#okay take care out there and I'm sorry for leaving

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Yuutsum 3

SUMMARY: What if you also have a Tsum? Then your Tsum and the Tsum of the person you like keep giving signs that they like each other?

CHARACTERS: Twisted Tsumderland 3 Tsumsitters (Ace; Trey; Ruggie; Jamil; Vil; Idia; Malleus; Silver)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader 

WARNING: Spoilers for the Twisted Tsumderland 3 Event and the Tsumsitter cards Vignettes.

WORD COUNT: An average of 810 words per character.

COMMENTS: This was originally a request from @taruruchi for my 1k celebration. Which you can read here. And since so many readers liked it, I decided to do what I normally do when this happens: Do this for ALL the characters! Grouped by event in this case.

The request also includes Jamil's and Silver's tsums, but I wrote them before part 3 was even announced on the JP server. In other words, I had to pretty much guess what their tsums would be like, but now I could write them more accurately.

And I ended up get carried away writing Vil's and Idia's parts. 😅

I hope you enjoy 😉

Yuutsum 1 (Riddle; Cater; Leona; Jack; Floyd; Epel; Sebek)

Yuutsum 2 (Deuce; Azul; Jade; Kalim; Rook; Ortho; Lilia)

CONTEXT: Like the original Twisted Tsumderland 3 event, this takes place after the events of the first and second Twisted Tsumderland. And, surprise, your Tsum is back! But it’s the only one, all the other Tsums that came with it are completely new visitors.

Just like the other times, your Tsum seemed restless and wanted to leave Ramshackle Dorm, probably to go look for the other tsums. You decide to take a walk around the school building first and you notice a gathering in the cafeteria.

“If you give it devoted, loving care, I'm sure it'd be willing to show its gratitude!” You hear Ace's voice say from behind a wall of other students.

You come closer, with your tsum in your arms.

“So... Who wants to look after the tsum?!”

“I'll do it!” a Scarabia student offers.

“What are you talking about?” A Pomefiore student counterposes. “That's gonna be me!”

And an argue begins. You stand on your tiptoes and crane your neck to look over some students' shoulders and see an Ace-tsum on the table.

“Okay, easy, guys. You can all take turns trying your hand at looking after it.” Ace interrupts. “If things go well, you might get to see more tricks. And hey, if they don't do any, you can just return it tonight.”

Even though you know this is about Ace and his tsum, you can't help but feel a little sorry for the things Ace is saying. It's like he just wants to get rid of his tsum. Poor little guy. And your tsum agrees.

“I can take care of it!” Your voice rings out, Ace and Deuce recognizing it immediately.

The students in front of you turn and see that you have another tsum in your arms. They make way for you while commenting on how cute it is.

“(Y/N)?!” Ace and Deuce say in unison.

You lean over to look at Ace-tsum who is looking at you with bright, surprised eyes. You say you can take care of it since Ace doesn't want to. Your tsum jumps from your arms to Ace-tsum's side. You add that you have your tsum to help you supervise it and that you already have some experience with an Ace. He blushes a little.

“Wait (Y/N)!” Deuce says.“This is supposed to be Ace and my task. And you already have your tsum to take care of.”

“Don't worry, Deuce. We both can take care of it. Right, Tsum?” Your Tsum agrees and rubs its cheek against Ace-Tsum's cheek. “Better us than someone who treats it like a burden.” But Ace-tsum moves away from your tsum and Ace grabs your arm to pull you with him to talk to you alone.

“You dummy!” He tells you in a lower voice. “Listen, I'm not just trying to get rid of my tsum, okay?! I'm trying to find someone who adores it so much that they would love to fawn over it and take care of it. This will be better than being with someone who is only taking care of it out of obligation.”

You ask, then, why can't you take care of his tsum.

“Because I was trying to get some idiot to do it, not you!”

Then you hear and see that more students have joined the group that fawns over Ace-tsum. And it seemed like they were finding something cute?

You two go back to the table and see your tsums having fun with each other. Ace-tsum was showing magic tricks to your Tsum and seemed happier with your Tsum's surprised reaction than with the students' applause. Your tsum approached Ace-tsum and began to rub their cheeks against each other, like cuddling. Ace blushed again.

“Fine...” Ace gives up. “It seems like it wants to be with your tsum anyway.”

“Why don't we all take care of the tsums together again?” Deuce suggests, “Like we did when mine was here.”

You and your tsum agree.

“Yeah, I guess we can do that.” Ace says, then smirks. “At least now I can split the work between three.”

Surprisingly, Ace's Tsum is much calmer when it's around your Tsum. In addition to being extremely affectionate with your Tsum, it also seems to really enjoy impressing it with magic tricks and things like that. As if it loved having your tsum's attention and affection back, completely ignoring Ace's embarrassment.

Your tsum wanted to go somewhere, so you pick it up and let it guide you out of Ramshackle Dorm. You pass the Botanical Garden and the Alchemy Workshop and arrive at the Hall of Mirrors. Your tsum wants you to cross the mirror to Heartslabyul.

You do so, enter the building and you end up crossing paths with Trey in the hallway. He was carrying a cake container. You feel your tsum move slightly in your arms when it sees him.

“Hello (Y/N).” Trey greets you. “I see your tsum is back.” He smiles at it and you feel it move again. “This time one similar to me showed up too, so I'm also tsumsitting. I assume you're here to see it.” He chuckles seeing you and your tsum nodding. “It is in the lounge. But before that.” He opens the cake container revealing a beautiful cake with icing and grapes decorating it, and some slices already missing. “Do you want to try a slice? Tsum decorated it.”

If you like grapes, he will be happy to see you eating a slice. If you don't like them and are sad because you would like to try the cake, He will suggest that you go to the kitchen and take out just one piece that doesn't have grapes for you to taste.

“Here.” He says taking just a forkful of the icing cake. “This one doesn't have grapes.” He holds out the fork with the piece of cake in your direction.

You can take the fork and eat it yourself or you can eat it while he holds the fork. If you do this last one, he will laugh and then smirk slightly. Independently of what you do, you'll feel your tsum moving in your arms again, but not enthusiastically.

Trey asks if everything is okay with your tsum and you answer that it might be sad because it can't taste the cake, after all tsum don't eat.

“Oh, don't worry.” He says to your tsum with a sweet smile. “You liking the way it looks is good enough already.”

Your tsum makes that happy tsum sound and suddenly jumps out of your arms towards Trey who catches it and you see it nestling in his arms.

“Ha ha ha. Your tsum is more cheeky than mine. No, that's not a bad thing. I find it quite cute actually.”

If you are more outgoing, your tsum will make that happy sound again and smile at him with its eyes. If you are shy, your tsum will shrink a little and hide its face in his arms.

He will, happily, carry your Tsum in his arms to the lounge where his Tsum and other students are, but when the three of you get there...

“Is everyone done? I'll get the dishes - uh...” Trey and you see what appears to be his tsum attacking students with a toothbrush. “What’s going on here?”

Cater explains the whole madness with Tsum wanting everyone to brush their teeth. Trey ends up taking his Tsum's side and the students run to brush their teeth. Cater tries to apologize by saying that it took him longer to eat and even tries to say that he wanted to spend some time with your tsum. But it's no use, both Treys look at him with a menacing smile.

“Ah, I'm sorry! I swear I'll brush therm! Don't come near me with that smile on your face!” And he leaves the lounge as well.

Only Riddle, you, Trey and your two tsums remain. Trey-tsum points his toothbrush at you with that smile.

“Let's give (Y/N) a pass this time.” Trey defends you. “They are from another dorm so their toothbrush and toothpaste are not here.”

Trey-tsum lowers the toothbrush in agreement. Your Tsum jumps out of Trey's arms and lands next to his Tsum. They both make a happy sound and the two begin to rub their cheeks against each other as if cuddling.

“Your tsum is very affectionate, isn't it?” Trey comments with a smile.

Trey-tsum jumps onto your shoulder, presses its face against your cheek as if it were giving you a kiss, and jumps back to your tsum’s side. Then the two jump onto one of the sofas and snuggle up together as if they were nesting.

“How cute.” Riddle comments with a slightly mocking smile seeing Trey blush.

You were taking a walk around the school campus with your tsum in your arms when you heard Jack's voice calling you.

“Hey (Y/N), glad I found you.” Jack says. You turn around and he sees your Tsum in your arms who greets him smiling with its eyes. “Your tsum is back? So you should already know that other tsums have appeared too.”

You say you had already assumed that and ask if he was looking for you.

“More or less. The truth is that I was looking for someone who could help Ruggie with his tsum.”

You feel your tsum move in your arms when it hears Ruggie's name. Jack tells you that everything seemed to be going well between them until they started arguing, or rather fighting over the money they earned. Your tsum has the same reaction as you, probably an unsurprised sigh.

You agree to help and go with Jack to Savanaclaw. You find Ruggie and his tsum in the lounge fighting with each other. Riggie has an envelope in his outstretched hand trying to get it away from the tsum, while the tsum jumps at Ruggie to try to get to the envelope while hitting him.

Your tsum jumps out of your arms and sneaks up on them while they are focused on fighting each other. When it is close enough, it prepares itself and as soon as it sees an opening, it jumps and takes the envelope from Ruggie's hands. Then it runs to you with the envelope where its mouth would be and jumps back into your arms, handing you the envelope.

Ruggie looked at your tsum and you with the most threatening look you've ever seen on him, until he realized it was you and his expression changed drastically and his ears went down. His Tsum's reaction was the same. He even stutters your name in surprise.

“And h-hey, your tsum is back!” He tries to divert the conversation and ease the situation.

You don't fall for that and ask why they were fighting over the money. Ruggie explained to you that he still tried to give 20% to his Tsum since it doesn't need money to eat or things like that and that's why it seemed fair to him. But his tsum didn't like the idea and was trying to keep most of the money.

You ask your own tsum if that money is the same as in the tsum world, basically asking if it would be of any use to Ruggie-tsum, and your tsum shakes its head no.

“See?! It's not even any use to you. And I would be generous enough to give you twenty percent.”

Ruggie's tsum turns against him again, your tsum jumps out of your arms and throws itself at Ruggie-stum, hitting it. But it doesn't hit your tsum to retaliate, instead it tucks its tail between its legs and lowers its ears while your tsum seems to scold it.

Ruggie laughs at that situation and approaches you asking, also with his ears down and his tail between his legs, if you could give him back the envelope. But you reveal that, knowing him, you knew that he was not taking care of the tsum, but rather taking advantage of it to earn more money with its work.

“Hey, The tsum was the one who wanted to work for m- I mean with me. We earned that money by working together by choice.”

“So why not split it fifty-fifty?” You suggest.

“WHAT?! Are you cra-”

“If one of you worked as hard as the other then you deserve the same amount, don't you?”

He tries to bargain by reiterating that Tsums don't need to eat, but you continue the discussion saying that if it's not like that they won't stop fighting and it will never be resolved. If Ruggie keeps rejecting ot, your tsum will throw itself at his head to hit him. And then he will finally give in and split the money 50-50.

After that your tsum will convince Ruggie-tsum to just rest with it, trying to push it onto one of the lounge chairs. But instead Ruggie-tsum seemed to want to play with your tsum and the two of them started play fighting like two cubs. Which ends up looking more like they are hugging and cuddling.

Ruggie comments that despite what happened they seem to really like each other. After playing with each other for a while, Ruggie-tsum will come over to you to see if it can get some petting from you for being so cute. And if so, it'll turn over on its back so you can give it belly rubs. Ruggie will tell you that you're spoiling his tsum while trying not to show that he's jealous.

You find out that a Tsum similar to Jamil has appeared and is with him in Scarabia by crossing paths with Kalim while you were taking a walk with your Tsum around the school campus. Needless to say, Kalim was super happy to see your tsum again.

On the way to Scarabia you could feel the enthusiasm of your tsum. When you arrive, Jamil and his tsum are in the lounge playing a card game.

The two Jamils realize that someone has entered the lounge. They look at whoever has entered just to greet them, but as soon as they see that it is you, they both smile.

“Hello (Y/N). I see your tsum is back.”

Your tsum jumps from your arms and approaches Jamil's tsum. When it gets close enough, they brush each other's cheeks. Jamil blushes and pulls his hood a little tighter.

They will finish the game they were playing and then invite you and your tsum to play with them. You will play against your tsum, Jamil will teach you and his tsum will teach your tsum while you both play. Jamil will try to make you win, while Jamil-tsum is trying to make your tsum win. And perhaps for this reason, he teaches you by whispering in your ear so that the tsums don't hear your plays. Even if you don't win, Jamil will say that you played well and will be happy that you understood how to play.

You play two or three more times. Whenever you or your tsum win, it's because Jamil and his tsum agreed to lose to see you both happy. But in the last round Jamil-tsum climbs onto your lap while your tsum goes onto Jamil's lap. Thus forming pairs for the last round.

While Jamil-tsum helps you with the best moves, Jamil asks your tsum for its opinion with a cute smile. They both know that your tsum can't help him win, but he enjoys interacting with it in the same way he enjoys interacting with you.

The two teams end up tied. There is a good chance that the bouth Jamils planned this result.

You were going to get up so Jamil could prepare something for the two of you to have a snack, when you heard something. The sound of an insect coming in and cetting closer to you. Jamil jumps and runs to the door leaving your tsum behind while his tsum uses you to hide. You feel it trembling against you. The insect lands on one of your cards and you see that it is a... little ladybug.

If your reaction is something like, ‘Aww, a cute ladybug.’ Jamil will complain, outraged.

You ask Jamil to bring you some jar with a lid with holes and leaves inside. When he asks you what for, you say that you're going to put the ladybug inside and release it in Ramshackle Dorm's garden. He thinks you're crazy but that's okay as long as you lock that thing up and take it away. He brings you an empty spice jar with two leaves inside. You ask if they are poisonous plants, he sighs and says no. You smell the leaves and they seem normal.

The ladybug was on your finger, you open the jar to put it inside but it flies back towards Jamil who screams and runs away again. When the ladybug returns, it goes after Jamil-tsum, who also starts to run away through the lounge. The ladybug finally lands on your tsum's head and the two of you put the insect in the jar and close it. You tell Jamil it's done.

When he comes back, you try your best to contain your laughter as you remember him running away from a ladybug, but he notices your little smile and looks at you sullenly, despite thanking you.

Something similar seems to happen with the tsums, but your tsum dosen't contain its laughter and Jamil-tsum attacks it with what appears to be tickles. After your tsum surrenders the two seem to start cuddling each other.

Jamil is embarrassed by this and pulls his hood even further to hide his blushing face.

You were walking around the school campus with your tsum in your arms when you arrived at the Courtyard. A group of Pomefiore students focused on photographing something separated you from Vil and Rook on the other side. You and your tsum noticed that they were photographing Vil's tsum, and it seemed to be enjoying the photoshoot itself.

Your tsum jumps from your arms to the ground and tries to pass between the feet of some students to get closer to Vil-tsum. But those students notice something moving near them and look down at your tsum.

“Aw, it's another tsum.” One of the students says.

“Yeah, but this one doesn't look like anything special.” Another student comments.

“In fact, it looks so ordinary.” A third student agrees. “Could you please not interfere with Vil's Tsum photos?”

Your tsum still tried to advance a little further, but the students stopped it by putting their feet in its way. And even if you were complaining, they didn't care, they were in the middle of a photo shoot, the staff and spectators shouldn't interfere.

“Listen, if your tsum was half as beautiful as Vil's tsum we might still consider it, but I don't believe his tsum would even want to be seen with yours.”

With this, your tsum becomes too sad to keep trying and returns depressed to you. It doesn't even jump into your arms, you have to bend down and pick it up.

Meanwhile, the photo shoot stops abruptly and you hear some students say: “What's wrong?”, “Why do you want to stop suddenly?”, “Did we do something wrong?”, “Have we crossed boundaries?”

You see the students in front of you make way for Vil's tsum. When it sees you, its eyes shine, but when it sees your tsum, sad and curled up in your arms it gets upset and turns aggressively towards the students.

They realize that the tsum is upset with them for insulting your tsum, but it doesn't know which one was and they start saying it was the other one.

“You're the one who said it didn't look like anything special!”

“’In fact, it looks so ordinary.’ that's what YOU said”

“And who said their tsum wasn't even half as beautiful as Vil's tsum?”

“At least have the decency to admit your rudeness.” Vil appears, also unpleased, and with Rook beside him. “None of you have the right to decide who can or cannot approach the tsum. It is the one who decides who deserves such a privilege.”

“What a disappointment to have dormmates with such little tolerance for other unique types of beauty.” Rook says sadly. “And so insensitive too. ‘I don't believe his tsum would even want to be seen with yours.’ Which of you has the courage to claim such a phrase?” Rook looks at the three main suspects with an amused smile but a menacing look.

Both Vil and his tsum got angry upon hearing this.

“It was him!” The other two pointed to the culprit.

“It is also quite ugly to denounce someone so shamelessly.” Vil rebuked them and clapped his hands decisively twice. “The photo shoot is over. Go back to your duties. And the three of you have a meeting scheduled with me later in the Pomefiore dorm. Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-yes Housewarden. We regret our words.”

“I sure hope you do. But that won't lessen your punishment. You may go now.”

As the Pomefiore students leave, the others glaring at the three who insulted your tsum, Vil-tsum turns back to you and jumps into your arms, knowing that you would catch it. It cuddles up to your tsum as if it were comforting it, rubbing their cheeks and giving it kisses, or at least that's what it seemed like since tsum don't have mouths.

“How can they belittle such a demonstration of love and such a beautiful couple!” Rook says dramatically. “Je suis choqué!”

When you start having trouble holding two tsums at once, Vil approaches you and puts his arms around yours to help you.

“I am deeply sorry for the atrocities you heard.” He tells you in a soft voice but then smiled smugly. “You can help me think of an appropriate punishment if you like.”

Knowing that you were having difficulty holding them, your tsums end up jumping from your embrace to the ground. Your tsum still looks a little sad and Vil's tsum doesn't take its attention away from your tsum.

