#and as always lemme know what you think of it

[kashverse]

Can we get some lore on Toji and mamaguro?

megumi, sitting cross-legged on the floor, tilts his head and asks the question of the century.

“how did you and papa meet?”

you pause. toji’s eyes immediately gleam with something absolutely devious. and you know—before he even opens his mouth—that he’s about to ruin it. ��ahhh, great question, kid,” toji sighs, cracking his knuckles like he’s about to tell the most important story of all time. “see, once upon a time, i was young. reckless. sexy. a lone wolf prowlin’ the streets—”

your head snaps toward him. “what.”

“—and then,” he continues, ignoring you completely, “i met this woman.” he jerks his chin toward you. “absolutely feral. scary as hell. deadly, too. had this whole mysterious cat burglar thing goin’ on.” megumi’s eyes widen. 

“like catwoman?”

“exactly!” toji claps his hands. “but hotter.”

you squint. “i took one look at her,” toji sighs dramatically, clutching his chest like a man struck by fate. “and bam!” he slaps the floor for emphasis, making megumi jump. “love at first sight.”

“…you were on the floor at first sight,” you correct. “because i threw you there.” toji grins. “same thing.”

megumi’s eyebrows furrow. “why’d you throw him?”

toji hums, tapping his chin like he’s recalling some grand tale. “well, kid, your mama wasn’t always the sweet, loving lady she is now. back in the day, she was a real menace. sharp, deadly, no-nonsense.” you roll your eyes. “and you were an idiot.”

“a charming idiot,” toji corrects, leaning back with a smirk. “but hey, you wanna hear the real story?” he gestures for megumi to sit closer, voice dropping conspiratorially. “lemme tell you how it really happened…”

 /\___/\ ꒰ ˶• ༝ - ˶꒱ ./づᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊°.. ₊ ⊹ . ₊˖ . ₊

toji should’ve known better than to touch you. but in his defense, he had really just wanted your attention. it wasn’t every day you saw someone move like that—fast, sharp, deadly, with the kind of ease that made seasoned killers look sloppy. you had just wiped the floor with half a dozen guys and hadn’t even broken a sweat. so, naturally, toji thought it would be real cute to tap your shoulder. 

“yo, sweetheart, what’s your—”

before he could finish, his back slammed against the pavement, skull bouncing off the concrete. you stood over him, eyes sharp, unimpressed, like you were deciding whether or not to finish the job. “touch me again and i’ll break your arm,” you said. toji, lying there with a grin stretching across his face, thought, damn.

toji was relentless. “shiuuuu,” he whined, draping himself over the back of shiu’s chair like a dead weight. “c’mon, man, just once. put me on a job with her. please.” shiu didn’t even look up from his paperwork. “for the last time, no.”

“why not?” toji huffed. “we’d be great together.” shiu sighed. “no, you’d be a menace. i don’t have time to deal with you getting distracted and showing off for your crush mid-mission.” toji crossed his arms. “what? i would not.”

shiu finally glanced at him. toji looked away. shiu raised an eyebrow. toji grumbled, “okay, maybe a little.”

shiu shook his head. “go away.” but did that stop toji? absolutely not.

the man campaigned like his life depended on it. followed you around whenever he saw you, made a damn fool of himself trying to impress you—sparring without a shirt (useless, you didn’t even blink), dramatically taking down targets in the most unnecessarily flashy ways, dropping the occasional sweetheart or princess just to see if he could get a rise out of you. nothing. you remained cool, detached, frustratingly uninterested. 

until one day, when you finally looked at him and said, “if i agree to work with you, will you shut up?” toji lit up like a kid on christmas. “yes.”

“fine.”

“wait, really?”

you shrugged. “shiu thinks you’re useful enough to keep around, so i’ll give it a shot. but if you slow me down, i’m leaving you behind.” toji grinned. “babe, you’re gonna love working with me.”

(you did not love working with him. at first.)

the first mission together was a disaster. not because it went wrong—oh no, everything was executed perfectly. but because toji spent the entire time trying to get you to laugh. he was muttering jokes over the comms, making faces when no one was looking, even tossing out ridiculous one-liners mid-fight just to see if he could crack your composure. nothing. you were focused, professional, as if you didn’t even register his antics. 

until the job was done, and he caught you, just for a split second, hiding the smallest smirk. toji nearly died on the spot. "i knew you had a sense of humor," he said, triumphant. you rolled your eyes. “if you mess around too much, you'll get yourself killed.” toji grinned. "nah. gotta stick around. haven’t won you over yet.”

(he did. eventually.)

 /\___/\ ꒰ ˶• ༝ - ˶꒱ ./づᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊°.. ₊ ⊹ . ₊˖ . ₊

megumi listened like it’s a live-action soap opera. “and guess what?” toji smirks, elbowing your side. “it worked.”

“against my better judgment,” you mutter, crossing your arms. megumi tilts his head. “but you like him now.”

toji grins, looking smug. “yeah, mama. you like me.”

you stare at him. then, with a perfectly measured swing, you whack the back of his head so fast that he blinks in shock. then, suddenly, something in his face changes. the slow grin. the slight daze in his eyes. “damn,” he breathes. “that’s exactly why i fell for you in the first place.”

megumi makes a disgusted face. but toji, still caught in whatever lovestruck spiral he’s in, just stretches and leans back against the couch, arms crossed behind his head. “it’s true, y’know,” he hums, reminiscing. “with other people, i was a cold bastard. with your mama? blubbering puppy.”

megumi looks at you for confirmation. you sigh. “unfortunately, yes.”

megumi squints. “prove it.”

toji’s grin widens.

somewhere, in an alternate flashback—

“alright, asshole, you got three seconds to start beggin’ before i blow your damn face off,” toji growls, pointing his gun at some poor soul tied to a chair. the guy trembles. “p-please, i—”

“not you, dumbass, him,” toji grunts, jerking his thumb toward his colleague—shiu, who is standing off to the side, looking like he has an unfortunate headache. “toji,” shiu sighs. “just finish the job.”

“nah, nah, lemme enjoy this.” toji cracks his neck. “c’mon, big guy, scream f'me.”

footsteps. and before the victim can even register what’s happening, toji suddenly changes. in half a second, he goes from “demonic assassin ready to pull the trigger” to—

“BABE!!”

his voice shoots up an octave. the victim stares. and then he watches—in real time—as the fearsome assassin fushiguro toji throws his loaded gun on the table and immediately goes soft. “babe,” toji beams, turning toward the door. “didja eat yet? you sleep okay? what’s up? what’s goin’ on?”

the victim blinks. you walk into the room like nothing is out of the ordinary, sipping a bottle of water, giving the scene a quick glance before meeting toji’s gaze.

“you forgot your lunch.”

you hold up a neatly wrapped bento box. toji gasps. "awww, babe, you love me.”

the victim gapes as toji practically skips over to you, completely forgetting he was in the middle of a goddamn interrogation. the target, still bound to his chair, is on the verge of tears. “WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING—”

back to the present—

megumi, jaw slightly dropped, slowly turns to his father.

“…you are pathetic.”

toji grins. “nah. i’m in love.” you sigh, rubbing your temples. “you were in love. now you’re just embarrassing.”

megumi nods in agreement. toji scoffs. “y’know, if this is the kinda disrespect i get in my own house—”

“—you can leave,” you and megumi say in unison. toji groans, flopping dramatically onto the floor. but secretly? he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[deansbeer]

ೇ WORTH EVERY PENNY. ☆

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

📖 LIBRARY !

PAIRING. dean winchester x f!reader.

SYNOPSIS. he ruined your other sheer lace bra last time while cleaning baby, so you bought a new one. when he sees you in it, though, all he can think about is sliding his cock between your tits—you don't stop him.

WARNINGS. smut | s1 dean | titfucking | use of oil | praising | dirty talk | dean's obsessed with ur tits (as he should) | strong language.

KARI TALKS. the link below is what inspired me to write this filthiness. listen !!! do not come for me !!! or i'll shoot u w my glock <3 because 🖕🏻 n e ways … i love smookums SO bad !!! he's such a lil slut <3 + this is lowkeyyy ass … but in bree's words! fuck it we ball.

🔗 P LINK.

dean owes you a bra. or at least, he owed you a bra.

but instead of whining about it—because let's be honest, you didn't actually care—you just went out and bought a new one. a better one.

it wasn't like you couldn't afford it.

your dad was loaded, ran a huge company known around the world, and you were his only daughter. money was never an issue. but when he made you choose between your inheritance or dean, the choice was easy.

you cut him off without a second thought.

and yeah, maybe that pissed off dean at first—because he had his whole pride thing going on—but you didn't give a shit. you were happy. you had him.

and right now? well, right now, you had his full attention.

"jesus, sweetheart. that's new."

you're lying on your back, your arms bent at the elbows, biceps pushing your tits together, giving him a perfect view of the new sheer lace bra wrapped around you.

it's delicate, expensive, barely even there.

dean's staring. openly. shamelessly. his green eyes dark, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip like he's already imagining all the ways he wants to ruin you.

and honestly? you love it.

"figured i deserved a new one," you say, tilting your head, acting all innocent. "since you completely soaked my last one."

he smirks, kneeling beside you on the bed, his hands already reaching for you. "not my fault you looked so cute all wet and pissed off."

"you drenched me, winchester."

"and you loved every second of it."

you roll your eyes, but you don't stop him when his fingers slide along the lace, tracing the curve of your tits, palming them through the fabric.

he exhales hard, cock already hard in his boxers, straining against the fabric.

"baby," he mutters. "this thing's barely even doin' its job."

you grin. "good."

he groans, squeezing a little rougher, thumbs brushing over your nipples through the thin material.

"you know," he starts, voice dropping, "i've always wanted to try somethin'."

you raise an eyebrow. "yeah?"

dean nods, his smirk turning downright filthy.

"lemme fuck these pretty tits."

you don't even hesitate. "whatever you want, baby."

dean looks too good, sitting back on his knees, muscles flexing, his cock heavy and hard in his hand.

he groans at your response, muttering a low, "fuck, you're perfect," before reaching over to grab something from the nightstand.

you hear the pop of a bottle cap, and then suddenly, his hands are lathering something warm and slick over your skin—oil, maybe?

whatever it is, it makes his touch glide like silk, his fingers sliding over your tits, spreading the shine, making them glisten under the dim motel light.

you hum, arching into his hands. "this your thing now, winchester? oiling me up?"

he chuckles, but his voice is strained. "nah, just wanna make sure i can slide in nice and easy, sweetheart."

you bite your lip, heat pooling between your thighs.

he positions himself, straddling your waist, his cock nestled right between your tits, the tip red and leaking, aching for friction.

"press 'em together for me, baby," he murmurs.

you obey, pushing your oiled-up tits around his cock, squeezing just right.

dean chokes out a groan, his head tipping back, hands gripping your ribs as he thrusts for the first time.

"yeah," he breathes. "just like that, sweetheart."

dean is a mess.

he starts slow, watching himself slide through the tight, slippery space, his cock disappearing and reappearing between your tits.

his breathing is ragged, his jaw clenched, his hands gripping the headboard behind you as he picks up the pace.

"jesus—fuck—"

his words send a shiver down your spine, and honestly? you're just as turned on as he is.

the sheer lace bra does nothing to hide the mess—his cock gliding between your slicked-up skin, the fabric barely covering your hard nipples, everything shiny with oil and precum.

dean loves it.

his eyes are blown out, fixated on the way your tits bounce with every thrust, his groans getting louder, rougher, more desperate.

"so fuckin' good—"

you giggle breathlessly, looking up at him. "you're really into this, huh?"

his eyes snap to yours, his hand is on your chin, tilting your face up.

"you have no idea," he rasps, before spitting right onto your tits.

you moan, clenching around nothing, the slick mess making everything even filthier.

"fuck, fuck—baby girl," he groans, thrusting harder now, his abs flexing, his hips snapping sharp and fast.

you love seeing him like this—wild, desperate, completely wrecked over you.

then—he loses it.

"shit—gonna cum—"

dean pulls back at the last second, his cock twitching, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he finishes all over your tits and that expensive, see-through lace bra.

he groans, long and deep, his head dropping forward, his body shuddering as he coats your skin in thick, warm ropes of cum.

you watch him, breathless, your thighs clenched, your own body aching for more.

"damn, baby," he mutters after a second, blinking down at you, his chest rising and falling.

you glance down at yourself, sticky and shiny, your new bra absolutely ruined.

"well," you hum, amused. "guess i'll be needing another one."

dean snorts, flopping onto the bed beside you, still catching his breath.

"yeah?" he smirks, glancing over. "that means i get to ruin another one, right?"

you roll your eyes, turning to straddle him instead.

"only if you make it up to me first."

he grins, grabbing your hips, pulling you down against his already half-hard cock.

"pretty girl," he murmurs, voice dripping with promise. "y'know, i can do that."

꒰୨୧꒱ SPECIAL TAGS. @titsout4jackles @daylighted @bluemerakis @beausling @aileenunfiltered @honeyryewhiskey @figthoughts @lacydollette @starzify @ultravi0lence14 @soldiersgirl @sunsbaby @abox-of-rocks @whisperingdaze @eepwtf @deanswidow @voidsuites @jasvtsc @cowboysandcigarettes @stereotypicalbarbie @unfortunate-brat

[barrenclan]

i feel a bit bad for cormorant :( im sure this isnt your intent but it almost feels as though hes settled for a life he didnt want

I'm curious what this is in response to - there's two major things I can think of, so let me explore them for a second!

So, if this is in response to the idea that Cormorantleaf wants kittens and Pinewing doesn't; lemme talk about that for a second. I tried to go into it in the last epilogue, but with their late-stage relationship I wanted to address a trope in fiction that really bothers me, especially as someone who doesn't want to have children. Stop me if you've heard it before:

Characters A and B are in a romantic relationship. Character A wants to have kids, but B doesn't, for whatever reason. They struggle, and talk about it, and eventually A says "it's okay, even if we don't have kids, I'll still love you!" It's really nice, and confirms that they love each other even if they don't want. Except, then, B turns around and says "it's so good to know that! It made me change my mind; I got over my 'fears', and now I do want kids!"

That bugs me. It's always the assumption, even if it's established that a relationship would be okay without kids, it's always on the onus of the person who doesn't want children to change their mind. It's never enough to stop at "it's okay if we don't have kids together" - and then they don't. So that's what I wanted to do with Cormorantleaf and Pinewing's relationship, and it's why I had Pinewing talk about his discomfort surrounding children so often and Cormorantleaf's potential to be a father. If Corm wanted kids more than he wanted to be with Pine - he could leave! No stopping him. But Pinewing matters more to him than having kids does. I find it more distasteful that someone would force themselves to raise children if they didn't want to (it's almost like that's a theme of the story... and kind of exactly what happened with Nightberry). Admittedly, I would've liked to rather do that idea with Daffodilcloud and Duncan instead of the main gay couple, but eh, I already had an end-of-arc theme with Daff to wrap up that would've clashed. These are the decisions you make when writing a story.

On the other hand, if this is in response to the idea that they're traveling around instead of settling down in one place, or that Pinewing is forcing him into the relationship; maybe I was a bit too subtle with what I was trying to get across. Cormorantleaf was actually the first one to suggest that they travel around together, way back in Issue 26:

Corm needs an emotional anchor more than a physical anchor. And this was especially clear in his early development, and how his relationship to Pinepaw was a bit unhealthy (and vice versa, too); he had such intense abandonment issues that he was holding Pinepaw up as a total pillar of support, and believed he wouldn't be able to survive without him.

That's why I wanted Cormorantleaf to have a chance to be on his own during the breakup, and solidfy that he could exist without a relationship, that he didn't need another person to survive. But instead that he could willingly choose a relationship with Pinewing, because it was something he wanted and something he thought would enrich his life rather than an obligation.

