#and like a solid 20 chapters were missing for a while…

[obstinaterixatrix]

Han Yu-na gave up being a girl.. but secretly loves girly things. She encounters Lee Yu-na with one big misunderstanding which creates something brand new….

happy femslash february, here’s a 60 chapter webtoon about office ladies

the way I generally pitch this series is it’s yuri that feels a little more like BL, because 1) it’s high-energy shenanigans, 2) the main character… kinda sucks LMAO. like, it doesn’t come from a malicious place, and some of it is very much exaggerated webtoon shenanigans (like kidnapping someone for a makeover), but in general lee yu-na is manipulative, fake as hell, pushier than she should be, and more than a little inconsiderate. I love her.

since lee yu-na and han yu-na are extremely different characters, it takes a solid while before they get on the same page

worth the read if you want to see office ladies being kinda stupid together <3

[maitimosrighthand]

141 x Succubus male reader( oc )

(please note that this is a series and will continue)

Author note:

Most of the characters in this story will be their usual hybrid type. Ghost( Demon ), Soap( Wolf ), Gaz( Eagle ) and Price( Dragon ).

Please note that this series will eventually contain +18 contents. Minors do not interact.

Yes this will contain heats and ruts. You horny bastards 🫵

( The reader or oc (idk) is described as rather feminine. Not like that but well they are a succubus so they a that way. Gooner bait. It’s genetics.

Just like Ghost‘s massive dic-

For more information to how I will deal with the Succubus thing please scroll down to the bottom of the page

Chapter 1: Meeting the pack

It’s been ages since animal genes had mixed with human ones. While the question of who has fucked an animal was ignored ever since, another case has been opened as of late.

Demons.

While they are rare there have been a few cases within the last years. Demons, Vampires and then you, a succubus. While that does say a lot about your parents, it doesn’t mean too much to you. While yes, people assume you are nothing but a jerk and want to constantly have sex, it’s not that easy.

It had been raining for three days straight now. No sun to be seen and the roads look accordingly. „Seems like we���ll be stuck here for a while longer.“ Hoffmann said. He is the reason of why you are here right now. Despite ages of experience most old white man still thought that people like you had to be in a group with responsible people, such as their military. Not that you were against the idea. You had been once to the army before in your early 20 but left right after. You had become a mercenary and taken countless jobs already, so you could say you were experienced in such matters.

After a couple of failed operations within the military of late, people like you were hired to come there and give them a hand. It wasn’t voluntary at all, either you help or they put you in prison for illegal activities. You however were not about to help them after this one. Right.

You came here duo to one of their high ranked soldiers missing. You where sure you had heard his name once beforehand but you who knows. Maybe he had been a trainee just like you back in the days. That made you sound really old.

„I‘ll get out here then.“ you said not waiting for an answer. The place you where supposed to find him at was barely five minutes away from here. You could walk that. Better than to spend one more minute with Hoffmann in the same car. He stank you had noted over the 2h ride here. Something with wolf and a bit of bird in it. Perhaps he was a brothel enthusiast, especially the one with hybrids in it. But that was not your business.

While walking from the street your phone rang. „What is it Asher?“ you answered immediately. She was more or less your boss? No you didn’t have that. She would give you notes on who needs your services at the moment and you‘d watch her eating your pasta while she does so. For some reason she would always sneak into your apartment.

„Where are you?“ came through the speakers. „On a little trip. Willingly.“ you huffed a bit. „The government?“ „yeah…“ Neither you nor her were big fans. She had constant legal problems with them and now they even got to you. „I didn’t know you were such a good man.“ She mocked you. She knew you were a good person. You set yourself a couple of rules a long time ago. „Are you going to come out alive?“ she shuffled with something on the other end of the line. „Why? Do you have a job for me?“ you heard her laugh behind the phone. That meant yes. „I‘ll call you later for the details, bye.“ Oh wow. This place is wrecked.

You stood on a platform near a river. That solider has been seen here last. But it looked completely empty. There were a couple of small ruins of old houses that have succumb to the weather conditions in the area. Another thing that bothered you was that it is so close to the street. If you do something illegal most of the time you‘d wanna be away from prying eyes. So him being here made no sense. Non the less you had a job to finish.

Sliding down the muddy trail, without falling mind you, you began searching around the area. Some wet puddles, some broken trees confinently fallen onto the house roof. Wait that was suspicious. Normally the trees would have broken down something of the house but these look hardly damaged and there was little to no things under them. Lucky you, you didn’t skip your sport days during your free time.

Slowly but surely your pushed the trees away from their previous spot. You wiped away some of the dust and broken tiles and slowly open the hidden luke door. The iron seems very scratchy and for a moment you think about just not opening it. But well you wanted to go back home and the faster you found him the better.

After opening the door you look down. There was water, probably not too high but still high enough to reach until your knees. You were ready to take that risk through. Jumping down you landed in the water. It was not very nice when the water splatters on your jacket. That one was new you noted in your mind. You observed the room a bit. A few broken tables, a couple of prison cells and who would have thought…water. And a man.

You make your way through the water slowly. You didn’t know who you were looking for but it was probably him. You were unsure if he was awake so you put on a mouth mask and put on the hood from your jacket. It’s just to be safe. There may be many misinformations about succubus on the internet but you had to make sure. Occasionally you would get away with saying you were a goat but some where not convinced.

You checked on the man who was laying down in the water. He had been lucky that his head was above the water. However the water was freezing and he might have been here for days. „Oh god.“ his lips were blue. You pulled him up and onto a table. He was one bulk of a man. And an eagle nonetheless. His wings were too huge to fit through the entrance you came through. First things first: let’s call Hofmann.

„Are you sure that’s him?“ he asked. „Yes it’s him. The eagle! Now I need a truck near here!“ „Fine fine. I‘ll also send you the location of where to bring him.“ he hung up. You slowly but surely dragged the soldier through a back door you found. He was heavy and you felt sry for scratching his wings a couple of times. But you did not really have much of a choice. When you finally got him outside and forced him into the truck‘s backseat you sat down in the drivers seat.

Weird.

Why was no one here. If he had really been kidnapped and was a high ranking solider then wouldn’t someone look or watch over him? It’s was questionable you thought. You took down your mask after half of the ride to the location that was send to you, since the eagle did not stink. Their base was in the range of that but they didn’t tell you where exactly.

Nothing really bothered you with that. It seemed to be a rather secretive situation and you were not about to get into legal trouble by trying to find it. Occasionally you could hear the man behind you groan. Whenever you looked into the back mirror you could see his disheveled state. Some feathers unplugged and halfway ripped out, his hair probably a bit longer than it should be and various cuts on his arms and face. Poor guy.

About half an hour you arrived at the location you had been given. A remote area where a smaller town was not too far away. You heard there was a bar there. Maybe you‘ll go there later, it’s been a while since you ate anything beside those medications.(read info) But for now you kept waiting. Waiting. And…waiting? Why was no one here yet? Just when the sun was slowly going down you heard a car nearby. In case it may have been just some townsfolk you quickly tried to blend in. Pulling up the mask and acting like you tried to light cigarette. You did not smoke. It was too expensive and you didn’t get the appeal. To you it was like a cheap sex potion that lady’s were attracted to. The car however stopped and 3 large man came out of it. You were sure if you hadn’t already had your gay awakening this could have been it. But you couldn’t ask a military officer for a one night stand. Sadly

One had huge wings and the other a tail. The tallest one did not show any signs of abnormality. Maybe they had a human amongst them. You were about to say something when you felt a pressure on you.

Oh. That guy was some kind of demon too.

Demons could feel another. Some more than others. And some did not at all. But to you, demons stank like fish. You hated fish.

„Are you X?“ the dragon asked. „Depends on it. Who is asking?“ you just had to make sure it was them. And you tried to buy time. Just to see if that demon recognized you as one. Any reaction could reveal it. Demons were territorial after all. You were too but since nothing belonged to you and your noodles were always stolen by Asher there was nothing to protect.

„Captain Price.“ he answered. That’s him mind you. You open the car door and immediately a hawk claws at you. Lucky you, you had stepped to the side. „Rise and shine birdy. Your pack is here.“ He stood up a bit cranky from the ground he fell to. Not moments later the dog came and helped him to their car. Wait dog? No it’s probably a wolf. He was too quiet for a dog.

„I must thank you. Hope to work again with you in the future.“ the dragon said after some back and forth about your payment. „Lie.“ You knew from the way his eyes never left you that he was lying.

„I don’t trust you mercenaries. But your help is undeniable.“ With that he said goodbye to you.

That demon guy stared at you a bit longer. You could swear you saw him smell the air. You wondered what kind he was. Maybe a succubus like you!

He then followed Price to the car and you watched them drive away.

Urghh. You needed a drink. And a hookup

Notes about succubus:

They are rare very rare

They can smell sexual excitement even without wanting it and it somewhat feeds them but in the end they still need sex ( some more than others )

The need for physical contact ( sex ) can be lindert by a special kind of medicine

Succubus look like normal people but they can extend claws and tails if they want to

( and to go into actually mythology here) they cannot however hide their horns and when on the hunt for food ( sex ) they cannot hide their animal feet ( hooves )

They can like in real mythology appear to someone as another person after they know who they crave

They are not too fast

Their voice can cause sexual excitement and can be somewhat like a drug ( when they want to)

Succubus however have the problem that most of the time they do not wish to engage into such things and therefore the smell can make them feel ill and cause unwanted excitement on their part

Succubus can be bound by a spell that is specific to their own and they usually contain it in a toy or a thing they always carry around

If another person has this toy or object they can force the succubus to do anything they want

The succubus cannot disobey

[yeonayearns]

Fists and Feathers

Art by: @_3aem on insta! Feat: Gojo Satoru

Pairing: Boxer!Gojo x Ballerina!reader

Synopsis: On your way to ballet practice, you stumbled upon a man—But oh it wasn’t just any man. You have bumped into Mr. Worldwide famous boxer, Gojo Satoru. You thought it was just a one time thing and there will be no more future encounters, but you were wrong.

word count: 5.5k words for this chapter.

Content: MDNI, fem!reader, no curses AU, smut, slow burn, detailed violence during boxing matches, blood, injuries, some fluff, Gojo calling reader some pet names, swearing, jealous Gojo (he hawt), mentions of Sukuna

a/n: This idea randomly just popped up in my head while i was writing on another fanfic! Thought it’ll be an interesting dynamic dontcha’ think? ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ I DID NOT PROOFREAD THIS.

Chapter one

You didn’t think your day would end up like this.

You had set multiple alarms to ensure you woke up on time, carefully adjusting your phone and clock the night before. Yet somehow, you managed to overslept and completely miss all the alarms! It’s hard to believe you could sleep through all that. You weren’t even particularly exhausted when you went to bed; you thought a solid night's rest would be refreshing! But now, you find yourself in a rush, going through the consequences of oversleeping. Panic sets in as you realize you’re running late, and the clock is ticking away your precious time.

You rushed everything, from brushing your teeth to packing the things you need for practice. Almost forgetting to pack your ballet attire. Having barely any time left, you stopped by a nearby cafe and ordered a cup of coffee.

You checked your phone on your way to the practice, only to see that you’ve got more than 20 missed calls from your friend in ballet class. Each getting more and more aggressive as you didn’t respond.

“Girl where are you? You’re supposed to be here at exactly 8:00 am!”

“Don’t tell me you overslept AGAIN!”

“Buzz buzz! Practice is about to start in 10 minutes! If you don’t come in time you own me 100 dollars!”

The messages from your friend made you chuckle as you read one by one, until that laughing stops and you looked at the time on your phone—it’s 7:50 am, you’re supposed to be there at 8:00 am!

“Ah fuck, I’m so doomed..” You said, immediately running to the studio now with full adrenaline rushing through your body.

As you hurried down the bustling sidewalk, the world around you seemed to blur with each hurried step. Suddenly, without warning, you crashed into a tall figure, the impact sending your drink flying. The hot liquid splattered across his crisp white shirt, creating a large dark stain that contrasted sharply against his shirt.

You froze for a moment, your heart racing as shock washed over you. Realizing the extent of the mess, you quickly dropped the cup and began frantically patting at the stain, your fingers moving in a flurry of activity as you muttered apologies. 

“Jeez I’m so clumsy, I’m so sorry! I’ll pay for it I—“

“No need to overreact, gorgeous,” the man said with a grin. “It’s just a t-shirt; buying 100 of them barely puts a dent in my bank account anyways.” 

You looked up in disbelief, your heart racing as you processed the reality of the situation. Standing before you, with his striking blue eyes and tousled white hair, was none other than Gojo Satoru—Mr. Worldwide famous, the boxer known for his incredible skills in the ring and his charm outside of it. It felt surreal to begin with.

“S—Still I’m really sorry for the shirt! I hope the coffee didn’t hurt you since it was still very hot.”

With a slight desperation, you rummaged through your wallet, your fingers brushing against the various bills and cards until you found a crisp fifty-dollar bill. Without a second thought, you pressed it into his hand and took off, heart racing as you dashed away.

Meanwhile, Gojo remained frozen on the spot, his mind awash in confusion as he tried to make sense of the odd encounter. After a moment, he glanced down at the bill resting in his palm, its vibrant colors contrasting with the muted tones of the bustling street around him.

“Huh, what a strange girl,” he murmured, a soft smile curling on his lips. He shook his head, a mixture of amusement and intrigue flickering in his eyes as he watched you disappear into the distance, your figure growing smaller but your impact lingering in the air.

“Now then, where was I supposed to go?” He tucked the 50 dollar bill safely in his wallet.

————————

8:00 pm, you finally arrived at the studio, already sweaty and panting from all the running and the embarrassment on what you just encountered. Your friend immediately ran towards you, aggressively shaking you.

“Girl, i thought you weren’t gonna make it in time! What happened? And why are you so exhausted already? You’re sweating so much that it could fill buckets!”

You took a few minutes to regulate your breathing before explaining what just happened to you.

“I overslept and didn’t have time to make breakfast, so I stopped by a cafe to order coffee and started walking to the studio. I realized I was running out of time and started speeding my way to get on time.”

“So that’s it right?”

“Jeez I wish, I accidentally bumped into someone and spilled my coffee on his shirt—but it wasn’t just any ordinary person..I spilled my drink onto the Gojo Satoru!”

“You spilled your drink onto the GOJO SATOR—Hmm—hmm!”

“Hushh!—Everyone can hear you! I don’t want them to find out that I embarrassed myself infront of the great Gojo Satoru!” You covered her mouth, shutting her loud ass mouth from letting the whole people in the studio hear it.

“Okay, okay, fine I’ll keep it down! Now, how did Gojo react to you spilling your drink on his shirt? He must’ve been furious or something.”

“Actually he was quite calm with it..I’m not sure if he kept it cool so he wouldn’t appear aggressive or mean, but I don’t think it’s like that.”

Your friend was shocked, Gojo not mad about his shirt getting ruined? “What?! He should at least make you pay for his shirt, right?”

“Welll about that..he insisted that I shouldn’t pay for it since he said it was a cheap one.”

“Well you’re lucky today! Cause if you’ve ruined something expensive then you’ll be paying thousands and thousands of dollars!”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t make you pay for that much to be honest, but yeah, I am lucky that I didn’t ruin anything expensive.”

“Indeed, now let’s go practice before we’ll get headbutted by our other friends!”

—————————

As you slipped into your attire, the room around you was filled with the sounds of rustling and faint chatter, but your mind was consumed by earlier events. You couldn’t shake the embarrassment of what had happened. You thought back to the moment of collision. The two of you had been moving in different directions, and before you knew it, you had crashed into him. The way his eyes widened in surprise flashed in your mind like a red stop sign, and your heart felt super guilt as the image of his shirt, now forever stained, invaded your thoughts. 

“What was I thinking?” you berated yourself. “Seriously, I can’t believe I just did that!” 

You could almost feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you recalled his reaction. Sure he was nonchalant and calm about it, but it still got to you. “What if that was one of his favorite shirts?” you questioned, anxiety bubbling up inside you. The thought of him recounting this mortifying incident during an interview, sharing it as a comical anecdote about the weirdest fan encounters, made you cringe even more. 

“I’m doomed,” you sighed, burying your face in your hands for a brief moment.

As the practice session began, the usual excitement and adrenaline were replaced by a cloud of distraction. You attempted to warm up, your muscles stretching and shifting in routine motions, but your mind kept drifting back to that embarrassing moment. You couldn’t focus, thoughts spiraling through your mind like a relentless storm. Over and over, you found yourself replaying the incident, your internal monologue a chaotic loop of regret and humiliation. 

“Just concentrate,” you urged yourself, but the echoes of that encounter, the anxiety of facing him again, and the fear of what he might say gnawed at you, making it impossible to find peace in the familiar rhythm of practice. You felt a sinking sensation, knowing that until you could shake off the memory, nothing else would matter.

—————————

As soon as you stepped through the door of your home after practice, a wave of exhaustion washed over you. You dropped your bag by the bedroom door. Without a second thought, you collapsed onto your bed, burying your face in your pillows. 

With your legs kicking in frustration, you let out a muffled scream—part anger, part embarrassment. The scene replayed in your mind like a twisted highlight reel, reminding you of the moment you had accidentally ruined his shirt in front of everyone. The humiliation felt suffocating; knowing that not only did you make a scene, but also that the onlookers had likely been gossiping about it ever since. 

To make matters worse, the paparazzi had been lurking nearby, capturing every mortifying second. You could almost hear the click of their cameras as they immortalized your blunder for all to see. The thought of it made your face flush with shame, and you buried your head deeper into the softness of the pillows, wishing you could disappear completely.

“Gosh, I’m so stupid..” you muttered to yourself, shaking your head in exasperation. The weight of the day pressed heavily on your mind, and you decided that maybe a good night's sleep was just what you needed to clear your thoughts. You tugged the blankets up around your shoulders, adjusting the pillows to create a cozy nest, as the soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm light in the room. 

But then..

Ring, ring!

Your phone rang. Is it one of your friends? Why is she calling you at this hour? Normally all of you rest after a good day of practice.

So you answered her call, still a bit irritated from your cozy time getting interrupted, you answered the phone grumpily.

You sighed, “Hello?…what’s wrong this time?”

“OH EM GEE! Girl haven’t you heard what the ballet master announced just now?!” She yelled through the phone, it sounds like she was freaking out like crazy.

“Uhm…no I haven’t..What did he announce?”

“He announced that there will be a special guest during our final performance tomorrow!”

“And who could that b—“ You questioned, but got cut off immediately by her.

“THE GOJO SATORU! Don’t believe me? Check the group chat! Mr. Gojo texted our ballet master asking if he could watch tomorrow!”

Time froze just as she finished what she was saying, Gojo, gonna watch the performance tomorrow? Is he insane?!

You let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “Hahaha! No way, you’ve got to be joking! There’s no way he would do that…” Just as you were doubting, yoh checked the group chat, the screen lighting up with an array of messages and images. 

As you scrolled through the conversation, it slowly dawned on you that it was all true. The ballet master had shared screenshots of his exchange with Gojo, and one by one, you read through each of them.

“Still..I don’t get it, why does he wanna watch a simple ballet performance? Doesn't he wanna get stronger for the next boxing match?”

“I don’t know either, but that’s just a motivation for us to make more effort during the performance! Who knows..maybe he’s there because he finds one of us gorgeous..eek I bet it’s me!”

You sighed and rolled your eyes by her comment, “Who’s been over feeding your ego and confidence lately?” You then ended the call right there, because you knew she was gonna start being delusional and you didn’t wanna listen to everything she would say that’s not true.

But one question continued to stay in mind, why is he gonna watch tomorrow? You all weren’t that famous for him to stand out from the crowd, and yet he still chose your group.

“Whatever is his reason, I hope he won’t recognize me tomorrow..it would be so awkward if he recognizes me..” You said, getting comfortable in bed before turning off the lights. You stared at the celling before dozing off a few minutes later.

————————

After weeks filled with endless training and countless practice sessions, the day of the final performance had finally arrived. You could feel the mix of excitement and anxiety coursing through your veins, a sensation that lingered in the air. As you stood backstage, the hum of voices and soft music provided a comforting backdrop to your nerves.

You slipped into your costume, a shimmering light blue ballet attire that sparkled under the warm backstage lights. The fabric felt smooth against your skin, each delicate detail enhancing the anticipation you felt for the show ahead. Once dressed, you took a seat at a small vanity, where someone was styling your hair and applying your makeup. You sat still, occasionally glancing at your reflection, feeling both nervous and excited about how you would present yourself on stage.

While waiting for the finishing touches, you distracted yourself by scrolling through your phone, checking messages and photos from rehearsals. Just then, a notification popped up in the group chat from the ballet master. You read the announcement, it said that Mr. Gojo had arrived to watch the performance and was currently seated in the guests’ area.

A wave of anxiety washed over you as you finished reading his announcement. The realization hit you hard: he’s actually going to be watching the performance in person! The thought of him sitting there, witnessing every graceful thing and every movement, sent your heart racing. You could hardly believe it; he’s really going to be there, right in the crowd! The pressure mounted as you imagined all the eyes on you, especially his, and a mix of excitement and nerves churned in your stomach.

At last, the moment arrived when your group was called to take the stage, the air buzzing with anticipation as the last touches were applied to your costumes. You took a deep breath, your heart racing slightly with a mix of excitement and nerves, before walking to your designated position in the dance.

The music began—a soft, enchanting melody that filled the auditorium, setting a graceful tone for the performance as you and your group stepped onto the stage one by one, each showcasing their own unique entrance.

This time, the spotlight shone directly on you, illuminating your path as you became the focal point of the audience's attention. With measured confidence, you took a step forward, embracing the moment. You moved effortlessly into a series of ballet moves, executing an elegant arabesque that stretched your body into a perfect line, followed by a fluid piqué that brought you closer to the edge of the stage. Each movement was executed with precision, the years of training culminating in this singular performance.

Although you maintained keeping your graceful character, you couldn't shake the feeling of an intense gaze penetrating through the soft glow of the lights.

It was a familiar presence, one that sent a surge of adrenaline through you. You instinctively knew who that sharp and intense gaze was coming from. 

He sat amongst the crowd, his arms folded across his chest, watching intently as he absorbed every move of your performance. Each shift in your posture, every flicker of emotion, was met with a thoughtful “hm” of approval escaping his lips, followed by a slow nod of his head that signaled his appreciation.

He was supposed to be at the boxing ring, having a revenge match, and yet he found this moment infinitely more engaging, relishing the authenticity of the scene unfolding before him. In the vibrant energy of the crowd, he discovered a thrill that far surpassed the repetitive clang of gloves and the cold sweat of the ring.

As the final performance ended and you made  your signature move for the last time, the audience erupted into a chorus of applause and cheers, a thunderous appreciation that filled the air. You and your group bowed together, the feeling of relief as you turned to face the crowd one last time, waving goodbye to the crowd.

A wave of relief washed over you as you stepped off the stage, finally free from the weight of his piercing gaze that had seemingly followed you throughout the entire performance. It felt as though each glance was like a dagger, sharp and intense, stealing your focus and making it difficult to fully immerse yourself in the dance.

Once backstage, you were granted a brief reprieve, a few precious minutes to catch your breath and revel in the afterglow of your hard work. It wasn't long, however, before the ballet master made his way to you and your group, his face beaming with a mix of pride and admiration as he congratulated everyone on a job well done. His presence was always commanding, but today he seemed more animated than usual, the excitement palpable as he praised your collective efforts.

Yet, there was something more to his visit than just congratulating. The ballet master suddenly turned his attention solely to you, his expression shifting to one of seriousness. He requested a private conversation, and after a moment’s hesitation, you agreed, curiosity piqued. He led you to a quiet corner of the backstage area where the noise of the audience faded into the background, creating an intimate space for the two of you.

“You were AMAZING today,” he began, his voice low and encouraging. “You had everyone’s jaws dropping, especially Gojo’s.” His mention of Gojo sent a jolt through you—your mind racing. The ballet master paused, gauging your reaction, then continued, “Oh, and speaking of Gojo… he’s been asking to speak with you, privately.”

The unexpected news left you utterly taken aback. First, he had shown up to watch your performance. Second, it became clear he had been watching you intently throughout. And now, he wanted to talk to you? What is happening to your life right now?!

He...wants to talk to me? Of all the people he could choose from? But why?” You felt a swirl of confusion and disbelief flooding your mind.

“I can’t say for certain,” He replied, glancing at the clock on the wall. “But you’ll have to find out for yourself. Don’t waste any more time—he doesn’t have all day.”

You took a deep breath and nodded, trying to steady your racing heart as you began to walk towards the designated spot. Each step made you feel more and more nervous, the tension in your stomach twisted tighter. The fact that a famous boxer, wanted to have a private conversation with you sent a wave of anxiety coursing through your veins. 

What could he possibly want to discuss? The thought raced through your mind unbidden. Had he recognize you from before? Images of that encounter flooded your thoughts, and you felt a flush of embarrassment creep up your cheeks.

Oh God, please don’t let it be that! Anything but that stupid encounter! You couldn't shake off the feeling that this moment could change everything, and with each passing second, the anticipation twisted into a knot of unease that settled heavy in your chest.

