying, too caught up crying that you simply nod to whatever he said and continued on with your episode.

as you're left alone, you allow your tears to dry only cry once more. when he left you, you weren't aware but you just felt even more lonely. at pushing away the only company you had after your friends left you in the dust, you feel depressed and regretful and all emotions related to grief and you just want to drink some more but you don't know if you can take it anymore!

god, it all returns to pain. pain you thought you could bury deep once you took multiple swigs of alcohol.

pain that makes you want to bang your head against the marble of the bar—

and you're so close to doing so, but only stopped when your blurry vision sets itself on the man returning with a handkerchief and a cold glass of ice water. at his kind gesture, you simply teared up even more, pouting when he walked your way and looked at you with a sheeping grin.

when he sat right back up on the stool seated to your right, he hesitated with his hold on the handkerchief near your face. but the moment he gathered up his pride and pressed it against the unnatural blaze of your cheeks, you merely leaned closer to his palms, eyes closing as you can feel the tears cease itself finally at the blind comfort he's unknowingly providing you.

"there, there... be careful, 'kay stranger?"

he mutters, a light chuckle accompanying him. it's only now you can finally focus on the cool churn of his voice and the , with your eyes close and the haze of your thoughts washing away, leaving you breathless in your respite— not restrictive, nor lonely, but still short of breath.

this reminds you of the times alfred had to hold you in his arms everytime you threw a tantrum at the manor.

it made you realize that the months, a near year even, after leaving the manor, made you crave physical affection. making you feel like a husk of yourself when not given. you feed off of the scraps of physical lovez to the point that even this man who's wiping away the tears from your cheeks makes your heart beat faster, in a comfortable manner.

sensations. he once told you that if you feel too deeply within, then to ground yourself you must feel beyond interior ranges of emotions.

and that's the technique you've been willing away from your head for so long. because it always requires another person in the room to comfort you, to simply touch you softly, gently like you're porcelain the same way the stranger is pressing damp fabric against your tearstained cheeks and hollowed out eyes.

the pain you've felt was because you're merely touch starved. alone, in a space where everyone has someone, and a no one can't have anyone.

but now that you do have a someone, no matter how dangerous he could've been outside of your impression of him, you feel the pain lessen, the heavy burdens become featherlight at his kind gestures of wiping all the salty tears from your face, the runny snot from your nose with no rush whatsoever.

"feel better now, hon?"

"mhm..." a long, drawled out yawn emits from your mouth, yet you're too comfortable with him to even care, suddenly feeling a wave of drowsiness after your emotional episode.

after he finished wiping your face, and felt it considerably cool down from the damp fabric, he placed it on the bar, one hand on your face keeping you stable. yet his other hand promptly went back to your cheeks.

he chose to do this of his own volitions, even leaning closer as your head finds itself slowly dropping to his clavicle (careful to avoid the spikes from his peculiar designed jacket), looking up at him and staring at his gray eyes.

the man looks down at you as you now realize he's cupping your face. at the implication of your entire ordeal with him, you might've felt flustered sober, but you're just so drunk that any spacial awareness for the proximity between your bodies just disappeared and left you with the need to sleep within the confines of the safety this man left you with.

you don't know it, but yet again the man smiles down at your adorable antics, finding the way you're absolutely trusting of a stranger both stupid, yet endearing. because he's no more stranger, and heaven bless him because he's so glad he's the person who approached you rather than anyone else because you looked so cute, and his crush on you may have lead him to stalk you occasionally just to ensure you're safe— that doesn't erase the gesture that he did it purely because gotham is too dangerous for your own good. and he's glad he trusted his human side of intuition, rationalizing with himself that today just seems to be the day you'd bump into danger if he's not there.

you're so stunning up close... how come tim never once found interest in someone as admirable as you is a mystery. but you trusting a stranger in your vulnerable state is much more.

and he's grateful he's that stranger.

because he may be a stranger to you, but a familiar one. and you feel safe, a feeling you haven't felt in so long that you simply just melt against him like clear putty; because you're transparent with what you feel right now.

and right now you feel warmth. not the uncomfortable one that blazes through your (now) cool face when you were drunk, nor the burning one whenever you thought of your family— but a pleasant one. like sitting near a fireplace as you watch the embers crackle, drinking hot cocoa whilst a quilt covers your body from the cold of the winter. you feel this way at his kindness, at his efforts to help you contain your emotions to a reasonable degree.

"what's your name, kind stranger?" you mutter on his chest (how come your head is laying on it, actually?) hearing the soft thumps of his heart. it's warm, he's warm and every bit of comfortable, as he does his best to move slightly back to remove his jacket and drape it over your body before he could reply to you, chuckling whilst doing so because you looked up at him with your eyes conveying every damn emotion that made you feel soft.

"it's conner, conner kent. call me kon, though. or yours if it's you." he purrs. it took you a minute to register his obvious flirting but what comes after is an absolute flush on your body and you recoiling from his hold as you look back at him, mouth agape. the tips of your ears were warm, and every bit of

an overexaggeration to his flirting, sure. it makes you look less appealing in your eyes, extra sure! but it's been so long since someone last attempted to flirt with you; but most were under the guise of when you were still a wayne and... and not as yourself. you! you who sports so many imperfections that—

"haha! is it strange to say that you look so cute whenever you look at me with wide eyes in the short span of time we just met?"

he slides in through your train of thoughts before you could delve even deeper through self-deprecation. and you're glad that he did because... god, he makes you want to shamelessly gloat as a reply. you've never had someone complement your eyes before, actually...

"i'm..." you look back at him after you stared down at your palms, heat overtaking your entire body. yet again it wasn't uncomfortable, and just the right temperature. you stutter your name afterwards, making sure it's your mother's last name that you highlighted implicitly and not bruce's.

he seems to grin even wider when you introduce yourself. that's when his next reply generally warranted you to nearly burst off your seat out of sheer diffidence.

"well," he says your name, tasting every syllable in his pierced tongue. "your name tastes sweet, dove. but i think your face is even sweeter now that you're not crying — not saying that isn't cute too but you're so stunning now that i look closer at you without any barriers. your eyes, especially, they're like some mix doe and siren eyes, or whatever my other friends talk about in social media. point given, you're drop-dead gorgeous in my eyes."

it all comes naturally from him that your brain merely shortcircuited and fried itself comprehending his message, forgetting you were drunk in the first place replacing it with a flush in your heart, the pit of grief and despair replaced with the lighthearted need to banter or reply meekly at his shameless flirting right after he comforted you.

this is the first time you felt something for someone's romantic gestures, instead of that wave of nausea that accompanies you.

he makes you feel... pretty about yourself. in a good way, in a way you don't feel the need to hide your insecurities for once and instead allow his eyes to flitter around your entire face, analyzing your features because... because he simply makes you feel pretty the more he stares at you.

yet all you did was take his hand on your own, a sudden burst of confidence even you couldn't explain, and played with it, as you pouted in reply before thinking— using his hand-now-turned-fidget-toy — of a good enough response.

you simply said, coughing before continuing, "i don't take back what i said moment's ago. you're hot too, even if my vision was obstructed by my tears."

"oh, really?" he smiled gently and allowed your hands autonomy to play with his. it's like telepathy, he knows it's automatic that you crave physical affection and attention and he's willing to provide you that solace.

"now that you're not crying— you think i'm even more handsome?"

you snort at his question, then took a step back with your thoughts to properly study him. neat, yet messy hair, piercing on the eyebrows and on his tongue (hot), sunglasses and spiky jacket draped upon your shoulders— goddamnit, of course he's hot! and you made it efficiently clear that he is, with your hands fiddling pattern against his soft, yet calloused hands, by squeezing it.

"yes, you are even more handsome, kon..." brief and concise, just how you like it. even if he gave you an entire essay describing you in his eyes, for you, you prefer actions; and you did so by simply being affectionate with the stranger, now acquaintance you have a slight crush on.

you'd never expected this turn of events, but it was a pleasant one and one you'd never really want to trade with anything else now that you've met kon.

so when he opened his mouth to spew something else, your ears perked up to listen and your mind, albeit slowly sobering up, prepared itself to reply to whatever flirting, conversation topics, and anything random it is that he wishes to talk about to you.

you smiled at him whilst he talked, he reciprocates as always.

yet this time, you weren't afraid to hide just how joyous you feel, for once, having a person interested in you not only physically but with your interests, too, as your conversations kept shifting to things about you.

it made inclined to learn about yourself, too. and that makes you happy, and fuzzy in the insides the more he asks you questions beyond your favorites. like in movies, he didn't simply just ask your favorites and you replied with an answer and moved on, no! you both discussed the emotional depth it impacted you with, why symbolism matters so much, and why in the near future you'd both inevitably meet up, you'll both watch it together.

that makes you feel excited.

you even forgot the main reason why you're here in the first place; to drink. now, though, it seems like you just wanted to talk to kon all night long.

fortunately for you, that's how the rest of your night went. with a pleasant buzz in the background, the sounds of remixes all drowned out in your ears as you favor the chatters of the man beside you, with the tremor of his voice a comfortable volume and his tone laced with freshly made honey.

when your friends finally ran back to the bar where you all collectively agreed to meet up at once everyone's shenanigans were finished, they giggled drunkenly whilst some sober ones whistled at seeing your hand unknowingly massaging his palms like a stresstoy and the jacket draped upon your shoulders.

the moment you returned it to him, he joked about wearing it every second now since it reminds him of you, and how it's his favorite piece of attire now beyond all his other clothing. you merely blushed and ignored the cooing of your friends behind you.

you didn't feel concerned over not seeing him anymore, as he had given you a slip of paper with his number on it in through a tissue with paracetamol pills wrapped around it (like the thoughtful gentleman he made himself out to be when he excused himself a second time to get those items, since you'd left your phone with one of your friends; you swore you felt a blush creep into your cheeks and heating the tip of your ears), you instead felt a pang of longing and furrowed your brows, looking at him as if asking if you'll see him around anytime soon as he reciprocates with a sure grin that makes you feel a wave of feather like affection.

he left shortly after, striding to you as your group recollects all your stuff and whispering a, "text you later, dove. stay safe for me, alright? don't let any other strangers get to you."

you're glad this night would end on a good note, willing away any prior doubts towards spending the night in a completely foreign street and expecting fir criminals and thugs to break in but no! you can't help but admit that your new... interest, conner, made your night a thousand times better.

and his little nickname for you... haha, you're so flustered thinking about texting him tonight. you'd neglect your assignments for now if it meant messenging him right after you get home, safely, for his sake.

when your group all came outside though, that's when things shifted.

time is a construct. it's complicated and structured like that as well. it can either be too fast, or too slow. when your friends had taken their sweet time to spend the night dancing about the dancefloor, when you'd taken the precious time to flirt and talk to kon; that's when you all collectively realized that their damn cars were stolen.

the air suddenly shifted to this thick atmosphere when you all stepped out, one that can be sliced through with a sword, and you swore—

god, you swore this night couldn't have been any better with the turn of things, but now. right after you got out the club, it all took a turn for the worse.

this is it.

you're going to die today.

you're going to die, in some dirty ditch, your friends nowhere to be found, with nobody to save you.

nasty bruises already began to form on your skin, one with harsher colors of purple, blue, and yellow on your wrists and other patches of skin; way harsher

the man in front of you was gnarly, but you've no time to judge as he kicks you in the guts.

matted brown hair lay atop his head like a bird's attempt at a near, he has an odor that reeks of sewer rats, piss, and feces, and an unruly beard that houses bits of his leftover.

he holds a weapon whose shape you couldn't make out with your hazy vision, body nearly cramping in on itself once he kicked you again.

straight in the abdomen, with brute strenght accompanied by his worn leather boots decorated with glinting spikes that sparkle under the moonlight's glow.

in the abdomen, spikes.

blood first, then curdling pain next.

no noise rips through your ears, only wringing ever present, but your mouth opens, and you can feel its tender chords crack as a scream erupts from your throat, shrill and resounding from the deepest depths of the cockpit your mouth has to offer you; uncaring for the man in front of who who suddenly covers his ears and grits his teeth, who looks at you like you're mad, yet unlike same way his two other lackeys from behind look at your like you're the creation of carnage itself.

pain shot throughout your body, most especially at the core of the holes that pierced through your clothes and right inside your skin. and as your bulging, teary eyes try to look down with an agape, whimpering mouth, his shoes still connected to your body; you could only hold off so much of that familiar taste of acidic bile paired with that lingering scent of cheap booze.

tears were a byproduct of the misery, as it began to escape from your already puffy eyes. when the man released his legs fron pinning you down, your sobs only worsened as your unpinned, shivering arm try its damned best to cover the already leaking blood.

six holes, the diameter of the more than half of your finger, was what you could make out in your line of sight. the blood that leaked from them looked black, you couldn't find where the gradient of black and red connects, your only certainty in this situation was that you'd bleed to death before help could come to you.

the spikes were as long as a toothpick, a crimson puddle lay dripping on the floor.

your legs were shaking against your will, your eyes frantically search around you yet your pinned once more, his larger body framing against your own, providing no room nor qualms for an escape.

but the only escape you wanted was one from the pain of his pressing against your injury, even more blood spilling out of its confines. your tears only hastened its descent from your shaky eyes.

when your mouth opened for the nth time to wail out, he seethed in a breathe and threatened you, with his breath as vile as his entire being, that smells like every mix of synthetic chemicals from cigarette flavors, all expired, with teeth rotting and sporting yellow and black wallpaper.

gross, so gross. you want to die when the stench hits your nose. you shrivel in yourself, you couldn't breath.

"listen here, little bitch, you quiet down or i kill you. and 'ya either give me everythin' you own in your damn possession, or i'll kick you even more until a thousand little holes will fuckin' make you bleed to death, hear me?"

hearing his statement only made the adrenaline pump even more fight of flight into your heart. but you can't do either, you can't, not when you're still hazy from the fucking alcohol and the self defense tools in your tiny pouch were thrown a few feet away from you.

you've nothing to defend yourself.

oh god, oh shit, fuck.

you want to die, you want to so fucking die than go through the same pain of nearly being abducted or held hostage again.

yet your eyes could only close, your teeth kissing your bottom lips, biting hard to drown out another pained scream. whimpers, god, they're so loud yet you can't help the whimpers and the broken faucet from your eyes. even if you beg your own body to stop, it doesn't listen to the pleas of your mind.

the only thing it can focus on is the pain. recreant, volatile pain.

a moan escapes you, shaky and prolonged. the only other emotion that you could experience after is sorrow.

you didn't expect your pleasant night to end off in such a tragic note, but as your attacker held you by your throat with one hand, a knife pointed against your face, the next that happened was your head slammed roughly against the wall; a dull, beating ache lulling the back of your head after the momentary spark of pain— you're reminded that this is reality, and you're close to losing consciousness quick.

you're going to die.

bloody, a sobbing, dissociating mess, with your thoughts spinning around the same way the stranger and his lackeys laugh — bared yellow teeth, with the smell of ichor prevalent in their clothes, predatory eyes leering at you like you're prey — at your drunken moans of pain.

you're going to die.

"well, you gonna answer me or what, bitch? you wanna die!?"

he shouts you with spit that sprays all over your face, flashing you a grin and by extension flashing you his ugly, bared teeth. some missing were in his gums, others were artificial, most rotten like him.

you're going to die.

alone, in a ditch. bloody, laying in a pool of your own crimson the same way you saw your mother drowns in a puddle of hers.

you'll die like her—

what an honor.

the more you think about the situation, the more you're led to believe that the only way to solve this was through death alone, with no restrictions, no buts or ifs. you've no fight left in your body, or any weapon to fight. you're drunk, defenseless and if you actually managed to escape, you'd still bleed to death in some unknown alleyway. if you're lucky, a stray police may find you and give you a proper burial. but you remember you're in the living incarnate of hell in america, you'll never have a proper death.

this was night in gotham. your death alone only adds to the already astounding high percentages of all the other lives lost to the same twisted fate. you were no different. and to die early than to suffer from torture is better.

i mean, who would give a shit if you die tonight, right? your family— wrong! alfred would panic at your disappearance, but he'll forget about you like he did others, you're sure of it. that's why he still chose to fucking serve the wayne's instead of fully taking your side. if he had to choose between saving you or the people he swore his loyalty onto, he wouldn't hesitate. you're sure. even if the thoughts made the doom in your heart heavier. even if you know your story would never be covered nor acknowledged, you still year

but life is unfair, everything is. that's why you're here now, in a dark fucking alleyway with men who'll more than take advantage of your dying body and leave your corpse in the dump after. life is unfair, yet it's even more cruel in gotham. you should've expected this, should've known that a turn of events could be possible. you'll feel regret in the afterlife, only for a life that could've been well-lived, but never for the choice of living through the torture you call being a wayne.

so you came to the conclusion; confident for once after living for thirteen and a half years walking on eggshells around a manor.

this is not as bad as their neglect.

you smile in response to the guy, genuine and filled with grace as your heart that once pounds against your chest now slows down to a calm pace, finally at peace. with no other intention than to rattle him even more, to the point of choosing you to kill with his own hands as brutally as he likes— so you finally take a well deserved rest from life.

you gather saliva at the center of your tongue, ignore the taste of blood that swirls, nor the soreness of your throat and the crimson dripping down your nose.

when he looks down at you, disoriented at what you're doing, you spit at him, all the beating in your heart hastened, yet slowed down as quickly as you heave in a final breath.

