#That's not always bad; Re: Patrol Heads

[bonefall]

It's a shame Tree is so poorly used because playing Clangen made me think about how much drama a mediator could cause even if they have good intentions. Like trying to get two cats to get along but only making their relationship worse or committing a big political faux pass with a rival clan when they need their support at the brink of war. Conflict through diplomacy can be fun if you commit to building tension and consequences with it.

Do you think mediators will eventually become a thing in all the BB!Clans?

Mediators are a great game mechanic in Clangen. Absolutely fantastic design choice, giving you better influence over the relationships between cats in a game all about managing relationships between cats. The people who came up with that one should be kissed on the mouths.

I'm not sure how much I'd get out of them as a storytelling element for BB, though.

It's not a complete no-- Clangen's mediators are pretty close to that "Therapy" rework I floated. Making their role more about interpersonal conflict, giving advice, helping individual cats work through their issues.

At the same time though, I find that the sense of community is so much stronger when that isn't someone's "job," but just something someone in the Clan can relate to.

Jaypaw could have had some sessions with a hypothetical therapist to confront his internalized ableism-- but isn't it more interesting for him to realize that by calling himself worthless for his disability, he's directly insulting his mentor Longtail too? And that Longtail will invoke his Battle Cat right to FIGHT for his honor?

They could consult elders, find a surprising connection in a Clanmate they'd never paid attention to, reignite an old friendship they thought they lost forever. There already feels like so many possibilities, and all of them feel more intriguing than "goes to the designated therapy guy."

If there's anyone like a political diplomat in BB though, it feels like it should evolve from Merchants. Ive got some stuff about trading and bartering in the works, and I think there's more space for interesting ideas there.

[fckmebarnes]

ˏˋ ★ pretty peach ★ ˎˊ˗

dbf!biker bucky x fem!reader

18+ EIGHTEEN PLUS. — oral (bucky), bucky is a flirt, semi-established fooling around, he makes u suck him while otp w ur dad 🫣

older works re uploaded! feedback welcome <3 love dbf!bkier bucky so bad.

It was going to be a long weekend. You father was out of town for a few weeks for a work trip, and he had asked you to watch over his house while he was gone. While you didn’t want to, you were getting paid for it, so you decided to suck it up and deal with it.

The downside? He wanted his best friend to check up on you, who happened to be a biker for the small town you lived in. It wasn’t that the town you lived in was sketchy, at least not anymore.

It was pretty safe for the most part, the Howling Commando’s were always patrolling the dimly lit streets looking for trouble and to crack down on drug addicts, robberies, anything that made the town unsafe.

And it wasn’t like you were complaining for being safe by them, what you did mind though, was that your fathers best friend was Bucky Barnes. The one who you sneaked around with quite frequently when your dad was gone. No one questioned it, he was your dad's best friend, and Bucky was just making sure everyone was safe.

You can’t remember how it started, all you knew was that he took care of you, he wanted to keep you safe while fucking your brains out.

You sighed, tossing your dads keys on the table when you went inside his house, kicking your shoes off and heading to the kitchen. You needed a drink since it was going to be a long few weeks staying by yourself until Bucky decided to pop in whenever he wanted.

And boy, he sure did.

“Hey, peach. You all good here?” He opened the front door quietly, letting himself in and rubbing his hands together. The cold air blew in and nipped at your cheeks, making you pull your legs into yourself and hug your blanket tighter.

“M’ all good. Either come in or leave, it’s getting cold in here.” He chuckled, closing the door behind him and waking in fully. He sported his leather jacket with ‘The Howling Commando’s’ on the back side, a few pointed studs on each shoulder pad. You couldn’t deny that he looked hot in that jacket.

You caught yourself staring too long and looked away, blinking. He walked over, and sat next to you, sitting down on the couch and resting a hand on your knee.

“You know, I don’t have to patrol tonight. Steve is on duty.” He leaned into your side, mouth hovering near your ear lobe and pulling at it softly, earning a soft gasp from your lips. You could feel him smirking against your skin and pulling you closer, lips traveling down to your neck and nipping at it.

“Mmm..” Was all you could get out as he sucked harder, pulling away with a pop and kissing the same spot he assaulted. You knew he wasn’t going to stop, and you honestly didn’t want him to.

He grabbed your face with his hand making you look at him, eyes filling with lust and need. He grabbed your hand, holding yours and his and trailing it down to his crotch, pressing your pal against his clear erection. Your cheeks grew red as a smirk was across his lips, hovering over yours.

“See what you do?” He voice was low, as you palmed him through his jeans, making him groan out in pleasure as he caught your lips in his. He swiped his tongue across your lower lip, pulling at it gently making you submit to his tongue darting to meet yours.

Your hand worked it’s way to unbutton his jeans, pulling the zipper down and snaking it’s was under his briefs to grab his hard cock. You held it in your hand, squeezing it gently and pulling it put, pumping softly. He moaned into your mouth as you rubbed your thumb over the slit, his breathing becoming quicker and his hips thrusting up into your hand. You smeared his pre-come down his shaft and using it to pump him more easily.

“Fuck, peach. You work my cock to good.” He pressed his lips against your jawline as you picked up the pace, his hips thrusting into your hand as much as you would let him. You pulled your hand away and he stopped kissing your neck, looking at you curiously. You got off the couch and crouched between his legs, face level with his cock as it stood in the air.

“Let me pay you back for keeping the streets safe, Barnes.” His mouth fell open as you took him in your mouth, messing with the tip with your tongue slowly, twirling it around to collect the pre-cum that had spilled from the top.

“You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth. Such a natural.” You moaned as you had him in your mouth, the vibrations traveling through his duck and up his body making him moan out. He grabbed a fistful of your hair at your scalp, pushing your head down as much as you would let him.

Spit fell from the corners of your mouth and down his shaft. You used it to pump him with your hands as you practically gagged on him. You loved sucking him off, it was one of your many pleasures as you felt yourself growing wet at the obscene sounds he was making.

“So dirty, sucking me off in your dads living room. You love this, don’t you?” He pushed your head down further, hitting the far back of your throat and making a loud, guttural moan. He pulled at your hair as you took all of him, his hips snapping up and throat fucking you.

You felt the couch vibrate as Bucky’s phone lit up with your dads name as the caller ID. Bucky muttered a quite ‘fuck’ before picking up the phone.

“Keep my cock in your mouth, you hear peach?” You nodded as you blinked up through your eyelashes, warming his cock in your mouth as he accepted the call.

“Hey man.” You sucked softly, watching as his bit his lip when you hear the low sounds of your dad on the other end of the phone. You couldn’t understand a word he was saying and from the looks of it, Bucky couldn't either.

“She’s been so good. Nothing to worry about here.” You met the tip of his cock with your lips, sucking softly and teasing the tip once more when he grunted, bucking his hips up.

“What? No I’m good. Everything is good here.” At this point it was your mission to make him come. You took his balls in your other hand and massaged them in between your fingers softly as you bottomed out, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat and started sucking.

You felt his cock twitch in your mouth, the vein that ran up the underside of his shaft throbbed, and you knew he was close.

“I hear you man.” It didn’t seem like your dad was going to stop talking anytime soon, and you took this as pay back for all the times Bucky made you come while on the phone with your dad. You sucked as hard as your could while fondly his balls, feeling the hot cum shoot down the back of your throat. He let out a ‘shit’ as he came, blushing at the fact he was coming in his best friends daughters mouth.

“Talk later.” He hung up as quick as he could and tossed the phone on the pillow, grabbing your hand and cumming hard down your throat. You swallowed every last drop, as he continued to slowly mouth fuck you.

“Fuck, sweets. That turn you on? Swallowing my cum while I’m on the phone with your dad, huh?” You let go of his balls and sat up, making a ‘pop’ noise as you let go of his dick. You licked your lips and smirked up at him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You had tears down your face, hair disheveled but felt good.

“Payback, Buck.” Those words lit something behind his eyes as he leaned over and grabbed your face with his hands, smashing his lips against yours and pulling you up to him, as you straddled his lap and felt his hard dick on the inside of your thigh.

“I’m going to fuck you all night. Think you can keep up, peach?”

[millersfinest]

can u make some like generic dating ellie headcannons? (tlou universe preferably)

i love ur writing sm!!

dating ellie williams ◡̈

cw: usual fluff, mentioned love languages, mention of joel’s death (i wanted to be as canon as possible), a little nsfw but nothing too crazy.

note: here are some semi-ooc ellie hc’s!! i feel like im so bad at headcanons, but here you go. thank you for enjoying my work, i hope you like this too pookie!

ellie! is a total introvert to her core, so no matter how she found out about you taking interest in her… she’d probably need some time to think about it.

ellie! would have you freaking tf out over it too. but she means well, she’s just a really bad over-thinker—never wanting to say the wrong thing. but she’d come around and never stop apologizing to you.

ellie! would take a little while to open up to you, if you weren’t friends first. she’s been through a lot in her life, and she fears that her trauma could scare people away.

now, if you were already friends (specifically close friends), you probably would’ve already known her deepest darkest secrets and feelings by the time you started dating. every traumatic event and every fixation she’s had since she was a child.

ellie! thoroughly believes in physical touch and quality time as a love language.

for physical touch: it doesn’t always have to be sexual (she doesn’t complain either way), she just likes to touch you—knowing you’re right there next to her. you could be doing the dishes and she’d come up behind you, leaning her head on your shoulder, with her hands delicately placed on your hips. or standing by the bar at the tipsy bison, with her fingers dipped into any of the pockets of your jeans. keeping you close.

for quality time: she does love her moments alone, but they’re always better with you somewhere near by. sometimes, when she would spend hours painting or drawing in her art room, she’d ask if you could come sit in. so you’d bring your book, or whatever you were doing, and read silently in the same room as her. while a smooth record played in the background. but sometimes, she doesn’t even ask. you could be doing the most boring thing ever, and she’d float around you like a curious bumblebee.

ellie! love, love, loves being babied—even though she’d never admit it. she has a reputation to uphold, of course. during the spring, due to the patrols and supply runs, her allergies would wreck havoc on her. that’s where you come in to nurture her back to health. she’d have tissue stuck up her nose, with her head lying in your lap on the couch. you rubbing your hand over her hair, soothingly.

“if you kiss me right now, i think my sinuses will re-open.”

“ellie, you just sneezed two minutes ago.”

“baby, pleaseeeee! i need it!” and she’d give the craziest puppy dog eyes known to man. and, of course, you’d give in. giving her the sweetest smooch ever. it didn’t open her sinuses, but she knew that. just know… she’s gonna convince you to give her another to be sure.

another scenario would be coming home after a long day at work (idk i feel like doing patrols would be like her main thing). she probably had a rough day with the lingering infected, and came back with a few injuries. the moment she stepped through the door, she’d be calling for you. wrapped in your arms, smelling like the outdoors, you’d slowly undress her and then run a bath. she loved when you’d cater to her in that way—cleaning her cuts, washing her skin from dried blood and dirt. after all that, you’d cuddle in bed, pillow-talking until her eyes shut before yours.

“goodnight, els.” smooch.

ellie! was a little iffy when it came to holidays, but when it came to your birthday it was a special affair. jackson was a healthy and happy little bubble, but because the idea of loss wasn’t foreign to her—celebrating her loved ones was very important to her.

if you didn’t like grand gestures, she’d keep it lowkey. maybe throwing a little surprise for the two of you at home; cooking you dinner, having a movie night, and giving you little trinkets she found on the road. or painting something for you in secret, then giving it to you as a gift.

speaking of cooking…

ellie! has thing for making good food. a part of me feels like joel put her on when she was young, and after he died (yeah, i’m sorry) she made an effort to keep it up. playing guitar was much harder for her since she only had two fingers and a thumb on her left hand—so she decided to pick up something else to stay close to him.

so every chance she can get, she cooks for you or both of you. when you would go on patrols, you’d make sure to pick up cook books from before the outbreak since she found them so fascinating. and you loved being her little food guinea pig. spoiler: she was a fast learner so her cooking skills were pretty good.

ellie! 100% taught you to play the song (that we all know and love) that joel taught her on the guitar. and whenever you knew she needed to hear it, you’d play it for her. and, i swear on everything, there’d be tears in her eyes every time.

and for some freaky stuff… (i won’t get into crazy detail but i just wanna be thorough ;D)

ellie! just loves loving you… making love to you—doing everything that she can to almost prove that you’re everything to her (not that she needs to but she does it anyway).

meaning: at the very best, she’s a service!top. however, i can get behind her being a switch/verse (or maybe i’m bias lmao).

ellie! probably wouldn’t strap as often as the fanfics show. especially being in this apocalyptic world—where would you get them?? if they weren’t hella old… and, i feel like she’d think they were a little silly (but if you wanted to try it, she’d oblige because what you say goes).

ellie! loves to watch the expressions of your features contort into visuals of pleasure. it’s how she knew she was being good for you—doing everything that you asked but better!

your first time: of course she was super awkward. not really knowing where to put her hands at first. but once the heat began to rise, and your bodies began to press together, her entire energy changed! she’s her most confident when she’s in service to someone (in some way)—so she makes it her prerogative to make you feel good and comfortable. you weren’t really expecting that from her, though. it only took one airy moan coming from your lips for her to completely flip the script.

her hands were firmly delicate, and she made sure to be very vocal in your ears and over your body.

overall, ellie williams is a very attentive lover. in many ways than just one.

[quarkfancam]

some trek oc posting!! mostly dr. t'sik... also featuring ensign morris (human) & lt. nul (ferengi). Some elaboration on her under the cut....

Ok so the first thing you need to know about T'Sik is her head gets wider every time i draw her

The second thing you need to know about her is she is having the least severe vulcan identity crisis. My main idea for her character was someone who, while being perfectly able to fit into their society's ideals of what they should be, just cannot feel comfortable in it. She's always felt more at ease interacting with aliens or Vulcans who didn't go through with the Kolinahr, in spite of her being successful in that aspect. She's great at medicinal science. She's also pretty good at being a wife (so her parents say)! But once she's expected to 'finish' her duty as a woman in Vulcan society and become a mother, she kind of just runs off and joins Starfleet.

In that sense, she connects with a freshly-graduated (she assumes) human (she assumes) ensign, who was also a rebel in the sense he was more Curzon than Ezri Dax, a chaotic rogue with ambiguous feelings towards the society he was raised in. They serve together on their first ship for a while before T'Sik is promoted and transferred from ship to ship. She feels appreciated for a while, but she eventually has to admit that the feeling fades.

The people she's always gotten along with more simply aren't the people she really wants praise from. She longs for the people she grew up alongside, the people she was raised by.

It doesn't matter, so she ignores the feeling. She keeps being distracted at work. She gets sloppier. The people grow more distant in her mind. Years pass. Decades pass. She's not exceptional anymore, she's just decent.

She gets transferred to the ship where everyone who's just decent goes: the USS Hawking, patrolling the middle of nowhere.

The people are strange, but familiar. Too familiar — a friendly face greets her, and suddenly she's freshly 40 again. Ensign Morris treats her just the same as back then. It's strange. She doesn't quite know what to do with herself. More time passes.

Her new captain, a cardassian man named Karal, brings new people aboard, one of which is a young ferengi woman named Nul. Unfortunately for T'Sik, she's seen the story of a young woman running away from home into the arms of Starfleet before.

...Which starts us off with the (imaginary) S1, where T'Sik has to navigate a new Captain and a new apprentice who reminds her a bit too much of herself (she will be a bit cold to her at first). And maybe also properly re-befriend her former weird mysterious rebel colleague who never got promoted too.

last doodle was just me having fun but imagine an episode where they're the only ones awake on the ship while everyone's asleep or something and they're forced to develop..... etc

as for morris & t'sik they're kinda weird sarcastic sorta-friends they hook up at one point and it sucks really bad. t'sik's ex husband felt a disturbance in the force (wrong franchise) the day it happened and stuff. Idk i haven't thought about him at All. that's like a s4 episode to me

& also i Forgot to adjust uniforms for time period in the first doodle but my in canon explanation for the voyager era ones (this whole thing would be a bit after the dominion war) is that the ship just never got replicator patterns for the new uniforms. Yup

anyways if you read this whole thing ur a real one & Thank you........ turns into a cloud and floats away......

[bittertasteofhoney]

Good Day Sunshine | Ch. 13

Good As Us

Summary: Joel doesn’t come back from patrol one night and it sends you into an early labor.

|| angst, jackson!joel,  jackson!joel x f!reader, age gap (but legal!), reader is afab, pregnancy, labor, gunshot wounds, blood, hospital scene||

Notes: We only have one more to go folks! I am genuinely torn on how to end this fic so because I cannot be decisive to save my life, I will be uploading TWO different endings and will leave it up to you if you want an alternate ending or a series-accurate ending. Basically, choose how much pain you want to put yourself through! 😭

The characters, names and characterizations belong to HBO Max and The Last of Us franchise. This work is my creative property and aside from re-blogs and shares, I do not give permission to share or copy my work without permission or consent.

Previous Chapter.

From that night on, keeping your hands to yourself wasn’t the only issue. Things between you and Joel got intense. If you weren’t already his obsession, you sure were now. He watched your every move, and when it was just the two of you together, there wasn’t much that could stop him from getting on his knees and making you cry out his name. Sometimes, it didn’t even matter if someone was in the room. All it took was one look from you, and he would clear a room for just a few minutes with you. 

He was consumed with making you feel good. Your comfort was the only thing on his mind. He was always nearby, and if he had to be away for a patrol or a project, he would run back to you as soon as it was over. 

The more your stomach grew, the more worried he became, which led to a heated argument when he surprised you at the gardens one afternoon with lunch to find you on your knees picking turnips. Your yelling attracted the attention of every other gardener, and they all watched with amusement as you stomped out of the marked area with Joel on your heels. The tension between you was a ticking time bomb that the entire town watched like a favorite soap opera. 

