#but they didn't have a board in the back and the bags were mostly too big and kinda grime-y lol

[bobbinalong]

i've been properly bagging my comics for the first time since i've started collecting 'em and i'm still under a hundred single issues but it's still SO MANY, why did i not start this earlier

[ssahotchnerr]

I had a dream about this scenario last night and I don’t think I’ve seen anything like this. Aaron’s fiancé is currently in law school but she mostly has done everything online. Recently she’s had to start attending classes and her teacher has been making her extremely uncomfortable. He got access to her phone number and texts her all hours of the night. Leaves notes on her assignments asking her to dinner etc. she doesn’t want to worry Aaron cause he has so much on his plate anyway so she ask Morgan to go have a talk with the teacher to scare him off. But it turns into more of an obsession and Aaron has to get involved.

holy shit you literally had a full on movie going on in that dream and it's literal perfection cw; creepy guy yuck

it starts out with lingering stares. the prof's gaze would remain on you far too long, even after you finished speaking if you were to talk aloud, and another student was adding their input. you brush it off, tell yourself you're probably overreacting, but without fail, there's always that sickening feeling pooling in your stomach.

at first, you're seated in the front - you've always been that kind of student - better access to the board, quick to ask questions, etc., just very involved in class. but as you're seated in the front, you catch him staring at your legs, he moves closer to you during the lecture, not so subtly glancing at your chest, calls on you even if your hand isn't raised.

the more uncomfortable you get, you talk less, rarely participate, you choose to sit in the back, and that's when he starts leaving notes on your assignments - telling you how attractive you are, how you're the most extraordinary student he's had, asking you to coffee or dinner. you try your hardest to ignore it, telling yourself you just need to get through the semester. you even went to your academic advisor to see if you could potentially drop the class, but it's a needed credit. and at this point, you're already a bit into the semester, so you might as well finish it off. not only is it all incredibly disgusting, it's disheartening too. you were so looking forward to attending in-person classes after being strictly online, and now you wish you would've stuck to that.

aaron, of course, is quick to notice a change too. you don't talk about the class over dinner like you used to, ask for his expertise when it comes to difficult assignments. you're quick to change the subject if it's brought up - you honestly avoid the topic altogether. aaron knows something's going on, he provides his support in different ways to show he's there for you - making you your coffee in the morning, packing you a lunch, leaving a note with it. (omg imagine the professor finding aaron's note to you - it accidentally slipped out of your bag and he's just outraged 🫢)

when you go to morgan, shock and disgust covers his face and he starts rattling off questions - how long has this been going on, have you reported him, have you told aaron?!?!?!!? and when you tell him no, tears are just rolling down your cheeks - and it's actually the first you've cried over this whole situation, you've been holding up a strong front until now. :(( derek pulls you into a tight hug, tells you he'll do what he can, and also strongly encourages you to tell aaron. he's all, "he's your man, he'll want to know" 🥺

and ohhh when aaron finds out - furious is an understatement. you tell him the whole story from the beginning, you show him the notes that the prof has left you, and he's immediately in protective mode. and despite how upset he is, he's still so gentle and he feels so bad you've been going through this, alone at that :(((( his voice is all soft as he brushes your tears away, "sweetheart 🥺 you could've told me" and pulls you safely into his arms. you explain how you figured you'd just suck it up, didn't want to bother him, and aaron just gently shushes you, tells you okay, he understands, but please never hesitate to come to him if there's something going on :(

aaron then tells you that he's going to put a stop to this, he'll make sure of it. he calls the school, sends a Very Scary and Very FBI letter. and that prof gets fired yay!!!! and actaully, he does have a criminal record of stalking and being a creep. but with that new free time 🫢 that only means he has more time to look into you ...

[thevoidstaredback]

How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have

Preparations, Danny soon realized, were very much useless. He'd spend a while just watching the vigilante, recording his habits and schedule, following him around and taking note of the little details. Call him a stalker, but he was just trying to make sure Nightwing didn't end up in an early grave.

Not like him.

Any and all preparations Danny had made could not ever fully gear him up for actually talking to the only vigilante he'd ever met. Sure, he knew the guy from afar, but actually speaking to him? Looking him in the eye? Having the other look back at him and actually respond? The closest he'd ever gotten to letting the guy know he was there was when he left food out for him and made sure he had water, sometimes coffee, within reach at all times.

Now that Danny was here, standing in front of the door to Nightwing's - Richard Grayson, he'd learned on day three - apartment, he was frozen. Was he actually about to do this? Could he really risk it? What if Nightwing flipped out?

No. He couldn't think like that. Nightwing's a vigilante, a detective, and an officer of the law. He won't attack willy nilly. Besides, it was too late to turn back now. Danny knew way too much about Nightwing's life to back off now.

Not allowing himself to hesitate any longer, he reached up and pressed the doorbell. He didn't hear the sound, but shuffling from inside alerted him that the man he'd come to see was now moving towards him.

'I hope this goes well,' Danny thought. Then, the door opened. "Good, at least you're taking care of yourself and actually eating proper foods. Now, I'm here to discuss your extracurriculars and how to time manage them properly without running yourself into the ground." He didn't mean to enter the apartment uninvited, but he didn't want to risk Nightwing closing the door on him or something. "I've brought my own board with an ideal itinerary that I expect you to follow." He turned to look at the man. "Any questions?"

Nightwing rook a second to process the words. Then, he said, "Yeah, just one: Who the fuck are you, kid?"

Well, he was in this deep, might as well dig himself a deeper grave. "I would say I'm your new legal guardian, but you're older than me and I can't exactly adopt a fully grown adult." Right? Yeah. Danny sat down stiffly, his bag on the floor and leaning against his leg. He pulled out the binder he'd cleared out and dedicated to helping the older vigilante and put it on the table. "I could say that you're my new legal guardian, but we run into a similar problem." Kind of. Being dead is a legal barrier, so adoption's off the table. Transferred custody on the other hand? Well, he's got that taken care of. Though, he had to wonder, "Could you adopt me?" No, he couldn't think of a way that would work. "No matter."

Nightwing, still standing by the open door, shook his head a bit as if to clear his mind. "I'm sorry, who are you?"

Introductions? Yikes. "I'm Danny! Nice to meet you!" He had no idea how he's not completely bombed this yet, but he wasn't going to complain.

Nightwing didn't move from the door, let alone shake his hand. Danny put it back on his lap. "Likewise, I guess."

"What, no name?" Was that pushing it?

"I'm optimistic, not an idiot." Yeah, he'd towed the line a bit.

Shrugging to try and rid himself of the nervous butterflies in his stomach, Danny opened the binder to the front page. It was mostly so he'd have something to do with his hands, but it proved to be a decent distraction for Nightwing, too. Though, he pushed down a blush when he saw the glittery blue writing. It was the only other pen he had on him and he'd stolen it from Jazz.

The distraction didn't last. "How did you find this place?" Nightwing asked, the door still wide open.

"Doesn't matter." He didn't think the vigilante would take kindly to being stalked followed around the subject of a kid's curiosity.

Nightwing very much did not seem to believe him. "Why do you think I have a day job and a night job?"

Did he- Oh. The man was probably holding out some kind of hope that Danny wasn't saying what he was saying. Oops. Should he apologise? "I'm a realist, not an idiot."

Throwing the words back at him was probably not the best decision. Then, again, Danny hadn't made a whole lot of good decisions since he'd stepped foot in Bludhaven. At least here, there was a chance he could get away with it, relatively scot free. Imagine if he were in Gotham? With how violent Batman got recently? No thank you. He'd rather take his chances with his parents.

Danny did his best to not clear his throat as he flipped to the next page. "First thing's first. Why do you do what you do? Why go out at night to fight crime when, I assume, that's what your day job is for? Why hurt yourself to help other people?"

Those were all questions he'd had to ask himself before the portal destabilized. Why did he do what he does? Why risk himself to help the people who'd never thank him for his help? Why put his life on hold to do the job of adults?

He'd thought he'd had solid answers for them back then, but he wasn't so sure anymore. Regardless, this was a good place as any to start helping Nightwing.

If he could help just this one person, he'd be satisfied.

Part 3 Part 5

Tag List: @flame-343

[gurugirl]

STOPPPPP IT THE SHORTS ARE SO SHORT! WTF THE TIGER IS SHOWING! OMG Y/N WOULD GO CRAZYYYYYYY OVER IT. okok so maybe y/n gets jealous that Harry was wearing such short shorts in public that she ends up getting moody and Harry makes it up to her by letting her ride his thigh and fucks her saying stuff like “y’know this cock belongs to you darling” and stuff 😩😩

HAPPY FRIDAY YOU GUYS!!!

PLEASE I've been looking at these pics all day. What is this man thinking????????? I cannot handle him. He's such a tease. And I wrote this way too fast. Sorry if it sucks but this picture deserves a smut piece written about it. He's too fucking hot.

1.6k words

warning: mostly plotless smut, not proofread whatsoever

Y/n was used to Harry being ogled. Always the hottest guy in the room with the most charisma and charm. Everyone flocked to him and everyone's eyes always followed him. He was magnetic. And he knew it too.

As much as she realized she had nothing to worry about she still got jealous of the attention he constantly got. He didn't even need to try. He could be wearing a backwards baseball cap and loose jeans with a t-shirt and people would still be after her man.

And today, their little break away from the business of life led them to a relaxing little outing in the Italian sun. Before they'd even left the villa she eyed his short green trunks and how his fit torso was in full view, the long sleeved shirt draped over his shoulders, totally unbuttoned.

Biting her tongue, she figured she was being silly wishing he'd cover up a bit. She certainly wouldn't take well to him telling her to cover up, not that he'd ever.

But once they were on the beach and about to board their private yacht she did notice women and men alike watching him. His bronzed chiseled abs and pecs peeking out from the shirt, and of course he'd tucked his shorts up a bit to protect the mesh lining from chafing this inner thighs (he always did that because he said his package was too large to sit comfortably in the lining and it gave him a little extra support). His strong thighs on full view holding his tall frame upright as he carried both of their bags.

"Come on," he held his hand out to her as he helped her up into the boat safely.

He could tell she was a little pouty. He knew her too well. Knew he was being eye fucked by half the beach as they walked to the yacht they'd rented for the afternoon.

"What's wrong, love?" He grinned as he pulled at the strap of her bathing suit teasingly.

"Nothing. Just looking forward to getting out onto the ocean."

Harry crowded her space, stepping in front of her so she couldn't look at anything but him, "Yeah? Is that it? You seem to have been awfully quiet all morning. Nothing else you want to talk about?"

She looked up at him and the smirk he wore told her that he knew just what she was pouting about. But she just shook her head and crossed her arms, "Nope."

The low chuckle that fell from his chest as he pushed her arms down and grasped her wrists made her cheeks warm up, "Liar. You're jealous."

Harry kind of liked that she got jealous. Because in all truth, he'd get jealous when anyone would look at her just the same.

"Am not."

Harry walked her backward as the driver of the yacht began to move the boat out to sea, "Let's go down into the suite for a bit. Need to show you something," he gestured toward the door that lead to the stairs to get to the lower level.

She huffed as she carefully stepped down into the furnished room. It was small but there was a counter with a TV above it, a mini bar with fridge, a bathroom, a sitting area and a bed in the center.

Harry closed and locked the door before grasping Y/n's arms and pushing her toward the bed, pressing his chest into her back and speaking into her ear in a dark baritone, "Let's figure out what's got you so moody. Maybe I can help."

She tried to keep her composure but his voice and his skin and his hands always melted her poise.

When he felt her relax into his hold he smiled and kissed the back of her neck, bringing her into the bed with him, "There we go."

Y/n climbed into the middle of the bed and sat on her bottom as Harry spread out next to her, "Hop on. Let's talk."

She looked down at his lap and back into his eyes. She knew his plan. It always worked.

Biting the inside of her cheek she quietly moved to straddle his lap but he stopped her from fully spanning his thighs with hers, "Just sit on the tiger for a minute."

She looked up at him like he was crazy but settled herself right over his thigh, the crotch of her swimsuit right on top of the inked tiger on his strong thigh.

"Good girl. See that," he looked down to how she was sitting on him, "No one else gets to do that. Just cause they can see it doesn't mean they can fuck themselves on me like this. Know you like that, don't you?"

She nodded bit her bottom lip.

