#it sat in my draft folder a while now

[ester-galls]

"Whoever saves one life, saves the entire world"

comic based on @modlisznik 's fic Whoever saves one life that have lived rent free in my head for the last months

[bettelaboure]

a small piece of GD, I had in my drafts for too long. maybe someday it will be a full fic 🤍

You were already regretting the heels.

Not because they hurt—though, they did. Not because you weren’t used to them—though, you weren’t. But because every time you walked past his office, you heard them click against the marble like a countdown to your own humiliation. A slow, echoing reminder that you were a terrible liar when you said you didn’t like attention.

Especially his.

“You’re late.”

His voice was velvet wrapped around a razor. You didn’t even look up, just held the stack of folders tighter to your chest and stepped inside his office.

“I’m not.” You weren’t. You were three minutes early.

Ji-yong, CEO of KJ Holdings, tech prodigy, fashion icon, and certified menace in a three-piece suit, leaned back in his chair like he had all the time in the world to watch you squirm. Which he probably did.

“You were supposed to be here the moment I started thinking about you,” he said, without missing a beat.

Your mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

“That’s… not in my job description.”

He grinned. “We should renegotiate your contract.”

You moved to his desk, setting the folders down between you like they could shield you. “These are the Q1 reports you asked for. The numbers from our Japanese team are—”

He reached out, casually brushing his fingers over yours as he picked up the top folder. It was the lightest touch—barely there—but it shot straight up your spine. Your breath hitched, and he heard it. Of course he did.

“You’re so jumpy,” he murmured, not even glancing up as he flipped open the folder. “You always act like I’m going to do something terrible to you.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.” His eyes lifted to meet yours, lazy and hot, and just a little amused. “And I haven’t even started yet.”

Your throat went dry. “Ji-yong…”

He raised a brow. “Mr. Kwon. While we’re at work.”

You swallowed hard. “Mr. Kwon. Right. Sorry.”

“I like when you say my name like that,” he said, flipping another page. “All formal. Obedient. Makes me wonder how else you might sound if I told you exactly what to do.”

Your entire body flushed—your cheeks, your ears, your everything. You took a step back before your knees gave out.

“I—I’m going to go get coffee.”

“Black,” he said smoothly. “Unless you’re bringing yours too. I’ll take it how you like it.”

You paused mid-turn, heart thudding. “Why would you want it the way I like it?”

His smile sharpened. “Because then I can taste it on your mouth later.”

You fled the office.

The first time you met Kwon Ji-yong, he was barefoot.

You’d shown up ten minutes early for your final interview at KJ Holdings—one of Seoul’s most elite tech firms—wearing your best blouse and your most fake confident smile. The receptionist had been flustered, muttering something about the CEO being “in one of his moods,” and then, without any warning, you’d been ushered straight into a massive corner office where a man with platinum hair and absolutely no shoes was standing on a desk.

You froze in the doorway. “Um… am I interrupting?”

He looked over his shoulder, one brow raised like he’d been expecting someone far more interesting. “Only if you’re boring.”

You were too stunned to answer.

He hopped down, walked toward you, and held out a hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Kwon Ji-yong. CEO. Potential disaster. You?”

“Y/N,” you stammered. “Your… new assistant, I think.”

He looked you over once, eyes pausing on your mouth a little too long. “Pretty.”

You coughed. “Excuse me?”

“I said ‘pretty impressive resume,’” he lied with a grin that made your stomach flip. “You blush easy, don’t you?”

You hadn’t said a word. You just sat down and tried not to fall in love with a man who didn’t believe in boundaries or footwear.

That was six months ago.

Now? You were wearing pencil skirts you didn’t even own back then, had memorized the schedules of three department heads, and knew—without asking—exactly how Ji-yong liked his coffee, his whiskey, and his chaos. And every day, you walked the tightrope between professional assistant and flustered wreck.

Because he never stopped.

“You know you don’t have to look like a snack just to sit in meetings with old men, right?”

You turned toward the doorway of the executive boardroom, where Ji-yong leaned, watching you adjust the hem of your skirt. His tone was casual, but his eyes? Anything but.

“I didn’t dress for anyone,” you said.

He stepped closer, slow, like he wanted you to feel him coming.

“I know. That’s the best part.”

You tried to maintain composure, eyes flicking back to the stack of files in your hand. “Do you flirt with all your employees, or am I just lucky?”

“I don’t flirt with employees,” he said. “Too messy. Too many lawsuits.”

You gave a tight nod. “Good to know.”

Then his voice dropped, low and husky. “But you’re not just an employee, are you?”

Your heart skipped. He was so close now you could smell his cologne—something dark and woodsy and completely unfair. You backed away slightly, and he grinned.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured.

You stayed late that night, half because you had actual work to do and half because you didn’t want to admit how much you liked being the last one in the building. The office was quiet after dark. Safer. No Ji-yong watching your every move with that smirk that said he was imagining you bent over your desk instead of working at it.

You thought he’d left.

You were wrong.

He came in without knocking, two glasses in hand and a bottle of Japanese whiskey tucked under his arm.

“Midnight oil,” he said. “You look like you need some.”

You blinked. “Aren’t there rules about drinking with your boss?”

“Sure,” he said, pouring you a glass. “But we’re just coworkers now. It’s past business hours.”

You took the glass from him with a suspicious glance. “And this isn’t inappropriate?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, settling onto the edge of your desk, “if I was being inappropriate, you’d be shaking too hard to hold that drink.”

You stared at him, cheeks flaming.

Then he tilted his glass toward yours. “To blurred lines.”

You clinked.

And drank.

And hated how much you wanted him to blur every single one of them.

He started texting you after hours. At first it was harmless—updates, reminders, small talk. Then it got… not harmless.

JI-YONG [10:42 PM]:

What are you wearing?

You stared at your phone like it might explode. Then you typed:

YOU:

Pajamas. Why?

JI-YONG:

Just picturing you. Cotton or lace?

You didn’t answer.

JI-YONG [10:45 PM]:

Let me guess. You’re all sweet and shy at work, but you’ve got a drawer full of pretty little secrets, don’t you?

You turned your phone off and threw it across your bed.

You didn’t sleep.

[sunkifye]

brozoned

pairing— bsf nishimura riki x fem reader

genre— fluff, high school au

synopsis— riki’s crush can’t seem to stop calling him “bro”

warnings— teasing, probably grammatical errors

word count— 621

author’s note— pulled this bad boy outta my drafts

“ok class, looks like we’re done early. just stay in your seats and wait for the bell to ring before leaving!” your math teacher ordered while erasing the board.

“just a few more minutes until lunch,” you said as you began to answer a question on your math homework.

“finally, I’m starving” riki complained while watching you. you sat at the desk next to him, working diligently on the homework your teacher had just assigned.

“we just spent 40 minutes straight doing math problems, why are you doing even more math?” riki asked, somewhat disgusted.

“so I have less homework to do later,” you stated simply, picking up your calculator and punching in some numbers.

“I feel like you’re always doing homework,” riki replied.

“bro what?? I don’t think so,” you shrugged while writing down a number.

“oh really? then what else do you do?” riki asked.

“uhmm… well…” you started, beginning to lose focus on your homework.

“see? you don’t do anything else but study, you’re so boringgg,” riki said, rolling his eyes.

“me? boring? yeah right!” you scoffed, permanently shifting your attention away from your homework and now to riki.

“this is why you don’t have a boyfriend,” riki teased, which only made you more annoyed.

“excuse me?! I’ll have you know that I could easily get a boyfriend if I wanted one!” you defended yourself which only made riki laugh.

“what’s so funny?! you’re single too, idiot!” you snapped, making riki go silent.

“I don’t even think you have a crush on anyone because you’re such an anti-romantic,” you rolled your eyes before going back to working on your homework. but now riki was completely silent and the sudden silence was slowly killing you on the inside.

“you don’t have a crush on anyone…right?” you asked, looking back up at riki. he looked away, which made you go “ooooh” in a curious tone.

“so you dooo have a crush? tell me who it is!!” you insisted but riki shook his head no.

“tell me! tell me! tell meeee!” you begged, poking his shoulder.

“it doesn’t really matter. I don’t think I have a good chance with her anyways,” riki stated, hoping that you would stop bugging him.

“what do you mean ‘you don’t have a good chance?’” you asked, even more intrigued than before.

“well…” riki sighed, accepting his fate. he knew he had to tell you or else you wouldn’t stop annoying him.

“she keeps brozoning me…” riki admitted, making you tilt your head in confusion.

“brozoning you?” you asked.

“yeah, like she’s always calling me ‘bro.’ so I don’t think she likes me,” riki explained, which made you furrow your eyebrows.

“brooo that doesn’t even matter though,” you replied, trying to reassure riki.

however, riki just went silent again as he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

whilst sitting in silence, the realization finally clicked in your brain, causing you to widen your eyes.

“oh,” you muttered, making riki slightly nod his head.

“yeah,” riki said under his breath, avoiding your gaze.

“well in that case… I think you have a pretty good chance with her,” you said whilst smiling, catching riki completely off guard.

before either of you could say anything else, the bell rang and your classmates began to rush out of the classroom. riki watched you put your folders and notebook into your backpack. with a small smile plastered across your face, you swung your bag over your shoulder and scurried out of the classroom. snapping back into reality, riki quickly shoved his belongings into his backpack, swung it over his shoulder, and ran out of the room after you.

I guess you could say riki was no longer in the “brozone.”

[halohalona]

Letting Go

Old memories resurface so Logan reminds you who is truly there for you.

Logan Howlett x Reader

a/n: the fics I'm starting to write are getting more and more self indulgent and the situations are getting hyper-specific. Not only do I want to be with Logan, on so many different levels, he's also become such a comfort character to me (or maybe it's just hugh jackman idk). ANYWAY, this has been sitting in my drafts for a while now so enjoy the short fic

masterlist

warnings/tags: more emotional hurt/comfort, Logan is probably a little or a lot ooc here, I wanna specify this is the movie logan and not the comics, betrayal? idk, I probably forgot a few details about Wolverine here

Logan noticed you've been quiet recently. Not only that but you've been avoiding him. One time when you rounded a corner of the mansion's many hallways you immediately turned back the way you came when you saw him. Did he do something wrong? Every time he tried to talk to you, you would run away.

He asked Ororo if she knew what was going on but she didn't know either. He asked Jean but she didn't know anything either, but he did find out that you've been avoiding everyone. Scott, Ororo, Jean, Hank— not just him. It even came to the point where he asked the professor himself and all he said was, “She needs her space.”

He was at the library looking for a specific textbook he needed for his next class when he heard sniffling from a secluded corner of the library— your corner. You told him once that you've pretty much claimed that part of the library for yourself since it was secluded and quiet enough that no one would bother you as you worked.

He slowly and quietly walked over. Sure enough you were there. Your laptop was in front of you, folders neatly stacked around you on the table, and your bag placed on the side facing the main library, likely to hide your face.

He sat in front of you, gently moving the folders to the side before speaking.

“Hey.” he said softly.

You jumped and quickly wiped your face but your head was still down. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard you crying, of course I'm gonna go check on you. You've been avoiding me all week. Something's going on, and as your boyfriend I want to know.”