“Don't listen to them.” Vil says to your tsum. “Just because you don't fit their standards doesn't mean you're not beautiful. You should only care about the opinion of those who you really care about and who care about you.” He looks at you. “They are right about one thing, you two look ordinary.” He will smile in amusement if you look at him sulkily. “But who said that was ugly? The beauty of the ordinary is the most difficult to perceive, only those who truly recognize it deserve to appreciate it. And if you want to know my opinion, two extraordinary things become flashy, but one common thing brings balance and harmony. The kind of thing whose value and importance you only realize when it disappears.” He looks back at your tsum. “Don't listen to the opinions of ignorant people.”

Rook was crying with emotion and murmured how beautiful that moment had been. Your tsum, also moved by his words, jumps into Vil's arms. He almost got a fright, but he caught your tsum.

“*sigh* How cheeky.” Vil said, smiling softly. He holds your tsum as if he were holding a beloved baby.

Vil-tsum approaches you calmly, with an aura of dignity and sophistication. You lower yourself, kneeling on the ground and it climbs onto your lap. Like a cat demanding in the way you pet it.

Vil-tsum won't let anyone else take a picture of it unless they want to take a picture of it and your tsum together. If your tsum is too shy and doesn't want to take pictures, then Vil-tsum will also refuse.

Vil's tsum will try to convince him to give you and your tsum a beauty treatment. And if it doesn't succeed the first time, he'll steal Vil's cosmetics for your tsum. But since it's you, Vil ends up accepting.

Vil will have to keep an eye on Rook because he will become obsessed with your tsums together.

Your tsum was restless in Ramshackle Dorm and seemed to want to go somewhere. You picked it up and let it lead you out of the dorm. Your tsum made you pass through the Botanical Garden and the Alchemy Workshop until you reached the Hall of Mirrors, where it made you pass through the mirror that lead to Ignihyde. Once inside it doesn't take long for Ortho to appear to greet you.

“Hi (Y/N)!” He looks at the tsum in your arms. “Oh! You're back too. It's great to see you again! Are you here because of my big brother's tsum?”

And now you know why your tsum wanted to go there. Your tsum nods its little head. Ortho doesn't even bother to tell you where they are because they can only be in one place, but he says he'll have to leave because of the meeting with the Film Research Club and wishes you luck in dealing with his brother and his tsum. You go to Idia's room and knock on the door.

“Ortho? Did you forget something?” Idea asks instead of opening the door.

“No. It's me, (Y/N).”

He stammers your name in surprise. “W-w-w-what are you doing here?!”

You explain that your tsum was the one who took you to Ignihyde and that Ortho told you that an Idia lookalike had also appeared. Suddenly you hear a commotion inside the room and Idia asking in panic what it was doing.

The bedroom door opens. You see Idia lying on the floor in the middle of the room and in front of you an Idia-tsum staring at you. When your eyes meet his, his own sparkle and the blue in his hair takes on pink hues at the tips.

Your tsum jumps out of your arms and lands right on top of Idia-tsum. What no one expected, not even your tsum, was that Idia-tsum's reflex would be to take advantage of this to take your tsum, as if kidnapping it, to a kind of fortress made of cardboard boxes in the corner of the room.

“Welcome to the club.” Idia tells you as he stands up. “It also kidnapped my tablet. Now it has two captives.”

As soon as you enter, the door closes behind you again. You go to the cardboard boxes, kneel down and look inside. You see, through a gap in the boxes, the two tsums very close together playing a co-op game on the tablet.

“S-sorry about that.” Idia tells you embarrassed. “I can't get along with this tsum. I've been trying to get my tablet back for hours but it is so stubborn. ...What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

You think about it and say that if they stay calm like that until it's time for them to go back to their world, there shouldn't be any problems, right?

“OF COURSE THERE IS! MY LOGIN BONUSES! Why do you think I'm trying to get my tablet back?! Listen, I don't care what the tsums do as long as they don't cause me any problems or interfere with my games. And this tsum manages to do both. My room wasn't this disorganized before, but it keeps fighting me. You're good with delinquents, help me!”

If your tsum is really like you, it wants to get Idia-tsum out of those cardboard boxes like you want to get Idia out of his room. Which means if you have an idea you know your tsum will help you. You think about that co-op games and how Idia can be competitive when he believes he have a good chance of winning. Aka: in video games.

So you have an idea, but to do so you have to whisper the idea in the Idia's ear so the tsums don't hear. When you get closer he gets flustered. You suggest playing a 2 vs 2 game and invite the tsums to play, and encourages him to be as provocative as possible to ensure that his tsum accepts the challenge.

“And then what?" He whispers back to you "We'll have to entertain it while I get the tablet back.”

“I can handle that part.” you guarantee him.

You both follow the plan, luckily Idia has 4 controllers, probably because they are all different models. At first, Idia-tsum doesn't fall into the trap, but soon Idia's smugness kicks in

“Of course you don't accept the challenge. You don't even have opposing thumbs, how could you beat us?” The boxes move. “Or is it because you're a noob?” The boxes move again and it looks like Idia has an idea for the ultimate strike. “Oh, I see, it’s because your teammate is a normie who sucks at games.”

One of the boxes jumps like a spring and almost hits Idia in the face, as if whatever was underneath it had exploded. Idia-tsum jumps towards one of the controls with an irritated look and his hair completely red. Idia himself gives one of those scared YEPs, but for some reason he smiles when he sees that reaction from his tsum.

Your tsum jumps to the other controller next to Idia-tsum who looks at it and waves like a true duo preparing for battle. Idia gets prepered beside you and gives you a similar determined smile before he starts the game.

During the fighting game, it was as if Idia had forgotten about his tablet and whenever it seemed like you were having trouble he would get upset on your behalf and defend your character with his. His tsum did the same to your tsum.

It was only at the end of the round that Idia suddenly remembered the tablet and jumped out of his chair to pick it up from the floor next to the cardboard boxes. His tsum did the same thing, but you managed to catch it in time and held it in your arms with a strong hug. It struggled at first, but when it remembered that it was you who was grabbing it, its hair turned completely pink and it covered its eyes with its little hands.

“I collected...”  Idia raises the tablet in his hands. “The Tablet!”

He looks at you with a triumphant smile, but if you are giving his tsum affection and kisses because it’s so cute, the tips of Idia's hair will also turn pink and he will be flustered.

Your tsum will jump right up to his face and give him some affection too, like rubbing its little face against his cheek.

“H-h-h-h-have you never heard of personal space?!”

You were walking with your tsum in your arms around the school campus when Lilia suddenly appeared.

“You're back!” Lilia surprises you and your tsum by appearing upside down in front of you. “Hi (Y/N)-tsum. It's so good to see you again. This is actually perfect.” He turns around and puts his feet on the ground. “You see, a Malleus-like tsum also appeared.” You feel your tsum move happily in your arms. “And Malleus decided to throw a party for it. I was looking for you to invite you, but now that I see that your tsum is back I know that both Malleus would love to have both of you at the party.

Your tsum gets so excited that it almost falls out of your arms.

“Good thing you're excited, because we're already late. Come with me. The party has already started.”

Lilia accompanies you and your tsum to Diasomnia. The lounge is full of Diasomnia students paying attention to Malleus and his tsum. Lilia asks you to follow him down the stairs and when you reach the last step the students in front of you look at you and respectfully make way between you and the two Malleus. Like soldiers taking positions on both sides of the road.

The two Malleus look confused to see what the students were doing and when the two tsums' eyes meet your tsum jumps out of your arms and hops towards Malleus-tsum very quickly. Some of the students (Sebek included) took one step forward to stop your tsum from "attacking" Malleus' tsum, but stop immediately at Lilia's signal.

Malleus-tsum did not move, excitedly waiting for your tsum to reach it. Your tsum did indeed attack Malleus' tsum, but with love and affection. Your tsum gave it a lot of affection and Malleus' tsum simply accepted it with smiling eyes, only occasionally reciprocating the affection. Malleus also looked at your tsum with a special affection in his eyes.

You approached the tsums to get a better look at Malleus’s. It approached you with that dignity that Malleus himself also has, looked at you for a few seconds and bowed. All the other students at Diasmonia suddenly did the same. Even Sebek, although he did so a little reluctantly.

You bowed back and asked if you could pet it. The other students looked at you again with extreme attention and some held their breath. Malleus-tsum pondered, creating suspense in the lounge, but then it made that happy tsum sound and jumped into your arms, super happy. It accepts any and all affection coming from you and it doesn't matter how strong your hug is, just like Malleus his tsum is also extremely strong and resistant.

Meanwhile, your tsum also jumps into Malleus' arms without warning. Hence the students' gasps echoing through the lounge.

“So fearless, jumping towards me like that.” Malleus smiled smugly. “You really don't fear that I might crush you?”

The other students were wary, but your tsum didn't seem to care what he was saying and jumped onto the top of his head, nestling between his two horns. Once again the students gasped in fear. Only Lilia and Silver were calm. Lilia was laughing.

“My liege, please forgive this insulting-” Sebek said, but was quickly interrupted by Malleus's good-natured laughter.

“How cheeky. I wonder who gave you permission to go up there.” He raises his arm to bring his hand closer to your Tsum in his head, touching its little nose affectionately before patting its head.

While you were hugging Malleus-tsum, one of its horns stung your cheek. It immediately stopped and looked at you worriedly when it heard you say ‘ouch’. When it realized it had hurt you, its little eyes watered. You said it was okay, that it hadn't really hurt you, it was just a little sting, you were fine, you hadn't even gotten a mark. But even so, you had to keep comforting it.

After that, Malleus-tsum wanted to dance with you and Malleus with your tsum. You did so. And the next one, the two tsums wanted to dance together. Following this same logic, Malleus invited you to dance.

At the end of the party, when your tsum gets tired, Malleus-tsum will accompany it to you and Malleus who are sitting together. But your tsum will lie on Malleus' lap, and he will pet it lovingly. Likewise, Malleus-tsum will lie down on your lap, even if it is not tired. It is extremely happy for you to pet it.

Malleus laughs happily when your tsum turns over onto its back so he can give it belly rubs.

Malleus-tsum looks at you and Malleus and thinks you're not close enough. It jumps from your lap to your side and gives you a little nudge on the leg with one of its little horns. You jump and lean against Malleus. You apologize, but Malleus still puts an arm around you. And now satisfied, his tsum returns to your lap, which is so close to Malleus' lap that the two tsums can nestle together too.

You were walking around the school campus with your tsum, but it got tired of always walking in your arms and now it was jumping around by your side.

You were crossing the bridge that led to the Mystery Shop grounds when your tsum, who was jumping on the edge of the bridge, slipped and fell into the water below you. The current took your tsum to the lake in front of the Hall of Mirrors building, you followed it running. Your tsum managed to grab onto a ledge in the rocks very close to the waterfall.

You didn't know what to do. You couldn't get down there and there was nothing to help you.

But at that moment something jumped into the water near your Tsum, grabbed onto it and grew so big that it was blocking the passage to the waterfall. It was Silver's tsum!

And speaking of him, Silver appears right after and uses his magic to make your tsum levitate and fly back into your arms. But what about his tsum? The water coming from the lake was accumulating and creating more pressure on the tsum.

But the two Silvers seemed to understand each other well and the Tsum quickly returned to its normal size and let itself fall down the waterfall, but Silver managed to use his magic to catch it in the middle of the fall and bring it back to land safe and sound.

Your tsum jumped out of your arms to hug Silver-tsum, who hugged it back, or at least the tsum version of a strong and affectionate hug.

If you do the same to Silver to thank him, he will be surprised at first, but will hug you back gently with a smile on his face.

“I'm glad you and your tsum are safe now.” Silver tells you. “My tsum and I fell asleep nearby. We both woke up to the sound of something falling into the water and your fright.”

Neither your tsum nor silver's tsum wanted to let go of each other.

“Were you heading back to your dorm? We will accompany you.”

He used his magic to dry your tsum and you for grabbing it right after it came out of the water. Your tsums seemed to agree on something and then your tsum jumped into Silver's arms while Silver-tsum jumped into yours. Your tsum was nestling in Silver's arms, while his tsum was on guard and alert to your surroundings.

“I think they want me to protect your tsum while my lookalike protects you.” Silver assumes, placing his arms protectively around your tsum.

You go to Ramshackle Dorm together and as soon as you arrive in the lounge, your two tsums go to the sofa and snuggle up very close. And now in a safe place and next to your tsum, Silver-tsum falls asleep very soundly. Both you and your tsum find it funny how soft he looks when he sleeps so deeply.

“There goes another attempt to stay awake for as long as possible.” Silver says smiling, also finding it funny. “But I can't blame it. I also feel very relaxed around you.”

You stay with your tsums in the lounge. There's a good chance Silver will fall asleep next to you. Or on your lap if you let him.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[euphoria-looney]

Credits to the idea:

Batfam X Neglected Reader ( Squid Games)

The Winner Takes It All by ABBA

When do humans get so desperate they give up their own lives for that small chance of money?

Money is a category in your history class dedicated to why money is the basis of your life. Economy.

I first witnessed someone leave everything had for money, my mother. When I was 5, I didn't know why my mother was leaving the manor with a huge suitcase, filled with cash.

My mother engaged to Bruce Wayne who only allowed her in as they procreated me. In her words, both sides should take responsibility, it takes two to tango, and why should she be the only one to deal with the consequences.

Which now is very hypocritical as she ran away taking everything but me.

I didn't want sympathy, but I didn't want to be treated like dirt for a mistake I didn't make.

For the next 13 years of my life, I tried to stay on the down low, no matter how many dirty looks, and the insults, not even when Damian would hurt me.

I just hoped they wouldn't mind if I stayed with them a little longer until I could find a stable way to leave.

That hope burst when Alfred came to my room and told me “Master Bruce has decided to kick you out and disown you, I'm so sorry, [name].”

I tried to somehow make it, promising myself, it was going to be okay.

I got into college, and the debt collected from that was massive, so I had to go get loans at the bank, and then get into a part-time job, but every day seemed like we were always getting robbed. My manager had no choice but to let me go.

“I'm sorry, sugar, but we aren't pulling in enough customers and I can't afford to keep too many employees, there's no easy way to say this but, you have to quit. I don't want to fire you, it'd look bad for any job you'd apply for next.”

I held onto her hand like a lifeline I begged and pleaded with no avail.

I tucked my tail in and went to the Wayne manor.

"Um, It's [name], could I... um..." I swallowed my words, afraid to say them, I mean, this was humiliating, 13 years since I'd seen them and the first thing I asked for was cash? "... borrow some money."

No surprise I was rejected, but that didn't hurt me it was the comments, how I was so much like my mother.

I waddled to the train station, if I was lucky, the train wouldn't be hijack or filled with gas tonight.

"Hey, you want to earn some money?" A guy next to me.

"No, thank you."

"10,000 dollars. Just a child's game"

I lifted my head to stare at him. I couldn't see his face, hidden behind a mask.

"It's a Korean game, visited it a few days ago, so would you mind playing it with me?" He gave an authoritative vibe, it made me want to back away, his aura was sinister.

I had already hit rock bottom, what could be lower? I hesitantly nodded my head.

I don't know how many times I lost, but I finally did it!

Handing me the cash and then handing me this weird card.

"If you ever need more, contact us." with that he walked away.

Third POV

“B, are you sure this is the right spot?”

‘Positive. Are you sure you want to join on this mission, Dick.”

Despite what anyone might think Batman, otherwise known as Bruce Wayne cares and loves his kids.

Changing into suits and golden animal masks, they went to the VIP room, make some bets on random numbers.

Oracle was doing the background work, hacking into everything, it wasn't like the movies and the stress was on.

The court of Owls was not just one villain working but a cult that was not only wealthy but influential, with their own members, called Talons who were armed and ready.

On the screen 456 players appeared.

“Today, we have prepared the game red light, green light. A child game.” The frontman introduced the V.I.P’s at the start of the first round.

[name]’s POV:

Waking up, the clothes I was originally wearing changed into the tracksuit outfit with a number on it.

A person caught my eye, it’s Astro! From the law department, I couldn’t help but approach him.

“What are you doing here?” Word got around that he was an academic genius, and many had hope for his bright future.

I could only remember how fond his mother was when talking about him, I thought I saw her the other day working.

“Oh, [name]. It’s been a while hasn’t it? What are you doing here?” He dodged the question.

“I… couldn’t afford college and took out a loan, eventually I got a lot of debt.” Our conversation got cut short as we headed to this random room.

Going to this machine it said ‘smile’

I gave a gummy like smile before making my way to the field

Playing red light, green light.

After explaining the rules everyone started running, nothing was wrong until a person got spotted moving during the red light, poor guy, going home penniless after making it here-

Spat

Oh.

There’s blood on my shoes.

It was like a stampede of people running to the door, stacking on top of each other. I was frozen out of fear.

Wha-

What do I do?

I’m afraid.

Someone tell me, what do I do?!

Before I knew it, I made it to the end.

Third POV:

Thankfully no one found the bat family suspicious or they would’ve noticed how they tensed up seeing as their daughter/sibling had the first contestant’s blood splattered not only on her shoes but also on her clothes.

A break had ensued as the game was over and everyone made their way to their individual rooms.

“What are they doing there?!”

“Should we stop it now?!”

“How?!”

“Quiet down!” Bruce had stopped the panic, but in reality he, himself didn’t know what to do either.

[name]’s POV:

Going back to the room, I felt like a doll and everyone sat on the floor.

The sickening feeling of seeing the gold lighting illuminating the clear pig, with money dropping down into it.

I could feel my stomach drop just thinking about it.

I didn't know what was happening until Astro got up and rebutted the guards.

“Clause three, The games may be terminated upon a majority vote, right?”

Thankfully, ending this sick and twisted game.

That didn’t last long though as a day had passed and I was back in this building. I think everyone who left was.

I talked to new people, especially this one old man who reminded me of Alfred.

“I could say the same to you. You’re young, and your debt is lower than most people here, so why continue risking your life for this money?” I shook my head, my face holding a sad smile.

