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mangoisms · 10 months

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circle k (back to you)

summary: in which you're just the graveyard shift employee at circle k bombarded by vigilantes.

━ chapter three: this doesn’t feel right | read chapter two

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ word count: 6.6k

━ warnings: robbery, gun gets pulled but nothing happens, brief mention of blood, basically canon-typical violence

━ masterlist

━ a/n: decided to include the last minute scene i wrote between tim and steph, specifically the one at the very end. fair warning, we shift to steph’s pov! also my first time writing for a canon chatacter so be gentle <3

“How’ve things been?”

“Like you don’t know.”

Red Robin, you think, sure has the gall to look as smug as he does right now.

After all, it’s not as if he had a point to prove to you. You very specifically told him he didn’t and that you didn’t care what he did regardless of whether he took your advice or not.

Despite the look on his face, he manages to say, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t,” you say, a little bit more accusingly than you mean to, following him as he ventures to the candy aisle.

“Alright,” he concedes, not looking at you as he bends forward to peer at the display of gummy candy. “But just so you know, it ended up taking a life of its own. You’ve made a solid impression so far.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Not at all. The list of places we can visit like this without having the cops called or worse is very short.”

“But that perception works.”

“Well, sometimes it’s less about fear and more about plain disapproval. Which also does its own job but… tiring, sometimes.”

That… makes sense. The Flash can walk down the street in Keystone and Central without anyone getting all up in arms about it. These guys can’t.

“But it’s necessary, no?” Just curiosity. Not agreeing, exactly.

Red Robin takes two packs of sour gummy worms and straightens, turning away from you to head to the refrigerators at the back. “Doesn’t change the fact that we can find it a little bit tiring. Makes you wonder if you can strike a balance, but in the end, it’s nothing more than an ideal. Fear rules best.”

“I’m sure.”

“Civilian, remember?”

“Yeah, well, this civilian gets to pass judgment since I’m a citizen of this city just like you guys are.”

Seems like they forget that sometimes. Or Batman does. You’ve heard whispers of metas who found out they had powers and attempted to use them for good. Only to be sharply turned away by Batman.

There is something to be said about ensuring not just anybody goes out and does what they do, lest they get themselves and others killed, but the impression you’ve gotten is that he doesn’t allow metas in the city. No matter their experience or skill level. The only exception to the rule, so far, is Signal.

You don’t know. When you were younger, they seemed cool. As you got older, that changed. How could you trust them? How could anyone know if they were trying to do good or if they were just enacting their own convoluted brand of justice? Red Hood’s existence several years ago proved that to you and all the others.

Even if he was trying to set himself apart from Batman or whatever, the fact remains that everyone in East End, in Park Row, in the Narrows, in the Bowery, feared that they might be next. Didn’t matter if you were innocent or not because one’s definition of innocent differed sharply from his—from theirs. And when you were desperate like most people there were, that changed everything, too.

Sure, the GCPD is corrupt and so is the justice system and the government and practically every institution in this city, in this country, but… you just don’t know.

So, maybe he does have a point to prove to you.

Maybe they all do.

“Well, look,” he starts, surprising you as he turns with two bottles of Zesti in hand. “If you want us to stop coming around, we will. No harm done.”

Fine.

Maybe you’ll regret the decision but… it does make them all the more tangible to you.

“It’s fine. Keep coming around. Might discourage anyone from trying their luck and it keeps my shifts interesting.”

“And it’s all about you, is it?”

“If not, find another Circle K to haunt.”

He laughs. The sound is familiar but nice, in a way. Comforting almost. It’s then you shake your head and turn away sharply, trying to push the feeling away.

There’s that, too. Maybe if you can keep Red Robin coming around long enough, you’ll figure out what exactly it is about him that bothers you, that niggles at you.

It should help take your mind off things. Like your growing concern about Tim’s lack of contact with you. You and Steph have hung out twice since she came back and both times he said he was busy. It shouldn’t be something that bothers you, but the fact that your attempt a few days ago to hang out with him alone for ice cream was also shot down with that same excuse. And of course, his sparse replies to your texts.

But he did reply eventually. Just some agreement about what you said about Signal. Didn’t exactly carry the conversation much further but at least he replied, right? Same goes for the shared group chat between you, him, and Steph.

You haven’t spoken to her about it, either, but you don’t want to.

It’s—complicated.

That’s just what your life feels like these days.

Complicated.

Red Robin keeps coming around.

The others come around, too. You don’t see much of Signal working the night shift but you do see Black Bat again. Even Spoiler, though she keeps her distance for a reason you can’t understand. Not to say she is mean or anything. She just waves at you but she never says much else. You’ll hear her and Black Bat talking quietly, though the words themselves are lost on you no matter how hard you strain your ears.

You keep worrying about Tim, of course, and hanging out with Steph, who squeezes in time to see you in between her internship with social services.

For a while, things are calm. The vigilantes who pop up grow increasingly familiar and any wariness evaporates.

Then you get a new face.

The guy walking around the store in the oversized grey hoodie is doing a bad job at robbing you, you think.

Well, he hasn’t actually robbed you. But his hand stays in the pocket of his hoodie, clearly grasping something as he makes a couple circuits around the store. Either scoping it out to see if there is anyone else to worry about or trying to work himself up to it. You think it’s the latter, with how nervous and sweaty he looks.

Mostly, it’s for your own nerves to think that.

It’s been a hot minute since the store was robbed and you were held at gunpoint (or knifepoint). You aren’t explicitly allowed to trigger the silent alarm until either of those things make an appearance, so even with the bad feeling in your gut, you can’t yet do anything.

You are close, though. So very close.

But you don’t have to wait any longer as he rounds the corner and pulls out the gun.

Oh, great.

Before he can say anything, before you can say or do something, the door swings open.

When you both look, there is nothing there.

You wince at the rush of hot smelly air from the outside.

“Who—who’s there?!” he yells, then swings the gun back to you. “What did you do?!”

“I didn’t do anything—”

The arrow comes out of nowhere.

One blink and it’s embedded in his hand, the same hand holding—previously holding—the gun. You flinch as the weapon clatters sharply to the ground, your stomach churning at the sight of the arrow embedded in his hand, blood dripping; he yells in pain, dropping to his knees.

Then comes the owner of the arrow.

Dressed in black and dark shades of purple, the Huntress is a sight to behold. Her boots are soundless on the tiles. She looks… bored as she talks to someone. Some kind of comm, you guess.

“Yeah, I know, I’m on my way back, I’m picking up coffee. From the—yeah. So he’s gotten to you, too? Figures. What’s the sound—? Oh, just some idiot trying to rob the store. Yeah, go ahead and call the cops.”

You stare, heart beating so quickly you feel a little dizzy, as she knocks the guy out, leaving him to slump on the ground. She kicks the gun further away from him for good measure.

Finally, she looks at you.

The Huntress, a figure you’ve only seen in the newspaper or articles online, mostly grainy pictures, is very pretty up close. Shoulder-length dark hair, olive skin, lips painted a deep, pretty shade of purple, and sharp blue eyes, easily revealed through her mask.

“Are you okay?” she asks, watching you carefully.

“Y-Yeah,” you stammer. “Thank you.”

A slight shrug. “All in a day’s work. Coffee?”

“Um. Over there.”

“Thanks.”

You watch, befuddled, as the Huntress steps over the body of the now-unconscious robber and strides to the coffee machine, entirely unbothered as she grabs three cups.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know how you take your coffee, O. Give me some credit. Is Cat coming by? No? Alright, just you and BC, then.”

As the machine sputters out coffee, she comes back over to you. “Do you have any drink carriers?”

“Yeah, they’re over there.”

You point them out, on the other side of the Slurpee machine, and she nods her thanks, grabbing one.

She returns to the counter a couple minutes later.

“So, um,” you start, clearing your throat. “Is there anything in particular I should say to the police about this?”

She tilts her head, confused for a moment, before realizing what you mean.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. You can say it was me. They’ll want to see the footage, too. Let them.” She pauses, giving you an appraising look. “Is there anyone you would like me to call?”

“Call?” you ask, confused as you ring up the coffees.

She fiddles with a pouch in her utility belt without taking her eyes off you, pulling out a ten dollar bill.

“Red Robin?”

“Red—no. No, I don’t think… I’m fine, I mean.”

Huntress nods and lets it go, accepting her change.

“The cops’ll be here in a few,” she says. “I’ll be around until then, so don’t worry.”

“Thank you, again.”

She gives you the smallest of smiles. “Like I said. All in a day’s—night’s—work.”

You watch her go, one part of you not wanting her to leave, but the other assuaged by her promise to hang around and make sure nothing and nobody bothers you again.

The police arrive a little while after that. By the arrow in the man’s hand, they already know who saved you, but they still demand to see the footage.

“So, it was the Huntress?”

“Yes.”

“Has she ever come by?”

“No.”

“Have you ever interacted with her anywhere else?”

You pause, barely stopping yourself from narrowing your eyes, because you do not like the accusatory tone this cop is giving you. What did he say his name was? Bullock or something.

You send a silent apology to Sandra Bullock for having to share her last name with this idiot.

“Well?” he asks, burning cigarette hanging from his lips, arms crossed. The smell of tobacco is nauseating this close. What’s worse is you’re outside while the other guys handle things inside. Even at one in the morning, the heat edges on unbearable and the humidity is even worse, making your skin tacky with it.

“No,” you say, a tiny bit exasperated. “I have never interacted with her before this. Why would I want to?”

“You were talking to her.”

“She was talking to me. Asked me if I was okay.”

Unlike any of these assholes who blew in here, sirens wailing, and made you put your hands up as they came in, guns brandished, even though the guy was obviously down for the count. Honestly, they scare you more than the shooter. At least in that moment. These guys can be real trigger-happy.

Now, they’re just a pain in your ass.

You need a Slurpee, you think. No, deserve one. For your troubles.

“It’s cut-and-dry, Harv,” the other detective, Montoya, puts in, having stepped away. She sends you a sympathetic look that just annoys you even more. “Got some calls from a few other convenience stores for suspicious activity. They saw this guy, too, but he always left before doing anything. Guess he finally worked up the nerve to do it here but it didn’t work out well in his favor.”

Bullock grunts. “You run her ID?”

Oh, for the love of—

“She’s clear. We’re good.”

Behind you, two EMTs haul the still-unconscious robber out and into the ambulance, which promptly leaves; a cop with gloves on steps out, the gun in a baggie.

Montoya asks you a few more questions, obviously trying to make up for Bullock’s brusque manner of speaking, but it’s a futile effort. You still cooperate, however, as politely as you can with the annoyance still burning inside you and this damnable heat.

Eventually, they leave, called away to some other incident, cars peeling away from the curb, blue-and-red lights flashing, sirens wailing.

You watch them go, allowing your scowl to come out full-force, your arms crossed tightly over your chest.

“Bullock’s always like that. It’s not personal.”

“Jesus,” you hiss, heart pounding as you whirl around; it takes a moment for your eyes to pick out Red Robin leaned against the brick apartment building next to the store, his figure mostly cloaked in shadows.

He steps into the light. Despite the nonchalant tone of his previous words, he looks, dare you say, worried.

“Just coming around?”

“No. I heard what happened. Wanted to come and see how you were.”

“Annoyed. And hot. And tired. Come on, let’s go inside. The AC isn’t that great but it’s better than this.”

Red Robin follows you in. You click your tongue upon finding the blood from the guy’s hand still on the tile. So, now you have to clean that, too, on top of the paperwork you have to fill out for the incident. Great.

You jump at the nudge of a knuckle between your shoulder blades. “What—”

“I can clean it up.”

“No, that’s—”

“Let me do it. I have more experience cleaning blood than you.”

“Charming,” you mutter. “But alright, fine. Thanks.”

“Cleaning supplies?”

“First aisle.”

A nod and he turns, cape fluttering behind him.

You rub your forehead, feeling a headache start to form, and continue for the Slurpee machine at the other end of the store.

A few minutes later, Red Robin joins you, wiping his gloved hands with what looks and smells to be antiseptic pads.

“Good as new,” he tells you, reaching for a Slurpee cup, too, as you sip at yours. “Like nothing ever happened.”

You sigh. “Thanks. Appreciate it.”

“So,” he starts, holding the cup beneath the tube for… the Zesti Cola flavor? What a complete weirdo.

“Are you—” he stops when he looks at you. “You’re judging me.”

“Who comes in to get a Cola-flavored Slurpee? That’s weird. You might as well just get a bottle of it.”

“Woah. It’s so not the same thing. If there was a drink form of, what do you get? Blue raspberry? Yeah. If there was a drink form of that, would you do that instead? A Slurpee is about the consistency. The slushy factor.”