All that to say that Comorantleaf's hesitation in the last epilogue is not meant to be presented as "he's being forced into something he doesn't want by Pinewing", but rather "he's scared that them traveling around will cause Pinewing to abandon him, and that makes him panic and lash out".

And Pinewing would have absolutely stayed with him even after Cormorantleaf yelled at him, except that Corm happened to hit on Pinewing's own insecurities that come from his childhood of neglect and feelings that nobody actually wants him around:

You don't have to be un-anonymous to respond to this, and anyways if it's just personal feelings that's perfectly valid and not something I want to try and change. But I never meant to make it seem like Cormorantleaf wasn't happy with where he ended up, or that he 'settled' for something he didn't want.

[dckweed]

ROSIE!, alpha!simon riley x omega reader

in which captain price sends alpha simon on a much needed vacation to his secluded countryside cabin, but leaves out a most important detail- he has a live in omega caretaker to care for his little cabin when he’s away! and she’s the prettiest, sweetest little thing that simon ever did see..

warnings: alpha/omega universe, mentions/depictions of abuse, smut, pregnancy, kind of forced proximity?, ill add as i go...please note that i know NOTHING about COD but i am in love with the 141 guys and this has been rotting in my brain. absolute fucking filth. simon fucks us good and proper okay? size kink kinda? whatever that kink is where hes so big you can feel him your belly, raw dogging, mating press, slight choking i think, finger sucking, bed breaking, mind shattering smut, mama/papa kink kinda?

hello my slutty little friends :) i miss y'all. work has been absolutely kicking my ass, i love what i do (pet groomer) but there are days when i walk out of my salon and damn near collapse here lately from how exhausted my body is. how have y'all been? whats new in y'alls worlds?? lemme know what you think!

series masterlist!

CHAPTER FOUR: mine?

The warmth that had lulled you into sleep hadn’t left, but something had changed. You stirred, blinking groggily as your body registered the shift—Simon was no longer beneath you. Instead, the scent of him still lingered, thick in the sheets, a heady mix of spice and earth that made your Omega whimper at the loss of his warmth. You let out a soft noise of protest, stretching, only to realize how sore you were. Not unpleasantly so, but enough to remind you exactly what had transpired before you’d passed out.

Your thighs still trembled slightly as you tried to press them together, but they were held apart by the weight of an arm draped lazily over your waist. You startled slightly, before turning your head to see Simon lying next to you, propped up on one elbow, watching you. His eyes were sharp, studying you intently, darkened with something unreadable.

“Mornin’, babygirl.” His voice was thick with sleep, raspy and deep in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. His lips quirked slightly when he saw the way you clenched your thighs together at the sound. “Still sore?”

You swallowed thickly, nodding slightly, your body still pliant from exhaustion. His smirk widened, but there was something else in his expression too—something softer, something bordering on concern.

“Didn’t mean to wear you out too much,” he muttered, voice still rough as his hand slid over the curve of your hip, his thumb rubbing slow, soothing circles against your skin. “You alright?”

You should be embarrassed. Should be shy about how easily you’d fallen apart for him, how you’d given yourself over so completely in the throes of your heat—but you weren’t. Not when Simon looked at you like this, like he was already planning to do it all over again, but only if you wanted him to.

Your Omega purred at the touch, leaning into his warmth instinctively. “M’okay,” you murmured, letting your fingers curl against his chest. You felt the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the quiet rumble of his wolf just beneath the surface. “Jus’... didn’t think you’d still be here.”

His brow furrowed slightly at that. “Where else would I be?”

You hesitated, looking away, but he didn’t let you. A firm hand caught your chin, turning your face back towards him. His eyes were molten, burning with something unreadable.

“You thought I’d leave?”

Your lips parted, but no words came. You weren’t sure how to explain it—the fear that always lingered in the back of your mind, the expectation that any Alpha who touched you would eventually get bored, would walk away and never look back. It had happened before. It would happen again.

But Simon didn’t look amused. In fact, he looked… pissed.

“You really think I’m that kind of man?” he asked, voice dangerously low. His grip on your chin wasn’t painful, but it was firm, forcing you to look at him, to see the raw honesty in his expression. “That I’d just fuck off and leave you after that?”

You bit your lip, fighting the urge to shrink away. “I don’t know…”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. His wolf bristled, displeased with your uncertainty. “That’s not how this works, Rosie. Not with me.”

His hand slid down, wrapping around the back of your neck, his fingers threading into the fine hairs at your nape. It was possessive, grounding, making your Omega preen beneath his touch.

“You’re mine now,” he murmured, voice a low growl that sent a jolt of heat straight to your core. “You understand that?”

You swallowed thickly. “Mine?”

He nodded once, firm, unwavering. “Mine.” His thumb brushed against your pulse point, feeling the way it thrummed wildly beneath his touch. “And I take care of what’s mine.”

Your breath hitched. The weight of his words settled deep in your bones, heavy and absolute. You should be scared. Should be wary of how quickly he was claiming you, of how easily your wolf accepted it.

But you weren’t.

Instead, you shuddered, nodding as a quiet whimper left your lips. “Okay.”

A satisfied growl rumbled through his chest as he tugged you closer, pressing his nose against your scent gland, inhaling deeply. “Good girl.”

You melted into his touch, letting yourself be held, letting yourself believe—for once—that maybe, just maybe, this Alpha wouldn’t leave you behind.

That maybe, this time, you’d finally found someone who would stay.

Simon’s lips brushed against your scent gland, slow and deliberate, sending a shiver down your spine. He inhaled deeply, letting your scent seep into him, filling his lungs as his wolf preened in satisfaction. His mouth moved lower, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against your skin, each one more insistent than the last. His teeth scraped along the sensitive gland, and you whined, tilting your head further to the side, giving him full access.

“That’s it, babygirl,” he murmured against your skin, voice thick with want. “Let me mark you up proper.”

His lips latched onto your throat, sucking harshly, leaving bruises blooming against your soft skin. Hickeys littered your scent gland, dark and possessive, his claim on you made clear. You trembled in his arms, whimpering softly, your Omega utterly pliant beneath him. His hands held you firm, pressing you closer, keeping you right where he wanted you.

And then, he bit down.

Sharp pain blossomed for a brief moment before it was drowned out by pleasure so intense it stole the breath from your lungs. You gasped, body arching against him as his fangs sank into you, claiming you in the most primal way possible. His growl reverberated through your very core, a deep, possessive sound that sent a thrill through you.

Simon didn’t let go right away. He held you there, his teeth still buried in your flesh as he let his scent mix with yours, branding you as his. When he finally pulled back, he licked over the wound, soothing the sting, his eyes heavy-lidded, filled with something deep and raw.

“There,” he muttered, his voice rough. “Now, everyone knows who you belong to.”

You barely had the strength to respond, lost in the haze of his claim, the warmth of his presence, and the undeniable truth that you were his now.

Completely and utterly his.

Simon’s hand slipped down your body, slow and deliberate, exploring the dips and curves as if memorizing you. His lips trailed lower, kissing over your collarbone, down to the swell of your breasts, his tongue flicking over sensitive skin. You gasped, fingers tangling in his hair as he nipped and sucked, his touch growing more insistent, more reverent.

He guided you onto your back, his weight pressing against you, strong and steady. “Gonna make love to you now, babygirl,” he murmured, his voice like molten honey. “Gonna take my time, make sure you feel just how much you mean to me.”

And as he moved against you, slow but intense, every touch, every kiss, every whispered praise made it clear—you were his. Fully, completely, irrevocably his.

He started with your breasts, tearing the shirt you wore, an old one of John’s that you’d borrowed once upon a time and never gave back, with a satisfied growl your juicy tits bouncing as the fabric is torn away from them, released from their confines. You whimper as you watch him lick his lips, could swear that there’s slobber around his mouth as he dives in, tongue giving a long hot stripe from the underside of your left breast to the top of your peaked nipple, teeth pulling at it in the gentlest of ways as he stared at you, eyes never leaving yours as his hand, large and warm and callused cups your right breast, kneading the soft and supple flesh between his fingers, rolling the peaking nipple between his finger tips, tugging and pulling at it until you whimper, your chest pushing up farther into his mouth before he releases the one his mouth is on with a pop, having sucked a hickey around it without you even realizing, the skin puffed and purple and absolutely divine looking with the mark of his passions etched onto it. You whimper, missing the warmth of his mouth almost instantaneously, the hormones of your heat surging through you so messily that you needed him, needed to feel him everywhere, anywhere even..the slick coating your pussy was messy, leaking down onto your thighs and probably even onto the sheets beneath you, it would be a mess to clean out of the fabric, but you didn’t care not when he was between those thighs, his broad, thick frame making his way farther and farther down the valley of your pudgy belly, hands gripping onto the bits of fat above your hips as if he’s holding on for dear life as your hips buck up involuntarily, inviting him in of their own accord. 

You swear that you see his amber eyes roll into the back of his head, swear you see that wolf in him take the forefront. A growl comes from the back of his throat and with no warning he buries himself in your cunt, taking in the biggest breath you’d ever seen a wolf take, as if committing the sent of your heat to memory, as if there might be a time where he has nothing but the memory of the way your pussy smells..you realize that maybe there will be, that he’ll have to go back to his work with the military at some point and you start to feel sad, worried even though the feelings are fleeting as he munches down on your mound, embedding his teeth into the skin above your clit as if he’s trying to mark you there too, as if you would dare let another alpha see it after this. 

“S-si-” You stutter out, breathless as you feel his tongue lap at your pulsing hole, waiting for him to feast on you like he had the night before. His large hand is splayed over your pussy, holding you down as he growls, eyes shooting up to look at you as he starts eating, like he’s feasting on the most delicious meal he’s ever had. You throw your head back, hand shooting out to grasp at the hair on top of his head, to hold him there as your hips buck up against his face, stubble of his beard rubbing against the still sensitive skin from the night before as his tongue splays out on your folds, your messy, hot slick coating his buds. “Mmphf, please-please-” 

A low growl vibrating against your achy pussy, tears already near spilling form your eyes, oversensitive and he hadn’t even fucked you yet, hadn’t buried his surely long and thick cock into your weeping hole, bred you full of his seed.. “Already beggin’ f’me, lovie?” His voice his husky, bringing you back to the present, pulling your mind from your thoughts as he does, his other hand gently rubbing your supple thigh. “A’vent even done anything to y’ yet..” 

You sigh at his words, your hips still bucking up, as if chasing his mouth. Part of you wondered if it was your wolf controlling you, if she was such a horny little slut that she would chase his mouth with your pussy..it was nearly laughable. “Jus’ need you Si, please?” You preen, looking at the man with watery eyes and you could have sworn his chest had swelled with some kind of pride at the level of undone you already were. “Please..wanna feel you, want it so bad, please, please?” You were whining now, could cry even, and your wolf was whining oh so loudly, begging even for you to beg more. He rose up, fingers digging into the meaty flesh of your hips as he did, on his knees now, hard chest glistening with a sheen of sweat as he pulled you towards him, your legs spreading wider to accommodate the width of his waist, wrapping around him, caging him in as your thighs rested over his, you could feel the head of his hard cock brushing against your bareskin through his sweatpants, where it was stuffed down to one side. It felt..huge..too huge, even..it had been so long since you’d..been fucked, been stuffed properly and you weren’t sure if you could even fit the size of him inside of yo- ‘he’ll fit! I swear he’ll fit, we’ll make him..make it fit nice and good!’ goddess she was right. “Please, alpha, need you in me..i’ll be a good girl, i promise!” 

The grip on your hips tightened, and you saw him suck in a breath deep into his chest as he looked down at you, looking at you as if you were the only thing worth looking at in that moment. “Yeah,” He breathed, eyes darker than you’d ever seen them. “Y’gonna be good f’me?” One of his hands left your hips, sinking down to the waistband of his gray sweatpants to slide it down somehow getting them halfway down his thighs in one swift motion, his cock springing free. If your pussy could have fainted, you’re sure it would have. He was big, so gloriously thick and long that your mouth watered at the sight, cunt dripping more slick down your thighs. He groaned at the sight, eyes never leaving your cunt as he watched his cock slide over the glistening mound, back and forth, coating himself in your slick. “G’nna let me fuck this pretty little pussy? Fill it full with my cum? Get you nice and fat with my pups, hmm babygirl, tha’ what you wan’?” 

You whimper, nodding vigorously as you watch him, wolf howling in your head so loudly that you wanted to punch her. Your hips rocked every time he moved his cock upwards, dragging it across your already sensitive bud, as if you were chasing it, wanting to suck it into your pulsing, dripping hole.. “Please, please, plea-oh!” You were in the midst of begging again, chasing it again when you felt him notch his head in your opening, felt him push it in just the littlest of bits. “More, more!” You demanded, whining,  only to be met with a sharp smack to your thigh, causing you to yelp and jump, moaning as the motion pulled his cock into you deeper. 

“Aht aht, babygirl,” He says, voice husky, strained as if trying to control himself. “Y’not the one in charge ‘ere, yeah?” You pout and you can see his eyes widen, his hand comes up to grip you chin tightly, thumb rubbing gently against your lips. “None a’that now, yeah? Tryna make you a mama right now, right babygirl?” You nod, preening at his words, wanting him to fill you up just like your wolf wanted, wanted to make him proud, make him a papa. You gasp as he pushes himself in more, another inch of him notched so perfectly inside you, his thumb dipping into your mouth now that it’s open and on instinct you wrap your plump lips around the thick digit, swirling your tongue and sucking, moaning as he pushes in even farther, rocking his hips back and forth despite not even being fully buried in you. You don’t miss the moan, the way he has to scrunch his shut as you suck on his finger, as you clench down on his cock, already close to cuming all over it. 

“S’good, si, so good..” You groan, voice high pitched around his thumb as he gives you a particularly rough thrust, and you swear you feel his pelvis kiss yours, feel his cockhead brushing against your spongey cervix, ready for his seed. Your hips buck up again, sucking him in farther and you hear him mutter under his breath, feel his self control break. You can see the wolf come out and you’re so absolutely pleased with yourself when he growls so loudly, when he pulls his thumb out of your mouth you whine, though the loss only affects you for a moment. 

Before you know it, he’s gripped the back of your thighs with both hands,  spreading them wider a he pulls you up so that your ass is fully seating on his thighs, legs thrown over his shoulder as he bends you practically in half in one swift movement, pistoning his cock in you with what you know is superhuman speed, dragging little uh-uh-uhs out of you, completely rearranging your insides as he fucks you properly, arms wrapped around your knees, holding them to his chest as he bends your hips, plugging you so full of his cock that the two of you could’ve become one person, holding you so that you cant pull away. And why would you even want to? Why would you want this to stop? You didn’t, wouldn’t, not when he’s so deep in your pussy that you can feel him in your belly, can see him pushing in and out. Can feel it “righ’ he-re,” You whine, vision blurring as you fucks you so close to the edge of an orgasm that you know you’re done for. Somehow you find the strength to move your arm, lift your hand so it’s on your belly. Yes, yes, feel it! Oh he feels so good!  You press down when he thrusts back into you, hardly pulling out before your pussy sucks him right back in, and you buck, whining at the pressure of you touching him from the outside while he’s inside of you. It must feel good for him too because he practically roared when you did it, and now he’s got you fully bent in half, your knees up by your head even though they’re still thrown over his shoulders, his hands on either side of your head as he fucks you so hard you can feel your bed frame breaking, can feel the head board as it cracks in half, the new dip in the mattress as it buckles. “I-ung-si-feel…right..here-” You’re cumming before you can finish the sentence, pussy clamping down on him so hard that you feel him stagger, try to pull back from the vice you have on him. You’re breathless, panting even though you’ve done none of the work, tears that you didn’t even remember crying leaking from the corners of your eyes. “Feel you right here Alpha, so deep..so big..” You’re  babbling mess at this point, cant even comprehend the words coming out of your own mouth with you feel his cock start to swell, feel your pussy grip down on it harder, as if you’re about to cum again. 