“No matter how hard I try I just keep gaining then losing debt. But it’s different for you sir. Doesn’t the government give insurance and medicare for the elderly?” I held his hands in mine.

“The government isn’t as nice as you think, corrupt up in their high-paying jobs, but still greedy for more.”

As the games ensued I could feel myself deteriorate.

Third POV

Gripping onto the couch arms, and bouncing off one's feet could symbolize when someone is... anxious.

Or it could be showing anticipation.

So let's pretend that's what Bruce Wayne is feeling right now.

And if we asked his opinion on number ###, [name] [lastname]...

Most people would think, "Yes, he must be anticipating her death, how the blood would splatter, whether it be from losing a game or betrayal from another contestant." That's what most people would think of that entire family.

How could you not?

They shamed her, bullied her, and scorned her away from their home.

Wouldn't even provide financial aid much less.

Isn't that why she's here in the first place?

It was like they wanted her to grovel and die, die a death that would have no meaning, not even to this unforgiving world.

However, you'd be shocked that's not correct.

Anxiety is a scary thing it makes you make rash decisions. Good or bad.

It was nothing new to these vigilantes.

But oh. seeing her tired eyes, sweat dripping down everywhere, from her head to her legs. Her trembling form.

If you didn't know the context you'd already think she was a corpse.

No! That's wouldn't couldn't be true.

They couldn't allow it to be, she was going to be safe.

She had to be.

She was forgotten, but now, everyone's eyes were on her.

Anxiety is a scary thing, and with the current event, situation, there was nothing they could do but hope for the best, bounce their legs, and grip the couch.

-

It’s time for the next game.

“For this game we’ll be playing the marble game.”

—

There will be 2 endings choose which one. (I'll be making both.)

-> Thank you… for playing with me.

-> Astro!

Also, I love the idea and from fic from both @jellyfishmoon97 and @not-weirdoshrek

@holysoulsweets @sh4rk-k1d @sillysealsies @loomspuddle @cantfindmelol @alwaysholymilkshake @leitor-sonolento (I think these are all the ones that wanted to get tagged idk though 😍)

[captain-bubble-wrap]

QUINN IS SO CUTE I JUST WANNA CUDDLE HIM ALL DAY

Babe, he's the cutest in the league! Sweet, soft boy! I don't think you were asking for anything, but I typed a little something! 🩷

You had just tucked yourself in beneath a heavy throw on the sofa. Head propped up by a few pillows, wearing one of Quinn's crewneck sweaters and sweatpants, you were warm and comfortable. He was away at morning practice leaving you to preoccupy yourself until he had come back. The curtains were drawn, the heat was up, and the room smelled like vanilla and caramel, fully rounding out the cozy feeling you were hoping for. 

On the coffee table, sat a new book you had been excited to finally start. Quinn had rekindled your love for reading, something that you hadn't had since you were a child. However, when you picked it up to finally delve into it, the door pushed open; a very tired-looking Quinn standing in the doorway. 

"Hi, baby," you said, sitting up to greet him, the blanket falling away from your body. Looking at him, you could tell something was wrong. "Are you alright?"

His shoulders rolled forward as he sighed, "I'm fine." Quinn dropped his bag at the door, kicked off his sneakers and walked past you and into the bedroom. "Long practice."

It wasn't his normal greeting, by any means, which made you unsure about what you should do. Smothering him with love and affection didn't feel like the right thing at the moment, so you decided to simply let him be and wait for him to come to you. Just before you talked yourself into getting up and seeing if he was okay, you heard his soft footfalls coming towards you. He had changed his clothes into something more lounge-like and less restrictive, but his expression still conveyed that something was wrong. 

You were laying down when he emerged from the bedroom and stayed that way even after he pulled back the blanket. 

"Quinny?" You questioned, as he squeezed himself between your legs to lay his head against your chest, all without a word. He had done this a few times, but it had been while the two of you had been in bed, never on the sofa. His hands snaked under your sweater, up your ribs, and behind your back to rest on your shoulder blades. His touch was warm as you shivered against his it. "Baby, what's wrong?"

He sighed again, his hair just out of the reach of tickling your nose, but your fingers would get lost within it almost immediately. "Took a hard hit today and I'm in a fair amount of pain."

"Oh, baby!" You lamented, doing your best to cover him with the blanket. "That's not good!"

"It happens," he exhales, fingers gripping you tighter. "Was an accident. 

Once you had the both of you sufficiently draped in plush warmth, one hand returned to his hair, the other to his middle of his back. You hoped he wasn't seriously hurt as he seemed to be having such a rough go as of late; you couldn't take him missing any more games. Feeling his breathing sync with yours, you tried to relax yet your worry still lingered. 

"Where does it hurt? So I don't touch it by accident." 

"Left side of my ribs," Quinn mumbled, turning his face inwards towards your chest. 

He was always targeted with hits to his ribs, something that always pissed you off. Worse yet, when most of those hits were never called for a penalty. But this time, it had happened at practice; friendly fire. You hoped the pain would subside by the end of the night, even though you knew he was accustomed to such ailments. 

"I'm sorry, honey."

His words were muffled as he spoke, like he was trying to hide from you, "It's fine." 

"It's not fine!" You pouted, feeling sorrow for his situation. "You're hurt!"

"I'm always hurt, babe, it's hockey." 

Your expression dropped. He had a point, but still, that didn't invalidate your concern for his health. "I'm sorry, I just...care."

Quinn lifted his head to rest his chin between your breasts. "I know you do. I'm sorry," he apologized before his eyes disappeared again, face hidden from view. 

Poor thing, just couldn't catch a break, and you didn't want to make things worse. You'd keep playing with this hair for as long as he would let you, but then you had an idea. In your eyes wandering the room, deep in thought, you caught sight of your book teetering on the edge of the coffee table. 

"Want me to read to you?"

Unsure if he was awake or if he had drifted off into a nap, you waited for an answer before reaching for it. If he was asleep, you decided you'd take a nap with him. His weight on your body was so comforting and soothing and you knew you would drift off to sleep almost immediately upon closing your eyes. 

"You'd read to me?" He asked, bringing his eyes out of hiding once more. 

"Yeah, I was just about to start a new one I got when you came home."

"Oh...I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry! I'm glad you're home."

"Okay," he sighed, laying his cheek against your chest, face facing the rest of the living room. "I'd like that...if you'd read to me."

Smiling, you'd extend your arm to grab the book, hoping it didn't fall or it would just stay there till later. Thankfully, you were close enough to secure it between your fingers and bring it back to you. 

"It's a murder-mystery," you said, hoping he wouldn't mind your reading choice. 

"I was expecting a hockey romance," Quinn teased, the fainted smile heard in his tone.

"Oh, ha, ha!" You teased, "Why would I need to read that when I live it everyday?"

[harunayuuka2060]

WHB Not A Descendant (Cont.)

MC: *is taken to Abyssos by Beelzebub*

MC: ...

MC: What?

Beelzebub: Neat, right? You don't have to ride a bus or a train when you want to visit some places here in Hell. *winks*

MC: ...

MC: I wasn't interested in going out though.

Beelzebub: Aww~ But I already volunteered to be your mentor. Just thank me, okay?

MC: ...

MC: You're a trash mentor.

Beelzebub: *laughs* Anyway, here's your allowance. Don't spend them all, 'kay? Be frugal.

Bael: You're the one to talk.

Beelzebub: Bael?? When did you get here?

Bael: I received a report that you'd be here and here you are, dragging an innocent human to your stupid games. *completely not amused*

Beelzebub: Games? I'm providing them opportunities to learn!

Bael: You need to learn yourself!

MC: ...

Bael: Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scream like that.

MC: It's fine. Actually, I was about to ask if you wanted me to get a bat to have something to hit him with.

Bael: ...

Beelzebub: ...

Beelzebub: *pouts*

Beelzebub and Bael: ...

MC: *winning every game in the casino and the other customers are giving them stares*

MC: ...

MC: The workers here are too honest.

Beelzebub: ...

Bael: No... No, they're not... But how—

*A devil approaches them.*

A devil: You're so good...! Hey, can you give me some of your luck?

MC: Is that something that can be shared with?

A devil: I know it's all about chances, but... I will really appreciate it if you'll give me a lucky charm!

MC: Ah. Superstitious. Okay.

MC: Wish you the best of luck.

A devil: Thank you! *then runs to the nearest lottery machine*

Bael: We should leave now.

MC: I haven't used all my coins yet—

The devil earlier: I— I WIN! I WIN!!!

Beelzebub: Yup. That's our cue.

The other devils: *stood up from their seats*

Beelzebub: Bael~ Take care of our human guest~.

Bael: Tch. I apologize for this, MC. *pulls them from their chair and rushes out of the place*

Bael: Are you okay?

MC: ...

MC: I dropped all my winnings.

Bael: Oh... I'm sorry.

MC: It's fine. I'm not into those anyway.

Bael: ...

Bael: *chuckles*

MC: What?

Bael: You're interesting.

MC: Sure.

Bael: *smiles*

Bael: By the way, are you going to stay here in Abyssos?

MC: I think. I'm an NFA at this point.

Bael: You can be a permanent resident if you like.

MC: Nah. Too noisy.

Bael: Not in my office.

MC: Not into office romance either.

[seitmai]

You were certain Tyler wouldn’t be mean about your feelings or make you feel bad, but you were equally certain you weren’t his type. You’d met a fair amount of guys that looked as good as him, and not a single one of them was ever interested in you. You weren’t ashamed of your body, but you weren’t exactly comfortable being the only overweight person in your friend group.

🥺🥺🥺

He noticed you still hadn't met his gaze, a fact he chose to ignore. Instead, he opted to use the moment to his advantage, blue-green eyes sweeping over your form, noting the exposed, soft flesh of your legs. He had twin urges to sink his teeth into your thighs and feel them wrap around his head until he couldn't breathe. He quickly shook the image out of his head before those impure thoughts could make their way below the belt line.

The definition of ogling 🤭

You blanched further. "It's-it's a physiological response--" "To you," he added firmly. "A physiological response to you."

Just a physiological response, sure 🤭

"No--that you want me." Tyler grabbed both of your hands and squeezed them between his. "I am completely certain I want you in every meaning of the word. I would, however, like to start with getting to know you...biblically." You let out a breathy laugh. "I would ask if you're drunk, but I already know the answer." "Sober as a priest, darlin'." "So you're just insane then?"

Urgh I just loved this exchange 😍

He grinned, but you could see a light blush dusting his cheeks even in the dark room. "I, uh--I've read a lot of those books you told me about." "Books I've read?" He nodded. "I had no idea." "Well I knew how much you liked them and I was curious...so I started reading one and I couldn't stop. They actually gave me some ideas for things I'd like to do with you." "I'm not quite sure why that's so hot, but it is. So if you could please kiss me again, I'd appreciate it."

What a declaration of love 🥰 + extremely hot 🤤

His nostrils flared and he balled his hands into fists. "No one has the right to make negative comments on your appearance. No one, including you. I'm sorry anyone ever made you feel like you weren't a fucking prize, but that's their loss. If you don't feel comfortable showing me your body yet, then I won't push you, but I need you to know I want to see every inch of you...so I can worship every inch of you."

"I wanted a better angle." With that, he threw your legs over his shoulders and dove into your pussy.

🤭🤭🤭

After several minutes, your thighs began to burn and your motions slowed. Tyler noticed your energy waning, so he pulled you down flush against his chest and kissed you deeply. He thrust up into you a couple times before flipping you onto your back. "Let me take care of you," he murmured as he began to slowly thrust into you.

He is so sweet and hot at the same time 🥰😮‍💨

"Just appreciating how sweet you are." He smiled. "I'm gonna pretend you didn't think I was just gonna leave you here with this mess." His tone was light, though slightly chastising. "I've never had someone take care of me after sex," you admitted, a soft blush gracing your cheeks.

I just wanna give her a hug 🥺

As you closed your eyes, your foolish brain began to overthink every moment of the night. You wondered if he would regret his choices in the light of day, or if he would want to actually have a real relationship with you. Tyler felt the tension in your body and his grip on you tightened. "Turn your brain off, princess." You inhaled sharply before letting out a soft chuckle. "How'd you know?" "I know you. I can practically hear your brain overthinking," he teased. "Whatever your anxiety says is wrong. I'm in this for the long haul, okay?"

He truly is perfect 🥹

He smiled and handed them to you, but when you stepped closer, you saw the marks on his biceps--crescent moon shaped scabs. "Oh my god," you gasped. "Did I do that?" Tyler's eyes followed your line of sight. "It's not a big deal, princess. They're badges of honor, as all marks from you are." You looked down to where his fingers grazed your skin and realized he was right. A light blush crept up to your cheeks. "I have to admit...I quite like the idea of you marking me." Tyler grinned wolfishly. "Now you know how I feel."

They match each other's freak 😌🤭

Lily made eye contact with you, noting your expression, your's and Tyler's wet hair, and the hold he still had on your hand. A knowing grin spread across her face. "I think I know exactly who used all the hot water."

Hahah I love that Lily just instantly knows 😅

Destination: Motel Feelings

Pairing: Tyler Owens x plus size!reader

Summary: Two friends. One bed. What could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: it’s just a whole lot of smut, with a droplet of fluff. Cursing, use of pet names, self-esteem/body image issues. Oral (M & F receiving), unprotected sex (P in V), pretty fluffy sex overall.

“At least this motel is cleaner than the last one,” you mumbled as you entered the main lobby.

The motel was small, as most were in bumbfuck, Oklahoma, but it would have to do for the night.

“Who’s bunking with me this round?” Boone asked.

“Dexter’s with you. Dani and Lily are sharing, and then it’s me and Tyler,” you answered.

Since the six of you traveled together regularly, you’d made it a point to rotate sleeping arrangements to make it fair. This week was your week to bunk with Tyler. You always hated when it was just you and him, not because of anything he did, but because of how awkward you felt the entire time.

It wasn’t your fault he was gorgeous and charming and funny and smart…the combination of which made you want him with an unhealthy desperation. He was your favorite person to be around, but never alone. You needed a buffer to keep you from being incredibly awkward, or gods forbid, telling him how you felt.

You were certain Tyler wouldn’t be mean about your feelings or make you feel bad, but you were equally certain you weren’t his type. You’d met a fair amount of guys that looked as good as him, and not a single one of them was ever interested in you. You weren’t ashamed of your body, but you weren’t exactly comfortable being the only overweight person in your friend group.

You'd long since accepted the curves that came with puberty, curves that had only grown as you'd gotten older. Not a single part of you was what you would deem small, other than perhaps your height. You had large boobs and the back pain to accompany them, along with hips and an ass you were convinced could stop traffic. Your stomach had long been your biggest hurdle--and your main point of self-consciousness. Suffice it to say you were soft...and Tyler was very much not.

"You don't sound excited to be sharing a room with me, darlin'," Tyler teased lightly from behind you.

You chuckled in response. "I think I'd sell my kidney to stay in a hotel room without any of you for a week."

The rest of the team laughed while Boone and Dexter stepped up to the counter to check-in. Dani went next, grabbing room keys for her and Lily. The four of them went upstairs to throw their bags down, with a promise to be back in the lobby in 10 minutes for dinner.

You and Tyler smiled at the older woman behind the counter as you gave your name to check-in. The woman frowned slightly as she looked at her computer screen.

"Is everything alright?" Tyler asked gently.

"Well, it seems there was a bit of a mix up," she began. "We actually only have one room available."

"That's fine," you reasoned. "We only need one."

The woman nodded, but her expression still looked mildly uncomfortable. "It's--uh--it's a single."

You froze, contemplating the meaning of her words.

"Is there a couch?" Tyler asked, saving you from the discomfort.

She nodded, a look of relief crossing her face. "There is!"

"Then we'll take it," Tyler said with a smile.

A few minutes later, the two of you had your keys and were on the way upstairs to your room. You unlocked the door and barked out a laugh as you took in the space.

Tyler stepped in behind you and let out a low groan. "That's the couch?"

You laughed harder. "I didn't know they made couches that small. It's comical."

Tyler sighed and tossed his bag onto the freakishly small couch. "It's only for a night, right?"

You winced slightly. "At least two...possibly three."

"Shit," he mumbled.

"Ty, I'm not making you sleep on that tiny thing. You're over 6 feet tall...I don't even think you'll fit."

You both turned your attention to the bed on the other side of the room. Somehow, the queen sized bed looked dauntingly small to you.

"I'll, uh, take the couch," you offered.

"This thing looks like it's older than we are," Tyler muttered. "I wouldn't want my worst enemy sleeping on this thing, let alone you."

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, likely a text from Boone or Lily reminding you about dinner. "We'll figure it out after dinner. I'm starving."

Tyler nodded his agreement and followed you back down to the lobby where the rest of the team was waiting.

**********

By the time dinner was over and you'd said goodnight to the rest of the team, you'd nearly forgotten the predicament awaiting you in your room. Reality smacked you in the face the moment you opened the door and stepped back into the small space, a deep sigh settling in your chest.

"Why don't you get a shower first and I'll figure out how to make this work," Tyler said gently.

You just nodded, not wanting to consider the most logical solution to this particular issue. You grabbed your bag and entered the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. You made quick work of your shower and nighttime preparations, slipping on an oversized t-shirt and a pair of very short shorts.

You stared in the mirror for a moment, lost in a wave of self-consciousness. Every dimple in your thighs was visible, the soft flesh jiggling with your movements. You'd forgotten to throw a pair of pj pants in your bag before leaving home this time, so the shorts were all you had. You sighed, knowing it wasn't gonna get any better than it currently was, so you grabbed your bag and went back out into the room.

Tyler was lying on the floor, a singular blanket and pillow his only form of bedding.

A light laugh accompanied your words as you took in the sight before you. "What the heck are you doing?"

Tyler looked up with an uncomfortable shrug. "Sleeping on the floor. What does it look like?"

"It looks like you're insane," you said lightly. "I don't even want to know how disgusting these floors are...I would much rather sleep on the couch than let you sleep on the floor all night."

