#what if none of it works out bla bla

[mita-vittua-olivia]

okay apparently i’m going to finland in two months !!

[yoongisautumnleaves]

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[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Chpt. 2 - First (Second) Introductions

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

Tim Drake was an obsessive creature by nature. Ever since he was little, he’d always been easily swallowed by his obsessions. His wants and desires, the little things that fascinated him. And, more than that, he never fought it. He gave himself into it, wholly. It was how he’d gotten this far in life.

He’d taught himself how to code, how to hack. He discovered Batman and Nightwing’s true identities. He’d learnt how to fight, how to keep the city safe, how to fling oneself off a building without fainting. He’s taped the family back together again and again after every splinter. He was one of only two Robins left, and that would soon be the only once Bruce retired and Damian graduated.

And this was all done through obsession. And it was obsession. He was self-aware enough to know that. While the rest of the family often indulged in delusions, he never had the time for them. He’d spent countless nights pushing his lagging body along with caffeine and sheer willpower. He’d often forget to sleep or eat even on the calmer days. All that was to say, Tim Drake was obsessive.

But, his obsessions never lasted. Sure, he’d keep the skills and the relationships he’d make, but when the dust settled, he’d find himself feeling empty. Tim Drake was obsessive yes, but his true obsession was the conquest. The rush he’d get when he finally claimed a new skill, a new person, a new piece of knowledge or wisdom.

And then, too quickly, far too quickly, the rush would disappear. The tingle in his spine would leave, the energy would disappear, and that feverish nature of his would flatten. Cool down. The others in the family knew it as one of his ‘moods’, but Tim thought it was probably more than that. Still, he was definitely in one of them right now.

It didn’t matter. None of it really mattered. The point was, right now, he was quite simply depressed. Bummed out, if you would. He’d finished a mission from Bruce, one that had taken him months of desperate, undying effort, and it was now done. And he didn’t have anything to do.

It sucked.

Boredom was a sinister demon. While Tim was by far the most emotionally stable of the family, he was still, well- not. Not by a long shot, honestly. The League’s mandatory therapy sessions had confirmed that. He just needed something to entertain himself, and quick. Usually, on a day like this, he’d be at home working on any random degree.

Unfortunately, he had responsibilities. He could not alleviate his boredom, because he was in the most boring place on earth.

A party. Not a party by any normal person’s standards, but one of his adoptive father’s galas. Even more horrifying, Bruce Wayne was in attendance. He was doing his billionaire playboy persona, and Tim couldn’t stomach it. It was no shock no one else had shown up. Even Dick was busy in Bludhaven, and he sometimes enjoyed these. Sometimes.

And once again, as every year, the birthday girl was nowhere to be seen.

Tim’s eyes rove over the very boring gala. Your gala, for your birthday. You weren’t here, because you never were. He couldn’t blame you. These balls sucked, even the better ones. This one was miserable, and the atmosphere was sombre. While it was your birthday, it was more than that, a day of death.

Your family had died, Bruce’s new wife had died, and all the siblings he never really got the opportunity to meet, gone in a brilliant flash.

And Jason. Jason, who now walked the earth again, flesh and blood. Jason, who tore himself through a wooden coffin and grave dirt. Jason, who even Dick couldn’t seem to bring back into the family. Jason, alive and well and probably spending the night at Roy’s house. It was still the anniversary of his death, and while Jason did his best to put on a front, anyone with half a brain could tell he found today… upsetting.

But, he was alive. That was more than Tim could say for your family.

None of these people knew that. They saw one of the great Wayne’s dead, and they mourned. They saw the new wife and step-children of Bruce Wayne dead, and they lamented. Tim was sure most of it was faked, at least in this gala. The rest of the city truly grieved the Wayne family's tragedy. Especially Jason, one of the princes of the city. But here? No, they just wanted to rub shoulders with Bruce.

The man you very clearly insisted had never been your father, and never would be, was… probably a little sad. Tim was probably a little sadistically pleased about that. He was bored, alright? Anyway, Bruce did not know how to deal with you, and you with him. Both of you were stubborn people, unable to communicate or reach a place of cooperation. You never showed up to the galas or the manor, you did everything in your power to never have to interact with anyone from the family. The only reason you even still lived in Gotham was to be close to your dead family. And above all, you made sure that everyone knew how much you hated Bruce. That the sight of his aging face made you nauseous. Everyone else found that hilarious, of course.

And Bruce, because he was stubborn, kept trying to reach you, despite your angry protests. Even if he had absolutely zero legal ties to you, he still kept trying. And so, another birthday party passes without its leading star. The memorial tomorrow would be missing you too. Christmas, easter, hanukkah, new years, Rosh Hashanah, you refused to show up to any of them.

Still, he had to agree with Bruce. They couldn’t just leave you. Not with the way you were.

You’d once quietly admitted to him that you hoped you’d one day go to sleep and not wake up. That you’d rot away in your room, disappear from the world entirely. That was one of the last few times he talked to you face-to-face. And then a few months after that, you’d blocked him on all social media.

He’d read hundreds of books on therapy, and he knew what suicidal idealisation looked like. Luckily for his sanity, he was not your therapist, nor was he your keeper.

That was poor old Dick’s job, and he was, hilariously, failing at it. Badly. Technically, you were the second massive failure Dick had taken on, and it was starting to show in his mental state. Old Dickie was spending more and more time in Bludhaven, preferring to patrol there instead of Gotham. Still, he insisted he could get through to you. Tim was doubtful. Dick had better luck with Jason, of all people.

Jason actually wanted to be a part of this family. You hated them all, viciously. And so, you’d obviously never show up at-

Wait. Wait, no. He definitely recognised that face. Why the hell were you here? Well, that was irritating. Tim prided himself on being prepared for any situation, for any unlikelihood. He was the son who would be taking over Wayne Enterprises, after all.

You being in the same room as Bruce Wayne was impossible. Completely impossible. At least willingly. You should be kicking and screaming, scratching like a hellcat at anyone who tried to make you stay. Instead, you’re standing in the middle of a crowd, chugging back champagne like your life depends on it. He could already imagine the chaos the media would be starting, to his misery. ‘Estranged ex-Wayne shows up at birthday gala and drinks like a fish’. Well, he had been complaining about being bored. Careful what you wish for, and all.

Shit. He was not prepared for this.

He was, despite it being your birthday, not at all expecting you to be here. He didn’t even have a present. Shit. He pulls out his phone and shoots off an order to his assistant, who would probably go to Dick’s for help.

He sees you over there, obviously uncomfortable, and realises he should probably rescue you. He tells himself he should, that he’s gonna get up and go do it.

Instead, he crosses his legs at the ankle, leans back in his chair, and watches. You won’t catch him off guard twice. He has his pride, after all.

You throw another glass of champagne back. Tim winces. Okay, maybe you might. This was all a bit of a shock. And the rest of the gala seemed just as surprised at your appearance as he was. They obviously didn’t know what to do about you, creating a wide ring of people who refused to step closer to you. And you seem oblivious to the social pariah you have suddenly become. Or maybe uncaring, as you’ve already claimed an entire buffet table and champagne tray for yourself.

Just… just drinking. You seem to only care about ingesting more alcohol and confectionaries. It’s your twenty-first, but uh… this definitely doesn’t look like the first time you’ve been drinking. Not that he cared if this was your first time drinking. He’d done his fair share of illegal activities. Sure, they were mostly superhero stuff, but still illegal. Frankly, it’s kind of impressive. You might even be able to drink Jason or Alfred under the table.

…Good for you, he guesses. A talent’s a talent.

He realises, after a few minutes, that you have absolutely zero plans of socialising. You’d showed up here of your own free will, and then just scared off anyone who’d talk to you. Not that there’d be many who’d be interested in talking to the swaying woman who looked like a threat to herself and everyone around her. No, you were still just drinking. You’d gotten halfway down the buffet table, trying every single cake and a few of the savoury items as well.

You kept circling back to have more champagne and Victorian sponge, and then you’d go back to wherever you were in the buffet and try something from there. Your choices seemed sporadic, and more than once you spat something back out into a napkin. You look at some of the dishes like you think they might be poisonous, taking wide circles around them.

He rests his elbows on the table, leaning forward to press his face to his intertwined fingers. He’s definitely past the point where he should go help you. You’re making a mess, both physically and socially, and yet, he still just sits there. He can’t help himself, it’s interesting.

“Tim.”

Uh oh, your knight in shining armor is here. Or well, dark. Bruce had never been known for pastels. Tim turns his head to the giant man blocking out the light, giving his father and leader a smile.

“Hey Dad,” he greets, in an open attempt at manipulation.

Bruce shakes his head, not caving begrudgingly like he usually did. Shit, that usually worked. Guess he must be actually mad. He glances from Tim to the object of Tim’s apt fascination. You. He turns back, looking down at Tim with his ‘I’m trying to be a good dad’ look. It’s not very convincing.

“How long has she been doing this?” Bruce asks, straight to the point as always.

“Twenty-seven minutes. You’re ruining my process,” Tim replies, telling B to screw off in the kindest way possible. He doesn’t take the hint, because he’s a bit of an ass. Even Batman fanboy Tim could recognise that.

“You can’t just count when someone is getting drunk in front of the public. You need to actually do something.” Bruce shakes his head, hand lifting to massage his brow. It was just that easy to give the old man a migraine. Poor baby probably needed some Ibruprofen. Tim had some in his pocket, but he wasn’t going to offer.

“I was going to eventually. And aren’t you curious? She refuses to show her face for months, and then pops out of the blue to… what? Steal from your liquor cabinet? She knows she doesn’t have to come to get whatever she wants,” Tim ignores B’s nagging, turning his gaze back to you. You’re having a love affair with that cake, honestly. Oh, you’re going for another shot… You do realise the stuff you’re chugging goes for millions, right?

You probably don’t care. You never had about money.

“It doesn’t matter. She’s here, and we should be taking care of her. This is obviously her reaching out for help, and she obviously needs it,” B insists, splaying his worn and scarred hands over the table. Tim has the same hands, everyone in the family does. Vigilante work left scars and callouses.

“Then why hasn’t she come over here, yet? My theory is she’s just trying to smear your good image. Which doesn’t need smearing in the first place, but who understands the minds of young, drunk and miserable women?” Certainly not Tim, as he had proven in his relationship with Stephanie.

“Tim, enough with the sass. Go and help her.”

“She’s not your responsibility anymore, B.”

“Her mother would disagree. Now go,” Bruce orders, his words final. Because they always are, in the end.

Tim groans, letting his head fall back. He glares at the ceiling and all the sparkling diamonds strewn about, and then he pulls himself to his feet. Cracks his shoulders, and parts the Red Sea with a glance. The crowd in the gala splits so the young heir can easily find his way through, and he gives everyone he passes a kind smile.

He strides up to your side, calmly waiting for you to notice him. You’re still imbibing, completely oblivious to his presence. It’s funny. And fascinating. Usually, you were so paranoid that he wondered how you weren’t always a single breath away from a panic attack. Like a feral animal, ready at a moment’s notice to fight or flight.

He sees that you’re dealing with those social anxieties in a way befitting the Wayne name. Which is to say, absolutely shit. His head tilts eyes flickering over you. You don’t look too good, which is no real surprise. Even with your people’s perfect styling, they can’t cover up the shaking and sweating in your form. It might just be anxiety, but knowing you, it’s probably not. He wonders if you even notice how sick you are.

You don’t look like you notice much of anything. Maybe the cake, but that seemed to be pushing it.

“Oh, so you actually showed up? Colour me surprised,” Tim starts but is unable to continue when you spin on your heel and drop your flute of champagne. It crashes to the ground, and he finds his socks becoming uncomfortably wet.

The two of you look up from the mess and meet gazes. Your mouth is open in horror, eyes comically wide. Tim has to bite the inside of his lip so as not to immediately burst into laughter.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, you do a weird crouch-pop-up movement, and then your eyes swivel around frantically, “I’m- am I supposed to clean this up? I can totally clean this up.”

You look just about ready to kneel into a pile of thin glass shards, so Tim stops you. Because God knows Bruce would hang him from the rafters if he didn’t.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Somebody else will handle this. It’s your birthday after all, right?” he says, giving you a charming smile. It’s sort of a shock when you don’t scoff at him, and instead just stand there with a deer-in-headlights sort of look.

“Hey, are you alright?” Tim asks when you don’t say anything else.

You startle, and then blink at him rapidly. Distracted and inebriated. Lovely. He doesn’t think you know what you’re doing here either, which was a bad sign for your mental health. Have you been refusing to go to your therapist again?

It wasn’t like he went either, so he couldn’t judge.

“I’m good,” you say, your words only slightly slurred. You blink again, your head cants towards the floor, and then you glance back up at him. You look like he’s caught you committing a crime. “Do you- uh, want some of the cake? Sorry for stealing it all, it’s really good.”

You were acting… really strange. Tim found himself with the undeniable urge to follow along with your strangeness.

“You know what? Yes, yes I would,” he says, taking one of the little plates of strawberry cake and a delicate three-tonged fork. He scoops up some of the cake, the cream and jam, and eats. Chewing he keeps staring at you, as you fidget awkwardly. It’s good, but all the food here’s good.

“Did you like it?” you try to smile at him, but it looks more like a grimace.

“I did. Javier did really well with these desserts,” Tim says, before waving over one of the staff to clean up the mess the two of you are ignoring. You look surprised when he offers an arm to guide you away, and he wonders if you’ll accept it. He can’t imagine a world where you would, but today seems to be full of surprises. In the end, you do, but it takes you a good five seconds of awkward staring before you take it.

He takes you over to one of the tables, careful to make sure you don’t slip and fall face-first into the spreading champagne puddle.

“Oh. Is he the chef?”

“He’s the pâtissier.”

You give him a blank stare. Right, you probably don't speak French.

“The pastry chef,” Tim clarifies, as he helps you find your chair. You slump down with zero grace, and for a second Tim thinks you’ll fall right off. You manage not to with a desperate grasp at the table. Good for you.

“Oh, cool. That’s super cool. I think I love this Javier guy, honestly.”

Tim snorts, taking his own seat, “He has that effect on people.”

You’re not looking at him, instead grimacing at the mess you made that two of the staff are cleaning up. Tim’s sort of surprised. It wasn’t that you had been particularly mean to the employees before, but you rarely acknowledged them. You had barely acknowledged anyone, completely unaware of your effect on the greater world. You didn’t care. To be fair, it didn’t seem like you cared about anything but your family’s gravestones and memorials.

Still, there was definitely something different about you, today. And he couldn’t blame it all on the alcohol. Today, you looked a little green about the whole accident. Like you actually gave a shit. Maybe you’d had a change of heart. He hoped you had, for Dick’s sake. You looked more alive, even if it was a confused, embarrassed, uncomfortable sort of alive. It was still an improvement. Usually, your expression was dead, a blank stare. It reminded him of Jason’s as he’d been lowered into the ground.

The two of you wouldn’t like that comparison. And it’s hypocritical too, Tim knows he sometimes resembles a zombie after one of his little sessions.

He can’t help himself. He’s curious, so damn curious. What had prompted this miraculous shift? And plus, you could still be planning something, even if it was seeming more and more like you’d stumbled in here drunk and confused, not able to remember you hated them all. Maybe you had a concussion or something. A head wound sounded like a good explanation for all this.

“Why’d you show up here today?” he finally asks, caving quickly to his need to understand.

You give him a weird look like he’s the one being strange.

“It’s my birthday.”

Tim tilts his head. “That it is.”

“Was that- that the wrong answer?”

“I don’t know, was it?” Tim knows he should stop playing with you. You’re making it far too easy, though. And he's bored, damn it.

“I don’t know either. That’s… that’s why I’m asking you.”

Before he can react to the strangeness of that comment some (awfully rudely, might he add) intrude on your conversation. One of the board members of W.E., someone he had to pay the proper respect to. When his hand slaps down on Tim’s shoulder, he has to suppress a withering sigh. There were less fun parts to his job, and this was one of them

“Drake! It’s so good to see you,” the old man greets, and it takes even Tim a second to remember his name.

“Lancaster! You as well,” Tim replies, noticing your barely there flinch.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you tonight. My project’s funds are running a little low, and everyone knows you’re the one to go to for an easier time. Bruce is a great leader but…” the man chuckles, and Tim grins at him. It’s fake, of course. When in Rome, they say.

“A bit strict, yes. I have struggled with his attitude before, too.” Understatement of the century.