Okay, that’s fair, but something about everything he just said makes you laugh. Hard.

Maybe the heat is getting to you. Maybe it’s the hysteria setting in. Maybe it’s Red Robin passionately defending his choice in Slurpee flavor and saying shit like ‘The slushy factor’ with a straight face. You don’t know.

“You’re finally losing it, aren’t you?” Despite his words, Red Robin looks almost relieved. He really was worried, you surmise, which is a… touching thought.

You quell your giggles, shaking your head; though the laughter was nice, your head is really pounding now.

“Here,” he says, digging through a pouch at his utility belt, pulling out a mini packet of… huh. Tylenol.

“Tampered?” you ask, taking it from him, anyway.

“If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done it already.”

“Again. Charming.” But it still doesn’t change the thoughtfulness of the action; he doesn’t have to. If anything, this stuff is probably best kept for him. Though with their proclivity for putting their lives in danger, you don’t imagine Tylenol would be particularly helpful against gunshot wounds, but still…

“Thanks,” you say, a little quieter now, more meaning in your voice as you tear it open and shake out two pills.

Red Robin shakes his head. “It’s the least I can do.”

You can tell he means it. Which is, again, both touching and maybe a little bit confusing, too.

But trying to decipher why he does what he does is a futile effort.

This is, after all, the same guy who dresses up and goes out fighting the worst of the worst night after night.

Best not to look too closely. Who knows what you might find.

Despite your best efforts, Steph finds out about what happened. Something about the newspaper, which is odd, because you don’t recall seeing the news there—honestly, much more crazy shit happens overnight in Gotham. Robberies are old news.

But either way, you can’t complain too much because you are appreciative of her coddling the next day, which includes, but is not limited to, ordering takeout, burrowing on your crappy couch together, and watching old 2000s movies.

The only thing missing is—

“He said he was busy but he sent me the money for takeout. To make up for it.”

You purse your lips but don’t say anything. That you don’t want his money. You just want—

Nothing.

“We don’t need him,” Steph says determinedly in the next second. Which is a departure from what she usually says—that you’ll see Tim eventually, that his work at WE will let up. You don’t have the energy to ponder why.

You sigh, sinking further into the couch. Steph is warm next to you. You can smell her shampoo. Jasmine.

“I guess not,” you concede in a mumble.

You can’t do anything but concede. After all, it’s your initial avoidance of him at the start of June that caused this, right? And he keeps dodging your calls, your requests to hang out—points in which you might’ve been able to clear the air, apologize for it, but… no.

It’s not like you could track him down. You know the apartments he lives in—down in Old Gotham, in a much more expensive building than your shitty one here in Coventry. But sometimes he spends time at the manor, too, up in Bristol and you can’t ambush him there. You couldn’t. That would be too much. Right?

Trying to find him at WE is a lost cause, too. Not just because they have three given locations throughout the city but because you wouldn’t know if he was in or not.

Or maybe you’re just looking for the easy way out.

Complicated.

Why does it have to be so complicated?

“You look tired.”

“Thank you, Red, because that’s what every girl loves to hear.”

“Just a simple observation,” he responds, leaning against the counter, eating a kolach. Your Slurpee cups sweat in the mid-June heat, creating rings of condensation on the scuffed and scratched counter. You watch a droplet slowly roll down, joining the ring of water.

Your eyelids are heavy, dragging with each blink. A dull headache reminds you of your restless sleep and you’re sure the bags under your eyes tell it to the world, too. To Red Robin, specifically.

He finishes his kolach, crumpling the wrapper in one hand, looking steadily at you all the while.

“What?”

“Is it because of what happened last week?” he asks and his voice is frightfully gentle in a way you are not emotionally prepared to deal with.

“No,” you say quickly. “It’s not that.”

The occasional nightmare bothers you but that’s normal. You can deal with that.

“Then?”

You shake your head. God, you are exhausted. You fold your arms on the counter and bury your face there.

It’s quiet for a minute.

The refrigerators hum at the back. The AC makes an odd clanging noise before it turns on. Somewhere outside, a dog barks.

“I’m a good listener,” Red hedges after a minute. “Or so I’ve been told.”

“It’s stupid,” you say, voice muffled.

“Why?”

“Because it’s, like, stupid twenty-year-old drama and not, I dunno, the latest rumors on drug trades.”

Red laughs. It’s a pleasant sound that makes something inside you unwind.

“You should be relieved to hear I am up to date on the latest rumors on drug trades. And also, believe it or not, I do like to talk about things other than crime.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

A soft chuckle. It sounds almost affectionate.

“Come on. Whatever it is, it’s making you lose sleep. That’s not good.”

“Losing some sleep isn’t the end of the world.”

“I don’t know. Feels like it might be for you.”

You grunt, an old memory from Keystone niggling at you. You set it aside for the moment.

“It’s nothing,” you say eventually. “It’s just—nothing.”

“I don’t think it’s nothing,” he remarks. “But if you don’t want to talk about it now, that’s cool, too. If you ever do—”

“Dr. Red, to the rescue.”

He laughs. “Well, I’m not a licensed therapist and I can’t promise my advice is sound, either, so…”

“Don’t sue you?”

“Like you even could. But still, I’m here.”

You want to ask why but that might be too much for you right now.

You let yourself settle with some generic explanation, that he is obligated to ask that as a vigilante, as someone who is generally supposed to be concerned with the wellbeing of the citizens of this city. And also he is trying to prove some kind of point, so this is part of that.

“So,” you quickly say to change the topic. “What are the latest rumors on the drug trade?”

He laughs. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“You look tired.”

“Thank you, Flash, that’s exactly what I’d like to hear.”

“Just a simple observation,” he says, holding up his hands in a placating gesture.

“Well, rest assured, I have Tim and Steph on my case about it. They’ve both demanded a video call with me tomorrow despite me telling them I am alive and well. Apparently, just saying I’m alive isn’t reassuring. Can’t imagine why. That’s more than enough in Gotham…”

Mother hens, the both of them.

And Flash, too, apparently, though he does a better job of covering it up.

Off near the coffee machine, a melodic hum of Dancing in the Dark, the song currently playing lowly overhead, reaches you. You tune into it, the sound lulling you, both because it’s pleasant and because the song makes you think of Tim and his love for Bruce Springsteen (largely in honor of his late father, Jack Drake). Because of that, you totally miss Flash’s next words.

“—here? Oh, Jesus, Piper! Stop humming. You’re distracting her.”

“Oh, sorry!” comes the apologetic and still melodic voice of the Pied Piper. More normal now, though, letting you shake your head and focus again. Piper comes around the aisle, a big cup of coffee in hand; he gives you a handsome and apologetic smile that you wave off.

“It’s fine—what were you saying, Flash?”

He wiggles his fingers at you. “I’m just curious about those two, that’s all, since they seem very worried about you, oh, practically all the time. Not that it’s unwarranted, of course.”

“I’m fine, Flash.”

He gives you a look. “I don’t believe that but seems like they got it covered so, I’ll let it go. I’m still curious about them, though. What are we talking here? Boyfriend? Girlfriend? Both boyfriend and girlfriend? That’s cool, I don’t judge.”

“Are you—what? In regards to who?”

“You, obviously.”

You shake your head quickly. “No. No, absolutely not. Tim and Steph dated when they were teens, they’re exes. That’s weird.”

A bit of an uncomfortable discussion, too, if only because you are… too aware of your own attraction to Tim. A different kind of attraction. One that has you constantly admiring him. Or had you, back when you were in Gotham. With Steph, you know she is stupidly pretty but it doesn’t fluster you.

It's… nothing.

(It has to be nothing.)

“Feelings are a natural part of life, kiddo! Nothing weird about it. Have they been weird about it?”

“We’ve never even discussed the remote possibility of me dating either of them—because that would never happen in a million years.”

“Well, if they’re friends, then it shouldn’t be a problem. You don’t get many exes who can stay friends after a breakup. Right, Pipes?”

“It’s true,” he says easily, and, hold on a fucking minute, is… is the Flash implying that he and Piper dated?

“Yes, we did,” Flash answers and oh, you said that out loud, and this is… a bit of Flash lore that you aren’t sure you ever needed to know.

But still. He continues, shooting a grin at Piper. “And we’re still great friends! Me, him, and my wife!”

“Wife?” you choke out.

Great. More lore.

Piper rolls his eyes. “Flash.”

“Okay, I didn’t mean to give that away but it’s fine, we can trust her. She’s a friend.”

The words would be sweet if you still weren’t compartmentalizing the fact that he is actually married and… apparently dated the Pied Piper at one point. The Pied Piper who used to be part of the Flash’s rogue gallery, then reformed. Huh.

“You—” you point at him for good measure “—have a wife? Someone actually married you?”

Piper bursts out laughing. It’s a pleasant sound you could get lost in… No! Focus.

Flash looks affronted. “I’ll have you know I am excellent husband material!”

Piper, still chuckling, looks at you and gives a small shrug. “It is true. The superhero community isn’t very ripe with it, for reasons I’m sure you can figure out, so, Flash is a bit of a standout in that area.”

“Because the bar is low.”

“Not true,” Flash interjects. “Superman is married. You know how hard it is to compete with Superman? It’s hard. But I manage it. We’re nearly neck-and-neck in terms of husband material, I’d say.”

He ignores Piper’s snort of laughter and leans in conspiratorially. “But you know who isn’t married? Batman. He’s not husband material. He’s not even boyfriend material.”

You look at Piper, who shrugs. “Never met the guy, thankfully, but from what I’ve heard from Flash, I have to agree. The tall, dark, and broody thing can be attractive but—”

“He’s just a sourpuss,” Flash finishes. “No sense of whimsy whatsoever.”

“Oh, and you have that?”

Piper laughs as Flash sputters. “I can have fun! Why do you think I hang around you?”

You laugh. “That’s… Alright. Fine.”

Flash cocks his head suddenly, no doubt listening to the police frequency he tunes into. Piper fishes out a twenty for everything and tells you to keep the change. In the next moment, the both of them are gone, leaving you with a sharp gust of wind and arcing blue lightning that makes your skin break out in goosebumps.

Okay, then.

Your video call is the next day—Saturday—and it goes as well as you think it will.

“You look like shit.”

Steph is more blunt about it, but the sight of Tim’s grimacing face on your laptop screen shows he very much agrees.

“Thank you, my dear friends, it is lovely to see you, too, yes, I’m doing quite well, thank you. And you?”

“Okay, fair,” Tim says, holding up a hand, “but don’t lie and saying you’re doing ‘quite well.’ Someone doing ‘quite well’ doesn’t look as exhausted as you look.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “And you wonder why you don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Or boyfriend,” Steph tacks on immediately, not one to miss an opportunity to tag him.

He rolls his eyes. You shuffle around, freshly showered, looking around for your lotion, then remember it’s in the bathroom.

“Give me a sec,” you say to them, heading over to it.

The audio of the video call feeds out from the speakers of your laptop, so you can easily hear their next conversation.

“It’s so hard, isn’t it?” Steph asks

“What is?” comes Tim’s confused question.

“The urge to resist wiring her money. It’s written all over your face, duckie.”

“Like you don’t want to, either,” he shoots back.

A pause.

“Maybe we can—"

“I can hear you!” you call as you go back to your desk, bottle of lotion in hand. They look a tad sheepish as you settle in your chair. “And look, fine, I won’t say to a couple bucks—"

“Define a couple bucks,” Tim says.

“Max twenty—for dinner—” as soon as you say that, they’re both scrambling for their phones. You grimace. “Guys, come on, it’s not that bad.”

Tim gives you a concerned look. “Even your bags have bags.”

You blink. “Did you just… quote Spongebob?”

Steph grins in the other frame. “He’s finally cultured.”

Then they both return their focus to their phones.

A second later, yours chimes with notifications from Cashapp, twenty dollars from each of them.

“Guys… everything is fine.”

“No, it’s not,” Steph says stubbornly. “But that’s fine. You know you can rely on us, right? We’re friends. That’s what friends do. I know Timothy over here doesn’t always set the greatest examples for it—”

“Thanks, Steph.”

“You’re welcome,” she replies without missing a beat. “Anyway, let us help.”

“You’re already helping,” you soothe. “So, it’s okay. This semester is going to be tough but it’ll be worth it. And after this, it’ll be easier, okay? You guys are here now—”

“Not in a way that really matters,” Tim mutters.

“Which is not an invitation to come over here,” you warn—him, mostly. Steph would go along with it but he’d be the instigator.

They both pout.

You smile. Sometimes, it’s hard to handle the fact that you have friends like this. Friends who care so deeply, who love you so much, it feels hard to breathe. Because you know you love them just as much.

