#also shes not okay with that but she is okay with ignoring the litter boxs

[125storejuice]

.

[monayen]

"Ku-Ku." | Randal Ivory

➷ Paring - Randal Ivory x Fem!Reader [Randal's Friends / Ranfren]

➷ CWs - Noncon, Master/Pet play, cunnilingus, fingering, slight bloodplay, unsafe sex, pain

a/n - randal brainrot, i adore this lil freak :3 first fic on this blog btw !! requests open (check my pinned) also ignore any mistakes

Luther Von Ivory scans his options presented to him, there are many animals, but he's looking for something specific. A human. He actually didn't know what his brother preferred in humans, but he's sure Randal wouldn't question Luther’s wonderful taste.

The employee gets to you, “She just came in.” He sees you kick around in the cage you were in, “Let me out! I’m not an animal!” Luther sticks a long finger through the bars of your enclosure. He winces when he feels you chomp down on it, quickly drawing it back.

“Are you sure this isn't a dog? I much prefer cats if that's the case.”

“She's a full blooded human! Trust me, found her hitchhiking on the side of the road myself.”

“Hm, okay then. I’ll take her.” Luther’s lucky he kept a sedative in his car. You’ll get trained later.

Randal basically squeals when he sees you, immediately pulling you out of the box and into his arms. For however drugged up you were, you could make out what they were saying perfectly.

He shook you, “Brother, you really didn't!”

“I did. Isn't she pretty?”

“Yeah! I like the way her eyes droop, the drool is a great touch too.”

“That's not permanent, Randal.”

“Oh.” He pauses, “Well, her name is (Y/N).” You can barely mumble as you make out blurry beady eyes staring at you through thick rimmed glasses, “I want…to go… h…home.”

A bizarre giggle escaped his lips, ku ku? “Don't be silly, you are home now.”

You decided to just sleep.

Soon, you had to wake up. And when you do, you see you’ve been put in a frilly, black dress. It’s short sleeved with a white bow on the v-neckline, lace detailing follow the curve of your waist. You notice matching thigh-high black socks on you as well, though you didn't have on any shoes.

You are sober enough to note the room. Posters hang on the wall, all odd anime things, along with creepy dolls littering around that stare. It then hits you that you are sitting in a cushioned coffin.

Holy shit. This is some freak shit. Shit, shit, shit.

Before you can fully get up, the door slams open. “You’re awake!” It's the boy, Randal. You scream and jump back, falling back onto carpeted floor. Suddenly, he’s on top of you.

“Nyon reeeaaaallllyyyy got you in some cute clothes! You look like a doll! Very lifelike.” He seems to hum out the words as he straddles your hands to the side of your head.

“I want to go home! Let me go home!” You thrash beneath him, but he's freakishly strong for someone so lanky. His grip tightens on your wrists. “Nuh-uh. We bought you. Legally, you are mine.”

He keeps that toothy smile on his face, “Anyways, you were on the side of the road. You really didn't have a family, did you?” Randal laughs his weird laugh again while you stare at him with wide eyes, “Exactly what I thought!”

He doesn't loosen his grip as he brings his mouth down to lick your ear. You clamp up, “Don't… don't do that.” It comes out meekly, and though Randal isn't that intimidating in size, you feel dwarfed.

“Ah, I can train you however I want. I’m your master, remember?” Randal’s breath feels hot on the side of you before he licks you again, this time on your neck. “How about you say it? Say that I’m your master.”

You choke on a sob you didn't realize you were holding in as he murmurs into your ear, “Hey, listen to me.” Randal’s noticeably becoming more aggravated, his gloved nails are digging into your wrists now. He still keeps that terrible smile on his face.

With burning skin, you whisper, “You're… you’re my master…” Randal twists your wrists, “Louder for me.”

You cave in, “You're my master!” Finally, the pressure on your wrists is gone. He laughs again, moving one hand down to your waist while the other rests on your thigh. “Ku-ku, I like that!”

He fiddles with the side of your dress, slowly hiking it up to where your thighs and panties are fully exposed for him, the red on his face deepens. “You really are so so pretty! Soft, like a human pillow, so soft. I just wanna eat you.” He breathes heavily, “I just might.”

There's something prodding at the fabric on your thigh, he pulls them apart without much hesitation. “Please, don't.” Again, it’s quiet. He coos at your small plea, “Pets have to listen. Now, lift your ass.”

Finally, you're exposed to him. The dress is discarded next to you, along with your underwear. You want to curl up, hide, cover, anything. You can't. His grasp is too firm, and truthfully, you are scared. He doesn’t care to hurt you. He sees you as a pet, his human. That is your biggest flaw

Gloved fingers find your cunt, prodding at your entrance. Randal fiddles with the fly of his pants, pulling himself out. He strokes himself lazily, eyes glued to the sight of his fingers sinking into your pretty pussy. A small moan forces it way out of you, he has long fingers– like his brother. Soon, he’s knuckle deep, face inches from your slick heat.

“Hah, you're dripping!” You can't bare to look at him, head tilted in the air as you huff at the good

feeling. You aren't prepared when he suddenly sticks his tongue between your thighs. Oh. That gets a long moan out of you, “Nooo–”

Randal smirks, savoring your taste as he sloppily laps his tongue around his fingers and against your cunt. He can't help himself but jerk off his aching cock, getting off to your noises. He’s tasting you, but he wants more.

It feels like hours, but it's probably only been a few minutes that he’s been eating you out. It's creditably sloppy, drool drips down between you and you know he isn't great at it– but the eagerness makes a knot build in your abdomen. A loud moan mixes with your pleas when that knot snaps. You let go a pitched breath when he finally separates his tongue and fingers from you, moving to hover atop of you.

“I was right, you taste amazing.” He’s catching his breath, grabbing his cock as he aligns it between you, “You’ll feel amazing.” You want to beg but you know he wouldn't listen, why would you? You're just a pet. A pet he can do whatever to.

He rubs against you, teasing his tip at your entrance. “You want it? You want me to fuck you?” The shade on his face is heavy, his glasses are foggy but you can still see the glint of lust behind them, staring right at you. He grabs your face to look at him, “Say it. Tell your master you want it.” Again, he digs his nails into your puffy cheeks.

“Please– please master…” He roughly ruts against you, the side of his length rubs against your clit as he groans, “Fuck yeah!” Randal pitches, loud moans pull out of him, grabbing your clothed legs and angling them to rest on his shoulders, finally sinking his whole length into you.

You swear you see blood drip from his nose when he forces himself in, but you can't focus on it, he’s already moving in and out.

God, he's loud. Louder than you even, he can't keep himself together, clearly in bliss with his mouth hanging open slightly. “Ooooh– perfect, perfect pet!” Randal folds you, positioning roughly. He's trying to reach the deepest parts of you, he isn't concerned how your legs sting at the stretch. He's too focused on the way your tits bounce up and down, hypnotizing him to go deeper, faster.

You really are perfect, tight and wet around him. He wants to keep staring into your big, teary, eyes. It all aches him to get closer to you. He wants to fully consume you. For him to become a part of you. No, scratch that. You become a part of him.

“Hah, hah, you make your master feel soooo good.” He licks your tears, making you attempt to pull slightly from him, but he doesn't allow that to happen. Instead, he makes sure to fold you more, knees pressed against your chest in a way that makes you even tighter around him.

He’s speeding up, babbling about how good you feel. You feel like you can't even get a breath in now, it's hard to expand your lungs with your legs and Randal’s weight so close to your chest. Red blood drips onto your face and you look to see the pure lust Randal has spread across his face. You want to reach and wipe the blood so badly, feeling how it drips so closely to your mouth. Randal beats you to it first, gripping your face again and wiping his blood around with his thumb.

He laughs, smearing it across your face. Then, he tightens his grip again, his blood covered thumb rests on your quivering bottom lip, “Open up, doll.” You grit your teeth, trying to turn but his grasp locks you in place. “Ah, you should listen to your master.” You relent. “Good girl, ku-ku. I know you bite– don’t even try.” Then, he sticks his whole thumb in your mouth, rubbing it on the back of your tongue to make sure you taste the iron. You want to gag and bite, but you know you can't.

Randal finally draws his gloved thumb from your mouth, his blood replaced with your saliva. “Fuck– you feel so good, you me to come outside or inside? You�� ah, tell me.” He’s twitching inside you, and quickly you shake your head, “No–”

“Kidding, I'm coming inside!”

Your stomach turns, and you hate the knot in your abdomen that makes you tighten around him, helping him come undone inside of you. He’s pumping white before you can even refuse, snapping his hips against you so hard you're sure you might bruise.

It's hard to tell how long it's been when Randal finally pulls out of you. You feel him drip down your sore legs, dampening your thigh-high socks. He eventually gets off on top of you as you both catch your breath. You lay on the carpet, a sticky and full sensation swallows you whole.

Randal has the nerve to snuggle next to you, wrapping his arms around your bare waist and burying his face into your neck. The smallest sob gets stuck in your throat, there isn't any way to get out of this, is there?

“Sh, just go to sleep. You have more training later.” Ku-ku.

[justevelynnnn]

Logan with a cat quirk 🐱

Summary: Logan becomes a “cat” for a few days

Warnings: Tiny bit of cussing, Cat!Logan likes to scratch and hiss

A/N: Hit this idea randomly one day so here we are! Cat!Logan forever 🤍

- It was after a mission when you noticed something off with Logan. You had stayed behind this time because you weren’t really needed.

- Jean came up to you and said he sniffed some weird plant that she’s gonna study but basically he’s been acting like a cat since he did.

- His hair tuffs were a bit bigger…like cat ears

- And his eyes…yeah, okay, he’s definitely like part cat now. Or something is up.

- Logan didn’t talk just looked at you and sniffed. It was very weird. Veryyyy weird.

- Some stuff was cute like how he would cuddle with you more but then he’d lick you. Like a lot. And, apparently, it’s cause he was trying to clean you.

- Either that or he was saying i love in you in cat or some shit.

- He purred when you’d pet him too. And he’d nuzzle up against your hand.

- He also walked on all fours more often. It was weird.

- Scott thought it was hilarious until Logan started hissing at him and even scratched him once when Scott tried to pet him.

- “Geez…Hey, how long you think he’s gonna be like this..?” Scott said to Jean rubbing his hand.

- “Not too long. I analyzed the flower. Long story short, It’s pollen turns anyone who sniffs it into a “cat”. Obviously not literally or even physically too much but definitely mentally.” She points to the enclosed flower. “The smell from the petals is meant to draw people in on purpose. Logan has animalistic qualities so it just worked on him better… From what i’ve seen he should be back between tomorrow or next week.”

- A week? Everyone looked at Logan as he ignored everyone and licked his hand like a cat.

- Professor Xavier was seemingly very calm about all this. He put you and Jean in charge of watching Logan. Everyone else was to leave him be, including Scott.

- The students thought it was very interesting but Logan didn’t like all the new attention and would always run off when a crowd started to form. Sometimes he’d hiss too. Then it wasn’t cool anymore.

- “It’s okay guys. He’s just…overwhelmed..” You reassured. A lot of students liked Logan. And also cats. You told them maybe if he remembered this they could just ask him when he turned back what it was like.

- Cat Logan only ate fish and some other meats now too. Very picky as well. You tried to give him some bacon and he smacked it off the table. He did the same to most vegetables.

- “This just keeps getting funnier!” Scott bursted out laughing as he watch you sigh at another broken plate of food on the ground.

- “Stop it, Scott. Didn’t Charles tell you to leave him alone? Logan’s gonna get you if he remembers this.”

- “You got him a giant litter box too?” He smirked.

- Yes.

- “No. Now? get the hell out of here already!” You shooed him and finally gave Logan a can of tuna which he ate quickly.

- He finally changed back in the middle of the night a couple days later. He was a “cat” for 5 days.

- He was curled in a ball at the edge of you guys bed and fell on the ground when he woke up.

- “Logan?” You looked over the end of the bed. You made those kissy noises people do to get pets attention. “Hey? Logan?”

- “Where am i…and why are you making those noises..?”

- “You’re talking…”

- “Of course, bub. Why wouldn’t i be? Seriously, how’d i get here so quickly?”

- “Jean said you sniffed something during the mission and you’ve been acting like a cat until now.” You said getting off the bed and walking over to him. He stayed seated and stared into space for a second.

- “The fuck?” Logan stood up and finally noticed he was nude. “Why am I naked?”

- “I could only keep cat you in clothes for so long… You torn up a lot of shirts and pants up over there…and also furniture. And scott.”

- Another pause.

- “….get me a fucking cigar. And booze. I want to forget this shit immediately.” Logan sat back down on the bed and put his head in his hands. How could he be so stupid? Sniffing a strange flower?

- You got him what he wanted and sat next to him.

- “I dunno, it was kinda fun…and your “meow’s” were funny sounding.” You said after a moment of silence.

- He just looked at you and shook his head.

- “This didn’t happen.”

- You nodded noteing not to mention the shenanigans you got into with him and pranks that were pulled or pictures you and the others took while he was in his cat like mind.

- Yup, didn’t happen.

Bonus! Headcanons for Cat!Logan

- He scratched anything he could at first. The curtains, the couch, even the carpet. He used his fingernails and also his claws.

- You and Rogue made him a giant scratching post so he could stop. He only used it a day.

- He really only let you pet him for a long time. Others could for a couple of minutes but then he’d try to bite them.

- He liked “cleaning” himself a lot. He had a lot of hair on his chest and arms and legs especially so he licked a lot there.

- Hairballs happened unfortunately and it was…yeah.

- The first time he did it Scott almost threw up. Storm just cringed. The hair ball wasn’t that big but just… there.

- Also, with the only eating fish thing he drank his water like a cat too.

- More licking.

- You got plenty of pictures like that.

- As for the pranks, one time Scott got the idea to use his red beam as a laser pointer and aimed it at different things to get Logan to try and catch it. One time, it was a bunch of bushes. So Logan obviously got hurt trying to get that laser because the bushes were prickly.

- He also aimed it in the pool and like most cats he hated water but still jumped in because what is that freaking red thing???

- He was very upset getting out that water.

- Scott also put pickles and cucumbers everywhere so Logan kept getting scared turning corners and stuff.

- He’d jump really really high it was so silly

- Definitely gave wanna be black cat mysterious but actually a orange cat energy

- Cat Logan also liked to stare. So…that was happening.

- Rogue got the most pictures surprisingly

- She showed almost the whole school by the time he turned back. He was not happy. He wasn’t mad for long tho because it’s Rogue ❤️❤️

[lost-girl-2021]

Maybe Tonowari and Ronal adopting Spider modern/human au hc?

Okay, I wrote a little bit and then I also but some headcanons and stuff at the bottom :) lemme know if you want to hear more.

Spider wasn’t a pessimist, he was a realist. He didn’t think of the worst, he just knew that after so long, nothing good would be coming his way. Ten different foster homes in half as many years. He was fourteen and alone.

Norm, his social worker and only actual friend, was overworked and underpaid. He had a lot to deal with and Spider was just a box to check off of his To Do List. He was a good guy and he always made sure Spider was somewhere safe, but as the boy had gotten older, he’d also lost hope alongside Spider. Neither of them thought he’d get adopted. He had two years until he’d be old enough to emancipate himself and Norm knew he was just biding him time.

So, it was weird that he seemed excited about his next placement. Spider had been stuck in a group home for two weeks after his last foster family— the Sully’s —had to suddenly move, leaving the teen behind. They’d been plenty apologetic and he hadn’t even been with them for a full year, so it shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. He shouldn’t have been so stupid as to think they’d want to take him with.

Maybe the enthusiasm was Norm trying to cheer his charge up after a shitty month. Maybe he’d finally cracked and was slowly turning into the Joker or Green Goblin or something. He wouldn’t mind a Hulked-out version of his social worker. It’d probably be funny to watch.

They suburb they pulled into was nice. They’d driven further south, towards the state’s coast. It was only three hours away, but it felt like a entirely different world. Ignoring the tourist-traps littering main street and the absurd amount of bikes, it looked peaceful and bright. Norm explained that his newest foster parents ran a fishery and a charter company. Spider didn’t think it was a good fit. He didn’t even know how to swim.

When they stopped in front of the large house in the center of the block, a pair of tall adults were already waiting, sat on the porch in a matching set of white rocking chairs. It was like something out of a TV show, too perfect. The overturned bike on the front lawn helped bring him back to reality. His skateboard was in the trunk of the car, along with his suitcase and a duffel bag of clothes. Lo’ak had insisted that he keep half of the decor from their shared room, even though a lot of it had already been there when he’d arrived.

“How many kids did you say they had?” He asked as Norm put the car in park.

“Two. Aounung and Tsireya. I think he’s sixteen and she’s . . . fifteen? Maybe your age, I can’t remember.”

Neteyam had been sixteen. He wasn’t much of a big brother when it came to Spider, but it wasn’t like he was Spider’s actual younger brother. The thought made his throat feel tight. He opened the car door, swallowing down saliva. First impressions were important and he was about to make a lot of them. New house, new school, same old Spider.

Spider wears shoes a size too big, a habit from childhood. He used to grow too fast as a kid and even though he'd stopped at 5"7, he bought clothes and shoes big just in case.

When he first gets settled, he's kind of wary of the other kids in the house. (No Baby in this AU, because babies are a handful and so are Spiders). I think Tsireya would definitely take him under her wing and try to help him get comfortable and stuff. Set up his room, make sure he's okay with the food and knows where everything is. Despite being a year younger, she's definitely a Big Sister when it come to him.

Aounung kind of ignores him at first, busy with school and learning about his parent's business, intending to take over at some point. But, I think if Spider was getting bullied or something, he'd definitely go into Big Brother mode and that'd kind of spark an interest/empathy.

With the Parents, I think Tonowari would probably be busy working a lot of the time, but he'd make an effort to be there for dinner every night and make sure to check in with each kid before bed. Definitely a gentle giant. I can see Spider being intimidated at first, with the tattoos and Tonowari's sheer size, not to mention he's probably ripped after spending most of his life fishing and swimming. I think the turning point for Spider would be Tonowari driving him to get new shoes or for a doctor's appointment or something one weekend and putting on, like, ABBA or Dolly Parton or something in the car and singing along. He doesn't even need to actually like that type of music, but it's disarming and gets a laugh from Spider. (Also, Tonowari trying to squeeze into a waiting room chair like he isn't 6"7 and shredded).

With Ronal, I can see Spider watching her do one of the other kid's hair and her offering to do his. (In Modern AU's, I think Spider would have long, curly hair like Olan Prenatt from Mid-90s (the guy who played Fuck-Shit). Except, he has no clue how to keep his hair from being a frizzy mess, so he just pulls it back most of the time. And he hesitates, remembering a foster mother once cutting his hair off while he was sleeping (which might have led to him growing it out in the first place) and then deciding to trust her to take care of it, of him.

Spider tries to run away a few months after arriving. He failed a test and got into a fight after school and he's sure he's about to be sent away. So, he decided to leave first. Maybe, it would be easier that way. Hurt less. (It doesn't.)

Aounung ends up finding him crying on the beach at like midnight and flat-out carries him home, refusing to let him down. Because, they were scared, dammit.

This is all I have so far for a modern AU, but lmk if you want to hear more! Also, guess who just started a Medical Assistant program online? ME. If anyone is in the medical field and has any tips, I'd greatly appreciate it!

[theragethatisdesire]

omg HELLO congrats on 1k ! could i pls snag 17 w nanamin ? ty and congrats again 💕💕

HIIIII THANK YOU and also i am SCREAMING i was so hoping someone would request one bed with Nanami bc i am a SLUT for nanamin like bye

i guess it's jjk day on my blog today between him and gojo, cheers for facing my fears of writing for anyone outside of eren and jean lol

nothing too nsfw but this came out to be longer than i expected so throwing a cut anyway

-

Your first thought is that the hotel Nanami has led you to is obscenely luxurious. Chandeliers glistening with crystals, signature scented air freshener hissing into the lobby every three minutes, and porters and valets tracking your every move, taking your luggage away and sliding a glass of champagne into your hand as soon as you've stepped through the door.