“Thas’ it babygirl,” He pants, lips trailing across your tits, biting down every so often as he works his cock in and out of you, knot swelling as he watches the length of him in your stomach, feels you pressing down on him again. “Bein’ such a good fuckin’ girl, my perfect little omega huh?” You nod, whimpering, clawing at his shoulders as your thighs shake, overstimulated as he fucks you even harder than he had been before. The bed frame cracks even louder and you swear the bed jolts as it collapses, though it does nothing to Simon besides pushing him somehow even deeper into you, cock kissing your womb with such precision that there's no way you wont be knocked up after this. “Feel that? Feel my knot?” You nod vigorously, nails dug into his shoulders as tears of pleasure stream from your eyes, you feel something wet and hot on your cheeks, his tongue lapping at the salty liquid streaming from your ducts. “Fuckin’ gonna fill you up so good, hm? Wanna give me little babies? Wanna be a mama for me?”

“Please! Yes, yes, yes!” You keep chanting it, chant his name somewhere in there too and he keeps fucking you so hard as you chant to him some more “wanna make you papa, please, please!” so deep and raw that you swear you see stars, swear that you’re going to pass out until he stills, a low growl rumbling from his chest before you feel it, the hot ropes of his seed coursing through you, coating your insides, marking you as his somehow even more so than the mark now permanently on your neck. He moans your name, stilling inside of you once you’ve milked him as much as you can, your cunt squeezing him dry. He’s panting, you’re panting, your legs still over his shoulders when you feel his large hands caressing the back of your thighs, rubbing them as if to soothe the shaking, his thumbs moving back and forth over the heated, flushed skin, his lips kissing every bit of skin that he can find on your face. 

You fade in and out, your body thoroughly fucked and exhausted. You’re not sure when you pass out, or when he finally pulls himself out of you, albeit with a sad whine from you, but eventually he does, even much to his own dismay..

“I need a new bed..” You mumble as he pulls you up onto his chest, laying you on top of him so you can rest some more, your heat making your body exhausted from even the smallest of movements, he could only imagine how tired you were after being fucked properly like that. He chuckles at your words, at the fact that you thought you’d be sleeping anywhere but in his bed from now on. 

A while later, Simon lay on his side, watching you sleep, completely still save for the slow rise and fall of your chest. His wolf, for once, was calm, thoroughly satisfied by the scent of his Omega wrapped up in his arms, marked, and entirely his. His fingertips traced along your shoulder lightly, memorizing every inch of you.

Then your stomach rumbled, breaking the peaceful silence.

His wolf immediately snarled in his mind. You let her go hungry?! After everything? You absolute bastard, all you care about is burying yourself in her heat instead of taking care of her!

Simon groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose before carefully extracting himself from the bed. He pulled off his shirt, tucking it beside your head so that even in sleep, you could still smell him, ensuring you wouldn’t stir from his absence. His wolf continued to berate him the entire time he slipped out of the room.

Once he was safely downstairs, he let out an exasperated sigh and muttered under his breath, “Shut the fuck up, you dramatic prick.”

His wolf merely huffed, though Simon could still hear the muttered insults as he moved into the kitchen to start making lunch.

He reached for his phone, dialing Price’s number. The line rang twice before the Captain picked up, his voice gruff as ever.

“Ghost. ’Bout time you checked in.”

Simon leaned against the counter, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well… been busy with your live in..my mate.” It was the first time he had said it out loud, the first time that one of them had ever said it out loud. 

There was a pause, then a knowing chuckle. “Knew it. Knew somethin’ was different. How’s she doin’?”

“She’s… good. Sleepin’ now. Wore her out.” His wolf preened at the admission. “Didn’t realize it was the middle of the damn day. Haven’t even fed her yet.”

Price barked a laugh. “Christ, mate, already slippin’? She’ll have you wrapped around her little finger in no time.”

Simon scowled but couldn’t deny it. Before he could respond, Price continued, “Listen, I’m sendin’ Johnny your way. Bastard’s injured himself again, and I’m sick of listenin’ to him bitch. Keep an eye on him, yeah?”

Simon sighed but nodded. “Yeah. I got him.”

“Good. And Ghost?”

“Hm?”

“You take care of that girl. Make sure she knows she’s safe.”

A small, rare smile tugged at Simon’s lips. “Yeah. I will.”

taglist: @wise-owl @bingoz @astrxsee @gazsluckyhat @howlerwolfmax @thisbitch-6 @littlelovebug98 @ungodlydilf @madsothree @rosallels @brilliantbecca94 @jaxz21 @mk-kbtbb

[alittlegiraffe]

Title: Through My Eyes

The glow of your phone screen was the only thing illuminating the bedroom as you sat curled up against the headboard, scrolling through the endless comments.

"She’s so plain."

"What does he even see in her?"

"She looks sickly—someone get her a sandwich."

"Boring as hell. No wonder he’s always writing about heartbreak."

Your stomach twisted, fingers tightening around your phone as the words burned into your brain. You knew better than to read the comments. You’d told yourself a thousand times not to look. But curiosity always won out, and now, here you were, letting strangers pick apart every inch of you like you weren’t a real person—just an attachment to him.

You didn’t even hear Marshall come in until the bed dipped beside you.

"Y’good, baby?" His voice was rough with sleep, laced with concern.

You inhaled sharply, locking your phone and setting it face-down on your lap. "Yeah. Just… couldn’t sleep."

Marshall’s tired blue eyes flickered to your phone, then back to your face. He wasn’t stupid. He could see the way your body was curled in on itself, the way you wouldn’t quite meet his gaze.

He reached out, running a gentle hand down your arm. "What’d they say this time?"

Your throat tightened. "It’s nothing, really—"

"Bullshit," he cut in, his jaw ticking. "You only get like this when some dumbass on the internet gets in your head."

You exhaled, looking away. "It’s just the usual stuff. That I’m boring, too thin, too plain… That you could do better."

Silence.

Then, Marshall grabbed your phone, unlocking it easily—he knew your passcode—and scrolling through your notifications. His grip tightened as he scanned the comments.

"Fuckin’ ridiculous," he muttered, shaking his head. Then, before you could react, he tossed your phone across the room. It landed somewhere on the carpet with a soft thud.

"Marshall—"

"Nah," he cut you off, shifting to face you fully. His hands found your legs, tugging you forward until you were straddling his lap. His big, warm hands settled on your waist, holding you firm. "Look at me."

You hesitated, but his fingers curled under your chin, tilting your face up until your eyes met his.

"You really believe that shit?" he asked, voice low but intense. "That you’re not enough for me?"

You swallowed hard. "It’s not that I believe it, but—"

"But nothin’," he interrupted, shaking his head. His hands slid from your waist to your arms, then back again, like he needed to remind himself that you were real, that you were his. "Lemme tell you somethin’, baby. You think I want some overdone, plastic, attention-hungry chick who don’t know the first thing about me? You think I’d trade this—" He squeezed your hips, his eyes dark and serious. "You—for some Instagram model who don’t know how to hold a real conversation?"

You let out a shaky breath. "I just… I don’t want people thinking you deserve better."

Marshall’s face softened, but his grip on you didn’t. "Ain’t nobody in this world better than you, sweetheart." His fingers skimmed under the hem of your shirt, sliding along your bare skin. "You think I give a fuck if you’re ‘plain’? You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Inside and out. I don’t need flashy, or fake, or whatever the hell these people think I should have. I need this. I need you."

Tears pricked at your eyes, and Marshall sighed, pulling you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you completely. His lips pressed against your temple, lingering.

"They don’t see what I see," he murmured. "But they don’t fuckin’ matter."

You melted into him, breathing in his scent, his warmth, his love.

"Don’t let ‘em take up space in that pretty little head of yours, alright?" He pulled back just enough to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. "Only opinion that matters is mine. And I think you’re fuckin’ perfect."

A small smile finally found its way to your lips, and Marshall smirked, brushing a knuckle under your chin.

"There’s that smile," he murmured. "Now, c’mere, lemme remind you exactly how much I see you."

And as he pulled you back down to him, hands roaming, lips claiming, the noise of the outside world faded away. Because in his eyes, you were everything.

Marshall didn’t let you go. Not even for a second.

He held you like he was afraid you’d slip away, like he needed to erase every cruel word from your mind with his touch alone. His hands roamed your back, your sides, gripping, kneading—reminding you that you were his.

"You hear me?" he murmured against your lips, his breath warm, his voice rough. "Ain’t nobody’s opinion matter but mine. And I think you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid my fuckin’ eyes on."

You let out a shaky breath, fingers twisting into his hoodie. "Marshall—"

"Nah," he interrupted, shaking his head, his hands sliding under your shirt, palms warm against your skin. "You don’t get to brush this off. Not after I just watched you shrink in on yourself over some dumb shit some jealous motherfuckers said on the internet."

Your throat tightened, the vulnerability creeping in again, but Marshall wasn’t having it. He leaned in, brushing his lips across your jaw, trailing soft, lingering kisses down your neck.

"You’re mine," he murmured, his voice dark and full of promise. "Every inch of you. Ain’t nobody else’s opinion matter."

You let out a soft whimper as his teeth grazed your pulse point, your fingers clenching against his chest. He was overwhelming in the best way, drowning out every insecurity with the sheer force of his love, his need to make you understand.

His lips found your ear, his breath sending shivers down your spine. "You think you’re too thin? I love your body, baby. Every soft, sweet, perfect inch of it." His hands slid down, gripping your hips, pulling you flush against him. "You think you’re boring? Then why the fuck am I so addicted to you? Why can’t I go a day without wantin’ to hear your voice, see your face, touch you?"

Tears welled in your eyes, but this time, they weren’t from hurt. They were from the sheer weight of his love, of how fiercely he saw you.

Marshall pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, his gaze burning into yours. "I’m in love with you," he said, voice firm, raw. "Not who people think I should be with. Not some fantasy. You. And I don’t ever wanna hear you doubt that again."

You swallowed thickly, nodding, unable to find words.

His expression softened, his hands cradling your face, thumbs brushing away the wetness on your cheeks. "C’mere," he whispered before pressing his lips to yours—slow, deep, reverent.

You melted into him, letting him pour every unspoken word, every reassurance, every ounce of love into you. And as he laid you down, taking his time, worshipping every part of you, you finally started to see yourself the way he did.

Perfect. Beautiful. His.

---

The morning sun peeked through the curtains, casting a golden glow over the bedroom. You stirred slightly, feeling warm, safe—wrapped up in him.

Marshall’s arms were snug around you, one hand splayed across your lower back, the other lazily tangled in your hair. He was still asleep, his breathing slow and steady against the top of your head, but even in sleep, his grip on you was firm, possessive—like he wasn’t ready to let go.

You shifted just enough to look up at him, taking in the peaceful expression on his face. The hardened, world-weary man everyone else saw was nowhere to be found. Here, with you, he was just Marshall. Just the man who held you together when the world tried to tear you down.

Your heart clenched as the sting of last night’s comments threatened to creep back in, but then—his arms tightened around you, like he knew where your mind was headed, even in his sleep.

"You ain’t thinkin’ about that shit again, are you?"

His voice was rough with sleep, but there was still that edge to it—the same one he had when he was protecting something his.

You sighed, resting your chin on his chest. "No," you murmured.

His eyes cracked open just enough to scan your face. "Liar," he muttered before pulling you back against him, shifting so you were practically on him now.

You let out a soft laugh, but it quickly faded when he ran his hands up your back, slow and deliberate. "I meant what I said last night," he murmured, pressing a lazy kiss to your forehead. "Ain’t nobody’s opinion matter but mine."

You bit your lip, tucking your face into his neck. "I know."

Marshall hummed, not convinced. His fingers tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Do you?"

You hesitated, and that was all the answer he needed.

He exhaled, shaking his head before flipping the two of you so he was hovering over you now, caging you in with his arms. "Then lemme say it again," he rasped. "You’re mine. Every part of you. I don’t give a fuck what people think, baby. I don’t want anybody else. I don’t even see anybody else."

His lips brushed against yours, barely there, but his eyes—intense, unwavering—told you he meant every word.

"I don’t wake up every day next to them," he murmured. "I wake up next to you. And that’s the only thing that fuckin’ matters."

You swallowed hard, nodding, because how could you not believe him when he looked at you like that? Like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

He smirked at your silence, finally closing the gap and kissing you—slow, deep, reassuring. Like he was sealing his words into your skin.

When he pulled back, he brushed a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek. "Now, what do you say we go get some breakfast, Mrs. Mathers? Maybe post a cute lil’ selfie so people know exactly who I’m wrapped up with every night?"

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t fight the smile forming on your lips. "You’re impossible."

Marshall grinned, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "Yeah, yeah. But I’m your impossible."

And just like that, the noise of the outside world didn’t matter anymore.

---------

A/N: based on a real life conversation I overheard at a lil get together with my husband's friends last night. His best friend's sister is apparently very much not impressed by my husband's choice of wife.

[animeyanderelover]

Ahhh, had the same shit last year and I'm surprised I survived it was smth 😭 Fast recovery to you! Glad you're feeling better alr 🙏

Lemme jump into the ranking event – Risotto, Ghiaccio, Prosciutto and Melone (JJBA), who in your opinion will get along with nonchalant, accepting darling quicker/who will be the most paranoid ab darlings behaviour?

Best wishes to you again, take care ❤️‍🩹

Tags: @simplydlightfuldestiny @flaming-vulpix

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, paranoia, isolation, abduction

Ranking Event

Melone

🍉Melone would be the one person who would most definitely adapt the quickest to a nonchalant darling. Whilst there is definitely a valid point that he would be one of the creepier guys to have from Risotto’s group, in his own way Melone is actually quite chill. What he loves are the games though, Melone knows that he’s being weird and he relishes in that simple fact. He loves his games to see how much he can creep you out and not even he would have initially assumed that he would find you so interesting despite your rather indifferent attitude. That isn’t to say that he stops messing around, curious to find out where your limits are and if he can break them. Otherwise there is this foreign emotion of giddiness that just settles in as Melone now simply basks in the fact that he can be so openly weird in front of you and you’ll still love him for it. He’s all touchy and constantly gushes over you, constantly pinches your cheeks as he gets cuteness aggression. There’s actually a lot of freedom to gain with being as nonchalant as you are. Melone puts that trust in you as he allows you to roam around freely and that even without tracking you, a sign of high trust.

Prosciutto

🟡Prosciutto doesn’t trust easily and considering his position, perhaps it is understandable why he feels that way. After all regular civilians do not hold the mafia in very high regards so your natural behavior is all confused as an act at first. It sounds quite plausible after all in his mind, that you would try to butter up to him so that you can gain his trust and use it against him eventually. He does not speak those thoughts out loud though. First of all because he wants to catch you in your act and second of all because speaking it out loud would make it more painful. After all even though he can logically understand where you are coming from it would still hurt him to admit out loud that he thinks that you’re merely acting to run away from him. So he just waits for the shoe to drop and for you to slip up and expose your real intentions. That’s why he refuses to let his heart get swayed by and affection that you initiate from your side, always reminding himself that he should not fall for your trick. As time passes by he would slowly reconsider if his suspicions were falsely placed and would allow you little acts of freedom all too see if you are being sincere or just a skilled actress.

