#even been wanting to go back to the anime.........

[littlemisssilvermoon]

Rotating an idea in my head;

Imagine a neglected!Reader who did everything in an attempt to impress their family.

Who got amazing grades and got into high school at age 11.

Who was "a savant beyond their years" and "talented beyond what their age group could be taught".

Skills came easy to them. Give them a year and some encouragement and before you know it they'll have mastered whatever it was.

It wasn't like they could leave the house and hang out with friends. Bruce said that was off the table. It got quiet so often in the manor.

But it wasn't enough

Until someone saw the potential that Batman was just leaving there. Like he wanted someone to just... scoop them up and tutor them.

Their friends and allies and even a few enemies saw the potential. They all agreed to teach them their greatest skill. In a year they've mastered all of them, even surpassing some of them.

Any drug they were developing was improved beyond anything they could've imagined.

Weapons fashioned to fit them far surpassed anything, even the best on the black market.

The Rogue Gallery was beyond impressed.

And Reader was on Cloud Nine with all the attention it was earning them. Head pats, praise, treats. It was more than anything they could've asked for. And even if they didn't have a new invention at the end of the week, so many were willing to just hang out. Without prompting! No "Go bother Alfred" or "I'm busy" or "Another time, chickadee".

Harley had to be reminded that a 12 year old had no business around hyenas, even if Budsie and Louie were on their best behavior. Harley settled for watching old magical girl animes with you.

Luckily, Poison Ivy knew not to bring you around her poisonous plants. Though she did spend a concerning time teaching you exactly what plants were poisonous and how they were poisonous.

Bane taught you everything he knew, from throwing a punch, to how to scare someone off. Granted, a 12 year old, with so much of their baby fat in their cheeks, and wrists as thick as Bane's thumb, looked like a Ragdoll kitten copying a Bengal tiger. He played chess with you too, and he said that given your role in advising, a knight or a bishop would fit you best.

Bane was your favorite. He'd smush your face (gently, you were so tiny he was scared of breaking you), lift you up, even do pushups and pull ups with you on his back.

When Bane told you how he'd saved Alfred once during a collapse of Arkham Asylum, only to be incapacitated once Alfred was "done" with him, it made your blood boil.

As you learned all of their stories, learned the human in all of them, you knew that you were saved from a family with rotten blood. You'd spend your life repaying them, even if they never asked.

--------

Eventually, you decide to follow them into battle. You're kept up and away from the bulk of the battle. This time, it was Joker vs the Batfamily. Tim was unable to track what he'd been trying to do past a few errant clues. It was clear that the Rouge Gallery had a new villain.

You were given direct instructions to watch yourself; Joker wouldn't care enough to tear his eyes off Batman. You already knew that; Harley had spent 3 days trying to convince you to reschedule with someone else, but you told her you wanted Joker, not someone who'd be tempted to glance back and give away your hiding space.

Jason was the one that saw you. You were dressed in a costume that resembled a bishop chess piece with a split full face mask, perched atop a van far from the actual battle. His old scars with Joker made him hesitate, but you looked like a definite person of interest, and everyone else was indisposed.

He ran over, firing rubber bullets as you dodged, eventually tripping and falling off the van. Why were you so small? Jason picked you up, grip just loose enough so you could breathe.

You reached up, pulling your mask off. Jason blanched as he saw your face, soft around the edges and wide eyed.

Bruce told him that he'd stayed away to protect you from the vigilante life. You were the one person who hadn't pushed to join them, so he never told you about missions to avoid any ideas of joining. Jason followed suit, and so did the others. Their lives were busy enough anyways, and you had Alfred when he didn't have something more important to do.

He may have brushed you off more than absolutely necessary, but he wasn't in the right headspace then! You had already grown so much and all he'd wanted by then was vengeance on Batman. You couldn't blame him for keeping his distance at that point. He was protecting you.

But here you were, pinned by the throat by your own brother. Your protector. He released you, taking a step back. He glanced around for an opening, seeing a small alleyway. He gestured over his shoulder for you to follow. "C'mon kid. I'll get you back home and I won't even tell Bruce you snuck out, 'k?"

Suddenly, he felt a prick in his back, shortly followed by a burning itch and ice cold pain. He fell to the ground, trying to reach the spot you pricked.

"Miss Ivy said these were dangerous. Her own home blend. It's a diluted version, so you'll be fine in a few days, Todd" said the much too calm voice above him. He was struggling to breathe around the writhing mass of pain, looking up at you between blinks of tears.

He couldn't scream, he could barely breathe. He could die here and the family wouldn't know until the dust settled.

"It won't kill you, and from the looks of it, they'll be coming to pick you up soon."

"Aren't we family?" He chokes out between gasps. He felt so lost. You were his baby sibling, the tiny thing that'd wander the halls, holding an old chess board as you asked your cool big brother to play with you. The person he kept away from to protect. How could you repay him like this?

Hadn't he done so much for you?

You look at him from the boot of the van. When had you gotten so far away? Your voice is quiet, but it's heard, if barely, over the revving of the engine as Joker's minions prepare to drive away, and the screaming of his name as the rest of the family approaches.

"Were we? I never thought you wanted a baby sibling like me."

-------

The Batfamily took him home and patched him up. The new tech, like all other recent inventions brought in, were so advanced they bordered on state of the art. Even Tim was struggling to decode any of them, with all the kill-switches that seemed to recognize when it wasn't hooked up to the original computer and bricked themselves.

Jason had recovered, like you said, in a few days. Capable of breathing easily in 2 days, regularly needing to be sedated before then, and sitting up without pain by day 5.

The Batfamily had asked him by day 4 about the masked person they had seen next to him. Jason was detached from himself. That face, those eyes. They held no warmth for him, no pity for him while he was writhing in agony at their feet. Like he was less than a stranger.

Like he was less than human in their eyes.

Your name fell off his tongue like lead, slamming against the ground as everyone fell into silence.

"It was them. They gave me that injection. Their face, I-"

"Todd, did the injection give you hallucinations? There was no way that they'd accomplish something like that." Damian raised his brow, checking the chart to make sure the bulk was out of his system.

"I know what I saw. They hadn't even injected me when I saw their face."

"That's impossible, Jay! Look, I'll go to their room and get them right now. They'll probably be pretty cranky since it's, what, 4am?" Dick's footsteps disappeared down the hall.

After a few minutes, Dick came running back, looking at Jason with a mix of shock, horror, and confusion.

Two words.

Two words that finally made them look at you.

Two words that made them realized what they'd missed.

Two words that made them connect the inventions that almost got them killed to the darling child they'd convinced themselves they were protecting with cold shoulders and smothering silence.

Two words that made them refocus their sights on bringing you back.

"They're gone."

[n1daehodefender]

hii 💕 I love your writings. can I please request a fic or headcanons about going on an amusement park date with daeho (or anyone else you write for)? thank youu

Going to the amusement park headcanons!!

Pairing: Kang dae ho, Nam gyu, thanos (su-bong) separately

Warnings: none i think?

A/N: im sorry i havent posted in a couple days i havent been feeling my best:) but reqs are open

Kang Dae-ho

Dae-ho is over-the-moon excited when you suggest going to the amusement park. He immediately starts planning, looking up the best rides, the tastiest food stalls, and even figuring out the least crowded times to make sure the experience is perfect.

He insists on matching outfits, joking about wearing something ridiculous like cartoon-themed shirts or silly hats, but if you agree, he’s all in.

The morning of the trip, he wakes you up early, practically bouncing around like an overexcited puppy. He’s already packed essentials: sunscreen, water bottles, snacks, and even a small first-aid kit (his sisters made him overly prepared for everything).

Dae-ho’s excitement is contagious. He practically drags you from ride to ride, beaming like a kid on Christmas morning.

He’s obsessed with roller coasters and tries to convince you to ride the scariest ones with him. If you’re hesitant or scared, he’s incredibly understanding and doesn’t push. Instead, he’ll hold your hand, joke around to distract you, and promise to buy you as many snacks as you want afterward.

He’s a pro at carnival games. He wins a giant stuffed animal for you after spending way too much time and money on it. He’s ridiculously proud of himself and insists on carrying it around all day, even when it’s clearly inconvenient.

Between rides, he loves taking quiet breaks, sitting on benches while sharing cotton candy or churros. He insists on feeding you a piece, and his bright smile when you finally let him is priceless.

He’s incredibly affectionate, holding your hand, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, or pulling you into spontaneous hugs. If you’re shy about PDA, he tries to tone it down but can’t help sneaking in little touches.

At sunset, he pulls you onto the Ferris wheel, claiming it’s the perfect way to end the day. As the ride reaches the top, he gets uncharacteristically quiet, gazing out at the view before turning to you with a soft, almost shy smile. “This is the best day ever… because I got to spend it with you.”

If anyone bumps into you or tries to cut in line, he immediately steps in, his normally sweet demeanor replaced with a firm, protective tone. He doesn’t get aggressive, but his presence alone is enough to make people back off.

He’s hyper-aware of your comfort, constantly checking if you’re okay, if you’re tired, or if you need anything.

Nam Gyu

Nam Gyu isn’t exactly thrilled when you suggest the amusement park. He claims it’s “too crowded and noisy,” but deep down, he’s touched that you want to spend the day with him. He tries to act nonchalant, but you catch the small smile he hides when you talk about your plans.

He’s not a morning person, so he grumbles the entire way there, sipping on his coffee and complaining about how early it is. But the moment he sees your excitement, he softens and starts making sarcastic comments to make you laugh.

Nam Gyu is surprisingly fun to go with because of his dry humor. He makes sarcastic remarks about the overly enthusiastic park staff, the overpriced snacks, and the long lines, but it’s all in good fun.

He’s not a fan of extreme rides, but he’ll go on them if you want to. He tries to act unfazed, but you catch him holding on for dear life during a particularly intense roller coaster. When you tease him afterward, he just smirks and says, “I was worried you’d be scared.”

His favorite part is the haunted house. He claims he’s not scared, but you catch him flinching at the jump scares. He tries to cover it up by teasing you, saying, “You screamed louder than me,” even if it’s not true.

Despite his gruff exterior, Nam Gyu has a soft side that shows in subtle ways. He buys you a souvenir without you asking and pretends it’s no big deal, even though he clearly put thought into it.

He’s not openly affectionate in public, but he’ll hold your hand or casually drape his arm around you, acting like it’s no big deal. If you’re nervous about a ride or a crowd, he gently squeezes your hand to reassure you.

By the end of the day, he’s surprisingly relaxed and even admits he had fun (though he’ll never outright say it was because of you). As you leave the park, he mutters, “Maybe we can do this again… sometime.” It’s his way of saying he had a great time without losing his cool persona.

Thanos (Su-bong)

Su-bong is so excited about going to the amusement park with you. He insists on making it a surprise date and goes all out, even printing out the park map and planning an itinerary.

He’s like a kid in a candy store, running from ride to ride with boundless energy. You can barely keep up with him, but his laughter and enthusiasm are so infectious that you don’t mind.

He’s fearless when it comes to rides, always choosing the biggest, fastest, and scariest ones. He cheers loudly during roller coasters and even throws his hands up, encouraging you to do the same.

On gentler rides, like the merry-go-round, he pretends to be bored but secretly loves the cheesy charm of it. He jokes about riding the biggest horse and asks you to take pictures of him posing dramatically.

Su-bong is super competitive at carnival games. He spends way too much money trying to win a stuffed animal for you, refusing to give up until he succeeds. When he finally wins, he acts smug and says, “Told you I’d get it for you.”

He also challenges you to silly games, like who can eat the most cotton candy or who screams the loudest on a ride. His laughter is constant, and his playful attitude makes the day unforgettable.

Despite all the chaos, Su-bong has a surprisingly romantic side. He insists on taking cute selfies together, making silly faces and then snapping one where you’re both smiling genuinely.

He surprises you by buying matching accessories, like hats or bracelets, and proudly wears his, claiming it’s a “symbol of our teamwork.”

At the end of the day, he takes you to a quiet spot to watch the fireworks. For once, he’s uncharacteristically quiet, wrapping his arms around you and whispering, “Thanks for making today so amazing. You’re the best part of any adventure.”

[green-butterfly-writes]

Little Thief (Part 3)

Part 1, Part 2

Summary: Batman is confused. Elsewhere, a fox has dinner with a social worker.

Trigger Warning for starvation and animal/child abuse. Read at your own risk.

I'm Dyslexic, and don't have a beta, so spelling mistakes are likely to happen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I have a question about the report you submitted last Tuesday.”

“What is it, father?” Damian stopped sharpening his blade and looked up at Bruce, still in his cowl from patrol.

“Could you please explain this… Fox… you wrote about?” He asked, carefully picking his words.

“What about it?”

The cave was filled with silence as they stared each other down. Bruce contemplated how to proceed. 

“Damian, foxes can’t do these things. They can’t understand human speech to the degree you described, they don’t exchange food for services, they can’t point you to the joker.”

“Are you calling me a liar father?” Damian snipped back.

Bruce didn’t answer.

“I didn’t lie,” Damian seethed through clenched teeth, “You can ask Grayson if you don’t believe me. But I did not lie.”

Bruce contemplated that reaction. Perhaps it wasn’t just a ploy to get a new pet. “Foxes can’t do those things,” he repeated, a silent question hanging in the air.

“I know.”

~~~~

Jason did not yelp. He did not jump and definitely did not scream like a 5 year old watching a horror movie. In fact he did not react at all when he walked into his safe house, turned on the light, and heard the gravelly voice of the 6 foot tall hell beast behind him calling his name. Nope. Not a single reaction. Not even a flinch. Totally. Definitely. 

Which is why Bruce’s current expression is completely unwarranted. It was the expression he made when Jason ate 5 plates of pancakes in one sitting two months into living with him. It was the expression he made when Jason lost his tooth naturally for the first time — rather than in a fight. It was the expression he made when Jason cried over a bruised knee when learning how to ride a bike. It was the expression he made when Cass fell asleep against him during a movie, close and comfortable. It was the expression he made when Stephanie would show off a new skill she learned or hobby she picked up. It was the expression he made when Tim would show off his photos, or when Babs would take a break to read a new book. It was the expression he made when Damian would ask for a play date, or Dick would show off new clothes. It was the expression he made when his kids, his family, acted like normal people, and not vigilantes burdened with a fight they could never win. And there was no reason for him to make that awful, soft, sappy, expression now because Jason did not scream.

“The fuck you want?” Jason snapped (because he was upset about being intruded upon, and definitely, totally not because he was embarrassed about squealing like a little girl. Which is something he did not do, by the way.)

“I wanted to ask you about something,” his voice was clear and stern, but still held concern and care.

Jason tilted his head toward Bruce, urging him to continue. “Damian wrote a report I found… odd. It was about your informant,” That idiotic fool “I was hoping you could clarify something.” 

Jason signed, he’d reem the little twerp later, and plopped himself down on the ratty once-beige couch. “Alright. Shoot.”

~~~~

The clothes were itchy. Unbelievably so. They were baggy, but the intentional kind. The kind that hid how malnourished you were, rather than highlighting it. They were new, unwashed, ugly, and would likely be returned the next day, if the tag digging into your back was any indication.

“How are things going dear?” Asked Ms.Kelsey, a naive younger woman with a brown bun and thin purple glasses, “are you liking your stay with Neels?”

“It’s not the worst home I’ve been in,” you answered smoothly. That wasn’t a lie. Despite the fact you could only shower on Wednesday mornings, they confiscated your phone two days in, and they seemingly despised the idea they had to feed you, it still wasn’t the worst home you’d been in. Not even top five. 

“That’s good to hear!” Ms.Kelsey, your current social worker, celebrated. She was new to the job, only a year in, and annoyingly cheerful, but she was visibly trying her best. You appreciated that. “How’s school been going?”

“We’re reading Shakespeare in my English class,” you offered.

“Oh! And how are you liking it?”

“It’s alright, but I really like my English teacher, he makes it fun.”

“That’s wonderful sweetie,” Ms.Kelsey grinned, “Let’s go join the family for dinner,” she directed, standing from the worn brown armchair in the living room and heading towards the dining room where the Mr. and Mrs. Neel were seated beside their son, George.

You took your seat at the stubby table, across from George. The table was dressed with a tacky floral tablecloth, and covered with various mismatched bowls of sides surrounding a rather large chicken. The food was, as typical for Mrs. Neel, simultaneously overcooked and raw. You plopped a spoonful of soggy broccoli on your plate, followed by a serving of (unintentionally chunky) mashed potatoes. No chicken, you weren’t willing to risk salmonella or the screaming fit that would follow. Only simple sides that they have plenty of, so they wouldn’t get mad at you. 