You don't say anything.

“Is this about Eve?”

Silence.

He leans back on the chair crossing his arms. “You know that was years ago right?”

Eve was a close friend of yours. You both have been friends for almost two years back in high school. She was someone who stood by you through your toughest times, and at the time there was a lot, specially since that was same point in your life your mutation decided manifest. But then you guess they got sick and tired of having to deal with what you were going through with you because one day you learned from your best friend, who was a mutual friend of yours, that she planned on cutting you off. You don't remember exactly what she said but one thing was clear to you, she no longer wanted any relationship with you, not even an acquaintance. What stuck with you was the promise she made a year prior: “If you think I'm gonna leave you, I won't,” which ended up being a lie.

It's been years, you know that it's time to move on, but every now and then it haunts you. You've been keeping people at arms length since then, not sharing much about yourself aside from the basics: name, age, and what you like to do in your free time. Although you've opened up a bit when you started dating Logan, you've share a few things about Eve, but you still hold back in fear of the whole thing to happen again.

“You have to let it go. I'm not saying this to be dismissive, I'm saying it because holding on to it will prevent you from finding people who actually care for you.” he unfolds his arms and leans on the table closer to you. “Like I've said before, if she was able to let you go so easily, then maybe she wasn't a good friend to begin with.”

He walks over to your side of the table and kneels beside you. Gently, he places his hand on the side of your face lifting it up to make you look at him.

“I know it hurts to be abandoned by someone you cared for deeply, but dwelling on what happened won't bring them back. It's time for you to focus on the people who genuinely care about you. Ororo, Jean, Hank, Scott, pretty much everyone in the mansion, and of course me.”

Your eyes start to well up again, a couple tears escape, sliding down your cheek. Logan gently brushes them away.

“I know she's told you this but when I say I won't leave you, no matter how hard things get, I mean it. I love you and I care for you, remember that.”

You look into his eyes for any sign of deceit and seeing none, he genuinely means it. So for the first time in years, you trust those words. You lean your forehead on his “I believe you. And thank you.” you whisper.

[eqt-95]

💙 for supercorp , pretty please!

oh brilliant! yes of course!! i was hoping for this one so i'd finally be motivated to write the scene that was inspired by this post. i have literally had it saved in my tumblr drafts since february. and yes i just scrolled through half of my 784 drafts to find it.

- - - - - -

“Actually no, we're not ‘dating’. We're bound together for infinity. Like the stars. So, fuck you, actually-”

Alex clicked the remote, freezing the screen to perfectly capture a very outspoken, very drunk Lena Luthor doing an uncanny impression of Taylor Armstrong in front of a throng of paparazzi.

“Can we watch it again?”

“No,” Alex answered tersely, setting the remote next to three overflowing folders, a coffee mug that needed to be filled with something a little stronger, and a cellphone she had to silence after the hundredth social media notification sent it rattling off the table.

Nia slouched in her chair with a ‘hmph’ and muttered something that sounded like garbled nothing to normal ears but very much like ‘never any fun,’ to Kryptonian ears.

“Right,” Alex continued, her attention directed across the table. She’d spent the majority of the recording with her face downturn and fingers pinching the bridge of her nose in what could only be described as ‘resignation’ mixed with the ‘I’m not mad, just disappointed’ strategy she had been trying with Esme.. “Care to explain what compelled you to proclaim you... infinite, cosmic link with Supergirl?”

“Not really, no,” a much more subdued, much less drunk Lena answered.

“Seems pretty self-explanatory,” Nia chimed in, spinning in the chair next to Alex. “Luthor can’t hold her liquor.” She bounced a clicky pen on the table-surface to accentuate the point. Alex gritted her teeth.

“I most certainly can-”

“Channel 7 says otherwise,” Nia grinned. The clicky pen was pointed accusingly.

“That,” J’onn began, and then pen clicked in offense, “is the least of our concerns-”

“Exactly,” Alex interrupted while blindly swiping the pen from Nia's hand and slamming it onto the table. “Do you have any idea how many conspiracy theories have started because of this? This has gone national-”

“International, actually,” Brainy added. “Canada and Australia have both picked it up.”

“Which means it’s only a matter of time before the rest of the world is needling around about- about…” Alex’s face plunged closer to a shade of raspberry.

“About what, Alex?” Lena asked. She leaned forward, arms crossed with her super sexy calm, cool, and ceo-collected face. It was almost working too, except for the mischievous glint and flicker of her eyebrow that revealed she was not taking this remotely serious enough for the eldest Danvers sister. “About my throuple with Kara Danvers and Supergirl?”

Alex’s face found her hands. Nia sputtered laughter from behind her own. J’onn stared longingly toward the closed door. Brainy scowled in confusion.

“It cannot be a throuple if two members are the same person,” Brainy said, glancing quickly toward Nia who nodded in confirmation.

“CNN doesn't know that. But fine, call it infidelity, stepping out on-” Lena offered lazily.

“Still not the point. You’ve jeopardized Kara’s secret identity,” Alex interrupted crossly. “And now you've put her in danger of-”

“I thought it was sort of sweet.”

Five pairs of eyes turned toward Kara who, until now, had remained silently observed. She sat at the head of the table wearing her suit and a recent bout of puppy love. Two pairs of eyes were gobsmacked, the third was failing to hide the glee over the entire exchange, and the fourth included a quick wink that made Kara’s cheeks flush even redder and bat her figurative tail even harder.

“Sweet. Right, well,” Alex began again, “‘Sweet’ doesn’t exactly handle the problem, does it?”

“It’ll blow over; these things always do,” Lena added. “We can have Andrea run a boring fluff piece about my night on the town being a slew of misguided comments. Say I said the earth was flat and that I challenged the Second Law of Motion or something. Make it dry. Everyone will chalk it up to part of that.”

“Fine.”

“And we can put this whole thing to-”

“Don't you dare-” Alex warned.

“-bed.”

Alex sighed, J’onn climbed to his feet like a tired high school teacher, Nia bounced giddily in her chair, and Lena was already glancing over at Kara and giving her a look that suggested they were not going to make it through the day without a trip to the broom closet.��

Kara's cheeks flushed even redder if that were remotely possible.

•••••••

And so a fluff piece was written, the tabloids took a few lazy swipes at another Luthor edging toward instability, and then the story deflated entirely into obsolescence. The news cycle moved on, Alex's blood pressure returned to normal, and Kara was permanently living on cloud nine.

Everything was fine.

Everything was great.

Everything was going swimmingly.

Until the second video was discovered.

From the same night.

Nia brought popcorn. J’onn brought a heavy sigh. Alex brought a decade of instantaneous aging. 

“Care to explain?” Nia asked with her best angry-Alex impression. 

Meanwhile Alex was struggling to unclench her jaw.

“Deep fake?” Lena offered lamely.

“Deep fake,” Alex parroted. “You think someone somewhere invested the time to deep fake Lena Luthor and Supergirl making out? For what? Fun? Kicks? Laughs?”

“They already spend hours writing steamy fanfiction,” Lena shrugged. 

“They what-?” Alex choked.

“Hot, steamy, inspired sex, really-”

“No-”

“Kara, darling, do you remember the one with my desk and the full-length windows?”

Kara flushed but nodded. Nia squealed with delight. Alex had had it.

“Enough-”

“Or the one where we lived in an alternate universe and you were a cowboy and was your-”

“Stop. Stop it.” 

Lena leaned back into her chair, a smile of victory spreading across her face.

“I’m just saying, stands to reason someone might show us in the throws of deep, passionate-”

“I don't want to know. I don't. Want. To know,” Alex interrupted, hands cupped around her ears.

“Cosplay?”

Again five pairs of eyes turned to Kara. 

“Could've been cosplay.”

“I can't believe… J’onn can you… handle… this,” Alex waved between the two.

“Should we watch it again?” Nia suggested. “Just to check Kara's theory.”

And without preamble, she clicked play again. It was far fuzzier, far more amateur, and far less deniable than the first.

“Charlie, Charlie, baby look here,” the phone holder shouted over a group of laughing, tipsy NCU students. “Do the impression again, please? I want it for-”

“Yo, yo, check it out.” 

“Is that-?”

The camera pivoted from the ginger-haired Charlie to a dark alley between 

“Oh damn, is that Supergirl?”

“And… Lena Luthor?”

“I knew it. I told you!”

The stage whispers were doing far more for Alex’s discomfort than the shaky camera zooming 2x onto what was very clearly Supergirl pressing Lena Luthor into a wall and doing a very good job of ripping Lena’s $1,200 blouse open. 

“Ooph, Mrs. Fischer is not going to be happy about that,” Nia commented.

A glitter of buttons bounced off the sidewalk, and Supergirl’s mouth was moving hungrily and decidedly across the exposed skin.

“We’ve seen enough,” Alex chimed in and reached, some might say ‘desperately’, for the remote in Nia’s hands. “Once already scarred me for life-”

“But we won’t know until we see drunk, cosplay-Lena’s face. It’s for science, Alex,” Nia answered, clutching the remote like the lifeline to a sinking ship and climbing onto and over the conference table just as ‘cosplay’-Lena pulled ‘cosplay’-Supergirl’s mouth back to her.

“Bullshit,” Alex hissed, making quick work of scattering across the same table. 

Meanwhile ‘cosplay’-Supergirl’s hands were no longer visible and the gang of NCU students were actively chanting them on. “Nia Nal, if you do not turn that off right now-”

The chase continued under the table, over three chairs, and around a trash bin Nia knocked over in a valiant attempt to slow her assailant. And while Nia and Alex made a mess of the conference room, ‘cosplay’-Supergirl was making an absolute mess of ‘cosplay’-Lena’s bun-

“Never!” Nia huffed and side-spun before making a poor calculation and tripping over an empty chair. Alex saw her window and lunged, tackling Nia, gripping the remote free and slamming pause just as ‘cosplay’-Lena found the zipper to ‘cosplay’-Supergirl’s suit.

“Do you have any idea the-” Alex’s vitriol stopped in its tracks. Why? Because they were totally and completely alone. No Brainy or J’onn and worse, no Lena or Kara. “What… where’d they go?”

“Probably the broom closet,” Nia mused.

- - - -

ask game

[modawg]

annabeths in the TRENCHES having a crush on this random white boy now LMAOO

i know half of camp bullies her everyday when percy’s at school during the year and she’s sat at that jank ass computer in the big house exchanging emails

she probably drafts them up in a notebook before she rewrites them in the actual email after she hogged the computer one day trying to figure out what to say and her siblings with snatch up the journal and start reading the drafts aloud when she won’t give them attention

“dear percy😍😍❤️😋🙏🏼 i hope🤞🏼😂 ur having a good 👍🏼😊 time-”

“I WILL CARVE OUT YOUR GOD DAMN TONGUE YOU GIVE ME BACK MY FUCKING JOURNAL”

like they would do this for any crush but the fact that it’s some white new yorker poseidons son makes it so much funnier to them

she also prob prints out his emails if they’re long updates so she can properly dissect and respond to everything too like she takes this shit WAY to seriously

i also firmly believe she’d print out the pictures he sent too and has like a folder under her bunk mattress of all of them that she can look at while using the less obvious ones as bookmarks and things to put on her wall

[ilona2nerrie]

Justice reborn: chapter one, team building.