Tim glances at your quiet form, eyes set on the tablecloth in front of you. Even still it’s obvious you’re listening to their conversation, head cocked just slightly to the right. The board member doesn’t even seem to notice you. Tim’s curious if he recognises you.

You’d been out of the public eye for so long he wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t. That’s the way you’d wanted it to be, after all.

“But let’s talk about this later, I’m entertaining a very tipsy birthday girl at the moment,” Tim says, hoping you don’t mind him using you as an excuse.

“Oh wow!” Lancaster cries, at your mere presence. Subtlety is not this man’s strength, “I didn’t see you there. Wow, jeez. Didn’t think you’d be here today. What made you change your mind?”

You give him a long, assessing look. Whatever you find makes you pull an expression like you sucked on a sour lemon.

“My assistant forced me to,” you answer honestly. Seems you’ve realised that ‘it’s your birthday’ isn’t an adequate reason. Not that you’ve never failed to reject any and all pressure to attend these events before. Like Tim had said, kicking and screaming.

“Ha! I know the feeling. Well, I’ll leave you two kids to it. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” the old man chortles, gives you a wink, and leaves. Your gaze follows him into the crowd, and stays there, even when he disappears behind it.

It’s quiet for a moment. Tim waits for you to speak first.

“Who was that man?” you finally ask.

“Charles Lancaster, one of the newest board members of Wayne Enterprises,” Tim says, surprised you’re curious. You’d never been interested in W.E. or anything involving the family. Surprised, surprised, surprised. He should just accept any odd behaviour from you at this point, start expecting it.

You slump in your chair, pressing your forehead against the table. Then, you let out a long, unhappy, groan. Tim gets it, he really does. He does not get what you do next.

Your hands slap against your cheeks, and Tim jerks in his seat. Okay, maybe Bruce was right, you probably do need help. He couldn’t imagine the big guy sending you to Arkham, though. It was obvious you were only a threat to yourself. You take a deep breath, completely ignore his confused stare and get to your feet.

And you immediately fall sideways.

Tim’s arm shoots out, grabbing yours before you crash into the shining marble floors. You look down at him, mirroring his shocked expression. You look down further down, and Tim follows your gaze.

Your stilettoed heel looks the same as it always does. Still, you stare at it like it’s a shark biting at your toes. Tim thinks this is one of the first real emotions you’ve shown in months, and it’s desperate fear of your shoes.

“I told her I can’t wear heels,” you say, more to yourself than him.

“What? Yes, you can. You wear heels to all these events,” he replies anyway.

“What- Well, I meant… heels this tall. They’re really tall.”

He just blinks at you, at the inanity of your statement. They were really tall, but Tim had seen you wear taller. Why were you lying about something like this? Had you drunk too much and were too embarrassed to mention it? Or maybe you’d hurt yourself?

He looks down at your ankle again. No, the flesh seems unharmed. And you hadn’t been walking with a limp earlier, you were just stumbling around now. Must really just be too much champagne. You’d already dropped a glass earlier and had been obviously embarrassed by it. Even if Jeanine had swept in just like she was supposed to, fixing the situation. You’d apologised profusely.

He’d never heard you apologise before. It’s… well, it’s strange. That’s the only way he can describe this encounter.

“You can let go of me now. Please?”

Tim lets you go, and you rub your arm. Shit, he grabbed you too hard. He knew you were on the delicate side, wasting away both mentally and physically. You didn’t take care of yourself and rarely even left your apartment. Even now you looked oddly sickly.

“I’m going to uh- I have to go pee,” you say, and immediately wince at your words.

Tim, without thinking, replies, “Go piss girl.”

You make a shocked choke of laughter, nod at him, and then run off as fast as you can while grasping every piece of furniture in your reach. You look genuinely ridiculous. Well, it’s not the first time a Wayne gala has turned into a clown show. Compared to Dick’s younger years, this was completely unnoticeable.

Bruce still loved to complain about the chandelier he’d broken in an impromptu trapeze show. It’d been diamond, and over a hundred years old. The ones above him now were just as expensive, but not vintage. Jason thought it was hilariously funny, and was always trying to get Dick to do it again. Luckily, Dick had matured, if only a little bit.

Speaking of which, this is a perfect opportunity to mess with Dick. He pulls out his phone and the secure channel they use to communicate. Dick was in Bludhaven right now, probably on patrol. Doing something fun. Sure, tonight had gotten more interesting, but you’d just run off and with you his only entertainment. Tim was bitterly envious of Dick’s fun, and because of that, he had to make Dick just a little more miserable. Just to make things even, of course.

‘Smartest_Robin’: guess who just showed up to her own birthday party?

‘Underwear_guy’: you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. why?

‘Smartest_Robin’: hell if I know. she’s drunk as hell lmao

‘Underwear_guy’: please don’t let her do anything stupid.

‘Smartest_Robin’: yeah, yeah. i’m the idiot who has to deal with the fallout anyway

‘Underwear_guy’: how’s it feel being the ‘favourite son’?

Tim snorts. The media often called him that, purely because it was well known he was the one inheriting W.E. It was hot gossip that it was Tim and not Damian, the proudly stated ‘blood son’. They didn’t know Damian was inheriting an even greater responsibility. And it wasn’t like he particularly wanted it, he just knew he was best for the job and it helped the time pass in between missions. It was fun sometimes, too. He enjoyed giving Luthor Corp a good thrashing every now and then.

‘Smartest_Robin’: same as always. im bored, anything interesting going on over there?

‘Underwear_guy’: bludhaven’s my city, dickhead. go do taxes or something

Tim sighs, and puts the phone back down. He had to try, at least. When it becomes obvious you are absolutely not returning from the bathrooms anytime soon, he gets up, adjusts his cuffs, and walks back off into the fray.

He greets and shakes hands, he takes photos and makes deals. It’s all a blur, really. He does it with half his attention, the other focused entirely on you. Amidst all this pomp and splendour an intriguing new mystery has been born. A puzzle to hold his attention, just for long enough till he gets to the next one. And your sudden shift in personality is more than enough. And if he focused on that, he could get through all this politics.

He’s talking up a chairman of a rival company when the lights go out. When the windows shatter inwards, his heart starts to race. And when familiar masked thugs break in through the wide open doors, guns up and ready, he’s already prepared for the fight. People start screaming, scrambling, and even more gunmen follow through the side exits. While guards raise their own firearms, everybody knows they’re completely outnumbered.

The Joker’s here, and he’s brought his army. Well, shit, all this excitement, and Tim left his suit upstairs. Guess he’ll have to improvise.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

[gilverrwrites]

Bat Feeder

AN: I keep seeing those rich people social media posts where people fill Dollie’s up with snacks and leave them outside for delivery drivers, and imagining doing something similar for the bats. Bat-Fam/Reader, 1K words (Batman, Harley Quinn, Nightwing, Red Hood, Robin, Signal, and Spoiler) CWs: None, just a silly little fluff fic. GN! Reader

It starts small, just a tray with some water bottles, packs of gum, maybe some protein bars and a multi-pack of chips you bought but didn’t like. You write ‘For Batman, Robin, and other vigilantes; Thanks for what you do :)‘ in Sharpie on the front of the tray and leave it on your balcony, not really expecting much, it was just a silly thought after too much doom scrolling.

It goes untouched for weeks, you’ve almost forgotten about it until one night, at like 2 AM you hear the sound of heavy boots walking on metal grate, so faint you would have missed it if you’d been asleep. Curious, you peek through your curtain and there’s Red Hood!

He stands there for a long time, motionless as he seems to stare at it, helmet hiding any real emotion until he pockets a pack of gum and water before leaving, dropping down into the street.

News must spread amongst the other heroes cause within a few days the basket is nearly empty. Enthused, the next time you go to the store you pick up some new items, just a few extra bits that are within your budget; chips that don’t taste like cardboard, candy, and energy drinks.

Your efforts are clearly appreciated as you wind up having to restock every couple of days. The energy drinks are the biggest takers, and you worry you might be supplying the younger ones with high amounts of caffeine that they shouldn’t be having.

One day you’re scrolling through insta during your work break and see Spoiler has posted a masked selfie of herself holding up a chocolatey protein bar with the caption ‘Perks of the job! 💜⭐️ #thankyoukindcivilian’ or something like that. In the back of the photo you see your basket and you’re elated.

Another day you wake up to a note wedged halfway through your window, it’s from Robin, stating that he’s a vegan and if it’s not too much trouble could you cater to that. The same day you dump a bunch of fruit that you were never gonna eat anyway into the basket and hope it will hold over until your next trip to the store where you spend ages examining the dietary information of everything you pick up, eventually finding a couple of items you hope he’ll like.

Your efforts are appreciated because the next day you find another note from him offering his gratitude.

After the novelty has worn off it dies down, you fall into a routine; they never take too much, so you only have to top it up every few weeks. Until one morning you wake up to find it completely ransacked, your sign has been scribbled out, replaced by the words: ‘THX 4 THE SNACKS’, and a bunch of doodles. You suspect Harley Quinn since one of the drawings is her trademark 3 of diamonds.

Unsure how to proceed, you clean up the mess and bring it inside. You don’t want to attract danger, but you did enjoy doing it. The graffitied tray sits by the door for a long time while you consider what to do, more and more forgotten with each day.

That’s until there’s a knock on your balcony door in the middle of the night. Seems ominous, risky in a city like Gotham, especially after what happened with Harley, but just like that night with Red Hood, you can’t help but investigate.

When you poke your head around the curtain you find Nightwing staring back at you. He smiles and waves to you like you’re long-time friends and it does a lot to ease your shock.

“Um, hi. Can I help you?” You ask as you open the door.

“Uh, maybe, see, I came all the way from Blüdhaven cause I was told there would be snacks.” He replies, dramatically looking around your balcony as he speaks. “But there’s no snacks.”

“Yeah. I stopped after Harley Quinn vandalised it.” You gesture to the now discarded red and black tray. “But I have some chocolate, if you want some. Or do you like Cheez-Its?”

“You don’t have to do that.” He sounds disappointed.

“No it’s fine, it’s no trouble, wait here!”

You raid your kitchen before returning with a handful of snacks and drinks from your own supply and offer them Nightwing.

“Oh wow, Thanks!”

You didn’t have to, but you’re glad you did. He has such a genuinely giddy look on his face.

“Really though, we don’t do it for the free stuff, we appreciate it a lot.” He speaks between mouthfuls of M&Ms. “If you ever wanted to do it again, I wouldn’t worry about Harley. She's mostly harmless to civilians these days.”

He thanks you a few more times before leaving to finish his patrol, but not before warning; “Hey, don’t open your door for any more strangers in the middle of the night, yeah? Well, unless they’re as handsome as me.”

Harley being mostly harmless doesn’t fill you with confidence, but you figure if those guys are brave enough to risk their lives fighting crime, you can be brave enough to put a box of treats outside. This time with a new sign that reads “For Bats, birds, other vigilantes, and Harley Quinn ♥️”

You hope including her might make her less likely to lash out.

From there everything falls back into normality for a while, you even start adding seasonal treats for special occasions, until eventually, they seem to stop by less and less, perhaps they grew bored or maybe you’re not a convenient stop on their latest patrol route, you don’t really mind, you persist.

Every now and again on your days off you’ll spot signal stopping by, he always gives you a smile and a thumbs up when he sees you watching him.

After months and months, maybe a year or so it happens. The big one. You’re struggling to sleep one night, the flat just feels too hot, too claustrophobic. Overwhelmed by it you storm outside, needing the night sky and its cold air but when you get there you’re greeted by an imposing shadow of a man, Batman. He’s holding a half-drunk bottle of water and his entire body is so stock still, you’re not even sure if he’s real or a statue. After a solid minute of silent staring you quietly step back inside, count to 30, and re-emerge. He’s gone, completely dissolved into the darkness of the night with half a bottle of water and a snack pack of mint Oreos.

[revehae]

OK DONT JUDGE ME THO 😒😒 so instead of naive stepsis asking about normal sex and bla bla she asks about what rape is and he well… shows her

like it’s so cornyyyy but………. say u see my vision

i had to let this linger for a bit but you know what… i can work with it. changing it up a itty bitty pinch because i don’t like overly-innocent reader and i feel like not knowing what rape is is less believable than not knowing what a creampie is lol // tw noncon, stepcest

stealing stepbro!member’s laptop because yours is currently being repaired and you really, really need it as you’re a college student with a slew of assignments to complete. you’re not necessarily nosy and you do close out all his tabs because he has an excessive amount of them open, too many for your own comfort, but you see just a bit of the last one’s title before it disappears before you can even finish. all you saw was “Hardcore Non Con,” and it piqued your curiosity, but you focused on your own task rather than whatever he has going on. it’s none of your business anyway and getting these assignments turned in is way, way more important.

all is good until stepbro!member walks into your room, about to ask if you’ve seen his laptop, and sort of panics when he sees you with the item in question. he asks you what you’re doing with it, why you didn’t ask if you could borrow it, and more importantly, what you saw. you tell him that you didn’t see anything, you closed out all his tabs, and teasingly ask what he’s hiding. then your mind darts back to the fraction of that last tab that you saw, and you ask him “what’s noncon?” your voice and face too innocent for him to even think that you’re just asking to taunt him. no, you genuinely have no idea.

he chuckles. he’s less panicky now and mostly just upset that you took his laptop without permission. “you really didn’t click the tab, did you?” he asks, considering if you had, the answer would have been right there on the page glaring at you. when you shake your head, he closes the door behind himself. “would you rather me tell you or show you?” he questions. you think about it for a second, not really sure. “show me…?” you reply reluctantly. assuming a demonstration would be harmless.

you’re confused when stepbro!member crawls into your bed, sliding his laptop away and climbing on top of you. doesn’t answer when you ask him what he’s doing, doesn’t quit when you tell him to stop, tugging at your clothes and biting at your neck and pinching at your chest when he frees your breasts from your shirt. you feel so exposed, so dirty and violated. when you try to conceal yourself with your hands, he tugs them above your head none too gently and smacks you across the face with his free hand.

tears sting your eyes now. you try to shake your head as he tugs at your shorts. “i don’t want it,” you whimper amongst more desperate pleas for him to stop. “yes you do. you told me to show you,” he reminds you, landing a smack on your clothed cunt. your thighs tense. “you’re gonna learn your fucking lesson.”

he sinks into you without much more lubricant than his saliva. a defeated sound falls from your lips as he does, more tears welling at your eyes as you sob brokenly. you squirm underneath him, trying to wrest yourself free but to no avail. stepbro!member chuckles, releasing your hands and tugging at your hair roughly as he says, “you took what you wanted without asking, so why shouldn’t i?”

[2tcs]

Day 6: Forgetting an important date and offense

DeadTired: Tim

TheBloodSon: Damian

WingDing: Dick

PurplePower: Steph

Shadow: Cass

GlowStick: Duke

UndeadDrama: Jason

SpaceCadet: Danny

Alfred: Alfred

B Less Batchat

Feb 9, 11:15 AM

DeadTired

“I don’t think you understand the 

importance of getting a third

party to” bla bla bla

I sware. Some of these old farts

just need to retire already.

PurplePower

But if they retired then the world might figure

out that we don’t need them.

Shadow 

🤯

WingDing

Just a little longer Tim then your home free

DeadTired

Easy for you to say. I have three meetings

after this. And all of them could be covered

in an email. But I swear that none of these

Old hats even know what an email is.

SpaceCadet

ducks to be you

Ducks

Ducks

DeadTired

It’s okay. Take your time.

SpaceCadet

Fuds you

wtf?

PurplePower

🤣😂🤣

Shadow

😂

WingDing

Autocorrect strikes again.

TheBloodSon

Please cease this irritating conversation.

Some of us have important work to do.

GlowStick

This is kinda the highlight of my patrol.

But I remember when I was in school.

Don’t let the teachers see you texting.

TheBloodSon

Tt. As if they would catch me.

SpaceCadet

Aren’t you at lunch right now

Damian? Besides you could

just put your phone on mute.

PurplePower

Ooo Snap!

TheBloodSon

That is irrelevant. You all need to

focus on your duties instead of

complaining about frivolous things.

WingDing

Aw. Look how responsible you are!

PurplePower

Our little boy is growing so fast. 😭

Shadow

😢

DeadTired

Some day he will be all grown up

and too smart to hang out with us

simpleton.

TheBloodSon

I am already too smart for a plebian

like you Drake.

SpaceCadet

Lol

Sit down, pleb.

Oh before I forget

The 12 is my dd so I

won’t be available.