Risotto Nero

📎Years of being an assassin have taught Risotto to never let his guard down even if the situation appears to be safe. The same strategy can be applied to how he approaches a relationship with a darling as nonchalant as you are. Sure, you may not look like you are being insincere but the eyes can deceive. Similar to Prosciutto, Risotto won’t voice his suspicion out to you as he instead lurks around and waits for that moment where you do a mistake and he gets to expose you. He expects it as you have every reason to deceive him. After all he is part of the Mafia whilst you are just a normal civilian who probably expected a very different life in comparison to what you face now. Your every word and even the minuscule twitch of your muscles is observed intently all as he searches for hints to prove that you are not being sincere with him. Risotto doesn’t allow his heart to soften when you express your affection when with him all to not grow weak. It takes a long time for him to slowly start believing that you are being sincere and are actually not lying to him. Usually he values a rational approach over the emotional one, hence why it takes so long for him to accept the idea that you genuinely love him.

Ghiaccio

🌨️Ghiaccio would be the one to struggle the most with a nonchalant darling all because his temper is so terribly all over the place. What he feels for you is very intense and so out of his control that he can barely regulate himself around you, an issue that he has already in his daily life without your involvement. Ghiaccio is in the truest sense of the word a ticking time bomb and that definitely comes to bite you back as he lashes out on you even when you have technically done nothing wrong. Whenever he is irritated or stressed because of something, his brain tends to overanalyse the situation which is exactly how and why he accuses you of only trying to lull him into a false sense of security. After all why else would you be so compliant with this entire situation if not due to trying to lie to him and to use him? One glance into a wrong direction could be enough to set him off when he is in such a mood, leading to you sitting on the couch whilst he is busily yelling at you and accusing you of things you have never done before. Even if there is some progress being made, the moment he relapses it all starts over again which is why patience is the key trait that is needed.

[yongility]

NEO TV # i like me better when i'm with you ꗃ╭╯ jung jaehyun.

──────── chapter ⵌ 8: ghosts of the past.

𒄬 genre: slowburn / angst / suggestive / gang au / rich kid au / e2l

𒄬 warnings: drug use mention / gang activity / fights / use of weapons / adult language / nsfw scenes / illegal activities / mentions of cheating / toxic family enviroment / addictions / manipulation / insecurities / illegal street racing / death mentions / jeno is jaehyun's brother / lots of angst. - cursives are flashbacks in this chapter.

𒄬word count: 4k

if you want to be in the taglist, just lemme know;) enjoy!

The stars didn’t shine in Neo Zone. At least, not the way they did in books.

Jaehyun used to search for them all the time as a child— staring up at the polluted sky, wondering if they had disappeared forever or if they were simply hiding… afraid, just like him. He had asked his father once, on a night much like this, as they sat on the sidewalk of their house.

“Why don’t we have stars, Dad?”

His father had smiled then. a tired, weathered kind of smile, the kind that carried too many things left unsaid. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a cigarette – a mint one — lighting it with a flick of his old metal lighter. The orange glow flickered against his sharp features, casting deep shadows under his eyes.

“We do have them, kiddo. They’re still up there… you just can’t see them from here”

Jaehyun had frowned, kicking a rock that was near his feet and pouting slightly. “Why not?”

“Because this part of the city is too loud. Too many lights, too much smoke. The sky is covered in all the things people would rather not see.”

Jaehyun didn’t understand what he meant back then. He only knew that the stars were gone, and it felt like the universe had abandoned this place.

“Does that mean we can never see them?”

His father hesitated. And now, years later, Jaehyun would recognize it for what is was – a moment of truth too painful to say aloud.

“Not unless you find a way out, son.”

There had been something in his father’s voice that night… something heavy, like a man speaking from experience. Jaehyun hadn’t questioned it. He had simply leaned into this father’s side, feeling the weight of the man’s arm around him. It was one of the only times his father had truly held him, warmth radiating from his body despite the cold wind that always howled through Neo Zone´s streets.

“Do you ever wish we lived somewhere else?�� Jaehyun had asked quietly.

His father chuckled, ruffling Jaehyun’s messy hair. “All the time.”

“Then why don’t we leave?”

His father didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he looked down at his cigarette, tapping the ashes off the edge off the sidewalk. His face had darkened, deep in thought, his usual sharp confidence replaced with something Jaehyun now knew was regret.

“Because some places don't let you leave, Yoonoh. No matter how much you want to.”

Jaehyun had furrowed his brows at that. It didn’t make sense to him. Back then, he still believed that anyone could choose their own future.

“That’s stupid” he muttered, pouting. “If you wanna leave, just leave.”

His father had smiled again, but this time. There was sadness behind it, something Jaehyun couldn’t quite place. His father had looked at him then — really looked at him, the way a man looks at something too precious to keep safe in a world like this one.

“You’re still young, kiddo. That 's good. Keep thinking like that for as long as you can.”

“But you’ll leave one day, won’t you?” Jaehyun had pressed. “You and me… and Jeno?”

His father had turned away at that, staring to the dark sky… looking for the stars.

“Maybe you will” he murmured. “But me? I was born in this place… and I’ll die in it”

Jaehyun hated that answer. He hadn’t understood why his father spoke about himself like he was already gone. He had wanted to argue, to tell him that they could leave together, that they could find a place where the stars were bright, where they could breathe air that didn’t taste like metal and cigarette smoke.

“Listen to me, Yoonoh. When you grow up, I need you to be safe—  to watch your back. I need you to take care of Jeno”.

Jaehyun blinked up at him. “Why?”

His father’s eyes were distant, as if he was seeing something Jaehyun wasn’t. Something he hoped his son would never have to see.

“Because in this zone, people don’t like it when you start thinking for yourself. The higher-ups?” he scoffed bitterly, shaking his head. “They’ll smile at you, tell you you’re one of them. But the second they think you’re a liability? They’ll take matters into their own hands.”

Jaehyun shivered, not just from the cold, but from the way his father said it.

“Doesn’t matter who you are, the position you are in… in this place you just have to be in the way to go down if they want to.”

Jaehyun hadn’t fully understood what his father was trying to warn him about. He had thought his father was just being paranoid… but his father deep down knew what was coming and Jaehyun wishes he also knew back then…

Because weeks later, his father was dead.

And Jaehyun never saw the stars again.

Jaehyun wasn’t expecting to see Jeno when he walked into the room.

 But there he was.

Sitting comfortably across from Sooman, one arm draped over the back of the leather chair, his posture too casual— too at home in a place he didn’t belong. At home with the person that was the reason for all the bad things that had happened to him. A cigarette burned between his fingers, the thin stream of some curling lazily towards the ceiling. The dim lighting made him look older, sharper, like he had already shed the last pieces of the kid Jaehyun had spent his life trying to protect.

It took Jaehyun a second to react. Just a second. But it was long enough.

Jeno noticed. Sooman noticed.

And suddenly, Jaehyun felt like he was the outsider in this room.

“Took you long enough, hyung” Jeno muttered, not bothering to stand.

Jaehyun’s jaw tightened. He ignored the empty chair Sooman gestured to, his focus locked on Jeno.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Jeno smirked, tapping the ashes off his cigarette. “Business.”

Jaehyun turned to Sooman, voice tense. “Since when?”

Sooman leaned back, swirling the whiskey in his glass, amused by the exchange. “Since I said so.”

Jaehyun’s fists clenched, but he forced his voice to stay calm. “He’s not ready for this.”

Jeno scoffed, shaking his head. “You heard that boss? Hyung thinks I’m still a kid.”

Sooman chuckled, setting his drink down. "I hear it." His gaze flicked back to Jaehyun, sharp and knowing. "But I also see what’s in front of me."

Jaehyun didn’t like that answer.

Jeno sat up slightly, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking off a weight. "You always do this," he muttered. "Act like you can control me just because you got here first."

Jaehyun exhaled slowly, forcing himself to keep his temper in check.

"That’s not what this is about."

Jeno arched a brow. "No? Then what is it about?"

Jaehyun didn’t answer.

Because the truth was, he didn’t know how to explain it—this gut-wrenching, sinking feeling in his chest. The way his father’s voice echoed in his head, reminding him of the little boy who once followed him around, who clung to his hoodie in his sleep, who looked up to him with eyes that still saw something worth admiring.

"He’s lucky to have you, you know? He’ll look up to you one day. Just make sure he has something worth looking up to."

Jaehyun had spent years trying to protect Jeno from this world.

And now?

Jeno was staring at him like he was the problem.

Sooman watched the silent tension between them with interest before finally speaking.

"Relax, Jaehyun," he said smoothly. "Your brother’s not a child anymore. He’s smart. Capable. And most importantly, he’s loyal."

Jaehyun hated the way he said that.

"That’s why I trust him to be here," Sooman continued. "To sit at this table. To handle things like a man."

Jaehyun’s stomach twisted.

Because Sooman wasn’t just praising Jeno.

He was claiming him.

Jaehyun knew this game. Sooman had played it with him, too. And now, he was playing it with Jeno—feeding him just enough power, just enough approval, so that he would never want to leave.

Jeno wasn’t just sitting at this table. He was being pulled into it.

Jaehyun finally sank into the chair, his movements slower than usual, measured. His eyes never left Sooman.

"So what’s this meeting really about?" he asked.

Sooman smiled. "Business, of course." He leaned forward slightly, voice calm, almost casual. "The exchange is happening soon. I need you ready."

Jaehyun felt the weight of those words settle over him.

"And Jeno?"

"He’ll be ready, too."

Jaehyun’s heart clenched, but his expression remained blank.

Sooman was pulling Jeno in, deeper and deeper, with every word, every look, every casual nod of approval. And Jaehyun couldn’t stop it. Not here. Not now.

So he said nothing.

Sooman leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. His gaze flickered between the two brothers before settling back on Jaehyun.

"You’re unusually tense today." He smirked. "That exchange got you nervous?"

Jaehyun forced himself to keep his expression neutral. "No."

"Good." Sooman studied him for a moment longer, as if peeling back layers Jaehyun had spent years building. "Because I don’t need hesitation."

Jaehyun stayed silent.

Sooman reached for his drink, taking a slow sip before setting it down with a soft clink. "Jeno tells me you’ve been a little... distracted lately."

Jaehyun’s fingers twitched under the table.

He turned to Jeno, his voice steady. "That what you’ve been doing? Running your mouth?"

Jeno just exhaled another slow breath of smoke, unbothered. "Just saying what I see."

Sooman tilted his head, his smirk widening just a little. "You wouldn’t be letting anything... personal interfere with your duties, would you, Jaehyun?"

Jaehyun knew exactly what he meant.

His pulse thrummed in his ears, but his voice was smooth when he answered.

"No, boss."

Sooman watched him for another second, then nodded in approval.

"Good."

Jaehyun stayed quiet, staring at the table as Sooman took another sip of his drink.

"Jeno, step out for a moment," Sooman said suddenly.

Jeno hesitated, glancing between them.

"Why?"

Sooman gave him a look. "Did I stutter?"

Jeno exhaled, muttering something under his breath as he pushed himself up from the chair. His cigarette burned low, the last ember glowing faintly before he dropped it into the ashtray.

As he passed Jaehyun, his voice was low.

"Try not to embarrass yourself, hyung."

Jaehyun didn’t move. Didn’t react.

Just stared at the smoke curling from Jeno’s abandoned cigarette.

The last piece of warmth fading into nothing.

The door shut behind him.

And Jaehyun finally looked up.

Sooman’s eyes were already on him, unreadable.

"Now," he said, his tone almost amused. "Let’s talk."

Jaehyun didn’t sit.

The chair across from Sooman was empty, waiting, but he stayed standing. His fists curled at his sides, jaw clenched tight enough to ache.

Jeno was gone. Sooman had sent him out like a child dismissed from the dinner table.

But Jaehyun knew better.

That hadn’t been dismissal. That had been claiming.

And now, Sooman was watching him, like he always did—calm, amused, dangerous.

Sooman sighed, motioning lazily to the chair. "I’m not gonna bite. Sit."

Jaehyun sat.

Not because he wanted to. But because this was how it worked. You didn’t refuse Sooman.

"You seemed tense earlier," Sooman mused, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "Something bothering you?"

Jaehyun knew the game.

This wasn’t concern. This was a test.

"No."

Sooman hummed, unconvinced. "Good. Because I need your head in the right place."

The words sat heavy in the space between them.

Jaehyun knew what this was about. The exchange. The weapons deal. The reason he was still in this life.

"I assume you’re ready."

Jaehyun’s jaw tightened. "I’ll be there."

"That’s not what I asked."

Jaehyun finally looked up. Sooman was watching him carefully, dark eyes sharp with something unreadable.

"I don’t like surprises, Jaehyun. I need to know that when the time comes, you’re not going to hesitate."

Jaehyun held his gaze. Didn’t blink.

"I won’t."

For a moment, silence.

Then, Sooman smiled.

Not a kind smile. Not approval.

Something colder. Sharper.

"That’s what I like about you," he murmured. "You understand how things work."

Jaehyun didn’t respond.

He wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or a warning.

Sooman leaned back in his chair, setting his glass down with a soft clink.

"Jeno’s got that same drive, you know."

Jaehyun’s stomach twisted.

He should have known. Of course this was about Jeno.

"Smart kid," Sooman continued, like this was just a casual conversation. "Quick on his feet. Knows how to read a room. You should be proud of him."

Jaehyun forced himself to stay still.

"He’s not ready for this."

Sooman tilted his head. "Neither were you."

The words hit like a hammer to the chest.

"But you adapted."

Jaehyun’s grip tightened on his knee.

"You think I don’t see it?" Sooman’s voice was almost amused now. "The way you tense up every time his name comes up? The way you look at him like he’s a little kid, while he’s sitting at the same table as you?"

Jaehyun didn’t respond.

Because Sooman was right.

"You spent all these years trying to protect him," Sooman mused, lifting his drink. "And yet, here he is."

Jaehyun swallowed. His father’s voice whispered once again replaying the same words in the back of his mind.

"He’s lucky to have you, you know? He’ll look up to you one day. Just make sure he has something worth looking up to."

But Jeno didn’t look up to him anymore.

Jeno was looking up at Sooman.

"You should be proud," Sooman said again, softer this time. "He’s one of us now."

Jaehyun’s fingers dug into his jeans.

"Jeno’s got a future here."

Jaehyun’s throat tightened. The final nail in the coffin.

Because there was no future outside of this.

Not for him. And now, not for Jeno.

Sooman leaned forward slightly, voice dropping lower. "And you, Jaehyun… you wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize your brother’s future, would you?"

Jaehyun’s pulse thundered in his ears.

It wasn’t a question.

It was a threat.

"No." His voice came out flat. Lifeless.

Sooman smirked. "That’s what I thought."

Jaehyun felt sick.

Sooman picked up his glass again, taking a slow sip before speaking again—this time, more casual.

"You’ve been a bit of a topic lately, you know."

Jaehyun forced himself to look up.

"People talk," Sooman continued, swirling the whiskey in his hand. "They notice things. Like who you spend your time with."

Jaehyun’s spine stiffened.

Sooman was watching him too closely now, like he was waiting to see if Jaehyun would flinch.

"It’s nothing to worry about," he murmured, voice smooth. "I just think it’s best if you keep a little… distance."

Jaehyun’s grip tightened.

"You understand why, don’t you?"

There it was.

The real reason for this conversation.

The exchange was just an obligation. Jeno was already claimed.

But (Y/N)?

She was a problem.

Sooman wasn’t threatening her. Not directly. Not yet.

But he didn’t have to.

Jaehyun knew what happened to people who became liabilities.

"I don’t need distractions on my team," Sooman added, taking another sip of his drink. "And you don’t need them either."

Jaehyun exhaled slowly.

"I understand."

"Good."

Sooman leaned back, looking satisfied.

"That’ll be all, then."

Jaehyun hesitated. Just for a second.

"Jeno…" His voice barely sounded like his own. "He’s still young. You don’t have to rush him into this."

Sooman studied him.

Then, he smiled.

"Your father said the same thing about you once."

Jaehyun didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

Sooman reached for his lighter, flicking it open. The flame danced in the dim light, flickering gold against his expression.