Your shock at the opulence must show all over your face, because Kento simply shakes his head and sighs.

"Gojo made the reservation."

"Ah," you nod. That explains it.

"Hello, welcome to the Nikko Style Nagoya!" The woman behind the counter smiles pleasantly. "Are you checking in, or out?"

"In," Kento answers, pulling his wallet out, "the reservation is under Gojo Satoru."

"Alright, let me just confirm..." the woman clicks away at her computer, leaving you and Kento in a state of silent limbo as you wait.

You wouldn't call what stretches between you and your coworker tension, per se, but it's definitely not the normal working relationship that you hold with other sorcerers. You've caught him looking at you before, curious and appraising, only to have him flit his gaze away, maybe make a hurried remark about a piece of lint on your clothing. Kento's gorgeous, it's an accepted fact around the school, but you'd never cross that line- well, maybe you would, but Kento's as straight-laced as they come, and any passing thoughts of how he might taste, what his strong hands might feel like on your body are chased away by the sobering realization that he would never stoop to such unprofessionalism.

"Okay, I've got you all squared away!" The woman chirps, smiling and handing over a set of two room cards. "The porters have already brought your things to the room, so please don't worry about trying to track down your bags. You'll be on the top floor, in suite on the right."

"Suite?" You crinkle your nose in confusion, looking to Kento, who sighs again, rolls his eyes.

"Gojo."

"Right," you sip your champagne, thinking fondly of the white-haired sorcerer who Kento can't stand.

"Enjoy your stay, and congratulations," the woman behind the counter winks at you.

As you wander into the elevator, glued to Kento's side through the busy lobby, you look up at him curiously.

"Why did she congratulate us?"

"I thought that was strange too," Kento rubs his chin thoughtfully, frowning as he mulls it over, "maybe she has us confused with a different reservation?"

"If it got us the top-floor suite, I'm fine with that," you shrug, sipping your champagne again and enjoying the little rush the bubbles are giving you on an empty stomach, "I've never been in a hotel this nice."

"Really?" Kento looks at you in surprise. "It's very well-managed, but there are far nicer hotels in Japan than this one."

"Do you make a habit of staying in luxury hotels?" You cock an eyebrow at him.

"We can expense our rooms," Kento simply shrugs, "for the next assignment we're given together, I'll choose the hotel. I have one in mind that I think you'd enjoy."

You nod and tuck back into your champagne, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach at the thought of Kento choosing a hotel specifically for you to enjoy, the thought of Kento knowing you well enough that he knows your taste.

You let Kento open the door upon reaching the room, but when you enter, your jaw drops.

Sure, it's an excessive and opulent suite, but that's not what catches your eye. There's a trail of rose petals leading from the door to the singular king-sized bed, also littered with red petals and a box of chocolates, a bottle of champagne on ice, and a little card beside the wine bucket that reads "Welcome, Honeymooners!"

"Um, Kento?"

"They must have made a mistake," Kento, the most unshakeable man you've ever met, flushes bright pink, whipping out his cell phone to call the front desk. As he works through the obvious fact that you two must be in the wrong room on the phone, you wander over and pick up the little card.

Congratulations, newlyweds! Please accept these chocolates and wine as a special treat from both the Nikko Style family, and your friend, Gojo Satoru! Enjoy your honeymoon, and congratulations again.

"Kento..." your voice trails off, the card trembling in your anxious hands. It never fails to embarrass you how you can stare down a special-grade curse without an ounce of fear, but Nanami Kento has your fingers shaking.

"It's not a mistake," Kento says what you're thinking before you can get the words out, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation, "I'm going to kill that idiot."

"Do they have any other rooms?" Your heart sinks a little at how frustrated Kento clearly is at the prospect of having to share a bed, but you understand. You're coworkers, nothing more.

"Fully booked," Kento shakes his head.

Hours later, after a sufficiently tense dinner together and going over your notes for tomorrow's assignment, you've wound back up in your garishly decorated room, standing across the bed from one another in your nightclothes.

You rarely get to see Nanami like this, and it's always a treat when you do: lacking his goggles or even glasses, chiseled chest on display in the tight white t-shirt he always wears to bed, pajama pants that sit low on his hips, hair deliciously disheveled. The thought of those pajama pants sliding lower has you tugging uncomfortably at the hem of your sleep shorts, fiddling with anything to take your mind off of your coworker only a few feet away.

"I found an extra blanket in the closet."

"Hm?" You tilt your head, both startled at his sudden words and confused by his meaning.

"If it's not too much trouble, I'd like to take one of the pillows."

"Did you...find a different room?"

"I'm going to sleep on the floor," Kento says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. You frown at him.

"No, Kento, I- that's not fair."

"I don't mind, really-"

"I know you have a bad shoulder," you incline your head slightly towards his left side in indication, "you won't be in fighting shape tomorrow if you sleep on the floor. This bed is massive, we can share without invading each other's personal space if that's what you're concerned about."

"I don't want you to feel uncomfortable," Kento mumbles, scratching at the back of his head.

"I don't," you say, too quickly, "I mean, we're friends, right? How weird can it be?"

Kento's mouth flattens into a thin line of agreement and he gingerly peels back the soft sheets, tucks himself into the bed and pulls your side of the sheets back for you, patting the mattress meaningfully. You grant him a soft smile, switching off the lamp and wishing him a quiet goodnight, somehow managing to fall asleep even with the pounding of your heart, the way you can feel his every little movement.

When you wake up, tangled in Kento's arms, face squished firm against his chest, something big and hard pressing insistently against your legs. You look up at him, still sleeping soundly, knowing good and well that the special grade curse you're tackling today is the least of your worries now.

[sixlane]

hi baby,

yeah that’s right it’s me again, your secret admirer, finding any reason to take up space in your inbox. today i get to be here because it happens to be your birthday and so as i yearn for you to grace me with your presence in my own dms (yeah you hear that people of tumblr? (if you get to see this) she’s in MY dms) i wrote you a little birthday present. taking your hands in my own, gently spreading your fingers out, placing a tiny box wrapped in yellow paper tied up with a blue bow in the center of your palm, and guiding your other hand over to cover it. don’t open it until i’m gone. okay. here goes:

---

Regulus is bored.

Not a new feeling, but well, a predictable one. 

Which is boring. Hence the whole being bored thing.

He’s never felt any sort of draw to sit and nurse a mediocre drink while watching people sing poorly and make fools of themselves on a dance floor. He doesn’t even typically want to be around people let alone in his opinion the worst kind: people who are in love.

He’s, by name, one of those people. But the reality of that love does not match up with the messy, dramatic reality tv special he’s being forced to witness against his will. 

Sirius is in love. He sees it in his eyes. In the way he and Remus hold each other even with an entire room between them. They love each other.

Regulus was there. Thought he was. Still there technically speaking. 

As he watches James scream and clap and spin his brother around in ridiculous circles, his brain knows he’s watching his partner, one of the people in love on the dance floor. His heart just doesn’t–

He’s bored. Regulus is bored.

He wants it to be an awful, horrible, gut wrenching thing. To know you held love for someone for so long and know they still hold that love for you. But really, Regulus just finds it particularly inconvenient.

Especially when he pulls his eyes away from the trainwreck on the dance floor to eye the stranger who just plopped himself rather loudly at the other end of his booth.

Regulus is immediately struck by his hair. It’s dark, wild. And there happens to be long, lanky fingers running through it. He’s staring at a glint of silver glide along soft locks when a throat clears and his eyes snap down to meet deep blue indigo pools.

“Is this seat taken?”

Regulus just looks back at him in response, quirking an eyebrow and letting his eyes shift around them to indicate the booth is very clearly empty.

“Right, okay then,” the stranger huffs a breath, then downs a glass of something Regulus is pretty sure has been sitting on the table resting between them for the past hour. “I’m assuming you’re family?”

He considers ignoring the question, he does, because why should this stranger get to goad him into a conversation at a wedding. The horror. But something about him–probably the fact Regulus finds him stupidly attractive and at least at the moment, doesn’t look like a person in love–makes him want to let it happen.

“Yes,” Regulus drawls.

He watches the man shift his eyes to look out across the dance floor. Then he gets a bit caught up in the sharp lines cutting his jaw, and the piercings littering his chin, lips, nose, eyebrow–

“You’re the brother, then?”

He feels caught again. Trapped, as he stares back into piercing blue storms, a swirling angry ocean captured in each of his irises. 

“Yes.”

“Can’t really see the resemblance,” he says. And then he smiles. It’s a wicked, warped thing. Or maybe the warping is just what’s happening to every inch of Regulus’s skin.

“Who are you?” Regulus blurts, needing an anchor in reality and also unexpectedly incredibly curious about it. 

He watches the way the man’s jaw clenches, but that stupid fucking grin still somehow widens across his face.

“A friend,” he says slowly. Regulus’ eyes flicker down to his lips before returning to his eyes. Calculating.

He doesn’t recognize him, but why would he? He doesn’t know anyone here. Aside from all the people who know him.

“A friend,” he repeats, scoffing a bit and pretending he has anything to stand on. “Whose?”

The man’s eyes widen slightly before returning to normal.

“Of the…family.”

“Oh of the family, sure,” Regulus can’t help the small uptick of his lips at the man’s attempt at composure. “As we’ve just established, I’m the family. I don’t know you.”

The man smirks and leans in to let his elbows rest on the table. His head falls slightly to the side as he gazes across at Regulus with a glint in his eyes.

“Nice to meet you,” he says, holding out a hand between them. “I’m Barty.”

Regulus eyes his hand and intentionally pushes himself into the back of the booth.

“You’re crashing.”

Barty lets his hand fall, Regulus watches it sit flat on the table. 

“You don’t know that.”

“You’re flailing,” he says, eyeing him up and down. “I could kick you out right now.”

Barty narrows his eyes at him and Regulus feels his gaze start to sear his skin. 

“You won’t.”

Regulus takes a shaky breath. “You don’t know that.”

Barty smirks. It’s bordering on feral. Regulus is decidedly being normal about that.

“That’s my line.”

They stare at each other through the charged haze of their own creation and Regulus feels. He feels sparks prick at his burning skin. He feels the newness of this proximity fill his brain with possibility. He feels the anticipation of more.

They sit in the loud silence for a minute, ten, he doesn’t know. But Barty breaks it.

“What’s your name?”

Regulus considers lying. Or withholding. He doesn’t.

“Regulus.”

“That,” Barty says, eyes lighting up. “Is a weird fucking name.”

“Thank you,” Regulus smirks without missing a beat. “You know how the family is. Insane.”

Barty’s smirk grows. It’s toothy. “Of course I do.”

Regulus' eyes make their way back to the dance floor. He watches Sirius and James disappear into the photo booth and something in him, something just beneath the surface, gets him up and out of his seat.

His eyes catch on a small hallway off to the side of the dance floor, hidden, unless you’re an observant little shit unwillingly at a wedding who currently finds himself at what feels like the brink of escaping an impasse.

“Barty,” he nods his goodbye.

“Regulus,” the man purrs back, looking up at his standing form like a dog waiting to be given a treat.

Regulus walks away.

And Barty follows.

Regulus stands with his back up against the wall, deep enough so he can’t be seen from the dance floor. Barty lands just a few feet away from him, leaning his right shoulder into the wall with his back to the room, creating even more of a barrier with his tall lanky form.

He towers over him. And Regulus is pretending that fact isn’t making him feel heady–as if the man following him into a secluded hallway and blocking out an entire wedding full of people with his body isn’t also making him feel seconds away from dropping to his knees.

Barty lets another grin stretch across his face, freckles finding new homes, skin around his jaw tightening, oceans in his eyes shrinking ever so slightly. 

Then, he opens his mouth and Regulus intrinsically knows that can’t be good.

“I’m engaged,” he breathes, interrupting Barty before a sound even leaves his mouth. “Or will be. Soon.”

He rips his eyes away from indigo blue and tries to shut off the part of his brain that keeps showing him the memory of finding the little black velvet box wrapped up in James’ sock drawer. He feels bile rise up up up his throat, and then he feels a hand wrap around his wrist.

Regulus snaps his head to the left to watch the man in front of him look down at the small meeting of skin on skin.

“My boyfriend,” he breathes. “Is two rooms over.”

At Regulus’ confused frown, he keeps going.

“You caught me, I’m crashing this wedding,” he scoffs through a small smirk sitting in the corner of his mouth. “But I am technically also a wedding guest. Just not to this one. I can pull out my invite if you don’t believe me.”

Regulus can’t help but roll his eyes and smirk back. “Literally what information would I have to give me reason to believe you?”

“What reasons do you have not to?” “Oh so you’re an asshole and you’re stupid. I’m building up a profile in my head.”

“Mm,” Barty drawls, leaning into him and rubbing circles into his wrist. The motion makes Regulus squirm but Barty just tightens his grip and pulls him closer. “What else do you want to know? To prove I’m trustworthy or whatever you need to tell yourself.”

Regulus chokes on his audacity. 

“I’m not going to fuck you.”

Barty doesn’t even blink. Regulus tries not to pout at his inability to make this man react. “Oh?” 

“I’m not a cheater.”

“Neither am I,” he rolls his eyes. 

“Then what are you doing following me into a secluded hallway and giving my wrist a handjob?”

He laughs. It rings around Regulus’ head. He nearly checks over his shoulder to see if the entire room has stopped celebrating to listen to it too. But he can’t seem to peel his eyes away. Stuck.

“What are you doing leading me away from the rest of your family’s wedding, hm?”

Then Barty drops his wrist. Regulus, thankfully, catches his whine. 

“No touching then.”

“Friends…” Regulus licks his lips, desperation seeping out of his pores. God he’s embarrassing himself. “Touch.”

“Friends?” Barty repeats. “I thought you didn’t know me.”

“We could change that. Get to know me a bit.”

“Ah,” Barty shakes his head, a small frown pinching his eyebrows together. “I think that’d make things worse.”

Regulus watches his face, watches the way some sort of pain floats up to the surface before being coated in olive freckle-ridden skin, drowned out with the tide in his bright eyes.

“Friends then,” he smiles and it's fake fake fake but Regulus thinks he’d rather like to lick it off all the same.

“Friends,” he breathes. 

Several things lead to them finding themselves pressed up against each other in the shotty rented photo booth.

Barty’s fingers find their way back down Regulus’ wrist. They slide into his palm, warming his cold skin. The pads of his fingers trace every line, every curve. His grip is soft at first, and then it’s crushing. The firmness connects them together and Regulus can’t tell where he begins and ends. Two hands meeting each other for a first embrace in the shared in between and within moments becoming just one.

A handshake.

Regulus removes himself off the wall to stand toe to toe with the wild-haired man. He’s tall, so moving his arms forward means Regulus’ hands traverse the space just above his hip bones. They wind around to skirt at the bottom of Barty’s white dress shirt. He tugs at the fabric as he lets his hands travel up to rest on the planes of his back. He pushes himself forward the last few inches and they’re chest to chest. Regulus breathes and then Barty does. In and out. Together. Barty’s hands find their way around Regulus’s shoulders, holding him close and breathing him in. Regulus’ cheek rests against Barty’s chest and they breathe. And breathe, and melt. And breathe.

A hug.

Barty lets his hands wander, running up and down his back at first, pushing over his own dress shirt into his skin. Soothing. His fingers make their way up his spine and they don’t stop, moving to hold the back of his neck then finding their way up into his hair. Regulus doesn’t stop the punched breath that escapes him as he gives in to the feeling of Barty running his fingers through his hair. His nails scratch at his scalp lightly, moving back and forth across the back of his head. He pulls, so it burns in that delectable way that makes you know it’s on the verge of being wrong, being painful. But it hurts just enough that it feels good. That he craves more. Barty gives. And gives and gives and gives.

A massage.

Regulus gets his hands up under Barty’s shirt, fingers skating across the sliver of exposed skin at first before diving under and finding himself immediately addicted to the feel of skin on skin. He needs more. So he takes it. He pushes away from Barty slightly, looking up into hooded eyes, oceans hidden just beneath the cloak of fog. Eerie. And also beautiful. His fingers find the knot of Barty’s tie and they pull, removing the barrier to get to the top of Barty’s shirt. He holds eye contact as he unbuttons the top button. And the next. And the next, exposing the top of Barty’s chest. Before he can think about it, he’s placing his nose to the heavily tattooed skin and breathing. He takes in warm tones of amber through his nostrils and it’s not enough. It won’t ever be, but he opens his lips to take in more and it’s everywhere. Barty is everywhere. He breathes him in as he presses his lips into his skin, pretending it means nothing when it means everything.

An inhale.

Together, they slink along the walls of the venue, attempting to be inconspicuous but Barty’s hand has other plans and keeps playing with Regulus’ fingers. He bats him away several times, watching the dance floor, and they eventually shove their way into the small booth unnoticed. 

It’s a small space. So it merits a level of closeness that neither of them speak to. They start side to side but Barty quickly adjusts them, pulling Regulus into his lap so his thighs rest on Barty’s right leg and his legs fall between Barty’s. Regulus wraps an arm around his shoulders and the man has the gaul to smirk at him. He’s still bright, even in the fluorescent light. 

“For stability,” Regulus breathes. 

Barty smirks and he can’t pull his eyes away. 

“Oh baby,” he drawls. “I’m far from stable.”

Regulus laughs at that, ignoring the pit in his stomach at the term of endearment. It’s genuine. 

“This isn’t cheating.”

“We’re not cheaters,” Barty scoffs and grabs a set of huge hot pink glasses, placing them precariously on the end of his nose. ”What do you think? Am I pulling these off? Be honest.”

“Not at all,” Regulus breathes, ripping his eyes away from the red mouth in front of him to grab a yellow feather boa and wrapping it around his neck. He leans back into Barty’s space, not that he ever left, and lets his fingers grip his chin to hold him still as he pushes the glasses up his nose. “Press the button.”

Barty breathes and swats his hand around, refusing to pull his eyes away from Regulus. They hear a bright ding indicating the photos are about to be taken but it changes nothing. They stay staring at each other as the first click of the camera goes off. 

Barty shifts his legs and Regulus’ eyes grow slightly as he feels a hardness brush up against his thigh. Barty pushes in closer, bringing his forehead up against Regulus’. 

The second click of the camera goes off. 

Regulus leans into him, torn between watching his eyes devour him and looking at the way he slowly licks his lips. Regulus’ mouth drops open and he breathes on a small whine. Barty’s lips part and they both breathe. The air from Barty’s exhales landing straight in Regulus’ mouth and coming back out again with his own exhale. 

The third click of the camera.

Regulus breathes and breathes and breathes, panting slightly into his mouth as fingers move back into his hair and pull. He gasps, his head falls back, and teeth graze his chin before moving down to mouth at his neck. Not kissing. Breathing. Open lips running along his skin. It’s intoxicating. It’s consuming. It’s exhilarating. 

The fourth click of the camera.

A photo.

Barty leaves after that, taking his half of the photos with him back to his own wedding and his own people in love. There are no promises of more, no expectations of contact, no attempts to explain.

Regulus pockets the glossy paper in a pocket against his chest. He finds his booth, sits himself down, and goes back to watching people dance and make fools out of themselves and be in love. 

He still isn’t one of them. Doesn’t think he ever will be.

But at least he’s not bored.

GOD i love a cheating fic (or a not cheating fic) this is so hot. the tension???? james just outside the booth??? the not kissing???? holy shit… and the talent here….. this is gorgeous. the way you so easily capture regulus’ apathy with the scene in front of him. like he knows he should be happy but he’s just not and he needs to feel something. and barty is something.

“Barty gives. And gives and gives and gives.” <- yeah. insane.

thank you for this absolute gift… whoever you are… <3

[marcelinesghost13]

Hello blog, I got some things to talk about. Actually I got two things to talk about. So let's start with the first one that being my spouse/ wife. The second one is we about an employee who decided to give me some shit comments.