Shadow

👍

WingDing

👍

GlowStick

👍

DeadTired

👍

PurplePower

👍

TheBloodSon

Tt

UndeadDrama

QUIT SPAMING MY PHONE!

Alfred

Might I suggest you all return to your

duties?

Feb 10, 8:30 PM

SpaceCadet

Where is everyone?

Shadow

❓

SpaceCadet

I’m in the cave but no one else is.

DeadTired

Lol

Check the time.

Alfred

Young master. I can hear you all the way

in the manor. Please mind your language

And remember to place a quarter in the

jar.

SpaceCadet

Sorry Alfred

Feb 11, 6:00 AM

DeadTired

GUYS! I JUST FIGURED IT OUT!!!

I KNOW WHAT COFFEE SHOP

DANNY GOES TO!!!!

DANNY YOU ARE SUCH A SELFISH

AHOLE!!! THEY GAVE ME A 12OZ 

OF STRAIT ESPRESSO SHOTS!!!

Alfred

Master Tim. Master Danny. If you would 

please meet me in the kitchen at exactly 

6:30 am I would very much appreciate it.

SpaceCadet

Tim. I am sorry to inform you

that we are no longer friends.

DeadTired

GET BENT DEAD BOY!

SpaceCadet

Alfred? Tim hasn’t gone to sleep

since February 7th. He has set

up an alarm system to tell him

when you are coming up the 

stairs to the family wing so

he can pretend to be asleep

when you check on him.

DeadTired

YOU TRAITER!

SpaceCadet

Oh, hay! Thanks Tim! Now

I have my own theme music

for the day!

DeadTired

NO! SUFFER!!!

UndeadDrama

Why the heck is the Barbie song

playing next door…

Never mind. I just read the texts.

SpaceCadet

I′m a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world

Life in plastic, it's fantastic

You can brush my hair, undress me everywhere

Imagination, life is your creation

DeadTired

GO EAT A DICK!

SpaceCadet

I think Kory would unalive me if

I tried to eat your brother.

DeadTired

ALSKDJFA;OLSDIFJKA;SOLKDF

Feb 11, 9:15 AM

UndeadDrama

I hate to inform everyone but

Danny’s phone has unfortunately passed

away.

GlowStick

R.I.P.

What song was it playing?

UndeadDrama

Crazy Frog. Auto-tuned Crazy Frog.

WingDing

Isn’t that song already auto-tuned?

UndeadDrama

This was worse. So much worse.

Think Alvin and the Chipmunks 

level of pitch with the weird 

auto-tune echo.

PurplePower

On this day we say goodbye to

a good phone. Taken from us

too soon. Please light a candle

for our fallen comrade. 🕯️

WingDing

🕯️

Shadow

🕯️

GlowStick

🕯️

UndeadDrama

🕯️

GlowStick has invited (888) XXX-XXXX 

to the chat.

(888) XXX-XXXX  has changed their name to 

DieHard.

DieHard

🕯️

DeadTired

YOU WILL SUFFER!!!

Feb 12, 10 AM

GlowStick

Hay. Has anyone seen Danny?

He wasn’t in class today.

TheBloodSon

He is probably shirking his studies.

WingDing

Come on Dams. Danny likes that.

Hay Jason. Danny’s apartment is

Next to yours. Is he home?

Feb 12, 3:16 PM

UndeadDrama

Just woke up. I didn’t hear him get

back last night.

Feb 12, 3:30 PM

UndeadDrama

Just went through his apartment.

He’s not there and it doesn’t look

like anything’s been touched since

I was over yesterday.

Shadow

😱

PurplePower

That’s not like Danny. Sleep is sacred

to him. He would never purposely

Stay out later than his normal patrol.

GlowStick

He never showed up for class. I’m on

patrol rn so I’ll keep an eye out for him.

Shadow

🤕❓

WingDing

I don’t know Cass.

I’m coming to Gotham tonight

To help look for him.

UndeadDrama

I’m going to do a few rounds

in the alley. If I can’t find him 

before patrol, I’ll have some of

my men start nosing around.

Alfred

I will make sure the med bay is

prepped and ready. Please be safe

everyone.

DeadTired

👍

TheBloodSon

Of course.

WingDing

👍

PurplePower

👍

Shadow

👍

GlowStick

👍

UndeadDrama

Okay Alfi.

Feb 13, 7:35 AM

DieHard

Hay everyone. I just got

back in Gotham.

What did I miss?

WingDing

DANNY!!!

PurplePower

Danny! Where were you!

Shadow

🥺💔

DeadTired

WTF WAS YOUR TRACKER?

WHY WAS YOUR PHONE

UNTRACABLE?!

GlowStick

Dude! Are you okay?

TheBloodSon

Tt. I do not see a reason for you

all to be so concerned.

DieHard

DID YOU ALL FORGET

ABOUT MY DEATH DAY?!

DISSHONER! DISSHONER

ON YOU! DISSHONER ON 

YOUR COW!

Alfred

Young Master Danny. I am happy

To hear you are back. If you would

be so kind please come by the

manor, I would greatly appreciate it.

DieHard

Of course Alfred.

Feb 13, 2:50 PM

UndeadDrama

Danny! Your back!

DieHard

🖕

UndeadDrama

😢

DieHard

🖕🖕

UndeadDrama

😭

[artificial-transmutations]

Can you believe it?

10.02.2024

Can you fucking believe it?

As most of you know, I'm working for LifeCorp, and you won't believe what they just did to me! I'm pissed!

My job is, apparently, becoming 'obsolete' with the whole AI thing bla bla bla. But! Of course, they don't want to fire me. Instead, they're offering me alternative positions. So far so good, right? But do you know which positions they offered me?

- Security Guard

- Janitor

- Escort

Not that bad, right? I mean I don't have the skillset for any of those, but that is apparently no problem, because these jobs come with a fucking mandatory life change if I take them?

Apparently, my usual charming self is not enough:

What kind of bullshit is this? Normal companies ask you to move if you want to keep your job, LifeCorp requires you take on a whole new body, just to keep working for them.

You think that's outrageous? It gets better. Apparently, none of those jobs is suitable for a woman. I can be a male security guard, a male janitor or a male escort. And when I complained about it, they just said that for security guard and janitor, a strong body is a requirement, and they have enough female escorts already. What a bunch of assholes! There's absolutely no way I'm gonna take one of those jobs.

Love, Tracy

***

14.02.2024

Have you seen LifeCorp's newest shit post? The valentine's day special? The audacity!

Stacy and Zara are now fricking men? No doubt they have been bullied to make that change. You know what this company has? A fucking frat-boy attitude. More and more people are becoming guys, "BeCaUsE tHeY wAnT tO". Bullshit. It's clear to me that the upper management wants to see more dick in their company. Probably a cocksucker like Stacy and Zara have become. I'll talk to them first chance tomorrow.

Oh, and Matthew? Why would anyone want to become a Latino?!

Love, Tracy

***

18.02.2024

Okay, I talked to Stacy and Zara (No, I won't call them "Steel and Zacharias", these are still women!). They were all "Oh, we're so much happier now" and "We're finally being our true selves" and "You should do the same, really."

It's a fucking brainwash. I mean, they haven't been right in their mind to begin with (they had the delusion of being a couple - ha! Couples are one man and one woman, nothing else!), but it's becoming veeery clear to me that they have been forced and brainwashed. And I will find proof for that!

Love, Tracy

***

18.02.2024 - 2

Okay, I'm fuming now. I told my boyfriend about that whole job situation. And you know what he said? You know what he fucking said?

"Ok. Do whatever makes you happy."

He just said "Ok" and was all cool about it! He even had the audacity to tell me that they didn't force me to do anything and that I could just find a new job if I didn't want any of that bodies.

But the best part is still to come. He said, and I quote, "Just make sure to ask them to make me gay if you take any of those jobs, so we can still be together." I mean... wow. That's a reason for a breakup just there. He's a fricking man, or at least that's what I thought up until now. The thought of becoming gay should have been something that made him sick!

But, oh no. He's fine with it. Disgusting! I need to re-think this relationship.

Love, Tracy

***

19.02.2024

I have a plan!

I'm going to accept one of LifeCorps offers. No, hear me out. I'm gonna accept - and then I'll sue them. Discrimination, kidnapping, something like that. I'm gonna be rich. Oh, and about my boyfriend? He's gonna have it his way. I'll make sure they make him the fag he begs to be and then break up with him. This'll teach him. Good thing he doesn't read this feed.

I'm just too clever for this world. Take that, LifeCorp!

Gonna take the janitor, though. With all their fake diversity and stuff, the guard and escort probably aren't even white.

Love, Tracy

***

22.02.2024

I just got a letter congratulating me on my choice and that they are happy to keep me as an employee. Ha. If these losers knew.

Love, Tracy

***

26.02.2024

Holy shit! How do you guys even walk with that thing?

Needless to say, I got my new body. Here's what I look like now:

Apparently, they meant it well with me, cause my new dick is just... enormous. And they gave me some huge balls to match it, too.

The muscles aren't all that bad, either - I just feel big and powerful all around. The hair will take some getting used to, but it's not for long, after all. After I sue them, I'll demand my original body back.

I do have to admit, I'm feeling good, though. So much more powerful, but calm and happy at the same time. I wonder if this is a guy thing or a me thing? Is that how my boyfriend feels all the time?

Oh, gosh. My boyfriend. He's probably gay already, so I should break up with...

But that would be really mean. Also, thinking about him just made my new member react. It's kinda straining my underwear now. These things really do have a mind of their own, right?

What was I writing about? Yes, my boyfriend. Why did I want to break up with him? I mean, he's just cute like a button, right? I just realize what a gigantic asshole I was, planning to break up with him. I'll have to apologize. Or, even better, I'll apologize by showing show him this huge package I got. That's what he wanted, right?

I should really go. Don't want to keep him waiting.

...

You know what? I think I'll try out this new life before I make any more rushed decision. So far, I enjoy being a dude a lot and I'm actually looking forward to my new job. And my new-old boyfriend. And they didn't even force me to do anything. Perhaps I should ask them to adjust my ethnicity later on, though - I feel a bit more adventurous now. Also, I think I'll go by Trace now. It's an unusual name, but I like it.

Sorry for being such an ass before. Well, speaking of ass - off to get some.

Bye!

- Trace

[callmegaith]

The only thing ineffable bureaucracy showed me is how hyper focused this fanbase is at seeing one thing and one thing only and everything else is a result of that one thing

1) no, Beelzebub and Gabriel are not a straight couple. Nor is Crowley and Aziraphale a gay couple. Stop the non-binary erasure or go outside and talk to an actual non-binary person cuz clearly you have no clue what non-binary is "they're straight presenting" wtf? If you think that please give me your name so I can block you. Cis people, I fucking swear.

Reminder that Beelz used they/them pronouns btw. Sorry that Beelzebub doesn't "pass" for you, it doesn't make them any less non-binary. Not to mention it was stated and already IS CANON that none of them have genders. They're god damn demons and angels, bruh.

2) "it's Gabriel's and Beelz's fault that ineffable husbands didn't get their happy ending": no. It's their own damn fault for not communicating and Aziraphale's inability to accept Crowley as he is. Gabriel and Beelzebub put each other first. Y'all sound salty as hell cuz two people managed to work their relationship out and yours didn't work out. "But if they didn't get together---" y'all really saying shit like this??? Do you hear yourself? That's so sad. Wishing for the doom of one LGBTQ+ ship cuz the other fucked themselves over. THEY CAN BOTH CO-EXIST. And you know what? They will. Cuz Ineffable husbands is clearly canon, the story just wants time with them cuz they're the main characters, not like Beelz and Gabriel who were side characters so had their story summarized.

3) "that should have been ineffable husbands" no, cuz Crowley and Aziraphale aren't Gabriel and Beelzebub. They're different characters with different backgrounds, personalities, relationship structure, and different relationship dynamic in general. They'll get together in a way that fits THEM. And that way requires ups and downs that makes them finally understand that they're perfect for each other without the need for either of them to change.

4) Gabriel was such an asshole wish Crowley got his revenge and--- bla bla BLA : Crowley was happy for them. You hold a grudge over Gabriel that Crowley himself doesn't. Y'all worse than a literal demon. Smh.

Be happy for what we got and look forward to the future where ineffable husbands will certainly become canon and it'll be worth the wait. Don't tear down the LGBTQ+ presentation we got just cuz the main ship didn't get the limelight THIS TIME.

Let things cook, that's how writing WORKS.

But I'm just an Agender demi person and tbh? I would prefer if things took their time.

I love both ships a lot but I'm not gonna hold pitchforks over one ship getting a happy end and one still developing. Come next season, that happy end for Gaberiel and Beelzebub might not last. We DONT KNOW. Do we really need to sacrifice one for the other? Why can't we be happy to have both?

Just really think the vibe of the fanbase rn fuckin SUCKS and I'm not enjoying trying to go through the ineffable bureaucracy tag and seeing people complaining about how it should have been ineffable husbands or how it's their fault.

Okay? Alright.

After this imma start blocking ppl I swear. Just had to throw in my two cents.

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

Remember Everything

(Hurt/Comfort, Tommy's POV; 3,931 words)

Tommy knows what it feels like, crashing in a helicopter. Dropping out of the sky, helpless, without control –one minute you master a steel monster, force it to fly, and the next it spits you out like a piece of meat caught in its teeth.

However, there’s always a safeguard. Autorotation, for instance. If nothing helps, there might be an ejector seat. But sometimes the crash just can't be avoided. Sometimes, you fall very low.

These thoughts only last a few seconds. A few very fast heartbeats in which Tommy's mind tries like mad to compare whether this feels like a helicopter crash... because it's not. That's the profane, perhaps tragic thing about it: it's an ordinary fall.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

"I'll be on a hike," he'd said to Evan, "try to not dig up some corpses while I'm gone, I'll probably not have any signal in the mountains."

It was true, Evan had come into Tommy's life like a bolt from the blue, but he wasn't inflexible: ever since they'd been together, Tommy had precisely planned his leisure activities around their dates. Some of these things they did together – Evan was a vivid learner of Muay Thai. However, his boyfriend didn’t share his interest in hiking, nor did he have time for it, he was working a 48-hour. It was the perfect opportunity to try out the route from Crystal Lake to Throop Peak.

It was not an easy route, quite steep and strenuous, but it offered a fantastic view. When the sky was clear, you could supposedly see the Wilshire Grand Tower far to the southwest. The only problem was that with all the beautiful views and the undoubtedly not-so-easy ascent, Tommy had somehow overlooked that clouds had gathered in front of the sun, quite a while ago. This was not a hiking route for beginners, but he had behaved like one.

Within half an hour, when there was no time to climb any further - there was supposed to be a shelter - or back down, the weather changed. That sometimes happened in the mountains, Tommy knew that, but he had mostly experienced it from above. The abrupt graying of the horizon, the dull rumbling in the distance, the drop in temperature; none of this boded well. Tommy quickened his steps before the first drops fell, but when the thunder roared in his ears, he knew he wouldn't reach the shelter.

After this, everything went down the drain pretty quickly. The hiking trail turned into slippery mud and the rain was followed by heavy hail. Then, a lightning strike, just a few feet above Tommy, directly into a tree, splitting it in half. A huge branch came crashing down, and Tommy leapt to the side –until he didn’t. All it took was one wrong move on the slippery path. Tommy’s fall lasted either seconds or an eternity, and it wasn't like a crash at all, except that somehow it was. He fell out of the sky, so to speak, plummeting to the bottomless pit, while unspeakable panic turned his stomach to ice. But that no longer mattered when he hit the rocks, and even less when he hit the ground.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

It’s still raining when Tommy opens his eyes; drops are pattering on his brows, but much more slowly than before. The sky above him is still grey, but now a more harmless, almost calming color: the storm has passed. But that's not good, because his shaken mind tells him that much - the gray above him heralds the evening. How long has he been lying here?

Of course, it's good that he even knows what happened. The second he opens his eyes, a single thought flashes through his mind, damn it, I'm still alive. Tommy doesn't know how deep he fell, but that's simply a risk when hiking. That's what he tells himself as he tries to figure out what's wrong with him. Looking up at the sky, he takes a deep breath. It hurts, which is not good, but to be honest, even the rain dripping down on him hurts. A rather slow and numb part of his mind knows he needs to try to get up. Or at least check his injuries.

It's just... so peaceful lying here, watching the gray sky get blacker at the edges. Black isn't so bad, it's a calming color. For some reason, Tommy remembers a story he read as a child, about a monster hunter whose eyes sometimes turned black, which is why people think he is the monster. Even back then, Tommy thought it was silly but somehow also true: people don't recognize the real monsters. He knows that from experience.