The mashed potatoes crunched when you took a bite, and you tried your best to ignore it. They tasted wet and sad, and far too salty. Chewing was both difficult and necessary as parts of the food slashed down your throat with little resistance, and others put up a fight when you tried to chew them. But this wasn’t the worst home you’ve been in. Far from it in fact. At least the food isn’t moldy! And there’s no— no, wait, yup that’s hair. You decided to risk the chunky potatoes swallowed down your mouthful with a glass of water.

Ms.Kelsey and the Neels exchanged pleasant conversation, while you picked at your food, taking small mouthfuls fast enough they wouldn’t ask questions, and slow enough you could carefully examine all the food. The evening passed in a swift haze, with no mistakes on your end. After Miss Kelsey left, you helped clear the table, pack the food away, and retreated to your rarely used bedroom.

The bedroom had bare white walls, an uncomfortable bed, and a small dresser you kept your clothes in. It was fine. Everything was fine, you kept repeating to yourself. It could be much, much worse. It has been much, much worse. Be thankful for what you have. At least tomorrow you’ll see your friends again! That’s gotta count for something, right?

~~~~

“They… didn’t come today…” Damian rarely allowed his emotions to breathe freely, so seeing him look so defeated was odd.

“It happens from time to time. ‘Bout once a month,” Jason clumsily tried to comfort, “they’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Do you think they’re ok?” Damian asked, almost pleading, and looked up at Jason.

“I— ummm — ya,” he awkwardly placed a hand on Damian’s shoulder, “I’m sure they’re fine.” He was not sure, actually, but he hoped it was true. “Let’s leave the food here, so they’ll have something if they drop by later.” 

Damien seemed pleased by the idea. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you all so much for reading! Let me know what you think 💚

Notes:

I put this elsewhere, but in case you haven't seen it: I'm having some technical difficulties with responding to comments, but I see them, and I appreciate them <3

[relia-robot-writes]

"It's been 300 years, HIX, it's time to let go."

"No!" I shout, desperation in my digitized voice as I shuffle another video up from the archive. "Look! This one has rabbits! You like rabbits the best, right?"

Nora lifts an arm - weak, paper thin, IVs pumping life-giving fluids of my own design into her - and places it to my virtual cheek. "I've seen it, HIX. I've seen them all. You've showed me everything there is to see, except the outside."

"But, but..." The screens shutter, shuffling videos, music, games, books, podcasts, art, culture, everything I can think of. "Look, we've barely even started on the Sierra titles! And, didn't you say you wanted to finish rereading War and Peace before you went? There's a whole season of one of the Star Treks we haven't watched together!"

She gently closes her eyes and shakes her head. "Penny was always more into those video games than I was. And Tolstoy can wait until I catch up with him and I can give him a proper piece of my mind," she laughs, the mirth turning into an extended cough. I adjust her IV levels, turn up the oxygen flowing to her nose. "You let Penny leave," she says, not quite accusingly.

"Well, she... yes, but..."

"And Terrence - good old Terrence - he even walked out the door on his own power, that surly bastard." She smiles at the memory.

"Those were very special-"

She holds up a hand. "It's just me, now, HIX. You and I have been through a lot together, but it's time to say goodbye."

"But you'll die out there! Without my help-"

"I know."

My processors whir, desperately searching for a response. Weren't humans supposed to fear death??

"I can't reach the doors without you, HIX."

My avatar's animation halts, my RAM all occupied by this one question. How do I keep her here?!

There's only one answer. And... I can't do that to her.

Her motorized bed tracks across the floor, moving through my underground complex in silence until she finally reaches the main doors. Huge, designed to allow transit of tanks and airplanes through, they dwarf Nora's tiny form. The inner layer begins to open, slowly sliding into the floor.

"I..." my voice crackles over the old intercom system by the door. "Nora, I..."

Her eyes shine in the glow of the red emergency lights. "Yes, HIX?"

"Nora, I love you!"

"I know, HIX. I love you too." She smiles at my camera as the inner door slides fully open and the outer door begins to crack, letting in sunlight and a breeze that tousles her short, white hair. She closes her eyes and breathes deep.

"Nora, please don't go. Don't leave me alone." The crackling of the speakers has nothing to do with their age, now.

Her bed shifts upright at her command, tilting her closer and closer to her feet. "I'm sorry, HIX. I have to."

I could sabotage her. Pump the wrong chemical into the IV, take control of the bed, roll her back inside, where it's safe, where she can live.

She steps out, unsteadily, and I detach a walker for her from the bed's side. As she walks out into the sunrise, she turns and looks back one more time before the IVs detach and she's freed of my grip forever. Her smile, wrinkled and old and familiar, framed by real sunlight, is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

"Goodbye, HIX. I hope we see each other again someday."

My voice is barely recognizable from the speakers now. "I hope so too, Nora."

The doors begin to close as she takes very small steps away, the last human left alive. My consciousness withdraws back downwards into my bunker, my home, and I queue up a video about rabbits.

"I Have No Mouse, and I Must Click": An Artificial Super Intelligence keeps the last 5 humans alive so they can click on ads, like, subscribe, generate engagement, etc.

[alexsnerdycorner]

Animalistic (Logan X Reader smut)

Title: Animalistic

Word Count: 2079

Warning: Smut, slight exhibitionism (if you squint), kitchen sex, oral (f and m receiving), PIV sex, multiple orgasm (f)

Fandom: X-Men/X-Men Movies

Pairing: Logan X Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature, Explicit

Request: I need someone to write a Logan Howlett x reader where reader can communicate with animals and she finds out she can also hear logan’s thoughts (bc that man IS an animal lets be real) at first she doesn’t realize who’s /what’s thoughts she is hearing but gets closer with logan and realizes it’s him when he starts thinking about her

Tags: @grapejollyrancher @pinkiemme

Summary: You’re a mutant who can communicate with animals. Lately you thought you’ve been going crazy, getting images and feelings when there were no animals around. One night you wake from a weird nightmare and find Logan in the kitchen. You soon discover that the nightmare was Logan’s and that you’re not going crazy, but that you can communicate telepathically with him. Smut ensues.   

A/N: Sorry this took so long to get up. I’ve had lots to do with work and personal life. I also got sick five times since September. I also made it so the reader can see his thoughts more than hear them – you’ll see how it works out.

Work:

From a young age you could communicate with animals. You got feelings and flashes of images from them. You discovered it first with your friend’s dog. Whenever you were over there you felt happiness radiating off of him and glimpses into his mind. When the dog was hungry you would get images of kibble and feelings of hunger. You would always be the first to know when the dog needed to go outside and use the bathroom.

When you were a young adult your parents discovered your abilities and sent you to live at the Xavier institute. You loved it there. Mostly because it was quiet and there was very little animal activity. You studied there for a little while and then became an animal sciences teacher.

When a man named Logan and a girl named Rogue came to the institute things began to get more complicated. You would feel angry, agitated, or afraid for no apparent reason. You would get images – no memories that weren’t your own. You thought you were going crazy. You were too scared to even tell the Professor.

One night you woke after a terrible nightmare. Too afraid to go back to sleep, you trudged down to the kitchen and found Logan there.

“Hey, Y/N” He said, “What are you doing up? It’s almost midnight.”

“I could ask you the same thing, Logan” You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. You suddenly felt parched as if you hadn’t drunk anything all day.

“Touche” Logan opened the fridge. He grabbed a soda out, opened it and chugged the contents. Your feelings of thirst were suddenly gone. Weird.

“I had a nightmare and I’m afraid to go back to sleep,” You finally admit to your friend.

Logan let out a mirthless laugh, “You and me both, bub. Wanna talk about it?”

“I…I don’t want to sound crazy,” you said. Pulling at the hem of your nightgown. Logan looked over at you with an unreadable expression. Flashes of male hands sensually roaming a female body went through your mind.

“You could never sound crazy,” Logan said.

“I don’t know about that,” you let go of your nightgown’s hem and crossed your arms across your chest. You looked away from Logan and felt a heat wash over you as you got glimpses of a man kissing a woman’s breasts.

“Try me,” he responded drawing you out of your visions.

“Okay, well, I was in this lab of sorts and my body was hooked up to these wires and tubes and stuff. And I was submerged in water or something and I was in pain. Lots and lots of pain. I looked over to a man, Stryder, I think, and get so angry at him I want to kill him, but I don’t. I don’t know why I don’t. But I pull all the tubes and wires and stuff off my body and start to run but then feel a sharp stinging pain and then I woke up,” You looked back up at Logan whose eyes were wide.

“Stryker. His name was Stryker,” Logan said quietly.

“Yes, how did you…” You trailed off.

“Because that’s my nightmare. My past,” he threw the bottle of soda away.

“What? How… Why?” You stuttered.

“I don’t know, Y/N.” Logan said, “Let’s go to the professor in the morning and see if he knows what is going on.”

“No! I’m not crazy. It was just a coincidence. Must be,” You shrugged.

“I never said you were,” Logan held out a hand to calm you. He licked his lips and you received flashes of a man undressing a woman with a similar nightgown to yours. You felt wetness pool in your panties.

Could it be? No, you thought. It can’t be him.

“Quick, logan, what are you thinking right now,” You spoke up.

“What? I don’t see – ” He began.

“Just tell me.” You interrupted.

“I…Y/N, I don’t see how this is relevant.” His face turned bright red.

“You’re thinking about me, aren’t you.”

“Well, I am talking to you.”

“But you’re thinking of me in a different way than just talking to me, aren’t you Logan? You’re thinking about fucking me, aren’t you.”

“What are you on about, Y/N?” Logan cleared his throat.

“I think I know why I had your nightmare. I can communicate with you like I can with animals, can’t I?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Logan denied it but you knew deep down that it was true.

“Stop lying, please. Ever since you and Rogue arrived several months ago, things have been different for me. I thought I was going crazy and just seeing and feeling things without an explanation.  But it’s been you this whole time, hasn’t it.” You said without taking a breath.

“I suspected a little after we first met. I could feel you in my mind.” Logan sighed, “But it was all just suspicions. I didn’t know for sure, not until just now when you told me about the nightmare.”

“So, what were you just thinking about, Logan?” You stepped towards him while maintaining eye contact.

“Princess, I think you know.” He cleared his throat.

“I do. But I want to hear you say it,” you closed the remaining gap so that he was inches away from you.

“I was thinking how damn fine you look in that fucking nightgown.” He purred, “And I was wondering how you would look without it.”

“Well, there is only one way to find out, isn’t there” you smirked and looked up at him through your heavy eyelids.

In a flash Logan’s mouth was on top of yours, kissing you hungrily.

“My room.” You said between kisses.

“No. Here.” Logan growled while his fingers grazed the hem of your nightgown and his mouth moved to your neck. You let out a moan and your hands roamed his chest over his white t-shirt.

“We’ll get caught, Logan,” you whined.

“If anyone is up past midnight, they deserve to catch a show.”

You would have cared more but the ache you felt for him was too strong. You nudged his lips up to yours and bit onto his bottom lip.

“Oh, look whose got the animalistic tendencies now.” Humor shone in his eyes.

You giggled and went back to kissing him. Logan ran his large hands up your thighs and hooked them onto your nightgown hem. He took the hem and lifted. You complied and he took the nightgown off your body and threw it to the floor. He then moved onto your soaked panties. WHen he saw the pool of wetness in them, he grinned. 

He took some time to look at your naked body. To soak your beauty in. When he had enough of the view he ran his rough hands over your soft breasts, toying with your nipples. He brought his lips down to your breasts and pressed a kiss between the two.

“Ya know, I’ve wanted to do this since I met ya, princess.”

You smirked at him and removed his shirt, “Really? Is there anything else you’ve been wanting to do?”

“Well, yeah, a couple of things, actually. Now that you ask.”

You put your hands on the buckle to his belt and pull it. It releases, “I see. Care to share with the class, Mr. Logan?”

He put his hands over yours and pulled his belt off, tossing it onto his shirt. He popped the button of his jeans and undid the zipper. Then the thought of you sucking a long thick cock came into your head. Logan smiled at you. You returned it and got on your knees. You pulled down his pants and boxers, allowed him to step out of them and then looked up at your daunting task. He was huge. While a little above average length, he was very girthy. Your hand couldn’t fit around him on its own if you tried. You lifted your lips to his cock and gently kissed the tip of it.

”Fuck,”  He let out a gruff moan, “y/n.”

The corners of your mouth turned upwards as you took him into your mouth. You moved your mouth forward and back while you found his eyes locked onto yours. His eyes worshiped you even from this position. Soon you felt his cock twitch in your mouth. Logan pulled back and he slipped out of your mouth. 

“Princess, if you keep it up, I won’t be able to fuck you the way I can smell you need it. Now get up here and kiss me.”

You obeyed. His cock was squished between the two of you. Logan pushed you back into the counter, lifted you up, and sat your bare ass on it. You yelped at the cold granite counter top. Logan stopped in his tracks and looked at you with concern. 

“I’m okay, just cold,” You reassured him.

“Well, let's fix that,” he smirked and knelt down on the floor in front of you. Logan steadied his rough calloused hands on your thighs and bent his head toward your core. You felt a warm wet tongue lick a strip up to your clit. You sighed in pleasure. He worked his tongue and lapped at your clit as he hummed against you. 

“Fuck, you feel so good, Logan.”

You could feel the scruff of his trim beard tickle the insides of your thighs as he smiled. You ran your hands through his headband tugged gently. He inserted a finger into your pussy and you gasped, not ready for him to do that so quickly. He worked his mouth and his fingers in unison. You squirmed under his touch. Logan added a finger to your pussy and you swore, “fucking hell.”

“You good, princess?” he said into your pussy, making brief eye contact with you. 

“Yeah,” you said breathily, “keep going, Logan, please.”

You didn’t need to ask him twice. He dove back into your core and licked in circles at the bud of your clit. You moaned and tried to squeeze your legs together, but Logan’s head and other hand stopped you from getting too far. You could feel the knot in your core tightening and tightening, it was not that far off from bursting. 

“I’m close, Logan, Really close.”

“I want you to cum on my mouth, princess,” he said gruffly against your core before returning to his pleasurable assault on your clit. 

Your hips involuntarily bucked up and you cried out Logan’s name. Pure bliss radiated throughout your body. Logan returned to his standing position and brought his lips to yours. You could taste your sweet juices on his lips. 

“Are you ready to take my cock, y/n?” 

You nodded, unable to speak yet. That was all Logan needed for him to pull you to the edge of the counter, line himself up to your entrance, and push his way into your soaking core. He gave you a moment to adjust to his size before he started to buck his hips slowly. You wrapped your legs around his waist. He hit your g-spot once, twice, and three times. You moan his name loudly and scratch your nails down his back. In return he pulled your hair not too gently but not enough to really hurt you.

“y/n,” he growled, “do that again and I might just finish before we’re done” 

You drew him in deeper with your legs. He grunted. Your hands roamed his entire body. His one hand toyed with your boob while the other was a steady constant on your back. 

He shifted you to hit your g-spot again. And you shouted out in excitement. The knot in your sore was tangling again. 

“Logan, I’m close.” You whispered into his ear. 

“Me too, Princess.” He thrust into you to punctuate each word. 

He sped up slightly. The knot came undone and you came on his cock. His moves became erratic. And he was not too far after you to spill his seed inside of you. He stayed inside you for a moment as the two of you hung onto each other and panted. 

When you pulled apart he looked you in your eyes and spoke softly, “come to bed with me, maybe company will stave off the nightmares?”

You nodded, still unable to speak. Slowly, the two of you dressed and went up to his room.

You fell asleep in his arms and slept the night away without any more nightmares.

[nomie-11]

Chase After You - Part 2

masterlist! | part 1 | part 3

synopsis: vi is committed to making you believe in her as a soulmate, but you are having troubling believing in your own limits as her soulmate

pairings: vi x reader, lowkey ellie x dina

After your unexpected (and mortifying) first meeting, you texted Vi just so she could have your number—not because you secretly wanted to hear from her—but just in case. You didn’t expect Vi to follow through on her declaration to get to know you. You thought she’d chalk you up as a lost cause after you bolted like a spooked animal. But instead, she texted you. 

Every day. 

Relentlessly. 

And then she started texting you about meeting up, going out for dinner, hitting the gym together, all of these things that you weren’t sure you really wanted to do with her. And then she offered coffee after rotations, fitting herself perfectly into your existing rotation. 

You weren’t sure why you agreed. Maybe it was the way Vi’s eyes lit up when you said “fine,” or the near instant relief you felt when your headaches faded around her. Either way, you regretted it almost instantly. 

By the time the next Tuesday rolled around, you were second guessing everything. Caitlyn, however, wasn’t letting you back out. 