Tag list:

@itsmeairix

Chapters:

1 -

Chapter one – trying for a team.

Hey guys! This is my first Timkon fic actually, so let me know about characterisation and all of that in the comments. I’m trying my best, but if I post this on the 6th like I’m planning too, I’ll have it know I posted five parts of stories, each over a thousand words and some over two thousand in the past two days. So yes, I’m trying my best. Thanks for reading!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He sat at the computer, the sounds of keys clicking being the only one to accompany the drip of the cave. No one has been down here since the incident.

‘Dick was too scared to do this. He loved his dad but had no desire to become him.’

‘Jason was vehemently against the idea. He had his own team, no time for another.’

‘Damian would’ve, but he was still a kid. No one would’ve let him.’

‘Cass had taken her spot as Gotham’s main vigilante, she deserved it. But that left no time for a team.’

‘Steph was there helping Cass behind the scenes. She wanted to be there for Cass right now.’

‘Duke was still Gotham’s only daytime vigilante. That took way too much effort to make a team.’

That was Timothy drakes reasoning for why he was ok being the only one self-tasked with taking on this burden. After the justice league had gone MIA on a space mission, now presumed dead by all, earth was left without its mightiest heroes. And that was good in no way.

Timothy had tried to convince his siblings to help, but they were all busy with their own things. But it’s not like Tim wasn’t either. But he reasoned to himself that he could run Drake Industries, Wayne Enterprises and a team all by himself. He was just better. He could do it, do it all.

He just needed members.

He went through the Bat-computer, scouring the millions of profiles Bruce had made on young and old heroes alike. They were coming in use now.

‘Thanks dad.’

He had already put a few in their own folder. Of the people he knew he was going to ask. One of them being Conner Kent.

He knew Conner from their young justice days, when the weight of the world wasn’t on their shoulders, but in their hands. With an option to distribute it equally. 

That wasn’t an option anymore. This wasn’t a game anymore. This was real.

<{ Name: Conner ‘Kon’ Kent.}>

<{Allies: Super-Boy. (pending his change).}>

<{Date of birth: March 16th.}>

<{Place of residence: Smallville, Kansas, USA}>

<{Known powers: TTK, super strength, speed, flight, invulnerability, fast healing factor, and heat vision.}>

That was the relevant information Tim had copied into a new file. He was sure conner would at least hear him out on the team idea, even if he rejected it completely. And if he didn’t reject it well, well Tim would have some support while he tried to recruit more.

Tim really needed support right now, now more than anytime actually.

He pulled up a new tab and opened his email, typing conners in and hovering over the subject line. What would he even say? They haven’t really talked since conner had come back to life. It would be weird to open the line of communication now…. Right?

His curser hovered for a few seconds longer before he closed the tab, deleting the email draft and pushing back from the desk. He blinked a few times, eyes burning as they wanted. It hit him that he had probably been sitting there, browsing options for hours. Probably at least a day, he had programmed a whole app for best mashing teams together, that would simulate compatibility. He ditched the premise when he realised, he hadn’t programmed temperaments and moods into the teams.

He rolled back on the chair, letting it drift into the middle of the cave, dust kicking up. Alfred hadn’t been down here since Bruce had passed.

He looked around the dark cave, the light of the computer being the only thing illuminating the room. Tim let his feet fall to the floor, disturbing the settled dust as he slowly walked around the cave. He ignored the chill that went through his body, pulling  his sweater closer around himself. He probably should’ve worn his suit down here, but he honestly couldn’t help it. Putting that thing on without a plan felt wrong. Felt like he was disrespecting the whole deal.

He ran a hand through his thoroughly tousled hair. He had been doing that all night, tugging at it at times when he needed to keep his hands occupied. He would’ve normally used blutack, but he had fiddled with his ball to the point it had felt raw against the skin of his fingers, so it wasn’t ideal.

Tugging on his hair also wasn’t really ideal, but he didn’t really have full control of that right now. Slipper’s shuffle across the dirty floor as he sat next to his dad’s old suit in the display case, pulling his knees to his chest and burying his head between them.

“Hey dad……” Tim mumbled, glancing out the corner of his eye to the suit as he pulled his knees to his chest.

“I’m trying to do what you would but-“

A chocked noise made its way up through his throat. “It’s so hard. It’s exhausting, I can’t ask the family. No one wants to accept it. I know what I have to do, but I  honestly don’t know if I have the strength to do it…”

.

.

.

“Dad? I understand why you were the way you were now.” Tim murmured, seemingly unbothered as the computer turned off plunging him into the total darkness he had found kinship with.

“And I don’t want to be like you. You wouldn’t have wanted that for me. I’m going to get help. I’m going to run this team the way you wished you could’ve ran yours… and I’m going to try being open. Just… just watch over me ok? I can’t do this alone.”

Tim ran his fingers over the glass case, before turning on his phone light and heading to the door of the manor. Things would be ok. Just not now. And Tim had to be content with that. Despite the fact he hated it right now.

same story but on Ao3:

(i got Ao3 now!!!)

[fumekara]

MORE THAN ANYTHING 

Kento Nanami x Gn reader 

n/a: English is not my first language, besides, this Fic comes from a draft taken some time ago. I hope you enjoy it. It is my first time back to writing in a long time. 

Tw: Just pure fluff and soft sfw, I would like to specify that this post does not contain any type of sexual content. The title is inspired by HH's song. 

WC: 1.1K

That night you could not fall asleep.

After turning yourself several times on the sheets of the bed, on which you had lain a couple of hours before, you looked at the half-open door through which a dim light filtered from the living room, giving the bedroom a thread of light in the darkness of the night.

You hoped your man would decide to drop the papers and paperwork he often brought home from work and come to bed with you, wrapping you in his arms so you could finally sleep in complete bliss as you usually did.

"I'll be right with you, it won't take long," he had told you when you proposed to sleep with him after you both went through a long day at work.

However, this was one of those evenings when Kento would spend hours on the kitchen table filling out paperwork late into the night. Although he hated office work, he was always diligent and meticulous when it came to completing his tasks.

It was a characteristic that made you feel proud of the man you loved, yet no matter how responsible and careful he was in managing his time and energy, you were sure he was beginning to place less importance on his rest. You wanted so much for him to give up those silly practices and take the rest he deserved.

After staring at the ceiling for an hour, you sat on your side of the bed, shivering from the sudden cold due to the lack of blankets, and looking at the bedside table you saw that 00:50 was written on the screen. And even today he worked late 

You got up and, making as little noise as possible, took small steps towards the living room.

Kento was writing something on his laptop, surrounded by a pile of papers divided into folders of various kinds lit by the light of the monitor and the lamp you kept in the corner of the kitchen.

He noticed your presence and gave you a small, tired smile, giving your heart some warmth.

"Are you still awake, love?" He asked as he leaned against the back of the chair.

"I could tell you the same thing," you replied a little sleepily, returning the smile and moving closer to the blond. As sorry as you are that he was exhausted from work, you couldn't help but think about how handsome he was. Even though you'd been together for a few years, the love you felt for this man had always had that effect on you. I've been waiting for you,' you said, heading towards him. 

You sit on his lap and he wraps his big arms around you, you notice that the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up and show off his forearms, something he always did when he came home. Leaning his head on your shoulder and inhaling deeply, he loses himself in your scent and warmth. Suddenly all the tiredness he had put aside to work on his papers came over him like a wave of a stormy sea, but the fact that you were there with him gave him a feeling of comfort.

He always felt at home with you. 

"I'm sorry Y/N". He rubbed his head in the crook of your neck "I was late again without me noticing" he said, planting a chaste kiss on an exposed spot on your shoulder.

Gently you brushed his hair back with one hand, while with the other you closed the laptop he was working on just now, making it clear that it was time for him to take the rest he so richly deserved.

"Come to sleep, Kento, it's not good for you to stay here late and I miss you," you said as you rested your head on his soft hair on your cheek.

"I know, you're right," he lifted his chin, placing a kiss on your neck, "I don't like leaving you alone either."

Lifting your head slightly, you turned to stare at him, touching his cheek lovingly as you looked intently into his eyes.

Pure love

You couldn't have found any other words to describe the way he looked at you whenever you were in situations like this, alone, with no one else to interrupt you, without Gojo, just the two of you. He made you feel loved, important, and you often thought back to the moment you realized you had fallen in love with him.

As a result, Nanami couldn't understand how he could have you in his life, how lucky he was to have you and how much he regretted making you go through nights like this when he left you alone. He felt selfish and the only thing he wanted at that moment was to go to bed and wrap you in his arms with your head against his chest. 

You remained in that position for a long time, a wonderful feeling for both of you. He placed his face on yours and then gave you a kiss on the cheek savoring the aroma.

Without saying anything, you got up from his lap, took his hand without taking your eyes off his and, after switching off the lights, slowly guided him towards your shared bedroom.

"I'm sorry I don't spend much time with you," he said as he shed his work clothes, "I don't want you to stay up because of me, but I appreciate you doing so." After slipping into his sweatpants, he settled next to you in bed as you wrapped him with the quilt.

"You don't have to apologize for working so hard, you have done and are doing a great job. I just want you not to overdo the work, everyone deserves a break and you especially." After turning off the lights you lie down beside him and feel him encircling your waist with his arm "Don't think you are being mean to me Kento, you always do so much for me, you show me that every day and remind me every time you look at me." 

In the darkness you could glimpse his small smile that made your heart melt.

"Come here," he told you as he felt butterflies in his stomach, as if he had managed to fall in love with you even more than before.

More than anything. 

You felt his grip envelop you even more as you brought faces closer and met lips in a chaste, soft, pure kiss. 

When you pulled away, you rested your head on his chest and closed your eyes.

"I love you Y/N."

"I love you too, darling." 

You both fell asleep wrapped in bliss.

[imagine-notnatural]

I SUCK at pacing myself. Sorry about that 🥲 I’m my own worst enemy when it comes to correctly saving my drafts too bruh

CW: brief mention of throwing up? I know this should be a warning I just don’t know how to phrase it

Part Five:

You have a routine. Clock in. Depending on the day’s tasks, bring a drink to Captain Price at the beginning or end of your shift. Spend twenty minutes “debriefing” (distracting) him (he’s secretly a gossip who appreciates the break from the mind-numbing paperwork) with the drama developing at your local grocer.

This routine started with an overheard phone call

. After you crashed your cart against the wall thrice and heard you mumbling angrily through the door.

He stepped up from his desk, eyebrow quirked. Your voice was getting clearer as he neared the door. He peeked out of the window to see your back turned to him. One arm outstretched to support your weight against the cart while you nursed a coffee in the other.

"No M-, they'd- no Mike- my neighbor’s daughter- yes her- paid for a plain regular single-tier cake with white frosting, Mikey. Remember I had the receipt?! I'm telling you, had it been anything else- FOR anything else- I wouldn't have said anything, not even kidding. But it was going to be used as the main decoration for the- yes for the gender reveal yeah. I didn't think he'd be-"

Price pulled open the door slightly, just enough to see his face. You whipped around at the sound.

"Sir- Hi!" You gave Michael a hasty 'goodbye', shoving your phone into you pocket.