“I love you guys,” you say next, because you have to say it, they have to know; it’s hard for you, sometimes, just because it scares you, but after everything, you know how important it is for the people you love to know you love them.

They soften, echoing the words, and that’s enough for you.

Of course it is.

You don’t have much. No parents, no other family.

But you have them.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

A slow blink. “Updating Redbird’s security protocols?”

The garage of Tim’s townhouse smells sharply of oil and rubber. But he isn’t elbow-deep in the engine today, just seated off to the side, laptop perched on his lap and hooked up to its system. ‘Updating’ it. God knows why. The Redbird’s security protocols are just as stringent as the Batmobile’s.

Jason once regaled them with his plan, way back when, to blow it up. Bruce included. And how he went about it.

“It’s got safeguards like crazy, right? Even when it’s idle or shut down. Come up to it, fire a gun, launch a missile—doesn’t matter. Not gonna touch it before the security protocols kick in. It can sense you on thermal, air currents, video recognition, all of it.”

“So, how’d you get past it?”

“SEAL-grade wetsuit. Invisible to thermal with reflection fibers that play hell with video. But the biggest thing? Going slow. And I mean slow. Like five seconds per inch slow.”

The insane attention to detail and paranoia runs in the family, obviously.

Tim had sat in for that. Stephanie remembers the look on his face. Begrudging respect, combined with a familiar twitchiness that told her he was absolutely dying to run out and start updating his stuff.

Question everything. That’s what Bruce says.

Tim tries to separate himself from it. He really does. It gets tiring, exhausting, to live like that. But old habits die hard and his big brain precedes him sometimes. Wondering at the possibilities, at the million-in-one scenarios.

Ordinarily, Stephanie has more sympathy for him. Really. But right now, after your phone call about his little visit to Circle K…

She’s pissed.

“Don’t play dumb,” she says, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

“What is it that I’m playing dumb about?” he asks, averting his attention back to his laptop, keys clacking quickly, pausing momentarily as he takes a swig of Red Bull.

She tells him.

At the sound of your name, he stops.

But now that she’s started, she can’t stop. “Visiting her? As Red Robin? What are you thinking, Tim?”

The clack of keys resumes. The set of his gaze on the laptop screen is very intentional now. Avoiding her.

“It’s nothing, Steph,” he says and she almost believes it. But she knows him, so she doesn’t. “It’s harmless.”

“So, why won’t you hang out with us? Her? Because I assume you’re also avoiding her individually.”

A little sigh. Impatient. “I’m not avoiding her. I really was busy. Have been busy. You know how the heat messes with the city.”

It’s the excuse that bothers Stephanie.

Tim is making some kind of choice here. Choosing to favor Red Robin over himself, over Tim Drake, and it makes no sense. Red Robin isn’t your best friend. He isn’t even your favorite vigilante. (Black Canary is. She agrees, though it would be nice for Spoiler to get some spotlight but that is neither here nor there.)

You know who is your best friend? (One of them, anyway.)

Tim freakin’ Drake.

Stephanie knows why he’s avoiding you all of a sudden. The connection will be too easy to make. It’s why she—as Spoiler—keeps her distance. Tucks away her hair, hides her face even more, when she and Cass visit Circle K.

Even though! They had talked about telling you. Stephanie wanted to tell you so badly. You know who her father is. Was. You know how her mom used to be like. You know everything and you never once judged. You were, to be sure, a bit wary of them—the vigilantes—but most were. You wouldn’t turn them away if you knew.

If there is anything Stephanie knows, it is that.

But then she went away to Metropolis for a week and a half and suddenly, he’s visiting you as Red Robin. And he’s not trying to ease you into it, not trying to help you latch onto some clues, to make it easier—because they’d discussed that, too!—he’s doing it because… Well, she doesn’t really know. But there is a reason. She knows that much. A big reason.

It makes no sense to her, considering his feelings. Complicates things unnecessarily. Especially with how he’s avoiding you because of it, because he apparently got cold feet on telling you the truth.

And it’s the excuse… it’s the excuse that pisses her off.

Their relationship, back when they were kids, had some questionable origins. It did. Stephanie did things she wasn’t proud of. He did things he wasn’t proud of. It was messy. She tries not to kick herself about it—about being a silly girl in love, awed at the attention of a boy like Robin, knowing he was dating a girl (Ariana Dzerchenko, her name was, she would later find) and making moves on him despite that, moves that he always, always went along with. Like two magnets that couldn’t help but fall together.

Don’t get her wrong! The blame is not solely on her. It’s on him, too. She shouldn’t have pushed. He shouldn’t have went along with it, knowing he had a girlfriend, too. He shouldn’t have held his knowledge of her identity over her head the way he did. He isn’t mean-spirited at heart but he had an advantage over her. He knew she was Stephanie Brown. She knew him only as Robin and nothing else. Not until later on that would change and that… that was another mess entirely.

But they were dumb and young. Stephanie tries not to hold it against herself. They know better now. She knows better now. Knows what she deserves.

But this feels too close to him crossing that line.

No, he has crossed that line.

Given one persona up for another.

Approaching you as Red Robin, while you know nothing of him, and doing god knows what…

Someone is going to get hurt.

Last time, it was him. The circumstances, Bruce’s unceremonious reveal of his identity to her—a mistake, an egregious overstep—it all culminated in Tim feeling betrayed. Betrayed that Bruce would reveal that to her without Tim’s say so, without even asking him if he was okay with her knowing. Betrayed that Stephanie went along with it.

This time?

Stephanie feels it in her bones.

The person who is going to get hurt is you.

You, clueless about these lives they lead, clueless as Tim monopolizes your time as Red Robin, all the while you have no idea it’s him. You, her best friend. Stephanie loves you to the end of the universe.

She doesn’t want to see you hurt.

The mere thought of it, of the potential fallout, leaves a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“Steph. Steph, it’s fine.”

She blinks, coming back to herself. Tim is standing in front of her now, dark brows knitted together, blue eyes intent on her face. Concerned.

“You’re lying to her.”

“We’ve been lying to her.”

“Not like this,” she says quietly. “Not this way. You’re… This is too much, Tim. I don’t understand why you’re doing this. What happened?”

“Nothing,” he says. For what it’s worth, to anyone else, it sounds believable. But like she said. Stephanie knows him. For better or for worse.

And on that end, she also knows he is not going to budge. No matter how much Stephanie wants to drill this into him, grab him by the shoulders and make her point. Once he’s made a decision, he commits.

Or more like he’s dug himself into this grave and he doesn’t (can’t?) want to get out.

“This is a mistake,” she says. “And you know it. I just hope you actually try to fix it sooner rather than later. Because if you break her heart, I’m going to break something of yours.”

Stephanie loves Tim. He’s a great friend. They’ve had their ups and downs—even discounting their relationship—but they’re solid. They are.

But she loves you, too. So much so it sometimes feels like she’s going to burst with it. She’s never had something like that, like this, and in the end, she doesn’t want to choose, but Tim knows better. And because he knows better, you are her first priority.

Even worse, he doesn’t seem bothered by the threat. Relieved, if anything.

“I’m counting on it, Steph.”

Which is so unfair in so many ways (fix it, she wants to yell, don’t rely on me to come clean up when shit hits the fan—do it yourself!) but she’s had enough of this conversation and all the ways this can go wrong.

Maybe he will turn around. Maybe. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

But she doesn’t think so. He won’t. Not until the consequences of this, of his lies, of his excuses, come hit him in the face.

She wishes it weren’t like that—knowing what it will result in.

But some things you just can’t change.

She knows better with Tim.

She really, really does.

reblogs are appreciated!

taglist: @peachesona @knoxx-seresinbradshaw @kikis-writing-service @sweetistic @soundsfunbutno @ginevraxrogers @fridaenpina

[ask to be tagged! either in my inbox or here! ^_^]

#tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #dc comics imagine #tim drake imagine #red robin imagine #tim drake x you #tim drake x y/n #red robin x y/n #red robin x you #dc comics x reader #batfamily x reader #batfam x reader #batfam x you #batfam x y/n

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weirdgenetic-fuckup · 2 months

Note

Dave Mustaine pampering and praising the reader during sex after she had a difficult day pls 🙏

Been going through some serious Dave Mustaine brain rot myself, the Dave requests came at the right time lol

If you like my writing and want to request anything please do, I am very bored and will get to it as soon as I can :3

Warnings: Smut, crying, fluff, if you think I missed something please let me know, otherwise please enjoy :3

Minimum wage jobs suck ass. This whole week has just been the worst, never ending and with god awful people around you all the time. Today was your last straw, one too many people yelled at you and it just seemed like no matter what you did it was wrong.

On your way home you decided you deserved a treat for working so hard and stopped at your favourite cafe. Only to find it was closed.

You could feel the tears brimming in your eyes as you kept driving, you thought about pulling over but you were so close to home that you just kept going. The only thing on your mind was getting home, crawling into bed and not leaving for an indefinite amount of time.

The door opened to a mostly quiet house. Dave, your boyfriend, was sitting on the couch in the living room watching whatever was on the TV. He looked bored out of his mind but when he saw you his face lit up, only for a moment until he realised that you had been crying.

Dave rushed over to you, wrapping his arms around you tight and peppering your face in kisses. “Oh, my poor baby, what happened?” He asked, his voice soft and sweet. You opened your mouth to explain but no words came up. He shook his head and held you close to him, just letting you cry. “It’s ok, you’re ok now.” He cooed.

Dave picked you up and carried you to the bedroom, koala style. He gently placed you down on the bed and got under the covers with you, his hands moving up and down your sides as he continued to hold you. You stayed in his embrace until you finally stopped crying. “Did my baby have a rough day?” The ginger asked. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead when you nodded. Dave sucked his teeth. “Well we can’t have that, now can we?”

His hands slipped under your work shirt and he slipped it over your head. Dave helped you out of your work pants and even took off your socks. Now you were sat up against the headboard in just your underwear in front of him. Dave was in front of you, taking his own clothes off to even the score. When he was down to the same covering as you he began rubbing your shoulders. “You’re ok now, right?” He asked with a soft smile. You nodded with a sad smile.

Dave undid your bad and tossed it aside. His big, calloused hands massaged your chest and shoulder blades, his attempt to relieve your body of any stress. He kissed up and down your neck and collarbones, placing a few on your shoulders as he continued the work with his hands.

Soon he got you out of your underwear, taking his own off as well. You reached for his half-hard dick but he brushed your hand away. “Today is about you.” He hummed and kissed your cheek.

Dave kept on peppering you with kisses and love bites while he got you to lay down and he was hovering over top of you, arms caging your head, his ginger locks framing your face. “You are so beautiful, you know that?” You smiled up at him. “Tell me you know that, I want to hear you say it.” You paused for a moment.

“I-I know that.” You muttered. Dave stared at you, waiting for the rest of it. “I-I know that I’m beautiful.” You told him. He nodded.

“Good, now I want you to believe that by the end of the night.” He pressed his lips to your in a passionate kiss. One of Dave’s hands came down and his thumb began circling your clit, sending jolts through you. When he decided you were wet enough he slipped a finger in and started pumping it in and out of you, nice and slow so he knew he could curl his fingers and hit that special spot in your gummy walls.

Soft moans left your lips and Dave slipped another finger in you to stretch you out for him. “Such a good girl.” He cooed in your ear. He continued to motions, kissing and pumping and licking until you could barely focus on him.

The build-up in your gut was hot and tight, just waiting to burst. “Come on, you can cum for me.” He pecked your cheek. “I’m here for you right now, don’t wait for me to tell you to cum.” Like that you came undone on his fingers, squirming and twitching underneath him. His hand didn’t stop moving, letting you ride out your high on his fingers. “Such a good girl for me.” He praised, kissing your lips. “Are you ready?” He asked.

“Yes, Davie, please.” You said with a smile, looking up at him with glazed over eyes. Dave chuckled as he lined himself up with you and slowly pushed his tip in.

“Fuck, so tight for me, baby, even after I stretched you out.” He groaned, eyes rolling back. He kept pushing in until he bottomed out. “Doesn’t hurt, does it?” He asked, looking back down at you. You shook your head, mouth opened in a silent ‘oh’ at the feeling of him deep inside you. “Good, don’t need my baby feeling even worse, do we now?” He kissed your cheeks and the tip of your nose before landing on your lips where he stayed as he started moving his hips in smooth, slow circles.

He hit all the best spots in just the right way, he knew you so well. His hips moved faster, pulling out more thrusting in harder. Your voice got louder and your eyes rolled back. “That’s right, just- fuck- just let your body feel good right now.” Dave managed to get out between grunts and groans. That knot came back again and you could already feel it beginning to pop.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Davie, Davie ‘m close.” You whined. Your hands were planted on his back and your nails dug into his skin. Dave didn’t stop or slow down, he kept going at the same pace until your back arched off the bed.

