#event! detective buzz

[drabbles-n-doodles]

It is 2 am and I am full of ideas for a potential NPMD/DBD crossover fic

[plethorawrites]

How the Batboys would react to finding out and dealing with you self harming/having severe depression.

TW: Mentions of cuts, blood, suicidal thoughts, incorrect use of pills, sort of implied eating disorders.

Please don't read if this could upset you in any way.

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Bruce:

The first time he notices is also the first time you spend the night. The lights were dark and you were both a bit buzzed after downing several glasses of champagne to endure a boring event he invited you to as an excuse to see you. Of course he was more concerned with kissing the inside of your thighs than noticing the little healed scars on them.

He notices them the next morning though, when the sun is streaming through the window and you get up to find your clothes while assuming he's asleep. He wasn't. He saw the marks. The scars. He refrained from saying a word about them, waiting weeks for you to open up about them on your own terms. He could see they were healed so he wasn't terribly worried at that moment.

When you finally told him, you said you'd been clean for months. He had no reason to suspect you would start again.

But you did.

He didn't know the exact day, or the specific reason, all he knew is that you stopped wearing shorts to bed and stopped letting him leave the lights on to see you when you were intimate. You stopped smiling as often, too.

Of course, being a detective, he can tell when you start getting lethargic, not from work or stress but simply life itself. He hears when your words have less meaning, and your expressions are false. He makes it his mission to not let you fall into the spiral any more than you already have.

You might not want to tell him you're hurting yourself but he'd be damned if he didn't do whatever he could to make you stop. That started by holding you tighter at night so you couldn't sneak off to the bathroom to cut, he'd ask you to visit him at work, insist on every meal being at a restaurant so you didn't even have time to try to hurt yourself. And of course, he helps with the tasks you start struggling with, but pretends he doesn't notice.

He just says "Can I practice braiding your hair so I can help Cassandra?" and use it as a chance to make sure you don't start letting your hair tangle.

He even makes the braid a bit crooked even though he can French braid perfectly, just to sell it. He'll wash it, too, claiming it's: "A good excuse to spend time together." after a long day.

He just wants to make sure it's not getting greasy. He can see the guilt on your face when you sit in the tub, staring at the wall. You wanted to tell him to stop, that you could wash your own hair. But you probably couldn't. It felt like too much work and you just wanted to sink underneath the water of the tub for a few minutes of peace. He kept you upright though, kissing the back of your shoulder, the side of your neck, your cheek, making you hum.

You weren't able to feel much, emotionally speaking, but you could feel gratitude and love.

When he notices you skipping meals because you can't drag yourself to the kitchen or bother to cook, he will. He'll make anything, even if you change your mind about what sounds good and make him cook six different dishes before eventually accepting one of them. He doesn't care. He just wants you to eat. The second you show the slightest bit of interest in something, anything, it's yours. You make a comment about the beach sounding nice, the next thing you know he's taken the day off work and is driving you there with the top of a convertible down.

You say you kind of miss one of your old hobbies— be it painting or crochet, it doesn't matter what, the next day the nicest stuff for you to get back into it arrives. Fresh paints, massive canvases or imported yarn and crystal hooks. He watches, intently when you start to focus on something you like again, the heavy ache in his heart subsiding when he gets to show enthusiasm about your project when it's done.

You start holding him again at night, your face buried in his chest instead of sleeping facing the wall. One night you slide into bed wearing shorts and he can see your scars, red ones among the old faded pale ones from when you first met.

He knows they'll heal too in time. Just like you have.

---

Dick: He doesn't realize there's anything wrong several months into dating you until he catches you taking some pills when he was walking back into the room and later searched up the name, figuring out they're antidepressants.

He can't believe he didn't see it sooner and hates that you were always putting on a fake smile with him. He wants you to talk about it, but understands that it's hard for you too and your every attempt to open up to him ends with you in tears or walking out in frustration because the words won't form.

He suggests (very strongly) that you see a therapist and after some gentle coaxing, you agree. He sits in the car the entire time waiting for you and when you come out, numb for a few minutes as you sit there in silence before sobbing uncontrollably for the 20 minutes in the parking lot. He gets you whatever you want after— ice cream, cheesecake, brownies. Whatever you're craving.

He takes you every week, sometimes multiple times a week. He never complains and he's ALWAYS there. He'll wake up early, even if he barely slept. He'll skip family lunch, he'll rush out of a bank robbery just shouting for his brothers to handle it without him. It doesn't matter what, he'll be there.

He's taken to heavy positive affirmations, as well. He puts sticky notes up in the bathroom with smiley faces for whenever you brush your teeth or put on moisturizer. There are little hearts and words of encouragement on the front of the fridge and inside of it too for when you manage to crave a snack. Hopefully something healthy like fruit, but even if it's junk food, it's better than an empty stomach.

Every morning he wakes you up and tells you you're beautiful and he's grateful to have you.

He likes to remind you not to push yourself as well. "If you just manage to wash your hair, you'll have done something" and "If that's too hard, I'll help you make the bed." But also..."If you don't do anything at all today, you still survived. That alone is difficult, but you're doing it."

Every night he lays it on even thicker because he knows it gets harder at night. "I'm so proud of you for making it through another day." And... "I know it sucks right now but I promise I'll help you get through this." And... "Just take it one day at a time."

When you get homework from your therapist— to do 3 hard tasks over one week, make a list of every negative and positive thought to see them out loud and deduce why you have them, physical exercise—he does it with you. No matter how foolish or seemingly simple it is.

Your therapist told you to do something you struggle with? Done. He'll stand behind you while you do the dishes and help you dry.

You need to get something from a store that's dozens of miles away? Road trip. He'll buy the snacks and take turns driving so you don't het stressed out burn out.

You're told to get some physical exercise? He'll be your partner for whatever kind you want to do. Jogging in the park, keeping a slower pace than usual for you, practicing on rings while you climb the stairmaster—he falls, because he's distracted by your ass. But that's besides the point.

When you start to show signs of feeling better, that therapy is working, he's elated. And after several months and things are better, much better, you tell him whenever you're feeling off. Whenever that nagging feeling comes back over you. You guys work through it then and there to keep it from getting bad again.

Though sometimes, when he's leaving for work, you'll pout and say you feel sad just to get him to stay. You both know it's not a depressed feeling. You just don't want him to leave and he'll indulge you. "Oh, well, if that's the case, I'll just have to stay in bed with you until you feel better."

---

Jason: He's busy. Always. But that didn't mean he was oblivious. Yet, that's exactly how he felt when he realized you'd been abusing your medicine. He knew after the first few dates that you were on medication for chronic depression and he was more than understanding about it. Millions of people suffered from it, himself occasionally included.

But when he's laying in bed and catches you sneaking into the bathroom to take three more pills than you're supposed to, he's caught off guard. Then you slide down to the floor, sitting crisscrossed, making small cuts on your thighs, wincing in pain the entire time. It takes every ounce of self control not to jump out of bed and rip the blade from your hand. He contemplates it, he really does. But that would just make things worse. So he waits.

It keeps him up all night, though he pretends to sleep. And in the morning, you're back out of bed, taking more and sliding back in bed, pretending to wake up just like him.

He blames himself entirely.

He thinks he should have been better, done more, noticed something that made it better. It was his job to support you and protect you and he had failed and that killed him in ways that seemed unimaginable.

After an incredibly difficult conversation where he confesses to knowing you've been filling scripts you don't need and taking more than necessary, you're both an emotional mess. But he assures you he's not leaving or angry, just scared for you. He wants to help but needs you to let him.

He absolutely dedicates himself to keeping you away from anything even remotely dangerous.

The knives in the kitchen? Gone.

Even the butter knives are plastic now.