Once you went outside, you saw dozens of paparazzi surrounding someone, and you knew that was him getting surrounded by them. Jeez, must be hard dealing with crazy paparazzi and fans every single day.

As the crowd continued to surround him, he caught a glimpse of you from the corner of his eye. With subtle movements, he signaled for you to move to the bathroom, hoping to escape the chaotic crowd. It was clear he wanted a moment alone to talk.

Understanding him, you made your way to the bathroom until you finally reached it. Once inside, you paused for a moment, taking in the quiet that contrasted sharply with the noise outside. He can he handle all that? You would’ve go insane if you were him.

After a few minutes, the door creaked open, and a figure stepped in, his face mostly covered by a face mask and hat. It was obviously a disguise.

With ease, he lowered his face mask, then peeled off his black cap, and finally removed his sunglasses in one fluid motion. When he revealed his identity, your heart raced. There, standing before you, was none other than the famous Gojo Satoru—the same exact person who seemed to desire a private conversation with you. 

His striking white hair framed his angular face, and his bright blue eyes sparkled with mischief and charm. You found yourself momentarily speechless, overwhelmed by his presence. There was an undeniable charisma about him, and you couldn't ignore how incredibly handsome he was.

“Ah, ah, what’s up? No need to stay frozen forever, little dove,” he said with a playful grin. You blinked just once, and then suddenly—he closed the gap between you, his face now mere centimeters from yours, his breath warm against your skin. 

You instinctively brought your hands up to create distance, gently pushing his face away as you backed off slightly. Laughter escaped your lips, tinged with nervousness, your cheeks flushed. Why was he so close for?!

“O—Oh! Yeah, I know that…” you stuttered, trying to regain your composure amidst the whirlwind of emotions.

“Oh yeah! Right..why did you wanna talk to me?” You got straight to the point. You just wanna get out of here and scream in your pillows out of embarrassment.

“Straight to the point huh? Well, I just wanted to say that your performance was utterly amazing. That’s a nice way to avenge my shirt.” He grinned, that stupid genuine crooked grin..

“W—What?! I mean uhm..I wasn’t the one who spilled a drink on your shirt! Probably got the wrong person..” You tried to deny, flailing your arms and you tried to act dumb, knowing full well that he wasn’t gonna believe your silly act.

“Don’t act dumb, dove, I still recognize you from before.”

“Okay, okay, you got me! But you weren’t bothered by it, so what’s the big deal?”

“Nothing, actually, I just wanted to return the 50 dollar bill you gave me yesterday.” He said, pulling out the same crumpled 50 dollar bill.

”Ehh? You wanted to talk to me just for that..?” You raised an eyebrow, you were worrying about nothing this whole time!

“No scolding, no anger..?” You continued, tilting your head as you hesitantly took back the bill.

“Pff..who would be mad over a ruined shirt? It’s not like it’s the only one I have in my closet. I mostly just go around the house shirtless.” He bragged.

“That last part wasn’t necessary by the way..”

“Yeah I know, just wanted to say it.” He smirked. “You still gotta repay me somehow, paying for the shirt is so plain.”

“And how should I pay back the thing that I did?”

“It’s simple! You can treat me to a meal or drink..a cafe sounds good..” He rubbed his chin as he started babbling ideas.

“A meal or drink? Can’t you afford like..dozens of those?”

“You’re right, but I wanted to get to know you more, soo why not get a drink together at the cafe?”

“I’d love to but..won’t the people go nuts again if they saw you in the cafe, especially with another girl?”

“That’s not a problem, wanna know why? Because I have my own private cafe with professional baristas and everything. I usually stay there after a match to relax.”

“Really? You’d let me go there?!” Your jaw dropped and your eyes sparkled with excitement.

“Of course, so you’re down for it or what?”

“Hell yeah! But..don’t you have a boxing match with Sukuna tomorrow?”

“I do, but that’s not gonna be a problem as well. You can watch the match tomorrow, in the meantime..why not exchange numbers to text each other?” He pulled out his phone, typing the password before opening the contacts app.

“Exchange numbers..? Okay then.” You smiled softly and also gave your phone to him as you took his.

After exchanging phone numbers, the two of you engaged in some light-hearted conversation, sharing a few laughs. Eventually, as the sun began to set, casting a warm glow around you, you both realized it was time to say goodbye—for now. With a promise to text each other later, you parted ways—for now.

—————————

It was currently 9:30 pm, you’ve just finished changing into your pajamas and doing your skincare. That’s when you got a notification, it was Gojo! The message was:

“Finally I found your contact, took me minutes to find you through my contacts because you didn’t put your name on there. (-᷅_-᷄๑)”

The message brought a smile to your face and a small chuckle escaped your lips. Is this truly how the strong famous boxer texts? You replied to him:

“My bad, I forgot to label my name there. I’m surprised how you managed to guess!”

“Gave me a headache ya know? I got quite the embarrassment while looking for your contact..had to text multiple people in my contacts with no name as well..”

“Oh really? And what did they say?”

“They got really confused, some were just freaking out that I texted them and thought that I was gonna giveaway some gold bar to them or sell them tickets to VIP seating.. (¬_¬)”

That message got you laughing, you found it funny how some people thought that he was gonna pull a random giveaway just like a famous youtuber.

“Ahahaha for real?! They thought you were gonna give them a suitcase filled with money like those youtube videos?”

“Pffft yeah…they got too excited and started spamming my notifications..had to block them..”

He then continued, “So moving on..what are you doing right now? It’s pretty late at night.”

“Oh, I just finished changing into my pajamas and was about to head right to bed until you suddenly texted me.”

“Ah so I interrupted you from going to sleep? My apologies then! ( ；´Д｀)”

“There’s no need to say sorry, Gojo! It’s not like I was even that sleepy or anything.”

“Alright then..also..call me Satoru! People rarely call me by my first name..Gojo this..Gojo that..Should start saying my first name..”

“As you wish then..Satoru..”

“That’s the spirit! I don’t wanna keep you awake for too long, so I’ll get straight to the point—You should arrive before the match starts..don’t wanna be late and waste your front seat right?”

Your eyes widened in shock, you can have the front seat?! This is too good to be true, “Got it..i promise I’ll get there by 8:00 am.”

“Alright then, don’t run late again and spill your drink on someone else’s shirt okay? Night night! (^_−)−☆”

As soon as the notification came through, his active status on your messaging app turned a dull shade of grey, signaling that he was offline. With a heavy sigh, you set your phone down gently on the wooden surface of your desk. Your gaze drifted upward to the ceiling, your mind was racing with thoughts and emotions that felt almost too overwhelming to grasp.

Tomorrow was gonna be a chaotic day – you were going to witness him step into the ring against the renowned boxer Ryomen Sukuna, a name that sent shivers through the boxing community. The excitement of the upcoming match sent jolts of adrenaline through you, but it was the promise of heading to his private café afterward that had your heart racing even more. It felt surreal to be honest. The quiet moments you would share following the chaos of the fight lingered in your mind, a warm contrast to the impending action.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that so much to unfold in just twenty-four hours. Every scenario played out like a movie reel in your head, each thought amplifying your anxiety and excitement. It kept you tossing and turning in your bed as you tried to sleep.

————————

The annoying beeping sound of your alarm clock jolted you awake, piercing through the haze of barely any sleep you had managed to scrape together. You rubbed your eyes, the weight of tiredness pressing down on you as you fought the urge to sink back into the comfort of your bed, which almost made you give up. With a sigh, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and pushed yourself up. 

The cool air hit your skin as you padded to the bathroom, where the warm, cascading water of the shower offered much to wake you up. As the steam enveloped you, the warmth worked its magic, easing some of the tension from your shoulders and helping to wash away the remnants of sleep. After what felt like an age spent under the soothing flow, you finally stepped out and dried off, feeling a bit more alert.

Choosing your outfit for the day, you reached for a simple, white shirt, pairing it with sleek black pants that added a touch of effortless to your look. The ensemble was understated yet polished, perfect for whatever the day might throw at you. 

By the time the clock struck 7:30 am, your phone buzzed with a familiar ping. It was Gojo again, checking in:

“Don’t keep me waiting, dove..hope to see you in the crowd in a few minutes! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)”

You sighed and shook your head, those emojis are really making his chatting style unique and silly in its own way. You finished eating the toast and made your way to the building the boxing match will take place in.

You managed to arrive on time, squeezing through the crowd to sit down at your designated seat. You’re lucky that you got a seat to the front, all thanks to him.

After waiting for a few minutes, you saw Gojo making his way inside the ring, along with Sukuna, his opponent for the match. Gojo immediately caught your eye, he was wearing his boxing gloves and navy blue shorts. He was already pretty sweaty, probably was warming up before the match started.

The referee stood in the center of the arena, his gaze sweeping over the crowd before he raised the whistle to his lips. After a tense few minutes of anticipation, he finally blew the whistle, signaling the official start of the game. A wave of excitement surged through you as you cheered for Gojo, your heart filled with hope that he could emerge victorious against Sukuna, who was also strong.

Each time Gojo took a hit, you flinched, your pulse quickening in response to the intensity of the match. You felt a knot of anxiety tighten in your stomach, making it almost unbearable to watch the fierce exchanges unfolding in front of you. The stakes felt incredibly high, and every blow landed sent a shockwave of worry through you, leaving you torn between the desire to support Gojo and the impulse to look away from the brutal match.

As the final rounds ticked away, the intensity of the boxing match reached its peak. The atmosphere was tense, the crowd roaring with anticipation. You glanced over at Gojo, his body covered in bruises. He was bent forward, chest heaving as he gasped for breath, the sweat glistening on his forehead under the bright lights of the venue.

Finally, the referee stepped forward, his expression grave yet authoritative. With a decisive motion, he raised Gojo's hand high above his head. The moment felt suspended in time as the crowd erupted into cheers, full of excitement and relief echoing all around. Gojo had done it—against all odds, he had won! The validation of his hard work and determination washed over you as you watched him bask in the glory of victory, a smile breaking through the exhaustion plastered on his face. He had won; he had actually won!

As the medical team started treating him, you felt a surge of excitement as you made your way towards him. You wanted to share your congratulations on his impressive victory in the match. 

Just as you were about to reach him, you were jolted out of your thoughts when someone abruptly bumped into you. Startled, you looked up, and to your surprise, you found yourself face-to-face with Sukuna, the same guy Gojo fought with just now. His intense gaze right at you, and the tension in the air shifted as you processed who he was. Your mind raced, why do you keep bumping into men?!

“Watch where you’re going, my body is still sore, brat.” He said, quite annoyed at you.

“Oh I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to purposely bump into you! Did I hit some of your injuries? Like here?” You instinctively started apologizing while trying to make sure you didn’t make his injuries worse, putting your hands on his body.

As you were doing that, Gojo finished getting all bandaged up. He was looking around the venue, and saw you, but you weren’t alone. You were interacting with a guy, what’s worse is it was his fellow long time opponent. Ryomen Sukuna.

The water bottle he was holding was crunched brutally with his grip intensing.

Fuck, what is he feeling right now? Is this—

—Jealousy?

———————-

YeonaYearns 2025, do not repost on any platforms.

——————

Tag list:

@not-aya @kur0mii3

(feel free to request to be added to the tag list!)

[st4rd0lly]

ＴＯＮＧＵＥＳ ＆ ＴＥＥＴＨ —

CONTENT WARNING : this fic series will contain DARK content , smut , age gap (reader is mid-late 20s while Nikolai is in his 30s) , probably inaccurate detective work descriptions , and religious themes. this does not follow canon and it is a non ability AU

chapter warnings : suggestive themes (angry sex gets mentioned once) ; firearm

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 : 𝐖𝐇𝐎 ?

A detective.

That’s what you are.

Or well, that’s what you were. You had left that life behind you, swore on it. You weren’t a terrible detective by any means, quite the opposite. You were notably the smartest detective in your city. Sharp and witty, reliable and smart. That’s what you prided yourself on. But with making bigger shoes, you made yourself nearly look like a clown when you stepped out of them. All it took was one case, one case to make you step down.

And like that, you were out of the game.

With no interest to push yourself forward in your career, you sidelined yourself much to everyone’s dismay. You had people relying on you, people who needed you. But a normal life is what you desired after what felt like an action film that lasted forever. It’s what you deserved.

You didn’t lose all that much like you expected though. People still respected you for what you did, your ex-coworkers still treated you like their own, they still come to you for advice and you gave them your best. You became a mentor for younger detectives, a rowdy but loveable group who wanted to follow your footsteps.

You were content with the life you led. All trauma considered, you’d say you’re doing pretty solid for what you’ve been through going through cases.

You were happy for once, you were content with this domestic life you’ve made for yourself. 

"Someone tells me you’re sick of old games. Let’s play a new one. =)"

You repeated the note left on your window to your ex-work partner, Mikhail, on the phone. Staring at it with furrowed brows, you cursed to yourself. "I quit this shit for a fucking reason." With a groan, you slam yourself back down on the couch. 

"Did you check security cameras?" Mikhail questioned, groaning along with you. He’s been by your side since your guys’ first day together, two peas in a pod. You still remember the days where you were just young rookies together. You guys weren’t Sherlock Holmes and Watson by any means, but some might argue that your dynamic duo could come close.

Your face fell into a deadpanned expression, "You really think I wouldn’t?"

"Hey, I’m just trying to make sure we covered all bases. But knowing you, you probably already did that so I guess it was a stupid question— which is besides the point though." You could tell that he was just at a lost as you are.

"Misha, I wanted to leave this stuff behind me." You said, a little more solemnly than you’d liked to admit. "I thought after I faded out in the system for a bit, things would be okay for me. Sure, we’ve made our enemies—"

"You especially."

"Yes, me especially. But I know that most of them are in prison and the others are respectable enough to do this stuff to my face instead of… whatever the fuck that is. I wanted out."

"And you will be out. One day, I promise you." Mikhail reassures, his usual lighthearted tone softening. "Do you think it could be the same guy from our last case together?" He asks.

And you wished you had an answer. The last case you ever took on as an official detective left you in pieces that you’re still trying to pick up to this day. There were too many missing factors but so many were coming to a horrific realization. There were no hints one moment and then the next, there were. Each step closer you thought you took, set you 10 paces back with little time to catch up. That case had flipped your life upside down and around. Like some sick cycle. 

If it was the same bastard behind that case, you were sure that the old you would’ve jumped at the chance.

But you aren’t the person you were in the past, and you haven’t been for a long time.

Maybe this was exactly what the guy wanted, what they came here for. To wait for things to get calm till they could hit hard again. Or maybe, there was a chance that this note could’ve come from a new, completely different person. Someone who wanted to take out an old big shot to make themselves look even bigger. There was just too many open spaces with a huge gap of no information. It could be anything from anyone.

"I don’t know Misha, with the little to no info right now… it literally could be anyone." You admitted, not trying to even hide the defeat in your voice. Your brain searching, scanning, and recalling for anyone that stood out to you in your life. Someone who would mess with you like this, taunting from afar. It hits you like cold water in the morning. "Oh my god. What if it’s my ex?"

"You think you got yourself caught up in like a weird crazy ex revenge situation? What was the guy’s name again?" Mikhail questioned.

"Nikolai. Nikolai Gogol." You responded, rubbing at your temple. Fuck, if it really was Nikolai…

But that was so long ago, way before your last case. And that relationship was never going to last, the both of you knew that. You wanted different things, you two were different…it wouldn’t have worked out. Maybe he wanted Bonnie and Clyde, turn you away from the so called righteousness and justice that is detective work. Live out a life of crime. You never were aware of what he did for work, you were able to tell it was dangerous. And maybe in another life, he was able make you his Bonnie. 

You made sure that this wasn’t that life.

Thinking back to all the times you’ve spent with him makes your heart has plunge into your stomach. You were aware that he wasn’t the greatest person to date. You said through heated kisses and angry sex that it was just the rush, the thrill of it all in the relationship you had with him that kept you around. Each time he could only laugh in your face. All his talk about freedom definitely added a new perspective to your life, but it was so extreme. 

And oddly enough when you wanted to end it, he was very much less than pleased even though that’s all he’s ever wanted. To be free. He’s a walking contradiction though and he left your life without a trace. You refused to look back.

It wouldn’t make sense to mess up your life now.

….

When did he ever make sense?

"I’ll check in with the database, see what I can scoop up on him." Mikhail attempts to reassure you, though it does little to soothe your thoughts. He never knew about the complexity of your relationship with Nikolai. Just that it was strange. He didn’t know how dangerous he was.

But you weren’t about to tell him right now, not while it felt like someone was watching you. "Okay…"

"Did you ask your neighbors if they saw anything? What about that one neighbor across from you?" Mikhail suggested. "Take a picture of the note and I’ll drop by with some of the team by your place so we can investigate more. Better to not tamper with evidence so just use the picture to show your neighbors."

"Okay, yeah I’ll do that." You agreed, it wasn’t a bad idea. "Thank you Misha."

"I’ll be there in about fifteen. Go chat with your neighbors. Don’t die."

"Trying not to." You chuckled, hanging up the phone. You stood back up from the couch, looking at the window with disdain. The note was still there, staring back at you. Though you knew nothing was confirmed, you tried to find any hints of Nikolai’s presence. The only thing sticking out to you was the smiley, and that wouldn’t be viable evidence of anything. You shook your head, opening the camera app on your phone and snapping a picture. 

Now  that was done and over with. Time to talk to your neighbor.

Your neighbor was a relatively tall and attractive man you would say. You’ve never talked to him before, only seeing him for a brief moment when you walk to your car or when he goes out. Your window allows you a somewhat good view outside. Though you could also say that his appearance did make him stand out too. 

Tossing on a jacket, you hoped your neighbor wouldn’t judge too hard if you were in your pajamas. It was still early in the morning when you woke up to that note. 

You bite your tongue, you shouldn’t leave the house unarmed. Taking a quick trip back to your room, you put on your belt that you wear to do your mentor work. The one that’s meant to hold your firearm. You grab your gun in your drawer to put in your holster.

You opened the door, shivering a bit as the cool air hits your skin and hugged yourself tighter. Whoever put that note there must be really motivated to mess with you because who on earth would put a stupid note on a window when it’s this cold?

Taking a couple of steps towards his door, you placed a firm knock. You really hoped he was here. It would be an even shittier day if he wasn’t and you were waiting out in the cold longer than you needed to be. But thankfully, the door opens.

"May I help you?" The rich Russian accent caught you off guard, making you blink in surprise. You weren’t sure what to expect when he did speak but it wasn’t that. 

You gave the man an apologetic smile, "Hi I’m so sorry to bother you early this morning but I was wondering if you had heard anything strange late at night or earlier in the morning? Or if you had seen anything weird?"

The man looks down at you for a moment and you could tell he was studying you. His eyes were probably the most vibrant shade of a deep purple hue that you had ever seen before. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, he had a good poker face you had to admit. He only tilts his head to the side, looking concerned. "I had not heard anything out of the ordinary. I usually am not here all that often because of work, but when I am here, I like to stay in my bedroom and rest."

He sounded genuine, and he definitely looked genuine. But those years you’ve spent as a detective grew your skills, and you’ve kept them sharp. You wouldn’t have been earnestly praised highly as a detective if you weren’t good at catching onto the small things. A blessing and a curse. There was something off about this neighbor of yours that you couldn’t place your finger on.

You couldn’t let him know that though, so you only shook your head again and waved your hand. "Ah, I’m so sorry again then. There was just a note left on my window and I was just wondering if anyone saw anything. It’s okay, thank you for your time."

"That sounds terrible, forgive me if I’m overstepping but are you certain it wasn’t your roommate playing some sort of prank?"

……

You could feel the gears in your head pause abruptly. You blink at him in confusion.

Roommate? 

"I don’t have a roommate?" You clarified, raising a brow at his comment. But he only reciprocates your confused expression.

"Is that so? I was sure you did. There was this man I’ve seen at your place before quite often whenever I’m here." He tells you, and your mind goes into a frenzy. What the fuck was he talking about? Was he talking about Mikhail? 

"I’m sorry, could you explain more?" You kept your tone polite, and it was obvious you weren’t expecting this. You were too distracted by the thoughts swirling in your head that you didn’t realize that you were shaking a bit from the weather.

"Here, you should come inside. I have some tea prepared for myself but there’s enough to share. I’ll tell you what I know. Part of it is that it’s bad manners to keep a guest outside in the cold." He opens the door more, stepping out of the way. 

Jesus, you really did want to stop being dragged into these games.

[yellowbunnydreams]

Bunny Ears (Part 20) ~William Afton X F! Reader~

~Fluffy husband is always welcome! He's so dorky in this chapter it's almost cringy but we all need some golden-retriever Henry Emily in our life too. Sorry it took so long to write, I was really struggling with some writers block for a while so I apologise for any issues with the flow~

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* Want more or something different? *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tag List: @ruh--roh-raggy @h4nluv @sleepy---head @do-double-g @confiscated-peaches-main @dij-ology @viviennemuerte @robin-the-enby @shari-berri @randymeeksisafinalgirl @hallow1090 @aponia-yue @likoplays @dilflover-3 @oak-leafs @phd-in-fuckery @weirdoartist21 @nicolezghostz @fauine @emmbny

Sorry if I missed you on the tag-list!

CW: Minors DNI, (18+ ONLY), Female Reader, legal age gap (Reader- 20's, William - 30's), divorce/processing divorce, Afton being a sarcastic hot ass, grumpy x sunshine . Faz-Fuck TM

The sweet smell of something syrupy and sugar, fruit hidden beneath it, filled your nose in the morning. Turning over in the large bed, your hand reached out for William only to find the mattress cool beneath your fingertips and making your eyes snap open as sit up. Wincing slightly as your body twinged unhappily and you blinked away the last of the sleep clinging to your eyes before your legs slipped out of the bed and padded barefoot across the cool wooden floor.

The space looked so different in the daylight, a window built into the slanted roof opposite the bed let in a lot of natural light, chiffon curtains fluttering in the slight breeze as you realised it was open. His bedding was black sheets with a blue comforter and black pillows, a stark contrast to the pale walls and matching the dark wood of the furniture around the place. It weirdly felt appropriate that William straddled the line between open and airy space with darker elements.

Your footsteps were silent as you pressed on through the house, coming to the old stairs and pulling down William's t-shirt around your body before you reached the bottom. Hearing humming coming from the kitchen, you managed to peek your head around the corner and smiled as you saw his broad back to you. Still wearing those sweatpants that he'd pulled on last night, but clearly focused on cooking as he partly turned to grab something from the counter, his sharp features looking handsome in the soft lighting as his greying stubble made his cheeks look a little more hollow. His salt and pepper hair messy like he'd just woken up, squinting as you realised that this was the first time you were properly seeing him without his glasses.

"Welll good morning handsome." You called sleepily, watching as he practically jumped out of his skin and hissed as the distinct sound of somebody slamming their foot directly into the nearest solid surface was only just covered by the sharp intake of breath. Your hands flying to cover your mouth as you gasped too even though you were completely safe. "Oh my gosh, I'm so so sorry!"

"You're alright bunny, I didn't see you there." He laughed, crouching down to inspect any damage, more to his kitchen than himself before standing up tall once again and gently padding his way around the counter, his thick arms wrapped around you and holding you closely in a warm hug.

"How's my cute little superstar doing this morning?" He asked, kissing the top of your head as your arms wrapped around him in kind.

"Superstar? And I'm good...sore but good." Feeling him squeeze you tighter as he pulled back and inspected you with a frown, squinting in what looked like a slightly accusatory fashion.

"Bunny, baby-girl, you should have lead with that!" He began to ramble slightly as he focused on you, holding onto your shoulders and stroking his thumb over the curve of the joint appreciately as he seemed to tune you out almost in his slight panic.

"Will-"

" I'm sorry you're sore if I went too hard last night say and we don't have to do that again! Gosh I'm so stupid, I should have given you aftercare and made sure..no maybe I should have prepped you more-" Your own brows raised in slight amusement as you looked up at him, head cocked to one side as his voice slipped into that deep gravel.

"William."

"I am such a fool, an old fool! Bunny please can y-"

"WILLIAM AFTON." You finally broke through to him as he seemed to jolt at the use of his full name. Tensing before your hands reached up and cupped his cheeks lightly, thumbs stroking them over his stubbled cheeks and feeling him relaxing, torn from his little concerned spiral.

"William Afton, I love you. And last night was beautiful, and I wouldn't change it for the world, you hear me?" Watching his expression soften as you spoke,

"I do bunny...sorry I just..I wanted it to be special and I wanted to make you breakfast in bed and bring it up to you because you're special to me..I love you too."

"Good, now you've stopped panicking...is it bad timing to mention whatever you're cooking is burning?" Looking over his shoulder and towards the pan that was producing a little black smoke and smelt acrid, making William snap his head around and release you as he sprinted to the stovetop, swearing profusely as you dissolved into laughter over the whole situation.

If it was any indication as to what mornings were like in the Afton household, you were certain that you could live with that for the rest of your life.

It took William about another hour to clean up breakfast, or rather the cremated remains of the original breakfast plan and then to make some pancake batter, making sure that you had heaps of syrup, butter and cream on your pancakes that he even cheesily poured into a little heart shape.