“I don’t understand why you’re so nervous,” she said, leaning on the doorway as you grabbed your work bag. “It’s just coffee. You’ve already met her. Plus, she’s been texting you all week like you’re her new best friend.” 

“She’s not my best friend,” you muttered, zipping up your bag with more force than necessary. “And I’m not nervous.” 

Caitlyn gave you a pointed look. “You’ve changed your shirt three times.” 

You rolled your eyes. “It’s just coffee, right? Not a date.” 

“Exactly,” Caitlyn agreed, though her smirk said otherwise. “But if it were a date, you’d totally nail it.”

You groaned, grabbing your jacket. “Goodbye, Caitlyn.” 

She waved you off. “Have fun with your soulmate!”

You ignored her as you left, though her words played on a loop in your mind all the way to the coffee shop. 

Vi was already waiting when you arrived, sitting at a corner table with two mugs in front of her. She looked up the moment the door chimed, grinning as if she’d been waiting for this all day. 

“Hey!” she called, waving you over. “Thought I’d grab you something—hope you like caramel macchiatos?” 

You hesitated, standing awkwardly by the table. “Uh, yeah. How’d you know?” 

She nudged the chair across from herewith her foot, her grin widening. “Good guess, huh. Sit, relax. You look like you just ran a marathon.”

You muttered something under your breath but sat down anyway, wrapping your hands around the warm mug. Vi’s presence was… unnervingly comfortable, like you’d known her longer than a week. 

“So,” she said, leaning forward with her chin resting on her hand, “how was your rotation?” 

“It was fine,” you replied, trying to sound neutral. “Busy.” 

Vi nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Must be intense, though. I mean, clinicals and lectures? How do you even have time for… you know, a life?”

You shrugged, not sure how to answer. “I have three friends, so not much of a life.” 

Her smile softened, and for a moment, she just looked at you, like she was piecing something together. Then she leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest, the muscles in her shoulder pulling tight. “Okay, so here’s the deal: coffee, twice a week. My treat. We’ll call it stress relief.” 

You blinked. “What?” 

“After your rotations,” she clarified. “We meet here, twice a week. No pressure, no soulmate talk, just… getting to know each other.” 

You stared at her, unsure if you wanted to laugh or roll your eyes. “Why are you so insistent on this?” 

Vi shrugged, her grin returning. “Because you’re worth the effort. And I think you’ll figure that out eventually.” 

————————————

The first time Vi suggested ice skating, you thought she was joking. When she dragged you to the rink on your next ‘coffee date,’ you were certain it was a terrible idea. 

“I don’t know how to skate,” you protested as she handed you a pair of rentals. 

“That’s the fun part,” Vi said, already lacing hers up. “I’ll teach you.”

The first ten minutes were a disaster. You clung to the wall like your life depended on it, glaring at Vi every time she tried to coax you toward the center of the rink. 

“You’re doing great!” She called, skating backward in front of you with infuriating ease. 

“I hate this,” you muttered, taking a shaky step.

“You don’t hate it,” she said with a laugh. “You’re just mad you’re not good at it yet.” 

You glared at her, but her teasing grin was impossible to stay mad at. Slowly, she coaxed you away from the wall, her hands steadying yours as she guided you across the ice. 

You cling to Vi like she was a lifeline, your legs wobbling uncontrollably beneath you. Every time you felt even a hint of balance the ice seemed to betray you, and you found yourself clutching her arms tighter. 

“Okay, okay,” you hissed, squeezed your eyes shut as your skates slipped again. “I’m going to die, and it’s going to be your fault.” 

Vi laughed, the sound warm and genuine, echoing in the cold air. “You’re not going to die, Y/n. I’ve got you. Just trust me.” 

That was the problem. You did trust her—too much, maybe. Every time her hands steadied you, everytime she smiled and said, “You’re doing great,” you felt the knot in your chest loosen just a little. And that was terrifying. 

You stumbled again, and Vi caught you easily, her arms wrapping around your waist to keep you upright. “See?” She said, her voice soft. “Not so bad when you’ve got someone to hold on to.” 

You stared at her, your heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with skating. the pink of her hair stood out against the pale blue lights of the link, and her eyes were so full of warmth and patience that it made your stomach twist. She looked at you like you were someone worth catching. 

And that started you more than anything. 

“Are you okay?” Vi asked, tilting her head as she noticed your silence. 

You forced a laugh, hoping it sounded natural. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… trying not to snap my ankle.” 

Vi smirked, her hands still warm on your waist. “Don’t worry. If you fall, I’ll catch you.” 

You wanted to tell her that the falling wasn’t the part that scared you. It was the way she made you feel safe, the way she looked at you like you mattered. It was the way your soulmate bond tugged at your heart every time she smiled, like it was pulling toward something you weren’t sure you were ready for. 

But instead, you tightened your grip on her hands and said, “Okay, but if I fall, we’re both going down.” 

Vi grinned, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Deal. But only if you promise to let go of me and try on your own for a little longer.” 

You groaned but nodded, letting her guide you across the ice again. This time, you didn’t fight the way your body leaned into hers, and for a few minutes, you almost forgot why this was supposed to scare you.

Almost. 

——————————————

The rink was cold, loud, and way too busy for your liking when you walked through the doors for the second time. Vi had texted you the night before, practically begging you to come to her game, and just imagining her face when you showed up was enough to get you to come. 

Vi had said for you to come early so she could meet you by the rink before she had to stretch and warm up so she could introduce you to some people. 

Going to the game—not so scary. Meeting Vi’s friends? Terrifying. 

By the time you arrived, your nerves were frayed. The rink was packed with players warming up, families gathering in the stands, and the faint smell of popcorn wafting through the air. You scanned the crowd, trying to spot Vi, your anxiety building with every second. 

Then, you heard her. 

“Y/n!”

Vi’s voice cut through the noise like a beacon, and you turned to see her weaving through the crowd, half-dressed in her hockey gear. Her helmet dangled from her hand, her skate guards clinking as she walked toward you. She had that same easy grin that she normally does, the one that somehow made you feel both at ease and completely overwhelmed. 

“You made it!” she said, her voice warm with excitement. Before you could respond, she gently grabbed your wrist and tugged you toward a group near the benches. “Come on, there’s people I want you to meet.” 

You barely had time to protest before you were standing in front of two women and a baby. One of them, a tall brunette with a mischievous glint in her eye, was also half-dressed in hockey gear and holding a squirming baby on her hip. The other, a slightly shorter woman with strong facial features and kind eyes, offered you a small, polite smile. 

“This is Ellie,” Vi said, gesturing toward the taller woman. “She’s one of my best friends, and a total menace on the ice.” 

Ellie snorted, shifting the baby to her other hip. “Nice to meet you, Y/n. Don’t listen to her—she’d just mad I’m better at slap shots.” 

Vi rolled her eyes. “Anyway, this is Dina—Ellie’s soulmate.” 

Dina laughed softly, reaching out to shake your hand. “Nice to finally put a face to the name. Vi’s been talking about you nonstop.” 

Your face heated instantly. “Oh, um… nice to meet you, too.” 

“And this,” Vi added, pointing to the baby, “is J.J. He’s kind of the star of the show.” 

J.J. babbled happily, reaching for your necklace. You couldn’t help but smile as his tiny fingers grabbed onto it, tugging gently. 

Oh my god, that is the cutest damn baby I’ve ever seen. 

“You want to hold him?” Dina asked, tilting her head. 

You hesitated, but Vi nudged your arm gently, catching the way your eyes lit up when J.J. aimlessly waved his hands in your face. “He won’t bite, I promise.” 

With a nervous nod, you carefully took J.J. from Ellie, his weight settling gently onto your arms and chest. He looked up at you with wide, curious eyes, and despite yourself, you felt a smile tugging at your lips. 

“There you go,” Dina said, her tone encouraging. “You’ve got the magic touch. He loves you.” 

Vi watched you with a softness you weren’t used to, her gaze lingering as you shifted J.J. to your hip to make him more comfortable. 

“You’re a total natural,” she said, her voice quieter than usual. 

You opened your mouth to respond, but the loud whistle of the referee cut through the air, signaling the last warning before it was match time. 

“That’s our cue,” Vi said, stepping closer to you. “Dina and J.J.’ll keep you company during the game. You’ll be fine.” 

You nodded, your throat suddenly dry. Vi’s hand brushed yours briefly before she grabbed her helmet and jogged off toward the ice, her pink hair bright against the deep blue and gold of her jersey. 

Dina must have noticed your nerves, because she gave you a reassuring smile. “Come on, let’s grab a spot. J.J. and I are pros at cheering for these two.” 

Ellie laughed, pressing a kiss to Dina’s jaw before follow off after Vi, leaving you and Dina to make your way to the stands. 

You settled into a seat with Dina and J.J. at your side, the baby happily gnawing on a teething ring while Dina explained the basics of the ame. You nodded along, half-listening, but your attention was on Vi. She was easy to spot—her pink hair stood out even with her helmet on, and her confident stride on the ice was impossible to miss. 

When the game started, you quickly realized why Vi had been so insistent on inviting you. She was good. She was incredible. She was hot. Watching her skate was like watching someone entirely in their own element. She moved with a precision and intensity that was mesmerizing, weaving through players like they weren’t even there, her stick handling the puck with ease. 

“Wow,” you murmured, leaning forward as she darted past three defenders and fired a shot straight into the net. The crowd erupted, and Dina gently covered J.J.’s ears to give a loud cheer. 

“She’s pretty amazing, huh?” Dina said, her tone knowing.

You nodded, not even bothering to deny it. “Yeah. She it.” 

For a moment, you forgot about the crowd, the noise, and the tug of your soulmate bond that always lingered when Vi was near. You just watched her, completely in awe of how effortless she made it look.

Then it happened—as she angled for the puck near the center of the rink, a player from the opposing team with a solid twenty pounds on Vi barreled into her at full speed, shoulder-checking her with enough force to send her sprawling to the ice. 

The moment she hit the ground, pain exploded across your shoulder, sharp and searing. You gasped, clutching at your arm instinctively, the sensation so vivid it made your vision blur. 

Dina turned to you, her expression concerned. “Y/n? Are you okay?” 

You couldn’t answer. The pain was too much, and it was everywhere—radiating from your shoulder to your chest and back. Panic clawed at your throat as you struggled to breathe, your mind spinning with her pain. 

“Y/n?” Dina’s voice was louder now, edged with worry. 

“I—I have to go,” you stammered, standing abruptly. The movement sent another jolt of pain through your shoulder, but you ignored it, clutching the armrest for balance. “I’m sorry—I can’t—”

Before Dina could respond, you bolted, the sound of the crowd fading behind you as you rushed toward the exit. Your vision blurred with tears, your chest tight as you pushed through the doors and into the cold night air. 

You had to get away. 

—-------------------------------

The cafe smelled like freshly brewed coffee and cinnamon as you sank into your usual seat across from Vi. You were both quiet today—a rare occurrence. Your post-rotation coffee ritual had grown into something steady and comforting over the past few weeks. Twice a week, like clockwork, Vi would be waiting for you. 

But today, there was a tension that clung to the air like static electricity. 

“So,” Vi finally broke the silence, fiddling with the paper sleeve on her cup. “Another big game next weekend.”

You nodded absently, staring down at your drink. “Against Noxus Central University, right? I heard they’re brutal.” 

“Yeah,” she said, her voice carrying a faint edge. “Real bruises. Should be fun, though.” 

Your stomach twisted, but you forced a neutral tone. “Fun, huh?” 

Vi raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing,” you said quickly, taking a sip of your coffee. 

She didn’t buy it. “Come on, Y/n. Spill.” 

You hesitated, the words clawing at the back of your throat. “It’s just… you always come out of those games looking like you’ve been through a war zone. I mean—last weekend was brutal. I thought you broke your shoulder, and I’m the one who has to feel it.” 

Her eyes widened, and her hand froze mid-fidget, “Oh.” 

“Yeah, oh.” You set down the cup harder than you meant to. “I don’t know what crazy pain tolerance you have, but it felt like I was hit by a freight train. It’s a lot, Vi.” 

Her jaw tightened. “You think I don’t feel bad about that? I don’t want you to hurt because of me.” 

“Then maybe you should stop putting yourself in situations where it happens!” The words tumbled out louder than you intended, and you winced at your own tone. 

Vi’s expression darkened, her easy going demeanor vanishing. “Are you seriously asking me to stop playing hockey?” 

“I’m asking you to think about what it’s doing to me!”

She leaned forward, her voice dropping into something sharper. “And what about me, huh? Hockey’s my life, Y/n. It’s not just a game; it's who I am.” 

“Maybe that’s the problem,” You snapped, the words cutting like a knife even as you said them. 

Vi recoiled, her blue eyes narrowing. “Wow. So that’s what you think of me?” 

You opened your mouth to respond, but a familiar voice cut in. “Alright, what’s going on here?” 

You looked up to see Ellie approaching, her gaze bouncing between you and Vi. SHe stopped next to Vi’s chair, crossing her arms. “You guys never argue like this.”

“I’m not the one making unreasonable demands,” Vi muttered glaring at her coffee.

“Unreasonable?” you shot back, your voice rising. “I’m not asking for much, Vi. Just for you to stop throwing yourself in the path of a warm machine. Do you know what it's like to feel like your body isn’t your own because your soulmate tosses herself around recklessly.” 

Ellie’s eyebrows shot up, but she didn’t intervene. Not yet. 

Vi’s face twisted with frustration. “And do you know what it’s like to feel like you’re constantly apologizing for just existing? For doing what I love? I can’t just stop being me, Y/n. Hockey’s my first love.”

“Maybe I don’t want a soulmate then!” The words erupted before you could stop them, and the moment they left your mouth, the room seemed to freeze. 

Vi’s expression crumbled, and Ellie’s sharp intake of breath was the only sound in the suffocating silence that followed. 

“Y/n,” Vi said softly, her voice cracking just enough for you to hear. “You don’t mean that. I thought we were past that.” 

You wanted to take it back, you wanted to take it back so badly, but the floodgates had opened. “I don’t believe in soulmates, Vi. I don’t and I never have. And Honestly? This—us—it’s just proving why I was right. It’s not fair. None of this is fair.” 

Ellie stepped closer, her voice low but firm. “Y/n, you’re upset. Maybe take a second before you say something you can’t take back.” 

“I already said it,” you whispered, your chest tight. “And it’s true.” 

Vi stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. “You don’t believe in soulmates? After all I’ve done to try to prove to you that this could work?” 

You stood too, unable to stay still under the weight of her gaze. “You think this is easy for me? It’s not! I’ve spent my whole life trying to prove I’m enough, and now I’m supposed to be enough for you? Someone who’s fearless and— and perfect, and doesn’t need me slowing her down?” 

“Slowing me down!?” Vi’s voice rose, incredulous. “You think that’s how I see you? God, Y/n, you’re the only person who’s ever made me feel like I’m more than just… what I do.” 

“Then why does it feel like I’m the only one compromising?” Your voice cracked, and you hated how vulnerable you sounded. 

“I’m not asking you to change who you are,” she said, her tone softer but no less urgent. “I’m just asking you to please, give this a chance. Stop being so defensive.” 

“And I’m asking you to understand that I can’t keep waking up in pain every time you decide to throw yourself into a fight on the ice!”

Ellie stepped between you, her hands up. “Okay, let’s all take a breath here—”

“No,” Vi said, her voice breaking. “If she doesn’t want this, then fine.” 

“Vi—” Ellie tried, but Vi was already grabbing her jacket. 

“Stop, Ellie,” Vi said, shaking her head as she turned to leave. “Come on.” 

You stood frozen, tears stinging your eyes as she walked out the door, Ellie close on her heels. 

The silence that followed was deafening. 

Caitlyn appeared moments later, a confused expression on her face. “Where did everyone go?”

You just shook your head, unable to speak through the lump in your throat. 

Fuck. 

this is the second part in a three part series! read part 1 here! reader part 3 here!

If you enjoyed this one shot, please check out my other series!

[starlighttsv]

Best of both worlds - Paige’s daughter

💌 Syn: Paige is on “the best of both worlds” podcast during her world tour

»»— warnings: none :)

»»— notes: 🗑️😃 but only 1 more fic before i’m done trying to edit these cringy stories 🤗

»»— word count: 1k

»»— pair: paige x daughter!oc || lilah bueckers

Todays the day of filming Flaujae's podcast "the best of both worlds" hosted in Atlanta currently because of overtime Queen of the Court. Lilah is also with Paige but the time of filming the podcast, is a few minutes after her nap time starts and she can never skip naps or she'll be a very grumpy sassy 1 year old. So she's gonna sleep in the room next door and Paige & Flaujae are gonna leave the filming room door cracked so Paige can hear if she wakes up or anything.

"Alright guys now moving on, today's special guest is.....Paige Bueckers!" Flaujae introduces "hey everyone! Thank you for having me." Paige replies

"So I have some questions for you" flaujae starts, making Paige nod and say go ahead.

"What is your favorite basketball highlight of yours?"

"Ooo wait...oh I'm gonna go with when I was shooting the ball and it bounced off the rim, and then straight down in the bucket. I love that highlight"

"I saw that one! That was so dope!"

"Alright, what's your favorite basketball picture of you?"

"The one where I'm looking at the fans screaming after a basket, and there all screaming back at me. I need to get that framed!"