The razors in the bathroom? Thrown out in a trashcan outside so you couldn't find them.

Even the little blade in the pencil sharpener is taken out.

He won't let you have your pill bottles either, at least not at first. He makes sure you take them everyday, morning and night, then after several weeks starts to let you handle them by yourself.

He still sneaks out of bed to count them and make sure you weren't taking more than prescribed. He insists on being the one to wrap your arms, cleaning them to make sure they don't get infected. And wiping your legs as well. He has to remind himself not to squeeze them too hard, the way he wants to.

While holding you at night he makes sure not to hurt them, even though he wants to hold you much tighter to comfort himself as reassurance you're alright. He listens, late at night when you're whispering to avoid crying. When you explain the feeling it gave you. He knows it.

Once they heal and he can hold you tighter, not as afraid of hurting you by squeezing your thighs the way he likes to. He starts kissing them each night, making sure you know they're not embarrassing or shameful.

He's got scars on most of his body; you were the one to teach them to appreciate them. If he could return the favor, he would. A thousand times over.

He tells you the same things you told him. "You made it through."

---

Tim: When you tell Tim, and by tell I mean confess after he figured it out on his own, you're surprised to find that he doesn't have much of a reaction immediately. He stays quiet, hums a little, nods along. He never interrupts but you see his eyes glazing over a bit, the way they do when the gears start turning in his head. He knew, of course, that you had depression.

He knew you hurt yourself, not in the traditional way of cutting or attempting suicide, but in much subtler ways, like forcing yourself to finish a meal even though you're full and your stomach hurts, taking boiling hot showers that leave your skin red and raw practically painful to even touch from how dry it is, making yourself stay up late and function on the fewest hours of sleep possible.

You purposely made life harder for yourself and for the most part, didn't even realize it. He did, though. What he didn't realize was the amount of medicine you'd tried, to the point you felt none of them worked, the amount of therapists and psychiatrists you had seen, the level of depression you had truly sunk to before. It hurt him to realize once you started opening up. He wanted to make that pain go away. So, he researched. Constantly.

He wants to know every single thing that can cause depression, the statistics of self harm leading to suicide, the effectiveness of different treatments or facilities. He knows every antidepressant, their side effects, their manufacturers, and dosages. He suggests inpatient care for you, but absolutely refuses to send you to someplace like Arkham.

Instead, he finds the best of the best, way out of the city, where the entire staff passed his background check, the facility was up to date on every code possible, and the rules seemed relaxed enough to let you feel like yourself while also making sure you're safe. He's allowed to visit and does so as soon as possible, even manages to get extra hours in the night. You have the best of care there, too, he knows because he can see it on your face every time he's there.

The food is wonderful, the private room you have is nice (even if you miss his warmth at night), the activities they make you do remind you of the hobbies you used to love before they became unbearable. Even therapy sessions, always private because Tim knew you wouldn't want to speak about it in a group, are rather helpful.

When you get out after a few weeks, he's right there, waiting, like always. And he's got the biggest smile because he can see immediately the light back in your eyes that he missed so much. He keeps up with some of the tactics you learned or hobbies you started while there, gladly sitting on the floor with you while you do paper mache.

He always makes sure you know you're not weak for needing help and if you ever feel like you need to go back, even just for a week, or weekend, he'll be there for you. Just like always.

---

(Aged up. I imagine you both in LOA)

Damian: It didn't take a genius to know you were a miserable person. Most people in the league of assassins were. He rather liked your level of misery, usually. It was cynical, with a touch of wit and dark humor that always made him feel seen.

It wasn't until he caught sight of a few scars on your calf that he didn't recognize that he started to realize you were more miserable than he had originally thought. You tried to play it off, claiming you got hurt in a sparring match. But that was a lot and he knew it. Because A) you never lost. And B) the cut was at an angle a sword wouldn't be able to reach unless you were the one holding it.

You clearly didn't want to talk about it, so he wouldn't make you. He was always taught that emotions were weak and even though he didn't fully believe it as he used to, he still isn't big on a lot of sentimentality. Which is fine, because you aren't either.

He still keeps a quiet, very close eye on you. Maybe you noticed, maybe you didn't. He wasn't sure. He didn't care either way. He was worried and with your recent behavior, he felt he had every right to be. You started putting in less effort during training, if you even showed up at all. He'd find you on the balcony at night, leaning your head against the railing and staring at the gardens with a blank expression.

Even the things he knew you loved— your favorite foods, the music you liked to listen to on a record player while you got ready for bed. It stopped appealing to you. The meticulous way you'd fix your hair before bed every single night abruptly stopped, too. You simply fell asleep with it as is and woke up with it tangled. You still held him at night, but it felt less like an embrace for the both of you and more like you were clinging to him like a life line.

He pays extra close attention and anytime he isn't allowed to be by your side, he makes sure someone else is. It's hard to keep you away from sharp objects, given nearly everything around them was a weapon, but he tries to get you to vent your rage by cutting training dummies and not yourself.

He also takes you to the quieter, more secluded wing, into an empty room with pillows on the floor. He makes you sit with him and meditate, which he knows is hard at first, boring and you don't have the most energy, but he holds your hand, his fingers pressed to your pulse to make sure you're listening when he tells you to take a deep breath in and think— not of what you're grateful for, like some might suggest. No. Instead of asking you what you want to live for, he asks you what you can't die without. The grudges you're holding, the projects you haven't finished, the people who are just waiting to see you fail. He won't let you let them win.

And it works. That passion and drive slowly comes back with his help and support at your side, doing your hair for you at night and making sure someone brought you a meal three times a day even if he wasn't around to make sure you ate. Your need to be the best and spite anyone who thinks you aren't returns after a while.

One night he finds you training alone, sweat dripping from your brow, your scars both won in battle and self inflicted on display. Instead of interrupting, he simply watches, admiring your form which had improved since you started picking up your sword more often. He loved watching you find your spirit again.

[v6quewrlds]

❝ borderline, j. burrow & t. higgins. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: working in and around the nfl for years, there aren't many people in the league who can knock you off your game. by some twist of fate, two of them show up together, hoping to lure you into their orbit.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: as requested by an anon <3 pls don't read if you're uncomfortable with this concept. didn't really know how to end this one so it's ambiguous lmao did this lowkey give me an idea for a pt 2? maybe. joe calls reader "sweetheart", tee calls reader "baby".

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, friends to lovers (?) the plural is intentional, threesome, fingering, eiffel tower but not really, blowjob, face fucking, cum eating, facial, somewhat dom!joe, switch!tee, pre-meditated threesome if you squint, praise kink.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: joe burrow x reader x tee higgins.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 6.8k.

You walked through the grand hotel lobby, your stilettos clicking against the marble floor. Your emerald green dress clung to your body like a glove, drawing the occasional admiring glance. You had looked forward to this wedding the entire season, eager to see your favorite players and closest friends all congregated in one place. As a sports journalist, you had become accustomed to the glitz and glamour of high-profile events, but this one felt different. It was personal.

The reception area was a flurry of activity as guests mingled and waitstaff glided around with trays of hors d'oeuvres and sparkling drinks. The scent of expensive perfumes and cologne hung in the air, mixed with the faint aroma of roasting meat from the nearby dining hall.

You spotted your close friend Bree chatting with a few other guests, her eyes lighting up when she caught sight of you. Bree waved you over, gesturing to the table you had been assigned. To your surprise, Joe Burrow and Tee Higgins, two of the Cincinnati Bengals' star players, were already seated at the table, sipping on their drinks and looking dapper in their tuxedos.

"Hey, y'all," you greeted them with a bright smile, placing your clutch on the table. "I didn't know you two were close to Amber and Dan."