It was entirely silly, but it was so cute that it made you smile even as you tucked in. Moaning at the taste on your tongue and William occasionally stealing bites from your fork and you from his as in the morning light, you both felt that playful spark passing between you. The cuteness of the morning suddenly broken by the telephone on his kitchen wall which had escaped your notice the night before ringing, William rolled his eyes and stood up, cracking his back before he picked up the reciever and crossed his broad arms across his chest, pressing a button on the wall unit so you could hear the full conversation.

"Morning to you Henry."

"Good morning Wil- Hey, how did you know it was me?" You stifled a giggle around a mouthful of pancake as William rolled his eyes again and rubbed his hand over his face.

"It's always you, the telemarketers don't even call this early anymore." William sighed before leaning against the wall, giving you a playful wink as he spoke to your mutual friend. "Anyway, you're not just calling for fun are you?"

"No, right! Yes... The reason I called!" You nearly choked as you could hear the mild confusion in Henry's voice before returning to it's naturally chipper state, probably forgetting why he was confused in the first place. "The reason I called is that I really need you to come in Will."

"It's my day off."

"Yes, I know I know, but one of the arcades isn't acting right and it's spitting out tickets when it's hitting low scores and nothing on the jackpot."

"Is it a One-Dee-Aye-Zero-Tee error?" He asked, taking a moment before you realised what he spelt and trying not to laugh even more as William gave you that confident smirk again that made your chest tighten up.

"No? You know I'm not familiar with all the error codes like you are! Please, please just come in for half an hour?"

"I uh...I would love to Henry but I genuinely can't." He replied, looking suddenly slightly sheepish as he moved his weight from one leg to the other, making you raise an eyebrow and point to yourself. William simply made a non-commital motion in return.

"Why? Wills if this is about your little guest that I presume is still there, just bring her along and I'll pay both of you for the day!"

"I can't drive, Henry."

There was a pregnant pause as you looked at the taller, older man with a furrowed brow and confusion written over your expression. Watching as even through the stubble you could see his cheeks flushing red and practically hear the gears of Henry's mind turning.

"Damn Will, I mean..did you like...break... it? Cause uh...wow that's mildly impressive almost if she-"

"No. No! God, no! Nothing like that!" William rubbed his hand over his face as he turned even more sheepish looking and could barely look in your direction as he tried to mumble something into the phone, only making you raise your eyebrows again. You could just hear Henry through the phone asking him to speak up however, clearly struggling to understand his friend as he tried to be discreet before William got frustrated and spoke loudly again.

"Look, I broke my damn glasses last night okay? I'm blind as fuck right now." You blinked in surprise as you vaugely recalled William throwing his glasses as they fogged up and bursting into uncontrolled giggled. Trying to clamp your hands over your mouth as you recieved a squinting death glare from your boyfriend as Henry spoke up again.

"You....How? Wait no, I don't want to know! But I do...but...how? How do you even???..." confusion evident in his voice as you tried and failed to stop your laughter.

"Look so I can try to get in but-"

"OH MY GOD IF YOU BROKE YOUR GLASSES WHAT DID SHE BREAK?!" you were unable to hide it as you burst out laughing, hearing Henry calling your name panickedly through the crackle of the telephone. "SPEAK TO ME, IF YOU NEED MEDICAL ASSISTANCE SAY 'PINEAP-"

William slammed the phone down on his friend as you looked at each other and burst out laughing again after a moment. Jokingly holding up some fingers and asking how many there were before William flipped you off and came over to kiss you, humming against your lips as he smiled into your laughter.

~~

"Bunny, we're going to be late." William laughed as he poked his head around the door to his room, looking at you sat on his bed and turning up the cuffs of the jeans he had leant you so that they wouldn't drag on the floor. He had had to lend you clothes for the day since you certainly weren't being let into Freddy's wearing that cute little dress from the night before, but his jeans drowned you even with one of his belts as tight it would go and a flannel shirt over a t-shirt.

You looked like you were a kid playing dress-up, but William simply smiled and padded over to you, wrapping his arms around you as he carefully tucked and adjusted the flannel to sit a little better on your much smaller frame.

"You look very cute though." Grinning as compared to his own lazy black t-shirt, opened pale yellow plaid shirt and jeans, you looked like a mini-him. Sticking your tongue out slightly as you shook your head.

"I look like a kid."

"No, you look like my beautiful bunny," He chastised playfully, giving you a slightly squinty smile as you noticed the bulge of his glasses tucked into his top pocket. It had admittedly been quite amusing when he revealed that they were really broken, one lens popped out and cracked so even if he could force it back into the frame, the vision would still be way off. You didn't remember him throwing it that hard the night before, but you supposed that you were focused on a lot more intense things instead.

"You're always going to say that, you love me." Rolling your eyes and watching as William raised an eyebrow before giving you a stern look and tutting through his teeth.

"I do love you, and here I thought you were a good girl."

"I am!"

"Good girls don't act like brats, they accept when their boyfriend says they're cute." Chuckling as he held your hand and kissed your forehead, humming against your skin before squeezing your hand and looking at you sheepishly again. "Although...I do need to ask a really big favour."

Crossing your arms after a moment, even in his squinty state, you looked all too cute and not in the least bit intimidating. Afton blinked and gave you that lopsided smile that made you melt, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close as he put his chin on your head. Breathing in and realising with a pang of both sadness and comfort that you smelled a little like his cologne as well as your own sweet perfume.

"I need you to drive us to work," He asked quietly, nuzzling into your shoulder as he dropped his head down, feeling you gently shake yours. "Please, I know you have a drivers licence."

"William..." You whined, feeling him turn his head and begin to place scratching kisses against your sensitive skin on your neck, murmuring 'please' against you between each one that made you think back to each delicious kiss the night before, groaning softly as you cradled the back of his head. "You're not playing fairly kissing me like that."

"You'll learn I don't always play fairly, bunny. Pretty please? I promise I'll take you to breakfast afterwards." Hearing the almost childish whine to his voice, you shook your head and laughed, carefully bringing his head up and kissing him as you looked at your handsome, older boyfriend and boss pouting like he hadn't gotten the candy he wanted.

"We've had breakfast, Will, both cremated and edible.

"Then I'll treat my pretty little bunny to ice-cream and cake and all the attention I can humanly lavish upon you?"

"Fine, twist my arm then. You're showing me how the hell to drive your car, and I'm not responsible for any scratches or paint work damage!" Kissing him again before taking his hand and walking down the stairs together, William holding your hand tightly and glad for the excuse that he could keep holding it for just a little bit longer.

~~

Driving through the small town and towards Freddy's whilst trying not to crash in William Afton's car that you definitely could not afford to replace, and you really hoped no cops pulled you over to ask for your registration details, was more stressful than you could have ever wanted to experience. Sure, you had a driving licence, but you didn't own a car and you were sure that the last time you had actually driven a vehicle was during your driving exam. But Afton had made it as comfortable for you as possible, and even allowed you to get out a block down from Freddy's and walk, since you both agreed that you weren't sure it was quite time to tell people about your relationship.

It felt strange, being inside the pizzeria without your uniform on now, and you called back to your first time arriving there, how nervous you had felt and how overwhelming the bright lights, colours and noise was. Now it felt strangely like home, like it really was a place where fantasy and fun could come to life.

Stacey wrapped you up in a bear hug once you got in, taking you slightly by surprise as you watched William slip in and through to the back hall to get his tool kit to fix the arcade, moving slower than normal to avoid earning an additional moniker to 'Wiffle Bat Willy' by punting a child in his blind state.

"Oh, em, gee! You're here on you're day off! Mr. Emily said you were sick on Friday and went home early and I was so worried!" The young woman gushed as she held you close and then at arms length, raising her eyebrow as you realised she had finally noticed what you were wearing. "And this...honestly isn't what I thought you would have as a personal style."

"Gee, thanks for your total vote of confidence!" You laughed, making your work friend laugh too as you shook your head. "It was what was clean and available." Not a total lie.

"Girl, stick a...darn...wash on, wear a skirt or something, god knows I would if I could right now!" Rolling your eyes at her statement, you looked over her shoulder at the groups of children running around carrying paper cups filled with half-strength sodas and hyper from pizza grease and carpet candy, raising your eyebrow as she followed your line of sight.

"Are you sure you want to keep to that statement?"

"On second thoughts, I have enough stains to get out of my clothes without having to scrub my legs raw to get off fizzy-Faz."

"Come on, find me a seat and I'll get a drink or something, I have to hang out for a bit anyway." It was Stacey's turn to raise an eyebrow now as you blushed, wondering if you had given too much away before she looked at the already blazing sunshine outside and sighed.

"Yeah, you don't want to be out there at the moment unless you're in some air conditioned car or bus. Come on, let's get you a table and I'll even get you a colouring sheet if you play nicely with the other kids!"

"Ha-ha, very funny." Ribbing her playfully in the ribs as you managed to snag a seat by the stage, prime real estate at Freddy's, and had a good view of the arcade, where you could see Will knelt on the floor and opening the back of a machine that had the 'out of order' panel placed over the screen.

"Oh look, you get a great view of Afton too!" Stacey laughed, making you blush more and smacking her arm as she retreated to just out of your reach. Cackling as she clearly enjoyed teasing you about what she presumed was a crush on your boss. "He's rubbing off on you too, that looks like one of his shirts."

You weren't sure how much hotter your cheeks could get as she disappeared to continue working, leaving you to sit and wait with your day dreams about what you would rather be doing as William Afton glanced over and gave you a soft smile that made you melt all over again.

[castlecrumb]

DARLING DIVA

Chapter 1: Return

WITH HEELS CLICKING VEHEMENTLY, a woman who looked to be in her early 20's couldn't help but purse her lips. There was not a soul in sight, other than the severed head of a human dangling from her belt. It had been a little while since she was here, about 300 years to be exact, yet not a single thing about this place had changed.

At least it doesn't look any.. uglier than before, she thought to herself. The place she had found herself casually strolling through was none other than her father's domain, the Infinity Castle.

"Asuna."

A smile finally formed over the frown she was carrying, but she wanted to have a little bit of fun. She didn't turn to face the voice, instead choosing to look at her darling diamond-encrusted nails.

"I was expecting a little more than just plain silence upon my arrival back home," she pouted, "are you really that afraid I'll break your little covenant of demons that serve under you?"

When she didn't hear a response, she decided it was worth pushing her luck even the tiniest bit.

"I'm surprised they haven't dropped dead. Like a certain someone here—"

"Asuna."

She felt the burning sensation run through her veins, though it didn't bother her one bit. She finally turned around to face the voice, the solid gold bangles on her arms clinking against one another as she did so.

"I would say it's great to see you, Father," she quickly frowned, "but we both know you're not a sight worth seeing."

"It makes life much more bearable now that you've finally grown up," he commented blandly, "much better than the foolish child you used to be."

"I am simply what you've made me," she scoffed, "you can stop with your bloody defensiveness, it's getting annoying."

The male quickly retracted the flesh-eating cells from her body, realizing his mistake.

"Asuna—"

"Yes, you're sorry for that. You can't control your anger sometimes. And you've missed this darling daughter of yours that is now a renowned Princess," she interrupted, twirling a loose strand of her cloudy white hair, "I've missed you too."

The two didn't need to say anything else, her father held a knowing smirk on his face. His darling diva of a daughter was finally home, and she held the reins exactly as he'd hoped she would.

______________________

"Huh? An Uppermoon meeting? Did one of us perish?" Gyokko, the current Uppermoon 5 muttered as he scanned the castle.

He looked over to see Uppermoon 4, Hantengu shivering as he realized he was teleported directly in the center of an open-spaced platform.

"Onii-chan!" a high pitched voice wailed, "Why were we summoned? I was just about to have a yummy meal!"

"Don't complain here, there's obviously something important he wants to tell us," another voice replied sharply.

The siblings, Uppermoon 6, Gyutaro and Daki.

They were still very much alive, which got Gyokko wondering, none of the top three were defeated.. were they?

"Oh my, this place is as majestic as I remember. I'm so glad you're all alive~"

Gyokko turned his attention to the overly jolly voice he had grown to dislike. Uppermoon 2, Douma.

"Especially you, Akaza. Ever since the blood battle, I was worried you would grow too weak. I'm glad to see that's not the case!"

H-how– Gyokko gasped. He hadn't even sensed the demon before he appeared not far from where he stood. All the demons were here, except for Uppermoon 1.

"It couldn't be, he wasn't the one to die was he?" Gyokko muttered.

"I have been here the whole time," a low voice erupted, shaking parts of the castle itself. Uppermoon 1, Kokushibo, was sitting calmly in one of the floating rooms.

"Muzan-sama has arrived."

A surge of energy rippled throughout the whole castle, sending all the Uppermoons chills down their spines. They stayed in their places but had given all their attention to the progenitor of demons.

He stood before them with a domineering glare, but something seemed slightly different about him. It was like he wasn't as furious as he usually was during their other meetings.

"I have an announcement for you all regarding the power hierarchy," Muzan spoke, his voice penetrating nearly the entire infinity fortress itself, "We have a member that has yet to be recognized amongst the newer demons."

This declaration caused many of the demons in the room to stir in confused anticipation.

"Who could this new member be? We haven't had a blood battle in quite some time, well, ever since I had mine with Akaza.~" Douma chirped in, leaning from side to side. Akaza let out an annoyed scoff in response.

"Who could it be? I haven't heard of any new members to the 12 Kizuki," Gyokko muttered.

"This is what we're working with?"

The attention of all the Uppermoons suddenly moved to the voice, shocking nearly all of them at the fact that they didn't sense the newcomer. All of them except for one.

"I knew the others weren't going to last this long."

The Uppermoons found themselves staring at a young woman. She had striking white hair as pale as snow and was wearing a long victorian-styled dress. She had long hoops dangling from her ears and her wrists were covered in gold bracelets of all sorts. Her nails were glimmering with what looked to be diamonds.

She dressed similar to that of a foreigner, but her accent was fluid and natural. What baffled the demons the most were her eyes, they were nearly identical to those of their master— blood red with a black slit in the center.

"Children, a fish, a wart, a priest, a brawler, and a demon slayer," she murmured, "you certainly have interesting taste, progenitor of demons."

Perhaps most shocking was their master's response to her clear tauntings.

He began to laugh.

Having never seen any other side of their master, their curiosity only grew. Who was this woman fearlessly insulting their master, and to make matters more confusing, causing him to laugh?

Uppermoon 1 suddenly appeared before her, bowing his head and prostrating himself perfectly.

"I am pleased to see you've made it," he stated, voice husky yet unwavering. A grin spread over her features as she lifted up her heel.

She then placed her heel right against Kokushibo's shoulder, staring disdainfully at the rest of the Uppermoons.

"This was not the warm welcome I was expecting," she spoke dryly, "Though I'm not surprised, you're all weak."

At her comment, the rest of the Uppermoons momentarily forgot they were in the presence of their master.

"What?! How dare you!" Daki shouted, more than ready to pierce the woman with her obi.

"Oi oi, we got a troublemaker here," Gyutaro sneered, annoyed at the beauty of this woman in comparison to his sister.

"Weak? This beautiful body of mine?" Gyokko gasped defensively.

"I.. I am weak.. But how could you..?" Hantengu muttered tearfully.

The other two kept their composure, noticing the reaction of Uppermoon 1 and how he continued to allow this woman to lay her heel upon his shoulder.

"Silence."

Muzan's voice rang loud and clear, echoing across every wall of the castle. Instantly, every demon shut their mouth, attention quickly following that of their master's.

"Before you go about making fools of yourselves, prostrate your bodies and show some respect."

Dumbfounded, the demons had no other choice than to do as he instructed. They followed Kokushibo, bowing their heads to her. They had no idea who this woman was, and it mildly hurt their pride bowing to someone they knew nothing about.

The white haired female removed her heel and bent down to look Kokushibo in the eye, gently placing her hand against his cheek. Then suddenly she sent a harsh slap across his face. The sound reverberated throughout the room, and it was deafening.

"Mm.. much better, you're much prettier when you're flushed Shibo."

The other uppermoons gasped, refusing to say anything more in fear of incurring their master's wrath. Finally, Muzan decided the games were over. He was amused and certainly in a better mood than usual. He decided that he had tormented his servants enough.

"The woman you find yourselves in the presence of is Uppermoon 0."

Uppermoon 0..? The demons trembled, questions flying through their minds.

"Asuna Kibutsuji, my daughter."

[sissy-the-siren]

Borderlands: Debt or Alive

"You seem to misunderstand who you're talking to," I growled. "We did this to save you. We're the good guys." "Funny," Fittzwiggins said, a cruel smile curling his lip. "I seem to remember one Handsome Jack saying much the same thing."

Things I was expecting from Borderlands: Debt or Alive--my girls, guns, and fun.

Things I got from Borderlands: Debt or Alive--my girls, guns, fun, Rhysha goodness, Fiona being Very Gay, existential crises, and class revolution.

A solid entry into the Borderlands universe, Anthony Burch doesn't disappoint, returning with the same wit and charm to his writing that made me fall in love with Borderlands 2. Fast-paced and action-packed, this isn't your standard novel and reads almost like a movie script, but it's so much fun, and, well, so MUCH FUN!!!

(If you haven't played Borderlands 2 and Tales from the Borderlands, this book might not make much sense or be enjoyable for you, just a head's up.)

After running and gunning for so long, when con artist sisters Fiona and Sasha finally get their Big Break, they find themselves wallowing in apathy, missing...what, they're not quite sure, but whatever it is, it's preventing them from enjoying their new life of luxury. It only takes Sasha's second death, Fiona's first death, Deathtrap's destruction (don't worry, he gets rebuilt!), Gaige's torture (twice), and an uprising against Eden-5's uber wealthy Elite for them to figure it out, but they get there!

I was hoping--PRAYING--for some Rhysha goodness, and Burch more than delivered; in-between bouts of dealing with her own mortality and the cold realization that nothing awaits her after death, Sasha examines her life, where she's at, what her future holds, and where Rhys slots into it all. I've compiled the following list of Rhysha moments:

Chapter 1 p. 13-14 - Taking place during the last battle with the Guardian, Sasha reflects over the events of Tales, with an emphasis on how she developed feelings for Rhys (and vice versa), largely due to how loyal he was to his friends and the lengths he'd go to protect them. p. 16 - Sasha's death scene, where Rhys is sobbing uncontrollably (described as "heartbreak" by Fiona) and Sasha thinks to herself that he's "[d]umb as a rock" but that he has a "big heart".

Chapter 2 p. 20 - Fiona wonders if she's going to be stuck in the Vault forever while Rhys is free to go and hit on her sister. p. 25 - Sasha's eyes light up with joy, something they haven't done since they were kids--and, Fiona adds in a footnote, since Rhys started flirting with her (she tries not to think about that though). p. 27 - Sasha wishes for a Vaultlander collectible from the Vault, something she learned about from Rhys. He told her about them when she "accidentally brushed my hand against Rhys's arm and he got so nervous he wouldn't stop talking about these things for twenty minutes." Fiona tells her that she can do better, to which Sasha tells her to stop being "such a mom" and that Rhys is "a nice guy".

Chapter 4 p. 39 - The sisters discuss the Vaultlander, Rhys, and whether or not Rhys has ever taken his Vaultlander figures out to play with them (he told Sasha that he hasn't because they're a "sound financial and artistic investment"; the sisters both think he has though).

Chapter 6 p. 50-51 - NOT Rhysha related, but just one--and the most significant--of the many sections that screamed "FIONA LOVES WOMEN!!!!" to me. There is no hetero explanation for the amount of detail with which Fiona observes Holloway. NONE. Chapter 9 p. 71 - Sasha says that meeting Rhys couldn't have been for nothing. Chapter 10 p. 79 - Sasha is able to get a debt cuff off of Fiona because Rhys taught her how to hack. This comes in handy several times throughout the book. Chapter 15 p. 111 - Fiona notes that Sasha ECHOchats with Rhys almost every day. Chapter 16 p. 114-116 - Half of this chapter is Sasha talking to Rhys. Both admit that they miss each other, even if they're in a weird are-we-or-aren't-we place. Sasha thinks that Rhys is a kind, handsome himbo with ambition. Rhys blushes while saying she means a lot to him and Sasha realizes that she likes him. Chapter 31 p. 220-226 - Soooo much happens in these pages! The first thing that comes up is that Sasha notices the beginning of Rhys's mustache and that he's altered his voice. The tone turns serious when Rhys asks if he can call her his girlfriend, to which Sasha apologizes and says that she's not ready for that until she knows that she can promise him with certainty the future that he deserves. Rhys understands and is willing to do whatever is necessary as long as she's happy, to which Sasha admits to herself that she can see them being more--eventually. Things take a MORE serious turn when Rhys asks her how she's doing and Sasha tells him the truth--the full truth, which isn't something she normally would do, but feels comfortable doing so with Rhys because she cares about him and actually wants to let him in to her life. Rhys helps the sisters get back on track and renews their fighting spirits. Chapter 32 p. 227 - Fiona once against questions why Sasha is crushing on Rhys when his brilliant idea to disguise the guns he sent to them is by writing "Not Guns" on the pallets. Sasha says that his heart is in the right place, to which Fiona responds, "[w]here his brain should be." p. 228 - Sasha quotes Rhys ("Mustaches are a facial accoutrement that convey trustworthiness, masculinity, and culture without ever needing to leave the cozy confines of one's upper lip."), much to Fiona's horror, and when his parroted words succeed in swaying the secbot to let the "mustache wax" (pallets of guns) through, Sasha gets an air of "see-Rhys-can-be-useful-who-looks-silly-now" about her. Chapter 34 p. 237-242 - Taking up the bulk of this chapter, Fiona and Sasha argue over Sasha and her inability to make up her mind when it comes to whether or not she wants to be in a relationship with Rhys. Fiona points out that they're not living out of a caravan anymore, not constantly on the run, and that Rhys is a "decently handsome idiot who worships the ground you walk on", going so far to admit that she--Fiona--even likes him. She encourages Sasha to make a decision one way or the other--it's only fair to the both of them. Chapter 36 p. 255 - Fiona hands Sasha a note that Rhys handwrote for her that he sent with the gun shipment. A "big, dumb smile" appears on Sasha's face. Epilogue p. 308-309 - Fiona sends a text-only ECHOcomm to Rhys. Fiona thanks Rhys for everything he's done for her, and for being good to Sasha (of course, she follows up by saying that if he's ever NOT good to her, she'll hunt him down and fill his brain with bullets). She reluctantly congratulates him on officially being Sasha's "long-distance boyfriend".

…and there you have it! RHYSHA GOODNESS IN THE YEAR 2024 THANK YOU ANTHONY BURCH!!!!!

Even without all that Rhysha goodness, Debt or Alive is a solid book and a wild ride with plenty of love, laughs, and anarchy. (Side note: The sisters' last name is Dillon? Dillon?????)

[sparklypinkflightsuit]

Star Crossed: Chapter Five

Pairing: Detective David Loki x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Cheating, Intimacy Issues, Slow Burn, Sexual Themes, Smut, Investigative Inaccuracies. I think that’s it?

Summary: Loki can’t keep himself away from you.

- Chapter Four Here -

———————————

18+ only beyond this point

———————————————

The next few days, Loki promised himself he would try to keep away from you, and threw himself into his work.

The day after he spent the evening with you, he went to the golf course to question Melanie. She admitted to the emails, saying how Carter was this attractive older man who frequented the golf course, they struck up a relationship but it quickly faded and he stopped coming around. She said she hadn’t seen him in a few weeks and they’d ended things on sour terms.

Loki thanked Melanie and said he’d be in touch if he needed anything else.

He spent a few days trying to track down the women in the photos using Rodger’s facial recognition technology, and interviewed the few he could find, all of whom admitted to having a brief sexual relationship with Carter, but none knowing where he was or having seen him in some time.

Loki was quickly growing frustrated at the constant dead ends, and even more so that he hadn’t seen you in a few days.

Just as Loki was about to give up for the day and go home, he got a call from the forensics team leader, Marco.

“Marco, what have you found, give me some good news.” Loki asked, hopefully.

“Hey boss, we found three sets of prints in the vehicle. One is the fiancés, one we can only assume is Carters and the third belongs to a Mrs Taylor Johnson. She was booked in 3 years ago for shoplifting, nothing since then, but the address we have listed is 92 Fitzpatrick Way, might be worth checking there.” He confirmed.

“Marco, you’re the man. Thank you.” Loki hung up and left the station, he knew it was late but he had to follow this lead, as it was the only solid one he had in a while.

He drove the 20 minutes to 92 Fitzpatrick Way and pulled up outside the house. The lights were on inside and he could hear a man’s voice bellowing. “What did I fucking tell you about that goddamn console. Turn it off and come and eat your dinner!” The stern voice echoed.

“Fuckin’ A.” Loki sighed to himself, he knew this would be an awkward conversation.

He knocked sharply and heard the voice say “Who the fuck?” Before the door flew open. An angry man with a red face in a white tank top stood in the doorway.

“Can I help you?” He said.

Loki smiled and pulled out his badge, “Hello sir, I’m Detective David Loki from the Conyers Police Department, I’m hoping to speak to Mrs Taylor Johnson, does she still live here?”

“Yeah she still lives here. What’s this about?” The man asked angrily.

“We’re conducting a missing persons investigation sir, and we think she may be connected somehow. We have to rule out all possibilities. May I speak to her?”