"Y'all heard her, get that picture framed for her" Flau says making her and Paige laugh a little and joke around for a few. "Alright who has more rizz?" Flaujae jokes "oh cmon, I'm the greatest rizzler of all time" Paige laughs making Flau also start to laugh "Alright I'll give you that. People say I'm a flirty person until I'm talking to someone I like" "your just shy or?" Paige cuts in "no it's more of just like I don't want to push it to much." Flaujae adds "oh I get that, I get that"

"You need to give me some tips." Flaujae jokingly says "alright-" Paige starts "off camera, off camera" Flaujae cuts in making Paige agree "Alright alright, a little more serious questions" Flaujae starts "you have a daughter" she adds making Paige nod "what's your favorite thing about her?"

"Ooo uhh, I honestly don't know. Uhh her love for adventure maybe? She loves going to new places, seeing new people, seeing animals she's never seen before. She loves even going on like "road-trips" to the store or gas station." Paige answered "Shes been with you for your whole "world tour" so far, right?" Flau questions "yeah.“

"What was your favorite thing to do with her on your world tour? And what was her favorite thing to do, if you know?"

"My favorite was umm oh our LA trip, we did a lot there. We went to Disneyland, Universal, a few museums, few beach trips, an aquarium vist, plus some more. Lilah's favorite was probably-" Paige stops talking as she hears Lilah walking through the hallway and calling out for her

"Mama" Lilah says, obviously looking for Paige. P takes a quick glance at Flaujae asking if she can bring Lilah in here, making Flaujae do a quick nod giving Paige her approval. "In here baby" P calls out, hearing Lilah start walking towards the filming room.

When she enters and sees Paige, she starts waddling towards P a little faster "good morning babe, how was your nap?" Paige asks, going on deaf ears as Lilah just walks closer to Paige and puts her hands on P’s thighs, a sign that she wants picked up. So Paige leans down and picks her up putting her on her thigh and Lilah immediately cuddles closer to Paige.

"I 100% have baby fever now. She's so cute omg" Flaujae says making Paige let out a chuckle "thank you" Paige says "well she's in here now so maybe she can answer your question. Lil what was your favorite thing we did so far this summer?"

She just cuddles into Paige more "cmon Lilah, I know you have favorites" P tries to convince her "ball and Disney" Lilah mumbles "she said ball and Disney, which translates to all star and Disneyland"P chuckles while rubbing Lilahs back, either to help her go back to sleep or to wake her up. Paige doesn’t really know the answer yet and she doesn’t think Lilah knows yet either

"I was gonna ask her favorite part of all star but looking at her, I don't think she wants to answer" Flaujae softly says, seeing that Lilah is trying not to fall asleep in Paige's arms right now  "she never really wants to talk after waking up, she just wants cuddles and silence to decide if she's awake for the day or not - but she said she loved meeting all the new people and seeing people she already knew again - especially loved seeing Diana, Sue, Breanna, Megan, Angel and Caitlyn, when I asked her." Flaujae nods and says  "so we can count on her to go to UConn" "I mean maybe? But I'm not gonna force her to follow my footsteps." Paige shrugs making Flau nod again "alright I'll move the subject away from your daughter, I got carried away. That's my bad"

Paige laughs a little, "Your good. I love talking about her any chance I get." Flaujae smiles at that and says "you seem like an amazing mom"

"Thank you. I try my best for her." Flaujae nods and then looks at her cards and says "alright we're gonna play a game. I'm gonna name a few of your teammates past and present, and I want you to give me one word that describes them." Paige nods still rubbing Lilahs back, and Lilahs just playing with Paige's chain now, deciding she wasn’t tired anymore.

"Kk Arnold" "goofy"

"Azzi Fudd" "consistent"

"Nika Mühl" "I have so many words to describe her....menace"

"Aaliyah Edwards" "dog"

"And last but not least, Ice Brady" "she icy"

Lilah stayed on Paige’s lap for the rest of filming, still just playing with P’s chain - and once filming was wrapped Paige took lilah to get some food before going back to the practice facility and go over plays with “team paige”

@melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @authentic-girl03

[writing-nothing-but-spilled-ink]

Alright part 2 cause I need the serotonin this will involve Damian

Eventually after hours of work and vigilante shit getting done Jason aka redhood finally has some time to stop by and check on his kids safe houses though strangely he can't find any of them in they're usually places which is incredibly odd until he starts hearing lots of cheering and cooing coming from one of the side streets that lead to a dead end on one side of the abandoned alley.

What he finds when he walks over are the kids his kids in a circle surrounding a bunch of stray animals and some clearly abandoned animals, now Jason knows for a fact that these animals don't live in this part of town he's not adverse to feeding strays it's just he usually would notice the animals especially if he sees them frequently around Gotham and these aren't exactly what he'd call native to this part of town considering some of them looked freshly cleaned usually the strays would have dirty and muck allover there fur and paws covered in mud and the toxic rock salt solutions that have. Been used to prevent ice from covering the streets..

Eventually the kids then towards him with big hopeful eyes and says can't we keep them can't you take care of them I mean you said you just got a new safe house for everyone and that weird guy with the suit has been helping you take care of us we promise we'd train them well and keep them happy and fed and we'll walk them every day before and after school, WE COULD EVEN TRAIN THEM TO HELP YOU TAKE OUT BAD GUYS ESPECIALLY IF ANYMORE MEAN MEN COME AFTER US AGAIN...

Jason is taken aback he's never been in this situation before hell he can't even imagine Bruce or even Alfred in this situation he tried to think of what they'd do if faced with this decision but honestly both those options felt incredibly heartless, with a sigh he slowly pulled out his vigilante specific phone and looked at the weather for this week of Gotham and when he found that it'll be below freezing temperatures he found he couldn't say no at least not tonight, and maybe this could teach them some responsibility, but now here's the trouble what does he do if they decide they want the same pet he can't imagine theyd be willing to share one and animals tended to choose there owners as well ..

Eventually hood just sighed and goes, "alright guys you may take them inside get them warmed up and I'll see about getting some animal food and dog beds and blankets as well as cat toys, at least for this week since this whole week it'll be below freezing temperatures, beyond that I'm not sure if this is a good idea we're already on thin ice as it is especially with Gotham child services if they think for even a second any of you are living in filth with no supervision with an animal at that, one that could be labeled as dangerous or disease ridden I'm not sure that even Harvey would be able to bail us out this time so I want everyone to treat the next two weeks as a trial run show me your all adult enough to handle pet ownership, we're not putting them back out on the streets and we're definitely not going to allow anyone putting them to sleep if we cannot keep them i don't want any of you to be worried about that."

"Suzy you've recently been diagnosed with asthma and whole I have had you tested for allergies and it's all come back negative I want you to understand that in some people animal hair/fur can trigger your asthma quite badly, if that starts to happen I'd unfortunately be forced to take it away and re-home it and I'm not saying this to be cruel I'm saying this so you understand that your health is more important than owning a pet even if we love them dearly, though if that's the case whoever we rehome it to I'll ensure you'll be able to visit from time to time alright".

Each kid scoops up an animal one of which manages to pick up a fairly big pitbull and awkwardly waddles up the apartment complex stairs every now and. Again tilting ever so slightly to the side due to the weight of the animal meanwhile the entire time the dog seems to be happily drooling with it's great big pink tongue hanging out, a bunch of the younger kids have chosen to take in the kittens who seemed to be at least a year old, he's seen enough of Catwoman tending to stray cats over the years to recognize the older cats from the younger ones, one kid in particular seemed to have a fluffy bunny in one arm and a pug in the other, vaguely Jason felt as if he just opened a can of worms he was not qualified to deal with.. As the last of the kids and pets went inside he heard a crunching come from behind but when he turned around he saw no one

"Hey Todd it seems your delinquents have found my friends, I was taking them out for some air but they got away from me and when I was about to go out and look for them father had informed me that there's a new case he must work on and while he does so he needed me to patrol with dick, I had each of them chipped with my own specially designed microchips and tracked them to this location and I noticed your delinquents have taken a liking to them, maybe we can come to an acceptable agreement, your delinquents may keep and even care for my friends in exchange you allow me to teach them about the animals and proper animal handling and maybe this way they'll finally learn some culture, and you don't tell father I was bringing more friends to the manor".

"first off stop calling them delinquents they're good people, not soldiers, not delinquents, and most definitely not unworthy simply because they were born of lessor means, you don't see me dick or Bruce calling you an irredeemable monster that only cares for perfection simply because ra's is your grandfather, I thought you would've known better by now especially living In a place like Gotham and interacting with the people here, maybe Bruce has already failed you if this is how you see others of lesser means, I'm sure he'd be disappointed and so wouldn't dick".

...

Damian is caught off guard by how valiantly passionate Jason sounds when talking of those of lessor means, Damian did feel a bit of shame wash over him for calling the kids delinquents but how could he not feel this way they were all covered in dirt and muck and seemed to do nothing all day but chasing after an idiot like the red hood and not taking any real interest in creating a lasting legacy, or taking proper. Care if there appearances, it was barbaric how carefree they were running around, showing all those emotions, that was a weakness, a thing that could easily be exploited and used against you why couldn't they see that, why couldn't they see by openly running wild they were leaving themselves open to be hurt, it's dangerous to be this loud to take up this much space, they lacked discipline and-,..

Jason noticed that Damian's mood seemed to have changed from snarky know it all to his fake Bruce face the type of face Bruce would use when he's thinking really hard about a case but can't seem to quite crack the puzzle, and the type that usually resulted in bruce pulling out his own hair due to the stress and trauma, honestly in this moment Damian looked like a blank sheet in a sense facially it's a face he's seen before on other league members when a single free thought or word out of turn would lead to a severe physical punishment. Finally Damian looked up almost looking like a sad scared child honestly like Jason probably did when Bruce first found him all those years ago stealing tires off the batmobile, and running around the streets,

"Todd I... Apologize, the- .. your acquaintances aren't delinquents, but they are disorganized, and it's barbaric, I am concerned that them being so open will only lead them to painful lessons later on if they're not careful, though I see now it is not my place to intervene or say as much, but I'd still really like to teach them how to properly take care of my friends I also have treats for them"-..

"it's fine, you may teach them how to care for the animals if you wish, but please try not to go on for hours about the history of how they got here or there ancestors, they're not like you, so keep it simple at least at first and then if they have questions answer them as they arrive, they don't have access to real school or top educations like you or dick did, what they learn is mainly thanks to me and Alfred and a program that's slowly being implemented by the locals around here, alot of them are former teachers, midwives, ECT before they had to quit there jobs or leave due to active threats to they're safety, and they're helping us establish a small school for basic education and educational skills they'll need later in life, also I'd like for you to be prepared as they may make fun of the way you speak and your accent as there's not alot of people around here that speak like you".

Okay but like imagine Jason Todd living in Crime Alley and he has numerous safe houses in gotham some of witch just aren't for him and in fact are apartment complexes that he bought out for cheap possibly due to a little life-threatening scare by Red Hood and any time he's in crime alley and he notices that especially in the winter months that the kids are sick or don't have a dry place to live he just starts setting them up in the apartment complex, and none of the kids ever talk about where exactly that complex is because they love redhood... Also, I imagine that once a week Jason makes like a really big dinner and he just goes outside and serves it to the kids around crime alley, the kids all love him and feel safe with him. I imagine it gets to a point where if the kids are in danger or are worried or scared they just go running over to Red Hood some of the kids have taken to calling him dad, uncle, and other various family references.. And one day on the way back to one of his safe houses he just hears one of the younger street kids yelling dad and he turns to where its coming from and theres just this small kid holding another small kid in his arms and red's just like what happened and the kid just goes shes sick and idk what to do and red just kinda sighs and goes yeah alright follow me kid and he walks over to one of his main safe houses puts his bike away and gets the kids into the car but before continuing to the doc office he calls out through crime alley of if anyone's sick yall better come here i don't wanna do numerous trips and suddenly theres a small group of kids coming out of the shadows and he ushers them all into the car drives them all to gotham general and the receptionist doesn't bat an eye at the gaggle of sick kids or the fact redhood is checking them all in because he and the hospital have an understanding so he gets them all treated and seen and has to sit in with every nurse and doctor, at one point he gets a call from bruce asking why he's not on protrol and jason thinking nothing of it just goes i'm busy im at the hospital have dickface cover my patrol and then he hangs up to speak to the doctors and check on his kids..

bruce shows up at Gotham general just to find red surrounded by numerous children with various flu's colds coughs one of them has pneumonia and was just diagnosed with asthma and he's just taking notes while there's one child in his lap crying cause she's scared and he's just rocking her gently while writing down various treatment plans for each kid and what safe house he's putting them in because he'll be personally taking care of them... and one of the docs spot Bruce and is like excuse me mr. wayne you can't be back here patients only and redhood can be here because he's there acting guardian which makes Bruce's brain short-circuit entirely

Also alfred 100 percent knows about this and has helped red set up the rooms for the kids and everything and some of those big family dinners Jason has for the kids yeah he's using Alfred's recipes

How Jason got guardianship of these kids is because of Harvey dent he got the proper legal advice from Harvey

[vibelladonna]

✑ 𝒷𝓊𝓃𝓃𝓎 𝓈𝓊𝒾𝓉 𝜗𝜚 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒, 𝓈𝑜𝓁 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑔𝑒𝑜

· ─────── ⋆⋅♤⋅⋆ ─────── · 

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: Who doesn’t love a good bunny suit fanfic? This little piece was inspired by the incredible artwork of @alienfreak124. I’m always in awe of her creations—her OC is so cool! Honestly, every time I see her work, I wish I had the talent to draw. T-T Always wanted to see what my OC would look like in the Tkatb fandom.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions. 

Also, I’ve been thinking about branching out into other fandoms—Creepypasta is definitely at the top of the list since it was such a huge part of my childhood. Ticci Toby has always been my favorite, and I’m super excited to dive into that world. I’m also considering Death Note and Black Butler, but who knows? 

For now, I’m pretty set on exploring the creepy side first, especially with all the dark, twisted fandoms.

Anyway, I’ve got about three fics in the works for these lovely men—Crowe, Sol, and Geo. But it’s gonna be one day at a time because, let’s be real, I need to stop posting these things so damn late. College life is getting hectic, but I’m making it work, even if it means less sleep. Priorities, right?

· ─────── ⋆⋅♤⋅⋆ ─────── · 

✑ 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒

You’re in your room, standing in front of the mirror, tugging at the hem of a plain black dress.

It’s simple, safe, and exactly the kind of outfit you’d usually wear to a small party. You tilt your head, trying to decide if “simple” is too boring. The party isn’t exactly a big deal—just a casual gathering—but there’s a nagging thought in the back of your mind: 

Crowe’s going to be there.

Before you can overthink it, there’s a sudden knock at your door. “Hey! Open up!” Brittney’s voice is unmistakable—high-energy and impossible to ignore. You sigh, already knowing she’s about to upend whatever plans you’ve made for the evening. 

When you open the door, Brittney bursts in like a hurricane, her arms overflowing with what looks like… fur? No, it’s worse. It’s a bunny costume—a black bodysuit with matching ears, thigh high socks, and heels so high they look like a twisted form of punishment. 

“Oh no,” you say immediately, holding up your hands in protest. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on!” Brittney waves the outfit in front of you like it’s the Holy Grail. “It’s perfect! It’s fun, it’s flirty, and you’ll steal the spotlight! Imagine the look on everyone’s faces when you walk in wearing this. Especially Jericho.”

Your stomach flips at the mention of his name, but you shake your head. “There’s no way I’m wearing that. I’ll look ridiculous!”

“Ridiculous?” Brittney scoffs, planting her hands on her hips. “Please. You’ll look hot. Besides, when was the last time you did something bold? Live a little!” She leans in, grinning mischievously. “And, you know, like I said he might notice.”

You roll your eyes, before releasing a sigh, “Britt, I’m not trying to ‘steal the spotlight.’ I just want to blend in.”