Joe's smile was warm, but his sarcasm was as sharp as ever, his eyes crinkling as he took a sip of his whiskey. "To be honest, I'm not sure why I was invited. Maybe they felt sorry for me because I don't get out much." The admission drew chuckles from the rest of the table, but you knew him well enough to detect the hint of self-deprecating playfulness in his voice.

Tee spoke up next, his signature soft-spoken confidence unwavering even amidst the buzz of the crowded room. "I've known Amber since college, actually. Her sister dated my roommate." He leaned back in his seat, a glass of champagne in hand, his eyes lingering on your face as he took a sip. "You close with Daniel?"

You nodded, feeling a rush of pride as you thought of your career achievements. "Yeah, I've had some pretty memorable interviews with him. The sit-down I did with him after his knee injury helped me land my gig on First Take." You took a sip of your own drink, the cool liquid doing little to quell the heat rising in your cheeks as you weathered the intense gazes of the two athletes.

"How sweet," Joe said with a smirk, raising his glass of whiskey in a mock toast. "Is that why you swore he was league MVP last season?"

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up from your chest. "Okay, okay, I might have been a bit biased. But I owed him for that interview," you took a sip of your drink, the cool liquid sliding down your throat, your eyes dancing with mischief. "Were you jealous?"

Joe's smirk grew wider, his blue eyes flickered over to Tee's brown ones before moving back to find yours. "Maybe a little," he admitted, his hand landing casually on your thigh, sending a jolt of excitement through your body. You felt the heat rising from his palm through the thin fabric of your dress, and you couldn't help but lean into his touch.

As if sensing it was his turn to flirt with you, Tee leaned closer, his hand ghosting against your shoulder as it fell over the back of your chair. "How's First Take going for you? Still holding your own against Stephen A?" His voice was a smooth rumble, and you couldn't help but smile, the tension easing a bit.

"I defended you guys last week, you know," you said with a smirk, swirling the ice in your drink. "Told him you're both underappreciated."

Joe's eyes lit up. "You did?" His hand fell heavier around your thigh as Tee's fingers traced lazy circles into your exposed skin, the warmth of their body heat seeping into your very soul. "I knew I liked you for a reason."

The words left his mouth casually, but you felt a flutter in your stomach. Tee's accompanying laugh did little to ease the tension that had suddenly thickened the air around the three of you.

The conversation grew more intimate, their touches lingering longer, the air around you crackling with unspoken desires. You felt the weight of their gazes on you, the way they studied your every move, every breath. It was like being the star of their own private show, and you found yourself playing up to their attention, your laughs a little louder, your movements a little more exaggerated.

Bree had long disappeared into the crowded dance floor, leaving you alone with Joe and Tee. Your conversation grew quieter, and more intimate, as you shared stories of your lives outside of football. You felt a strange connection with the two men, a bond that extended beyond the superficial. You tried your best to ignore the heat building between your legs as Joe's fingers traced patterns into your bare skin. Tee's thumb pressing into the pressure point at the back of your neck sent a shiver down your spine.

The music grew louder, the rhythm pulsing through the floor and into your bodies. The lights grew dimmer, casting a seductive glow over the three of you. You found yourself leaning into Tee's touch, your eyes locked onto Joe's as he spoke about his most recent charity event for his foundation. His words cast a sharp contrast with the deep, soothing, seduction of his voice.

The conversation grew more flirty, Joe's hand sliding further up your thigh under the cover of the tablecloth. You gasped, trying to keep your cool, but the heat of his touch was like a brand on your skin. Tee noticed your reaction and leaned in, whispering something to Joe that made his eyes darken with desire.

"You good?" Tee asked, his voice a soft rumble against your ear. You nodded, your voice a little shaky. "Yeah, I'm okay." But you weren't okay; your nerves were on fire, the anticipation building like a storm in your chest.

The tension at the table grew so thick it was almost tangible, your eyes speaking volumes in the dimly lit room. When Joe leaned in closer, his breath a warm caress against your neck, you couldn't resist anymore. You turned to him, your eyes asking him a silent question, unwilling to potentially tip off a noisy guest to your newfound chemistry. Tee watched, his own desire evident in the way he licked his lips, his hand moving from your neck to squeeze your other thigh.

Recognizing the confirmation in Joe's eyes, your head turned to look at Tee, the same question in your eyes. He answered it with a smoldering gaze that left no room for doubt. "Come with us," he murmured, his voice a seductive invitation that sent a thrill through your body.

The three of you stood as one, the two men flanking your sides like bodyguards, guiding you through the sea of wedding guests. The music grew louder, the rhythm beckoning you to the dance floor, but you had other plans. Your heart raced as Joe's hand slid down your back, his fingers tracing the curve of your ass, while the back of Tee's hand brushed against yours. The electricity between you was undeniable, a current that could light up the entire hotel.

The three of you moved through the crowd, the warmth of your bodies pressing together, the heat of your desire almost too much to handle. When you reached the elevator, the tension was unbearable. Joe's hands pulled your back flush against his chest, making you gasp as his strong hands wandered across the material of your dress. Tee stood in front of you, his hand tipping your head back as he claimed your mouth in a kiss that was anything but casual. The doors closed, and the world outside was forgotten.

The elevator ride was a blur of hands and lips, the three of you exploring each other's bodies like you had been waiting for this moment your entire lives. Your dress was hiked up, Joe's hand slipping under your panties to feel the wetness that had pooled there. Tee's hand found your breasts, kneading them gently as Joe whispered sweet nothings into your ear. The ding of the elevator arriving at Tee's floor brought you back to reality with a jolt. You stumbled out into the hallway, breathless and desperate.

Tee fumbled with the keycard, the anticipation almost too much to bear. You giggled as Joe muttered low and bitter under his breath, "Take your time, buddy."

The door finally clicked open, and the three of you tumbled into the room, a whirlwind of lust and passion. The lights were dimmed, casting a seductive glow across the plush king-sized bed. Your heart pounded in your chest as you watched the two men, both so powerful on the field, look at you with a hunger you hadn't seen before.

Joe took the lead, his eyes dark with desire as he approached you, his hand sliding around your waist and pulling you against his firm chest. His kiss was demanding, his tongue delving into your mouth as if he could taste your thoughts, your fears, your desires. Tee's hands were on your shoulders, pushing the dress down your arms, exposing your bare breasts to the cool air. You gasped as Joe's mouth moved to your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin as his hands found your nipples, ghosting his fingertips over the peaks.

"Hold on," you said, placing a hand on Joe's wrist to still his movements. You took a deep breath, your eyes searching theirs for any sign of doubt. "Are you two sure that if I do this, there won't be some blonde chick harassing me on Instagram afterward?"

"You know we don't do drama. That's the last thing we need before the season," Joe assured you, his hands sliding up your arms to cup your shoulders. "We're just here to have a good time." His voice was a low purr, his gaze intense.

Tee stepped closer to you, a tattooed hand reaching up to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing your lower lip. "We promise, baby," he whispered, his eyes dark with lust. "This is just about us, right here, right now."

You searched their eyes, the room spinning with a mix of excitement and trepidation. You nodded slowly before speaking up again, "Okay, no pics, no videos, and this stays between the three of us. Agreed?"

"Scout's honor," Joe murmured, his hand sliding around your waist and pulling you closer.

Tee leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle, almost chaste kiss. The room felt electrified as your body responded instinctively, your hands moving to rest on his broad chest. You could feel Joe's erection pressing against your back, his breath hot against your neck as he watched the exchange. The heat of their bodies, the scent of your desire, and the promise of what was to come washed over you like a wave.