“She’s not home right now, she went to visit her mothers for a few days.” He said, his anger calming down somewhat.

“Do you know when she will be back?” Loki asked.

“She didn’t say. Would you like me to call you when she’s back, Detective?” The man offered.

“Please.” Loki handed him his card. “Thank you sir, have a good rest of your evening.”

Loki left feeling slightly deflated, but at least this was something.

He went home and spent the night frustrated and bored, unable to take his mind off of you.

He thought about how your eyes lit up when you laughed, how you bit your lip when you were worried or nervous. Loki felt himself growing hard thinking about you biting your lip, and how good you felt against him when he kissed you. His breathing shuddered and his heart rate sped up as he tried to push the thoughts away, palming himself once over his trousers to relieve some of tension before he stood up and went to take a shower, hoping that would help.

Forcing himself to sleep that night was difficult, and when he eventually did, his dreams were plagued with you and Carter, happy together again, and Loki being discarded into the background. He woke up sweating the next morning, his mood worse than usual.

Loki went to work and tried to find what he could on Mrs Taylor Johnson.

He found that she was 25, married young and had 3 children with her husband, the man he had met yesterday. Her mother lived about an hour away in the next town and Loki had managed to find an address.

He drove to the little town and parked outside Mrs Johnson’s mothers house.

He knocked on the door and a woman opened it, looking surprised to see him.

“Hello ma’am, I’m looking for Taylor Johnson, her husband told me I might find her here?” Loki said, holding up his badge.

“Oh, she isn’t here. Is she missing?” Her mother asked, not overly surprised.

“No, no. Probably just a misunderstanding. Sorry to worry you ma’am.” He grunted and was about to walk away when she called him back.

“Officer! She might be with her boyfriend. I’m not sure how much her husband told you, but she’s been seeing someone else.” She said, looking ashamed for spilling her daughters secret.

“Do you know the boyfriends name, ma’am?” He asked, hands in his pockets as he turned around to face her.

“Yes sir, his name is Carter, can’t recall the last name.” She nodded.

“Thank you ma’am. That’s all I need for now. Have a good day.”

Climbing back into his car he sighed heavily. Still no sign of either of them but now at least he had a solid lead. Find Taylor and he’d find Carter.

Loki made the drive back to Conyers, his mind plagued with the idea that he’d lose you the moment he found Carter, but he knew he had a duty to uphold and had to do everything in power to find him. His mind raced and he kept thinking about the dream he had, we’re you were in Carters arms instead of his. Loki realised that was not something he was willing to deal with, so instead of heading to the station, he drove to your house.

He quickly closed the distance to your front door and knocked impatiently, blinking hard a few times.

You threw the door open, surprised to see Loki standing there.

“David-“ Loki grabbed you in his arms, pressing his lips against yours hungrily. You gripped his shirt in your fists and pulled him inside. Loki pushed the front door shut without breaking the kiss and pushed you up against the wall, a sudden desperation taking over.

He grabbed you by the back of your thighs and lifted you up so you could wrap your legs around him as he pinned you to the wall. His lips moved to your neck and he sucked marks into your skin. He groaned as his body moulded into yours against the cold living room wall. “David..” you whimpered.

“Hmmm?” He grunted, still kissing your neck.

“What happened to waiting?” You breathed, head thrown back against the wall as you savoured his lips against your jugular.

“Couldn’t stay away. Need you.” He mumbled, moving his lips back to yours. Your lips moved together passionately, as Loki ground his hips into yours.

Loki pushed harder against you to pin you up against the wall while he discarded his jacket and unbutton his shirt. You pushed his hands out of the way and took over unbuttoning for him. While you did this Loki lifted your dress up over your hips and tore the sides of your underwear so he could discard them. You gasped in surprise as you felt Loki’s hand on your bare ass, massaging you with strong fingers. You finished unbuttoning his shirt and tried to remove it, getting as far as his shoulders. Loki pulled the shirt off of his arms, leaving him bare chested in front of you.

You took a moment to admire him, his broad shoulders and toned muscles, how his chest was slightly hairy and how ruggedly handsome he looked, his eyes dark with lust.

Loki stared back at you in the same way, admiring how flushed and beautiful you looked, your pupils blown and panting against the wall.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked, leaning his forehead on yours.

“Don’t you dare.” You rasped. This spurred Loki on even more, and he pulled your dress up over your head and threw it on the floor. He kissed your neck and collarbone and made quick work of removing your bra. His left hand held you up by your ass and his right hand came up to palm your breast gently. You moaned loudly at the contact, and Loki connected his lips to yours again.

You snuck your arms inbetween your bodies and began to unbuckle and unzip his trousers, tucking them down as far as you could reach. Loki removed his hand from your breast to remove his trousers completely, and then kicked his underwear off.

You were both completely naked now, and completely vulnerable. Loki took a moment to admire you and gave you one last kiss before he put you back down on the ground.

“What are you doing?” You whined, hoping he hadn’t changed his mind.

He silently took one small step back, eyes never leaving yours, and sunk to his knees.

“Oh my god.” You breathed, not sure if you were ready for what was about to happen.

His big hands traced from your stomach down to your thighs and he pushed them apart slightly. He placed gentle kisses to your core before flattening his tongue against you and lapping up your growing wetness. Your fingers tangled in his hair as he lifted one of your legs over his shoulder.

“David, Jesus… where did you learn to do this?” You moaned.

He chuckled softly into you sending vibrations through your body, you gasped loudly. He continued this for several minutes before you gently tugged on his hair, pulling him away and to his feet.

“I need you.” You panted, “do you have any.. you know?”

David frowned, “No, spur of the moment kind of thing and it’s been a while.” He admitted, standing in front of you as he peppered kisses along your neck and face.

“Ok, I’m clean, and I’m still on the pill, if you want to-“ you were cut off by Loki scooping you up in his arms and carrying you to the bedroom. He laid you down gently on the bed, his demeanour changing from rough and desperate to gentle and loving. He took each movement slowly, making eye contact with you where possible.

He climbed on top of you and cupped your cheek gently. “Are you sure?” He asked. You nodded. Loki gently spread your legs and positioned himself. Slowly, inch by inch, he pushed himself into you, moaning softly as he did so. The arm propping himself up over you, bulging and veiny, turning you on even more. The stretch of him fully seated inside you caused you to moan loudly. Loki gave you a worried look but you smiled back at him and encouraged him to move.

He slowly pulled out and back in again, finding a rhythm. His free hand wandered your naked body, memorising your curves and how soft your skin felt. His eyes didn’t leave yours until he began to pick up speed.

Your legs wrapped around his waist and you began your own rhythm, bucking into him. Loki kissed your neck and collarbone in an effort to stifle his moans and grunts. You felt so good to him, not just how tight you felt around him but just being in your presence felt good. Loki hadn’t felt this good in years, and the realisation that popped into his head caused him to slow to a stop, leaning back to look at you.

“Are you okay?” You panted, stroking his messy hair back out of his eyes.

He was quiet for a moment while he looked into your eyes, hesitant. “Y-yeah, I’m fine.” He blinked hard.

You were now worried, so you pushed him off of you and onto his back, you leaned over him propping yourself up on your arm.

“No you’re not. What’s wrong?” You asked, brows furrowed.

He chucked sweetly at you and thought it was adorable that you worried about him. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I promise I’m fine, you just take my breath away, that’s all.” He lied.

You smiled down at him and pecked his lips.

You and Loki continue until you were both spent, and you lay in each others arms in the afternoon sun. You both felt amazing in that moment and all the other worries seemed worlds away from you now. But the reality of it was that your fiancé was out there somewhere and you still had to deal with that, and Loki was still the lead detective on this case, and he was falling in love with you. So no, he was not fine.

————————————

- Final Chapter Here -

[maraudersmqry]

When It’s Cold I’d Like To Die

★ 5k words

★ time travel fix-it au

★ slowburn finney/robin

★ aged up characters

★ 3/20

Chapter Three: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64462024/chapters/166587040

Ages: 18: Vance, 17: Bruce, 16: Robin, Finney, Billy, 15: Griffin, Gwen, Susie, 14: Amy

JANUARY 3RD, WEDNESDAY.

TERRENCE BLAKE RESIDENCE.

Seeing Griffin was different than seeing Robin.

He had actually known Robin. Had spent real time with him. Had been to his house, had sat at his small kitchen table while his mom handed them tamales wrapped in foil and told them to eat more, “Mijo, you’re too skinny.”

He had helped his uncle pull weeds out of the cracked backyard, both of them sweating under the sun while Robin teased Finney for how slow he was going. He remembered their dumb arguments over comic books, the way Robin would lean back on two legs of his chair during math homework and nearly fall, the way they both laughed so hard they couldn’t breathe when it finally happened.

He knew him—not as a name, not as a face—but in that deep, instinctive way you know someone who’s walked beside you through the everyday. Someone whose presence fills up space like furniture. Solid. Familiar.

The others… the others were figments.

He knew of Bruce Yamada—the golden boy who somehow balanced perfect grades and a killer batting average, who people said smiled at everyone and never missed a homework assignment. Bruce had always looked like he stepped out of a movie, crisp and clean, a kind of all-American kid you saw in brochures or posters. So when word got around that he’d become friends with Vance Hopper, the entire school paused. People whispered about it in hallways. Bruce, who was always polite to teachers and never raised his voice. And Vance, who everyone knew had a temper like a lit match and a cigarette habit that didn’t care about school rules. Even Robin gave Vance a wide berth, and Robin didn’t scare easily. A year later, they proved the doubts about their friendship lasting to be wrong.

Billy Showalter was different. Not because anyone really knew him, but because you couldn’t avoid him. He was just there, part of the scenery. The paperboy, always on his bike. You heard him in the morning before you saw him. The whir of wheels, the thump of the paper hitting your porch. People recognized his face because he passed by every house in the neighborhood. He was like background noise—reliable, familiar, but distant. Not really someone you thought much about until he wasn’t there anymore.

And Griffin… Griffin Stagg was barely a name. He moved in and out of Denver so often, kids stopped bothering to remember which grade he was in. He was a quiet blur at the back of classrooms, the kind of kid you didn’t sit next to unless every other seat was full. His arrival sparked a handful of half-hearted rumors—his parents were divorced, his dad was military, maybe he got expelled from his last school, maybe he just didn’t talk much. But even those whispers faded quickly. He was unremarkable, unnoticed. The kind of kid who slipped through cracks before anyone realized he’d been standing on them.

Those were the only memories Finney could conjure up the first time he saw the posters. Names and faces pieced together from passing moments. Static images, like yearbook photos, with nothing behind the eyes.

But when Terrence told him Robin was missing—

It was different.

It wasn’t like seeing a stranger’s picture and frowning in vague recognition.

It was like the bottom dropped out from under him. Like someone had hit rewind on every memory they’d ever shared and forced him to live them all at once. The late-night talks on his porch steps. The fists Robin threw in his defense. The way he said Finney’s name when he was pissed. The way he said it when he wasn’t.

All of it, rushing back, sharp and clear. Like what they said happened in the split second before your death—everything flashing by in an instant, unbearably vivid.

Because Robin wasn’t just another name on a poster.

Robin was late-night bike rides with no destination. He was the stubborn kind of loyal that didn’t make sense, especially not in their world, where loyalty got you hurt. But Robin didn’t care. He stuck. He stayed. And Finney had leaned on that more times than he could count.

Robin was life.

That was why he couldn’t spend the night there, no matter how much Gwen wanted him to. No matter how safe the room was, or how kind her voice sounded when she told him it would be okay. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be near Robin—god, he did. He wanted to stay more than anything. But it felt too soon. Too raw. Like touching a bruise that hadn’t even begun to heal.

Finney knew he should feel overjoyed. He’d been given the impossible—Robin was back. Or rather, Finney was—in time at least.

But he was standing right in front of him, breathing the same air, making dumb jokes and rolling his eyes like nothing had changed. Though, everything had changed. Because every time Finney looked at him, really looked at him, he wasn’t seeing the now. He was back there.

Back in that cold, rotting basement. Back in the dark, sitting on the mattress with his arms wrapped tight around his knees, blood on his shirt, and screams stuck in his throat. Back to talking to ghosts and clutching the phone like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

And Robin—Robin had been one of them. A voice, a memory, a fading echo of something he could never touch again. Finney had already mourned him. Had already sat in silence, breaking piece by piece under the significance of losing him. And now, with Robin alive and here, Finney didn’t know how to hold that. Didn’t know how to carry both versions of him in the same heart.

So no—he couldn’t sleep under the same roof just yet. Couldn’t sit across from him in pajamas, pretending everything was fine. Not when the past still clawed at him every time their eyes met.

It wasn’t about not wanting to be there.

It was about not knowing how.

Which left him alone with Terrence in their desolate house, the walls bare—no photos, no memories, nothing that resembled a home.

Finney had never been good at pretending. It wasn’t that he wore his heart on his sleeve—it was that his silence screamed louder than any outburst ever could. And lately, he was silent almost all the time. Every interaction with Terrence felt like a shrinking room, the walls closing in, the air heavy with expectations he couldn’t meet and didn’t want to try.

He remembered Terrence’s relentless nagging from Before, how the man had always found something to pick at. With the new year, the piling bills, the fewer hours at work—it was all spiraling. A slow, inevitable collapse.

In all honesty, Finney thought about Terrence more often than he liked to admit—especially when he was trapped in the basement. It wasn’t that he missed him in the way a son should miss a father. He missed the familiarity of the pain Terrence gave out—the routine cruelty, the sharp edge of a slap, the sting of a belt. Pain with rules. Pain he could expect.

With Terrence, there was a rhythm. He could read the signs, brace for impact. If he kept quiet, if he kept out of sight, he might get through the day untouched. There was a sick sort of comfort in that predictability, in knowing what he was dealing with.

But the Grabber was something else entirely.

Down in that basement, Finney had come to understand a different kind of fear—the kind that hollowed you out. It was silent and watchful. It crept up when you least expected it. The Grabber didn’t follow rules. He played games with people’s lives. He smiled when he hurt you. He made cruelty into something personal, something intimate. And Finney never knew when it was coming, or how far it would go.

That made Terrence feel almost…safe, in comparison.

Almost.

It sickened Finney, sometimes, how his brain tried to rewrite things just to cope. To twist one nightmare into a lesser evil. But trauma didn’t care about fairness or logic. It just left scars—and sometimes, longing—for what hurt less.

Even so, Finney stayed silent as he moved through the kitchen, the only sound being the clink of the spoon against the cereal box. The house was dim, and cold in a way that felt less like temperature and more like absence. Terrence was nowhere in sight, but his presence still lingered like a bad smell—heavy and waiting.

The door to his bedroom was shut. Finney didn’t need to check. He knew.

He imagined the man passed out on the bed, maybe with a beer can slipping from his fingers, maybe just staring at the ceiling like he sometimes did—eyes glassy, mouth slack, as if life itself had already given up on him.

Finney didn’t twist the doorknob. Didn’t knock. Didn’t speak. He just stood there for a moment, holding his breath, feeling the tension in the walls like static before a storm. Then he turned away, busying himself with food.

Once upon a time, Finney would’ve sat beside Terrence on the bathroom floor while he puked his guts out, rubbing circles on his back the way he’d seen their mom do, back when things still felt fixable. Back when love was something he hadn’t yet learned to be afraid of.

He used to think that if he was gentle enough, quiet enough, good enough, maybe Terrence would soften. Maybe he’d notice. Maybe he’d stop.

But that time was long gone. Whatever pieces were left of that version of Finney—of that version of Terrence—had crumbled long ago.

Now, he didn’t sit beside him. Didn’t check if he was okay. Didn’t care to. That tenderness had been drained out of him over the years, replaced with silence, distance, survival.

It was over. Had been for a long, long time.

He poured himself a bowl of cereal in silence, the milk splashing softly, the scent of it slightly sour from being close to its expiration. He ate standing up, like always, not bothering to sit at the table. That would mean pretending they were a family.

He didn’t have the energy to pretend.

Finney took two bites, setting the rest in the sink.

“You’re not the boy I raised,” Terrence said that evening, voice low and rough, dragging the words out like a chain he expected Finney to wear. “I don’t know what the hell’s gotten into you.”

Finney didn’t look up from his math homework. The numbers were useless—they might as well have been scribbles on a wall. His mind wasn’t in the equations. It was drifting again, pulling him back to echoes of things that hadn’t happened in this timeline but still felt too vivid to forget. The basement. The blood. Robin’s broken body. Griffin’s hollow stare.

And Terrence.

Not the one standing behind him now, but the one from before. The same man, just… more obvious back then. Drunk and bitter and loud, with nothing to lose and no one left to blame but his own son and daughter.

Now, it was fiercer. Sharper. More controlled. But the poison was the same—just served in a colder glass. Terrence didn’t scream as much anymore, didn’t whoop them like he used to when they were small. He didn’t need to. His words did the damage now, calculated and deliberate, like knives slid beneath the skin where no one else could see. And Finney wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse.

Sometimes, the silence between them felt more violent than any of the shouting ever had.

Maybe Terrence hadn’t changed at all. Maybe he had just grown tired of making a scene, or maybe he finally realized that bruises fade, but words echo. Either way, the venom in him hadn’t gone anywhere. It had just learned to speak softer.

Finney had changed, though.

Or at least, he hoped he had.

He wasn’t the same boy who used to flinch when footsteps got too loud. The same boy who tried to make himself small just to keep the peace. Something inside him had hardened, cracked under the weight of too many memories he didn’t ask to carry. He wasn’t sure if that was a strength or just another kind of scar.

But it meant he saw Terrence more clearly now. Saw the way he twisted things, and rewrote history in real time to paint himself as the wounded one, the hero, the victim. Finney used to believe it. Used to ache with guilt every time Terrence sighed just a little too heavily or slammed a cupboard door just a little too loudly.

Now, he just felt tired.

The kind of tired that sank into his bones and stayed there, like it had always been part of him.

Maybe the poison had always been there, too. He was only just learning how to taste it.

“I ask you a simple question, and you sit there like I’m talking to a wall,” Terrence continued, pacing just out of Finney’s peripheral vision. “You’ve been walking around this house like a damn stranger. Like you don’t even live here.”

Finney’s fingers tightened around his pencil. He wanted to say I don’t, but that would only feed the flames. Terrence didn’t want honesty—he wanted submission. He wanted the version of Finney that was scared and apologetic and small.

He wasn’t that boy anymore. He couldn’t be.

“You used to care,” Terrence pressed, the floorboards creaking beneath his heavy footsteps. “Used to be polite. Respectful. You used to smile when I came home. You used to ask me how my day was.”

A glass bottle was gripped tightly in his hand, bearing the brunt of Terrence’s irritation in place of a fist.

“Hell, you haven’t said a word to me since I got up.”

He didn’t mention that it was nearly five o’clock.

Finney bit the inside of his cheek. He remembered doing those things. Not because he felt them, but because he thought maybe—just maybe—if he was good enough, his father would stop being so angry. That maybe, he could save Gwen from his wrath. That maybe kindness could soften something so broken.

But it never had.

“You think I don’t notice,” Terrence said. “But I do. I see the way you look at me now. Like I’m the problem.”

Finney stared down at the page, his pencil unmoving. You are.

“I bust my ass every day to keep this house running,” Terrence growled. “I pay the bills. I make the rules. And all I get in return is silence. Attitude. Disrespect.”

He wasn’t even yelling—not yet—but somehow it was worse. The lingering dead air made the venom hit harder. Terrence was building his case like a lawyer on a stage, laying every guilt-trap like it was gospel.

“I’m tired, Finney,” he said, lowering his voice into a false vulnerability. “I’m tired of feeling like the bad guy in my own home.”

Finney finally looked up, his eyes glassy but unreadable. “I’m fine.”

There was no use in arguing with him. Everything was Finney’s fault, it seemed.

Terrence’s head snapped toward him. “Fine?” he repeated, his voice thick with contempt. “You think this is fine? Look at yourself. You can’t even hold a conversation without acting like I’m some kind of stranger.”

“I’m tired,” Finney said again, louder this time. “That’s all.”

“Oh, you’re tired,” Terrence snapped. “Of course you’re tired. You kids today don’t know real work, real pressure. I come home every day with a back that feels like it’s going to snap, and you’re what? Sitting at a desk with some math book, pretending the world’s ending because of a bad test score?”

Finney stood, slow and deliberate, closing the textbook. “You don’t get it.”

Terrence laughed—sharp and cold. “No, you don’t get it. You think I enjoy being the villain? You think I like raising a kid who walks around like he’s the only one who’s ever suffered?”

Finney’s heart pounded, fast and shallow. “You don’t know anything about what I’ve been through.”

“I know exactly what you’ve been through,” Terrence snapped. “You’ve had it easy. You think losing your mom was hard? I lost her, too. And I still showed up. I still kept this family from falling apart!”

Finney’s stomach lurched. He remembered the nights Terrence didn’t show up. The dinners Gwen tried to patch together dinners with leftovers. The way the house felt like a trap, like something alive and waiting to devour them both. He remembered Terrence storming through the door, already reeking of beer, snarling at nothing and everything.

“You think keeping the lights on makes you a good dad?” Finney asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “You think putting food on the table gives you permission to hurt people?”

Terrence’s eyes flashed. “You ungrateful little shit.”

The slap never came—but Finney saw the moment when he considered it. The twitch in his shoulder, the shift in his stance. Terrence was trying to restrain himself, not for Finney’s sake, but for his own pride. He needed to believe he was better than that.

“You know what your problem is?” Terrence said, stepping forward. “You’re selfish. You want everyone to pity you. Poor Finney. Lost his mom. Doesn’t talk much. Has a hard time in school. Boo-fucking-hoo.”

Finney flinched, not from fear—but from fury. “You don’t know me.”

“I raised you!”

“No,” Finney said, his voice shaking with rage. “You raised a version of me you could control. That’s not the same.”

Terrence moved closer, invading his space, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, so now you’re a psychologist, huh? You gonna diagnose me next? Tell me I’m toxic? Maybe write a little essay about your traumatic childhood?”

Finney stepped back, tears welling in his eyes, not because he was scared—but because he was tired. So tired of trying to explain his pain to someone who only saw it as ammunition.

“I’m not your enemy,” Terrence said suddenly, lowering his voice again, switching tactics like a chameleon. “You think I wanted things to be like this? You think I wanted to be alone in that room every night while you avoid me like I’m diseased?”

Finney said nothing. He knew this game too.

“You’ve changed,” Terrence murmured, almost sadly. “You used to look up to me.”

“I used to be a kid.”

Terrence flinched like he’d been struck. His face hardened again. “So that’s it then? You’re just done with me?”

Finney turned toward the door. “You were done a long time ago. I just stopped pretending.”

“Don’t you dare walk away from me!” Terrence barked.

He followed after his son, marching from the bedroom and through the living room—feet hitting the floor harder than Finney could will himself to.

Finney’s hand paused on the doorknob.

“I am your father,” Terrence spat. “I made you. Without me, you’d be nothing. Don’t forget that.”

Finney turned to face him, his voice quiet but full of fire. “Without you, I might’ve been okay.”

He stepped outside, letting the door close behind him. The night air was bitterly cold, but it was cleaner than the air in that house. No shame. No guilt. Just breathing.

He didn’t know where he was going. Maybe to Robin’s. Maybe nowhere. Maybe he just needed the sky above him and the wind in his lungs to remind him he was still here.

Alive. Scarred. But free.

For now.

The sky was a dull gray, clouds rolling like wet wool across the rooftops. He walked without thinking, hands in his pockets, feet finding the sidewalk like muscle memory. Past the grocery store, the corner diner with peeling letters, the bench where he and Robin used to throw pebbles at cars when they were twelve.

Robin.

Alive.

Griffin.

Alive.

It still didn’t make sense.

Finney didn’t know where else to go, but his feet took him to the park anyway. The one a few blocks from the school. The one where he and Gwen used to play when their mom was still alive—when Terrence still tried, or at least pretended to. Back then, they used to sit on the swings and chase pigeons. Back then, things didn’t hurt all the time.

He crossed the street and stepped onto the grass. It crunched beneath his shoes, brittle from the cold. The trees were bare, their limbs reaching up like broken fingers. A few kids were scattered around the jungle gym, bundled up in puffy coats and bright mittens, their laughter distant and hollow.

He wasn’t dressed for the cold at all—just a thin, long-sleeved shirt that clung to him like a second skin, offering no real protection from the bite of the wind. The fabric rippled faintly with each gust, and goosebumps lined his arms like raised warnings. It was the kind of cold that slipped beneath your clothes, sharp and persistent, and he hadn’t even bothered to fight it.

Finney sat on one of the old metal benches near the edge of the park, the kind that always seemed to lean slightly forward, as if it wanted to tip you out. He hunched his shoulders and stared at the scuffed toes of his sneakers. For a while, he just listened—to the wind, the occasional bark of a dog, the whistle of a far-off train.

He didn’t want to think. But the thoughts came anyway.

The basement. The dirt under his fingernails. The phone that shouldn’t have rung but did.

Robin’s ghost standing beside him, fists clenched, telling him to fight.

Griffin’s voice. The timid one. “Don’t hang up.”