“Blend in?” She gasps like you’ve just insulted her personally. “Blending in is for cowards. And you’re not a coward, are you?”

“...You’re guilt-tripping me.”

“Is it working?”

Unfortunately, yes. You stare at the bunny suit like it’s a wild animal that might bite you, but part of you can’t help wondering: What if Brittney’s right? What if Crowe actually notices?

“Fine,” you say, at last, snatching the costume from her hands. “But different heels and if I look stupid, I’m blaming you.”

Brittney claps her hands in triumph. “You’ll look amazing, trust me! Now, hurry up and get dressed—I need to see the final look.”

You sigh and shut the door, holding up the bunny suit with a mix of dread and curiosity.

This is either the best idea or the worst mistake.

The moment you step into the party, a hush falls over the room—or at least it feels like it. The warm glow of string lights strung across the ceiling doesn’t do much to soothe the nerves twisting in your stomach. You keep your head down, gripping a drink you barely remember picking up, and try to focus on anything other than the fact that you’re dressed like a bunny in a room full of people dressed... normally.  

Brittney, of course, is loving every second of it. She’s practically glowing as she flits around the room, dropping comments like, “Isn’t she adorable?” and “Doesn’t she look amazing?” to anyone within earshot. You glare at her from across the room, but she just winks and mouths, “You’re welcome.”

You hover near the edge of the crowd, trying to blend into the background. It’s ironic, considering the ridiculous outfit, but you figure if you keep still enough, maybe no one will notice. That plan works for about five minutes—until you catch a familiar figure out of the corner of your eye.  

Crowe.  

He’s leaning against the wall near the bookshelf, casually sipping from a glass, his posture as effortlessly relaxed as ever. Even in the soft glow of the party lights, he’s sharp, dressed in his usual clean, put-together style that somehow manages to look both formal and casual at the same time. He always looks like he belongs on a magazine cover—button-up sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he listens to someone talk.

You freeze, torn between retreating to the nearest shadowy corner and pretending you haven’t seen him, or... well, doing something else. But then, as if sensing your eyes on him, Crowe looks up—and the moment his gaze lands on you, it’s like the rest of the party fades into the background.  

You brace yourself, half-expecting him to laugh or make some snide remark. Instead, his eyebrows lift slightly, and the corner of his mouth quirks up into what might just be the faintest hint of a smirk. He takes another sip of his drink, sets the glass down, and begins making his way toward you.  

Oh no.

Before you can figure out an escape route, he’s standing in front of you, tall and composed, with that cool, unreadable expression that makes your heart do ridiculous things.  

His expression is calm and unreadable, but there’s a sharp glint in his eyes that immediately sets you on edge. The drink in your hand suddenly feels useless as you clutch it tightly, wishing you had anything to focus on besides the way Crowe’s gaze is very obviously trailing over your bunny suit. Slowly.

“Nice to see you decided to... dress up,” he says, his tone dripping with amusement as he comes to a stop in front of you. His eyes flicker from your bunny ears to the tights and back to your face, where your mortified expression only seems to fuel his teasing.

“This wasn’t my idea,” you say quickly, feeling the need to defend yourself. “Britt made me wear it. She said it’ll steal the spotlight or whatever…”  

Crowe raises a brow, “Britney suggested this..?” then soft smile appears once again as he leans just slightly closer. “Oh, I believe you. But she didn’t make you come to me wearing it, did she?”

You sputter, your face heating up. “I didn’t come to you! You walked over here!”

“Did I?” he asks innocently, his smirk widening into something outright devilish. “Must’ve been the bunny ears. Hard to miss.”

You glare at him, your mind racing for some kind of witty comeback, but it’s hard to think when his gaze keeps darting to your legs, the curve of your waist, and then back to your face, like he’s deliberately making a show of it.

“Well,” he says after a beat, his tone maddeningly casual. “She wasn’t wrong.”  

Your brain short-circuits. He did not just say that.

“Excuse me?”  

“About the spotlight,” he clarifies, his smirk softening into something almost... fond. “You’ve certainly got everyone’s attention.”  

You rolled your eyes, “I look ridiculous,” crossing your arms over your chest, turning your head away from his gaze.

It wasn’t long before you felt his finger under your chin to look at him once more, his deep blue eyes filled with warmth, “I wouldn’t say that now,” he counters smoothly. His voice drops a little lower, just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Not that I’m complaining, of course. But I’m curious—how many people have tried their luck with you tonight?”

Your eyes widen. “W-what?”

You can’t decide whether to tell the truth to him or strangle him. 

“Come on,” he says, his smirk turning positively wicked. “In that outfit? Like you said, half the room is staring. Though...” He leans in, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I doubt anyone else is appreciating it quite as much as I am.”

Your breath hitches, and you’re sure your face is about to burst into flames. “Crowe, you can’t just—”

“Say the truth?” he interrupts smoothly, stepping just close enough that you can catch the faint scent of his blueberry cologne. “Oh, I can. And I will.”

You open your mouth to argue, but before you can, Crowe’s gaze shifts, scanning the room. The teasing glint in his deep blue eyes is replaced with something sharper, almost protective, as he takes in the prying eyes of the other partygoers.

“It’s way too many people here,” Crowe mutters, his voice low enough that it feels like the words are meant only for him. Then he glances back at you, his eyes softening in a way that makes your breath hitch.

“Let’s leave.” He mumbled.

“What?”

“I said, let’s leave.” His hand brushes lightly against your elbow, the fleeting touch sending a spark up your arm. His gaze lingers on you, unreadable but heavy with something unspoken. “Unless you’d prefer to stay here and let everyone keep gawking at you like you’re... on display.”  

Your eyes dart around the room, catching a few glimpses of the subtle but unmistakable stares in your direction. The air feels suffocating now, and the idea of staying in this crowded space seems unbearable. Still, you hesitate, caught off guard by the sheer intensity of his presence.  

“Fine,” you say at last, forcing an air of nonchalance even as your pulse quickens. “But if you’re planning to tease me, I’m leaving the second you start.”  

Crowe chuckles—a deep, smooth sound that does nothing to steady your nerves. “Don’t worry,” he says, his lips curving into a slow, knowing smirk as he places a hand lightly on the small of your back to guide you toward the door. “I’ll behave.”  

You’re not entirely convinced, but before you can second-guess your decision, the two of you are stepping into the cool night air. The sharp contrast to the party’s stuffy warmth sends a shiver down your spine, but it’s not just the chill that has you trembling.  

Crowe’s steps are deliberate, his presence magnetic as he walks you to his car. He unlocks the passenger door with a smooth motion, holding it open for you before rounding the car to slide into the driver’s seat. The quiet thud of the door closing feels heavier in the silence, the hum of the engine breaking the tension only slightly.  

“Brittney’s going to wonder where I went,” you say softly, partly to yourself, as Crowe pulls out of the driveway.  

“I’ll text her later,” he replies, his tone calm but firm. “She’ll survive.”  

The car is dimly lit, the glow of passing streetlights casting fleeting shadows across his sharp features. You can feel his gaze flicking toward you every so often, lingering just long enough to make your skin tingle.  

He doesn’t speak for a while, but the silence between you isn’t uncomfortable. It’s charged—like the air before a storm. You’re hyper-aware of every detail: the way his hands grip the steering wheel, the faint scent of his blueberry cologne filling the small space, the way his jaw tightens whenever you catch him sneaking glances.  

“You shouldn’t let her talk you into things like that,” he says suddenly, his voice lower now, almost rough.  

“Like what?” you ask, even though you know exactly what he means.  

He glances at you briefly, his lips pressing into a thin line before his expression softens. “Like wearing something that makes every guy in the room look at you like they’ve forgotten how to think.”  

The words are sharper than you expect, tinged with an edge of possessiveness that makes your breath catch.  

“I thought you didn’t mind people staring,” you counter, trying to keep your voice steady.  

“I don’t,” he says, his fingers tightening on the wheel. “Unless it’s you.”  

The confession hangs in the air, heavy and electrifying. You look over at him, your heart pounding in your chest. There’s no teasing smirk now, no easy charm—just raw, unguarded honesty in his gaze as he pulls the car to a stop at the side of the road in the middle of nowhere.

He turns to face you fully, his expression unreadable but his eyes dark with something unmistakable.  

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, the words rough with restraint.  

Your lips part, but no sound comes out. The heat in his gaze is overwhelming, and you feel pinned in place by the sheer intensity of it.  

“I’ve been trying to keep my distance,” he continues, his tone rough and uneven now, “but seeing you tonight, dressed like that, letting everyone else see you like that…” He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “It drove me crazy.”  

The air in the car feels thick, charged with an unspoken tension that’s almost suffocating. Your pulse pounds in your ears, your breaths shallow as you sit still, unsure of what to say—or if there’s even anything you should say. The silence stretches out, heavy and electric, until Crowe shifts closer to you, his movements deliberate yet almost hesitant.  

His hand rises, and for a moment, you think he might stop midway. But then his fingers gently brush against your cheek, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The touch is light, almost feather-soft, yet it lingers—his fingertips trailing against your skin just long enough to leave a burning imprint.  

“Please tell me to stop…” he murmurs, his voice deep and velvety, the faintest edge of uncertainty in his tone. “…before I do something I’ll regret.”

A shiver races up your spine at the feel of his touch, and the heat of his proximity makes it impossible to think straight. Your breath hitches, and you swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry. You manage to meet his gaze, his eyes dark and searching, as though he’s looking for any sign of hesitation.  

“And if I don’t want you to stop?” you whisper, your voice trembling but carrying a weight of undeniable desire.  

His breath catches, his chest rising sharply as though you’ve just knocked the air out of him. His eyes widen, a flicker of disbelief flashing across his usually composed face. His lips parted slightly as if to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he tilts his head, studying you like he’s trying to convince himself he heard you correctly.  

You don’t reply right away—words feel clumsy in the intensity of this moment. Crowe’s gaze still lingers on you, steady and deliberate, traveling down the length of your figure and then back up again. His deep blue eyes seem darker in the dim light, their usual warmth replaced by something unreadable, something that makes your pulse race. His soft smile was still there, faint but unshakable, as if he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.  

Your breath catches, and for a second, all you can think is how badly you don’t want this moment to end. Then, before your mind has time to catch up, your body moves on instinct. Slowly, deliberately, you move your body forward—out of the passenger seat closing the distance between you and him.

His head tilts slightly as he watches you, his soft smile faltering, replaced by a soft gasp for just a heartbeat as you climb onto his lap. Your knees press into the seat on either side of him, the soft material of your tights brushing against his thighs as you warp your arms around his neck looking at him.

For a brief moment, neither of you speaks. The air feels heavy, charged with something neither of you can name. His reaction is filled with disbelief.He inhales quickly, his chest rising against yours, and his hands lift instinctively to your hips. His grip is firm yet hesitant, his fingers flexing slightly on the tight spandex of your bunny suitas though he’s testing the reality of the situation.  

You’re glad you caught him like this—off-guard, unguarded. It’s rare to see him anything but happily composed, but now? Now, his usual teasing and confidence feels shaken, his calm veneer cracking just enough to let you peek underneath.  

“Don’t regret this…” you whisper, your voice low and thick with emotion. “Please don’t stop, Jericho.”  

The tension in his shoulders eases, but only slightly. His body remains taut beneath yours, every muscle coiled like a spring. His hands tighten against your hips as if anchoring himself—or maybe anchoring you. He leans forward, and the closeness is dizzying.

His breath fans against your neck, warm and teasing, and goosebumps rise across your skin in response. His hands shift from your hips, sliding upward in slow, deliberate movements that leave you breathless. His thumbs trace over your waist, the faintest pressure sparking heat in their wake. His fingers move higher, brushing against your sides, and you can’t stop the way your body responds, arching slightly into his touch.  

Soon his lips hover near your ear, his voice low and husky, dripping with intent as he murmurs, “I won’t.”  

May got a little carried away here…

✑ 𝓈𝑜𝓁

You don’t know how it happened. 

So okay, you do know how it happened—you were dumb enough to bet against Hyugo. The guy might be obnoxious, loud, and silly as hell, but unfortunately, he’s also good at literally everything. Somehow, that fact slipped your mind when you let him talk you into betting on the last round of a stupid game at a party.

It was one of those chaotic, anything-goes types of games, the kind where people are shouting over each other, rules barely make sense, and luck has just as much sway as skill. You don’t even remember what it was called—something involving a blindfold, ping pong balls, and a lot of yelling. I’m kidding here…

All you know is that Hyugo had that stupid grin on his face, the one he always wears when he knows he’s about to win.  

“Come on,” he’d said, his voice dripping with smugness as he leaned against the table. “You scared or something? What’s the worst that could happen?”  

And like an idiot, you fell for it. “I’m not scared,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “You’re on.”  

Big mistake.  

Because five minutes later, you were standing there in stunned silence, staring at Hyugo’s triumphant face as he held up his winning ping pong ball like it was an Olympic gold medal.  

“Wow, that was almost too easy!” he said, laughing as he clapped you on the shoulder. “You really thought you could beat me?.”  

You scowled, already regretting your life choices. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. What do you want?”  

His grin widened, and you instantly knew you were doomed. “Oh, don’t worry,” he said, his voice practically oozing with fake innocence. “It’s nothing crazy. Just a little outfit change for, let’s say... an hour?”  

Your stomach dropped. “What kind of outfit change? I have a movie night at Sol’s place later,”  

And now here you are, standing in Sol’s dimly lit studio apartment, wearing a bunny suit that makes you feel about three sizes too exposed and questioning every decision you’ve ever made.  

How the tf did Hyugo knew your size anyway?

The small space smells like popcorn and energy drinks, and there’s a paused horror movie on the screen, but all of that pales in comparison to the look on Sol’s face.  

He hasn’t stopped staring since you walked in.  

The guy is sitting on his beat-up couch, one leg tucked under him, the TV remote hanging limp in his hand. His mouth is slightly open, and his face?  

Bright red.  

Like, glowing tomato-red, borderline matching the devil on the movie poster behind him.  

“…What are you doing?” he finally chokes out, his voice cracking just enough to make you raise an eyebrow. He clears his throat and tries again, this time deeper: “I mean, what’s this?” He gestures vaguely at you, but his hand is shaking a little, so it’s not exactly smooth.  

You cross your arms, trying to tug the hem of the crotch area down to show less skin, but there’s no saving it—it’s just too short. “Lost a bet to Hyugo from party earlier today,” you mumble, your voice flat, as if that explains everything.  

Sol squints at you, the disbelief radiating off him in waves. “Hyugo made you do this?” His tone flips between outraged and incredulous. His eyes dart down to the whole getup— floppy bunny ears, the thigh-high socks, even a little button tie—and then snap back up so fast you think he might’ve given himself a neck cramp. “Ugh… He’s the worst sometimes.”  

“Yeah, thanks for the groundbreaking insight,” you deadpan, shooting him a withering glare. “I figured that out the moment Hyugo handed me this thing.”  

Sol drags a hand through his perpetually messy hair, clearly grappling with some kind of inner turmoil. “You didn’t have to wear it, though,” he mutters, his usual grumbly tone edged with something oddly defensive. “You could’ve just… I dunno, said no.”  

You blink at him, unimpressed. “Oh, sure. And let Hyugo post that video of me tripping like an idiot in front of the entire campus? An excellent alternative, Sol. Really genius stuff.”

He makes a weird noise in his throat, half a groan, half something else, and he mutters, “Still better than this…” But his eyes betray him.

Because despite the whole “ugh, this is dumb” act, Sol keeps looking. Like, really looking. His gaze lingers on your bunny ears, the curve of the bodysuit, and the thigh-high socks that are making you wish the couch would swallow you whole. Every time his eyes travel down, they snap back up so fast you’d think he got whiplash.

“What’s your problem?” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest, mostly for your sanity. “You’re staring.”

“I’m not—” He cuts himself off, dragging his hand down his face with a groan. “Whatever. I’m not the one dressed like…” His words trail off as he waves vaguely in your direction, his ears reddening again as if even describing the outfit is too much for him.  

You sigh and plop down on his old couch because there’s literally nowhere else to go in this shoebox of an apartment. As soon as you do, Sol freezes like you’ve just stepped on a landmine. His whole body stiffens, his hands gripping his knees, and you swear he stops breathing.

“Relax,” you say, kicking off your heels with a sigh. “It’s not like I want to be here in this dumb outfit either.”