The way you were clenching around Dave must’ve gotten him pretty close too because his hips started sputtering. You knew he wouldn’t cum right now if he could hold it back. “Davie, Davie please, please cum inside, wanna feel you inside, please.” You begged. Dave just shook his head and sat back on his knees. He hoisted your hips to meet his and went back to fucking you.

The room filled with your moans and whines, skin hitting skin along with Dave’s softer grunts and groans. “Fuck, just-just cum one more time, baby, know you can do that, so good, so good for me, aren’t you?” You nodded, bringing your hand down to touch yourself.

Dave’s hands were on your hips as he bucked into you relentlessly. The pleasure had your head spinning and you came all over him once more, your juices dripping down onto Dave’s lap and the sheets below. That was the last that Dave could take and you felt his seed spilling into you, white liquid spurting out and hitting your walls.

The both of you kind of stopped, Dave attempted to continue his thrusts but he was just out of it, leaving you both sweaty, heavy breathing messes.

The ginger flopped down beside you and pulled you close. He kissed your forehead before speaking. “So beautiful. So pretty. I love you so much, you know?” You nodded.

“I know, I love you too, Davie.” You smiled up at him. You stayed like that for a while before Dave went to run you a bath. He got the temperature just right, lit some candles with your favourite scents, he even sprinkled some epsom salts and your favourite flower petals in.

Given the thought going into the bath you assumed he’d taken notice of your bad mood earlier on and got everything ready in advance, which only made it all the more sweeter.

Dave got in with you, he sat behind you and gave you a small massage while he helped you wash up. At some point you fell asleep to him whispering sweet nothings to you. “So pretty, so sweet. My perfect baby, I love you so, so much.”

#Megadeth #Megadeth smut #Megadeth fluff #megadeth fanfiction #Megadeth x reader #Dave Mustaine #Dave Mustaine smut #Dave Mustaine fluff #Dave Mustaine fanfiction

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blue-jisungs · 2 years

Text

old people activities

a/n. back to normal posting!! the ask game was fun but a bit tiring ㅠㅠ so here’s a small thing i’ve had on my mind for a while :D i finally wrote something for my joonie🫶

it all started with a newspaper.

after a sleepover you had with the maknae line, you walked to the kitchen just to see that namjoon was sneaking around and trying to eat something.

you decided to make a breakfast for you and the boys and eat before they wake up since you were hungry.

in the middle of your meal, namjoon handed you a newspaper he was reading and pointed at the headline about them with a gummy smile.

“who still reads newspapers?” you suddenly heard tae’s grumpy voice.

“good morning to you too, taehyung” a scoff left your mouth and then you pressed a quick kiss onto the corner of joon’s lips that said i’m proud of you.

“ew”

“hey man, just shut up and eat” joon laughed and put the plate full of food in front of still sleepy taehyung.

then it was a book.

“are you seriously reading right now? both of you?” the voice on the other side of the phone was a bit muffled and there were a lot of shuffling sounds as well. probably because hobi was running up the stairs.

“well not anymore” you groaned, closing your book. namjoon didn’t though. his arm that was wrapped around you still continued to draw circles on your skin.

“i’ll be there in two minutes. and if i see both of you with noses in your books i swear i’ll consider signing you to a book club” he laughed.

“bold of you to assume that we don’t already have one” you scoffed, sending joon a wide grin. he looked up at you and winked.

“wait, have? you have your own book club?” hobi asked, clearly confused “don’t tell me it’s only you two in there”

“yup!” you hummed and bookmarked joon’s book in case hoseok was about to burst into the room and yeet the book somewhere.

you didn’t know if that counted but then it was your sleep schedule.

“come on! if you’re bored just say so!” jin whined and tugged your t-shirt. you laughed, shaking your head.

“no it’s not that. you know i love spending time with you. and i literally can’t be bored with you” you sent him a soft smile and looked at the rest of the boys “but…”

namjoon tried his best to hide his yawn but it was so obliviously loud that he couldn’t even do it.

“you’re turning into old people, seriously. it’s barely 8pm” yoongi crossed his arms and namjoon just shrugged.

“let’s face it, we’re getting old. and we’re really tired. lately we started going to bed earlier and it’s surprisingly good? we’ve got more energy in the morning and the day feels longer…” your boyfriend tried to explain it but jin waved his hand.

“aich, you’re just like my grandparents. just go to sleep” he scoffed, still taken aback by your words.

the incident that made you think about it more was the dinner.

"y/n you didn’t miss click?” jungkook asked, tilting his head.

“no” you frowned, placing the bowl of rice down “i meant 1pm”

“dinner at 1pm? ah you’re really turning old…” jimin giggled and you just exchanged surprised looks with namjoon.

maybe they’re right…?

“hey, what starts with d, has fourteen letters and f in it?” you asked, tapping your chin with your pen. namjoon took the crossword out of your hands with his free hand - since the other one was caressing your hair.

“difference?” you heard hobi’s voice.

“too short” you and namjoon replied at the same time. jin walked into the room and let out a dramatic sigh.

“really? crosswords now? i swear we’ll send you to nursing home!” he whined and you shook your head as the others laughed.

“defenestration!” you grinned and took the pencil to fill the gaps.

“what? now you know archaic words no one uses anymore? ah guys…” jin sighed.

“i’ll perform it on you if you don’t shut up” you grinned and namjoon just scoffed, taking the crossword from you.

even if you started behaving like old people, you didn’t mind. because if that’s how growing old with namjoon will look like, you won’t complain.

[ masterlist <3 ]

taglist. @geniejunn ,, @luvhyun3 ,, @starlostseungmin ,, @elviransworld ,, @jnks6r ,, @sieunsgf ,, @ethereallino ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @duolingofanaccount ,, @slytherinhobi

#bts namjoon #namjoon fluff #namjoon #bts fluff #bts soft hours #bts imagines #bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts x you #bts fic #bts x reader #bts x y/n #kim namjoon

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curtsycream · 4 months

Text

Eddie Munson Blurb 4

Just a blurb that revolves around something I did when high with my bf, only difference is I asked the bat question about Dracula.

She knew she should have listened the second he told her that half a gummy was enough. But after she didn’t feel anything for five minutes she took the other half plus a whole one.

Now as she sits on Eddie’s bed in nothing but his Black Sabbath shirt and a pair of underwear she regrets it. Her head was resting on his chest as she drew patterns on his bare skin. Sitting up as she was straddling him she grins as an idea comes to mind.

“I know that look, and if it involves me that a big no.”

“But you’d look so pretty with eyeshadow,” she whined.

Eddie wanted to deny her but the look in her red eyes left him reeling. He would later deny how he caved in and blame it on her stoned state. But in the meantime he would allow himself to give in to her without restraint.

“Fine.”

If Eddie knew that allowing her to do his eyeshadow would result in kisses he would have relented long ago. His face was covered in her reddish brown lipstick as she left her mark.

“You’re so pretty Eds, like you’re even hotter.”

“Look at you being all gushy and sweet, do you normally act the way you taste?”

She let out a laugh as she shakes her head before nodded. She seemed to be confusing herself as she began to nod and smile. “You’re sticky and salty.”

Her words caught him off guard as he looked up at her flustered. “We should clean your mouth out with soap, thought good girls were polite?”

“I’m very polite, like when I say thank you sir for cumm-“

Eddie’s hand covered her mouth before she could finish. A chuckle leaving his lips as amusement danced in his eyes, “careful you’ll start something we both know you can’t finish right now.”

“I can finish lots of things,” she said crossing her arms.

“Sure you can Angel,” he said pulling her down so that he could wrap his arms around her. He rolled to the side with her in his arms, “it’s time for you to sleep anyway. We have things to do in the morning.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Life’s not fair, especially when you don’t listen.”

Soon enough she had calmed down her eyes closed as his fingers run up and down her back. Eddie closed his own eyes feeling peace at last with her in his arms.

“Eddie? Do you have clothes on when you turn back into a human? Because it doesn’t look like it when you’re a little bat.”

“Go to sleep.”

“But I really-“

“Sleep, angel face.”

#x reader #stranger things au #eddie munson #stranger things #xreader #eddie munson x reader #eddie blurb

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noirs-pages · 11 months

Text

Diavolo 2

Summary: You’re in your side room, experimenting with potions to give to your pet Diavolo. You still hold to your thesis that these pets are behind a complex spell that holds their full potential back.

(I hate feeling tired. I’ve been feeling tired all that time. I need some form of stimulation! Perhaps I should record and narrate something?)

You’re not really one to keep up with local news, at least not the news that floats around in your old university. You still get emails from that place, not because of morbid curiosity but because you’re just too lazy to make them shut up. You graduated and you’re glad you did, but occasionally, when you see a header of a notification that relates to anything regarding your final thesis, you end up hissing in a breath and locking yourself up in your private room.

“Idiot,” you swiped at your phone, clearing the latest news of another mage being sent to the hospital because they messed with the spell, “Backlash. It’s on top of the fucking page, bold, all caps!”

If you don’t know what you’re doing, don’t mess with the spell! What it is with mages ignoring that warning? A spell that continues to thrive on the entire existence of these magical pets with absolutely no signs of decaying is one that can and will lash out if one goes about poking at it wrong.

And yet, those old arrogant mages back at your university, they had the audacity to blame these accidents on you just to save their own faces. It’s not your fault their apprentices died. That’s their own fucking fault for not doing proper safety procedures. They really thought their own magic were enough to ensure that.

With a puff of red smoke, your concoction in your mini cauldron was done. You sneezed before reaching in and pulling out a royal red gummy in the shape of a cut jewel.

“There we go, this should be good,” a beautiful replica of an accident you had that led you to your thesis, “Come over here Diavolo, I’m done!”

You can see the hypocrisy of your statement, trying to get this spell off of your own pet. However, those people are not you, nor are they Diavolo. They’re not the ones that spent years carefully studying the layers upon layers of this species wide spell. You know what can and cannot be messed with, and Diavolo knows how to redirect backlash away from everyone.

Besides, Solomon is waiting by the door in case something ticks off his senses. You have many emergency buttons at the ready.

At your call, Diavolo eagerly turned away from the window and flapped right to your shoulder. You let reached out a palm and set him right on the ground.

“Just a small bite, okay?” You waved the treat in front of your nose. Diavolo sniffed it before taking a most delicate bite.

In just three chews, the sound of chains shattering echoed around you. The air, once cool and flowing, became heavy with both the sharp sting of magic and heat. A familiar burn, one that never fails to remind you of a broiling volcano.

You stepped back just as Diavolo glowed white. His form expanded, wings stretching out until they took up the length of your room.

The cocoon of heat only got stronger when the light show finally stopped. You stare up to gold eyes, glowing as his form nearly reached the ceiling.

“Yup,” you crossed your arms, leaning back, “still as big as ever." And bare. You really need to prepare a towel or something if this stays permanent. "You doing alright, Diavolo? Think you can say a few words for me?”

A large huff of breath sweeping over you was all the warning you got before he lowered his muscled form as much as he could under your chin. His wings fluttered when you scratched his head, knocking over some plastic bottles. He closed his eyes, clearly ready to go to sleep.

And not a single word came out of his mouth. Only a heavy clicking from his throat.

From outside your door, you heard Solomon ask, “Well? Did it work?”

You airily laughed. “Nope, another failure. Couldn’t get rid of that lock over his mind.”

As such, it will only be a matter of time before the spell fixes itself and makes this affectionate Diavolo small again. Back to the drawing board with you.