Safe to say, both Tommy and Maria got an ass-chewing from Joel for not arranging someone else to take over your more manual chores. You had been so embarrassed, hiding your red cheeks behind one hand as he yelled. No one in the council was upset, and a few did feel bad you had been working so hard with just a few weeks to go in your pregnancy. But mainly, they all did their best to hide smiles in response to his yelling. The man was head over heels.

There was no doubt now that Joel was fiercely protective of you in a way that could only translate to love. Still, the two of you had yet to completely soothe the distrust between you enough to say the words. 

After the two of you began sleeping together again, it didn’t take long for Joel to temporarily move in with Ellie to keep a closer eye on you during the pregnancy. Ellie was ecstatic to spend more time with you, constantly your shadow and asking you a million questions about your life before Jackson, how weird it felt to be pregnant and how you felt about Joel and if he was the one. 

The latter questions left you blushing more than a few times, but all you could do was shrug in response to her prodding. You didn’t know. You knew it wasn’t easy getting to where you were, and the two of you didn’t even know what to call what you were. But you knew having him around felt better than before. 

Tommy and Maria also came over regularly with their new baby in tow. Maria was more than happy to pass off her squirming infant for a break, and you were beaming any time he was in your arms. You told yourself she and Tommy came over for company and a little parental relief, but deep down, you knew it was so Tommy could sit right by Ellie and smirk their asses off, watching you and Joel interact.  

Some nights, it was perfectly wholesome. Joel, with his eyes glued to you as you rocked Benji in your arms. And others, well…it was a good night if the two of you simply snapped at each other. Those were the days when Joel usually let his protective side win, telling you to stop running around on your feet and to sit down. You appreciated his help but were weeks past your limit of feeling like a fragile doll. You were used to getting things done alone, and to have all this help sometimes felt overwhelming as much as you hated to admit to yourself. 

You loved that you found community and family, but between growing a literal human inside of you and struggling to define what you and Joel were, you found it hard to breathe most days. Again, that was no help, thanks to the baby who loved to kick into your lungs. And bladder. And kidneys. You were so ready to get this baby out.

One day, when Joel was off on patrol with Tommy, Ellie sat in the kitchen sketching on a beat-up pad while you made some potato soup. It was getting close to when Joel would be getting home, so you put the sprinkling finishing touches over the top of the pot before letting it simmer and moving to the table to take a seat. 

You watched Ellie’s pencil fly over the page in admiration. “God, I wish I could do that.” Her pencil paused, and she looked at you shyly before shrugging. 

“I don't know. It’s fun, I guess. I really only draw the same thing over and over.” 

“It’s still really cool.” You rubbed your belly and smiled at her. “The most I can draw is a deranged happy face. You’re talented. Don’t diminish that.” Now, Ellie was blushing. She tapped the pencil a few times before nervously speaking.

“I wish I could play guitar like you.” You laughed and hummed. 

“There’s no guitar playing on my horizon at the moment, babe. I barely have enough room to balance it on my knee. But I do miss it. The second this baby is out, I’m playing them a song.”

Ellie smiled and scooted her chair closer to you. She hovered a hand over your belly before looking at you questioningly. You nodded, smiling softly. She gently placed a hand on my abdomen and pressed it. It took a moment, but the baby kicked her hand in response. Ellie’s cheeks turned red as she giggled. 

You smiled, looking at her, but then it dropped slightly. “I know you and I never really talked about this, but…are you okay…with this baby? I know it’s a lot, and none of us really know what’s coming, but…are you happy to be…a sister?” 

Ellie looked at you with scrunched eyebrows and blinked a few times. “Were you worried about that?”

You bit your lip and nodded. She dropped her hand and, in a swift motion, stood up and hugged you fiercely. You laughed at its intensity and wrapped your arms around her in tandem. 

“Of course, I’m happy about this. The thought of having a little sibling is so fucking cool!” Your eyes watered, and you hugged her back tightly. 

The two of you stayed like that for a beat before Ellie retreated to her seat to continue drawing. You checked on the soup and absentmindedly stirred it. You glanced at the clock to see Joel was now thirty minutes later. Things happened on patrol. You knew this. But ever since he moved in, it was rare that he was late. He would move heaven and earth to be at this kitchen table. 

You felt your heartbeat quicken as you began to catastrophize and imagine everything that could’ve gone wrong. You turned off the gas on the stove and slowly waddled to the front door to peek out the window. No sign of him. 

Ellie walked in as well to see what was going on. After she saw your nervous face, she offered a pat on your shoulder to bring you back down to earth.

“They probably tracked a trail further than they anticipated. They’ll be back soon.” You nodded, trying to let her words soothe you, but you couldn’t get your mind off the what-ifs.

Once Maria was at your door with the same worried look and Benji in her arms, you began to pace the living room. You couldn’t stop worrying and thinking of him hurt out there. 

For two days, you waited. Maria tried to hold you together, but you were a wreck with anxiety. You couldn’t sleep, but Ellie and Maria did their best to keep you relatively calm and fed. The stress was the one thing you were struggling to maintain. And you tried, you really did. You knew it wasn’t good for the baby, so you did the breathing exercises Maria lectured you about. You appeased her and Ellie by laying down, but sleep never came. 

As soon as the sun rose those two days, you made your way to the front gates for an update. After the first day, Tommy finally radioed in to say he and Joel had been ambushed by raiders, and Joel was shot in the arm. Before you could even react to the news heard over the walkie-talkie, Maria was in front of you, reminding you it wasn’t a fatal wound. You nodded, doing your best to listen to the words coming out of her mouth, but all your mind could circle around were the words Joel was shot. Joel was hurt.

But he was coming back. They both were. No townsperson was brave enough to tell you to go home once you knew he was returning to you. Little Miss Sunshine had turned fierce, and no one could navigate this new version of you. If someone tried to move you inside, you shot them a cold look and ripped your arm away. The most you would do was sit in the chair Ellie moved outside for you and eat the food Jesse pushed into your hands. 

When they finally returned on the second day, Tommy had to drag Joel through the gates. You walked to the pair with Maria by your side as fast as possible. You looked at her in confusion, and she just shook her head. It wasn’t just an arm wound. He was bleeding from the abdomen now, too. He was barely conscious from the blood loss, and all you could do was watch in horrified shock.

Grunting with the effort of holding his brother up, Tommy relayed the story of the second surprise attack by a raider they missed the first time. The guy came back to avenge his friends and, thanks to Tommy’s sniper shot, never got the chance. But Joel didn’t make it out unscathed, now sporting two gunshot wounds.

Ellie and Jesse were on either side of you as you watched Joel get lifted onto a stretcher. The two of them knew better than to fight with you on whether or not you were following the procession to the hospital. 

Each step was agonizing as the pressure in your pelvis grew, but you bit back any groan that might escape. You had to get to Joel. Ellie and Jesse assumed it was just the stress of the situation, and to a degree, they were correct. But a growing sense of dread told you it was a bit more than that.

After he was brought into a triage room with Tommy’s help, you ran in right after him. Tommy shot you a murderous look. “Now is not the time. You need to go. Now. I promise I’ll look after him but you can’t see this.”

You walked up to the bed and saw Joel was now out cold. You cut your eyes at Tommy and, in a venomous voice, “Don’t you fucking dare. I’m not leaving.”

His eyes widened in shock. You never talked like this. He wasn’t even sure he remembered you speaking to him in any sort of unkind tone. Joel was the first to ever receive your bite. Now that Tommy was on the receiving end, he didn’t know what to do. So he just nodded and did everything he could to help the limited medical staff on duty tend to Joel. 

When you noticed Ellie in the room, you grabbed her hand, knowing better than to tell her to leave. So, the two of you held each other steady as they worked on Joel. 

They removed the bullets from his arm and abdomen and stopped the bleeding. It felt like hours, waiting for him to come to as they cleaned and dressed the wounds. You squeezed Ellie’s hand as the contractions started to rock through you in waves. She looked at you in concern, but you still didn’t make a sound. Not until Joel opened his eyes. 

The second those perfect brown eyes scanned the room and met yours, you pulled Ellie to his side. He reached for her hand, gripping it in relief and panting from the effort. You white-knuckled the railing and tried to control your breathing. You felt his hand cover yours, and you met his eyes. You let out a breath of relief and shook your head, “Joel.”

He swallowed and grunted in pain. “I’m okay. I’m okay.” You shook your head, and he tried to smile. “I am. Like hell am I going to leave y’all behind now.” Ellie threw herself on him, and he let out a low laugh and then a groan as she accidentally landed on his wounded side. Her eyes widened in apology, but he wrapped his good arm around her. “It’s okay, baby. You’re okay.”

Only he would console the both of you when he was the one on the bed bleeding.

Once his levels began to somewhat normalize and he could sit up, with help, his hand was permanently gripped in yours. Ellie left to see if she could find some coffee, thinking it would help lift his spirits. He wasn’t sure if he was up for coffee, but he was grateful for the brief time he spent alone with you. 

The room was tense for a moment before you broke the silence. “Don’t you ever do that to me again.” 

His face was soft as he nodded. He squeezed your hand weakly, and you met his eyes. Tears streamed down your face, but you smiled at him. The two of you sat like that before another contraction ripped through you, and this time, you couldn’t bite back the groan. You squeezed his hand and supported yourself against the railing. 

“Darlin’? What’s going on?” You couldn’t speak through the pain, and that’s when it all clicked for him. “Goddamnit. Tommy! Fuck, just breathe baby. TOMMY!”

Tommy sprinted into the room and immediately clocked you bent over Joel’s bed, panting in pain. “Shit, this fucking family.” 

He ran out of the room and returned with a nurse and another bed. With their help, you were lifted onto the bed, not without a few yelps of pain from you and laid down. The duo began to wheel you out of the room, but you and Joel shouted for them to stop. 

“No! Please. Don’t make me do this without him. Not now. Please.” 

The nurse began to argue, but Tommy just shook his head at them. “They just nearly lost each other. Just let them be.” 

The nurse wasn’t happy about it, but your bed was positioned right next to Joel’s so you could grip his good hand. When Ellie returned to the room with two cups of coffee, she immediately dropped them, spilling the hot liquid all over the floor. “HOLY SHIT!” 

The two simultaneously shouted, “Ellie!” It's safe to say that Tommy escorted her out of the room as a doctor walked in to help bring your baby into the world.

It wasn’t an easy birth. Contractions were punctuated by Joel fighting the doctors to remain in the room and fighting to stand so he could be right by your side. You could barely think through the pain, but Joel held you steady, rooting you right beside him as you moved through the waves this labor was pushing you through. It was white hot pain and agonizing waves of nausea, but somehow, within a few hours, a sweet relief poured over you, and you knew everything was okay. 

She didn’t cry at first, needing a little backrub to find her voice, but the sweetest song filled the room when she did. She was a howler.

You panted from the relief of the absent pain and the relief from knowing your baby was okay, but all Joel could do was look at you like you were a goddamn miracle. He couldn’t tear his eyes off you to even look at his newest child. You were okay. He leaned forward to press a kiss on your sweaty forehead, and you weakly raised a hand up to his cheek to hold him there. He was okay. The baby was okay.

You didn’t even register the tears running down your face as the doctor handed you the baby. She was perfect. You let out a breath, stunned into stillness at her perfect face. Joel still looked at you. His eyes glued to your face as he watched you see your child for the first time. 

But when he finally did look, he was entranced. She had Sarah’s nose. Now, it was he who gripped the railing to still himself. 

You took a shuddering breath and smiled. “Sorry, kiddo. Your daddy tried to overshadow your debut.” Joel laughed and then groaned from the pain of moving his side. You looked at him in fear, but he shook his head. 

“I’m fine, darlin’. How are you?” He pressed another kiss to your forehead and then leaned forward to ever-so-gently place one on your daughter’s nose. You watched in complete bliss. 

In a whisper, you said, “Guess we should give her a name. Any ideas?”

He smiled, still looking at her perfect face and shook his head softly. “I thought something would come to mind the second I saw their face but all I can remember is this memory. Of Sarah.” His voice caught. “She had this little doll. Called her Holly. Would carry her around everywhere like she was a little sister.” 

You used your free hand to cover his over the railing. “I think we found our name.” You looked down at your daughter and smiled weakly. “Well, hello there Holly.”

It took you and Joel two weeks to fully recover from his wounds and your delivery. Your community of Tommy, Maria, Dina, Jesse and Ellie took turns helping look after your little family. Ellie was by y’all’s side as often as possible but spent her nights at Maria and Tommy’s. 

When you were finally cleared to go home, you placed Holly in a newly gifted baby carrier and left the hospital for the first time as a family. Joel carried your baby, much to your dismay, but like hell, he was not going to let you strain yourself further. You, him and Ellie took slow steps toward your home, letting you take it easy. 

When you were finally at the front door, panting from the walk, Joel gently set Holly down to unlock the door. Before he opened it, he paused and looked at you. His face looked unsure, and it sent a cold feeling through you. Did he not want to be back here? Now that Holly was here, were he and Ellie going back home? 

You swallowed nervously. “Thank you. For walking us back. If you and Ellie want to go back home, I’ll be fine, I promise.” He and Ellie looked at you with mirrored, confused faces, eyebrows equally scrunched together. 

Finally, Joel cracked a smile and shook his head. “I was just thinkin maybe, we’ll stay.” He looked at Ellie. “For good.” 

Ellie beamed at you, waiting for your answer. All you could do was look at the two of them in surprise. 

“Really?” He nodded and waited at your door, at the mercy of your decision. You swallowed back the rising tears, but it was no use. You walked up to him, your daughter sitting in her carrier between the two of you, and wiped your cheeks. “Sorry, it’s the hormones. Yes, please stay.”

He let out a laugh, and his eyes were also filled with tears. “Is forever okay?” 

All it took was a nod from you before he leaned over Holly to grab your face and kiss you. 

Ellie was eating this shit up. Finally. Now, the four of you could go home. 

Final Chapter.

Tag List :) @silksepia @hello-nah817 @longlivetheloneliness @keseqna @millers-girl @treacherqus @lemonboi @spnfic85 @secretlettersfromyourlove @nosebeers @boscogirlsworld @aleemendoza2425-blog @puppi-sonnenschein @needz1nk @ashleyfilm @melmel-fandom

[lazycats-stuff]

I'd like to request batfam x male reader, who crotchets a lot. He has some medical issues, so he doesn't go on patrol, he helps out with information gathering though.

When Damian got added to the strays, the reader tried being a good older brother, and he crochets him a little stuffed animal for him as a welcome gift. Everyone in the family has one, even Alfred. Let's say, Damian had a bad day, and coincidentally the reader just finished the crochet animal and goes to his room to give it to Damian. Damian snaps and destroys the stuffed animal in front of the reader, also saying some pretty hurtful stuff. The reader cries because it took a lot of time to male it. You can end it however you want

Take your time <3

Sure. Oh Damian is so dead. Nobody messes with (Y/N).

Summary: Damian messes with the wrong brother.

Warnings: angst, fluff, reader is a sweetheart, everyone loves the reader, unspecified medical problems...

(Y/N) sometimes envied his brothers. If it weren't for his medical problems, he would have been out and running, fighting crimes. But he was still happy with his position as Oracle number two, helping Alfred out when it came to patrol and information gathering.

" Can I get you some more tea, master (Y/N)? " Alfred asked him, standing up.

" Please do. " (Y/N) said, giving Alfred his favorite mug.

(Y/N) turned his head back to the computer, rubbing his eyes. He yawned, putting his hand over his mouth.

" Tired? " Alfred asked as he poured some tea.

" A little bit. " (Y/N) answered.

" Guys, we need access to GCPD data base. " Bruce said through the comms.

" You have an access to it, why do we have to? " (Y/N) asked, confused. Alfred came back with tea, also confused.

" Something is jamming the access. " Bruce explained further. (Y/N) put the tea aside, trying to get into the said database.

" Hmm. Something is happening with the network. It's down... " (Y/N) said, confused.

" I would go to GCPD and check it out. " (Y/N) said, taking his tea.

" Alright, will do. "

With that, it was quiet and they knew that this was in one way or another it for the night. (Y/N) glanced at the crocheted bat he made for Bruce.

(Y/N) had a little bit of tradition for everybody. He makes little stuffed animals. Every single member has one, even Alfred. He would make it for everyone who would come into the family, just to feel welcome.

And it did work. It made all of them feel nice and welcoming. And it made them like (Y/N) and it made everyone more protective of (Y/N). Jason took the number one spot at the amount of protectiveness he had for (Y/N).

Everything changed when Bruce announced he had a biological son. With Talia al Ghul. (Y/N) didn't know what to think about it. Bruce was always saying to use protection, so how did it happen? As a playboy, you are supposed to be a careful person when it comes to sex.

" I'm sorry, how did Damian happen? You are usually the one telling us to watch ourselves, you know, use protection amongst other things. " (Y/N) asked, taking a sip of his tea.

" Talia spiked my drink. " Bruce said, making Jason snort. (Y/N) smacked him on the arm.

" I'm sorry, but how didn't you notice it? " Jason questioned, trying not to lose control again.

" Jason not now. Damian is in the cave, Alfred is going to bring him up. Please be nice. " Bruce said, sighing as he heard Alfred coming.

Everyone turned their heads to see Alfred walking in with a small boy with green eyes and who eerily looked like Bruce at that age. (Y/N) knew because he saw the pictures once. Alfred showed him the photos.

" Everyone, this is master Damian. Master Damian these are master Jason, master (Y/N), master Tim and master Dick. " Alfred introduced Damian to everyone.

Damian didn't say anything, instead he turned back to Alfred to ask him to show him his room.

" I don't know about you, but this is going to be interesting. " Jason said to (Y/N).

" I think he just needs to adjust. It's never easy to come somewhere new. " (Y/N) replied, taking another sip of his tea.

" Will he get a stuffed animal too? " Jason asked, standing up.

" Yup. It's a tradition here so... " (Y/N) said, trailing off.