Okay first my spouse so a couple days ago actually Friday the 13th is when it occurred. My spouse gave me a text apologizing and saying that everything is her fault with the fighting and all this other stuff that has happened. I think the reason why she was saying those things is because she's feeling guilty for what she did. Also I think some of it has to do with the fact that the district attorney is going to be filing domestic abuse charges and some other things. That court hearing isn't about a week or two and more likely she will be going to jail. Which honestly I think really sucks. What she needs is therapy not jail time but more than likely she probably will be going to jail. So I thought me and her were totally good.

Then today happened.... She gave me a text asking if she wants to go to breakfast. I told her sure that sounds like a good idea. She let me know if she wanted to talk about you know what may or may not happen if she has to go to jail. I told her yeah that's a good idea that mean you have breakfast over that. Yeah that's not what she had planned. I picked her up she was in a rotten ass fucking mood when I got off of work. Right away when she got in the car she started with her your bad driver you suck ass her normal blah blah blah putting me down bullshit. I ignored it for the most part. We then got some breakfast at our favorite new Mexican restaurant. I then asked her is there anything you want to do. She told me no I'm just tired I want to go to bed. Okay I thought that was an odd response cuz I thought we were going to talk about her going to jail. I even brought it up and she told me no we'll talk about that later. So I got in the car drove her home. And that's when she decided to lay into me again letting me know why am I going through this midlife crisis. Why am I pretending that I want to be a girl. Why am I blaming her for our relationship falling apart. The last one I I kind of told her yeah it is your fault. That took her for surprise that I actually blame her for our relationship falling apart. I told her look you don't get it. I've already told you why I'm not coming back. I'm not going to be with somebody if they're going to behave the way you behave. With the verbal and physical abuse that you do all the time towards me you've been doing it for decades now. Right away she denied it and said that's bullshit I'm making up excuses. The whole reason why is because I actually want to run off and fuck one of my little whores. I told her to see there you are again blaming me for something that didn't actually happen making up shit that didn't actually happen. Then she asked me why is it that all your friends that you know always give you like these very like emotional hugs and other stuff. Because that's just who they are. And then she let me know that all my friends that are very huggy and touchy I hid them from her. I always talked about everybody just making up bullshit again. I told her that's a lie and you knew about them I told you about them all the time you even know their names. After that she got really pissed off got out of the car I let her back in the house. And right away she made a beeline straight to her bedroom and lock the door. I cleaned all the litter boxes for her cuz she can't do it her back's fucked up. I then knocked on the door tell her that I was done but I didn't get a response. So I grabbed my shit and went home.

Now for the employee. So today I got on the elevator with one of my coworkers. Most of the squad have this weird like sexual thing going on with her. They don't actually have sex with each other or anything like that it's just kind of like really bizarre behavior or at least I think it is. So anyways I got on the elevator with her she saw me with all my makeup on so I was definitely all girled up. And her comment was well hello. I said hello back. She then looked at me with fire in her eyes and then said don't we look cute today with this tone of disdain I have heard from another person in forever. (My spouse doesn't count) She then looked at the other employer that she gives a ride put her hand on his shoulder and said come on let's go get out. She was not pleased. I think that's because she knows once my transition is done I'm going to be a pretty hot fucking goth bitch. Shit I plan on being the goth Queen. So I don't really care for Little Miss want to be goth princess pulling her attitude it's bullshit. So I didn't see you the whole day until we clocked out. I was running around all damn day over at work. So naturally my makeup wore off I can get a chance to touch it up and make it look good throughout the day. It's a girl thing get the fuck over it. So what I decided to do is wash the remaining makeup off and call it a day. Well Little Miss goth princess made a comment over at the clock in clock out clock. And that comment was well if you're going to be a girl you got to keep up your makeup all day. You just can't wash it off because you don't want to wear it anymore.... And then she giggled and laughed and gave me this like evil snare look with her eyes. I'm thinking bitch you need to shut the fuck up. You stole my hairstyle with a black and red. She used to dye her hair Jack Black all the time. And now this bitch has little red highlights and tips in her hair. I'm like what the fuck really. Now granted it's not exactly like my hairstyle.. but come on really black and red come up with your own fucking idea. and then this bitch is going to decide to fucking make comments towards me.. this Trans goth girl is not putting up with this crap.

So what I decided to do let's go get some bright or fire red and Raven black. Again at the girl thing I'm not explaining hair dye. That way when I show up she knows exactly who the goth Queen is.

091520241436

[forthedancingandthethriving]

"You've never baked before, have you?" Cody looks down at Lil Coding.

The other huffs. "Just help me up."

The cat chuckles and helps the cat program up out of the mess on the floor. Open boxes of cake mix and other things litter the ground.

"What were you trying to do?" Cody asks, gently brushing some flour off of Lil Coding's cheek.

"Make a grape cake." The Code Manifestation shrugs, pouting at the other's small snort. "The cooking tutorials I could look up all sucked!"

Cody chuckles. "Do you want me to help?"

"Sure!"

The two set in motion, though there was a somber look in Cody's eyes. Lil Coding picked up on it, but didn't know how to approach it.

Though he managed to when Cody retracted his paw with a hiss from the faucet. "Ah, come on.."

"Are you okay?" Lil Coding looks up from putting the pan in the oven.

"Yeah.." Cody sighs. "Water was too hot.."

"You look distracted." The code frowns. "What's wrong?"

The cat hesitates before sighing. "It's just.. ever since Root ended up.. doing what she did.." Cody crossed his arms over his the edge of the sink. "I feel like our group is.. different. It feels weird without her there, but I mean.."

He drags a paw down his face. "Just ignore me. I'm rambling, I'm sorry, LC."

Lil Coding hesitates before walking over. "What.. do you think about it..?"

"She's a victim in it, but she also messed up. I don't know, everything just feels so different right now.." Cody flicks an ear. Once Lil Coding was closer, his tail gently intertwins with his. "I just.." He sighs. "I'd like for things to just.. slow down, you know?"

The Code Manifestation glances away before gently nuzzling his head against Cody's. "I think it'll be okay, for the most part."

The cat snorts playfully. "Even with how pissed off you are at Root?"

The code cat scowls. "It's deserved."

Cody rolls his eyes with a small smile before jolting when the oven timer goes off. "Oh- Shoot!" He quickly pulls away from Lil Coding and rushes over to it.

Lil Coding smiles briefly before it falls. He couldn't help but agree. It'd be.. really nice if everything could just slow down for a while.

[knamjooned]

WITNESS: Team Nocturna (MYG)

pairing: officer! yoongi x journalist! reader genre: pokemon au, romance, mystery tropes: mysterious murder, strangers to lovers, forced proximity words: 12,600

SUMMARY: Having this woman assigned to him was going to test his patience, but Yoongi didn’t want to disappoint his mentor. There may be more to her story, and Yoongi finds himself reluctantly curious.

warnings: small descriptions a bloody fight and a past murder, descriptions of grief related to losing a loved one

——— ⥼ SERIES MASTERLIST ⥽

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This has been in the works for a year. I almost forgot about it, to be honest. I want to keep writing the series, though, so tell me... which one would you enjoy next? Look at the series masterlist, the summaries, and then let me know!

YOONGI’S TEAM: [ info graphic here ] 

Charizard (EGAN): This pokemon has taken the role of leader among Yoongi’s pokemon. He answers only to Yoongi and will protect him with his life.

Marowak (ROE): While in Alola, he happened upon a group of these pokemon dancing to pay tribute to their fallen friends. She is the caretaker of the group.

Rapidash (SHOTS): It took a lot of time for him to trust Yoongi. Yoongi has been with this pokemon since he was a ponyta, but only recently properly caught him.

Victini (VEE): Yoongi didn’t want this pokemon on his team, but they proved their worth during a particularly dangerous undercover operation Yoongi had done.

Coalossal (ROCKY): Yoongi got lost in the mountains and found a little rolycoly. She is a little clumsy and sat fire to his backyard on accident one time.

Moltres (MOLLY): Still unsure why this pokemon keeps coming around, Yoongi has gotten used to it popping up out of nowhere. Yoongi has refused to catch them.

READER’S TEAM: [ info graphic here ]

Rotom: A little overprotective, but loves to be useful and gather information for you as you search for answers.

Eevee: Highly social and sweet, she loves to be petted, but is also a good judge of character.

He heard the loud voices going back and forth in the lieutenant's office, even from his desk twenty feet away. The handful of people that littered the room glanced at one another nervously, but went back to their work filing paperwork, answering calls, or tapping at their keyboards. The loud box fans circulated the hot air that seemed to lay heavy on the second floor of the police department. Another detective walked past his desk, and his growlithe obediently padded behind, stopping to sniff at Yoongi’s chair.

“Fine, just one,” Yoongi murmured, sneaking a treat he kept in a drawer. It took a moment longer than usual, with his arm in the cast and sling, but the growlithe happily snapped it up and went along his way. Yoongi let a soft smile pull at his lips, until the lieutenant’s office door was pulled open. The whole room paused, only for a moment, then went back to doing their usual daily work. If he noticed the quick stop, the captain did not show it. He stomped out, ignoring all that was happening around him, and headed down the stairs with his large arcanine following. 

Once again the bustling office quieted for just a moment, until the lieutenant gave a shake of his head. Then, it was back to business. Yoongi was surprised when his boss beckoned him with his fingers. Frowning, he stood and made his way through the desks. Once he was inside, his boss closed the door.

“Everything okay, Lieutenant?” He knew it wasn’t by the way the man fell into his chair and rubbed his face with his hands. Yoongi sat in the chair across from him, watching his face carefully. With the bags slightly visible below his eyes and the worry lines that weren’t on his forehead days ago, it must have been keeping him up at night. His partner pokemon, a stoutland named Dash, placed his head on the man’s knee. 

“No, Yoongi, it’s not.” When his boss used his name informally, Yoongi raised his eyebrows. “I made a mistake, and it seems the Captain sees it as one that may not be fixable.”

“Daewon,” Yoongi said softly. His boss chuckled, amused at Yoongi using his given name informally as well. “What happened?”

“I thought my source was good, but it turned out there was money, drugs, and more things than I thought were involved. The press got a hold of everything and is threatening to do an exposé on the precinct.” His pokemon let out a whine as he felt his partner’s stress. Daewon petted the pokemon for obvious comfort.

“That.. is not what I was expecting,” Yoongi admitted. This man had trained him, pushed him, and got him out of many bad situations as a kid to make something of himself. It was difficult to believe Daewon was capable of missing the signs of something so important. “I assume you weren’t supposed to tell me?”

“No, but I needed a friend, not a colleague,” Daewon admitted. He hesitated a moment, then lifted his hand from Dash’s head to lean forward in his office chair. It creaked as he placed his elbows on the messy desk. “I do have an idea, but I know you won’t like it.”

“Okay…?” As Yoongi sat back, curious, a flash of light appeared and his partner Egan, a charizard, formed next to him. He snorted smoke from his nose in amusement. Daewon didn’t even flinch when the large pokemon appeared, but Dash looked at the new visitor with narrowed eyes.

“You’ll be spending time with a journalist who is going to write an article praising the precinct as the best one in the city.”

Yoongi’s stomach started to churn with anxiety from just the mention of a ‘journalist’. They were the reason he was on desk duty for the next six months! Too nosy for their own good, Yoongi put his own safety on the line just so they wouldn’t get even a scratch. Instead, he got a broken arm and was off the streets for his trouble. He felt Egan lean closer, huffing close to Yoongi’s ear, which brought him back to the here and now. 

“It’s the only choice we have?” As much as he hated the idea, his own morals wouldn’t let him turn away a friend in need, especially one as important as Lieutenant Kim Daewon.

-----

Sitting on the table were stacks of items, including file folders, loose pages, photographs, a large map of the area, and sticky notes. You had attempted to put it up on the wall in an organized fashion, but since nothing made sense, it was more of a collage of information that led to nowhere. Still, your persistence had gotten you some leads in the form of a recently outed precinct. Apparently, your source had let it slip that this precinct had gotten caught up in a corruption scandal and was looking for some good press.

And this was your in.

With Eevee watching you with big eyes, you go through all the information you have with a fine-toothed comb. Using Rotom, you organize all evidence to the best of your abilities into your phone, dictating the levels of importance as 3 (not very), 2 (might be), and 1 (definitely). Having Rotom alert at all times on your phone will be extremely helpful as you interview and talk with different members of the precinct. It could see things you don’t, and will assign a level of importance for you to look over later.

Your phone chirped to let you know someone texted you.

[ mom ] : haven’t heard from you in a while. is the new job working out well?

[ you ] : yeah, i’m getting back into the swing of writing. things are okay.

[ mom ] : that’s great to hear. stay safe.

[ you ] : always. love you.

[ mom ] : love you too.

Taking a deep breath, you go over the words you sent to your mother, conveying that everything was getting back to normal after what happened last year. In a way, things were getting back to the way it was. You had just gotten a print journalist job at a popular article website, focusing on interesting local news, which is how you got this particular job. You had a small but affordable apartment, a used car that was recently paid off, and even went out to the bar a few nights ago with colleagues.

Still, the brutal murder of your beloved sister was always there. Questions of what actually happened swirled virtually every day in your mind, building thicker and thicker, with nothing new to cut away at the unknown. When your mother told you to stay safe, she meant it literally. Because of her traumatic past, she insisted her daughters would know how to defend themselves. You learned self-defense and how to use a gun, just like your sister.

Which is why the murder didn’t make sense to you. Your sister was just as cautious, as smart, as strong as you were, but her life had been taken. For what? No one seemed to know even a year later. It was considered a wrong place, wrong time type of event, but you didn’t believe that.

When your phone pierced through your thoughts, you jumped a mile high, heart racing as you scrambled to answer the call. Rotom jumped out in surprise and buzzed around your head frantically. Eevee found it amusing, giggling at your expense.

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

The first thing you noticed was the tense atmosphere as you entered the station. The second was the pokemon partners: classic arcanines, rustic stoutlands, and rare boltunds from the Galar region. You felt eyes on you as the desk clerk led you quickly to the lieutenant's office, but ignored them as Eevee bounced happily at your side. Rotom was safely inside your phone, observing quietly for any useful information. The desk clerk knocked on the door, peeked her head in, and had a short conversation with the man. You waited a few steps away, taking the time to subtly gaze around the area.

People were doing just as you thought would be happening in a police station: typing on computers, shuffling through paperwork, speaking to a few civilians about whatever they were reporting. You caught the eye of one of the detectives, leaning back in his office chair at his desk with a sling on his left arm. He looked tired but curious, raising an eyebrow as you locked eyes. You nodded with a small, polite smile as the clerk stepped back and gestured toward the opened door. 

After a brief introduction, Lieutenant Kim picked up his phone and asked for someone to come into his office. Eevee jumped onto your lap, settling in as you absentmindedly ran your hand  over her fur. You felt rotom make your phone vibrate, letting you know he was still there with you. As the door opened, you turned your head just enough to see the man in the arm sling come into the room and sit on the chair next to you. 

It was easy to see that he had been recently put on desk duty because of his injury. It was equally as easy to see that he wasn’t completely on board with being stuck with you for a week or so. His pouty lips were in a slight frown as he squirmed in his chair, trying to find a comfortable way to sit casually with his injured arm.

“This is Min Yoongi, the youngest officer to become a detective in our precinct.” Lieutenant Kim said it proudly, making you curious about a personal relationship between the two. Unfortunately, that was not your end goal with this mission. You filed that thought away mentally for a later time. “Detective Min, this is --”

“The reporter, yeah, I got that. Good to meet you.” He leaned forward and held out his good arm. His gruff voice conveyed annoyance he was trying to hide, probably for the sake of his boss. You reached forward, took his hand, and gave it a shake. In the back of your mind, you scolded yourself for thinking he had really nice hands.

“Yoongi,” you heard the lieutenant mutter under his breath. He narrowed his eyes at the young man, but Yoongi didn’t seem to notice or care.

“Likewise,” you offered, pulling your hand back. Eevee stood and jumped onto his lap with no warning, sitting and staring up at Yoongi with her big eyes. You held back a tired sigh, as this was a usual thing for her. She was very friendly, always wanting to socialize. Yoongi’s tired pout was replaced by a soft, one-sided smile as he patted the pokemon on the head. “Sorry, she wants to know everyone. If she bothers you, let me know.”

“No, it’s fine. She seems sweet.” He glanced at you when he said this, making your cheeks heat up. You cleared your throat and stood, giving Kim Daewon a polite bow. Yoongi let Eevee hop down and then stood himself. “I guess I’ll show you around?”

“Sure.”

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

After an awkward tour through the building, Yoongi found himself sitting across from you in one of his favorite lunch spots in the city. He had found a quiet table in the back corner, away from the usual bustle of the midday rush. You weren’t exactly like he thought, but he wasn’t surprised at how you sucked in all the information he had given you. He had given you a public tour of the station, but you tried to charm Yoongi with casual compliments and flirty smiles to get into some more guarded areas.

He prided himself with his ability to see through these manipulation tactics, but you had almost broken him. Still, he had successfully kept you away from the areas normal people weren’t allowed. You pouted quietly for a few moments, which he found annoyingly cute, but seemingly forgot about it as food was mentioned.

“So, tell me about yourself. How did you get into this kind of work?” You held a burger in your hands, speaking before you took a bite. Before Yoongi could answer, you closed your eyes and hummed in pleasure. “Wow, this is fantastic,” you complimented as you chewed.

“Best burger place on this side of the city,” Yoongi replied with a soft chuckle. He glanced to his right, where he saw Eevee happily munching on some pokemon food in a large bowl in front of her. She caught his eye and wiggled her fluffy tall in response. “I didn’t think I’d be in law enforcement,” he said quietly, picking at his fries. He held back anything specific, not sure he wanted to expose himself like that again.

“I assume you weren’t the most innocent kid on the block?” you grinned, munching on your own fries. He lifted his eyes to you, which you met with curiosity. Yoongi squirmed in his chair and looked to the side, clearing his throat and rolling the shoulder of his casted arm.

“Not even a little,” he admitted. “I never hurt anyone, but the usual stupid things, like breaking into homes and cars, stealing anything easy from stores to sell, that kind of thing.”

“What happened to make you choose another path?”

Yoongi hesitated, opening his mouth, then closing it without an answer. Some things just weren’t meant to be spoken about with strangers, especially the homelife he had as a kid. Before he could figure out how to change the subject, a light flashed and his Alolan marowak came out, eyeing Eevee’s bowl of food hungrily. You sucked in a breath and scanned the pokemon with wide eyes.

“You’ve been to Alola?”

“Did some training there. I bonded with Roe when I was training with one of the Kahuna’s there, and we became partners.” At the mention of his name, the dark marowak lifted her head and let out a questioning noise. After introducing yourself, you allowed Rotom to come out of your phone.

“I only have two pokemon, but that’s all I need. I’m not a professional trainer.” Rotom buzzed around your head and then floated close to Yoongi’s face, scrutinizing him for a long moment. He buzzed what could only be a warning, and then floated back to you. Yoongi blinked, and looked at you for guidance on speaking with Rotom. “Ah, he’s a little protective,” you admit sheepishly. Lifting an arm,you poked at Rotom. “Be nice, he’s a friend.”

“Does he always hang out on your phone?” Yoongi asked casually, although warning bells were going off in his head. These pokemon were used for investigations and searching through electronics. If he had given into your charm back at the precinct, your pokemon might have retained things it shouldn’t have access to.

“Yeah, especially for interviews. That way he just records everything and I don’t have to write anything down,” you replied cheerfully. Yoongi must have had a look on his face, because you quickly became serious. “If it makes you more comfortable, I won’t do that. I can take notes by myself just as well.”

“It makes sense,” Yoongi shrugged. “He may catch something you miss. We do the same thing.”

“I can tell it makes you uncomfortable,” you pointed out. Yoongi’s lips pressed into a thin line as he looked away for a moment. An awkward silence lasted for a moment, then you cleared your throat. “Can we talk and walk back to the station?”