"Having sat on the couch already, I can promise you the floor is more comfortable."

You scoffed. "Impossible." You crossed the room and dropped onto the couch with an oomph. "Jesus--this thing is a rock."

Tyler laughed at your obvious discomfort. "I told you. There's no way I'm letting you sleep on that thing. At least one of us needs to get a good night's sleep."

"So why don't you sleep on the bed and I'll sleep on the floor."

Tyler glared at you. "Not happening, sweetheart. My mama raised me better than that."

You rolled your eyes. "No offense, Tyler, but I think you're a little too old to sleep on the floor these days. You're gonna wake up with a slipped disk and a hernia."

His laughter brought a smile to your face. "I'm not that old, (Y/N)."

"Well I'm definitely that old--and I'm a year younger than you."

He smirked as he pulled himself off the floor. "You're taking the bed, you muppet."

Your jaw dropped, a choked laugh escaping your throat. "Did you just call me a muppet?"

"Yes I did and I don't regret it." He grabbed his bag and rushed past you to get to the bathroom before you could find something to throw at him.

"Muppet," you murmured under your breath. "He's the muppet."

"I heard that!"

"Get in the shower, Owens!" you laughingly yelled back.

You unceremoniously dropped onto the bed, a sigh breezing past your lips. You were tired and the thought of having the entire bed to yourself was a pleasant one...until you sat up and looked at the makeshift bed on the cold, hard, unforgiving floor.

You knew there was no way you could let him sleep on the floor. While the comments about his age had been a joke, you were both in your 30s now and sleeping wrong could genuinely fuck you up for days. You absolutely couldn't make him sleep on the damn floor.

You glanced at the empty bed beside you and groaned. Sharing a bed with Tyler ranked very highly on your list of most horrifying situations. There was a high probability you would actually combust from embarrassment alone. What if you did something weird in your sleep? What if you kicked him or pushed him out of the bed? What if you accidentally tried to cuddle with him? You would die of mortification.

While you were contemplating all the ways this could go horribly wrong, Tyler came out from the bathroom clad in his boxers and a scandalously tight white t-shirt. You bit your lip, looking away from him hurriedly. You could feel the blush heating your cheeks and you prayed he wouldn't notice.

You cleared your throat quietly before gesturing to the bed beside you. You couldn't quite meet his gaze as you said, "You're not sleeping on the floor, so you might as well take half the bed."

Tyler raised his eyebrows even though he knew you weren't looking his way. "You sure, sweetheart? I don't wanna impose."

You shrugged. "We're adults, Ty. I think we can manage to share a bed for a couple nights without making it weird."

He noticed you still hadn't met his gaze, a fact he chose to ignore. Instead, he opted to use the moment to his advantage, blue-green eyes sweeping over your form, noting the exposed, soft flesh of your legs. He had twin urges to sink his teeth into your thighs and feel them wrap around his head until he couldn't breathe. He quickly shook the image out of his head before those impure thoughts could make their way below the belt line.

"We can put a pillow in the middle if you want," he offered sweetly.

"The bed is a little small for that--besides, we only have three pillows on this damn bed and I'm using two of them."

Tyler chuckled as he scooped up his pillow from the floor and placed it beside yours. He lowered himself onto the bed, feeling the mattress dip with his weight. "Why do you get two pillows and I only get one?"

"Because you like to sleep as flat as possible like some sort of psychopath."

Tyler laughed heartily, his grin widening as he took in the small smile gracing your face. "A psychopath?"

"Retaliation for calling me a muppet."

He laughed again, smacking you gently with his pillow. The action earned him a glare, followed by a slow, teasing smirk. His mind went blank as you finally made eye contact with him. Your pupils swallowed up nearly all of your irises thanks to the dim lighting and the singular lamp on his bedside table cast the prettiest glow on your skin. The only thought that crossed his mind was the word 'radiant'.

He swallowed thickly, forcing the word back down his throat before he could blurt it out. You'd never once given him an indication you felt the same way he did, and the last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable.

"Alright, weirdo. Turn off that light so we can go to sleep," you murmured, breaking the spell of the moment.

Tyler did as you asked before settling more comfortably into the bed. You laid on your side, back to him, and he felt the urge to run his fingers through your hair--yet another urge he immediately suppressed.

He rolled over so his back was to you and let out a soft sigh. He had to admit he was tired, but being in the same bed with you and not touching you was almost painful, enough so that he wasn't sure he'd be able to sleep.

"Goodnight, Tyler," you whispered softly, keeping your eyes trained on the wall, even though you desperately wanted to look at him one more time.

"Goodnight, (Y/N/N)." He paused. "Just do me one favor."

"Hmm?"

"Keep your icy ass feet away from me."

You laughed, swinging your leg back to plant your foot against his bare calf. He swore and nearly jumped at the sensation.

"They're like icicles!"

You giggled. "They're not that bad you drama queen."

He rolled over enough to glare at your back. "That's drama king to you."

You shot a matching glare over your shoulder before you both burst out laughing. You swatted his arm affectionately, trying not to marvel at the firm muscles beneath your palm. "Go to sleep."

He smiled as he faced away again. "Goodnight, icicle."

He heard your breathy laugh as you murmured, "Goodnight, drama king."

**********

The exhaustion must have kicked in at some point because you could barely remember falling asleep when you awoke in the middle of the night. It took you several moments to orient yourself, having forgotten where you were.

In those moments before lucidity settled in, you could feel a radiating heat at your back and you instinctively curled into it, pressing against something very firm.

Then you felt it--breath gently blowing against your neck, something heavy draped across your middle, and someone's very large body pressed against you from head to foot.

Tyler. His name slammed into your brain, pushing you firmly into wide-awake territory. You quickly realized it was his body wrapped around yours, his breath caressing your neck, his arm holding you tightly against him.

You laid there, utterly frozen, as you contemplated what to do. His grip on you was surprisingly firm, preventing you from simply rolling out of his grasp, and there wasn't much room on your side of the bed to escape to anyway.

Somewhere in Tyler's subconscious, he must have felt the shift in your body and the urge to ease your tension was one he couldn't ignore even in his dreaming state.

His grip on you tightened even more, pulling you back against his chest. He pressed forward into you and you shifted slightly in an attempt to distance yourself. In doing so, you wiggled your ass right against his semi-hard member, eliciting a soft groan from Tyler's lips.

With absolute horror, you felt him start to harden even more, the urge to melt into the floor growing with each moment. You didn't want him to wake up and be mortified, so you tried to move away from him without waking him.

Your movements stirred him into awareness, the current situation coming into focus as he awoke. You felt the moment Tyler woke up fully, his body going rigid against yours before rolling away from you with shocking speed.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry, (Y/N)," he muttered in embarrassment. "I-I didn't mean--shit. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," you murmured, trying to diffuse the situation. "You were sleeping--it happens."

He groaned and rubbed his face wearily. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

His voice was low and pained, the tone making your chest ache. "You didn't. It's alright." You reached out a hand to brush against his arm. "Hey...look at me."

His body remained tense beneath your fingers. "Ty," you urged.

He finally turned to look at you and he found himself surprised at your open expression. You didn't look angry or upset, in fact, if he didn't know better, he'd say you looked intrigued.

"No more apologizing," you ordered when he opened his mouth with a clear apology on his lips. "I didn't mind."

Your eyes widened as you realized what you'd just admitted, a bright pink blush quickly deepening your skin.

Emboldened by your words, Tyler leaned towards you slightly. "Which part? Me holding you? Or my obvious physical attraction to you?"

You exhaled sharply. "Your what?"

Tyler's eyes scanned your face and he was certain he saw a whole lot more than intrigue written there--he'd even say it was desire. "Oh come on princess. You felt my reaction..."

You blanched further. "It's-it's a physiological response--"

"To you," he added firmly. "A physiological response to you."

Your mouth opened and closed in an embarrassing representation of a fish before you finally pushed out one word, "Me?"

Tyler smirked, looking around the room. "You're the only one here, sweetheart."

You looked down at yourself before looking back at him, repeating the motion twice before you sputtered, "You-you. No--you...no way. You can't."

He smiled at your fumbled words. "I can and I do. I've never met anyone who makes me feel the way you do."

"Physically?" you gasped in disbelief.

He chuckled. "Physically and emotionally, actually."

Your draw dropped further. "What?"

Tyler stood up and moved to your side of the bed, kneeling down in front of you. "Let me make this very explicitly clear, (Y/N). Yes, I find you attractive. Yes, I want you. Yes, I think you're incredible. No, I don't just wanna fuck. Yes, I want to be with you."

You stared at him in silence for a long moment. "Am I dreaming?" you whispered.

He shook his head and gently brushed a thumb against your outer thigh. "We're both wide awake, baby."

"Are you sure?"

He chuckled. "That we're awake? Very."

"No--that you want me."

Tyler grabbed both of your hands and squeezed them between his. "I am completely certain I want you in every meaning of the word. I would, however, like to start with getting to know you...biblically."

You let out a breathy laugh. "I would ask if you're drunk, but I already know the answer."

"Sober as a priest, darlin'."

"So you're just insane then?"

He cocked his head to the side. "I've never felt more sane in my life. I've wanted you since the day you walked into my life, (Y/N). Only way I'm walking away now is if you tell me you don't feel the same."

You stared at him, a look of confused wonder on your face. Never did you think Tyler Owens would be saying this to you...but here he was, literally on his knees, telling you everything you've wanted to hear for so long.

"Of course I feel the same," you said softly. "How could I not?"

He smiled as he slowly pulled himself up, but instead of rising to his full height, he began to slowly crawl onto the bed, forcing you to lay down to accommodate him.

He stopped once you were fully trapped beneath him, lips so close you could feel his warm breath. "Stop me if this isn't what you want," he whispered.

You lifted your head to close the gap between you, lips pressing firmly against his. He groaned into the kiss, immediately deepening it.

You slid your tongue along the seam of his lips, silently begging him to let you in. He obliged, tongue meeting yours with fervent passion. He tangled his fingers into your hair with one hand, while the other slipped under your shirt to gently rub at your hips.

You were inclined to allow him to kiss you until you passed out from lack of oxygen, but he finally pulled away just enough to suck down a lungful of air.

"If I'd known kissing you felt like that, I would have done this years ago," he murmured.

You chuckled breathlessly. "I haven't been kissed like that in a long time--perhaps ever, if I'm honest."

"Then allow me to make a promise. I will kiss you like that every day for the rest of your life."

You gasped. "That's...a rather intense commitment, Ty."

"Five years, (Y/N)."

"I'm gonna die in five years?"

Tyler chuckled and shook his head. "God I hope not. I meant, I have wanted to do that for five years...so no, it's not as big of a commitment as you'd think. I'd think of it more as an honor."

You stared at him in silence for a moment. "Who taught you to talk like that?"

He grinned, but you could see a light blush dusting his cheeks even in the dark room. "I, uh--I've read a lot of those books you told me about."

"Books I've read?"

He nodded.

"I had no idea."

"Well I knew how much you liked them and I was curious...so I started reading one and I couldn't stop. They actually gave me some ideas for things I'd like to do with you."

"I'm not quite sure why that's so hot, but it is. So if you could please kiss me again, I'd appreciate it."

Tyler grinned, leaning down to press his lips to yours. You sighed into the kiss and pulled him even closer to you, desperate to feel as much of him as you could.

He felt the same way, right hand sliding farther up your side under your shirt, exposing more of your flesh as he went.

His thumb brushed the underside of your breast and he groaned into the kiss as he realized it meant you'd forgone a bra. He moved his hand to properly cup your breast, kneading the supple flesh before brushing a thumb over your peaked nipple.

You gasped softly and you reached for the hem of his shirt to tug it off. He allowed you to remove it and proceeded to reach for yours. A wave of self-consciousness hit you and you grabbed his wrists to stop him from lifting it further.

"Maybe we keep it on?" you said softly.

He looked confused. "Why?"

You didn't answer right away. You didn't want to admit to the feelings of self-doubt or acknowledge your body image issues, but you also didn't like the idea of being fully exposed to him. Especially now that you could see exactly how well-sculpted he was.

His eyes scanned your face, looking for an answer to his question. You weren't making eye contact with him, but you weren't telling him to stop, which only added to his growing confusion.

"Do you want to stop?"

"No!" you said quickly. "I just--I don't..."

The confusion on his face was almost endearing. He wanted to see you, touch you, kiss you...and he couldn't understand why you didn't want him to.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" he whispered.

You shook your head immediately. "It's not you at all, Tyler. It's me."

He frowned. "I don't understand."

You let out an exasperated sigh, realizing you really would have to be straightforward. "I don't really like the way I look without clothes on." Your voice was low, barely a whisper, but he still heard every word.

Realization hit him like an EF5 tornado. "Who made you feel that way?"

The harsh tone of his voice surprised you, so much so that you finally made eye contact with him again. His eyes were dark and there was a hint of simmering anger in them.

When you didn't answer, he asked again. "Who made you feel like you weren't beautiful?"

You exhaled slowly. "Do you want a list?"

His nostrils flared and he balled his hands into fists. "No one has the right to make negative comments on your appearance. No one, including you. I'm sorry anyone ever made you feel like you weren't a fucking prize, but that's their loss. If you don't feel comfortable showing me your body yet, then I won't push you, but I need you to know I want to see every inch of you...so I can worship every inch of you."

Your lips parted in surprise as you let his words sink in. There was no hint of deception in his voice or his gaze, and it gave you a surge of much-needed confidence.

You sat up just enough to pull your shirt up and over your head before letting your back hit the sheets. Your pulse was racing, breathing ragged, and you couldn't quite make yourself look at him.

Tyler was silent as he beheld your exposed torso, gaze sweeping appreciatively over every dip and curve, mentally marking every spot he wanted to spend extra time on.

He finally looked back up at your face, noticing instantly that your eyes were trained on the ceiling. "Baby. Look at me."

The dominance in his voice, while gentle, left no room for argument. You met his adoring gaze and the last dredges of worry left your body, taking the tension along with it.

He watched your body relax and a small smile formed on his lips. He leaned forward so he hovered over you once more and murmured, "You are absolutely exquisite."

With those four words, you melted, becoming a pliable instrument to his will. He kissed you softly before beginning his descent down your jaw, your neck, to your collarbone, and finally to your breasts.

"I think I'll stop here for a while," he mumbled against your soft skin.

You let out a breathy chuckle as you slid your fingers into his hair. He was true to his word, not a single inch of skin left untouched by either his mouth or hands.

The growing need for him was starting to become more prominent, the slick gathering between your thighs almost to an embarrassing level. As much as you were enjoying the attention he paid to your breasts, you needed to feel him elsewhere.

Before you could voice the need, Tyler continued his descent down your stomach, kissing every little mark he found. He reveled in the feeling of softness beneath his hands, wanting nothing more than to touch your body forever.

"Tyler," you whimpered, need evident in your voice.

He chuckled against your skin. "So impatient."

You squirmed slightly, desperate for some form of friction, a need he, himself, was also feeling. He hooked his fingers in the sides of your shorts and you lifted your hips to allow him to remove the last scrap of fabric from your body.

The sound that slipped past Tyler's lips could only be described as a growl. "That tiny bit of fabric was all that was between me and all of this?"

You nodded, unable to speak as he slipped a finger between your folds to collect your slick. He brought the finger to his mouth and sucked it clean, moaning softly at your taste.

"I knew you would be delicious."

He dropped to his knees off the edge of the bed, then grabbed your hips and tugged you towards him. A squeal of surprise escaped you, which brought a smirk to his lips.

"I wanted a better angle." With that, he threw your legs over his shoulders and dove into your pussy.

Your moans immediately drowned out any of the other sounds in the room, and even the ambient noise from outside. Tyler was incredibly skilled with his mouth, even more than you'd always imagined.

His tongue swirled your clit as he slipped one finger into you, gently curling it against the soft, spongey spot that made your toes curl. Your hips jacked off the bed in response, causing him to drape an arm across your abdomen to hold you in place.

"More, Tyler," you begged.

He grinned and added another finger, increasing the pace of the thrusts and his ministrations on your clit. Your hands clawed at the sheets as you neared your peak, desperate pleas to not stop mixed with your moans of pleasure.

Tyler, of course, did not stop. He wanted you to cum as much as you wanted it. He could feel how close you were, your pussy was squeezing his fingers so tightly it was becoming harder to move them. You kept trying to move your hips to grind on his face for even more friction, but he held you in place.

With a final flick of his tongue, you fell over the edge, waves of pleasure filling your senses. Tyler didn't stop until your moans turned to soft whimpers and you squirmed away from him.

He crawled back onto the bed, watching you as you came down from your high. He was certain you'd never looked more beautiful. When he said as much, you blushed deeply and averted your gaze.

"Oh come on, princess. Don't get all shy on me now."

You giggled lightly and looked at him again. He looked so damn good it was nearly offensive. You reached for his boxers with a murmured, "May I?"

Instead of answering, he stood up and removed his boxers quickly. You bit your lip at the sight of his very large member. The man gave off big dick energy, so you really shouldn't have been surprised.

You licked your lips absentmindedly as you looked at him. You pulled yourself up into a sitting position and flicked your gaze to his face. He was surprised by the hunger evident in your expression and he suddenly felt his need for you intensify.

He took a step towards you as if to crawl back on top of you, but you shook your head. "Lie down," you commanded softly.

The look in your eyes had him obeying immediately. As soon as he'd laid down, you climbed onto him, straddling his thigh. Your soft hand wrapped firmly around his cock and you began to stroke him slowly, earning soft sounds of enjoyment from him.

You smirked as you took in his expression, pleasure evident on his face. You lowered yourself, taking him into your mouth with a soft moan of your own. His hand was instantly in your hair, grip tightening as you started moving.

You swirled your tongue around his head before sucking tightly. You relaxed your throat and continued to take more of him into your mouth until he hit the back of your throat. Anything your mouth couldn't take, your hand pleasured.