"That's right." Harry put his hands at her hips and pulled her up and then pushed her back a bit, "Let's see you do it. Show me who this belongs to."

Once Harry got her momentum going she rocked over his taut, muscular thigh gently. Harry kissed her softly and moaned, "See? What they don't know is that this tiger gets his face fucked by the prettiest little pussy. Gets to have your scent all over it. Cause you own it. Don't you, love?"

"Yes." She squeaked pathetically.

She was already so turned on and it wasn't because of the way she was rubbing her cloth-covered clit over his thigh. It was the way he was speaking to her. She could feel herself getting wet slowly and the faster she rocked she noticed Harry's large bulge under his short green trunks.

"Getting him coated, love. Good job, honey. You need a little more? Want to come?"

"Y- yes. I do, Harry..." She lowered her hand from his shoulder to cup his thickened cock, "want this."

"Mmm... want my cock? Want to fuck yourself on my cock? Fuck what's yours?"

She nodded and the look in his eyes turned quickly from soft green to dark and lusty, "Take your bottoms off right now."

She quickly got up to her knees and pulled her swim bottoms down her legs as Harry pulled his green trunks off, his cock bobbing heavily as he leaned his back into the headboard.

She climbed after him, desperate to have him inside of her and she whined as she grasped him and placed his hot, thick crown at her entrance. She paused as she looked him in the eyes but Harry needed her just as much. He put his hands at her waist and pushed her down onto him, groaning lowly at the relief.

"Fuck. This cock is all yours, Y/n. Every bit of me is all yours, darling."

She keened as she felt him inside her guts so deep it ached.

Slowly she began rolling her hips back and forth, grinding her pussy down over him, keeping her clit satisfyingly smeared against his pelivs.

"It's mine," she whined as she put her hands on his shoulders and rocked quickly, the sound of her wet pussy sucking his cock in deep sounded between them.

"Yes it is. Fuck it like you mean it, Y/n. Want to see you own it. Need you to milk me dry."

Y/n gasped when Harry put his hands under her thighs and helped her ride him properly. It was always a task to fuck him this way but so worth the view and the orgasm.

She wanted to make him come so hard. Make him dizzy and mushy and drain his balls of everything he had. She wanted his come inside of her where it belonged. Because it was hers. No one could have Harry in this way. He was her man.

"Yes, baby. Riding me so good. Fuck yourself on me deep, honey. Make yourself come on me baby. Take what's yours, Y/n."

Her chest was getting hot and her thighs were burning as their wet skin slopped together each time she dropped down onto his cock, tucking him deep inside of her so his balls were up against her ass.

Looking down between their bodies it was a sticky, creamy mess. The trimmed hair at the base of Harry's shaft was white with cream and his girthy cock was stretching her out so beautifully.

"Harry! Oh my god. I'm gonna come!"

"Yeah?" Harry widened his thighs and bent his knees the slightest bit so he could take her over the edge and fuck into her so deep she could feel his come in her womb. The moment he began to move his hips into her she yelped and gasped and her fingers dug into his shoulders sharply, "Who's cock is this, baby? Tell me who it belongs to, honey," his words were grunted.

"It's mine! You're mine, Harry!" Her world was spinning as she jolted up each time he punched into her from his position below. His fingers dug into her ass and he clenched his teeth as he began to throb.

"S'right. This cock is yours. I'm yours, Y/n. Fucking gonna make me come aren't you, baby?"

She nodded and then her mouth dropped open and she grew silent as her orgasm washed over her body. Her ears rang as she pulsed over his cock.

Harry choked out a loud moan and filled her to the brim with himself as he stilled his hips and his thigh trembled at the exertion.

Gasps and soft inhaled breaths were stifled when Y/n pushed her lips to his and pressed her chest into his tightly, her arms wrapping around him.

Harry grunted a laugh and pinched her bottom and she jumped.

"Told you I could help. All better now?" Harry cooed at his sweet girl.

Pulling back to look at him she smiled, "All better now."

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[oval3000]

Chapter 1

Yandere Teacher Nanami x Student Reader

Warning: Abuse, (force) smut. Abduction, violence, rough play, toxic behavior, age gap, everything from all above. Mainly from his point of view...somewhat... modern au- ish idk. College teacher x student.

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

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

The bell ringing caused all the students to pack their bags and walk out of the classroom. The janitors, of the school, sweep the empty floors of the hallways. Teachers were gathering their paperwork, making copies, and saying goodbye to other fellow mentors.

Nanami picked up the black, felt, block and started to erase the chalk from the board. All the math equations of the new lectures become just white dust falling to the ground. He closed the math textbook, feeling his eyelids wanting to shut. Another day, another day lecture that half of his students will fail at.

He shoved all the homework sheets half of the class handed, into his black, leather, briefcase. He enjoyed his job. If he didn't he wouldn't continue to be here. He liked being a teacher. He liked math. He liked to teach those who wanted to learn. quote, "Those." He would love his job even more if all of his students would actually pay attention. He wouldn't be so tired if his students would come up and ask for help when they needed it. When he saw the grades of more than 50% of his students fail their latest test, he changed his teaching ways, however, the statistics never changed. They still failed to understand the mathematical procedures of each formula that would give them the correct answer. If only they pay attention and not stare at their phones all the time. If only they take it a little seriously then maybe they would actually walk out to get their diploma.

He offered to help them as much as he could as a teacher. He stayed after school for those who needed help to come in and ask, but no one came. He gave them all a little paper booklet with specific instructions for how to use each formula to each question, yet, he kept marking f's on their test. At least is not 100% of his students, or else he wouldn't even have a job.

He did notice a pattern of those who fail. The same ones that don't even show up for half of his classes. Those who show up high. Those who show up just to chat or use their phones the whole time.

He spends more time scolding them for not listening than to teach them all the things they need. Especially after he taught them how to deal with their taxes.

His one particular class that he always has issues with. He's a teacher, he shouldn't think badly about his students, but that one class he hates the most. His 10:00am class. When his students don't listen, they don't bother to take notes. They're too busy recovering from their hangover from the party they had last night. Nanami knows what goes on with a college student. He was once a college student. Granted that he was never a party animal, he mostly focused on his grades rather than getting hammered on a Thursday night. However, he saw and heard about the wild nights his classmates had. So, he's not shed out when it comes to his students who come in with their eyes red and their hands covering their heads, trying to control their headaches.

He would enjoy his job even more if the girls actually asked for help rather than pretend they wanted help just for them to flirt with him and show their bodies off.

He would instantly tell when they wanted to have sex with him. It's no secret that he's attractive and handsome. A lot of his students would flirt with him and that includes his co-workers. Girls would come up to him with a question by leaning in, seductively, close to him to show their cleavage and wiggle their asses to show more of their cunt. All Nanami could do is to roll his eyes and tell them to go back to their seats.

He found it lame and embarrassing how easily they would want to give in just to pass a simple math class or to just sleep with him. He knows his other male co-workers are the opposite of him. They would easily go at it and fuck their students if they seduce them like that. After all, he caught his fellow colleague fucking a student in his office. His colleague was afraid of Nanami telling so out of fear, he gave him his position, as the head of the math department. Nanami didn't care nor was he going to tell, but he enjoyed the little promotion. At least he's getting something out of it.

He was honestly disappointed that this was the outcome of his career. Teaching a bunch of students math that they swear they don't need. Dealing with dumb colleagues. Dealing with women who want to have sex with him. Dealing with endless useless grading was like a slap in the face to him.

That was until he received an email. An email saying that he's going to get a new student for his 10:00am class. He rolled his eyes and groaned in annoyance. Another student who won't bother trying to understand an equation.

He didn't have any high hopes or care. Especially in his 10:00am class that he hates.

He hates it.

He has to deal with another student.

Or so he thought.

When he heard your voice. your soft-spoken voice. He perked up and saw you. You stood there with your bag hanging on your shoulder and a piece of paper in your hand. "Are you Mr. Nanami?" He didn't reply, he just nodded. He was too busy studying you. your form, the way you spoke, everything. "Okay, I'm (Y/n). The new student." To stook out your hand as he shook it. Your soft, delicate hands. "Can I sit anywhere?" He nodded again. Never once has he been so starstruck by someone, a student.

He watched closely as you picked a seat, just a row behind the first one. Still close to the front. Still close to him.

Now the class he hated the most became the one he'll love the most.

[thatonebirdwrites]

When the news came, Lena was in a meeting with Sam and the L-Corp's board. She'd long ago set all alerts for Supergirl to come through to her phone, but ones where Supergirl was injured had been set to ignore all other settings.

The ring caused Sam to jump, but Lena kept her cool. She glanced down at her phone, and felt her veins turn to ice. A brief message that Supergirl had fallen from the sky.

Shit.

Lena grabbed her phone and bag. "I regret that I must take this call. An emergency has come up."

Sam looked at her, her brow furrowed in worry. "I can handle this, Lena. Go."

With a tight smile to her friend and CFO, Lena hurried from the room. She swapped out her shoes, and took off in a sprint. The alert had given her an intersection, but she needed to know if Alex knew about this yet.

Lena: Alex, I'm incoming.

Alex: wait, what?

Lena: Kara, she's fallen.

Alex: The hell? She's supposed to be eating lunch! Was in a meeting. Where?

Lena forwarded the alert's text, baffled that Alex had no idea.

Alex: How close are you? It's gonna take me fifteen minutes. J'onn unavailable.

Lena: Be there in five.

The doors of the elevator opened. Why drive when she could take the helicopter? When her pilot reached the intersection, Lena stared in horror. Someone had what looked like a missile launcher over their shoulder, and Kara laid in a cracked hole in the street in front of Noonan's. So Alex had been correct, Kara had been getting lunch, as drinks and food was spilled across the curb. People clustered in the doorways of the cafe and storefronts, and Kara's supersuit had a burn mark across its front.

Fuck.

"Hold us steady," Lena ordered the pilot. She grabbed a bag from behind her seat. In case of an attack -- considering she had quarterly assassination attempts all the time -- she had some specific weapons in here. One of them was a shotgun with some unusual shells. She flicked through her supplies and decided on a particularly useful set. She popped in the shells, cocked the gun, and threw open the door. The person started to look up, but Lena wasn't giving them a chance to react. She fired. The shots slammed into the person's back and immediately ice formed. She fired again. This time the person fell to the ground as a block of ice. Cryo shells had their use. She reloaded and gestured to her pilot.

He brought the helicopter closer to the ground. "Watch my back," she said, mostly out of habit, though she doubted the pilot could do anything. "And stay in the air. We'll need a quick exit." "Right, Ms. Luthor." He kept his gaze on the controls, his voice coming through her headset.

She jumped to the ground, her shotgun cocked. As she scanned the area, she realized, to her dismay, that another person stood in the shadows of the storefront across from Noonan's, armed with some sort of long rifle. Why the person hadn't fired yet confused her.

Lena aimed but didn't fire yet. She didn't have confidence that her shot would hit before the other took her out. "Step away from Supergirl."

The person wasn't that much taller than herself. Curly blonde hair leaked out of the black beanie, and blue eyes regarded her from under a black mask, their clothes definitely assassin-like. "Stay out of this, Luthor." A high-pitched voice. Possibly a woman?

"This is my business." Lena stalked closer. "Don't think I won't take you out like your friend there." She nodded at the other person dressed in black with a black mask over their face, their eyes closed. Ice was still encased around their lower body.

Lena wished she'd seen the person earlier. Otherwise she'd have fired on them too. Now they were in a stand-off exactly when Kara needed her the most.

"I don't want to do this," the woman in black said. "You're not on our list."

"Then step away now. Don't think I won't fire."

The woman stared at her for a long moment as if sizing her up. Her voice timbre changed to a hint of coy and frustrated. "Why do you care, Lena Luthor? Doesn't your family hate Kryptonians?"

Lena rolled her eyes. "I'm not them." She needed to distract her somehow. At least until Alex got here or Lena could fire the shot without getting hit in turn. "Now, how about you put down your weapon, I'll put down mine, and we'll talk like civilized people?"

The woman hesitated, her rifle moved just an inch down.

That was when the shot came from above. The bullet hit the woman's shoulder, she staggered backward, and Lena took the shot. Two blasts later, the woman was encased in ice like her friend.