... you're finally going to die.

"FUCKING HELL, YOU DAMN CUNT—!"

you close your eyes, bracing yourself for the knife that would hopefully stab you in the face, or the chest, and think of your last thoughts. you thank alfred for caring for you for those thirteen years, you hope you win your mother's graces in the afterlife even if she discovered your deliberate choices for killing yourself in the spur of a moment, and you wish your old family a happy life living without you, even if they already did so for so long.

all you needed was seconds to conclude your prayers.

but they weren't answered as you wanted them to be, not when you open your wide eyes to what was supposed to be a glint of silver piercing through the middle of your face was replaced by a bullet, quick and precise, shooting through his cranium without mercy, body immediately laying limp within those seconds.

the other two behind him were good as dead, too, your savior not wasting any moment to end their lives then and there.

and as you stumbled from the grip released from your body, your torso nearly crumpling in on itself, a flash of familiar, metallic red enters your vision when you'd look up from your savior who's huge form now meticulously acts as your shield from the brutal carnage that lays upon your line of sight and a pillar of protection trying to help you stand from the pain that shot through your lower abdomen.

but you don't want to stand, you want to drop dead right now. you don't want this, you didn't want this to happen.

instead of gratitude, dread fills your lungs with water and your fingers were left to tremor.

he looks down at you, you couldn't make out his expression, but you could feel the anger coursing through his body, the same as the day you first met him when he was still newly rebirthed, like it's telling you of his unadulterated rage at witnessing the scene before him. his body shakes, heavily, and his grip on your hands tighten, a mechanical groan drawling deep from his automated voice banks that changes his voice.

yet all you feel was fear overtaking your entire body prior to the comfort at the prospect of death.

you'd rather die than this.

even you couldn't believe the whimper of his name from your wobbling lips, as your body, out of instinct despite the pain, tried to push itself against the wall, away from him.

he only moves to hold your waste protectively, like a... brother suffocating his younger sibling with blankets when they complain it's cold. overbearing, disgustingly affectionate; you don't want it.

you feel cold.

this day could've been any worse— and it took a turn to the all worse scenarios you could imagine.

"jason...?"

"angel..."

a single familiar name was spoken, yet a new nickname was introduced. angel: the same way jason swore what you looked like when he sped through his motorcycle after hearing a shriek from all across the streets, finding you, bleeding and beaten to a pulp, with your attacker almost stabbing you.

of course, who wouldn't hesitate pulling a gun against someone trying to kill your precious? jason doesn't even need to choose.

and whether he did it in the name of justice and respect to his moral code, or because finding someone with a familiar face, sharing the same hopeless, yet death-accepting expression as he did back when he died— it all doesn't matter in the heat of the moment now.

what matters is that his angel is hurt and the madness in him festers the longer you bleed out in his arms, defiant and fearful all the same.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

PLEASE READ: 11,000+ words. AND I LITERALLY HATE THIS CHAPTER (new least favorite fr) 😭 this decision is so impulsive i gonna regret it soon. chapter 5 will be released after a few days and i promise it has more action than this I SWEAR. first parts are always boring. anyways, there're so many song references in this chapter and for the next chapter. if any of you could guess what they are, i'll be rewarding all of you with something special. otherwise, please leave comments for this chapter! what motivated me to write was reading everybody's comments and inputs, about the love they have for this series as much as i do. interactions, asks, comments, they're all important and dear to me and i heavily appreciate it. so more interaction = more content. after all, i'd rather a post with little likes but with no interaction than a post with no interaction but all likes.

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[dcxdpdabbles]

de-aged Danny is one of my babies,

Shit hits the fan with the giw and Danny is super injured and Clockwork has to mess with some things so Danny doesn’t return to his core being vulnerable and sends him millions of miles away to Gotham and in the process Danny becomes 6/10 years old and is weeks healed due to being smaller and costing less ectoplasm but is still achy, Danny is steered to Jason’s apartment where he just got off his shift and then his is the twist! Jason is mute due to an accident with the joker and Batman (batman unintentionally causing his muteness) and out of reflex of a child on his counter hand first into a box of Cheerios let’s put a exasperated noise of flames and a lighter and Danny responds with his own spark of electricity and Jason is shocked (hehe) that Danny can understand and even communicate can he just lets out everything he’s been doing since “holy shit I can talk to someone normally” and then he realizes this child has the same scar as him and is pissed but Danny calms him down and calms the pits and he’s like “okay you’re mine now shit- I’m like Bruce- no. I’ll think about this later-“ Danny is super cute and Jason is having a field day with parent hood and Jason gives Danny a comm for when he goes out but he’s only allowed to speak in ghost speak and the rest are confused when Jason sprints away and they follow to see Danny in Jason’s arms being lulled to sleep with a man on the ground knocked out or dead who knows not Jason because it was shoot & punch and ask questions later and then Danny says sleepily “Oh your daddy’s brothers, hi” like it’s normal to meet family in this situation and Jason puts him to bed before signing “Say anything to Bruce and you will never be called uncle or attend his birthday in your life.”

Bruce only finds out when Jason some how ends up super injured and can’t sign and Danny translates (no editing just straight he said fucking hell) and introduces himself as Danny Todd, Bruce privately cried a little

The Waynes knew that Jason had become far more distant since his accident. Bruce blamed himself, but in the end, it was Joker all over again.

The family had been on other missions when a distress call from Bruce came in. They all raced to give aid- if it was Bruce calling, then you know it was a huge deal- only to find their father figure pressing his hands desperately to the neck of a bleeding Jason.

The Joker had sliced his neck in one of his sick games.

They were able to get him to medical aid and save his life, but the damage to his vocal cords had been too severe. Jason would never be able to speak again.

Since then, Jason has kept his distance. The whole family was fluent in sign language- one of the first of many languages Bruce had them learn for their Bat training- but it only helped them if Jason wanted to sign around them.

It felt like the second oldest was actively trying to avoid the acknowledgment of his injury. Little by little, Jason began to drift away from the family. He no longer arrived early for family dinners to help Alfred cook, he did not say for games or movies afterward, he found excuses to not hang out with the family members, and even after patrol, he left as soon as he finished.

Even texts were becoming less and less frequent. The Wayne children attempt to surprise visit him just so they can make sure he isn't alone until Jason starts jumping between safe houses.

Jason is isolating himself, and the Waynes are alarmed by the way he is retreating into himself. This continued for months, and nothing they did worked to help him.

Despite the desperate attempts to connect to him, Jason was too far gone to be reached. He did not die, but they lost him all the same.

Then, one day, out of the blue, Jason's distance changed. Yes, he was still not coming around the family much, but the sadness on his shoulders loosened.

His demeanor was still tired, but not as if his soul was exhausted. He still ran off after patrol, but instead of a shameful shuffle, his stride was more excited.

No one knew why, but Wyanes breathed a sigh of relief at the change.

They also had some theories.

"He has a lover!" Dick exclaims after watching Jason run off the second Bruce dismisses them. He had stopped to clean himself up a little before riding out as Jason, the civilian. "He's going to go get ready for a hot date."

"He found a new book series." Duke offered as Jason seemed to be writing in a little notebook. He was thoughtful and dazed as he wrote like whatever notes he took were something he would revisit again. "He is writing fanfiction again."

"His crime empire is being threatened, so he is slowly picking off traitors," Tim proposed after seeing Jason upgrade his security to his home and safe houses. He even added a new line to the cons so that he could listen to his home like a Bat version of a baby monitor. "Doing it quick and quietly to not let them escape."

"He is going back to school!" Steph announced happily when she saw him at the store buying school supplies. "He can finally get that diploma he has always wanted!"

"He has found a new passion for a hobby," Damian countered after seeing Jason look over his old art easel. Jason had asked Damian what he recommended for a beginner. "It's allowing him to have an outlet in a creative, healthy manner."

"He has fallen for a book character again and can't tell the difference between reality and Fiction." Bruce fretted after seeing Jason chuckle to himself at post-it notes that had little hearts in his lunch box. They were signed by Jason's favorite characters in a writing that was reasonably similar to Jason's.

Cass only smiled knowingly, but she always seemed to know more of what was happening than the rest, no matter the situation.

The only other person who knew more than her was Alfred, but that man would never share secrets with anyone for any reason.

Jason seemed unaware of their theories or concerns (Bruce) since he was always busy doing whatever he was doing. It got to the point they decided to follow him about, only becoming more confused when Jason visited places like pre-schools and kid-friendly parks around the city.

It didn't help that Jason caught on to the fact he was being followed, leading the Bats all over the city to random locations and had them fumbling about what was a natural destination and what was retaliation for the trailing.

Then, one night, while the Bats were meeting up on a rooftop for some briefing and a breather, the new con line sprung to life, scaring everyone connected to it out of their skins.

"There is a strange man in the house!" A voice screeched. A young voice, one that didn't even sound like it belonged to someone who had reached their double digits.

At once, Jason jumped from his slouched-over position near the building's roof door and flung himself over the edge. His grabbing hook hissed as the large man threw himself across the rooftops frantically.

Stunned, the Bats watched him go, unsure of what was happening, until the young voice spoke again, a soft whisper. "He is in the hall- he has a knife."

A strange crackle of fire and electricity was heard over the con, and it took them all a moment to realize that it had come from Jason. The child- a boy based on the voice- responded with a slight tremble. "I'm hiding in my closet. I'm scared."

The words of a distressed child kickstart their brains, and everyone snaps to attention.

"Oracle, where is the signal originating from?" Bruce snaps, throwing himself over the edge to follow Jason. The rest of the family is right behind him.

"Jason's safe house in Uptown Gotham," Babs responds instantly with the accompanying clicking of her keyboard. She sucks a breath through her teeth in a pained hiss. "B, the address for Jason's safe house... it's connected to Upper Smiles Preschool for Danny Todd. Jason is marked as his father."

There is ice in everyone's veins when she says that as Danny- Jason's son- lets out a choked sob, then a scream that horrifies everyone as they try to run faster. "He found me! Help! Help! Daddy! Help!"

A boom goes off across the communicator, and they know Jason is responsible for the nose, but there is no explosion. Not that it matters.

They, too, understand what Jason meant by the strange noise he made- it's a protective rage that someone would dare to even think of harming one of their own.

Every Wayne pushes themselves past their limits, unwilling to let themselves be too late.

"Hold on, sweetheart, help is on the way. Hit him with anything around you until it gets there." Babs tells him, her voice cracking as Danny cries, and a man yelling can be heard.

"You little shit!" An unknown roars, and everyone hates him instantly. "I'll teach you some fucking manners!"

"Let me go! Let me go!"

They are ten minutes out even when they drop into the batmobile and company bikes. Jason is only eight. But every second feels like a lifetime as they listen to what Danny is going through.

There are sounds of struggles, of a tiny voice screaming and crying, then- gunshots.

Two loud and clear gunshots. Then silence, the kind that makes even a grave loud.

Bruce's grip on the steering wheel tightens to the point of pain, and everyone is in no better state. The silence over the con is just as devastating as Jason's mournful crackle, like a dying fire.

No. No gods, no, please don't let this mean Danny is-

"Not to worry, dear child, I am here." Alfred's warm, soothing voice is heard, and everyone almost collapses in relief. Danny's cries are muffled like his face is pressed against something as Alfred coos. "It's alright. It's alright, you're safe now. Shh"

Jason makes a sound similar to thunder.

"Yes, Master Jason, I was in the neighborhood. I wanted to bring my great-grandson a little present and saw this healthen mucking about where he does not belong. I shall be moving Danny to the manor."

It's a command that does not allow any arguing, but no one dares to say anything as they collectively change direction to the manor. Patrol for the night has been canceled.

They had a new little addition to the family that needed them more than ever. Now that they knew about him, they would never allow Jason to keep Danny away from them.

Later in the night, after hugs, kisses, and greetings, Danny is painting alongside Damian. He standing on a small stool to reach the easel, wearing an apron with the Batman symbol, and is smiling like there are no troubles in the world.

Everyone's heart melts when he asks them if they can sit still for him to paint a family portrait. He isn't Jason's by blood, but that has hardly mattered to a family such as the Waynes.

All they need to know is that Danny was found wandering around Jason's old safe house, speaking in the strange sounds that Jason could make, and was the cause for the second oldest to regain his joy of life.

All that mattered was that tiny, little six-year-old Danny Todd was one of theirs, and they would love him with all their hearts.

Master Post Link

[queenshelby]

The Peaky Role (Part One)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Best Friend's Dad

It has been two days since you received the e-email that would forever change your life and the first person you wanted to tell was not your father Dermont, but rather your best friend Nina.

You could almost feel the weight of the email on your chest as you walked toward the coffee shop where you and Nina often met, the buzz of Dublin’s streets merging into a backdrop of excitement.

You've known Nina ever since highschool. Your two fathers have been friends for years, and their bond essentially stitched together a friendship for the both of you that felt as natural as breathing.

At twenty years old, Nina was the oldest of three children, with her younger brother being seventeen and her other sister being fifteen.

You, on the other hand, were an only child but never felt lonely, thanks to the chaos your friends often brought into your life. You were twenty years old as well and just finished an eighteen months drama course at Dublin's Theatre School, and finally, you felt the thrilling rush of your dreams inching closer.

As you pushed open the cafe door, the bell chimed, pulling Nina’s head up from her book. She looked up, knowingly expectant, and set it aside.

“Tell me you haven’t been here long,” you said, sliding into the seat across from her, breathless with urgency. You had a habit of being late unless it came to work committments and Nina should have been used to it by now.

“Only a few minutes," Nina replied, her blue eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"Oh good. I am sorry for being late. Again," you told her with a slight chuckle before breaking out in a big grin.

Nina raised an eyebrow, leaning forward, the hint of a smile dancing on her lips.

"Why are you smiling at me like this?" she asked, her eyebrows knitting together in mock suspicion.

"Well," you started as you tapped your fingers on the table, trying to calm the electric excitement bubbling in your chest.

"I got... I got a part! In a movie!" you told her and Nina immediatly squeaked and nearly knocked her coffee over.

"What? A movie? How? When? What's it called?" she wanted to know and, even though her father was a rather famous Oscar winning actor with countless accolades, the excitement in her voice sounded genuine, almost as if she didn’t have connections to the industry.

“Don't get angry, but," you began to respond, drawing it out “I auditioned for the Peaky movie six weeks ago, and I just found out that I got a part!”

Her eyes widened as she leaned back, processing your words as if they were a punchline to a joke.

"You know that you could have asked my dad for a role or something, right?" Nina said, excitedly nonetheless.

“I know, but I wanted to do this on my own. I didn’t want his name backing me up,” you said, excitement battling against nerves.

Nina pressed her lips together, reconsidering. “Well, congratiolations then. I think that’s huge!" she chimmed in excidetly.

“Thanks! It feels surreal to even say it out loud. I auditioned for three different roles and I didn't expect to get any of them to be honest," you said as you propped your chin on your hands, watching the steam rise from her coffee.

“But you are fantastic and Steven Knight would have seen that right away ," she replied, her voice filled with sincerity.

"Now tell me though, does my dad know yet?" she asked before carrying on. "How about your dad? Does he know?" she wanted to know, excitement evident in her voice.

“Not sure about your dad, seeing how he is a producer on the show, but I haven't told anyone yet. I wanted you to be the first to know," you said, leaning forward.

Nina's eyes sparkled with mischief as she wanted to know more about your first movie role. “Well, he hasn't said anything to me yet, so I guess he does not know," Nina stated, a big smile stretching across her lips. "Now tell me though, what role did they give you?" she asked and, of course, this was a question you dreaded to answer.

You hesitated, the words caught in your throat. “I’m playing… Thomas Shelby's new love interest," you told her with a hint of ermberassment in your voice and watched as her face froze mid-sip.

“Wait, hold up. Thomas Shelby's love interest?" she gasped, nearly spilling her coffee. "You mean his new wife or his new fling, because from what I understand, there two roles like this in the movie," Nina said, having secretly read the script.

"The fling. The young girl he meets in Small Heath,” you clarified, leaning in, your voice lowering slightly, almost conspiratorially as if sharing a secret with her. "I would be way too young to play his wife," you clarified as Nina leaned back, wide-eyed, her fingers curling around her coffee cup as if bracing for impact.

“Jesus Y/N,” Nina continued, her eyes narrowing. "You can't possibly take that role," she declared, her voice scratching at the edges of disbelief.

"Why not?" you asked, a little suprised by her change in demure.

“Because it means you’ll have to make out with my dad!” she blurted out, her voice rising an octave as if discovering a scandal in a soap opera.

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “It’s just acting, Nina!" you chuckle, feeling amused by her dramatic reaction.

“You still need to kiss him, don't you?" Nina gripped her coffee cup tightly, her eyes wide with mock horror. "I mean, eeww!"

You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress a grin. "It's not that bad," you continued, the laughter bubbling up again. “It’s like a stage kiss. You just… do it. Lights, camera, action, and then you move on. It's all pretend.”

Nina scoffed, shaking her head like you’d just offered her brussels sprouts for dessert.