His moans spurred you on and guided your motions. You picked up on the subtle things that seemed to provide him more pleasure and you focused on those. Your own enjoyment was evident in the moans you made around his cock and the way you occasionally rubbed your pussy against his thigh, desperately seeking some relief.

Tyler could feel his orgasm fast approaching, but he wasn't ready to cum yet. With a strong tug on your hair, he lifted your head off his cock. You whined in annoyance, a small pout on your face when you met his gaze.

"Sorry, baby, but I'd like this to last."

Your expression softened and you shifted your body to straddle his hips. You leaned forward to kiss him deeply. He met your lips hungrily, teeth nipping at your bottom lip before his tongue delved into your mouth.

You gently brushed your pussy against his cock, eliciting needy moans from both of you.

"I don't think I can wait any longer," Tyler murmured.

"Me neither," you admitted. You sat back up, an odd expression he couldn't name on your face.

"You alright, sugar?"

You bit your lip. "Could I...could I ride you?"

A wide grin spread across Tyler's face. "'Course you can."

You weren't accustomed to being on top, but it was something you really wanted to try with him. You gripped his cock and slowly lowered yourself down onto him, gasps and whimpers leaving your lips as you took all of him.

Tyler's grip on your hips tightened, a low groan leaving his throat as he watched his cock disappear inside you. You shook slightly, so he rubbed soothing circles into your hips and whispered, "Just relax, baby. I've got you."

You nodded and took a deep breath, allowing your body time to adjust to his considerable size. You placed your hands against his chest, using them for leverage as you lifted yourself up and dropped back down onto his cock.

The sensation was incredible...and the control was utterly intoxicating. You started to move faster, spurred on by the way his fingers dug into your flesh and the sounds of pleasure escaping his parted lips.

After several minutes, your thighs began to burn and your motions slowed. Tyler noticed your energy waning, so he pulled you down flush against his chest and kissed you deeply. He thrust up into you a couple times before flipping you onto your back.

"Let me take care of you," he murmured as he began to slowly thrust into you.

His movements were slow and calculated, leaving you utterly breathless. Your nails scrapped along his shoulders and back, moans slipping past your lips with each thrust. "Tyler..." you whimpered.

He nipped at your collarbone in response to his name, the sound coming from your lips was easily the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard.

He pulled himself up onto his knees, tugging both of your legs up to rest against his chest. The new position elevated your hips at just the right angle for each thrust to press firmly against your sweet spot.

The chorus of broken moans coming from you mixed with the sounds your mingled bodies made to create the most intoxicating symphony Tyler'd ever heard.

There was not a single thought in your head other than the overwhelming pleasure you were on the receiving end of. You were lost in it--in him. Your nails dug roughly into his biceps as you clung to him with all your strength.

Gasps of his name left you, along with desperate pleas to keep going. Tyler pushed past the pain in his arms as you drew blood, his sole focus on making sure you reached your peak. He watched your face contort in pleasure, chest heaving, eyes closed, moans dripping from your open mouth.

"Look at me," he whispered.

Your eyes fluttered open, taking a moment to focus on his blue-green ones. The moment your eyes met, you fell apart with a fractured scream of his name. The muscles of your core clenched tightly around him, forcing him to a slower pace.

Tyler watched you in awe, utterly enraptured by the sheer magnitude of the moment. Your legs shook as he took them in his hands and gently lowered them back to the bed.

Your hands had fallen from his arms, but you now reached for him. "Ty."

He leaned forward, placing both his palms on the bed beside your head, caging you beneath him once again. His thrusts had slowed considerably, but you knew he needed his own release. You could see it in the tension lining his jaw and the desperation in his eyes.

You nipped his jaw affectionately, earning a low chuckle from him. "I want you to cum inside me," you murmured.

A deep growl rumbled in his chest at your words. His pace immediately picked back up, now chasing his own release. "You feel incredible, baby."

You sighed sweetly, fingers touching his tanned skin and tangling in his hair. "So do you."

His moans mixed with pants of your name, and he dug one hand into the hair at the nape of your neck, clinging to you desperately. "I can't get enough of you. So perfect for me."

You moaned softly at his words, loving the praise coming from him. You could tell he was close as his thrusts became more erratic.

You pressed kisses to his jaw and the column of his throat before whispering, "Cum for me, Tyler. Please, baby, I need it."

Tyler groaned loudly, hips stuttering as he spilled his seed deep inside you. He moaned your name against your lips, thrusts slowing to nothing. He kissed your jaw before collapsing on top of you, heavy pants leaving his mouth.

You kissed the top of his head and rubbed your fingers soothingly over his back. You could feel some of the marks you'd left on his skin, a slight embarrassment sinking into you.

"You were incredible," he murmured against your skin. "So much better than I'd imagined...and I've imagined it a lot."

You giggled lightly at his admission. "I might have imagined it once or twice myself."

He lifted his head to look at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "And? Did I meet your expectations?"

"No," you said honestly, a small smile on your face. You saw his smirk fade slightly as you moved closer. "You exceeded them."

The tension in his face eased to a genuine smile. He pressed his lips against yours in a sweet kiss that still managed to make your toes curl.

Tyler slowly lifted himself off you, softening cock sliding out of you along with your mixed spends. You let out a soft whimper, which earned you a sweet smile and a loving kiss.

"I'm coming right back, princess. Just wanna clean up."

You watched him walk away to the bathroom, leaving you to wonder if you should try and get up too. After all, you needed cleaned up just as badly as he did.

He saved you from having to make that decision when he came back moments later with a warm washcloth. Your expression softened considerably when you realized he'd brought it for you.

"What's that face for?" he asked softly.

"Just appreciating how sweet you are."

He smiled. "I'm gonna pretend you didn't think I was just gonna leave you here with this mess." His tone was light, though slightly chastising.

"I've never had someone take care of me after sex," you admitted, a soft blush gracing your cheeks.

Tyler looked surprised as he slowly began to clean you up. "Clearly you've been sleeping with the wrong men."

You chuckled softly, even as you winced from the over-stimulation between your legs. "Looks like I made the right choice this time."

Tyler made sure you were completely clean and dry before responding. "I think we both did."

Your eyes brightened with emotion and you reached for him in a silent plea. He tossed the rag behind him towards the bathroom before crawling back into bed.

He grabbed you firmly, pulling you into his chest. You curled up against him, head resting against the muscle of his pectoral. You felt him brush his fingers down your arm, the movement affectionate and possessive.

You kissed his chest, a small sigh leaving your lips as you settled in. You felt the exhaustion coming to claim you and you could tell by Tyler's even breathing that it was coming for him too.

As you closed your eyes, your foolish brain began to overthink every moment of the night. You wondered if he would regret his choices in the light of day, or if he would want to actually have a real relationship with you.

Tyler felt the tension in your body and his grip on you tightened. "Turn your brain off, princess."

You inhaled sharply before letting out a soft chuckle. "How'd you know?"

"I know you. I can practically hear your brain overthinking," he teased. "Whatever your anxiety says is wrong. I'm in this for the long haul, okay?"

You exhaled heavily as if releasing all those negative thoughts. "I love you, Tyler," you whispered so softly he had to strain to hear.

His heart skipped a beat and a slow smile spread across his face. He nuzzled into your hair, his grip on your soft body tightening. "I love you too, princess."

The soft words of affection were the last you shared before falling asleep in each other's arms.

**********

The morning light shining in through the windows woke you, a groan of annoyance leaving you as you tried to block out the light.

Tyler's responding grumble sent shivers through your body, making you curl in closer to him. You felt his lips graze your forehead, as he said in a voice heavy with sleep, "Mornin', darlin'."

"Don't wanna," you groused.

Tyler chuckled lightly. "I know baby, but we gotta."

"Five more minutes."

He kissed your forehead again before untangling himself from you. "I'll give you ten. I'm gonna jump in the shower."

You whimpered as his warmth left you, but you quickly rolled over into the spot he'd just vacated. You sighed softly as you curled up, the residual heat from his body warming you.

He chuckled again and thought to himself that he could get used to this--waking up beside you. You looked even more beautiful in the morning light and he found himself excited to tell everyone he came across that you were his. He kissed you one last time before going to shower.

You heard the shower turn on and you debated the merits of joining him. You didn't want to get out of the warm bed, but you also knew you had to. A nice hot shower with the man of your dreams did sound rather enticing.

You groaned as you pulled yourself out of bed on slightly unstable legs. You slowly made your way to the bathroom, slipping in quietly. You could see Tyler's outline behind the glass, his back to you as he reached for his body wash.

You crossed the short distance, opening the shower door and stepping inside. "Mind if I join you?"

Tyler turned to you with a grin. "I'd love it, actually."

You reached a hand out for the body wash and washcloth he held. "Let me."

He smiled and handed them to you, but when you stepped closer, you saw the marks on his biceps--crescent moon shaped scabs. "Oh my god," you gasped. "Did I do that?"

Tyler's eyes followed your line of sight. "It's not a big deal, princess. They're badges of honor, as all marks from you are."

You bit your lip, clearly unconvinced.

"Baby." His voice was stern enough you immediately turned your attention to his face. "I'm okay. I promise."

You relaxed, the clear calm in his expression easing your worry. "Okay."

He grabbed your hips and tugged you towards him, a little smile on his face. "Besides, you've got a nice bite mark on that pretty collarbone of yours...and some finger shaped bruises on these sexy hips."

You looked down to where his fingers grazed your skin and realized he was right. A light blush crept up to your cheeks. "I have to admit...I quite like the idea of you marking me."

Tyler grinned wolfishly. "Now you know how I feel."

You giggled softly, allowing him to press his body more firmly against you, lips seeking yours for a gentle kiss.

When he attempted to deepen the kiss, you gently pushed him back. "We need to actually bathe, remember? The team's expecting us for breakfast soon."

He groaned. "They can wait."

"Tyler!" you yelped when he pulled you back in, pressing a warm kiss to your lips.

You could feel his cock begin to harden against your abdomen, his hands roaming your body like he wanted to memorize it. You sighed softly as he gently messaged your skin, your need for him growing with each passing moment.

"Come on, princess. Let me make you feel good," he begged against your ear, fingers dangerously close to your core.

"Please," you whimpered.

Tyler grinned, nipping at your earlobe, then your pulse point, focusing there as his fingers dipped into your dripping pussy. A soft moan of pleasure left your lips, head tilting back to lean against the cool tiles.

"I'm thinking we might just skip breakfast all together," Tyler murmured.

You laughed breathily, grabbing his face to plant another kiss to his swollen lips. "I think I'm okay with that."

Tyler spent the next 45 minutes making you moan his name as he gave you overwhelming pleasure. He also used up all the hot water in the entire motel, which you discovered when the two of you finally made it out of your room to meet the rest of the team.

"Dude, I had to take a freezing cold shower," Boone was grumbling as you and Tyler walked downstairs.

"Me too!" Dani chimed in. "Someone must have used all the hot water."

A sheepish smile graced your face as you overheard their conversation. Tyler let out a quiet chuckle, hand squeezing yours gently.

Lily made eye contact with you, noting your expression, your's and Tyler's wet hair, and the hold he still had on your hand. A knowing grin spread across her face. "I think I know exactly who used all the hot water."

[short-honey-badger]

It's okay may I request yandere headcanons for shanks from one piece

Absolutely it is! I LOVE some yandere Shanks. It's one of my personal favorites! Hope you enjoy! Sorry it's a little short I'm still getting the hang of headcanons ❤️

Shanks simply adores you, and he isn't shy in letting you or anyone else know it. He doesn't care about PDA or if you are getting embarrassed at his behavior. Shanks would show you how much you meant to him at any time of day. Holding you tight to his chest, that muscular arm wrapped around your waist to make sure you can't go too far. Lips always a hairsbreath away from you, ready to smother you with kisses at any point.

He is everything that you have ever wanted, as long as you are loyal to him and he doesn't catch you talking with anyone outside of his crew. Shanks doesn't trust easily, so he definitely didn't trust outsiders. So if he's a little mean when he herds you away from the group of girls you've been cutting up with, well. That's just for your own good.

"You don't need to talk to them, baby. Not when I'm right here. You don't want me to be lonely, do you?"

He isn't above making you feel guilty if he wants something either. You don't want to wear the outfit he picked out specifically for you? Well, you just don't care about what he wants anymore. You end up wearing what he wants, even if it's not something you're totally comfortable with.

And don't get him started when he catches another man speaking with his sweetheart. That lighthearted, loving attitude is replaced with something dark and dangerous. The entire island will feel the change in Shanks when he slowly stands from his seat and stands behind you at the bar from where you'd gone to get drinks.

"This guy bothering you, doll? You need me to take care of him for you?"

But afterward, Shanks will make sure you know who you belong to. How much you love him and how you would never ever leave him while he takes you apart piece by piece. His hand and mouth map you out like it's the first time he had you all over again. He covers you with his lean body, making sure that you can't feel or see or sense anything other than him.

But despite how softly he handles you, his words are aggressive, mad, and possessive all at once and all for you. You are his, damn it, and Shanks didn't think he could live in a world where he couldn't be with you. He needs you to understand how much you own him, how much Shanks needs you like he needed oxygen.

"You should have known better than to talk to another man, baby. You know that I'm yours right, so it's only fair that you be mine. Where you just trying to make me jealous, sweetheart?"

[bootsukki]

hi hi hi, this was supposed to be a part of my aita series but i didn't think it would fit there but well, i'm still posting it! hope you like it :D

warnings: fem!reader x tsukishima, yamaguchi and hinata, mentions of alcohol, vomiting and hospital environment.

It wasn’t the kind of night Tsukishima Kei had ever imagined himself having—let alone enjoying. He didn't want a bachelor party, always saying how annoying they were and that they were nothing but a waste of money but of course, he couldn't say no to some drinks with his friends to celebrate his upcoming wedding in less than two months, and while he wasn't one to indulge in alcohol much, the constant toasts and teasing had loosened him up more than he had intended.

What started as a quiet evening quickly turned into a loud celebration, with everyone in high spirits—especially Tsukishima’s childhood best friend, Yamaguchi, and the always energetic Hinata.

Tsukishima, never one for being the center of attention, had let his guard down. The buzz from the alcohol he had been drinking during the night was more than he had anticipated and even though he tried to say “no” to the various drinks he was getting from other people congratulating him on his wedding, he kept drinking. Before he could even think about it, he was laughing louder than usual, joining in the banter with friends and accepting going for a round of karaoke.

In his tipsy state, as they were leaving the bar, he miscalculated his steps and stumbled off the curb. Awkwardly, he hit the ground face-first, a sharp pain shooting through his nose.

"Tsukki!" Yamaguchi cried, rushing over, his words slurred but full of concern.

Tsukishima groaned, pressing a hand to his face. When he pulled it away, he saw blood dripping from his nose and sighed, already irritated with himself. "Oh fuck, (Y/N) is going to kill me.”

Hinata froze at the sight of the blood, face palinn instantly and he stumbled back. “Oh shit, holy shit, blood.”

Before Yamaguchi could react, Hinata’s face turned green and doubled over, gagging.

Looking at Tsukishima and then turning to look at the orange-haired man, Yamaguchi started laughing, taking his phone out of his pocket amid the chaos of it all, dialing your number at nearly two in the morning.

When you arrived at the emergency room, it was complete chaos. Your soon-to-be husband was seated in a hospital bed, an ice pack pressed against his swollen and bloody nose. Yamaguchi was pacing around the room, looking both drunk and emotional whereas Hinata was gagging uncontrollably in the corner.

“Hinata!” You called, grabbing a nearby trash can and rushing over to his side, perfectly in time for him to lean over and throw up. He heaved, face twisted in discomfort, saying how sorry he was.

You smiled, patting his back gently before making your way towards Tsukishima but before you could reach him, Yamaguchi walked over to you, wiping his eyes as he bursted into tears.

“Thank you,” Yamaguchi said. “Thank you for taking care of Tsukki. He’s so in love with you and he… seeing him so happy makes me wanna cry!”

Yamaguchi throws his arms around you, hugging you tightly and crying loudly.

You smile, hugging him back. “It’s alright, Tadashi,” you said, patting his arm. “I love him too.”

"I know, but—" Yamaguchi sniffled, wiping at his eyes again. "He’s my best friend, and now he’s getting married, and I’m just... so happy for you guys." He leaned into you, his head resting against your shoulder as he mumbled his thanks again.

Hinata groaned from the trash can. "I’m sorry, (Y/N). I really didn’t mean to—"

"Shh, you’re fine, Hinata," you said with a chuckle. "Just focus on breathing, okay?"

You shake your head at the situation and try your best to make your way towards Tsukishima. Yamaguchi leaves you for a second and walks over to Hinata, talking to him as if the other man wasn’t focusing on keeping the last pieces of food on his stomach.

You walked over to Tsukishima, who was watching the whole thing unfold with a slightly glazed look in his eyes, still holding the ice pack to his nose.

"You look like a mom," he said, his voice muffled and slightly nasally.

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly as you ran your hands through his blond hair, kissing his forehead. “Well, someone has to take care of you all. I didn’t think I’d be spending my night with a group of 20-something-year-old men acting like a babysitter. Where are your other friends?"

Tsukishima snorted, though it came out as more of a cough, given the state of his nose. "They went home, I don't think 5 drunk and grown ass men entering the hospital wouldn't be a good look." He lowered the ice pack for a moment, his golden eyes catching yours, showing you his accident. You hiss, holding his face on your hands, looking at him with those gorgeous eyes of yours he loved so much. Despite the alcohol in his system, and despite the embarrassment of the situation, there was something warm in the way he looked at you.

Tsukishima couldn’t help but feel incredibly lucky. His nose was throbbing, he was bleeding, and his best friends were sobbing and dry-heaving into a trash can—but you handled it all with such grace.

"Hey," Tsukishima called softly, his gaze softening as he looked at you. "I really... don’t deserve you.”

Your gaze softens and you smile. "Kei, stop. You’re going to make me cry too if you say romantic stuff.”

"I mean it," he muttered, his voice low. "I’m a mess, and you're here... taking care of all of us. And, I’m sorry about this. I knew we were having some pictures taken in a week.”