"Look at you now."

Silence.

The night was too quiet.

The kind that wraps around your chest and sinks its claws in deep.

The city was always loud—always alive with the hum of neon lights, the distant echoes of tires screeching, the faint murmur of conversations in alleyways. But tonight?

Tonight, there was nothing.

That was the first sign.

(Y/N) had been texting Daeho for hours. No response. She had tried calling, too—straight to voicemail. That was the second sign.

Daeho had been dodging her all day, but that wasn’t unusual. He was good at running. Good at pretending everything was fine until it wasn’t.

But this time, something was off.

She didn’t know how to explain it—just a gnawing, stomach-turning sense of dread creeping up her spine.

Something was wrong.

(Y/N) sat in her parked car, phone pressed to her ear, waiting. Listening. But there was no answer.

Again.

Her screen dimmed, the contact name DAEHO staring back at her, the last messages left unread.

9:57 PM – Where are you? Ur mom have been calling me all day asking about you… 9:59 PM – I know your parents are away and you hate that, but at least answer their calls.10:20 PM – Daeho, pick up your damn phone.10:45 PM – I swear, if you’re doing something stupid again—

The typing bubble had appeared for a second. Just one. Then it vanished.

Her fingers curled around the phone, pressing redial.

Ring.

Ring.

Voicemail.

Her heartbeat stuttered.

Daeho was reckless. Self-destructive. A disaster waiting to happen. But he always picked up. Even if it was to curse her out for nagging..

Something wasn’t right.

With Daeho being in a vulnerable state everytime his parents were away off the city, (Y/N) didn’t want to think the worst… but it was impossible, because when her stomach twisted, she didn’t hesitate the slightest– she just drove.

Lots of memories filled her mind as she drove her cars with her legs trembling — her family lake house held her most precious childhood moments with Daeho and she knew it held the same feeling to him. That’s why when she knew his cousin wasn't anywhere near the city… she found herself driving to that place.

Which it didn’t quite set well for her.

As she drove, her hands trembling on the wheel, memories of childhood flooded her mind. The family lake house, the place where so much of her life had unfolded alongside Daeho. The laughter, the secrets, the comfort of familiarity. She knew the house like the back of her hand, knew the way it felt to step through its doors.

It was a place of safety. Of home.

But tonight, as she turned onto the road leading there, it felt wrong. The air felt thick, heavy with something dark, something ominous.

The moment she pulled into the driveway, her chest tightened. She didn’t even need to step inside to know something was wrong.

The air outside was thick with an unspoken warning, thick like smoke, clinging to her skin.

Her legs carried her to the stairs almost of their own volition, her heart pounding in her ears, but her feet felt leaden, as if each step was harder than the last.

The door stood ajar. Not wide open, but just enough to leave room for doubt.

A voice inside her screamed to turn around. To leave. To get out.

She knew– She knew even before she even stepped inside.

The air was too thick, the kind of silence that wrapped around your ribs and squeezed.

And then—

Her breath hitched.

Daeho.

Her breath caught, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. He was lying there, motionless, his body sprawled on the floor in a way that didn’t seem natural. Still.

Too still.

It took a beat for her brain to catch up with what she was seeing, her mind desperately trying to reject the image in front of her.

But her body was already moving.

"Daeho!"

She was at his side in a heartbeat, dropping to her knees, hands shaking as she gripped his shoulders, her voice raw as she begged, "Wake up. Please. Wake up."

Nothing.

His skin was clammy, his breathing ragged, eyelids fluttering but not opening.

His skin was cold, clammy, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths that were too ragged. His eyes fluttered but didn’t open.

A wheezing breath rasped out of him, the sound like a death rattle in the stillness. 

Shallow. Wrong.

Panic surged through her veins, hot and violent, swallowing her whole.

"No, no, no, no—Daeho, wake up! Please—"

Her fingers scrambled against his pulse point.

Faint. Too faint.

She gasped, barely managing to grab her phone. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

Ring.

Ring.

"911, what’s your emergency?"

Her voice was unrecognizable—broken, panicked, fragile. "It’s my cousin, he’s—he’s not waking up. I think he overdosed. I don’t know what he took, but—he’s barely breathing—please, you have to send someone—"

Her words were tumbling out of her mouth, fractured and disconnected, her focus wavering between the dispatcher’s voice and Daeho’s still, too-still form.

Nothing. No movement.

Her hand shook as she pressed it against his clammy face, trying to force his eyes open.

Daeho wasn’t moving.

He wasn’t fighting her anymore.

Her free hand reached up, gripping his face, trying to force his eyes open.

"Daeho, listen to me—stay with me, okay? Help is coming. Just—just hold on."

Her voice cracked.

"You hear me? Just stay awake."

He didn’t respond.

Didn’t even twitch.

Tears blurred her vision, hot and stinging. She didn’t even realize she was crying.

She needed to call someone else. Someone who would come.

Her heart pounded in her chest, erratic, like a trapped bird trying to escape its cage. The phone trembled in her hand as she dialed his number, each passing second feeling like it stretched into infinity. She could barely breathe through the panic that twisted in her gut, the air around her growing thin, almost suffocating. Her thoughts were jumbled, a whirlwind of fear and desperation.

"Pick up, please, just pick up," she whispered, her lips barely moving.

The phone rang again. Once. Twice. The third time, her breath hitched.

"Please, please, Jae” Her voice cracked, a soft, broken plea that carried more weight than she could bear.

And then, just as her panic reached its peak, his voice cut through the chaos. Low. Sleepy at first, like he’d been woken from a dream.

"Angel?"

Hearing him, hearing that voice—so familiar, so warm—was like a thread of sanity pulling her back, just for a moment. But it wasn’t enough to stop the tidal wave of fear crashing through her.

"Daeho... Daeho’s not waking up. He’s not moving." Her words were disjointed, stumbling over themselves as she fought to keep her composure, but it was slipping through her fingers like sand. She could hear the desperate edge in her own voice—the pleading that she couldn’t stop, no matter how hard she tried.

"I don’t know what he took, Jaehyun. He’s barely breathing… please, you have to come, you have to help him!"

Her hand shook violently, gripping the phone so tightly her knuckles turned white. The words felt like they were being ripped from her throat, each one harder to get out than the last. She could hear the hollow sound of her own voice, breaking with the weight of everything she couldn’t control.

Jaehyun was silent for a moment, his breath slow and steady, as though he was trying to process what she was saying. He couldn’t help the flicker of hesitation that passed through him. It was the first time they had spoken in days, the first time since their fight. That distance, that anger—they were still there, lingering between them like a heavy fog.

But it didn’t matter. Not now.

"Where are you?" His voice was sharper now, like a switch had been flipped. Cold, direct. He had no time for awkwardness or old wounds.

His pulse hammered in his chest as he gripped the steering wheel of his car, already on the move. He wasn’t sure if he was moving because of the urgency of the situation or because hearing her voice—desperate, broken—was too much to ignore.

"I’m at the lake house, Jaehyun. He’s... he’s not moving, he’s not—"

She couldn’t finish the sentence. The words felt too much to say aloud, too real. Too final.

Jaehyun’s jaw clenched, the weight of the moment sinking in. This wasn’t the time for past arguments, for bitterness. For a second, he wanted to scream at her for the way things had ended between them, for how they had left things unresolved. But her words—her panic—had him pressing down harder on the accelerator.

"Stay with me, okay?" Jaehyun’s voice softened for just a moment, before the tension rose again, thick and strong. He couldn’t afford to show weakness, not when she needed him. "You’re not alone, (Y/N). Breathe, just breathe."

He could feel the tightness in his chest, the sharp pang of regret as he remembered their last conversation—the one where they both said things they didn’t mean. The one where silence had stretched for days. But that didn’t matter now.

Just her. Just Daeho.

"Just focus on breathing for me," he said, trying to keep her grounded, even as his own hands trembled. His voice was steady, but the fear was there—beneath it all, in the spaces between his words.

"Just stay with him. Help’s on the way," he urged, his mind spinning with the worst-case scenario, but he couldn’t let it show.

But (Y/N) wasn’t responding. She was breathing faster now, her panicked gasps cutting through the silence between them. It wasn’t enough to reassure him, to calm him down.

"I’m almost there, just hold on." His words were desperate, cracked at the edges, as though he couldn’t quite believe them himself.

His hands gripped the wheel tighter, knuckles white. He was already second-guessing every move he made, replaying the moments before the fight, wondering where it all went wrong between them. But there was no room for that now.

"Stay strong, (Y/N). I’m coming," Jaehyun whispered, almost to himself. He couldn’t leave her alone—not now, not when she was falling apart. He had to be there.

Her sobs were muffled now, and his heart broke at the sound. The cracks in her voice were unmistakable, and it drove a wedge deeper between them—familiar, but painful.

"I swear, (Y/N), just hold on." Jaehyun’s words, softer now, cracked under the weight of what they both had yet to face.

He should have seen this coming. Of course it was Daeho.

The kid had been on a collision course for months. Jaehyun had watched it happen—hadn’t stopped it.

By the time he arrived, the ambulance was already there.

Red and blue lights pulsed in the dark, sirens slicing through the night like a warning too late.

Jaehyun stopped mid-step.

Daeho was being wheeled out on a stretcher.

And he looked—

Gone.

For one horrifying second, Jaehyun thought it was too late.

Then, a flicker of movement—fingers twitching.

Still alive. Barely.

(Y/N) climbed into the ambulance with him.

Jaehyun didn’t.

He just stood there, watching the doors shut.

Jaehyun found (Y/N) in the waiting area, curled up in one of the plastic chairs, looking smaller than he’d ever seen her.

But before he could speak—

Jaehyun barely had time to register the shift in the air before (Y/N)’s mother was upon him.

Her presence was suffocating, like an icy gust cutting through the sterile hospital lights. The faint hum of the fluorescent lights above seemed to only heighten the intensity of her stare—sharp, unforgiving, a laser focus locked onto him as if she were seeing nothing but the embodiment of everything that had gone wrong.

"You."

Her voice rang out, filled with so much venom it made the air crackle with it.

She stormed toward him, her heels striking the floor with heavy, purposeful steps, her entire body coiled with an intensity he hadn’t seen before. Jaehyun didn’t flinch, but it took everything in him not to. She reached him in seconds, the scent of expensive perfume mingling with the sterile hospital air, and before he could even brace himself, her hand collided with his chest. The impact pushed him back a step, the force behind it surprising for someone so refined.

Her fingers dug into his shirt, her eyes cold as ice, her voice cutting through the space between them like a blade. "This is your fault."

Each word hit him like a physical blow, but it wasn’t just the blame in her tone that stung. It was the weight of it—the certainty, the finality of the accusation. She wasn’t just blaming him for Daeho’s condition. She was blaming him for the decay she saw in her family, the damage he had brought into their perfect, orderly life.

"You ruined everything," she spat, her voice trembling with barely contained fury. "You, with your dirty past, your gang... You think you can just waltz into my daughter’s life, drag her down into this mess, and there are no consequences?"

Jaehyun’s heart pounded in his chest, the words sinking in like poison. He had expected some anger, some condemnation, but hearing it in her voice—the disgust, the judgment—felt like he was being stripped of every last scrap of dignity.

"You came from nothing," she went on, her face twisted in a mixture of disdain and sorrow. "And now, my daughter is tangled up with you. With your filthy, violent world. You’ve turned everything upside down, and for what? She has a future! and you know who also has a future? Daeho! but now my nephew’s life is hanging by a thread, all because you people… all of the Neo Zone people do is ruin other people's lives…I knew you were gonna be a problem the night I saw you with my daughter.”

Jaehyun didn’t speak. He couldn’t. What could he say? She wasn’t wrong. Deep down, he knew the weight of the destruction he’d caused—the violence, the danger he had brought into her life, into her family’s life. But hearing it so plainly, so directly from her mouth... It was suffocating.

Her mother laughed bitterly, shaking her head. "You’re a joke. She’s a pawn in your world now, and don’t you dare try to make me believe otherwise."

Her words were venomous, cutting deep into his soul, ripping away the thin threads of self-worth he had clung to. He wasn’t just a disappointment to her. To her, he was a symbol of everything that could tarnish her family’s reputation—everything that had the potential to tear them apart.

(Y/N) moved to step in, her hand outstretched as if to intervene, but her mother’s cold gaze stopped her in her tracks. "No," she said sharply, her voice filled with finality. "Not this time."

Turning back to Jaehyun, her expression softened only slightly—enough for the raw, trembling hurt in her eyes to seep through. "You’ve done enough. You’ve broken my family. You people have broken him."

Jaehyun swallowed hard, but there was nothing he could say. 

(Y/N)’s mother gave him one last, hateful look before she turned away, dismissing him without a second thought. 

As her mother walked away, Jaehyun stood there, the weight of her words pressing down on him, suffocating him in the silence that followed. His hands were shaking. His mind was reeling. He had known the consequences of his life, but hearing her accuse him, hearing the complete destruction in her voice... that was something he hadn’t prepared for.

He stood there for a long moment, unsure of how to move, unsure of what to do next.

With one last glance toward (Y/N), he turned, walking away without a word, each step feeling like the final severing of a bond he hadn’t even known was important until it was already too late.

His father once told him that life was about the choices you made. But standing there, staring at the cold hospital doors, Jaehyun realized—maybe he had already made his choice.

a/n: NOT PROOFEAD! i would really love if you could gave sum feedback!(specially since english is not my first language, so it makes it a little harder to write).

taglist is open! if you want to be added just lemme know;)

taglist: @spicyryujin @daegalismybiasinnct @peachfulnight @gojoscumslut @bluedbliss @dear-97 @girlwholovespreppyattire @hana-off-icial @cigarettesafterjae @bts-iris @dojaejung @methneo @kriizztin @mrsuhnshine @pieddpiperr @completelyjae @daegalismybiasinnct @kanekisheart (idk why some of the tags just don’t work out!)

Feel free to send any asks here if you want!

[genderisareligion]

The elusive "TERF" is actually just a mirror

All its devotees know is projection. When I started this blog in late 2020 I more frequently used the tag #DARVO in action to start keeping track of the blatant lies TRAs spew that are really just a tell about their crowd (DARVO = Deny Attack Reverse Victim Offend, a strategy used often by DV abusers) and I just have to start making this cumulative post because:

They're now saying John Money was a radical feminist. Lmfao 💀 The male cracker extraordinaire (we don't even think males can be feminists let alone human most of the time) most responsible for the word gender's mistranslation as something that describes human behavior rather than the behavior of languages (most of which aren't even English), the idiot torturer who's a major reason the intersex community has to guard itself so fiercely against "normative" surgeries, who once claimed that anyone skeptical of his "girl = pink, boy = blue, I must fix anyone else" theories actually just believed that "masculinity and femininity are baked into the genes and women should get back to the kitchen" (sound familiar? What are "TERFs" always being accused of?) Like bro that's you

"TERFs are fascists who need everyone to fit into the male or the female box" actually gender abolition would mean no more boxes besides the purely categorical chromosomal ones we can't help from birth, and actually trying to force everyone to fall somewhere on a scale of femininity and masculinity and positing intersex conditions as the "middle" creates an unnecessary dichotomy amongst particularly females, where a woman born with PCOS is considered "less female" than one without regardless of how she "identifies," and the more "masculine" you are (whatever that even means) the more your body requires meds and surgery.

"TERFs align with fascists" but y'all are the ones with the Big Pharma billions paving your way so lol sorry not sorry but as a Negro it's giving the way they used to experiment on us for profit, refine their methods for research and leave us for dead or permanently disabled. And y'all think it's empowering? You think they actually care that you're personally fulfilled? You think they won't pull another Henrietta Lacks? You think all these detrans people are just flukes? They'll take your thousands of dollars until you're in debt and pump you full of more dubious "treatment" as long as it means they get to keep quietly going home to their white picket fences where all their loved ones are fine pretending they're heroes rather than profiting off others' pain. What is fascism if not allowing the medical establishment to "correct undesirables"?