"Hello, I'm sorry about that- Did I bother you? I'm so sorry, I brought you a cuppa-" You reached to your cart, where the other steaming cup sat. You gingerly picked it up and held it out to him. Price's eyes couldn't help but follow the motion, from your hands up to your nervous face. He smiled.

"Pastry troubles hm?" He stepped back with an amused tone, using his body to hold open the door. An invitation.

You chuckled nervously, "Yeah.." You glanced inside before looking back at him in question. His mustache raised just slighlty as he smiled again. With a mental shrug uou set aside the cart by the wall of his office before stepping inside, both drinks still at hand. He stepped around you and pulled a chair for you on his way to his own seat. He quickly gestured for you to sit before taking his own.

You placed his on a sliver of bare desk. Tactfully avoiding the neatly stacked packets of papers and folders. He gave you a nod in thanks as he reached over and grabbed the still steaming cup. You watched him bring it to his lips. Well, his moustache, but you get what I mean. He tilted his head and waved his hand in a way that asked you to fill him in.

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, "really?"

He hummed, "I could use the break, n' you, seem like you could too". You both chuckled. "Go'n then,"

You sighed with a smile, "Remember you asked for it," you took a quick sip of the hot drink and sat back. "So for context.-"

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"And so I think they tried to screw up their gender reveal on purpose because the her ex, their son-in-law, who's married already, is still hung up on her. Even after six years. I think that’s why they have sh- trouble- over the order. They’d been petty"

John huffed, lowering his cup from his mouth while his eyebrows remained raised. "Bad for business,"

You laughed, “ Yes sir,”

He gave you a coy smile, right as he began to say something, your radio went off,

(Name), we need you in medical, a newbie couldn’t keep his food down long enough to make it into the trash. Idiot got it all over the place.

You sighed, pulling your radio off your belt and bringing it up to your lips. “Yeah I got it, “ You dropped your hand with a grimace, meeting Price’s gaze as you began standing.

“Duty calls”

Price gives you a sympathetic smile as he too stands from his seat.

“Yep, can’t ignore the call of duty now can I?” Your eye twitched with mock irritation,

(I know. But am I sorry? No. cheesy bastards RISE!!)

He chuckled, stepping around his desk to get the door for you. “No, can’t say you can.” He gently pulled the door open, “Good luck dear,”

You returned the smile as you passed him. “Aye Aye Cap, you know I’ll need it.” You stepped out of the room and turned for your cart. Turning it in the direction of the exit.

“If this,” you turned your body to face him, referring to the bakery drama, motioning with your hands, “develops, I’ll be sure to update you,” you said to him. He smiled once again with a nod, “I’ll be waiting,”

You chuckled and waved goodbye as you headed out.

When you arrived to the medical building, you were met with a crowd of the nurses and doctors taking some fresh air outside.

“It cannot be that bad.” You spoke in disbelief, rolling up and catching the attention of the crowd. Most recognized you, there were often these incidents when it came down to the rookies.

“(Name),” Blair, the nurse who you often had chats with whenever you entered the building and since befriended , cried out to you. “My saving grace!!” She dramatically, throwing herself into your arms,

You caught her with a role of your eyes. She began ranting “Babes-It’s so bad, it’s so so so so bad,”

Your face scrunched, an eyebrow raised her actions and then to the others

“Y’all treat the craziest, most heinous shit on a regular basis and this is what gets y’all?!”

It cannot be that bad…

You watched everyone’s faces, your thoughts being negated when you saw even more senior members of staff avoiding eye contact.

You sighed, eyes downturned. “They still puking?”

Blair stepped back, shaking her head ‘no’. You began frustratedly slipping on gloves and readying a mask in order to head in. “Who?”

“…lil’ Henry, with the freckles.”

“Im gonna whoop his a-“ you exhaled out of your nose and placed both hands on the cart in order to steer it inside “what happened with him?”

“Poor thing finally had a full breakfast before going into training, sounds like it was his first round under the lieutenant and he’d just had stomach bug too“

You know the days schedule, you know exactly who is training, and it just so happens you know there’s a limit of officials that are simply referred to the lieutenant by the medical staff.

“Well now I’m whooping his ass now,” you grumbled, not meaning the words in the slightest. Blair caught what you’d said and chuckled. You began heading into the building when you heard her speak again,

“While you’re at it get him for not listening when it comes to mandatory rest orders,”

You huff out an amused breath before taking your first step into the building..

Aw hell nah.

… okay maybe it could be that bad

The next time you restocked the 141s pantry, Gaz had been the one to find you practically punching in the variety of items into the cabinets while mumbling to yourself.

He had half-a-mind to leave you be, stepping back and beginning to turn back towards the door when he heard your voice over the noise of the tv,

“Garrick.”

“… (Name)…” he paused, “what did I do?…” He faced you, your back still turned toward him. He walked over, leaning on the same counter you were.

You sighed sharply, your words breathless as your hands rose to your face, palms digging into your eyes

“ I’m gunna’ lose my shit Kyle”

“Wha-“

“Do you know how many times- just this week mind you, I’ve cleaned puke off of shit? Off walls? Off equipment?”

Kyle’s eyes widened slightly. “ No dear, I don’t think I do..”

You turned around quickly, facing him briefly before turning towards the counter with both hands placed firmly on the surface. Your eyes comically wide in mock despair and exhaustion. Kyle swore he caught one of your eyes twitch.

“What’s goin on luv?” He tried to sooth, his body language relaxed as he leaned back over the counter. Nothing gave away the fact that he was biting back a laugh from your display.

“Kyle- KYLE” you dramatically rocked yourself against the counter, you paused then faked slamming your fist against the hard surface, stopping inches away from it.

He huffed a silent laugh,

“Kyle, dude, I’m fighting for my life. FIGHTING!” You accentuated the word with another ‘slam’ of your fist,

“(Name), what is it?” You could hear his smile as he said your name.

Kyle watched as you faced him, hands lifting off the counter, beginning to rise towards his shoulders. He saw the way your hands rose but quickly stopped; dropped against you, balled tightly into fists. His eyes rose back up to your face, questions on his mind.

“You’ve got to tell me- and be honest because I need to know!”

“Go on then,”

“Does he actually not like me?! Does he want me to leave? Because he’s on the right track if that’s his goal man!”

“What? Who? (Name), who are you talking about?”

“Kyle- the lieutenant! Clean up duty has only ever landed on my shifts!! Michael ain’t deal with nothing like this and the L.t.’s been in charge of training on his shift too!!”

“(Name), I don’t think he’s doin’ this on purpose. He’s got no reason to”

“But see how you know he’s capable of it?! I’m telling you he doesn’t like me.” You groaned, leaning back into the counter with your hands covering your face.

Kyle slid closer, there wasn’t much of a distance between you in the first place so he didn’t travel much. Now the two of you were shoulder to shoulder

“Alright you big crybaby, come ‘ere,” he gingerly grabbed your right shoulder and pulled you into a side hug, his arm resting on your shoulders

You tensed under his touch for a second, dropping your hands from your face. Your expression didn’t give anything away but Kyle watched the moment where your hands fidgeted on your lap before you ultimately decided to wrap your arm around his torso to reciprocate.

“I still think he don’t like me.”

He hummed,“You’re probably right,”

“Ass”

“You’ve got me though, that’s plenty, right?” He asked with a coy smirk. He turned to look down at your face, wanting to gauge your expression.

You stayed silent, turning your head (hiding the flush in your face) and avoiding eye contact. Kyle leaned forward to try forcing you to meet his gaze.

This man wants to give me a heart attack

“(Name).”

“…”

“… so you’re just not going to say anything?”

“I would, but it’d hurt your little big boy feelings”

“No it wouldn’t-“

“Aye, ih would’” Soap casually slipped into the room, hair not yet gelled into his signature hairstyle and yawning as he made his way to the fridge,

You immediately straightened up at the sound of his voice, but Kyle’s arm kept you from moving forward.

Johnny opened the door and grabbed a water bottle, snapping the plastic top off before take a swig

“He’d get his wee bits all inae twist,”

You chuckled as Gaz rolled his eyes.

“Whad’ya got for us this time,” Soap scanned over your cart, noting a very specific item was missing

“No tea?”

Gaz hadn’t notice before but there was absolutely no tea on your cart, he didn’t recall you throwing any into the cupboards either.

“Nah, one of you pisses me off then all of you suffer.” You stood there, completely serious, glaring down at the cart.

Johnny chuckled then threw a glance Kyle’s way.

“See, ah told you nah to push-“

“What me? No, NyQuil here’s the one with the issues,”

“Garrick, do you want to get your as whooped?”

“Really?” Johnny cut in, the two men making light of your folly

Gaz smirked, “ Mm, and with the Lt specifically”

“Really? Now wha did ya do to our Ghostie?”

“John- Johnny- Can I call you Johnny? Yeah? Okay, be so absolutely, under oath type shit, for real. What could I have possibly have done to that man for him to have me cleaning puke off crap everyday.”

“Didya hurt his feelings? Our Ghosties’ a right softy, dinae tell me ya did,”

You could tell Johnny was faking his concerned expression. 100% sure.

Except he wasn’t letting up, meeting your gaze with what was looking like genuine concern.

85%

… 65% sure.

“(Name) if yah’ve done something to the L.t., ah’m going ta have ta defend mah mate”

“Even if it costs you?”

“Aye”

“So if I banned you from coming to me for mass-“

“Ya Ken wha, Ghostie can defend himself, ma wee Bonnie ‘ere iza one sufferin’”

“That’s what I thought,” you huffed, Gaz chuckled beside you, giving you a slight nudge to catch your attention

“You realize that he can’t be doing this on purpose?”

“No he is, I swear I saw him give me a look when I came to clean up the equipment in the mat room-“

“And what did this ‘look’ look like?”

“ A look. You had to have been there to understand get the vibe”

“The vibe?” Gaz raised an eyebrow

“Mm, mate yah heard em’ ‘the vibe’” Johnny nodded

“You know what? All of you are getting it. John is the only one safe from me as of now.”

“What did I do?l

“Come now hen, we’ll talk to him. Dinnae do this,”

You slipped out from Kyle’s arm, snatching up your cart and rolling It out of the room. Ignoring Johnnys pleading eyes and Kyle’s gaze you continued down the hallway, yelling back:

“Be ready for it you smug little bastards, you’re gonna get it!”

The two men looked at each other at the sound of your threat, when their eyes met they couldn’t help but laugh it off, not taking you seriously

But they’d get it. Oh yeah, they’d get it real good.

[iheartchv]

Welp, tumblr did something to this ask where I wasn't able to edit it from my drafts folder, so I'm gonna have to do it this way. This is the 2nd time... >3>

Ooohhh this ought to be interesting 😈💙 i hope, because i like this idea but dont have the time or energy i want to put in for this Parasitica AU

Request for @ashleighclark98

Prompts(c) @turtle-babe83

Leo and reader are 18+ and set in an AU where the turtles are now 18. If you are under 18, do not proceed any further.

🦋💙🦋💙🦋💙🦋💙🦋💙🦋💙🦋💙🦋💙🦋

Donnie had warned you, something was wrong with Leo, and you needed to stay away from him for about a week; There was some sort of wasp alien that stung Leo and he's been acting weird. But you couldn't resist hearing Leo's sweet voice over the phone. He needed to see you, he wanted you with him.... He begged... "Please" You snuck into the lair to Leo's room.