"Of course I am here," you replied. “I love you. Even when you fall on your face and you make us lose the money for the wedding pictures."

"How much was it?"

"Hm.... 150,000 yen." You answered, looking at him. "You'll need to pay me back with interests."

"I thought we had joint bank accounts, babe."

"That's right but you'll still need to pay me back for waking me up in the middle of the night. You'll find a way."

He huffed at that but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. Even in his current state, he knew how lucky he was to have you. He reached out, taking your hand in his, and gave it a gentle squeeze.

You leaned down, careful not to hurt him, and kissed the top of his head several times, giggling together, feeling as if there in the room it was just you alone. "We’ll deal with the nose, Kei. Don’t worry about anything else, not even about the photos or the money. Just focus on getting better and getting that nose fixed before our official wedding or I’ll be really mad.”

He watched you for a moment longer, a mix of admiration and affection swirling in his still-hazy eyes. As chaotic as the night had been, he knew one thing for sure—he was the luckiest man in the world.

[siriuslylantsov]

cold comfort

pairing: james wilson x reader

description: wilson keeps you warm on a cold day.

tags: fluff! sickfic, gn!reader, idiots inlove??? we dont know yet, professional boundries are being blatantly ignored

a/n: its cold and im sick and im projecting. james wilson come hold me. first house md fic!! idk if ive got his characterisation down yet but heres smth while i figure that out!

wc: 1k

there's a considerable amount of space between the two of you on the couch. you could be contagious, who knows? 

the food grows cold on the table as you not so covertly suffer. your nose is clogged and you're convinced if you speak up now, your voice will come out a croak, the result of a phlegmy throat.

wilson had showed up at your front door, chicken soup and loaf of sourdough in hand. a puzzled look from you had prompted a response, “you need the carbs…” he said glancing down at the bread, to your lingering confusion he continued. “oh! cuddy told me you took a sick day so i wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“i can make you hot chocolate?” he added, an offer to get you to let him in.

a little dumbstruck, you moved so he could walk in. he wanted to check on you. on you? he'sa doctor, you rationalise, this is his nature, to take care of people.

after you eat, wilson makes you that cup he promised and you quietly nurse it, humming in appreciation as the liquid soothes your throat. he lets out a small chuckle, taking a sip subsequently. he takes your mug out of your hand when you’re finished and sets it on the table along with his.

what now? 

without the hot chocolate the cold returns and despite the sweatshirt you have on and the blanket wrapped around you, you shiver, quite violently. the thermostat in your apartment was acting up and you haven't got around to getting it fixed. what convenient timing that it would choose so in the dead of winter and while you're sick.

wilson frowns, deep brown eyes troubled. “c’mere,” he beckons, arms outstretched.

“nuh-uh i’ll get you sick,” you refuse, letting out a hiss as a chill passes up your back down to your arms, flesh erupting in goosebumps.

“i've got a great immune system.”

liar. you crawl over anyway. his jacket is off, and you settle against his side. god, he's warm. his arm loops around you and pulls you so the distance that you intentionally left between you in lieu of decency was closed. your knees are lightly digging into his thighs but he doesn't mind. he rubs your back in soothing passes and you slump your head against his shoulder.

“how are you so warm?” you whisper, throwing the blanket over his lap. 

“not sure,” he murmurs absentmindedly, looking down at you. “is this okay?”

“perfect.”

you don't know why he’s here, you’ve only known him for five months, after having got a job at ppth as cuddy's assistant. to which he was grateful for–she needs a load off, works too much. the job isn't so much as filing paperwork and looking over records, in particular the diagnostics department, it isn't that much but it apparently made the world of difference. you see him often, greeting you with a sweet smile and a hello as he crosses the threshold to cuddy's office, in the cafeteria when you happen to be there at the same time, in the hallways and so on. you realise now that you've never actually been alone with the man but here you are, curled into him like your own personal heater. why is he here?

“um… i just wanted to make sure that you were alright, consider it a friend checking up on a friend. but if you don't want me here, i can leave,” he murmurs, extremely patient. with growing mortification you realise you said that out loud, stupid.

you quickly pull your head back, so fast you might give yourself whiplash. “no! god- i'm sorry. i do want you here. i'm sorry i didn't mean that. i-” you give up with a long sigh as you meet his eye, amused. 

you stare at him a bit more, the light is dim, attest to your now fading migraine but you can see his face clearly. beautiful. 

“wait- we’re friends?” you stammer out, a little weak. 

“i’d like to think so,” he answers simply, like it ever is that simple. james wilson does not have friends, except for house, so why is he here? with you? he’d been asking himself that question all night. “i wouldn’t just do this for anyone.”

you look at him again, and he wants to fall apart, you’re thoughtful in the way you study him, a little sniffly but thoughtful nonetheless. you plant your head back on his shoulder, melt onto him, significantly more comfortable. it only took the third round of reassurance to get you to break, he’ll remember that for next time.

“i think you would,” you speak again after a moment of silence, “do this for anyone, i mean. you’re an incredibly selfless person, james. i am surprised you’re here but a little part of me says i shouldn't be.”

“yeah?” he tilts his head so his lips graze your hair, the movement is subtle but you can feel it, and it reverberates everywhere. 

“yeah.” 

you shift closer to him, craving his warmth. he pulls your legs over his lap, allowing you to properly settle yourself without any discomfort. this is definitely crossing boundaries–those unspoken, keep your co-workers at arm's length, be professional–but you’re friends now, so it's allowed. right?

his hand returns to rubbing your back and you melt even further if that's possible. his free hand falls into your lap, twitching slightly but doing nothing otherwise. leaving it to you. 

you trace a circle over the knuckle of his middle finger before taking his hand in yours. cold fingertips press into his palm and he squeezes, trying to get them warm. he hauntingly settles on wanting to keep you warm and snug for however long you’ll let him. 

the both of you look down, your fingers playing with his, running the pad of your thumb down the length of each of them, down a prominent vein on the back of his hand. you hug it to your chest, head dipping so you can kiss his knuckles. he blinks.

“thank you,” you whisper, so quiet that if he wasn't as close to you as he was, he wouldn't hear you. 

he kisses your hairline in response, light, lingering. his lips burn. “you’re welcome.”

yeah, right. friends. 

[theocddiaries]

[The Resistance HQ is scorched and a complete wreck. Silver is sitting on the floor, looking completely defeated] Amy [gasps]: My strawberry-colored upholstered chair! My imported glass table! The coasters no one ever uses! Silver, what the hell did you do?!! Silver: Me? I just wanted to heat up some tea! Who the hell buys a novelty fire extinguisher?! Knuckles: Someone who cares enough about physical comedy to put his family at serious risk! Yes, that's the kind of echidna I am! Sonic: Guys, come on, we've got enough going on out there so we also start-- Espio [picking up burnt pieces of paper]: The blueprints and documents are goners. Sonic: We still have the computer-- Rouge [types randomly]: No, we do not. Sonic: Well, okay, we don't. But I'm sure we have a backup-- Knuckles [inhales through his teeth]: Yeah… about that… Vector: You didn’t make the backup??? Knuckles: I set up a reminder! Shadow: Yes, that's all you've been doing for the last six months, press 'remind me later'. Knuckles: Because that junk would slow down! Tangle: What about a flash drive? Did anyone save anything to a flash drive? Amy: Why would we save things to a flash drive when we were supposed to have a backup? Tangle: I don’t know, just in case we didn’t make one? I’ve only been here two weeks, and I had a feeling this would happen. Amy: Well, if you think it’s so easy, why don’t you take charge yourself?! Sonic: Guys, stop. Okay, we’ve had a few things go wrong, but the important thing is that it was just a silly accident and not because Eggman attacked. We’re all okay, and we can start over because we’re still together. Amy: …Jeez. Sorry, Tangle. I was this close to losing it. But Sonic's right. Sonic: Sure I am. Tails, buddy, get me some paper towels, please. Tails [leaves to do as he was told] Sonic: Let's start by cleaning this place, okay? [Everybody agrees and some apologize to one another] Tails [comes back]: We're out of paper towels. Sonic [snaps]: Are you FREAKING KIDDING ME?! What do you mean no paper towels?! Omega: I HAVEN’T HAD TIME TO GO SHOPPING YET. Sonic: You haven’t had time to go shopping, you haven’t had time to make a backup, you haven’t had time to put the damn papers in a drawer just in case something stupid like this happens! What the hell have you all been doing all this time while I was gone, besides not looking for me and whining?! Shadow: Everyone has been doing what they could-- Sonic: And what's that exactly? Besides asking and asking like there's no tomorrow? I’m about to cough up a lung, but have any of you heard me complain? No, on the contrary, I had to cheer everyone up! Do you think this attitude just falls from the sky?! WELL, IT DOESN'T. It's taking a toll on me and I haven’t even gotten a single thank you! Instead, after rotting in a cell for six months, I have to come back here and play dad! You know what? You can shove your tea, your paper towels, and your files lost in cyberspace where the sun doesn’t shine for all I care!!!! [Sonic tries to leave the room. The door won’t budge. He struggles with it, muttering curses under his breath] Sonic: For real? This door’s still broken? Vector: It always slips my mind that-- Sonic [punches the door off its hinges]: Well, you won’t forget now. You’re welcome. [storms out] Everyone: … … Tails: Hm? Oh, wait. [opens a drawer and pulls them out]: Here's the paper towels.

[knot-ee]

Maybe he would have to give Yuji drinks in the future. No. Megumi felt guilty for even thinking such a thing, like he was a predator trying to take advantage especially after the radiant man made it clear he did not like drinking. It wasn't so much that Megumi was trying to take advantage of him, and definitely not in any sort of malicious way, it was more like the vulnerable side of his childhood best friend was beyond endearing. No one opened up to Megumi in such a way.

Okay, his mentor had once, twice, a dozen times over, but it was welcomed when it came from Yuji. It was weird of Megumi, to be so... swayed only after two days. Sure they had known each other for the better part of the year but that was more than a decade ago. Megumi's brain warned him but his heart wanted this to be real. If Yuji was playing a game, he was certainly keeping up even drunk... IF he was drunk, of course.

Suspicion was smothered when Yuji's golden, honey eyes catching the light of the lamp made contact with his. It was like looking at the sun itself, and Megumi felt so tingly and warm. His head was spinning. His heart was like thunder. The black haired man laughed softly; his breath was full of joy. He never really laughed like that. Animals made him laugh like that, in a way, not people. Although Yuji was not sober, Megumi wondered what kind of grown-up things someone like he was expected to enjoy? Drinking and what else?

As far as Megumi was concerned, the only adult thing he wanted to do was take care of animals. Take care of animals and spend time with sunflower. Green eyes jumped wide and his body stiffened when so much of Yuji's weight fell on him in the form of a hug. Memories rushed through his mind. Yuji with pink, slightly chubby cheeks running through the grass. How the sun caught in his pink hair. How scrapes dotted his arms and elbows. Even when Megumi was a child, he didn't see himself as such.

Sure, he thought himself as small and weak but he saw the world through like a jaded adult. He saw Yuji as small and innocent but not in a bad way. Never in a bad way. He saw great things ahead for Yuji if his heart remained pure. Now Megumi was seeing his heart and his soul as he felt his body. His arms slowly moved up and wrapped around Yuji. He moved slowly like he was scared... and he was. Sacred of what he was feeling. Scared for the future. Despite being scared he was also happy. Gloriously, naively happy.

Yuji was so heavy, so big, but he felt so good. Megumi wanted that weight around him at all times. If he was any braver or dumber, he'd back their bodies to the bed and fall asleep beneath all that weight. Sunflower's weight. Yuji's weight. A grown man and so handsome at that... Megumi's breath was coming out heavier. These were not innocent thoughts. He did want the best for their friendship but Megumi also wanted a little bit more.

“..I'm glad too... Sunflower. I'm sorry for leaving you. I'll never do that again... I promise. ”

He never touched another person in such an intimate way, but his right hand instinctively moved up to Yuji's neck. He cradled his friend's head as fingertips ran across the buzzed hairs at the base of his skull.

Megumi was so nice. He was so cool and so darn nice, even though he was well off and lived in this nice fancy house, he didn’t act stuck up or looked down on Yuji for not knowing many things. For being a poor boy, he didn’t care back then and he’s so glad that his friend doesn’t seem to care now either.

Maybe it was the alcohol in his system but he felt like it was just hitting him, how damn nice and wonderful Megumi was. How happy he was to be reunited with his friend once more. It was such a wonderful feeling! He will make sure this time that he and Megumi remain friends forever and ever! Next time he tries to disappear he’ll just have to take Yuji with him.

“I know but… It’s just that I’m so happy to see you again after all these years. You were my only friend and I was sad when I didn’t see you again. I used to wait for you, went looking for you. I even got lost at one point and Grandpa had to come look for me. I felt bad because he had a horrible cough and he still came looking for me because I was an idiot and got lost. I had been through those woods a million times with you but still got lost.”

At this point he’s ranting but who knew that just a little alcohol would make it so easy to open up, not that Yuji needed it he was basically an open book when it came to people he felt comfortable with and Megumi was definitely one of those people. Someone he could trust and just be himself with. Isn’t that who Megumi had always been?

“Then I saw you here! I was so happy! I knew it was you instantly! I always thought you were so amazing back and then seeing you all grown up I realized you’re even more amazing now! But I’m still the same so I just I really wanted you to still want to be my friend. For us to go on adventures again. We are grown up now though so I thought maybe you want us to do grown-up things… Silly of me really, because you’re still the same you still love animals and a good adventure right?”

He tilts his head up slightly to smile sleepily at his friend even despite his state it was still so obvious in his gaze, all the affection and admiration he held for his old friend. Others might find it strange but he really hopes Megumi feels the same way still. That Megumi would still consider him his close friend.

Yuji was still tugging at his shirt as if it was bothering him but then he stopped to just wrap his arms around Megumi and lean his weight into him. It felt so nice… Megumi smelled so good and was nice and warm he could fall asleep just like this.

“I’m so glad I finally found you again, Porcupine!”

[phagodyke]

aouuugh my uterus......

[elytrafemme]

i'm starting to wonder if therapy is going to be productive because no matter what happens i'm probably going to experience this every night of my fucking life

[acid-ixx]

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

directory: preq, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five pt 1

read until the end for an author's note.

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

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

not delivered.

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

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

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

not delivered.

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

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

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

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

you, just you.

every bits and pieces of you.

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

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

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

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

not delivered.

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

not delivered.

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

not delivered.

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

not delivered.

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

not delivered.

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

not delivered.

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

not delivered.

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

not delivered.

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

not delivered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

what does it require?

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

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

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

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

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

just how?

you are a flower.

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

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

you are a flower.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

how could you grow now?

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

you simply wilt.

8:31PM.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the memory only further deepens the guilt in your heart.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

fuck, fuck, fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

calm down.

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

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

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

even the dead looked more lively than you ever could.

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

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

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

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

are you actually going to do this right now?

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

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

eyes, they may be everywhere.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you're scared, rightfully so.

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

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

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

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

you deserve this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

fuck, you're so close to passing out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"feel better now, hon?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

and he's grateful he's that stranger.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

that makes you feel excited.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

this is it.

you're going to die today.

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

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

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

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

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

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

in the abdomen, spikes.

blood first, then curdling pain next.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you've nothing to defend yourself.

oh god, oh shit, fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

you're going to die.

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

you're going to die.

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

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

you're going to die.

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

you'll die like her—

what an honor.

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

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

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

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

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

this is not as bad as their neglect.

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

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

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

... you're finally going to die.

"FUCKING HELL, YOU DAMN CUNT—!"

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

all you needed was seconds to conclude your prayers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you'd rather die than this.

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

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

you feel cold.

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

"jason...?"

"angel..."

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

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

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

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

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

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

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[dullgecko]

Riz had been waiting for Fabian to come back. The countdown was almost here, people were milling around trying to find a partner and, though disuaded from taking Riz out on a DATE she was still eyeing him in a way that made his skin prickle a little bit.

Five minutes later Fabian STILL wasn't back. Then another five and the lights were getting dimmed so as not to block out the fireworks that would soon be shooting off outside.

10

Shit, okay, she had sidled a LOT closer to him. Riz wasn't dumb, even with 'Baron' in the picture she hadn't been completely disuaded. She'd probably go for a cheek kiss or something but he'd still rather not.

9

The goblin glanced around, a little frantic as he tried to work out where Fabian was. The Mayor was okay, he could leave his observation spot for a second surely.

8

He was getting boxed in, the Mayors daughters eyes locked onto a spot a little bit to the left of his lips. Yup, okay, called it. Time to dodge out of this situation as gracefully as possible. Riz stood up so suddenly that the teifling actually took a step back in surprise, the goblin gracefully hopping down to the ground off the mantle with a 'sorry be right back need Fabian for something' as he skuttled off.

7

6

5

Riz's head snapped from side to side as he tried to spot Fabian among the crowd, zero-ing in on a purple blur behind frosted glass on the other side of the room.

4

3

2

He rounded the corner after crossing the room at speed, almost skidding to a stop when he realised Fabian was with someone... Fabian was MORE than with someone. Riz felt like a pit had opened under his feet and he'd fallen through it, clocking the pretty, blonde high elf who currently had her lips....

"Fabian?"

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

Riz's brain was a little slow to catch up with his mouth, swearing at the half elf and only turning around to go back inside once Fabian promised to follow.

He made it three steps inside before Fabian finally caught up, Riz doing a brief scan of the room (and cursing that he was so short, gods he should have stayed on the mantle) and spotting the Mayor safe in the crowd still before rounding on Fabian properly.

"Seriously though what the FUCK. This is YOUR job dude. I was just here as an extra set of eyes and you wander of to... to play tonsil hockey with some-" He paused, taking a breath to calm himself down before he said something horribly about a person he didn't even know. "-with some girl?"

Fabian scoffed, sniffing and rubbing at his nose with the back of his hand as he squinted down at the diminutive detective. Riz very suddenly feeling like HE was the one who had done something wrong here.