“Pretend or not, it’s still my dad,” she huffed, crossing her arms like a stubborn child. "He is old and it's disgusting!"

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Your dad is not that old. He’s—”

“Forty-eight!” she interjected, voice booming like an air horn.

“He looks younger," you defended, defending both Cillian’s age and your newfound opportunity.

Nina rolled her eyes, her expression a blend of disbelief and exasperation. “You’re seriously going to kiss my dad on camera, and if that doesn’t scream 'public embarrassment,' for the both of us then I don’t know what does!”

You leaned back, arms crossed in mock defiance. "He might be your dad, but I can positivly guarantee you that a lot of girls our age would so want to be me when that happens," you mused, joking about the tidal wave of jealousy that was bound to crash over their heads.

Nina rolled her eyes dramatically. “Right,” she laughed like the devil's advocate has appeared. "I am so not going to watch this movie now," she proclaimed, shaking her head before deciding to finally change the topic.

****

Meanwhile, Cillian arrived on set in Liverpool. He had flown in from Dublin that same morning in order to attend a meeting between the producers and the casting director.

Filming was just around the corner, starting in less than eight weeks, and only a few days ago, the final cast members were selected by Shaheen, the casting director.

Cillian stepped into the bustling studio, the air thick with excitement, chatter, and the hum of activity. Crew members maneuvered around with equipment while costumes were being meticulously arranged nearby amidst the chaos. Cillian walked through the flurry, his deep blue eyes scanning the room, searching for familiar faces.

There was a lot to get ready now and everything had to be done swiftly.

“Cillian!” Shaheen’s voice cut through the chatter, pulling his attention. He turned to see the casting director striding toward him, the usual energy in her step indicating that there was something important to discuss.

"We had a few last minute changes to the cast as three of our initially selected applicants are no longer available," she said, her brow furrowing slightly.

Cillian sighed, bracing for whatever news followed. “What’s the change? I thought things were solid by now.”

“Right, so the change is—” Shaheen started, pulling out the list. "We have secured Rebecca Ferguson now to play Thomas Shelby's wife. But we already discussed this possibility last week and you approved." Shaheen explained and Cillian nodded, recalling the conversation with Shaheen and Steven and welcoming the change.

"We also have a young man by the name of James Dwyer who will be playing one of the new gang members. It's not a big part, but integral. He seemed talanted and has the right looks. You've got some scenes with him," she continued, flipping through her notes.

"Right, sounds good so far," Cillian replied, nodding approvingly. He continued to scan the room, searching faces for anyone he knew. "Then there's the last casting announcement," Shaheen said, her fingers flicking through the papers. Cillian’s interest piqued, his gaze sharpening.

“Go on, then. Hit me with it,” he urged, curiosity knotting in his stomach.

Shaheen took a breath, seemingly savoring the suspense. “We were trying to find the perfect fit for Thomas Shelby’s love interest, and after extensive auditions, the role went to a somewhat unknown actress instead of the talents you had in mind," she said, glancing at her notes again before locking eyes with Cillian. "But she was by far the most talanted and fits the description of the role," she concluded.

“Okay, what's her name?” Cillian asked, wondering whether he had heard of it before.

“Y/N Whelan,” Shaheen said, her voice steady but the slightest hint of curiosity danced in her eyes. "I believe she is from Dublin too," she explained as Cillian choked on his water.

He coughed, a ripple of confusion mixing with the unexpected twist of emotion. “Y/N Whelan?” he asked before he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, disbelief creeping into his features as he processed the information.

“Yes," Shaheen nodded, her brow furrowing slightly at his reaction as she handed him your application form with photograph. “Do you know her?”

Cillian stared at the photograph, disbelief washing over him. Your bright eyes sparkled with a mix of ambition and innocence, while a playful smile graced your lips. It was all too surreal. Cillian stared at the photograph, his mind racing.

“Fuck," Cillian muttered under his breath, running a hand through his grey hair, suddenly feeling the weight of this new development.

“What’s wrong?” Shaheen raised an eyebrow, sensing the shift in his

"She is my best friend’s daughter,” he said, barely masking the surprise in his voice as he rubbed his temple, feeling the heat of an immovable conflict settling in.

Shaheen blinked, clearly processing the revelation. “And that’s an issue… why?"

Cillian leaned against the table, wrestling with his thoughts. “Because I don’t want to be the one making out with her on screen. She's new to the industry. She’s got that raw talent, sure, but she’s… she’s Y/N,” he stuttered, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface.

“Cillian,” Shaheen interrupted, her voice steadying as she placed a hand on his arm. “She was by far the best for the role and you know how this works but, if you want me to cast someone else, then I will do it,” she offered, her tone firm but gentle.

Cillian shook his head, torn. “No, no. That’s not fair to her. She earned it,” he replied, positioning himself upright, resolving to put aside his discomfort.

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred @blondie-22

[eetherealgoddess]

ꨄExotic Troubleꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere Hybrid Au

❦Y/n pet sits a rich owner’s exotic hybrids❦

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchuyo, & Haitani Brothers x Reader

Not fully proofread!

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR, AO3, AND WATTPAD UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

Japanese language is red

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There will be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Exotic Trouble

“Rin, Ran! Goddamnit, what is this?!” Y/n exclaims after closing the front door of the mansion behind her. Glaring at the culprits as she waves her hands around the mess that lies everywhere, including the scratched furniture and fallen frames, glass shards all over the wood.

The oldest brother could be seen sleeping on the torn couch, his furry ears flipping down as his slumber is disturbed, turning his body to face the back of the couch as his tail drapes over the seat. The youngest simply sat on the floor beside his brother’s tail, leaning back against the bottom of the couch as he licked his hand, claws out.

“Explain yourselves, right now!” She stomps one foot as she places her hands on her hips. She throws her hands out as they slap against her thigh, dropping as she frustratingly sighs when she’s ignored.

“You’re getting paid for this, you’re getting paid for this, you’re getting paid for this.” She murmurs to herself as she walks past the mess, walking up the staircase in search of the others she’s been paid to pet sit.

“Mikey! Kazu! Haru!” She calls out. The door down the hall creaking open as the tiger hybrid walks out, strolling towards her.

“I don’t know about Sanzu, but Mik-.”

“Master!” A cheerful cry reaches her ears. A short, blonde lion hybrid dashes toward her as she holds her arms out, already knowing what he was about to do. He jumps on her, arms wrapping around her neck as she holds him up. He buries his face into the crook of her neck, causing her to lightly shiver as his warm breath reaches her skin.

“Mikey, you know I’m not your master. Where’s Sanzu?”

“I don’t know.” He whispers as he drifts off to sleep. She sighs as she eyes Kazutora.

“Y/n, can we lay down? I want to watch a movie.” Kazutora yawns as his fangs show, rubbing his eyes. She smiles slightly at the cuteness before her frown returns.

“It would have to be later, before I go home. Kazu, do you know who trashed the foyer downstairs?”

She has an idea that it’s the Haitani brothers doing, but she had to make sure so she could explain why the owner’s furniture is torn apart.

“No.” He shakes his head. “Can you spend the night, again?” He questions as he gives her a doe - eyed expression.

“Kazutora, I know you’re lying to me.” He flinches as her tone changes. He crosses his arms as he looks away.

“Fine, I won’t make you snitch. Perfect timing to have company over, great.” She sighs. His eyebrows furrow.

“Company?” She ignores his question as she walks from room to room.

“Damn, Haru hides too well.” She murmurs as she searches. A ring at the doorbell halts their movement. Kazutora sniffs the air.

“Here, take him for me please?” She hands him Mikey before he could respond, rushing down the stairs.

Before she could make it to the door, she gasps as she sees both brothers at the doorway, interrogating her boyfriend.

“Who are you?” Rin glares at the newcomer while Ran sniffs in suspicion, his hands in his pockets while Rin’s arms cross.

“Uh, Hi. I’m Tanaka, Akio.” He bows as he sheepishly smiles, nerves a little wrecked as he wasn’t expecting to be greeted by exotic hybrids. He underestimated the words ‘pet sitting,’ thinking of them being regular pet hybrids and not exotic which are known to be bigger and intimidating creatures.

The door slams closed as Ran became bored of the conversation, if it could be called that. Tanaka scratches the back of his head before the door opens swiftly.

“I’m so sorry about that Aki, they’re just grumpy.” She says, moving out of the way to invite him in. “Hence the mess that I recently came home to.” She chuckles. The hybrids frown at her use of a nickname.

“Don’t worry about it, babe.” She grabs his wrist to pull him as she shows him around.

“By the way, that was the Haitanis. The tiger carrying the lion is Hanemiya and the lion is Mikey. The jaguar is hidden somewhere, but his name is Sanzu.” She explains.

“How is it taking care of exotic hybrids? I heard it can be troubling.” He inquires, readjusting his glasses as they walk down the hall to the kitchen.

“It’s not too hard. Some of them are troublemakers, though. I’d say that’s the only ‘issue’ that I've had.”

“Who is that?” Mikey asks, crawling out of Kazutora’s hold as he raises a brow. They walk behind the two humans, along with the Haitani brothers.

“I don’t know, but I don’t like him.” Kazutora responds.

“He looks weak.” Ran chuckles, “What is she doing with him?”

“He better be a friend. It’d be humiliating for him to be anything else.” Rin says.

“He’s obviously her partner.” A soft voice says behind them. They stop in their tracks as they turn their heads.

“Sanzu, where have you been?” Kazutora asks.

“If you look at their body language, you can see that they’re in a romantic relationship. Especially with how she looks at him.” He frowns, crossing his arms.

They all turn to observe the couple, to their disappointment they glare at the way they hold hands and laugh together. Some of them let out small growls as they see the man rubbing her arm as they converse.

“We should watch a movie. Need an excuse to cuddle.” He suggests, chuckling along with her giggle.

“Yeah, let's do it.”

They headed up the stairs having grabbed a few snacks as they made their way to the bedroom. The hybrids watch as they close the door behind them, shutting off access to their view. They all glance at each other before nodding.

After thirty minutes of watching the movie, the couple began their make out session on the bed, her leg draped over him, her body nearest to the door. His arm draped over her waist. As they motion their lips together, he slightly opens his eyes, only widening them when he sees two pairs of glowing purple eyes in the doorway. In response, he wraps both arms around her waist and pulls her on top so he can ignore the presence standing by.

He closes his eyes as he continues, his hands making their way to her ass, giving her a gentle squeeze before moving them back to her waist. When he opens his eyes, he jumps as if he wasn't expecting a pair of icy blue eyes or even the dark voids to be staring directly from his side, stoic facial expressions that give him the chill.

“Hey, are you okay?” She questions, not realizing the reason for his halted movements.

“Um.” He points at their audience.

“Mikey, Haru! What the fuck are y’all doing?” She exclaims.

“We wanted to watch the movie, too.” Mikey pouts.

“Fine. Let’s all move to the den.” She says, moving from her position as her bottom hits the mattress.

“No, I want to be comfortable.” Mikey whines as he hops on top of her, burying his face into her chest.

“Mikey, we can’t all fit on the bed. Let’s go.” She says as she carries him downstairs, her boyfriend and the other hybrids following behind.

Tanaka can feel the hatred radiating from the group, not only by the glares coming from every which way, including Mikey who’s staring at him from the crook of her shoulder, but also by the Haitani brothers bumping into him as they walk side by side. The tension in the room is thick, intimidating him.

When they all make it to the den, her boyfriend sits on the end of the sofa as she sits next to him, Mikey sitting on top of her with his face still buried on the crook of her neck. Sanzu sits on the floor, leaning his head against her leg farthest from the boyfriend as Kazutora sits near her other leg that’s nearest to Tanaka. Rin sits beside her, wrapping an arm around hers. Ran stands in front of the boyfriend.

“Move.” He demands, nonchalantly, eyes heavy lidded with a stoic expression, his tail swaying. Although there was no tension in his face, those lazy eyes pierce through Tanaka, causing him to immediately get up.

“Wait, Ran that wasn’t fair! Aki-.”

“No, Y/n. It’s okay.” Tanaka responds. She continues to eye him as Ran sits down, using his tail to wrap around her waist as he leans his body onto hers.

“Are you sure? Ran come on don’t be mean.”

“It’s okay, baby.” Tanaka says, sitting next to Rin, although not too close.

“Alright.” She sighs, turning the tv on and another movie on display.

Thirty minutes passed once more as Mikey’s head rested on her shoulder closest to Rin.

“Master, can you rub my back?” He whispers, hot breath on her ear. She nods as she uses the hand closest to Ran to begin petting his back. Tanaka side glances. His eyes widen when he sees a wet tongue come out and glide up her neck.

“Mikey, I know you’re affectionate, but not right now, okay?” She whispers, knowing that he licks in content often like a normal hybrid pet, though she doesn’t want to freak her boyfriend out considering he has barely any knowledge of these creatures.

“But the movie is scary and this relaxes me.” He whines. Tanaka hears everything as he grits his teeth. Rin and Ran snort as they know what Mikey’s doing and they’re not against it.

“Fine.” She sighs. “Just try to chill out okay. It’s not real.” She rubs his back.

He continues to give her little kitten licks, to Tanaka’s disappointment, though he didn’t dare say a word. Finally, he and Mikey make eye contact, the lion hybrid staring intently as he uses his tongue to give a long lick before sucking the sensitive skin. His ears pull back as he gives another long lick, kissing her neck before nibbling.

“Mikey, stop that.” Y/n whispers, shivers going down her spine at the newfound sensation he gives her. He begins to purr as he continues his suckling, ignoring her as he continues to stare Tanaka down. He smiles when he stands up.

“Hey, babe. I’m gonna go, okay?”

“What? The movie isn’t even over.” She says, unknown to his real motives of leaving.

“It’s fine, I have work in the morning anyway and this was a distant drive.” He says as he walks near the exit of the den.

“Okay, let me at least walk you out!” She says as she begins to try and move Mikey, though she’s plastered in her seat by all of the hybrids holding her.

“It’s fine. It was good to see you. Text me.” He waves goodbye.

When he disappears from the room, Sanzu and the Haitani brothers hop from their seats.

“Where are y’all going?” She questions.

“To lock the door and get food.” Ran answers.

She nods as they disappear, Mikey’s tail wrapping around her waist as a sleeping Kazutora subconsciously rubs his face against her leg. Mikey’s grip tightens as he continues assaulting her neck.

“You must be overstimulated. Do I need to grab one of your toys?” She asks as his fangs lightly pierce her neck when he nibbles. He shakes his head no and continues his licks and kisses.

As Tanaka walks to his car, he fails to notice the figure before it jumps on him from behind. His glasses fall, shattering as he looks into crazed blue eyes. Before he could react, large claws scrape against his chest as he screams. Ran shoves a cloth into his mouth before moving to his arm, tearing it clean off using his mouth and claws. Rin grabs his leg, using his strength to break it, slicing the skin with his claws as he pulls it completely off. Screams muffled as Sanzu wraps his mouth around his neck, using his sharp teeth to take a chunk out of his body, killing him as the blood splatters out.

They continue to slaughter his body for fun before contacting the butlers and maids to clean the mess before their pet sitter could see.

“Guys?! What’s all this blood from?!” She exclaims when they enter the den. Kazutora wakes up as her yelling brings him from slumber. Mikey eyes the other hybrids in content.

“Food.” Rin simply responds.

She sighs, feeling sorry for the poor animals they fed from.

“Let’s get you guys bathed and ready for bed.”

As they walk to one of the bathrooms, the men converse in their own language, knowing she can’t understand anything that they’re saying. After all, she only just moved to the country, this being her first and only job considering the pay.

“How’d he taste?” Kazutora questions, smirking as they walk.

“I would never eat disgusting scum. We tore him apart and the employees completed the rest.” Sanzu states.

“Good.” Mikey smiles.

“It was too easy. I wanted a challenge but he just laid there.” Rin pouts.

“What else would you expect from a weakling, brother?” Ran smiles.

“Alright, let’s run this bath.”

She turns on the huge tub, adding soap as the hybrids undress. She turns away to block her sight from their human genitals as they hop in.

“Can you bathe us, master?” Kazutora teases.

“Stop calling me that. You can bathe yourselves, I’m just here to clean the mess.” She responds, crossing her arms.

“Please?” Mikey pleads, giving the signature doe eyed expression.

“What kind of pet sitter are you?” Rin taunts.

“Fine, fine, but you’ll have to wash your own balls.” She states.

“First, I’m gonna drain this bloody ass water and remake the bath.”

She does just that. As soon as the tub is full, she grabs the shampoo.

“Alright, who’s first?”

After everyone is done, they head to their designated bedrooms. Her walking each of them to make sure everything is okay. Finally, putting Sanzu to bed last, she tells him goodbye.

“Are you staying over?” He asks. She nods her head.

“Yeah, it’s gotten too late to drive home. Sweet dreams.” She says before walking out and closing the door behind her.

When she makes it to her room, she gets ready for her own shower. When she’s done she completes her night routine and hops in bed. Her brows furrowed in confusion when she didn't receive any routine responses from Tanaka. Suddenly, her phone rings. She answers the call.

As she talks with her friend, she reveals that their owner will be back either late that evening or tomorrow morning, indicating that this is her last night at the mansion, unknown to the prowling ears listening to her conversation. Once their call ends, she puts her phone down, falling into a deep slumber.