🦋💙🦋💙🦋💙🦋💙🦋💙🦋💙🦋💙🦋💙🦋

"Y/N... it's good to see you..." He small smiled at you.

"Are you feeling okay, Leo?"

I'm not fine, I want to breed you and fill you with my seed, mark you inside and out.

"Yeah... I'm okay..."

"Then why did you want to see me if you're okay? You sounded... I don't know, desperate like you needed help."

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to see you, is there?"

"...No."

You eye brows furrowed in concern as you looked into his black eyes. There was something wrong, something going on. Nobody could tell you what exactly was going on with Leo; he was aggressive, when it comes to you. And he was only getting more aggressive with each passing day. Donnie was still reasearching and testing the venom from the wasp stinger looking for a cure. When you were told to go home, you did... and you stayed away for a few days all the while worrying about Leo till now.

"Well, there is something you can actually help me out with. But I got to know something first... Do you trust me?”

"I do."

"Well... can I kiss you? I've missed our little after training makeout sessions." he asked. You gave a nod and sat on the edge of the bed with him. You and Leo weren't official but you couldn't deny that you felt something for him. He pulled you closer to his larger frame by your waist and slowly placed his lips on yours.

As soon as Leo did that, the feeling of wanting to take you and claim you grew higher like a flame. He felt satisfied and unsatisfied at the same time. It felt like there was a switch in his brain that turned off all of his inhibitions, and all that was left was primal instincts. He had you now, and he had to have you. He started to kiss you harder, as if he was hungry for your lips.

He then purred before kissing you again,“Do you know how a turtle takes his mate?”

MATE?!

You muffled as his mouth continued his assualt on you,"Leo? What's..." You finally pushed away from him, panting and trying to catch your breath from struggling in the strong hold he had on you. "What's wrong? This isn't like you."

Leo hissed lowly, making you jump back a bit. "Showing you that you're mine... and you can argue all you want, we both know you belong to me. I'm gonna let everyone know who you belong to."

“Bite me.”

The look he gave you was one that you always found so sexy. It caused your lower belly to bubble with a tightening heat that spread to your core. His face lowered to yours so dangerously close. "Oh, I intend to."

"You're crazy, you're not yourself." Your heart pounded hard in your chest. Was it out of fear or arousal?

He sushed you. “Just relax. Lay back and let me take care of you.” As he took your lips again, he pushed you back onto the mattress and hovered over you, trapping your body with his.

A small whimper escaped you as he nipped and licked at your lips, begging for entrance. You knew your lips were going to be swollen. His tongue slipped inside your mouth and started tasting you. You couldn't help the moan that was muffled by Leo's passionate kiss.

His mutant hand ran down your whole neck in one sweep. You shivered as you were reminded that his hand could very easily choke you or grab you by the neck. Then his hand trailed further down your body, running over your soft curves.

"Mmmm... Leo..." you softly moaned, feeling every nerve end crackle under his touch. Your body started squirming and wriggling, responding to him. Your breath grew hot and heavy, and started to moan more as he moved down to kiss and lick at the base of your neck. Then a sharp pain pulled you out of your haze as Leo bit you, a cry falling from your lips. It was short lived as his warm tongue lavished the spot, spreading a fire in your veins.

After what seemed like forever, Leo finally had you where he wanted you: underneath him, naked, hot and needy for him. He lowly growled in your ear,"You're going to take all of me, y/n. All of my hot cum till it floods your insides..."

You whimpered in desperation, feeling your hot and dripping womanhood clench. Your body started to tremble in anticipation, in desire. You begged for him to make you cum. Then you started making lewd sounds as the head of his girthy length popped inside your entrance. You swore you could've just cummed then and there, but you held back... not for long, though.

You lost track of how many times you orgasmed as Leo held you in a mating press, or slammed his cock into you from behind, doing anything to be so close to you. You just wanted more and more. You were numbed from all the pleasure and stimulation, filled with Leo's seed. And when he was rock hard again, he would slide inside your tight slick pussy and do it all again till he came so deep inside you.

Tagged List: 🎀if you do/dont want to be tagged, lmk please🎀

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[dgrailwar]

EPILOGUE - To Weave a Tale of Men and Monsters

-First, the Finale Here-

The wheels of the train rumbled, the passive subtle shaking of the car falling swiftly into a natural sort of ambiance. A man and a woman sat across from each other. The man seemed to be quietly making notes in a folder, as the woman kept herself busy with a book. They seemed pleasant enough to the other passengers, though there was something unsettling about the two of them. One would dare to say 'inhuman', but that seemed ridiculous. As such, nobody could pin down what, and quickly dismissed the feelings as purely irrational.

The man finally spoke, looking up from his notes.

"I appreciate you not coming in your… more substantial form. Still, this is a good look. Very stylish."

He gave her calm smile as he leaned back against the seat, turning to look out the window as the scenery passed by. The woman across from him sighed, pulling a bookmark from one of her pockets and slipping it between the pages before gently shutting it and laying it down on the table between them.

"…While I would have preferred it, I figured arriving in my true form may have complicated things. Besides, if my sisters taught me anything, it's that humans are best caught with sugar, rather than vinegar."

"Uh, I think the phrase uses 'flies', not 'humans'."

The woman paused as if registering his words, lips pursing as she glanced around the train car and adjusted her glasses, before quietly looking downward and fidgeting a bit with her hair. A shyer gesture than what her companion expected.

"...Right. Sorry."

She apologized, and he shook his head, unbothered.

"I get it. This is new, so we'll have to work on that. Not a problem. Still, you're a bit more reasonable than I thought. Guess now's as good a time as any for me to show you these- the drafts of my plans for introducing a human-monster society!"

The man slid over the folder he had been making edits to, filled to the brim with pages after pages of documents, handing it over. The woman raised an eyebrow before she took it, adjusting her glasses before opening the folder and flipping through the contents. Her eyes narrowed slightly, as she looked over at the man across from her.

"…You're insane."

His smile shifted into a wide grin.

"I prefer 'unconventional'. Still, outside of that, what do you think?"

Taking another moment to flip through the contents, she nodded her head slowly.

"It's sneaky… or perhaps you'd prefer 'subtle'? And, while not particularly fast, it does have a decent timeline. I can see why you called yourself a 'mastermind'. I suppose we are going to have to find a way to play around normal human society, magus society, and those that follow the Church…"

She trailed off, lightly chewing her lip. The man filled in the silence, closing his eyes as he spoke, his expression becoming focused.

"It's all about talking to the right people. And, as much as I'd prefer to start in Japan, gathering information regarding magi will be a lot more fruitful here. I don't want your granddaughter's wish to be in vain, you know? Or the resolve that they all showed back then."

"...Thank you. You and the others. I never got a chance to say that before."

The man shrugged, idly reaching across the table to pick up the book the woman had reading. He let it flip open, thumbing through the pages as he spoke.

"I'm sure they know you're grateful, even if you didn't say anything. And on my end... well, there's nothing to thank me for, at least. I mean, I'm bringing you to London, I'm sure the weather will be terrible for your hair. Or... maybe snakes like damp places?"

"...Hm. You're right. I rescind my thanks."

"Hahaha! Is that a smile I see? So the goddess does have a sense of humor!"

The woman rolled her eyes, reaching across to snatch the book back, checking to make sure none of the pages were wrinkled before letting out another a small exhale.

"Don't tell a soul, but I am nervous."

He echoed her sigh, running a hand through his hair.

"If you promise not to tell anyone I feel the same. Nerves are good, though. They keep things interesting."

With that, the woman looked out the window once more.

"…We're approaching our destination. I'll be counting on you, Emissary."

"And I'll be counting on you. Now… let's shake up the world."

[museaway]

it's entirely my own fault that I'm beat this morning because not only did I stay up late reading, but I stayed up late listening to my own damn fic because once again my brain would not shut off. this time it was the divorced single father x preschool teacher vld AU that I wrote for @eunisyn a while back and ohmygod it was so funny. I'd forgotten how snarky Keith was in it and how much sex they had, ahahahaha. I literally sat up laughing a few times because I couldn't believe I'd written those words.

two nights ago, I listened to my first sheith longfic, which I wrote long enough ago I'd forgotten half of it (fight scenes??? me???). then this morning I re-read one that takes place after the show's ending but alters it so that they stay together. cried through that ending while making myself coffee, which is not my normal weekday beverage (funnily enough, every fic has people drinking it although I'm a tea person).

I really thought these feelings were dead, but I just moved VLD out of my inactive folder. I feel pretty good about resurrecting a stalled sequel and finishing it for @ficwip's The Fic That Haunts You this fall. I think the draft must be 7 by now. a friend even gifted me a commission to have it illustrated, so I have a beautiful image from @lijau of a scene from the first part (which I'll stick under the cut because this was on the bird site & I don't think it was ever posted here).

[trishxtrix]

The Bench Across the Street

AO3

Part 1 | Previous | Part 11 | Next

Summary: What if Abby is hurting and forcing Frank to take benzos to “control” his ADHD?

What if few hours after the argument, Frank is brought to the ED on a brink of an overdose and some unexplainable injuries.

TW: Abuse, Overdose, Suicide Attempt

Tags: Dark!Abby | Frank whump | Frank-centric | Miscommunication | Abusive!Abby | abusive relationships | threats of violence | implied/reference child endangerment | is this considered AU? | spousal abuse | men can be victims of abuse too

——————————————————————————————————

Frank

I woke up just before six. 

Birds, somewhere outside past Mia’s shuttered windows, were chirping with a kind of shameless optimism that felt almost offensive.

The guest room was dark, except for the low amber spill of a street lamp outside the window. The sheets were soft, the pillow still held the faint scent of fresh detergent and clean space. I hadn’t slept well—but it wasn’t from discomfort. It was just the way rest sits differently on you when everything else is waiting.

I pulled on a hoodie, walked barefoot to the kitchen, and started the coffee. The apartment was still. Not quite in a cold way—just holding its breath the way early mornings do. I found eggs, bread, and the last of the roasted vegetables in her fridge. 

By the time the first pan sizzled I’d already started reviewing the documents—the affidavits Reeva had drafted, the consent forms, the timeline Cynthia outlined in quiet legal phrasing that made my life look like someone else’s police report. I didn’t linger on the pain of it. Just marked what needed edits. Signed. Initialed. Added one note in the margin of my own:

She threatened harm to the kids the same morning I overdosed.

It felt surgical. Clean. Necessary.

When the last page was signed, I set it aside and pulled out my phone. 

6:47 am.

I scheduled an appointment with my primary care for the next day. The confirmation came in seconds, surprisingly.

Then I answered the messages from yesterday.

[AM SHIFT LEAD – THE PITT]: I’m good to work my shift next week. Will be getting my clearance tomorrow.

[HR – PTMC]: I’ve scheduled my clearance with my PCP for tomorrow. Will forward it then.

[To Jack 🦿🐇]: Appreciate the support. I’ve got my clearance scheduled. Looking forward to being back.

[To Dana ☀️🎪]: Thanks for checking in. I’ll be back next week. Seeing my PCP on the 16th.