“Get up,” says a voice above him, and when Tommy carefully turns his head, his father is standing there. Puckered lips, deep circles under his eyes; he’s tired and angry in equal measure, both a permanent state. His breath smells of alcohol, so strong that Tommy can almost name the liquor, even though his father is towering over him as he’s lying on the floor.

Tommy is seven years old, and he’s grown so quickly in the past year that it’s sometimes hard to coordinate his limbs. His father calls that clumsy, which is the most harmless word he sometimes uses for him.

“Get up,” his father repeats.

“My head hurts,” says Tommy, trying very hard not to sound whiney.

“I'll make sure it hurts even more if you don't get up right away.”

That’s not an empty threat, also a thing Tommy knows from experience. It’s just so hard to focus, his head feels like bursting. Rain is still falling on his face, heavy and red, and Tommy blinks.

His father is gone, and the wave of relief that flows through him is ridiculous, nothing about this is a relief. He is still on his back; nothing but rock below and above him, and a hint of green somewhere. The broken branch. There was a thunderstorm, now he remembers. A change of weather in the mountains, bad luck, and he slipped. He didn't crash, he fell, like so many times in his life. His father isn't here, he wouldn't help him up anyway, he has to do this alone, like he always did.

This was not a crash, but there’s always a safeguard.

My watch. It’s designed to call 911 on its own in case of emergency, it must have registered Tommy’s unconsciousness. There’s another short wave of relief flooding his nerves – surely the watch has served its purpose, and help is on the way, right? He just has to keep calm and stay awake.

But it's so difficult, the raindrops are so hard, even if there’s fewer and fewer of them. Still, Tommy feels soaked, and cold. Is he already in shock, or is this just because he’s up in the mountains at nightfall? These are distant thoughts. Help will come, through his watch. Magnificent devices these days.

It hasn’t always been like this. Tommy didn't own a watch when he was 12 and deliberately dawdled after school. His father would never have bought him one, but still expected him to be back on time - which was oddly meticulous for a man who was drunk on the sofa after 3pm anyway. Tommy's eyelids flutter from the memory, the raindrops almost feel like tears. There was this one day…

Tommy has no watch, and he doesn’t care much about the time. Sometimes, the man who claims to be his father, who’s sitting at the house he claims to be a home, falls asleep before Tommy arrives. Those are the good days, because he’ll sleep a couple of hours, which gives Tommy enough time to prepare some food. He’ll keep it in the fridge for his father, so he can’t complain. He will complain anyway, he’ll find something, but it’s better to be prepared.

On this day, however, Tommy not only gets home really late, he almost doesn't come home at all, but his father doesn't care. A few of the older boys ambush him behind the school building. They don't need any particular reason - Tommy is just a bit different, even if it's hard to put a finger on what exactly is different about him at this point. Three 14-year-olds beat him up and kick him as he lies on the ground. Tomorrow, his legs and chest will blossom in gruesome shades of green, blue and purple. Today, he just covers his head and endures it.

His father is not asleep when he drags himself home, after Tommy has wrestled with himself for another hour about whether he should even go home at all, in this state. But what choice does he have? His teachers don't care about the bruises, he doesn't dare visit the social worker and there's no one else around. And his father… well, he gives him two heavy smacks on top of it all, for being late and showing up with his sweater torn and dirty.

It is the last time his father hits him. Not because he has suddenly developed a conscience, but because Tommy - in a strange twist of fate - has hid a flyer from a martial arts club under his pillow for a long time. He often just gazed at it, all those long weeks while he mowed other people's lawns and delivered newspapers to earn money for the registration. A few days later, mainly so he's not quite so green and blue anymore, Tommy enrolls, and when the next school year starts, he's suddenly grown 3 inches and has muscles in places 13-year-olds don't usually have.

He blinks. Suddenly, it’s completely dark, he’s lost time. Was he dreaming? Tommy doesn't remember, his head hurts too much to pursue any thoughts any longer. He turns his head, stares intently into the darkness until his eyes hurt as much as his forehead. There was something about a wristwatch... Tommy looks at his arm lying outstretched next to him, somehow as if it didn't belong to him. The thought makes him feel a little nauseous, but he swallows down the rising bile. He tries to wiggle his fingers, and damn, it feels like someone is hitting them with a hammer. All right, first inventory: broken hand. Tommy's gaze wanders along his arm and he freezes. The watch on his wrist is shattered, which makes thinking about the bones in his fingers a nauseating act. Or maybe it’s the realization that there’s no help coming via this.

Tommy turns his head. His left arm still looks pretty okay, doesn't it? He moves his fingers - good, that works. Where's his phone? His hand slowly gropes along his leg, it's wet and sticky, just don't think about it. The phone is in his trouser pocket. The trouser pocket has a zipper, safety first, but opening it with his left hand is... Well, let's just say the manufacturers of this particular outdoor clothing haven't given it enough thought. The phone is from the same company as the broken watch, which was supposed to be unbreakable, and it has remained intact. Of course, Tommy fell on his back and only touched the rock once on the way down... with his back, which chooses exactly this moment to remind him of it. Tommy has had burns before, it’s inevitable as a firefighter, and this feels like his back, his head and his right hand are on fire. If he gives that any more thought, he may never get off this mountain again.

Tommy’s panting from the unexpected effort of getting his phone out of his pocket, or maybe from internal injuries, who knows, and it’s definitely better not to think about that. His hand tremblingly raises the phone in front of his face to unlock it. He can literally hear dispatch: 40-year-old male, alone in the mountains, fell down a slope during a thunderstorm. Well, dispatch would also list any injuries he could tell them, but… there’s no signal.

I'll probably not have any signal in the mountains.

That’s what he told Evan. Evan, who’s on his 48-hour shift. His boyfriend won’t have time to miss him. It’s a devastating thought, even more so if Tommy thinks about Evan’s cute little habit to text him during calls, whenever he’s got a minute, to tell him what he’s done. Who he’s saved. Can’t save me right now, pity.

Tommy is not used to being rescued, no one has ever done it for him. As strange as it sounds, that was one of the reasons why he always wanted to help others, first his country, then his fellow human beings. There’s never been soldiers or firemen to help Tommy, but the urge to do something useful was still strong inside him; probably even stronger than his father's urge to fall off the wagon. He doesn’t want to think about that man right now. Not when he can also think of Evan.

His boyfriend. At 17, one year before he will join the army, Tommy actually has a boyfriend, for the first time. His name is Shane, and he’s part of the group home for troubled boys that Tommy has been a member of for two years now. At some point his father stopped hitting him, at least since the first time Tommy hit him back. Then, for an inglorious while, he pursued a somewhat more violent course that didn't really get him anywhere in life. Some day, far too late of course, some teacher triggered the inevitable chain: unanswered questions, a home visit, a call to the youth welfare office. When faced with the choice between juvenile detention and a residential group, Tommy was not too proud - something inside him knew that after a prison sentence he would choose his father's path, whether he wanted to or not. Besides, there’s this other thing.

“You don't care about girls, do you?”

Shane says these words in his face after three weeks in his new home. His guess was right, even if Tommy wasn’t ready to admit it to himself. One thing leads to another, and finally, Tommy has his first time on the backseat of a Dodge Challenger. Shortly afterwards, Shane beats up a boy in a fight and is thrown out of the group home, Tommy is never to see him again. He never calls, never sends a letter; he has simply disappeared as if he had never existed. There's a lesson to be learned from this: relationships suck. Tommy sticks to this wisdom for many years.

He blinks. It's not raining any more, is it? His gaze wanders into the pitch-black sky, sprinkled with stars now. They seem to urge a brief summary: the watch is broken, his phone has no reception. He will have to save himself, as he often does. Because in contrast to many long years in which the only reason to survive was perhaps work, there is now a completely different reason. A home to which he would love to return.

With extreme effort, Tommy lifts his head, trying to pierce the surrounding darkness with his gaze. He finds it difficult to breathe, which is not good, but the sight of his left foot is even less good. It's still in the indestructible hiking boot (ha, that's what they said about the watch), but it's strangely twisted in a position definitely not normal for any limb. All right. A few broken bones, he’s had worse, right? There’s a few scars with stories. Some scars, however, you don’t see.

It's pointless to think about such things when he should be trying to get up. Tommy won't make it off this mountain tonight, but maybe his backpack is still somewhere around. There's a change of clothes and a towel in there, not much, but he'll have to keep warm somehow. He also has a small first aid kit with him, at his boyfriend's insistence. It's ridiculous, but he doesn't feel like laughing - what good will a few plasters and disinfectant do him now? Though… there might be a rescue blanket in there, he could use it. By now, he’s trembling. It might just be the shock, but the temperature has dropped significantly.

Get on with it. Tommy pushes his elbows into the damp ground, at least one; moving the other makes the pain in his hand flare up like a fresh lump of coal thrown into the fire. He sits up with a jerk. Nausea rises in him, he can almost taste the bile, and the darkness blurs before his eyes, at least for a moment.

He feels disoriented when he looks around, everything is so bright in this fire station. It's his first day in the 118, everyone calls him probie and pats him on the back, and his captain says, “I'll take you under my wings, boy.” However, the pretended friendliness quickly gives way to mockery, teasing and being assigned the most menial tasks.

Tommy tells himself that this is normal because he’s the new guy and the probie, and that he has to prove himself. After two weeks, he gets invited to join them for an after-work beer. Two hours later, he knows he doesn’t want to join them ever again, and he also knows it won’t be avoidable. Anyway, this is the first time he tells them about his girlfriend Jane, who doesn’t like him coming home late. Now he’s the henpecked husband, but that’s better than being the only gay in the whole firehouse. That's all right, at least that's what he tells himself.

Tommy blinks again, it gets harder each time, and is amazed to realize that he can see the stars. Hadn't he sat up? Now he’s lying on his back again, his panting breath sounds way too loud in his ears. Something strange is happening here, something he can’t really fathom. Everything hurts now, every fiber of his body; he knows it's not true, but that's how it feels. Pain is a warning signal, he knows that too, but what could he do about it now? If he can't sit up, he can't reach his backpack, and if he can't reach his backpack, he can't reach his first-aid kit or his spare clothes. His watch is broken, the phone has no signal. He can’t call for help, and nobody will know where exactly he is. It’s a catch-22. Night falls, he’s in pain and trembling from the cold, and he will just have to endure it. Or maybe he won’t.

He could just give in.

That’s what his father wanted when he beat him: obedience and respect, which he was always denied himself. That's what the teachers wanted, “just give in,”they said, “you're smarter than them.” Tommy was actually smarter, and he actually gave in, but it never helped him. He adapted. He invented one girlfriend after another, listened to Gerrard's ramblings, joined in with the jokes. Until he denied himself and believed that respect had to be earned in a way that his father, his teachers, his captain thought was right.

He was alone in all of this, always has been. Only the hint of a true friendship and a completely new start got him out of his misery, but by then, the thought had already manifested itself: he was made to be alone. A bit unfair that he remembers all this now, lying here with nothing to do but look at the stars. There are more beautiful memories, and there are more every day. Every day he gets to spend with Evan, every time he has a chance to make him smile, to light up his eyes, is precious. It’s just not fair that he doesn’t get more time.

Tommy has thought about dying a few times. He’s getting older, his job is often dangerous; he might get burned or, yes, he might crash. The thoughts were always connected with a kind of morbid curiosity, or more like a test of courage: yes, you could die, but the adrenaline in that moment, that's what you live for! He often imagined dying in the line of duty, certainly not on a hiking trip. The strangest thing is that he never imagined dying alone. How ironic.

Tommy heaves a sigh. There's clouds in front of the stars now, he can barely see them anymore. Rustling and rumbling around him is the last he hears as he finally gives in, as he embraces darkness.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

"Come on, come on, open your eyes."

Is that his father again? Well, at least he's not yet dying. It's not very reassuring, though, because as a first responder, Tommy knows that dying can sometimes take quite long. He’s so tired, Tommy doesn’t want to open his eyes, because there’s actually something comforting about the darkness. But his body reminds him that he is, in fact, not quite dead yet. Freezing to death is supposed to be a pleasant way of dying, whatever that means, but he’s just cold, miserable and in pain.

“You're not dying on a mountain, you idiot. Open. Your. Eyes.”

Someone shakes his shoulders, it takes his breath away, and what leaves his mouth is merely a pain-filled croak. Tommy opens his eyes. It’s still dark, but the stars are back in the sky, brighter than before. Only much later does he realize that they are flashlights. The eyes above him also light up, but in a different way.

“Evan?” he croaks, wondering why his mouth is so dry when he's still completely soaked.

Unless, of course, he's not lying in a puddle of rainwater, better not think about it. At any rate, this is impossible, a pipe dream. How could his boyfriend be here? It's a cruel trick of his subconscious. Isn’t it?

“Lie still,” says the mouth he knows very well, in Evan's voice, from Evan's face. A concerned face and a croaky voice, but still… “You fell over 15 feet.”

“You can't be here,” Tommy replies, and that sounds perfectly logical to his ears, ”because nobody knows where I am.”

The truth is that his whereabouts aren’t quite as big a mystery as Tommy thinks, but he won't realize that for a few hours.

“Well, maybe I'm smart and know more than you think,” Evan says, then turns around and talks to someone.

It seems to be Chimney, which only adds to the feeling of unreality. The man who looks and sounds like Chimney bends over Tommy and says, “Well, sometimes our Buckaroo has his moments. I'm going to give you a jab, just a quick prick."

Tommy doesn't feel a prick, so maybe this is not real. But there's Evan. He looks and sounds and smells like his Evan.

"You found me," he remarks in a strange voice that doesn't seem to be his own.

"You rescued me. I'm not alone."

"Why would you be alone?" says somebody who sounds weirdly like Bobby. "You're part of the family, Tommy.“

If this is a dream, it’s probably the best he ever had.

“He's losing consciousness again, hurry up,” says Chimney.

Again? It makes no sense to Tommy. Nothing makes sense, apart from Evan, who fails miserably at a reassuring smile but is still a vision. Evan, holding his hand, the left one; he feels his thumb running nervous little circles over his palm. Whatever’s happening, it’s concerning, but Tommy feels himself glide into the soothing fog of Novocain, one last thought on his mind.

He’s not alone, and he’s not lonely anymore.

[AO3] [All my BuckTommy on AO3] Original idea by @hyperfocusthusly, thank you so much!

[rynnthefangirl]

"Ford should be blamed for being manipulated by bill because he was desperate for validation" hmmmmmm

Okay, perhaps I should expand upon this point a bit.

First to be clear, this post wasn’t meant to be hate to either Ford or Stan, it’s more just me saying what I think are fair criticisms of them vs what I think are unfair criticisms. When I say “blamed” I don’t mean they should be condemned, just that they did something wrong and there is a degree of accountability there.

Ford’s whole experience with Bill is a tricky one, because Ford undeniably WAS a victim here. Especially with what we learn in the Book of Bill, which really highlighted the abusive nature of their relationship. And yes, Bill’s manipulations targeted Ford’s insecurities stemming from a lifetime of bullying and his father’s harshness. Those are all reasons why we should 100% empathize with Ford, and understand that he is not just some horrible selfish person, the way Ford haters make him out to be.

BUT, I don’t think that erases all accountability. If Ford were the only person hurt by Bill, then sure totally, don’t blame the victim. However, that’s not the case. Ford’s actions nearly destroyed the entire universe, and definitely ruined at least one life (Fiddleford) not to mention the trauma suffered by all the residents of Gravity Falls. And yes, obviously BILL is ultimately the one to blame for all that, but Ford’s initial cooperation was essential. And the reason he was so ready to believe Bill was because of his own ego— stemming from his insecurity of course, but ego nevertheless.

Bill straight up tells us that this is what made Ford the perfect target: “the ego of a king and the insecurity of a circus freak”. Two sides of the same coin, and if you ignore either then you are ignoring important parts of Ford’s character arc. Ford was bullied and ostracized his whole childhood for being different, and it caused him to develop a superiority complex. He needs to believe that he is special, destined for greatness. Which ultimately causes him to look down on others and make reckless, selfish choices in pursuit of that greatness. Ford’s a scientist, trained to be objective and follow evidence-based logic— yet he immediately trusted this unknown entity with no real evidence towards his intentions, because Bill flattered his ego and told Ford what he wanted to hear. If Ford weren’t so self-important, Bill’s manipulations would never have worked. We can empathize with Ford’s backstory, but also recognize that it has caused him to develop some negative traits, which led him to make mistakes that had dire consequences. And again, those consequences are really key here. Ford’s mistakes didn’t just put himself at risk, they put a LOT of innocent people at risk… like, the whole world.