Finney closed his eyes and leaned back against the bench. He could still hear their voices like it had all just happened. Could still feel their presence like shadows burned into his bones.

Because technically, it did just happen. Because just last night he was trying to keep his eyes open—afraid the Grabber would come when he’s asleep.

But they were here now. Real. Breathing.

He just didn’t know what to do with that.

“Hey.”

The voice was there—not some distant echo. Weak and uncertain.

Finney’s eyes snapped open.

Griffin stood a few feet away, half in shadow. He wore a red hoodie, the hood pushed back to reveal his messy hair. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, and he shifted awkwardly, like he hadn’t meant to be caught standing there.

Finney blinked. “Stagg?”

“Yeah. Hey, Blake.” Griffin said. He looked around like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to stay. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

“You didn’t.” Finney sat up straighter. “I just wasn’t paying attention.”

Griffin nodded once, then hovered a second longer before gesturing to the other side of the bench. “Can I…?”

“Yeah,” Finney said quickly. “Of course.”

Griffin sat down. Not too close. Just enough space between them to be respectful. His knees bounced a little, like he was trying to burn off nerves he didn’t know how to explain.

They sat in silence for a minute. Not uncomfortable, but not exactly easy either.

“You come here a lot?” Finney asked finally, eyes fixed on the cracked pavement near the swing set.

“Sometimes,” Griffin said. “Needed to get out of the house.”

“Same.”

Griffin glanced at him, then quickly away again. His shoulders were hunched, his posture defensive, like the question had taken more courage than he’d expected.

“Your dad, uh… strict?”

The word hung in the cold air for a beat too long, thin and inadequate. It didn’t cover half of it. Maybe it never could.

Finney gave a short, humorless laugh. “That’s one word for it.”

His voice was steady, but there was a darker meaning behind it—an edge that hinted at more than he was letting on. He didn’t elaborate—he didn’t need to. The silence that followed said everything. It stretched between them like a wire, taut with understanding neither of them wanted to admit out loud.

Griffin nodded once, still not meeting his eyes. He looked down at the bench between them and started tracing something on the metal armrest with his finger. A scratch that was already there. A spot of rust. Anything to give his hands something to do.

“Yeah,” he muttered, his voice even softer now. “Mine too.”

It was said like a confession. Not dramatic, not attention-seeking—just quietly, with the kind of rawness that only comes from lived experience. Like he’d been holding the words in his throat for a long time and wasn’t sure if it was safe to let them out.

Finney didn’t say anything right away. His gaze drifted to Griffin’s hand, the way his fingers kept moving even though there was nothing left to trace. Just nervous energy spilling out. It was strange, how much he recognized in that small motion. The restless habit of someone trying not to think too hard. Trying not to remember.

“I used to make excuses for him,” Finney said eventually, his voice low. “To Gwen. To myself. Like… maybe he was just tired. Or stressed. Or whatever reason made it not his fault.”

Something fragile flickered in Griffin’s eyes, who nodded.

Finney exhaled slowly. The park around them had gone daft—families heading home to eat dinner—except for the wind rustling the brittle branches and the occasional creak of the swing set. Somewhere far off, a dog barked. Everything else felt still. Suspended.

“It’s weird,” Griffin said after a moment, pulling his sleeves down over his hands. “The way people talk about dads. Like they’re supposed to be these heroes or something. Fixing cars, throwing baseballs, grilling steaks. Mine just drinks a lot. Yells more.”

Finney nodded. “Mine too. He comes home and slams the door so hard the windows rattle. I’d sit real still on the couch, like if I didn’t breathe too loud, maybe he’d forget I was there.”

Griffin didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. His hand stilled. His eyes were glassy now, not with tears, but with that sheen of old pain pressed too close to the surface.

“You ever try to fight back?” Griffin asked, not like he expected an answer—more like he was thinking out loud.

Finney hesitated. “Once.”

Griffin turned to look at him.

“I was little. He yelled at Gwen, and I snapped. Got in the way. Told him to stop.” Finney rubbed left hand like the memory still left a mark. “Didn’t go great.”

Griffin didn’t laugh, but he smiled just a little. A sad, understanding smile.

“I used to hide his beer,” Griffin offered, glancing out at the empty slide set across from them. “Thought maybe if he couldn’t find it, he’d be okay. He just yelled louder.”

They sat in silence for a while after that, both boys staring out at the park like it held answers they hadn’t found yet. There was no need to fill the quiet. The space between them wasn’t awkward—it was heavy with understanding. With all the words neither of them had ever been allowed to say at home.

“My mom used to sing to me,” Griffin said suddenly, voice barely above a whisper. “Before she left. Real soft. At night. I think I only remember it because it was the only time I ever felt safe.”

Finney’s chest ached. He hadn’t expected that. Not from Griffin. Not from today. But maybe that was the thing about pain—it recognized its own reflection in other people. It pulled you in, even when you weren’t ready for it.

“I remember my mom too,” Finney said. “She’d hum when she did the dishes. Nothing special. Just… soft. Like background music. When she died, the house got too quiet. Like the walls knew something was missing.”

Griffin looked at him again, and for the first time, there was no guardedness. Just quiet recognition. The kind of connection that could only come from living through something similar—something you wouldn’t wish on anyone else.

“I don’t talk about her much,” Griffin admitted. “People don’t know what to say. So they just say nothing.”

“Yeah,” Finney murmured. “Or worse, they say stuff like ‘everything happens for a reason.’”

Griffin scoffed. “I hate that one.”

They both let out small, half-hearted laughs—tired sounds from tired hearts.

“I used to think if I was just better,” Griffin said after a moment, his voice rough, “he’d stop. Like, if I did everything right, maybe it’d finally be enough.”

Finney looked down at his hands. “Me too.”

He didn’t say what he was really thinking—that even after everything, after the basement and the phone and the blood on the tiles, a part of him still wondered if it was something he’d done. Some flaw in him that had made the world hurt so much. That maybe if he’d just tried harder, Robin wouldn’t have died. Maybe Griffin wouldn’t have. Maybe they wouldn’t be here now, sitting on a cold metal bench trying to stitch words over wounds that had never healed right.

But he didn’t say that. He just sat there, beside someone who had been dead once and now was alive. Someone who still carried the same bruises, even if they were on the inside.

Griffin pulled his knees up to his chest. “You ever feel like you’re stuck in between something? Like… not where you were, but not where you’re going either?”

Finney nodded slowly. “All the time.”

Something shifted—like a thread had been tied between them.

“I’m sorry if I was weird today,” Griffin said suddenly. “At lunch. I didn’t mean to make things awkward.”

“You didn’t,” Finney said, maybe too fast. “It wasn’t you. It’s just—” He stopped. Swallowed. “Things have been kind of messed up lately.”

Griffin gave a slow nod. “Yeah. Same here.”

They both looked out at the park again. The jungle gym was empty now. Just one swing moved in the wind, creaking gently, like it remembered when someone used to push it.

“I get these dreams,” Griffin said quietly, after a long moment. “Weird ones. Scary. But familiar, too. Like I’ve been somewhere before, even though I know I haven’t.”

Finney didn’t breathe.

Griffin rubbed the back of his neck, eyes on the ground. “Lately, I’ve been having these dreams. There’s this… basement. And a black phone on the wall. It rings, but no one else seems to hear it. And sometimes, I think I hear your voice.”

Finney stiffened, his breath catching, but he quickly masked it, forcing a shaky laugh as he looked away. “Weird dream.”

Griffin glanced up, clearly unsure. “Yeah. It’s probably just that—just a dream. I’ve been having a lot of those lately.”

“Stress, maybe,” Finney said quickly, cutting off the silence. “School’s been kinda nuts.”

Griffin nodded slowly, but his brows stayed knit. “Yeah… maybe.”

Finney forced a smile and nudged his shoulder. “Hey, you wanna go throw rocks at the frozen pond or something? Bet I can skip one further than you.”

Griffin hesitated, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward. “You’re on.”

Neither of them said anything else about the dreams.

After a moment, Finney glanced over. “You can just call me Finney, by the way.”

Griffin raised an eyebrow. “Not Finn?”

Finney scratched the back of his neck. “I mean—only a couple people call me that. Robin does. Gwen, sometimes.”

Griffin smirked. “Relax, I was just messing with you. Finney it is. You can call me Griffin. It’s not like saying my name brings bad luck or anything.”

“Are you sure you’re not related to Mary?”

Griffin shoved his shoulder, “Shut up.”

I hope you enjoyed this! Comments and kudos are appreciated. Like always, more chapters are available on ao3 :)

[blimbosworlddd]

Nirvana: A Rock Lee Tale (Chapter 2)

Summary: After acquainting with your new patient, you start your first day nursing at the Mighty Rock Dojo.

Notes: slow burn fic, afab/fem/black reader.

Warnings: Mentions of sex, (light) descriptions of blood and violence, usage of the N word. The reader and Lee are in their late 20s but virtually any age group that is 18 and up can enjoy this story. Again 18+, minors do not interact… pls.

Word count: 4k

Masterlist

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

You want someone to crave you, to need you. Not in a toxic codependent way, but rather in a way that makes you feel special. That’s why you escaped to the world of shoujo and action/fantasy films when you were a child, it was the closest you got to that feeling of truly falling for someone and being fallen for. Or at least it was the closest you got to being unaware of how unlovable you felt. And when you grew into your late teens, you drowned your mind in fictional men.

You dream of someone who’d treat you like the princess you are deep down inside. You thought Sai could be that- hell- you thought every guy you dated could be that.

But deep down you knew it was impossible, because you didn’t view them as special either. You are not afraid to live your life the way you want, and all the “love interests” in your past would never determine your future. You’d make sure of it.

To be honest though, you’re thinking nothing of that at this very moment. How could you while talking to that taijutsu hottie you met a week ago?

You didn’t reach out to Lee until now due to long hours nursing at your hospital: keeping track of a dozen medical plans, on top of a new patient assignment makes you feel like your phone is burning up at 10 percent. Plus you love your job (despite how cruel the healthcare system can be), which makes working a bit easier.

You thank the universe for your fast work ethic: tirelessly taking care of people in the early mornings, and finally managing to have a solid break for once.

As soon as you get to sit at your favorite cafe in peace, your mind wanders to that dojo you went to. Which struck your memory of getting Lee’s contact info. You usually only text people you’ve just met to test the chemistry, but something about his welcoming aura urges you to risk your pride. You call him, nibbling on your lip while waiting.

Ring…

Ring…

Ring…

Ri-

“This is the Mighty Rock Dojo.”

The deep bass thrumming in his tone is hushed and calm. It sets your goosebumps aflame, making you sit up so you can speak at your clearest.

“Heyyyy, it’s me, the medic! I treated your friend last week.” You shut your eyes, not intending for your pitch to raise that high.

A smile slowly adorns his face at how cute you sound, and that you actually bothered to follow up with him.

“I remember exactly who you are, Miss! I’m glad to hear from you.”

Your eyes flicker to the wooden table you rest your arms on, gulping at his poise. Lee pads his way to his personal office, not wanting to disturb his students’ meditation break.

“Same here. I just wanted to…”

You pause to consider if your already full schedule could take a new hobby.

“…to know the entire schedule of your dojo so I can see what times are right for me.”

The taijutsu master leans on his front desk, free hand gripping its smooth edge.

“Yes of course! I’ll text you all the information after this call. There’s a flier here waiting for your return.”

“Heh, didn't mean to leave so soon last time.” Yes, you did. “Thanks, sensei.”

“Don’t sweat it. How's your week so far?”

A part of you considers going with the standard ‘it’s been okay’, but you’re at a point in your life where you hate lying to yourself- no matter how easy it is to do so.

“It’s been strenuous… I’m now on my first proper break in weeks.” 

You like how Lee hisses through his teeth in genuine concern. You wonder what other scenarios would cause him to make that sound.

“It’s no pressure if this may not be the best time for you-”

“No it’s fine- I mean I don’t wanna wipe someone’s ass and endure shitty behavior for the rest of my career. I want to heal people.”

Lee chuckles briefly at your cheekiness. You like how that sounds too. 

Everything about him– you like so far.

And you've only talked twice.

It’s enough to make your skin crawl.

“And you will. How about you stop by after work? We close kind of late anyways.”

Your chest blooms at his support, body starting to feel lighter for some reason. You clear your throat.

“Today?”

“Today.” He confirms.

Lee twiddles with the hem of his gi absentmindedly, waiting patiently for your response.

“Yeah, okay… s-see you after seven?”

“See you after seven.”

-

A few hours pass after thoroughly enjoying your burrito and latte with some Netflix. You’re now on your final shift, completing your hand-off for your colleague Brandon. He’s been overseeing you since you transferred to this hospital.

It’s bigger and more advanced than you’re used to, so Brandon was the first to show you the ropes. It’s 6:54 as you email your finalized report to him, hearing the shrieking metal of wheels rolling closer to the office you reside in.

KNOCK KNOCK

“Come in.”

Spinning your chair to face the door, you find Brandon entering with an old lady sitting prim and proper on her wheelchair. Her small, veiny hands fold over her tummy, loose white locks framing the moles that scatter her wrinkly face. It’s like she was made to wear that throw blanket for a shawl.

“Oh? Who’s the lovely guest, Brandon?” You chirp as you rise from your seat, cringing inside at how your voice’s raspiness may’ve given away your exhaustion.

Your supervisor brings the senior closer to you for a better acquaintance.

“This lovely guest, until further notice, is your new patient: Ms. Fink.”

You sit on your haunches to meet her at eye level. You would offer your hand for a shake, but this is your first meet and you’re not 100% familiar with her medical conditions.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Fink. I can’t wait to help you on your road to recovery.”

Ms. Fink’s beady eyes scan your welcoming figure, enjoying the sight of you kneeling for her. She nods slowly with a subtle smile, which you take as a step in the right direction.

“Her family had just dropped her off here, so you’ll be overseeing her first thing next week. Did you send me the hand-off?”

You place your hands on your knees to stand up.

“Just emailed it before you came in.”

“Good, now go get some rest. And I’ll be taking you,” he looks down at Ms. Fink, “to your room. Say goodbye to your new nurse?”

The lady unfolds her hands to give you a wave before she’s turned around and escorted out.

“See ya later!” You wave back.

…you snatch your jacket, purse, and bounce.

-

It takes a few train stops and a bus ride to get to the dojo, which isn’t bad. You’re just wondering how long it’d take to get back home. Opening the door, that familiar bell jingles at your entrance. You stand behind the front desk, face lighting up at the sight before you:

A group of toddlers are in basic horse stances, their fists positioned at their hips. Lee strolls languidly around his students, hands folded behind his back as he watches them like a hawk. He takes a deep breath.

“You want to unlock the first gate?” The way he asks is eerily calm.

“Yes, Sensei!!” The kids shout.

“Then use your core. STRIKE!” He roars.

“HA!” The kids adorably return the enthusiasm, all simultaneously throwing a firm punch.

“STRIKE!”

“HA!!”

Your shoulders stiffen at how fierce Lee is, even with kids. He really said it’s free eats, you laugh to yourself.

“Everyone in a circle.” His hands echo a clap and the children scatter like critters to form a ring. He scans the kids, silently noting the ones who have yet to spar. He glances at a particularly frail child, who stares down at the belt she’s squeezing.

“Orchid, come.” He orders, tone stern but not harsh enough to scare her.

Orchid flinches anyway, her face falling at the fact that she’s been chosen. Hesitantly, she trots her way to the center where Lee is. The master side eyes another kid, noticing her rocking back and forth with a tight smile on her face. As if she’s trying to suppress her eagerness.

“Amanda, come.”

The child lights up, practically sprinting to her spot in front of Orchid. Lee kneels between the two, one hand on each shoulder.

“Trust what you have learned, and your body will do the rest.” 

“Yes, Sensei Lee!”

“Yes, Sensei…”

Their master gives them a warm smile, before rising to take a step back. He raises his arm beside his head.

“Bow.”

The children lower their heads to pay respects, and take a few steps back to position into their preferred fighting stances: Amanda’s stance is more open, taking an offensive approach. Orchid’s is more defensive, balled fists guarding her face without blocking her eyesight. Everyone’s watching, even your own stare oozes with anticipation. Lee casts down his hand.

“BEGIN!”

Amanda charges at Orchid, aiming a hit right for her chin. Orchid uses her forearms to block the punch- hissing at the force- while trying not to get backed into the boundary, for if you touch anyone in the circle you lose.

Amanda throws a barrage of kicks and jabs her way, yelling and grunting with every strike to intimidate. But Orchid continues to block her opponent’s advances. As terrified as Orchid looks right now, she is deflecting her attacks pretty well, for each blow that comes her way she redirects with firm open palms. You aren’t too surprised, Lee’s a genius.

Amanda’s cooking her shit– the sharp sound of her punches proves that fact, while the other kids start to cheer her on as she steadily dominates Orchid. Y

ou divert your attention to Lee, and he’s watching the unfolding event with a stoic face. Some distance forms between the two fighters, and Amanda uses that to her advantage by attacking with a flying axe kick. 

Orchid’s eyes widen in horror but successfully dodges the kick that would’ve ended the fight. While Amanda’s feet are still bound to the ground, Orchid lowers her body and twirls her leg; planting a round-house kick straight to her opponent’s jaw. Amanda’s back hits the matted floor at the force. She groans petulantly, stunned at how easily she fell for that move.

“The winner,” Sensei Lee casts a hand in Orchid’s direction, “is Orchid!”

A loud silence envelopes the room for a moment before everyone applauds Orchid’s bravery and skill, you even add in a little “woop woop” to boost morale. She was going to offer a hand to help Amanda get up, but she yelps at a dense pain coursing through her left ankle- the one she leaned on to perform that roundhouse kick. Orchid drops to the floor, holding her calf to make sure no unnecessary pressure adds to it. Lee rushes to her side.

“Orchid, what’s wrong?” Caution and worry furrow his bushy eyebrows as he descends beside her to scan for problems.

“It..it hurts,” she whimpers. 

Andddd that’s your cue. You hurriedly kick off your white Air Force 1s, politely excusing yourself when walking through the wall of kids. Lee’s head snaps up at your figure and beams with a quiet sigh of relief. You feel Lee’s gaze linger, but you don’t look up. Not yet.You’re too focused on the way Orchid trembles under your touch, too lost in the rhythm of healing. 

Still, you wonder—if he’s thinking what you’re thinking.

“My name’s Miss Y/n, I’m the dojo’s new nurse. Can you tell me what hurts, sweetheart?” You coo, placing a safe hand on her small back. She physically relaxes at the gesture. 

“M-My ankle. It hurts.” Your eyes never left hers, nodding your head to show that you’re listening to every word.

“Hmm, I think you might’ve sprained it, Orchid.” You raise your head to look at Lee.

 “Sensei, do you have strong bandages and some Icy Hot?”

“Uhhh- mhm!” Lee gulps, blushing at you calling him Sensei. Even though that’s what he told you he preferred, he is a bit stupefied at your effortless professionalism and charm. You look back down at Orchid.

“Can I carry you to my office?” Your office, huh? “Don’t wanna worsen your sprain, now do we?”

Orchid slowly nods her head, eyes widening at how validating you are. You carefully hook one arm under her knees, and hook the other under her back,  inwardly swooning at her visibly melting in your hold. Making your way to your office, you find Lee with a roll of elastic bandages in one hand and a plastic jar of Icy Hot in the other.

“Makin’ sure I’m prepared, sensei?” You tease, and Lee chuckles at your implication.

“It’d be unacceptable if I didn’t.”

You gently place Orchid on the thin mattress, watching her feet dangle off the bed. You turn to face Lee, who's already staring at you.

“Thank you. I’m sure there are a bunch of toddlers waiting for you out there.”

“O-Oh… right!” Lee places the requested materials on a small table next to you. Lee kneels down in front of Orchid, meeting her at eye level.

“I’m gonna call your mother so you can get home safely, okay Orchid?”

“Y-Yes, Sensei.”

Lee now locks his eyes on yours.

“And if you need anything else, there’s more equipment in the cabinets for you.”

Despite him looking up at you, his gaze makes you feel small- leaves you wanting to do everything he tells you to.

“Yes, Sensei!”

Lee nods his head and stands up, heading to the front desk’s telephone by the dojo. He orders the kids to sit and meditate in silence while he punches in Orchid’s mom’s number. Lee sighs, wondering if this is how Might Guy felt when he was training kids here: happy that he can care for them and make them stronger, but also somber, knowing that they won’t be cute little rascals forever.

You put on disposable nitrile gloves and open the plastic jar of Icy Hot. Orchid stares at the blue concoction.

“S’that? It smells minty.” She asks meekly.

“This, my dear, is Icy Hot,” you dip your fingers in the product. “It helps with muscle and joint pain. The strong smell comes from menthol.”

Orchid winces when you lather the cream on her ankle.

“It’s cold!” She squeaks. You giggle at her cuteness.

“I know, but it’ll get warmer in a few minutes.”

You steadily wrap the bandage securely around her aching limb, telling her to warn you if it’s too tight. 

“You did really well out there, Orchid.” You prompt as a matter—of—factly while disposing of your nitrile gloves.

“…you think so?”

“Know so!” You sit beside her and smile at her pouty face. “You kept fighting, even when the odds of you winning looked slim.”

She hugs your arm, the most comfortable way of showing her gratitude, and confirms that you’ve done your job well. You caress her hair as she holds you, and tell her not to move until her mom arrives.

-

A couple more hours pass, and luckily no more students have to visit your office. You spend the rest of your time there watching Lee and other fighters train rigorously, and others slack off, as you would expect.

The dojo finally concludes its classes for the day. It’s half past 10, and you are itching to get home. Well- not until you’ve concluded your day with Lee, of course. You walk up on the sensei rolling up his mats and carrying them to their respective areas.

“You were so badass today,” you quip. “As per usual.”

You kinda felt like a loser for dick riding, but you mean it and he deserves to know.

“Thanks! I could say the same for you myself, Miss Y/n.” You grip the back of your neck at his teasing as he approaches you with a smirk.

“Thank you. Anddddd especially that stance you taught your students! How long does it usually take to master? Does it hurt? How do they get so still?” 

You rambling on about your interest in the martial art blooms Lee’s chest open. It’s like you’re unlocking a new level of fondness that he harbors just for you.

“Mastering the horse stance is mastering stillness: it requires intense concentration and willpower. Would you like me to show you?”

Your voice dies in your throat.

Huh?

“I-I mean you can try,” you laugh sheepishly. “I’m a beginner’s beginner. Sooo-“

“Okay!” He chirps, taking one step closer to you. “Can I guide your movements?”

Why does his voice sound like that? 

“Mhm!” you chirp, deciding to think nothing of it. Lee raises a brow at you, expecting a proper response.

“… I mean yes! Yes, Sensei Lee.” The master hums in satisfaction. You think of crawling into a hole.

“Turn your hands into fists.”

You ball your fingers, thumbs caging your encased knuckles.

“Good. Now place your left fist by your hip… uhuh. Extend your right arm in front of you, like a punch, and keep your fist.”

You raise your arm up, feeling like you have a good idea of how to enact this stance when he nods his head in encouragement.

“Now, spread your feet.”

You look down at your legs and create space between them.

“Wider.” He commands. You spread them a little more.

“Wider… good, remember that they must be 3 feet apart.”

You’d be lying if you say you don’t feel the burn, it's been a long time since you've physically pushed yourself like this. But you trust the process, letting the scent of Lee’s sweat and the sight of glistening skin hiding beneath his gi ground you.

“Now bend your knees… lower.” His face is unreadable, the way he speaks is cold and direct- but never with disdain. Your body freezes in horror at how hot it is to you.

You should be focusing.

Lee walks around you, like a vulture circling its prey, and you don’t dare move until he says so. You silently groan to yourself because what in the hell is this man thinking?

Is he this intense with all of his students? 

All those frantic thoughts swimming in your head evaporate as you jolt at the way he gently clutches your hips. His touch shocks every nerve in your body, making you tense up and soften all at once. His bandaged fingers are long and slender, you know they’re deadly weapons and yet his grip on you coaxes your muscles to mold at his will. 

He leans in until his chin hovers over your shoulder, catching a whiff of your coils up close; shea butter and vanilla. It’s dizzying how sweet and inviting you smell. The breath you didn’t know you were holding leaks out slow until it matches his own, drawn from somewhere quiet and heavy.

You turn your head to glance at him, and he’s already watching you. Not your form, but your face.

“Lower, Miss.” His voice deepens, rasping right beside your ear until you shiver. The way he slowly pushes you down with his warm, calloused hands until you are at the ideal altitude strikes outrageous lightning in your tummy. 

You’re here to learn taijutsu, not lose your mind every time this man touches you.

He steadies you like a wall and takes a step back, admiring his current direction.

Stop being so needy.

“There. You’re now in a semi-decent horse stance!” He quips, arms folding in triumph.

Stop being so desperate.

Lee’s bubbly grin sinks as he watches your face contort into a subtle scowl, a thousand-yard stare giving away your brief dissociation. You don’t move from the position he taught you because you’re so desperately trying to stay present, no matter how much your mind tries to flee. You feel your muscles twitch, aching for any kind of movement but you’re frozen. 

Lee’s arms unfold as he pads closer to face you. 

“Y/n?” 