"You guys are playing with fire," you murmured against Tee's mouth, but the smirk that played on his lips told you he knew exactly what he was doing. He broke the kiss, a knowing look passing between the two men. You gasped, pushing back against Joe as his hands found your tits, his palms squeezing them roughly, thumbs brushing against your nipples through the fabric of your dress.

"We know," Joe whispered in your ear, his breath sending shivers down your spine. "But sometimes, you've gotta risk getting burned." His hand slipped down to the zipper of your dress, pulling it down slowly, inch by torturous inch. The cool air of the room hit your bare back, making your skin pebble with goosebumps.

Tee stepped back, his eyes never leaving yours as he began to unbutton his shirt, his muscles rippling with every movement. You felt a rush of arousal as he revealed his sculpted chest, the ink on his skin telling a story of strength and resilience. He slid the shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, and you couldn't help but bite your lips in anticipation.

"You're so fuckin' sexy," Joe murmured, his hand slipping into your hair as he pulled you in for another kiss. You moaned into his mouth, feeling Tee's hands on your hips as he turned you to face him. The two men moved around you like a perfectly choreographed dance, each touch setting your skin on fire.

The two men took turns kissing you, each one's touch different yet equally electrifying. Joe's kisses were demanding, his tongue exploring your mouth with a hunger that made your legs tremble. Tee's were soft and gentle, his lips brushing yours in a way that made you feel cherished. Your hands roamed over their broad chests, feeling the firmness of their muscles beneath the warm skin.

Tee stepped away, his eyes dark with desire as he took in the sight of you. "Damn, baby," he breathed, reaching out to trace the curves of your breasts. His thumbs brushed against your nipples, making them peak. Joe's hands slid down your back, unclipping your bra and letting it fall away. The cool air made you gasp, your breasts bouncing slightly as you were exposed to them in nothing but the flimsy excuse for panties you had chosen for the night.

The tension in the room was thick, the anticipation almost a tangible force. You felt their eyes on you, the weight of their desire a heavy presence that made your knees weak. You stepped out of your heels, the impact of your bare feet on the carpeted floor leaving the football players towering over you.

"Get on the bed," Tee murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. You obeyed, your legs feeling like jelly as you crawled onto the plush mattress. As you sat, perched and pretty, on the comforter, Joe began to undress, allowing Tee to make the first move.

Tee's eyes never left yours as he approached, his tuxedo jacket tossed aside and his bow tie undone. His large, strong hands reached for you, gripping your ankles and yanking you closer to the edge of the bed. You felt the heat from his body as he leaned in, his warm breath fanning your face as he whispered, "You're so fucking beautiful."

His words sent a shiver through you as he pushed your thighs apart, revealing your damp panties. Joe stepped closer, his own pants undone, his erection straining against his boxer briefs. He reached out, sliding one finger along the lacy fabric before hooking his thumbs into the waistband and pulling them to the side, exposing you to their hungry gazes.

"Goddamn," Tee whispered, his eyes locked on your nakedness. Joe's dick grew harder in his briefs as he watched his friend's reaction, his own desire mirrored in the tightness of Tee's jaw. Your heart was racing, your chest rising and falling with anticipation. You felt a thrill run through you as you watched their reactions, your own anticipation reaching a fever pitch.

"Prettiest pussy you've ever seen, huh?" Joe said with a smirk, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of your bare skin. Tee nodded, unable to form coherent words as he stared.

You felt a warmth creep up your neck as you both took a moment to appreciate your body. You had always felt confident in your own skin, but the raw, carnivorous hunger in their expressions was something you had never experienced before. It was like they were really seeing you for the first time, and the thought of being desired by two such powerful, successful men was a heady aphrodisiac.

The room grew quiet, and the only sound was the rustle of clothes being removed. Your breathing grew shallow as Joe knelt before you, his eyes never leaving yours as he slowly peeled off your panties. Tee sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes raking over your exposed flesh with a look that made you quiver with anticipation. You could see his cock, thick and hard, straining against his boxers.

"You're so beautiful," Joe murmured, his breath hot against your thigh. He placed a soft kiss to your inner thigh, sending a shiver up your spine. Tee leaned in, his warm breath caressing your skin as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear, his hand moving to cup your breast. You felt like you were in a dream, the reality of the situation slowly sinking in as Joe's tongue found your clit.

Their touches grew more urgent, more demanding, as they worked in tandem to bring you to the edge. Your hips began to rock, your body responding instinctively to the sensations they were creating. You felt Joe's hand slip between your legs, his fingers teasing your folds before sliding inside you, the feel of his thick digits stretching you and setting your body alight. Tee's mouth found yours, a heavy hand reaching to squeeze at the sides of your neck, your moans muffled by his kisses.

Your eyes rolled back in your head as Joe's thumb found your clit, circling the sensitive nub with the expertise of a maestro conducting an orchestra of pleasure. Tee's tongue danced with yours, his teeth grazing your bottom lip. You felt yourself spiraling closer to the precipice, your body tightening around Joe's hand.

The room was a whirlwind of sensations: the scent of their cologne, the sound of fabric shifting, the feel of Joe's calloused hands on your skin. It was almost too much, and you were lost in a haze of pleasure when Tee broke away, leaving you gasping for air.

"Gonna come, baby?" Tee's question was a breathy murmur in your ear, his hand moving from your neck to cup your cheek as he watched your face contort with pleasure. You could only nod, unable to form words as Joe's fingers worked their magic.

Your eyes locked onto Tee's above you as you felt Joe's thumb press down hard on your clit, your body arching off the bed as your orgasm hit you like a wave, crashing over you in an explosion of color and sensation. You moaned weakly, your pussy clenching around Joe's hand as you rode the peak, your nails digging into the mattress.

When you finally came down, Joe withdrew his hand, a smug smile on his face. As if sharing a sense of telepathy, the two men stood up simultaneously to remove their boxers, revealing their generous lengths. You couldn't help but whimper at the sight, your heart racing with excitement and nerves.

"Make some room for me," Tee said with a mischievous smile, sliding onto the bed behind you as you sat up. His hand traveled down your body, his thumb brushing the swollen bud of your clit before sliding two fingers inside you. You gasped as he began to pump them in and out, his touch gentle yet firm.

Joe, who had stepped up to the edge of the bed, watched with darkened eyes as Tee worked his magic. He nodded towards Tee's lap as your eyes fluttered open. "You gonna get on top, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice thick with lust. You licked your lips, nodding eagerly.

With a smile, you shuffled over to Tee, your eyes meeting his hooded browns. You straddled Tee's thighs, feeling his hardness beneath you. He took a moment to appreciate the sight of you, his breathing heavy, before he leaned up and kissed you again, his tongue dancing with yours. You could feel Joe's eyes on the two of you, his gaze burning into your skin as you reached down to stroke Tee's dick before sinking down on it with a moan.

The feel of him filling you sent you both spiraling and you had to bite back a scream as you adjusted to his size. Tee's hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements as you began to ride him. The sound of your bodies slapping together filled the room, mingling with your moans and gasps for air. You leaned back into Joe as he slotted behind you, his hands pressing blistering heat into your skin as he kissed your neck and whispered encouragement into your ear.

Tee pulled his bottom lip into his mouth, his eyes hooded with desire as he watched you take him in. He reached up, his hands finding your tits, and began to tease your nipples as you rode him. The sight of you bouncing on his dick, your pussy squeezing him with every move, had him on the edge of his seat, quite literally. You threw your head back, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you moaned out Tee's name, feeling the heat of Joe's chest against your back.

Joe's hands began to wander, caressing your body as you moved in rhythm with Tee. His fingers found your clit, rubbing it in slow circles that had your pussy spasming around Tee's cock. Your moans grew louder, your body moving faster as Joe's touch grew more insistent. You felt Tee's cock thicken inside you, and you knew he was close.