Lena slung the shotgun over her shoulder and raced to Kara's side. "Supergirl!" She dropped next to her and felt for Kara's pulse. It was faint, far too faint. "Dammit." She didn't have time to check for injuries. Kara needed extracted immediately. "Riordan, drop the stretcher," she said into her headset.

The helicopter hovered closer, and a side door slid open. The stretcher shot out, swung, and slowed to a stop above her head. She reached up, snagged its side, and pulled on its rope until she had it next to Kara. It took two tries to lift the Kryptonian -- damn, Kara was heavy -- until she had Kara on and belted in securely. Flicking the switch on the bottom of the stretcher, a set of footrests dropped into place.

After she clamped her shoes onto the footrests, she noticed several people had started to come out of the stores with their phones in their hands, likely recording her rescue.

Whatever. All Lena cared about was Kara. "Go," she ordered her pilot, and held on tightly as the helicopter lifted toward the sky.

TO BE CONTiNUED...

[darkchocoboo]

El Jefe| Javier Peña

 summary: You work for Javier in Bogotá on Cali case.  And he offers you a couch to “sleep”. 

tw: penetration, p in v sex, oral (f! receiving), little context mostly smut

(I can’t write smut)

( and I'm planning to write p2)

SMUT! Minors DNI! 

Part 2

You were focused on the board in front of you like your life depends on it. Your hips on the side of the table. You were standing there like that for over an hour to solve the puzzle you've been working on since you were sent to Colombia. The air was thick and hot. Your white formal shirt buttons were already half open. Sweat sliding between your breast. You were so focused that you didn't even hear Peña walking in. His lighters little sound snapped you into the real world.

"Working late Agent?" You hummed between your lips while massaging your noses bridge.

"If you gonna say something Peña, believe me I'm not in the mood for a fight." You were expecting a mocking reply but instead he handed you a whiskey on the rocks. 

"Wow, who are you?"

"Just relax a little," he said while closing the distance and taking of his vest. "Everybody needs a break."

You took a sip from amber colored drink burning feeling washing over your throat.

"Everybody left. Go to your home, sleep agent." He murmured as he sipped his drink.

"Jokes on you Boss. I don't have a home. Yet." You sat down to the chair next to you. Kicking of your heels you forgot you were wearing.

"What?"

"I didn't have time to rent. I was just staying at an hotel. But they kinda kicked me out for being an agent or a gringo, you choose." His hands slipped to his neck. Scrunched his face.

"You know I have a spare couch."

"OH you nasty man trying to take me home. Jokes aside. I can't accept your offer. No." You got up walking past so close to him that your hips almost touched his front. "I have to work on this anyways," you said under your breath.

He was an attractive man. Known as a womanizer. Just being with him in the same room made your skin hot. Maybe it was the smell. Maybe it was because you were in a vulnerable time in your life. You were afraid you would fell into his trap.

"I can't let you stay here all night without sleep, Agent. No. Let's go get some food and sleep. Tomorrow morning we can search for a house. Okey. C'mon." His cigarette was hanging from his fingers losely.  You massaged your nose bridge. After short seconds you were in his car nibbling on the food he got you.  You moaned low.

"That's some good shit."

Your low moaning twitched something inside him. He was watching you with a side eye while driving to his place. Your legs in your mini skirt was glistening with light coat of sweat. Bogotá was indeed hot that time of the year. Your hair was in a lose bun low on back your neck. Leaving your neck open. White shirt on you was tight, just like the skirt. Your make up was smudged a little after the day you had at the office, your under eye bags showing. They were dark because the lack of your sleep.

You were working with/for Peña for over a month now. When you walked in to Peña's room the first day you started he thought you were just there for the money but he saw how focused you were over the time. You were focused on the job. That definitely catch Peńa's attention. Longer he watched you work, longer he wondered about different things about you. Your interests, your drink of choice, your favorite music, the color of your underwear.

"Done checking me out Peña?" He snapped in the reality with your words.

"What?"

"You missed two red lights." He sighed.

"Just tired." He took a sharp turn. Killed the engine.

"That's us." Walked into the building. Keys clinging at the door to his apartment. His apartment was neat. Well decorated. You didn't expected a place like this. He walked to the couch. Dropping his body like a bag.

"Make yourself at home sugar."

You went to the bathroom to change. When you walked in to the living room you saw him in his white t-shirt that was clearly too small for him. His little beer belly was showing and the fabric around his biceps was looking like it was gonna explode if he makes a wrong move. You wish he would. He looked at your side and checked you out like it was his first time seeing you. In your spagetti stap top an your little short that made his cock throbe under his clothes.

"Beer?" He handed you a cold one while he sat next to you in the couch.

Your bodies so close that you felt his heat washing you. He smelled like cigarettes and fresh woods that made your head spin. You took a sip from the bottle. The way your lips touched the bottle made him ache.

His hands walked to your cheeks, his thumb brushing your cheekbone. He got closer and closer to you in seconds. His handsome face stopping so close to yours, breaths lacking your face.

"So, cariño, " The way he speaks, tone of his voice... You slowly turned your body to him. Eyes slightly shut with the atmosphere around you two. "What'u gonna do about house?" You couldn't put words together, just let out a sigh and shake your head in unknown.

"I don't wanna think about it right now." Your lips touching with every word you say. Next thing you know is his lips on yours. Passion was the only word to describe it. Like he was burning internally. Hand run down on your shoulder. Grabbed hard like he’s never gonna let you go.  Other on your waist, cold from his fingers gave your exposed skin goosebumps. You moaned into his mouth while the kiss got deeper. You grabbed his hair in need. Pulling his dark curls.

Something inside you was constantly whispering that what you’re doing was wrong. Fucking your boss. But the other side, it was crazy for his touch and needed him between your legs, inside you. Wrecking you to a mess. It was wrong but it felt hella fine. You did nothing to stop.

His lips traced an invisible line to your boobs. Ripping the top to leave you naked. He flicked your nipple with his rough tongue. Your nails digging into his scalp more. Moans coming out of your mouth like it was a sacred song. Filling his ears and making him want you more. He left your skin for a moment, looked into your eyes between his long lashes with eyes that hazed from desire.

Your head falled back. Breathing heavily. He got up, undressed in matter of seconds. His hard cock was thick. Thickest you saw in your entire life to be honest. You stared at it for to long apparently he let out a chuckle.

“You like what u saw baby? Want it?” An approving moan filled the room. He got onto his knees.

“Not yet.”  His hand grabbed the waist of your shorts and took it off in a fluid motion. Your lace panties following it to the floor.

His lips were exploring your inner thighs. Taking deep breaths inhaling your intoxicating smell.

“Javier, please.” His teeth digging in to your skin, leaving marks.

Your hands found his hair one more time pressing him into your core.

“Good girl. All wet for me.” His trigger finger find your core parting it.

“S’good, corazon. You look beautiful.” His hot breath hitting your exposed and sensitive core with every word he says.  Next, it was his tongue, sending shivers up to your body.

“Javi,” He smiled against your skin. His tongue giving you kitten licks, his soft lips pressing your nub and pulling it.  A finger went in. And then another followed it. Feeling his fingers inside made you ache for him more. Long fingers brushing your deep spots you never new existed. Clit throbing under his tongue made his mouth water. Wet sounds coming from your core and his finger was filling the room.

Air was thick and smelled like both of you. Stray curls got stuck on his forehead with sweat.

A knot in your belly was getting tighter with every move his tongue did.

“Javier, I’m,” His fingers got faster when you moaned.

“Yeah, baby. Tell me what u want.”

“I’m gonna, gonna cum, please.” His fingers didn’t leave your insides, never slowed down. He leaned to you. Lips touching.

“Cum baby. Cum on my fingers.” His thumb massaged yor nub.   You could taste yourself on his lips when you licked his lips with hunger. Your climax getting closer and closer. Your walls tightening around them fingers.  

You bit his bottom lip when your high hit you. Your thights started to shake as you clasped his hands between yor legs. In want to feel him deeper in your core. Room started to rotate with the feeling. Juices coming out of you left wet spots on his couch. Your breaths mixing together as you tried to help yourself come together. You looked at him with watery eyes, your mascara runing down on your cheeks.

His hard cock hitting your belly lit another fire inside you.

Legs hugging his waist as you pulled him for a kiss. He used that to grab you from your ass and started to carry you to his bedroom. Never breaking the kiss.

“S’wet Agent. Only if I knew,” You didn’t let him talk, covering his lips with yours. Leaving wet kisses and kitten licks as he sat on the bed.  

Dim light from the street light was hitting his face. His skin was glistening with sweat, eyes nearly shut with the feeling of your wet pussy on his lap.

“Beautiful,” you said unconsciously under your breath. He smiled across your lips.

“Yeah.” You started grinding to his lap, hips rotating slowly. He groaned as you kept moving. He reached out to his bedside table for a condom. Gave it to you as he falled back.

               You stroke him, his precum spreading all over, your juices from earlier as well.

“You’re doing so well baby.” He whimpered as your hand kept stroking his cock.

“¿Sí, jefe?” Javier’s cock twitched under your touch.

“Don’t call me boss like it doesn’t turn you on.” You felt his climax raising under your hand.  Your hand stopped, you put on the condom as you lined him on your entrance. He groaned.

“Corazón-mmh.” You slowly sank on his length as his groans got louder, turning into moans.

The feeling of him streching your walls was something else. Made the knot in your belly thighter. Burning so good that your head spins.  

“Javi~” you kept moaning his name as you jumped on him.

“Yeah baby, like that.” His hands on your waist slapped your as, burning feeling washed over your body. His fingers left a red mark on your ass.  Squeezing where he hit you. Hard enough to mark you.

He raised from the bed and hugged you, chest to chest. His lips kissing your thin skin, wanting to get under your skin.

“Javi” He turned our back to bed, hovering over you on his arms. His eyes burning with desire.

He moved his hips as lips find yours. Pumping into you as his pace got faster.

“Javier, please.”

“Yeah, baby. So good. Doin’ so well.” He kept chewing on your skin. Like he wanted to mark you, like he wants everybody to know you were his.

You felt your end growing inside your lower belly as his thrusts got sloppy and out of rhythm.

“YN, baby. I’m,”

“Yeah, Javi, me too. Keep going. Right there.” His groans got louder as you walls were thightening around him. His forehead fell over yours. His hot breath hitting your face.

“Baby” He didn’t let your words to end by kissing your lips as he cums inside you. Your walls milking the last drop of his cum as you came with him.

“S’good, Agent. S’good for me.” He fell on top of you as his weight crushing you to bed. Leaving small kisses all over your face.  

“Let’s sleep Agent. We have work to do tomorrow.”

[ynnova]

( 🍓 ) y/n things every atiny should know !