The moonlight shines through the room as the bouncing of the bed wakes her up. Sweat falls down her body as she feels cold air hitting all over her heated bare skin. Heavy breathing could be heard as moans and whispers filled the air.

As she comes back to her senses, she realizes the sensations brought to her skin, including her body rocking up and down. Opening her eyes wide when her thoughts click, she eyes in horror, a strangled gasp leaving her mouth as she sees Rin naked above her form. His hand is wrapped around a chain that connects to a collar around her throat. His other hand balances himself above her as the skin’s smacking sounds echo.

His forehead is leaning on hers as he thrusts hard, pulling his hips back and slamming it against her propped up thighs. His lips are slightly parted as his eyes are closed, breathing heavily as she feels his warm breath hitting her face. His ears flipped back as his tail wrapped around her leg.

“R-rin! Stop, right now!” She exclaims, breathlessly as her nose scrunches from the intense beating. He ignored her, continuing as he released a moan. Her hands reach up to push against his chest, his hand blocking one of them as he uses the balancing hand to hold her wrist down, claws scratching against the sheets.

“No. It’s my turn.” He breathes, sitting up as he faces her, smirking before accelerating his thrusts.

“Your t-turn?” She questions, still attempting to push him off with one hand on his chest. He nods as he motions his head to the side.

On the bed, the other hybrids, naked, are kneeled some palming their own erections while the others pump themselves, watching the display. She wails in humiliation.

“You have to stop! Th-this is not okay!”

Ran crawls toward her as he leans over to steal a kiss, shoving his tongue in her mouth as he grabs her cheek, caressing with his thumb. Sanzu comes to the other side of the bed, bending over as he latches his lips onto her neck. Mikey and Kazutora, on opposite sides, latch to her nipples, playing with them using their fingers as well as sucking.

Rin leans over as he thrusts into her from a deeper angle, causing a grunt to come out of her as he repeatedly hits her g-spot. Her toes curl as her head falls back. She pleads for them to not continue this madness, half way hoping she was still dreaming.

“My my, what a welcome home.” A familiar, sultry voice says. Y/n turns her attention to the doorway as the men continue their assault, not shifting their attention at all.

“P-please! Ah! I didn’t-! Fuck! Mean for thi-!” She tries to explain, tears falling as her eyes squint.

“Yes, I know. My boys have taken quite a liking to you so you’ll be staying here for now on. Isn’t that great?” The owner walks in as she strolls to the side of the bed, closest to Y/n’s upper body.

“B-but I can-! I can’t stay…! Ah! Here.” She responds before Ran grabs her chin and forces another kiss, tired of their conversation.

“Oh, but you can. You will. Everything has already been set in motion and you know how I spoil them. They’re good boys after all.” She walks towards the door before turning on her heel.

“Also, you won’t be hearing from, what’s his name? Tanaka, right? Don’t worry about it, everything has been taken care of. Even the damaged furniture.” She smiles before walking out and closing the door. She pulls back from Ran.

“G-guys! What h-happen-?!” Ran bites her lips as Sanzu nips painfully at her neck. Rin pulls her chain roughly, causing pain in her neck as the two fondling her breasts pinch her nubs. She shuts her eyes in pain as blood is drawn from her lip and neck.

They continue, Rin thrusting sloppier as he reaches his climax, her head dropping back as her eyes roll in the back of her head. Her body convulses as her hips buck, creaming on his bare cock. With one deep thrust, he orgasms deep inside of her.

Rin moves off of her as everyone pulls back. She lies weakly as she catches her breath, attempting to face her new reality.

“That must’ve felt great. My turn!”

“You already went, Mikey.” Kazutora responds. “It’s my turn.”

“No, I’m going next.” Sanzu says.

“Doesn’t matter who goes next. She’s going to be bred full of our cubs.” Rin hisses.

Ran ignores all of them as he crawls above her, placing his head at her entrance before shoving himself all the way in. He lifts both of her legs and leans over her with his hands wrapped around them. One of his hands moves to the chain and pulls. He smiles with amusement.

“You look so pretty all worn out, Master. I’m glad we’ll get to have you like this all the time.” His thrusts harden, steady as he hits her cervix.

“Fine, but I’m after him.” Sanzu calls dibs.

“Hey!” Kazutora hisses.

Juice oozes out of her hole as his thick girth stretches her pussy. Once again, her nipples caught in fingers as well as her neck planted with kisses. Her lips caught as she’s once again, bredded. Ran slows down as his skin slaps against hers as they make eye contact. A red hue takes over his face as his fangs tingle.

“I’m ready to mark her.”

“No! We have to wait until we all get a turn.” Kazutora says, only because he wants to mark her while he’s inside.

“Why? Let’s claim her now.” Rin says.

“You only say that because you’ve already fucked her.” Sanzu growls.

She eyes them in confusion as she tries to decipher what they’re going back and forth about. Mikey rolls his eyes as he bites her side, causing her to flinch at the pinch.

“Damnit, Mikey!” Kazutora exclaims before grabbing her arm and biting her wrist. Rin bites her neck as Sanzu bites her other side. As she orgasms, Ran leans over to bite the other side of her neck.

She yelps as Ran accelerates drastically, thrusting his hips back and forth as the meat on her thighs jiggle. Her mouth drops open as she tilts her head back once more, her core overstimulated as she arches her back.

“That’s so hot.” Kazutora states as he drops her wrists, some of the others nodding as they watch.

Eventually, he releases deep inside of her with one hard thrust, the pressure pushing against her g-spot as it’s held there causing her to cum again.

She attempts to catch her breath before Ran moves and Sanzu climbs on her.

“Haru, please don’t.” She whispers, completely spent as she holds no more strength. He smiles warmly as he grabs her palm and places it on his cheek.

“Be good for us, okay Master?”

[tokuvivor]

Let’s talk about Huey.

He’s the responsible triplet. He tries to keep his brothers in order. That’s the weight that comes with being the oldest brother.

But let’s face it. Even he needs someone to look up to. Not necessarily as a parent or guardian, like he would Donald, Della, or Scrooge, but as more of an older sibling.

Which brings me to the main point of this post: Today, I will be discussing three characters that have acted like an older sibling towards Huey at one point or another in the show (and in the case of one, has signs pointing to that happening more consistently post-canon).

Let’s start with Lena.

In the first two seasons, we didn’t really see Huey and Lena interact one-on-one much. Then we get to The Split Sword of Swanstantine! (which we saw yesterday for Movie Night, and inspired me to make this post at all), and these two paired off together to find the blade of the Sword of Swanstantine.

I cannot say enough good things about who the writers chose for each pair in the episode (them, Dewey and Webby, and Louie and Violet), and just how well they all played off each other.

Back to Huey and Lena, though. Their main adversary in this episode is Steelbeak, who resolves to take the blade with brute force, which Lena wants to match him with, but Huey would rather take a logical approach to it. So they enter Huey’s mindscape, and after repeated attempts to outsmart Steelbeak fail, Lena discovers a mysterious door to…The Duke of Making a Mess.

It’s this wild, feral creature that lives inside Huey’s mind, and Lena sees it as a way for Huey to get an edge on Steelbeak. But Huey doesn’t want to use it, as he’s uncomfortable with that side of him. But Lena gives him some advice as the former shadow of Magica De Spell: that he can’t ignore parts of himself he doesn’t like. He’s gotta own them.

So, after embracing both the madness of the Duke and his usual, logical self to thoroughly hand Steelbeak’s ass to him to get the blade, Lena called it the most beautiful butt-kicking she had ever seen.

Just look at how proud she is of him! She really didn’t think much of anyone besides Webby in Season 1, but now, she’s not only owning her past trauma, she’s using it to help Huey with his own demons (well, demon).

Sure, she took pictures of his various disguise fails versus Steelbeak, but that doesn’t change or diminish how much she helped him out in the episode. With all of that encompassed, Lena definitely gives off big sister vibes towards Huey in this episode (and I definitely feel like moments like the Duke one between the two of them would carry on down the road). Also, they have the connection of both being oldest siblings in general.

Next up: Fenton.

Of the three dynamics I’m covering here, Huey and Fenton’s gets the most coverage over the course of the series. After their first encounter in Who is Gizmoduck?!, Huey became enthralled with Gizmoduck after he saved his life, then disillusioned by him after he essentially sold out and became WaddleDuck, but in the end, it was Huey who realized that the perfect core processor for the suit was Fenton’s own mind, because Fenton is Gizmoduck.

In The Dangerous Chemistry of Gandra Dee!, Huey (along with Webby) helped Fenton with his date with Gandra at the lab (“It’s a Date!” intensifies). Even though this episode more establishes the beginning of the relationship between Fenton and Gandra, Huey’s support for his friend throughout is rather admirable.

In Astro B.O.Y.D.!, even though they didn’t really share a main storyline here, Fenton was willing to help Huey out regarding Boyd, and he was also the one that suggested that Boyd be used to fight crime in Tokyolk. This really shows that Fenton and Huey’s dynamic goes both ways in regard to one having a problem, and the other finding a way to help them out.

In The Trickening!, even though Fenton himself does not appear in the episode, Huey dressed up as Gizmoduck for Halloween, and he really went the extra mile with his costume. He even imitated Fenton’s Gizmoduck voice really well (“Halt, citizen!”).

In Beaks in the Shell!, after finding out that Fenton and Gandra are indeed together, Huey helps the two keep their relationship a secret, even going so far as having Louie dress up as him so as to not crack under the pressure of M’ma Cabrera’s interrogation. And, of course, Huey, along with M’ma and Gyro, help Fenton and Gandra take down Mark Beaks in the Gizmocloud. Even though Fenton kept their relationship secret from even Huey for so long, the fact that Huey was still willing to help cover it up just a little longer shows just how much trust the two have in each other.

Huey and Fenton are really two peas in a pod. With Fenton as an only child, and Huey as the oldest triplet, the brotherly dynamic is perfect for the two of them. It makes sense to me that as life goes on for the both of them, they’ll still show up for each other, no matter what.

And finally, Gandra.

This is a tougher one to go strictly by canon on, because Huey didn’t share any scenes with just Gandra in the show.

In The Dangerous Chemistry of Gandra Dee!, Gandra was probably confused by the whole romantic setup in the lab, and thought that Huey and Webby were mostly just in the way in regards to her getting close enough to Fenton to swipe the Gizmotech for Beaks (even though the partnership was temporary). Nothing direct between the two of them in this episode, so hard to say here.

Regarding their dynamic in Beaks in the Shell!, besides the above GIF where Gandra put a weighted blanket on Huey because he was freaking out, you can also piggyback the whole “keeping-the-relationship-a-secret” thing with Fenton onto Gandra, too, since it’s also her relationship. Plus the “taking-down-Beaks” thing.

They also had a couple brief interactions in The Last Adventure!, but beyond that, it’s up to interpretation. I think that with Gandra free from F.O.W.L., whether she sticks to her own projects, works with Team Science in some way, or both (again, up to interpretation), with Fenton’s existing friendship with Huey, it’s completely reasonable to suggest that Gandra ends up forging a friendship with him, too. And Huey would definitely like finally getting to work with her.

For as much as I love fanon’s takes on Fenton and Gandra’s relationship, in the past, Gandra didn’t usually get much else in the way of stories where she connects with other characters. Huey is absolutely a missed opportunity on that front; they’d definitely have a cool dynamic. Huey just has a way of worming into people’s hearts, and I think after some time, Gandra realizes how much she genuinely cares about him. This is not meant to be a buildup to shamelessly plugging my Gandra and Huey story, Bridging the Gap, but then again, it kinda is. If you want to read it, click here.

So there you have it. Huey’s a great big brother, but if you really, really think about it, he’s also a great little brother.

[shelbgrey]

Not many people write for Twilight anymore! I'd love to see the Cullens(separate) with a mate that has a young child in her care. Could be her own or she adopted the child when her parents(family friends of hers with no other family) passed away. Thinking she'd be about 18 and the kid is 2 yrs old. Please and thank you!!!

Cats in the cradle(Cullen family)

Paring: mother!Reader X OC!Child, Mate!Reader X Cullens(separate)

Carlisle cullen:

You had a son named Jason from a previous relationship. His father is a good dad but the relationship between you and him didn't end well.

Carlisle first interaction with Jason was when he broke his arm on the playground and had to get a cast.

When you and carlisle do start your relationship carlisle works hard to be a good father figure and you can tell he genuinely cares for him.

Like I said before his real dad is a good dad but he's not around much which causes Jason to he closer to carlisle is some ways.

If your son is in Marching band or sports, what ever the case is carlisle will go see your son do what he dose best.

Carlisle would do anything for your kid. He wants to play baseball he'll teach him, he wants to watch a movie carlisle would build a theater room for him. Carlisle spoils him.

Carlisle protects him and you both from the supernatural world as long as he can.

Carlisle asked Jason what he thought about marrying you and Jaosn was over the moon excited. He got to be carlisle best man and everything.

Jason will call him pops or old-man.

As he gets older he'll start wanting to be around Carlisle more and even wants to go to medical school like him.

Emmett cullen:

Your the oldest Clearwater sibling and you have a five year old sister named Lily who turned five when your dad died.

She's been around Emmett since she was two and she's always loved him. At first Emmett would be scared to be around her or hurt her.

It didn't matter to her cus' she'd always follow him around when she was with you guys.

She'll always want to play games with him and help work on cars with him.

She thinks he's a giant and thinks of him as a big brother.

When Harry died all she wanted to do was be around you guys. At the funeral Emmett held her as she cried.

Emmett always knows how to make her laugh. You can't take those two anywhere 😂

Those two have millions of inside jokes

Edward cullen:

You Became a teen mom unexpectedly and the father of your daughter Phenox couldn't care less.

You we're embarrassed to tell your new boyfriend Edward about the situation, not about your daughter(you loved everything about her) but mostly the stuff leading up to your bundle of joy.

Edward didn't care and wanted to be a the father to her like Carlisle had done for him.

Sometimes he'll do the wrong thing with good ententions. Like if your daughter wants to watch a horror movie he'll let her so she's happy. The down fall is her nightmares. He'll balme himself for a couple of days and keep apologizing to you both.

She loves to when he reads to her. His voice is calming in her opinion.

He's very over protective.

Her mind makes him laugh. It's always thinking of something joyful or silly.

At some point she calls him dad and he's over the moon about it. The family has never seen him so happy.

Jasper Hale:

About two years into your relationship your aunt and uncle died unexpectedly. They left behind your three year old cousin Lucas, and thats where you and Jasper come in.

When you got the call about becoming his legal guardian you didn't hesitate. Jasper was a little nervous about, but he wasn't gonna say no.

When you first brought him home Jasper had no idea what to do, he's never been around a kid that age before. Maybe Renesmee but she was only three for about four days and he was gone all that time.

Lucas settled in with the family quickly and over time Jasper and him grew super close.

Lucas loves history so he's always wanting war stories from Jasper.

Jasper would do anything for the kid and thinks he's the only pure thing in his life.

He strives to be a better person because of Lucas.

And Jasper thinks lucas is his kid no matter if they Share the Same blood or not.

Esme Cullen:

Esme is a mother at heart so she immediately took your two year old son under her wing.

She loves Danny with all her heart and felt she finally had a family.

Danny loves helping her with anything and everything. He just wants to be around her.

Sometimes you joke Danny loves her more than you.

Danny calls her mommy and you mama.

He feels so lucky to have two amazing moms like you two.

Rosalie Hale:

You Became the Gardian of your little brother Tom after your parents lost him through CPS. Knowing how awful your parents are you immediately brought him home with you to the Cullen.

Carlisle said he could move in mean he'd be around Rose more often. Rose always wanted to be a mom so she immediately took the roll as the amazing step-mom

She always wants to babysit and take care of him. She'll get him anything that his heart wants.

She'll read to him every night and if he wants to sleep your guys bed he will.

Tom loves her and thinks of her as a amazing step mom but still sees you as his sister. When he got older you explained everything to him. After that he didn't care and still saw you guys as his care givers and loving parents.

Alice Cullen:

Can't say much about this one. You have a Son named Owen and it was totally unexpected when Alice started dating you.

She's not awful to him at all it's just she doesn't know how to interact with him.

They have small talk if it's just the two of them but other than that is not fun to be together with out you.

Over time the two got used to each other but at the same time the two bickered.

Alice truly dose love him like her own son but doesn't know how to show it. She's protective and over time it annoys Owen.

You and Alice have had fights about owen but it's never serious. Owen and Alice relized they had to learn to live together if they want to be with you so they did.

Other than that Alice and owen are cool with each other, they're just not as close as you wished they were.