Despite his low tone, the way he says your name is light as a feather. He feels that if he speaks any louder for some reason, you’ll react like a wine glass at the mercy of a soprano’s highest frequency. Your eyes widen in focus at his gentle call. You see the space between his brows crinkling at how disturbed you looked, the sight deepens your frown.

Lee balls his fists and lowers his head; he absolutely hates doing things that come at the expense of others’ safety. He himself is painfully familiar with how easily traumatic mundane activities can become.

“I’m sorry- I should've been more attentive,” The sincerity in his voice bleeds through every word. “I tend to get really invested in the craft, y’know?” You shot up from your stance before realizing it.

“No, no, don’t be sorry!” You croak. 

Lee tilts his eyes up a little to peek at the look on your face- which now mirrors his.

“I just… just wasn't used to it, that's all.” The somber sultriness of your voice soothes his worries swimming within. 

“You did everything right, I felt- feel- like you're someone I could trust. So thank you, Sensei… for helping me perform a semi-decent horse stance.” You don’t trust him completely, but he was checking every box in your list so far.

Lee’s chest quakes with a chuckle at your charmful wit, deciding that he’s gonna earn your trust one way or another. He rests his hands on his hips to celebrate the eroding tension. Your teeth tug at your bottom lip to celebrate that smile you love returning to his handsome face.

“I’m always here to help!” He practically sings. “Adult novice classes are $45 a month.”

You roll your eyes at his not-so-slick marketing tactic, retreating to your shoes and other belongings. Lee snorts at your sass, following after you.

“Oh! Here’s your flyer by the way.” 

You turn your heel while sliding your arms through the sleeves of your jacket, and find Lee handing you a paper handout containing the weekly schedule and any other important dojo intel.

“Ah, thanks,” you flip through the small pamphlet before shoving it in your pocket. Lee looks at his phone to check the time..

“You go home on your own, I assume?” Lee quips while raising a brow.

You hook the handle of your purse over your shoulder. 

“Yeah,” you sigh tiredly. “Can't afford a car right now so public transit is my go-to.”

Lee sways his body from side to side, feigning deep thought as he shifts his weight on each foot.

“It's almost 11, and I have a car. How ‘bout I drive you home?”

“…”

Welp, you have a taser in your bag if things go south.

“I would… I'd like that… Thanks.”

Lee nods gleefully, feeling like you’re giving him another shot. “Gimme twenty minutes, ‘kay?”

You give him a thumbs up, “I’ll text you my address.”

-

In around fifteen minutes, Lee locks up the dojo and walks you to his car. Your eyes light up; acutely impressed at the sleek coat of silver, tinted windows, and wide headlights.

“Didn’t take you for a BMW typa guy.”

Lee smirks as he opens the door for you to get in. After you thank him and sit comfortably in the passenger seat, he lowers his body to level with yours, one hand resting on his knee while the other holds his car door open. His bold stare is somehow intensified by the nonchalant raise of his brows.

“I'd love to know what else you don’t take me for.”

Amusement laces his lowered tone, making you ignore the small wet patch in your panties that's been growing since his… his little lesson. He doesn't wait for your response, rising back up with a deep inhale. After shutting the door, he strides to his side of the car.

Oh, fuck me.

This work belongs solely to ©️ blimbosworlddd. Do not plagiarize, steal, copy or repost. I worked very hard on this; reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated.

[a-land-lacking-sleep]

Submas/PLA Fic: Electric Trains are the Future Ch. 21: Destination Set

Previous Chapter (20) - Current Chapter

Can you believe my internet went out on lunch when I planned to upload this, then I passed out after work for a few hours? Well, this chapter is STILL OUT ON TIME DAMMIT! Happy second birthday to a fic that I had intended to be done this time last year! I can officially say we're in the home stretch, at least. Thank you all for sticking around! I do have plenty of more to write, I just need to make the time.

Chapter Summary: Irida calls for a Warden meeting. Chapter Word Count: 5125

Check it out below the cut, or over on AO3 with some additional notes! Reblogs and comments are appreciated, as always!

“Would you be able to follow me, Ingo?” Irida asks politely, clasping her hands in front of her and glancing back towards Sneasler. “It won’t be too strenuous, and Emmet is free to come along.”

“I do have a bit of a curfew,” Ingo says sheepishly, pulling his hat down to hide his embarrassment, “but I am sure that Pesselle would forgive you a reschedule.” As Emmet steps behind his chair to start moving him behind Irida, he tilts his hat back up. “Oh no, I missed the Warden meeting, didn’t I?! I am so sorry, Lady Irida!”

Irida looks over her shoulder at her injured Warden and gives him an almost exasperated look. “Ingo, you’ve been in bed for nearly a solid week after a major accident. We postponed it until you were able to attend.”

Ingo’s frown deepens as he looks down towards the worn path of Flaoro Main Street. “That doesn’t mean I won’t feel bad,” he mutters, his voice managing to be quiet enough only for Emmet to catch, even with him muttering in Galarian instead of Kantonian as previous. Rolling his eyes, Emmet reaches down and pushes Ingo’s hat forward, covering his face. “Wha- HEY! Emmet, that is not funny!”

“Neither is your worrying,” Emmet says proudly, getting a chuckle from both Irida and Sneasler. “It’s common courtesy. How many times did we delay meetings for Isadore when he broke his leg and wasn’t able to come in?”

“Well, we wouldn’t penalize him for breaking his leg the day before his yearly review,” Ingo concedes, sighing.

“Exactly, you deserved your rest,” Irida says, laughing softly as she walks beside the pair out of the gates to the village. Sighing, she runs her fingers through her hair and puts on a smile. “When Calaba and I heard about your injuries, we made a joint call to cancel it entirely. I set out to Jubilife immediately that night.”

“Oh,” Ingo says flatly before frowning at her. “I hadn’t realized you had come while I was unconscious. I’m sorry for the trouble.”

“Ingo, you’re one of my Warden’s,” Irida retorts, giving her Warden a sharp look. “Even if you were an outsider when we met, you’re one of us now. And if I didn’t act like it, Old Lady Shiki would come after me from beyond the grave.”

“Shiki?” Emmet asks as the group crests the hill outside the village, making their way towards the Fieldlands proper. Now on flat terrain, Sneasler takes the chance to nudge Emmet out of the way and take the duty pushing Ingo along the path. 

“She was Ingo’s predecessor as Warden,” Irida says as her smile fades. “The only person in the clan older than her when she passed was Calaba, and they’d been Wardens together their entire tenures.”

Ingo nods solemnly and takes a deep breath before talking. “She was a blessing of a woman if I’ve ever met one. While Calaba and many others were wary of me, being a stranger who didn’t speak their language and had strange mannerisms, Shiki was patient and willing to give me the chance.” Sneasler gives a small trill, dragging Ingo’s attention upwards. “My beautiful Lady here was a relatively new Noble Guide Pokemon then, having ascended when her father had passed several years prior to my arrival.”

“And Shiki passed?” Emmet asks as politely as he can, both to confirm he is listening as well as prod his brother for more information. 

Ingo nods as Sneasler snorts and snickers at the obvious question. “No one is immortal, brother,” he says sagely, getting a snort in kind from Emmet, who knows an immortal and hasn’t explained it in full. “She made me her apprentice after about 6 months with the Clan, and by the time Jubilife had been established, she was already too sickly to make the journey off of Mt. Coronet.”

“She was a hair past 92 when she finally passed,” Irida follows up, her voice quiet. “She traveled the vast expanses of Hisui, and was devout to Sinnoh until her last breath.” Ingo silently nods as they approach the Base Camp at the opening into the Obsidian Fieldlands. 

“Hey boys!” Elesa calls from the Base Camp, drawing the quartet’s attention to where she was standing with Laventon and Wanda. “I didn’t realize that Irida was bringing you out this way.” Sneasler suddenly turns Ingo’s chair and steers the other three toward the Camp. “How’d the battle go?”

“I am Emmet,” the younger twin says with a nod and a puff of his chest. “I like winning more than anything else.” Even with the glare from his wife, Emmet stands proud. 

“We rode the tracks to Victory,” Ingo says with a proud frown, raising his hand to grip the brim of his hat. “Akari and Elio put us to the edge of the boarding platform, but our train arrived at the station just in time.”

“I’m sad I didn’t get to see it,” Laventon says with a sigh. “Battling isn’t my forte, but it is always fascinating to watch Pokémon battle at such a high level.” He then glances over at Emmet. “Especially because you’ll have Pokémon not native to here or Galar, presumably.”

Emmet closes his eyes and hum, tapping his chin with a knuckle. “Eelektross, Durant, and Archeops aren’t native to Galar, at least in our time.”

“And that would be right in this time too!” Laventon says excitedly, pulling his notebook out as Wanda looks over to Elesa and mouths ‘time?’ In confusion. Laventon ignores them as he steps over to Emmet, writing down on his notebook. “And you said Archeops? I believe that may be a new Pokémon entirely!”

“Stay behind the yellow line,” Emmet says, holding both hands up, the researcher stopping and stiffening in response. “Archeops is a restored fossil. I cannot let you check him.” With a dejected sigh, Laventon deflates and sags. 

“What brought you out here, Professor?” Irida says to help diverge from the subject. “I saw both Akari and Rei back in the Village, and you usually only leave if one of them is out here.”

“Ah, yes,” Laventon rubs the back of his neck in sheepishness. “We have a new recruit, Kana, who is doing some surveying. She’s, um, spirited you might say.” He hesitates and swallows before continuing. “She is very upset that the bulk of the research has been done on the Pokédex already, and while I told her having a bigger sample size is always good and there’s still gaps, she apparently is jealous of both Rei and Akari for working so thoroughly on it.”

“Oh, I think I remember her,” Ingo says as he taps his knuckle against his upper lip. “Akari said that she seemed to be targeting her contributions to the Pokédex to overwrite them. That it’s ‘unfair’ that she won’t be named in the Pokédex.”

“Even though I told her it would be fine, her contributions will still be listed regardless,” Laventon adds, slumping further. “She’s a good worker, and has found plenty of information that will bolster the foundation we already have, but she seems hellbent on not losing to a younger girl.”

“Sounds like a bitch,” Emmet mutters under his breath in Galarian, getting a finger driven into both sides of his ribs by Ingo and Elesa. “Ow! I am Emmet! Am I wrong?!”

“You don’t just call a 17 year old child a bitch!” Ingo scolds in his native tongue, frowning in disapproval. 

“And you shouldn’t call women bitches, either!” Elesa hisses in Galarian, leaving Wanda completely clueless and Irida vaguely confused. 

“Would brat be better?” Emmet huffs, crossing his arms. “That feels almost as insulting, if she’s almost an adult.”

“She is of working age,” Laventon adds to the conversation in a disapproving tone, “but I don’t think it’s fair to call her either. She’s just overzealous.” He pauses after that, and gives Emmet a small smile. “Though she does step out of line in regards to teamwork, so your sentiment isn’t unwarranted.”

As Emmet mumbles a thanks, Laventon turns to Irida. “I’m sorry for holding you all up, Lady Irida. You have a meeting to get to, I believe? I told Kana to give the area by the bridge a wide berth to allow you all privacy.”

“Thank you very much for the blessed space,” Irida says, bowing lightly with a hand over her heart. “We shouldn’t be overly long. I know Ingo will need to be back to the medical wing before sundown.”

“See you on the way back, Deerlings,” Elesa says with a wave as Sneasler begins wheeling Ingo away, leading the group towards the download slope of the Fieldlands’ entrance. The conversation stalls as Emmet and Irida keep an eye on the chair’s descent down the rough slope. 

As the river comes into view, Ingo catches sight of the Wardens of the Pearl Clan gathered around the bridge. Calaba was resting on her Bibarel, shading herself with the leaf on her pack while Lian seems to explain the difference between the two rocks he’s holding. Palina is down the path, watching her Growlithe harass the local Krickitot population, though Gaeric is nowhere to be se- And, as if on cue, Gaeric bursts from the river, holding a pair of Magikarp in his grip. “This should give us enough for Lady Irida and Ingo when they arrive!”

“Those things are mostly gristle, put them back,” Calaba scolds Gaeric from her perch, giving him a disapproving frown. “Besides, we aren’t planning to have a full meal today. We’re not at the village, or at a seat.”

“Maybe not,” Irida calls as the quartet from Jubilife approaches, drawing the gathered Wardens’ attention, “but some hospitality would be nice nonetheless. And I know I haven’t eaten since Calaba and I set out from the Mirelands this morning.”

Palina whistles to call her Growlithe back to the bridge as Lian crosses the bridge. “I’m glad to see yer up, Ingo!” The young Warden stops a respectful distance from Ingo, taking his hat off and letting his puffy hair show in full. “I was mighty worried when I saw them take you by in the caravan.”

Ingo winces at the thought, then takes his good hand and ruffles Lian’s hair. “I’m sorry you had to see that, Lian,” Ingo says with as much warmth as can show through an apology, ignoring his colleague’s protests. “I would never want anyone to see another person in that state.”

“I-It was nothin’!” Lian exclaims, pushing Ingo’s hand away and putting his hat back on to stop further ruffling. “I was just a little worried about one of my compadres, y’hear?”

“Didn’t seem a little worried to me,” Gaeric says, slapping Lian on the back with a smile, before looking down at Ingo. “Though I don’t blame him. Lian said you looked like a mess, wrapped up with half-bled through bandages and Akari and Elesa following behind so quietly.”

Ingo looks sheepish, pulling his hat down over his eyes as Irida speaks up. “He was in a very rough shape indeed. Elesa was telling me he was delirious for a time when he first awoke.”

“I was?!” Ingo blurts out, mortified as he covers his mouth immediately, getting a smile from Gaeric and a full laugh from Emmet. “I-I mean, I didn’t realize I was causing an issue when I first woke up.” Ingo cranes his head back to look at his brother. “I thought I was rather well put together when I woke up.”

Emmet taps a knuckle against his chin before nodding. “I am Emmet. Elesa says you woke up twice before I got here.” Ingo groans and places his face into his hand in grief as the thought of him making a fool of himself fills his mind. 

Any further thoughts of embarrassment are cut off when Irida clears her throat a split second before Calaba does the same, getting a sly look of approval from the centenarian. “Is Jun still gathering the chairs from the Heartwood?” she asks as Lian leads Calaba to a low seat that had obviously been transported there, and Palina takes another chair while Gaeric squats down next to her. 

“Yes,” Calaba grumbles as she slowly drops herself into her chair. “I said that I could sit on Bibarel for the meeting, but Jun and Lian both insisted that I needed a proper seat.” And given how quickly she sinks into the chair and nestles into place, it was clear that she hadn’t put much resistance to the idea. 

“We should have enough time to get through the beginning of the meeting,” Palina offers, her Growlithe curling up behind her as Lian goes to take a seat and Emmet steers Ingo into the open spot in the group. “He left with Sneasel about 20 minutes ago, and he knows how to navigate through Sinnoh's space.”

“Then let’s start with the usual minutes,” Irida says, leaning against one of the trees the seats were set up under. One by one, each of the Wardens gave a brief summary of what had happened in their spaces of Hisui through the last month and a half. 

Lian informed them of the conversion of Deertrack Heights camp into a more permanent settlement, a deal having been struck between Kamado and Adaman over the land where the Seat rests. The Diamond Clan were to still hold the direct area of the Seat, and have a permanent path to it for ceremonial purposes, but Jubilife would be allowed to clear the land and build as needed along the mountain path and at its base. “They’ve also been buildin’ along the southern shore opposite of the mountain,” Lian adds, gesturing vaguely south of their position, in the direction of Lake Verity. “It mostly seems to be a fishin’ spot, but I wouldn’t put it past them to make it permanent.”

On Calaba’s front, she wasted no time in telling them of Solaceon Ruins’ “reconstruction”. While it was no fault of Elesa and Zisu’s, and no one was hurt in the process, it still had a noted change on the Pokemon in the area, and prevented Calaba from making it to her usual quiet space. “That chamber was a place I was able to become connected to the Almighty Sinnoh,” she says with a sigh. “Confined though it was, it made me truly treasure our great Space given to us in Hisui, and the message within was an important life lesson.”

At the furthest reach of the Coastlands, Palina tells, a town is already popping up on the sand. Having cleared out the shipwrecks, and thus the Ghost Pokemon who made their former vessels home, Jubilife has established the camp there directly as Sunyshore Village. There aren’t many permanent residents, just a few Construction Corp members and a few Security Corp members, but already there were nearly a dozen houses ready for people to move into. “Warden Iscan insists that they are being very respectful,” Palina quickly adds. “The Galaxy Team has done nothing to infringe on either Clan’s territory within the Cobalt Coastlands, and they know not to.”

When it comes to the Highlands, Ingo does still speak up despite his absence. While Jubilife hasn’t attempted to make any permanent structures in the area, he has been working with the Survey and Construction Corps on a network of paths to take through the Highlands from both Gingko and Jubilife trade routes, as well as civilian travel between the burgeoning towns. While he had been working on it before Elesa’s arrival, the return of his memories has made the process smoother. “On the topic of Jubilife,” Ingo adds, bringing a hand up to rub his nose, an action that Emmet immediately recognizes as him hiding a Skitty’s smirk, “I hear that a shake up in the Galaxy Team is on the horizon.”

Finally, it’s Gaeric’s turn as he stands up straight to address the rest. The Icelands are quiet, which is good as the Clan prepares for hunting season. The Piloswine and Mamoswine herds are full and healthy, and Zoroark covens seem to be staying hidden away. Though, that also hides a more dangerous message, as both Zorua and Zoroark populations seem to be dwindling, and it’s getting harder to keep Bergmite healthy during the summer months, with the minerals in the area being sapped due to a decade of high populations. “We should be fine,” Gaeric says, his own serious expression undercutting his statement. “According to some records Calaba dictated to me, there have been instances of this happening before, and Bergmite are sturdy creatures. They should be able to bounce back strongly!”

Irida nods gently at each report, her eyes closed as she tallies and compiles it all mentally. As Gaeric finishes, she lets out a deep breath and leans forward off of the tree. “I actually can corroborate those rumors you heard, Ingo,” she starts, giving him a knowing look before continuing, “though I will leave it at that.” Looking at Palina and Lian, she nods to both of them. “Kamado and Cyllene have also approached me about potential places to build a few more settlements for their people.”

“Oh, so now they are encroaching on our Space?” Calaba mutters, burrowing deeper into her chair with a defensive scoff. “They’ve certainly gotten brazen.”

“Unfortunately, people keep coming,” Ingo says with a heavy sigh. “It used to be a boat every several months, but now they’ve been getting a boat each month, with the passenger size slowly growing each time.”

“A station can only increase capacity so fast,” Emmet adds, getting a look from Gaeric and Calaba for speaking up, though he chooses to ignore them for now. “It’s usually easier and better to build a new station to help offset the passenger load.”

It seems to take Irida a moment to properly process the metaphor before nodding to the statement. “I see what you mean. For now, I have rejected their requests to build in the Icelands, though they do currently have permission to build some more at their original base camp in the Highlands.”

As Gaeric and Calaba grumble, a voice calls out from further down the path. “Sorry for running late, Miss Irida!” Down the path towards the Deertrack Heights, a teenage boy with blonde hair is running down the path, carrying two chairs like the ones being used in the meeting. Besides him, a slightly larger than average Sneasel is running with his arms splayed behind him to keep pace.

“Ah, Jun,” Irida says with a smile as she waves to greet the young Clan member. “Go ahead and place those, then take a seat next to Warden Ingo.” Quickly, the teenager gets to work setting a chair down for Gaeric, who stretches his back then falls into the chair with a lounging slouch, then one next to Ingo’s wheelchair before quickly taking a seat. With everyone seated, Irida looks across the group. “Now that we are all here, let us get to the topic that we gathered for.” Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Irida focuses her attention onto Ingo. “Warden Ingo, do you wish to return home?”

For Ingo, everything freezes as his fellow Wardens look in towards him, his wheelchair in the center of the half circle they all form. Behind him, he notices Emmet bring a hand up, then hears a small, almost polite cough as his brother takes control of the situation from him. “I am Emmet. I am not Ingo,” he starts, getting a snicker from Gaeric and Jun, “but I believe this question would not be cropping up without me.”

“Without you or Elesa, yes,” Irida says with a nod, an action Emmet mirrors in response.

“I am Emmet,” comes the verbal response before Emmet continues on. “I came to Hisui to bring Elesa home. Not that I don’t care about Ingo,” he adds after a moment, resting a hand on Ingo’s good shoulder. “But I expected him to want to stay. This has been his life. History books say he had no memories here in Hisui. I wouldn’t want to tear him away from his home..”

“A fine sentiment, but it’s still a question for Ingo,” Lian says, tilting his own hat up to give himself a better view of Emmet’s . “Wouldn’t it be wrong to make his decisions for him, Mr. Emmet?”

“I agree,” Emmet says softly, moving his hand up to cover his mouth, rubbing his face as he sighs to hide the fallen smile. “Just because I’d given up hope of seeing my brother again doesn’t mean he should, just as it means he isn’t beholden to come back to our home.” Ingo brings his hand up to subconsciously mimic Emmet’s action, covering his mouth as it wavers with tears forming in his eyes. 

“Ingo?” Irida’s voice cuts into Ingo’s mind, causing him to blink back the tears and sit up straighter in his chair. “You don’t need to decide immediately. Whatever you decide, we will be prepared for it.” Not so subtly, she glances over to Jun, who goes from fidgeting in his seat to sitting in rapt attention.

Ingo takes a deep, shuddering breath as he tries to think of what to say. As he breathes out, every last breath of air leaves his lungs before he finally settles on something, his hand snaking under his coat to pull out Salamanca’s Pokeball, the red acrylic scuffed and nicked from years of use. “I miss Unova,” he says softly before breathing back in, squeezing the ball as he continues to hold back the tears. “I miss my Pokemon, my children and my companions. I miss Nimbasa City, with the noise so much louder than anything Hisui can create. I miss Anville Town, the sleepiness surrounded by a peaceful forest, with tracks and tunnels to explore.” His next breath is interrupted by an attempted sob, an action he resists and suppresses. “I miss my mother, Lady Irida.”

Emmet’s hand on Ingo’s shoulder squeezes again, trying to help ground Ingo. “I miss my family so much. Uncle Drayden, my cousin Iris, Elesa’s wife and our closest friend Skyla. Even before I could remember them, I ached in my heart for them, like a decommissioned rail line that had been sealed away. The track is there, even if we can’t see it.” Taking a deep breath, he isn’t able to hold back the sob that runs through his body as he breathes out, tears falling down his face into his sideburns. “I… I know I’ll feel this way if I leave, too.”

As he begins to sob, Ingo looks up at Irida as he tries to find words, though it fails as he sees Irida begin to tear up in turn. Even to the side, he hears Gaeric sniff back his own tears, and feels both Lian and Jun put hands on his back to comfort him. “The thought of losing you all is almost too much to bear. Before I couldn’t remember the faces of who I lost immediately, but… This feels like losing my father again. I know it’s coming, I know that I can’t avoid it, but that doesn’t help the pain. It doesn’t help the decision.”

The group falls into silence for a few moments as Ingo sobs into his hand, before Palina speaks up. “No one will fault you for leaving, Ingo, just as no one would fault you for staying. But it’s clear where your heart lies, and I believe that you should follow your heart, no matter where it may lead you.” She doesn’t move from her chair, though her eyes are misted as much as Irida’s and Gaeric’s are. “And just because you aren’t here won’t erase you from our hearts. The Almighty Sinnoh gave us a vast space with the intent for us to make our way through it in a lifetime. Departure is a natural step of this.”

Sneasler comes up beside Ingo, gently nudging past Jun to push Ingo’s hat aside with her snout and begins grooming the side of his head. With a soft chuckle, Ingo finally begins to calm down, then sits up and wipes the tears from his eyes. “I’m sorry for the outburst of emotions,” he says weakly, his voice somewhat hoarse. “My engine is now in check, all systems are go.” Ingo swallows again, then squints his eyes in a genuine smile of his own style. “I wish to return home, Lady Irida.”

Irida smiles back at Ingo, her eyes still misty. “I’m glad to hear that, Warden. We will support your travels across this sacred space with all of our beings.” She takes a deep breath and blinks her eyes clear before taking a stern expression. “Ingo, I hereby declare you free of your burdens as a Warden.” In spite of the reasoning, Ingo still winces as she says the words, as though a spike was driven into his chest from the welling sadness. “You will still hold the title, as all retiring Wardens do, and you are free to help train your successor,” she says, gesturing towards Jun, “but you will not be expected to continue your duties.”

“Still not sure it’s best to throw Jun in like this,” Lian mutters under his breath, shooting a smirk towards the older teenager. Jun turns on Lian, hand in the air as he’s about to let loose a tantrum response before he catches sight of Calaba glaring at him from her nest of a chair.

“Be nice to the boy, Lian,” she says, shifting in her spot to now glare at Lian. “He’s going to be your equal soon, so no petty barbs.” Relaxing her posture, the elder looks back to Irida with a solemn look. “I believe we have a bit more to handle, correct?”