──── a list of things that every atiny ( or yn-inator ) should know about y/n or random headcanons that i think you all should know.

you're fluent in three langauges; english, japanese, and korean.

you think that if you didn't become an idol, you would have gone into game development.

after you left sm ent., you stayed at a boarding house with four other girls (mostly college age). you lived in the house up until a few months before kq fellaz was officially announced, and then you had moved into the dorm.

you were involved in several clubs during middle school and high school.

you went to an all-girls high school and was able to get in because of your high exam scores. you were also popular among your peers, often getting letters and small gifts.

you have a total of six tattoos, the most out of all the members who have some.

your parents and childhood friends use to call you a "disney princess" because of how many times you could get wild animals (mainly cats) to come to you, especially when they wouldn't go to others.

this cares into how you accidentally brought home a small fox, thinking it was just a weird cat. your parents made you take it back to where you found it.

you like to joke that the small fox returned to you in the form of wooyoung.

you are close friends with several sm artists, but especially close with nct's yuta who fans have spotted you hanging out with several times.

you also have a yuta picket that you got from an nct 127 concert and can still be seen in the background of your room during some lives.

you're a big fan of gravity falls and have even done a cover of "disco girl" a song from the show on a live (which is a parody song based off the abba song "dancing queen"). alex hirsch, the creator of gravity falls, even retweeted a clip of you singing onto his twitter account.

you've rewatched gravity falls at least 56 times. you like to watch it when on tour, but also like watching it with the members. the member that has rewatched it with you the most is mingi.

the boys often call you their "fix it girl" because you are often fixing things around the dorms.

you once did a livestream where atiny watched you replace a light fixture in the kitchen.

you have a large trinket collection of different figurine brands and you often try to buy one whenever you go to a new place.

you love video games, especially indie games or ones with cool graphics or complex stories. you often try to update atiny on what games you've been playing, having it be a mix of indie and triple a games.

in 2019, you took up the hobby of journaling/bullet journals and always have a journal in your bag with you when you travel.

you also have a digital one on your ipad that you are often seen working on in the background of logbooks.

you were the third trainee at kq, joining about a week or so after yunho did.

you have the most random livestreams out of all the members; this is often because of the time you go live or what you are doing during your lives.

when hongjoong got his laptop stolen, you and jongho helped re-record all his vocal guides.

as a result of all the livestreams, kq once banned you from going live for about two month; however, that didn't last as you still went live behind their backs.

you revealed in an interview that the member you are the closest too is wooyoung.

you used to share a room with wooyoung and yeosang at ateez's first dorm, then you and mingi shared a room, and now you have your own room but share a dorm with yunho and yeosang.

during fireworks era, you wore several bob cut wigs and had basically the whole atiny fandom believing you actually cut your hair.

you have went viral several times because of your stage looks, often starting popular trends for other idols. you'll usually be cited wearing something or having a specific hair color and then a few months later, other idols will do the same thing.

you also tend to go viral for your airport fashion as well, many atiny and netizens in general always waiting to see what you are going to wear.

you were the voice actress for final fantasy vii remake character eileen for both the japanese and english releases of the game. you also came back for the 2024 release of rebirth. eileen is a made up character and not actually in the game.

you made your acting debut in 2021 with the thriller drama "gothel" that aired on netflix. the drama did exceptional well and your acting in it was so well received that atiny are hoping for you to act again.

there has been rumors recently going around that you are rumored to star in a sci-fi, psychological horror movie, but nothing has been confirmed.

in 2024, you were invited to new york fashion week by both sandy liang and selkie along with paris fashion week by vivienne westwood.

[t3a-tan]

Romantic and Hopeless (9/?)

First / Previous / Next

---

As they arrived at the cabin, Oscar pushed open the jammed door with some effort, before blocking it back up. Some of the windows were smashed in, but Freddie and him had covered the broken windows with wooden boards. The cabin was still cold, but it was mostly sheltered from the elements. The lights obviously didn't work, but there was enough natural light for now and Oscar had brought a lantern with him.

He removed his bag of supplies, tossing them onto the wooden floor and letting out a sigh of relief now that they had reached their intended destination. I don't think Ryker will find us here…

He glanced towards a cricket bat that was sitting in the corner. He and Freddie decided to keep a weapon inside just in case they needed it for some reason. At least I'll have something to defend us with. Not that it'll do much against a gun…

Walking over to the old dusty sofa that had been leftover by whoever lived in the house before he sank into it with another content sigh. Then, as he caught movement from the corner of his eye, he smiled warmly seeing Sammy crawling out of his pocket and across the chest of his puffy jacket.

“Crazy that your cousin happened to live here, ent it? And he rides birds? That's cool as fuck.” He couldn't imagine being so calm and confident riding on the back of something so massive. He felt nervous enough looking at it whilst human sized, let alone as a borrower.

Sammy was not as impressed. It was still weighing heavily on her mind; the fact that Oliver was clearly not afraid of humans as a borrower should be— and he was reckless enough to try taming a bird? A bird of prey no less?? Clearly he had a few screws loose.

Yes, Oscar did seem nice enough for a human… and yes, the bird was well-trained…but a borrower without caution was as good as dead. Yet, Sammy still couldn't help her admiration and care for her cousin… he was more like an older brother to her after all; having lived with her parents since she was born.

Oscar noticed the lack of response and the way her eyebrows furrowed in frustration, clearly deep in thought thanks to his comments. He tilted his head, smile dropping slightly.

“Hey, you okay Sammy? You're spacing out a little. Am I too close?” Not that he could do much about it considering she was standing on his chest… still, he glanced towards the cobweb covered side table and decided against offering to place her there.

Sammy snapped out of her spiralling thoughts as the warm breath of the human facing her washed over her body, sending a shiver down her spine. She looked up to meet his gaze, a frown still apparent on her expression.

“Just…fretting about Ryker, that's all…” She lied, rubbing the back of her hand anxiously and averting her gaze. “What if he manages to find us here? That would put Oliver in danger too now.”

Oscar leaned his head back in thought, realising she was right. But then again…this seemed to be Oliver's home, so he would have a much better chance surely.

“I mean… he's stayed hidden this long, I'm sure he'll be okay.” Oscar tilted his gaze downwards towards her again, tilting his head slightly and offering a reassuring smile as his brows furrowed with uncertainty. “And we will too. He's not gonna find us.”

Sammy let out a breath from her nose, her hand moving up to rub her shoulders as she hugged herself.

“You don't know him like I do. He's…he's smart. He's…too observant. Sometimes I'm not even sure he's human…” She shuddered again. “And most importantly, he has connections. I-I…I don't think I'm ever gonna feel safe with him just…out there.”

As she curled into herself more and more, Oscar felt a growing urge to hold her again. He quickly shook that feeling away; although he could tell she seemed like someone who found comfort in physical affection, it seemed more self-soothing. He could understand not wanting to be touched.

“I…understand…”

He leaned his head back again, looking up at the ceiling which was thankfully mostly intact as he formulated a response. Once he had one he sat up just a tiny bit so he could see her better, but not enough to make her ground unstable.

“It's okay to be worried… but I will protect you, okay? I promise. I wouldn't let anything happen to my soulmate…” His words were sincere, and he hoped that they would bring her some comfort…he was a little confused when she froze up. “What's up?”

Sammy stared up at him, shocked.

“Y-you knew!?” Her tone was a melting pot of emotions; anger, fear, distrust, disgust, relief. Her cheeks burned hot, but it felt more like shame than the usual nice fuzzy feeling she got around him. She felt tense and on edge all over again.

“Oh shit— sorry it just slipped out.. I— you seemed really averse to me knowing, but it was kind of obvious and I just—!” He cut off his hasty attempt to save the situation when he saw that she had tears appearing in her eyes again, her glare venomous. His words caught in his throat, a sinking feeling coming over him.

Sammy knew that it was a secret that would come out eventually…and yes, it had been obvious she was Rabbit, but why did he pretend? Why didn't he acknowledge it? Was he trying to lull her into a false sense of security? Make her trust him just enough that she could be taken advantage of?

After all she had experienced, her relationship with this kind of attraction had become skewed. The thought that Oscar may be looking at her as someone who was attractive made her feel gross and want to pull away. Though, as she looked up at Oscar her glare faltered slightly, seeing that he looked so genuinely…hurt.

“Sammy— what…I don't understand why it upsets you so much.. I- uh… do you not want me to be your soulmate?” He asked, tone soft and even a bit shaky.

Sammy bristled at the question, her glare disappearing entirely. She bit her lip, averting her gaze and gripping her arms tightly, enough for her nails to scratch skin. She didn't know how to articulate how she felt about it. About him.

“I…don't know. I do…but I just..” She ran her hands through her hair, brows furrowing in frustration. Her expression seemed to change every second, all of the mixed emotions whirling around inside of her to make a confusing distressing mess. “I-I don't want…I don't want me…to be your soulmate…”

As she said that her gaze focused up on Oscar again, posture shrunken and uncertain of her words. I'm not making any sense. He's just gonna be angry at me…

Oscar was relieved when she said she did want him as a soulmate…then immediately confused by her next statement. He ran through it a few times in his head trying to decipher the meaning. So…she likes me, thank god. But she doesn't want me to like her?

“You know I wouldn't ever pressure you into anything, right? I'm not… if you just wanted to be friends forever, that's fine. I-I want to keep you safe because I like you, not because I want anything from you.” He could only imagine what she thought of him and those images made him feel sick to his stomach.

Yet at the same time…he couldn't fault her. Everything that she had been through was still so fresh on her mind, of course she was going to be more reactive. And Oscar really was telling the truth; that he wouldn't mind if things never went past a friendship, as long as that's what Sammy wanted.

Sammy was still conflicted about things, but seeing how sincere Oscar was and hearing what he said made some of her worries go to the back of her mind again. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart as she wiped at her watery eyes.

“I'm sorry… I-I just don't want you to look at me like…the other humans…” Humans are monsters…but Oscar seems safe. At least right now. Ugh…why is it always so uncertain? She felt some guilt for her instinctive reaction— even more so seeing how Oscar was continuing to be so nice to her even through her constant distrust and distress.

She held his gaze, tensing in surprise when a reassuring smile found its way onto his face again. She could tell he still felt sad; his eyes were still staring down at her…not with pity, but with concern? Remorse? Resolve?

“It's okay. I promise, I would never look at you that way. I respected and admired you when you were still Rabbit, and I respect and admire you now as Sammy. Nothing will change that…” He assured softly, making Sammy relax. He continued, though his tone became more light-hearted. “Well… maybe if you did something crazy like blow up a building I would be a little concerned.”

Sammy laughed wetly at his joke, wiping away the last remaining tear streaks from her face. She found herself genuinely smiling this time, although the realisation of that fact made her falter and avert her gaze again, cheeks flushing red.

Oscar chuckled slightly at her reaction, only to apologise as he saw how his chest moving up and down made the ground much less stable for Sammy.

“Sorry… Do you want to move to one of the arms so I can sit up?” He asked, though it was more of a request really. Sammy looked towards the arm of the sofa Oscar was leaning on and began to walk across. She moved slowly, trying to avoid putting much weight on her injured ankle as she slid the short distance down from the human's shoulder to the arm of the seat.

Oscar watched the process for a few moments, seeing that she was struggling to move at a faster pace, but also knowing it was best not to offer help here. He tried not to stare, eventually looking down at his hands again as they rested against his stomach.

Once he was sure she was no longer on his person he sat up slowly. He then leaned down and began to dig through his bag, pulling out his phone and a granola bar. Putting his phone beside him, he opened the bar before looking down at Sammy again with a warm smile.

“You didn't get to have breakfast yet, so I figured you might be hungry. I'm a bit peckish too, but I reckon I can spare enough for you.” He spoke light-heartedly, breaking off a piece and offering it forward between his fingers. “It has bits of chocolate in. I remember you said you liked chocolate once before.”

She at first shuffled back as his fingers approached, a cautious but not as purely terrified expression on her face. She took a wary step forward and took the chunk from Oscar's grip, then stepped back again and sat down. She looked the granola over, her expression lighting up as she noticed there were indeed chocolate pieces inside.

“You remembered? I swear I said it off-handedly…” She looked up at him, feeling a little…flustered over the fact that he had paid enough attention to recall that fact. Not to mention happy; she hadn't had chocolate for a long while— but it was a taste she couldn't easily forget.

Oscar chuckled softly again, raising the bar to his lips.

“Of course I remember. It's something we have in common.” He nodded his head towards her in an almost bow.

Sammy snorted, and began to nibble on the granola. As soon as she took her first bite she realised how hungry she was and had to restrain herself from just scarfing the whole thing down immediately.

While they ate, Oscar noticed the sound of flapping wings before spotting the same tiny man from before, Oliver, entering through a crack in the bottom of the jammed door. He had a bigger bag with him this time, and was dragging an extra bag in through the crack. Once he was through he slung it back over his shoulder and walked further into the open.

“Oh, hey. You're back.” Oscar greeted with a wave, staying seated and silently wondering how heavy those bags would be to him if he was that small…

Sammy had finished her chunk of the granola bar by now and she peaked over the edge of the arm of the sofa, her eyes focusing on her cousin right away.

“Hi…”

Oliver smiled and waved up at the two.

“Hello.” He looked to Oscar specifically next, asking politely. “Could you give me a hand up please?”

Oscar blinked at the direct question. Usually he was asking Sammy if it was okay to pick her up, so being asked the opposite took him off guard for a moment. He snapped out of it a second later, nodding and bending down, offering a palm to lift the borrower up onto the sofa.

Once he had lowered his passenger onto the same arm that Sammy was on, he spoke up again.

“What did you end up fetching..?” He asked curiously, moving his hand away again once the man had stepped off. “Looks heavy.”

Sammy couldn't help but also feel curious. She watched as Oliver opened one of the bags and pulled out some clothes…. Socks, shoes, a coat— warm things. Her eyes widened in realisation.

“These are…mum’s.”

Oliver nodded.