"And so what if I did? It's a party, and we're blending in. We can't just... hang around the Mayors daughter all night it looks weird." Riz made an equally incredulous noise, opening his mouth to say something before he zero'ed in on a few details most people would have overlooked. Fabians nose was running, there were a couple tiny red granules visible on the underside of his nostril (something fairly easy to see given Riz's vantage point) and his pupils were blown wide even when the lighting in the room finally came back up. "Wait... are you HIGH? Fabian! We're on a JOB." Riz jerked his arm towards the Mayor, lowering his voice so as not to be overheard even though he wanted to shout in anger. "We're on YOUR job. I'm only here because you asked me to HELP and you're-"

He took another deep breath, scrubbing his hands over his face as he tried to calm down enough that he wasn't visibly furious. Hackles flattening out after a few seconds of just breathing.

"You know I don't really care about that stuff but not while working. Fuck. Okay. You go do... whatever. I'll finish out this job myself." He turned and stalked back towards the rest of the party, disappearing into the shadow of an armchair as he decided to do this thing full rogue rather than Fabians 'blend in and mingle' approach.

Fabian wanted to party? Fine, he could party. But even as the night ended without incident (thanks to a well placed shot to a server putting some poison in the Mayors glass in the kitchen by one Detective Gukgak) Riz didn't seek Fabian out again that evening. Details just getting texted to the half elfs crystal as Riz found his own way back to his shitty office in Elmville, justifiably PISSED OFF with his friend and not wanting to confront him right now... especially not with the way his heart had clenched in his chest upon seeing him on the balcony with the georgous high elf.

The Queen of Lies & Mirrors

Finally! I have a gift for you, @dullgecko, but it ended up being rather long to put in an ask. So here it is! Another prequel to Oh, Brave and Loyal Knight featuring everyone's favourite romance partner!

Fabian doesn’t even know how the topic of relationships had come up.

Smooth jazz drifted from the Bastion City penthouse as the warm lights that poured from it contrasted against the cool tones of the last day of December. Snow lazily fell from the dark, cloudy sky, and frost swirled and curled along the edges of the penthouse’s windows and balcony railings.

Past the frosted windows, the Mayor’s New Year’s Eve party was in full swing. Black, silver, and gold balloons were strung up in every corner—a perfect match for the penthouse’s sleek onyx floors and stark white Romanesque walls and ceilings. Every so often, the clacks and clicks of billiard balls hitting each other and falling into pockets would ring out over the soft chatting. Soon followed either a chorus of cheers or groans. There was hardly a hand that didn’t have a flute of champagne in it. And even then, a server with a tray full of fancy shot glasses was making their rounds.

Fabian was no exception; dressed in a burgundy Fantasy Armani suit, he idly sipped the bubbly pale golden liquid as he leaned against a fireplace beside his Detective. Riz, dressed in one of his nicer hand-me-down suits, sat perched on the fireplace’s marble mantle as they idly chatted with the Mayor’s daughter, Wendi, while keeping an eye on Mayor Eldermore herself.

Thanks to his ability to blend in with the upper echelons of society, the National Adventurer’s Guild had assigned him a quest to discreetly protect the Mayor from unknown forces that wanted to kill her. And since he hardly went on any adventures without him nowadays, Fabian had asked Riz to join him to follow any clues the forces menacing Eldermore might leave behind. Obviously, cutting him in on the job’s payout as per usual.

As it was rounding the final minutes of 1979 and the duo’s conversation with Wendi was reaching its natural conclusion, she took a moment to stare into her champagne glass before Fabian watched her muster up the courage for something.

The young Tiefling woman chuckled lightly as she looked back up at them (but mostly Riz), the jewelry dangling from her lilac horns clinking as she did. “I really do appreciate you guys protecting my mom,” She said, tucking a lock of dark, blue-black hair behind her ear before she leaned against the mantle to gaze fully at Riz. “I know that you work for NAG, Mr. Seacaster, so I don’t have to guess about how to contact you if I need your help. But I was wondering if I could get your number, Detective, just in case.”

Oh. Oh no.

Fabian put his glass to his lips but didn’t take a sip as his eyes darted over to Riz. How was he going to let their client’s daughter down gently? A tricky situation if you asked him. Not everyone takes being rejected all that well. The last thing they needed was a complaint about their night’s conduct or supposed lack thereof.

“Of course!” Riz said with such a big smile that it almost caught Fabian off guard. Before he could even question it further, Riz dug through his jacket pockets and pulled out one of the handmade business cards Fabian had done for him. Presenting it betwixt his two fingers for Wendi to take. “Here’s my card! Be warned, I usually only take mysteries and other private investigator stuff, though.”

Okay, so perhaps his Detective was smoother than Fabian originally thought.

“Right,” Wendi said, her voice struggling to stay infused with confidence as she plucked the card from his claws. Turning it over once and then back again, she gently bit her lip as Fabian watched her weigh her options. Take the kind rejection or bet that Riz was a little dense regarding matters of the heart. She nodded slightly as she looked back up at Riz with raised, well-kept brows and hopeful eyes. “I was thinking more like we could go get drinks sometime.”

Fabian, who’d liked to think that he’d gotten quite well versed in reading Riz Gukgak over the almost year he’d known him, could tell how deeply uneasy he was at the moment. The rigidness of his smile and posture increased tenfold, his pupils went razor-thin, and his tail had been dead weight for the last minute or so.

Alright, alright! Fabian could do the anti-wingman thing he’d done back in the Goblin Court when courtesans kept showing up at Riz’s door. Clearing his throat to get Wendi’s attention, he began with a tight smile, “Miss Eldermore, I’m afraid he’s—”

“Taken,” Riz had chimed in, interrupting Fabian with a more relaxed, apologetic smile. And in that moment, a wave of something washed over him, but he was too distracted to parse what it was because—What? Fabian and Wendi both furrowed their brows at Riz at the same time. However, she also made a point to send a questioning look at Fabian. To which Riz chuckled and waved her off, “Not by Fabian. He’s my best friend. I, uh, actually already have a partner.”

Huh, okay… That was certainly one way to get out of a flirtatious proposition.

Only…

Riz was lying, right?

He couldn’t be telling the truth.

Surely, he would’ve told Fabian that he’d met someone. That what he’d told him back in that bed chamber in Hornhallow—about not understanding the urge or want of a relationship—was now outdated. That he’d somehow, in the past six months, found some special fucking person that made him think otherwise. No, no, no, this must be just a really good lie. So good that it made Fabian’s heart hurt to hear it. It had to be.

While Fabian had a mini mental breakdown, across from him, Wendi frowned. Her arrow-tipped tail swished back and forth aggressively as she stood straight up, crossing her arms as she said, “Your best friend looks a bit surprised at that.”

“I suppose it’s been a while since we last caught up,” Riz winced. Patting Fabian on the shoulder with that same apologetic smile. Fabian had to stop himself from flinching away from it, not that Riz seemed to notice. His hand lingered on Fabian’s shoulder—the contact burning Fabian alive—as he looked back at Wendi. “While I can’t believe I hadn’t mentioned, uhm, Baron to you, Fabes, I prefer to keep my personal life private.”

Private personal life? What in the world—

Wendi let out a hum of understanding. “I get that,” She said, nodding as her demeanour shifted and softened away from flirtatious back to friendliness. Because, apparently, she was believing this shit. “Is there a reason why Baron’s not with you tonight? Don’t you wanna ring in the New Year with a kiss? Supposed to be good luck.”

“I wish,” Riz said with a chuckle—Was it real? Was it fake?—before he sighed and looked up at Fabian again. His hand still on Fabian’s shoulder. He looked up at him with a fond yet rueful smile as he went on, “Baron wasn’t the happiest when I told them, but Fabian invited me, and I’m not quite sure how to say no to him yet.”

“Ooh, Baron’s got a jealous streak?” Wendi asked, her eyes alight with an obvious love for drama.

Riz grinned, “Mile wide.”

“Woof, you better watch out, Mr. Seacaster,” Wendi said with a laugh, shaking her head as she took a sip of her drink.

“I can handle myself just fine, I assure you,” Fabian grumbled as he went to take another sip of his champagne as well. Only to find that it had long been empty. Perfect. He needed a good reason to get away from his conversation. “In fact, I’m going to handle myself over to the bar and get another drink. I’ll be back.”

Fabian didn’t wait to hear whether or not Riz had a problem with being left alone with Wendi. Instead, he focused on making his way over to the penthouse’s pop-up bar as quickly as possible. Fabian’s mind raced as he weaved through the crowd of partygoers. Trying to make sense of the things he’d just heard.

Like, who the fuck was this Baron person who had apparently captured Riz’s heart? Why were they so special? What did they have that Fabian didn’t in Riz’s eyes? And what was ‘Not sure how to say no to him?’ supposed to mean? Riz said no to him all the time!

Right?

Well, he certainly wasn’t the one to tell him to fuck off when Fabian subtly leaned in, intending to kiss him after their Seawatch Kraken Priest quest last month. No, he did it through his magic, creating a wall of magic that abjured him against the likes of Fabian. Probably because Baron was the jealous type and Riz, clever as a whip, had mentioned that Fabian had an obvious crush on him… and Riz didn’t know how to say no to him.

Fuck…

When he finally arrived at the bar, Fabian slumped against the temporary bartop, suddenly feeling like he couldn’t hold his own weight up anymore. He exchanged his empty glass for a full one and downed it before he gestured for another. The bartender grunted and said he’d get right on it but made no move to do so. Great, now, in his time of need, he was being cut off by a responsible barkeep. Today really wasn’t his day.

Head in his hands, as Fabian tried desperately not to cry while on a job, a silky, posh voice beside him asked, “Oof, what are you trying to forget?”

“Nothing important,” Fabian immediately replied, his words somewhat muffled by his hands. “Just junk I thought I threw out.” Peeking out between his fingers, his breath caught in his throat as he laid eyes on the person beside him. Long, glossy, blonde hair fell around the bare shoulders of a fair-skinned Elven woman with a cunning, classical face and keen, blue eyes. All wrapped in a chic, golden silk gown that hugged every one of her curves. Wow. Fabian quickly stood up a little straighter as he held out a hand to her and said, “Fabian Seacaster.”

“Aelwen Abernant,” She smirked, a devilish thing, as she shook his hand.

That last name sounded familiar… Maybe his mother mentioned it once or twice. Abernant… Abernant… Oh, that’s right! Still lightly holding onto her hand, Fabian asked, “Your father’s the Elven Diplomat, isn’t he?”

“And I believe yours was a pirate? Married a Lomenelda, yes?” Aelwen shot back, raising a questioning brow at him.

Fabian shrugged with a smirk of his own, “Guilty as charged.”

Making an intrigued hum, Aelwen looked Fabian up and down. Sizing him up. The weight of her discerning eyes made him want to squirm, but that would surely make him look bad. So, he did his best and squashed down every emotion he’d felt in the past half an hour except the ones of attraction and confidence. Hoping desperately that someone tonight would choose him.

He’d have to thank his lucky star for finally shining down on him as Aelwen ultimately nodded, leaned in, and whispered in his ear. “Well, son of a pirate, how about a little Dragon Spice to help with whatever… junk you’re trying to get rid of?”

“I’m not sure…” Fabian said, a flash of a grimace on his face. Dragon Spice was no joke, and he was on a job…

Aelwen scoffed, pushing one of his stray dreads behind his ear before she took his shoulder in hand. Giving it a shake, she said, “It’s New Year’s Eve. Have a little fun before the new decade is upon us! Who knows what the eighties will have in store for us.” She let her hand run down the length of his arm until she wrapped her hand around his and began to pull on it. “Here, follow me.”

With almost no resistance, Aelwen pulled Fabian back through the penthouse until she brought him to a secluded balcony overlooking a snow-covered city street. The chill in the air perked him right up as he watched Aelwen dig around her tiny handbag until she produced a vial of bright red powder.

In a series of swift and decisive moves, Aelwen cleared off the railing of snow, poured out and shaped a line of Dragon Spice before she pulled out a tiny paper straw to snort it with. “What do you say, Mr. Seacaster?” She asked as she held the straw out for him to take.

…Well, he was already here, wasn’t he?

“If you insist,” Fabian sighed as he plucked the straw from her well-manicured fingers. Twirling it in his fingers, he settled himself in front of the railing. Eyeing the thin line of red for a moment before attempting to snort it.

One, two, sniff!

Instantly, a tingly surge of euphoria sprang up in his head and quickly spread out to his every limb. All of the tension in his body left him in a blink. As did the aching in his heart because how could anything be bad when he felt this good? Even as he cringed at the pain in his nose and coughed and spluttered as the Dragon Spice made its way to his lungs. He still felt so fucking good! Umberlee below, he hadn’t done Dragon Spice, let alone any of the harder drugs Spyre had to offer in months. Why did he ever stop?

A tiny voice in the back of his mind reminded him that he’d felt too bad about doing it after Riz had gotten high out of his mind that one time on Leviathan. His crash after the high hadn’t been pretty. So, Fabian had naturally gravitated away from drugs after that, especially since he’d been spending most of his time with Riz anyway. Well, not all of his time. Obviously, there was enough time for Riz to find and fall for fucking Baron—

Thankfully, before he could sink back into a funk, Aelwen erupted in laughter. Her fervent giggles rang out into the cold night. “Holy shit, have you snorted literally anything ever?” She asked, slinging an arm around his shoulders as she took the straw from his hand for herself.

“Yes! Just haven’t in a while,” Fabian said, indignant while his cheeks were on fire. He stumbled out of Aelwen’s way as she went to set up a line for herself. Hoping that he didn’t just blow his chances with her as he discreetly dabbed at his tingly nose. Watching Aelwen keenly as she did her line expertly and without any coughing, cringing, or a runny nose. He giggled as he scrunched up his (semi-runny) nose at her, “Show off.”

Aelwen gasped, clutching her (actual) pearls, her eyes practically gleaming now. “Oh, I’m the show-off? Mr. Five Hundred Gold Piece Armani Suit with a Sabre at His Hip!” She quipped with an unrestrained smile on her plush lips. Letting out a laugh, she hauled herself up onto the railing. Kicking her feet, she flipped her hair as she asked with a bit of acid on her tongue, “Who are you trying to impress?”

Inside, he could hear the beginnings of the countdown, but he was far more interested in what was in front of him.

10!

9!

8!

“Can’t a man look good for himself?” Fabian shot back, sauntering up to Aelwen and placing his hands on her waist. You know, just in case she slipped and fell off. For the same reason, he held her a little tighter as he settled in between her legs. Leaning in close, he said, “Or any potential gorgeous women he may meet at a bar and subsequently do drugs with.”

7!

6!

5!

“How utterly specific.” Aelwen scoffed, even as she draped her arms around his broad shoulders. Her gaze flicking between his eye and his lips as she pressed closer and closer and—

4!

3!

2!

“Fabian?”

Happy New Year!

Fabian flinched away from Aelwen at the sound of Riz’s voice. Shit! Whipping his head around, he found Riz standing in the balcony doorway. Narrowed eyes as he took in the sight of him and Aelwen wrapped up in each other. Sighing heavily, Fabian called back to him, “Yes, Riz?”

“What in the Nine Hells do you think you’re doing?” Riz asked, throwing his arms up in the air and shaking his head.

Aelwen grimaced, her lip curling as she waved a hand to put a little more space between her and Fabian. “Oh, I don’t get in the middle of couples—”

“No! He’s my… friend. Just a second,” Fabian quickly said, holding up a finger before disentangling himself from Aelwen. Turning on his heel, he faced Riz with an impatient smile, his voice lowering to a harsh whisper. “Is something wrong with Eldermore?”

Riz scowled up at him, though he kept his voice as just as low as he spoke through his very sharp teeth. “Not yet, but we’re on a job right now, regardless! You can’t just sneak off t-to make out with some random woman.”

Like you sneaking off to partner up with some random fucker. Named Baron, of all things! What kind of name was Baron anyway?!

Rolling his eyes, Fabian snippily said, “Okay, fine. I’m coming,” before he turned back around to Aelwen. Wincing as he saw her hop off the railing and dust herself off. “Apologies, but my friend needs me.”

“Don’t worry,” Aelwen said, hardly sounding bothered at all. For a moment, Fabian thought he’d blown a chance with her, thanks to Riz’s interruption. But, perhaps because his luck was turning around, Aelwen pulled a slip of paper out of her handbag and teleported it into his breast pocket with a flick of her hand. With a sultry smirk, as she passed by him on her way off of the balcony, Aelwen whispered, “Keep that safe for me, Mr. Seacaster.” And with that, she sauntered back into the party. Not even looking back, she waved and called back. “Happy New Year, you two!”

[nikkento-writes]

Babysitter - Part 1

Pairing: dad!Toji x babysitter!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~1.7k

cw: age gap (reader is 21, Toji is in his 30s), language, cheating, smut – PIV sex (doggy style), breeding kink, daddy kink

Summary: You're hired to babysit little Megumi for the summer, but you end up taking care of his father, Toji, as well.

Author’s Notes: This is repost from my old blog! I initially got this as a request and it became my first Toji fic ever, and certainly not my last lol. I'm posting this again because I actually wrote a Part 2, check it out! Thanks for reading! Divider credit to @/fic-dumpster.

You stand in front of a quaint house, checking your watch for the time. It’s been almost ten minutes now since you knocked, no answer. You gave the number from the listing a call, still nothing. Rolling your eyes, you take a seat on the steps leading to the door, waiting.

It’s the summer before you head back to university for your senior year. In an attempt to make some extra cash, you took a job as a babysitter through local ads in the paper. The first two clients were completely normal; this one is already leaving a bad taste in your mouth. 

Fifteen minutes have passed. You try once more, pounding on the door with your fist as loud as you can. Heel turned, ready to leave, it suddenly swings open, revealing a muscular man with black hair, glaring at you. “What the fuck do you want?” 

You step back, startled by his intimidating presence. Stuttering, you answer, “I’m the babysitter.”

He continues to stare at you, eyes following your body up and down, studying it. “Babysitter?”