" If you say so. " Jason said, watching as (Y/N) took last sips of his tea before putting the mug into the sink.

" Any chance I can ask you to help me with a case? " Jason tried as they were going to their rooms.

" Nope. I need my sleep. " (Y/N) said, opening his bedroom door.

" You are mean. " Jason said, chuckling. " Good night. "

" Good night Jay. "

It has been a couple of weeks and (Y/N) finally finished up his stuffed animal for Damian. He made a Robin stuffed animal in his colors. Well, the suits color. Green and red with a R to symbolize the Robin. He was happy with his creation and was now actively looking for Damian.

What (Y/N) didn't know however, was the fact that Damian had a very bad day. To put it bluntly, everything went to shit. Absolutely everything that Damian had planned went to shit. Absolutely everything and there was nothing he could have done to prevent it.

Coincidently, (Y/N) decided to gift the stuffed animal to Damian. He knocked on Damian's door, entering after hearing a harsh what. (Y/N) entered the room, holding his bird in his hands.

" So, we have a tradition here where I make newcomers stuffed animals. So here is yours. "

" I don't need that right now! And I don't need something from someone so worthless to the family! " He yelled grabbing the stuffed bird, ripping it apart.

(Y/N) was heartbroken. He slowly stepped out, closing the door before he started crying in the hall.

" (Y/N), what's wrong?! " Jason asked, confused. He just came from the dining room and seeing his favorite brother sad was something that should be illegal. (Y/N) shook his head, running to his room and slamming the door shut.

Jason scowled, wondering what made (Y/N) upset. Well, who made him upset... He looked at Damian's door and went there. He opened the door and his eyes feel down onto the remains of (Y/N)'s stuffed animal. He looked up at Damian before he jumped at him.

The two started fighting. Jason was blinded with anger and rage, punching wherever he could. Bruce heard the commotion and when he saw what was happening, he had to tear Jason off of Damian.

It was difficult to separate them, but once he did, he was pissed. Beyond angry.

" WHAT ARE YOU TWO DOING?! " Bruce yelled, mad now.

" He took (Y/N)'s animal and tore it apart! He is heartbroken! You didn't saw him when he started crying! " Jason yelled back, face bloody. The kid can definitely punch.

" Out. I will talk to Damian. " Bruce said calmly. Jason wiped his nose, going straight to the bathroom in his room to clean it up.

He can't allow his brother to see him bloody. He really can't. He washed his face and once he made sure that he has stopped the bleeding, he went to (Y/N)'s room. He opened the door and his heart broke.

(Y/N) was still crying on the bed, curled into a fetal position.

" Oh (Y/N)... Come here. " Jason said softly. (Y/N) sniffed and turned to face Jason. Jason sat down on the edge. (Y/N) moved closer and put his head in Jason's lap.

" Why did he do that? I just tried to be nice... " (Y/N) asked and Jason gently scratched (Y/N)'s scalp.

" I know that. Damian is just Damian... " Jason said, knowing that (Y/N) doesn't like when they are talking negatively about Damian. Or any of them.

Jason stayed like that for a couple of hours and (Y/N) fell asleep during that. Jason didn't mind, but he had to move. He gently put (Y/N)'s head on a pillow. He covered him and left the room.

He didn't expect to see Damian in the hall.

" What do you want? " Jason asked quietly, not to disturb (Y/N).

" I wanted to... Apologize. "

" Did Bruce make you do that? " Jason said, not believing a single word that came out of Damian's mouth.

" No. I just had a bad day and I let it out on the wrong person. " Damian said, meaning every word of it.

" Well, don't wake him up now. You know, everyone has a stuffed animal made by (Y/N). Even Alfred. " Jason said. " Bruce has one near the Batcomputer and sometimes takes it with him somewhere important. He took it to outer space once. " Jason wasn't sure why he was telling that to Damian, but it felt important that he knows. " Again, don't wake him up. " Jason said, leaving Damian.

Damian had no plans on doing it.

[paradoxicalli]

Geminislay in Gotham Part 1.5: Tim develops a healthy fear of tridents

(Part 1 but from Tim’s POV) 

This was supposed to be a normal patrol. Right up until Oracle checked in with a weird alert. 

“We have a potentially supernatural disturbance in sector 12. Red Robin, you’re closest.”

Tim sighed. Always normal until the spook-o-meter goes off. “On it.” 

He changed course, swinging towards the coordinates that Oracle sent to his communicator. He caught sight of a potential altercation at the end of an alleyway that was still a good ways away. It looked like four armed men surrounding a red haired woman in a strange blue outfit. She was holding a shield… and was that a sword? God dammit, was she a new vigilante? He was able to just barely hear a man’s voice through the quiet side streets, “Does it matter? Get rid of her, she’s in the way.”

Shit, he was too late. Panic shot through him, but just before he shouted, “Wait! Stop!” The womans appearance shifted. He barely had time to blink as her teal tunic turned into a jet black undershirt with blood red sleeves. She had a red heart across her chest that reminded him of Jason’s bat symbol. Most disturbingly, one of her eyes turned bright red. 

The thugs were shocked too. 

“What the-“ 

He didnt get to finish his sentence before the woman slit his throat. This was getting bad fast. She stabbed the next man and Tim still wasnt close enough to stop her. At least the man fell in a way that tore her sword from her hands. The other two had a a chance. 

Until the woman pulled an axe out of thin air. 

Sure. Why not. 

“The fuck-“ 

“She’s meta!” 

The axe swung down onto the third man. God, this was a massacre. The last man shot desperately until Tim heard his gun click empty. He heard her voice, a higher pitched, deceptively sweet sound. 

“Come on, dont tell me you’re out of arrows.” Tim had to try and save him. 

“STOP!”  

She sliced his head off. There was blood splattered across her face, but she didnt seem to care. The mans decapitated body flopped to the ground and the woman locked her gaze onto Tim. Jesus, she was terrifying. 

“What are you doing?” Tim asked. Why did you just kill four people? 

Her appearance changed back to a sailor pirate queen or something. Her axe disappeared, replaced by a wicked trident held over her head, poised to throw. She glared. 

“I was defending myself. Honestly, who just points a gun at someone they just met?” 

Tim stared blankly at the trident pointed at him and chose not to comment on the hypocrisy. 

“Look, Im not gonna hurt you.” The woman paused, but spun her trident out of her overhead throwing position. It swooshed through the air before the blunt end landed on the ground with an intimidating thunk. Tim would take any peace offering he could get. 

First things first. 

“Who are you?” He asked. 

The woman glanced at the bodies and honest to god giggled. 

“Welp, I guess now you can call me Geminislay.” What the fuck kind of name is that? 

“…Okay. Are you a meta?” 

Confusion drew over her face. “I- no? Whats a meta?” 

Was she for real right now? “A person with like, superpowers. Or something.” 

She thought for a moment. “Oh! Like Tango?” 

“What do tangos have to do with anything?” 

“He’s a really nice blaze hybrid, you probably dont know him. There was one time Jimmy kissed him on the cheek and he nearly burned down my house.” What? 

“Yeah, like that.” Mental note: the Geminislay lady knows a ‘blaze hybrid’ with fire powers.

“Nope! I dont have anything like that.” 

Was she being for real with him right now? “You can change your appearance at will and pull weapons from thin air.”

“Uh yeah? Cant you?” 

Okay, this is getting weird. “What are your intensions in Gotham?” 

“I dont know! I’m honestly just trying to chill, but these guys really seem to have a problem with that!” 

“So you decided to murder them!?” 

Geminislay shrugged. “Yup. I mean they’ll res-“ she froze. “Oh dont tell me there’s a life gimmick here.”

“Um, excuse me?” 

“How many hearts do you have?”

“One?” 

Geminislay’s jaw dropped in shock. “Holy- oh my god dude!” She hurled something at him, which he caught on instinct. It was…a piece of bread?  

“You’re like, one stubbed toe away from dying!” Okay rude. “Tell me you can at least regen!” 

“I dont know what you-“ 

Tim heard footsteps. He tensed, and turned his back to the wall to the face the sound. Geminislay tensed too, and he didnt let her out of his sight. 

“The fuck is taking you so long?” Said a random goon who entered the alley. He froze, and then smirked when he saw Tim. “Well well well, what do we have here? A little birdie.” He glanced at Geminislay. “And you found a friend.” 

She probably didn’t appreciate being referred to as that. She seemed more lost with a side of stabby than malicious. 

Tim glared and leveled his staff at the man. “Leave her alone if you know whats good for you.” 

He grinned. “Fine. We’ll let your little friend live, as long as you come quietly. I bet the Joker’s gonna pay reeeaaal well for a new Robin to play with.” 

Oh god please no. Tim wasnt doing that. Not after what he did to Jason. He would fight like a bat out of hell to avoid that, and he wasnt going to let this strange, lost murder lady get hurt either. He prepared to attack when- 

Thoowp-CLAAANG!!!! 

Jesus, was that sound her trident!? 

“UGH-“ 

Shiiiiiiiiiing!!! 

Tims eyes snapped onto Geminislay as her now bloody trident flew back into her hand. Instead of furious red like before, her eyes blazed with a deathly calm blue.  

“What was THAT for!?” 

“Dude are you crazy? You have ONE HEART!” 

“Yeah, and it works perfectly fine!” 

“A slime could probably take you out right now, you have one heart.” 

He rolled his eyes. She really needed to chill about his singular heart. 

“Well how many hearts do you have?” 

“Ten! Like how you’re supposed to.” 

He sighed, because that is just not how that is supposed to work. “Okay pause. Where are you from?” 

She blinked. “I’m from Hermitcraft. But I’m not sure where exactly here is. Do you guys have access to a server hub? I was kinda in the middle of something before I got teleported over here.” 

Tim fought the urge to pinch his nose. “No, we dont have whatever that is, but I need to arrest you.” 

“Do you really need to though?” She asked, amusement dancing in her eyes. 

“You murdered five people in front of me!” 

“Im sorry, I was defending myself! Honestly, GOD FORBID women have hobbies.” 

He sighed. He has to make sure this woman never meets Stephanie Brown. He tapped into his comms, “This is Red Robin, I have a powered individual who killed five people in less than five minutes.” He could feel Batman growling about no metas in Gotham. “Requesting backup.”

Oracle spoke into his ear. “I’m sending Black Bat and Robin. Red Hood is already en route.” 

He looked back at Geminislay. “Either you come with us and answer our questions, or we take you by force.” And please dont spear me like a kabob. 

Geminislay narrowed her eyes. (Thankfully not glaring) Her gaze locked onto him, then shifted to the ground, and settled on the sky.

“I’ll pass, thanks.” She was probably a flight risk, but its not like she could actually grow wings. 

That is, until her outfit shimmered into a light pink dress worthy of a fairytale. He didnt actually know the full extent of her powers, did he? Monarch butterfly wings flipped out from behind her. With a few powerful flaps, she was gone. 

Tim cursed and grappled after her. “Uh guys? She just sprouted wings and flew away.” 

He heard Oracle sign, something that his siblings probably echoed.

“What are we looking for?” 

“Caucasian female in her twenties, long red hair, light pink dress and butterfly wings flying northbound.”

“Cant catch a butterfly Replacement?” 

“If its so easy you do it. She also might be wearing dark blue, or black with grey overalls.”

“You guys got a butterfly lady and didnt invite me!?” No Stephanie, we did not invite you. 

“In pursuit.” 

“Copy that Robin.” 

“Damn, she’s fast!” 

“Fucking TOLD you Hood!” 

“Yeah yeah.” Jason said from beside him. They caught up to Damien and Cass a moment later. 

“Silence, we’re loosing her!” 

“I’m on my way to intercept and corner her.” 

“B, you’re on the other side of the city.” 

A single grunt, translating to “Not anymore.” 

They continued tailing her, until they were standing on a rooftop facing Bruce, who had come from the other direction. 

“Oracle. We’ve lost the visual.” 

“You’re not gonna like this, but I’ve got a whole lot of nothing on the cameras. She’s a shapeshifter that found a crowd of people.”

Tim groaned. This was going to be such a headache. 

Part 1: Is it really murder if they started it? https://www.tumblr.com/paradoxicalli/786030415065530368/geminislay-in-gotham-part-1

Part 2: The murderer is a friendly cottage core bookworm https://www.tumblr.com/paradoxicalli/786719029778841600/geminislay-in-gotham?source=share

[joels-darlin]

Flashbacks

Pairings: post-outbreak!Joel Miller x reader

Warnings: death, angst, hurt, sadness, mentions of blood, severe injuries, mentions of anxiety, mentions of panic attacks, nightmares, flashbacks, traumatic memories.

Summary:  Flashback: An involuntary recurrent memory in which the individual has a sudden but powerful re-experiencing of a past event.

Joel’s body might be present but his mind never is, especially after the loss of his everything.

Word count: 1752

Author Note: Well I am back and yes it's with another sad one - sorry. This fic was quite the ride. What started out as a post-golf reader POV fic suddenly got turned on its head. One day my brain decided to go: “But what if the tables were turned and it was Joel on the other end”, then this was born.

Also, I have never done this before but if anyone wants an insight to what I listen to whist writing these types of fics see below, might make an angst playlist soon.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------Playlist: If Today Was Your Last Day - Nickelback Savin’ Me - Nickelback Through the Ghost - Shinedown If You Only Knew - Shinedown In The Stars - Benson Boone Life Goes On - Ed Sheeran (ft. Luke Combs) ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thankyou all <3 Read on AO3!

The heat of the sun on Joel’s skin awoke him from a deep slumber, peeking it’s way into the room through that gap in the curtains. The one he had been meaning to fix for months. Groaning at the intrusion he shifted. Untangling his body from the sheets of what is now just his bed, sitting upright, a sharp tweaking sensation in his lower back crying out at the sudden movement. The night shift on Patrol was torture but as much as Joel hated doing it, it was the only way to avoid the nightmares that flooded his brain when he slept.

Taking a moment to compose he breathed in, sharpness of the icy January air biting at his nostrils, pushing slowly back out through his mouth, This is what his routine consisted of now, practicing the breathing exercises learnt from a book scavenged whilst out on Patrol. Mornings were not always like this. Joel let his mind wander back briefly to a just a few mere months ago. ~

The warm heat of the summer enveloped the room as you lay in a tangle of limbs under the sheets, head in spot that was most comfortable; the crook of Joel’s neck. Joel felt you lean in slightly pressing your cheek against the warm and soft skin there, you were clearly having a moment to take everything in. These were the moments you both enjoyed the most. Catching him off guard it was the softness of your lips on this skin peppering light kisses on any areas you could reach. He loved this. The actions making his whole body vibrate with a deep chuckle, moving his hands to caress over your skin with feather light touches. There was no other feeling in the world that could match it, the feeling of being happy and loved. Something he hadn’t experienced in a very long time. This was home for the next few hours. The two of you completely spent, losing count of how many times and the various ways he had made you come undone in the small hours of the morning. ~

Joel regrets swapping patrol shifts with you that day, all because he had come down with the flu and needed some extra rest - he was old now these illnesses took longer to recover from. But he swears everyday that he can still feel it on his skin; the faint touches of your last kiss, the tickle of your breath against his ear. Unknowing that would be the last ‘I love you’ to leave your soft lips. The sound of your voice was always like music to his ears.

But from the minute his eyes close and he succumbs to the darkness the film reel starts; like his own personal cinema. The nightmares more bad compared to good, it’s not very often he gets to relive the happy memories shared with you. One particular memory has been kicking around in his dreams for the last few days. ~

Joel was confused when he woke, taking a minute to survey the surroundings. He was still in bed, the migraine now gone but the flu-ish like symptoms still knocking around; leaving his chest heavy and his nose still clogged like a few hours ago. Except this time there was an extra symptom, a swirling pit in his stomach. Straightaway he knew this wasn’t nausea related to his current condition, it was different, something felt very wrong. He had suffered with anxiety before after he lost Sarah. This felt…similar. The booming sound of banging on his front door stopped the thoughts in their tracks, the glass of the windows in his bedroom vibrating slightly at the force. Whoever was at the door wanted his attention and now. He was still dressed in his grey plaid pyjamas bottoms and worn nightshirt as he jumped out of bed, forgoing his slippers and heading barefoot downstairs to the commotion. Joel recognised the voice on the other side; his brother Tommy.

What was he doing back from patrol so early?

“JOEL…” Tommy’s voice bellowed through the thickness of the wooden door “…open this door NOW”

His hand made contact with the cool metal of the handle, yanking it open with force, nearly knocking himself over the in the process. Only to be greeted by his stricken, pale looking younger brother over the other side of the threshold.

It was quiet for a few moments; like both brothers had no idea what to say. Eyes locked on each other, sounds of the birds chirping in the distance and Tommy’s heavy breathing - he had clearly run here.

“Joel…its….” ”Spit it out Tommy”

What he wasn’t prepared for was the whisper of your name leaving his brothers lips, heart leaping out of his chest at the sound.

The sight that greeted him in the Medical Centre was one that will live in him forever; deeply woven into every fibre of his being. Your lifeless body on the metal table. Clothes torn to shreds, any patches of skin peeking through littered with a mixture of deep purple bruises. He left the worst til last - your face. Once beautiful and so full of life; now unrecognisable. They had beaten you to death. A mixture of anger and sadness bubbling up in his chest and all he could do was drop to his knees and sob, your cold, swollen hand intertwined with his. He wasn’t there to protect you.

Joel doesn’t remember leaving that room. He just knows he didn’t want to. But all he remembers is waking up in in bed the next day. Eyes landing on the empty space on the other side; all the memories coming flooding back in a instant, like a knife to the heart. ~

The house is eerily quiet, creaking of Joel’s bare feet against the old wood echoing off the cracked walls with each step as he heads down the stairs.

Jackson was a place he now considered home, nothing like the home back in Austin, but you made it home for him. It’s the place you had met and started planning a life together - even with the circumstances. From the moment he laid eyes on you across the commune there was something special about you. Any room you entered you brought the sunshine with you - your smile and positivity bouncing off every surface like a beam of light. Except now that he had lost you the four walls of home now felt dark and vacant.