“They’re for you. You'll catch a cold if you don't wear something more appropriate for the weather… It might be a bit baggy, but I brought Auntie's old clothes since I thought you would have better luck fitting into them than my own. I have thread to make it fit better anyway, if changes need to be made.” He explained.

Sammy was hesitant to touch any of it, her hands shaking as she reached towards the clothes. But they…are hers. I might ruin them… After a few more moments of staring, she looked towards Oliver for reassurance, to which he offered an understanding smile and nodded.

“Something well-worn is something loved.” He pointed out. Hesitantly, Sammy slipped on the socks, immediately relieved by the extra layering. She hadn't had socks to wear for a long time. Or anything really, besides the gown she was wearing right now.

Sammy tried on the shoes and put on some shorts. Although the shorts were a bit baggy, they could be tightened by pulling a string which made them fit more comfortably. Looking down at her now clothed legs, it felt…comfortable. Warmer, definitely.

She glanced towards Oscar, only to see that he was looking at his phone, seemingly texting someone, not looking at her. Some of her anxiety faded again.

“And look who else I brought—”

Sammy bristled at Oliver's words, her face reddening as she immediately caught onto what he was referring to. She spotted Oscar looking over from the corner of her vision and she immediately tried to block Oliver from his view when she saw that he was indeed holding a stuffed bunny.

“Ollie..! Put him away..!” She whisper-yelled, already pushing the bunny back down as her face burned with embarrassment. Oliver gave her a knowing look.

“Oh. You want me to take it back to my burrow then?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. Sammy's eyes widened and she snatched it from his hands, not wanting to give it up as much as she also felt embarrassed about Oscar potentially seeing it.

“Is that…a teddy?” She spun around as Oscar's voice rumbled close by, yelping slightly upon noticing he had leaned in to get a look. Her face was still flushed, and she hid it behind her back again, as much as she knew it was already too late. A soft chuckle sounded from above. “Hey hey…nothing wrong with that, Sammy.”

Recognizing her embarrassment, Oscar moved away again, rummaging through his own bag.

“In fact…that makes this conversation much easier.” Sammy watched in surprise when he pulled out a stuffed dog. The redness on her face cooled slightly and her grip on the stuffed bunny loosened, no longer hiding it behind her back. “Meet doggy. I know, not a very creative name…but hey. I named him when I was a baby.”

Her brows furrowed before she averted her gaze, slowly lifting the rabbit and presenting it towards Oscar’s smiling face.

“...Messy… His name is Messy.” She murmured, the heat returning to her cheeks once she actually uttered those words, finding herself unable to look in Oscar's direction for the time being. Her heart was racing in her chest once more.

Oliver watched the interaction with interest, buttoning his bag closed again. He had seen Oscar's gentle nature and he very much approved, feeling more confident about letting Sammy stay in his care for the time being.

He had some important questions he needed answered, but for now he was content to see his cousin alive and happy. He waited a few more moments before clearing his throat to get their attention on him again.

“Now then… what is the danger you're both hiding from?”

[greekceltic]

Jacky has a haunted arm. It started as a roleplay thing that I didn't think I would make canon, but I probably will. The situations it creates are fun. Anyway, for our amusement she can use it to touch ghosts so she scared hers. (Art doesn't quite match the writing). You can read the roleplay clip under the read more or on toyhouse.

GreekCeltic-

Junior was where she left him. He glanced at her. Same face. Same bags under his eyes and blushless pallor. What did that bandit say?

  When eyes meet, the soul has made love?

Yeah he was wrong.

Junior turned back around and she wondered how far she could walk before he was compelled to join her. She felt a little bad for not asking, but the feeling had no stay power. His wants and needs took a backseat to hers and she had found a way to make herself okay with that.

He could talk. It was within his power to ask her to put him in someone else’s care any time he wanted. After being left in the woods she could understand why he wouldn't want to be parked on Vlinder's hearth- in the same forest -but there were other people in their group who would travel. All basically good people.

Picking her was self sabotage.

Idiot.

She walked all the way in and shut the door behind her. The wind feathered a few rug ends but didn't bother with him.

  Maybe he's like AI and can't defy me, she wondered. Like bullshit television. She had never made the leap that it could be worse. Jacky felt that she was babysitting and had exactly as much authority as a teenager over a nine year old. In the end, not very much at all. She kept waiting for his tantrum, wanting it because after all that had happened it would make sense, even be healthy, but it never came.

She stumbled back toward the fur mat she had grown to hate since she woke up and stared down at it, too tired to sleep. There was such a thing. Jacky swayed weakly near it and turned away.

She looked at him again and ground her bottom jaw.

  Dummy should be begging to leave.

She hated the way he idled against the wall like a toy soldier waiting for something to do. That was the kind of thing that got ice put down your shorts at sleep overs. The idea of that made her spine prickle in a bad way, but it made her think. Jacky tilted back and lidded her eyes. She reached for one of the support pillars and rested her weight on it, two feet closer to him.   I could do it. She moved her feet, taking care not to scuff them on the floor. She didn't have to worry about the boards creaking. If they didn't notice Vlinder they weren't going to notice her. There were no more pillars between them, but she thought she'd make it. She tried, and on the way thought about how many nights he'd spent right there in a different room. Waiting or staring, as engaged as a coat put away on a hanger. He didn't even breathe loudly because he didn't breathe anymore.   DO something! The last few feet ended with her wobbling behind him, alarmingly silent, but not very steady. She reflexively tried to grab his shirt to pull it back with her good hand, but it went right through. Jacky didn't stop to wonder if he'd noticed that. She stuck her *cold* hand out like a senile old woman with a fork. It went up his shirt and flattened on the part where his back sank in. It worked when she slapped him. No reason to think it wouldn't work now. Themascura--

The target of her ire had no idea.   None.   He was peacefully existing in a corner, appreciating the window. It was nice to have a different view. He liked trees. Not enough to have been okay with just their company for a few millennia, but enough to be okay staring at them for a few days.   It was pretty out there. There were squirrels. And birds! Not many of those in the city. The cats had mostly eaten them all-   Jacky was about to learn a whole lot of things in quick succession. One, she could in fact scare the shit out of a ghost. Two, despite being dead ghosts did in fact have startle responses. Three, when she was touching a ghost with her ghost hand apparently walls became interactable- because he slapped the window/wall with his belly when he jumped and it made a sound.   A beautiful hollow sound, like when you thumped a watermelon.   He left a foggy mark on the window when he hopped back. He was still hopping when he turned around, trying to shake the ice cube out of his shirt. His spine was still flickering when he got all the way turned- visible through his shirt and his front and almost as far as his shoulders. The look he gave her was universal. The sibling glance of- I WAS MINDING MY BUSINESS.   Here you are, starting some shit. He stuck a hand straight out for her face, confident it would go through, but also confident it would mess with her already wonky balance and depth perception. Time for you to take a time out on the floor. You pushed your luck to far today anyway.

GreekCeltic-- His reaction was Christmas. She wasn't sure what to make of his spine. Jacky looked at her hand and wondered if it had cannibalized him somehow. A week ago she had dumped all the extra stuff into Christoph's leg. That had been a surprise. Christoph was alive, there was no way to know it wouldn't do the opposite and suck Junior up like a straw, like it had Virgil's magic.   Oough, there was a mental image she did not enjoy. When she touched Christoph she went with a gut feeling that turned out to be right. Here too she decided to go with a gut feeling-- that it was fine. "Oh excuse me did I interrupt your vacant staring?" Jacky's hand was still up, she dropped it and raised her other one, rubbing her arm furiously like she was trying to warm it up. Cold fire appeared and walked toward her elbow. "Gonna do it again." She spread the fire to her good hand but she never got to try it. He threw his at her face- IN her face -and she spilled in stages. Mostly in slow, wobbly, backwards walking motions that ended up near the bed. She fell against the edge. She had been put to bed. OBNOXIOUS. Jacky leaned into her sprawled arm and chose to be happy he showed some life. She didn't think she could get up without crawling on all fours and that wouldn't be preferable. She was also tired. It was possible she had never been so tired in her life. She crawled over the edge and fell into the divot like a kitten into a laundry basket. She slept all of the night and most of the next day. The only time she got up was to wash. She made a point of it so history wouldn't have to repeat itself. Who knows how many rag baths she got during the week. One was too many. Two would have been life ending. Her hair was close to dry when she went back to sleep. She tried to make it longer, but felt harassed that she was not alone. Dreams had been hard to remember the first week, but they were piling up now. She didn't know if she was remembering things or adding fantasies to what she did. All she knew was she couldn't be her own witness. With each waking she was a little more confused and a little more convinced she shouldn't have gone back for the brooch. It could have waited. At the time the idea of leaving Junior out there to believe no one was coming was too much and it was too much now, but was it worth it?   The elf was back when she got up, laying beside her with his arm folded behind his head.   Him again. Jacky looked at him a minute, but decided she didn't really care. She didn't know why. It should have embarrassed her but it was like sleeping with a big white dog. She got the feeling he thought of her as a cat. She looked across the room and saw Herman on his back against the wall, also asleep. Some kind of spell had fallen over this house. She and Junior were exempt. She grabbed her poncho and went out the front door. The moonlit air was bright and icy. She wasn't wearing her shoes but she didn't expect to go far and wanted the snow to bite her feet a little. It felt good even when it stung. When she got to the gate she put her hand on it and flipped up the latch (too complicated for a dead guy, apparently), but never pushed it forward. It would have been easy, but the idea of the gate held fast. There was a bigger obstacle here than a physical one. I shouldn't, Jacky thought. More like I can't. She'd been thinking about this a lot and the conclusion she came to was damned if I do, damned if I don't.

[oonajaeadira]

Detected

Fandom: Merge Mansion / Tim Rockford

Pairing: Tim Rockford x f!reader

Reader: Adult female. No other physical descriptors; no use of y/n.

Rating: T. Fluff.

Warnings: Mention of serial killer that targets women.

Summary: Nobody sees you the way Tim does.

A/N: I dunno, I just had a hankering to write for Tim and looked down my list of tropes thinking I might be able to scratch the itch and accomplish a fic for my Year of Tropes at the same time. Something hit me in the right places for a little piece of sweetness, so here we go, with SECRET IDENTITY.

This is really fluffy. Like stupid fluffy. Moreso than my regular stuff. Just let me have my little trope. This one didn't go through a lot of draft revisions, it was just a fun little thot that needed out.

“Why don’t you take the afternoon off, Sunshine? Get some rest. You’ve been here ten days straight.”

Tim’s the only detective in the unit who talks to you directly, certainly the only one that doesn’t just call you ‘hon’ or ‘sweetheart’ or ‘girl.’ You’re pretty sure he’s probably the only one in the department that knows your name, but he rarely uses it. 

That isn’t unusual. You’ve always been the quiet one, the mouse, the wallflower. It’s your superpower, being able to go unnoticed. You’ve never been reprimanded, never bad-talked, never held up as a bad example.

But then, neither do you often find yourself praised or called in for opinion. Never once have you been asked to join anyone for happy hour or coffee.

So many times you’ve been standing in a meeting room and not once been addressed. So many times you’ve overheard something that perhaps you shouldn’t have just because you were below anyone’s notice.

It bothered you so much more when you were younger. Not the case anymore.

You’ve learned to love your quiet life, shuffling around the records room, carefully tagging and bagging, filling out the document cards, compiling files, taking meticulous photos of items for court cases and detective scrutiny. Nobody comes looking for you, so you get to take your time, a kind of professional meditation. At least once a week you notice a detail on a piece of evidence that you might make known to one of the team. Usually this gets you a thanks, but more often times a brush off that ends in the detective later gaining the credit for the discovery.

Tim is different. Observant. He actually listens when you bring him something of interest and asks for your opinion or your second eye. He still does that thing where he puts the pictures of people and evidence you provide up on the wall and connects it with string. He will stare at that board for hours, getting up every now and then to pace, then turning the chair around to straddle it backwards so he can lean over the back and look again, hoping to find the one connection that the string can’t touch.

And yet, even when he’s concentrating this hard, he’s fully aware of his surroundings.

So much so that he even notices you’ve slipped into the room to stand behind him--you, who goes mostly unnoticed when standing in full view of most people.

When you don’t answer him, he turns his chin back over his shoulder, his sharp profile coming into relief against the organized mess of the illuminated case wall. 