Before you can explain any further, you hear a car rolling into the driveway. A woman in professional attire steps out quickly. “I’m so sorry I’m late!” She rushes towards you, holding her hand out to shake yours. “We spoke on the phone. I got stuck in traffic, I’m so sorry.”

You smile at her. “It’s okay.”

She faces the man, expression switching from cheery to dreary in an instant. “Toji, where is Megumi?”

He scratches his head. “Huh?”

“Megumi. Our child.”

He sighs. “Right. Uh, I’ll go get him.” 

While he’s gone, the woman pulls you aside, speaking in a hushed voice. “That’s Toji, my husband and Megumi’s father. Unfortunately, he’s a complete deadbeat. That’s why I want to hire you. I started my new job and I need someone to take care of Megumi while I’m gone during the day.”

She swallows hard, blinking to fight off oncoming tears. “I have no one. I’ve been shunned by my family, my husband doesn’t give a shit about ours, and I’m all alone trying to give Megumi a good life. I know this is a lot to ask, but I’m desperate. This is just until I can save enough money to hire a full-time nanny.”

She grips onto your wrist with both her hands, begging for help. Truthfully, it’s a lot to unravel, more drama than you anticipated. But the anguish in her eyes tugs at your heartstrings. Plus, knowing it’s temporary doesn’t make it seem so difficult. How bad can it be? “Okay. I’ll do it.”

Relief washes over her. “Oh thank god. Thank you. Thank you. Let’s go inside and I can give you a tour.” She leads you through the entrance, removing her shoes as you follow her. “Oh, and one more thing.”

“Sure.”

“Toji is home most of the day, but he’s always couped up in his room, doing god knows what. Just leave a meal or two outside his door twice a day. That should be enough.”

“Huh?!” 

She glances at you with a nervous smile on her face. “Yeah. I told you, he’s good for nothing.”

You don’t respond while you maneuver through the house, barely paying attention while she shows you around. It almost sounds like you’ll be babysitting two children…

~~~

The first two weeks of your new job go by smoothly. Megumi is an adorable baby; he’s almost two-years-old with hair as black as his father’s. While he never really smiles, he doesn’t cry either, expression usually stern, unless he needs a diaper change. He’s self-sufficient, always immersed by his own toys until it’s time to eat. Overall, he’s easy. 

Toji, on the other hand, is another story. 

You follow his wife’s instructions, leaving two meals outside his door, breakfast and lunch. And this asshole has the audacity to critique it! The bread wasn’t toasted enough. The eggs were too runny. There wasn’t enough seasoning on the meat. All this criticism while each plate is licked clean, not a crumb to spot. He’s never even uttered a simple thank you. 

But what he lacks in social skills or personality, he makes up for in his physique. In between meals, he works out in the living room lifting weights, doing push-ups, sit-ups, and pull-ups at the frame of the door. It lasts for over an hour, and by the end of it, he’s shirtless, dripping with sweat. You’ve done everything in your power to avoid staring but it doesn’t prevent your mind from conjuring all types of lewd thoughts about him. You’re ashamed to admit that he is physically attractive, only because everything else about him is utter trash. Still, it doesn’t hurt to look, right?

On the third week, there’s a shift in energy between you two. When he isn’t working out or going out to meet with his sketchy friends, he’s usually couped up in his bedroom, ignoring you and Megumi. This morning, he actually joins you in the kitchen. You stare blankly at him, stunned by his sudden appearance. Megumi is unfazed by his father as he tries to pull your wrist towards him to get a spoonful of mushed up peas. 

When he catches you, Toji glares. “What?”

“Um, nothing. Just surprised to see you here.” You clear your throat, focusing back on the baby. 

He rolls his eyes. “This is my house. I can do whatever I want.”

“Yes, of course. Sir.”

For some reason, this triggers him. He stands up abruptly, stepping to you, leaning his face towards yours. The scar on the corner of his lip twitches when he gives you a wicked grin. “That’s right. I’m in charge here.”

You flinch from him, scared, maybe even slightly aroused. He’s intense, that’s for sure. But part of you finds it exhilarating to be in his presence. 

Megumi whines for more food, to which Toji grabs the utensil from your hands to start feeding him. “Damn kid, he’s hungry all the fucking time.”

You sit up in your seat, regaining your composure. “You shouldn’t curse in front of children.”

He faces you, chuckling. “Curse? Seriously? What are you, five?”

You cross your arms, answering, “I’m twenty-one.”

“Interesting.” There’s that naughty smirk again, as if he’s thinking something obscene in that twisted head of his. And while you should be turned off, you’re not. You squeeze your legs together, pussy throbbing between your thighs. And of course, he notices this. He must, because he leans forward, lips grazing your ear, whispering, “Come by my room whenever Megumi is taking his nap. That’s an order.”

~~~

This is bad. Very, very bad. 

You're supposed to be better than this. Clearly, you aren’t, because you’re currently getting railed by your employer’s husband while his child sleeps peacefully in the next room.

“Fuck, this pussy is tight,” he groans, pumping his thick cock in and out of you. You’re bent over the edge of the bed, his hips smacking against your ass as he thrusts into you. He’s got a tight grip on your hips, nails digging into your flesh, pounding away at your greedy pussy, absolutely drenched with arousal and lube. Your face is sticky with perspiration, pillow soaked with sweat and drool. It’s a fucking mess, but it doesn’t matter, because all you can think about is Toji fucking you until you’re seeing stars. Until your head is empty and nothing but his fat cock is occupying your thoughts.

“God, you’re squeezing me so fucking hard, princess. You gonna come again?”

You nod erratically, reaching your fingers to your clit. He smacks it away, doing it himself, his thumb flicking against your swollen bud. “Fucking come on my cock then. Make it nice and creamy for me, got it?”

His cock is buried deep inside you, hitting your sweet spot over and over until you unravel, gushing around him once more. You’ve lost count on how many orgasms you’ve had in this short amount of time. 

After your climax, he doesn’t pull out, fucking you even rougher. Your body is pliant around him, yielding to his every touch like putty. You’ve lost control of yourself, completely enraptured in the intense pleasure he surrounds you with. 

He leans forward, chest pressed to your back, lips brushed to your ear. “I’m gonna knock you up. Give Megumi a little brother or sister. Would you like that?” He’s crazy. Completely unhinged. Absolutely fucking psycho. 

“Fuck yes, I want that,” you moan. “Give it to me, daddy. Breed me.” 

And apparently, so are you. 

“Oh fuck yeah, take my fucking cum then,” he growls. The bed creaks violently below you, his backshots brutal and frantic now, cock desperate for release. “I’m gonna get you fucking pregnant. Make you mine.”

He shoots his hot load inside you, stuffing you full of his cum. He doesn’t stop until he’s fucked it deeper into your pussy, watching with that sexy look on his face as his creamy cum leaks out of your slit.

Lifting you up to lay comfortably on the bed, he rolls beside you, kissing you sloppily until Megumi’s whimpers blare through the baby monitor, indicating that he’s awake. Toji laughs, smacking your ass as you crawl over him to return to your real job. 

~~~

You spend the remainder of your summer employed at the Fushiguro household until you have to go back to school. You and Toji continue to fuck each other silly every day that you’re working. 

The day before you leave for college, you say your goodbyes to the family. Megumi’s mom, who remains blissfully unaware of your sins, hugs you tightly. “Thank you so much for all your help. I’ve finally saved enough money to afford a full-time nanny, so we’ll be fine.” 

“It was my pleasure. I had a lot of fun. With Megumi,” you clarify, avoiding Toji’s gaze as he watches from the kitchen. 

“Seriously. You’re a good person. I hope you know that.” She smiles, truly grateful. “And thank you for taking care of my good for nothing husband too.”

As the guilt of this dirty, filthy secret eats away at you, Toji stares at you from across the room, smirking. 

[pedroscurls]

in every lifetime

summary: you lost logan in this universe. logan lost you in his. what happens when you both see each other again, but realize that you're both from different worlds? pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader warnings: post deadpool & wolverine ("worst" logan!variant), angst (mentions of death, loss from both reader and logan), no use of y/n. word count: 2.1k a/n: this is my first logan fic, so if anything is ooc, i'm sorry in advanced! just like everyone else, i've been obsessed with hugh jackman / logan after watching deadpool & wolverine (if it isn't obvious lol)... i had the song 'unchained melody' in mind when writing this story because whenever i hear it, i think of logan for some reason lol (tried to embed it but it didn't work, but i'd highly recommend listening to the song while reading this!) anyway, hope you enjoy! next part.

“I’ll be back.”

“But what if–”

“I always come back, bub.” Logan’s looking down at you, hand cupping your cheek. In moments like this, you can see the age in his features. The crows feet at the corners of his eyes. The gray in his hair and beard. 

“Logan…” Tears sting your eyes. You know he has to leave, has to go help Charles, but there’s a feeling deep in your gut that knows that if he goes, he isn't coming back. 

“Wait for me, then.” He says, dipping down to gently peck your lips. “Okay? Wait for me.” 

“Logan,” you repeat. “What do I do if I– if I lose you?” 

There’s a feeling in the pit of Logan’s stomach, a sense of dread and fear that he’s only ever felt when you were concerned. This feels a lot like a goodbye… That maybe if he does go, he won’t come back. And the thought alone scares him. He never used to have to think about the possibility of dying, his regenerative powers always healing him in record time, but he knows that he doesn’t heal as quickly as before. He feels more pain now than he ever had. And he knows he’s sick, knows that the adamantium that once gave him strength is now slowly making him weaker.

But now, the thought of dying… It fucking scared him. It scared him to think that he’d leave you here, all alone, grieving him. He had never thought he’d be deserving of someone like you, to be loved and taken care of so gently, so sweetly, so patiently. Even with all of the baggage he carried, you never pushed. He knew, right off the bat, that you deserved someone so much better than him, but you stayed. 

Through it all, you stayed. 

And Logan would forever be grateful. After everything he’s been through, the things he’s seen, the things he had to do, the people he’s lost, you gave him a life that was finally worth living. 

“Then, you move on, darlin’.” Logan finally answers. 

“And if I can’t?” 

“You’ll have to.” 

“I don’t… I don’t want you to go, but I know that you have to. Charles needs you and–”

“I love you with every fiber of my being, baby,” Logan interjects. “And I will love you in every lifetime.” 

And that was almost a year ago. The moment he stopped calling, you knew that was it. That he either got into some real trouble or… Or that he was no longer here. It wasn’t until a young girl named Laura showed up on your doorstep, holding his dog tags that your assumptions were correct. 

You had fallen to your knees, a sob escaping your lips, as you felt your world come crashing down. Logan’s death had left a gaping hole in your heart, in your life, and everywhere you looked and everywhere you went, all you could see was him. 

You learned from Laura that during his last moments, he had told her to come and find you, that you would take care of her and give her a good life. Whenever you were around her, you tried to be strong, tried to put on a brave front, but behind closed doors, you were a complete mess. There were days where you didn’t want to get out of bed, didn’t want to eat; you just wanted the pain to stop. Every night, whenever you closed your eyes, you forced yourself to sleep because that was the only place where you could be with him. 

In your dreams, he was alive. 

In your dreams, he had made it back home.

In your dreams, he was here with you, helping raise Laura. 

And every time you woke up, you were welcomed with the sudden reality that he wasn’t alive. He wasn’t coming back home. He wasn’t ever going to be here with you to help raise Laura. 

Logan was dead and now, you had to try and learn how to move on. 

For yourself.

For Laura.

For Logan. 

—

He didn’t know what he was doing here, why he agreed to stay with Wade because it was driving him crazy. This wasn’t even his timeline; he wasn’t even meant to be here. Despite saving Wade’s timeline, Logan still found it hard to fit in. He tried to keep Wade and every single one of his friends at an arm's distance because he knows what happens to people he cares about. 

But the more time he spent around them, the more he felt at ease. Logan would be lying if he said he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, but when Laura mentioned your name at one of Wade’s family dinners, his heart skipped a beat. When he realized he would be able to stay in this timeline, you were all he could think about. 

Logan wondered if you existed in this world and what he would do if you did. So, when Laura casually said your name, his head turned around so quickly that he felt dizzy. There were so many things he regretted in his own timeline, but you were his biggest regret. 

Just like he failed the other X-men, Logan had failed you too. You had been there with the other X-men, trying to warn them of a planned attack and ended up getting caught in the crossfire. You had called out for him, just like Scott, like Charles, like Storm. 

He managed to get to you before you had taken your last breath, holding you in his arms. Logan begged and begged for you to fight, that he’d do things right from now on as long as you just held on, but you were losing so much blood and Logan couldn’t stop it. 

Even then, when you had every right to be angry with him, you gazed up at him with an understanding look on your face. You had always been so patient and kind, so sweet and considerate. You had made him so happy and it scared him, which ultimately ended in pushing you away because he didn’t think he was deserving of it. Of you. 

“I love you, Logan,” you had said, wincing at the pain. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m–” Logan felt a sob catch in his throat, tears stinging his eyes as he looked down at you. “Please, baby, please please please, don’t–”

“I–” you coughed, eyes fluttering as you felt the pain overcome your entire body. “I will love you in every lifetime, Logan.” And then, you took your last breath, eyes falling shut and body falling limp in his arms. 

Since then, Logan drank himself day after day, from dawn to dusk. The alcohol never truly helped, his regenerative powers sobering him so fast, but with every swig of liquor, it burned. And he spent years bringing pain unto others, including himself. 

That was, until he met Wade who had given him a chance, a reason to fight for something… To not turn his back on someone who relied on him. A chance for redemption, to finally make things right. 

“So, will you meet her?” Laura asks, holding Dogpool in her arms as she gazes up at Logan. “She– She used to be with this universe’s Logan and…”

“No chance, kid.” Logan interrupts, shaking his head. “I’m not him.” 

“Did you have someone like her in yours?” she asks. “She’s always put me first, always made sure I was taken care of even when she didn’t have to, when she was grieving. And I think–” Laura sighs. “I think if she knows that some version of you is alive, it would make her real happy.”

“I’m not him,” Logan growls, feeling his irritation spike. “‘Sides, she’s better off without me.” He stands from the table and walks out into Wade’s balcony to get some fresh air, shutting the door behind him as he leans against the railing.

“But she’s coming tonight,” Laura finally says, long after Logan’s walked away.

Throughout the rest of the dinner, Logan remains outside. He can hear the muffled laughter coming from inside and it only angered him because it was just another confirmation that he didn’t belong here. He’s already on his fourth bottle of beer when he hears a familiar voice, smells a recognizable scent. He turns slightly and catches you stepping into Wade’s apartment, an arm slinging over Laura’s shoulders so casually, so maternally. 

He feels his heart rate pick up. Your smile still lights up a room and he can’t help but his lips turning upwards at the sight. With his enhanced hearing, Logan can hear your voice and he shuts his eyes for a moment, tuning all of his attention on you until you’re the only one he hears. 

Then, he hears your laugh and he lets out a sigh. He never thought he’d be able to hear that again, but his eyes shoot open when he hears you say his name. There’s a shocked tone in your voice, laced with sadness and hope. It all but crushes him because he knows that you’re probably expecting someone else, expecting this world’s Logan and he doesn’t want to disappoint you. Not again. He doesn’t think he’d be able to handle it if he were to hurt you again. 

But when he looks at you, his breath catches in his throat when your eyes meet his. Logan notices the surprise look on your face, but before he could try and escape, you’re already walking towards him. When you open the door and step out with him, your scent fills his senses and it makes him dizzy, like he can’t fully concentrate. 

“You…” he hears you say, voice unsteady. “You’re not… I’m–” you sigh and shake your head. 

“I know who you are,” Logan finally says, his own voice shaky. 

Your hands reach out for him, but stopping halfway when you realize this isn’t your Logan. This is not the same man who died all those years ago. This is some version of him – much younger, less wrinkles and gray hairs in his hair and beard, but he still has that same look on his face. The scowl. 

“From Laura?” you ask hesitantly. 

“From my universe,” Logan answers. 

“There– There’s a version of me in your universe?” 

“There was.”

“And what happened to me?” 

Logan’s jaw tightens. “The same thing that happened to your Logan in this universe.”

“Oh.” Your face drops, eyes softening. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

Logan wants to run far from here, far from you because he feels himself yearning for more. He almost forgot how it felt like to be near you, to be inches away that he can just reach out and pull you into his arms. Your eyes captivate him, the kindness it expresses makes him feel like he matters. You had always made him feel that way that even through all of his anger, through all of the walls he put up, you showed him that he was deserving of something good. Even if he didn’t believe it himself. 

And you… You were the best thing to ever happen to him.

“Don’t know why you’re apologizin’,” Logan mutters. 

There’s an uncomfortable silence that engulfs the both of you. He can see the tears threatening to spill over, can see the way your lower lip is beginning to tremble and he has this sudden urge to console you, to wipe away the tears that have now fallen down your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, bringing your hands up to wipe away the tears that seem to be trickling down your face nonstop. “I just– Losing my Logan just crushed me and I don’t think I’ve ever recovered.” 

My Logan. 

Logan can practically feel his heart beating in his chest. This isn’t a conversation that he thought he would be having and certainly not with someone he loved and died because of him. 

“That’s okay,” Logan responds quietly, his tone softening. “I don’t think it’s easy to recover from losing someone you love.”

“Did you– Did you love me in your universe?” 

Logan nods slowly, tightening his jaw as he gazes down at you. “With every fiber of my being.” 

Your eyes widen and stare up at him. This might be a different Logan, but hearing those words again just brings you back to the moment you last saw your Logan before he left to go take care of Charles. 

“Did you love me in yours?” Logan asks hesitantly.

You nod instantly, tears trickling down your cheek as you stare up at him. “I’d love you in every lifetime.” 

Logan feels his own set of tears pool at the corners of his eyes and he moves a hand to rest on the railing, fingers lightly brushing against yours as he stares into your eyes. 

“I’m not him,” he whispers. 

“I know,” you say quietly. “And I’m not her.”