Coffee was something you had both shared a love for. Often scavenging peculiar trinkets or necessities whilst out on patrol that you could trade at the market for the best coffee beans Jackson offered. On the off days from patrol Joel would often wake to the aroma of freshly ground beans wafting through the house. In the kitchen a fresh pot of filtered coffee on the side waiting, his mug neatly placed next to it. An that’s where he was headed right now, straight to what you used to refer to as the ‘the coffee shop’ - it was a running joke between you both.

Except this morning he opened the cupboard to find your favourite mug staring right back at him; he doesn’t remember leaving it there. It was the one he had scavenged whilst out doing one of the trails with Tommy. The early days, when the two of you had not long admitted feelings for each other after months of yearning and pining. He knew your birthday was coming up and wanted a special gift. Then he found the mug, buried at the back of one of the cupboards of a random cabin they had discovered just south of the checkpoint. Joel knew the moment he laid eyes on it that you would love it. The white porcelain mug, chipped and scratched in places but well loved, two giraffes embezzled on the front. Your favourite animal. It stayed in his house, taking place right next to his owl mug. Which not long after became your home also.

Joel was leaning against the counter, coffee mug in hand, his eyes glancing briefly over to the small circular table & chairs in the centre of the room. The memories of those mornings together coming flooding back. ~

These were the moments Joel cherished the most; when it was just the two of you.

Summer mornings spent at the kitchen table sat across from each other, windows wide open, enjoying the light breeze flowing into the room. Watching as you lift the mug of steaming hot coffee to your lips, parting them slightly to take the first sip of ‘nectar’ - you had always called coffee that, for as long as Joel can remember. He can never help the small smile spreading across his lips, something that just happens when with you. A feeble attempt at trying to cover it up by taking a sip from his own mug. It was too late you had caught him, flashing a toothy grin from across the table. God he loved you.

Then the cold Winter months came, opting for the comfort of the couch over the table. Joel remembers being frozen to the bone, eager to shower and slip into the warmth of bed. But as he crossed the threshold the sight that greeted him was one he couldn’t ignore. There you were perched on the claimed side of the couch; coffee mug in one hand, book in the other. Clearly engaged in whatever was on the page - knowing your terrible taste in books probably some soppy romance again. No words needed to be exchanged, just a small smile at each other as he slipped into the seat next to you. Forgoing the choice of coffee after a long patrol nightshift. He was happy here just being in your presence. Like his own personal brand of caffeine. ~

A chirping of birds in the garden brings Joel back to the present. Lifting his free hand to rub his temples, a frustrated sigh leaving his lips. Sometimes the memories are so vivid he swears you are still here.

Draining the last of his coffee and turning to throw the cup in the sink with a loud clang - making a mental note to deal with that later. Joel grabbed his backpack off the hook, heading out the front door in search of Tommy - he would have some useless job for him to do. Today he needed distractions, the storm was incoming and fast. It was only a matter of time.

[moonchild701]

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

Wish List

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Summary: Dabi makes a Christmas wish

Pairing: Dabi/Reader (it's mostly just kinda Implied tbh)

Content Warning: Angst, SFW

Word Count: 800

Disclaimer: Character belongs to Kohei Horikoshi

A/N: This is the 1st of 12 fics for a 12 Days of Christmas event. Enjoy and Happy Holidays!

Prompt: Wish List

My Masterlist

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The crunch of ice and snow beneath bootfalls echoes within the alleyway.

Dabi's hands are stuffed into his pockets as he makes his way down the path, to the fire escape of the side of a building. The sound of creaking metal fills the still quiet of the chilly night air as he climbs it.

Settling on the roof, he stares out at the distant buildings. Normally this would be dangerous, with all the heroes patrolling, but the air is far too crisp for the average person this high up, so it's safe enough. His quirk keeps him warm, and the height keeps him out of sight.

He'd needed to get away from the others for a while. Toga's constant spiel about the holidays and how they should celebrate was getting insufferable.

When he was younger, when he was Touya, he can hardly remember the holidays being the happy and joyous time people would consider it being.

Christmas somehow felt colder than it should be. Not because of the falling snow or the chilly air, but because of the stifling atmosphere within their house.

You'd think that living under the roof of a man with a fire quirk, it'd be warm and cozy. But then you'd of course remember that it's Endeavor, so, of course.

Though, it wasn't really always like that.

At first, it was normal enough, he thinks. His mother and father would shower their first born in gifts and joy and love.

Their first born they were so happy to have, so proud of, that they'd beam when he babbled at them.

And when his quirk came in, all the more joy, playing with his two younger siblings, taking care of them. He's going to be a hero after all! Heroes take care of people!

Of course that didn't last very long, as they learned that his quirk hurts him; his body not suited to it. And in his father's eyes, a failure. A waste.

And so they had another child, one last attempt at correcting the smear on the oh so great Todoroki name.

When Shouto was born, on that cold January day, the chill of his existence seeped into their very bones. Into the walls of their home, the floors beneath their feet, the ceiling over their heads, pressing in from all sides.

As Dabi, the joy he vaguely remembers are mere fragments, they're so distant in the past.

So when Toga said she wanted to celebrate, his scars itched.

Itched like they were freshly healing, like they were raw.

He doesn't know how to celebrate anymore, doesn't know if he ever really knew.

He doesn't know if he'd be able to pretend to enjoy himself, or how he'd react if he actually does enjoy it.

Because his true wish is to be able to do that freely. But alas, his bastard of a father still breathes, and when he does take his final breath, most likely so would he. So it doesn't seem to be in his realm of possibilities.

Though, he supposes, that's really all a wishlist is for.

Wishing and hoping and dreaming for

things you want, but you know deep down isn't really possible.

Looking at a particular building, an apartment complex, he sees a little family eating dinner through open curtains.

A father, a mother, a young girl and two boys, one older than the other two.

It's what he would've had in an ideal world.

It's what he used to wish for on particularly cold nights, curled up beneath his futon, bandages around the wounds littering his tiny body and the cold indifference in his father's eyes seared into his heart.

The father in the window ruffles his eldest son with a smile just as the first few specks of snowflakes begin to fall, and Dabi thinks maybe having a little wish might not be so bad.

It's not going to come true, he knows, but he still wishes.

On a whim, he reaches out to catch a snowflake like he's seen others do.

And he makes another wish. He wishes that at least the future will be better.

That as much as Toga is a little brat, as much as Twice can be annoying, as much as Shigaraki is an ass, as much as Compress is a showy snob, as much as Spinner is a Stain kiss ass, and as much as Kurogiri has a stick up his ass......he gets to keep them.

As much as he loves and doesn't deserve you, he gets to keep you anyway.

He wishes that he can keep his new family this time, wishes that they'll keep him too. Wishes that at the end of all of this, maybe he can actually be happy.

Who knows? Maybe it'll be a Christmas miracle.

*****

The snowflakes melt before they can touch his skin.

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[24hrsoda]

Do you have anymore thoughts about deaged Ra's al ghul au??? Cause now i'm invested!

Yes!

So, Damian comes back to Gotham, very annoyed and confused about what to do with his grandfather that has been turned in to a baby.

Bruce of course immediately puts it upon himself to care for the little guy and try to fix things because as much as he wishes Ra’s Al Ghul was not a thorn in his side, he can’t leave Ra’s in this state.

The Lazarus pits did this to Ra’s, so Bruce is juggling playing babysitter and detective.

He comes around to re-engineering Lazarus resin and more or less makes a “bad” batch of resin that has opposite effects (aging instead of restoring youth). He’s cautious so he only gives it to Ra’s in small controlled doses every few weeks and it ages him at a somewhat steady pace but he has to be very careful to not overdo things and harm Ra’s.

As a baby, Ra’s doenst do much. He just cries and sometimes giggles and sleeps a lot. Typical baby behavior.

Bruce is surprised to find that Toddler Ra’s is actually very very sweet. He is SO smart and approaches just about every person and situation with curiosity and fearlessness. Even when he is afraid of things (Like Goliath, or Superman, he still faces them head-on and brave. It’s cute.) He also seems to show concerns when Bruce and Damian come back from patrols with bruises and scrapes. He can’t understand why, but he knows they’ve been hurt to some extent and he feels bad for them because…they have ouchies :(

His most favorite people are Bruce, who takes care of him. Damian, who plays with him. And Ace, who’s old and slow and doesn’t mind being petted 4736833 times a day and fed the scraps that Ra’s doesn’t eat off his plate.

When Bruce gives him another dose and it ages him up in to an older child, he’s very studious. He loves to read, he often spends a lot of time in the study flipping through various (age-appropriate) books that Bruce has kept from his kids over the years. Any opportunity to learn something new, he takes on as a challenge. He enjoys going out in the yard to play with the others, things like catch at first, and then eventually backyard football type games where he can be a little competitive.

When later doses age him up to his teen years, he only gets smarter and more ambitious. And nosy, lol. He discovers the Batcave and the family’s vigilante identities, and that’s when he discovers that Ra’s’ stubborn streak truly rivals his own.

Bruce is having flashbacks to when Tim and when Damian first came to the family. Always having to chase them around going “No!” and “Stop that!” and “Get out of there!”. The only difference is that Ra’s is probably still a lot nicer than Tim or Damian ever were, LOL.

[melanatedkink]

Stay Right There

Pairing: Denki x Y/N

Warning: blowjob male receiving, making out, groping, oral fixation, slander of Grand(sorry dude), facial, petnames: baby, sweetheart

Pro Hero AU

Denki rarely got a day off. After joining agencies with his best friend Cellophane, his weeks were filled with making appearances, interviews, and figuring out how scheduling was going to go between their plethora of sidekicks for the new year. So, when today finally graced him with a lazy morning, he made sure that undies were the only thing he was putting on the whole day. Unfortunately, he'd have to settle with most of the day being alone until his friends could join him on the game he was currently on.

Little did he know that around five, you were on your way with a story to tell. As the top sidekick to another agency, you were pissed. Specifically, Grand's agency. It was a touchy relationship you had with him, as you went to the same school he went to. So once you graduated, you made it a point to finally get your own agency and show him what a real leader could be. But, without the necessary charisma, you swallowed your pride and accepted the job under his agency. That didn't mean the man let you have it easy, his cocky nature agitating you everytime you were stuck on a dual patrol with him. Today was particularly bad, and you were chewing your lip at every red light as you edited and re-edited your story on your way over.

You rolled into the driveway, fished out the keys, and slipped in. You listened around for you boyfriend, catching a familiar squeal from his room. Maybe it had been a little too long since you last saw him cause his unintelligible ramblings were getting to you. Denki was typically loud when he was around you, especially when he was excited about something. That was probably why you found yourself with an insatiable need to spoil him. Your fingers twitched around the gym bag you were still holding, barely a few inches past the doorway. Maybe you could kill two birds with one stone.

Still sparking from the high of his win, Denki more than welcomed your presence. He pushed away from his impressive setup, brandishing his nearly naked body. Something you would've considered ignoring in favor of his glowing eyes and radiant smile.

"My baby!" he greeted, "Gosh I was so bored all day without you!"

You slipped your hoodie off, cutting him short. You weren't wearing anything underneath, and you were getting closer.

"F-fuck babe, it's like that?" Denki still couldn't keep his eyes off you as you hovered just out other way of his monitors.

"Is your face cam on?" you asked. He shook his head violently," Then it's like that,"

You sunk your nails into the hair above his nape, and pressed a searing kiss onto his lips. He whimpered. Denki couldn't resist you getting forceful with him. He'd call you a tease if he could get away with it, but the wait was always worth it.

"How'd I get so luck- mmh!" You cut him off with another kiss, then two, then three.

As you busied his mouth with a flurry of kisses, your fingers trailed up and down his neck. He shivered at your touch. He was so sensitive. He didn't realize how cold he had the room until you showed up. Now, he couldn't fathom tearing his hands off your burning thighs and hips. Denki jumped in his seat as your hands grazed over his chest, catching each of his erect nipples. The look you graced him was downright debilitating. It shouldn't be so easy for you to get him panting. How long had it been since you entered his room? He couldn't even estimate as you began rolled his nipples between your warm fingertips.

In his haze, he managed to press his palm against your cheek. He'd allow your hands all over him, but he was going to do whatever he could to keep those sinful eyes right on him. You bit your lip as you smiled. He shuddered. Could you get any more gorgeous to him?

Denki's other hand snaked to his briefs. He began to squeeze and tug at himself as you watched, eyes flashing with a new spark of energy.

"You want some help, Den Den?" a rhetorical question as you were already dippig to your knees. You kissed his hand a way and dipped your thumbs beneath his waistband, ushering them low so you could get him bare.

A notification broke his focus. Seemed that Bakugo had finally gotten on the game. His face flushed, fully aware of his state now, as more messages popped up. Denki dared to peek below, and man you were just ethereal. Glossy lips dragged up, from base to tip. You fluttered your lashes as you descended, not even giving him a chance to adjust to your mouth as you throated him effortlessly. His eyes dug into the back of his skull. Yeah, they could fucking wait.

His wanton moan egged you on. You giggled, making him twitch in response. His enthusiasm never ceased to turn you on. Whether from love or just infatuation, you were living for the way his fingers found your scalp. You moaned deeply, earning another chorus from Denki. You glanced up, gracing yourself with a feast of a sight. His pretty pink lip was crushed tightly under his teeth. His lashes fluttered as you slowly picked up the pace. And his whimpers. You prayed to record him one day, just to selfishly hold onto his gorgeous sounds. You snuck a hand between your thighs. Just imagining that this was waiting on the other side of an audio was enough to get you grinding on your hand.

"Oh baby, I love you so fucking much," he dreamily mused.

You pulled up, lazily rubbing his length in exchange," Oh sweetheart, you love me? Then fuck my throat,"

The poor boy short circuited," What?"

He grappled with his melting thoughts to look at you properly. You may have been smirking, but those eyes... you meant it. He jumped in your hand, making you giggle once more.

He didn't know who came home to him today, but he was so glad they were here. With a shaky sigh, he placed a firm hand on the back of your head.

"Ready, sweetheart?" you managed a small "mhm" before he pushed you all the way to his thighs, holding you there just to feel your throat convulse around his tip. He started up again, fucking your throat as you graciously instructed him to. You were starting to drool uncontrollably, this angle didn't allow for much control. Denki didn't seem to care, riding on the sounds your sloppy mouth offered. He couldn't stop with the pet names, moaning and whimpering when full praises failed to come out all the way. He gripped the arm of his chair for dear life, stuttering," Cum- Cumming baby!" and finished all over your face.

Denki lay in a daze, choking out "I love you's" while you cleaned your face. Once you finished, Denki had pulled his underwear back on and beckoned you with grabby hands. You gingerly placed yourself on his lap, aware of his sensitivity. You sat in silence as he sent a few messages to his friends, begging for an invite to the game.

"Soooo? How was work?" He sang.

You sprang to life, pulling off his chest and taking in a deep breath.

"Boy, let me tell you..."

[kingofbodyrolls]

Whalien52 (m) | pjm

*this is a re-upload since I deleted my old account 🫣

You’ve been working for the New World Order as an assassin for years, guarding secrets without batting an eye or asking questions. But when a striking pink haired man shows up at the headquarters stealing information, he makes you question everything. With all of humanity at stake, what will you do? 

→ Pairing: Jimin (kitty gang!jimin) x reader (female) → AUs: apocalyptic!au, survival!au, dystopian!au → Genres: angst, fluff, smut, fighting and action. → Tropes: strangers to lovers → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 10.6k → Warnings + triggers: changing povs (between reader and Jimin), action, weapons, guns and swords, blood (it’s not in extreme detail or anything, but blood is mentioned a few times), death (people are dying, but no important character dies!!!), wounds, shooting, self defense, m*rder in self defense, sickness (cancer due to radiation), mention of a cure and treatment for said cancer. Explicit smut in the form of unprotected sexy, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, degrading names, multiple orgasms, creampie, kissing. → Author’s note: okay, so I’ve been struggling a lot with this one too, lol. I miss writing sappy romance I think. This isn’t sappy, and I’ll hardly call it romance, well, it’s in there, but there’s honestly so much action in this one, compared to the Yoongi one. It’s also more fast paced, and shorter. I hope it’s alright! It was fun to write, even though I know nothing about writing action, I hope I did it well! And to everyone who’s scared or reluctant to read it because there’s angst and it’s kinda heavy/dark themed— IT HAS A HAPPY ENDING. There, I spoiled the ending for you 😇 + This story is a gift for my friend Remmy! Thank you so much for sharing your Kitty gang Jimin folder with me, and letting me use you for motivation and inspiration to get out of my writer’s block 💜 → Read on AO3? [link]

[navi]*: series masterlist *this story is technically a stand alone one-shot (and can be read just as is), but it is also a spin-off from another one-shot (that got a sequel, so a two-shot?). The characters and the story are the same, but the first two stories take place before this one, and it’s with Yoongi x reader (not the same reader though).

It’s raining again. Lately, it’s always raining. The rain is everlasting, it seems, drenching the city in a ceaseless, oppressive downpour. The Capital is perpetually shrouded in darkness and gloom, a place where the sun is a distant memory. You’ve grown accustomed to it, ever since you were recruited by The New World Order to guard their secrets. You’ve been trapped in this godforsaken city ever since. Do you like it? Not really, but it’s a job that pays well. They give you a roof over your head and enough to survive—luxuries in this ravaged world.

You came from nothing, clawing your way up since the war began, fighting for every scrap of existence until The New World Order caught you. They gave you a choice: die or work for them. You chose to live, naively hoping that working for them wouldn’t be so bad. But it turns out, it can be quite bad. You’ve done unspeakable things to keep their secrets safe. You’ve killed for them, just as you had killed for yourself before they found you. Now, you don’t even flinch when you have to eliminate someone who gets too close to the truth. Part of you wonders what these secrets are, but you’re not interested. It’s just a job, nothing more.