He’s so very handsome. And it’s a shame he doesn’t seem to know. Or care.

Snapping free of your musings, you finally answer. “Yeah, it’s been a busy week. I’ve still got the Murray case to document. There’s a lot of entries.”

Turning fully to look at you now, he takes his time formulating a new response. “That case is closed. There’s no hurry. You work too hard. It’s Saturday.”

You shrug and smile. “I like my job. And you're one to talk.” Nodding to the evidence wall, you step more fully into the room. “Any movement on this? Sure I can’t help you? Anything I can pull from archives?”

This is a tough one. There’s a lot of speculation as to the mangled bodies in the pictures. A new one found last night, a week old. The probability is high that there’s one club downtown that’s producing them all and a definite suspect, but the record’s clean. There’s no grounds for warrants.

He gives you one more thoughtful glance before turning back to his work. “Not unless you have anything that correlates this last one to Club 88 or to Mike Cross. But no. Thanks. Get out of here, live your life, be free. I’m gonna go grab an interview out at the pier but then I’ll be here all night.”

He’s hungry. You can see that look in his eyes, he’s close, he just needs that one connecting piece of evidence and he’ll empty the coffee pots in the breakroom tonight looking for one.

“You’re hungry, Detective Rockford. At least let me call in some takeout for you before I go? Lau’s number 22 with chicken, right?”

He simply nods. “Thanks, Sunshine.”

“You got it, Detective.”

—-

Your pager goes off two hours later.

Special case. Could use your help. Pier 13.

You’ve been waiting for the call.

Upon arriving home from the department, you’d closed your blinds and turned off the lights, pulled on the dark pants and long fitted coat, tucked your hair up under the black hood and pulled it low. Gloves. Boots. Plain and unassuming in this fall weather.

You’re able to walk out the back door of your apartment building and take a path through the alley as the sun is setting without anyone giving you a second glance.

The only piece of your disguise you truly need is the vocal changer mask, but that stays tucked in your coat pocket until you arrive at the pier.

Once you can smell the water, you take a moment to hide your face, your voice, and your identity under the dark, nondescript mask–a blank slate of void where a face should be–before stepping out of the alleys and making your way to pier 13 where Tim Rockford stands looking out over the harbor at the lights starting to come on over the bridge.

“What can I do for you, Detective?” The voice that grates out of your mask is low, warped, almost sultry.

Tim, for all his awareness, misses your entrance. This is the strength of your powers. Snapping out of his reverie, he spins to find you only feet away, your long coat fluttering in the breeze.

And an awed smile spreads across his face.

Tim is the only one on the force that smiles when you show up as the Shadow. The rest of the cops tend to startle, recoil, not understanding how you simply seem to appear out of the air, unfold from the shadows, melt into the darkness itself.

“Thanks for coming, Shadow,” he says, his trenchcoat joining in the fluttering conversation of overwear. Pulling a few pictures out of his pocket, he holds them out and you take them.

A new mangled body. A hurried photo of a man with light skin and dark hair and blue eyes. A blown-up scan of license plate. You recognize them from his evidence board but say nothing, letting him make the request.

He explains the supposed serial killings, the patterns, the suspect, the license plate that isn’t his but was caught on surveillance near a couple of the dumping grounds.

“I’m pretty sure it’s him,” he concludes, poking at the photo of Mike Cross, “but I’m lacking something damming.”

“You mean you're 100% sure it's him. You're a thorough man; wouldn't just jump to conclusions. And you want me to go hunting.”

“I’d rather you just go take a listen. I don’t really want you to put yourself in danger.”

It’s a good thing he can’t see you smile. Trust Tim Rockford to be the one detective that worries about the safety of the city’s resident secret, pacifist vigilante. 

“I’m touched by your concern, Detective. But I haven’t been caught yet. Even if danger catches a glimpse of me, I’m very good at hiding.”

“I know. But it’s only a matter of time before somebody really sees you.” He smiles a little sadly. “I wish you wouldn’t hide from me. But I know why you do.”

It should be surprising–it’s not like him to cross this line–but instead, his statement warms you. Tim has always been grateful for the Shadow’s help, respectful, believed in your ability. But he’s also come to treat the Shadow as a friend. There’s something that tugs at your heart, knowing this dedicated, handsome, intelligent man truly trusts you but also respects and admires your limitations.

If only he knew how much you wish you could tell him, show him, let him know how much you admire him too.

He only blinks when you seem to melt into thin air, becoming one with the lengthening shadows.

_____

Club 88. The back alley. A black car belonging to Mike Cross. Nobody here to notice you but the rats as you duck around the back and inspect the bumper, find a magnetized plate cover hidden underneath that matches the photo in your pocket.

There’s the connection. Now for something that threads the needle.

_____

Maskless and hatless, you simply take up a serving tray and follow Mike Cross and a young pretty thing through the swinging “employees only” door and down a back corridor of the dark, thumping night club. Making yourself busy with empty bottles on the tray, you watch him pay a man and step into a private room with the girl. The man goes to find something else to do, nearly knocking your shoulder as he passes, as if you’re simply a tower of inventory boxes or a rogue tray of dirty dishes…or just some random hostess he doesn’t have time for.

Easy.

You’re able to enter the dimmed room under the guise of bringing in bottle service. The couple doesn’t even notice you while they make out on the couch in the VIP lounge. You simply dip your hand into the pocket of the jacket he’s left on a chair and lift his wallet. 

Might as well take the gun that’s there too. Just in case.

Time to get moving while he’s distracted.

_____

Using the address on the ID in his wallet, you make your way across town.

It’s easy enough to slip past the doorman. Unfortunately though, Mike’s apartment building has security cameras on every floor. This calls for a little distraction. Easy enough. All you need is the pad of paper and pen you carry in your pocket.

Knock on door 312. Explain you’re responding to a noise complaint in apartment 313. There is no apartment 313? That’s odd. Maybe it was apartment 311? 

When the occupants of 311 and 312 speculate over the possibilities–which apartment was the loud one? Who called in the complaint? They bet it was 211 down there, what a bitch….

It’s just enough time for you to use your jiggler key to work open the lock for Mike’s apartment and slip inside. Not only have they seemed to forgotten about you, but if anyone ever plays back the security tapes, their eyes will just slide right over you and concentrate on the gossiping neighbors in the hall.

Mike’s apartment is clean and sparse. By the looks of the set up of the living room, he likes to sit in the center of the couch, put his feet up on the coffee table while he drinks his beer (water ring stains on the veneer top) and watches tv. Not much on the walls. Books on the bookshelf, but no knicknacks.

You don’t know what you’re looking for yet, but you’ll know it when you find it.

There are a few places you start. The drawers in the kitchen. The freezer. The bedside table. Shelves in the closet. Medicine cabinet. Somewhere you'd stash something unassuming but precious but that you don't want anyone else to come across and ask questions.

But it’s as you pass back out through the bedroom, and lightly push the door open a bit wider that you hear a clinking and tapping on the other side.

There, hanging off a hook on the back of the bedroom door, is a silver chain.

With five women’s rings on it.

Yahtzee.

You snap a few photos with your phone before moving through the apartment again, looking for anything else, just in case your first instincts were wrong.

But your instincts are very rarely wrong.

Criminals love trophies. Little keepsakes of their thrills. Look for a collection of something that seems out of place and you’ve probably found your clue.

You’re just about to call it good and head out when you hear a key turning in the lock.

No need to panic, you’ve got this.

As Mike enters and kicks off his shoes before making his way to the bathroom, all you have to do is stand silently beside the far side of the bookshelf.

He doesn’t even turn on the light. Even easier.

Once the bathroom door closes, you’re able to silently slip out.

“It’s only a matter of time before somebody really sees you.”

Doubtful, Tim. But I wish I could tell you how sweet your concern is.

____

True to form, Tim’s is one of the only lights burning at the office when you slide through the department well after midnight.

It’s not often that you show up here as the Shadow, but you make sure it’s only at night when most of the lights are out. Even if you’re seen engaging with one of them, the detectives all know to look the other way and not to ask questions when someone on the force has requested your services. 

They see nothing, and say less.

When you get to the back offices, you have to stop for a moment in the shadows and take in the scene.

Tim’s here in the dim room, standing at a desk full of evidence bags. The one with the knife in it lays on a lightbox, the glow of which reaches up to caress his face, dragging at his cheeks and the bags under his eyes, his brow and bottom lip succumbing to the pull of contemplation.

You have to wonder if the detective has any joys outside of his work, if he reads or paints, if he’s into woodworking or collecting memorabilia. You often find yourself wishing you had the means to learn more about him and find yourself watching him from across the office as if you could read it in the stretch of his aching neck, in the hunch of his gun-holstered shoulders. 

But you’ve grown used to your quiet life. You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if someone else actually paid you enough attention to let you into their life–

“What have you got for me?” he asks, and you flinch. He hadn’t even turned around.

“Plenty," you rasp through the voice modulator. "How did you know I was here?”

“I always notice you,” he says. “And I could ask you the same thing.”

“Where else would you be?”

“I have a home.”

“Do you ever go there?”

He laughs and finally turns. “Yeah, not lately.”

Emerging from the darkness, you hand him a few photos you ran off from your phone at home, knowing he'd appreciate the analog. There's the plate cover. The ID. The chain of rings. You also hand over the gun you pinched. “Just in case you need to run a match on any casings.”

It’s here that Tim’s look grows sour. “You took this off him?” Then he tilts his head, scanning the photos. “This one…taken inside his house?”

“Yes. Most likely a collection of his trophies–”

“You went into his house??”

His intensity stops you. Something’s….wrong. “It was necessary. I wasn’t seen.”

“I told you, nothing dangerous. What if he’d come home?”

“He did.” This gains an unprecedented look of alarm from the otherwise calm and calculated man. “I told you, Detective, I wasn’t seen. I never am. That’s what I do.”

“That’s not the point, Sunshine. He murders women and dumps their bodies. This is different from the drug smugglers and counterfeit runners you usually surveil…”

He stops, registering what he just said only a couple of seconds after you do, a calm sigh of regret washing over him before being replaced by the bloom of concern.

You could choose to ignore it.

But it's useless. Tim would never let an assumption take hold as truth unless he had absolute proof. He’s the best. The best of the best and doesn’t even know it. So long you’ve wished to tell him, to make him see what you see in him, but it would mean opening yourself, becoming visible, being seen.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. This is your superpower, this anonymity, this blurring at the edges, this void of connection…

And you should back away when he approaches.

But you don't want to. 

Nor do you dodge as he slowly reaches up to remove your mask. Your hood. Fits his palm to your jaw and runs the length of a cheekbone with his thumb. “It doesn’t work on everyone, Sunshine. Not if they really want to see you.”

As his warm, weary brown eyes find yours, two thick, generous tears spill down your cheeks, two surprising hot spikes of your heart right there on your face. It’s like being thrust underwater without the chance to take a breath, the panic of suddenly being the center of someone’s attention, and you gasp for air only to release a sob, slapping both hands to your face in embarrassment.

Tim doesn’t pry your hands away, he merely runs a knuckle over one as if to say, hey, you’re still hiding.

And you realize that you are.

When you finally don’t have to be.

When you lower your guard, he’s waiting there patiently to welcome you back.

“You okay?” he asks, handing you a napkin for your tears.

Nodding, you take it and use it quietly before swallowing, trying to steady a voice out in the open. “What now?”

He looks pointedly over at his desk and gestures for you to head over there. “I thought maybe we’d start with dinner. I figured you'd come by.”

There are two Chinese takeout boxes on the blotter, both bearing a code in black ink. 

22C. His standard.

Lucky13. Your favorite. With the sauces on the side, just like you like it.

Speechless, you look at him in awe. You do see me.

And he tucks his hands in his pockets, softening back at you with a look that can only be described as Yeah.

_____

In the following days you’re able to hunt down photos of the killer’s victims that clearly display their hands and the rings that you found in his apartment.

Undercover targets are planted in the club to entice Mike Cross, and sure enough, he takes one to the back room, pays for privacy, extra for a later cleanup, but gets caught with his fingers around her throat as a whole squad breaks down the door to take him into custody.

There’s no doubt he will never see the outside of a prison again.

Club 88 is shut down and a long investigation into its ownership and practices begin. The Shadow is called in by the investigating team for your fly-on-the-wall services and at first you’re afraid that perhaps, now that you’ve been seen, that the shine of your powers has dimmed or–to be more precise–a newfound confidence makes you even brighter than before.