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

After wrapping up the introduction at the police station, you made your way back to your apartment, mentally exhausted. It was only early evening, but the mental laps your brain had been making all day had taken its toll on you already. When it came to making your official project known to the officers, you had been pleasantly surprised with the kind and welcoming atmosphere. It was also highly amusing to see Yoongi take the other’s teasing with quiet acceptance.

Eevee let out a questioning squeak, head tilting as if to ask if you were okay. You stretched your arms over your head, yawned, then patted the little pokemon on the top of her head. She seemed happy with your response, so she bounced happily on her paws to her comfy bed in the corner. Rotom came out just as a cute little snore came from Eevee.

“Alright, pal, did you get anything we can use?” Rotom buzzed then landed on a thin, circular metal piece that connected to your computer wirelessly. As he transferred the photos and recordings he had secretly taken, you carefully took several see-through bags with burnt papers to your kitchen table. Your laptop was opened in one corner, so you used the whole table to spread out these bagged papers.

You felt a lump in your throat when you looked at the handwritten notes. Your sister had journaled sporadically, except when she wanted to remember an important event. Letting yourself become emotional for a moment, you gingerly touched one as you read the phrases that were almost burned away.

“... so proud of my little sister! I knew …” “...avorite flowers and chocolat…” “... ing to be a big star reporter, I know…”

As memories of your college graduation flooded your mind, you cleared your throat, shut the mental door to the past, and turned to your laptop. Rotom finished his task and floated near your head, patiently waiting for instructions. For the next few hours, you looked through videos and photos, as well as conversations, for anything connecting to your sister’s case. In the back of your mind, you knew this was illegal, but all the legal routes had been taken. Besides, you weren’t harming anyone, and you weren’t going to share anything that wasn’t directly connected.

You found yourself falling into a relaxed state as you listened to Yoongi’s voice at the diner, leaning back in your chair with your lips curled into a small smile. The audio recording ended and Rotom sent a light zap against your hand to get your attention. You jumped about a mile out of your chair and yelped loudly. Eevee’s head raised quickly, looking towards you with panic. When she saw it wasn’t serious, her head went back down and her eyes closed.

“What? I was thinking!” you grumbled, rubbing your hand over the tingling spot, feeling your cheeks reddening. Rotom buzzed and rolled his eyes, then floated toward the screen. You watched curiously as he let another video start, fast forwarding quickly and then pausing. It took you a moment of looking into the main office area, but then you saw what he saw. 

A smokey outline of the letter “N” on a corner of paper. It sat on the desk of Min Yoongi. Your heart seemed to freeze in your chest, but you willed it back to beating as you took a deep breath. It didn’t mean Yoongi was part of them, it just meant he might be investigating them. Still, you now had a reason to be careful around the detective.

You moved your eyes to the table, covered in burned paper in bags, and scanned them until you found the section you wanted. You took the three pages and brought them close enough to try and read. This was the section of the journal that had been the most burnt, but somehow your sister had saved it before throwing it under a chair. She had been murdered moments later, three feet away from it.

“...am noct … overnme… shadow… kemon creati… eeper than we thou… rld… be doomed.”

It was the emblem of Team Nocturna.

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

The next day, Yoongi was surprised to see you standing outside his door a few minutes before he usually left for work. A smile curved your lips as you looked expectantly up at him. Blinking in shock, he stared at you for longer than he should, taking in your simple updo, business casual outfit, phone and notepad in your hands. 

“Good morning, Detective Min.”

“Good morning,” he mumbled, finally finding his voice as he stepped out and used his good hand to lock his door. You waited patiently for him to finish and start walking before following a step behind. There was a pep in your step he could not seem to match, and the idea of coffee slammed into him. He had forgotten to make himself a cup. He stopped abruptly, causing you to bump into his back.

“Sorry! Is everything okay?” you asked, stepping around to his side. Your eyes moved over his face, causing the tips of his ears and cheekbones to turn pink. 

“Yeah, no worries. Uh, do you want coffee? I need coffee.”

“Oh! Sure! I’ll pay this time. No arguing,” you added, raising your eyebrows. A small smile played on his lips as you looked at him with mock intimidation. He nodded and led you to his usual coffee spot when he didn’t have time to make any in the morning. After the coffee had started to wake him up completely, Yoongi found himself wanting to know more about you. His brain was now firing at a usual speed. 

“Um… did you sleep well?” As soon as it left his mouth, Yoongi was hit with regret. It was a stupid, personal question that didn’t match your current relationship status. He kept his eyes forward, pressing his lips together in embarrassment.

“Mostly. I… stayed up a bit too late, honestly.” You laughed, shrugging almost apologetically. Yoongi was impressed with how awake you were if that was the case. “I have another… article I’m writing that I’ve been stuck on. I found some new information and was focused on that.”

“A break in the case?” he quipped, pushing himself past the previous stupid question. You laughed again, and something jumped in his chest. Yoongi cleared his throat, not wanting to dwell  on the obvious attraction he was feeling toward you at the moment.

“Exactly,” you replied, bumping his arm with yours. Unfortunately, it was the one that was still healing, and the jostling caused a dull ache to start. Yoongi tried to hide his wince, but you noticed - those reporter eyes - and made him stop only steps from the entrance of the station. You looked regretfully at his arm and then at his face. Your concern and apologies made him want to kiss you right here, in front of everyone.

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” he replied, more gruff than he intended. He walked ahead of you, assuming you’d follow, and made his way to the elevator. When you entered next to him, Yoongi kept his eyes forward, but noticed you kept side-eyeing him. 

“Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry I bumped into your arm….” you trailed off, biting your  lip nervously. You gripped your phone tightly, and Yoongi felt like a jerk as the doors closed.

“It’s okay, honestly. Do you have something you want to focus on today, or is it just following me around again?” Yoongi asked, making sure his voice was more upbeat than a moment ago. He glanced at you, and was relieved to see a playful smile back on your lips. The doors opened and he led you toward his desk.

As the two of you passed other detectives, most nodded or lifted a hand in a short wave as a greeting, but a few kept a blank face and kept their eyes away from your direction. Yoongi pressed his lips together, unusually bothered by the clear disapproval of your presence. It didn’t seem to bother you, though, as you dragged an empty office chair over near his desk. He sat down and started to sort through the new files on his desk. 

“What is your goal as a detective? Are you focused on moving forward in your position? Or are you content to stay where you are?”

The question surprised him enough to fumble with a folder filled with loose papers, causing them to splash onto the floor. In the busy area, no one stopped to look as you slid to the floor to pick them up. Yoongi flushed as he turned his eyes to his desk as you placed them on top and went back to your chair, an amused glint in your eyes.

“Right now, I’m focused on getting off desk duty and back to solving cases outside of the station,” he answered, going back to scanning paperwork and typing with one hand on his computer. “I was under the impression this article was about the precinct, not just about me.” He sent you a soft smile.

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

You decided to get lunch on your own, giving Yoongi space to breathe. You had been admittedly overzealous with the questions this morning, and you almost felt bad for the bombardment. It was mostly questions to fill your future piece, but you had been able to slip in some inquiries about  your personal investigation. Nothing new had been gained, but Yoongi seemed just as knowledgeable as any other officer.

Certain teams were well known in the area, those working for the good of pokemon and humans and those working towards enslavement of powerful pokemon. Team Nocturna is somewhere in the shadows. Either people knew of the organization and kept it well hidden, or very few people knew and laughed it off as another tale of extremes.

At the diner  Yoongi had taken you to before, you pulled out a crumpled paper from your pocket. You had hastily slipped it into your pocket when you ‘knocked off’ his files. You wondered if Yoongi even noticed it was gone, but you didn’t have time to worry about his thoughts. Glancing around, you saw no one looking your way, feeling safe to look the sheet over.

It was a piece of paper pulled out of a spiral notebook, with a crude sketch of the Team Nocturna symbol, along with a messy hand drawn map. Below the pencil marks was a name.

Kim Taehyung.

Frowning, you tried to connect that name to any information you had in your head, but nothing was lighting the bulb, so to speak. You took out your phone, snapped a photo of the paper, and sent Rotom to search the web for any information. While you waited, you ate your lunch.

[ mom ] : rotom just asked me about a man, what's this about?

You kept in a tired groan, making a mental note to scold your pokemon for bothering your mother. If she found out about your real investigation, it would create more stress than she needed. Finishing your bite, you weighed your options. You could say it's for an article, or you could say it was for personal reasons. Either way, she would want to know more about Kim Taehyung.

[ mom ] : detective min yoongi. Is this for work or pleasure??

You nearly choked on your food, coughing and taking a long drink of your water. The waitress sent you a questioning glance, but you waved it off. Why had Rotom asked about Yoongi? This opened a whole other set of questions your mother could ask. You decided to keep it simple with the truth. 

[ you ] : I don't know why rotom asked you about detective min. I'm writing a piece on the officers in the station here.

[ mom ] : maybe your pokemon is just being protective. Is there… a spark there? 

You chuckled to yourself as her text was followed by the winking face, showing how proud of her little rotom pun she had made. What she said made sense, at least a little. You were definitely attracted to Yoongi, and Rotom would be able to see that.

[ you ] : haha, very funny. I'm not looking for romance right now

[ mom ] : that's not an answer to my question my dear

You huffed and ignored the text, stuffing your phone into your pocket as you paid the bill and went back to your home office to write up a draft. Sure, you were there investigating your sister’s death, but you still had bills to pay.

When the afternoon turned to evening, rotom returned with information that could actually lead you somewhere. You'd have to confirm it, but the man who had made the map could lead you to where you wanted to go.

By late evening, you had enough information about Kim Taehyung to find a direct way to contact him. You decided to test your luck tomorrow, the exciting new information making you mentally exhausted. You headed to bed, but got a surprising text a few hours later.

[ det min ] : are you awake?

[ det min ] : ignore this if not

[ det min ] : shit I woke you up. sorry.

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

Staring at the ceiling, Yoongi felt the heaviness of regret after sending those text messages. He had finally gotten the courage to speak to you on a more casual level, but why did he have to send them just after midnight? 

He covered his eyes with his uncasted arm, letting out a groaning sigh. He was an adult, not a teenage boy with no experience. He had thought to play it cool, do some flirty, cliche texting in the middle of the night, but he just…

[ you ] : you did but it was a nice surprise.

[ you ] : is this business or personal?

A rush of relief slid through his body, relaxing the anxiety-induced tension. A grin came involuntarily to his mouth as he contemplated what to say.

[ det min ] : is there a preference?

[ you ] : middle of the night seems personal, I'm okay with that. Can't sleep?

[ det min ] : no, but it's normal for me. 

[ det min ] : would you be willing to take a walk with me?

[ you ] :  right now? Or later?

[ det min ] : uh I was thinking now but nevermind…

[ you ] : sure, eevee is restless for some reason, anyway. Meet you outside my building?

[ det min ]  : sure, in 30 mins.

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

You hyper focused on brushing your hair as you put on simple workout clothes for your walk with Yoongi. It was a clear night and a few stars were twinkling through the city lights as you stepped outside with eevee bouncing beside you. Instead of the professional office attire you were used to, he was dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, with a zip-up hoodie and sneakers. Yoongi looked like a handsome, normal guy, even with the off-white cast on his lower arm. He gave you a shy smile and a quick nod of greeting. Both of you fell into a comfortable silence as you walked down the street without a destination in mind, your pokemon sniffing the ground and jumping on random bugs.

“How’s the article?” Yoongi asked. You raised an eyebrow as you looked over at him. “Wait, I didn’t mean to bring work up ... “ You grinned as he hesitated, clearly frustrated. Bumping his elbow with your own, he glanced back at you, his frown disappearing. “I’m not sure what to talk about.”

“It’s nice to just walk, isn’t it? The night is quiet, you aren’t getting distracted with chaos around you.”

As you walked around the block, eventually your arm hooked into his elbow and you leaned into Yoongi’s side. He accepted without any reaction, continuing a story about a friend of his encountering a legendary pokemon from Galar. Impressed, you listened with rapt interest as you two sat on a bench. Eevee jumped into Yoongi’s lap, and he gently ran his hand through her hair as you laughed at his story.

“So… Do you have any family?” Yoongi asked, almost shy. He cleared his throat and rubbed his knee.You found it incredibly cute that he was nervous about this, even though he’s a tough detective that had been in dangerous situations more than once. 

“It’s just my mom and me, now,” you replied. You knew how to keep your feelings hidden, but Yoongi was good at his job. It wasn’t a surprise when he placed his hand on your knee, awkwardly squeezing through his cast. “Caught that, didn’t you?”

“It’s part of my job. Can I ask what happened?”

“Never knew my dad, so I can’t tell you what happened. My sister … she was killed over a year ago.”

“That’s brutal.” You waited for the words conveying pity, but it didn’t come. “Is that what made you get into investigative journalism?”

Instead of asking for the grisly details, Yoongi turned the focus onto your love of writing and his love of mysteries. You didn’t get home until two hours later, falling into a deep sleep that was more restful than it had been in ages.

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

His eyes twitched beneath his eyelids in sync with the tapping on his window. Yoongi grunted and pulled the covers over his head, trying to focus on the softness of his sheets beneath his cheek. In response, the tapping got louder, until a loud shriek came through. Yoongi groaned and turned onto his back, the blanket reluctantly being thrown across the bed. It was still dark, but hints of the sun were rising from the horizon when Yoongi glared at his bedroom window. The bright, orange legendary bird stared at him with an amused glare. 

Yoongi still had no idea why this legendary pokemon considered him a friend. He had shown up to help Yoongi when he was in Johto, and had been coming around off and on ever since. He once again questioned it silently as he left his warm bed to get ready for another day at the office. After he had showered and gotten dressed, he made sure to make a healthy breakfast for his partner pokemon, including Moltres, who he called Molly. The large bird didn’t fit in his home, so they all gathered on the back porch to watch the sun rise.

Roe waddled over to where Yoongi was slouched in a chair, shoveling cereal into his mouth, and tapped her bone against his leg. It startled Yoongi for a second, but he was once again reminded the ghostly flame on the bone was just that - ghostly. It wouldn’t hurt him. Vee the Victini and Rocky the Coalossal seemed to be having an intense conversation in the yard. The smaller one chirped firmly while Rocky looked confused about what she was supposed to be doing.

“Egan, what are they doing? The last time this happened, half my yard burned,” Yoongi signed, glancing at his Charizard. The creature shrugged and continued to watch the pair carefully. “Can you make sure that doesn’t happen this time?” With a nod, Egan stood and made his way toward the other two pokemon. “Okay, Roe, what is it? You look… concerned.”

“Mar-mar,” she growled, lifting her bone to point toward the pastures that spread out from behind his small house. Frowning, Yoongi watched as Shots, his Rapidash, galloped over a hill, coming into view. On his back was… an eevee? Concerned, Yoongi pushed his confusion down and quickly jogged to meet his pokemon at the edge of his lawn. He cursed under his breath when he tried to gather the small, unconscious pokemon in his arms, the cast and sling not doing anything to help his task. Molly squawked and circled above them, seeming to look around. Yoongi was sure the bird pokemon was looking for clues as to what had happened and where.

“Egan, help me get Eevee off Shots and on the ground!” As the sun broke over the horizon, Yoongi and Egan gently laid the creature on the ground. “Thanks, big guy. Why don’t you guys go back into your pokeballs so I can figure this out? I promise I’ll keep you up to date, okay? Roe, get the med kit from the kitchen.” Reluctantly, four of them disappeared in a flash of light and the marowak hurried to the kitchen. Molly the Moltres glided down to the ground and tilted it’s head at Yoongi. “Not catching you, already have one legendary on the team. Can you find the ranger for me, see if he’s in the area? Namjoon?”

With a squawk, Molly flapped her wings and flew off across the pasture and toward the distant line of trees that was the start of a forest area. Yoongi studied the unconscious eevee quickly, running a hand over its body. When he gently pressed against its left hip and thigh, it winced and yelped even while unconscious. 

"Maro!" 

Yoongi took the med kit from the pokemon and settled it next to him in the grass. He managed to wrestle it open and take out a few items. Roe looked worriedly at the eevee, wringing its hands. 

"It doesn't seem broken, but I don't want to do anything until I can get Namjoon to look at it," Yoongi murmured as he placed an ice pack on the area. The injured pokemon flinched, then settled. Finally, the eevee opened its eyes slowly. It made a light noise as if to say 'thank you', then closed its eyes once again.

Yoongi expected a trainer of some kind to run out of the forest at any moment, but after a good 30 minutes no one did. Roe had gone back into its pokeball earlier, leaving him to softly stroke eevee as they rested. When 40 minutes passed, Yoongi heard a shout at the line of trees. Sitting up slowly so as not to rustle the injured creature, he spotted Namjoon jogging his way through the pasture with Molly flying above him.

"Tell me what happened." Namjoon said bluntly, immediately falling to his knees to help the creature. He did a quick assessment with his hands while Yoongi told him all he knew. Which was nothing, to be honest.

"I think I recognize this eevee, but I can't say for certain." It brought the heaviness of worry onto his chest, though. "Will they be okay?"

“After some rest and maybe a few weeks of rehabilitation on the leg, I think this eevee will be just fine.” Namjoon’s calm, deep voice helped pull the worries from Yoongi’s mind. As he wrapped the creature's left hind leg, Namjoon glanced at Yoongi’s own cast. “How are you holding up, friend?”

“I have two more weeks with this stupid thing,” Yoongi huffed, settling onto the grass with crossed legs, slouching forward. He stared down at the cast and let out a long, tired sigh. “I also have to do rehab with my arm, maybe eevee and I can do it together.”

“There are places you can go,” Namjoon chuckled, finishing his final exam by making sure the wrap was secure and comfortable. The creature seemed to have woken up a few moments ago, but hadn’t made a sound or movement until now. Namjoon sat back as the small pokemon tentatively put weight on her  feet and pushed themselves up. After a few tentative steps, it looked at the two men sitting next to it and let out a thankful sound. Suddenly, Yoongi felt stupid. He had seen this eevee with you, just a few days ago. He sat up straight, eyes widening as the thoughts connected. 

“Shit, I do know the trainer, but where is she and why was she in the forest?” He looked into the trees far away and stood, heart pounding in his ears. Namjoon furrowed his brows as he did the same, scooping the eevee into his arms. They settled thankfully into the crook of his arm. Yoongi pulled out a pokeball and let out Shots, the horse-like pokemon stomping its hooves as if he knew the intensity of the situation. 

“Where are you going?” Namjoon asked, stepping toward him, reaching  to grab his good arm. Yoongi pushed it away with his elbow and pulled himself onto Shots' back not-so-gracefully. Namjoon lifted an arm once again to help, but Yoongi ignored it. His friend sighed and stepped back.

“Into the woods. Eevee’s trainer may be in danger, considering the pokemon's wounds. Hop on if you want a ride.” He waited a moment, back straight, but Namjoon shook his head, not knowing if the creature trusted him enough not to burn him with its flames.

“I’ll stay here in case something shows up at your place, Detective. Plus, eevee should get some rest.” He stroked the pokemon’s fur. Yoongi nodded and used his thighs and feet to prod Shots into a gallop toward the trees.

The fire making up its mane was unnoticeable to the touch, so Yoongi strained to balance with only one working arm. Shots seemed to notice, so he somehow made his fire mane tangible enough to loosely hold.

"How'd you do that?" Yoongi shouted, confused but thankful. Shots snorted and seemed to wink at his trainer as they got closer to the treeline. Yoongi decided to figure it out later, and scanned the surroundings as they entered the forest. Shots slowed to a stop, not able to freely go forward. "Guess I'll be walking for a bit. Thanks, buddy. We're gonna talk about that thing you did later."

With a flash of light, Shots was pulled into his pokeball and Yoongi adjusted his arm sling. He stood where he was, eyes moving slowly over the forest floor for any clues for him to use. It didn't take long for him to see the prints of Shots bringing eevee to him earlier. Slowly, as to not disturb the area, he followed it for only a few moments along the edge of the forest, then found the spot eevee was found. Crouching, Yoongi studied the indention in the leaves, rocks, and grass. After a moment, he saw a few dark droplets of dried blood. Clenching his jaw, he forced himself not to dwell on the terrifying things that could be happening to you. It wasn't eevee’s blood, they had no open wound, but it might not be yours, either.