"TERFs are Nazis" but the "first ever transgender surgery" on "trans woman" Lillie Ebe was performed by literal fucking Nazi Erwin Gohrbrandt who believed "mentally ill people were considered 'feeble-minded' (this was an actual, formal term) and homosexuals were considered to also be 'feeble-minded' and have inferior genes." Fun fact, Lillie was also a fucking Nazi.

"TERFs are all white supremacists" but everyone I just mentioned up there is a fucking white supremacist and not even Google agrees with you there, searches for the word TERF are done almost entirely in Western nations like the US and UK, whereas searches for radfem are balanced worldwide and in fact an African country is #1 on one of those lists, and you can't argue that those searches are by TERFs themselves because "try Googling TERF right now and seeing how many if any positive references show up"

I have more after 4 years lol but lemme cook

[dreaminofdixon]

I always felt like more of a queen.

A/N:

Here’s another snippet from my story—one that I genuinely enjoy re-reading. I often find myself revisiting my work, not just because I love the story itself, but because I’m always making adjustments. Perfectionism keeps me tweaking things, even when I’m happy with how the narrative unfolds.

At its core, this story is about a relationship that begins with hostility—quite literally at gunpoint—and gradually evolves into something deeper. For me, the journey is the most compelling part. This particular moment is where the "Princess" nickname first comes into play.

__________

“Gettin’ dark.” 

I jumped, nearly spilling the precious fuel, and turned to glare at him while he put his weapon over his back. 

“Really, Daryl?!” 

He casually leaned against the car, obviously pleased with himself. A full day of riding had him looking the slightest bit more relaxed than usual and I was here for it. 

But he couldn’t know that.

“Why do you have a thing for scaring me? It’s rude.” I pushed him before returning my attention to the project at hand. “And yes, it’s getting dark,” I shot him a look, “thank you for pointing that out.” 

“Jus’ sayin. Should get settled b’fore long.” He glanced over my shoulder before looking back at me. “If yer out too much longer, lemme know an’ I’ll walk ya.” 

The corner of my lips curled up into a smirk and I faced him, hand on hip. 

“Are you…concerned for my safety?” 

“New place.” He brushed it off. “Dunno wha’s ‘round here.” 

“Well, I’m glad to know you care.” I held up the half-empty gas can. “I figured you’d wanna top off the bike?” 

“Yes’m.” 

He took it from me and I expected him to leave, but he stayed right where he was at and watched me pour a portion of the next can into the car. 

“Something I can help you with?”

“Jus’ makin sure ya don’ spill.” 

“I worked in construction once upon a time,” I told him while I focused on tipping the can into the tank just enough. “Not like…on job sites and stuff.” Carefully, I pulled it away and put the gas cap back on before moving to the next vehicle. “I was the office girl, obviously. But I learned a thing or two. Pumping gas was one,” the gas cap popped off the truck, “filling gas cans to take a couple gallons to guys on job sites, you know,” I explained. “And siphoning gas for just such an occasion.” I smiled to myself when I remembered that day. “I did have some good times. What about you?”

“Always a grease monkey. Tha’s how I know bikes.” 

“Oh really? So you are quite handy to have around. Not just a pretty face and a sterling personality,” I teased. 

I’m pretty sure he blushed. 

“I don’t think people give you enough credit, Mr. Dixon.” I finished emptying my gas can in the truck before I moved to face him and leaned my hip against it. “Truly. I think there’s more to you than you let on, and I can’t wait to learn everything there is to know.” 

“Not much t’ know.” 

“I doubt that.” 

“Hey, did you finish fueling up the truck?” 

The blonde approached us and I shook my head. I let my gaze linger on him for just a second longer before turning to her with a smile.

“Nope. If you wanna take over, I don’t think it needs much more.” 

“Great.” She moved between us and set to work. “How much do you think we’ll need for the RV?” She shot a glance at me and then Daryl. 

I lifted my shoulders in a shrug. 

“Not sure. Probably quite a bit, I’d think, but he would know better than I do.” 

“Ladies,” Shane interrupted, “it’s gettin’ dark. We’ve got some cars cleared out, and Lori and Carol put bedding and a light in each of them. Why don’t ya leave the fuelin’ for the mornin’ and go get settled in?”

“Sure.” She emptied the rest of the fuel can and put the cap back on the tank. “This one’s done anyway.” 

Shane took the tank from her and grabbed the other. 

“Come on, I’ll show ya to your spots.” 

“I’m gonna grab something from the RV,” I said. “I’ll find my way in a minute.” 

“We’ll wait…” 

“I’ll be fine. If I take too long, Daryl can walk me.” Turning to him, eyebrow raised, assumption made. ���Unless…you don’t want to.” 

“‘s fine,” he grumbled. 

The two headed down the freeway, talking quietly to themselves and leaving us behind. 

“If you don’t want to…” 

“Can’t have ya walkin’ ‘round in the dark by yerself. Go get yer shit.”

“Well, I don’t have anything to get,” I admitted sheepishly. “Just didn’t want to be whisked away in the middle of such a scintillating conversation.” I followed him to the motorcycle and carefully traced my fingers over the chrome handlebars while he worked. “Plus, I know it’s crazy, but I kinda like spending time with you.” 

He filled the tank silently.

“I know it’s pure torture for you, though, and I sincerely apologize for the inconvenience.” 

He scoffed, “no ya don’t.” 

“You’re right. I don’t. Because I don’t think it’s torture.” 

He set the gas can down and screwed the cap back on the tank before pulling a dirty red cloth from his back pocket and wiping it down. 

“I like to think that, somewhere deep inside, you enjoy spending time with me, too. Could just be wishful thinking but…” I shrugged my shoulders. 

“If it ain’t,” he mumbled while he focused on his task.  

“If it isn’t wishful thinking, and you do actually enjoy spending time with me, then I may go so far as to say it’s possible you might like me?” 

He looked up at me, his pretty blue eyes finding mine. 

Butterflies. 

“Could be possible that I like you, in case you were wondering.” 

“Couldn’ tell.” He winked at me. 

Swoon.

He tucked the cloth back in his pocket and picked up the gas can. 

“Le’s go, Princess.” 

“Princess?” 

He gave a single nod, “fits.” 

“Does it? I always pictured myself more of a queen, actually,” I joked. 

“Nah. Princess.” 

We began our walk in the direction of the RV. 

“Queen’s gotta have a king, right?” 

“Sure,” I agreed.

“Ain’t got a king yet?”

“Well, no, not yet.” 

He tucked the can away in the RV’s storage. 

“Then yer a Princess.” 

“Fine,” I sighed dramatically, “but only you’re allowed to call me Princess.” 

“Good.” 

__________

Thank you for all the love on my other little snippet. <3 I hope you enjoy this one as much as I do!

[f1-tennisgirlie]

Let it marinate you said.... this is what I wrote after the marination..... hope you like it <3

Carlos had always been good at hiding his fear. It was a necessity in his line of work. If you let them see you sweat, you’d already lost. But this—this was different.

This wasn’t a case. This wasn’t a job. This was his family.

The news had hit him like a bullet to the chest: Diego Fuentes had been released. Carlos could still hear the judge’s voice echoing in his head, sentencing Fuentes to fifteen years. Yet somehow, loopholes and legal gymnastics had cut it down to five. And now the man was out.

And Carlos knew exactly what kind of man Fuentes was.

He had put Fuentes away himself—caught him running an elaborate underground network, personally chased him down when the bastard tried to run, and testified in court. And Fuentes had stared him dead in the eyes during sentencing and sworn, You’ll regret this. I promise you.

Five years hadn’t changed that promise.

Carlos stood by the window, arms crossed tightly over his chest, watching the street below their apartment like a hawk. He could feel his heartbeat in his throat. He had already run every scenario in his head. Had checked the locks three times. Had reviewed the security footage from the building entrance. Had spent the last two hours pacing, debating if he needed to call in a favor, get some extra patrols in their neighborhood.

And then there was Jannik.

Sitting on the couch, long legs stretched out, completely unbothered. He was cleaning his watch, of all things, eyes focused, expression cool and unreadable.

“He’s not getting near us,” Jannik said, voice casual, like he was discussing the weather.

Carlos swallowed hard. “You don’t know what he’s capable of.”

Jannik finally looked up at him. Sharp blue eyes. Calculating. “And you don’t know what I’m capable of.”

Carlos exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Jannik—”

“I cut up dead people for a living,” Jannik continued, setting his watch down on the coffee table. “I know how to make bodies disappear. I know exactly where to put a scalpel so a man bleeds out in seconds. I know how long it takes for someone to suffocate if you press on just the right artery.” He tilted his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Do you really think I’m afraid of some ex-con with a grudge?”

Carlos stared at him. The words should’ve been terrifying, but instead, they settled over him like armor. Jannik wasn’t just calm—he was already prepared.

“But you shouldn’t have to—”

“Carlos.” Jannik stood, moving toward him with slow, deliberate steps. “You’re not doing this alone. We protect this family. No one is getting near Amara. No one is getting near you.”

Carlos closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling. “I just—he said he’d come after me. He said I’d regret it.”

Jannik’s hand found the side of Carlos’s neck, thumb brushing against his jaw, grounding him. “He’s had fifteen years to think about revenge. I’ve had five years to make sure he never gets the chance.”

Carlos swallowed, his pulse steadying under Jannik’s touch. His husband wasn’t just saying this to reassure him—he meant it. He had already thought ten steps ahead, like he always did.

Jannik gave a small, knowing smirk. “Besides, if he’s as smart as you say, he should already be terrified of me.”

Carlos let out a breath that was almost a laugh, his shoulders easing for the first time in hours. “God, I love you.”

Jannik’s smirk softened into something warmer. “I know.”

The fear wasn’t gone. But it was manageable now. Because Jannik was right—Carlos wasn’t alone in this fight. And if Fuentes thought he could come for them, he had another thing coming.

The game had already started. And Jannik was playing to win.

@blackbat05 lemme know how's it!!!!

Back on my CSI Jannik x Cop Carlos headcanons:

***

Carlos has made enemies during his career. So when one prisoner who has a terrible grudge against the cop has been released, Carlos is absolutely terrified for the safety of his family.

But Jannik comes in clutch during his anxiety: “Babe, I cut up dead people for a living, I think I can handle him. No one is getting near our daughter.”

[bonsaiiiiiii-fics]

Eggs

Is it destiny? Is it a coincidence? But especially, What should she do now that the person she has been looking for doesn’t exist anymore?

Words: 5300-ish

Genre: fluff, slice of life. a bit of angst too? cos memories and stuff…no trigger warnings mentionable.

Fandom: Thunderbirds are go!2015

Characters: boi, all of ‘em! We also have Lucille, and I sprinkled in some oc’s!

Special mention: thank you to @louthestarspeaker for lending me her Laurie, your girl has been an absolute delight to write!

This story is kinda weird, and I don’t know if there’s gonna be a continuation or not. I just had an idea, wrote it down and here we are! Nothing serious, just for fun/writing again/passing the time. Don’t @ me, if you read it and discover you don’t like it, leave it where it is and back tf away slowly. (just for precaution. moots i don’t wanna bite ur ass <3)

Ao3 link

"...Is it too late to back up now?" She asks timidly, grimacing and taking a small step away from the door. Gran Roca Ranch. At least that's what it says on the billboard at the entrance. "Probably she isn't even here anymore!" 

"Nope." Laurie answers her first question, a haunting hand hovering on the door. "This is the time to act like that amazing, confident, person that you are, no ifs, ands or buts about it." She tries to fight her best friend when she gets a grip of her hand, forcing her to depart it from the door the farthest possible. "And you- ugh!, you won't know if you don't knock!" She grunts, noticing just how strong Quinn can be. Seriously, she eats tacos and smoothies all day, how the hell does she manage to keep it if she's as slim as a twig? Genes? 

"Well I need a reinforcement taco before this!" Quinn forces through gritted teeth. "And what do you think I'm going to tell her, hey! I'm your donor baby and I'm here to flip your life upside down?" She rolls her eyes, adjusting her sunglasses. "What if she doesn't even want to see me?" 

"If she left you her address in the envelope, then I think she wanted you to find her." 

"Well, I'm not ready to find out just yet!" 

"Not that you can help it, you know. You're screeching so loud I think all the neighborhood heard you." Laurie says, hands on her hips and a false innocent smile on her face, the plan morphed into her mind taking action. "And if she hasn't heard you before, she surely will hear this now!" And with that awful sentence she rings on the doorbell, doing what Quinn tried stopping her from doing until now. 

The blonde girl, in return, starts by gawking at her with her eyes almost out of their sockets and a jaw so low you could store an entire cake inside her mouth, then punches her -not so lightly- on a shoulder, making Laurie gasp at the pain and the sudden movement. "Traitor!" She spits, just seconds before the door opens, revealing... 

"Uh..." Kayo falters, taking in the scene in front of her very eyes upon opening the door. There's two women, soft blonde waves and some midnight black locs, arms tangled in each other, more like the blonde is trying to strangle her friend and the latter is trying to defend herself, both looking awkwardly at her. "Can I...help you?" She asks tentatively, her eyebrow raised, studying them intently. The blonde is holding an envelope in her hand, and now that she looks at her...the resemblance is dangerously familiar to someone... 

"Uh!" Quinn gasps, detangling from her best friend and just smiling broadly, as if nothing happened. "Hi, my name is Quinn, and this is Laurie." 

"Hi, Quinn and Laurie. So, what can I help you with?" Kayo repeats, her patience wearing thin. Who are these two strangers? This isn't pizza delivery! She mentally prays that it’s not another string of paparazzi striving to secure an interview, them being the first two of a long queue. Even if the Tracy’s like to be reserved about their whereabouts, the paps’ job is to unveil, tell and write as many tales as possible, and this requires some great investigative skills, for example finding Jeff Tracy’s old house. It’s not the first time paparazzi are at their door, and it certainly won’t be the last.

"Um," Quinn clears her throat, shifting from embarrassed to confident, again, that spark in her eye that looks dangerously familiar. Now that Kayo thinks about it, if Gordon was to have a female counterpart, Quinn would be embodying it. "I'm looking for Lucille Collins. Does she, um, live here?" 

Now this leaves Kayo dumbfounded. 

And with a lot of questions. 

How does she know? Why is she looking for her? Could it be...? 

"Um. Excuse me." Is all Kayo can say to excuse herself and close the door in their faces, now leaving both girls with a fish out of water face. 

"What was that?" Quinn asks, her cordial smile still plastered on her face, but one eye twitching in incredulousness. 

"I don't...know?" Laurie is smiling too, holding her still painful shoulder. They both look at each other, and this is the moment when Laurie knows Quinn's about to lose control. 

"So who was it at the door? Did the pizza delivery read our minds before we could place the order?" Gordon asks smugly, a note of curiosity in his voice. 

"That would be so dope!" Alan adds, leaning forward in his chair so his arms come to rest on his lap. 

Kayo, however, doesn't seem to hear them as she clears her throat, ready to drop whatever bomb this is on them.

"Are you okay, Kayo? You look like you've seen a ghost." Virgil butts in, obviously concerned about her losing all the color in her face. 

"There's two women at the door, they're looking for Mrs. Tracy, and I don’t mean Grandma." She says as neutrally as possible, not seeming to avoid massaging her arm awkwardly in the process. "What am I supposed to do?" 

Nobody answers her, and the silence is so audible you can hear the indistinct chatting of the women still at the door, probably debating on whether to stay and just vanish from the premises from the heat of it. 