I stared at the screen for a long time when I got to Robby’s.

[To Robby 🐱🩺]: I’m not ready for that conversation. It might take a while. But I saw your message. That’s all I can give right now.

Then Abby’s messages.

[To Abby 🖤]: I’ll be home by tomorrow evening. I have my appointment that morning. Please don’t involve the kids.

I didn’t look at her older texts. I didn’t want to see them. I didn’t want to feel what they’d still do to me.

I set the phone down and sat with the silence. The kind that comes just before something starts.

Behind me, I heard Mia shift.

Not the sluggish stir of someone half-asleep—but the measured, purposeful movement of someone who was already aware before their body caught up. By the time she stepped into the kitchen, her hair was tied back, face alert, eyes already tracking the layout of the room like it might contain a threat.

Her gaze swept the stovetop, the mugs, the table—and then landed on the paperwork.

She met my eyes.

“You’ve been busy,” she said. Voice low and clear, but there was something else behind it—a thread of caution, of weight.

I nodded. “Everything’s signed.”

She walked over, flipped through the folder, her fingers pausing over a couple of the initialed margins. Her movements were practiced, calm. Like she was checking the pulse of the situation before she let it beat forward.

“I made breakfast,” I added, softer. “Hope I didn’t use your last good eggs.”

“You didn’t”

She reached the last page, let it fall back into place, then looked at me again.

“Frank. Are you sure?”

I let out a breath and met her eyes straight on. “Tell them I’m ready. Tell them I signed everything and I want this started. They’ve been waiting. No more waiting.”

Her expression didn’t shift right away, but I saw the faint change in her posture. The way her shoulders eased—not relaxed, not exactly—but settled into certainty.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll make the calls. No action until I do.”

She reached for her phone with her free hand and stepped aside, already scrolling. A beat later she tapped the screen and put the phone to her ear. 

“Reeva first,” she muttered. “Then the rest.”

I sipped my coffee as she stepped into the kitchen doorway, just far enough to speak quietly but not out of earshot if I needed her voice. The sound of it—even in low, clipped tones—helped. It made things feel real, but not impossible.

A few minutes later, she came back in. her face was unreadable, but I could tell by the way she moved that the message had been received.

“They’ll start what needs to be started. No one moves publicly until after the 16th.”

I nodded once.

Her phone buzzed again. She checked it.

“It’s Reeva,” she said. “She’s telling me to inform you that you have your first session of your psych workup after your PCP appointment. It’s not for work—it's for the case. Evidence. Emotional profiling. Pattern of harm. It’ll be part of the full legal package.”

I took a long sip of coffee.

“Okay.” I said.

Just that.

And this time, Mia didn’t ask me if I was sure again.

She just sat across from me, matching the stillness in the room, and let the moment pass with me.

~~~~~~~

I was already awake when my alarm went off.

I hadn’t really slept. Just dozed in shifts between panic and muscle memory. My mind kept running the same tape: the bench across the street, the bitter taste of pills in my mouth, the sound of the wind, and wondering—if someone would find me in time.

The morning light was gray. Cloud-thick. No sun. No birds.

I took a shower that lasted too long. Scrubbed myself hard enough to make my skin sting, like I could wash the whole past month off me. I dressed in the clean clothes Mia had bought—jeans, sweatshirt, neutral colors that made me look like someone harmless. Someone functioning.

Mia had already made coffee. She didn’t ask how I was feeling. Just handed me the mug, her expression unreadable but steady. I was grateful she didn’t say anything. If she had, I might’ve cracked before we even left the apartment.

We didn’t talk on the way to my primary care appointment. The car was silent except for the soft hum of traffic. The check-up was routine. The nurse didn’t ask about the psych hold. The doctor gave me a clinical once-over and signed the clearance without questions. 

I wasn’t surprised. That’s how it usually went.

We had an hour to spare before the evaluation.

Mia parked near the clinic where the psych workup had been scheduled. A trauma-informed specialist Reeva trusted. Neutral territory. Unaffiliated with PTMC. Clean records. No ties to Abby. No ties to Mia.

I didn’t get out of the car right away. 

Mia waited. 

“It’s just another formality,” I said finally, my own voice hollow. “Just more paperwork.”

Mia didn’t respond at first. Then “It’s not just paperwork, but it is necessary.”

“I know.”

I stepped out of the car and followed her in.

The building was quiet. Fluorescent lights. Plastic plants. The woman at the front desk didn’t smile too much. Didn’t pretend to be cheerful. She just handed me a clipboard and asked for my signature.

Then she said “Dr. Rosenthal will see you shortly,” and gestured toward a closed door with frosted glass.

Mia sat in the waiting room.

I went in alone.

The room was too bright. Not harsh, just…exposed. It smelled like lemon cleaner and dry paper. There were two chairs. A box of tissues. A carafe of water. A clock that ticked to audibly.

Dr. Rosenthal looked to be in his fifties. Calm eyes, folded hands, a suit without a tie. He offered a smile that didn’t feel like a performance.

“Frank, it’s good to meet you. I’ve read the preliminary materials Reeva and your team sent over. Today’s session will be clinical—but conversational. You won’t be diagnosed. There’s no pass or fail. But what you share may become part of the legal statement Reeva’s building.”

I nodded.

“If something feels too hard to talk about, tell me. But I do need honesty.”

“Okay,” I said, voice quiet.

He clicked on a recorder. Set a file folder aside. And began.

He started with the basics. 

Name. DOB. Occupation. Marital status. Number of children.

Then it started shifting.

“Can you describe the nature of your relationship with your wife?”

My hand clenched around the arms of the chair. “It’s complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

“I think she loved me. Or used to. Or needed me. It all blurred.”

“How long have you suspected the relationship was abusive?”

Silence. I stared at the tissue box on the table. 

“She told me once that if I ever left her, she’d make our kids end up in the ER. She knew where to press. Where to bruise without breaking bones. Where to wait until I’d forget what I looked like without her voice in my head.”

My voice cracked. I kept talking anyway.

“There were pills. She said they’d help me sleep. Then they were to keep me calm. Then to make me forget. She’d mix them into tea. Into meals. Told me I was unstable, that I scared the kids. I believed her for a while.”

“Do you still believe her now?”

“No,” I whispered, “but I still hear her in my head.”

“Let’s walk through the day of your suicide attempt.”

I flinched. The word hit harder than it should have. Not because I didn’t know what it was, but because hearing someone else say it made it too real again.

He didn’t apologize. Didn’t soften the phrasing. Just waited, as if acknowledging that it was already real, already there, and that naming it didn’t make it worse.

My fingers curled against the fabric of my pants. I stared at the seam near my knee and forced myself to speak. 

“It started early,” I started. My voice sounded thin, like it didn’t belong to me. “Abby was already in the kitchen when I came down. She made coffee—mine already poured. She always poured mine first. I didn’t used to think about that. But that morning…”

I swallowed hard.

“She asked if I’d taken my pills. I told her I was cutting back. That they made me feel wrong. That I didn’t feel like myself. And that’s when she said it.”

“What did she say?”

“If I don’t take the pills,” I whispered, “She’ll make sure the kids end up in the ER.”

Rosenthal didn’t interrupt. He just let the silence follow. 

My voice shook. “And the worst part? I believe her. She said it like it was just another fact. Like making them bleed was the same as packing their lunches.”

“How long had she been threatening the kids?”

“She never said it directly before. But she’d made comments. That they were ‘too soft’ around me. That I was turning them into cowards. Once, she told me that if I ever made her look bad, she'd remind me whose body carried them into this world.”

Rosenthal wrote that down. Slowly. Intentionally.

“What did you do after that conversation?”

“I went to work,” I said. “I didn’t know what else to do. I felt like I was vibrating out of my skin.”

I swallowed. “I kept checking my locker. I brought the pills with me. I’d been keeping them there, meaning to throw them out. Flush them. But I kept on getting pulled to cases, or convincing myself I might need them just in case things got worse.”

He nodded. “You were keeping the weapon, just in case.”

“Yeah.” 

I closed my eyes for a second.

“What happened next?”

“An intern saw me. I think she noticed how often I kept going back to my locker. Maybe how tense I was. I saw her talking to Robby, Dr. Robinovitch, the attending physician on shift .”

My chest tightened like a fist around my lungs.

“Robby pulled me off the floor. Said we needed to talk. I thought—god—I thought maybe he was going to ask if I was okay. I thought maybe he finally noticed I wasn’t okay.”

“What did he say?”

“He started accusing me of stealing drugs and using them in the ER. Had me open my locker. Found the drugs…” I trailed off. I pressed my nails into my palms, grounding myself.

“And did he ask you to explain?”

I shook my head. Tears burned without permission.

“No. He told me to go home. I tried to explain. I tried to explain that it wasn’t mine but I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t make myself tell Robby that the pills were Abby’s and I was planning on flushing them.”

I paused and dug my nails harder into my skin.

“So I…I told him about my PCA because of my back injury, but he wouldn’t listen. He wouldn’t listen.”

My voice broke.

“He wouldn’t listen and he just looked at me like I was disgusting. Like I’d disappointed him. Like I wasn’t worth the oxygen it would take to ask the next question”

Tears were falling now, quietly.

“He told me I was finished and that I should just go home. Like I was already done.”

I stared at the floor because it was easier than looking at the reality across from me.

“I never got to tell him the truth. I never got to tell him that they weren’t mine. That I was using against my will. That I was trying to throw them away.”

Rosenthal waited a moment, then asked gently,  “And then?”

“I couldn’t—didn’t want to go home yet. I sat on the bench across the street for an hour. Just sitting. Trying to figure out how the hell am I gonna fix it.”

My nails hurt from how hard I was pressing.

“Then we got the call. PittFest. The shooting.”

Rosanthal’s jaw tightened slightly, but he didn’t interrupt.

“The hospital was calling everyone in, code triage was in place. All hands on deck.”

I breathed out a shaky laugh.

“I was technically still on shift. I hadn’t clocked out when Robby shoved me out. So I ran back in. Grabbed gloves. Trauma gowns.”

The noise came back first—the shrieks of sirens, the metallic slam of stretchers, the relentless voices on the radio.

 “We didn’t stop moving for hours.”

“And Robby?”

“We were working side by side. I could feel him watching me every time I took over a case. Like he was waiting for me to fall apart.”

“Did you speak to him again?”

“Yeah.” I laughed, bitter. “After things settled. He caught me in the ambulance bay. I tried to be calm about it. I tried to understand where Robby was coming from. He doesn’t know what’s been happening to me. No one did, except Mia. But he wouldn’t listen.”

I could still hear it—his voice, tight and disappointed.

“He told me to get help. Offered rehab.”

“And what did you say?”

“I told him not to be a hypocrite,” My chest ached, “I told him that if I have to get help, then he did too. That I wasn’t the only one that saw him breaking down in our makeshift morgue in the peds room.”

I looked down at my shaking hands.

“And then?”

“I walked away.”

“And where did you go?”

My throat closed.

“The bench.”

I could barely say it. The word cracked in my mouth like bone splintering.

“Across the street. Just far enough to feel invisible. Just close enough that maybe someone would find me.”

He didn’t write anything.

“What did you take?”

“All the Ativan I had.”

“Did you want to die?”

I stared at my hands, blurred by the tears I couldn’t stop.

“I wanted to stop hurting. I wanted her to stop winning. I wanted silence.”

He let the silence stretch—long enough for me to feel it, but not long enough to drown.

“How did you feel when you woke up?”

I blinked and swallowed hard.

“Angry. Ashamed. And then scared—because I didn’t know how much I’d said while they were saving me. I didn’t know what damage I’d done by surviving.”

“Did it feel like failure?”

“No,” I whispered. “It felt like exposure. Like I’d been cracked open and everyone could see exactly how weak I was.”

“And now?” Rosanthal’s voice was low, steady.

“Now?”

I closed my eyes.

“I don’t know. I feel broken, but I’m still standing.”

A pause.

“I am still standing, right?”

Rosenthal nodded. “You are,” he said. Quiet. Firm. “And what you’ve survived doesn’t make you weak. It makes you real.”

He clicked the recorder off.

“I’ll draft my report,” he said, “it will reflect everything you shared today—and it will be clear. No ambiguity. No room for anyone to twist it.”

I stood up slowly. My legs barely held me. I didn’t realize I was still crying until I stepped into the lobby and saw Mia.

She stood the moment she saw me. Eyes flicking over me like she was scanning for injury.

She didn’t ask. Didn’t force anything.

She just opened her arms.

And this time, I didn’t hesitate.

I stepped into her.

Let her arms fold around my shoulders, steady and real and solid.

Not because I was falling apart.

But because for once—I knew I didn’t have to hold all of it alone.