#obey me #omswd #nightbringer #noir's pages #noir's pages exclusive #drabble #diavolo #demon lord's castle #(om) house pet au #reader insert

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creelteeth · 2 years

Note

I sensed someone summoning me from the abyss 👀 it’s lipgloss anon again. 🫦back to say you’re great and I love your content ❤️

also, another perv!steve (maybe even dark!steve) thought I’ve had circulating my brain: he slips you some melatonin gummies saying they’re just regular candy and it has you falling asleep practically in his lap. He lays you out on the couch/bed/what have you and just feels you up… maybe over your clothes, maybe under them 🫣 and he definitely is jerking off the whole time just telling you how sweet you look and how much he wants to ruin your pretty pussy for anyone else. ugh I am such a slut for Steve 😩

dark steve !!! dark pervy steve is my favorite steve. i’m taking out the melatonin tho we’ll just assume reader is a rlly heavy sleeper

cw: DARK themes, somno, non-con touching/groping, male masturbation

one of steve’s favorite things about spending time with you was your ability to fall asleep and stay asleep.

usually he took advantage of that by masturbating next to you— he never did much except jerk his cock. sometimes, if he was feeling like he needed more he might keep a hand on your thigh to anchor himself to you.

today was one of those days he felt like nothing was satisfying him anymore. you’d fallen asleep in his bed, dressed in one of those skimpy nighties he’d bought you. this one was white and extremely see through. the thin sheer material laid across your intimate areas so loosely, giving him the perfect view of all of you.

you were asleep on your back, legs spread just far enough apart for him to see the perfect outline of your puffy cunt. steve stared at you for quite some time, palming desperately at the ache between his legs.

it’d become so routine he didn’t have much guilt anymore, you never even seemed to notice when the bed would start to shake from how aggressively he was fucking into his fist.

once he was certain you were deep enough into your sleep, he had his cock out. big heavy cock laying against his thigh, one hand making lazy strokes of the swollen tip. he wanted to revel in you. to savor every bit of you. he liked you best like this, docile and on display for him.

steve placed a warm hand on your bare thigh, thumb sliding back and forth over the skin. he waited a minute to see if you’d squirm, feeling particularly bold tonight with his plans for you.

it had to do with that tiny little skirt you wore for him earlier today— it had risen up when you sat in his lap, so much so that he could feel your pussy right against his thigh.

the thin cotton panties you wore did not seem to do a good job at all of creating a barrier.

when you sat in his lap he bounced you a bit, mostly so he could watch your tits bounce but what he didn’t expect was to feel your arousal soak through your underwear and onto his leg. you made a wet spot on the denim, completely oblivious to where it came from.

he’d decided then that you wanted him. he knew you did. he didn’t want to flat out ask you yet, he was still warming you up to the idea of becoming his play thing.

instead he’d settle for this.

when you didn’t move from his hands stroking your thighs he traveled them upwards, index and ring fingers dragging across your cloth covered mound. he smiled to himself, pressing gently watching his finger sink into your puffy lips. he made sure to tread lightly, not applying enough pressure to wake you, only enough to familiarize himself with your sex.

“gonna ruin this pretty little pussy.” he groaned out, not worrying about being too quiet since you seemed to be completely gone in your slumber.

his left hand worked hungrily at his cock, squeezing it harshly, thumbing over spot just below the tip.

he prodded at your cunt for a while before moving up to the waistband. he grabbed at the material, tugging upwards to pull it taught against you.

the increased tension of the fabric made it even easier to see all of it. your lips spreading around the cotton, practically swallowing it. he’d pulled them back so tightly it was flesh against you, the outline of your clit in perfect view for him.

he considered ducking down to lick you over the cloth, dying to taste more of you. licking over the small wet mark you made on his jeans was just not enough.

he imagined what you’d do, if you woke up to his mouth latched onto your sensitive little clit. imagined the pretty noises that would come out of you. picturing that confused look on your face only making his cock twitch more.

he took a break from your pussy, releasing the fabric to let it snap back into place. he watched your thighs quiver a bit, but you remained still.

steve moved up to straddle over your thighs, careful to not let any of his weight press into you. he released his cock for a moment, both hands taking hold of your tits. he squeezed at the plush softly, smiling at the way your nipples hardened into his palm.

“could just fuck you right now, couldn’t i?” he taunted, the leaky head of his cock hovering just above your covered mound.

he considered it, considered lowering down just enough to lodge the head of his cock between your thighs. steve knew better than that though, and this position he had you in was more than enough.

he stayed above you, roughly jerking his cock— sticky droplets of pre-cum oozing down the side of his swollen shaft.

“gonna— fuck, ruin this perfect little pussy one day. just, shit, just you wait.” he grunted and groaned, cock throbbing in his palm, heavy cum-filled balls tightening over his orgasm.

he felt the familiar burn in his stomach, his body tensing up above you.

he wanted to cum on you, curious if you’d even notice. the warm white liquid would look so pretty painted across your thighs but steve decided not. maybe another day. he settled for one of the socks you wore, sliding it off your foot to wrap around the end of his cock.

he tossed his head back, his rutting forward into his hand overtop of you. hot sticky ropes spurting out of him and into your sock. he fucked into the air until he was satisfied, the entire time imagining that he was not just fucking into a piece of clothing that belong to you but instead you unused holes.

once he’d calmed down from his shuddering he moved to lay beside you. shimmying his boxers back up before tossing the cum sock into the floor by his bed— figuring he’d just let you figure out why it was hard and crumpled tomorrow morning. the thought of you examining the mess pleased him more than it should’ve.

#s.h.#perv!steve #cw somno #cw dark #casey writes

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mable-stitchpunk · 5 months

Text

Dazed and Amused- TADC fic- Teaser

It was a typical day in the Digital Circus.

Everyone had just gotten finished unclogging the pipe maze of an infestation of surprisingly aggressive gummy worms. A fantastic adventure that was clearly just Caine giving them busy work that he didn’t want to do himself.

“Excellent job in snaking those drains! And in record time too! You should allll be proud of yourselves. Look at Bubble, he’s thrilled! He’s so happy! He’s… Bubble, goodness me, STOP. Whatever you’re doing, please!"

Bubble turned to face a cringing Caine with a mouth overflowing in half-chewed gummy worms. Them slowly sliding out of his mouth as he replied.

“Sowwy boss.”

“Ahem, in any case…” Caine turned back to the others with a little spin of his cane. “I think you all deserve a just reward and a day out, soooo… We’re going to the DIGITAL CARNIVAL!”

There were some mixed reactions amongst the group, but one was very vocal.

“Really?! Hurray!” Gangle cheered, clapping her ribbons. Her comedy mask still stuck firmly to her face. It was a wonder with how lost she had gotten during their excursion.

As a matter of fact, it was the longest Gangle had gone in a while without breaking that mask. So, instead of her typically sulking self, she was overflowing with excitement, bouncing in place.

And it was all because Jax too had gotten lost in that stupid maze. He gave the masked tangle of ribbons a slightly irritated look.

“Ugh,” he groaned in exaggeration.

He made a show of it but, much to his continued displeasure, Gangle took absolutely no notice of it. Someone else did though, the ragdoll standing directly to his right who quickly chimed in.

“Well, you’re the one who’s always claiming that everyone’s too gloomy. You should be happy she’s happy,” Ragatha whispered to him.

“I said she was being a drag. I didn’t say I wanted her to become annoying,” Jax clarified.

Ragatha rolled her eyes from him to Pomni. Giving her a ‘are you hearing this?’ sort of look.

Pomni looked back with a visibly uneasy look replacing her tired one from a few moments ago. That was right, Ragatha realized. Pomni hadn’t gotten a chance to go to the Digital Carnival, and she could only be wary at Caine’s enthusiasm.

“Don’t worry, Pomni. This is going to be fun! The Digital Carnival is great, really,” Ragatha assured.

Before Pomni could even reply, Caine literally inserted himself into the conversation by popping up in between them. It made Pomni jump and even Ragatha took a partial step back in surprise.

“And now it is even better!” he proclaimed. “I have updated it with more rides, more attractions, more prizes, and plenty more bug fixes!”

“Bugs?” Kinger snapped his head over with a confused blink.

“Oh yes! The, erm, minor issues from last time are a thing of the past! For example, the roller coaster- the cars no longer fly off the track!”

“Aww, but Caine, that was the best part! Coming down at breakneck speeds and then fl-ying off at the turn and breaking our necks,” Jax mockingly complained.

“I’m sorry, Jax. I know you like the thrills, but safety is this park’s number one concern!” Caine insisted, Jax’s shtick flying right over his head. Caine then leaned in and whispered behind his hand- loudly, mind you- “We also have a tunnel of looove~.” He winked.

“Oh that’s…” Ragatha said back with an awkward smile. She stole a look to Jax and saw the absolute look of offense and disbelief that was now on his face. She squeezed her hands together. “That’s great.”

Jax looked at her with just straight-up disbelief now.

“It is! Especially for any love birds tweeting about,” Caine hinted. If that wasn’t obvious enough, he then nudged Pomni repeatedly until he was sure she got it too.

Ragatha only kept smiling to cover her embarrassment.

“I think you’re tweeting outta your- Wait, if we’re going… Shotgun!” Jax suddenly cried. He thrust an arm up in the air as his face broke into an eager smile.

Ragatha pursed her lips as she realized what she had inadvertently let happen again.

“Why, you eager beaver you! Of course you can drive, Jax! I appreciate the initiative,” Caine complemented.

The others weren’t nearly as thrilled. Gangle was making sure to hold her mask on, Kinger got a downright dazed look, and Zooble gave a loud groan.

“God, Jax, didn’t feel like giving anyone else a chance?” Zooble asked.

“Nope! You snooze you lose, Picasso,” Jax said, strutting by.

“What just happened?” Pomni asked for clarification.

“Jax is driving again,” Ragatha sighed. She rubbed her arm. “He’s… a little bit of a leadfoot.”

“…Wait, we have a car?!”

Ragatha laughed a little. “You could call it that… but I wouldn’t.”

“…That doesn’t bode well!” Pomni said with a tense smile.

#The Amazing Digital Circus #fanfic #Dazed and Amused #Ragatha #Jax #Pomni #Caine #Bubble #Gangle #Zooble #Kinger #Please for the love of God Bubble stop that #Caine is unsubtle #God help them once they get in that car

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imagine-knowing-a-name · 2 years

Text

Jeff for Dinner

Summary: Y/N has an important question to ask Natasha’s family, and a trip to Russia is required. How will they react to meeting Jeff for the first time?

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 2561

Warnings: Guns and hunting

A/N: I posted my first fic on 23rd of October 2021, which was a very chaotic meeting between the Avengers and Natasha’s family. It’s been a really awesome year since, getting to share stories and meet people and make some really good friends. And especially all the friends I made because of Jeff the Land Shark. So, for the one-year anniversary of this account it seems only fitting to write another chaotic meeting of Natasha’s family, just including a very lovable land shark too.

Part of The Jeff Fictional Universe (you don’t need to read the others to understand)

—————————————————

“Y/N, relax. Jeff does not need a suit.”

You and the land shark synchronously dipped your heads to the custom-made suit folded neatly before him, then back to Natasha.

“Maybe you’re right,” you conceded, “but are you sure? It’s his first time meeting your family. Shouldn’t he make a good impression?”

“Y/N… he is a shark.”

“With legs!”

“That doesn’t change the fact that he does not need to dress up to meet my parents. I know that you didn’t make a good first impression-”

Jeff’s mind wandered off. He did not really want to wear the suit. A few days ago, you had asked him to wear it and sit still while you practised some speech; he had complied, but the outfit was restricting, and he didn’t enjoy it. Jeff much preferred to run freely.

Jeff physically wandered off too soon after. He knew Yelena was in the house; she had told him they would be going on holiday together. The little land shark was perfectly okay with that. He liked Yelena. So he left you and Natasha to your conversation and headed to find her, hoping he could beg his aunt for more gummy sharks.

—

Natasha always volunteered to fly the quinjet. Usually, you or Yelena would object or offer to fly, but now you were counting on her being alone in the cockpit. Luckily, she didn’t break her routine for this trip; she just immediately went and closed herself off, leaving you to pace the back of the quinjet; Jeff and Yelena both strapped in and watching your every move. It also meant you could talk to Yelena about the real reason you were flying to Russia.

“You’ve got it in your bag?” you asked for the third time in the 30 minutes of the flight.

“Of course.”

“And Jeff’s suit?”

“Yes, Y/N. It is still in my bag.”

“And your spa trip with Nat and Melina is booked?”

“No, they cancelled in the two minutes since you last asked.”

“What-?!”

“-I’m kidding. Yes, it’s booked! Like my mother would ever let them cancel on us,” Yelena scoffed.

“I just want to be safe. This trip has to go according to plan, which means being alone with Alexei.”

Yelena shuddered, “what horrible things you go through for love. Good luck with that. Hope you don’t die.”

“Yeah, I really hope so too.” You shook yourself down to calm your nervous energy. Jeff watched curiously, copying your movement and wobbling all his limbs. “Yeah, we’ll be fine, right Jeff? It’ll all be good.”

"Just relax, Y/N."

—

Natasha’s first reaction to Jeff had left you confused. Holding the trembling bundle of land shark, you couldn’t fathom any reaction less than pure, unfiltered joy, but your girlfriend hadn’t even wanted to take Jeff in.

Compared to her family, however, you would take Natasha’s reaction.

Yelena’s first meeting with the land shark terrified Jeff more than any horror movie he had watched; even after you calmed him down, it took months for him to overcome the wariness of his aunt. And now Natasha’s father seemed ready to take his best shot at terrorising your son… in a very literal sense.