None of this is just me either— this was pretty explicitly Ford’s character arc in the show and books. Ford himself admits as much: “don’t blame yourself [Stan], I’m the one who made a deal with Bill in the first place. I fell for all his easy flattery, you would have seen him for the scam artist he is”. Ford’s whole arc is about learning to let go of his ego and inflated self-importance, and recognize the value of others (namely, Stan). He always cared about others deeply, but he needed to let go of his self importance in order to truly appreciate and connect with them. He grows and learns and seeks to atone for his mistakes, which is exactly what makes him such a good character, and IMO such a likeable one.

Sorry this was so long. Make no mistake, I love Ford to pieces. He might be my favorite character tbh (either he or Dipper… Dip’s historically been my favorite, but I’ve developed a huge appreciation for Ford since rewatching the show recently). And I honestly really appreciate people like you that stick up for him, because he gets wayyy too much unfair hate in the fandom. I just think there is a lot of nuance in this topic, and it’s a tricky balance between trying not to victim blame while also not completely absolving Ford of accountability for the huge danger that he put others in, unintentional though it may have been.

Anyway though, peace and love, and keep defending our boy Stanford because this fandom is mean to him and he needs it!❤️🫡

[theyanderespecialist]

The Doctor's Patient (Headcanon/Scenario) Yandere SCP 049 X Sick Reader

[Hello, My Sexy Muffins! I am so so so sorry that I have been doing very few updates, seasonal allergies and sickness got me fucked up. Anyway, this one is going to be Yandere SCP 049 X Sick Reader! Enjoy this!]

(Disclaimer: SCP 049 is not yandere in canon! This is just for fun and not to be taken seriously at all! Simping for fictional characters and yanderes is fine! Just do not be illegal or gross about it! Yanderes are not ideal partners to have in real life! Also, remember to separate fiction from reality and headcanon from canon! Thank you!)

(Yandere Headcanons Wtih SCP 049 X Sick Reader)

.He would want to be the one to take care of you for sure.

.He had to be the one to take care of you.

.You are his darling patient and he knows what is best for you, not those damn researchers who do not even believe in her cure.

.He would somehow get you to be his patient and you can be sure he is doing it his way.

.You are so pink in the face from your fever, it is time for some leeches!

.He would also make all your meals from scratch.

.You cannot eat anything not made by him.

.So be ready for some bland-ass French stews.

.He also loves holding you while you are sick, he needs to feel you against him.

.Yes he can control his lethal touch somewhat and really normally touches people who have the pestilence

.Speaking of the pestilence, he will die before he lets you become one of the afflicted.

.His goal is to keep you by his side always.

.He loves how helpless you are when you are sick.

.Well somewhat.

.He hates how you are more at risk.

.But he loves that you have to depend on him.

.He would be gentle yet firm with you.

.There will be none of the nonsense of you not taking your medicine (Which is a mystery sludge he makes from scratch)

.He is very protective of you, anyone that tries to get to close to you.

.Well they will be killed with that lethal touch.

.If you had a partner, they were the first ones to face his lethal touch.

.He did not bother to cure them. They were unworthy of his cure. They were the ones to mist likely make you sick.

.He would make you like him, and you will never ever leave him.

.He is also easily jealous.

.He is the type of yandere with you so sick that he has to be glued to your side and make sure you are taken care of at all times.

.He is the type of yandere to hover for sure.

.If the leeches do not work he may be forced to use even less savory methods.

.If you lash out at him? Well, that may just be hysteria!

.And the perfect method for hysteria was to give his dear patient a little intimate physical~

.He promises that he will always be there for you in sickness and in health. For better or for worse, Even death will not make you part~

(Now Onto the Scenario~~~ Hope you enjoy this!)

(SCP 049) (Trust Me, Darling… I Am YOUR Doctor~)

(SCP 049's POV)

She was so sick, I could see how the fever was coursing through her as she interviewed me. I hate that I cannot just take her in my arms and take care of her. I was growing more agitated that I could not take care of her. She has another coughing fit into her elbow and that is when I had enough. I stood up and pulled her into my arms.

The guard stared in horror and told me to let go of her. I simply touched him and he died. She struggles in my arms and I click my tongue. She is being so stubborn.

"Enough, (Name)." I scold. "I am putting you to bed!"

I carry her to my bed, she is asking so many questions. "How! How are you able to touch me!?" She demands.

"I will explain, but right now in bed," I order and tuck her into my bed. I see that she is going to be stubborn so I pull out my medical bag. "Do not worry my dear. I will give you something to sleep."

"NO! LET ME GO!" She bellows the sickness must be going to her brain! I must act fast.

I grab out the vial and syringe. I straddled her chest. Her arms were pinned between her body and my legs.

I fill the syringe, she stares in horror at the black liquid in it. "Normally you would take this orally," I tell her. "But this needs to work much faster."

"SCP 049! Please Don't!" She begs squirming the best she can.

I hold her head still stroking her hair. "Do not worry, My Darling. You can Trust me, I am a doctor~ Your doctor~" I tell her and inject it into her neck.

She lets out a howl of pain. I coo to her and stroke her hair. Soon her eyes start to droop and I climb under the covers with her. Pulling her to my chest.

I will take care of her, I always will. She is, My Darling Patient~ ALL MINE~

[YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS FINALLY UPDATED SOMETHING!!! This is done, I hope that you all enjoyed this, and stay sexy all of my sexy muffins!]

[soleilceirinen]

I LIKE THE WAY YOU KISS ME | Tyler Durden x fem!reader

Summary: you find Tyler in the most unexpected place, your cousin's wedding. Of course, with him there things couldn't be easy. Warning: nothing besides smut, don't read it if you are a minor. A/N: English is not my first language, sorry if there are mistakes and thanks for reading! Words: 1.9k

MASTERLIST

After dating Tyler for over eight months, your cousin’s wedding seems like the perfect occasion to introduce him to your family. They know you are seeing someone but they have no idea of what kind of person he is. It is not like he is the worst human being in the world, but he is kind of weird. You are not quite sure about how your grandmother is going to take it when she meets him. Perhaps she finds him charming, when it comes to Tyler you never know what to expect.

“That day I have to work, I can’t go,” says Tyler when you suggest him to be your plus one at the wedding.

It is okay, not the end of the world. Usually, he works at night. Sometimes at the local cinema, other times as a waiter. There are nights when you are almost certain that he is not working at all, nevertheless you don’t want to ask where he is or what he does. It is none of your business. All you know is that he comes home covered in bruises.

So you decide to end the conversation before he starts rambling for minutes or even hours about how weddings are social constructs imposed by today’s society and bla bla bla. You don’t feel like you have the mental strength to listen for who knows how long to another one of his speeches. According to Tyler, they won’t even last two years married and then they will have to pay again to get divorced. You know that it doesn’t have to be that way but he has his ideas and you are not going to be able to change his mind. 

-

The wedding turns out to be beautiful. You even get emotional and cry a bit during the ceremony. After all, your cousin and you have grown up together - almost like siblings - so seeing him marrying the person he loves so much, with the intention to spend the rest of their lives together moves you deeply inside. 

It is celebrated outdoors, in a lovely place. The restaurant is surrounded by beautiful gardens and a pond in the center. There are fishes and turtles swimming as if nothing is happening around, oblivious to the atmosphere of celebration and happiness that surrounds them. As night falls, the place is lit with small lights scattered among the vegetation, it looks like a setting straight out of a fairy scenery. 

Surprisingly, you are having a great time as you laugh with your family and friends. After a couple of glasses of wine you feel relaxed, a smile plastered on your face and your cheeks in a lovely rosy color. 

As the food is brought to the table, something catches your attention. Or rather someone.

Even though it is dark already and all the waiters are dressed in the same white and black uniform, Tyler is quite unmistakable. You stare at him dumbfounded for a moment, then he glances in your direction and smiles as if he were the devil himself before disappearing with an empty tray.

Finding him here is the last thing you expect. It is as if the universe is conspiring against you, or working in your favor so that your paths cross. Still, something makes you uncomfortable. A pang of nerves make themselves present in your stomach as you look at the soup in front of you. It is kind of creamy but you haven’t tried it yet, you just stir it with the spoon.

Everyone around is eating it, saying that it is really good but all you can think about is Tyler. At this point you know him too well to not trust it. He hasn’t smiled at you that way because he was excited to see you, he has done something to the soup. You have no proof but no doubts either. It is not the first time he does this sort of thing.

So you get up from the table and excuse yourself, going to the back of the old building on one side of the gardens, looking for the restroom. It is dark and far enough so nobody can see you from the tables. Without entering the building, you pace back and forth for several minutes until a figure dressed in white appears from behind the bushes and wraps his arms around you, lifting you off the ground.

“Tyler, put me back down! You’re going to ruin my dress…” 

He pulls you closer before setting you down. When your heels touch solid ground again you give him a little push and grab the lapel of his jacket to pull him towards you. Your lips meet in a hungry kiss and his hands rest on your waist. A soft moan scapes your mouth.

"I like the way you kiss me, I can tell you've missed me," he whispers when you break the kiss looking for some air.

You make a tiny affirmative noise and stare at him with your big eyes, changing your expression to a serious one. “And I can tell you’ve done something to the soup, am I wrong?”

Tyler bits his lip playfully and nods, amused. You punch him in the chest again.

“You’re disgusting!” you shout at him through an angry whisper. “My grandmother is eating that soup, you know? And my mother. And my whole family. What have you put in it?”

“Have you tried it?” he asks with a raised eyebrow. You shake your head. After a pause he adds, “then it’s better if you don’t know.”

“Tyler…”

“Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

"Disgusting!"

It makes Tyler laugh in that way of his, like a maniac. And before you can control it, you're laughing too.

Eventually, your laughter fades away and it is replaced by a dark glint in Tyler’s eyes. He looks so handsome tonight. Without hesitation, you reach to grab the back of his neck to pull him closer to you once again, pressing your lips together. Instantly, his lips and yours seem to find the perfect rhythm. That is all that exists until you feel the wall behind you give way.

He grabs you so you don’t end up on the floor. It wasn’t a wall, you realize, it was the restroom door and it was him who opened it without you noticing during the kiss. With a quick glance around you notice that the bathroom is quite big and clean enough, so you relax. Also, it is far away from the guests. You hope they are all too busy eating or too lazy to want to cross the entire property just to pee. 

His hands move to your thighs, you can feel the warmth emanating from them through the thin fabric of your dress, as he bites his bottom lip. You can’t wait any longer. You need him.

You tangle your fingers in  his hair, messing it up even more if that is even possible. In seconds, his mouth is covered by yours. This time you catch his lip between your teeth and give him a gentle tug. Tyler moans against your mouth. With a subtle movement of your hips you feel his erection pressed against you.

“Wow…” you murmur with a soft giggle while rolling up your dress. 

Almost as if it were effortless, he grabs the back of your thighs and lifts you up, pushing you against the wall. With the cold tiles pressed against your bare back and your legs wrapped around his strong waist, you dig your nails into his shoulder through his clothes as his tip teases your entrance, sending shivers down your spine. 

With a single hand Tyler rips your underwear off in one go, tossing it casually on the floor. He never takes his eyes off your face, your body driving him crazy. Then he thrusts inside of you, without warning, and the feeling of being so full with him is overwhelming and delicious. Through a chorus of moans and sobs Tyler fucks you hard. 

You lose track of time, your family must be wondering where you are, what is taking you so long. You just hope they don’t decide to come looking for you. Nothing else matters. In this moment it’s just you and Tyler, it isn’t romantic, you are like two beasts fighting to dominate the other in a primal dance and it is starting to feel really good.

Tyler feels your walls clenching around his length, you are close to cumming. So he keeps up the pace while stroking your clit with his thumb until you fall against his shoulder with your eyes closed, panting and covered in a thin layer of sweat. He cums too. Still not letting go, he turns his face and leaves a small kiss on the side of your head. 

When your heels finally touch the ground once again, you feel like your legs are made out of jelly. 

You sigh and stretch your back. “Time to go, handsome,” you say as you look around. Your eyes linger on your torn underwear discarded on the floor. Tyler follows your gaze and bends down to pick up the lacey fabric. He stares at it for a few seconds before burying his nose in it. “Tyler! What are you doing? Don’t!”

“It smells like you” he states simply, shrugging and putting the fabric in one of his pockets. “I’ll keep it.”

“You do you, but you broke it. It’s kind of useless now. Can you tell that I’m not wearing any underwear?” Tyler stares at your ass shamelessly, with half a smile. Then he shakes his head. “Good.”

As you try to fix your hair as much as possible in the bathroom mirror, Tyler runs his hands over your sides a few times in an attempt to smooth out the mess of wrinkles your dress has turned into. Finally, you ran your fingers under your eyes to remove any smudged mascara. Is it very obvious that you just fucked like an animal in the bathroom? Giving Tyler one last peck on the lips, you walk back to your table, hoping that it doesn’t show too much. 

-

You smell Tyler before seeing him. 

He stands behind you, placing the desserts in front of each guest. When he leans down to place yours, his arm brushes your shoulder and his face rests only a few inches from yours, too close to go unnoticed by everyone. When you look around the table, you notice that they are too drunk to even care. 

Your heart beats fast, even though initially you thought of introducing him to your family at the wedding, now you don’t feel prepared at all. It feels so abrupt. So you remain impassive, trying not to let any small gesture give you away although Tyler is not making it easy.

He winks at you before turning to who he supposes must be your grandmother, smiling charmingly. He looks good and he knows it. Sometimes you envy him for it, for that self confidence that exudes from every pore of his skin. “Was the soup good, ma’am?”

She starts complimenting all the dishes, with special interest in the soup, and you roll your eyes while biting the inside of your cheek. 

Your eyes focus on the dessert and Tyler alternatively. He looks at you out of the corner of his eye, still talking to your grandmother, and smiles even more. It looks like a harmless ice cream, covered with fancy decorations and a suspicious whitish sauce that could be nothing. But what if…?

You sigh. Damn Tyler and his terrorist food tendencies.

[latin5mamii]

stay ready (what a life)- CA, JS

|Warnings: none

|Summary:Be strong and forget about him!Is this so hard for you?

Maybe it's impossible to get over your past relationship, or maybe you just need to find someone that'll make you fall in love again.This should work, right?

You remain shocked as you read an article about your ex boyfriend with his new girlfriend.You almost want to cry,it’s only been three months since your breakup, and you were still devastated.

I mean,you didn’t really got over your ex relationship and in the moment where you were finally healing, you catch up this fucking article.

Jannik Sinner and bla,bla,bla..

You weren’t just jealous, you were also disappointed: he literally hid you for a half of a year because of his “privacy”and now?Photos and revealing facts about his new relationship?

You couldn’t stand it, but you also couldn’t say or do anything, your relationship is over and you have to go over it. Wish it was so easy, though.

You already messaged your girlfriends, of course.

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

-Mia: He’s a loser, who cares?

-Evelyn: He’s not a loser, he’s a dick

-Ava:Every loser is a dick

-Mia:period girl

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

Thank god your friends were there to help you out,but maybe he wasn’t really a dick, and not even a loser.

He’s actually one of the most responsible people you’ve ever met. He never treated you without respect, of course, but he could at least keep it a secret to let you suffer less and heal.

But now you have to get away with it.

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

You: girls don’t be so hard on him,please

Mia: ARE YOU SERIOUS 

Ava: …

Evelyn: We lost her again..

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

I think that after this,you’ll have to pay your girls to support you.

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

Ava:and to be honest, i never trusted him

You: Wait why?

Ava:He’s too much of a gentleman

Evelyn: I agree.

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

But unfortunately, that wasn’t the only bad news for today:

You had to go to the Roland Garros,where of course your ex boyfriend would play.

You are  famous too, you’re a fucking italian-spanish hot girl in her early 20’s and you had to go there, even if you wanted to die just to think about it. But you’re going to be a responsible person,right? Of course you are, or you hope so.

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

Ava: We are going to be with you for the whole journey and we’re going to have so much fun,don’t worry about him

Mia: Maybe you could get a new tennis rich boyfriend, who knows?

You:I don’t think I'm healed for another tennis player in my life, seriously.

Evelyn: That would be fun, though.

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

You wish you could do like in the movies where the main character fucks around with everyone just to get revenge on your ex boyfriend, but unfortunately you’re not the kind of person that your friends want you to be.