"Fuck, Joe, you seein' this shit?" Tee's voice was strained, his eyes glazed with pleasure as he watched your body take his length. Joe's only response was a low, feral growl as he continued to tease your clit.

"Perfect fuckin' fit," Joe murmured, his own arousal clear as he lazily stroked himself in time with your rhythm.

Your breathing grew shallow, your eyes locked onto Tee's. You felt Joe's breath against your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as his fingers worked their magic. "I'm gonna cum," you gasped, your voice a desperate plea.

"Again?" Tee teased, brown eyes glittering with excitement as he watched your body tense with the approaching wave of pleasure. "I ain't complaining, but you're gonna wear me out." Your face grew hot as you felt the dual pressure of Tee inside you and Joe's thumb on your clit, pushing you to the edge.

"I can't help it," you panted, "you two are just too much."

Joe's chuckle was a dark promise against your ear. "We're just getting to the good part," he half promised, half teased, his breath sending shivers down your spine.

The room was a whirlwind of sensation: the slick slide of skin, the scent of arousal, the heat of two men surrounding you. Finally, you threw your head back again, your dark hair fanning out against Joe's pale shoulder as you came, your pussy clamping down on Tee's cock.

Your eyebrows furrowed as the orgasm ripped through you, drawn out by the feel of both Joe and Tee's hands on you. You barely registered Tee's cock slipping away from your heat, chuckling darkly as Joe watched your body spasm with pleasure. The quarterback muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "Fuck me," and you felt a shyness creep over your cheeks, even in the throes of passion.

"Stand up for me, sweetheart," Joe finally murmured, his voice thick with desire. You complied, your legs shaky as Joe helped you to your feet. Tee leaned back on his elbows, his cock still throbbing against his stomach, glistening with your combined arousal.

Joe's hands slid around your waist, positioning you to face Tee. He whispered in her ear, "Suck his cock, baby. Make him feel good."

Your eyes widened, but the desire in Joe's voice and the way Tee's eyes lit up at the suggestion made your body respond immediately. You leaned over the edge of the bed as Tee scooted backward to allow room for your chest to rest on the sheets between his spread legs. Carefully, Tee swept your hair up into a crude ponytail, giving him an unobstructed view of your beautiful brown skin and the way your back arched with anticipation.

Your mouth hovered over Tee's cock, your breath warm against the sensitive flesh. His hands tangled in your hair, guiding you down as you took him in. Your cheeks hollowed out as you sucked him in deep, your eyes closing delicately as you moaned around the taste of your arousal coating his length.

Joe's hand trailed over your skin to squeeze at your ass, sliding his cock to nestle in your warm pearl. "Fuck, you feel amazing," he murmured, his voice a gruff rumble that sent shivers down your spine. You moaned around Tee's cock, the vibrations making him twitch with pleasure. Tee's grip tightened in your hair, guiding your movements as he guided your head up and down his length, his eyes tracing over your blissed-out expression.

Your bodies moved in harmony, a symphony of passion and desire that had been building since you first set eyes on each other that evening. The room was a whirlwind of sensations - Joe's calloused fingers digging into your skin, Tee's cock sliding in and out of your mouth, and the smell of your combined arousal. You felt like you were floating, weightless and free, as you gave in to the moment.

With a surge of energy, you lifted from Tee's dick, swirling your tongue around his mushroom tip with a self-indulgent smile. Joe's eyes lit up as he watched you, his own arousal evident as he continued thrusting into you. Tee's chest heaved as he took in the sight of you, his abs clenching with the effort to hold back.

"What the fuck?" Tee's eyes went wide with shock and arousal as he watched your teeth graze lightly over the most sensitive part of him, your eyes all innocent and pure as you gazed up at him. He didn't know what was happening, but his body was definitely on board. Your tongue flicked out, licking up the precum that beaded at the tip of his cock, making him grit his teeth in an attempt to keep from coming too soon.

Joe's breath was hot against your neck as he whispered, "Take him all the way in, baby," his hands on your hips pushing you down slightly. You obeyed, taking Tee deep into your mouth, the sound of your wetness as Joe fucked you from behind echoing through the room.

The sensation was overwhelming, the taste of Tee combined with the feeling of Joe's cock deep inside you making you moan around the head of Tee's dick. The vibrations sent his bottom lip between his teeth, his head dipping back with a strangled groan, nostrils flaring with concentration. You felt Joe's grip tighten, his thrusts growing more erratic as he approached his own climax. Tee's eyes never left yours, the intensity of his gaze making your pussy clench around Joe's cock.

"Fuck," Tee hissed as your head bobbed up and down, your cheeks hollowing with each suck. The sight of your full lips stretched around his length and Joe's hand guiding you was more than he could handle. His own hand tightened in your hair, his hips jerking involuntarily.

"So good," you moaned around Tee's cock, your body trembling with the force of Joe's thrusts. Your third orgasm was building, a storm gathering on the horizon, ready to unleash its fury at any moment. Tee's hand stroked your cheek, the sweetness of his touch a stark contrast to the raw, animalistic need driving Joe.

"Good girl," Joe groaned, his grip tightening on your hips as he watched you take Tee's cock deeper into your mouth. He could feel you tightening around him, your body begging for release. "Prettiest girl I've ever seen," the quarterback whispered, his voice thick with lust.

Tee's eyes rolled back, lost in the pleasure of your mouth. His hand on the back of your head grew more insistent, his hips bucking slightly as he approached climax. Your eyes watered, but you didn't pull away, your own pleasure building with every gag and moan you muffled around Tee's dick.

"Oh, shit," he moaned, his voice a deep, guttural sound that sent another shiver down your spine. You felt Joe's cock thicken even more inside you, his hips stuttering as he fought to hold back.

"Bet she dreamed about this, Tee," Joe murmured, his breath hot against your neck. You felt Tee's cock twitch in your mouth at the words, his eyes dark with desire.

"I know she did. Drooling all over my dick like this. Lookin' all pretty," Tee chuckled, his voice strained with arousal.

With that, Joe took over once again. He pulled you off Tee's cock, laughing out loud as his wide receiver shot him a sour look. "Joe," he groaned holding his hands up in protest, but Joe was having none of it.

You felt the warmth of Joe's breath on your neck as he leaned in to whisper, "Gonna look so much prettier with his cum all over your pretty face, gorgeous."

The thought sent a jolt of excitement through you, and you moaned out loud, closing your eyes as you tried to will yourself to hold off on your burgeoning orgasm. Tee's eyes widened as he caught onto Joe's words, a devious smirk playing on his lips.

The tension in the room grew palpable as Tee's hand on the back of your head grew firmer, guiding your movements. You felt his cock swell, the veins pulsing against your tongue. Your eyes watered as you took him deeper, your throat tightening around his shaft. The feeling of being used so thoroughly, by two men who had you pinned and writhing with pleasure, was intoxicating.

"Open that pretty mouth for me, baby," Tee urged softly, his voice thick with lust. You complied, presenting your tongue as Tee's cock slid out of your mouth, leaving a trail of precum. You watched as he stroked himself, his hand moving fast and sure.

"God, you're so fucking sexy," Joe murmured, his eyes locked onto the scene before him. You could feel his breath on your neck, his own arousal leaking into you. The anticipation was unbearable, the room seemingly closing in on you as Tee's strokes grew faster. You felt Joe's hand come down to rest on your lower back, hips stilling as Tee approached his climax.

"Gonna paint that pretty face, baby," Tee warned you, his voice tight with restraint. You nodded eagerly, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt the first warm spurt of cum hit your cheek, sliding down to your chin. Tee groaned, his hand moving in fast jerks as he coated you in his release. When he was done, you opened your eyes to find Joe watching you, his own desire clear.