Jeff had stayed on the quinjet with Natasha as she completed all the landing checks, but she encouraged you and Yelena to greet her parents in the meantime.

You approached the couple, letting the woman pull you into a hug before holding your hand out for the bearded man. You knew their preferred method of greeting by now. “Melina, Alexei, it’s lovely to see you again!”

A flurry of fur came bolting out of the door, leading Yelena to exclaim: “Fanny!” Her dog couldn’t control her excitement, almost tackling her owner to the ground.

“That’s a strong hand grip, Y/N. You’ve improved since last time!” Alexei laughed, ignoring his daughter’s decision to greet her dog before him.

“I have to impress my girlfriend’s father! I prepare just for the handshake!” you joked back. While your focus was on Alexei, you noticed Melina and Yelena behind him, the younger widow whispering something to her mother while pointedly looking at you.

Melina approached you a few seconds later, lightly pushing past her husband. “Y/N, could I talk to you inside?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, your voice somehow betraying your nerves with just a hum. “That would be great.”

You followed when Melina led the way inside. Yelena shot a thumbs up as you passed; you smiled back. This would be okay. The plan would work.

—

Jeff knew he was somewhere new. And he loved to be somewhere new; there were places to explore, foods to try, and friends to meet. On top of that, Yelena had promised Jeff that her dog Fanny would be at this new place, which meant a definite playing partner; the land shark and the dog could run together all day long.

Yet you had made Jeff wait. While you went to meet whoever was outside, you asked him to keep Natasha company until she had finished her piloting tasks.

Jeff would do that. Ever since he discovered your secret, he had vowed to be well-behaved on the trip; you were stressed enough, and he didn’t want to make it worse for you. Admittedly, Jeff had tried to tell Natasha the secret as soon as he found out, not entirely understanding the meaning of ‘secret’. Jeff’s energetic mrrrs meant nothing to Natasha, luckily. Her suspicions were only raised by your panic and speed in dragging Jeff away.

Finally, the Black Widow finished her tasks. “You ready to meet my parents, Jeff?”

Jeff nodded, even if he hadn’t really known he was doing that and so hadn’t prepared. Natasha and Yelena were kind to him; how bad could their parents be?

—

Alexei had suddenly been left alone. Yelena was playing with her dog, and Melina had taken Y/N to talk privately for some reason, which left Alexei to bide his time until Natasha disembarked the plane.

Natasha made good company, so Alexei beamed immediately upon seeing her. He even began walking to greet her until he saw her companion - a round shark with legs; the creature was small but had ample flesh to it, possibly enough to feed the whole family.

Silently and slowly, as he didn’t know the behaviour of this land shark, Alexei shuffled to his gun rack and pulled out his finest hunting rifle. “Very considerate of Natasha to allow me to hunt it,” he whispered to nobody but himself.

Jeff was oblivious to the threat. After spending hours strapped into a plane seat, he couldn’t wait to stretch his legs in the surrounding fields, immediately dashing off into the grass.

Alexei lined Jeff up in his rifle sights. Jeff had an eye on the butterfly circling his head. He flopped to sit on the ground and stretched his nose to greet the butterfly. When it dodged his head, Jeff held an arm up to try to tap it.

“Alexei!”

The yell broke the soldier out of his focus; he scowled, turning to see his daughter stalking towards him.

“Natasha, you brought a shark for me to hunt, let me hunt it.”

“That is my pet land shark, Jeff. He is not for hunting.”

Jeff was giggling at the butterfly by this point; he’d rolled onto his back just so the insect could never be out of his line of sight. Yelena sighed. “I wish he was this oblivious when I met him. You mention eating shark in private and become the bad guy, but aim a rifle at him; he does not notice.”

With that, Yelena went back to stroking Fanny, Jeff went back to following the butterfly, and Nat began to wrestle the rifle from her father. Even when a shot was accidentally fired in the fight, Jeff seemed to miss it completely; all he knew was that something scared his butterfly friend away, and he needed a new friend, so he trotted over to see Fanny.

Jeff’s move brought a rush of action from the spy family. Alexei remained unrelenting, as did Natasha in her move against him. Yelena suddenly noticed her dog would be in danger by proximity, so she leapt to join her sister, and you and Melina ran outside to witness it all, brought out by the gunshot.

“Oh, so you’ll protect your dog but not your nephew?” Natasha asked

“I thought you had it handled!”

“But that wasn’t enough when Fanny was concerned?”

“Shut up, sestra. I’m helping you now, yes?”

With everyone’s effort, Alexei was subdued; his weapon was removed, and Natasha explained how Jeff came into your lives as a friend, not food.

Moments stretched into eternity as Alexei and Melina stared between the two of you and Jeff, all sitting and awaiting their judgement. Except for Jeff, he still hadn’t noticed.

“You apologise to the shark.” Melina decided at last. “And I take him to see the pigs; I think he will like them.”

You called for your land shark, and finally, Jeff looked over, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. He tilted his head, wondering why everyone was gathered and watching him, but then Jeff shrugged; as long as he got attention… and had he heard mention of pigs? He liked pigs.

—

“You’re sure it’s okay that we’re leaving you alone?” Natasha whispered to you midway through your hug goodbye.

“I’m sure; you enjoy yourself with Melina and Yelena. Alexei and I can entertain ourselves.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow but nodded nonetheless. “Yeah, well, um… good luck, love. Call me if he’s too much?”

“I promise he won’t be. You go enjoy your day out… and look after Jeff!”

Jeff would be very well looked after. He bounded around the spa happily, watching curiously as the three women sat still. The attendants talked with Jeff as they painted the nails of the three women, laughing as he explored all the machines and set-ups in the room.

“Do you want me to paint your nails too?” Jeff shook his head vehemently, backing quickly away from the lines of nail polish. He didn’t have nails as far as he was aware, so where would they try to put it? All Jeff could imagine was painted teeth, which would contaminate his food. He didn’t want that.

As he backed up, Jeff crashed into a tank which, thankfully, did not budge. It seemed to be a box of just water on the floor, but upon closer inspection, Jeff noticed some small black fish swimming in it.

“Mrrr!”

Natasha laughed at the sight of Jeff through the tank. It had enlarged his features; his eyes especially looked enormous and shimmered with the water.

“Mrrr.” He huffed again. He remembered Natasha didn’t understand him this time, so he pointed at the tank to clarify his point.

“Yes, there are fish.” Natasha hesitantly told him. She exhaled when Jeff nodded, glad to have guessed his speech correctly. It really was easier having you around. “How about you put a finger in?”

“Careful that they don’t bite,” Melina teased; she knew exactly what would happen to Jeff, but she was fond of letting him discover it himself. The scientific way.

All eyes in the room were on the land shark as he submerged a hand; they watched as the fish swam up in a cluster to inspect the hand. And then they watched as the fish began to nibble at Jeff, laughing when the shark sprung back and growled at the tank.

“Garra rufa,” Melina explained, “they will nibble dead skin off your feet.”

“Mrrr,” Jeff pouted. He preferred to bite the fish, not the other way around.

—

Yelena pulled her sister into the house upon their return before Natasha could go searching for you. Meanwhile, Melina walked Jeff around to the back garden, where you and Alexei had set up a patio during their absence. Fairy lights and candles illuminated the space, you had donned a suit, and Alexei had arranged an area out of sight where Natasha’s family could hide and watch.

“It’s happening then?” Melina asked, looking to her husband.

“I support it,” he agreed, “Y/N is very respectable for our Natasha.”

The woman turned to you next. You had pulled the suit shirt and jacket over Jeff, but your trembling fingers struggled to affix the bow tie correctly. “Let me.” She stepped in to finish the job, praising Jeff for how smart he looked, then adjusted your outfit. “It will be a pleasure to have you in our family. Officially.”

“You think she’ll say yes?”

“I know she will. She looks at you with all the adoration in the world, and you already have a child together-” Melina pointed down at Jeff, who looked up at you in return. “-Just be brave; you know you have our support.”

With that, she and Alexei took their hiding spots just as Yelena guided Natasha around the corner and trailed off to join her parents.

Natasha was breathtaking; Yelena had clearly put more effort into the makeover than you had put into getting Jeff ready. All the lines you had rehearsed went out the window the second you saw her; nothing you had scripted could do justice to the woman in front of you.

“Is this what I think it is?” Natasha broke the silence you hadn’t intended to let fall.

Words were still a struggle for you at the moment, so you nodded until you were ready. Natasha waited patiently, her kind smile encouraging you to continue. “I’d hope you’ve worked it out by now,” you joked, “you’re meant to be the world’s best spy.”

“Um, but I’ll do it properly now… Natasha, you have been the best partner I could ever ask for, endlessly supportive of every stupid thing I have done; when I failed to repair my mission earpiece, taking in Jeff, buying the Blahaj, learning I could talk to animals. You’ve been there for all of it. I love you and everything that comes with that, I love our land shark, I love your family - who are watching right now and who did help me plan this - I love all of you, and I want to prove that I’ll always be here with you, officially. So-”

You dropped to one knee, holding a hand out to Jeff. Unfortunately, he was too transfixed in watching Natasha’s reaction to remember his job. “Jeff.” He jolted to attention, depositing the ring box in your hand before sitting beside you.

“-marry me?”

“Yes. Of course, yes.”

You rushed up to kiss her, thankful for her quick reply, only to be interrupted by a loud squeal. While you embraced your -now- fiancee, the both of you looked down to the source, your land shark. Jeff was running in circles like a dog chasing its tail; he soon switched to cuddling into your and Natasha’s legs before finally taking off to expose the hiding place of Natasha’s family.

“Do you think he wanted us to be a family?” Natasha grinned

“Yeah-” you smiled back, “maybe just a bit.”

She leaned in to kiss you again, and this time nobody would stop you. You blocked out Jeff’s screaming and the congratulations of Natasha’s family.

For this moment, it was just you and the woman you loved.

—————————————————

Jeff taglist: @unexpected-character @wolferine

#jeff the landshark #jeff the land shark #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #marvel #mcu #natasha romanoff x y/n

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waves-against-a-cliff · 1 month

Text

Close Encounter - Moss x Threat

Content Warnings - Smut, alcohol consumption, venomous x poisonous, Moss doesn't have a filter when horny sorry, biting, blood, no one made a good decision.

Oc Masterlist

Main Masterlist

A/N - The final part to Moss' spring saga. @ghouljams they finally fucked.

They looked around and locked eyes with someone at the end of the bar, Moss tilted her head to the side which made the person grin. It was probably a bad idea, there was something predatory in that smile but Moss loved the way it sent a chill down their spine. This one it is then.

They didn’t need each other's name. Asking for names was honestly rather taboo within the culture of this city thanks to the fae, such as Moss, that made it that way. Unimportant nicknames or whatever stood out about the person, “I’ve never seen you around here before Ginger.” The person in front of Moss said. Of course I would be dubbed ‘Ginger’ how original, Moss thought bitterly as they smiled at Whiskey.

“I don’t come here all that often.” I don’t come here at all was the hidden meaning and they both knew that’s what Moss meant, “What about you Whiskey?” Moss asked before they took a sip of their drink and leaned forward just a little. The way Whiskey looked at them made Moss feel like a prey and wasn’t that a delicious feeling?

Whiskey shrugged, “Sometimes.” Moss couldn’t help the chuckle that left them at that answer. How evasive. The time seemed to slide by with ease, probably with the help of the drink that Moss kept drinking that seemed to never really be empty. The music is playing and the bar is crowded, yet the entire world had seemed to narrow down to the two of them. Whiskey has their cheek rested against their fist with a nearly amused smile on their face as Moss rambled about something. “You like talking.” Whiskey stated and Moss shrugged, not ashamed of who they were. “Do you like talking when you’re under someone?” Whiskey purred and there it was, that scratch to relieve the itch that had been building up underneath Moss’ skin the entire night.

“Wanna find out?” Moss replied as they leaned against the table that separated them the entire night. Being tipsy might have made Moss a little stupid, a little more adventurous with their pick in who was going to warm their bed for the next few hours. Moss glanced to their hand with the golden bands of rings, the well loved leather jacket and suddenly they didn’t really care as the itch turned into an ache. “If you don’t fuck me I’m gonna lose it Whiskey.” Moss blurted out.

Whiskey chuckled and wrapped their long fingers around the nape of Moss’ neck. “Good thing I’m going to.” Moss had never wanted to scramble across a bar table so badly before, to get a taste of what had been dangled in front of them all night. The kiss is searing and it only added fuel to the fire that eats Moss up. The faint taste of whiskey that fills their mouth when they swipe their tongue along Whiskey’s lips is maddening. Moss is sure Whiskey can taste the sweet margaritas that Moss had on their tongue and wondered if it drives them up the wall.