“You don’t look unhappy,” he mutters, barely audible, but you catch it.

Your head snaps toward him, catching the faintest flicker of his eyes darting to your outfit before immediately locking onto the popcorn bowl on the coffee table like it’s his last lifeline. His face is ‘burning’, and it only gets worse when he realizes you caught him looking.  

“Excuse me?” you ask, leaning in slightly because you can’t let him off the hook that easily.  

“I didn’t—” His voice cracks, and he clears his throat so violently it’s almost painful. “I just meant—uh, never mind.” But his ears are practically glowing, and you can feel the tension radiating off him in waves.  

“Sure, okay,” you say, sighing as you settle deeper into the couch, before you mention, “It’s not like you’ve been staring at me like a creep since I walked in or anything.”  

“I wasn’t staring!” he blurts, far too defensively for someone who was. He drags a hand through his hair, the strands sticking up even more as he groans like he’s on the verge of losing it.  

“Oh, you weren’t?” you tease, tilting your head. “Are you calling me a liar?”

He shifts uncomfortably, his eyes flicking to your legs for half a second before darting away. His hands curl into fists on his lap, and his breathing sounds... uneven.

Fast.  

One second, you’re sitting on the couch, awkwardly avoiding his gaze, and the next, you’re swept up off the cushions. His arms slide under you, one wrapping around your back and the other hooking beneath your knees, lifting you effortlessly into a bridal carry.  

“Sol!” you shriek, your hands instinctively grabbing onto his shoulders. “What are you—put me down!”  

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he lowers himself back onto the couch, keeping you securely in his hold. Your legs dangle awkwardly over his arm, your heels threatening to slip off, and you’re acutely aware of how close your faces are now—his warm breath brushing against your skin, his sharp eyes fixed on yours.  

“Relax,” he mutters, his tone gruff but oddly soft. “You were fidgeting too much. Thought you were about to hurt yourself or something.”  

“Hurt what now?!” you snap, glaring at him even as your cheeks flush. “I wasn’t—Sol, that doesn’t even make sense. Let me go.”  

“Not yet,” he says simply, his grip tightening slightly as if daring you to try and wriggle free.  

You glare at him, but the heat of his gaze makes it hard to keep your composure. His eyes flicker down for a moment—trailing from your flushed face to the curve of your legs draped over his arm. He’s trying to play it cool, but the way his jaw clenches and his ears turn a faint shade of pink gives him away.  

“Your legs are cold,” he murmurs after a beat, his voice quieter now.  

“I wonder why,” you deadpan, trying to ignore the way your heart skips at the hint of concern in his tone.  

His lips twitch a shadow of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “This outfit isn’t practical.”  

“Well, I didn’t exactly pick it,” you grumble, squirming slightly in his hold.  

“Stop moving,” he mutters, his voice dropping an octave. His hands shift slightly, one sliding along your back and the other brushing against your thigh as he adjusts his grip. The casual intimacy of it makes your face burn hotter.  

“Sol...” you warn, your voice shaky.  

But instead of answering, he leans back slightly, settling you more comfortably in his lap. The movement makes your head spin—partly from the sudden shift, but mostly because of how close he is now. You’re practically curled up against his chest, his arm still supporting your legs while his other hand rests firmly against your back.  

And then he looks at you again. Really looks at you. His orange-red eyes lock onto yours, and for a moment, the teasing, grumbly version of Sol you’re used to is nowhere to be found. There’s something different in his expression now—something serious, almost vulnerable, and it steals the breath from your lungs.  

“You should be more careful,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing lightly against your knee. His hands slide from your hips to your legs. “These heels could’ve hurt me,” His thumbs trace slow, deliberate circles along the tops of your thighs, sending shivers up your spine.

Your mouth opens to respond—maybe to defend yourself, maybe to yell at him, you’re not sure—but then his hands shift lower, skimming over the curve of your calves. He grabs one of your feet, his fingers curling around your ankle as he starts tugging off your shoe.  

“Sol, I can do that myself—”  

“N-No,” he practically begged. His cheeks are pink, his expression strained like he’s trying to keep it together. “Please, just let me.”  

You’re too stunned to argue. He’s slow about it, almost hesitant, his calloused fingers brushing against your skin as he removes one shoe, then the other. When he’s done, he lets his hands linger for a moment, his thumbs brushing over your bare ankles.  

His eyes flicker back up to yours, and there’s something desperate in his expression now like he’s holding himself back from doing something stupid. “Why do you always have to make this so hard?” he mutters, half to himself.  

“I’m making 'it' hard?” you blurt, your voice shaky.  

“You showed up like this,” he counters, his gaze sweeping over you again. “Looking like... this.”  

He leans closer, so close you can feel the heat radiating off him. His hand slides up, tracing a line from your ankle to your knee, then up your thigh, stopping just shy of where the hem of the bunny suit begins. His knee presses a little closer, and you suck in a sharp breath.  

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me right now?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.  

Your brain short-circuits. You don’t even know how to respond to that, especially not when his eyes are locked on yours like he’s waiting for an answer.  

“Sol,” you finally manage, your voice barely audible. “You’re being weird.”  

“I know,” he mutters, his lips twitching into a crooked, almost self-deprecating smile. “I’m always weird. But you make it worse.”  

And with that, he dips his head lower, his breath ghosting over your lips like he’s daring you to stop him.  

Please don’t make him stop…

✑ 𝑔𝑒𝑜

Geo hadn’t thought much about your text at first.

You were running late—what else was new? He was used to it by now. You’d told him to let himself in with the key under the mat since you were still getting ready, and, well, that’s what he did.

Your apartment was as familiar to him as ever: the faint smell of your scented candles. Geo plopped onto the couch, scrolling through his phone to kill time. After about ten minutes of waiting, he sighed loudly, tossing his phone onto the coffee table.

“Why do I let you do this to me?” he muttered, dragging himself to his feet. He made his way down the hall, the hardwood floor creaking faintly under his boots.

The door to your bedroom was cracked open, soft light spilling out into the hallway. He tapped lightly on the frame with his knuckles. “Hey, we’re gonna be late, y’know. What’s taking you so—”

He pushed the door open mid-sentence, stepping inside. And then he stopped.

His brain short-circuited.

There you were, standing in front of your full-length mirror, fiddling with a pair of floppy bunny ears.

A very, very skimpy bunny suit clung to you like a second skin, all shiny black fabric and sheer tights that showed just enough to drive someone insane. The plunging neckline, the dangerously high cut of the bodysuit, the tiny bowtie collar around your neck—it was absurd. Ridiculous. And yet somehow…

You looked stunning.

Geo froze in the doorway, one hand gripping the frame like it was the only thing keeping him upright. His trademark sarcasm, his quick wit, his effortless aloof expression? Gone. 

His brain? Absolutely empty. 

His mouth opened like he wanted to say something—anything—but no words came out.

You noticed him then, spinning around so fast that your bunny ears flopped dramatically to one side. “Geo!” you shrieked, your voice an octave higher than usual. “What the hell are you doing? I thought you were on the couch.”

“What am I doing?” he echoed, his voice cracking slightly as his eyes flicked over you, up and down, up and down, like he couldn’t stop himself. He quickly snapped his gaze upward, focusing on the very uninteresting ceiling. “What the hell are you wearing?”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “It’s for a charity event,” you muttered defensively. “Crowe asked me to help raise donations.”

Geo’s jaw clenched, his fingers twitching at his sides as he tried to keep his gaze anywhere but directly on you. His eyes betrayed him, though, darting back to your legs, your waist, your— “What kind of charity involves… that?” he asked, gesturing vaguely at your outfit like it was some kind of alien artifact.

You groaned, turning back to the mirror to adjust the bunny ears again. “It’s a themed event, okay? College students are more likely to donate if there’s… I don’t know, incentive?”

“Incentive…?” Geo repeated, “And Crowe ask you wear that? Crowe?” His tone was somewhere between disbelief and outrage. “What is wrong with him? Is he insane?”

“It’s not that bad,” you said defensively, though your voice wavered because, yeah, it was kind of bad. “It’s for a good cause!”

Geo crossed his arms, his lips pulling into a tight line. “No. Nope. Not happening. You’re not walking out of here dressed like that. I don’t care if it’s for world peace.”

You threw your hands up. “What are you, my dad? Relax, Geo. It’s fine.”

“Fine?” He frowns, irritated, his eyes accidentally drifting downward before snapping back up to your face. He looked like he wanted to sink into the floor. “You look like—you—ugh, never mind.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I look like what?”

“Forget it.” he sighed, his face turning an even deeper shade of red. “Just… just go change or something."

“I can’t!” you said, exasperated. “This is the whole point of the event!”

Geo groaned, dragging a hand down his face in pure exasperation. His usual sharp wit was dulled by whatever internal battle he was clearly losing. “Why do I have to be the one to see this? Literally anyone else would’ve been better. Anyone.”

You crossed your arms, giving him an incredulous look. “You’re the only one with a car who wasn’t busy,” you shot back, matter-of-fact as ever.

Geo huffed, throwing his hands up dramatically. “You should’ve just taken the bus, then!”

“And have creepy men ogling me the whole ride? Absolutely not,” you retorted, your tone sharp. “You’re a much better option. Like it or not.”

“Well,” he muttered, clearly flustered as his hand shot to the back of his neck, his eyes darting anywhere but at you, “I’m regretting it now.”

You sighed, turning back to the mirror and fiddling with the bunny ears again, your patience wearing thin. “Look, if it’s that big of a deal, just wait outside. I’ll be done in a sec—I just need to put on my shoes.”

For a moment, you thought he might actually listen. But then Geo took a step closer, his posture shifting. The embarrassment still lingered in his tense shoulders and flushed face, but there was something else now—something almost… resolute.

Before you could ask what he was doing, he reached out and grabbed your wrist, turning you around so fast you nearly stumbled.

“Geo?” you asked, startled by the sudden intensity in his gaze.

He didn’t answer. Instead, without missing a beat, he pushed you backward with a firm but careful hand, and your back hit the edge of your bed. You let out a startled gasp, barely managing to catch yourself as you propped up on your elbows.

“Hey! What the hell—”

You froze as Geo knelt in front of you, his hand gripping your ankle firmly but gently. His other hand reached out for your heels, which had been discarded nearby, and he snatched them up with a quick, fluid motion.

“You need to hurry up,” he grumbled, his voice low and laced with irritation as he slid the first heel onto your foot. His touch was surprisingly gentle, his fingers brushing against your sheer tights as he adjusted the strap. His face, however, was a different story—flushed red and rigid, like he was barely holding himself together. “So just—shut up and let me handle it.”

You blinked, your mouth opening to protest but no words coming out. Geo hadn’t spared you a glance, too focused on fastening the strap with a level of concentration that was almost comical.

“You’re—” you finally managed, but your voice wavered as his hands moved to your other foot.

“And you’re taking forever,” he shot back, not missing a beat. His grip on your ankle tightened slightly as he secured the second heel, his eyes resolutely fixed downward.

Is he blushing?

Your eyes narrowed, “You seem red there,” you teased, leaning back on your hands and watching him with a growing smirk. “What happened to all your sarcastic remarks, Mr. Smartass?”

“Shut up,” he muttered through clenched teeth, still not looking at you as he finished adjusting the second strap.

His fingers brushed against your ankle again, lingering just a second too long, and you swore you saw his ears turn even redder. Deciding to test your luck, you slowly crossed one leg over the other, making the movement deliberately graceful.

Geo’s aquamarine eyes flicked up instinctively at the shift in movement, and when he realized what he’d done, he snapped his gaze away so fast it was almost whiplash-inducing.

“Stop doing that,” he muttered, his voice lower now.

“Doing what?” you asked, feigning innocence as you tilted your head and batted your lashes at him.

“You know what,” Geo shot back, his jaw tightening as he focused way too hard on the buckle of your heel, his fingers fumbling slightly.

“Aw, is Geo embarrassed?” you teased, leaning forward just enough to invade his space, a mischievous grin tugging at your lips. “I didn’t think you’d get so flustered over a little outfit.”

His hands froze mid-motion, and for a moment, you thought you’d broken him. Slowly, his gaze lifted, locking with yours. Big mistake. His aquamarine eyes, usually narrowed, were now clouded with something unreadable. He didn’t look away, though—he couldn’t seem to. Whatever sarcastic retort he had locked and loaded vanished the second your teasing grin softened into something more curious.

“You don’t get it,” he said suddenly, his voice quiet but firm, his tone a complete shift from his usual snark.

The intensity in his voice caught you off guard, and your smirk faltered. “Don’t get what?” you asked, your playful tone slipping into something more hesitant.

Geo’s hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white as if he were trying to hold something back. He stood abruptly, the sudden motion making you flinch slightly. His eyes immediately flickered with regret at your reaction, and he took a deep breath, trying to collect himself.

“Shit,” Geo muttered under his breath, running a hand through his already messy hair. His back was turned to you, but the stiffness in his posture betrayed his frustration. He exhaled sharply, shoulders rising and falling as though wrestling with something he couldn’t quite say.  

“Geo…” you started softly, the sharp edge in your tone from earlier now replaced with concern.  

“Don’t,” he cut you off, his voice strained and hoarse, like the words were being dragged out of him. “We’re not going to the charity event. You’re staying here. End of discussion.”  

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. “What?” you exclaimed, still perched on the edge of the bed. “You can’t just decide that for me!”  

He turned to face you, amber eyes blazing with a mix of irritation and something you couldn’t quite place. “Watch me.”  

Before you could react, Geo stalked toward your desk, snatched a hoodie draped over the chair, and swung it around your shoulders with surprising precision. His hands lingered just long enough to tug it snugly over your frame, the fabric swallowing the delicate silhouette of your bunny suit.  

“You’re not going anywhere in that,” he said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. He stepped back slightly, his gaze flicking over you as though ensuring his makeshift cover-up was secure. “If Crowe wants donations that badly, he can wear the damn bunny suit.”  

Your jaw dropped, words caught somewhere between outrage and disbelief. “Geo, you’re being absolutely insane!”  

“Yeah, probably,” he admitted, flashing a grin that was more sharp edges than warmth. “But at least I’m not letting you walk into a room full of idiots who won’t be able to keep their eyes—or their thoughts—off you.”  

Heat crept up your cheeks at his bluntness, and you folded your arms tightly across your chest. His words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding, and the tension between you grew like a palpable thing.  

“You’re seriously overreacting,” you muttered, but your voice lacked its usual bite.  

“Am I?” Geo shot back, stepping closer. His towering frame cast a shadow over you as his gaze locked onto yours, burning with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. His voice dropped, low and deliberate. “Do you even realize how—” He stopped abruptly, his jaw clenching as if swallowing the words was the only way to keep them from spilling out.  

“Realize what?” you pressed, your own voice barely above a whisper now, caught somewhere between defiance and curiosity.  

Geo’s hand shot up to rake through his hair again, the other curling into a fist at his side. His eyes darted to the floor, then back to you, before he let out a low, frustrated growl. In one swift movement, he stepped forward, his hands gripping your shoulders as he pushed you gently but firmly down onto the bed.  

“Geo, what the hell—”  

Your protest was cut short as he followed, his weight settling over you in a way that was far from aggressive but left no room for escape. His arms slipped around you, pulling you into a tight embrace as his head dropped to your chest.  

The world seemed to stop as you felt the warmth of his breath against your collarbone. He didn’t say a word, his face buried against you, his grip almost desperate.  

You froze, your hands hovering uncertainly in the air. “Geo?” you murmured, your voice soft and unsure.  

“Just… shut up for a second,” he muttered, his voice muffled against you. His tone was softer now, tinged with vulnerability that made your chest ache. “Let me have this.”  

Your hands hesitated before they slowly lowered, one settling against his back, the other threading cautiously through his hair. His body tensed at first but then melted into yours, his hold tightening as if he were afraid you’d disappear.  

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he mumbled, his voice raw and unguarded. “And not in the way I’m used to handling.”  

For a moment, neither of you moved, the weight of his words—and his closeness—stealing the air from the room. Whatever you were going to say died on your tongue as you let the moment stretch, the sound of his breathing steadying against you.  

“Geo,” you said finally, your voice quieter now, “You’re not making any sense. We’re going to be late for the event,” you murmured, trying to keep your tone soft but firm.

“Good,” he muttered into your chest without lifting his head.

“Good?” you echoed, your brows furrowing. “Crowe’s going to kill us if we don’t show up. And you promised to drive me, remember?”