Joe's hand moved from your back to your face, his thumb brushing over your cum-covered cheek. "Taste it," he instructed, his voice a seductive growl. You obeyed, your kiss-swollen lips wrapping around the pad of his thumb, a smile pulling at the corners of your mouth, feeling the stickiness of Tee's release on your skin.

"You fuckin' liked that, didn't you?" Tee's voice was filled with a mix of pride and satisfaction as he watched you lick his cum off Joe's thumb. Your eyes sparkled with amusement as you nodded, a giggle bubbling out of you. The room was thick with the scent of your combined arousal, your hearts pounding in sync with the pulsing beat of the bass from the party below.

Joe's smile grew wicked. His grip on your hips tightened, his dick still buried deep inside you as he began to move again, slowly at first. You fully moaned out, any shyness completely forgotten as you felt Joe twitch inside you. The power play between them had you more turned on than you'd ever been.

Tee laughed as he finally began to recover from his orgasm. "Go 'head, baby, make Joey cum. I think he worked hard for it." He winked at you, who rolled your eyes playfully. The room was thick with lust, your heavy breathing echoing off the walls.

Joe leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "Think he's right, sweetheart?" he questioned, his voice low and rough. Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt him begin to move again, his strokes deep and deliberate. You moaned around the taste of Tee's cum, the sound muffled by your head falling into the sheets.

"Fuck, yes," you managed to murmur, your hips rocking back to meet him. Joe's chuckle was deep and dark as he picked up his pace, his hands moving to squeeze your sides as he drove into you. Your eyes rolled back in your head, the feeling of being filled with Joe's cock and watching Tee's exhausted, satisfied face was overwhelming.

"Look at me, sweetheart," Joe demanded, his voice strained as he pulled you up against him. Your back arched as you opened your eyes to find his piercing blues staring down at you. "I wanna see your face when I come inside you."

Your eyes locked onto his, the intensity of his gaze setting your body ablaze. You could feel the muscles in your core tightening, your orgasm building with every stroke. Joe's grip on your hips grew fiercer, his movements punctuated by the slap of your bodies meeting. The head of his cock nudged your g-spot with precision, sending sparks through your body.

"Look at me," Joe repeated, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine. You did as you were told, your eyes connecting in a silent agreement that this was more than just a casual fling. There was something deeper, something raw and primal that bound you two together in this moment.

The room seemed to spin around you as Joe's thrusts grew more erratic. You could feel his cock swelling inside you, the promise of his climax imminent. You leaned back, your breasts bouncing with each thrust as you threw your head back, your mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure.

"Fuck, yes," you gasped, your eyes fluttering shut. "I'm gonna cum again." The words were barely out of your mouth before you felt the warmth of Joe's release fill you up. He groaned, his hips bucking against you, his orgasm intense and powerful. Tee watched, his hand still around his cock, stroking slowly as he took in the sight of two of his close friends, lost in their shared passion.

Your body shuddered as the waves of pleasure washed over you, your hands slotting over Joe's as he trailed a hand up to squeeze at the sides of your neck, constricting your airways deliciously. Joe's cock continued to pulse inside you, painting your insides with his seed as your walls fluttered around him. The heady scent of sex filled the air, intoxicating and overwhelming. You felt Joe's grip on your hips ease, his breathing slowing as he pulled out.

Tee's eyes never left yours, his hand still moving languidly on his shaft. He looked up at Joe, a silent question in his gaze. Joe nodded, a smirk playing on his lips, and Tee moved in closer, his hand reaching for your chin. He turned your face to him, and you felt his kiss, soft and gentle, almost tender in contrast to the fiery passion you had just shared with Joe. It sent a refreshing wave of serenity over you, and you melted into it, your body still quivering from the aftershocks of your climax.

"You good?" Tee asked softly, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. You nodded, your eyes flicking from Tee to Joe and back again, the gravity of what you had just done settling in. The room was quiet except for your synchronized breathing, and you could feel their eyes on you, watching your every move, every reaction, every twitch of your relaxing muscles.

You felt Joe's weight shift away from you, retreating to the bathroom to grab some washcloths. When he returned, he tossed one to Tee and used the other one to wipe you down gently, his touch surprisingly tender. You looked down at the mess you'd made off the bed, a mix of cum and sweat, and felt a strange sense of pride. These were two of the most eligible bachelors in the NFL, and here they were, sharing you like a treasure.

Your trio lay in a tangled heap of limbs, your breaths syncing as you all came down from the high of your shared experience. The tension of earlier was gone, replaced by a warm, contented silence. You felt a sense of belonging you hadn't known in a long time as Joe's hand trailed lazily across your back and Tee's arm draped over your waist. You were a unit now, bound by a secret that only the three of you knew.

As the reality of what had just transpired began to sink in, you couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement and a hint of nervousness. You looked between them, two men you had known for years, two men you had never thought of in this way until tonight.

"What the hell just happened?" you murmured, a giggle bubbling up from your chest.

Joe leaned in, his expression a mix of satisfaction and amusement. "I think we just had the best sex of our lives," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. Tee's eyes twinkled with playfulness as he nodded in agreement. "All because of you, baby," he added, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You couldn't help the scoff that escaped your lips as the teammates reached over your body to dap each other up in shared accomplishment. A "My man," slipped through the quiet from Tee's lips, his voice still hoarse from his orgasm. The sight of the two men celebrating their supposed victory, their friendship so clear even in the most intimate of moments, filled you with a strange sense of comfort.

"So, you two wanna explain why you're so good at this?" you teased, poking Joe in the ribs, the blonde squirming at your touch. "It's like you've practiced."

Joe's smirk grew wider. "I think this is pretty close to what we do on the field, you know? That QB-WR connection? We've got it down." His eyes twinkled as he leaned in closer to you. "We just knew what we wanted." His hand traveled down your side, sending a fresh wave of tingles across your skin.

"Once we figured out we both had feelings for you, we figured we could share," Tee whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "You're too much for just one of us to handle anyway." He chuckled, his hand sliding down your thigh. "It doesn't hurt that we make a pretty good team."

"And what would you two have done if I said no?" you asked, your voice revealing a hint of a challenge. You couldn't help the smirk that tugged at your lips as you watched the two men exchange glances, the unspoken communication between them almost comical in its synchronicity.

"I'd fuckin' kill him, he talked me into it," Tee said with a chuckle, reaching over you playfully jostle Joe. "But for real, we knew you'd be down."

Joe's expression grew serious. "We respect you too much to push you into anything." He brushed a lock of hair from your face. "We just wanted to be honest. Let you know how we feel."

You searched their faces, the gravity of their words sinking in. "I appreciate that," you said softly. "But what now? This isn't exactly something you tell people at work when they ask about your weekend."

Joe nodded. "We know. That's why it's just between us. What happens in this room, stays in this room." His thumb traced circles on your lower back, sending shivers up your spine. "But if you're into it, we could keep this going."

Tee leaned in, his voice a gentle rumble against your skin. "Just something casual. No strings, no drama. Just something between us three. We got each other's backs, always."

Your heart raced at the thought. It was risky, especially with your career in and around the league. But the connection you felt with Joe and Tee was undeniable, a potent cocktail of attraction and friendship that you hadn't experienced before. The thrill of secrecy only added to the allure.

"Okay," you said, your voice a hesitant whisper. "But only if we're all clear on the rules. No one outside this room can ever know. Ever."

Joe and Tee nodded solemnly, their eyes locked on yours. "You got it," Joe said, his thumb brushing over your plump lower lip. "Our lips are sealed."

This was fucking insane.