Tonight is another shift. You head to the New World Order building, ready to patrol the city under the cover of darkness. First, you gear up: leather pants, a basic white shirt, and a black leather biker jacket. A belt around your waist for support, with a strap around your thigh that holsters your gun. A small knife is sheathed at your back, just in case.

You glance out the window. The world outside is as bleak as ever; night has fallen, and the rain taps a morose melody against the glass. You sigh, watching the neon signs flicker, casting a purple and blue glow that dances across your room. Grabbing your keys, you lock the door behind you and sprint down the stairs. This apartment is nothing special, but it’s a step up from the streets where you once lived before the war. It’s a small comfort in a world gone mad.

The rain soaks your skin, but you don’t bother with an umbrella. It’s just rain. You run down the dimly lit main street, the few wandering souls avoiding eye contact as they scurry to obey The New World Order’s curfew. Your boots splash through rain puddles on the unpaved, muddy road. It doesn’t take long to reach the towering New World Order building—its looming presence still sends a shiver down your spine, but you step inside anyway. Scanning your security card, you brace yourself for another night of duty.

You start your shift monitoring security cameras and patrolling the eerie hallways for any sign of suspicious activity. As you return to the front desk, you catch sight of a man attempting to bypass the card reader.

“What are you doing here?” you growl, your hand instinctively hovering near your gun.

The man fumbles with the machine, clearly lacking a security card. Desperation edges his voice as he yells, “I want the data that The New World Order is keeping from us!”

“You’re not getting that,” you reply coldly, assessing the intruder. He seems harmless, more frustrated than dangerous, so you relax, slightly.

“Do you even know what it is that you’re protecting?” he spits, abandoning his futile attempt to climb the machines as the alarm blares. The piercing sound echoes through the corridor, and you quickly pull out the phone issued by the New World Order to silence it.

“I don’t care what I’m protecting. You’ve got no business here. Now leave,” you say through gritted teeth.

“You shouldn’t be so blind to the secrets you’re safekeeping for them,” he hisses, making another hopeless attempt to scale the security machines.

His efforts are laughable, a pathetic display of defiance. A dark chuckle escapes your lips. “Leave, or I’ll shoot you.” This is his final warning. If he doesn't heed it, he’ll meet the cold, indifferent justice of your gun. So be it.

He freezes, uncertainty flickering in his eyes as he gauges your resolve. Your unwavering stare breaks his spirit, and he quivers in fear before backing off. Without a word, he turns and bolts, likely retracing his steps. Fool, you think, watching him flee. 

The encounter leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. He’s not the first to suggest you should question your work and the secrets you guard. Maybe you should. But you know the moment you do, you’re dead. You’ll lose everything you’ve achieved and everything you hold dear. That fear keeps you in place, and you reckon that’s the point of it all—the New World Order instills fear in everyone, ensuring their control remains absolute.

“Are you sure you’re okay to go in there alone?” Bora asks, her voice tinged with unease. It’s understandable—years of meticulous planning and reconnaissance are culminating in this moment. Whalien52 is about to attempt the impossible: stealing the cure for cancer that The New World Order keeps hidden away.

Jimin isn’t scared. He’s accustomed to these kinds of missions, though this will be his most significant one yet. A good kind of nervousness tingles through him, a mix of excitement and determination. “Yeah, Hobi’s done plenty of research. I know exactly which room to hit,” he says, flashing Bora a reassuring smile.

He gets why she’s scared. Bora and Yoongi have been through hell, and with both of them sick, finding the cure is personal. Yoongi’s condition has worsened over the years, a stark reminder of the injustice that The New World Order perpetuates by hoarding the cure while people die from radiation-induced cancers. The thought makes Jimin’s blood boil.

It’s this anger that led him to join Whalien52 after meeting Jungkook in the wasteland, a desolate remnant of what the bombings and wars left behind. The new government organization threatens to transform the remnants of humanity into a dystopian nightmare—if it hasn’t already.

Jimin thrives as an assassin, driven by a relentless quest for truth. The thrill, the chase, the stealth—it’s all part of the adrenaline rush he lives for. But beneath the excitement lies a deep-seated hatred for the rich elites who hid in their bomb-proof bunkers, safeguarding their technology, only to reemerge and rebuild a civilization for themselves amidst the ruins. Their swift reconstruction of the Capital stands as a bitter reminder of their enduring power.

The injustice has turned him bitter. It’s why he’s vowed to do everything in his power to change the world, to help Whalien52 make knowledge free and accessible to everyone, not just the rich. The gap between rich and poor has become a chasm, with only the vetted elite allowed to live in the Capital. The rest of humanity is left to fend for themselves, struggling for survival in a world that hopes they’ll destroy each other.

Jimin won’t stand for it. This mission isn’t just about stealing a cure, or getting data on possible treatment—it’s about justice, about leveling the playing field, about giving hope to those left in the dark. And he’ll see it through, no matter the cost.

Yoongi comes up to him, interrupting his thoughts. “I’m serious. You don’t have to do this for me,” he coughs, his voice so raspy it sounds like he’s been smoking forever.

Jimin places a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder, his gaze shifting briefly to Bora before settling back on Yoongi. “We are doing this for you. But I’m also doing this for everyone else,” he begins, his voice thick with emotion and a glimmer of hope. “You’re not the only one suffering from cancer because of the radiation. We want to help everyone; we can’t just let people die.”

Yoongi flashes a soft smile and sits down to rest, the effort of standing too exhausting for him now. Jimin will do this for him, for Bora, and for the rest of humanity. He doesn’t mind risking his own life in the search for a cure—he might need one later himself.

“I’ll go get ready,” he says, turning away from Bora and Yoongi. He walks past Jungkook and Taehyung in the dimly lit hideout and heads into his room. He pulls on his leather pants, a white shirt, and then his favorite leather bomber jacket, adorned with pink, silver and purple sparkles. The jacket complements his pink fluffy hair perfectly. He retrieves his gun, tucking it into his back pocket—risky, he knows. Then he picks up his katana, swinging it over his back into its sheath. The sword, his preferred weapon, feels reassuringly familiar.

Now he’s ready. Ready to infiltrate the fortress of secrets and retrieve the cure. Ready to fight for a future where knowledge and healing aren’t hoarded by the few. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself for the mission ahead, a mission that could change everything in this dystopian nightmare they call life.

He says goodbye to everyone, hugging each of them tightly, aware that any moment could be his last. This mission is perilous, and while he has infiltrated The New World Order before without getting caught, this time is different. He will be venturing deeper into their stronghold than ever before.

After bidding farewell to his friends, Jimin strides outside to his motorcycle. The powerful machine, stolen from the Capital, gleams with a sleek, futuristic design. Its pale metal body has an industrial look, and its size dwarfs Jimin as he mounts it. Neon lights flicker to life as he revs the engine, the bike purring beneath him. With a flick of his wrist, he speeds towards the Capital, sand flying from the back wheel.

He knows he must be cautious once he enters the city. Stealth is crucial to avoid detection and successfully infiltrate The New World Order’s building. Failure means everything will have been for nothing.

The rain is endless, a perpetual downpour that defines the Capital. He doesn’t know why it always rains here, only that it does. The empty streets are illuminated by the neon signs adorning the various buildings, casting a colorful glow in the darkness.

He parks his motorcycle near the New World Order building, at the secluded back entrance where security is minimal. This is his best chance. 

Taking a deep breath, he opens the door. 

It’s all or nothing.

It’s getting late, and the monotony of patrolling the building is wearing you down. The nights are usually quiet, save for the occasional curious stranger trying to access the information you guard. You sigh and head back to the surveillance room, your eyes scanning the screens for anything unusual. Suddenly, you spot a figure moving on one of the monitors. A shot of adrenaline surges through you, breaking the dullness of the night. 

The absence of triggered alarms tells you the intruder is a professional. No amateur could bypass the sophisticated security systems. The thought excites you, your heart rate spiking as you dash through the corridors, your hand hovering near your gun. You search each room hastily, growing more anxious with every empty space, until you reach the final room—the one that holds the most guarded secrets.

You pause outside the door, peeking in cautiously.

Inside, a well-defined man with pink, fluffy hair, leather pants, and a sparkly bomber jacket stands with his back to you, working at one of the computers. This is the information hub, where all vital data is stored. This is bad, but you have the element of surprise. Steadying your breath, you draw your gun and step into the doorway, your voice commanding, “Freeze!”

The man doesn’t freeze. Instead, you watch as he swiftly pulls a USB drive from the computer, moving with a grace that is almost dance-like. Before you can react, he glides across the floor and stands before you, a sword at your throat. A thrill of excitement runs through your body.

You stand still, a smile twisting on your lips, locked in a standoff with the pink-haired intruder. He’s chosen the wrong weapon to threaten you with. “You brought a sword to a gunfight?” you laugh, despite the blade pressing against your throat, your gun aimed at his chest. Who really has the upper hand here?

“Oh, I have a gun too,” he smirks, his voice sweet but laced with danger.

“What are you doing here?” you seethe, standing your ground.

“Getting information,” he replies matter-of-factly, not even breaking a sweat.

“You’re stealing. I can’t allow you to leave,” you spit, but he doesn’t flinch.

“Do you even know what kind of information you’re guarding?” he challenges, his words striking a chord. He’s not the first to ask you this today, and it makes you pause. “I know nothing, and I don’t care,” you respond after a moment’s thought.

“You really should,” he says, stepping closer until your gun is pressed against him. He doesn’t seem afraid, almost as if he’s an adrenaline junkie like you. But no, he’s not scared. He’s reckless. Your finger hovers near the trigger, but something makes you hesitate. You don’t know what it is, and you don’t like it.

His eyes, dark pools of obsidian, glint with amusement. He chuckles, and before you can react, his boot slams into your stomach, sending you sprawling to the cold, hard floor. Your gun slips from your grip, clattering away.

The man towers over you, his boot pressing down on your pussy, the katana poised at your throat, its cold blade grazing your skin. You raise your arms in a defensive pose, trapped and weaponless. He smirks, waving your gun tauntingly.

“You’re guarding information that can save humanity. What you’re doing is sick,” he spits, pressing his boot harder into you. Why does that feel hot? Why do tingles shoot through your body? Damn it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you growl back, genuinely confused. Your mind feels hazy with adrenaline and something else.

“The cure for cancer,” he snarls, his anger palpable.

Your eyes widen. The cure for cancer? You’ve heard whispers, but you didn’t know that’s what you were guarding. You know there’s treatment, but the New World Order has been hoarding those as well, making treatment inaccessible for the common people.

He presses his boot into you even more, a mix of pain and pleasure surging through your body.

“Oh my god. Are you getting turned on right now?” His voice drips with dark amusement, mocking you.

“Fuck no!” you yell, even as your body betrays you, responding to the pressure of his boot. You know you’re aroused, but you refuse to let him have the satisfaction of knowing that.

“I can smell you from here. There’s no point in lying,” he chuckles, lifting his boot from your crotch, though his sword remains at your throat.

You hate how observant he is, and you need to change the subject, to find a way out. You growl, “I’m not. And you’re not getting away. I don’t care if it’s the cure for cancer or whatever you’ve stolen.”

“I have my katana at your throat. I’m sure I’ll make it out just fine,” he replies, his dark chuckle sending shivers down your spine. “I’ve got what I came for,” he says, smirking down at you. “I’m flattered you’re turned on. Maybe if we met under different circumstances,” he adds, his eyes glinting with dark lust. “You should look into the secrets you’re guarding,” he says, withdrawing his katana and retreating, tossing your gun far out of reach.

You scramble to your feet as soon as he’s gone, snatching up your gun and bolting after him through the corridors. He’s silent, almost ghost-like, but you chase him nonetheless. He can’t leave with the vital information. The New World Order will have your head if they find out. You hear the click of a door—it’s the backdoor. You rush outside, the heavy rain stinging your face as the neon lights flicker on the deserted street. You catch sight of his motorcycle’s tail light disappearing into the rain. 

Fuck.

As soon as he crosses the threshold between the Capital and the dystopian suburb, the rain ceases abruptly. He twists the throttle of his motorcycle, speeding through the desolate landscape back to the hideout. His heart pounds, but he doesn’t look back. He doubts he’s being followed.

The journey back is swift. As the hideout comes into view, he decelerates, parking his bike with a sense of triumph. He’s relieved not to return empty-handed and, more importantly, to have survived the mission. Reflecting on the encounter, a smirk forms on his face. You were easier to deceive than he anticipated. A part of him hopes to see you again, intrigued by your reaction to seeing him. 

He wonders if he could sway you, make you see the truth about the secrets you’re guarding for The New World Order. Could he enlist you in his cause? The thought intrigues him, though he doubts it. You seemed too ignorant, too indifferent to the atrocities made by the regime.

The night is still young as he dismounts his bike and strides toward the door. It opens easily—unlocked, as usual. They really should lock it; you never know who might come by.

He’s greeted by a flurry of curious eyes as his friends jump up, their eagerness palpable. “Relax,” he gestures, “sit down.” Reaching into the pocket of his leather pants, he pulls out the USB drive. The tiny piece of tech holds the key to saving the world— the cure for cancer. Something they had all doubted, but had uncovered through relentless investigation, exposing the dark secrets of The New World Order.

He strides over to Namjoon, whose eyes glitter with excitement, his fingers itching to grasp the device and run an analysis. Jimin hands him the USB drive with a proud smile. “Here,” he says, “I hope everything’s on there. I was interrupted while pulling the data.”

“Thank you,” Namjoon responds, already heading into a back room, eager to delve into the contents.

Jimin collapses onto the spot Namjoon vacated, feeling the weight of their stares. 

Bora clears her throat. “You said you were interrupted?”

“Ah, yeah,” he chuckles, revealing his crooked teeth. “A security guard. But she was easy to handle.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Yoongi grunts, his voice strained and raspy.

“It was,” Jimin shrugs, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other. In truth, it had been almost too easy. He can’t shake the thought: had he overlooked something, or was fate simply on his side this time?

Jungkook’s questioning stare pierces through Jimin, but he doesn’t elaborate. He doesn’t want to share how you made his blood boil with adrenaline and lust. He doesn’t even know your name, but you ignited something within him, a cocktail of emotions in mere moments. He’s both intrigued and captivated by you.

Time blurs as Jimin waits, lost in his thoughts until Namjoon reenters the living room. The look on Namjoon’s face is enough: it’s not the cure.

“This data isn’t complete,” Namjoon groans, frustration etched across his features as he waves the USB drive. He paces anxiously, “It has some information on cancer treatment, but the data on the cure is fragmented. Jin, can you take a look at it? All I see are molecules. I don’t know what to make of it,” he adds, his voice tinged with nervous laughter and defeat.

Jimin’s stomach sinks, a heavy weight of disappointment and anger settling in. He had hoped to secure all the needed information, but now they’re still unable to help Bora, Yoongi, and countless others suffering from the cancer that The New World Order likely caused. The thought sickens him. It wouldn’t surprise him if they were behind everything—the war, the slaughter of mankind. Sometimes it feels like The New World Order is playing a sick game of battle royale with the world’s population. People fight desperately, both for information and survival, in a world where information and treatment are hoarded like treasures. 

Jimin’s mind races, thoughts swirling with the grim reality: when people are dying and sick, they become desperate, willing to do anything to stay alive. He feels a bitter mix of anger and sadness, questioning if he was delusional to think it would be easy to obtain the cure or even secure vital treatment information. The hope that things could change for the better feels like a distant dream.

Jin takes the USB drive, slipping it into his pocket, and gives Jimin a reassuring pat on the shoulder before heading to his patient and study room. Jimin feels a gnawing sense of inadequacy, berating himself for getting caught and distracted by you. He wonders if he should attempt to sneak back into the New World Order building, determined to obtain the missing data they desperately need.

“I’ll go back and see if I can get the remaining data in a few days,” he declares, his voice tinged with deflation but underpinned by a strong current of willpower. He can’t afford to fail again. The mission is too important, the stakes too high.

It’s been a few days since the pink-haired guy infiltrated the New World Order building undetected, slipping through your fingers like sand. The incident has left you feeling weird and anxious. You expected The New World Order to contact you, reprimand you, or worse, eliminate you. But there’s been nothing—no messages, no ominous visits. Maybe they don’t know about your slip-up yet? Or perhaps they’re biding their time.

Your phone, a sleek piece of tech courtesy of The New World Order, vibrates in your hand. You unlock it, and a text message glares back at you.

New World Order: Come to the headquarters in 15 minutes.

That’s all it says, nothing more, nothing less. You gulp, feeling your palms grow sweaty. This is it. This is how you die. Thrown off the tall building. You’ve heard stories, and they’re not nice. The tales of disappearances and silent executions run through your mind, making you shiver with nerves.

You lace up your boots with trembling hands, each loop a countdown to your potential demise. Trudging down the stairs of your dark apartment, you step into the rainy street. The city around you is a dismal sprawl of neon lights and shadows, a perfect reflection of your inner turmoil. You try to calm your racing heart, but it’s a futile effort. Every step feels heavier, every breath more labored as you make your way to the New World Order headquarters, fearing that this is the end.

You reach the New World Order headquarters, a monolith of cold steel and glass looming above the city. For a moment, you let the rain caress your face, cleansing you of your sins. Maybe they won’t mention anything? Clenching your fists, you walk into your workplace, passing through the security scanners, the impassive front desk, the sterile halls, and finally to the elevators. You step into one, the doors closing with a cold finality. The elevator ascends, a silent reminder of the 30 floors that separate you from potential death should you be pushed out. You close your eyes, banishing the thought.

The elevator dings and the doors slide open, revealing an amble-lit hallway adorned in red and gold. The color scheme feels both luxurious and ominous, a blend of future opulence and ancient dread. The red rug underfoot seems out of place, a relic amidst the high-tech surroundings. It suddenly hits you—it might be there to hide a certain color of liquid. No, you shouldn’t think about it. Nothing’s going to happen to you.