[puckinghischier]

just a random post with a string of nonsense thoughts about the hughes brothers and how bad i want to be a part of that family

like, not even having to marry into it kinda way, but maybe being best friends with one of the boys and just assimilating into their routines?

i mean, imagine being jack’s bestie and always being over at their house or driving him to hockey practice or tagging along to games and it’s always just assumed you’re staying for dinner after giving him a ride home from practice. Or it’s always assumed when they go to the lake on weekends you’re going to be there too

and don’t even get me started on how luke and quinn basically treat you like a sister since you’re attached to jack’s hip and act just like him. the arguments you’d have with luke about who gets to choose what’s on tv, then quinn eventually vetos any kind of compromise between the two of you because he’s the oldest so his choice “means more than both of yours combined”

also thinking about when the guys want to go play golf but you show up at their house to hang out with them, so they have you tag along and drive the golf cart, resulting in everyone getting kicked off of the golf course because you were caught by the cart girl for having two grown men hanging off of the back of your golf cart re-enacting king of the world from titanic as you make your way to the green.

or when you go on a date with a guy your friend set you up with, all three of them sneak around and tag along in ridiculous “disguises” with fake wigs and mustaches to make sure he’s not a dick or a serial killer. and when you catch them, seeing a glimpse of luke’s curly hair from a few booths down, you walk over to confront them and threaten to call ellen because you know that’s the only threat that scares them, watching them scurry off with glares on their faces, mumbling how they just wanted to make sure he wasn’t a dick.

then weeks later, when the same guy ghosts you and you see him with another girl, the only place you want to go is the hughes house, so you show up unannounced, quinn watching you walk into the kitchen (you have a key so you just let yourself in) with tear stained cheeks and he immediately goes angry big brother mode, insisting you tell him where the asshole lives so he can go rough him up a bit. jack comes downstairs to see what all the commotion is, and once he hears what happened he takes over quinn’s role as shoulder to cry on, quinn already setting everything up for a movie night and telling luke he needs to go out and get your favorite snacks.

when ellen and jim come home that night to a dark house and a blanket mound in the middle of their living room floor, they see you asleep cuddled in-between jack and quinn, with luke laying at everyone’s feet, and they smile and turn the tv off, happy that all of their kiddos are safe under one roof tonight.

and the next morning, when you all wake up to ellen cooking a huge breakfast, knowing her boys wake up like starved animals, she pulls you aside to make sure you’re okay, her heart swelling when you look over at the three heathen’s absolutely demolishing their plates of breakfast, and tell her you’ve never been better.

don’t even get me started on holidays. you have to split time between your own family and the hughes residence like you’re a child of divorce because you’ve been involved in all of their holiday traditions since you could remember. you help them decorate their tree, you help ellen wrap presents, you help jim set up all of their yard decorations, you have annual ginger bread house decorating competitions with each of the boys, and your favorite, helping the boys surprise ellen with a huge gift each year.

or when you attend all of their big games, from their team usa juniors games, to quinn and luke’s games at michigan, to each brother’s first pro game. you and ellen always have matching, personalized jersey’s for the occasion, wanting every to know who you’re there to support.

also thinking about flying out and being there for each of them when they go through their first big struggle with homesickness and missing their family, wanting to be there for them like they’ve been there for you over the years. and sending them each care packages each month with goodies from home and handmade gifts from whatever craft you’ve taken up that month (the crochet phase produced some very oddly shaped socks)

and when you decide you can’t stand not living near your favorite set of brothers, you move be closer to the youngest two, hating that you likely won’t be able to live in a place close to all three of them again. but quinn petitioned for partial custody (his exact words to jack) so the spare bedroom at his apartment in vancouver is now yours and he insists on paying for you to fly out to his place every other month, no matter how much you protest that you can buy your own plane tickets.

you know they all have countdowns to lake time each summer on their phones, too. quinn sending updates in the groupchat every day, then starting over the day everyone returns home from the summer festivities.

but overall, i’m just thinking about how fun i know it would be, and how anyone in that family will be surrounded by so much kindness and love.

anyways there’s my nonsense, random, run-on string of thoughts for the day.

[snyderside]

I am not exactly sure if this classifies as an Au or headcanons since Trolls Band Together was kinda short and for the life of me I kinda hate when movies are rushed and we get the cut scenes afterward only as a storyboard(I also tend to like the concept art more than the official art)

But enough of me ranting and more into me getting into what I think/want to happen to Brozone when the band split up

(I choose to call it their solo career)

John Dory(19):

Seeing John Dory's entrance attitude and smugness truly made me think yeah this guy is definitely full of himself and in major denial about some things and what really confirmed my suspicion was when he said "I was the oldest I had no choice but to lead!"

So for his solo career, I thought maybe he did some odd job like bounty hunting, or perhaps he played hero with a small town with a small population of trolls or some other anthropomorphic species. Of course, anyone he would save or any group of bounty hunters he'd join didn't like him because he enjoyed taking control of the situation so much or bossing everyone around. He never liked being alone but he kept driving people away, so eventually he knew solitude was his best option, therefore living in Ronda alone in a forest. He did feel regret for driving his brothers away but only because he knew he was more familiar with bossing them around than some random strangers he'd just met. He kept the mindset of "Why should I feel bad when they're the ungrateful ones!" and "All I've ever done was look out for them, and I stepped up when Mom and Dad died!" after those thoughts he couldn't help but think "What are you doing John Dory?"

Spruce/Bruce(17):

I thought it would be funny if almost everyone at his little restaurant on Vacay Island or should I say Brandy's restaurant...well her dads knew who "Bruce' really was except Brandy. I like to think Bruce went to vacay island because either his therapist or himself thought he should relax more so he went on a "vacation". He chilled out, gained a little bit of weight making him lose his six-pack, and most importantly tried to win the heart of Brandy because she seemed to be the only one not falling for his charm. Brandy played a tsundere type of approach when it came to all his advances on her, but then it all came to a game of volleyball as Bruce's way of showing his dedication to her, of course some of the other players used his small stature against him and he was getting his butt handed to him. He was only able to score a single point (IDEK how volleyball works) and the way he leapt into the air had Brandy star struck, the that that was holding his hair back snapped and he used nothing but shear will power to spike the ball. I mean sure Bruce lost but did he really? He got the girl in the end so it's all that counts right?

Clay(16):

(So I don't really have much for clay because I used most of my ADHD superpowers on the other guys and there's not too much I can go on from the movie)

Now Clay just looked around for jobs, it was retail, then tried working at some corporate building but it all didn't exactly work out because none of his co-workers took him seriously. Feeling out of options Clay walked aimlessly eventually finding Viva and the Putt-putt trolls, at the time imagined them looking more post-apocalyptic and slightly barbaric and frankly chaotic, Viva needed drastic help because she was just a little kid like Clay. Clay offered to help her mainly because he has a tiny bit of OCD (Saying this because of how grumpy he looked when John Dory went off and did his own thing and him practicing and worrying before Brozone performance.) and Viva thought/thinks so highly of him and thought of him as serious which is all Clay ever wanted so he just felt at home...and may or may not have developed feelings for her in the long run. Still, hey I've already got into a Romance segment.

I'm going to leave this here and not do Floyd because I'll talk about his little solo career journey in an OC ramble. (I have no shame.)

Thanks for reading have a lovely day!

[jaehunnyy]

Fight club

Genre: enemies-to-lovers, brother's best friend!au, angst, fluff, crack, suggestive

Word count: 3.4k

Pairing: boxing-manager!Wooyoung x fem!reader

Warnings: mentions and a few descriptions of fights, fighting settings, mentions of blood, hits, rude people, swear words, mentions of making out, pet names, kisses, allusions to some lines from the actual movie Fight Club and to Bouncy lyrics, possible grammar mistakes

Taglist: @shakalakaboomboo, @cromerteez, @nebulousbrainsoup, @justhere4kpop, @bluehwale, @bluisheye93, @ssaboala, @heesnovia

Networks: @cromernet 🤍

The white, wadded clouds were threatening to cover the ground in sad tears of rain as you were wandering around the strange city you were in, all because of his love for traveling. Your car's engine decided to give up in the middle of the street and there you were, looking for anything that would serve as a roof under your head for the night, until he gave you a sign. Suddenly, your eyes started to beam as you saw a rundown ‘Mtel’ sign, written in red neon lights (one letter obviously missing), one that happened to have a car service on the first floor. You ran there as fast as you could, fearing that it was gonna close or something; and as soon as you got in front of it, you started to wonder if you were in the right place. Two guys were trying to make their parrot talk or something, a few french keys and other tools scattered around the floor as they seemed to be occupied with their pet.

"Uhm… hello?" you dared to talk and get their attention, having two pairs of eyes analyzing you. "My car broke down… and you seem to work with these things so… mind helping me?"

The look they gave each other really had you confused—they were almost surprised with your request.

"Okay, I see how it i—"

"No! We can help, of course. We just… wondered how many other cars we have to repair, you know?" The taller one said, not-so-gently nudging the other one as if he wanted him to support his words.

The younger one jumped a little, smiling weakly as he nodded. "We got it!"

You still couldn't figure if they were honest or not, but you just went with it and let them handle your car as you went to the receptionist to book a room.

The morning came with fast steps as you woke up due to some noisy sounds from outside, disturbing your already not-so-great sleep. You yawned and looked outside the window, seeing how the two mysterious guys were carrying things in their garage. They were getting more and more suspicious, so you grabbed your jacket and went downstairs to see the process. Your car seemed to be intact, they actually put some effort into changing the color of it too into a matte one, which you weren't opposing to at all.

"Is it done yet?"

They looked at you, both trying to cover the car as much as they could as you were approaching it.

"No! Don't touch it! Go eat and then you can come see it." the one with the purple highlights said once again. "Oh, and we're Jongho and Yunho, by the way." He said, a gummy smile taking over his face as you nodded softly and introduced yourself.

As soon as you left the room, they sighed.

"We're screwed. We are supposed to be undercover policemen, not mechanical engineers!" Jongho scolded Yunho, as the oldest sighed softly.

"Then go and tell her this! I actually think we even did a great job… Even our parrot agrees."

"We'll see about that. And let’s hope she doesn’t call the police on us!"

Said and done. You came from the little diner, looking at your now covered car. It seemed promising.

"Tadaaaaa! Here is your car, fresh and new." Yunho said, taking the sheet off of your shiny car.

"Thank you so much guys! Money won't thank you enough for that." you went and excitedly opened the car's door, only for something heavy to drag you down slowly—it was the car's door.

"...I guess no money for us," Jongho said, head down in shame as he couldn't look you in the eyes. "I told you, stupid."

You were still in shock as the door was now standing on the ground, looking at the two boys. "Mind telling me what’s this about?"

"This… is not our job, Y/n, we're sorry for lying to you." Yunho said, trying to reach for you but you went outside, leaving them to wallow in self pity.

This was all because of your stupid companion, one that wasn’t even accompanying you right now, when you needed him the most. You threw your hair back in frustration, going around the busy streets you didn’t even know. It kept getting darker, and the few houses you saw were not giving you any comfort. You were in trouble, in a run down neighborhood you wouldn't even dream of. A blue-haired guy showed up at some point, and as crazy as you must have looked, you followed him into an alley. When you saw him suspiciously entering a back door; you rushed inside just before it could close. The inside was lit by some yellow lights and you swore you could hear loud cheers coming from the basement. You went to the first door you saw and opened it, forgetting about the personal space for just a while, until you saw a long-haired brunette surrounded by money. Oh, and having a rolled-up bill between his teeth. If you weren't in need of help, you would exit the door as fast as you entered it. Feeling that someone was staring at him, he looked in your direction and raised an eyebrow when he saw your unfamiliar face, putting the money in the bag and hiding it under his desk as fast as he could.

"Robbery?" he asked, eyes continuously on the money bag you were amazed of.

"Listen, dude. I'm lost in this hell of a district, my car is screwed by two liars and I just want to find a way back and go home. My last intention is to rob you."

He wore an unfazed look on his face, almost like he didn't understand a thing of what you said; he was getting on your nerves more.

"Also, what kind of people ask someone if they are gonna rob them? And how the fuck do you have so much money?"

He smirked as soon as you mentioned the money—if you looked close enough, you could almost see the dollar signs in his eyes.

"If you wanna know how, I can show you right now. Follow me."

What did you have to lose? You were already lost in your thoughts, you didn't have the energy to say no—so you followed him. As soon as you got inside the room, you noticed the pleasing decorum, but also the fighting ring in the middle of it. And after you took some time to look around and take in the new surrounding, your eyes met his.

"Sa—"

Before you could even finish anything, he was on the floor, mouth full of blood as your eyes widened, wondering what the fuck he was doing there—the one who made you get lost, the one who brought you there. Before you could speak again, you saw the money guy hurry in San's direction, as he got seated on a chair, an exhausted and hurt look on his face.

"What the fuck got you that distracted? You literally let him hit you!"

"Wooyoung… her… protect her…" he raised his hand weakly, finger pointing to you.

"Ha? Her? You know the mysterious I got lost girl?"

"That girl is my sister, Wooyoung!"

Oh.

"Shhh, calm down. Don't waste your energy. C'mon, drink a bit of water, and go back on the ring." he said, splashing half of the water bottle on your brother's face while trying to look unaffected. I didn't sign up for this, he thought, though there was nothing he could have done—they really needed the money.

The cheers only got louder when San returned to the ring, while you tried to make your way in the crowd, squinting your eyes to see something between the pink hair strands of a tall man in front of you.

"You stole my place." you turned back to face a built man, anger visible on his face as you blocked his view—and stole his place.

Words got stuck in your throat as you swallowed the lump inside of it, anger getting over your senses. "What did you just say?"

"I said that you stole my place and that I expect you to go back!" he raised his voice more and your eyes shut together, your fist ready to throw a punch, before you felt a strong arm dragging you behind them—the brunette again.

“She’s with me." he growled, dragging you next to him as you were worriedly looking at your brother. "You're going to have to win double the amount of money for this, San." he mumbled.

Another hit on the ring and he was completely out of it, the three seconds passing and the bells letting the public know who the winner was—and much to his friend's disappointment, it wasn't San.

"No way. No way this is happening. He lost because of you!" he pointed at you, hitting his chair with his foot until it fell down.

You were already overwhelmed by everything you witnessed, tears beaming at the corners of your eyes as your brother came to the two of you.

"Stop trying to control everything and just let go. Let go, Wooyoung! For once!" he said, tiredness audible in his voice as his breath was hitched and slow.

"That's my job, San. And you were supposed to help me, help us." All Wooyoung could do after this was frown, before he left the building to go get some air.

You looked at your brother and dragged him somewhere far from the looks of the curious ones, hitting his chest slightly.

"What the fuck are you doing here, San? Is this the traveling you loved? Is that what our parents would have wanted you to become?"

He looked down, avoiding your stare as he couldn't look at you.

"Why didn't you tell me you needed money?! I would have gotten a job to help you!"

That's when his eyes met yours, finally hearing his voice in the two days you've been separated.

"The first rule of Fight Club…" he started, his gaze becoming stern: "… is you don’t talk about Fight Club.”

He genuinely annoyed you.

"And what are you doing here in the first place?"

"I was trying to find a way to cope with everything that happened after my brother left me so he could go fight some random people."

Auch. That hurt worse than a kick, he sighed.

"I'm sorry, Y/n… C'mon, you can stay with me from now on."

You didn't want to give in, you couldn’t imagine yourself having to stand Wooyoung's tantrums, yet it was better than wandering alone in an unknown city—so, you did what you thought was right and listened to your brother. And maybe staying so much with him (and his friend you won't talk about), watching his matches, that might have opened new horizons for you. You were now having dinner with them, clearing your voice before letting it be heard.

"You know… I wanna join the Fight Club too." you said softly, waiting for any sort of reaction from them; and there were two different ones—Wooyoung's eyes lit up immediately as he saw more money coming his way, whilst San was looking terrified.

"No."

"Yes!"

They said in unison, glaring at each other.

"I'm not letting her join this, it's dangerous, Woo!"

Wooyoung seemed to absolutely ignore the boy as he smiled at you, the first time you have seen him smiling outside of matches San won.

"I will help you become the best fighter out here. We're starting tomorrow!"

All you could do was smile excitedly as San face-palmed himself.

Said and done. You were already one month into practicing, and Wooyoung kept on finding matches for you, the next one being in two days. You were inside the little space he claimed as your training room, punching the innocent punching bag as you heard the door behind you. You thought it was Wooyoung and smirked, turning to face him and kicking, only for your fist to stop right in front of your brother's face.

"Oh… hey San." you smiled innocently whilst all he could do was sigh.

"If you don't get along with Wooyoung, why do you keep on doing this? I didn't even agree!"

You looked at him, deciding to ignore the judging look he threw your way. "I think I am capable of making my own decisions and I sure as hell don’t need my brother to make them for me."

"Do you think our parents would be proud that their daughter chose this path?"

This time, you snapped.

"Maybe you should have thought about this before choosing it first. You are my only role model, San, what do you expect from me?"

"I'm sorry, babes. If that's what you really want… I promise I will support you. But please take care." he said, arm wrapping around your waist as he dragged you into a hug. You hugged him back, the nice feeling of longing surrounding you—before a fake cough snapped you out of it.

"Sorry to interrupt your brother-sister moment, but you're distracting her."

"So now I can't spend time with my sister?"

"Not when she has a match coming. Also, she's getting as good as you. I won the lottery with you, guys."

You smiled at his praise, though he seemed to have something else in mind.

"I didn't like you at first, you know?" he said, looking directly into your eyes.

"I know, it was mutual." you said, a cheeky grin taking over your face as you waited for his response.

"Don't get too excited, I still don't like you. But I like the money you bring." he winked, watching as San's eyes darkened.

"Wooyoung," he growled, "if you think I'd let you talk to my sister like this, you're wrong. We're not your fucking bank!"