“Correct,” Irida says with a nod, then looks at Sneasler with a smile. “You may step forward now, Sneasler.” With a gentle cooing sound, Sneasler gives Ingo one last nuzzle and steps past the Wardens to stand in the shade in front of Irida. “You have served our Clan, and the people of Hisui, well for long over a decade, before my time as Leader of this Clan. You have made Space into a domain of your own, not only traveling in manners we people are unable, but also leading us through perilous heights and rough terrain.”

Sneasler lets out a smug purr as she vainly places a paw under her smile, Irida returning the smile before continuing in a solemn tone. “O Noble Guide, Blessed by Sinnoh Itself, we thank you this day. We thank you for your service to the people of our Clan. We thank you for the nurturing of our Space. We thank you for the connections you helped to foster. And it is through our thanks that we respect your wish.” She looks towards the Sneasel by Jun’s side next, and holds out a hand towards him.

The Sneasel quickly bolts forward toward his mother, standing at attention next to her. “Young Sneasel, chosen in your line, stand tall knowing that the Almighty Sinnoh smiles not just upon your bloodline, but upon you this day. Feel its sacred Space fill you, and expand from within you.” Kneeling down, Irida produces a small wrapped parcel from her pouch. Holding it out towards Sneasel, she unwraps it to reveal a Razor Claw, glistening in the sunlight. “As Leader of the Pearl Clan, I do bequeath to you this Razor Claw.”

Sneasel takes it from her hands, then looks up at his mother expectantly. At the same time, each of the Wardens are looking at her with their own expressions. Calaba is looking at it with solemn reverence, Gaeric and Palina wearing looks of excitement, and Lian and Jun were both watching with unrestrained awe. Ingo, meanwhile, looks on in muted confusion as Sneasler raises a clawed hand, the wind picking up to blow the leaves aside and expose her to the sun’s rays. Even as the leaves come back into place, though, Sneasler remains shrouded in light, a soft golden glow emanating from her fur, slowly climbing across her body, then up her arm to focus on her claw.

Sneasler looks down upon her child, and the two Pokemon briefly talk to each other in a call and response. Sneasler speaks a phrase or a question, and Sneasel nods or responds. After a few moments of this, Sneasler lowers her claw as Sneasel clutches the Razor Claw tight. When the two connect, the light that was concentrated in Sneasler’s claws seems to shift into the Razor Claw with a circular pronged flash, and Sneasel begins glowing with the selfsame golden hue, before it is overtaken by the white light of evolution. With a bright flash, the young Sneasel elongates and grows in size until, after a few seconds, two Sneasler stand there, looking at each other. In unison, both bring up their paws to their mouths and snicker, turn to face Irida.

“With this, our Noble Guide Sneasler has stepped down from her position, as her Warden has,” Irida says with a light bow to the former blessed Pokemon. “And in her stead, our new Noble Guide shall embody the Blessing of the Almighty Sinnoh, and lead us through this sacred Space.”

As the gathered Wardens and Irida all motion a prayer, Ingo blinks in confusion towards Sneasler, his Sneasler, as she walks back towards him. “My dear Lady,” he starts to ask as he raises a hand to stroke her jaw, “why did you do this?”

As Sneasler purrs into his hand, tilting her head to be stroked behind her ears, Irida steps forward and speaks up. “The night that Akari went up into the mountain, Sneasler had come to the settlement. While we don’t perfectly understand her, it was clear that she wanted to leave this Space if you were destined to leave it.”

Ingo purses his lips together in another attempt to hold back tears as he holds Sneasler’s head to look her in the eyes. “Is that true, dear Lady? You want to travel these tracks with this conductor?” Sneasler blinks at Ingo, then opens her mouth in a toothy smile. “Even if it means leaving behi-”

Sneasler puts a paw on Ingo’s head, smooshing his hat down over his face. “Sneas. Snea-wa-ler.” The words may not be inherently clear to Ingo, but he could feel the intent and emotion behind what she says.

“Of course. My home is you.”

For the second time in the meeting, Ingo begins sobbing, and doubles over in his chair.

[little-miss-moonstone]

The Red Thread (Carmy x OC)

Chapter Three | The Phone Call

Next | Previous | Series Master List

Summary: Carmy comes over for dinner.

WARNING: bad language, anxiety, flashbacks?, little editing. idk what else.. you know the drill, let me know if i missed anything :)

2019

Rori danced around her new apartment putting away items from the few moving boxes she had left. It had always been a dream of hers to live in New York City, and now that was her reality. To her, life seemed like it couldn’t get any better, she had her new apartment, she was halfway through writing a book she knew was a masterpiece, and she and Carmy were now living in the same city, again. And the most exciting part of all of that, to her, was that Carmy had no clue she had even moved to the city, only a few blocks from him. She almost wanted to run over to his apartment and surprise him, but she knew he would be calling her in only a few minutes, and thought of how nice it would be to hear the happiness in his voice. As if he knew she was thinking of him, her phone began to ring. She killed the music and dashed over to her phone.

“Hey,” she smiled, pressing the phone to her ear as she made her way to sit by the window that looked out at the city.

“Hey, what are you up to?” He asked, sitting on his fire escape and smoking a cigarette.

“Nothing really, just waiting for your call. How was work, or do you not wanna talk about it?” She replied, waiting for the right moment to share her good news.

“No, it was the same. I, uh, was thinking about fishmas this morning,” He shared before taking a drag.

“Bear, that was, uh, an interesting night for everyone. I’m okay and you’re okay, we made it out. That’s all we can focus on. Donna is, well, Donna, and I don’t know what got into Mikey, but from what Richie tells me he’s okay,” She tried to comfort him and it did help, but that wasn’t what he was referring to.

“Yeah, I know. I was thinking about our talk, outside. You never finished what you had to tell me,” He reminded. It had been driving him crazy for the last 7 months, but he hadn’t dared to bring it up. Rori froze on the other end of the phone. Her mind went back to that night, a night she had tried so hard to forget, especially what he was now asking about. She could lie, say she forgot, or she could take a chance and tell the truth. Her mind combed through all the moments from their teens and early 20s, the brushing of fingers, the glances across rooms, the tension, and flirtatious undertones.

“Uh, yeah, umm. I don’t know if it’s really all that important anymore,” She spoke in a shy demeanor, this was something Carmy easily picked up on.

“Come on, Rori. It’s you and me, you can tell me anything,” He promised, just as he always had. The caring nature of his voice made her fold like a piece of paper.

“Carmy, I-I want to tell you, and I’ve wanted to for a while I just don’t know how. You and I, we’re solid, and this might change that,” She explained.

He knew what she had to say. It was what he had wanted to say for years, but the thought of it all going wrong had silenced him. He couldn’t stand the thought of her leaving him and he knew it would happen. He couldn’t give her the love she deserved. The words “You are nothing” began to ring through his mind.

“Tell me,” were the only words he could get out.

“I’m in love with you. I have been since we were kids,” She confirmed. They were both quiet, neither of them wanting to speak, but as the seconds passed by her anxiety began to take over. “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. It was stupid, God, just- we can forget about it, right? Pretend I didn’t say anything.”

“It’s o-okay, uh, we- we can just- uh, we can talk tomorrow,” He replied. This was his way out.

“Okay, uh, I’ll talk to you then,” She replied before she hung up the phone. She stared out at the city as tears slipped down her face, she knew deep down they would never be the same.

Present Day (2022)

Rori was preparing dinner, she didn’t know if Carmen would even be hungry but she couldn’t help to think how nice it would be to cook for him. She was making a classic carbonara, something they both grew up eating. She was stirring the egg yolks rapidly when she heard the knock on her door.

“Just come in, Carmy!” She yelled from the kitchen, while she continued to stir.

He was shocked her front door was unlocked, this was Chicago after all. What if it hadn’t been him at the door and some maniac had just barged in? He locked the door behind him, finding his way to her kitchen easily, as he followed the delicious smell. He found her in front of the stove, her back to him as he took his surroundings in.

“Y’know, it’s really unsafe for you to leave your front door unlocked,” He got her attention, as she turned the heat off and began plating.

“I know, but I knew you would be here soon, and had I come to the door we would’ve had noodles and scrambled eggs,” She informed while she plated the food. “I didn’t know if you had eaten yet or at all today, but don’t feel like you have to.”

“No, no. I haven’t,” He assured, “This looks great. Is this your mom’s recipe or my mom’s?” He asked, bringing his plate closer to inspect.

“Your mom’s. I prefer her sauce,” She gave a soft smile, “Uhh, let me get you something to drink, I have water, wine, or whiskey.” She turned to the cabinet where she kept the glasses.

He chuckled at the options, “Water is fine.”

She quickly got him and herself a glass of water, while directing him where to get forks, and then they switched out items. It was for a brief second they both felt a moment of domestication like he had come home from work to her cooking dinner. They both shrugged the thought from their minds, taking a bite, and letting the dish take over.

“Wow. Don’t tell her, but this might be better than mom’s,” He smiled. He was being genuine and she knew that, returning the smile.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of telling her that. She would kill me, then you,” She chuckled. There was a brief moment of silence before she spoke, again, “I haven’t talked to her since Mikey, I, uh, figured I would just give her some space. I actually haven’t even told my parents I moved back, either. I- well, that situation hasn’t changed in the last 3 years. I, uh, well, my mom’s like your mom, and my dad is…”

“M.I.A.,” He finished her sentence. His mouth continued before his mind could catch up. “Have you spoken to him since that night?”

“No, I don’t think I can. He just left so easily, like I was nothing to him. I’m worth more than that. I miss him, though, the old him. I think about that version of him a lot. How he used to take us for ice cream, or how he and your dad would joke abo-“ she stopped herself, “while we played in the yard, or whatever.”

They continued eating through casual conversation and when they were done she rinsed their plates and left them in the sink to wash later. He moved into her living room looking around at the pictures on the mantle. One of Rori and Mikey from what had to be only a couple of years ago, one of her and Sugar from her first book signing, one of her holding Eva the day she was born, and lastly, one of the two of them from Fishmas, it was different from the one he had of them. In this one they were both smiling, only she was looking at the camera and he was looking at her. He remembered that moment, it was just after the picture he had was taken.

“We won’t have another Christmas like that, I fear,” She joked while taking a seat on her couch. He let out a soft chuckle before taking the seat opposite of her.

“I guess, we should talk about the elephant in the room,” She suggested and the atmosphere changed back to between comfortable and awkward, and Carmy couldn’t stand it.

“Honestly, this is all my fault. I-I, well you know how I am, I push people away. You gave me an opportunity to push you away that night and I took it. I know it was a dickhead move and I’m really sorry. I completely understand if you can’t forgive me, we can just carry on and I won’t bother you at al-“ He was cut off.

“I forgive you.”

He sat there for a moment trying to process the words that had come out of her mouth. How could she forgive him that easily, after he had completely cut her out of his life? She couldn’t even forgive her father for basically doing the same thing.

“You forgive me?” He repeated, not quite believing it only took an apology and his idiotic rambling.

“I forgive you. Carmy, all I ever wanted was an apology and a fucking explanation. You just gave me both. I want us to start fresh, well, like from before that night. I know it’ll probably take some time for us to get back to that, but I’m willing to give it a shot. If you are,” She replied and he smiled at her forgiving nature. He was about to agree, but she continued, “On one condition.” He nodded, almost begging her to speak, he would do anything to ensure she was back in his life like she was before.

“If you ever think you can pull some bullshit like that on me, again. I swear to God, Carmy, I will beat your ass. You don’t get to push me, of all people, away,” She was firm and yet, gentle and he couldn’t help to admire that.

He nodded, “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

From there the two fell into a comfortable conversation catching up on the last few years and then reminiscing on their youth. She was in the middle of telling him a story about a night out she had in London last year and he couldn’t help to think of how lucky he was to be sitting in her home with her, while she seemed to be enjoying his presence. He felt almost whole for the first time in years, and he knew it was her that had been missing.

It was late when Carmy left, both of them so caught up in conversation that it would be a rough day running on little sleep. Sugar beating on Rori’s front door didn’t help as she jolted awake to see it was 6:45 in the morning. Rori opened the door in her sweatshirt and shorts she had slept in, along with bedhead, and an unamused look on her face.

“Good morning, Sunshine. How was your dinner date with Carmy?” Sugar smiled pushing past Rori into the house.

“Oh, fuck off. You woke me up to be nosy? You couldn’t just call me at lunchtime?” Rori huffed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Did he sleep here? Oh my god, is he in your room?” She asked, quieting her voice and throwing Rori for a loop. The girl felt like her brain had short-circuited at the thought of Carmen staying over, much less in her bed.

“What? No, he did not sleep here,” Rori got defensive.

“Oh, I drove by at 10:30 last night and I saw his car was still here, s-“

“You did what!? Sugar, I cannot believe you were stalking us,” Rori sighed, rubbing her hands over her face in frustration. “Okay, I’m going to give you a summary of the night and then you're going to get the hell out of my house, and then I’ll give you a call when I’m not as angry as I am right now, okay?” When Sugar nodded, she continued, “He came over, we had dinner, he apologized, and I forgave him. Goodbye,” Rori finished guiding her friend outside. She shut the door, and locked it, leaving Sugar on her front porch while she returned to bed.

Only now that she was lying in bed, she was wide awake. Fucking Berzatto’s, she thought to herself as she leaned over grabbing her laptop from her nightstand. She sat up to work on the squeal she promised her publisher would be done by the end of the year. In her defense, she had half of the year left, but she also had only written a few chapters. She opened her notes and began mapping out the rest of the story.

Carmy had already been at the restaurant for a couple of hours, his mind not allowing him much sleep. When Sydney arrived at the restaurant she noticed that he was in the best mood she had ever seen him in, her first thought was he got laid, but she couldn’t imagine he was into hookups and she knew he wasn’t in a relationship. She began her prep while trying to figure out if she should ask, or just enjoy a happy Carmy for once. She let it go knowing Richie would ask, but when he arrived he didn’t. He did notice, and he wanted to ask, but the fact that it could have something to do with Rori made him bite his tongue, that was until she stopped by the restaurant just in time for family. While she was formally introducing herself to Sydney and signing her copy of “The Red Thread”, Richie decided to take this opportunity to question Carmy.

“Yo, Cousin,” He said, getting the younger man’s attention, “This whole “Mr. Nice guy” thing doesn’t have anything to do with Rori Bear, does it?”

Carmy almost smiled at the nickname he hadn’t heard in year, but he caught himself. “Uh, I don’t know. I went to her house last night, we, uh,” Richie seemed extremely hopeful in that moment, “talked about- I apologized. Um, we’re just kind of starting over from where we left off.” He explained, and while that was still great news, Richie was hoping there was more.

“You just apologized?” He asked, “You guys just talked like that’s all?” Carmy could tell what he was implying and it reminded him of the talks he used to get from him and Mikey.

“Cousin, stop. We’re not doing this. Rori and I are back at a place where we actually talk to each other and she doesn’t seem to be freaking out about being in the same room as me. So we’re going to leave it right there, okay? I don’t need you putting all that bullshit in my head like you and Mikey used to.” He assured.

“Bullshit? Cousin, are you fucking stupid?” Richie questioned.

“Yo. I just said we're not fucking doing this. Go take your seat for family,” Carmen ordered.

Rori sat in between Carmy and Richie at the table, Tina was quick to start up a conversation with the girl having not seen her in a few years. Rori could feel Carmy briefly tense up when her time working at The Beef came up, and it didn’t help when Richie joined in. She tried steering the conversation to a new topic knowing Carmy would ask about her time at the restaurant. She thought he might forget if the topic changed a few times. Sydney started gushing over her book and trying to get any information about the sequel.

“I mean Rose and Cameron have to end up together, right? Like they can’t be that oblivious, especially when everyone around them is constantly telling them,” Sydney explained. Carmy turned to listen, wanting more details of the book he hadn’t read yet.

“You would be surprised. I know some real stubborn motherfuckers, who make Rose and Cam look normal,” Richie entered the conversation.

“Cousin, quit acting like you read it,” Carmy let out a small laugh.

“I did fucking read it, all 319 pages! And let me tell you Cameron’s a real jagoff. How can he be so in love with Rose and then do fuck all about it, and then be miserable? Stupid rat does it to himself,” Richie remarked, jolting up from his chair.

“Okay, Richie. It’s fictional, let's not lose our heads,” Rori guided him back down to his chair. “Guys, I’m going to be honest. I’ve only written a few chapters of the next book, and I have no clue yet whether they are going to end up together or not in the end, but even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. You’ll just have to find out when I send your copies,” She smiled, returning to her food.

When family wrapped up, Carmy was quick to step out back for a smoke break, learning that Rori worked at the restaurant, and all the talk about a book he felt guilty for not reading, was taking up his mind. He wasn’t expecting her to come join him, she had never cared for the smell of cigarette smoke, so when she asked for a drag, he was completely caught off guard. He studied her face trying to pick up on any subtle hints as to if she was joking and when she furrowed her brows in confusion, he knew she was serious. He cautiously handed it over watching to see if she inhaled when she took a drag.

“When did you start smoking? You hated it when we were kids,” He asked, leaning back on the brick wall. He could tell she was reading him like a book with his cigarette between her lips, and he hated how much he adored it and how jealous he was of a fucking cigarette.

“Like 3 years ago. I thought it would help with the stress and anxiety. News flash, it fucking doesn’t. I don’t allow myself to smoke all the time, but with this next book, I might become a chain smoker,” She gave a small giggle and handed him back the nicotine stick.

“When did you work here?” He asked before he could stop himself.

“Pandemic. I moved back temporarily and Mikey needed help, and I had writer's block so I figured “What the hell”. It wasn’t long, maybe a few months. I, uh, do you know who Nico is?” She wondered, not wanting to snitch on Mikey. When Carmy nodded she continued, “I caught them, Mikey and Richie, they were back here in the alley dealing. I was pissed, Mikey and I got into this huge fight, mostly over the coke. He told me I couldn’t work here anymore, he didn’t want me around his “bullshit” because I had made something of myself,” She paused again, “He felt the same way about you.”

It was silent, both of them just looking at each other as he passed the cigarette back to her. It was comfortable, but only for a second. Carmy couldn’t figure out if they were the same people they were three years ago, there was still so much he didn’t know about her. He was relatively the same, but it was as if she had lived a thousand different lives.

“Where were you living before the pandemic, and before now?” He didn’t want her to feel like it was an interrogation, but he was just so curious. He noticed her slightly tense up and for a moment he regretted even asking, but that was only until he heard her mutter the words, “New York City.”

“You were in New York?” There was a mix of emotions behind his words, he wasn’t even sure what he felt in that moment. Was he upset, confused, or was he angry?

“Yeah, I moved there the day of the phone call. I was going to tell you, but I didn’t really get the chance. I’ve been there for the last three years. A few blocks from Madison Park,” She confirmed.

Carmen felt like an even bigger dickhead at that moment. All he could think about was the fact that he threw away what could’ve been the best years of their lives. What if, instead of pushing her away that night, he pulled her closer? He thought of all they could’ve done together in the city away from this breeding ground of family trauma and anxiety, they could’ve been so happy… together.

A/N: I’m so sorry for the delay. I got caught up with my birthday this past weekend, work, and registering for classes because i decided to go back to school.. not to mention the fucking Calvin Klein ad and the golden globes. Ugh, anyways, I hope you’re enjoying so far and hopefully another chapter will be out soon!!

[sir-sunawani]

Quicksand

Fem Reader x Sir Crocodile

20 Chapters - 46,838 words

Read it on Ao3 or Wattpad

CW: Language, violence, blood, moral ambiguity, murder, sexual themes and situations, yandere, angst with a happy ending, a referenced instance of physical abuse. 18+ only

Chapter 5: Sand Kissed

The cool feeling of glass against the nape of your neck sends shivers down your back as the surprisingly gentle hand slips down your spine and settles into the middle of your back. You were sure the soft gasp of air that escapes you is audible, and certainly the heat that's already rising in your face was noticeable.

Warm fingers sweep the errant strand of hair you hadn't bothered fixing since the meal back behind your ear. Trailing slowly down the line of your jaw, you feel your face tilting upward seemingly on its own. His thumb slips over the curve of your lips, and you release a soft hot breath at the sensation, your very core shuddering at the idea of what is to follow.

He leans down, those amber golden eyes practically glowing in the dark room, holding your gaze and seemingly catching your breath as well. An approving smile reaches those eyes, in contrast to the nearly disinterested half-lidded gaze. You wonder idly what would cause those eyes to open wide, what emotion, pleasure, or moment could release that intense gaze completely - and who would be able to survive it.

His lips brush over yours so lightly that it's nearly painful in the haze of your desire, and you hear his deep voice in your ear. "Breathe, Miss (Y/N)," he commands, a light kiss near your ear. "While you still can."

You suck in a breath, unaware you had stopped in the first place, and let it out shakily. There's a soft chuckle rumbling from somewhere in his chest, as his hand slips over your eyes. You take a sharp breath in, and feel his lips against yours, warm, dry, commanding. His glass hand holds you in place against his body as he gives you a moment to breathe before deepening the kiss.

There is no request for your surrender, no sweet lick along your lips to urge entrance, you simply submit as you fall to the will of the man before you. There is no disinterest in the energy of his kiss, nothing to be called calm. There is heat and passion, will and dominance, you can feel yourself getting lost in the unspoken commands swirling around you.

Your fingers find purchase against his arms, tight and solid, more powerful and fit than you had expected. There was no escape to be had, and you wanted none. Your hands move over him, trying to pull him closer even as the relentless kiss makes your head spin. Your moans mix into the kiss, and your fingers clench and pull against the turtleneck he's wearing.

There's an illusion of control as you mistake him ending the kiss as you successfully leaning back to break it. You sink into his arms, the kiss having nearly buckled your legs. Between the rush of it and the dizzying lack of air as he had taken what he pleased, he had given you all you had desired and then some.

Your breath is hot and heavy, your face flushed and bright with heat and desire. You want more of his lips, but the rush of the kiss has you reeling and slightly hesitant, unsure how much more of him you could survive.

"My desires in this are clear," he catches your gaze, pulling you in as his voice demands your attention. "Yours must be as well."

You swallow hard. You know what you want, and know what was likely to happen, from the moment you had decided to follow him to the hotel. Even before then. Old fantasies swam in and out of your mind as you try to find the words needed.

"I want you." Your voice is soft, but steady. It's only your body trembling with anticipation that shivers within his grasp.

"Mm, but how, Miss (Y/N)?" He questions, amusement dripping from his voice. You can practically feel the teeth at your throat; he may be asking you, but you're already being devoured by him.

"I... am in your care, Sunawani." You manage, a dangerous smile slipping across his face. His lips close in on yours and you manage a quiet, almost whimpered, "please don't break me." Before he claims your mouth again, with a deep, hopefully positive, grunt rumbling in his chest in response.

Rough hands grab your ass, and you can't tell in your haze which is flesh or glass as you're lifted from the ground, pressed against the wall briefly as your legs wrap around his waist, and your arms wrap around his neck. Your fingers slip through his hair, and you find a little control in the kisses that pass between the two of you, his hands too occupied with holding you up as he moves you through the room.

The smooth transition from being held to being laid on the bed isn't fully appreciated by your pleasure addled mind. You have a few moments free from his deep kisses as he leans back, looming over your body that's unfolded before him. There's something in his fiery gaze that spurs you to move without him saying a word.

Your fingers begin to undo the buttons of your blouse. You want to toss the garment aside in a swift motion, but something in you decides to take your time. There's no sense in letting him have complete control so easily.

You continue undoing buttons even as you reach the waist of your jeans. You can see the approval on his face as you loosen your pants and pull the zipper down, kicking your shoes off and onto the floor as you wiggle the band of your jeans down your hips a little. Cool glass fingers slide across your hips as he leans down, lopping a finger around the thin lacy band of your thong with an amused hum.

Any explanation on your part dies on your lips as he steals another kiss from you, the deep moan rumbling up from his chest into the exchange is enough to convey his approval. He moves enough to pull your pants off, leaving the lacy undergarment in place for now, and tossing the jeans onto the floor. He puts a knee on the bed and pulls his turtleneck off.

The motion tussles his hair, which wasn't staying back very well on its own before this point anyway. You mean to remove your blouse, but the revelation of what was under his shirt has frozen you in place. No wonder it had been like walking into a brick wall when you crashed into him on Wednesday. There was no true apathy in this man's personality, maybe the world at large did bore him, but the dedication he had to himself was... appreciable.

Hands slip underneath your blouse and back, lifting you up off the bed.

"I don't often have a desire to mind others' possessions," Crocodile's voice rumbles through you. "But it seems I am so inclined for you."

He slips the blouse from one of your arms, and you place your fingers on his very near, very solid chest. "Distracted." You admit, not having mind enough to say much past that.

"Mm," you can hear and feel his voice as your blouse is removed entirely, forgotten on the floor with your jeans. "Allow me to help with that."

Warm fingers slip along the back of your neck, curling through your hair and pulling you into another deep kiss as cooler fingers trace down your side, eliciting muffled squeaks and moans from you as the touch tickles you. He breaks the kiss as the glass fingers move under the band of your thong and slip deep into the hot wet lips between your thighs.

You gasp as the cold, hard, smooth surface of the glass finger teases your clit. Your hips buck and your back arches, as the slow motion pulls airy, shaking gasps from you. The slow delicious assault only stops enough for him to pull your bra up and over your breasts, since his other arm is still holding you off the bed a bit.