"Huh." Jeff mutters, taking the situation in his own hands. "I think I know what this is about. Help me up, please." He asks no one in particular, Scott jumping up from his armchair like it's on fire, instantly by his father's side. "Thank you, son. Take me to the door." 

"If we disappear silently, she probably won't even know we were there! We can say she just imagined it! Or that I'm the, uh, mailman?" Quinn tries, shrugging her shoulders in the process. 

"I don't think she would believe you, you're not exactly dressed up as one." Laurie counters, eyeing her short romper. 

"Gasp," she audibly gasps. "Are you trying to say I look ugly?" 

"If the shoe fits." She winks at her bestie, earning a glare from her. 

"I hate you." 

"No you don't." 

A sound near the front door, like a crane tapping on the floor, makes both straighten their backs up, standing like soldiers in wait for their general. Moments later, Jeff Tracy himself, accompanied by his son, opens the door, and the girls just...stare. 

"Uh, Quinn? I think we got the wrong house..." Laurie recognizes immediately the man standing in front of her, seemingly unlike Quinn, that flashes him and his exact same, younger copy, her dimpled smile. 

"Hiiiii!" She tries a more energetic approach. "I'm Quinn, and this is Laurie." She gestures to her bestie, who is looking mildly uncomfortable, deeming it necessary to introduce themselves again. "We're looking for-" 

"I know." Jeff nods. "You must be her daughter. Co-" 

"HUH!?" Scott gasps, involuntarily interrupting his dad who side looks at him. "What!? Her what??" He looks wide eyed at her, then at his dad, then back again at her. 

She seems to ignore his apparent outburst. "Yeah, something like that. So, does she live here?" If there's one thing to know about Quinn Prescott is that she gets straight to the point. And eats tacos nonstop, apparently. 

Jeff is silent, a pang of sadness visible on his face. "Come in." He replies to her question, stepping aside - and forcing Scott, as still as a statue, to do the same - and welcoming them in what used to be Luci's house. Scott disappears right back in, probably to warn everyone of the unexpected new visitor invading their home, or to prepare them psychologically for this, leaving the girls to let themselves in without too many ceremonies, Quinn taking off her paperboy hat and just holding it in her hand as Jeff slowly accompanies them to the living room, where everyone is gathered. 

"Holy shmeesus!" Is the first thing she mutters to Laurie upon seeing all these people, wondering just now that maybe she got the wrong house. But if she did, the man living inside it wouldn't let them in, right? She's probably not home at the moment, yeah, that's it. One thing for sure, the room is loaded with people and every single one of them seem to be looking- no, gawking, at her. Expecting her to be joking about the matter. There's the woman that opened the door the first time, the man that opened it the second, 5 other men and a old lady. And not to mention this house is gigantic. Dam, egg mama's loaded! 

Everyone is so still, the silence is so deafening, like they can't believe their eyes; she manages to get a sound from them all, a collective general gasp, after her sunglass lenses fade back to clear, not sensing any sunlight inside, revealing her warm brown eyes. 

"It's uncanny." Scott mutters, breaking the silence. 

"It's mom." Virgil backs him up, just gaping at her. She shares his same eyes, and, well, mom's. Come to think about it, she is mom, just a different smile, skin tone, and some round glasses added.

"What is this, dad?" Scott confronts their dad, wanting, needing, to know more. A perfect stranger, with the same appearance as their mother, comes at their door, searches for her, and apparently she's her daughter? And seemingly, Jeff knows about it all. 

Jeff in reply looks at Quinn, holding out a hand towards her as if to show she's there. "Want to do the honors?" 

She nods, taking in a deep breath. "So...I'm Lucille's donor baby, and I'm invading your lives!" She jokes, to then immediately facepalm, followed by a nervous chuckle from Laurie, accompanied by a head shake. "Hehe, sorry...I always joke when I'm nervous, I don't know why I do that." She first scratches her jaw, then behind her ear, handing Jeff the envelope she carried until now, covering her lap with her checkered white and brown hat. "But that's about it. The address listed in her description was this one." 

"Yeah, I know who you are already." Despite this statement, he still opens the envelope, suddenly invaded by his eldest three sons that read over his shoulder too, reading indeed his late wife's name, but another as well. "I just didn't think you'd even show up, even if she hoped to see you." 

"She does?" She smiles, her dimples showing. She unconsciously side glances at Laurie, which shoots her a timid thumbs up. 

"She did." He corrects her, the pain in his words leading her to lose the dimples she shares with Scott. 

"Um, care to explain for those who can't understand the situation?" Alan butts in, knowing the heaviness of the situation but now how to decipher it. 

"Yeah, like, we just got mom's clone and then what?" Gordon counters. 

Just when she wants to speak, Jeff looks again at her, prodding her silently to explain herself. It's her situation, and she gets to take it into her own hands as she wants. 

"So, from what my parents told me, they weren't able to conceive, so they picked out donors from both sides; Lucille was my egg donor, while Clinton was my sperm donor. I don't really know anything about them, my parents told me about it just recently and recommended that I speak personally with them first, but without them I wouldn't exist, so...ta-daaa!" She slightly enlarges her hands, waving her open hands up and down. 

"Well, you surely took your time." Jeff comments sarcastically, loosening her stiff shoulders a little. 

"That's cool! Is it something like out of a lab?" Alan asks, earning a side glare from Virgil. 

"Egg and sperm donors have existed for a long time, you know?" The second eldest points out to him in a scolding tone. 

"I didn't know about the egg ones, Virg!" 

"Me either Virg! We're not all medical like you." Gordon, as always, speaks as if he and Allie are the same. 

"Pardon my sons," this sentence from Jeff seems to override their sons'. "They're just curious about you, she never spoke to them about you." 

"How to blame her?" Grandma says, laughing gently. "She didn't expect the gal to even show up. She just did a good deed." She gets up, sitting on an armrest of the armchair Virgil sat back on, patting gently his shoulder. 

"That she did." Jeff looks at her, drinks her in with those silver eyes of his. Yep, she's Lucille's spitting image: long blonde hair, chocolate brown eyes, same nose, same lips. The only thing changing is a golden skin tone, complimenting perfectly her eyes and hair and making her look like a golden ember, and the way she smiles; even if she has Luci's lips and dimples, she smiles differently, a charming and 'I'm sexy and I know it' kind of smile instead of Luci's warm and harmless one. "You look a lot like her." He says after a long while, in which she seems content basking in the attention. She knows she's beautiful, she probably has an overly big ego, and the fact this family is feeding it is rather nice to her. 

"Yeah, Laurie says I'm her spitting image. Uh, from the pictures I found in the envelope." 

"I'm sorry, but you won't be able to see her anytime, I'm afraid." He says.

She doesn't seem to read between the lines. "Oh, yeah, I totally get it! She has another family now, not that I was her family before, but I get it, no worries. Just tell her I've been here." She gets up, dusting absent-mindedly her dress and hat. 

"No, you don't get it." Jeff is finding all the strength in himself to say the words long dreaded in the Tracy household. "She passed some time ago." He lets out after a long, painful, sigh. 

"Oh." She mutters, to then plop back down. "Can I ask for how long?" 

"Almost 20 years." 

She gets silent, a lot of thoughts whirling in her brain, but she pushes them aside for her to think about them later. "I'm sorry for your loss." 

"I'm sorry too." He raises his eyes to look at her. "She wanted to meet you, she really did." 

"Well...I wouldn't be me if I didn't keep my always being late rap, right?" She tries to crack a joke, earning a cheeky smile from everyone, even a tiny laugh from the tinies. 

"Oh, preach!" Laurie exclaims, happy that her friend finally noticed. 

"So, what is it you do in life, Quinn?" Jeff changes subject after she so helpfully contributed in raising the spirits back up; unfortunately, Lucille has always been a tough topic to talk about after her passing, and probably this is just what they needed now that they're all back together. 

"Oh, I just got into college, Columbia." 

"Ah, Ivy League! Impressive! Major?" 

"Programming." 

"I see. Well, I wish you best of luck on your journey." 

"Thank you, um, Mr..." She just now realizes she never properly caught his name, nor the others'; it sure looks like a wide family, though. 

"Oh! We didn't introduce ourselves, sorry! We were just so caught by everything..." He immediately apologizes, getting up not without any help from his second eldest. "I'm Jeff Tracy." Once in front of Quinn, who just got up too, he extends his hand for her to shake it, and notices she has a very tight grip, too. 

"Huh, Tracy you say?" Quinn is silent for a second, an eyebrow raised to try and remember when she heard that name before, while Laurie, once her suspicions (that weren't so suspicious) got confirmed, draws in a shaky breath, not understanding why in the Heavens her bestie doesn't realize how lucky she is to even breathe the same expensive air as these business tycoons. And, yeah, International Rescue themselves. "I like it. I assume you are- uh, were..." 

"Yeah, her husband. These are our kids. Boys?" He calls out for them to get up and present themselves, to which they oblige dutifully. 

Scott is the first one to present himself, his grip somewhat strong, but not menacing. He saw the description, everything true to the minimal detail, and the fact she's their mom's spitting image contributes greatly to the cause, as if she was cloned, and their dad seems to know and support of this situation; however, he still doesn't know if she's lying, faking it all, and found sensible information, touched a nerve who could bring them down, his Commander brain gearing up for action. He, alas, has complete faith in dad, and in John, who didn't go unnoticed by Scott as he briefly excused himself to go to the bathroom, secretly fulfilling the eldest' order to run a background check on her. He notices her firm grip too, complete with the fact she either doesn't seem to care, or is oblivious to the pinning, calculating stare he's giving her, flashing him a taste of his own medicine, killer dimples. Yep, truly mom's child. 

The next in line is Virgil, who takes her hand softly and shakes it gently, and she swears he's like massaging it or something, because she finds instantly relief from a throbbing she didn't even notice until it passed, truly magical. They both get lost in the eyes they both share the color of, mom's color, and both wonder how one could be a spitting image of the other. Virgil is calm, trusting, not wanting to start any rumors or thoughts, just trusting what the person in front of him is saying. Like, how could she lie with those eyes? He swears he's looking at mom who came back to life and waltzed back into their lives.

Gordon pops up next, and damn! If she thought to be Lucille's spitting image, from that little description pic, then this man is taking it up a notch! Same features, different gender. It's almost frightening. Gordon, on the other hand, is totally unaffected by any negative thoughts and emotions, just excited to hear about this new, strange thing, egg donation, and the fact that a new sibling is added to their family, even if she's just a half-sibling. It's still something from mom, and everything from mom is precious right now. 

Alan is quick in presenting himself with a fist bump, a gesture that Quinn loves gladly, evolving it into a weird bro hand salute Alan seems to be on board with, professionalism not necessary right now. After all, if she’s in college right now…same as him! They’re college buddies!

Last but not least brother, John, shaking briefly her hand and directing a hidden thumbs up at Scott, who nods and exhales briefly, his worries dissolving temporarily. 

Kayo is up, her way of shaking hands translated into shoving a tablet into Quinn's face, that shrugs and places her thumb on it, more than calm about the fact that they can't get money from her as she's broker than a broken record, having invested her last savings in...tacos. Kayo swiftly nods, and Quinn just shrugs, before she gets presented to the next person.

A sweet old lady, who seems very spirited. “Hello, gal! Well, I’ll be damned, you’re her spitting image!” This makes Quinn crack a wide smile, the girl identical in her biological mother even in these simple gestures. "I'm Sally, but you can call me Grandma. I'm the boys' grandmother and Jeff's mother. It's nice you finally joined us." To unknot her nerves, Grandma gently squeezes Quinn's shoulder, to which the girl looks at her warmly. This woman, this part of her newfound family, has this capacity to melt her worries and insecurities away in a way...familiar to her, like it's been done to her since she was born. 

"Don't blame her too much, she has this knack for always showing up late." Laurie butts in the conversation after being presented too to the boys, daring to see if a joke can fix up the mood. 

"I call it being fashionably late." Quinn replies, swooshing a strand of hair behind her shoulder smugly. 

Grandma laughs heartily. "I know a thing or two about it. Between us, but...your mother was always fashionably late too." She confesses to the girls, Quinn gaping a little. 

"See?" She triumphantly points out. "It's all in the genes!"

Laurie laughs too, looking at her bestie. “Don’t give her excuses now, or it’ll get to her head!”

Quinn is about to counterattack with a not too ladylike answer, when another voice joins in the conversation again. "Clinton Smith?" She turns to look at Jeff, which looks at the envelope then at her.

“Oh, yeah, that’s my donor dad. Or at least that’s all I know about him, I haven’t visited him yet.” She replies, looking somewhere else with a bitter smile, that doesn’t go unnoticed by Jeff.

“Is he…unavailable too?” He tries this word, not having enough guts built up to say that word, that nefarious word he wishes he never had to say to describe his wife.

“Actually…I don’t know?” She replies questionably back, scratching her neck in the process. “I haven’t been able to find him at all. Either he vanished, or he doesn’t want to be found, or…yeah.”

“Doesn’t want to be found…why is that?” Jeff asks back, trying to understand more from that situation; maybe he can help, he can ‘rescue’ her if she wants to.

“Well, there’s his name, but no address. But I suppose if he didn’t want to be found, then he wouldn’t have wanted his name to be added to that document, because it’s supposed to be for me to read once I came of age.” She plops down to her previous seat, crossing her arms with a focused frown painted on her face, the upper lip touching her nose septum, her dimples visible and her eyes looking upwards, painting Lucille’s face with an almost childish and exaggerated undertone. “I know I’m very late in searching for them since I got the documents, but if you don’t want your child to know anything about you, then…you cancel everything they might know about you, right?”

“I don’t know exactly, it never happened to me…” He replies ironically, earning a broad smile from his boys, a sign that they had a father from the start that cared about them and loved them deeply. “But if you want to get to know him, we can help you out.”

She widens her eyes slightly. “Really? You don’t have to…”

“Yeah, of course! Family is important, and if you want to know exactly who both of your biological parents are it’s perfectly normal! I just happen to know a detective that can help you out on this, that is if you accept our help.” He states tentatively, knowing he doesn’t have any ‘power’ over her, despite her being Lucille’s first child and only daughter, her only female lineage, making her very precious; but at the same time he knows that he can’t force her to be a part of their lives just because she’s family by blood, she has another adoptive family that love her and raised her to be the woman she is now. The decision to be a Tracy must belong to Quinn and Quinn only. “And, of course, I’ll tell you more about your biological mother as well.”

“Well…” Quinn takes it all in, pondering deeply which answer she should give in return and moving her gaze to the floor. She knows that if she replies positively, this means she’ll come in contact with part of her biological family again, but she also knows that this decision is totally up to her, just like before when Jeff allowed her to explain who she was and why she was connected with this family. The question is, does she want to be part of this family? She already has another one, the one that has been there with her from the start, waiting for her at home. Can she replace them so easily? Being part of more than a family at once, even her biological dad’s side, is it possible? Does it mean that if she chooses to do this, she’ll have to leave her ‘old’ family behind, or can she rotate between one family and the other on random days?

“I’m sorry…” She finally comes up with an answer. “...but I have to think about it. This thing about Lucille has been a huge blow for me, and I’m not saying this because she…well, passed, but I think it would have been a blow even if today I would’ve gotten to talk to her. I received the document just recently…and…you guys…”

“Don’t apologize at all, Quinn, it’s understandable.” This is the first time that man calls her by her name. it’s…strange. “You have yet to elaborate all of this, and we’re here when, if, you’ll be ready to talk to us again.”