Wooyoung flinched a bit at his friend's words, pulling his glasses on his nose and trying to act unaffected when, in fact, he wasn't. Since you joined, he found himself thinking if he was doing the right thing, if you two thought he used you for money—which San kinda confirmed; but he couldn't let these emotions take over him, so he did what he thought was best—left.

He left and you two didn't see him again. Match time was right there and he was nowhere to be seen; and as much as you wanted to lie and act indifferent about it, you kinda missed his antics, his nag, perhaps you missed him. This was maybe, the reason why as soon as you stepped into the ring, you started to have an uneasy feeling. He wasn't there to support you, to hype you up, and it left you with a bitter taste. Despite this feeling, you still tried your best. Tried to avoid your rival's hits, tried hitting more, and you actually thought you were gonna win. That was until you spotted the pair of ebony-like eyes you waited for, being the last thing you saw before everything turned black.

That wasn't the sight Wooyoung expected to be welcomed with. He forgot about the two police officers behind him, running straight to the ring and following San who jumped inside immediately.

"Stop hitting her! Stop fucking hitting, she passed out!" he shouted, shoving the person off you, just to discover it was exactly the reason why the cops were there.

"Yunho, Jongho, it's him!"

Before he could do anything, San pushed both of them and took you in his arms, running to the infirmary as fast as he could. Yunho and Jongho were fast to catch the guy before he could run away, whilst Wooyoung was quick to follow San, who let you on the bed while waiting for the nurse.

"San!" he said, catching his breath as the eyes of the older one sent ice arrows down his spine.

"Don't you dare get closer to us! She was your responsibility Wooyoung, you were supposed to take care of her!" he said, hands on Wooyoung's shirt as he shaked the younger.

"I know San, I fucking know I fucked up! But her rival… he was following you San, I had to let Jongho and Yunho know that you were in danger… I wanted to protect you two…"

"I don't care about myself, Wooyoung. I only care about her and you failed. You failed us and our trust as well."

Maybe it took some harsh words for Wooyoung to realise that he put you in danger, and that he actually cared about you. About his friend, and unexpectedly, about his friend's sister as well.

"San… I'm sorry, please give me one more chance! I'll be more careful and—"

"She's out of this, Wooyoung. We are out of your damn Fight Club."

Wooyoung looked down, tears beaming at the corners of his eyes as he couldn't blame you. He just wanted to get closer with you, heck, he might have been attracted to you all this time—yet look where ignoring his emotions took him.

"You have my number if you change your mind, San."

And with this, he turned in the opposite direction, preparing to leave again. He wanted to be there when you wake up, he was aware that he distracted you when he came in way too late to your match. He wanted to hold your hand and start being there for you, but San was right. He didn't deserve none of you. His wish for money made him realise what he was truly lacking—love.

"San," you whispered, your weak voice being heard by both boys in the room: "San, you were too harsh… He wanted to protect you…"

Wooyoung's heart swelled a bit at your words, ignoring San's warning and sitting on the bed next to you. Right when your brother wanted to tell him to leave, his best friend was faster.

"I'm sorry I was late to your match, Y/n. I wish I was there for you."

"It's okay, Wooyoung. I wish I did better."

"No, Y/n! I'm proud of you nonetheless. You two are already the best for me."

Seeing Wooyoung hug you made San's anger dissipate into the void, joining as one hand caressed your hair and the other one patted his friend's back softly.

Your bond became even stronger after that day. While you met their friends (the ones who screwed your car) and realised how nice they actually were, your feelings for Wooyoung also grew stronger. You thought it was the same for him. The way his hand would softly brush yours, the random forehead and cheek kisses you were given, they had to mean something. And there you were now, plopped on a blanket as the night sky was shining above you.

"Isn't it pretty?" you asked him, looking at his flawless face and brushing his long hair with your fingers.

"It would have been even prettier if I watched it with my girlfriend."

Your heart remained still.

"Your girlfriend…? Do you have one?"

"Not yet, but I am about to. I know it's been quite of a long ride for us, but I'm deeply in love with you. And I know you feel the same, Yunho told me."

You looked at him flabbergasted, hands stopping on their track as he dragged you on top of him. You didn't know if you should be mad at Yunho, or glad that he eased the situation.

"Pfft, do you really believe Yunho? What if he lied?" you teased, grabbing his cheek softly as he looked at your lips.

"Well, let me figure it out." he said, before his soft lips met yours.

You closed your eyes and enjoyed the moment, smiling a bit when his nose brushed your own.

"Thank you for making me realise that love is more powerful than money, babe." he whispered, "I'm still going to be San's manager. And you are going to help me."

You nodded, pressing a kiss on his chin as you laid your head on his chest.

San's next match was going to be interesting. Ten minutes before it started, yet nor you or Wooyoung were anywhere to be found. He was searching for you with a water bottle in his hand, tank top tight on his chest as his muscles flexed under it.

"Wooyoung? Y/n? Where the fuck are you?"

As he stepped further into the darkened hallway, he heard your giggles and sighed—he was already growing tired of how big of a menace you were as a couple.

"For God's sake, can you stop making out and come watch me? I have a match to win!"

You and Wooyoung could only laugh harder as your brother sighed for the nth time that day, but it soon became a chorus of joyful giggles as he joined you two.

"We're coming!"

[igotanidea]

Rom-com, doubts and older brother complex : Dick Grayson x sister!reader

„Hey you, how was the movie?” Dick grinned with the brightest smile upon seeing his sister back from the cinema. Said sister however was far from being happy. “Y/N?”

“Yes? I mean, yes, sure, hi Dickie. It was fine, I guess.”

“Oh no.” he muttered

“What?”

“You got that face.”

“What face?!” involuntarily she glanced at the mirror just to check whether her older brother was serious or just trying to prank her.

“Please tell me you are not psychoanalyzing the movie.”

“Psycho…..? What? Me? Pfff, never.” She scoffed

“Mhm. Sure.”

“I’m sorry, what is your problem here, Grayson?” Y/N crossed her arms over her chest in annoyance. “Honestly I came home hoping for some peace and quiet and I feel so attacked right now.”

“Are you doing this… what was it called….?” Dick scratched his head searching for the right word “watcher insert!”

“IT’S READER INSERT!”

“Well, it was a movie, so definitely watcher insert. And you practically admitted you do.”

“I DID NOT SAY A THING LIKE THAT!”

“You didn’t have to. Like I said, you got that face.” He shrugged, absolutely not convinced and unimpressed by her yelling.

“Ugh! You are insufferable!”

“Part of my charm, you know that. Now come on, come sit here and tell me what got you spinning, huh? As a big brother…..”

“Please, spare me the talk about oldest sibling and all the duties that come with it. I can handle my own shit.” She hesitantly perched on the armrest of the sofa, but Dick was not satisfied with that and grabbed her by the waist pulling next to him.

“Come on, sis, don’t be stubborn” he pinched her stomach getting a slap on the hand in exchange “that hurt.”

“Serves you well!”

“Ok, I’ll stop. Jokes aside. Get out of that head of yours and walk me through it ‘cause I don’t get it. You went to the movie theatre to have some fun ….unlike someone we know….. and came back stuck in thinking and, let me put it simply, melancholic. Not really a normal reaction after a young adult movie. It’s young adult, right?” he frowned

“You got that one right.” She sighed “I … I don’t really know. I mean, this movie was as cliché as possible and only confirm my belief that it’s not for me.”

“How come?”

“You know… nice girl, A-grade student, not knowing the bad side of life changes the surrounding, most likely moves out of the small town.  And in the city, she meets a guy, a well-known trouble-maker and more often than not, a womanizer. Of course, she swears she wants nothing to do with him but after an hour or so, couple of fights and few misunderstanding they end up together, most likely in a X-rated scene. And after another half hour, some family drama or demons from the past emerges, but all ends well and you get those fucking singing birds, shining sun, doves and all that shit. I’m so too old for that. And I think I’m starting to get bored with such films.”

“Are you?” he looked at her carefully, voice turning soft not to startle her.

“Yes.” She made a face at him

“Y/n. You say you hate it, but …”

“Don’t you dare say it!” she jumped on the couch and jabbed his chest “Don’t. You. Dare.”

“I won’t. I’ll leave that to you. Come on, say it out loud so we can process that. No one else is here.”

“I’m sorry, since when are you my therapist?”

“Since Bruce provided all his kids with trauma and forgot to equip them with the specialist to fix it. Say it.”

“I wish I have a cliché love story.” She looked down and hid face in hands because of the embarrassment. “But I’m not exactly a material for it.”

“Why not?” Dick asked, grabbing her hands and making him look at her ‘is it because you have four vigilante brothers? That can go well in a movie.” He grinned “I bet Bruce would love a cinematic work of art about himself. Can you imagine the movie “Batman?” Two and a half hours of him brooding on the screen and saving Gotham, all while looking like a sad, tormented cat” he laughed and waved his hands around

“I got this at the manor whenever I want. And when I don’t want as well. So hard pass on that movie, thanks. Jason would love it though. It would give him an opportunity to point out everything wrong with Bruce. And Tim…”

“Nice try, but stop getting off the track. Why do you think you can’t have a love story?”

“Cause I can’t define myself.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Dick’s eyes widened in disbelief “you think you need to put a tag on yourself? My lovely, crazy, irrational, foolish sister…”

“Look Dick, I’m a mess, all right? I can do hundred different things, but cannot excel in one. I start so many projects I don’t finish. I am disorganized, got plenty ideas per minute and it’s extremely hard to keep up with me. I'm stubborn, hot-headed and always need to do things my own way. ”

“So?” he shrugged

“What do you mean by so?" Y/N frowned "I don’t have routine, and apparently I’m supposed to. I’m not the best version of myself, I hate motivational quotes and I’m not sophisticated or elegant or even close to it. Shit, I hate dresses and skirts, my make-up is limited to the most basic one and I don't feel like I'm woman enough.”

“Ok, stop right there.” He cut her off “that last one is bullshit and as for the rest, why in the world would you think that eliminates you?”

“I… It just does.”

“Why?” he insisted

“will you stop this interrogation! Let me remind you, you are not a cop anymore!”

“Old habits die hard.” He blew a raspberry.

“Be a brother Dick. Sock me for wasting your time or hug me, just don’t do this….”

“Do you need a hug?” he asked opening his arms

“Yes, please” she mumbled, diving into his arms and hiding face in his shirt, smelling that familar scent. “This feels nice.”

“Told ya! Oldest brother. Now, since we are taking the comforting approach to the problem… all the things you mentioned are those what makes you, you. All right, pumpkin?” he bopped her nose “you could adopt someone else’s lifestyle, but would you feel better then? Doing all those things that does not seem like they are yours?”

“No…” she muttered

“See? You just keep doing your thing, ok? Cause when you do something that makes you happy, even if it seems like you’re a mess, you’re just glowing and that is what makes you special, you know.”

“Example?”

“You were writing, last night, and you had that focus and spark in your eyes. Nothing but you and your ideas, put in words on the sheet. You were just beaming. That was you. You don’t need to put  a tag on yourself, believe me. It's not a competition or anything.“

"Really?" she pulled back and eyed him, raising one eyebrow "'cause you are absolutely not the one who would join The Bachelor, right?"

"That's irrelevant..." as much as he did not like it, her words made him blush a bit. (did she find that application form he hid under the bed?!)

"Let's agree to disagree" she grinned "I'll importune you for explanation on that matter later. And since we're on the subject, what about....?"

“Do you think me the role model on relationship advice?” he smirked, but a bit of sadness crept in “I made a lot of mistakes and speaking from experience, I can tell you just can’t hurry that. Just keep your mind open?”

"Did you just admit defeat in the romance matter, Dickie?" she mocked.

"Romance? Hell no! Just long-term relation..."

"Don't worry, big brother" she his his shoulder playfully "you keep my secret safe, I keep yours. But still, that’s the worst advice I ever got.”

“Maybe…” he tickled her tummy making poor girl squeal “think Damian would have better one?”

“He’s younger than me, sure as hell I’m not gonna ask him!”

“I’m serious, sis. Once you figure out who you are inside, even if it’s a bit complicated and come to terms with it, everything will fall in place.”

“Still the worst advice ever, but thank you for trying, Dickhead.”

“Doing my best for my little princess.”

“Ugh! Stop calling me that name!”

“You used to like it.”

“I was 7 years old!!”

“All right, fine, hold the fire” Dick raised his hands in surrender “Gosh, for someone who got so much fire inside, you suffer from too little self-value.”

“Four vigilante brothers can do that to a girl.”

“Y/N? I need you to promise me one thing.”

“Shoot.”

“When you get in a relationship you will let me act like big protective brother.”

“You may have to wait a while, but sure, it that’s your dream…”

“How about I play that role in a Nightiwng suit?”

“OVER MY DEAD BODY GRAYSON!”

[jessoloslemons]

Been thinking...

So, because of the absence of brozone's parents in the 3rd movie, we assume that they either were killed or terrible parents, so comes in John having to raise his siblings (presumably) by himself. Their grandma probably not being much help.

We usually talk about the stress and impact it probably had on John, suddenly having to step us as the leader of the household at such a young age, but what about Bruce - the second oldest?

Bruce probably witnessed the change of character of John, watching his brother force himself to mature. From being a goofy and playful older brother who loved to sleep in, to someone who'd already be busy in the morning and somehow always tired, a sad look evident in his eyes. Especially when their younger brothers started to enter the picture.

He would notice how there would already be breakfast on the table once he awakes, how JD would immediately take action whenever either Clay or Floyd would start to cry or throw a tantrum, immediately running to their side cheering them up, and how the eldest would always be the last to sleep and the first to wake up the next day.

He'd also witnessed John start Brozone, and he'd do his best to help, just wanting to see his brother genuinely smile again. All he wanted was to see the brother who would give him piggyback rides every morning as their mom would make breakfast, the brother who'd easily laugh at his jokes and make funny faces all the time, the brother who'd chase him around the pod then proceeding to tickle him relentlessly once he caught him. He just wants his older brother back. To see him again.

But after years passed, and his younger brothers started to get involved in the boyband and a new baby arrives (Branch), that hope started to feel impossible. John was now annoying, controlling, and obsessed with being perfect. Barely thinking about the well-being of others at this point, his only goal is to please the fans and make sure Brozone is in top shape.

Bruce hated this. He hated the toxicity weighing down their relationship as brothers. He hated always being told to do better because it's always never enough. He hated John, and it hurts him to feel that way towards his first friend, and now first enemy.

And so you bet it broke his heart immensely when the boyband broke up, and that John was the first to leave. Not even leaving with a proper goodbye or a guarantee that he's coming back. Not even bothering to look back at any of his brothers, not even to him.

But even if he was so angry and tired of his shit that night, a distant part of his heart sobbed when John left the pod. If he didn't have self-control and pride, he'd probably just break down there and then. But instead, he also walked out, desperate to leave and finally be able to breathe again.

Fast forward to 20 years later, you bet it took every bit of Bruce's willpower not to tackle John in a tight hug once he laid his eyes on him again. Despite the heartaches and tears JD had caused in the past, he was still his brother, and he may not admit it out loud, but he still loves John, so much, and he missed him, so so badly.

--

Hi! So i just had an idea and knew I had to write about it right away!

John and Bruce's dynamic as siblings is totally underrated and smth we need to talk about more often ^ i love them both sm and i'd love to see them together more often and know of their relationship with one another <3

[Also i headcanon that Bruce called John Johnny as a kid, and when he calls him that now that they're older, JD is smitten and moved to tears]

Thxs for reading! Thoughts?

[johnnycakesswitch]

Do you have any Darry hcs? Like everyone always makes him out to be this strict and awful grown man who’s a father. But in reality he’s still just their big brother and he’s ONLY. 20. He’s college sophomore age.

Any hcs for Darry just being a young guy and a brother?

Yeah!!

• Darry truly loves his brothers so much, they’re literally his pride and joy. I say that as an oldest sibling who has a brother and sister 4 years younger than me and another brother 12 years younger than me. It’s just an oldest sibling thing to feel real parental so even before their parents died Darry always felt kind of responsible for the others. But!! He’s still big brother Darry, not their dad

• he’s literally so goofy and will do anything to make them laugh, he’s pretty good at it too. He just makes faces all the time like behind someone’s back to make the other person laugh and Soda and Pony always crack up

• sometimes him and Soda will stay up late and Darry will tell Soda all the stuff he got into in high school that their parents never found out about and by the end they’re just crying laughing

• speaking of that, Darry has the best laugh ever it’s so contagious. Like if someone can get a good, genuine belly laugh out of Darry the others can’t help but smile too it’s just so great

• him and the others are always teasing each other like in the movie as soon as he hugs Pony in the hospital and knows he’s okay the very next thing that comes out of his mouth is “you sure look funny” LIKE 😭 they tease each other so bad but they all love it

• literally is THEEE tickle monster 😐 Pony and Soda are scarred because Darry is relentless. Pony gets it the most because he never gets out of bed when he’s told the first time and next thing he knows he’s just howling as Darry tickles him within an inch of his life poor kid

• the Curtis bros will in fact have coordinating Halloween costumes, they have every year literally since Pony was born

• Darry will wrestle with Pony and Soda just for fun, they always get a kick out of it and Darry thinks it’s hilarious because they can never pin him down unless he lets them

• if there’s any body of water. You can bet money on the fact. That Soda and Pony will be begging and pleading to be thrown in by Darry over and over again. They’ll be fighting for their lives, gasping for air, tired and out of breath, and no matter what they always pop up and are like “again 🤠” poor Darry eventually has to call it quits bc his arms are BURNING from tossing them around all day. It doesn’t help that once they start, the others want to be thrown in too 😭

Darry is still such a kid y’all. Bro eats cake for breakfast bc he loves chocolate so much. He should be in the club

[pumpkins-journal]

✮ When He Smiles ✮

gn!reader x choso (can be platonic or pre-relationship)

You're curious about how the man could be so expressive, and yet... (Pure fluff n vibes)

inspired by that one panel of embarrassed choso and the thought of him sending dog stickers w a straight face just tickles me

also posting this on mobile bc im impatient so sorry its a bit ugly looking aUGH i might fix it when i get home (update i fixed it a lil)

Choso was an enigma to you. When you talk to him he'd have an aura of indifference about everything around him. He always seemed so… detached. Even with pestering his dear half-brother to call him big brother, the only semblance of excitement he'd show was a slight pitch in tone laced with a firm insistence.