He noticed the angle of the droplets showed him where it came from, and started to follow it deeper into the forest. After a few minutes, he saw a dried collection of blood on the forest floor, this one big enough to indicate a large wound of some kind. Clenching his jaw, he took a breath through his nose to collect his thoughts. It wouldn't help you at all if he didn't focus. A crack of a stick and crinkle of leaves made Yoongi turn toward the sound with a defensive stance. When he saw who it was he gasped and rushed over, catching them before they fell face first into the forest floor.

“What the hell happened?” he asked, panicked as he held you upright. You leaned against his side, Yoongi’s good arm wrapped around your waist. Covered in dirt and sweat, there was blood on your shirt and hands. “Sit down. Is this your blood?”

“Eevee… where’s Eevee? Rotom… back there,” you mumbled, letting Yoongi gently sit you on the forest floor with a grimace and a groan. Yoongi clenched his jaw as he remembered his emergency medical training and went to work. There was a gash on your side, but it seemed to miss anything important. He pulled his shirt over his head, awkwardly getting his injured arm caught but quickly untangling it. You weakly laughed, which told him you were in relatively good spirits.

“Eevee is with my friend back at my place. He’s a ranger and knows what to do.” He pressed his shirt against your wound under your shirt. “We have to get you to a hospital to get this looked at.”

“You should take your shirt off more often,” you teased softly, grunting as you took over pressing his shirt to your wound. Yoongi blushed and turned away, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. He couldn’t lie about enjoying your teasing praise. As soon as he let Shots out of his pokeball, he pulled you onto its back, but only after he had convinced you the pokemon wouldn’t burn you.

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

It didn’t take long to get back to Yoongi’s ranch house, which surprised you. Was it a coincidence his place was so close to Team Nocturna’s secret base? You filed that question with a long list of others about him in the back of your mind. Namjoon, the ranger Yoongi had mentioned, had taken good care of Eevee, so much so that as soon as you were reachable, she jumped onto your lap. She whined and nuzzled against you until Namjoon apologetically pulled her away so he could look at your wounds. You told them what happened as you waited for the ambulance to arrive.

After securing a meeting with Kim Taehyung, you went to an alley behind a boxing gym, where you found the man standing at a back door. Taehyung’s eyes flicked back and forth before finally coming out of the shadows. After a murmured conversation, you thanked him by handing him a handful of cash and then left to validate his information. Having the son of a high ranking member of Team Nocturna willing to talk was a big deal, and it wasn’t something you were going to throw away. He had pointed you toward a barely-there path through the forest to a large compound. It looked like an estate a rich, eccentric family might have.

It took a while to get around security and into the main house, but with Rotom and Eevee on your side, it was done quietly. With Rotom recording and Eevee as a lookout, you passed through the hallways, only having to scramble to hide once. Unimpressed with the security that was easy to get past, you confidently made your way into a mysterious office suite.

You saw two men sitting on chairs, facing a lit fireplace, sipping on some kind of beverage. One had a sleeping espeon on his lap, absentmindedly petting it. The other had a Persian sitting on the floor next to the chair. Swallowing hard, you strained to hear anything they might be saying. Rotom quietly moved in the shadows toward them, hoping to get some kind of recording. Unfortunately, you couldn’t hear anything but bits and pieces.

“... psychic....the girl...forest...giovanni…”

“... brother...idiot….money...world…kim’s...”

Your body started to cramp from being in your hiding spot for so long, but you pushed through it for another few minutes. After signaling Rotom to come back, you and your pokemon began to quietly make your way through the main home, taking the same route as the one you had when coming in. 

Unfortunately, there had been a change in security guards, and the new ones were more competent. RIght before you ran off into the trees, a flashlight shined on your foot. Freezing, you hoped they just ignored it, but you weren’t that lucky. After a shout, you felt hands grab you. Fighting with all your strength, you kicked, scratched, and even bit the guard as you struggled. Your pokemon flashed out of their pokeballs and fought for you, but they were easily taken and shoved in a small cage. You finally were able to pull a small pocket knife you had in your pocket and sliced at a few guards. 

Next thing you knew, your knife was in a guard’s hand and had slashed into your side. You shouted toward your pokemon, seeing Eevee cleverly escape her cage. After a hard knock to the head, the world went dark.

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

“I don’t know what to say.” Yoongi stared at you with big eyes and his mouth open as the monitors beeped next to you. You were bandaged and hooked up to machines to keep track of your life signs in the hospital. Other than the knife wound , there were only scrapes  and bruises on your skin. Yoongi felt more relief than he expected when he found out you were going to be fine. The whole time he was sitting next to you, listening to your brave but stupid attempt at investigation, the urge to reach out and hold your hand was heavy. His hand kept busy by gripping his phone to keep from doing what it really wanted to do.

“... so you aren’t going to lecture me? Tell me how stupid it was to go in there without backup?” The way your voice sounded almost disappointed made Yoongi crack a smile. 

“Don’t worry, I’m leading up to that. I wanted you to get another day of rest before that happened.”

“Thanks.. I think?” you winced as you let out a soft laugh. Shifting in the bed to get comfortable, Yoongi leaned forward and reached out, touching your leg. He immediately pulled his hand back once he saw you were settled and cleared his throat.

“Seriously, though, why the hell would you go into that place? What was so important you had to risk your life to get? Not only did you almost get murdered, your pokemon were put in danger, too!” Concern began to turn into anger and frustration. Yoongi pressed his lips together tightly and narrowed his eyes. “What does Team Nocturna have to do with you?”

“I…” You trailed off, seemingly flustered over Yoongi’s intense staring. He raised his eyebrows and nodded, prodding you along with your story. “I’ve been trying to get information on them for a year. They…”

“They’re a criminal organization known for illegal experiments and domestic terrorism,” Yoongi offered when you trailed off once again. He was more confused than angry now, unable to connect the dots from you to this horrible group. After a long moment of silence, a thought occurred to him. “You were using the fluff piece for the precinct to gather information, weren’t you?”

A heavy weight fell on his chest as you refused to look him in the eyes, opting to stare at your hands in your lap. The flirting, the night walk, all the fluttering in his stomach was just to get information. Just when he was starting to open up and take a chance, the truth came out. Anger came back full force, the rapid emotional changes giving Yoongi a headache. With a heavy sigh, he stood. You peeked up at him, caught his eye, then looked back down.

“Your body language answers it for me. I’ll make sure Eevee is brought to you from the pokemon center, then I'll get to work finding Rotom for you.”

“Thank you,” you replied, barely louder than whisper. Yoongi turned and made to leave, back straight and putting a metaphorical wall between the two of you. You said his name, making him stop and look back over his shoulder. “That night was fun, it had nothing to do with what I was doing at the station. Just so you know.”

Yoongi left without answering.

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

You stayed in the hospital for the next two days, recovering from your injuries and being debriefed by Namjoon. The Rangers had taken the case, apparently, because Namjoon's girlfriend had connections they could use. Yoongi came once to drop off Eevee, but refused to look you in the eye. It hurt more than you thought, the late night walk replaying in your head. With no news on Rotom, worry at your stomach constantly.

Your mother visited you as soon as she knew where you were. Of course, some details were left out when she was told what happened. Thankfully, Namjoon was extremely charming and won your mother's trust quickly. Still, she insisted on staying with you after you were discharged. That's when she began to figure out the truth, as you hadn't hidden any of the folders, papers, and pictures that littered your apartment. As soon as the door was shut behind you, your mother took a shaky breath as she surveyed the mess on the coffee and kitchen tables. 

"Why can't you move forward? Sweetie, I know how hard it is, but obsessing like this is only causing you more pain." She turned to you with tears in her eyes, although she refused to allow the memories to take hold and bring her down. Your mother was brave, and you admired her so much for that. Regret caused your chest to become heavy, and you blinked against the tears in your eyes. You took a shaky breath yourself and pulled her into a tight hug. Even though it hurt your body, you stayed there for a long moment

"It's not just about her, Mom. It's about all the people and pokemon that are being hurt. They deserve justice, too,” you replied, head on her shoulder and her arms around your waist like you were a little girl again. A light chuckle escaped her lips as you pulled back. Both of you smiled and wiped the tears off your cheeks.

"I can't lose you, too," she whispered. She cleared her throat and moved forward from the stress that was obviously playing on her mind.

"You won't. I'll be more careful, I promise. I have new information and connections to good people." You did your best to give her the most reassuring grin you could muster before starting to stack the papers on the coffee table. 

"Like Detective Min?" You fumbled with some pages, but you made it through hopefully without her noticing. The little snort your mother let out told you she had caught it immediately. You pressed your lips together, the heaviness of regret in your chest becoming worse. “He seems to be upset about you going into the compound as much as I am.”

"No, he's more upset knowing I used him to get information," you admitted, gripping the papers in your hand tightly as you set them on the kitchen table. Your mother watched you as she sat on your couch, doing her best not to look or touch anything. She refused to look at the files now that she knew what it was. You felt her eyes on you as you came back to sit on the couch next to her. You slouched as you sat, pouting. “He doesn’t want anything to do with me, professionally or personally. I hate that I feel guilty for doing that to him. I’ve done it more than once, and it never hit me like this!”

“I’m going into Sage Mom mode, my dear,” she quipped, patting your knee. You raised an eyebrow, waiting for whatever Mom Advice she was going to throw your way. “I think, from what I’ve seen in the last few days, there is an attraction between the two of you. For one reason or another, you both seem to be… caught off guard by it. Am I correct so far?”

“Maybe,” you mumbled, looking at your hands.

“That’s a yes,” she chuckled. “What’s the worst thing that could happen if you bring it into the open?”

“He laughs in my face.” You felt the burn of rejection even with the simple thought. She just stares at you, eyebrows raised, waiting for you to realize how childish it truly was. You groaned and covered your face as she laughed.

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

The next morning, after you finished a late breakfast, your mother answered a knock on the door as you typed rapidly on your laptop. You couldn’t see who it was from your spot at the kitchen table, but when the visitor spoke, your hands froze in mid-air.

"Detective Min! Would you like to come in?" Your mother put a lot of sweetness into the greeting. You closed your eyes tight and willed Yoongi to pass on the invitation.

"Sorry, ma'am, I can't right now. I brought news about Rotom, though." It seemed he might have felt your pleading. "She can pick him up at the pokemon center next to the precinct."

"I'll make sure she receives the message. We both are worried sick over the ghostly bolt." You bit your lip and strained to listen, opening your eyes.

"How…" he stopped and cleared his throat. "How is she doing? Healing well?" You could imagine exactly what your mother’s face looked like, with her eyebrows raised and a sly smile on her lips. You clinched and unclinched your fingers into fists, then sat them on your lap as you slouched down into your chair. Head tilted back, you closed your eyes once again.

“Healing well, thank you for asking. Just a few more days of rest and she’ll be out and about like it never happened. You sure you don’t want to come in and talk to her yourself? I was about to step out, anyway…”

You knew your mother was boldly lying. With a quiet sigh, you opened your eyes, stood, and made your way around the corner toward the door. When you rounded the corner, your eyes met with Yoongi’s. Your mother looked between the two of you for all of three seconds before she stepped away from the door.

“Hey, Yoongi. Do you have news on Rotom?” Eevee brushed her tail against your leg, then trotted up to him. She nuzzled his calf, which Yoongi responded by bending over and patting her head quickly.

“Like I said, I was just about to leave so…” your mother moved her gaze around the room, then hurried to the lounge chair to grab her jacket. You watched her for a moment, then turned back to your guest.

“News, yeah,” he finally replied. Eevee kept pressing her face against his leg, so he scooped her up and held her easily in his arms. She happily licked and nuzzled his face, bringing a gummy smile out. “I see you’re doing well, Eevee. Rotom is at the pokemon center next to the precinct.” He glanced at you as he said this, but focused on giving Eevee loving scratches behind her ears. She mewed and purred in pleasure.

“Thanks for letting me know,” you said.

“I think I’ll be back in a few hours? Yes, two hours at the earliest. A friend of mine invited me for…. bingo. Yes! Bingo! I do love a good bingo game.” You shuffled your feet awkwardly and your mother tried her best to make her loud statement sound true. You find yourself catching Yoongi’s eyes but are interrupted by your mother slipping behind you and through the door. “I’ll see you two later. Oh! My dear, your favorite wine is in the cabinet, you asked for it yesterday, remember?”

“Uh… thanks, I appreciate it. Have fun at… bingo?” You frowned, watching your mother skip toward her car. Yoongi and you both lifted a hand to do a little wave as she pulled out onto the road. Eevee was comfortable dozing in Yoongi’s arms as you turned toward one another.

“This is clearly a set up, no one is that excited for bingo,” Yoongi quipped, a smirk on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes. Your breath caught, hope slowly blooming. Maybe he wasn’t as mad as he was before. 

“Clearly,” you repeated, taking a step back. Deciding to just go for it, you continued. “Would you like to come in? We should talk about… what happened.”

“What happened? You played detective and nearly got yourself killed.” He pressed his lips together, closed his eyes for a long moment, then let out a slow breath. You looked down at your rainbow socks in guilt as he gave Eevee one more scratch before setting her down. She reluctantly padded away, glancing over her shoulder a few times before turning around the corner. 

“I-I’m sorry,” you apologize quietly, stumbling over the words. You weren’t sorry about following a lead, but you were sorry for causing others to worry about you, especially your mother… and Yoongi. Shuffling your feet, you tried to think of what else to say, but nothing came out. 

“I accept your apology,” he replied, a soft smile on his face. He wiggled the fingers of his broken arm, the cast now completely covered with signatures, well wishes, and childish drawings.

“Who did the drawings?” you asked, stepping close and touching them with your fingers.

“We had a family day yesterday, some detectives and officers brought their kids. Real artists, aren’t they?” You both chuckled as you traced a stick figure that represented an officer. You leaned over to look closer as he did, your heads close  together. You slowly looked up into his face, catching his eyes.

“Does this mean you aren’t angry with me anymore?” you asked in a soft, hopeful voice. You swallowed hard as he looked down, eyes suddenly intense and cheeks flushed.

“I’m a little disappointed,” he murmured. He licked his lips as he lifted a hand and placed his palm on your cheek. You found yourself wishing with all your might he would kiss you, right here, right now. He stepped closer and leaned in, and you closed your eyes, waiting for his soft lips against yours.

Suddenly a light beam escapes from Yoongi’s pocket, and a high-pitched tittering made you open your eyes, Yoongi stepping away. Victini flew around you, grinning happily as they touched your hair, shoulders, and face as if to make sure you were healthy. You glanced at Yoongi, noticing with amusement how red his face was. He was looking everywhere but you, clearly flustered.

“Oh, hey, Vee, how are you doing?” you ask the pokemon, plucking them out of the air and holding them in your arms. Vee chatted on, almost like they were telling a story. You responded as you thought you should, nodding along.

“I… uh… Vee missed you,” Yoongi stuttered. You looked straight at him this time, and he looked at the shelf to your right, clearing his throat.

“Well, they have fantastic timing,” you snorted, highly entertained by everything happening at the moment. A tough guy like Yoongi suddenly becoming flustered over a little almost-kiss showed you there might be more than what you see.

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

On the way back to his place after visiting you, Yoongi couldn’t stop replaying what had almost happened. He had been thinking about kissing you, even before today, but he didn’t think it would happen. It was just his luck that it gets interrupted just before it happens. Victini had been so excited to see you, he couldn’t put it back in its ball. Instead, Yoongi pretended nothing had happened, put a smile on his face, and took a seat on your couch. Eevee had settled herself onto his lap, and he ended up staying for an hour.

He saw you in a different light after you opened up about your sister’s relation to Team Nocturna, and even admitted to taking a few things from his desk. As he drove now, he smirked, remembering his quip about not getting fired because he was the best detective on the force. Now that he knew exactly what you wanted, Yoongi knew he could help. It took some convincing, but you ultimately agreed to speak to one other person about this.

The first thing he did was speak to his superior with their office door locked. 

“So… if I’m understanding this correctly,” Kim Daewon replied slowly, hands clasped in front of him. He looked into his entwined fingers before continuing, taking a big breath. “She has basically decided to take down one of the biggest, most mysterious crime organizations related to pokemon all on her own?” He raised his eyebrows, still clearly taking in this information.

“When you put it that way, it sounds stupid,” Yoongi murmured. “Look, I know it sounds crazy, and it is, but she has gathered a good amount of information. She also found their compound when we spent two years searching with nothing.”

At that statement, Daewon leaned back in his chair and petted his stoutland as he thought about what Yoongi was asking him.

“Do you have some sort of a plan?”

“It's… a work in progress?”

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

“You don’t look like the camping type,” you commented. Yoongi grunted as he finished putting the tent together. He wiped his brow with his arm to keep the sweat from getting into his eyes. It was the perfect temperature for jeans and a t-shirt, but Yoongi had been fighting the tent for the last half an hour. 

“I know how to put up a tent, does that count?” He grinned and put an arm out, presenting his work. The impressed glint in your eye made his stomach flip with butterflies, but he made himself ignore the flush coming over his body. “Namjoon said it was the easiest one he had.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with your arm? It’s only been two weeks since your cast came off.” The worry in your voice caused Yoongi to drop the tent bag on the ground and turn to face you. He walked and stopped in front of you, lifting your chin with the arm in question. You blinked, surprised at the intimate contact, and Yoongi smirked. He dropped his hand as soon as your attention was on him.

“Check this out.” He lifted his arms and flexed, proudly showing off the muscles he  had been working on for the last 16 days. Granted, they weren’t as pronounced as Namjoon’s arms, but he was getting there. You snort and let out a big laugh, putting your palms on your cheeks to assumably hide the blush.

After the almost-kiss and discussion with the lieutenant, you three put together a plan for taking down the compound in the forest. The first thing that needed to be done was information gathering, which would be Yoongi and you putting several recording devices around the property. The second part would be cutting through the security, which would be a team of officers and their pokemon. The third part would be a lockdown of the compound, making sure that no one could escape before they were arrested, with another team of officers. The last thing to do was arrest all Team Nocturna members that are caught in the lockdown. 

Now, you and Yoongi were camping just inside the forest edge, waiting for the right time to sneak into the forest and onto the compound. Yoongi’s charizard instructed his coalossal in building a campfire with rocks circling a small pile of lit sticks. Roe the alolan marowak was picking up sticks for the fire, with Shots the rapidash trailing  behind with a bag attached to their back. It was half full with the wood Roe had already found. Victini gathered edible berries and piled them on a flat stone near the fire.

“Moltres really likes being with you. Are you sure you won’t catch it?” you questioned, eyes in the sky as the legendary pokemon glides over the trees. You catch a glimpse of their body flames through the leaves of the trees. Yoongi stood next to you and stared at the sky, watching the bird for a long, silent moment.

“I don’t know. It’s one of a kind, I don’t want to cage it.”

“You have a good heart,” you find yourself saying, turning toward him. He faced you in return with raised eyebrows. A cocky smile graced his lips, which caused your own to appear. You always found yourself smiling when he was around. “Kiss me.” It came out without hesitation, and you suddenly felt your stomach drop with dread. His lips parted slightly in surprise and stood stone-still. You opened your mouth to apologize, but he suddenly grabbed you and pressed his lips to his. 

Immediately, you gripped his t-shirt over his chest, clinging as he went from 0 to 60 in seconds, diving his tongue inside your mouth as you greedily accepted. His hands gripped your hips tightly as you tilted your head to get even more. Desire hit you hard, causing your whole body to flush and your heart to pound in your chest. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your body flush against his.