Whiskey bit down on Moss’ bottom lip and tugged as they finally broke the kiss. Moss doesn’t enjoy public sex, at least that is what they thought all this time. It was unappealing, it left them vulnerable and open in a way Moss refused to be. But Whiskey had been the exception all night, might be the only exception ever. Moss’ tight little skirt was hiked up around their hips and their legs wrapped around Whiskey’s waist. Moss couldn’t focus on anything else but the feeling of Whiskey’s cock rocked further into Moss’ fluttering cunt. Moss whined, high pitched and embarrassingly loud, when the cock dragged against the gummy spot within them. “O-oh.” Moss’ head tipped back as they struggled to breathe and clawed at Whiskey’s back. “Right there.” Moss choked out as Whiskey chuckled.

“Guess you shut up when you’re being fucked.” They murmured against Moss’ ear and Moss jolted when they felt teeth graze the sensitive skin of their neck.

“Don’t.” Moss warned, even fucked out of their mind they knew the dangers of any blood of theirs being split into anyones mouth. A one way ticket to deads-vill. But with another harsh thrust from Whiskey had any more words of warning smacked away as they let out a sharp moan. Moss shuddered as they clenched around Whiskey, back arched off the brick wall that had been digging into their soft skin.

They sucked in a harsh breath and hissed, their hand gripped onto Whiskey’s neck and scruffed them. They pulled Whiskey away with wide eyes and saw their own blood smeared on their mouth. Moss opened their mouth to reprimand them when Whiskey bit down on them again and rocked their cock into their g-spot again. The harsh mixture of pleasure and pain made Moss’ hips buck. Whatever, Moss vaguely thought, let them die. Not like I didn’t try to warn them.

Moss groaned when they opened their eyes and rolled over onto their stomach to bury their face in their pillow. Moss never regretted installing a sunroof in their bedroom, they needed every moment of sun they could get but days like this? Moss wished they had thought twice. Moss glanced at their arms after a moment of hiding in their pillow and pursed their lips. They sat up and stared at themselves in the mirror across the room. Bites. Bites fucking everywhere. Arms, thighs, neck and shoulders. The bites pulsed and radiated pain that only got worse when Moss fled into their bathroom, barely in time to throw up whatever they had eaten.

The walk to Witch’s cottage was unpleasant, they hadn’t even bothered to put on the charm necklace to help with their form, but once inside the threshold of her garden, they collapsed into the dirt. The fake human form disappeared and the warm, perpetual summer air graced their skin. Even with the pain that echoed through their body, Moss was able to recognize that there was no ache. No itch hidden within their bones and at that realization, they relaxed further into the dirt. They listened to the sound of the screen door open and slam shut and felt the shadow of her over their body. “What happened to you?”

“Think someone tried to eat me.” Moss muttered, “Could I just… lay here? Your garden is so nice.” Moss murmured as they tried to wiggle further into the cool dirt and let the coolness soothe their burning skin.

“Of course. Do you need some water?” Witch asked softly, in that tone of voice that really nailed home how shit Moss must look. What a fucking week, Moss thought as they nodded.

#oc x oc #oc: moss #1fae1 #fae au #call of duty oc #cod ocs

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mangoisms · 10 months

Text

circle k (back to you)

summary: in which you're just the graveyard shift employee at circle k bombarded by vigilantes.

━ chapter two: it’s getting late | read chapter one

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ word count: 4.5k

━ warnings: none

━ masterlist

━ a/n: would be lying if i said this was for tim's birthday tmrw. it was rlly just because the reception to chapter 1 was so lovely and i also did this with my other tim fic—posting chapter 2 early, i mean. but we'll just have to work with this. happy early birthday tim you are annoying and i want to study you under a microscope <3

You expect Red Robin’s appearance to be a one-off thing.

It is not.

Instead, the next day, you get Black Bat.

It jolts you from the phone call you’re having.

“—understand the temptation to tell them to screw off but I really don’t want to get… shot…”

You trail off, watching, wide-eyed as your newest vigilante customer steps into Circle K.

Black Bat cuts an imposing figure, her suit made up mostly of inky black material, with a few accents of gold, the Bat symbol on her chest standing out the most. Her black cape flutters behind her, moving like a shadow. She looks the most like Batman, you think, with the cowl and the pointed ears. Except the eyes of the mask are black and the bottom of her face is completely covered—stitched closed. Considerably more creepy, you think, goosebumps breaking out over your skin. Though that could be the fan you have on, fluttering your hair as it makes a slow rotation.

“Hey, did you die or something?”

“No,” you mutter, watching, your heart starting to pick up as Black Bat comes up to the counter.

You aren’t sure what you expect, but it’s not—

“Do you have Red Bull?” Her voice is low and melodic. Not befitting of her… general aura.

Wordlessly, you point to the refrigerators at the back.

“Thanks,” she says, then she turns and walks away. You can only see the top of her head and the pointed ears of her cowl. A second later, you hear the suction-y sound of the refrigerator door being opened.

A voice calls your name from the other end of the line.

Your best friend, Stephanie Brown, who gave you a call to see how your summer break has been treating you.

“Sorry,” you say, clearing your throat. “Just got distracted by something outside.”

“Something outside? That’s not reassuring. At all.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Like I was saying, I’m not gonna tell them that. It’s tempting but like I said, I don’t want to get arrested or some shit.”

“The charges wouldn’t even hold. It’s a free country. I can tell a cop to fuck off if I want to. That’s my god-given right.”

“I appreciate the spirit, but I don’t think the GCPD would agree with you.”

“Well, the GCPD can kiss my ass.”

“You and me both, Stephie. You and me both. So, how’s, uh, Metropolis?”

“Metropolis is Metropolis. Brainiac nearly took control of the city yesterday but what’s new? Mom’s having a good time, though. Even if things are way overpriced over here. I mean, seriously. Eight bucks for a cup of coffee at this place we went to today. They’re crazy.”

Steph babbles in your ear for a few more minutes. Long enough for Black Bat to reemerge from the aisle, two cans of Red Bull and a bag of Takis and a pack of sour gummy worms in hand. You wonder who the second person is. Red Robin, maybe?

He’d been odd about the hot chocolates. Odd in general. But that’s what you get with these vigilante types.

No matter. You quickly focus on your current situation, giving Black Bat a small, embarrassed smile and pointing at the phone crammed between your shoulder and ear, mouthing Sorry.

You shouldn’t be doing this on the job and you should’ve told Steph you had to go but quite frankly, you need the assurance of another person with you. Even if said person can’t do anything and is across the harbor in Metropolis on a mini-vacation with her mom.

Black Bat shouldn’t give you trouble about it. You hope. She just scares you a little more than Red Robin. Which is silly because he’s a guy and probably more potentially dangerous but. You know. Her suit is just… too similar to Batman’s, and he’s the one who scares you the most.

Still, Black Bat just shrugs and waves a hand. “It’s fine.”

You nod your thanks, then scan everything and bag it. She pulls out a twenty dollar bill from her utility belt and you give her the change, which she promptly puts in the tip jar. A kind gesture, really, considering the twenty is a bit of an overshoot for her total, leaving you with a nice tip.

You guess that if anything else, at least it’s nice that these vigilantes tip.

After dropping the receipt into the bag, she takes it and waves at you.

Mystified, you wave back.

Then she steps out, cape fluttering behind her.

“Anyway,” Steph says on the other end as you focus on her voice again. “It’s pretty fun but I miss home. Can’t wait to be back in the city. We’re hanging out as soon as I do, by the way. How are things with you?”

Oh, you can’t keep it in. You have to tell her.

“I saw the Flash two days ago.”

But she misunderstands.

“Oh, yeah,” she says. “I saw that in the news. ‘Cause of Trickster, right? Bet Batman wasn’t happy about that.”

“No,” you say. “I’m saying I saw him. Here. At Circle K. He dropped in to grab a bite to eat. I know you and Tim absolutely refuse to believe me when I say he visited me and that we’re friends—which, by the way, he totally reaffirmed when I saw him—but he was here.”

“We’re jealous, that’s all,” she says. “Just don’t want you running off with the Flash thinking he’s cooler than we are. Which, to be clear, he isn’t. Not me, anyway. Tim is up for debate.”

“Well, you’re about to be a little more jealous.”

“And why is that?”

“Because since he visited, weird shit has started happening.”

“Weird shit is always happening in Gotham. What is so special about this weird shit in particular?”

“Oh, he said something stupid to Red Robin—Red Robin came in a little while after he did, I guess they were working together to track down Trickster—anyway, he was talking about how I’m… scared of the Bats—”

“Are you scared of the Bats?”

You throw up a hand, though she can’t see it. “I have a healthy amount of fear and respect for them—and on that note, please don’t tell anyone else I’m telling you this.”

“Of course.”

“Right, well, Flash was just ragging him, you know? About how he has a better relationship with me, someone who doesn’t even live in Keystone or Central, than the Bats do.”

“So?”

“So,” you blow out a big breath, “Red Robin showed up yesterday to get some hot chocolate—”

“Hot chocolate?” Steph asks, disbelieving.

“Yeah. He said it was a better alternative to coffee. Guess he’s not into energy drinks. Weirdo. The whole thing about it—weird. Like… I don’t know. He was just acting weird when he was asking if we had any.”

“… That is weird,” she says, an odd note to her voice. She clears her throat. “And then?”

“I knew why he was doing it so I told him he didn’t have to come around ‘cause he and the others obviously need to uphold a specific perception, right? Then he was all, Well, what does a civilian like you know about it? Can you believe they unironically call us that?”

Steph laughs. She laughs hard.

You wait it out, not entirely sure what or why she is laughing so hard but it’s not the first time she’s ever done that, so you can just let it go.

“Okay,” she giggles. “Sorry. Keep going. What else happened?”

“He left. But then, y’wanna guess who just showed up right now?”

“Who? Batman?”

“God, no. It was Black Bat. She was nice enough. Gave me a big tip. Creepy suit, though.”

“What’d she’d get?”

“Two Red Bulls, a bag of Takis and a pack of sour gummy worms. Wonder who that second Red Bull is for. And the snacks. Red Robin realizing hot chocolate in June is weird? Hard to imagine him eating Takis, though. He’s probably like Tim, saying they’re ‘too hot’.”

Steph laughs again for a while.

“Oh, god, you’re killing me,” she gasps out when she calms.

You shake your head, rubbing your finger over a scratch mark in the counter. “I don’t know what is so funny but sure.”

“So, then, what? You think you’re just gonna some more vigilantes? ‘Cause it’s only been two so far.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” you grumble. “But it’s two. When previously, this has never happened.”

“True! Well… any preferences? For who comes next?”

“Anyone but Batman, thanks.”

Your next visitor is not Batman.

It is, in a turn of events that makes a little more sense, the Signal.

A few days after your call with Steph, things are fine, until your manager posts to the team group chat about wanting someone for an afternoon shift, saying someone quit unexpectedly. Not one to say no to some extra cash, you latch onto the opportunity—even if it’s an admittedly questionable idea. You try not to work weekends to let yourself recuperate from sustaining your not-so-great sleep schedule.

Anyway, you feel and look like a zombie, but you get your work done.

“I can help the next person in line,” you call.

A tall, broad-shouldered stocky older man with long blonde hair and blue eyes behind coke-bottle glasses steps up, armed with two large cups of coffee. The scrubs he wears clues you into some kind of healthcare position.

“Hi, did you find everything—”

The door opens, your eyes automatically flickering to the movement, and your voice cuts out sharply as you realize who it is.

The Signal stands there a bit awkwardly for a moment as all of you look—the blonde man at the counter and the other man waiting in line.

“Hey, you!”

You flinch, tensing, already fearing a confrontation as the other man steps forward, pointing at the Signal. The one in question tenses, shoulders rising, like he’s preparing to fight. You hope not. That would be a lot of paperwork for you. It’s the manager’s, technically, to report any damage done by vigilantes, but they always give it to you or the other employees on the floor.

But it is not as you feared. Instead of picking a fight, the man… thanks him?

“You’re the Signal, right? Right? You saved my son a few months ago from some muggers following him home from school. Thank you, man. Seriously, I can’t thank you enough. He wouldn’t be here with me if it weren’t for you,” the man says, holding out a hand.

“Hey, man,” Signal says, reaching out to shake his hand. “It was nothing. I’m glad I was there to help.”

“Are you here to buy something? Let me cover you. Please. It’s the least I can do—”

“Oh, you really don’t need to—”

“That went better than expected.”