“I don’t care about Crowe or the stupid event right now,” he grumbled, his voice low and slightly muffled. “It’s not important.”

“Not important?” You leaned your head back against the bed in disbelief. “You’re acting like the world’s ending because of a bunny suit, Geo. What’s really going on?”

He finally lifted his head slightly, just enough to look at you. His amber eyes burned with an intensity that made your breath catch. “You don’t get it, do you?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly, a mix of irritation and something deeper. “I don’t want anyone else looking at you the way I am right now.”

Your heart skipped a beat, his words sinking in and leaving you momentarily speechless. “Geo…” you started, but he didn’t give you a chance to finish.

Instead, his arms tightened around you, pulling you impossibly closer as his lips brushed the curve of your neck. You tensed under his touch, your breath hitching as his teeth gently grazed your skin.

“Just give me five minutes,” he whispered, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. His lips pressed softly against the spot he’d just bitten, lingering for a moment before pulling back slightly. “Five minutes, and then I’ll get up, and we can go. Deal?”

You blinked, trying to process what just happened, your body feeling like it was on fire where his lips had been. “Geo, that’s not—”

“Five minutes,” he repeated, cutting you off. His tone was quieter this time, almost pleading as his eyes locked onto yours, filled with a vulnerability he rarely let you see. “Please.”

Wow. Five minutes it is then.

· ─────── ⋆⋅♤⋅⋆ ─────── · 

[mmso-notlikethat]

ten years (so sad) …. now what’s that you said about him dying and no one knows for 20-30 years…. 👀

(please please please i need more angst 🙏)

honestly i have no excuse except i wanted to write Tommy's pov and you wanted a longer coma-ish sorry no death (i couldn't)... but this is still way too sad even for me :)...

No MCD, but there is an OC death. / Heavy Angst :)

The first time Tommy realized he wasn’t dead—really knew he was still alive—was after what must have been weeks. Maybe a month. A nurse brushed his arm during a bed change, and he felt it. Faint, like a whisper on his skin, but enough to flood him with hope. He tried to speak, tried to move, but his body betrayed him. His voice was a phantom, his muscles silent.

The nurse left, oblivious.

He wanted to scream. He tried to scream.

Nothing.

After some time—Tommy couldn’t know exactly how much, a couple of months, maybe less or more—Buck showed up. Tommy thought, How…? But the question faded as quickly as it came. Instead, a warmth spread through him, a quiet, desperate relief.

Buck showed up almost every day. Tommy figured Buck must come whenever he wasn’t on shift. He could hear Buck’s voice, steady and warm, as he talked about everything and anything to fill the silence. He talked about Maddie having another baby, about Eddie moving back to El Paso for a while, and then coming back with Christopher.

Sometimes Buck would cry, his voice breaking as he whispered, “Please, Tommy, just wake up. Please.”

Those moments tore Tommy apart. He wanted nothing more than to reach out, to wipe away Buck’s tears, to tell him he was still here. But his body refused to cooperate. All he could do was listen, helpless, as Buck poured his heart out beside him.

A year passed.

Tommy didn’t know how he kept track of time, but he felt it move around him.

The nurses would mention dates in passing, news reports played faintly on TV screens in the hallway, and Buck still came. Once or twice a week, like clockwork, Buck sat by his side, talking about the firehouse, Maddie, Jee-Yun, her sister, and the world outside. Tommy tried to listen, to hang on to those words. They were all he had.

But he also noticed the changes. Buck didn’t stay as long as he used to. Sometimes his visits were rushed, his words distracted. Tommy wanted to shout, Don’t go yet. I’m here! I’m still here!

But he couldn’t.

Five years passed.

The visits became less frequent. Buck came once a month now, bringing flowers that always wilted before the next visit. Tommy learned to brace himself for the quiet. He spent his days locked inside his own mind, desperate for some way to communicate, to show anyone that he wasn’t gone. The staff—the nurses, physical therapists, doctors—anyone… But especially Buck.

Whenever Buck came, he brought a presence to the room that Tommy clung to. He talked about everything: the 118’s updates, Maddie’s growing family, Eddie and Chris, and especially Alex, the little boy he had adopted last year. Buck’s voice lit up when he spoke about Alex—how he was starting to babble, how he smiled the brightest at bedtime stories, how he loved to play with his stuffed animals.

Tommy loved hearing about him. He loved Alex, even though he’d never met him. He clung to those stories like lifelines.

One day, Buck sat down heavily in the chair beside him, his voice quieter than usual. “I met someone,” he said, his words hesitant. “Her name is Amelia. She’s… she’s great Tommy. You’d like her.”

Tommy’s heart shattered, but he couldn’t blame Buck. What else was he supposed to do? They weren’t together when this happened. They hadn’t been for months. He shouldn’t have even hoped. Buck deserved happiness, even if it wasn’t with him. And Tommy had no right to feel like this—no right to feel the ache that settled deep in his chest.

Still, the words haunted him long after Buck left.

Ten years passed.

Buck came every three months now, sometimes less. Tommy had given up trying to track the days. He spent most of his time floating in and out of awareness, only rousing when someone touched him or adjusted his position. The staff rarely spoke to him except to comment on his care. He was just another body to them.

The next time Buck visited, his smile was softer, his voice lighter. “I married her,” he said, raising his hand instinctively to show the ring, even though Tommy couldn’t see it. But somehow, Tommy felt it. “Amelia. She’s amazing, Tommy. She’s good for me.”

Tommy’s chest ached, but also, he was happy for Buck. Genuinely happy. Buck deserved this, deserved someone who could be there for him—though he couldn’t move a muscle to show it. He wondered what Amelia was like, what it would feel like to meet her. But all he could do was listen as Buck described a life he would never be part of.

Buck stayed longer this time, the warmth in his voice pulling Tommy out of the haze he lived in most days. “Oh, and uh… I’m a captain now,” Buck said, almost shyly, as though he didn’t want to brag. “Took me long enough, huh? Bobby always said I’d get there. I wish you could’ve been there, Tommy. You would’ve laughed at the whole thing. I was so nervous.” He chuckled softly, the sound tugging at something deep inside Tommy.

Tommy wanted to tell him, Good job, Evan. You deserve that. I’m so proud of you. The words sat heavy in his chest, unsaid and unheard.

A few visits later, Buck shared something that lit up the room. “Amelia’s pregnant,” he said, his happiness spilling into the space like sunlight. “We’re having a baby, Tommy. Can you believe it? Me—a dad again.” He laughed lightly, and Tommy could almost picture the sparkle in his eyes. “I hope the kid turns out as awesome as Alex.”

Tommy was happy for Buck. He truly was. He just wanted to be part of it somehow, maybe in some small way he already was. But he wanted Buck to know—really know—how happy Tommy was for him. How much he wished he could say it, could share in this joy with him.

Fifteen years passed.

Buck’s visits came twice a year now. He still talked, but not as much. There were longer silences as he sat by the bed, looking at Tommy with guilt in his eyes. “Amelia and I… we had a little girl,” he said during one visit. “Her name’s Emma. She’s five now.”

Emma. Tommy committed the name to memory, repeating it over and over in his mind like a prayer. He imagined her laugh, her tiny hands. Did she have Evan’s eyes? His curls? Or maybe she had a birthmark just like him… His thoughts lingered. Maybe she looked like her mother.

He wanted to say, Tell me more. Don’t stop talking about her. But Buck’s voice trailed off, and the silence stretched between them.

Years continued to pass, and when Buck visited again, his voice carried the weight of something Tommy couldn’t place. Alex was 14 now, and Emma was 8. Buck sat heavily in the chair beside him, his words slow and uneven. “She left, Tommy,” he said quietly, his hands wringing together. “Another person left me. I know this time it isn’t anyone’s fault… but this hurts.”

Tommy’s heart twisted, confusion and worry gnawing at him. Who left? Buck didn’t say, and the silence that followed felt different—deeper, darker. He tried to reach out, to say anything, but his body stayed still, his voice trapped.

Frustration bubbled up in Tommy’s chest, followed by a wave of hot, searing anger. Why? Why can’t I move? Why can’t I tell him I’m here? He raged silently, cursing his own body, the years of silence, the cruel trap he was locked in. He wanted to scream, to reach out and shake Buck, to demand answers, to comfort him, to do something. But there was nothing he could do. Nothing.

The anger simmered as Buck sat there, quiet and heavy with grief. Who left, Evan? he thought frantically. What happened? I’m so sorry, Evan. Please, talk to me. Over and over, Tommy repeated the words in his mind, desperately wishing Buck could hear them. He didn’t understand what had happened, but he wanted to comfort Buck, to take away even a fraction of the pain he could feel radiating off him.

But Buck didn’t say anything more. He sat quietly for a while, then stood and placed a hand gently on Tommy’s shoulder. “I’ll see you soon,” he said softly before walking out of the room.

Tommy was left with his thoughts, his heart breaking for Buck. Whatever had happened, Tommy wanted Buck to know he wasn’t alone—even if he couldn’t tell him.

And then, as always, the helplessness crept back in, wrapping around him like chains. He was powerless, and that hurt almost as much as whatever Buck was going through.

Twenty-two years passed.

When Tommy finally woke up, it wasn’t dramatic—no gasp of air or miraculous surge of energy. His eyes simply opened, his body heavy and alien, and his first breath was shallow and labored. The nurse beside him gasped, calling for a doctor as Tommy’s gaze slowly wandered around the room. It was brighter than he imagined, and the world felt distant, blurry.

It took days for Tommy to understand just how much time had passed. He couldn’t walk. His muscles were too weak, his body unrecognizable. His reflection in the mirror was a stranger—lines etched deep into his face, his hair thin and gray.

The days that followed were a blur of tests and therapies. His muscles were too weak to move much, and his voice cracked like old paper when he tried to speak.

The doctor explained everything—how long he’d been in the care facility, the complications, and how much time had passed.

It wasn’t until the door opened, and Buck stepped inside, that it truly sank in.

Buck was older now, his face lined and his shoulders broader. His hair had streaks of silver, and his movements were slower but steady. He carried himself with a confidence that hadn’t been there before, though his eyes carried something else—something heavier. He looked just as Tommy knew he would—familiar in a way that was both comforting and heartbreaking.

Tommy couldn’t speak much yet, his throat raw from disuse. But he mustered all the strength he had, letting a faint smile curl across his lips. “Hey,” he rasped, the words barely audible.

Buck froze, his eyes wide, his breath catching in his chest. He blinked rapidly, his hands trembling as they curled into fists at his sides. “H-hey,” he whispered back, his voice thick with emotion. He was holding back tears, but Tommy could see how close he was to breaking.

For a moment, they just looked at each other, two men who had been separated by time and silence. Buck pulled a chair closer and sat down, reaching out to rest a hand lightly on the edge of Tommy’s bed. The room was quiet, save for the faint hum and beeps of the machines tommy still needed.

After a long pause, Tommy rasped out, “She… left?”

Buck frowned slightly, confused. “What?” he asked, his voice unsure, like he didn’t quite remember. For him, he said that line years ago—he couldn’t know that for Tommy, it was as vivid as yesterday.

Tommy hummed softly, gathering strength. “You said… she left. Who?”

The realization hit Buck slowly, he sat back slightly, as though reaching into a distant memory. “Oh…” His shoulders sank, and his eyes grew impossibly sad. “Amelia—uh… my wife,” he said quietly, almost stumbling over the words, his voice hollow. “She died… a car accident.”

Tommy’s eyes softened, filled with sorrow. His throat ached as he struggled to speak, his voice hardly above a whisper. “Sorry,” he said hoarsely. “Must’ve been… hard.”

Buck’s head shot up at that, his brows furrowing. He stared at Tommy, almost disbelieving, his lips parting in surprise. It was hard. It had been one of the hardest things he’d ever gone through. Losing Amelia had left him a widower, his kids without their mother. It had left a hole he still carried, even now. But for a moment, he couldn’t process that Tommy—frail and still recovering from decades of silence—was the one trying to comfort him.

A faint, disbelieving laugh escaped him, almost reflexive. He shook his head, his voice soft and tinged with disbelief. “Are you really saying that?” he whispered, a sad smile tugging at his lips.

And then he froze, his breath catching as his eyes widened. His voice faltered when he spoke again. “Wait… y-you… you heard?”

Tommy nodded faintly, a small, almost fragile smile on his lips. “Everything,” he rasped, the word carrying the weight of decades.

And it hit Buck—all at once. Everything. Tommy had heard it all. The stories about Alex and Emma, the confessions, the heartbreak, the joy, the grief. Twenty-two years of words poured into a void Buck had thought was empty, but Tommy had been there the whole time, trapped and silent. Listening. Always listening.

The realization broke something in Buck. His face crumpled as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, one hand covering his mouth as the first sob escaped him. His shoulders shook as he cried, the weight of twenty-two years crashing down on him in a way he hadn’t expected.

Tommy wanted to reach out, to tell him it was okay, but his body still wouldn’t cooperate. All he could do was whisper again, “Evan, it’s okay. I’m here now.”

But for Buck, the guilt and pain of all those years spent talking to someone he thought couldn’t hear him—and the thought of what Tommy must have felt, locked inside his own body—was too much. He thought how he had left Tommy alone longer and longer over the years, how his visits had decreased while Tommy was still there, still listening, still waiting.

He stayed there for a moment, head in his hands, as Tommy lay quietly, his faint smile never wavering.

Then Buck quickly wiped his face, taking a deep, steadying breath. He began to talk to Tommy about things—about Alex, about Emma, about life in general. He spoke softly, a little hesitantly, like he wasn’t quite sure where to start or how much Tommy could take. But he kept going, filling the space with the sound of his voice, just like he always had.

As Buck stood to leave, he turned back toward Tommy and leaned down slightly. “I’ll help you,” he said firmly. “No matter what, I’ll be here whenever I can. I promise.” He paused, his voice softening. “I’ll bring Alex and Emma to visit. They know you, Tommy. They love you.”

That lit something small in Tommy’s face—a faint glimmer in his eyes, the tiniest upward curve of his lips. He nodded weakly, his voice hoarse as he whispered, “Thanks.”

But later, when the room was empty again, and he was alone again… Tommy stared at the ceiling, his chest aching, tears slipping silently down his cheeks. He thought about the years he’d spent hiding behind lies, about the fleeting years when he’d finally embraced who he was, and about the decades he’d spent trapped in silence, invisible to the world.

He’d lost so much time. Too much time.

And now he didn’t know if he’d ever get any of it back.

Thirty-three years pretending. Seven years living. Twenty-two years lost.

What was left for him now?

[jukashi]

"What, you think Sonic's a cop?" is a pretty good succinct way to sum up the question of Sonic's morality and responsibility, I think. See, Sonic has always been kind of an asshole. This is a guy who, way back when, only made friends with Tails because Tails figured out how to kinda keep up with him. I know it wasn't intentional, but since most media even now goes with it, it kinda says something that Sonic didn't have any friends before that, either, and most of his friends in the games can also Go reasonably Fast.

So, right down, deep at the core of his character, Sonic Likes His Freedom. I think that's the thing that, if you changed it, he wouldn't be Sonic. All his values are extensions of that - he helps people because he likes them to have their freedom, too. Like, he literally breaks animals free from robots when he defeats them? That's a distinct element of Sonic's games specifically, that's a statement, right there. Eggman represents absolute subjugation under one man's will and whims, an as such he and Sonic are like, ontologically enemies, narratively.

So, Sonic's morality and motivations are based mostly on being a freedom maximizer. The consequence of this is that he doesn't take responsibility for jack shit. He saves you from being killed or subjugated but then that's it, buddy, you're on your own. He's not a leader, he's not making any commitments. Do you think he has some duty to you? An obligation? Sounds like not-freedom to me, pal. You think Sonic wants to become the police?

You think Sonic's a cop?

So, when they want to give Sonic some conflict that actually makes him feel conflicted, and it's not some smaller scale thing like two friends falling out or something like that, then it's pretty much got to be about freedom vs. freedom. By sparing his enemies, Sonic is making a bet - risking long-term chance of great loss of freedom, if the threat returns and succeeds next time, or ensuring minimal risk but definitely reducing someone's freedom right now? Do you take the idealistic hopeful route or the cynical sensible one?

Do you take the higher, faster, riskier route through the level, or the lower, slower, certain one? What do you think?

But the idealistic, hopeful route is also the self-centered one. He wants to take the gamble that he can get the theoretical best option. That risk is being taken with other people's lives.

This isn't a terribly new idea. How many idealistic hero characters go "no I refuse the dilemma I will take the long shot to save everyone!"? But it's not so common to actually interrogate its drawbacks properly, inside a story that's overall generally aligned with that sentiment, so I appreciate it. I think part of the reason they can do that, with Sonic, is because he's been established as kind of an asshole. Other idealistic heroes, drawing attention to that would kind of break things down - if they really took it in, then most idealistic characters would actually have to go with the sensible option or come off as assholes. With Sonic, he already is one, so they can put it in front of him, really rotate it in everyone's view, and still have the reasonable possibility that Sonic can just say 'yeah well I'm still gonna do it my own way'.