Each step down the hallway feels like walking through a graveyard at midnight, the silence thick and oppressive. Your breath quickens, your hand hovering over the handle of the door at the end. This is it. Just get it over with.

With sweaty hands, you push open the door and step inside. A tall man in a black suit stands with his back to you, staring out of the tall windows. The view overlooks the bleak, rainy city, a desolate wasteland stretching to the horizon. The room is deathly silent, save for the patter of rain against the glass. You feel a shiver run down your spine.

He doesn’t turn to acknowledge you, his presence as cold and unyielding as the cityscape beyond. You gulp, your heart pounding in your chest, waiting for him to speak, waiting for your fate to be decided.

You clear your throat, the sound echoing in the tension-filled room. The man’s attention snaps to you, and he turns on his heels with a sinister smile. “Y/N!”

The way he says your name sends shivers down your spine, raising the hairs on your body. An urge to flee or jump out of the window floods your senses, but you force yourself to steady your resolve.

You recognize him as the head of the organization, though his name remains a mystery, like everyone else’s in this godforsaken place. Faces are familiar, but names are a dangerous luxury.

“Glad you could make it. Take a seat,” he gestures to the chair in front of his imposing wooden desk, an artifact of richness you could never dream of affording.

You gulp, a slight ringing in your ears accompanying your erratic heartbeat. Your palms are slick with sweat as you move to sit down.

“Nervous?” he asks, his voice calm and commanding as he paces the room.

“Yes,” you manage to say, gulping again as you track his movements.

“Good,” he replies, looking down at you with a predatory glint in his eye.

“I saw the surveillance footage from the break-in a few days ago,” he begins, his eyes boring into you with an unsettling intensity. Fear knots in your stomach, paralyzing your muscles as you brace yourself for whatever comes next. You remain silent, too scared to speak, knowing that he already knows everything that happened.

“You’ve gone soft. If this happens again, shoot the intruder, or you’ll be the one staring down the barrel of a gun,” he says, his voice sharp and precise, each word like a blade against your throat. A chill runs through you, and you wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole. You’ve messed up, but somehow he’s letting you off with a warning—something you didn’t expect. A small part of you dares to breathe a little easier.

“Now leave before I change my mind,” he hisses. You flinch, your body reacting instinctively as you rush to the door. Bowing quickly, you slip out without a word. Outside, you realize you’ve been holding your breath and you gasp for air, your hands trembling.

You know you have to do your job better if you want to survive. The threat lingers in your mind, and you can’t help but wonder about the secrets you’re guarding. What could be so important? Maybe it’s time to investigate—time to find out if this job is truly worth risking your life for.

Your boss won’t find out, right? You gulp, pushing the thought away. You need to know. You’ve done your job blindly for so long, but the time has come to uncover the truth. You know the higher-ups won’t give you any information, even if you asked, which is why you find yourself downstairs in the control room.

You locate the computer you usually use, turn it on, and log into the company drive. Your fingers tremble as you navigate through multiple folders, delving deeper into the rabbit hole. You uncover information you never imagined existed. Details about how and why the war started shock you—who knew a failed peace treaty could lead to such global devastation? The realization hits you hard: the war was actually orchestrated by a few countries aiming to seize power when the peace treaty collapsed. Those people now form The New World Order. A chill runs down your spine.

You stumble upon a folder detailing the side effects of radiation, studies on various cancer treatments, and ultimately, a cure for cancer. Disbelief floods your mind as you stare at the words on the screen. You blink, hoping the text will change, but it remains. The next document reveals their sinister plan: to keep this life-saving information hidden, ensuring only the rich survive while letting the rest of humanity rot and die.

This is what the pink-haired man wanted you to know. Regret and anger churn in your gut—you should have listened, should have questioned everything from the start. You feel sick, overwhelmed by the weight of the truth. You close the computer, resolve hardening within you. 

As you leave the control room and head home, your mind swirls with thoughts. You need to figure out what to do with this explosive information before your shift tonight. The rain continues to fall, each drop a reminder of the world’s decay. You realize now that your role in The New World Order’s scheme is far more sinister than you ever imagined.

Jimin has to obtain the missing piece of data his group needs for the cure for cancer, or at least information to develop new treatments. Ever since the war started, all research and treatment for cancer have been inaccessible. Late at night, at their hideout far from the Capital, Jimin prepares for his mission. He looks at Bora and Yoongi—Yoongi, in particular, has deteriorated, and Jimin fears he doesn’t have much time left. The urgency gnaws at him; failure is not an option.

He doesn’t know whether he hopes to meet you at the New World Order headquarters or not. The thought of you makes his heart race, but he knows that if you get in his way, his mission might fail. He sighs, waving goodbye to the group, then steps outside. The night is oppressive, the air thick with the scent of decay and rain. He puts on his helmet, the world narrowing to the visor’s view, and straddles his bike. The engine roars to life, vibrating through him, merging with the adrenaline surging in his veins.

It’s now or never.

He twists the accelerator, the bike surging forward into the darkness, toward the lifeless, desolate Capital. The neon lights flicker ominously as he speeds into enemy territory, a lone figure against the backdrop of a crumbling dystopia.

The room is dark—just the way you prefer it. Your eyes, adept at seeing through the gloom, catch every detail, including the pink-haired intruder hunched over a computer terminal, stealing vital information from your employer. Silently, you watch him, observing his methodical movements as he navigates the screen. The monitor casts a ghostly blue light, making his hair shimmer with a surreal purple hue. You can’t deny he looks striking.

Tonight, you decide not to intervene. After your own clandestine investigation into your employer, you understand why he’s after the data—why so many risk everything to steal it. The New World Order’s secrets are dark and twisted, and the pink-haired man’s quest suddenly seems justified.

Minutes tick by in silence, the intruder’s focus unbroken. His sparkly bomber jacket gleams faintly in the dim light. Finally, he seems satisfied, pulling a USB drive from the terminal. The moment he turns around, you flick on the lights.

Yellow fluorescent tubes flicker to life, bathing the room in a harsh, sickly glow. He freezes, one hand instinctively hovering over the katana strapped to his back, the other gripping the USB drive.

“Fancy meeting you here,” you smirk, leaning casually against the wall by the exit, blocking his escape.

He hisses, scanning you up and down before his features relax into a smirk. “Where’s your gun? Aren’t you gonna try to stop me again, pretty?”

Your eyes sparkle at the compliment, much like his jacket, and you chuckle softly. “Nah,” you shrug, but straighten your posture, exuding confidence.

He quirks an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Why?”

You take in his appearance—black leather pants hugging his thick thighs, lace-up military boots, and that unmistakable sparkly bomber jacket. With a soft, yet sultry smile, you reply, “I finally opened my eyes to what’s really going on. What’s truly been happening, and I don’t like it one bit.”

His shoulders relax further, and his hands withdraw from the katana and the gun stashed behind his back. He eyes you with a mixture of caution and intrigue, seemingly pleased by your revelation.

“So, you’re just gonna let me go?” he asks, ensuring he hasn’t misheard.

“Yeah. But actually…” you begin, drawing out your words to capture his attention as you step closer, batting your eyes at him. “I have more information back at my apartment that you might want to see. I can take you there. Show you.”

You can’t help the way your body responds to him—you want him, and you want him bad. It’s true, you do have valuable information at your place, but your ulterior motives are undeniable. The risk is immense. The moment you make this move, you’ll become a wanted criminal, hunted by the New World Order. But the thought of remaining complicit in their schemes sickens you. You crave freedom, and he might just be the key to it.

For a flicker of a second, you catch him stuttering, but he quickly collects himself, smirking back at you. His pink tongue darts out to wet his lips in a teasing move, and you feel a tingle between your legs.

“Let’s go then,” he says, brushing past you and out the door. You follow closely, aware of the cameras tracking your every move, but you don't care. Time is short; the New World Order will come after you soon, so you need to be quick.

The pink-haired man leads the way through the dim, familiar halls to the back door. The green emergency light flickers ominously overhead. He pushes the door open, and the bleak night greets you with flickering neon lights. His sleek silver bike stands nearby. As you approach, he hands you his helmet and lets you straddle his bike, taking the place behind you. His body presses close against your back, and a surge of arousal courses through you.

You turn the bike on, and it roars to life. With a swift movement, you speed through the empty, rain-soaked streets back to your apartment. His arms wrap securely around your torso, and it feels nice. His head rests against your shoulder, and you catch a whiff of his scent—like fresh cotton on a summer's breeze, something you haven’t smelled in a long time. You long for it.

It doesn’t take long to reach your apartment. You turn off the bike, parking it out of sight from prying eyes. He gets off first, then you remove the helmet and jump down. Neither of you speaks as you walk up the stairs to your first-floor apartment. You quickly unlock the door and push into your dark space. The lights are off, and the place is messy with clothes strewn about, but you don't care. The apartment is a tiny one-bedroom, an open space where the kitchen, living room, and bedroom blend together. It’s small, but it’s home.

“Welcome,” you whisper, closing the door behind you, sealing both of you in a cocoon of secrecy and danger.

The tension between you feels thick as you make your way inside, heading straight to your desk and rummaging for the flash drive you’ve hidden. The man’s eyes follow your every move as you open a drawer and pull out the drive, smirking as you wave it in the air. “This has more information on it that I think you’ll need.”

He stalks closer, his smirk widening. In the minimal light, he seems even more predatory than before. The look in his eyes suggests he wants to devour you right then and there.

“What’s in it for you?” he asks, standing mere millimeters from you, your noses almost touching. His warm breath fans your ear and neck, sending shivers down your spine.

“Take me with you,” you say, your voice barely a whisper. His eyes roam your body, lingering on your eyes, cheeks, nose, lips, and collarbone.

“Hmm,” he hums, his hands landing on your hips. You feel the warmth of his fingers through your leather pants.

Your breath quickens, and you feel like you’re crumbling beneath his stare, utterly aroused for this man whose name you still don’t know. The mixture of arousal and adrenaline makes you feel almost high.

You close the gap between you and kiss him. It’s quick and needy, and he responds immediately, pressing his body hungrily into yours, his fingers digging into the bare skin of your waist above your pants. His lips are soft, but his moves are hard and hungry.

He moves his lips to your ear, kissing and licking it, then trailing down to your neck. He marks it with his teeth, eliciting a needy moan from you. The world outside your darkened apartment fades away, leaving only the desperate, electric connection between you.

“You’re really something,” he pants into your ear, his breath sending tingles down your spine and all the way to your core. “I want to taste you, and I don’t even know your name.”

You chuckle, the sound strained and laden with lust. “It’s Y/N,” you manage between pants. “What’s yours?”

“I’m Jimin,” he murmurs, his tongue tracing your neck before biting gently.

Fuck.

“I want you, Jimin,” you groan as he pulls back slightly, his pupils blown wide with desire.

“But we don’t have much time,” you say breathlessly, the urgency of your situation seeping into your voice. “The New World Order will be looking for me soon.” You fumble with your pants, dragging them and your panties down to expose yourself to the cool air of the apartment.

In one fluid motion, Jimin drops to his knees, looking up at you with a teasing lick of his lips. “No worries, I can be quick.” Without another word, he dives in, his mouth sealing around your wet heat.

You gasp his name, your legs turning to jelly as your hands find purchase in his pink locks. His tongue is relentless, strong and skilled as it laps over your clit and teases your entrance. The obscene noises he makes against you only heighten your arousal, your breathing growing shallow as you lose yourself in the sensation.

Your back meets the wall, and you do your best to hold yourself up as he devours you from the floor. His mouth works you expertly, sucking and licking, driving you closer to the edge. The coil in your stomach tightens, your body trembling with the impending climax.

Jimin grunts into your cunt, his teeth grazing your clit, and the world shatters around you. He sucks hard, creating a perfect seal around your sensitive nub, and the coil in your stomach snaps. You come undone on his tongue, panting furiously as waves of pleasure wash over you.

Even as you orgasm, he doesn’t stop, his tongue continuing its assault, his nose pressing against your clit. You grab his hair, trying to pull him away as your sensitivity peaks, but he holds you there, pushing you to the brink of overstimulation and back into the abyss of pleasure.

His face glistens with your slick, and you think he looks beautiful, so you grab his sharp jaw and pull him up for a kiss. You don’t care that you taste yourself on his plush lips.

You break away and say, “I really want to return the favor,” your hands toying with his pants as you brush against his already erect dick.

He pushes your hand away gently. “It’s okay. You said to be quick, so you can do that another time.” He kisses you again, trailing down to the other side of your neck, then up to the shell of your ear. “I really just want to fuck you now.”

You’re drenched, dripping with arousal. His words render you speechless; you bite your bottom lip and nod, anticipation coursing through you.

The sound of his zipper sends a thrill down your spine as he opens his pants. He drags his boxers down, and his cock springs free. It’s thick and of an average length, and the sight makes you salivate. You wish you had time to take him into your mouth, but that’s a pleasure for another time, like he promised.

The head of his cock is red, with a bead of precum at the tip. It looks beautiful, and your pussy clenches around the emptiness, eager to be filled. You can’t wait to have him stretch you, it’s been so long since you’ve had sex. It’s honestly been years, and as you realize this, you think he should have prepared you more. But you don’t get to mull over it for long; you feel the tip of his cock against your folds, and in one fluid motion, he pushes inside you.

You moan his name as he grabs both of your legs and wraps them around his waist, driving himself deeper into you. You feel so fucking full, it’s delicious.

“Fuck. I forgot about a condom,” he pants, slamming you hard against the wall. He stays inside for a moment before beginning a relentless rhythm of thrusts.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, “I’m clean, and I can’t get pregnant.”

He just grunts in your ear, then starts nibbling on it. The pace he sets is quick, hard, and dirty—unforgiving. But you don’t mind; you're pressed for time anyway. The pleasure is intense, and the way he growls into your ear makes the knot form in your stomach again.

“You’re a dirty little thing, aren’t you?” he growls, thrusting hard and deep. “You wanted this right from the start, didn’t you?” His voice is low, dangerously so, making you even wetter because he’s so right.

“Such a fucking slut for cock,” he pants, his tongue trailing along your neck. “No one in this godforsaken city to satisfy your needy pussy.”

You clench around him, your hands gripping his shoulders, fingers digging into the back of his sparkly jacket.

“Fuck. You’re so tight,” he groans, his hips working overtime to pleasure you, and your eyes roll back in ecstasy.

“Are you gonna come?” he asks, a wicked glint in his eyes.

You moan in response, releasing a wave of liquid around his cock, making the glide even smoother.

“Fuck. You’re gorgeous,” he says, licking your neck again. “I’m gonna come too.”

With a rapid burst of thrusts, he spills his warm seed inside your still-pulsating pussy. For a moment, you rest your foreheads together, panting for air. Your legs remain wrapped around his waist as he hungrily kisses your lips.

You feel a mixture of your essences trailing out of you, pooling on the floor or your panties—you don’t really care.

As you struggle to steady your breathing and rapid heartbeat, a pounding on your door shatters the moment. It's not gentle—it’s hard and oppressive, sending a terrible shiver down your spine. The New World Order. Your mind turns razor-sharp, senses heightened. Jimin quickly softens inside you, then pulls out, your legs falling to the floor, dripping semen as he pulls up his pants and grabs his gun and the hard drive.

You do the same, hastily pulling up your pants as the banging continues. The door handle rattles, but it doesn't open. Thank fuck you locked it.

“We have to leave,” you pant, your heart in your throat. You fumble for your phone, then throw it into your room—you don’t need it; they can track you with that.

“No shit,” he grunts, running a hand through his disheveled pink hair.

“We gotta jump out the window,” you say, fear in your eyes. You know it’s only a matter of time before they break down the door.

You grab Jimin’s hand and pull him to the window beside your bed. Thankful that you live on the first floor, you make the jump first, landing on the dirty ground. Jimin follows, landing more gracefully. You hear the brute force of the door breaking, and you startle, fear coursing through you. But Jimin is quick, pulling you to his bike, shoving his helmet onto your head. He straddles the bike, and without much thought, you climb on behind him.

You lean against him, feeling the rapid beating of your heart. He turns on the bike, and you hear shouting and gunshots from your apartment as Jimin speeds down the rain-soaked streets. You lay your head against his back, closing your eyes against the chaos behind you.

Jimin parks his bike in front of the Whalien 52 headquarters, and you dismount first, removing the helmet and handing it to him. He follows suit, and you both stride into the building. It’s well past midnight now, and as you walk into the headquarters with Jimin, all eyes turn toward you. The tension in the room is palpable; they’ve likely been anxiously awaiting his safe return.

“Hi,” he says casually, plopping onto the couch with a soft thud.

“Who’s this?” Taehyung strides up, pointing at you with a raised brow.

“Oh, that’s Y/N. The woman who got in my way last time,” Jimin shrugs as if this is information everyone should already know.

“So you decided to take her home?” Taehyung asks in disbelief.

“I helped him gain extra information. And I want out of the New World Order,” you say, crossing your arms, not flinching under their scrutinizing stares.

“You’re the enemy though,” Yoongi joins the conversation, his voice strained with a cough.

“She really isn’t. Do you even know how much she’s risked just by coming here?” Jimin retorts, defending you without fully understanding why. He knows you can defend yourself just fine.

“I have a target on my back now. So I want to help you guys. Make things right in the world. That’s what you want to do, right?” you ask, scanning the open living room space.

The room falls silent, the weight of your words sinking in. The dim, flickering lights cast long shadows, amplifying the room’s tension. Each member of the group seems to wrestle with their thoughts, eyes flicking between you and Jimin. Finally, Seokjin steps forward, his gaze steady and thoughtful.

Seokjin approaches Jimin with an intense gaze. “Did you get all the data?”

Jimin nods silently and hands over both the USB drive and the flash drive you gave him in your apartment. Seokjin’s eyes light up with a rare glimmer of hope as he takes the hardware and retreats to his makeshift lab.