[ariseur]

“can we do that again” with megumi

megumi’s eyes widen as you pull back. your scent no longer clouding him or his senses anymore, now only specks of it wavering in his brain, a distant feeling as he watches you smile and place your hands behind your back.

a small sound of surprise leaves him as his fingers come up to brush against his lips, the phantom pair of your own still buzzing against his where you had quickly kissed him.

his eyebrows furrow as his head tilts down with a soft scoff. “if you’re gonna kiss me, at least give me a warning beforehand,” he mumbles.

you feign a sulking expression, tilting your head as you lean down further — only trying to get his attention ( and although it might not seem like it sometimes, his attention is always on you).

“you don’t like my kisses, ‘gumi?”

sea green irises flit up to you immediately, narrowed and skeptical as they try to decrypt what game you’re playing at. you struggle to resist the urge to crack a smile at the way his lips tug into a small pout.

“i never said that—“

“i can’t believe you’d say that. here all this time, i really thought you had loved me,” head hung low, you place a hand on your chest delicately, right where you’re heart would be as you face away from him. his confused pout morphs into a scowl as you remind him of a certain white haired teacher that you’ve definitely been spending too much time with, he thinks.

“tch, just come here then,” megumi says. he leans over to put his arm in front of your waist, blocking your moving form to the exit as you look down at him. he doesn’t return your gaze; simply nudging his arm against you to gently push you in his direction, plopping down between his legs as you bounce from the plushness of his dorm’s bed.

“eh? so bold. didn’t expect this from you, megs—“

“shut up,” he groans.

you tilt your head back to look at him ( probably craning your neck in the process but you convince yourself it’s alright because he’s megumi ), watching as his sharp eyes squint at you whilst you smile, a big grin on display for him that almost makes the scowl on his face falter for a bit.

“d’you just want a kiss? you could’ve just said so,” you tease.

“be quiet,” he flicks the side of your head. you could’ve sworn you could see the pink of blush dusting his cheeks as he turned his face away. but instead of complying, you persist ( like usual ).

you shuffle around so that you’re facing megumi, flipping your previous position completely as you lean in to embarrass him further — relishing in the way he holds his hand up so you can’t see his face in your view. even if he knows that you’ll move your head every which way to try and see him anyway.

you poke at his shoulder to try and get him to cave. “ah? you know you need to ask before i—“

and before you know it, clammy hands find their way to your face as they cup your cheeks in hand — a steady pair of lips in contrast pressing themselves against yours in a soft kiss. his hand slides from resting on your cheek to being buried in your hair, exhaling shakily as he feels you grin against his lips.

and as the two of you part; you laugh breathlessly, snaking your hand on the nape of megumi’s neck in a way that makes him shudder before you press your forehead against his. “can we do that again?”

jade eyes dart along your face. perhaps flitting around as a form of trying to detect any falsities within your form, finding only nothing but adoration in your features.

feeling a foreign heat crawl its way up his ears at the way you softly scratch at the hairs that stand up on the back of his neck, he huffs. “tch,” his hand finds your cheek — and with his last breath before bruised lips meet yours, he mutters out a small, “dork.”

𐙚 join my taglist ! ; @sad-darksoul @kasumitenbaz @chxlexauriana @seternic @kalulakunundrum @silly-norman @2ukika

𐙚 dottie’s 500 event ; 🍡 ( dialogue ) - prompts!

𐙚 non-500 requests are closed — august seventh, 2024 ( 3:55pm )

[noisynaia]

𝑨 𝑯𝒐𝒍𝒊𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝑹𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒖𝒆

pairing: Marcus Pike x f!reader 

word count: 3.0k 

note: Fluff. Drinking. Colleagues to lovers. Mutual pining. Written for the lovely @pedrostories Secret Santa event ♥︎ My gift is for @always-andromeda , I hope you like it! It was so lovely to get to write for this blog again, and so exciting to share my first fic in a year and my first ever Marcus story! Thank you so much for the prompts, I tried to mix them both together, but it ended up dividing a bit from that first plan and turn into something else ♥︎

(This is the first fic I've written in a year and english isn't my native language, so I apoligies for any possible mistakes ♥︎)

The air hangs thick with the scent of pine needles and something suspiciously like cheap eggnog. The office is decked out in holiday cheer. Tinsel glints off the overly-enthusiastic Christmas decorations strung across the office, a jarring contrast to the usually austere environment. Twinkling lights are adorning the walls, and a massive tree stands proudly in the corner, its ornaments shimmering softly under the warm glow. Laughter fills the air as colleagues mingle, while festive music is playing in the background. It is the annual holiday party at the precinct, and the atmosphere is filled with a sense of camaraderie and celebration. 

You are standing near the refreshment table, a glass of spiced wine in your hand, watching the cheerful chaos unfold before you. Your gaze drifts across the room, landing on Marcus, who is in the midst of animatedly chatting with a group of detectives, his smile infectious, and his laughter like music to your ears. You have harbored a crush on him since the day he started at the precinct, and tonight, with him looking so dashing under the twinkling lights, that crush feels more potent than ever. 

Just as you’re lost in your daydream of Marcus’s charming smile, the sound of a familiar voice cuts through the festive din. It’s Harold, the department’s oldest and most verbose agent, and he’s making a beeline for you. “Ah, there you are! I’ve been meaning to talk to you about the new policies coming in next year,” he begins, his voice booming over the festive music. His passion for regulations is palpable, and his eyes light up as he launches into a detailed explanation of compliance protocols, the words spilling out like a torrent as you nod politely.

You try to interject, to steer the conversation towards lighter topics, but Harold is in full flow, oblivious to your subtle attempts at diversion. He recounts every last detail, his hands animatedly gesturing, as you mentally calculate the number of holiday cookies you could have consumed instead of standing here. You definitely need another drink to endure this conversation. Preferably something stronger.

As Harold continues his monologue, you glance over at Marcus again, still engrossed in his chat with the detectives, the laughter radiating from their group like a beacon. A small pang of envy hits you; how easy it seems for him to connect with others, while you’re trapped in this policy discussion. But just then his head turns and your eyes lock across the room.   

Time seems to slow as you feel the warmth of his gaze wash over you, momentarily breaking through the haze of Harold’s relentless chatter. Marcus’s smile broadens, a genuine connection sparking between you like the twinkling lights around the room. He raises his glass in a playful toast, and for a heartbeat, it feels as if the chaotic buzz of the party fades away, leaving only the two of you in that shared moment. 

You lift your own glass in response, the spiced wine glinting in the soft light as you return his toast. The world around you blurs as you focus solely on Marcus, your heart racing with excitement and a hint of nervousness. His gaze is warm and inviting, making you feel as though you’re the only one in the room. 

You smile back at him, but not as broad as his. He seems to notice, raising a brow in a silent question. Just then, Harold’s voice breaks through the enchantment, his monologue picking up speed as he transitions to the next policy. You catch snippets about “streamlining processes” and “regulatory compliance,” but your thoughts are elsewhere. You can’t help but steal another glance at Marcus, who is still looking your way, seemingly unbothered by the raucous laughter surrounding him. 

You let out a little sigh, which Harold doesn’t seem to even register, as you try to focus enough on the conversation to hum along at the right times and ad and “oh, really,” at the appropriate time. But you can’t help but look over in the direction of Marcus again. You heal how your heart softly flutters in your chest as you watch him make his way through the crowd in your direction. 

“Hey there!” Marcus calls out, his voice cutting through the festive noise with a warmth that sends a thrill through you. He stops just in front of you, his gaze shifting from you to Harold and then back to you. a gentle smile lingering on his face.

“Hey,” you say back, your voice a mix of surprise and excitement, momentarily forgetting all about Harold’s policy monologue. You’re suddenly aware of how the spiced wine feels warm in your hand, and how the alcohol is warming you up from the inside. 