On the contrary, you’ve never felt more powerful or more in control of your abilities. 

Perhaps because the one person who can detect your sunshine also pours pride into your shadow.

Or maybe it’s the regular diet of Lucky Number 13 and a new morning view these days. Who’s to say?

____

MASTERLIST

CHARACTER MASTERLIST

[soft-persephone]

A Fresh Start 3

T // WC: 1.6k // masterlist // series masterlist //

“Hey,” MM said casually walking in with bags of food Monique told him to bring, “Where are the girls?”

These days instead of asking for Janine, he was asking after both her and her new friends Monice. The pair are now inseparable.

“Outside with the rest of the kids.” She smirked, pointing her head to the glass windows that gave an overlook of the backyard. Decorated with oversized picnic blankets, fancy plastic silverware and platters to match with the fanciest little snacks and pastries, a foldable table was to the side, filled with various drinks. “Apparently, a day at the pool isn’t enough.”

He smiled as he looked out, leaning against the kitchen counter.

The kids were running around and giggling, fully enthralled by whatever game they had made up. Evidence of food, or whatever was left of it were littered about on the highly decorated plastic platters filled with crumbs, empty boards, and a wooden board with a few stray pieces of cheese. The little sweaty blocks forgotten.

“If they all ate what are the burgers for?”

“You,” Monique pointed. “and her mostly.” You were passed out on the couch. From the slow rise and fall of your chest, and how loosely taught your face was pulled into something soft and smooth. . . peaceful.

He didn’t know much about you, but he knew about your brother. The unexpectedness of taking care of your child and battling whether or not you’ll lose a family member or not.

“You need to be careful.” Monique gave him a look.

His eyebrows furrowed.

‘What are you talking about?”

“Marvin,” she sighed with a hint of frustration. He wasn’t exactly sure why it was there, “How long have I known you?”

He wasn’t sure where this energy was coming from, but he knew when she was asking a rhetorical question. He looked at her expectantly, throwing his hands in the air to show his defeat and wait for her to respond.

“Just because we’re over doesn’t mean I don’t know how you look when you have feelings for someone? Hell, anybody might be able to tell by the way you look at her,” she said pointedly, “and I’m not judging.” She quickly added. “I’m actually really happy for you. It’s time you moved on too. I’m not sure what you're sitting on your hands and waiting around for, but it's obvious.”

He nodded. Her words were unintentionally digging. He wasn’t sure why, but they did.

“Monique, this is. . . She’s different. It’s different.” Fuck he sounded a mess. His words weren’t coming together. He didn’t want to have this conversation, least of all with Monique of all people.

“Just do whatever you did to get me. You're not a bad guy, Marvin,” she huffed out a laugh, “I’d say more but I’m the last person who needs to be singing your praises, and you don’t need anyone to either.” She smacked her teeth.

“We were different.” He shook his head. “It was just me and you back then, but now I’m divorced, I have a daughter who's amazing. . .shit job. . . . but it’s not me I’m worried about,” he looked over at you, still soundly asleep.

You’d been through enough. The last thing you probably wanted was something new.

“You need to be careful.”

“I know,” he huffed, “the thing with her brother, she’s now got a kid, her life’s been turned upside down and she’s grieving—“

“And the last thing she needs is your unresolved shit affecting what she’s already going through.”

“I know,” he said slowly, “that’s why I said that it’s different.”

“How? Because it was so easy for me to accept your bullshit?” She said with an edge.

He winced.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He apologized. There’s not much else he can say about it, conversation ending itself.

“Look, I’m not trying to fight with you right now–’

“And we don't have to. We’re not fighting.”

She gave him a look and he only raised his eyebrows.

“You can’t hide it forever.”

She didn't give him a chance to respond, making her way over to you. She rubbed gently at your back in small circular movements.

You opened your eyes with a frown. Your brows scrunched together before blearily falling into a neutral expression.

“What time is it?” you stretched.

“Food’s here.” was all Monique said, holding back a smile.

“You didn't wake me when the food got here.” you said pointedly, your voice starting to raise.

“It just got here, and I just woke you up!”

‘No you didn't!” your face pulled into a pout. “It smells cold. You did not wake me as soon as it got here!”

“It smells cold!” She laughed with a perplexed look, “How does food smell cold?”

“Don’t play dumb, Monique.” You huffed, making your way to the kitchen and carefully taking the bun of your burger as well as the cold toppings before putting the rest in the microwave, “it’s not cute.”

Beginning the process of getting your onion rings to put them in the air fryer, you finally noticed him. As smoke spreads across your face. It was the same smoke that always graced its features whenever you first saw him. It never failed to pull at his heart and pull the corners of his lips if not a bit more guarded.

Your warmth was intoxicating.

“Did you bring food?”

“You asked me too.” He said matter of factly with a smile.

“No I didn’t.” You smiled back, looking back at Monique, and then back to him.

“Yes,” he laughed, “you did.”

“You did.” Monique raised her eyebrows.

“I literally have no memory of that ever happening.”

“That doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.” Monique raised a finger.

“Eat your food before it gets cold again.” He stopped you from responding to that, knowing how you can get.

You playfully rolled your eyes.

“Leave me alone.”

“What are you so tired for anyway?” He asked, genuinely intrigued, but you couldn’t answer even if you wanted to, your mouth full.

“She’s been up since 2 AM, making the fanciest picnic feast for a bunch of soon to be third graders that don’t deserve it.” Monique answered for you, stealing an onion ring off your plate.

You mean mugged her and pulled up a fist like you were going to hit her, bust Monique only cackled at you. With a huff you sat at the island to eat.

You swallowed the food in your mouth with a frown.

“They do deserve it. Momo and Janine really wanted it and making some food and throwing a picnic blanket on the grass isn’t hard.” You said placidly.

“So pulling Momo out of bed at 2 AM to be here by 3:00 to cook up until 7:00, still decorate the yard, get Momo dressed, and then clean the kitchen,” she listed each in a finger, “ is not hard work?”

“No you shook your head with a smile, “I mean I guess it is, but I like making Momo happy. It doesn’t feel like work when it’s for her.”

Marvin noticed your smile was not as genuine as it was before. How your shoulders were slightly tense as you shrugged them. Your eyes glossed over briefly with a terse gaze, squirming slightly.

To anyone else you’d look fine, but he had a trained eye. He didn’t know you well enough to say something about, but it was getting harder and harder to pretend like he didn’t know something was off with you. He’d usually be on his game about that, but everything about you threw him off.

He ignored the way Monique looked at him because even if she couldn’t notice something was off with you, she knew how to tell things were off with him.

“There’s nothing wrong with going above and beyond for your kid. It’s natural,” he phrased, licking his lips, “but you still need to take care of yourself. You’re just as important.”

“. . .yeah. I’ll uh, I’ll do better at that.” You purse your lips. “For the school year.” You ended definitively, strategically ending the conversation.

He wasn’t having any of it. Opening his mouth he was going to push back. Confront you on your answer and insist you not way so long even if the school year was weeks away at this point. Perhaps just one month away would be more accurate, but Monique gave him a look.

He’d have to talk to you about it alone.

Whenever that would be, he didn’t know. He bit back a sigh. Not wanting to let you know something was up.

You were practically done with your burger, a few bites left, but you’re eyes were fluttering shut. Your fist propping up your head.

“You’re staying here tonight, aren’t you?”

“Why would I do that?” You questioned like it wasn’t obvious.

“You can’t drive home in the state your in.” He scolded, “you can’t even stay awake to eat your food.”

“I’m done eating!” You waved a hand at your plate. “Maybe I was just resting my eyes!” You defend with an actual roll of your eyes.

“Well you can keep resting them on that couch over there for the night.”

“No,” you defiantly stood up and crossed your arms, “I’m going home!”

“I don’t know how you’re getting there since your not driving, and I’m not taking you.”

You huffed, turning towards Monique.

“He’s right.” She gave you a look, much kinder than how you’ve been looking at him the whole time he’s been here.

“Ughhh,” you groaned going back to the couch and aggressively lying down and pulling the blanket over you, “leave me alone, and don’t wake me up,” you huffed, “I’ll wake up whatever time I want to tomorrow and I don’t want to hear anybody complain.”

[talekinesis]

Nat 85

So I thought I'd put my own spin on the Timestuck AU since I liked it so much

Mabel and Dipper get stuck in the 80s with younger versions of their Grunkles, with seemingly no way back to their timeline.

I endured hell for this fic, and if you wanna see me scream about it, click here. Y'all better fucking enjoy /lh

[Part 1] | [Part 2]

"You wander deeper into the cave, your footsteps uncertain.. It's so dark that even your torch can't seem to burn through the shadows. Up ahead, you see a round wooden door blocking your path. What do you do?"

Dipper put a hand to his chin and looked down at his character sheet in thought.

"You're thinking too hard about it, just open the door.." Mabel complained from the chair. She had been watching Ducktective with Stan, but now that it had cut to commercial, and Stan had gotten up, she had turned her attention to the game her brother and uncle were playing on the floor.

"You know, you're always welcome to join us, Mabel." Dipper replied, mostly as a polite way of telling her to stop talking. He grinned a little when he heard her groan and flop back against the chair. Her way of saying, 'absolutely not.'

The boy sighed and looked up at his great uncle, "But she's right. I attempt to open the door."

Ford continued his narration, "The handle gives, but the door refuses to open... Literally, it speaks to you," He took a breath and deepened his voice, getting into character, "You who have completed the Trials of Light and defeated the Hoark, in order to pass beyond this point, you must-"

"Hey Gandalf, the show's back on, keep it down." Stan interrupted, having sat back down, Mabel in his lap and his arm around her while they continued their show.

Ford glared at his brother. Sharing his home with an entire family was something he was still getting used to. He turned back to his nephew, lowering his voice, "You must answer my riddle..."

"Two faces I keep, my silver tongue digs me deep, bound by chains time and time again, when I open my jaws, your energy I drain..."

Dipper frowned, thinking hard about what that could possibly mean. He racked his brain for every possible solution in the game.. Unless..

The boy couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face, giggling a little. "It's Stan, isn't it?" Ford let out an airy wheeze, confirming his nephew's suspicion.

"Hey, watch it, you two," Stan pointed at them before Mabel gasped, tearing his attention away from them and back to the screen, "What, what happened!?"

Ford continued, "You hear a click and the door opens, satisfied by your answer. Beyond the door are two tunnels, side by side. Which one do you choose?"

"Left," Dipper said quickly, "Always the left."

"You go left, your footsteps echoing down the damp tunnel.. giving away your position. Suddenly, a large Honix is blocking your path. What do you do?"

Dipper shifted so he could see his character sheet better and focus. "I draw my sword and attack."

Ford grinned, also shifting a little to see the board better, ready for the battle. "Roll for attack strength."

Excited, Dipper didn't even look into the dice bag, grabbing whichever one was on top, sure that it was the 37 sided die. Ford's eyes widened in panic.

"Dipper wait!"

It was too late. He had already released the Infinity Sided die onto the board before his uncle could grab his hand.

Time seemed to slow as each corner took turns hitting the board until it rolled to a stop.

85

Barely registering what had happened, Ford opened his hand.. Empty.

He looked to the spot where Dipper had been. Empty.

Stan looked down at his lap.. Empty.

-

[mx-julien]

ninjas' relationship with a home

Zane is used to moving on from places, as an amnesiac orphan he was used to getting up and carrying on, then his only temporary home, the Monastery, burns down (ref: s1 ep2 Home) and the others blame him for it. granted, he seems unaffected from these accusations and proceeds to find the Destiny's Bounty that day so all is forgiven

I wonder if some of this longing for a home was intensified after he regains his memories in Tik Tok (s1 ep7). because then he would be able to remember a time of prolonged safety and living with people you love

Kai and Nya lived at the blacksmith shop presumably since their parents got kidnapped by Krux and Acronix. Nya even had enough time to create a whole secret room of armor

the first years must've been especially hard given all the reminders of their parents being around. did they leave their bedroom untouched, save for the occasional cleaning?

did Kai have to pull up a stool to the stove to cook until he hit his growth spurt? are most of Nya's memories in that house of Kai making her lunches and tucking her in at night and sending her off to school?

who takes care of the shop while they're gone? and when they come back do they notice everything looks a little smaller- each corner thick with dust and the fingerprints of afternoons when they were 12 and only had each other?