Oh my god that Anna girl looks really pretty, but most importantly, he seems to be in love,really in love.

You thought that you were always going to be together, what a stupid baby.How could you ever have fooled yourself like this?

All the memories started to flood your mind, you looked like you were about to cry, but as soon as a tear falls on your cheek, you remind yourself again:

You've cried too much, it's time to move on. But the real question is this: will you be able to do it?

-Author’s note

This is the first part of a long (i hope so) fanfiction, and if you trust me, you’ll be satisfied🤭

Thank you always for the support!💗

[barbieb0y]

okay. i finished the 2.0/floor it! to the golden city event story. thoughts/ramble under the cut bc spoilers

i feel like. the plot is kinda all over the place ?? it starts off with this legers dude wanting to meet with j for "a slice of that new age market pie" which means .... what exactly? am i just dumb?? i still dont get what he wanted from j that has to do with the new age market and/or manus vindicslay. i'd appreciate it if someone can explain to my dumbass. but then, understandably so, the j gang sees legers and his cronies as a threat to haight street. and then it leads to ... j wanting to visit his sister paulina/polly at the foundation

i feel like there couldve been a better lead-up to this other than "man we shouldve left like polly did but now we gotta deal with some baddies". like idk it feels abrupt to just cut to them visiting the foundation. but then theyre like oh polly couldnt have died bc her hand doesnt match this old pic we have of her and it's kinda silly and they raise a commotion and bla bla bla the foundation chases after them bc of it (i find it funny how thats how they get the foundation in on the bigger problem thats brewing underneath everything). matilda is tasked with catching the men and then through matilda's diviner skills, they confirm that polly's dead. manus vindicslay comes to stir shit up again so matilda's like okay fine i'll help you guys

fast forward they stumble upon the underground market blah blah blah mercuria is evil ⁉️ except i actually. dont understand what her role is here. like at first i thought that might be the point of her character bc she never stays in one place so she never stays in one role but idk. for someone who seems to be so important in this event, her motivations are unclear. but anyway

i dont understand the whole "oh we planned this all along" think they pulled either like??? what. did they plan exactly? the ambush and j faking a death and working alongside legers?? none of this was explained properly right??? or am i dumb???? ngl when i was playing through that scene i was like "are they expecting the audience to be smart enough to piece everything together?" my mind started to wonder like if they pulled a persona 5 and have a whole scene explaining their plan, would that be underestimating their audience? MAN IDK BUT THEY DIDNT SAY SHIT ABOUT THIS PLAN UNTIL THAT SCENE PLAYED. i definitely related to matilda in that moment 😭😭😭

but anyway what i liked and not-confusing about this event is the characterization of the characters (aside from mercuria). everyone feels consistent, from j all the way to eternity. im glad the quality of the character writing is still intact at least, for the most part

the character dynamics are also quite well-written, especially between j and polly. it's as heart-wrenching as i expected it to be. thinking about it actively gives me emotional damage. the fact that it took me more than a dozen chapters for me to realize that j sees polly in matilda. seeing his friendships is also heartwarming and it showcases j's personality quite well. his dynamic with pioneer is also cute. theres always something funny coming out of their dialogue when they interact

the setting is an interesting choice, it's enlightening to see how it impacts the worldview of the characters and their motivations. the poverty, disease, crime, and neglect of it all. the new age market is intriguing is a nice choice to get a lot of people of different backgrounds and stuff to gather in one place. not much to say beyond that

tldr: i dont know what the hell happened story-wise but it Happened but i truly love all the characters in it and how they interact with each other and their environment. this event story brought me Massive Pain™️, especially when paulina is on screen

not my fave event (which may be surprising bc j is in this event, i know), rayashki takes the cake for that, but i would be lying if i said i dislike this event. in fact, it's made me want to cry a few times. if it wasnt for the confusing pacing, i wouldve been more moved

[tachimichishrine]

<ok guys so hear me out. this is the second time i've posted this on tumblr (originally posted on my main— which isn't a fic blog btw) AND i have it somewhere on my other platforms that i havent touched in ages... im just tryin to organize myself so pls dont remind me..... womp womps apologetically,, anywho, it's canon that jouno was a crime executive before joining the hunting dogs sooooo !!!!!! >

"sweet and sour"

◝≞▣≞◜ crime executive!jouno saigiku x gn!reader

warnings: except for a bit of guns + cursing and ooc jouno,, none! this is all fluff :) i didn't write this in lowercase??? crazy amirite

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"Jouno Sai... Saigay? I was certain there was gay in there somewhere... Anyways! Hi!! It's a pleasure to meet you!!"

The mispronounced man in question glared at the individual who was giggling happily, strolling around in the office like they owned the place, shooting a, "Hey, Fernando, did you get a new haircut?", "Lookin' good in that suit, Ichika!", and, "Oh my god! Where did you get those shoes, I swear I saw the exact same ones at that store down the street, the uh... what's it called? Y'know what I'm talking about, don't'cha?" to his fellow executives like they've been friends for years on end.

The room had always been tense, from what he recalled. When people entered, they expected to get shot by the boss, or be given a task so difficult to complete that they would ultimately get shot. In short, a meeting with the renowned organization that Jouno Saigiku worked for was a death sentence for his subordinates, even more so for rival organizations.

Yet, this person had been bouncing around the walls like a child in a candy store, waving around the knife at their fingertips like a ten thousand yen bill and showing off the gun strapped to their thigh and waist with the same bubbly confidence of a new outfit they'd just bought the previous day.

'They're going to get themselves killed in no time,' he laughed to himself, waiting for the one in charge to enter the room.

For now, he was responsible for managing the building and their potential customer (from another criminal organization. It made him wonder how on earth someone like them could possibly be working in the same sadistic field as he did) until their meeting began. He'd never met this person in particular before, and wished he would've never had to. However, business was business, and he would need to accommodate them well enough to prevent a war between the two groups to break out.

"[l/n], was it?" he smirked, a strained playful smile that was barely hanging above the devilish one he had underneath. "It's Jouno Saigiku, and I'd recommend that you refrain from making yourself too comfortable in here. You are, as you know, on our turf, which means that-"

"Bla, bla, bla! you're so formal!" they scoffed with a wave of their hands, bouncing off of the velvet couch and strolling up to the executive, glaring at him with a particular expression that he couldn't see. "I'm actually rather touched that you knew my name! [l/n] [y/n], I'm your connect with [criminal organization name ~ [c /o/n]] so don't be a meanie!"

..."Don't be a meanie? "

As if by miracle, the boss entered right when they were about to get close enough to his straightened-out figure, almost army-like in posture, to tap his nose with their fingertip as one does with children. In his field of work, only people of utmost trust managed to meet directly with the person on the top, so he considered that perhaps they were prevalent in some other field that didn't have to do with relationships and appearance. Now, all he had to do was wait for his boss to get infuriated at their attitude and demand that he dispose of them and he'd be able to drag them out back and peel off their skin...

"[l/n], dear! It's been a while, has it not?"

This keeps getting better and better.

"Kantoku!" they beamed out, running over to the old man and avidly shaking his hand. "Oh, I've missed you so! Things have changed around here, didn't they? You never told me you promoted a new executive!"

With a playful eyeroll, Kantoku - the man in charge of his crime syndicate - gestured to the couch and began to converse, almost casually. What baffled him, perhaps the most of all, was that every regular beat of their heart was steady, this wasn't a feigned façade nor overcompensation for fear. This person was truly, genuinely an idiot.

"Pst, Jouno," the woman executive standing beside him nudged his shoulder, "the boss is here so we're free to go. Plus, that asshole who stole from us isn't talking, so we might need your help."

With that, he left behind both the room and the lingering feeling of confusion regarding [l/n] [y/n].

.

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.

.

Jouno Saigiku did not have a very complex job.

In fact, his daily tasks mostly consisted of torture and punishment, with the occasionally laying off (which undoubtedly meant death. There was quite a bit of death around him, a certain fading scent that permeated throughout any room he'd visit. This was not a literal physical scent, for that would obstruct his sight and handicap his senses, but nonetheless he found himself rather pleased when he felt warm blood splatter across his soft cheeks.)

Today was nothing different; supposedly, someone from [c /o/n] had blundered and fled right into their territory. Given the amical relationships between the two groups, it was their job to retrieve and return the fugitive, annihilate them if they do not cooperate and it becomes necessary.

At the moment, he found himself seated in a vehicle, driving to the last location that this person was last seen, being described as "[s/c] skinned and [e/c] eyed", all attributes which couldn't possibly make any difference to him, due to his lack of vision. When he asked for a name of this person, he was shocked to learn that it was the same energetical and bubbly individual who vaguely crossed his radar a few weeks back.

"Oi, oi, Jouno slow down, we don't wanna pass 'em 'cause you're drivin' too fast, 'ight?" his coworker for this mission reprimanded. "Just 'cause you can do that fancy hearin' thing ain't mean my eyes ain't good, 'ight?"

Jouno thus pressed his foot with more force against the gas pedal, speeding up the car only because he didn't quite like the tone of this person.

"Hm?" he asked innocently. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you very well, what did you say?"

"I said slow down you-"

They cut themselves off, not allowing for a response since their silence indicated that they had learnt something new.

"Woah, yeah, they're right over there!" they exclaimed, tapping a point on the window so that Jouno could hear the faint sound and distinguish which direction their target was. "Pull over, I'll tie 'em up and toss 'em in the back."

The white-haired man paused momentarily, thin brows imitating each other as they angled upwards in confusion.

"What do you mean? That's not them."

"For a blind bitch, ya really think yer all that, don't'cha? I can literally see them right now, they're standing outside the fuckin' car so pull over and lemme mug 'em."

His lips had pressed into a line, contemplating the situation. The reason he wasn't allowed to go on his own was because they were extremely picky about identifying the right culprit, yet Jouno cared little for his escort of sorts. He'd encountered [l/n] before, and what marked his memory the most, asides from their childlike behavior, was how their heart hadn't betrayed a thing on the outside attitude, despite being blatantly threatened. This person, the one that his temporary partner had suggested was their target, was in fact sweating buckets and had such an erratic heartbeat he might've believed them to be having tachycardia. On top of this, their breathing was not the same, from what he gauged, they couldn't possibly be the right height, build and walking pattern. People on the run obviously become more more jittery when faced with escaping an impossible situation, but this conflicted his knowledge in too many ways to be true.

"I believe," he suggested calmly with a grin appearing, still refusing to unlock the doors or pull over, therefore driving past the individual, "that [l/n] might not be as gullible as we first presumed, and that this person is a decoy set up to distract us."

And so, Jouno found himself pleasantly challenged by the least likely person.

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As the sun bled out into the sky during its descent from the zenith to the crepuscule, Jouno had finally managed to shed his gravely irritating partner and complete his task alone.

That idiot - really, that's all he could call them - decided to ignore his words and kidnap the scapegoat. Of course, this person sobbed and repeatedly told them that they're not the right person, that there's been a mistake, but no one believed their words. Inevitably, they were tortured for a few hours and deemed unnecessary. Jouno shot them, then headed back to search for the real culprit.

"Now, where could they be?" he hummed, almost amusedly, to himself. "Most people tend to lay low when running from important and dangerous organizations, but something tells me..."

He was rather lucky, in a sense, that someone had spotted the fugitive near a bar. However, this was over 5 hours ago. People on the run tend to be smart enough to scatter from location to location, but he supposed he shouldn't be overestimating other people's intelligence.

The door creaked with a lowly groan, as did the floor when he applied weight onto it via his heavy tread. Upon first impressions, the bar was nearly empty.

Then, he heard a voice call out.

"SAIGAY!! Ahh, it's been a while, hasn't it?! Come, come! Can I order you anything? You look like a bourbon man, are you into bourbon? Unless... fine wine? Oh dear, don't keep me guessing, come, sit!"

Immediately, as soon as they called out his name and announced themselves with such ardor, he knew he had the right person.

"No thank you," he smiled. "I can't drink, I'm currently at work."

"Are you? Aw, you don't mean you're here to kill me?" they replied, voice dipping down to a pouty grumble as they neared the end of the sentence. "I'm tired of people trying to kill me, it's no fun."

Idling at the entrance, Jouno didn't quite motion to sit next to them, nor did he seek to keep close in case of sudden evacuation. From what he had heard, this person was without ability, so they didn't pose much danger. Nevertheless, he was a cautious man, and had known that false information could potentially be fatal in certain circumstances, especially when the target is acting so laid back.

"You stole half a million yen from one of the most dangerous organizations around, I don't particularly think you'd've expected it to be fun."

Met with muttering, he would've asked them to speak up had he not heard the nearly incomprehensible, "but I didn't steal anything" from their lips.

"You didn't?" he said aloud. "Then where do you suppose the money had gone?"

A pause insinuated, and he pondered repeating his question in a more forceful way when they answered. "Woah, you've got great hearing! I wish I were like that, half the time people talk to me and all I hear is 'bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bl-'"

Jouno pulled out his firearm and pointed it directly at them.

"Enough games. Cooperate and I'll only make it hurt a lot."

"Gee, mister, did someone piss in your cheerios? I'll come, I'll come, just give me a second! I want to finish my drink."

On the table, however, there wasn't a single glass.

Upon having Jouno point this detail out (for while he could not see, he could still visualize objects in space with his other senses), they paused briefly. "So either you're blind but scarily good at it, or you can see through that crazy squinting of yours."

"I don't appreciate you stalling," he hummed, cocking the gun. "Do you think I won't shoot?"

"No, no, it's clear you would!" giggled the individual. "But, oh, do tell me more about yourself. Being threatened is so much more pleasant when-"

He shot them once.

He shot them twice.

Both bullets landed in non-lethal locations, such as their right shoulder and calf, which was enough to get his message across without rushing his punishment for their actions.

"That hurt!" they frowned, clutching at the opening from which blood was rushing out. "Owwie! You really don't like talking with people, do you, Saigay?"

"Saigiku," he corrected with a hiss. "Do you ever stop talking? I could very well kill you right now."

"Well, I sure hope you don't!"

This just made him want to shoot them even more.

He listened eagerly as they let out a few hisses and groans, then a soft squelch and the clattering of a metal against the marble countertop. He guessed that they were taking out the bullet from their calf, since the one in their shoulder had effectively shattered into hundreds of shards, and would require special medical attention immediately if they wished to live for a few more years. Then again, he knew that they probably wouldn't live past tomorrow, so it wasn't his concern.

Letting out a soft gasp while they tore off part of their attire in order to wrap their injured limb, they still seemed to be laughing. "Thanks."

"For the gunshot wound?" the white-haired male tried to clarify. He didn't take them to be such an open masochist.

Yet, his question only spurred a flurry of coughing and chuckles. "Of course not! I meant, thank you for not attacking me further. Really thought you'd kill me here and now, but you're letting me treat my wounds without interference. Is it because you have orders not to kill me?" Adding with a terribly comedic bite of their lip, they said, "Or have you been seduced by my charm?"

Once he made it perfectly clear that he'd shoot again, they backed off on the teasing remarks and requested that he help them up. "To walk," they'd clarified. "I can't walk, y'know. How do you plan on getting me back to your base?"

"I'll drag you by your hair if I need to," he replied.

(He had to hijack a car because there was no way he'd drag a body across the city, especially not a body as talkative as this one.)

"So you're telling me," they pondered while blindfolded and cuffed in the back of the vehicle, "that you're blind, yet you have highlights? They're pretty, I'll give you that, but why did you colour it? Midlife crisis? Doesn't sound right to me, plus you can't even see the colour so why on earth would you do it? Are you responding to me? I can't hear anything with this blindfold over my ears. Aren't blindfolds supposed to obstruct your vision, not your hearing? Man, but maybe I can hear perfectly fine and it's all your fault because you're not answering me. C'mon, Saigay, humor me!"

Of course, he had no intentions of humoring them.

"You're lucky I didn't gag you," he said. "Or cut off your tongue. In fact, knocking you unconscious would've been a splendid idea."

"But you didn't!" the ex-criminal beamed. "Besides, I'm going to get beat up enough once you deliver me back to [c /o/n]. If you ask them to let you watch and/or participate, they won't say no, I think. Pops isn't too strict when it comes to those things."

"Pops?"

"Y'know, the head of [c /o/n]. He's my dad's close friend and the brother in law of your boss."

That explained a lot of things, starting with this seemingly innocent person's involvement with such dark themes. Yet, there was still something Jouno needed to know.

"And you betrayed your own family friend?" asked the blind man, quickly approaching the location of the building in which he was given rendezvous for the drop-off of the traitor.