~~~~~~~

The ride to the house from the clinic was supposed to be short. Maybe forty-five minutes.

But we didn’t leave right away. We stayed in the parking lot, letting the silence wrap around the both of us.

Mia sat behind the wheel, hands loose on the steering wheel, engine humming low beneath us. The windows fogged slightly from our breath.

The psych eval sat like a second skin on me—heavy, raw, unfinished.

I stared at my hands.

Mia finally broke the silence, her voice low and steady.

“You don’t have to go through the door if you’re not ready.”

I closed my eyes. The weight of the key in my pocket burned like lead.

“If I don’t go back, she wins.”

“No,” Mia said, and there was steel underneath the calm. “She doesn’t win either way. This isn’t a game.”

I turned my head, looking at her. The sharpness in her jawline. The patience carved deep into her shoulder. 

“She’s still in there, you know?” I asked, barely a whisper. “The Abby that could smile at the nurses and bake cupcakes for PTA and tell me I was the best thing that ever happened to her. I still see her sometimes.” 

Mia’s hands tightened once around the wheel, then relaxed.

“That’s what abusers do. They build a version of themselves that’s easier to grieve than the truth is to accept.”

I laughed bitterly. “So what does that make me? A ghost haunting my own life?”

She turned in her seat so she was facing me fully.

“No,” she said. “You’re someone who survived a war nobody else could see.”

Her voice didn’t break. Mine almost did.

“You think surviving matters?” I asked, tired and cracked open.

“I know it does.”

She paused. Looked at me like she wasn’t just seeing what was left—but what could still grow back. 

“Frank…you’re not going back there to prove you’re strong. You’re not going back to prove anything to her. You are going back so that when you leave—really leave—you’ll have every piece of your life in your hands. Not hers.”

The words sat heavy between us.

Right and wrong didn’t feel clean anymore.

They felt like bricks being laid under my feet, one at a time.

“I’m scared,” I said 

Mia nodded “You should be. Fear doesn’t mean you're weak. It means you realize how much you’re carrying.”

I wiped my hands against my jeans.

“I don’t know if I can walk in there without losing pieces of myself all over again.”

Mia reached across the console and set her hands near mine. Not grabbing. Not demanding. Just there.

“You don’t have to be whole today,” she said. “You just have to walk through the door.”

The silence stretched again, but it didn’t feel empty.

It felt like something breathing in between us.