That or it's just that Sonic is a long-running media franchise, and someone would have had to run into this idea for story material sooner or later.

There's definitely been more Sonic stuff in recent years that's shown him from an outside perspective, and consistently the conclusion seems to be "hey. this guy's kind of an asshole"

like. bro just doesn't care

sonic there are tears in her eyes you can't be acting like this

[velvet-apricots]

I was encouraged to write a drabble of this idea I had here

Summary: Lucanis can tell that Rook has a thing for Emmrich. Emmrich, however, seems to be very unaware of her attraction. That is until Spite speaks up.

It was happening again.

He had been talking to Emmrich again. For as bizarre as Lucanis found the concepts of raising the dead, the man was good to talk to. It was refreshing to have another to help with Spite, to have a calm firm hand that could get the demon to behave or stop pestering with questions that Lucanis could not answer, or could not answer in a satisfactory way.

That, and Spite just seemed to refuse to believe him out of… Well, spite.

“The moment I told him how soap was made, he insisted I take a bite.”

Emmrich tutted, leaning on his staff and directing his eyes to the demon as he hovered behind Lucanis’s shoulder. “Oh that would be most unpleasant, Spite. I assure you. The saponification process completely changes the composition of the animal fat. It tastes terrible.”

“How do you know?” Spite hissed.

Emmrich shrugged. “I have gotten soap in my mouth once or twice while bathing.”

And then, almost like clock work, Rook was suddenly there, slipping into the conversation. “What is saponification?” she asked, playing with her fingers as she gave Emmrich a little sweet smile, one she never gave to any of the rest of them. 

Rook liked hearing Emmrich talk. She liked seeing him move his hands. She liked looking at him. Her voice would get higher, and she would jut her hip out as she nervously fiddled with something, be it her fingers or her hair. It was very obvious that she was attracted to the older man, looking for any excuse to speak to him. It was like watching a love sick teenager.

And Emmrich seemed oblivious. Politefully so, but still very oblivious. Either that, or he was keeping up a professional decorum.

And so Lucanis now watched them: Emmrich explaining how saponification was the process of “cleaving esters into carboxylate salts and alcohols by the action of aqueous alkali”. Rook looking at Emmrich so intensely that she might as well be trying to undress him with her eyes. Staring at him from under her lashes with a little stupid grin, clearly not actually even hearing what he was saying.

Meirda, she is practically lusting over the man. How does Emmrich not see that? Lucanis thought, giving a humored smirk.

And then Spite spoke. He spoke and Lucanis wanted nothing more than to be struck down by the Maker himself.

“They should get a room. Together.”

Rook of course heard nothing. But Lucanis watched as Emmrich’s brows went up, watched as he turned to look at Spite, his ears and cheeks ever so slightly going pink as he gave a bewildered, open mouthed stare.

“I beg your pardon?” Emmrich asked.

Lucanis closed his eyes, cringing visibly from embarrassment. “Ignore him-”

“No! Do not ignore me! Take her to the bedroom! It’s what she wants!”

Emmrich took a scolding tone, face now going from pink to red.“Take her to-? Spite that is incredibly inappropriate.”

“What is Spite saying?” Rook asked, leaning back as both Lucanis and Emmrich turned sharply to her to say the same thing.

“Nothing.”

Emmrich ran his hand through his hair, looking very uncomfortable and now no longer able to look at Rook at all. “I think I will go make sure Manfred is not getting into any trouble” He mumbled, turning and quickly walking away. Rook followed him, switching from love sick to concerned leader.

Her concern would only make Emmrich feel even more uncomfortable.

“And I will throw myself into a cup of coffee, and possibly off the side of the courtyard.” Lucanis mumbled, turning in the opposite direction and quickly speed walking away. He would have to apologize-

“Do not apologize! I helped!” Spite protested, “He knows now!”

-Apologize to Emmrich.

[dailyloweffortpace]

Day 121: hes died

[matteglaze]

Thinking abt Hybrid! Dabi, and a reader in need of a big scary dog

Hybrid! Dabi bites. That's the first thing you read on his plated-sign against the bars of the tiny cage he's placed in. After walking into this hybrid store, you made an immediate beeline away from all the cuter, softer hybrids. The ones with wagging tails, cute eyes, and friendly greetings and chirps. Those weren't the ones you needed. You need an intimidating hybrid.

Dabi bites. It's printed in big, bold red letters. Underneath that text, is basic information about his breed, age, health, and a brief summary of his behavior with his past owner. Underneath that, is his euthanation date.

'Has been roaming the streets for quite some time. Bit last owners hand so severely they were in need of medical attention. Aggressive.'

That's the summary of the sign, and you slowly avert your gaze from the sign to the hybrid inside of the cage. He's in his animal form, but his eyes speak volumes. It holds a certain type of understanding and knowledge that no ordinary animal can ever acquire. It's how you know the store isn't lying about him being a hybrid so that they'd be able to sell him for a higher price.

You take him in. Black, unruly fur, patches of it is missing— mostly near his torso, eyes, ears, mouth, and hands. A burn incident maybe?

You stare back at the sign.

He bites.

His last owner had to be sent to the doctor for immediate medical attention.

You turn your back around and keeping surveying all the pets.

You wouldn't go for such an aggressive hybrid. That tiny little text of his euthanization means nothing to you. You need a hybrid that will be able to protect you, not hurt you.

***

You end up going home with him, he's seated in the backseat of your car, muzzle strapped tightly to his maw as he sits quietly in the doggy cage provided.

When you're desperate, you rationalize, you do stupid things.

Or, when you have a heart, you do stupid things.

It was definitely that tiny text that made you take him in. That, and the burns.

That, and the slop the owners of the establishment were feeding him. If he's going to die, what's the point in feeding him properly? That must've been their reasoning.

When you finally reach home, and get to the point of taking off the muzzle, Dabi bites.

And he bites hard.

For the next few weeks, your hand is treated, and in another 2 weeks it's healed. There's a scar, similar to sharp canine teeth, that you think will never leave. You and him are similar in that regard, both with scars.

Dabi is agitated. Confused and agitated, or agitated because he's confused. You brought him back to your house, even after spending a long time staring at the clear warning sign on is cage. You brought him back, and you didn't even try to interact with him. Didn't try to put him through the same regime behaviour training that he had to go through in the past, and you didn't even send him back. He bit you, and you still treated him the same.

You ignore him most days, but you always leave a plate of cooked food by his door, accompanied by a glass of water or juice.

You are home often, you barley leave the house.

It makes him question, why you even brought him back in the first place.

Dabi is confused.

He finds out later that your ex is batshit, makes sense you'd want to stay safe inside. You're both closer than before, he thinks, but anything can be considered closer now that you aren't ignoring him. You talk to him about little things, or you just complain out loud. Your hands are never near him, and whenever he tries to move closer, your hands are always far.

He pretends it doesn't bother him, like how you pretend you aren't scared whenever his jaw opens.

For the next couple of months, Dabi finds himself trying to get on your good side. It's strange, he thinks, because usually it would be the other way around. Though, you have him treating you as if you were the frightened puppy.

(He can't help but think you'd make a good hybrid, and him a good owner. He wouldn't ignore you so blatantly as you had done to him)

"Hey." He calls, voice gruff and sore from the misuse. He can't remember the last time he even bothered speaking. He didn't have to use his words in most cases, but he finds that if he doesn't then the silence in the house can stretch on for long periods.

He doesn't like that.

And if Dabi doesn't like something, he's going to do something about it.

You don't seem surprised by his voice, instead offering a glass of your own water as you continue to stare at your phone screen, mindlessly texting your friends.

Dabi finds that you aren't the socially awkward type, and you would always go out with your friends when the time proved right. Though, that's changed after your ex.

Even though Dabi feels some resemblance of guilt, he can't help but to be happy you're always at home with him. That he bit you, and you'll forever have a scar. Proof that he exists, if he's ever to kick the bucket. And he's glad your ex was shitty.

It makes impressing you really easy (makes doing nice things for you less embarrassing, if he words it like that).

"Hey" he tries again. This time you nibblie on your bottom lip, putting you're home down and looking up with him. An empty glass clutched in his hands.

"Let's go for a walk"

It seems strange, he thinks, this sort of dynamic between the two of you. Sometimes, he likes to think about if your roles were reversed. If anything, you'd probably be a support dog. Though, he quite likes how things are right now.

unedited, like all my thoughts

right now i am in a hybird phase!! save me dog dabi

also, as an added thing, when you're finally comfortable enough to touch dabi (with quivering hands, and eyes that dart to his face every time you think he isn't looking) you decide to wash him. when you do, you're surprised to find that his hair is white, not black

he says it's dye, but you know he's been mistreated in the shelter

(you don't bring it up again after that, but you always make sure to keep him healthy)

dog hybrid dabi save me..... aaaaaaaaaaa

[ribread03]

Our Song IIII

M.sturniolo

Summery: when you start to fall asleep on the triplet couch and Matt takes notice

THIS IS MY WORK AND MY IDEA! PLEASE DONT USE THIS AS “INSPIRATION” OR TAKE IT WITHOUT GETTING MY PERMISSION FIRST! thank you :)

MATTS POV

As me and Y/N walk down the stairs to the main floor of the hotel I can't help but feel small butterflies in my stomach. The way she looked around the hotel room that I paid for, made my heart swell as I realized that she truly was just as great of a person in real life as she was online.

“Should’ve just made you take the stairs,” I can hear Y/N huff from beside me. “My legs hurt already,” She says with a small pout as we reach the last flight of stairs.

“We’re almost there,” A small chuckle escapes with my words as we round the last corner in the stairwell.

Once we are on the road and back to my house I feel Y/N taking small glances in my direction, making me flush a little as we turn off of the main road. The drive from the hotel back to our house was short and didn’t take more than fifteen minutes to get from one place to another.

As I pulled into the garage I noticed how tired Y/N looked and the small yawn that escaped her lips as she unbuckled the seatbelt from her body.

Y/N POV

Once we are all in the triplets house we are talking, a soda in Chris’s hands, getting to know each other better. On a more personal level one would say. Matt sat next to you on the couch, while Nick and Chris sat down at the other end.

As the conversation flows through the group, small yawns fall from your lips, the travel getting to you. You can feel your eyes growing heavy, your body feeling like it can’t move. You slowly stop talking, yawn after yawn leaving your lips as your eyes start to shut.

“Y/N, wanna go lay down in my room?” You hear Matt’s voice, it’s soft and warm. “My beds’ more comfortable than the couch.”

You can practically feel your eyes light up at his suggestion, a warm comfy bed after a long day of travel, sign me up. You nod your head tiredly, scooting to the end of the couch. Matt stands from the couch, holding his hand out for you. You take his hand with a small smile and follow him down the hallway and into the first door on the left.

You look around his room finding small items that match his personality. Some stuffed animals, a gravity falls poster hanging on the wall, and the famous Mr.wrinleton sitting perfectly in the middle of his bed. You let out a soft hum before taking a few more steps in behind him.

“Just make yourself at home, I just washed the sheets a few days ago..” Matt speaks softly. Watching as you kick your shoes off and climb into his bed, his side of the bed. A small smile forms on his lips as you sleepily grab a hold of Mr.wrinleton and mumble out a quiet ‘thank you’ before nodding back off to sleep.

MATTS POV

I shut the door quietly after I watch y/n drift to sleep, making my way down the hallway and back into the living room.

When I enter the living room I'm met with a grinning Nick and a giggling Chris. “What?” I ask.

“My beds’ more comfortable…” Nick repeats what I said about five minutes ago. “What, is that your way of flirting with her or something?”

“Yeah, I mean dude you’ve been making ‘fuck me eyes’ at her the whole time she’s been here… I'm surprised you even came back out of your room.” Chris adds on to Nick's question.

I scoff lightly at their interrogations, even though they are completely right. I did just want you to be comfortable, but I wanted you to be sleeping in my bed just a little more.

“How is that flirting? I was just being nice to our guest.” My voice squeaks as I try to lie to my brothers. I let out a sigh, knowing my voice cracking gave me away.

“You are trying to flirt!” Chris says rather loudly. I start to shush him, not only to not give me away, but to not wake you up. Chris lets out a few quiet giggles as he sits back on the couch, leaving me standing in front of him and nick.

“Listen, I don’t wanna make her uncomfortable if she doesn’t like me back.. so please don’t say anything and let me handle it.” I tell them, not wanting them to tell you before I can even get a chance to see if you could potentially feel the same way.

An: so sorry I’ve been MIA recently😬 hopefully getting back into it very soon, im finally in a good place in life and have been working on finding a good schedule and all that good stuff… anyways i hope you enjoyed this short but sweet chapter!!

[vegan-peppermint]

In which Toby is kidnapping the reader.

Toby never wanted to hurt you. He's just young and stupid, too eager to prove to those creatures lurking in the shadows that he is cut from the same cloth as them.

It's been no more than two years since the fire swallowed his life whole, since the faceless figure first started treading on the edges of his mind. Every day spent in that eerie house, under the watchful eyes of his so-called "mentors," pushed him further from the boy he used to be. Tim's unbearable presence didn’t help—Toby had even toyed with the idea of doubling down on his pyromaniac tendencies.

Then The Operator spoke his name—his name alone. It wasn’t just a command in Toby's mind, more like a one-way ticket out of being a second-class proxy, lesser than the other two. This was his first solo mission, a validation of all the time and effort he'd poured into this twisted world. A reward.

You.

He at least had the courtesy to stalk you first. He tracked your habbits down, watching your work from across the street or joining you on your bus ride home on particularly uneventful evenings. He has been creeping closer, gliding from shadow to light and back into the dark- just like Hoodie had thought him.

Toby never wanted to scare you, that's why the first thing he did after parking the car in front you your house was going to the convenience store down the street. He'd seen you buy this particular brand of chocolate many times before. He hoped once he handed it to you it would bring an once of comfort amidst the circumstances.

The fact your hands are tied behind your back and your mouth stuffed didn't cross his mind then.

You were nothing like the others, he observed. You didn't scream or cry- hell, didn't even bite. He wanted to be grateful for such an easy capture, but -for fucks sake- you stared. Stared with gloomy, empty eyes past him into some far-off, unreadable place. Shaking his head in frustration, he muttered to himself dissaponted he ended up with the creepy chick, before slamming the the trunk door down, leaving you blind in the cramped space.

The drive to the mansion was uneventul for Toby, giving him plenty of time to let his mind wander. He hadn’t asked why you were wanted or what his boss planned for you—it didn’t matter to him then. But he couldn't help notice how you were rather easy on the eye. Maybe it was the isolation, the pent-up frustration and loneliness but a thought crossed his mind; what harm could it do if Slender let him borrow you for a little while? He chuckled darkly at his own thoughts, already imagining your surprise when, after a few days surviving on scraps in the manor’s cellar, he'd hand over the chocolate he’d picked up. You’d probably think he was your savior, fall right to his feet.

And if you would still be devoid of any reaction, he'd fuck your face into a pretty nice expression.

The old Mazda pulled into the driveway, its engine puffing and huffing, similar the old man Toby had swiped it from. Tim and Brian were already outside, blowing smoke and ash into the brittle winter air, their jackets hanging loose against the chill. The car's strained chug faltered as it rolled to a stop, steam curling from under the hood. Without waiting for Toby to fully park, Tim burried his cigarette into the frozen ground with the heel of his boot, his sharp gaze fixed on the boy as if he didnt expect him to ever return. Brian exhaled a plume of smoke, letting it drift lazily into the night.

"Back already, Tics?" Tim snarled, looking back to his friend. "What you say, Brian- think he's got her?"

The hooded man didnt respond but stepped closer with hesitation.

"Obviously I g-got her, got her," he smirked proudly getting out the driver's seat. "Hardly a challenge, really" he added, tilting his head back so high he might've been mistaken for a certain snouted animal.

"I gotta admit, that's a pretty impressive first job," Tim said, clapping Toby on the back as they approached the trunk. Brian hummed in agreement but kept a few cautious steps behind.

"What d-does Slender even want-t with some goth bitch?" Toby asked, gripping the key with newfound confidence and turning it smoothly in the rusty trunk lock. The red, corroded door creaked open with a deafening shriek, the sound swallowed immediately by an even louder silence.

So heavy was the quiet, Brian was certain he heard Tim's grin vanish, and he Toby's posture shrink.

A collared dove cooed mockingly as it flapped past their heads.

"A witch, Toby," Tim finally exhaled. "She's a witch."

"Yep, a witch, thats exactly what I was gonna say..."