Jay lived with Ed and Edna in the scrapyard since he was little and he can visit back there whenever he likes, but now he has another family to think about: the one he never had, the one that gave him away

however after Skybound he knows he has other parents as well. does he ever sit in the kitchen he grew up in and wonder if his biomom had any recipes she wanted to pass down? if she ever saw families or little kids and thought of him? if they have the same smile or same freckles or same laugh?

sure he can learn about Cliff all he wants and he loves his Mom and Dad dearly, but was there more? could he have learned to master lightning with his Mom? where was she when he was growing up? was she unable to see him or unwilling? is she even alive?

Cole's house is likely the same as when he was little, so he too can go visit, but I wonder if he went off to "boarding school" because after his Mom died he couldn't stand to be at home

what was a place to laugh and paint became gray when Lilly got ill. it turned into a place of hushed voices and packed bags for the hospital. after she died it was the home of yelling, of arguments, of tradition vs. passion. smiles became forced and doors only slammed shut.

with more time having passed, I wonder if Cole is glad that so many things of his are mostly untouched since his Mom died. he can find her neat handwriting on some notes in his desk, in books on the shelves, and point out decor she bought

Lloyd only had a complete home for a small part of his childhood before Misako left him at Darkley's. then, he must've lived somewhere close to the school. when he was doing Pythor's bidding, he seemed to be mostly homeless

after growing up deserted at a boarding school (that he clearly didn't like) and manipulated into long treks and homelessness to do the bidding of a snake, perhaps his misbehavior at the beginning of his stay on the Bounty was because he couldn't imagine it lasting. him? a place where he felt at home? better the devil you know than the devil you don't- just toss me back out on the streets I don't CARE!

when do you think he realized that the others weren't going to leave him like his Mom did or take advantage of him like Pythor? how many months in did it take him to realize that his uncle Wu wasn't the only one who wanted him there?

any particular ninja y'all want me to focus on drop in the tags or replies- I'm real interested about this now

[corvus--rex]

Lance and Keith started dating early in high school, even before Keith came out and started his transition, and it's now just after college and they're engaged. They've been with Lance's family for the day, Sylvio and Nadia included.

The kids are 6 and 4 and have known Keith literally their entire lives. They were too young during various stages to understand what was going on, but they both know Keith's trans.

Needing a break, Keith is curled up against Lance in the living room, while Sylvio and Nadia are sprawled on the floor with a book each. Nadia's only just learning to read, but she already loves books. She's turning the pages, mostly looking at the pictures, when she looks up, interrupting Keith and Lance's quiet conversation.

"Tío Keef, why aren't there families in my stories like ours?"

It's been about 15 years since he's read a kids' book and doesn't understand where's she's going with this. "What do you mean, munchkin?"

Nadia puts her book down, turning to face him in all the seriousness a 4 year old can muster. "They all have a mami and a papi, but not - not -" her face scrunches as she tries to find the right word.

She doesn't need to find the right word, the realization of what she's asking hits him at full force. He sits up, leaning forward to meet her eyes. "You wanna know why there isn't anyone like me?"

She nods. "It's not fair."

It's an innocent question, but she asked it with such naive sincerity, genuinely upset that she didn't see her own family in her favorite books. It gave Keith an idea. He had a new sketchbook in the backseat of his car, a very recent art degree, and the few creative writing classes he'd taken.

Nadia's books didn't have her family in their pages, but maybe they could.

"Y'know what? I'll be right back."

He ran out to his car and back with the sketchbook, plus the mechanical pencil and ballpoint pen from his bag, and sat down on the floor with her, meeting Lance's confused look asking what the hell he was doing with one that said "trust me".

"Ok, munchkin," he said to Nadia, "If your stories don't have our family in them, how about we make a new story?"

Nadia's face lit up. "We can make a new one? With our kind of family in it?"

"We can, but I'll need your help."

Sylvio was pretending to read his own book, but Lance could see him listening in and sneaking looks at the rough sketches. That didn't last long, the book quickly forgotten in favor of throwing out wilder and wilder ideas for the story with Keith gently reeling him in. Sylvio was not one to be reeled in, and Lance soon joined them on the floor to help wrangle the kids' enthusiasm. They stayed there for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, neither one wanting to leave when their parents came to tell them it was time to go. They only stopped fighting it when Keith promised them they'd work on the story again.

He kept that promise, taking the kids out every few weeks, showing them what he'd done in between when he had time, and them continuing the story and illustrations.

After it was finished, he left it for a while, not forgotten, but resting. Eventually, he pulled the illustrations and their companion sheets of text from the shoebox-like storage box he'd gotten just for this, matching art to words.

Lance came home from work to their apartment that evening to find Keith on the living room floor, bristol board and printer paper in an organized chaos around him.

"Think it's really done?" Lance asked.

Keith sighed and leaned back against the sofa. There was one thing about the book he hadn't told anyone yet, but after the email he'd gotten earlier in the day, he finally could.

"Yeah I do." He paused and looked up, a little bit guilty, but mostly trying to contain excitement. "I found a publisher for it. They're a queer-owned company. I actually sent it off about a month ago and I finally heard back today. They love it."

It had started as a picture book, but evolved since then into something a little bigger. Nadia wanted cats - all different colors, and not little kitties, no she wanted lions. And the lions had to have knights to ride on them. Sylvio was the one to insist on a princess and that she had to be their honorary Tía Allura. Gradually, all of the knights and princess ended up based on people the kids knew, Keith and Lance included. It made sense and Keith loved it and the idea of family including the one you make for yourself.

When it came time for a name for this story of found family and adventures, Sylvio yelled "Defenders of the UNIVERSE!" at the top of his lungs in the middle of the park. Nadia had been taking a break from the playground, sitting next to Keith with her coloring pad. She'd drawn the lions from their story, facing out in a vaguely star shape, their tails meeting in the middle.

Keith asked for her opinion on a story name and also what she was drawing and without looking up from her coloring, she said "Its name is Voltron."

Keith put the two together, and when the book was published, its cover was the lions Nadia had drawn that day, only by Keith's hand this time, framed on top and bottom by the book's name: Defenders of The Universe, a Voltron story.

No one had seen the dedication, not until Keith got the advance copies, giving one each to Sylvio and Nadia in the same living room the story had started in. Nadia climbed into Keith's lap with it, Sylvio squeezing himself in between Keith and Lance on the sofa.

Looking over Sylvio's shoulder, Lance read it aloud.

"For Sylvio and Nadia, the original Defenders, this book wouldn't exist without you. Don't stop reading or dreaming."

[abarbaricyalp]

Everybody Wants To Be A Cat 😽

Bucky walked into the house and was met with the angry glare of the boat cat. He blinked, but the cat didn't disappear in that time. He didn't figure it would disappear while he set the groceries down either. He tossed his keys on the table by the door and dropped the extra market bag where it belonged and then went into the kitchen to deposit the groceries and get a better look at the living room.

The cat was sitting on the couch and had shifted itself so it was glaring at Bucky over the arm of the chair instead of over the back of it.

The cat was a scrappy little thing that lived down at the marina. It scavenged fish and picnics and kept the vermin out of the boats. It was too small and lazy to bother the seagulls, or really anything that didn't swim and had been left out in an ice box. It was fairly beloved, even if it kind of felt like he might pick up a disease each time he petted it. It was allegedly black and white, but it mostly looked grey for the salt and filth on it.

"How are you so high up?" Bucky asked it. "You are not big enough to sit above the arm."

One step past the open way between the kitchen and the living room answered his question. The cat was sitting on a lump of blankets, which had an arm sticking out the top. For temperature regulation, he'd been told.

"That cat can't stay in here," Bucky warned. "It's an outside cat."

The mound of blankets opened like a great maw in a horror story and swallowed up the cat from sight. The cat chirped a surprised little sound but allowed itself to be swallowed up. "He came inside all on his own," the mound argued back.

Bucky rolled his eyes and got to sorting out the groceries and putting them where they were supposed to go. Well, at least the cold stuff. The rest could probably wait. "He's a boat cat. He belongs on the boats."

"He's got a wound on his chest. He had to take it easy for a while."

"The sea salt will be good for it." The cat was always scraped up here and there. It would scrap with anything, including loose boards on the docks or the evil raccoons that roamed around. "He's getting fleas all over our stuff. You're gonna end up with that leather couch you don't want."

"A leather couch is a terrible thing to have with a cat in the house."

A leather couch was a terrible thing to have in this God-forsaken heat too. It was an empty threat. "He's not staying in the house."

The cat let out another meow as the mound of blankets hugged it closer. Bucky didn't need x-ray vision to know that that's what had happened. He knew Sam too well. Knew him too well to really expect an outcome to this where they didn't end up with a cat in the house too. Still, he could try.

"I'm allergic to cats," he said.

"You were allergic to cats. You're not allergic to anything now," Sam corrected. "Did you really think that was going to work?"

"I'm about to become allergic to kisses," Bucky threatened emptily.

Sam snorted and didn't even bother justifying that with a response. It really didn't deserve one.

Bucky had not adjusted to being a pet person since breaking free of Hydra. He'd bought a fish once, on a whim in New York, because it looked terrible in the store, but he hadn't adopted a great fondness for it. He eventually gave it to the kids next door who were always complaining at him that the bowl wasn't big enough every time they snooped in through his open front door.

The idea of a cat was daunting.

"You don't even leave extra bait out for him when we go fishing," Bucky pointed out. "Why is he in the house? Why is he your problem now?"

Finally, Sam yanked the blanket off of his head and sat up. The rest of the blanket fell to his lap and Bucky saw he was still dressed for his morning run. Which did not detour to the marina. Just how distracted had Sam gotten this morning? Sam held up the cat by it's armpits (did cats have armpits?) and jostled it gently.

The cat meowed just as gently and let himself dangle there without objection. "Look at him, Barnes. Look at this face. Look at his tummy."

"There are lots of cute tummies that don't live in our house," Bucky pointed out. He gave up on dealing with the groceries and crossed the distance between them so he could sit beside Sam. Even without any attempt to reach out to the thing, the cat bared its teeth at Bucky and squirmed away. He curled up by Sam's hip when Sam put him down.

"I'm naming him Figaro," Sam decided.

"Like...the opera?" Bucky asked. "You watched an opera?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "First of all, if I wanted to watch an opera, I could totally watch an opera. But, no. Figaro like the cat from Pinocchio."

"You know the cat's name from Pinocchio off the top of your head?"

"Yeah. Unlike some people, I pay attention to the movies I watch."

"Sorry, I was worried about the impending world war last time I thought about Pinocchio," Bucky said drily.

Sam rolled his eyes again and threw in an exasperated groan. "Oh my God, gonna play the 40s card again, huh?"

"Are you a cat person, Wilson?" Bucky teased. Sam would continue to ridicule him about the '40s card'. "You pay attention to the cats in the movies. Know their names and everything."

"I like all animals. Cats are quieter than boyfriends," he added.

"Bullshit," Bucky snorted. "Cats are noisy as hell when they want your attention."

"So are super assassin boyfriends," Sam assured. He leaned into Bucky's space, dropping half of his weight against Bucky's chest. "When those things need attention?" He blew a raspberry. "They're so needy. They've got this little whine and they make this weird grumbling noise if you're in front of them but not looking at them."

Bucky laughed and dropped his arms around Sam's waist. "Yeah? You should hear the noises boyfriends with wings make when you're not paying attention to them. Lots of humming. Lots of pointed humming. Why do you do that?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sam hummed. He got his arm over Bucky's shoulder and carded his fingers in his hair to pull him down into a kiss. "I'm glad we're agreed that the cat is staying."

"You're bathing it on your own," Bucky said against his mouth.

"A metal hand would be really handy for that, Barnes."

"That's too bad. Wear gloves."

And then, just as Bucky was dipping Sam back and really getting into the kissing, there was an intentional weight on his thigh, heavy and bruising, little pricks of pain stinging through his jeans, and a fuzzy head shoving its way between his mouth and Sam's.

"Oh, he's absolutely not staying inside," Bucky grumbled.

Sam just laughed and cuddled the cat up against his chest as he sat back up. Figaro stared at Bucky, even as he tucked himself closer to Sam.

It was so on.