You slump down beside Jimin, exhaustion finally catching up with you. Jungkook steps forward, extending a hand. “Welcome to Whalien52, Y/N.”

You shake his hand, offering a tired smile, then lean back against Jimin. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, you both allow yourselves a moment of rest. But Jimin’s mind races with concern. How quickly will the New World Order track you down? Did they follow you here?

Time becomes a blur in the dimly lit room. You drift off to sleep on Jimin’s shoulder, and his eyelids grow heavy as well. Just as he’s about to succumb to slumber, Seokjin bursts into the room, a triumphant smile lighting up his face.

“I’ve sequenced a cure from the data,” he announces, his voice brimming with joy. “And treatments for various cancers too.”

The room erupts in cheers and laughter, a collective sigh of relief and celebration filling the air.

“I’m preparing the cure for Yoongi and Bora now,” Seokjin adds, his pride evident.

Jimin feels a surge of relief and accomplishment. They’ve finally done it. You’ve secured the cure for cancer. Now Yoongi and Bora can be saved. And perhaps, just perhaps, they can save the rest of civilization. But first, they have to deal with the looming threat of the New World Order. 

The battle is far from over.

It’s been a few days, and the absence of the New World Order’s presence is unnerving. You expected them to chase you and Jimin out of the city, but they haven’t. This silence feels ominous, a dark cloud hanging over your newfound sanctuary.

You’ve settled into the daily routines of Whalien52, where hope and caution dance a tense waltz. Seokjin tirelessly crafts cures and treatments. Yoongi and Bora, the first recipients, show promising signs of recovery, their improvements a beacon of hope amidst the uncertainty. The group celebrates these small victories, buzzing with a cautious optimism that almost feels too good to be true.

In these days of uneasy peace, you’ve found roles within the group. Namjoon introduced you to his intricate tech—ingenious weapons and machines designed for survival. Taehyung showed you around the small town that Whalien52 calls home. On the horizon, the Capital looms like a dark sentinel, a constant reminder of the lurking threat.

Despite the calm surface, the air is thick with anxiety. The lack of action from the New World Order feels wrong. Yoongi polishes weapons with a grim focus, and you’ve all had tense conversations about the impending attack you’re sure is coming. Jungkook echoes your concerns, insisting on readiness.

Hoseok monitors the New World Order’s communications, but all he gets is an unsettling silence. This lack of intel twists your stomach into knots. Each passing day, the tension ratchets up. The quiet eats at you, turning every creak and rustle into a potential threat.

Weeks pass, and the tension in the headquarters is palpable. You’re all on edge, constantly looking over your shoulders. Every sound is magnified, each one making you jump, hearts racing with the fear that the New World Order has finally come for you.

Everyone is exhausted, sleep deprived and on edge, each day a relentless battle against the looming threat of the New World Order. You long for an end to this tense limbo, for the chance to truly rest.

Yoongi’s condition has worsened, and Seokjin’s latest research scatters your fragile hopes. “This isn’t a cure,” he admits, deflated. “It’s just a temporary fix, a treatment.”

Yoongi coughs weakly but manages a smile, hugging his girlfriend Bora tightly. “But it helps,” he says softly. “A cure was always a dream. There’s never been a real cure for cancer, and maybe there never will be.”

Bora kisses his forehead, her eyes glistening with determination. “The treatment is helping,” she insists, caressing his cheeks. “Maybe Seokjin can alter it, make it better, stronger?” She turns to Seokjin, who nods, already lost in thought, considering how to enhance the treatment. You all want to help, driven by a fierce collective will to save Yoongi.

You walk over to Jimin, giving him a soft kiss, seeking a moment of solace. Suddenly, the sharp crack of a gunshot shatters the room. Bora screams in pain, and chaos erupts. You all drop to the floor, hearts pounding in sheer panic. For a moment, there’s an eerie silence, broken only by Bora’s agonized cries. You can’t see her or Yoongi, shielded by the couch.

Frantically, you search for Jimin, and his hand finds yours, squeezing tightly. The connection is a lifeline, a brief reassurance amidst the terror.

More gunshots pierce the air, and you hold your breath, praying Bora is alright. Your heart races, the reality sinking in: the New World Order is here, ready to kill you all.

With steely resolve, you clench your free hand, feeling the cold metal of your holstered gun against your thigh. 

It’s time. 

Time to make a stand. 

Time to fight back.

You look at Jimin, your eyes wide with panic as your heart pounds in your ears. He army crawls to your weapon stash, grabbing an arsenal: a rifle he slides over to Yoongi, a gun for himself, and his sword, which he straps on while still lying on the floor. Jungkook, with his tattooed hand, clutches a rifle down his length of his body. You scan the room for Seokjin, Taehyung, and Hoseok, but they’re nowhere to be seen.

Bora’s screams have diminished to grunts of pain. Yoongi drags her towards Seokjin’s room, leaving a trail of blood. An eerie silence falls as you watch them. You hear Yoongi's voice from Seokjin’s room, explaining that Bora’s wound is a flesh wound, pleading for Seokjin to take care of her. Yoongi crawls back into the living room.

“Is Bora okay?” you ask, sweat beading on your hairline, your breathing quick and shallow.

“Yeah. Seokjin’s got her. Namjoon, Tae, and Hobi are in there too,” Yoongi grits his teeth, his face pale with anger.

Jungkook crawls over to join you, “I guess it’s the New World Order knocking down our doors.”

“We have to fight back. Or die trying,” Yoongi spits, his anger palpable. “I’m sick and tired of them. We need to overthrow them,” he says, his eyes bloodshot from sleepless nights. You’re all on high alert, fighting for your lives.

The door bursts open, a harsh light from outside flooding in as heavy boots stomp on the floor. You count six people by the rhythm of their steps and then a seventh, moving slowly and deliberately. Ominous, and just by the sound of the boots, you know who it is—the leader.

A cold shiver runs down your spine as your fingers curl around the trigger of your gun. The footsteps grow louder, the moment drawing closer. You roll onto your back, raising your gun for the inevitable confrontation.

Suddenly, you’re yanked by your legs, sliding across the floor with a yell, losing your grip on Jimin’s hand. The leader looms over you, a shadow of dread, as you prepare to fight for your life.

“Well, well. What have we here? Y/N. Nice to see you,” the man sneers, his voice dripping with mockery. You don’t know his name, but you remember him all too well—the leader of the New World Order, the man who had last spoken to you in his office after Jimin’s initial attempt to steal information from your former employer.

You gulp, pointing your gun at him.

He tuts dismissively, “You know that’s useless,” and with a swift kick, he sends your gun skidding across the floor.

“You’ve been a bad, bad girl,” he hisses, his hands casually resting in his pockets while his men, guns trained on you, stand menacingly behind him.

“What you’re doing is sick,” you fume, anger bubbling within you.

Suddenly, Jimin rises, his gun aimed directly at the man before you.

Recognition flickers in the leader’s eyes, “Ah,” he chuckles darkly, “so this is the man you left me for.”

Jimin grunts, “Hands off her.”

“Protective, huh?” he laughs, a cold, mechanical sound that sends chills down your spine.

Your eyes dart between Jimin and the leader, anxiety tightening your chest. You don’t know who will be quicker on the trigger. You hold your breath, terrified for Jimin’s safety. Your heart pounds so loudly it nearly deafens you.

A gunshot echoes through the room, followed by a heavy thud. Your heart sinks as you see the leader still standing. Fear grips you, paralyzing you from turning around to check on Jimin. You feel a scream or a sob rising in your throat, maybe both.

Then, you hear the sound of someone standing up and Yoongi’s voice cuts through the tension, “You are one sick bastard. Keeping vital information to yourself, letting people die of cancer and radiation.” His voice is thick with anger and disdain.

The leader turns his attention to Yoongi and chuckles again, a sound you’ve come to loathe. “Only the elite deserve to live. I don’t mind letting people die to create the perfect world.”

You scoff, the revelation of his twisted ideology making you nauseous. The horror of being part of such a sick scheme churns in your stomach.

As you try to glance over your shoulder to see Jimin, one of the leader’s men grabs you, yanking you into a sitting position. Panic surges through you, but determination hardens your resolve. It’s time to fight back, no matter the cost.

Finally, you spot Jimin lying on the floor. There’s no blood, thankfully, and his hand is giving you a thumbs up. Relief floods your body, momentarily pushing back the fear.

“You are so sick,” Yoongi spits, his voice a raw edge. “You killed so many people, for what? Utopia?”

Your old boss nods, chuckling darkly. “Too much freedom breeds murder and chaos. I needed a clean slate,” he shrugs, strolling past you towards Yoongi, who keeps his rifle trained on him. “People need order. Someone to follow. When the weak and poor have died off, I’ll guide the rest into a New World Order.”

Yoongi spits on the floor, “Over my fucking dead body.” His index finger twitches towards the trigger, his stance solid and ready. 

You stop breathing.

Yoongi fires, but your old boss is faster, landing a shot in Yoongi’s shoulder. Yoongi hisses, dropping the rifle to the floor.

“I told you it’s useless,” your old boss sneers, chuckling. “Next time I’ll aim for the head.”

Time stretches and warps as he paces the room, taking stock of you all. You’re at a standstill, trapped in the crosshairs of his malevolent gaze. Jimin remains prone, waiting for an opportunity. Yoongi grunts in pain, clutching his wounded shoulder. Jungkook lies still, eyes flicking between you and the leader. 

It feels like game over. 

You’re all going to die.

Your old boss paces slowly, chuckling, reveling in your predicament. “I wonder who I should kill first…” he muses, dragging out the words as he turns towards you. “Your boyfriend, maybe? How do you feel about watching him die?”

Your heart pounds wildly. 

You struggle against the grip of the man holding you by your hair, pain searing through your scalp, but the thought of Jimin’s death is unbearable.

The leader strides towards Jimin, raising his gun. Your breath catches in your throat, terror gripping you as you watch. You scream with all the force in your lungs, a primal sound tearing through the air as you close your eyes, bracing for the worst.

Bang. Bang. Bang. 

The sound of three gunshots fills your ears, and you scream even louder, tears streaming down your cheeks as you call out your lover’s name. More gunshots follow, and the man holding your hair lets go, dropping you to the wooden floor with a heavy thud. Tears blur your vision as you struggle to blink them away, desperate to find Jimin.

But you don’t see him.

Panic surges through you. Where is he?

Your gaze shifts, and you see your old boss, his head snapped back from a point-blank shot, blood pooling beneath him. You gasp, turning your head just in time to see familiar lace-up boots moving purposefully across the room. Chaos reigns. Bora stands in the hallway, a rifle trained on the lifeless body of your boss. She was the one who shot him?

Jimin moves through the room like a lethal dancer, his katana slicing through enemies with precision. Jungkook is on his feet too, methodically picking off the men from the New World Order. Amid the chaos, you see Bora approach Yoongi, who is clutching his shoulder.

“Are you okay, babe?” she asks, her voice strained but determined as she examines his injury.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he pants, noting the bandage on her thigh, stained with blood. “You should lie down.”

“I could say the same to you,” she chuckles, raising her rifle to take aim at another man.

How many are down now? You scan the room, counting seven bodies sprawled on the floor.

“Is it over?” Seokjin calls out, peeking from his room down the hall.

“I think so,” Jungkook replies, clapping his hands together, trying to shake off the tension.

The room falls into a tense silence, the aftermath of the battle settling over you like a shroud. You push yourself up, your body aching and adrenaline still coursing through your veins. Jimin meets your gaze, and you feel a flicker of hope amidst the wreckage. 

For now, you’ve survived.

You rush over to Jimin, pulling him into a tight embrace, relief flooding through you. “I’m okay, babe,” he murmurs, kissing you softly. Thank God.

“We need to take the fight to their headquarters. They’ll be coming for us anyway. Better to surprise them,” Yoongi declares, his voice grim.

“Don’t you think they’d anticipate that?” Jungkook counters, eyeing Yoongi critically. “And you’re in no condition to fight, hyung.”

“The fuck I’m not. It’s just my shoulder. I’m fine,” Yoongi pants, picking up his rifle.

“Let’s go,” Bora interjects from behind Yoongi, her voice determined.

Yoongi spins around, his mouth agape. “You’re staying, babe. Your leg—”

“This is as much my fight as it is yours, and Seokjin patched me up,” she retorts, her stern look brooking no argument. Yoongi deflates, conceding to her resolve.

You all huddle together, gathering weapons for the imminent battle. Taehyung, Namjoon, and Seokjin stay back, while the rest of you head outside to your vehicles.

You and Jimin mount his bike, while Jungkook, Yoongi, and Bora take the car. Jimin hands you a helmet, then puts on his own before revving the engine. The bike purrs to life, and with a roar, he accelerates toward the Capital, Jungkook and the others following in the car.

The journey is a blur, the rain pouring down in relentless sheets as you navigate the desolate streets. The Capital looms ahead, a monolithic reminder of the oppressive regime you’re up against. You skid to a stop in front of the New World Order headquarters, jumping off the bike with Jimin close behind. Jungkook, Yoongi, and Bora emerge from the car, weapons in hand, steely determination etched on their faces.

The rain-soaked mud reflects the harsh glow of neon lights, casting eerie shadows as you steel yourselves for the fight. The headquarters stands ominously before you, a fortress of tyranny that has caused so much suffering. You take a deep breath, fingers tightening around your gun.

It’s time to end this.

“Follow me. The building is massive,” you say, leading the way into your old workplace. Navigating the familiar lower floors is swift; they’re almost deserted. Jimin dances with his katana, each swing mesmerizing, cutting down any opposition with ease. 

Clearing the lower levels quickly, you ascend the stairs, banging open doors and moving through the less familiar upper halls. The men from the New World Order fall easily; many surrender, unwilling to defend a crumbling regime. 

Finally, you reach the top floor, the office of your now-dead boss. Stepping inside, you look out through the tall windows overlooking the city. 

“What do we do now?” you ask, your voice echoing in the silence. 

The horizon flickers with a strange yellow glow. 

Jimin, his katana sheathed on his back, joins you. “Is that the sun?” he asks, his eyes following yours.

“I think it is,” Bora says, intertwining her fingers with Yoongi’s.

“Now that the New World Order is gone,” Yoongi muses, “won’t another group try to take its place?”

“Maybe,” you respond, lost in thought.

Jungkook chuckles beside you. “We’ll make sure no one does. All information will be free and accessible.”

“Aren’t we just like the New World Order then?” Yoongi raises an eyebrow.

“No,” Jungkook replies firmly. “We’ll let people live freely, with no ‘order’ imposed.”

You all hum in agreement, turning your gaze to the horizon. For the first time in a long while, the oppressive clouds of the Capital part, slowly revealing the sun. The relentless rain stops, and you feel the air shift—this is a new beginning.

→ Requested taglist: @jeonsbabygirlsworld @11thenightwemet11 @haru-jiminn

→ Permanent taglist: @nora12379 @jeonsbabygirlsworld @fancypeacepersona @ktownshizzle @pjmxxjm @ajoonniice @kookiewithluv @mikrokookiex @rapmonjoon94 @parkitrighthere

→ Disclaimer: the photo of kitty gang Jimin is a concert photo by a fansite, and I’ve been trying to reverse google search the image to find the fansite/photographer, but without luck. I can see on the original that the fansite name is something along the lines of ‘CelestialYM9999’ but that show on results on google either. If you know the fansite, please let me know so I can credit properly (my photography brain really wants to give proper credit).

→ Author’s endnote: what do you think? Please let me know! A big shoutout and thank you to @manipulatedstars for having the idea to make Jungkook run a survivalist camp 🥳💜 Now, I can’t wait to write something that isn’t action— back to my sappy romance writing! I think one of the mermaid fics is next on my list ✨

© @/kingofbodyrolls 2024 // Please don’t copy or repost! You are more than welcome to reblog it, leave a comment or ask me anything about the story 🥰

[ladylooch]

Could we possibly get more stories of Lena and Kevin 🥹. I just know that Lena completed Kevin’s world and that is his baby. I can totally see him letting her skip schools on days where he can just tell something’s not right with her - the days that are full of him just pampering her / doing whatever she likes and it always ends with both of them getting a sweet treat and Kevin making sure his babygirl is feeling okay ��

I have the perfect idea for this! It's not exactly like what you're talking about above, but I think it hits what you were looking for here! To me, Kevin is just as mischievous as a parent as he is a man or hockey player. It's who he is and his wife has learned to pick her battles 🤣

On a Wednesday morning, Sam Fiala leans back in the driver’s side seat of her Range Rover after pulling into the garage. 

Pilates hit hard today. Or maybe not going for two months in a row made it seem like more of a hit than usual.

Maybe her workout schedule has been lax the last few months, but summer is always busy running after three Fiala kids. She wouldn’t have changed a thing about how they spent their summer either. The family completed a fun, national parks tour in the Rocky Mountains. They did tons of hiking, gondola rides, go-carting, eating, and made memories that will last a lifetime. 

She’ll take her ass kicking at pilates for the next few weeks in exchange for those moments with her husband and kids anytime. 

But right now, she needs a minute. 

Sam glances at the podcast playing through her speakers. She has about 7 minutes left, which should give her legs and core enough time to rest before she needs to walk. Luckily, Kevin was on triple, school drop off duty so once she does get inside, she can recover on the couch and catch up on a few shows while the kids are gone. To the left side of the garage, the door to the house opens and Kevin pops his head out at her. He grins when he sees her sitting there slumped in the seat. 

She flips up a finger at his teasing, high pitched laugh. 

“Leave me alone!” She yells through the closed windows. 

He makes his arms all jiggly, moving around more like he’s break dancing than imitating Jell-o. Sam laughs. He is still such a goof.

By his left thigh, a little brown headed girl pokes around, seeing what her dad is doing. Sam’s smile disappears. Her eyes go to her husband’s and he cringes. His hand goes to Lena’s head, gently easing her back into the house. He turns and says something, then Lena darts off further into the house.