The soft-spoken voice brings you out of your thoughts and you belatedly realize you still have a customer to take care of. But when you look at him, he is watching the Signal try to tell the other man that he doesn’t have to pay for him, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah,” you say. “Good thing. Signal’s a good guy.”

He turns back to you as you scan the cups of coffee, pulling out a wallet.

“He is,” he agrees easily—meaning his words, too, a genuine conviction you don’t hear often associated with the vigilantes of the city.

Signal manages to hold firm on not needing the man to pay, repeating that he was just doing his job, and thankfully, the man accepts it with good graces.

You quickly get your current customer wrapped up while the Signal steps into the chip aisle.

You pass him the receipt. “Thank you, have a good day.”

He sends you a small, handsome smile, picking up the cups of coffee. “Thank you, you, too.”

The one after him steps up to pay, talking jovially with you, spirits still apparently lifted at seeing Signal and being able to thank him. It’s a nice moment, you think, and you make sure to respond in kind.

The door swings shut behind him just as Signal re-emerges from the chip aisle, holding a can of Monster Energy and a bag of chile picante Cornnuts. The combination is… surely something. You let yourself slip with it, too, because you’ve personally heard a lot of good things about him. The fact that he works during the day helps his case, too.

“I need the energy,” Signal says, seeing that thought in your face; he doesn’t sound mad, though, just vaguely amused. His suit is filled with more yellow tones, still intimidating but not as much in the daylight, a helmet of sorts leaving only his mouth exposed.

“It’ll definitely give you… something,” you say, chuckling as you scan both.

He pats his stomach. “I have guts of steel. Don’t worry about it.”

“Not a problem as long as I never have to hear ‘guts of steel’ ever again. Jesus. Is that just a natural thing of your biology or is it evolutionary-based?”

“This life isn’t for the faint of heart or stomach,” he agrees, passing you a five dollar bill. “Adaptation is key.”

“I bet.”

Signal laughs, taking his change and dropping it into the tip jar. You smile, too, shaking your head slightly.

“Have a good day.”

He tips his Red Bull at you. “You, too.”

Guts of steel. You nearly can’t believe it.

You pick up your phone, finding your conversation with Tim. You and Steph are hanging out tomorrow, so you’ll tell her about it, then. She asked him, though, and he said he was busy. Too bad. But that doesn’t mean he gets out of being subjected to those words, either.

no joke signal came in to buy a monster energy and cornnuts (a questionable combo) and when he saw me judging he said he has guts of steel

meta related do you think???

makes sense to me. you have a gene inside you that gives you literal powers i think they shouldn’t be having digestive issues/ibs like us common folk do

Your three texts, sent in quick succession, deliver. You bite the inside of your cheek as you see your previous ones still unanswered. It’s been like that for the past few weeks. Not him ignoring you but a bit of a dry spell going on in your messages that was only broken when you told Steph what happened and decided you had to tell him, too.

It’s not his fault. The dry spell from before or the lack of responses going on now.

You started the first thing. So, it’s more your fault than anything for all of that. Steph’s talked to him, though, and she’s never let up on anything amiss…

You groan quietly, dropping your phone on the counter and burying your face in your hands.

Too complicated. Too much.

It never used to be like that but… things changed recently.

You, mostly.

You met Stephanie Brown your second semester at Gotham University.

Taking your required elective, you chose Intro to Psych. She was doing the same. Though, being a social work major, psychology was practically a cousin to it.

The professor for the class turned out to be a total dud. Rambled during lecture, refused to give out study guides, and while he would give out hints as to what material might show up on exams, his questions were trick ones. When people complained, he said some crap about being in a higher ed setting and needing to do better because of it. Like his class was some 300 or 400 level course and not a literal intro course to a large and burgeoning field of study.

But classes are expensive, so, you couldn’t drop it. Refused to, really, knowing you would face much more difficult classes later on, ones you knew you might need to drop and try again. So, you weren’t going to waste the money on this type of class.

Steph was of the same thought.

She sat next to you in the lecture hall. You two didn’t talk until after the first exam and everyone was upset about their grades, the exams having been handed back at the end of class. Your shared frustration brought you together, mostly as you two were ranting about it, you packed up and wound up leaving class together, the both of you just too caught up in your anger to realize you both needed to go in opposite directions for your next class.

You initially agreed to be study partners, to cover more ground that way. But Steph managed to worm her way to your heart by the end of that semester.

Your astounding lack of friends helped, too. Even if things had been that way since your junior year of high school, even if you wanted things to remain that way to protect what little remained of your heart, the loneliness hit you harder than you thought it would when you started college.

And Steph was nice and funny and listened to you and paid attention to you and you… were so very deprived of those things, so it was nice in the beginning, but then you realized, to your own horror, that you actually wanted her to stick her around, that just as she knew nearly everything about you by the end of the semester, you knew nearly everything about her, too, and you wanted to know more, wanted to be there for her like she always was for you.

You have that and more now and you are so very lucky because of it.

Tim, though?

Tim was something else.

Steph told you she had a friend visiting.

Just that—that she had a friend visiting campus and she ‘hoped he could find his way to the computer workstation on the fourth floor because as soon as I sit down, I’m not leaving for anything other than to use the bathroom or some kind of world-ending event.’

It was a particularly grueling paper she had to churn out—twenty pages, heavily research-based with the kind of statistics that made your head spin.

Working at the front desk of the Martha Kane Library at the time, you humored her. Told her good luck and that you’d keep an eye out. The second part was a joke, of course, because she never said who was visiting her and how could you know if she never said anything?

You and Tim Drake wound up finding each other, anyway.

Well, more like he found you.

It sounds sort of romantic, right?

It’s… well, it’s certainly something.

“I’m just saying,” you’re telling him, totally neglecting your homework and the other duties you have at the front desk (you know this last part is especially true by the way your coworker, also at the front desk, is side-eyeing you but come on, there’s no one in line, so it’s fine!). “It’s a solid movie.”

Tim Drake gives you a comically disbelieving look. “A solid movie? It’s—it’s gaseous.”

“Did… you just make a physics joke? About the three states of matter?”

Tim turns an attractive shade of pink. “It’s four, actually, and, uh… yeah.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Steph is right. You really are a geek. Anyway. Cloverfield still sucks.”

“Your opinion is automatically negated by the fact that you think the Final Destination movies have any kind of substance to them.”

“Hey, I didn’t say that. I just think they’re good ‘cause of Mary Elizabeth Winstead. You probably think the Transformers movies are actually good, don’t you?”

He looks offended. “Don’t insult me. We hate Michael Bay in this house.”

“Sure.”

“But I do think Bumblebee—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, Bumblebee is good for a change, we all know it. You’re probably one of those Nolan stans, aren’t you?”

“I don’t think any of what you just said are real words.”

“Oh, they’re real alright. Nolan stans are constantly on his dick, they’re all like, ‘Nolan is so deep and thoughtful and there is no one else like him.’ Wrong. I could find ten of him in the movie industry.”

Tim narrows his eyes accusingly at you. “Steph said Interstellar is your favorite movie.”

“It’s his only good movie.”

“Don’t count out Inception like that.”

“Never seen it.”

“Wow.”

“You know what you sounded like just now? A Nolan stan.”

Tim actually grins at you and your stomach flutters at the sight of it. It’s that that had drawn your eyes to him. The cute but confused looking guy loitering around nearby, systematically checking his phone and glancing around—presumably for a map of the confusing and ancient library. With dark hair, pale skin, and pretty blue eyes that make you feel unbearably seen, Tim Drake is a sight for sore eyes. Your eyes, to be certain.

Of course, you also know he’s here for Steph. That he is the friend she spoke of. And also the ex-boyfriend. That reminder sobers you considerably.

Kind of funny, really.

Much can be said about Tim Drake.

The adoptive son of Bruce Wayne. The kid who snuck into No Man’s Land on a dare and had to be extracted by the US military after his father made a fuss about it. Then later, became controlling shareholder at Wayne Enterprises for whatever reason, boosting him into a very powerful position. Then he got engaged. Then he was shot—he was meant to be killed but obviously, it hadn’t gone that way. All this at seventeen.

But eventually it petered out. He stepped down. Engagement broke off. He recovered. Now? He does some work for WE. That’s all that’s known to the press, anyway.

It’s like you said. Much can be said about Tim Drake.

But most of your impression is from Steph. He plays Warlocks and Warriors sometimes. Is a bit of a computer geek and has built his own PC for gaming. Hits the skatepark every now and then. Likes to spend time tinkering on his car. And… has strong opinions on movies.

Above it all?

He is her ex. A good friend now! But still. That fact remains.

“Anyway,” you say, adjusting your notebook, textbook, and bag of pens just to do something. “You’re here for Steph, right?”

“She told you?”

“Well, she’s obviously told you stuff about me.”

“Steph won’t shut up about you,” he says, seeming more amused than annoyed by that fact. “I can’t imagine it’s the same with me.”

“I know enough.” Like the fact that he is her literal ex-boyfriend. Even if Steph says their relationship wasn’t the greatest, had some very questionable decisions on both their parts, and ended a bit dramatically… he’s still the first person she ever fell in love with. She told you that much. “She’s upstairs on the fourth floor. Hit the elevators over there, then when you get to the fourth floor, turn left, then another left, and the computer workstations are on your right. Can’t miss them.”

“You should watch Inception,” he says, instead of acknowledging literally anything you just said.

You arch an eyebrow challengingly. “You should watch Interstellar.”

He taps a finger on the counter. “We should do both. You, me, and Steph one of these days.”

“I hate to say it, but that sounds like a good idea.”

Steph’s voice scares the shit out of you. You bang your knee on the desk, cursing.

Tim looks unruffled as she comes from the side—the direction of the elevators, joining him at the counter and nudging his shoulder as she goes. He nudges back. They keep the contact.

“Sorry, Stephie,” you say. “We got preoccupied.”

“Arguing,” she corrects, but she doesn’t look upset about it. Instead, her cobalt blue eyes twinkle with something you can’t quite identify as she drops her chin into her palm.

“We weren’t arguing,” Tim says next. “We were lightly debating.”

“Of course. My cute little movie geeks. I think Duckboy’s right, though—” Tim groans slightly and mutters her name in annoyance; she ignores it “—we should get together and see them.”

You scratch your cheek. “I don’t know. Finals—”

“—are not for another month. I say let’s do it.” She looks at Tim and jabs a thumb at you. “She needs more friends.”

“Stephanie, please.”

“Oh, don’t worry. Timothy needs more friends, too. Friends from, say, the other half.” She smiles mischievously, a joke known only by the two of them.

Tim, for his part, rolls his eyes but says nothing in protest.

You don’t need more friends. More friends is actually a very bad idea. Letting one person get close was bad enough. Another person? Hell, no…

But the look on Steph’s face tells you that you, quite frankly, have no say in the matter. And the way you and Tim ‘lightly debated’ movies for a solid half hour tells you, too, that it’ll be too easy for you and he to become friends.

You decide to shelve the issue for now as Steph tugs him away, promising you that she’ll arrange for things.

Maybe it won’t pan out. Maybe he’s actually horribly arrogant and conceited. (Though, if he’s friends with Steph, the likelihood of that is admittedly low.)

You don’t know. All you know is it’s dangerous to let yourself get close to someone else.

But that’s all rather dramatic, isn’t it?

And it didn’t turn out how you wanted—you met Tim in the first semester of your sophomore year; your junior year just ended this May. You’ve been friends with him for a year and half. Steph for two. No end appears to be in sight. But you’ve compartmentalized. It’s just two people. That’s fine.

It’s totally fine.

Even if it’s two people to match the two others you lost when you were fifteen. Like a repayment for the pain.

(Or a way to double it.)

But you lost your parents in the earthquake.

Scientists called that a once-in-a-lifetime event.

There are plenty of things going on in this city that could cost your friends their lives but… it’ll never be as devastating as the earthquake.

The earthquake where you nearly died after a piece of metal pierced your thigh, barely missing your femoral artery, and you spent the entire time from after the earthquake, when they dug your body out of the rubble, and to when they decided to exile the city, in a coma from the infection.

By the time you stabilized, you were on a helicopter to Blüdhaven, the rest of the city in a panic to leave, and your parents were officially gone by that point.

They couldn’t even find their bodies in time.

It took almost three years before they did. The year in which the government turned a blind eye to the city and cast it away, then another two years to rebuild, to sift through the ruin and destruction, to find the bones of the ones left behind since they were decomposed by then, and identifying them was an even more arduous task.

You only managed to receive the catharsis of burying them when you turned eighteen.

You might tempt fate by saying this but even if you lost either of them, the fallout would never beat that. A blessing, in that way.

But even you hate to consider the possibilities of them leaving you. For anything.

They won’t.

Everything will be fine.

It has to be.

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