Which is why you'd be caught off guard when you’d start communicating via text. You’d double-take at the cute emojis attached to his messages, the occasional puppy stickers meeting your gaze. 

you: choso is that a dog choso: Yes. Yuji taught me how to send these stickers. Do you like them? you: yea i do! choso: I'm glad. I'll be sure to keep using them then. 😄 choso: He also taught me how emojis work.

It was especially curious when you’d find yourself looking over his shoulder, watching him respond to his little brother in the same manner- emojis, stickers and all- and your eyes would trail up to see that same deadpanned look on his face. Once he returned your gaze, you leaned back, face warm with embarrassment.

“Ah, sorry. Was I too close?” you asked. 

“No, you’re fine.” Choso shook his head before showing his screen. “Yuji was showing me a trailer for a movie he'd like to see. It's supposed to be about the lives of people, their relationship with the creatures in their world and teamwork.” You looked down at the screen, watching a scene of a young boy with a small yellow mouse-like creature.

“I think I may like this one. He reminds me of Yuji.”

You couldn't help but smile at this.

“You really love your brother, huh?”

“I do.” he lowered the phone as the video played. “I love all of my brothers equally and as deeply. As the oldest, it's my duty to protect them and care for them.”

“Hmm.” you mused as you sat next to him while he replied to the messages. You stared out into the fields before you and leaned back, the silence keeping you company.

“Hey, Choso?”

“Hm?”

You tapped your finger against the bench, trying to form the question in your head.

“I've noticed that you don't… really emote much? Not outside of fighting, I mean. Not that that's a bad thing! I was just curious.”

“Hm.”

The silence made you acutely aware of an uncomfortable pit in your stomach, already regretting asking a question that probably drew more attention to how different he was.

Something you already know he struggles with.

“Hey, uh, you don't have to answer–”

“I'm not the best at expressing myself.”

You paused, tilting your head at him in surprise. His face was still focused on the screen.

“Emotions are draining. It takes so much energy to smile, to cry, to laugh. I can feel it all, and I embrace it– it helps me feel the slightest bit human, but it's hard to convey that. I'm aware oftentimes it makes me come across as uncaring, so I'm thankful for learning about emojis and stickers. Hopefully they can get across my feelings better when I talk to others.”

He turned to you, head tilted ever so slightly.

“Sorry if you’ve been uncomfortable all this time.”

“What- no!” You waved a hand. “It’s not a big deal, I was just curious! It kinda makes sense in a way, lots of people are like that.”

“..Are they?” You didn't miss how his eyes widened just a touch at this. You nodded with a smile.

“Yeah, some people can speak their mind, while others struggle. It's just a part of being human, I think. It doesn't make you weird or anything like that! Y'know, Nanami also tends to be straight faced, it adds to his vibe.”

“Yes, but I'm also aware that his 'vibes' make him incompatible outside of sorcery work. He doesn't seem to like to entertain Yuji or the other children when they're having fun, unlike Gojo.”

“What, do you wanna be like Gojo then?”

You watched as his face scrunched up in response, the line across his nose becoming uneven.

“I would rather be exorcised, actually.”

You paused at this before breaking out in a fit of laughter. Choso watched as joyful tears rolled down your cheeks, grin stretching from ear to ear. The mark on his nose settled into a warmer, more bubby form as a gentle smile appeared on his face.

A smile that you caught as you opened your eyes, your heart skipping a beat.

“..Hey, Choso?”

“Mh-hm?”

Your smile softened as well, cheeks tingling from your earlier outburst.

“You have a very handsome smile.”

The male tensed at this, covering his face as he turned away. You grinned at his bashfulness, nudging him slightly.

“Oh, c'mon! Can't take a compliment?” you teased, watching his ears turn a few shades darker. He tried to shoo you away with his free hand, only succeeding in making your playful bullying more insistent.

Expressionless or not, you knew that when Choso felt things, he felt them with everything he had.

That being said, you made sure to treasure the memory of his smile for the rest of your days, a rare treat for you and you only.

[theoutsiderscomfort]

I feel like all the focus in this fandom is on Ponyboy, but I think Darry needs so much more love for all he goes through. I’d greatly appreciate it if you could write some hurt/comfort in which people actually support Darry, particularly Sodapop? How do they support each other? How does Darry show love to his brothers and how do they show love to him? I’m excited to read your thoughts.

Thank you for giving me an excuse to ramble about Darry more. This is going to be Soda and Darry centered mainly because otherwise the post is going to be long af. I might make a seperate post for how the gang supports Darry.

Sorry in advance for all my rambles and also my one hour of sleep thoughts

Darry isn’t the kind of person to accept support. He doesn’t want his younger brothers supporting him when he is meant to be supporting them, being that he is the oldest brother and guardian

He also doesn’t accept help from the gang either. He again thinks because he is the oldest, he is responsible to support them and not the other way around

So Soda supports him in subtle ways like slipping a bit of his pay into Darry’s wallet when he isn’t looking or signing all of Ponyboy’s permission slips after Darry has had a long day at work

Once Ponyboy runs away, Soda becomes more obvious with his support. He is helping Darry with the phone calls and asking people if they seen their kid brother. Staying by his brothers side and supporting him in whatever way he needs

He won’t let his brother push away his support during a time like that

I headcanon that Soda has to physically support him when they get the call that Ponyboy was in a fire

Darry almost falls to his knees before Soda is lifting him back to his feet and supporting his weight so he wouldn’t fall

Darry does say that he thought he lost Pony like they did mom and dad so he would of been thinking worse case scenario when he got that call

Darry supports Soda through finding out that not only that Sandy was pregnant but it wasn’t his kid, she was cheating and now she is moving to Florida

He would have held his brother as he cried. Soda really loved Sandy and Darry knew that

Darry would of sit there comforting his brother as long as he needed him to

Once everything settles after the events of the book/movie, Darry would start to actually show his love for his brothers

Something about seeing someone his brothers age get shot knocked some sense into him

Ponyboy’s essay is also one of the things that makes him realise that he doesn’t show his love for his brother enough

It would start off simple with quick pats on the back, which would slowly turn into quick bro hugs. It would transition to proper hugs where he holds them close

I feel like Darry shows his love more than he says it. If it does say it though, it’s in more subtle ways and not just straight I love you

“I got you a copy of the book you were talking about a few weeks ago Pony” that’s his way of showing his love to Ponyboy. By proving that he listened to his brother

And also by loosing up a bit because Soda pointed out how strict he was being and “come on Darrel. He is only 14”

Showing his love to Soda would be unspoken. They both know that they love each other

Darry does however show his love for Soda by letting him hug him despite not being 100% fond of long hugs all the time

Which I mean it’s Soda, of course every hug he gives is a long one. This man enjoys physical affection

Ponyboy is open about his love for Soda. Everyone knows that Pony loves his older brother and that Soda loves his younger brother back

Darry however is a different story

It would take a while after everything happening for Ponyboy to show his love for Darry. I mean their relationship is still being mended

The first time he shows that he loves his eldest brother (after everything that happened) is when he goes to Darry instead of Soda which is a shock to Darry

Ponyboy would be coming into his room after a nightmare that he had and asking if he can stay with him for the rest of the night

Ponyboy never came to him after his nightmares, especially since Soda is right there, so this says a lot

It’s a strange way to show that he loves his brother but Darry can feel the love somehow

I’m going to leave this here otherwise this post will go on forever.

[saintmuses]

❝𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙙𝙞𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙄 𝙙𝙞𝙙𝙣'𝙩 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪❞

Pairing:

Emmett x Abbott!Reader

Summary:

When the world ended, she couldn’t stop thinking about the man who she would always talk to at the baseball games, wondering if she would ever see him again.

Warning(s): SMUT. Age gap (Emmett is in his late 30s and Reader is in her early 20s). Both POVs. Minor angst (barely). Slight degradation. Thigh grinding. Praise kink. Breeding kink. Flashbacks in italics. Minors, dni! Note: Emmett is single and does not have children. I also tweaked some of the events from the movie in this as well as giving the Colony leader a name because I don’t recall if they ever did.

Word Count: 5.7k

Y/N Abbott was walking through the bustling crowd as she could smell the hot charcoal heating up hot dogs and hamburgers to the point it smelled charred.

It was the summer when she came back from her junior year at a university in Chicago.

She heard her name being called; she turned her head to see her mom walking towards her with a small smile. “Hey Y/N, your dad wants you over there with Regan and Beau.” 

Y/N turned her head to see Regan waving at her along with her dad at the stands; Beau was idling by them, playing with a toy he had in his hand. She chuckled, shaking her head fondly. “Alright,” she murmured softly, turning her head at her mom in acknowledgment before striding over to where they were.

She walked up the stands, maneuvering between spots she could fit through so she could sit by her family. She ruffled Beau’s hair as she passed him, Regan reached out and tugged her hand firmly to sit next to her.

Y/N grinned, “you got something you want to say?” She signed to her sister as she eased herself down onto the cool metal bench. 

Regan shook her head, ringlets bounced along with the movement. “I can’t tell you right now, but I will later.” She signed back to her quickly.

Y/N tilted her head slightly, “oh. You got me curious now. Is it about a guy?” She signed discreetly, asking her the typical question that every teenager experienced at least once in their lifetime.

Her sister nodded her head in a quick affirmative action. 

Y/N smirked before dragging her attention from her sister to her brother, Marcus who was waiting in the line for his turn to bat.

“Oi! Lee, who’s this?” A curious but loud voice could be heard from behind her.

She turned her head to see there was a man sitting at the top row of the metal tiered bleacher with some sort of shortwave radio placed next to him.

Her dad chuckled beside them, “you haven’t seen her until now because she didn’t want to be around us anymore, but this is the oldest Abbott.” He grinned with mirth in his eyes as he explained in a form of a joke causing Y/N to roll her eyes.

“Dad…” she muttered, feeling a secondhand embarrassment from the introductory speech before she focused on the man before her.

He was wearing the dark colored cap with a denim blue form fitting dress shirt; a tattoo could be seen peeking out on his upper bicep underneath his shirt. However, what drew her attention was how intense of the color of his eyes.

Icy blue. 

She could feel her cheeks staining in slight pink when she noticed that he was raking his eyes over her, a small but genuine smile as he raised his hand to her in a form of a handshake.

She reached out, clasping it with hers. His skin was calloused in some areas which told her that he had done some extensive labor for a living. 

“I’m Y/N,” she said quietly.

 His eyes were piercing as he spoke to her with a low voice, “nice to meet you, I’m Emmett.”

She nodded in acknowledgment before releasing his hand, turning her face to the baseball field in front of her.

Y/N didn’t think someone like him would pique her interest since he resembled to one of those mechanic guys at the only mechanic shop in Millbrook town. However, her eyes kept straying from the baseball field to him every now and then as she kept telling herself he did not fit in her type.

On day four hundred and seventy-four, Y/N found herself nearly yelping when she felt a hand wrapped around her mouth, her eyes widened in sheer terror in response when she saw a man in a filthy but familiar cap and rugged bandana covering half of his face.

He whispered inaudibly into her ear, shushing her very gently. “I got you.” 

She immediately recognized his voice, being able to place the owner as Emmett. The man who never left her mind.

She swallowed and nodded, somehow looking at him gave her a sense of relief, then he took her where he sent her mom and her siblings down in the underground of the foundry as they hid from one of the Death Angels as what her dad and the media called them such as.

She could tell what happened to him for four hundred and seventy-four days had left him with a severe cynical outlook on life, so jaded that he would say that people weren’t the same anymore ever since what happened on day one.

It was all in his eyes. The sense of tiredness, caution, and coldness in his depths.

Not without a slight regret when his gaze were on her as he told her mom that they could not stay here.

And not without a sense of disappointment she felt when she realized she may never see him again when they leave after the dawn began to break.

Only the rest of the day and night then they would need to disappear in the morning.

It wasn’t until late at night when her sister woke her up with a brief touch on her shoulder.

Y/N was once a heavy sleeper until the death angels invaded the Earth and now, she woke up to random little noises wondering if it was her last moment. 

Her eyes blinked blearily to see Regan beckoning her towards the vault. She looked around the dark dinky space after she propped herself up from her spot, observing her mom as she slept next to the makeshift crib and Marcus was sleeping on the floor by it as well.

She then walked across the space quietly before climbing in the vault, closing the heavy circular door, only leaving a few inches before turning to face her sister.

Regan was sitting at the end of the vault with the dimmed lantern, a map of New York  in front of her and the radio next to her. “I have an idea.” She signed to her, eyes peering at her expectantly. 

Y/N gave her the green light to express her idea as she sat there. Regan began to animatedly sign with eyes lightening up, pointing at a nearby island miles off the mainland of New York, referring to the potential connection of the song Beyond the Sea to the radio tower where the survivors were able to reside at. Theorizing that if she could travel across the water and use her cochlear implant to help to emit the high frequency signals to weaponize against the creatures roaming on Earth.

Y/N was already shaking her head, immediately rejecting the idea. “You can’t go,” she signed firmly. 

A pause as Regan stared at her, then displeasure rang in her eyes. 

Before she could respond, Y/N signed emphatically, “mom would worry about you whether if you’re in one piece or not. She has a baby to consider now, and she can’t take care of him if she worries about you.”

“Then you do it.” Regan’s hands were expressing her defiance sharply.

Her instinctive response was to say no because she did not want to leave her family behind. What if something were to happen to them while she was gone? What if something happened to her if she ventured out on her own.

She was going to tell her no until her dad’s scream echoed in her head. She paused; her dad would’ve wanted her to do it. To give the humanity a better chance of living after everything had been said and done.

After packing a few things that was required for survival. She placed the backpack on her back as she looked at her sister by the opening space of the foundry facing the direction they would’ve gone to if it had not been for the surprise bear trap and Emmett.

The moonlight was casting shadows on them, illuminating the darkness that the light hadn’t reached.

“You swear to not say anything and pretend not to know where I’m going?” She asked, eyebrows raising.

Regan nodded firmly; her pinky finger held out in front of her. Y/N sighed with a small smile before raising her pinky finger to return the gesture, clasping around hers loosely then she was gone, returning to the underground.

She inhaled softly, looking at the other direction where she knew Emmett was residing above the abandoned factory as he watched over the overgrown grass covering railroads before returning her gaze back to the other side. 

When the dawn broke the horizons, symbolizing four hundred and seventy-five days since the day one, Emmett ventured down the tower before returning to the underground. He heard the rushed footsteps below him as he climbed down the steel ladder.

“Y/N is gone,” Evelyn whispered frantically, eyes glimmering with slight panic. His jaw clenched down in fear, if he had more strength added to his jaw, he would’ve had an astounding dental bill. 

Stoically, he stared at the blonde-haired woman while he was dealing with the simmering fear that was causing an inner turmoil in his mind.

She continued, “She must’ve left in the middle of the night when we were sleeping. I don’t know where she went.” 

His eyes strayed from her as she continued to talk, landing on the children who were watching him with skepticism and caution. The young boy was hovering the baby as he checked on him. However, the teenaged girl was gnawing her bottom lip as her eyes barely twitched which was a dead giveaway as if she was unfazed by the news. His gut instinct had rattled at the sight of her.

A simple of the fact Regan was hiding something which meant she knew where Y/N was going.

Paper rustling slightly as Y/N aimed a flashlight at the map to see how far she ended up going from the Foundry to the abandoned building on the side of the railroad. Squinting her eyes at the words as it was eerily dark and the bright light from the metal object was not helping a bit.

Her head snapped to the right when she heard a slightest noise from somewhere. It wasn’t loud enough for a creature to come, but she knew it had meant something was lurking in the darkness.

She slowly pushed herself up from the wooden floor, standing as she aimed the flashlight in specific corners of the building.

She swallowed as the noise edged closer to where she was at.

All of sudden, a large hand clasped over her mouth and the other hand wrapped around her waist as their arm pushed them into a broad chest. Lips pressing against her ear, whispering into it before she could struggle. “Hey, hey, it’s me.” The hushed sound of his voice made her relax in his hold as she sighed inaudibly into his palm. His skin felt warm against her lips as he hadn’t released her from his chest.