Sam shuts the car off, opening her door to step out immediately, limp legs be damned.

“Shit.” She hears Kevin murmur. 

“Kevin Fiala.”

“Okay, baby, hear me out…” He begins, bringing his hands up. “She was too tired.”

“Oh my god, Kevin. You had one job today.” Sam mutters, closing the car door. “Are the other two home?”

“No. Just Bean.”

“Why are you so bad at this?” Sam stutters out incredulously. 

Ever since Kevin retired, he has been awful at letting the kids stay home from school. Lacey will have a fake sniffle- Kevin keeps her home. Luca complains about his tummy feeling “weird” - Kevin keeps him home. Lena so much as sighs - Kevin is definitely keeping her home. At first, Sam thought Kevin was being a pushover. Now she knows better… Kevin wants to keep the kids home. Like he is making up for the days he missed during his career. 

The closer Sam gets to Kevin, the more he starts to giggle awkwardly.

“Babe…” Sam sighs. “It’s not funny. The school is going to…”

“What? What they gonna do?!” Kevin asks, poking at her side. 

“I don’t know, but she needs to go to school. Socialization… learning… The school of Kevin Fiala is not going to cut it in the real world.”

“What’s wrong with VeggieTale re-runs and paw patrol?” Kevin scoffs, following Sam into the main area of their home.

“Mama! I sick!” Lena insists where she is bouncing on the couch in the living room.

“Baby, sit down, please.” Kevin cringes. 

“Oh? Now she is sick? Mmmm, you two must not have gotten your story straight before I got home, huh?” Sam smirks at her husband.

“Well, I was getting there, but she wanted pancakes, so I’ve been making pancakes.” Kevin motions to the stove where he is working on two perfectly rounded chocolate chip pancakes. “Does my other baby want pancakes too?” He asks, getting all sweet with her. His hands come to her hips, then run together to rest on the small of her back. 

“Sure, I’ll eat mine while you run Lena to school.”

“No.” Kevin says, shaking his head. “I wanna hang out with her.” He starts to giggle at the end, completely caught in his intentions. “She’s only going to be this young for like a minute… then she’s gonna be old and too cool for me and I want every second of this with her.”

Sam looks over at Lena on the couch. She’s perched along the back of it, looking at both of her parents with doe-like brown eyes. Lena is so adorable and innocent; Sam’s heart squeezes at how cute she looks, swallowed up by their big couch cushions in her purple PJs.

I mean.. it’s just kindergarten… what is she really missing anyway? Sam thinks to herself. 

When her eyes meet her husband’s he grins at her, knowing he will be getting his way.

“I’ll be so good to you later.” He assures his wife.

“Stop it.” Sam shoves lightly at him. “You’re a terrible influence.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s why your brother was trying to keep you away from me.” He mumbles through a smile against her lips. They kiss sweetly, with light laps of Kevin’s tongue.

“Mama! You have pancakes with us!?” Lena gasps excitedly, feeling the shift in the energy. 

“Mhm.” Sam responds to her daughter. She turns to look at her. Kevin continues to kiss across her cheek and down her neck. 

“I want kisses!” Lena scrambles off the couch, running over after tossing her sippy cup to the side. Kevin and Sam crouch down, collecting their daughter between them. They both kiss her pink cheeks, loudly smacking their lips on her. Lena giggles and squeals at Kevin’s facial hair tickling her face, curling herself more into Sam until her head rests on her mom’s shoulder. She cradles her daughter there as Kevin eyes his girls with adoration.

Sam knows this is not the best parenting decision. 

They really should take Lena to school. 

But with two of her loves in her arms, she can’t find it in her to care.

Read more Sam and Kevin here.

[zahri-melitor]

The next Potted Fanon History is Robin II: JASON TODD.

Jason, 9-10: Willis Todd was abusive and goes to jail due to henching. Catherine Todd was addicted to drugs and dies from cancer. Jason ends up homeless. It is very tragic.

Jason, 12ish (extra angst edition): He may have done sexwork on the streets for food.

Jason, 12-13: found on the streets after jacking the tyres off the Batmobile.

Jason as Robin: Robin is Magic! The intelligent Robin! Extremely literary! A sweet innocent child! Cared about children and sex workers and those affected by drugs! Simultaneously, the only storyline anyone has ever heard of is Garzonas’ death.

Alternate Jason as Robin (less common): Jason always had an angry side. He was enraged by the hardships of the world and by people committing crimes against children and sex workers. Also the only storyline anyone has ever heard of is Garzonas’ death.

Jason around 14: goes on ski trip with Dick.

Optional Jason and the Titans: Jason meets the Titans as Dick’s brother. He may go on one or two missions with them. The entire and only point of this event is for Jason to encounter Roy and Kory. They are fairly close in age. Do NOT think about this too closely.

Jason, 15: A Death in the Family, Which hurts more, forehand or backhand, etc. Harley may be present for this. Harley may have tried to talk Joker out of this.

Jason, 15.5: digs himself out of his grave. USUALLY found immediately by Talia and dunked in a Lazarus Pit. Ra’s Al Ghul is extremely unhappy about this.

Jason, 16-18: PIT RAGE. World training trip sponsored by Talia. May spend time with Damian. Frequently killed his teachers for being bad people.

Jason, 18-21: returns to Gotham as Red Hood with a sportsbag full of mob boss heads and many guns. Moves immediately into Crime Alley and it becomes ‘his territory’. All the Bats avoid it. SLITS TIMS THROAT. This might just be from Jason stalking Tim or it might occur in Titans Tower.  Face off with Bruce over killing the Joker, Bruce slits Jason’s throat.

Jason, Titans Tower: Jason goes to Titans Tower and beats Tim up. This is due to PIT RAGE as Tim is his REPLACEMENT. Exclusively calls Tim that.

Jason, 18-21: Following UTRH, Jason continues crime lording around Crime Alley. The small street children and sex workers all trust him. He has RULES and they WORK. Nobody sells drugs to children or hurts them. Anyone hurting a child sets off Jason’s berserk PIT RAGE. Torments Black Mask.

Jason, 18-21: At some point following UTRH, Jason (re)encounters Roy and Kory and forms the Outlaws. It may take place while travelling through the multiverse for unspecified reasons. (Basically this encounter replaces Jason’s 52 arc).

Jason, 20-21: When Bruce dies, Jason is in jail because someone (usually Bruce or Dick) locked him up for being a Crime Lord. Tim breaks him out and Jason has the first kind thought towards his Replacement ever. If we do Battle for the Cowl Jason argues that he should be Batman as he’s the only one who can clean up Gotham. His offer to have Tim as his Robin shows how much he now respects Tim. Alternatively, Batarang to the chest and trying to kill Tim again.

Jason, 20-21: Jason eventually realises that he has PIT RAGE that makes his eyes glow green. All the Bats and other heroes who encounter him understand how hard it must be to have been in a Lazarus Pit, because of the unstoppable and constant permanent rage afterwards. Jason manages to suppress this rage and he is a hero for it. He immediately feels intense guilt for hurting Tim as the Pit has made him do many things. However if he ever gets angry it returns. (Yes. He’s the Hulk).

Jason, 20-21: While Dick is Batman, Jason starts feeling more guilty and helping out occasionally. He may have Fond Memories of training with Damian in the League. He starts using rubber bullets in his guns when working with the Bats, or just shooting people in the knee. Everyone else thinks this is a reasonable non-lethal compromise. He has his own patrol route around Crime Alley that the Bats STILL do not enter without asking his permission.

Jason, 20-21: Apologises to Tim. This happens after rescuing Tim out of some peril. Tim immediately accepts the apology and they start hanging out together. They are now Best Brothers because Tim just can’t trust Dick anymore, but Jason apologised.

Jason, early mid 20s: On some space mission with the Outlaws, Jason acquires the All-Blades. These are magical glowy space swords that can only harm evil.

Jason, early mid 20s: after Bruce’s return he and Jason make their peace with each other as long as Jason does not kill. Jason is still mad Bruce won’t kill Joker for him. There are periods of angst about this.

Jason, currently: Jason is the Family Black Sheep but has agreed to not shoot people lethally in Gotham. He is invited to family events, but publicly he is Still Dead (TM). He may still be doing some Crime Lording on the side for money. He has not been back in jail. In the midweek, Jason can be found going shopping with Alfred for groceries, cooking with Alfred in the kitchen and discussing historical literature and Shakespeare.

Jason, currently: is either Best Friends with Roy or dating him. They are buddies who are rarely seen apart in superhero contexts. Lian (who is 7-8) thinks of Jason as her other father. He is close to Tim and they team up often in Gotham, unless he is alternately close to Damian or Steph. He’s the Other Big Brother of the Bats.

[slashingdisneypasta]

I'm sorry, I know you must be tired of my asks right now 😅 ignore this of course if you want, but after re-watching N'Ever After I noticed a couple of interesting details for our favorite wolves.

So we know Kiddy goes "Yeah-yeah-yeah!", however I think he may have one more line. Just after Big Bad asks the guards "Whatcha gonna do if we don't?" You can hear a voice going "Dibs on the chubby one!" That kind of has that same scratchy, whispery(?) Tone that Kiddy does. I like to think he did say this XD and that that means that Kiddy likes to play the dibs game, even if he may not play fair all the time (*points to when he tried to take a bite out of Granny's food*). And that he likes more fatty food. Which I guess could explain his burger and fries order, as well as him going after baby goats in his story (baby fat). Or maybe he just wanted to chew on the guard like a stressball XD

This was no doubt obvious to you, but I'm gonna type this out just for me because I was the dummy XD I was wondering why Granny would hit Kiddy on the nose if he cared about him so much like we say. But 1. Kiddy was going after his food, and you don't get between an animal and their food XD and 2. I noticed it looked more like a simple bop, kinda like how animal parents will lightly growl or push their kid to tell them to stop what they're doing. And if that's the case, than that's just more proof that Granny has adopted Kiddy 🥺🥺🥺

While all the other bad guys just make their way towards the castle, the wolves stood back. Even after Granny pointed out that something strange was going on, we only see them walking towards the palace after we see the giant come down the beanstalk, when all the other baddies have continued on. That tells me that these guys took a bit of time to discuss what to do here before deciding it was worth checking out. Which also tells me that, despite Granny and Big Bad constantly butting heads, they will get along enough to figure out a plan of attack or something.

When Frieda suddenly appeared in the throne room, I found the wolves reactions pretty interesting too. Big Bad flinched back, Granny just blinked(?) And looked towards Frieda. And Kiddy just turned his head around like "What? Oh hi lady!" XD I guess this can also show their personalities as well? Big flinching because of his willingness to jump to aggression; making him expect that light to have been an attack on him? Granny calmly looking over could point to him being more intelligent and secure in his strength? And Kiddy barely reacting being him just- out of it XD this is a stretch I know... But they only have five minutes of screen time. What can you do? XD

Again, another obvious thing, I just want to type it out. Despite Big Bad's and Granny's little fight while playing sword darts, we can see them talking and laughing together before and after the fact. Showing us that although they do struggle for the position of alphs in the pack and being the 'baddest' wolf, they do genuinely like each other. At least a little. Like- like you say that the Toon Patrol, or at least some members, only get along because they have to. It's their job. But I get the feeling with the Wolf Gang that although they all know they're untrustworthy baddies, they do still like each other enough to form a group, even despite having separate stories. Idk, I just like this implication ^^

Kiddy nearly always has his front paws/arms close to his chest and body. Even when he seems to struggle running on two legs, he still keeps his arms up. This could very easily just be to accentuate his feral personality, but I like to think that this could hint to his trauma towards his story; having his stomach cut open and sewn back up, Kiddy wants to defend that area as much as possible. (Little reader insert thing here; imagine when Kiddy feels so comfortable around you that he let's his arms down around you! Imagine if he actually rolls onto his back around you (which is the ultimate sign of trust among animals irl)!! 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺)

Considering that Kiddy seems to take Granny's side a lot (he was behind Granny when they were walking up the palace, he laughed when Granny threw the sword at Big Bad), I'm guessing maybe Granny and Kiddy teamed up first, and Big Bad came into the picture later. That could be why there's a power struggle between Big Bad and Granny. Big Bad is the newbie that needs to learn who's in charge around here, and Granny needs to know that he ain't some pup that's gonna get pushed around. However, since Kiddy stood next to Big Bad while they raided the castle, and he followed his order to 'sic em' at the dwarves' cottage, that shows that Kiddy does trust/like him. So maybe Big Bad has been in the gang for a while now, he and Granny are just still battling over who the real alpha is XD

That's all I got so far. I hope you like these! ^^ (idk when, but this wolf hyperfixation makes me want to post my own headcannons of them 👀)

Nooooo, I'm not!! You know me, I just don't know how to respond right 😅 I want to get across how excited I am about Lizzie but I can't find the words yet!!!¡¡!!¡ XDDD

Also my ask box is slowly filling up again and I'm getting kinda stressed. I WELCOME ASKS!! But I don't wanna disappointed people with how long I take or by giving the wrong responce 😅

ANYWAYYYYY- 😅

Wolves 😏

XD

I NEED TO REWATCH N'EVER AFTER P R O N T O. Especially the scene where you think Kiddy said dibs on the chubby one!! I vaguely remember it but I have to assess it now XD

It would make sense that Kiddy likes fatty food for both those reasons!- and also, he's very skinny compared to his comrades and maybe he has a bit... of a... complex? About it? 😅 Like, he might feel like the weenie one. Less tough. We don't really see him fighting for 'alpha' status with the other 2, but he's still a Big Bad Wolf and I'm s u r e he has some kind of instinctual desire to be strong and tough like the others. Strong enough to fight. Strong enough to protect. Strong enough so that no other predators threaten him.

AND YES!@ XDD 🩵❤🩵❤🩵❤🩵❤🩵 Granny scolds Kiddy for attempting to steal gis food like a big brother, or a mama XDD

XDD He doesn't even really think about it- doesn't growl or menace him at all. Just *bonk* 'don't even think about it kid'.

And exactly, you don't touch someone's food XD Especially a Big Bad Wolf, goddamn.

AND- ❤💕❤💕 YES!! About the wolves hanging back before answering Freida's call to the palace!! I think that's so in-character for fairytale wolves. Fairytale wolves are pretty much the Biggest, Oldest, most Dangerous kinds of villains (Aling with like, witches). And that's for a reason. They're not just scary with a bloodlust- they're clever (mostly. Unless their tummy's are grumbling XD ). It makes sense that they waited and let a 'guinea pig' go first to see what would happen XD I love that XD

Yes yes yes, I agree to their reactions to Freida being interesting XDD When characters have little screentime- e v e r y little inconsequential moment is a key character point 😂

I like that the wolves are a Pack, too <3 They may not get along all the time, I mean animals f i g h t (humans included. You disagree, you get in a Mood, you become irritated, etc)- but that doesn't mean that ultimately they aren't still a Pack. A family. Like that song Heathens XD

Oh... oh Kiddy 🥺 Oh no. BABY!! Must protect. GRANNY MUST PROTECT!! (NO, WAIT. ME. I WILL PROTECT HIM. THAT READER INSERT CONVINCED ME- )

And I

L O V E

The idea that Big Bad showed up to the pack last. That he was the outsider breaking in and he still has the balls to think he's alpha XD That he managed to break into the pack anyway and now they love him?? <3<3 (well, as much as they can when they can't fully trust him- or eachother XD ) My heart is full of villain found family now <3💕<3💕<3💕<3 ^^

I loved these thoughts!!!! Thank you so much for sending them in!!!! And YES OMG WRITE YOUR HC'S!!! IF YOU WANT TO!! WE WILL ALL EXPLODE!

[buzzdixonwriter]

Hambuggery [FICTOID]

Hamburgers!  There were never enough hamburgers for Leon Skum. 

The multi-gazillionaire obsessed over hamburgers, all kinds of hamburgers:  Those little sliders with the grilled onions from White Castle, the wrapped lettuce protein-style burger at In-N-Out, the veggie burger at Hooks, even those tiny dried cow patties they sell at McDonald's.

If it was:

[ ] Round [ ] Made of meat [ ] Between two slices of bread

Skum obsessed over it.

You only needed to check two of the boxes to win his approval.

But here's the thing: Leon Skum didn't like hamburgers! 

Rather what he liked was the feeling of power and control he could inflict on others.

That’s why his life goal was / is / always shall be the acquisition of every damn hamburger on the planet.

Call it a strategy of denial.

What did Skum do with his collection of hamburgers?

Nothing!

Oh, he stored them in desert warehouses where they rotted and stank (all except the Mickey D selections; read into that what you will).

People traveling across country would roll up their windows and hit the gas.  Sheriffs and Highway Patrol officers in gas masks would wave them through, fully understanding why no one wanted to be downwind from one of Skum’s abattoirs.

Air travel increased dramatically in that part of the country, an unintended benefit of Skum’s obsession with burgers.

So what did Skum do with these burgers?

At first he acted like Scrooge McDuck only instead of diving into a giant money bin and letting the coins clunk on his head, Skum let the burgers cascade on him.

This of course proved a colossally bad idea.  The burgers fell apart in midair not to mention the problem of oil / grease / fat setting getting on everything.

So again, why did Leon Skum want hamburgers?

He wanted them just because, just so he could say “I've got all of them!”

Eventually one of the brighter persons in Skum’s vast domain (and let's be honest everybody who worked for Leon Skum was smarter than him, even the drooling social hire in the wheelchair down in shipping whose sole job was to push the button that opened the door) pointed out Skum didn't actually need to buy the physical hamburgers but rather the concept of hamburgers.

Skum soon owned vast tracts of land in the desert filled with empty warehouses full of nonexistent hypothetical hamburgers.

Since these proved no problem re oil / grease / fat, the fastidious come Skum couldn't wait to dive into them.

He did and that was when there was an oil / grease / fat problem on the concrete floor of the warehouse but no longer any problems for anyone else.

  © Buzz Dixon