“Okay…whoa…okay…” Yoongi pulled back and stuttered, gasping for breath while still holding you close. You stared at each other for a moment, then dipped his head just enough to place his forehead against yours. “That was…”

“Intense?” You were still breathing harder than normal. You chuckled and brushed your lips against his, unwilling to let go of him, not wanting to ruin the heated moment happening. He seemed to want the same, because Yoongi’s hands slid down to cup your behind. You sucked in a breath as he squeezed while nipping and kissing your lips. You suddenly realize there are noises going around you, the pokemon continuing to do their chores. “Uh, we have an audience. I think?” Reluctantly, you both untangled yourself, faces hot. Yoongi reached out for your hand, holding it sweetly.

“Would you… will you spend the night with me, after this is all over?” Yoongi seemed nervous, fingers twitching in yours, but he kept his eyes on your face. You squeezed his hand and pressed a kiss on his cheek.

“I am spending the night now, there’s only one tent.” As Yoongi choked on a laugh, you turned and went back to looking over the recording equipment.

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

It was easy enough to place the equipment, especially with Eevee and Rotom keeping watch. Instead of taking time to attach them to the trees and fence posts, you sat them on branches and posts and got away as fast as possible. The cover of darkness helped immensely, while Yoongi’s pokemon patrolled just outside of view. Throughout the sneaking, Yoongi would randomly come close, place a quick kiss on your lips, then scamper off. Each time, you were caught off guard, finding it hard to focus quickly back on the task. 

The operation went as smoothly as expected, although you had almost gotten caught by an oblivious security guard. The compound was in lockdown by sunrise, and you were at the front, waiting to go inside. Yoongi spent a few minutes trying to convince you it wasn't safe, but he quickly realized you were going to do it no matter what. Sighing, he became your bodyguard as you entered.

When you entered the central office, you kept your chin held high, briefly touching Yoongi’s hand with the back of yours before stepping forward. The room had at least 10 guys from your operation, guns pointed at two men in the middle. Lieutenant Kim Daewon nodded toward you.

"So say your piece quickly," he said. You glanced at a man you knew, Kim Taehyung, standing a step behind what looked like the one in charge. You ignored him, focusing on the other one.

"You're not the leader of Nocturna," you state. You heard  murmuring around you, but kept going. “The man I saw, the one I know is the leader, is long gone. You must be a throwaway lackey."

You saw the man's jaw clench, but he held himself back, probably on account of the many firearms pointing at him. He took a deep breath and spoke.

"The leader of the new world is safely on his way to his castle. I proudly give my freedom for our righteous cause." 

"What is this cause of yours?" asked the lieutenant. The room was quiet, a layer of icy anticipation settling.

"Might as well talk. I have a charizard that would love to roast and eat you." Yoongi took Egan's pokeball out and tossed it up and down a few times. Everyone but the bad guys knew he was bluffing, but the idea of a hungry charizard is terrifying.

"The evolution of humankind," the lackey stated evenly. "Through pokemon, we will ascend to the next state of being. It's already begun."

While the man was explaining the Great Cause, Taehyung was staring at you, nervously swallowing with his hands up in surrender. You leaned over to whisper in Yoongi's ear.

"He's my inside man," you said, glancing at Taehyung. Yoongi gave a small nod and whispered to another officer. It went down the line to the lieutenant, like the game of Telephone. You could only hope he got the correct message.

"Already begun how?" Daewon asked, getting the attention of the man. Behind the bad guy, Taehyung was quietly ushered out of sight. You were putting your trust in Yoongi and his team to keep him safe.

"Our experiment had great success many years ago, and now we are ready to go to the next phase." It seemed this guy was enjoying knowing all the answers as he grinned smugly at everyone.

"Was my sister part of this new phase?" You asked, voice shaking at the end of the question. You took a deep breath and narrowed your eyes.

"I don't know, who was your sister? Depends if she was useful or not." Your hands clenched into fists, but you stayed where you were. "Wait… the reporter? I see the resemblance now. No, she was just collateral damage." He shrugged as if it was a simple statement.

You felt rage building in your stomach, moving up through your chest, threatening to spill out through your mouth and fists. Yoongi pulled you gently back, out  of the room and back into the wooded area outside. He put his hands on your cheeks and did a few calming breathing techniques. Finally, you felt calm enough to speak.

"Thanks for pulling me out of there," you murmured. He lowered his hands but stayed close, watching your expression. You swallowed, head buzzing. Your sister had been nothing but collateral damage, and you knew it would take a moment to wrap your head around that.

"I couldn't risk you getting arrested for beating him half to death," he quipped. Yoongi placed a kiss on your forehead and stepped back. "Go to my place, you'll be safe there. Take my pokemon with you, Roe knows the passcode to unlock the entrance."

"Keep Egan. Just in case, or I won't go."

"Fine, no arguments from me." After Yoongi softly kissed you goodbye, you took his pokeballs he offered and left. Gradually, the anger that was simmering below turned into grief, something you hadn't let yourself feel for a long time. As soon as the pokemon let you inside, you broke down sobbing, falling to the carpet just inside the closed door. You felt warmth around you.

Roe stayed near you, patting your shoulder. Hot tears rolled down your cheek. The image of your sister, laughing brightly, came to you, briefly calming you enough to stop the tears. Unfortunately, the happy visual turned into a memory of the funeral, the closed casket in front of you as your mother clung to your side. Your sobs became loud once more, and Yoongi's pokemon all appeared around you. Their warmth made it easier for you to let it out, unafraid of judgment. 

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

You must have fallen asleep, because the next thing you remembered was being carried. Eyes closed, you had no idea where you were going. Instead of worrying, you turned your face into a sweater that smelled like someone you knew. As the arms gently put you on the bed, you opened your eyes, and realized they were swollen from all the tears that had fallen. 

“I look like shit,” you murmured, covering your face. You heard Yoongi chuckle softly. You didn’t move your hands as you felt the bed move as he settled next to you. “What time is it?”

“Still dark. And you look just like you always do, only more relaxed.”

“I’m not sure how to take that,” you replied, lowering your hands slowly. Settling them on your stomach, you saw Yoongi on his back, hands behind his head. You were on your back on a king-sized bed, on top of a dark comforter. He stayed silent for a moment, then turned abruptly toward you, propping his head on his hand.

“Beautiful like every other time I’ve seen you, but not as sad as you were when I met you. And not as angry. It seems you needed a good cry,” he replied.

"I thought I was done with crying," you sighed, looking towards the ceiling. You both laid there, comfortable and quiet.

"Can I kiss you, now?" Yoongi asked, still propping his head up. A smile tugged at your lips as you turned your head just enough to catch his eyes.

"I was hoping for more than a kiss, but if that's all you have…."

His eyebrows lifted right before he leaned down and kissed you.

[petboymart]

Hey how you doin? I'm not completely sure if the requesting box is open but if so is it possible for you to do a male show puppy reader with puppy lev that is dog model? How would lev react to reader when his owner brings reader home?

show dog puppy boy lev x puppy boy reader

employee notice : yup! gonna start clearing out the inbox bc it’s 11:44 pm, i’m on vacation in a foreign country and i’m queer, that part is unrelated

-nox <3

this product contains : mentions of readers past trauma, scheming bitch lev, reader is a liiiiiitle dumb in the beginning, slight bullying, but making up and being cute puppies. male reader!!!!!

lev was bred for perfection, genetically perfect, physically perfect. the perfect show dog. his tall figure, his long limbs, his pristine silver hair and pointed ears. though some said his eyes were catlike they were still a beautiful sparkling and unique green.

he was the perfect show dog, with many awards to prove it. medals on blue ribbons.

so why did his owner bring in… you

sure, you were handsome he could admit. your eyes did sparkle, no, they glowed. you were small though. weak. it looked like if he pushed you you would fall over. he tested his theory. it proved true.

when you fell though, you just smiled up at him. you thought it was play so you pushed against him too. he barely budged. though, his eyes lit up in interest.

you were not reserved or snooty like other show dogs, you were pure and sweet and raw. untouched by the harsh criticizing world. he was a little worried. the world would break you. why did he care though? he thought.

for the first few weeks, he ignored you. he would call you over and you would come running, just for him to slide out of the way and watch you crash into a door, feigning worry as he stood over you, just barely hiding a sneer.

his schemes got you into trouble with your owner, she would get angry and yell at you, wagging her finger. you kept your head bowed and your big floppy ears pressed to your head. he felt the tiniest semblance of pity. he also pretended not to see you when your owner would put you outside as punishment. he avoided your big innocent eyes and he didn’t know why his heart hurt thinking about how cold it was outside and how weak you were (in his eyes at least). he ignored those feelings, he tried to.

lev had thought he was unaffected by your troubles, that his schemes were not affecting his conscious.

that was until he found you that one fateful night, in the living room. you sat on the dog bed watching the window. you didn’t see him, but he heard you talking to yourself.

“it’s all going to be okay. you got out. you’re a pure bred. you just, have to be nice and not get on his nerves. if you do well he’ll teach you and you’ll never have to go back again. never ever ever.” you said, and lev tilted his head, he walked into the room.

“go back where?” he asked, and you turned around in shock, you were going to exclaim but his solemn face stopped you. he did not know where you came from, he thought you were his replacement who had shown up one day to take his place. you looked down at the puppy bed.

maybe telling him wouldn’t be bad, and you could finally get the burden off your chest. you looked up at lev with teary eyes. he was taken aback by the vulnerability in your expression. you opened and closed your mouth a few times, swallowing. your adams apple bobbed. then you began to talk.

“i was born in a puppy-person mill, a breeding center for pure breds. we weren’t well taken care of. i had eight siblings in my litter, even more from previous ones. we were separated from our mother as soon as we could eat solid food. i lived in a cramped cage with those eight siblings for twenty years. we were never taught how to go into human forms. but when we did, one by one, my siblings were taken away. one day the police came in, the establishment was, of course, illegal. it was then i was set free. it was then i found out that all my siblings had been sold off and my mother was gone and i was all that was left. nobody glanced at me because i was the runt. but i was a purebred. so they brought me to a fancy shelter and i was told that if i became a show dog i would never have to live in fear again. that’s why i’m always around you. i want to be like you so i never ever have to go back to somewhere like that mill.” you said.

lev had never been more shocked, horrified and disgusted with himself in his entire life. he didn’t say anything at first and just looked at you. for the first time he noticed your shaking figure. dark circles under your eyes and the way you sat on your tail, as if trying to tether yourself to reality. there were small scars he never paid attention to on your hands. your skin was slightly discolored. you had suffered so much and he had been an ungodly rude prick just because he was privileged and stuck up and a coward.

he didn’t say anything then but he reached out and tugged you to his chest. his big arms wrapped around you and for the first time in a while you felt safe. you felt warmth and you began to sob as lev carefully rubbed his hand up and down your back.

“it’s okay, it’s okay. you’re safe now, i’m sorry. i’ll treat you better and i promise i won’t let anyone hurt you again. i’ll keep you safe.” he whispered. and his words were the most amazing thing you had ever heard. they soothed your aching heart as you let yourself be comforted by him.

after crying for more than an hour, you were exhausted and fell asleep in lev’s lap. he carefully brought you to his big fancy bed in his room on the ground floor, and tucked you into the covers. in your sleep you whimpered, squirming and he quickly got into bed with you, bringing you into his arms. you stopped squirmed, nuzzling close to him.

lev watched your sleeping form for another hour, admiring how soft your features looked as you slept. he admired how strong you were. he pressed his nose to your forehead.

“goodnight.”

(an extra drabble bc wow that was a lot.)

“lev! leeeev! stop it!!” a squeal echoed through the living room, soon followed by giggles.

lev laughed boisterously as you shoved his face away from you, your neck wet from his snuggling and licking and kisses.

you pushed him away yet couldn’t truly escape as you still sat on his lap. you stopped shoving him and with his possessive mind in full swing he went right back to nosing at your neck. his ministrations caused your brand new leather collar to be pushed around, the golden name tag jingling.

you had got the collar as a gift from lev when you won your first blue ribbon. under levs care and teachings, you grew healthier. there was vibrant color in your cheeks and your fur was no longer matted. you became a brilliant show dog. lev had never been more proud when you one. so he bought the collar with his own money. it had your name inscribed on the tag, and his on the back.

“just in case you get lost” he had said, smiling deviously. as if he’d ever let you get lost. after that night, a slow friendship bloomed between you two as lev taught you how to be a proper show dog. that friendship turned into more and you found out a secret lev kept wonderfully hidden.

he was horribly possessive. and he did not like to share. the collar was a way of marking you as his, you both knew that and you chose to ignore it.

now, you were cuddled up to each other, snuggling and basking in each others warmth, you leaned your head back and lev pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“my charismatic show dog.”

“and my handsome asshole.” you said, and lev gasped in faux shock, whimpering tragically, “oh stop it, you totally deserve it.” you rolled your eyes.

“yes i do, does it still hurt coming from my one and only? absolutely! i’m fragile, honey!” he complained and you rolled your eyes yet again but smiled.

“im sorry then, how can i get you to forgive me?” you asked and lev grinned.

“cuddle me for the rest of the day.” he said (read: commanded) and you nodded your head.

“i was already going to but okay, fine.”

and you two cuddled for the rest of the day, enjoying the sun and then the sunset.

i don’t know how to end this thanks

petboy mart 2023

[crones-trash]

Sorry for going radio-silent but I got tired of trying to make my difficulties amusing. Because of unreliable helpers, I've had to let go of my expectations & wait calmly for the help I need to hang the last of my artwork. Then I'll do a full reveal of my home renovation w/ Before & After photos. Until then, oh well...

I entered the stage of living alone wherein I started talking to myself casually. Totally dumb shit like, "what shall we have for dinner?". So I got a cat yesterday to cover for this sign of impending dementia.

Her name is Artemis & she doesn't trust me yet. I am her 3rd home in a little over a year so I don't blame her for being insecure. There's no history on record at the Humane Society about her first home & why she was given up for adoption. Her second home lasted only 6 months because she couldn't get along w/ the other cats in the household. For unexplained reasons, she doesn't like her tummy touched & also, they say, she hates men. This is known because of her angry reaction—snarling, scratching & biting—at male vets. I think maybe she just hates vets because they've often hurt her w/ shots & being neutered. I dunno but I'll try to find a female vet.

When I got her home yesterday, I showed her where her litter, food & water are then she disappeared. The only place she could be was under my bed. Since I am incapable of getting down on my knees to look then getting back up, I simply ignored her for a couple of hours.

The next time I checked she had found a way to get behind the curtains that hang behind the headboard of my bed. I parted the curtains to tell her face-to-face, "That's cool. Just don't forget where your litter box is, okay?"

The next time I looked for her, she had moved onto the window sill behind the curtains in the family room. There was no evidence of her eating any food or using the litter. I tried calling her name & she responded by coming out to pose for the photo above. She refused the fancy treats I offered her. By dinnertime, I added some stinky wet food to the dry food in her bowl but again she showed no interest in eating.

Then last night as I fell asleep, she was all over me demanding affection & purring loudly. Blindly, I stroked down her back & scratched her head. I had a rough night because she kept waking me: one time she was on my pillow behind my head & when I rolled over, she retreated behind the curtains.

When I did wake up, she was under the bed again & she's still there. She did eat some of the wet food but still hasn't disturbed the litter. I am worried she might be doing her business under my bed & I'll need help to clean that up. Otherwise, I'll remain available until she decides I'm as comforting awake as I am half-asleep.

I am really not surprised I've gotten a neurotic pet. Everything in my life is STILL complicated & difficult. I'm learning not to be bothered but acceptance kinda feels like being depressed.

[disco-elysium-via-polls]

3. "Yes. Kids, friends, chicks. I have all those."

PLAISANCE - "Then you're a lucky man, officer. Children are the greatest of treasures..." She fiddles with her pendant, thinking.

"For playing with friends I'd recommend 'Suzerainty'. It's a civilization-building game where you build a civilization, then set off to brutally colonize and repress other civilizations. It'll cost 12 reál."

2. "So what about all these 'Wirrâl' things?"

PLAISANCE - "Lousy auras there!" She shudders. "No, *role-playing games* are popular among those types... you know, who're into those kinds of things. Personally, I don't like it. Not at all!"

"I've heard they turn people into occult-enthusiasts. That they have rituals, where they try to summon entities. Highly immoral stuff… You can still buy them, though." She looks at the table, crossing her arms.

3. Look through the pile of Wirrâl-related items.

MOUNTAIN OF BOARD GAMES - An endless variety of sourcebooks, lorebooks, and codices litter the table. The top-most book is titled "Welkin Compendium, Second Edition."

There's also a large hardbound tome with intricate cover art: "The Hunters of Katuak: Boreal Creature Compendium," and a pick-your-path adventure gamebook titled "Tales of Wirrâl: Cavern of Velkraag."

Anything that really catches my eye?

Hm, maybe I'm not into all this binoclard stuff.

MOUNTAIN OF BOARD GAMES - There's a box that says: "Wirrâl. Third Edition Mega-Setting Supplements Module". The side panel notes: "A *fantastique* adventure board game. New maps and miniatures!" A sticker on it displays -- 25 reál.

5. [Leave.]

SHELF OF CRIME NOVELS - These shelves are overburdened with books from the same series. You see the name "Dick Mullen" over and over.

"Storekeep, what's all this crime fiction?"

Look through the display of books.

[Leave.]

PLAISANCE - "Oh, crime, robberies, murders..." She lowers her voice. "Even *sexual* crimes. We're fortunate to have Dick Mullen and his stories to sort all that out."

"You're a... a police officer... apparently. You should buy *all* of these. They really do teach a person how to be a proper detective."

2. Look through the display of books.

SHELF OF CRIME NOVELS - Crime fiction... is a disgrace. An asinine misrepresentation of the physical attributes and the arduous everyday work of actual police officers.

These books *greatly* overstate the excitement of police work, glossing over how long it takes to actually follow up on leads and eliminate dead-ends.

What's more, they completely ignore the psychological hardships of, year after year, coming into contact with people during the worst days of their lives.

Not a single mention of all the stress this work creates upon the officer's *family*. Detective fiction just doesn't tell the truth at all. Now, would you like a list of the books found on the shelf?

Sure thing.

Oh god, no.

SHELF OF CRIME NOVELS - You see: "Dick Mullen on the Job", "Get Me Mullen!", "The Stalwart Adventures of Richard P. Mullen", "Dick Mullen and the Murder in the Orchard", "The Sordid Affair of Dick Mullen"...

"A Killing Is Declared", "Dick Mullen in the Murderhouse", "The Final Case of Dick Mullen" (an obvious lie), "Dick Mullen in the Clock Tower", "The Ordeals of Dick Mullen", "Dauntless Dick", "Dick Mullen's Funeral Pyre", "The Murder of Dick Mullen"…

Dick Mullen *dies*?!

Are there any more?

Okay, let's stop now.

SHELF OF CRIME NOVELS - Oh no, turns out he faked it to solve a case.

Are there any more?

SHELF OF CRIME NOVELS - Yes. There's also: "The Dame Who Did It", "Farewell, My Mullen" (faking death seems to be a common trope in the Mullen series), "The Morbid Tales of Dick Mullen", "A Dark Tide Turns"...

"Tragedy Calls for Dick Mullen" (another one with fake death), and, of course, "Dick Mullen: The Murderer", in order to catch a murderer, Dick Mullen must become the murderer.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS [Challenging: Success] - Come on, this is *not* the way real police solve crimes. The *real* police are some twenty kilometres away, sitting in an armoured motor carriage.

MACK TORSON - "Come on, Chester, tell the story again." A bald man turns toward a lean man and pats him on the back.

CHESTER MCLAINE - "Again? Man, I tell that one at least once a month. It's not that interesting," Chester replies.

MACK TORSON - "The *fuck* it is," the bald man replies. "And these guys haven't heard it." He motions to the civilian sitting in the back seat. "You see, Chester here," he pokes his finger at the lean man. "Chester *faked his own death* once!"

CIVILIAN - "Gosh, why?" One civilian looks on, amazed. The bald man bellows a reply:

MACK TORSON - "A very fuckin' dangerous case, ain't that right, Chester? They almost got you that time."