The glass digit resumes between your thighs as a hot, wet tongue licks up the curve of your breast before his mouth devours a hard, sensitive nipple. Tongue and teeth lick and nip at the sensitive flesh, seemingly in time with the steady movements of his prosthetic. Your legs twitch and shift, toes curling as your body tenses under his desires, your arms torn between wanting to explore his body, and wanting to push yourself away from the building pleasure.

Your airy gasps and moans are deeper and louder, your fingers flexing against his arms and chest.

"Sss-u-wani...." You whimper as you feel the pleasure building up inside you.

"I only meant for you to use that in public, but I do like the way you're saying it right now." He purrs, his breathe teasing your flesh as he takes the time to speak. "Cry for me, (Y/N)."

His mouth continues its assault and the glass finger speeds up. The rush of renewed pleasure sends a shock through your body, and the orgasm crashes into you suddenly. Your cry of pleasure was cut short by the rush of things, strangled in your throat and your body spasms with the hard orgasm.

As you sink into the bed, you can hear the sound of a zipper, and the rumple of clothes falling to the ground. The sounds of a wrapper breaking brings some comfort to your addled brain, too lost in the haze of your orgasm to have had a mind to ask on your own.

He holds both of your ankles in one hand, lifting your hips enough to pull your thong to your knees. Your legs press into his chest as his erection presses against your entrance. That golden amber gaze finds the last traces of focus in your eyes as your hands reaches out to him.

"Please," you beg. The position gives you little capacity to move into him, but you feel the sweet pressure of his cock pushing you open, filling you up and driving deep into the wet needy mess you had become. Your fingers clutch at the comforter under you as pleasurable sounds bubble up from your chest and escape into the space between you and him.

"The sounds you make are addictive," Crocodile admits, his voice nearly a growl as he fights to control himself, finishing his slow and steady push into you until he's completely in. He stays still for a brief moment, for your sake or his it's hard to say, and then begins a steady rhythm.

After a few long strokes he pulls your thong from your legs completely, tossing it aside and putting your legs on either side of his chest, against the tops of his shoulders. He leans forward, pushing deeper as his hands sink into the mattress on either side of your waist. The new sensation sends a shiver through your body, and your fingers wrap around his forearms as his earlier steady pace picks up.

You have no control over the sounds that escape you, but the gasps and moans and broken bits of pleading are appreciated by the one responsible for eliciting such noises from you. As the pleasure builds in you, your legs tremble and your breathing comes out in shuddering heavy breaths. He leans down a little more and the shift in angle hits you so deliciously you're clamping down on him in orgasm without warning.

His pace picks up and the new deep assault pulls the first unexpected orgasm into a second stronger one, with seemingly no relief between the two of them. Tears fall down the sides of your face as the overwhelming sensation overpowers you, and you're on the verge of begging him to stop when his thrusts become erratic and his thick cock twitches inside of you.

Your feet flex as he pulls out, your whole body unbelievably sensitive as you're lost in a thick haze of pleasure and exhaustion. You hum contentedly as his hands move down your legs, easing them into the comforter as he leans down and kisses you. The soft and tender kiss is in contrast to his earlier passion, but it's warm and still sends little shivers of pleasure down into your chest.

He untangles your bra from your limbs as you have all the capacity and coordination of a puppet that's had its strings cut at the moment. You turn and nuzzle in his chest as he sinks into the comforter beside you. Propped up on his elbow his warm hand runs down your shoulder and arm, to your hip, sliding over the soft lines of your body comfortably.

"Not broken yet, I hope." He muses, your eyes still hazy with pleasure, your fingers idling along the lines of his chest.

You shake your head lazily, "You're surprisingly considerate," you muse, especially for a Warlord, nuzzling your cheek against the warm hand moving across your jaw and into your hair.

There's a strong, but not painful tug, as your head is tilted so that you're looking into his eyes. The sharp intense gaze burns into you, pushing back the haze that the earlier pleasure had dropped you in.

"And now I know the unspoken third concern." Crocodile says pointedly, and with growing horror you realize your internal thought had not been as internal as you thought.

[furryprovocateur]

fire emblem, or, as i like to call it, the game where you can make no mistakes and still lose. yeah i'm fucking mad but whatever, i did it.

this chapter really isn't THAT bad, i feel like the strategies for dealing with everything are fairly apparent. i just got some really dogshit luck on multiple attempts (3 60% attacks in a row missed and then in a separate attempt 2 90% attacks missed 🤪) so it really soured the shit out of my mood. the basic strategy you want to use is send two cavs + hector + priscilla and one other unit (in my case, it was guy) to the north, send matthew to the west and give him a buddy unit to kill the shaman unless your matthew has gotten stupidly good (or you just want to roll dice loaded against you 3-4 turns in), leave two of your units (one of them should preferably be lyn) behind to deal with the cav + nomad reinforcements. lyn benefits greatly from mani katti here and will nail kills she otherwise has next to no business getting. in a bizarre twist of fate, my lyn has 14 strength and 13 speed. can't tell if i should be arguing that she's blessed in strength or getting burned in speed. probably both.

speaking of level ups, i feel like i got an okay assortment of them. feel like i'm getting mostly average level ups in that people are getting the stats they should be (i.e. florina's getting speed and resistance, hector's getting strength and defense, lowen's getting whatever + defense), and while i wish i was getting ever so slightly better level ups on people like guy (he's always juuuuuust shy of 1RKOing and can't double with the iron blade), i feel like i should largely have no complaints. kent's basically caught up as well, low on skill but skill is a meme stat.

the biggest annoyance of the map is the thieves that spawn in the north. one of them will just fuck off (i assume this is because it's there to go for the chests to the west that i always end up getting before he's even a presence), but the other one is a super asshole. on my previous attempts i was able to intercept him and kill him before he looted more than one chest (meaning you can still get all the treasure), but in the one that beat the chapter, the little cunt got to the silver sword then the knight crest, meaning i lost the silver sword. the only positive i can say is that he never does the reverse (which would be a colossal hit (that i would reset over)), and the silver sword is only 1500 gold. but it's really just the principle of the matter. way more annoyed about it than i really should be but i'll survive.

people shit on lucius but he does one solid thing, regardless of whether or not you used him in lyn mode: he's able to lure out one of the knights in bernard's room and kill it with a 3HKO. it's nothing impressive but it's something. meanwhile, his boyfriend raven unfortunately wasn't able to do much for me since i needed him to recruit lucius. he doesn't need experience that badly for now, but the sooner i can make him a frontliner, the better. he is one of the stars of HHM after all.

speaking of bernard's room! capital F FUCK that mage in that room. dude's a gigantic fuck and i wish the worst on him.

bernard himself was very "whatever" to kill. hector with wolf beil deleted him in 2 hits. i would've vastly preferred to get the kill with someone else, as hector's about to hit level 15 (which is fairly overleveled compared to the rest of my units and enemies in the current chapters + i don't need him hitting 20 early), but there were no really good options out of the people available (eliwood, kent, guy, lowen). eliwood could've maybe done some damage, but the rapier only has 4 uses and eliwood isn't as reliable as ol' hector.

i am grouchy and bitchy rn, but i'll probably wake up pretty happy with how things turned out. i was very worried about hitting both tactics and experience goals, so to clear both that well is very fortunate. i'm at the point where i need to start cycling some units out (i.e. lowen), and i'd like to make use of rebecca/bartre but it's hard to catch them up. maybe pirate ship will be kind to them. but you know what chapter isn't going to be kind to me? the next one! not looking forward to port of badon, but at least it's got double the turns for 5 star compared to HNM (seriously, fuck doing that chapter in 5 turns). also gonna have to decide how many units i want to bring just for the premise of using them in the arena. erk in the arena for experience buffering is extremely tempting. i'll meditate on it.

[moviehealthcommunity]

So, in one of your posts, you said that before Admin Brandon came up with the Flashing Lights Warning Track, people were asking for a log of timestamps of strobe effects in Incredibles 2 and IT Chapter Two after their releases. When you said that within the first strobes happening in Incredibles 2, it would be impractical to just create timestamps. Quick question. How did you even get access to the theatrical cut of Incredibles 2? Did you use a low-quality CAM copy, or did you just manage to find it out of the blue in high quality?

When we evaluate the theatrical cuts of these movies, we are doing so at the theaters. When I evaluated Incredibles 2, that was done in the theater while that theatrical cut was playing.

When I talk about certain movies being impractical for lists of time stamps, that presents the problem that the Flashing Lights Warning Tracks seek to fix. One example is with Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker. This movie has a solid 20-minute climactic battle sequence that is nearly completely covered in strobe effects. When you watch it with its Flashing Lights Warning Track, you’ll spend those 20 minutes listening to audio descriptions of what you’re missing, with the assumption that you’re not looking at the screen.

The only real problem I’ve run into while creating Flashing Lights Warning Tracks is the time and effort it takes to make each one, which makes them a paid-only service. One of these factors (most likely the need to charge) has led to a popularity of the Flashing Lights Warning Tracks that is not sustainable for continued publishing, which is why, as previously announced, we have had to pull the plug on that project.

With that in mind, there are still some movies for which even a Flashing Lights Warning Track would be impractical. This includes both Spider-Verse films, as well as the recently-released Megalopolis. Movies like these fill entire scenes with unnecessary and unnecessarily strong and constant strobe light effects, even more than The Rise of Skywalker did.

We are working on returning our focus on one thing: to inform the public of the potential health hazards at the movies that the studios are hesitant to publish. This gives the public the opportunity for more informed consent when going to the movies.

[darthvashtique93]

Return of the Hawk

Chapter 33

Shayera and Chey-Ara attacking each other had not surprised Batman. Green Lantern and Flash, however, were prepared to rush to Shayera's aid, but J'ohnn immediately held them both back with his powers. "No," he said, "this needs to happen." Batman watched the two fight while his teammates made quips here and there. Chey-Ara had solid form, good footwork, hard punches, but she was nowhere near as good as Shayera, who was going easy on the smaller hawk. Shayera had yet to throw a single punch. Clearly, she didn't want to hurt the smaller hawk. "Ooh," Flash flinched as Shayera's fist made contact with Chey-Ara's ribs.

Batman warched as Shayera allowed the young hawk to recover and attack. She could have easily ended the fight just now, he thought. A moment later, the fight ended when Shayera placed her opponent in a chokehold. "You go Shay," Flash cheered loudly. Shayera then slowly released Chey-Ara instead of delivering a final blow. "That's it? That's all we get?" Flash asked.

"You are so immature," Green Lantern murmured.

"What are they doing now?" Flash asked incredulously. "Are they seriously having a conversation? They do know we're 20 feet away, right?"

"Let them talk, Barry," J'ohnn said.

A few moments later, Flash asked Green Lantern, "Do you know what they're saying?"

"No," Green Lantern answered back.

"Can't you use your ring to translate?"

"I can. But I won't."

"Why?"

"Flash," Wonder Woman said in annoyance, "if they wanted us to know what they were saying, they would speak English."

"You guys do know that us standing here while they debate… or whatever is very, very weird."

"Shut up, Flash," Wonder Woman and Green Lantern growled at the same time.

Batman continued to watch the two hawks. He saw Shayera motion their away a couple of times. Then she started sneaking glances at them…or him? Interesting. A moment later, the two were shaking hands and walking to rejoin the group.

"You guys stood here and just stared at us the entire time?" Shayera asked with a raised brow.

"What else were we supposed to do?" Flash asked with a grin.

"I trust everything has been sorted," Batman said in a monotone voice, looking between the two Thanagarians. Chey-Ara glanced at Batman before covering a smile with her hand. "Yes, everything is okay," Shayera said, "Chey-Ara will help us."

"Just like that?" Wonder Woman folded her arms with a scowl. "Do all Thanagarians change their allegiance so easily?"

"Excuse me?" Chey-Ara glared at the Amazon. Shayera placed a hand on Chey-Ara's arm.

"It's fine, Diana," Superman gave Wonder Woman a harsh look before saying, "We'll bring the other league members up to speed later. Right now, we need to prepare for the attack."

"I already have a plan," Batman said.

"Of course, you do," Flash muttered.

Batman glared at the speedster. "I'll bring you guys up to speed later. Right now, Shayera and I need to get back," he said glancing at he comm in his hand. "Something has come up. I'm needed in Gotham ASAP."

"Anything we can help with?" Superman asked.

"No," Batman answered before turning on his heel and walking out the door. Shayera gave a small wave before following him.

"I can provide more information," Shayera heard Chey-Ara say as she and Batman walked out. Shayera only hoped Wonder Woman wouldn't attack their newest recruit.

"What's wrong?" Shayera asked Batman as they appeared in the batcave, teleporting from the Watchtower.

"Ah, Master Bruce," Alfred greeted them on the teleportation pad. "Miss Shayera."

"He is here," Batman said stiffly.

"In the gym, sir."

Batman gave a nod before saying, "Let's go, Shayera."

"What?" Shayera followed not understanding what was going on. "What is going on? Who are we meeting?"

"You'll see," Batman responded, his voice not giving anything away.

Shayera entered the training gym behind Batman and saw a male hawk standing in the gym, inspecting it closely. "This is the hawkman you were telling me about?" Shayera asked.

Carter turned. "Hey, Bats," he greeted.

"Do you have them?" Batman said.

"I do," Carter said. He placed a wide, thick briefcase on the bench and opened it. Shayera's brain didn't register what she was seeing until Carter held them up. "Here they are," he stated proudly. Something white was draped over his forearms. "For you," Carter said to Shayera, holding his arms out towards her.

Shayera moved closer to inspect the item in Carter's arms. It took her five seconds to realize what was being given to her. Her mouth dropped open in awe; she was speechless. Draped over Carter's arms were a pair of white, Thanagarian faux wings.

Shayera slowly, stiffly reached a hand out to touch them. "I hope they're okay," Carter continued. "Bats here wanted it to be a surprise, so I had to trust the measurements he gave me. I don't want to know how you were able to get the lieutenant's measurements, but I hope they turned out just right." Carter continued speaking, but Shayera didn't hear him as his voice faded into the background. She was…this was…and he was…Shayera turned to Batman. "You did this for me?" she asked him, interrupting Carter who was still talking.

"Carter made them," Batman answered, "I just umph." Batman was stopped midsentence by Shayera kissing him. Shayera was on her tiptoes kissing him. They were kissing. He and Shayera were kissing. And she had initiated it. Batman remained calm on the outside as he slowly wrapped his arms around Shayera's waist.

"Uhh," Carter shifted uncomfortably. "I'll just…I know my way out," he said, slowly backing out the gym.

Once he was gone, Shayera broke the kiss, removing Bruce's cowl. "Shayera," Bruce muttered softly.

"I'm sorry," Shayera said still standing on her tiptoes, breathing heavily. "I shouldn't have kissed you while you were still Batman, but I just – you just – and the wings – you," she didn't know what to say. So, she planted her lips on Bruce's once again, pressing her body into his. Bruce didn't know how to proceed. Any other female, they would have already been naked – or he would have had her up against a wall. But Shayera wasn't any female. He didn't want to scare or startle her. He wasn't sure how…experienced…she was with sex. Following her lead was the best course of action.

Bruce wasn't the only one having an inner monologue while kissing, Shayera was having one, too. This wasn't how she had planned to share her feelings with Bruce, but then she saw the wings. She didn't know what to do. She had never felt this happy about anything before. Her wings had been the most precious thing in her life, and Bruce had just given them back to her. Her heart was swelling with joy and a whole bunch of other mushy emotions. "Thank you," Shayera breathed out. "Thank you. I – I don't know what else to say," she felt tears gather in her eyes.

"You don't have to say anything, Shayera," Bruce said, resting his forehead against hers. He gazed into her large green eyes.

"Yes, I do," Shayera whispered, not shying away from his gaze. "I have so much to thank you for," she said as tears slowly rolled down her face. Bruce used his thumbs to wipe the tears away as she continued, "No one's ever…" her voice faded.

"I know," Bruce said stroking her cheek as gently as possible through this black, military grade gloves.

"I can't – I have nothing to give you – "

This time, Bruce interrupted her with his lips covering hers, all the while wishing he wasn't still wearing his stupid suit. "You owe me nothing," he said breathlessly as he continued kissing her senseless, sucking her lower lip, slipping his tongue in her mouth.

Shayera was drowning in feelings and sensations. She had never felt this with John. Then again, she never actually let it get this far with John. She was loyal to Katar when it came to…bedroom intimacies. "You should try them on," Bruce said, pulling his lips only a few millimeters away from hers.

"I don't want to," Shayera said as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Not now."

"It's okay," Bruce pressed a quick kiss to her lips, "we will continue this later, I promise." He kissed her hard before releasing her. "Try them on," he demanded, falling back into his Dark Knight role. "I'm gonna change." Shayera nodded, biting her lip. She had just made out with the Batman. She wanted to scream for joy, but she wouldn't because that would be weird for her. Instead she turned to the wings resting on the bench and began studying them, looking them over. It would feel weird, but these wings would definitely come in handy…as soon as she learned how to put them on. "I should have asked Carter when he was here," she realized.

Diana sat atop the Eiffel Tower, watching the city below. The meeting had been…eventful. She needed a moment to process. "May I join you?"

Diana turned to her right. "Kal-el," she said in surprise. "Of course you can join me. You do not have to ask."

Superman sat next to her. "Paris is beautiful at night," he said.

"Yes, it is," Diana agreed. "I come up here every now and then to think. To clear my head."

"Well," Kal-el said, "penny for your thoughts?" he gave her a simple nudge.

Diana smiled. "I have been on this planet for a very long time, and I still do not understand that particular phrase. Do humans really believe thoughts to be worth a penny?"

Kal-el shrugged before saying, "I don't know what it means either, and I actually lived with humans. Don't feel bad about not understanding their vernacular at times. But really, Diana, is everything okay?" he asked in concern.

Diana released a heavy sigh. "I hated Shayera. I hated what she did to us. When they took her wings, I did not care. I thought she deserved it. I only fought them because you did. But I wanted her to feel how I felt when she betrayed us." Diana stared out into the distance. It was one hour before sunrise. "And then Chey-Ara said she would fight with us."

"Yeah," Superman said. "That surprised me."

"Does loyalty mean nothing to them?"

"Diana," Superman leveled her with a look, "you were there when Shayera's wings were torn from her back. You know loyaltly is everything to the Thanagarians."

"If Chey-Ara can be so easily convinced to go against her own people, who's to say she cannot be easily swayed back to their side?"

"I see," Superman frowned. They sat in silence for a few minutes. "Diana, what is Thanagar like?"

"What do you mean?" Diana furrowed her brow.

"Well, you and Shayera spoke often. Did she ever tell you about her life on Thanagar?"

"No, she didn't," Diana frowned. "I never asked."

"Hmm. Neither did I. J'ohnn has told me what he has gleaned from Chey-Ara. By the way, I do believe our resident Martian has developed a crush."

Diana's jaw fell open in surprise. "On the prisoner?" she asked.

"Chey-Ara? Yes."

"That's…it is sort of exciting," she smiled.

"It is," Superman agreed. "But from what he's told me, life on Thanagar is no paradise." Diana looked at him. "Instead of thinking in terms of loyalty and disloyalty, maybe ask – how bad was it for them on Thanagar that they were willing to walk away from their lives? It's not like she was kicked out of her country, Diana, Shayera can never return to her planet."

"I never thought of it like that."

"Your right about how fast Shayera was able to get Chey-Ara to our side. But didn't it make you wonder about Chey-Ara's life before if walking away from it all is so…easy?"

Diana frowned. "I do not know the real Shayera. I can't honestly say I made a great effort to know her before Thanagar's invasion. We were the only two females on the team. We should have been as close as sisters, but I always kept her at an arm's length. When it turned out was a spy, I was happy. I was justified in my reasons for not befriending her. Now I can't help but think…maybe if I had been a friend to her…" Diana didn't finish that thought.

"Before she flew away that day, she did say she didn't know the Thanagarians were planning an invasion."

"I didn't believe her," Diana said, tearing up. "I didn't believe her. I thought it was another lie. And so, I hated her. It was much easier to hater than it was to empathize with her."

"Diana," Superman placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"When I close my eyes, I can still hear her scream from when they tore her wings," Diana said, pulling her knees to her chest. "That horrible cry - I have never heard such a heart wrenching noise in my life.

"You can't beat yourself up over this. You were not the only one mad at her that day. We all were."

"Barry was not. Bruce once admitted that he might have done the same thing had he been in her position. And J'ohnn…" Diana thought back to that day. "Actually, I do not know what J'ohnn was thinking at all. He probably knows more about that invasion than any of us. He probably knows more than Shayera." Superman nodded in agreement. "I do not know what to do," Diana admitted.

"What do you want to do?" Superman asked.

"I want to yell at her. I want to hit her. And then I want to hug her and tell her how much I missed her." Superman stood to his feet and held a hand out to Diana. "What?" Diana asked, not sure what to do.

"Let's go. It's been a while since I've visited Bruce. No better time like the present."

Diana placed her hand in Superman's and allowed him to help her to her feet. "Wait," Diana said. "Do you know a country where it is daytime? I would like some strawberry ice cream."

Superman laughed. "I actually taught myself how to make it," he admitted shyly.

Diana's eyes widened with glee. "Really?" she gasped.

Superman nodded. "How about we go to the Fortress of Solitude and…chill?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye as he pulled her closer.

"Like a date?" Diana asked, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Exactly, like a date."

"That would make it date number 3," Diana said.

"Is the third date special?"

"Not that I know of. I was just counting." Superman rubbed his nose against hers.

"What about Bruce?" Diana asked breathlessly.

Superman shrugged. "I'll visit him later. Let's go," he motioned for her to follow him before taking off into the night sky for some homemade ice cream…and whatever else followed.

Chey-Ara sat in the cafeteria, rigid and unmoving. According to the Martian Manhunter, it was almost 6 a.m., and the newer leaguers would be coming to breakfast right about…now. The doors to the cafeteria swished open, and Chey-Ara turned to see a group of heroes walk in. They froze when they saw the dark-skinned hawk sitting in their cafeteria. "Who are you?" a guy covered in blue from head to toe with pointy, thin wings sticking out from his back asked.

"Aren't you one of those bird-people who invaded us like three years ago?" another hero Chey-Ara could not see asked.

"It was two years ago," a blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl stepped forward with her hands on her waist. She wore the same outfit Superman did, except she had a skirt. "Who are you?" the blonde demanded, her eyes glowing red. "How'd you get in here?"

"Enough," the calm voice of the Martian Manhunter echoed throughout the cafeteria. He appeared right in front of the blonde, staring down at her. "Her name is Chey-Ara. She's our guest."

"Does my cousin know about this?" the girl demanded. Chey-Ara rolled her eyes. J'ohnn simply walked away from blonde much to Chey-Ara's amusement. He sat across from Chey-Ara. "That is Supergirl. She is the cousin of Superman," he stated. "You don't want to eat anything?"

"I am fine," Chey-Ara replied firmly.

"Chey-Ara," the green man said calmly, "you are safe here. You can relax."

Chey-Ara looked down. She had never relaxed a day in her life. Thanagarians were trained to always be on guard, even when sleeping. "This is my first time away from home, and now I will never be able to return there."

"Was it just you and your parents on Thanagar?"

Chey-Ara nodded. " And then when my parents were arrested and executed for speaking out against the ruling class, it was just me. My mother was beheaded. My father died in prison. I was just entering my first year of training when they were arrested. I never saw them again. I was raised in a…a…um…you guys have a lot of them in Gotham. With bunches of children."

"Orphanage."

"Yes," Chey-Ara said, "orphanage. That is where I was raised before my recruitment into the Thanagarian army."

"I am sorry for all you've been through, Chey-Ara."

Chey-Ara shrugged. "I am not. I do not even remember what my parents looked like."

"But learning how to fight from an early age is no childhood."

"I do not know what a childhood is, but I survived my first obstacle course at age 5. I was…humans say…overachiever," Chey-Ara stated proudly. Her face then fell.

"What is it?" J'ohnn asked curiously.

"If I do survive this…invasion. I will need to find a new home."

"Chey-Ara, I thought it was obvious," J'ohnn said. Chey-Ara stared at him confusion. "You are welcome to stay here, on Earth."

"Where?" she asked.

"Here. In the Watchtower."

"With them?" she pointed to group of young heroes openly gaping at her and the Martian Manhunter. "Why can't I stay with you?"

The Martian Manhunter blinked his red eyes once, then twice. For a moment, he said absolutely nothing. "You would want to live with me?" he asked.

"Yeah. You're the only one who really talks to me. I don't want to be stuck here in this building. I will feel trapped. Do you not live on Earth?"

"I do live on Earth."

"You do not have enough room in your house?"

"I have plenty of room."

"You just do not want me there."

"That is not it at all, Chey-Ara," J'ohnn said firmly. "I just was not expecting you to ask." J'ohnn paused, seemingly weighing his options. He stood up. "Come with me. I will show you where I live."

"Really?" Chey-Ara asked, not bothering to hide her excitement.

"Yes, besides, you have been locked up in here for a month. You need real air," he said as he escorted her out the cafeteria, ignoring the prying and spiteful eyes around them.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13461097/1/Return-of-the-Hawk