“Thank you.” Quinn smiles fondly at Jeff, and for the first time since she smiled at him, it seems like Lucille is smiling at him again after 19 long years where the world has been deprived of his wife’s warm and innocent smile. Another person notices, and where Jeff forces himself to keep the tears in, Virgil can’t manage to, a single, lonely, tear leaving a trail down his cheek but a happy smile painted on his chiseled face, Scott and John reaching out to place a hand on each of his shoulders, sharing the same emotion he’s feeling in seeing that smile, happy that they got the wish to see their mother’s smile one last time, even if it’s not their mother that’s in front of them right now. She captivated with that dimpled smile of hers everyone in the room, not just Jeff and his second eldest, and she doesn’t even notice it, how similar but how different she is from her biological mother. She glimmers with that smile.

“So…I’ll go home now, I think I already spent too much of your time.”

“Believe me,” Jeff starts, raising himself up to his feet and prompting his eldest and Quinn to do the same. “This time has been very well spent.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay for dinner?” Alan, surprisingly, asks, like it’s not the first time he makes this question. Surprisingly, because he doesn’t feel the same way as his brothers and dad; sure, he saw mom’s photos, but she unfortunately doesn’t have the same place in his heart like it does for everyone else of them, since he didn’t have the opportunity to grow up with her, leaving the surprisingly vivid picture of her with an eerie heaviness over it, almost as if, everytime he looks at his mom, it’s like he’s worshiping a Goddess. It used to be like this with his dad too, before he returned from the deserted and secluded place he was left in for all these years, just after mom’s death…for as long as he can remember before things changed, his dad disappeared, his mom left them, and he was essentially an orphan growing up with his brothers, under Scott’s guardianship over nothing more than a toddler. But now that he looks at things under another perspective…it’s bad to say, but she also will never get the chance to meet her, didn’t get the chance to grow up with her either, and will always look at her photo to remember where she came from…they’re similar, if not the same, in this. Maybe they can help each other.

“Yeah, we have pizza!” Gordon butts in too, visibly perturbed by her departure.

“If you remember to place the call to order it.” John points out like usual with a raised eyebrow, earning an eye roll from his younger pufferfish sibling.

“I’d love to, but my parents are waiting for me at home.” Quinn turns towards Jeff, as if to seek some approbation from the Commander Supreme. “Another time, maybe?”

He nods, waiting for his two youngest sons’ faint oh’s to dissipate before speaking again. “We are more than happy to welcome you again. You can take my contact or one of my sons’, so that you can have your way of reaching out when you’re ready to.” He offers, glancing at his sons that all nod.

“Yeah, that would be a great idea. I hope you won’t mind if I take my time in…”

“Ah, no worries! We’re more than happy to help.” Jeff replies while he scribbles something on a paper, probably his comm link or his number; once he’s finished, instead of passing it to Quinn he raises it somewhere on his right, Virgil taking the paper and scribbling something on it too. “Once you’re ready, reach out to us, here’s our contacts.” Once the paper is in Jeff’s hands again, after it being passed through some brothers, he hands it over to Quinn, who takes it gladly, folding it and tucking it into her romper’s pockets.

“Well, then, I’ll leave you to your dinner. Thank you for everything, and it’s been a pleasure meeting you.” Quinn bows her head slightly, smiling warmly to everyone.

“It’s a pleasure for us too, and it was nice meeting you too, Laurie.”

“Are you living far from here? Do you need one of us to accompany you?” Virgil asks, his ever caring spirit always present.

Quinn shoots a quick glance to Laurie, which in the meantime has almost teleported to her side; in exchange, Laurie raises her eyebrows and glances to the side, Quinn responding to her by shrugging slightly, and this ‘conversation’ goes on for a bit, all the while Virgil looks confused at them, then at his father.

“It’s a girl’s way of communicating, boys. You wouldn’t know.” Grandma intercepts the question marks in Virgil’s mind, talking to everyone.

“Well,” Quinn’s voice makes them all turn towards her and her bestie, who is smiling. “She’s coming back home with me, and we live just here across the neighborhood, so we’ll manage on our own, thank you anyways.”

“Perfect then. We hope to see you soon again, and I wish you good luck again on your journey. Please say hi to Bentley from me, and tell her I’m sorry I didn’t get to visit her and Charlie.” The procession has finally arrived at the door, escorting warmly their newfound family member out.

Quinn smiles as a sign of gratitude, before dropping her jaw to the floor and widen her eyes. “You know my parents?”

“Of course! Me and Luci have known them for a very long time now, we’ve been to school together, but we lost contact after we started working and had our children.”

“Oh…!” Quinn replies, then looks at the floor and smiles. “Sure, I’ll let them know.” She looks at Jeff with that smile on again. That warm smile that makes her dangerously familiar in his eyes.

“Well then, thank you for coming by. It was truly needed.”

“You’re kidding me? Thank you for having me!”

Once they finish bidding their farewells and the door closes, making them depart from the ranch, she turns towards her bestie, her smile radiant. “Girl, that was…”

“I’d say it was a success, but you didn’t find your mom.” Laurie counters, matching her newfound speed towards Quinn’s home. “Why are we running?”

“Well, but my parents are supposed to know her well, and I have all these step-brothers. And…oh, don’t brag.”

“We have no reason for running!” Laurie hisses, out of breath, her long locs whirling in the wind. “They can help you find your biological father too. Maybe you have some brothers or sisters from there too.”

“Well…” They both pant profusely, finally arriving at their destination; Quinn also lets out a deep sigh. “I don’t know…I gotta talk to my parents. I want to know them, but…having them in my life…ugh! I need tacos.”

“Nu-huh. We’re home now and we’re eating what your parents made. Stop spending your life savings on tacos, bestie.” Laurie ushers Quinn towards the entrance door, forcing the latter to get the keys out to open it with another deep sigh. “And if talking with your parents is what you need…just, think about it. They are pretty important after all.”

“Hm?” Quinn says after greeting her parents loudly, announcing them she’s back home. “They’re just my biological half-brothers and their dad. Yeah, they’re important, but-” “Girl,” Laurie interrupts her with a serious face, making Quinn furrow her eyebrows in confusion. “You have no idea who they are, do you?”

[inkskinned]

she's singing in another room and my dog is asleep at my feet. my grandma asked me why i haven't found a man yet and i laughed. oh, you know. i like my house clean.

my girlfriend is also my man is also "my partner" if i'm in a professional setting. yesterday we went to a ren faire and a man mimed at me - you're together? and at my delighted nod, his baffled, you're gay? made me laugh. a woman with rainbow hair said i love the two of you together. you're both so beautiful it's absurd.

my dad introduced my partner as my "..... friend. or whatever" the other day. he knows we're dating. in the same way, i was never able to get my sister's husband to stop saying that's gay like it's 2008. he still uses the word fa***t, and my sister's defense of him has always been well, he's just kidding.

my lover and i dance to old music in a tiny kitchen. we judge new music together and take food critique very seriously. we watch love is blind before we fall asleep and agree that if they had a queer season, it would be bloody but also make for excellent tv. of fucking course queer people would know someone for only 2 weeks and agree to get married. what are you saying.

at a bar with friends, a man puts his hand on my wrist. got a boyfriend? and yes, i do have a boyfriend, she's amazing. i am texting her while i wander around a gas station named after geese. i am visiting a swing state for a wedding. in the candy aisle i overhear: she's actually like a lesbian it's disgusting. two teenage girls with packaged sandwiches in their hands, giggling. no literally, like. i'm not, like. okay with her being there while we're all, like, naked and changing.

my girlfriend and i tailgate, drink gin and cider out of cups. from the frat group beside us, a man corrects himself with one of his friends: bro, i mean, nonbinary entity, and it makes everyone around him laugh, myself included. he razzes his friend the same way i would have killed for at 19 years old - like nothing happened, he continues: you apply sunscreen like an alien. he does a little sassy (and fairly accurate) dance interpretation of the motion. his friend is laughing so hard they're crying.

i am lucky, i live in a safe neighborhood in a safe state. my masc passenger princess comes up from DC. i drive her for an hour to where all the leaves are a violent arrangement of color. we walk along the trails, letting autumn into our blood. in this part of the state, there's a lot of pickup trucks and trump signs. when we chastely kiss before getting into the car, i accidentally make eye contact with a woman holding her child's wrist. she looks disgusted. she looks fucking pissed.

two hours later my girl and i are eating dinner on a patio, soaking in the last warmth of new england sun before the chill of winter sets in. we are giggling and trying to talk through plastic vampire teeth. at another table, i see a young woman sit up straighter. i watch her watch us. she blushes and takes her partner's hand from across the table. shy, like the taste of evening has just become something deeper.

it's worth it for this moment, i think. my lover is still humming the same song she's been singing for four days straight and i don't want to kill her for it. her guitar is beside my bed. her toothbrush is in my bathroom. in a few moments i will make us lunch. we are lucky enough to have found each other. it is lucky enough to be in love.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Hi!! Your Cherik is so good and gorgeous 🤩🤩 If you don't mind wanna try to draw some Fall of X Cherik please?

thank you so much !!

i have a couple of ideas relating to the fall of x period specifically since theres. A Lot i wanna play with, so i hope this lil thing may be a satisfactory start :]]

and the obligatory bonus:

[royaltea000]

Qitian dasheng and other outfit concept sketches

[helps-the-writing-brain-go]

⚡️In the Eye of the Tiger (Companion) 🐯⚡️

Tawny buries his head in the crook of Billy's neck and breathes in deep, committing his scent to memory.

The boy still smells of milk and powder under all that dirt, barely out of infancy if Tawny has anything to say about it; but fending for himself like a full-grown cub.

There's a burgeoning lice colony nesting in his hair and old blood under his fingernails and wafting off somewhere in the vicinity of his sleeves and tattered, too big jeans.

Scraped elbows and knees, most likely.

Untreated and stinging something fierce, most definitely, but the dear boy had said not a word.

"Do you need anything, little one?"

Tawny prompts his youngest charge yet.

Billy hunches in on himself, cradling the kittenish form to his chest and shakes his head.

Tawny rumbles disapproving, the thunderous sound made adorable by his new stature. Almost a purr really, which nearly elicits a smile from the boy.

"Are you hungry, perhaps?"

A shrug.

"Thirsty?" Tawny presses.

Another shrug, though Billy does lick his cracked lips, looking uncertain.

"Surely there is something-"

The magical tiger is soon cut off by a dual interruption in the way of a rumbling stomach, and a jaw cracking yawn quickly stifled in a faded, red sleeve.

Tawny grins like a cat that'd caught both the canary and gotten into the cream.

"A snack then, and then bed. There's a number of fine fabrics to make a comfortable den around, and oh, have I told you of the Cafe of Eternity? Just about everything you could think of to eat in there-"

Billy pulls himself to his feet at the feline's urging, gasping in surprise as Tawny leaps down, immediately growing in size beneath him till it is Billy sprawled on his massive, striped back.

His small fingers bury themselves in the tiger's thick fur, and Tawny allows himself a fanged smile out of Billy's eyeline as the boy curiosity kicks in and he begins to pipe in with questions on the Rock's facilities as Tawny pads his way through its winding tunnels.

Yes, he and the new Champion would be just fine.

[mishy-mashy]

Bruce is actually really attractive, and I have enough reasoning to make a list

He's:

Tall (. Tall enough to hit his head on the vault doorframe)

Long-legged

Has a straight nose bridge

Has high cheekbones (more noticeable in 2nd pic below)

Has a strong jawline

Sharp eyes, but they aren't small (plus eyebags if you're into that)

Overall, he has strong, attractive facial features

Has broad, refined shoulders. You can tell he works out (or he did, when he was alive)

Even has a thick, muscly neck

He has MUSCLE. Is SCULPTED. NOICE. VERY NOICE. (nice arms. Nice shoulders. Nice neck. Nice legs. Nice butt-)

(There are actually panels where you can see some of his muscles. Other than those already shown here, he's got bricky thighs-

-and in the panels where we first get his name dropped, he's got those shoulder blades too-)

The one time we see him smile, and he actually has a scary one

Has small, kinda sharp pupils, and his eyes remind me of a cat. We only ever saw him tense or defensive, so his resting/listening face is really cute

Other than the physical appearance stuff, he also:

Takes shit without batting an eye (patience, knowing it's just how Kudo is, etc)

Kudo being all "Cut the crap Bruce and give it to me straight", after Bruce tests his blood and is rightfully Concerned because they just faced AFO

Put up with Kudo's experimenting and testing over Yoichi's transferable Factor

Did ya'll see the look on Kudo's face when he realized he had Yoichi's Factor/will? Kudo was going to start in nonsense and Bruce just dealt with that.

Also something I noticed when looking back at the images here; Bruce has bandages on his arms in the void. But not when he faced AFO in the sewers.

Were he and Kudo cutting their arms open in their experimenting over Yoichi's theory? Is this why Kudo has two gauntlets instead of his one? Why we never see his bare arms in the void? That he always keeps his arms down so there's no slip?

Is smart enough to run blood tests, plus has enough common sense to pick Shinomori as his successor

He picked a guy who avoids society, has an Ability to detect danger so he can always stay away from AFO, is also a coward so he's never going to go throw himself into danger, even without knowing instinctively he stands no chance, etc.

Meanwhile, Kudo chose Bruce, who he played Hot Potato Yoichi with; but he did also trust Bruce, and put the only pure combative Ability in OFA through Bruce.

These two made their choices based on what they valued and saw the Factor needed.

Is logical, analytical, and calm.

He tried advising Midoriya on their Abilities in One For All, especially his own.

Midoriya then tried ignoring him about using Fa Jin for the first time, but found he was right, thinking: "Dammit!! I had [Lady Nagant] right where I wanted her, but... ugh! The Third was right. My parallel Quirk processes are all screwed up!" (ch. 314).

Plus, when Midoriya fixed his processing mistakes, Bruce was analyzing the way he reached his new conclusion. Pure facts, no bias, very calm, just saying it as it was.

We never see him panic. When he's caught by surprise in the sewers by AFO, Kudo, and Yoichi's little bubble event, he immediately reacts. He doesn't falter, he just knows he has to do something right now.

Was more willing to listen than Kudo to Yoichi's beckon, and probably was just following Kudo's rejection of Midoriya

While we don't see Kudo's face, we see Bruce's eyes when Yoichi calls on his heroes. Bruce was more open and receptive, or at least more impacted.

Bruce was also the one to start talking, while Kudo just kept quiet.

He actually communicates a lot

When Yoichi called them to support Midoriya, Bruce started talking to paint a picture of why they thought the way they did, so Yoichi understood where they were coming from.

(Though he seems to beat about the bush sometimes, since Kudo spoke up to be direct on how they couldn't just put their trust in some starry-eyed teenager. Plus, when Kudo tells him to just tell him what's wrong [double Factors])

When Midoriya first used Fa Jin against Nagant, Bruce came out just to tell him he knew what he was trying, but that Midoriya wasn't ready; and Midoriya found he was right. Midoriya just didn't want to listen to him then.

He asks Kudo for clarification after finding Kudo had two Factors in him after the sewer incident ("Just to be sure, All For One didn't touch you, right?") Kudo knew him well enough to go "stop beating around the bush and tell me", so Bruce was probably gonna start with questions, theories, and trying to understand everything in general, before saying "yeah you have two Factors. Don't know why".

Is strong-willed and loyal.

He followed Kudo, even to death, carrying on the cause he started until it ended with him.

Plus, when talking about how AFO needs a strong will to override OFA's own, we first see Bruce, Kudo, and Yoichi.

AFO couldn't steal OFA because the will was too strong for him, and that was back during Banjo's time. Since Shinomori never actually tried opposing AFO and just hid, we can assume the first Three (Yoichi, Kudo, Bruce) already had an accumulation of strong willpower that made OFA un-stealable. Those three are a strong enough foundation, and the main wills, that the other users just become bonuses.

Kudo, also saying that Midoriya needs allies with the same will and drive as him... hey Kudo, you're talking about yourself and your old allies, aren't you? That's why you look at Yoichi and Bruce when you say this.

Not only is Bruce attractive, but he's got good character. THE END.