CHESTER MCLAINE - "Yeah, sure came close," Chester mutters in return, then turns to the rapt listener. "Alright, so I was tailing this guy called 'Francis the Shoe'..." The inside of the motor carriage is thick with cigarette smoke. Outside, it starts to rain...

INLAND EMPIRE [Medium: Success] - After all this, you still haven't found the answer to the one question that matters: Who *is* Dick Mullen?

3. [Reaction Speed - Medium 10] Who is Dick Mullen?

REACTION SPEED [Medium: Failure] - Your attempt to grasp at the answer fails... it seems very close by, pulsating just out of reach.

4. [Leave.]

A quaint picture book brochure. Very colourful.

It's a... *Tome of Fascist Magic*. Rather candid.

SHELF OF BIOGRAPHIES - The plaque on the shelf reads: "Biographies of Famous People." You see a large variety of names, none of which ring a bell.

"Storekeep, anything of note in this shelf?"

Look through the display of books.

[Leave.]

PLAISANCE - "I would say..." The woman hums to herself. "'The Greatest Innocence.' Yes, most certainly. It's an important educational tool, delving into the depths of history, religion, and their relation to *innocentic power*."

"Who or what is an innocence?"

"Great. I don't need to know any more."

PLAISANCE - "A very influential historical figure, but surely I don't have to tell you that." She waves her hand, as if casting aside the thought. "You're a law officer and law officers have at least *some* education."

"The book is also very daring. The author aims to re-examine the universal understandings of the innocentic system, creating a fresh vantage point and a shift in the tired order of things."

"I thought it was about which of these... innocences... is the coolest and greatest?"

"So you recommend it?"

"Great. I don't need to know any more."

PLAISANCE - "Perhaps for a layman!" She scoffs. "Deep analysis is necessary to peel back the multi-layered meanings."

"So you recommend it?"

PLAISANCE - "Certainly. It's prudent for a person to have at least an elementary understanding of history and society. Imagine the chaos we'd be in otherwise."

INLAND EMPIRE [Easy: Success] - You feel like you should get this one. Definitely. It's *important* somehow. There is something personal inside...

This book is only 4.70. Perhaps we should come back to it later.

2. Look through the display of books.

SHELF OF BIOGRAPHIES - Browsing through all the books with all their names makes your head spin. None of these seem important or relevant. It's all just vapid egoism!

Suddenly, a particularly odd title catches your eye. It reads: "High Speed Love: the Tragic True Love Story of Jacob Irw and Alfie Deletraz" by one Cecilia Averbrook.

What's it about?

SHELF OF BIOGRAPHIES - "High Speed Love" chronicles the romance between two of the finest TipTop Tournée racers in history. One of them is the madcap driver Jacob Irw. His blond mane graces the cover.

Next to Irw's life story, you see a slim biography of an Occidental rock star called "The Antistar". He's famous for shooting morphine into one of his eyeballs, and cocaine into the other!

Next to that, Revacholian radio-personality Guillaume Bevy stands in front of a run down drug den. He's a permanent fixture on Channel 8, reporting on real life crime and ruining cops' days...

PLAISANCE - "I really *must* insist you buy one of the books." You're interrupted by the shopkeep. "Reading them is not for free. Do still browse though. But not too *long*."

SUGGESTION [Medium: Success] - She understands she has erred against the customer and immediately corrects course.

PLAISANCE - "I'm sorry, I did not mean to rush you. You *are* browsing. Go ahead. Take your time. Time is commerce."

4. [Leave.]

Another boring book. Just discarded here.

SHELF OF PARANORMAL BOOKS - This bookstore is not *strictly* about crime, romance, and biographies of famous people -- there's also a wide range of paranatural literature.

Look through the shelf.

"Storekeep, what books are these?"

[Leave.]

SHELF OF PARANORMAL BOOKS - Amidst the various books you find one written by someone named Matthias W. Dundas. It's about "Wholeness, Unity, Balance".

The point of the book, and many others on this shelf, is to give people medicinal advice in situations where they don't have access to paid health services.

How does that work?

Uh huh, interesting.

SHELF OF PARANORMAL BOOKS - It serves platitudes, while also telling everyone that traditional medicine (the kind people don't have access to, and which costs more than this book) is garbage, and would only give you cancer anyway, without even curing your cold or anything.

"Wholeness, Unity, Balance" on the other hand, can basically take care of anything. Though it is important to note...

"When it's up to your mind to heal yourself, then it's because of your mind that you're *ill* in the first place."

Does the book say anything else?

Uh huh, interesting.

SHELF OF PARANORMAL BOOKS - The book features chapters on topics such as: how to find magnesium (it even lists plants you can harvest magnesium from); how to continue drinking if you're an alcoholic who has destroyed his liver; and...

…there's even a chapter on the ancient Seraise tradition of using duck gall bladder (preservatives) to treat and prevent sexually transmitted diseases. Pre- and post-factum apply. Nothing worth buying.

INLAND EMPIRE [Medium: Success] - This is just mundane garbage. What's even para-natural about this?

2. "Storekeep, what books are these?"

PLAISANCE - "Hum... sir, please, no browsing in that shelf." She narrows her eyes. "That wisdom is not for free."

"I can't have you end up... like... opening a police store next door and stealing my customers, oh no."

3. [Inland Empire - Medium 10] Find something truly otherworldly.

INLAND EMPIRE [Medium: Success] - The throbbing in your head increases with every passing moment you gaze at this shelf...

SHELF OF PARANORMAL BOOKS - Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, a small green book becomes apparent. The title of it reads: "Medicinal Purposes of the Pale."

What's the pale?

What's this book about?

That's all I need to know.

SHELF OF PARANORMAL BOOKS - The book contains very little explanation on the matter -- this knowledge seems to be taken for granted.

2. What's this book about?

SHELF OF PARANORMAL BOOKS- The book contains descriptions of various pseudo-scientific therapies, alternative medicines, and folk remedies involving *the pale* -- also known as *le territoire*.

For example, it recommends vigorously swatting one's naked body with a venik, or hand broom, made from "the leafy twigs of a young birch tree from the near-pale."

Sounds painful.

Sounds invigorating.

SHELF OF PARANORMAL BOOKS - It is supposedly invigorating and good for the circulation.

What else?

I think I've heard enough.

SHELF OF PARANORMAL BOOKS - It also recommends consuming distilled spirits like vodka or whiskey that have been aged in the pale. Readers are instructed to cover these jars in a shallow hole just inside the pale, and leave them there for 30-60 days, depending on the potency desired.

And what does this pale-aged liquor do?

SHELF OF PARANORMAL BOOKS - Among other benefits, it is alleged to restore a damaged liver to perfect health.

I should probably get my hands on some of that. What else is in there?

How is that possible?

I think I've heard enough.

SHELF OF PARANORMAL BOOKS - Is it any more improbable than anything else that human beings put their faith in?

Fair enough. What else is in there?

I think I've heard enough.

SHELF OF PARANORMAL BOOKS - For general health and well-being, readers are encouraged to take regular strolls through the pale, though a sidebar cautions readers to limit each stroll to less than an hour...

These strolls promise to "cleanse the mind of worries and the body of toxins," especially if the perambulator performs this ritual in the nude. (Nudity figures prominently in a number of these prescriptions.)

INLAND EMPIRE [Medium: Success] - This is exactly what you need!

Huh. Anything else of note?

SHELF OF PARANORMAL BOOKS - There's an entire section devoted to cures for men who are struggling to perform their "marital obligations."

Well, I certainly don't need that.

I probably need that.

SHELF OF PARANORMAL BOOKS - You close the book and return it to its place on the shelf.

*Medicinal Purposes of the Pale* is 4.20, but we've gotten quite a lot out of it already.

4. [Leave].

MAP WALL - Several maps have been attached to a bulletin board hidden inside the alcove. They're held up by small pins. The board has come loose from one corner.

The maps look old and faded. Your eye catches a map of Insulinde, a map of Revachol, and a map of Martinaise.

Look at the map of Insulinde.

Look at the map of Revachol.

Look at the map of Martinaise.

"Storekeep, can I buy these maps?"

[Leave.]

MAP WALL - This large map displays archipelagos. You see a constellation of small dots on the light blue emptiness of the Insulindic ocean. The largest, in the northeast, is "Le Caillou" (you are here). Another, far away in the southwest -- "Semenese Islands (Ile du Fantôme)".

What else?

MAP WALL - Ozonne, Laurentide, Face-a-la-Mer, Archipelagos, North Arcade Islands... all just specks of dust on the vastness of the Insulindic. On the edges of the map, the colour fades into a blur of dotted lines. Black and white.

INLAND EMPIRE [Easy: Success] - In the northeast a dust mite stands on the north coast of Caillou. In a bookstore. It's you.

Squint first -- can you see *cities* on the islands?

Look at the edges.

MAP WALL - You can. On Caillou -- Revachol, a single black star; on Ozonne -- Fond de l'Air and Virmandeux; on Archipelagos -- Croyant-Morain, Villiers; on Semenine -- Olduvai. And on Laurentide -- Deora Of The Seven Seas...

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] - Lost little pearls of light. Tiny fires in the dark.

Look at the edges.

MAP WALL - The ocean breaks apart into a tangle of cosines and azimuths, all pointing into pale nothingness. *Mundi* is the north azimuth; *Graad* is the northeast azimuth; *Samara* is the east azimuth; *Seol* is the west azimuth. *Isolas*, they're called.

INLAND EMPIRE [Easy: Success] - Connections to other worlds. Worlds past the Insulindian, unknown to you. You only know you've never been there.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Impossible: Failure] - You have little idea what they are -- distant stars? gods? -- but looking at them makes you feel almost non-existent. Whatever they are, the *isolas* are immeasurably large compared to you. And very, very far away.

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Impossible: Failure] - Perhaps they *are* gods. Gods of distance and outer dust.

2. Look at the map of Revachol.

MAP WALL - The north coast of a verdant island is shattered by the delta of a river. It is the River Esperance. Countless bridges put the shards back together, connecting city blocks to river islands. *La Delta*, says a great, artificial heart in the centre, teeming with lifeforms and construction.

To the east, rolling hillsides: Le Jardin, Stella Maris, the suburbs of Saint-Batiste, swallowed up into the megacity. They sound *rich* to you. This is Revachol East.

And west of the river?

MAP WALL - Couron. It's somewhere to live. Not bad. Then there's Jamrock -- it's *bad*. People shouldn't live there, but they do. Then Faubourg -- it's almost *as* bad and much larger. Then Coal City. It's the worst.

And Martinaise?

MAP WALL - It's so small you can't even see it on the map. No... wait. There it is! North of Jamrock, the strip of coast next to the Greater Revachol Industrial Harbour. It looks downright despondent. It's almost Coal City, to be honest.

VOLITION [Easy: Success] - No. This is somewhere to be. This is all you have, but it's still something. Streets and sodium lights. The sky, the world. You're still alive.

3. Look at the map of Martinaise.

MAP WALL - It's not really a map. It's a tourist thing -- a picture postcard with buildings on it, drawn from an isometric perspective. A date in the upper right corner says: '48.

Still, it's detailed. Could be pretty useful for scouting ahead. You see the jagged boxes of an industrial harbour, even the Whirling-in-Rags there...

4. "Storekeep, can I buy these maps?"

PLAISANCE - "I'm sorry, officer, the map of Martinaise is the only one available. The other two are not for sale anymore... and besides, you could scarcely afford them."

"They're quite valuable, though they might not look it. The map of Martinaise is 90 cents, though."

"Why is the one of Martinaise so cheap?"

"You seem to underestimate my resources, but sure, okay."

PLAISANCE - "That old thing? It's an out-of-date map of a tourist location that never was nor came to be..."

"From when some *design-studio people* tried to spruce the place up, four or five years ago. They also renovated the horse-statue, set up those coin-operated viewers and designed the new street lamps."

"What happened then?"

PLAISANCE - "They didn't get far... for some reason. A shame the project never got going. Would be nice if someone fixed Martinaise up. All these ruins are bad for business."

[marikos-diary]

I ended up going out early to get the carton. I was on my way out to have one anyway and I figured I would try and be brave. I did it, but I got so anxious that I threw up when I got home. I had just had dinner before leaving too so that really sucked.

My things should be here Monday probably in the evening. I’ll either see mom and pick them up from her or go by myself once the sun goes down.

I cancelled my bookshelf order. I’m not resigning the lease here so I am just going to keep my books in storage. I’ll buy bookshelves when I move. I am also no longer buying furniture or probably even decor because even though it would cheer me up it just feels like a waste because it is going to get stolen or I will just be packing it up to move in a few months. So why bother, you know? I’m just not going to bother. I also had gotten an over the toilet storage thing but I think I am going to return it. I don’t want to bother when I am just leaving as soon as I can. I can get something nice when I find a safe place to live. I can go shopping on Wayfair and build wish lists and day dream. That sounds like a nice way to pass th time and a good distraction. Maybe I’ll do that tonight.

I still haven’t cleaned the litter boxes. I am still going to try to clean at least one.

I wonder if my best friend will worry I am dead when she doesn’t hear from me like I worry she is dead when I don’t hear from her. I hope she does tbh. Maybe thats just me being upset but also it feels valid. I always worry that she is dead. It is a huge fear of mine. So maybe she will get a taste of that. I think I’m splitting on her maybe? I don’t know. I’ve never split on her before. But right now it is all very black and white thinking.

I think I am going to stay up late. Things feel easier at night for me. Maybe I will try that for a little bit. Maybe i would be able to clean the litter boxes.

Trying not to think about school. I hate myself. I wish I had someone to talk to. Too bad I don’t have any friends. I am afraid that if I take any of my medicines I will just take them all all at once. Because that is what I want to do. So I don’t know how I am supposed to take my medicine. I know I will be miserable without it. But I am afraid that if I take it I will take it all. Again, something I can’t tell a therapist because they will want me to go to the hospital. I don’t know. Maybe I should. I am very afraid to leave the house though and I don’t think I would do very well in a hospital.

No one loves me. No one cares. No one wants me. The one person I want to talk to is ignoring me. I begged for help and she ignored me. It was not okay.

Crying again. Maybe I’ll just go to bed. But I’m not tired yet. So I would have to take my sleeping medicine. which means going into the medicine cabinet. Ugh. This is so difficult. And I still haven’t cleaned the litter boxes.

I did nothing today. I smoked and wrote diary entries and didn’t kill myself. I sat on the couch and rotted and cried all day. I don’t want to go to therapy on Tuesday. I want a break. Maybe I will cancel that appointment. Yeah. I’ll do that. I’m not up for being on camera or anything yet.

[thenaziloli]

IDEA RANDOM IDEA

Fuck… God fucking dam-

“Roaar!!”

A loud ear scratching growl interrupted her

soliloquy, still, the shock and flabbergasted expression remained on her face. Looking at her apartment door that is being repeatedly banged against, the sense of surreality in her heart slowly diminished as she descended into another profanity filled soliloquy.

“God mother fuck what in the fucking hell holy shit god damn mother fucker” breathing in, she continued “calm down calm fucking down!!okay?… Okay… Its not fucking okay!!”

Irritated, confused, and amused she gripped her hair as she paced around the living room. Exhausted from staying up all night, she decided to take a nap on her sofa, promising herself to wake up an hour later but who would have thought that not only did she wake up 8 hours later, the fucking apocalypse also came like— wow fucking amazing, now can anyone explain how the fuck are there zombies in her fucking door?!

Pinching herself didn’t ease her and so she decided to slap herself hard, like echoing slap hard but unfortunately even tho she’s a lucid dreamer, the situation right now is far from a dream.

Swallowing down she decided to move, while this maybe her first apocalyptic experience, she have read a handful of apocalyptic stories to know that she cant just dawdle around.

Finally figuring out what to do despite her muddled head, she heads into the bathroom and opens the faucet to fill her small bathtub of water then she walks around her house to look for anything to hold water with and proceeds to stock on water while thinking about how long she can last with her food reserves.

Just then a loud crash caught her attention. Looking out from the window, she saw a truck crash into a car while the road was littered with abandoned vehicles. A few figures running away can be spotted but the most eye catching thing was of a figure of a man beside the truck surrounded by a horde of walking corpses.

Sighing at the man’s fate, she cant help but feel suffocated. While she maybe preparing herself, she still cant brush off the faint sense of bemusement or fear really. Fear that her life was gone now and she was about to face an incomparably ardous life, fear that she may not be anle to see her parents and brother again, fear that she may die as a foil.

She’s an Otaku, a fairly crazy one. Because of her fondness of the dystopian and apocalyptic genre, she managed to rub off some of the protagonist’s characters such as being a hamster. And so with that new found obsession, she filled her place with food, boxes of ramens, instant noodles, canned food and even a pantry full of daily necessities that’s enough to last her for three whole months. It may not be healthy but in the off chance it happened she’ll be secured, but who would have thought that off chance would really come. Thankfully though, because of her paranoia, she was also wary of the third war and chose to settle at a relatively remote city so while the number of corpses are still frightening, it was incomparable to the big cities.

Peeking at the window again, she saw that uncle get eaten by those corpses and a nausea came over her, I mean who wouldn’t be, she just saw that fucking uncle get eaten. She maybe a lover of gore but this is different ah.

“Get over it Jayce, now’s not the time.” She forced herself to ignore her nausea and go back to the kitchen and fill water and also check her pantry.

Now that she was now in an apocalypse, an arrangement must be made. Now the food, the food can laste her for a three months to half a year if she eats just a meal a day but to survive she needs energy so she will not wrong herself. Water, the water she collected was not enough, the food will last her long but the water wont, it’ll probably be finished by three to four weeks and thats with her using it only for drinking, if she decided to clean herself then it’ll be even shorter.

She frowns and wanders around the house looking for her raincoat, motorcycle helmet, a baseball bat she uses for self defense, a couple rolls of tape, a stack of books, and couple of her clothes. She then changed to a pair of leggings, a singlet and thick boots she only uses when she decides to dress up, now it has a proper use rather than just being a fashion statement.

Putting all the things in her living room, re proceeds to cut up the clothes into a rectangular shape that she then wrapped around her left leg, she then tore up a handful of thick glossy pages from the books she chose and wrapped it in her leg and with the tape, she taped then to her leg securely, rolling it around a few times. Doing the same to her right leg, arms, and thighs, she now have a passable armour, well just cover really. It should be enough to withstand a few zombie bites and scratches. She then covered it up with a big sweater and cargo pants.

Taking out her small box of tools, she started nailing her baseball bat to use as a weapon. Finally she put on the raincoat and the helmet and as well as a small knife, she was ready to go outside.

Right now the biggest problem to solve was water, and going outside to search other apartments for containers is the only thing she can think of, also food if she can find some, after all not all household tends to stock food and most people liked to go every time to the markets to shop.

After making sure that she was ready, she then moved her furnitures closer to the wall to make more space in the living room. Her apartment is only a small one bedroom apartment after all and its not really big, she plans to put all water containers in the living room.

However, before going out, she went to her bedroom to check her phone and laptop to see if the internet is still on. If it is and there’s still an influx of posts about the event at this hour then she will not go out and search but if they already stopped then she can go out. The reason was because if there are less traffic then it means most people are dead, but if they aren’t then she’s probably going to get killed by those still living when she breaks into their houses for containers. Also, since its the apocalypse, she have to download entertainments now, if not she would probably comit suicide out of boredom first before she ran out of water.

Seeing that the wifi is still working and the most recent posts are mostly an hour or two ago, she thought that its good to go outside.

[charliexclayton]

Compartmentalization was an interesting coping mechanism. Boxing up all the very difficult things to think about and feel into little boxes and putting them in the caverns of your mind to unpack later, well, that sounded more productive on paper than in practice. In practice those boxes weren’t left on a shelf, neat and organized. No, they littered the pathway of every thought so that when you were just the right amount of unguarded or, in Charlie’s case, the right degree of fucked up, tripping over them was inevitable. Careening down the corridors of her mind, Charlie’s thoughts were snowballing over boxes at an alarming rate, setting fires with every box. You wouldn’t ignore a fire in your own house. But here, in her mind, there was no fire extinguisher, or a lid she could suffocate the fire with. It just had to burn, and Charlie had to endure it, and do her best not to externalize the flames, contain the fire until it died.