I closed my fingers over hers, grounding myself with the simplest truth in the car: Mia wasn’t asking me to be anyone other than the man who had survived.

~~~~~~~

The car idled at the curb. I stared out the window towards the house—the place that had been mine once. 

It looked the same.

Same Red door. Same pale brick. The hanging plant Abby never watered.

I could already feel the weight of the walls pressing against my ribs, even from here. Mia stayed silent until my hands started to clench and unclench against my thighs. Then she pulled her phone out, tapped a number, and lifted it to her hear.

“Morales,” she said without greeting.

There was a pause, and then the low, professional cadence of Captain Morales filled the car through the speaker.

“You in position?” Morales asked.

“We’re out front,” Mia confirmed. “Everything ready?”

“Affirmative. External surveillance is already running. Cameras at the intersection caught the vehicle this morning, systems confirmed active. Dispatch has your protocol flagged under Welfare Priority. If he text the safe word, they’re at the door in under four minutes.”

“Four’s too long,” Mia snapped, voice sharper than I’d heard all morning.

Morales was quiet for a breath. “We’ve got an officer ghost-walking the block. Plainclothes. Closer if needed.”

Mia’s eyes flicked to me, then back to the road.

“And Abby?” she asked.

“Out of the house, routine pickup. ETA…six, maybe seven minutes.”

Mia ended the call without saying goodbye.

She set the phone in the cupholder, turned to me fully.

“You’re not going to be alone for a second,” She assured me. “You even think something’s wrong, you text me. You don’t have to explain. You don’t have to wait.”

I nodded, swallowed hard.

“And Frank,” she added, softer, “if it gets bad—if it starts to feel like you’re slipping—don’t try to hold out for proof. Your life isn’t leverage.”

I close my eyes.

Breathed.

Nodded again.

We stayed in the car a few minutes longer.

The minutes felt both endless and not enough.

Then Mia reached across the console, not to touch me this time, but to set a folded scrap of paper on my knee.

A name and number.

“If you need extraction,” she said simply, “you call this. Don’t think about it. Dont argue. Just tell them my name and where you are.”

I didn’t ask how she got the contact. 

Some part of me didn’t want to know.

Another car turned onto the street.

A white SUV.

Abby.

I saw Tanner in the back seat, pressed against the window. Millie’s car seat was nestled behind the driver’s side, a splash of pink against the beige interior.

My breath caught.

Not from fear. 

From the kind of grief that felt too big to hold inside my chest.

I watch them pull into the driveway. Watched Abby step out, adjusting her sunglasses, her keys jangling against her phone. 

She didn’t see us.

Not yet.

Mia’s hand touched the back of my shoulder—brief, firm, anchoring.

“You ready?”

“No,” I muttered. “But I’m here.”

She nodded once.

No false comfort.

No pretending it would be okay.

Just the truth.

She pushed the gearshift into drive, pulled slowly alongside the curb. Gave me a clean exit, away from the sightline of the windows.

“Text me,” she said, one last time. “For anything.”

I reached for the door handle.

“Thank you.”

Mia’s gaze caught mine, steady and relentless.

“You survive this,” she demanded, “that’s how you thank me.”

I step out of the car. 

The door closed behind me with a soft, final click.

I didn’t look back.

I couldn’t.

[louisaguy]

and also louisa sickfic hehehehe

OOOH OKAY. i have multiple louisa sickfics in my drafts lmao bc why should we let river have all the whumpy fun, but here's the one i like best:

basically louisa comes into work feverish and sick, and she winds up having a half-feverish-delirium-half-panic-attack in their office, while river crouches and tries to help. but she snaps at him-- don't touch me. i'm fine. river realizes he can't handle this and runs to find mama standish for help. so then catherine tries to soothe louisa too but she reacts just as negatively, winds up saying some unkind things to catherine bc she feels insulted and deceived by catherine's cooing. (think louisa's reaction when catherine tries to comfort her after min's death in s2, it's very reminiscent of that)

so then lamb, who's been lurking in the doorway watching this go down, sends catherine and river out and talks to louisa himself. and he doesn't touch her, doesn't soothe her, doesn't coo over her. just talks to her plain and simply, like a peer. and that manages to calm her down. the whole point i wanted to make was like-- i think louisa and lamb are actually quite similar, in their prickliness and distrust of others and independence, and meanwhile river and catherine are quite similar too, in their big hearts and their tendency to charge headfirst into things. so i wanted to make a point of like. lamb being the person who could get through to louisa when river and catherine couldn't, because he's more similar to her.

River pokes his head into the kitchen first, and upon finding it empty, bounds up the stairs to the second floor of Slough House, taking the steps two at a time. Catherine isn’t in her office either, but River hears two voices talking in Lamb’s office-- Lamb’s office with the closed door-- so he halfheartedly knocks as he bursts his way in. Lamb is sat behind his desk with his feet propped up, a glass of whiskey dangling nonchalantly in his hand. Catherine stands opposite him, hands clenched around a manila folder, her back upright and stiff. They’ve been fighting. This is how they get when they fight, everyone at Slough House knows how to spot it by now-- Catherine all stiff and upset, Lamb all smarmy and posturing. River doesn’t pay more than a passing glance to any of that, though, because he’s got more pressing issues to worry about. Lamb scowls at the intrusion. “Who in the fuck do you think you are that you can just waltz into my office anytime you well like?” River pays him no mind. Instead, he directs himself solely to Catherine. “I-- I need your help.” Catherine must see the wild look in his eyes, because she softens, a hand coming up to hover above her chest. “Are you alright--?” “It’s Louisa, she’s-- something’s wrong with her, she’s sick, or-- I don’t know. She won’t let me near her.” He glances behind him, through Lamb’s open doorway and back down toward his shared office. “Just-- Please, come help. Please.”

thank u for the ask!!

[moongoopy]

little helper

cont: working alongside shiu kong meant meeting toji and toji meeting you.

c/w: violence, reader is shorter than toji, reader has the luck ct (like haruta shigemo)

c: toji x reader

a/n: sorry if ooc and something i realised so far about my fics or drafts or writing or whatever is that i get too into the writing to add the x reader part oopsies guys, i'll try to make the reader and character make out every five seconds in the next fic trust!!!!

Being Shiu Kong's little helper was so relieving for him. First off, he didn't have to deal with the egos of other curse users and second, you were bubbly company. 

You didn't fit the scene of being a handler at all but money was money so he couldn't blame you but he atleast show some concerns when the streaks under your eyes turn out less.

"What was it this time?"

He watches you wrap bandages around your wrists while he let the cigeratte dangle at his lips. He made sure to get a new lighter when he does go to the store, the lighter was being stubborn for this round's smoke.

"Well, after that one curse user with the pigtails was threatened by how I pointed him out, he sent his little curses at me." He breathed a sigh as you lit his cigeratte for him with a spare you have on yourself and he shook his head.

"Aren't you atleast a bit scared by how sharp you're being? You're down to three." Having looked at the small mirror in the mortuary, you stretched a bit at the skin under your eyes. Yep, just a bit more till you die, you guess. You shrugged at Shiu. If a bunch of curse users can't handle a bit of truth, they can simply drop dead at a bounty you'd present to them. Shiu scoffed in amusement, you were a gem.

"Anywho, just watch your mouth for the next. He's not that feisty, hell, he doesn't really let anything get to him but you'll be working with him next. He slipped a profile to you when you were done taking off the clothes of a corpse that was carried into the mortuary by the latest mission and you promptly read it. You took note, scanning the profile again. Putting aside the jewellery of the corpse, you asked if Shiu won't come this time.

"Nah, I need to fix a few things with the funding until then, just give me updates about his responses." He stuck his hand out and you threw your lighter at him and he waved his hand, exiting the mortuary. Toji Fushiguro, he looks stone cold but you'll get to see him. The next day.

For now, the body of a dead man awaits you as you meticulously set him apart.

..

Summer in Tokyo was a bummer especially since the clothes you wore was too snug against your body. So much for professionalism, what you'd do to be half naked right now.. Patting down your sweaty skin with a clean cloth, you exhaled in gratitude at the airconditioning in the ramen shop you walked into. Fushiguro should be around here.

He wasn't hard to spot, he was a large, towering man and you sat down next to him.

You ordered a Ochazuke because of the sweltering heat, you made sure it was enough to forget about the weather and not that you have a client to tend to.

"Did Shiu sent you?" Gosh, his voice was deep that you flinched a bit when you gave the yen to pay and his lips quirked up a bit. You smiled, nodding to the man who looked you up and down rather blatantly. He took a sip of his soda before gesturing at you.

"Was he too caught up in something else to send a pipsquek in for me?" He grinned, putting his can down and is pleased that you didn't back down.

"You're one to talk when the soles of your slippers are loose," You put down the folders of the bounty next to his ramen. "My name is [Name], nice to meet you." You nodded happily, looking back at the waiter that gave you a heads up to how long you had to wait.

He made a noise of amusement, bringing his head down to stuff a fishball in his mouth and placed down his chopsticks.

"Hmm, that's interesting. You're so bold, is it because of your luck, you think you can get away with anything?" You chuckled wryly, shaking your head and played with the pen on your lap. You uttered towards him how nobody can just insult you without any confrontation and he nearly snorts.

He plays this little game of trying to mock you more, finding ways to make you tick but you held up good. He's beggining to like this little helper Shiu sent, one that was so undettered and nonchalant but acting so polite to keep an act on. When your Ocazuke arrives, it was his time to leave.

You pointed to the folders you let him read, asking if he got all that and he dismissed you with a wave.

He didn't even answer your question, rude. But you gave a long sigh. For such an attractive man, he's so adamant on trying to piss you off. Maybe it started to work after being called a little helper instead of an assistant.. but you won't admit that. Right now, you had a nice, cold meal to enjoy and dug in.

After a while, you finished and left to the park. It was oddly very quiet, wouldn't there be more people in this time of day? Well, it was a weekend so maybe people preferred their walls of their home for now. You kept the folders close and took out your phone to dial Shiu.

"Hello-?" The service was quite bad, you weren't sure if it was Shiu or you.

"Shiu?" You leaned against a lamp pole, adjusting the phone between your left and right ear. His voice is a strange mash of words that you couldn't make out.

"….man…gone…" A bunch of question marks litter your brain, who now?

That's when a bullet shot your phone and the graze of the bullet against your skin made you clutch your hand and curse. You swiftly turned back and gasped. It was the man you stripped the other day, well stripped was too perverse of a description rather taking off his clothes to examine would be better. Anything could happen in the Jujutsu world so why was a corpse trudging towards you? You'd made sure nobody knows that this man is dead, his family wouldn't know either or unless some other curse user slip up and went on a monologue.

This guy was dead serious on something. Maybe killing you slowly? Cause the way his hand grip tightly against the saw that he switched out was alarming. Gun slipped into his back pocket, he approached quickly.

"You had the time to steal some pants too, amazing." You pull out your gun and aimed for him and that's when he turned aggresive, his saw swinged quite hard and you'd barely avoided a slice through the neck as he roared.

His eyes were rolled to the back of his head as you shot his chest twice and he gurgled.

"Give me back my life!!" His yell was quite distorted, it was obvious enough that he was a curse out for blood but why you? Could it be because you did the autopsy, that wasn't great considering you weren't even the killer.

You pull out a knife from your thigh strap and stabbed his throat, bringing up to his face so the blade came out through his nose. Some blood got onto you but you yanked yourself away from him and he chokes on his own blood.

He shouted out a "No!" and made a clean slash at your waist which you shrieked to. You gave a hard kick to his stomach making him fall before running away from him. You turned many corners, clutching your bleeding waist in such pain. You quickly added bullets in before shooting back. It dettered him a bit but he regenerates quickly that it was crazy. There was some cursed energy in your weapons but how strong was this man's thirst for vengeance?

"Fuck, you have to be shitting me." You were getting lightheaded, the cut was deep and it was torturous.

Suddenly, a figure zoomed behind you and you gasped as you were thrown over their shoulder like a sack of potatos. The hand squeezed a bit of your ass and you sputtered in pain and shock.

It was Fushiguro, he was so damn fast.. so this was his abilities.

"Thought you'd be better at holding off on your own but I shouldn't expect much from a little helper." He teased with such a sultry drawl in his voice that you couldn't help but punch his back. He chuckled, such a sweet thing. He should've let it drag on a bit longer. Just to see you wince in pain, call him a sadist. He puts you down near a wall before settling the fight with the curse that was chasing you.

"[Name], shit." Shiu was there thankfully, he almost tore your blouse apart as he dabbed up the blood and wrapped bandages around your waist. You shifted a bit in your spot and handled the rest of the bandaging yourself and rested against the wall. You faintly snicker, seeing your boss so worried about you made something tickle inside you. He grabbed your face, nearly shouting at you in exasperation.

"You're a dunce, you know that?"

You shrugged like normal.

"How else would I contact you, sir? You were breaking up in call." He sighed, examining he two lines left at both sides of your eyes. He argued that this wasn't your usual route to go back to the centre anyways, a place with more people would be better for you to be at. The only thing you can utter is that yhings just happen and there was nothing else to do.

Shiu and you watched as Toji strutted back to the both of you. He was really handsome for a poor man, it was humourous. He had the ego with it too.

Toji's hand wind back to toss you something and it was a ring with initials dented on it.

"Looks farmiliar?" He smirked at you as you looked at the entirety of the ring.

"Yeah.. unfortunately." The initials matched the new mission you passed to Toji an hour ago. It couldn't be just a coincidence, it was another familial issued bounty just like the first.

"You'll be seeing more of me then, pipsquek." His eyes gleamed with satisfaction at the irritation you couldn't hide. He squished your head in his hand and moved past Shiu and you. While Shiu went to catch up with Toji who was too quick to go, you let out one last deep sigh for the day.

"Cowabummer."

----

a/n: clap with your cheeks if you guys want a part 2 jk the only thing i can think of is toji begging shiu kong for a dollar so lets see

[therealbeachfox]

Hi, I have an ask about a part of TCAK Meets the Second Robin, specifically about Hood's gang setup.

Red Hood probably never intended to leave his gang / organization / burgeoning-mob (found)family without a name, but by the time he realized he’d forgotten to give it one, the hoods had not only taken to the namelessness, they’d run with it. Everything had gotten stripped down to its base descriptor.

...

It had bled over into other aspects of The Gang’s organization as well. As evidenced by The Big Board, commonly kept in the same room as The Long Table. Neither to be confused with The Big Table, where the Underbosses and Hood got together for planning sessions and emergency meetings. In this case, The Big Board was a massive map of Gotham centered on Crime Alley, with colored pushpins and notes and occasional string all keeping track of current operations, projects, pushbacks, movements, and whatever else the secondary tier of The Gang’s organization might need to keep track of. And they did all the work they needed that information for on The Long Table. It was a table. It was long. Office chairs from as many decades as offices sat waiting for their first-come, first-serve occupants. Conrad was one of the few who’d managed to muscle himself out a semi-permanent spot, mainly by dent of the truly stupid amount of paperwork his specific tasks entailed. His spot at The Long Table was marked by a worn hardwood in-tray that looked like it’d been bought when the plant had been built in the 30s and just never got tossed. Nearly a century later, it still held up admirably under the weight of the dozens of hand-written reports, hastily scrawled notes, weather-damaged bundles of papers, and hurriedly scrawled sticky notes that constituted his reports. It was the start of a week, which meant the stack was extra high. Conrad looked it over, slumped down on the chair currently left at his spot, and got to work. It was busy-work, which he had no shame in admitting, but he found it nicely meditative. On one side, everything Red Hood had stocked in co-opted warehouses, bolt-holes, and strongholds across Crime Alley. On the other, everything the 26 (and counting) homeless shelters Red Hood was running needed for the coming week and beyond. The flood of money coming in from the side of operations Conrad had nothing to do with meant there were far more funds to work with than most shelters would ever see, but it still wasn’t enough to cover everything needed. Figuring out how all the different numbers best slotted together was the sort of straight-forward task Conrad knew anyone could do, but somehow it’d fallen to him and he was (mostly) glad for it. He was not even three years out from being homeless on the streets himself, and every plan he’d come up with while huddling in makeshift shelters from the rain and cold were still fresh in his mind. He had plans.

How did you come up with all this stuff? Did you take from any real-life experience or organization? Just curious about what was running through your head as you wrote this.

Dividing this into two chunks, The Gang, and Conrad's work.

The Gang: The Gang just came about as I stared at my thumbnail outline of my first proper attempt to write prose fiction since college and realized I couldn't remember what the Red Hood's gang had been called.

A bit of searching later, and it turns out that none of the DC writers had ever bothered to give it a name.

"Eh, fuckit", I go, and toss all my brainstorming of what to call stuff into the discarded drafts folder and just go with the placeholder names I'd been using. The long table? It's The Long Table, now. the big board is The Big Board, and so forth. From there, it was a quick leap to giving everyone one-word noun/verb names to match up with Conrad->Con and The Gang solidified as a concept. (The "The Gang" vs "The Team" parallels were unintentional, but not unwelcome.)

Conrad's Work: I've personally never done inventory for a business, but I know it exists and I know details from what I've heard other people talk about it. It's important critical stuff. (Honestly, I think part of it was sparked by all the supply-chain chaos that Covid and Evergreen had caused) and I figured a job like that would be something Conrad could tell himself wasn't "Henchwork that'll make Batman want to kick me through a window" but would still tie him into Red Hood's organization.

The other critical factor (and I don't think anyone's ever mentioned this in comments before), but that shit can be complicated. And the situation Conrad has to deal with is insane. There's no central repository where their available supplies are being kept, there's no automated shipments of essentials in place. There's no computers involved in any of it at all. Conrad is managing the feeding, supply, and upkeep of at least 2,000-3,000 people weekly using handwritten requests and supply reports provided by several dozen different individuals, working out how to get what supplies to who and where, and what to order resupplies of, keeping track of warning signs of back-door drug dealing and sake-brewing, and doing it all in his head within an hour or three with presumably no fuckups because everyone else seems thrilled with his work.

It's honestly the biggest waving flag I put in place early on of "This kid's brain has got way more going on than he's giving himself credit for".

Basically, I wanted Conrad to have gotten himself into a situation where he viewed his job as "I'm in the back office helping with the paperwork", but he's actually unwittingly running a complex organization almost single-handedly. Well played indeed, Cinder, well played indeed.