"Ahh, connections don't mean shit," they scoffed, waving around their tied hands as if to emphasize their point. "But I didn't betray them. I'd have to be an idiot.... No, not an idiot, whatever is worse than an idiot in order to steal money from a man who would've given me the cash if I asked him for it. So, no. I didn't steal anything. That's why I didn't run; I'm not guilty of anything, running would make it look like I am."

Jouno was interiorly perplexed. So they've got a decent brain behind all of that buttery personality, after all. But, there was just something about them that didn't fit with the narrative, something he couldn't wrap his head around.

"Why wait for me to tie you up?" he finally suggested aloud, hearing his own words formed allowing him to make more sense of his confusion. "Why not just waltz into the building? This makes you look both stupid and guilty."

A laugh burst from the backseat, the kind of laugh that makes you want to join in despite not fully understanding the reason behind it. It was however cut short, due to a sharp inhale of pain then a few curses murmured at their injuries.

"Maybe I am an idiot. Maybe I wanted to get caught. Who knows? Maybe this was all part of my master plan to lure you near Negishi Station so that I could use my all-powerful ability."

He spent a few seconds registering that last bit. Lure him out to Negishi so they could...

"BOOM!"

With a jolt, he nearly crashed the car; luckily, in time Jouno had realized that this was just a sound effect from the hostage, and not a real crash caused by an ability. They were, in fact, right next to Negishi, which made the whole thing a huge coincidence, but other than that, nothing occurred. They were still in the car, unharmed and untouched by any ability that he could detect.

Meanwhile, [l/n] was laughing their ass off.

"BWAHAHAH, you actually fell for it!!" they managed between heaving breaths and uncontrollable laughter. "I knew that since you were blind you would be sensitive to loud noises but that worked so much better than I thought it would, you should've seen your face! You were all like," then they proceeded to make a plethora of faces he couldn't see, but that he knew were all mocking him.

[l/n] continued, "By the way, just because I haven't used it doesn't mean I don't have an ability. So watch out for your ass, pretty boy, or else I might just... BAM!"

He did not flinch this time, but he found himself rather frustrated with his previous reaction. People, normal people, never teased him this way. He'd have thought [l/n] would be a bit less friendly around him after sustaining the injuries, but so far, that appeared only to drive them towards a playful alternative to revenge on par with a snowball fight between two children.

"I'll tell you what," concluded the hysterical individual attempting to calm themselves down, "let's do this again, same time tomorrow? Muah, it was lovely meeting you Saigay!!"

Before he could protest or question this, they waved around their somehow uncuffed hands, reached for the handle of the car door, pushed it open and leaped out.

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He found himself standing at the entrance of the bar the very next day.

It was beyond frustrating to pick up the pieces of yesterday's aftermath; based on his recollection and the most probable situation, [l/n] likely used the loud noises not only to ruffle and distract him, but to cover up for the sound of the click of their handcuffs being taken off, courtesy of a pin they had picked the lock with. On top of this, their haphazardous mention of Negishi station was just a way of situating themselves in space (since they had been blindfolded) so they could think of the safest escape route.

He quite frankly did not expect to be outsmarted by someone who can't even remember his name right. Yet, the fact remained that he was strolling up to the entrance of the same place as he'd previously apprehended them at, same hour of the day. He rather hated the sunset; nothing felt right for him. Not the consistent buzzing of the cicadas during the day nor the melodic trilling of the crickets; dusk never held a sustainable aura, and for this reason he'd grown to loathe it, despite being told repeatedly that the setting sun was beautiful.

Rushing curtly inside the building, the bells connected to the door jingled, and, almost on cue, a loud cheer roused him from his lucid trance.

"Saigay!! Over here, over here! Can't say I expected you to show up, but I'm pleasantly surprised!" gleamed [l/n] upon his arrival.

"It's Saigiku," he repeated for an umpteenth time, "and I'm here to turn you in."

They shook their head. "I'd have hoped you'd realized that I don't take to being kidnapped. But I do appreciate the perseverance, so I'll make a deal; have a drink with me, then I'll cooperate for an entire 5 minutes without trying to escape."

"...You truly are an odd person," said he, despite taking a seat by their side and waiting. He didn't know what trick they had up their sleeve (rather, their cast. Turns out, they'd gone to a private medical professional in order to have it looked at. He smiled when he noticed this; a sure sign that victory was much more likely tonight.)

"I'll take that as a compliment!" [l/n] laughed heartily, then called for the waiter. "One [favorite drink] for me, and he'll have a cup of whiskey. The good type, y'know what I mean, darling?"

The waiter raised a brow at the nickname and odd hint, but took the order anyways and began preparation. Meanwhile, Jouno sat, trying to protest that he did not want anything to drink, but was quickly cut off by his temporary enemy's much louder affirmations that he did indeed want some.

"You don't look like the type to be trying out sobriety," they hummed, "but I know if I let you chose for yourself, you wouldn't get anything. You'd be all," (and here their voice deepened and became gruff in an attempt to make it clear that they were looking to mock him,) "'I'm here to kill you! I'm a mass murderer so fear me!!' Am I right or am I right?"

Before he could respond, the fingers on their uninjured hand began to flick his dangling earring, on the right side of his face.

"You have an earring," they pointed out, almost stupidly. "Why don't you have one on the other side?"

He wasn't going to respond to any of this. In fact, he was toying with the knife in his pocket, gauging the right moment to strike with such an unpredictable opponent.

"Because I don't," he said dully. The waiter came, their glasses clinking with the ice inside as it toyed around in the liquid, gently being placed onto the counter.

"Fair enough," they smiled. "Okay sooooooo, wha'd'ya wanna talk 'bout? Gimme anything, I hate silence."

That made two of them.

"What is your ability?" he said rather bluntly, with a soft hum. He was in an optimal position to strike, only a few centimeters away, but he thought better than to attack without knowing such an important piece of information. Besides, with the way the conversation was going, they seemed to be eager to tell him the truth, for whatever reason, so he wouldn't lose anything to try.

After taking a long sip from their drink, they paused. "Nothing, I don't have one. You?"

The cautious man pressed further. "I find it hard to believe you haven't an ability in such a dangerous environment."

With a chuckle, they took another gulp from the glass. Then, turning to him with a relaxed heartbeat, they said very calmly and slowly, "I don't believe in needless deceit. Unlike you, Mr. Hide-my-knife-in-my-pocket-that-I'm-going-to-stab-you-with, I don't play dirty. So, when I say that I don't have an ability, don't be so surprised, yeah? The majority of people don't. I supposed when you're gifted, you don't quite try to sympathize with those unlike you."

So, they're aware of the weapon, yet made no move to dodge? Perhaps he's overthinking this, after all there are many people who seem invincible just because one doesn't act based on rational decisions, but based on their feelings. He should know, he spends most of his free time toying with said emotions and tearing them apart.

In one swift movement, he let his knife slide back down his pocket and removed both hands from the shadows.

"You sound genuine," he said, almost to himself.

"Well, I sure hope so," they laughed, despite nothing particularly funny being said. "I am being genuine, after all. You'll be able to bring me in and tie me up properly in a little while, so I'm going to enjoy the now while I still can, that's my philosophy!"

"Your philosophy is to drink something before you get kidnapped instead of trying to escape?" he repeated, incredulous. Perhaps their drink was laced with something, some kind of drug that drags your mood to a high. Even if he smelled no trace of anything other than [favorite drink], he concluded that this was the only reasonable explanation to this indecipherable human being.

Doubling over with a violent wheeze, they were (yet again) laughing at his words. They babbled a few words between gasps for breath, such as, "Didn't know you had a sense of humour!" and "Please, I can't breathe!" like he'd been a world renowned comedian. He almost felt the urge to clarify that he was attempting to degrade them, to criticize them and point out their stupidity, but one does not simply explain themselves when insulting another. Typically, their words transmitted the message well enough, but this was far from a typical recipient.

Finally recovering, they put on a mock angry face and waved around their finger. "You fiend, take it easy, I'm injured! At this rate, you'll make me pop my lungs out, ahah! Is that your master plan? To incapacitate me verbally? Bravo, I didn't expect that!"

"I wasn't..." he said, trailing off as he was thoroughly perplexed. What does one say in his situation? At this rate, his biggest concern was their oddities, not their capture.

On second thought, he nearly forgot that he was here to capture them.

"That's the beauty of it," they exclaimed, waving around their drink and spilling a considerable amount on his shirt accidentally with the grand gesture. "Unintentional torture! Wow, you must be even better than what I've heard about you, Saigay."

Not even bothering to correct them, he said, "And what exactly have you heard of me?"

"One, that you're very attractive. Two, you're ruthless when it comes to sadism. Three, you have exceptional intellect and four, you can hear heartbeats. Is that last one true? Wouldn't that make you a living polygraph?"

He was, but also wasn't, listening. The first thing they'd mentioned was his attractiveness, likely physical, but what an odd thing to point out, that is! Fighting down the odd feeling blooming in his chest with success, he finally mustered a response; an affirmation.

"That must be your ability," they pondered. "Isn't it? You'd be too strong if you had something else on top of this."

With a grin, Jouno explained, "It is not."

A melodramatic gasp could be heard echoing throughout the mostly empty room. "It isn't?? Gah, I must've been astronomically lucky to have escaped you last time!"

He'd've agreed had he not been promptly cut off by a rush of guesses regarding his ability. Most were way off, a select few absurd, and the entirety of them wrong. He felt his face contort into that of a confused expression when they suggested that he might be able to listen to people through walls, drawing an example by explaining that he might, and here the words were engraved into his mind, "listen in on people while they went to the bathroom, thus deducing whether their digestion was going well." Somehow, this had become a conversation in which they recounted the vivid tale of their daunting task of finding a bathroom once when they'd been in a 'foreign environment' - also known as the downtown region of the neighboring city during a negotiation.

All done and said, they'd contented themselves with a fairly one sided discussion, and he sipped down the Japanese whiskey he'd been handed. Upon noticing this, [l/n] stuck out both of their wrists as best as they could, pressed near one another as if pleading.

"Well, a deal's a deal! Take me away, Saigay! Ah! That rhymes! Maybe I should become a poet!" they giggled.

Jouno considered this for a long time, the topic that was on his mind ever since his arrival. The previous day, he'd told his boss that [l/n] couldn't be found, and that he must've made a mistake when saying that the doppelganger was a fake. This, of course, was untrue, but it also gave him leeway in case he found himself up against a formidable opponent. All of this meant that, if he did not turn [l/n] in to [c /o/n], he himself would not lose anything.

It wasn't sympathy, he told himself, that led him to get up and walk away as they left their arms extended. No, it was just an avoidance of unnecessary effort. If he walked away now, he would save himself the hassle of detaining them, all the while giving this person a second chance. Who knows, perhaps they'd be useful to him in the future.

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Jouno had not expected to be called by the lower ranking members of his organization early in the morning. What he had expected was to go to his office; not being told that there was a "package" waiting for him at the base.

He hadn't a clue what this package was. His first instinct was that it was a weapon of sorts, a bomb, anything that did damage. Although, it could very well also be a traitor who had been tied up and sent to him as a peace offering. The more he thought about it, the happier he was as he approached the location in which he was expected.

"J-Jouno-sama!" exclaimed one of the nervous underlings - a kid, really - holding a...

...A dog?

It barked at him, growling and struggling in the grasp of the two kids tasked with holding it down.

"What is this, a prank?" Jouno hissed, ready to make them pay before he even got the entire story.

One of them audibly gulped as their blood drained from their face, while the other stuttered an explanation. "N-No! We f-found this dog attached w-with a leash right in front of the building, and there was this attached to its collar," they said as they handed the executive a wrinkled piece of paper which, upon further inspection, turned out to hold an uncanny resemblance to a napkin from a nearby fast food place.

On it, there were an assortment of dots which were ink being pressed hard onto the fabric. Braille, he concluded. This person seemed not only to have specifically destined this to him, but desired to keep the contents for him only, rather than have someone read it for him.

On it, he managed to decipher the following:

'Dear Saigay,        Thanks for not trying to kill me!! I'm certain you're just a big softie heheh.         The doc told me I shouldn't be moving around too much after those wounds you gifted me, so now I'm kinda on house arrest lolol. Either way, I'd've loved to thank you personally but can't so I got you a present, its name is undecided yet BUTTTTTT they're a bitch just like you so I called them saigay jr. for the time being ♡ plus I figured you never had a guide dog, right?? So here you go!  XD

p.s. you never told me what kind of drink you liked. was I right about the whiskey? pls tell me!! i'll recover properly then find you, so you better have an answer by then >:( p.p.s. heheh peepee s p.p.p.s. you still haven't told me why your hair is dyed p.p.p.p.s. SAIGAY JR HAS YOUR MISSING EARRING BTW!!'

What on earth-

He certainly was no longer angry at this weird dog, but at the owner.

What made it worse was that the two kids had finally gotten over their fear of him and started calming down the dog (which he was not going to called Saigay Jr., much less Saigiku Jr.), noticing the earring; it was only a clip on that was obviously made up of cardboard clippings and poorly colored insides, as well as engravings that he could physically feel and recognize, but the resemblance to his own was noticeable. He wondered if this was an insult from [l/n] disguised as a present, but decided that there were too many exclamation marks for this to be anything resembling a threat. Not to mention the "XD".

Now, he had to figure out the dog. It's too much noise and too much effort, besides he doesn't like dogs all that much. He supposed he'll just have to snatch off that wretched earring and dispose of it before anyone makes the link and this haunts him, then kick it out. Surely it'll wander back off to its home or whatever. None of what followed would be his concern.

"Jouno s-sama, what should we do with the dog?" uneasily asked the kid. He shook his head, snatched the makeshift earring in one fell swoop and crumbled it into a ball in his hand.

"Take it outside, it isn't mine and I don't care about it. This was just a prank from someone I know."

With this, Saigay Jr. was released back onto the street, the collar still coated with braille dots that spell out its name.

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Once work was done, he decided to go for a walk, for some fresh air. However, Jouno was not expecting to hear panting coming from his side.

Saigay Jr. barked at him, happily wagging their tail and bouncing on their paws.

"What is wrong with you," he swore under his breath, then made his tone much vocal. "Go away! I don't want you here!"

None of this, obviously, got across to the dog, who was still following him closely.

"I said go away!" he yelled, a bit louder but also significantly harsher. "Stupid bitch."

It somehow reacted differently, barking much more avidly and skipping over to him with apparent excitement.

At this rate, he'd never get rid of the dog. He contemplated calling the pound and having someone take them in, but knew that this was likely an unnecessary step to take. Regardless, he'd have to get rid of it soon. All this barking is going to make him dizzy soon.

The sounds subsided as it transitioned from growling to a soft whine, choosing to lay down. It was then that he noticed a certain odor that he hadn't paid attention to before.

...Blood?

He almost could've sworn the dog was injured.

Jouno decided that it was not his concern and left it there, on the street, alone.

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The dog was certainly a stubborn little thing, as it was there when he came to work the next day.

He took out his gun, shot it in the air (loud noises hurt him a lot, but he knew the same applied to the animal) and hummed contently as it scurried off out of fear, out of his life.

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Saigay Jr. came back the very next day.

"Oh, will you fuck off already?" he groaned, taking out his gun yet again to fire a warning shot. Of course, he wasn't going to actually kill the beast, but he was reaching a point where he was very well considering it.

He stopped himself as he heard it whine, then lower itself to the ground, almost bowing to him in a human fashion.

"I'm not keeping you. [l/n] should've just left you in the dump where they found you," he said, realizing that he was talking to a literal dog.

He reached his hand out with a sigh, and began to pet it. This clearly made the dog calm down significantly, as it was finally getting recognition from the one it believed to be its owner, and so it didn't noticed as he curled his fingers around the leash, detached the ends of the collar then used it to attach the canine to a post.

As soon as it realized its situation, it began to growl, barking aggressively at him, then pouting and almost seeming like it was about to cry. Jouno didn't care, however, as he took out his burner phone and dialed animal patrol.

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Somehow, by some un-abiding law of the universe, Saigay Jr. was there, sitting happily, waiting for him outside of the building in which he operated.

Its leg and arm seemed to be getting better, he could tell, which made it likely that it wouldn't stop coming back to annoy him.

"It's like a miniature [l/n]," he laughed to himself.

Over time, he'd almost began to enjoy his daily encounters with the animal. He found it almost enjoyable to pet and ruffle its soft fur, eliciting the pleasant reaction of a calm dog.