Then he whispered gruffly, his fingers dug into her skin lightly as to emphasize his emotional turmoil. “Why the fuck would you leave?” 

She told him the idea her sister had with her cochlear implant. Explaining everything that occurred earlier in the morning before she left. She pointed at the map, trailing her finger from the location of where they were at to the island where Regan’s theory had a chance to be proven.

The sun rays were shining through the dirty windows the next day as she was shaken on the shoulder by a heavy movement, she opened her eyes confused until she saw him above, kneeling next to her. He mouthed that he found the Marina where the boats would reside at.

The sun was setting below the horizon by the time they arrived at the bridge before he helped her to prop herself up on the steel beam of the bridge so she could see what Emmett had found.

There were ships and boats docked at the harbor in the distance, resembling hope that they were closer to finding a solution to the end of Death Angels.

Before the world fell apart that day, she was on the edge of her seat watching the baseball game. 

“Hey, Y/N. I have a question for you.” A voice spoke up from behind her, and her lips curled before settling in a blank expression when she turned her head to see Emmett looking at her with a grin on his face.

“What is it?” 

“How do you sign the word dive?” Emmett asked, blue eyes shining with mischief and curiosity. 

She pursed her lips as she raised one of her eyebrows, “I’m going to need more context than that. Are you referring to swimming or a situation related?”

“Whatever you want to show me, sweetheart.” He said it casually, shrugging. 

Her breathing hitched slightly; red stained her skin in response. He only said the word ‘sweetheart’ whenever her family were not around them. 

She cleared her throat, chuckling slightly. “Situation wise, I would just spell the word or explain it differently in sign language. You, however, are not ready for the spelling part.” He let out a low rumbling of laughter at her teasing. She ignored how her heart went pitter patter as she continued, “swimming wise, you just do this.” She demonstrated the sign for the word he requested.

He mimicked the sign in the exact form, and she nodded, a little pleased. Realizing she was a little too pleased that she had to look away due to the indescribable expression on his face with unknown emotions in his orbs as he stared at her.

He could tell she was angry at him for how he was barely reacting, stoically looking at her. Oh, but his eyes were glimmering in pure feral rage at the treatment as one of the rugged filthy bandits dragged her down the wooden dock, away from him.

No one touched her and got away with it, not on his watch. 

He internally beckoned for her to look back at him, and somehow…somehow his prayer was answered when she turned her head to look at him once again, and he immediately clasped his palms together in a form of prayer, but he pushed his hands upwards, tilting forward before aiming down in a curve to resemble a diving position. The one thing he had always remembered before death came calling for thousands. Her eyes once twinkled in amusement as she taught him how to sign the word dive.

Who knew he would’ve been signing the same word over almost two years later, and he was filled with a sense of relief when she realized what his game plan was in terms of getting them out of the danger.

She struggled with the man who was holding her in a death grip until they edged closer to the edge of the dock before she pushed against him and threw herself into the water.

Emmett charged at him, wrapping the fishnet around his neck before maneuvering him to the metal pole, tying it to the point it had the man choking on the material around his neck.

He knew he had to get rid of the others. He could’ve left them alone he supposed but after what happened with Y/N, he wasn’t going to let them live, and there was only one way to do it.

He pulled out the weapon out of his pocket, and immediately felt a twisted sense of satisfaction of stabbing the hunting knife into the man’s thigh before twisting it in his flesh, relishing in his screams.

Once he spotted a Death Angel charging towards them while destroying the others, he released his hand off the handle of the weapon, moving away from the wounded man, and lunged himself off the dock, into the cold water below.

The chopped wood were crackling and burning in the fire pit as Y/N used the spoon to scoop the hot liquid with chopped vegetables before bringing it to her mouth. She hadn’t had a true decent soup that didn’t come straight out of the metal can in a long while. 

There were sounds of laughter and animated words shifting the surrounding which she was not used to. She was used to the quiet and few moments of screams during their final moments, and now she was sitting in front of the bonfire as people were being lively as if Death Angels had not arrived to destroy those moments.

She felt a sensation of someone’s eyes boring into the side of her head, and she dragged her gaze from the bowl to see Emmett sitting across from her, observing her with a small quirk of his lips graced on his face. When they arrived the Island, they were able to take a shower and clean up themselves, and with the option being available to him, he was able to trim his beard which made it more tame rather than unruly. 

She looked away shyly, focusing on her soup once more. Her heart skipped a beat when she noticed Emmett standing up from his spot from her peripheral vision before he walked over to where she was sitting at.

She cleared her throat when he sat down next to her, placing the wool blanket on her that was originally wrapped around him. “Thank you.” She mumbled before putting down the ceramic bowl onto the bench next to her. It had felt weird speaking without mouthing the words or whispering.

He was shaking his head, “no need to thank me.” He mumbled, staring into the firepit before looking at her. “Regan was right, and-“

“We were wrong?” She asked lightly, looking at him. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, I almost thought of her to be wrong too.” She smiled wryly, “you couldn’t anything but not believe after everything that had happened.”

The next day the Colony leader, Darius took them to the radio station building to test her sister’s theory by placing the cochlear implant next to the broadcaster signal after wiring it to the microphone.

Darius informed her gently that if they were to stay on the island permanently, there were several options for living.

A few cabins in the woods up north of the island and a beach house on the east shore.

“I would like to go for the beach house,” she blurted out, blushing when she realized that she sounded a bit too thrilled at the prospect of living in a beach house especially when she had a family back in the Foundry.

Darius gave her a slight smile, “It has four bedrooms and two bathrooms, and it’ll need some fixing but-“

She shook her head and said, “I don’t care.”

Y/N had always loved staying at the beach houses whenever the Abbott family took vacations to beaches, she would sit at the deck facing the ocean whenever they were at and listen to the waves as it met the shore.

She turned her head at Emmett, “I mean…if that’s okay with you. If you don’t like the idea of a cabin then-“ she was rambling that he had to raise his finger to press against her lips to make her stop.

“I’ll stay with you and help you get the place get all fixed then I’ll go for the cabin.” He murmured with a small smile with amusement in his eyes as he gazed into her eyes. “We can go back for your family after that, yeah?” 

She stared at him before her lips curled in return while nodding. “Yeah.” She said quietly.

For approximately two weeks since life had become different, there was nothing to do  that they were able to get the house fixed up.

Despite the beach house was restored, Y/N never ended up telling Emmett to go to the cabin that could’ve been his, and he seemed like he didn’t want to leave either.

They had made plans to return to the Foundry the next day and bring her family to where she and Emmett had been living.

 Y/N was wearing sleepy shorts and a large t-shirt she had found in the laundry hamper. She had been standoffish towards Emmett all day since she woke up from her lustrous-filled dream of him holding her down and fucking her into the mattress. Poor Emmett was confused because he did not know what he did wrong, and she could not tell him why she had been acting off with him.

However, she was able to make him feel better when she offered a movie and snacks kind of night.

They settled down on the sectional couch as they watched a movie that they hadn’t watched before on a television box.

She had been lucky to find the sectional couch under the tarp when she had arrived at the beach house. It was huge; she would sit in the middle of the couch, almost closer to Emmett, and he tended to gravitate towards the chaise part of the furniture. Her heart did a little trill at the idea of him having a favorite spot on her furniture. It was almost domesticated-like in a way, making himself at home.

The noises emitted from the television speakers as the film rolled on. 

She started shifting in her spot as hot and heavy scenes began to play. That was not what she wanted to see today of all of the days.

She was horny and maddeningly frustrated which Emmett picked up on.

“Are you alright?” He asked, concern in his voice as he turned his head towards her.

“Yes,” she said sharply, refusing to look at him while feeling a slight sense of regret since she hadn’t meant it in that tone.

Eventually her eyes strayed from the fuzzy television screen to the slight tan but hairy skin of his thigh that wasn’t covered by his basketball shorts.

A small whine accidentally escaped her throat while the feeling of arousal began to build making her shift in her spot some more at the sight of his lower thighs.

Before she could calm herself down, she was stunned as she felt hands wrapping around her waist and lifted her up from her spot, dragged onto the top of his thighs where she was sitting partially on his leg while her back was propped against the couch.

Feeling surprised that she momentarily forgot why she was whining and shifting in the first place as she looked at him with wide eyes.

Emmett narrowed his eyes at her, blue eyes flashed with unknown emotion, “behave.” He warned her with a stern tone as he laid his right arm on the back of the couch and his left rested on top of his other leg.

The feeling of shock faded as lust came back with vengeance, she swallowed before turning her head away to face the screen.

Then one character said something so out of left field when it comes to the woman. Said something about wanting to make her his in vivid details. The horniness increased a bit.

Emmett chuckled slightly, “hearing it on tv just makes it sound terrible.” He muttered with slight disgust in his voice.

Then she quietly asked, almost timidly. “What if you say it to someone?”

He blinked at the screen before turning his head to look at her. His eyes raked over her expression before a smirk slowly appeared on his face. “Then it would not be terrible because it means it’s true. Those actors don’t mean a damn thing what they say on tv. Feelings on tv is all artificial unlike people with real feelings.”

They stayed in the position for a little while longer while her arousal began to worsen over time due to proximity, watching the movie until Emmett shifted his leg which shifted the sleepy shorts under the curve of her ass.

She bit down her bottom lip in response, ensuring that he did not mean to do that. So, she maneuvered herself until she could sit further away from his thighs and closer to his knees which was a mistake because he had moved his leg again, nudging his knee which shifted her shorts again and she knew her wetness had seeped through. After all the sleepy shorts and underwear, she was wearing were flimsily thin.

His eyes widened in shock as he looked down to see a slightly glistening spot on his lower thigh. Then his light blue eyes darkened into a storm. “So, what you’re telling me is that you’ve been mad all day because you’re horny?” He asked, slightly in disbelief as he stared at her.

She blushed, refusing to answer him.

However, he did not need an answer from her. It was as obvious as the blue sky. He lightly dragged his tongue across his bottom lip, inhaling slowly. “Show me.” His words rumbled.

She stared at him in surprise as her breathing got caught in her lungs before she let out a low whimper.

He reached over while spreading her thighs, grabbing her towards him before his index and middle fingers curled into the shorts to pull aside the fabric to see her panty-cladded cunt. Unfortunately, the fabric was a light color so he could see how sopping wet she was.

He rumbled lightly at the sight of it, intensely transfixed on the fabric. “Your pussy’s soaking wet. How long have you been like this?” He murmured, inquiring with a question in his gaze.

She hesitated, her eyes trained on him as his ring and pinky fingers lightly grazed against the underwear which she had felt it through the fabric, and she shuddered in response as the sensation.

“Tell me, sweetheart.” He commanded while the motion of stroking her cunt became more firm through the fabric.

She closed her eyes at the pet name, “I’ve been feeling like this all day…” she mumbled, exhaling slowly as she opened her eyes.

He hummed before he finally pushed the thin damped fabric with his index and middle finger along with the shorts before using his other hand to push a finger into her.

Her hips buckled in response, gasping as she said, “I’m sorry.”

He chuckled nearly breathlessly at how tight she was, “don’t be sorry.” He murmured softly, “you’re just needy, craving for someone to touch you…” he trailed off, licking his lips as he leveled his gaze with hers hungrily. “Only my touch, right?” 

She nodded frantically, “only yours.”

He gave her a self-satisfied smirk before pushing another finger into her cunt, “you’re tight.” He rumbled. “Have you been touched?”

“Only with my fingers and toys before…everything happened,” she mumbled shyly. Realizing it made her sound inexperienced when she told him.

He inhaled sharply, “fuck.” He groaned. It sounded guttural as if it rumbled in his chest making his voice sound hoarse.

She frowned. “Is that a bad thing?”

He chuckled, shaking his head, “no sweetheart. I wasn’t expecting that, but…” he trailed off before continuing. “It actually makes sense,” before curling his fingers upwardly to brush against the spot inside her making her whine in response. “You’re such a needy little slut.”

Her lips parted before she bit down her bottom lip as the degrading comment sent shivers of lust down in her veins.

He withdrew his fingers before maneuvering her into his lap as he sat up on the couch. He then removed her shorts and underwear down her legs before throwing them off to the side, and gruffly told her to start riding his thigh.

She stared at him with wide eyes, “y-your thigh?” 

He nodded expectantly, looking at her with darkened gaze. “I want to feel your pretty little pussy rubbing on me.” He purred softly with a hungry grin. His fingers flexed on the curve of her ass.

She closed her eyes before she started to grind her hips onto his hairy thigh slowly to get used to the sensation.

“Keep your eyes open and look at me,” he growled, digging the pads of his fingers into the smooth skin of her flesh.

“I can’t.”

He began to urge her hips, moving her back  and forth. “Yes, you can. I want you to see whose thighs getting you off, sweetheart.” He cooed softly.

She could only stutter as she opened her eyes reluctantly, and he chuckled at her response. “Such a needy slut,” he said teasingly as she kept rolling her hips onto his thigh desperately. His eyes then darkened once again before releasing one of his hands from her back to reach her jaw. He gripped it gently, but possessively. “My needy slut, aren’tcha?”

She nodded frantically, and he groaned heavily before smashing his lips onto hers with a force that knocked the air out of her lungs as he kissed her. Shoving his tongue into her willing mouth, edging them into a kiss that borderline filthy before easing them into soft and pliant kisses. “You didn’t think I know?” He breathed against her lips, “that pretty little thing like you wanted me as much as I wanted you for so long?”

He then dragged her off his thigh as he resumed to kissing her, igniting a sense of disappointment within her before he rolled her over under him on the cushion. He then reached down to the edge of the shirt, pushing the fabric up until her breasts were bare for his hands to touch and squeeze. 

She jerked her head away from his greedy mouth, needing air to breathe which didn’t deter him because he continued with his lips trailing down her jaw, leaving wet streaks behind before dragging his lips to her neck. Pulling back before observing the shirt that bunched up above her breasts, “the shirt’s too big on you.” He pointed out with a frown painted on his lips.

“I stole it from your laundry,” she whispered shyly as if she committed a crime which she did not other than theft.

He groaned, “you’re mine.” He said gruffly before easing the shirt off of her body before taking his shirt off as well.

She felt her lips trembling slightly at the sight of his bare chest, “I’m-I’m yours.”

Emmett then removed his basketball shorts along with his underwear before placing himself on top of her between her thighs.

She felt his cock lying on top of her pelvis, it was very warm, and she could feel the ridges on underside, making her realize that it was big and heavy. She whimpered at the thought of being split apart on his girth. 

He dragged his cock back and forth on her skin before he gripped it to rub the thick tip against her cunt, collecting the wetness along with it. He then pushed it downward until it caught in her hole. His breathing hitched at the feeling, and he was not even inside her yet.

He pushed his hips; the thick tip parted the opening until it latched onto it fully making him growl softly at the feeling. Her walls were forced to part to accommodate his size when he was finally flushed against her.

Y/N whined at the feeling of being full. “Emmett,” she breathed, her fingers itched to hold onto something, to curl her fingers into it.

He leaned down, pressing his lips to her ear. “You’re such a good girl, taking my cock so well.” He murmured, praising her before he started thrusting, dragging his cock back and forth in her cunt.

The couch shifted slightly along with the force of the thrusts Emmett was using. His cock rubbed against the walls of her cunt, eventually rubbing against the spongey spot in her before he used one hand to slither down between their sweaty bodies, touching her cunt.

He was able to wring an orgasm from her with a playful but slightly harsh rubbing on her clit which sent her over the edge with a loud whine.

“You have to pull out,” she mumbled urgently after realizing he did not know she was not on any source of protection. How could she? After the world ended, no one really had the time to be safe especially with sex.

He chuckled hoarsely, “you don’t want my babies?” He asked, a teasing tone in his voice as he said it in her ear. “Don’t want me to fill that pretty pussy of yours with my cum?” 

She whimpered as her walls clenched down on his cock as a response to the idea of him filling her up to the brim with his cum. “We just started this fifteen minutes ago.” She pointed out softly, referring to the moment they crossed the line together.

He pulled his head back to look down at her with stormy eyes, “I know, sweetheart.” He breathed before continuing, “but look where the world is at now, no one is going to say a word when they have more things to worry about. Besides…being pregnant with my babies…well, sweetheart you would look very pretty, not that you weren’t to begin with.”

“What if we don’t work out?” Y/N asked, voicing her fear.

He raked his eyes across her facial expression before peering into her eyes. “All we have to do is try because I meant what I said. You’re mine and I’m not letting you go. Okay?”

She then nodded.

He looked at her to see if there were still any more doubts she had, preparing himself to convince her, but he did see none which made him sigh in relief. “Good because I can’t hold back anymore,” he rumbled before he proceeded to fuck her thoroughly, slamming his cock into her with assertive strength to remind her that she was his.

His balls slapped against her cunt as he thrusted into her forcefully, wanting her to feel everything as he grunted, “my pretty girl.” Followed by, “all mine now.” He groaned into her ear when he felt her walls squeezing around his girth. “So good for me, sweetheart.” His hips began to stutter in an irregular manner indicating his impending orgasm, “I’ll take such good care of you.” He slammed into her as far as he could before spilling into her with a guttural groan.