She felt a different type of heat now in the pit of her stomach, one that brought about self-pity and revulsion in waves. Alcohol only did so much to numb her to such feelings and did nothing but further other things. Like the arousing spell that Paz had cast on her with the simplest touch of her fingers. Looking at her now, Charlie battled (and lost) not thinking about the warmth and silence that Paz’s mouth had brought coupled with hers. That had suffocated the flames in her head only to set fires everywhere else. Charlie felt like pyromaniac, the way she’d gladly make love to someone who did nothing but set her heart ablaze. No, not her heart, because she didn’t care about Paz like that, reasoned that it was easy to confuse these types of emotions with the hatred she knew bloomed in her every time Paz so much as breathed in her direction.

Had she been even the slightest bit more sober than she was, perhaps Charlie would have seen how hard it had been for Paz to reject her advances. But Charlie was inured to rejection, embraced it like an old friend (a friend that you hated spending time with but also, they showed up for you every time, and you would be very lonely without them). So instead of noticing the wanting pulsating at her from across, Charlie felt her throat go dry. Okay, so Paz had kissed her back, that was perhaps Paz’s natural reaction to being unceremoniously accosted and violated. Charlie might have hated the woman, but right now she hated herself more for the clear way that she had crossed an unwanted boundary.

Now they had nowhere to go— she had nowhere to go.

The alternative to being here was opening the door and being with them which, while an enticing thought presently, was a risk to Paz (and to Jude, whom Charlie had forgotten was sleeping somewhere nearby). The irony of Charlie feeling like she needed a drink right now.  You don’t have to act like this for recognition, you know. As cutting of a sentence as a knife, piercing Charlie so deeply in her gut that it was a miracle she remained standing. Paz was a soldier, calculated in violence, deadly in tactics, torturous in how she executed her words. Charlie figured Paz might has well have wrapped both hands around her neck and squeezed, the way it suddenly felt hard to breathe.

A scoff crossed her lips, and the sudden escape of air was enough for the floodgates she had barely been holding up to burst. Unyielding tears cut paths down her cheek, accompanied by a choked sob (which in and of itself brough a wave of humiliation so jarring that Charlie was kind of wishing the Earth would implode). The last thing she wanted was for Paz to think Charlie was unable to handle a simple no when, in reality, a no had been the most merciful thing said to her all week.

All the little boxes burnt and unable to contain any of the thoughts that had been shoved carelessly into them crumbled to ashes. Through the blur of her eyes, and just over Paz’s shoulder, a familiar face. Charlie, her mother spoke, each apparition increasingly blistered and raw red, your father will be home soon. The flames in here roared so loudly, licked up every wall, ignited such a violent reaction from Charlie the girl heaved. “Shut up, shut up, shut up,” she growled as she brought a hand up to her head—which pounded from the incessant onslaught of guilt— to cover her eyes with a pinch. Hardly able to bear it, she turned away from Paz in an attempt to regain composure, or some semblance of it. She cried quietly into the palm of her hand, willed air to return to her lungs, saw now and understood the darker side of being so wasted that it no longer felt good.

“I’m sorry,” she said so softly it was almost buried in the roof of her mouth, a moment of raw honesty before she rebuilt her walls. She wiped messily at her face, sniffled, and turned back towards Paz. “You don’t know a fucking thing about me, you didn’t bother to learn, did you now?” she said tiredly, words slurring together. “You just made up your mind, no matter how much I apologized. You think I’m useless, and pathetic, well,” she shrugged, “maybe I’m just giving you what you want.”

Charlie breathed out shakily before continuing, “I don’t need your pity, it has no place here. I came to tell you how much I hate you, so fuck, let me do this one thing right tonight.” Charlie laughed, the kind of sad broken laugh that was more hurt than humor. “You know almost no one wanted to work with me after you?”

𝗕𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗗𝗔𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗦, 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗣𝗔𝗭 𝗠𝗢𝗦𝗘𝗟𝗘𝗬-𝗞𝗔𝗜𝗨𝗦, 𝗔𝗥𝗘 𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗠𝗘𝗥𝗘 𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗦 𝗕𝗨𝗧 𝗪𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗦 — towering, jagged things that surge from the earth like shattered teeth, reaching hungrily for the sky. She builds them swiftly, mercilessly. Yet, place her near a ledge, where the ground ends and gravity whispers its invitation, and she'll fucking jump.

She is a contradiction made flesh: a multitude of women and a unfilled shell, carrying the weight of countless memories locked away in IRONCLAD boxes. These boxes keep her steady, control intact, though their edges cut deep. Paz’s inner war began early, shaped by loss and honed by duty. As a young woman, she bore responsibility for what was and wasn’t hers, each missing person poster in her neighborhood another chisel to her resolve. That relentless shaping forged a soldier in the army — not just disciplined, not just "honorable", but something far more dangerous: a weapon finely tuned to the chaos of the world. She can be vacant, programmed, the perfect machine. Yet, she is brimming — overflowing with shards of the past, fragmented truths, and impossible feelings jammed into the spaces within her. A cavity that never quite heals, a wound too deep to close, and somehow, she thrives. She excels not because of her trained skills on the battlefield but because she understands its unspoken rules. And those rules aren’t just confined to wars or killing; they are ETCHED into the very fabric of existence, the natural order of the world.

Yes, she has become known to put others first, has carried the weight of sacrifice on her shoulders. But not this time. Not when the ghost of her brother turned out to be a reality and already occupies that SACRED space. Not when the stakes are towering, monstrous things clawing at her every decision for a way out. She knows better than to let distraction slip through the cracks. A good fuck might be a temporary reprieve, a fleeting escape from the nightmare they’re all stuck in — but it could just as easily become a fatal misstep. Paz knows how it feels to fly, to wait too long to pull the parachute, and to hit the ground. Hard. Charlie is no parachute; she’s the gust of wind that sends you spiraling. She’s also not Paz’s problem, but she’s damn good at becoming one for anyone who dares let her in.

And truth be told, Paz STILL doesn’t like her. The irresponsibility is GRATING, a spark to the kindling of disdain. The fury it stirs makes the thought of Charlie’s discord even harder to stomach.

❛ Fuck off, Charlie. ❜ Paz  doesn’t  yield. She  doesn’t  know  HOW  and  she  wasn’t  crafted  to  do  that. It’s  beyond  the  emotional  strength  forged  up  of  relentlessness  and  bullishness  into  her  body  and  into  the  mulish  temperament  that  would  leave  her  and  Sterling fighting  like  cats  and  dogs  into  the  early  hours of the morning when they were younger.    She  shakes  her  head,  all  dark,  lanky  hair  swishing  around  her  sallow  skin and currently  angry ( but still wanting )  mouth.    It  would  be  EASIER  for  Charlie  (  for  everyone  )  if  she  pretends  that  she  doesn’t  see  what’s  right  in  front  of  her; if she acts like she doesn't want as desperately as the other woman in the room pleads that she does.    Paz  doesn’t  do  easy, however. ❛ Don't make me repeat myself again. ❜

It would be so simple to give up on Charlie.

Paz could lift her hands — palms out, fingers splayed, a silent gesture of surrender — and turn away. She could leave her there, spine arched with those sharp shoulder blades jutting like wings clipped too soon, walking away without a glance back. She could cling to the paranoia, the threadbare roof barely holding the smiling monsters at bay ( even now she can hear their inhuman screeches outside as they search for their next prey ), and count the days, the possible years, until she could let loose a sharp-edged, unapologetic FUCK YOU and send the blonde on her merry, destructive way.

But it isn’t in her nature — because needling just beneath the surface of her gruff, sour glower lies the faintest whisper of empathy, stubborn and unyielding. A flicker of unwillingness to send Charlie out into that hell alone regardless of what she almost cost her, not when Paz can see the weight of rejection etched into the other, not when she knows Charlie might even welcome it for the sake of her pride. And yet, it’s all for her own good — or so Paz tries to convince herself. ❛ You're completely fuckin' wasted. ❜ Eyes glazed like fogged glass, words slurring, cheeks a fevered flush — Charlie entreats with the unspoken for the truth to stay buried. But there’s something about her, something Paz can’t quite name, that refuses to let this moment drown unnoticed. She won’t let it slip beneath the current, won’t plaster it over with the counterfeit calm of pretense. No, she won’t FAKE IT like the rest of them — even as she catches Charlie wipe away the stray tear falling down her cheek; she's not the only person in this shit-hole hurting. ❛ You don't even know what you want right now. But if you wanna destroy yourself, do it on your own. ❜ Deadpan,   because  she  knows  the  highs and  the  lows  better  than  anyone. ❛ ⸺ you don't have to act like this for recognition, you know. ❜

The last words fall soft, a whispered breath paired with the restless scuff of her boot against the worn floor in her makeshift sanctuary. They’re so different, Paz thinks — Charlie, all encompassing without even knowing, golden hair catching the light like halos, an angel's face MASKING fractures. Paz is the antithesis: shadowed, deliberate, a storm bred in extremes, every edge honed sharp with dilligence and intent. Before this, Paz’s world was solitude and survival, carved from necessity. Charlie, always surrounded yet profoundly alone, clings to self-pity and a grasping need that repels as much as it yearns; selfishness Paz finds repugnant, yet strangely familiar. Still, Paz knows she cannot let the younger hunter drown in ignorance or squander her potential. For her own sake, Charlie must see, must be more or she wouldn't live to see the day they possibly made it out. Despite their differences, they are the SAME at their core — scraping through the darkness, pulling themselves forward toward that faint pinprick of light at the tunnel’s end.

❛ ⸺ you don't. ❜

[ceeceetumbles]

hiya!! I had a request for a fic?? Maybe flustered Casey jr x Y/N crush 👀💕

omgosh yeah-ima-nerd i love ur art!! I don't have much experience writing for casey but i GAVE IT A SHOT lol hope u like!

/////////////

rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles fanfiction ~ Casey Jr. x female reader

/////////////

They’re at Walmart throwing must-have present-time snacks and treats into the cart, shoving brightly colored crinkly packages in front of Casey’s face.

“These are the best!!” Mikey shouts, tossing a hard box of cookies into the cart. Casey smiles at him and glances around.

The light in the store is harsh and glaring, not like anything he’s used to from back home. Back in his own time. The air is artificial and the humans are calm and free and pick quietly at the shelves of plentiful food and it’s all so strange. It’s all so strange.

“Casey?” He feels April’s hand on his upper arm. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I’m good.”

He scratches at his chin and looks around again. No one is paying him a second thought. No one is paying any of them a second thought.

He feels cold. He’s wearing a jacket and long pants; he’s completely covered; but the coldness of this time seeps into his bones. It permeates him. He’s cold, cold, cold, always.

“These are a must-have treat!” Donnie tells him, gently placing another package of food into the cart. Casey smiles. He’s getting dizzy.

“I think I’m going to go get some fresh air,” he tells April, and she shoots him a thumbs-up.

The air outside doesn’t help much. It’s clogged up and cold and it burns his throat and lungs and he coughs and tries to breathe through the filter of his sleeve.

Sometimes he misses his own time. Sure, the world was ending and he lived in constant fear of the destruction of himself and everything and everyone he loved and he had to make do with limited food options but it was familiar and it was home. Now he’s… here. Wherever this is. Whenever this is. And his family will never, ever exist again. They’re gone forever.

And, much to his dismay, he starts crying in front of the Walmart.

He’s tucked up in a little corner, the sidewalk below him coated with black spots and debris, and he’s surrounded by cold stone instead of warm biogrowth and his entire family is gone and dead and erased and he’s angrily wiping tears from his eyes in front of the Walmart.

He hates this jacket. He hates these clothes. He hates his soft conditioned hair and his clean scrubbed skin. He hates these cold stones and the litter all around him and the oblivious humans just going about their lives like half of them weren’t Krang slaves in his own timeline. And he hates this stupid time and this stupid city and this stupid grocery store and the stupid snacks going in the stupid cart and the stupid stupid stupid everything everything stupid and he’s so mad and furious and guilty and he’s sucking in his breath tight and wiping his eyes faster and faster.

Suddenly he hears someone quietly approach him, their feet tapping on the concrete, and he squeezes his hands into fists and tries to wish them away.

“Hey,” the someone says, crouching down in front of him, “hey, hey, you good? You okay?”

He ignores her. Maybe she will go away if he ignores her. (Also he can’t speak. His throat is squeezed shut and he’s busy punching tears out of his eyes with his own two hands.)

“Look,” she says, “I get that you might want to be alone right now. And that’s okay. I’ll respect that. But I also know that you have to be at a pretty low point in your life to cry in front of Walmart. That’s like having a mental breakdown at a Denny’s. Pretty sad thing to do. So yeah. You good, bro?”

Ugh. She won’t leave until he addresses her. He grits his teeth. “Leave me alone. I’m great. I’m doing awesome. I just hate everything about this stupid place and I want to go home but my home sucks and it doesn’t even exist anymore, anyways. I’m stuck here. And I’m always cold.”

He feels her sit down next to him, back against the stone wall. He turns his face away, still swiping at his eyes and nose.

She pokes against his hand. He looks down sharply. She’s holding a packet of tissues out to him.

“Thanks,” he mutters, taking it and blowing his nose.

“Sorry you’re stuck here,” she says.

“Yeah. Me too.” He rubs at his left temple, right where he gets the headaches. It’s starting to throb.

She rummages in her purse and pulls out a shooter marble.

“Here,” she says, holding it out to him.

He stares at it.

“Whenever I really feel stressed or sad or bad,” she says, “I just kinda… roll it between my fingers. And focus on it, and how it looks. And it usually helps me calm down. I don’t know,” she says, embarrassed, her fingers twitching around the marble, “if you don’t want it, that’s okay, I just --”

Casey cups his hands, and she lets the marble roll into them.

“There ya go,” she says, awkwardly. “I hope it helps you. Sorry again, about your home. And being stuck. I’m really sorry.” She stands up with an oof and brushes off the seat of her pants. “Bye.”

She goes into the Walmart, and Casey rubs the marble between his thumb and forefinger and watches the light filter through it.

By the time his new family walks back out, their arms laden with plastic bags and snacks, he’s breathing evenly again. His eyes are dry and his nose is still runny and he’s thinking clearly again. He’s hungry, and his feet hurt.

“There he is!” April says as soon as she sees him. “I got worried about you!”

He smiles and pushes himself back up to his feet. “I’m so hungry. Let’s get home and try some of these snacks, eh??”

//

He has the marble in his pocket, always, and when it’s late at night and his mind is pelted with Leo’s last words and Mikey’s last look and the taste of roasted rat meat, he takes out the marble and feels its solid coolness in his hands.

He can’t stop thinking about her. Marble Girl. She sat down next to him and handed him tissues. Marble Girl. He can’t stop thinking about the random kindness she showed him.

Raph notices the marble one day.

“Hey, Casey,” he says, squinting at it, “what is that?”

“A marble.” Casey holds his hand flat and lets Raph look at it.

“Oh, pretty! Where’d you get it?”

“Someone gave it to me,” he says.

He can feel something. Heat, in his cheeks, on his neck. Persistent heat.

Leo leans over the table and gasps. “Ooh, he’s blushing -- Casey! Was it a girl?!”

“What? What are you talking about?”

The heat deepens, spreads.

“Ahhh!” Leo crows. “I’m right! I’m RIGHT! Who is it?? What’s her name?? Do we know her?? How did you meet?? Wha --”

“Buzz off, Nardo!” Donnie cuts in, shoving Leo away from Casey with one of his mechanical arms. He immediately drops his voice. “Do you want me to run a background check on her? You can never be too sure these days. Even April started working with the Foot Clan once. Sure, it was an accident and she didn’t know any better, but --”

“You’re embarrassing him!” Casey hadn’t even noticed Mikey walk into the room, but here he was, tugging on Donnie’s arm. “Leave him alone! Look at how red he is!”

The brothers fall silent and stare at Casey.

“Oh my gosh,” Raph says. “He’s almost as red as me!!”

He holds the tails of his bandana up against Casey’s cheek. “See?”

“Whoa!! Is it hot to the touch?” Leo scampers over, pressing his cold scaly fingers against Casey’s neck. Casey yelps and swats him away. “Please! Please let me touch your red human skin!!”

Casey feels like he’s on fire.

.//

They’ve left him alone after that, for the most part, not really teasing him too badly about his ‘crush on the girl who gave him the marble.’ But he walks into the lair one day and they’re all clustered around the kitchen table and they look up and over at him with mischievous, mischievous grins, and he stops in his tracks -- what do they have up their sleeves today?

“Guys?”

They all step back, revealing Marble Girl, sipping a juice box at the kitchen table.

She waves and giggles, her cheeks nearly as red at his.

Casey feels his mind short-circuit.

“We found her for you!!” Leo grins and throws out his arms, framing Marble Girl for Casey.

“Hii,” she says. “Glad to see you’re not currently crying.”

He can feel his heart in his cheeks. Thumping.

Mouth open. No words.

“Talk to him more!!” Leo encourages. “He’s just shy!!”

She glances at the mutant turtles surrounding her, staring intensely at her and Casey. “Um -- wanna go grab a coffee?”

//

They sit outside. The air is frigid, sharp against their faces. But Casey doesn’t feel cold. He feels warm. In his face, in his bones. Just warm.

She sips her coffee and smiles at him.

“I like your hair,” she says.

“Thanks,” he says back, and his voice squeaks.

He coughs.

She giggles.

“So you liked the marble?”

“I like the marble.”

She sips at her drink.

He bites at his nails.

He can feel that fire on his cheeks and his neck again.

“So, um, what’s your name?”

“(Y/n),” she says, and smiles, and reaches out a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you,” he says, forcing his most-composed smile. “Casey.”

He grabs her hand. It’s soft, and warm, and he feels himself blush even harder, harder.

Oh no. She notices. She sees it.

He quickly gulps some drink and rests his chin in his hands, trying to cover up the red. His heart is pounding, his face red, his fingers trembling. She’s looking at him. Sweet, sweet Marble Girl -- Y/n -- is looking at him, directly and personally, from across the tiny table.

She folds her hands under her chin and stares him in the eyes.

He glances away and clears his throat, rubbing the nape of his neck nervously.

“What conditioner do you use?” she asks. “And where are you from?”

“Hmm?”

“Conditioner,” she says. “You have shiny fluffy hair.”

“No, no, um --”

“Where you’re from? Yeah, yeah, where you’re from. You said your home was gone. …Agh, that’s probably too personal, isn’t it? I’m sorry, I --”

“No, no, it’s okay. It’s okay. Um. Yeah, it’s a little hard to believe, but I’m actually from…” he lowers his voice mysteriously “...the future.”

“The what?”

“The future.”

“Ooh! Good one.”

“No. I’m serious. I’m from the future. Well -- a future that no longer exists.”

“What? Really?” She’s staring at him, eyes wide and curious.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, given that your entire family is giant turtles, that isn’t the weirdest thing I’ve encountered today.” She laughs.

Casey smiles at her, softly. Gosh, he feels warm. The air is nipping at his nose and he just feels warm.

“So,” she says, leaning forward and wrapping her hands around her cup, “tell me: how did you get here? How did a boy from the future end up in modern-day NYC?”

She’s looking right at him, right right at him, and his heart is thumping in his ears.

He can’t talk for a moment, his brain buzzing out of commission for a few seconds.

“Hey? Earth to Casey?”

“Sorry, sorry,” he blurts out, finally, surprised by the sudden sound of his voice. “Sorry. It’s just really hard for me to think when you look at me.”

“Ooh.” Her eyebrows shoot up.

“Oh my gosh,” he says, his cheeks darkening. “Oh my gosh.”

They just stare at each other for a second, their faces red, their eyes wide.

“Sorry,” Casey mumbles, blushing harder and harder.

And Y/n just covers her face with her hands and giggles and giggles.