Today, he decided, he would stop pushing it away. It's Houdini, this mynx, a Houdini who refused to disappear and could get out of any trap he laid for it.

"First off," he crouched down, stroking its ear, "ground rules. You are not my dog. I'm doing this to see if it'll get rid of you once you get bored with me. Got it?"

Ears drooping, Saigay Jr. seemed to be saying, "aww, but I wanted to be your dog!", to which Jouno replied with a look that said, "Don't make me get up and leave."

"Second rule, keep your piss and shit away from me, I'm not touching or smelling any of that. Third, you do as I tell you to. Understood?"

He wasn't expecting the dog to nod, but would've liked seeing it react other than burrowing its head further into the palm of his hand. Reluctantly, Jouno didn't resist, and sat there entertaining its need for physical touch for a few moments before springing to his feet.

"I'm going home. You are not allowed in my house," he warned, turning around.

Saigay Jr. followed him home anyways.

Somehow, as the day turned into night, he found himself helpless when it comes to resistance against this dog. It was thankfully very unproblematic, not making much of a mess when they arrived to the apartment which he lived in (it wasn't his, evidently. The criminal organization he worked for simply scared off all the tenants and let their members live there, unofficially.) He gestured to a corner for it to stay while he settled down, and stuck there for as long as he told it to.

As he took care of his own affairs, the time to rest finally came, and the dog didn't appear to have any plans to depart from its new best friend.

"Leave," he repeated forcefully, pointing to the door left ajar for it to crawl outside. "I said leave."

The message seemed to be getting across, as Saigay Jr. finally began to trek towards the entrance.

Then, it used its snout to shut the door, returning promptly and sitting down in front of him, waiting for some kind of reward.

"I'd really wish you'd die right now," he threw a hand on his face, tilting it upwards to display his frustration. "Fine. Let's play this the hard way."

He walked outside his apartment, knowing that the dog would follow, and shut the door behind them both. With a smirk, he activated his ability, disintegrating into the smallest specks and re-entering the room while sifting through the openings on the side of the door.

This way, he was back inside while the animal was whining from the outside, scratching occasionally to ask him to let them back in.

"Absolutely not," he laughed proudly, tossing himself into bed, trying to will himself to fall asleep before he'd begin to feel guilt about leaving the diligent and loyal gift from [l/n] outside.

A click, a creak and a shuffle later, and he heard a very clear panting noise.

Saigay Jr. had somehow managed to get inside.

"Fuck, you know what? I don't care anymore," groaned the tired man. "I give up. You win."

As he let himself doze off, the dog had crawled up onto the bed and softly laid its head on his chest, breathing steadily.

Jouno wouldn't admit that the sound and feeling was a nice change to his norm.

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At this point, Jouno had practically adopted Saigay Jr.

He didn't hear anything from [l/n], which he found odd since it had been over 6 months since he'd last seen them. He knew that he shouldn't be thinking about them; he'd only known the peculiar individual for a grand total of about 3 encounters, one of which he hadn't even interacted with them and the other two being attempted kidnapping and murder. The white-haired man knew that the only reason their image stuck in his head was due to this dog, this constant reminder of them, on top of their boisterous personality that he could've swore made him look at people like him (who had little to no personality, all business and no fun, as they might've said) differently.

The dog was a weird new addition to his life as well. He'd never seen it eat nor require to be walked. In fact, their relationship had gotten to the point where he was becoming more and more eager to be in its company; he woke up with Saigay Jr. (whose name he couldn't bring himself to change nor get out of his head), the both of them walked to his work, and then when he was done with his daily torturing, the loyal animal was waiting for him at the door of his apartment. He occasionally let it sleep in his bed, but mostly it found a small corner on the couch where both of them seemed content. It was a particularly odd situation; Jouno did not like pets. In fact, he didn't like people, so why would he expose himself to this small, fluffy thing for daily companionship? He didn't know, but found that there was no need to question a mutually beneficial situation.

Today, however, something odd had happened.

Saigay Jr. was not waiting in front of his door when he got back, covered in the heavy smell of blood for today's session was especially... artistic.

"Junior?" he found himself calling out, a name he never had the need to say out loud due to their chemistry. Yet, there seemed to be no movement nearby.

Weird, he thought, but there's no need to make a big deal out of this. The animal probably had to attend to its animal business, or whatever. Maybe the meeting that they always attend while he's at work was running late, he humored himself.

A few hours later, and nothing happened, no one showed up scratching at his front door or barking at it. He'd told himself that he was going to keep going on with his day as if nothing happened, but sleep was difficult to find because of the nagging feeling that something wasn't right.

It was then that he heard a knock at his door.

Not a scratch, but a knock.

He grabbed the firearm from the drawer next to his bed, and greeted the guest with a smile as he unlocked the door cautiously.

"Saigay!!"

He couldn't believe it; [l/n] was standing at his door.

"Sorry, sorry, I know this is sudden but at least be glad you were wearing pants when I knocked on the door," they spoke casually, letting themselves into his apartment and spreading themselves on the couch like they'd been living there for a while, in a particularly odd way that eerily resembled that of his dog, "but I was running late since my dad was telling me that I should come clean about this whole thing and bla bla, y'know that old man wisdom? You seem like you know what old geezers think. Anyways, Dad was givin' me the lecture and whatnot, so I told him that since I was mostly recovered, I might as well come and say hi without barking."

"Without... barking?"

He squinted his eyes even further as he tried to make sense of this.

"So you didn't gift me a dog, you..."

"Were the dog? Yup! The name's actually Soseki [y/n], and I've been a spy at [c /o/n] for about a year or two, can't remember too well since my time was cut short by a certain injury some pretty asshole gave me. Annoying, ain't it? I hate getting shot at. Being a dog is so much easier."

"You lied," he said, trying not to panic from the fact that he had been sharing his life for quite some time with another person in disguise, "when you said you didn't have an ability."

"Of course! Isn't that what everyone does? People lie tons, like when you told 'Saigay Jr.' that you didn't have a ticklish spot, only for me to find out that you have sensitive ears and chest. Very ticklish, especially when you think no one is watching."

He felt the blood rushing to his face while he swallowed dryly. What else had he done accidentally in all that time? He couldn't possibly have kept track of everything.

"Aw, he blushes," they laughed, tapping his nose before he could recover. "Relax, I'm not out to get you. I thought you were interesting and cute when you kidnapped me, so I thought I'd put you to the test for a bit while I recovered from my injuries. Okay, not so much a test, per se, but I wanted to hang out with you. I had a feeling you were lonely, and I was right!"

Heartbroken wasn't the right word to describe how he felt; what was running through his mind was a hellish mixture of embarrassment and fear of vulnerability. It's the sensation one feels when one is deceived and looks back on it, wondering how they could've been so foolish. He should've known, he kept telling himself.

"I get that you probably feel humiliated. Dad says that most people do, so I've just gotta smile and remind them that I've got a terrible memory," they laughed, reading his mind. "Maybe once you get over it you'll come to realize that I wasn't lying about wanting your friendship."

With a timid smile, nothing like what their usual bubbly personality would typically make, they bowed gently to him, seemed to consider leaning in to hug him, then decided that this all would be too much at once.

[y/n] left, hesitantly adding, "Same place... tomorrow?"

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Why had Jouno showed up at the bar where they had originally been introduced, all those months ago, when he'd been so foolishly deceived?

Perhaps it was as he kept repeating in his head, that he was there to pick up the pieces of his torn dignity. Or maybe it was to finally kill them and receive the reward on their head.

Or was it to accept their offer?

He reassured himself that he couldn't possibly, that people were terrible and he couldn't let himself get soft with this one or else he'd become mushy and weak. He wasn't sure what terrified him so much about that idea, but he didn't even consider it as an option.

As always, the bells jingled as he entered, but there was no shout of his mispronounced name.

Nevertheless, he took a seat at the counter, ordering the whiskey not because he wanted some, but because he subconsciously attributed it to this location and time, despite not having an overwhelming number of memories here. He supposed that certain memories can be short but impact you more than you could ever fathom.

Even while he waited, he'd began to feel the pit of his stomach drop, like he had a cavity in his chest in place of a soul. Jouno hadn't realized up until now how accustomed he'd grown to a persistent joyful presence in his life, be it [y/n] under human or canine form.

The waiter returned, placing his order against the counter, and murmuring in a melodic voice, "I didn't expect you to come."

He didn't have to glance upwards to know it was [y/n], and so kept his gaze downcast.

"I'd say I'm sorry but I don't quite see anything to apologize for," they said, taking a sip out of his drink, lips lingering at the rim of the glass. "I had a lot of fun in the past few months, haven't you? My approach might've been a bit cruel, but think of it as Karma for shooting me, twice. This way, we're even! Wha'd'ya say? We good?"

Jouno's mouth betrayed him as he snatched the cup from them, chugged it all down at once, then said, "yeah, why not?"

Immediately, their heart rate sped up from excitement, and they leapt across the counter to trap him in a bear hug. Trying to resist but knowing there was no point, he eventually melted into their embrace.

Pulling away, they giddily babbled, "Okay, so now that you've forgiven me, I feel like it's a great time to mention that I've seen you strip multiple times and I would've told you that it was weird to change your clothes in front of a dog but I didn't know how to tell you or look away without acting weird so I just went with it and I feel like maybe I should compliment your stellar abs while I'm rambling like this but complimenting you will probably not do much good so how about I just offer you another drink and we forget this whole thing?"

Jouno cursed under his breath, nearly chuckling but not quite, realizing that they were right. "Fuck, what else did I do?"

"Well, I've got to tell you that your snoring is adorable, but you roll a lot in your sleep and that, mister, is something we need to take care of."

For the first time since he could remember, Jouno laughed a genuine laugh, not laced with malice or sugarcoated, as he listened to [y/n] vividly recounting their numerous embarrassing tales of him, only to be teased back for their dog habits like the panting and tail wagging. He'd've thought that the drinks were making him loose, but [y/n] had actually told the waiter to give them both multiple shots of apple juice.

As the night progressed, Jouno slowly found out that he'd opened himself up a lot more than he was comfortable admitting. Yet, this made him both want to retreat and lock [y/n] out of his life and invite them into his daily rituals, to never let them go. On the other hand, [y/n] had always found him to be a wonderful person, and only became further entranced as they watched him operate on a daily basis.

Somehow, Sweet fell in love with Sour, and Sour fell in love with Sweet.

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Another set of months later, Jouno returned from a particular mission given to him in the middle of the night, exhausted, ready to do nothing expect collapse onto the bed and sleep.

He was practically dragging his feet as he approached the door of his apartment, inserted the keys lazily and opened it. As always, his partner called out for him.

"Sai!" they said, skipping up to the door and noticing his beat up expression. "Damn, what did they force you to do this time?"

He shook his head before burying it into the crook of their neck and letting his hands dangle by their side. "The guy I had to interrogate was an opera singer, lungs of fucking steel." Strands of his hair were brushing by their skin, and his lips were murmuring against the warmth. "He wouldn't stop screaming my ears off, even with the gag."

Unable to contain their laughter, they poorly comforted him with a rub on the back while shaking from giggles. "My poor baby, today hasn't been your day, has it?"

Almost like handling an infant, they snuck their arms under his own and half-carried him to the bedroom. Getting in with him and tenderly placing a kiss on his cheek, [y/n] traced out random features on his face with their fingertip, hoping to soothe his body with touch.

"You smell terribly by the way," they said sarcastically in a deep sultry voice. "Do I kick you out to sleep on the couch or are you gonna take a shower? I can smell the blood on you, darling."

Half-asleep already, he slurred a, "Tomorrow...", followed by, "It's not my fault you've got the nose of a dog."

"You aren't any better," [y/n] teased, rolling over on top of him and kissing his sensitive lips with the delicacy of a flower blooming in spring snow.

"Just... let me sleep," he groaned, waving them away like a fly, only to have his hand caught by their own.

"Mnn, fine," murmured the [h/c] haired individual, gazing at him softly with heavy eyelids, as mesmerized with him as always. "Want something fluffy to snuggle into?"

"No, stay the way you are."

With another kiss that lasted a bit longer and in which Jouno participated weakly, [y/n] rolled back and cradled his head, bringing it onto their chest.

"'Night, [y/n]," he managed to say, shifting himself so that he was curled up against their figure. After a brief pause, he shuffled himself again under the covers, resting his head on their body. With their chest steadily rising and falling in sync with their consistent breathing, he found that he slept so much better.

They smiled gently.

"Goodnight, Saigiku."

[bagdaddyb]

Romantic reader x Bianca please I simp for her so bad and it is so hard to find anything with her, so I would hereby formally like to request some reader x Bianca fluff please, thank you 🐬🐬🐬🐬🐬🐬🐬

I agree, we need more blackgirl love on this platform!

My Pearl 🔵

Warning: None this is fluffy fluff

Pairing: fem! Reader x Bianca

AN: This makes me smile :)

You drifted through the hallways like water, walking with fluidity while humming to yourself. Today was a good day. You weren't sure why it was, but it was. You woke up happy and seemed to project that happiness onto those around you. A small smile graced your features as you broke into the quad eyes searching for the one person you longed to see daily. You adjusted your uniform, determined to look your best before continuing towards the siren table. The aquatic creatures, while still standoffish, tolerated your pressence. You weren't one of them but your water abilities made you close enough. Today you were determined to take the next step with Bianca. Your relationship was moving slow her previous one with Xavier leaving her with some emotional scaring. You'd longed to kiss her from the day you met, and four months ago when your friendship progressed to something more, you thought you'd finally get to. But that wasn't the case. After Xavier's claim that she used her siren song to get him to like her, she second guessed every relationship she had, including yours.

Though she still wore the necklace, she questioned everything you did and said unsure if it was really you or really who she wanted you to be. You verbally reassured her every day, but waiting on her to make a move was beginning to become like waiting on Wednesday to apologize. It's just not gonna happen. So now you wiggled happily in your seat, waiting eagerly for Bianca to appear after class. You planned it all in your head. A romantic walk to the lake ending with a light kiss on the lips so that she may finally understand you're serious about her. You didn't have to wait long the siren appearing at your side after a few short minutes.

"Hey babe."

You said with excitement popping up from your seat.

"Hey (Y/N)."

She said with a soft smile. The use of your name didn't bother you she hadn't returned the term of endearment yet and you didn't expect her to now.

"Take a walk with me down to the lake?"

You asked shinning your bright smile, you knew it was a bit spontaneous but she'd yet to say no to any of your request previously.

"Sure."

She threw her backpack over her shoulder as you linked your hand in hers. Once you were out of the quad away from all the noise you hummed contently.

"How was your day?"

"Fine, I managed to beat Wednesday in fencing class once again."

Bianca said with a proud smile. You didn't understand her and Wednesday's rivalry, but you didn't second guess it. It was something that brought her joy, so that brought you joy. You squeezed her hand.

"Congratulations, babe!"

"How was your day?"

Bianca asked, shining the same soft smile she reserved for only you.

"It was good, I finished sculpting today. I can't wait for you to see it. It's not my traditional work, I decided to go with something more abstract it was a challenge, but I hope it turned out well."

Bianca couldn't help but stare as you rambled on. You were beautiful enigma. She didn't understand what you saw in her, still wasn't sure if you saw anything at all but she was happy to have you by her side now in this moment. The remainder of the walk consisted of small talk about your art and the race across the lake coming up that Bianca was determined to win this year. By the time you arrived at the water front it seemed time had flown by.

"So why'd you want to come down here? Training your ability?"

You hummed shaking your head.

"Yes but no I wanted to talk privately."

"O- Kay."

Bianca said an uncomfortable nervous feeling settling in her stomach.

"Bianca... I really like you"

"Here comes that but... are you breaking up with me?"

You blanched.

"What? No! Sorry, I didn't realize how that sounded. I just want you to know I'm serious about us. This isn't your mind playing tricks and I'm not under the influence of your siren song. I truly want there to be an 'us' for a long time so I hope you feel the same way."

Before you could second guess, you leaned in lightly placing your lips against hers in a soft kiss. You weren't surprised when she didn't return it likely catching her off guard, and you didn't hold it long not wanting her to be uncomfortable. When you pulled back you smiled bright at her.

"Okay now I'm gonna practice, you don't have to...."

Before you could finish, Bianca pulled you into another soft kiss one you happily returned wrapping your arms around her neck and once she pulled back she laid her head against yours.

"I want there to be an 'us' for a long time too."

Smiling as you closed your eyes embracing this moment you let go of a content sigh.

"Good."