“Am I interrupting something?” Marcus asks, his tone light and polite as he glances at Harold, who immediately seems to deflate under the charming weight of Marcus’s presence.

“Oh, not at all!” Harold replies. “Just discussing the new compliance protocols for next year. Absolutely riveting stuff, I assure you.” 

“Oh, I can imagine. You must tell me about them after the holidays,” Marcus says, his smile is easy, and the way he leans casually against the table makes your heart skip a beat as he turns to you again. “I’ve been meaning to talk with you all night. I need to ask you about something for the report on the Sollery case.”

You can’t help but smile. There is no Sollery case, but you’re not about to correct him. Instead you play along, immensely grateful for Marcus’ graceful way of saving you from Harold’s relentless monologue. “Of course,” you reply, your heart racing as you revel in the attention. The warmth of the spiced wine seems to spread throughout your body, mingling with the butterflies flitting around in your stomach.

You say a polite goodbye to Harold before he can dive back into another detailed explanation of compliance, the relief washing over you as you follow Marcus to a quieter corner in the other end of the room. The festive music swells around you, but it feels like a distant hum compared to the electricity crackling between you and Marcus.

“So, what do you need to know about the ‘Sollery case’?” you ask, a teasing lilt to your voice, eager to maintain the playful banter. 

He chuckles softly, his brown eyes shining as he looks at you, a slight flush is dusting his cheeks, from the alcohol you assume. He looks adorable. 

“You looked like you needed a rescue,” he replies, his voice low and conspiratorial, “and I just couldn’t let you endure another second of Harold’s riveting lecture on compliance protocols. I mean, I love the guy, but sometimes it feels like listening to paint dry.”

You let out a genuine laugh, the sound buoyed by the atmosphere around you. “You have no idea how grateful I am. I was convinced I’d have to start counting the decorations on the tree just to stay awake.”

Marcus grins, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “Well, I’m glad I could save you. I can’t let our brightest agent fall asleep at the Christmas party. That would be a tragedy.” 

He nudges you playfully with his elbow, and you feel your heart race at the light touch.

“And uhm, speaking of saving,” he continues, his expression turning slightly more serious but still warm, the flush on his cheeks  darkening just the slightest. “I was wondering if you’d like to come over to my place after this? I have a bottle of whiskey that I think we could both use after the year we’ve had.”

Your breath catches for a moment, the invitation hanging in the air between you like the lighted ornaments strung above your heads. “Whiskey?” you ask, feigning nonchalance while your heart races with excitement. “What kind?”

“Only the best,” he replies, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “I promise it’s not eggnog.”

You laugh, feeling the tension ease slightly. There’s something about the way he looks at you, something that makes you feel seen in a way that you haven’t before. “Well, I do like whiskey,” you say, your voice teasing. 

“Great,” he says, his smile broadening, and you can’t help but feel a swell of happiness at his invitation. This is more than just a drink; it feels like a chance to finally connect with him outside of work, away from the watchful eyes of colleagues.

You take a sip of your spiced wine, trying to calm the excitement bubbling within you. You stay at the party for a bit, chatting and laughing with your colleagues together with Marcus, the warmth of his presence enveloping you like a cozy blanket. After about an hour Marcus leans in a little. “Ready to get out of here?” 

You nod eagerly, a smile spreading across your face at the thought of leaving the crowded FBI office behind. “Absolutely,” you reply, your voice light with anticipation. The idea of spending time alone with Marcus makes your heart flutter, and you feel a rush of excitement as you both make your way towards the exit.

The cold december air hits you as you step outside, a stark contrast to the warmth of the office, but it’s refreshing. Marcus walks beside you, his presence comforting as you both navigate the snow-dusted sidewalk. The streetlights shimmer against the night sky. You make light conversation as you walk towards the metro station. 

The city is alive with holiday lights, casting a warm glow over the streets. You can’t help but steal glances at Marcus as you walk next to him, the way he moves with a casual confidence, his laughter still echoing in your ears. The anticipation of what the night holds has your heart racing, a mix of nerves and excitement simmering just beneath the surface.

As you approach the metro station, the atmosphere shifts slightly. The previous bustle of the office party has now faded  completely into the background of your mind, and the intimate setting with just you and Marcus now feels charged with a new energy. You both descend the steps to the platform, the sound of your footsteps echoing off the concrete walls.

“So,” Marcus begins, his tone light, “how are you spending your holiday season this year?”

You chuckle, leaning against the cool metal railing. “Alone,” you admit with a playful shrug, trying to keep the mood light. “Just me, some takeout, and a few too many holiday movies. It’s gonna be casual.”

Marcus raises an eyebrow, a hint of disbelief mixed with amusement playing on his lips. “Alone? What about family or friends?”

“I mean, I have family, but they’re several states away, and I’d rather not deal with the holiday chaos,” you reply, a hint of defensiveness slipping into your tone. “Plus, my couch and a good movie sound pretty appealing right now.”

“Fair enough,” he says, his expression softening. “I’m spending Christmas alone too this year—just me and a stack of books I’ve been meaning to tackle.” He chuckles, a genuine warmth in his eyes. “I guess we’re both in the same boat, huh?”

“You’re not going back to Texas over the break?”

“Nah, I decided to stay here this year. I love my family, and it would be nice to see them, but a lot happened back home before I transferred. Kind of left there heartbroken and I’m not sure I’m ready to go back just yet, even though I’m mostly over it,” he replies, glancing at you with a slightly embarrassed smile.

You nod in understanding, the weight of his words resonating with you. You open your mouth, you want to say something, even though you’re not even sure about what to say, but then the train arrives with a rush of wind and a clatter of metal on metal. You both step back, momentarily distracted by its arrival. As it slows to a halt, the doors slide open.

Marcus gestures for you to enter first, and you can’t help but notice the way he stands just a little closer than necessary, the warmth of his body radiating towards you. You step into the metro car and find a place to settle in, the metallic seats cool against your skin. Marcus sits beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours, sending a thrill of excitement through you.

As the train starts moving, the rhythmic clattering of the tracks fills the silence, and you glance sideways at Marcus. He’s looking out the window, the lights reflecting in his eyes, and for a moment, you just take him in. There’s something undeniably comforting about being with him, an ease that feels almost electric.

“Is it your first time spending Christmas alone?” you ask, breaking the comfortable silence, your voice soft. “It’s my first time, my first time spending the whole holiday alone…  I’m starting to worry it might be a bit lonely.”

He turns his gaze back to you, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, it is my first time, but it’s just a few days, right? I think it might be good though, to have some time to regroup. Plus,” he adds with a smirk, “I can’t wait to binge-watch whatever I want, I haven’t had time to watch a show in ages.”

You laugh, the sound bubbling up easily. “True! That’s a definite perk.”

“And, you know, if I’m lucky, I might even get to finish that book series I’ve been meaning to read,” he says, an excited, almost boyish, glint in his eyes.

“What series?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“It’s a fantasy series,” he replies, his enthusiasm infectious. “It’s about dragons and magic and all that good stuff. I know it sounds really nerdy, but it’s amazing!”

You can’t help but let out a little chuckle, hiding your mouth behind your glove covered hand. He really doesn’t have any idea about how adorable he is, and it warms your heart. “Of course, you’re a fantasy nerd,” you giggle, shaking your head gently.  

 Marcus feigns offense, his eyes widening in mock indignation. “I’ll have you know that fantasy is a very legitimate genre! It’s all about world-building, character development, and epic battles. Plus, who wouldn’t want to ride a dragon?” He leans in closer, a playful glint in his eyes, and you can’t help but lean in too, drawn by his enthusiasm.

“Okay, okay, you make a compelling argument,” you concede, laughter still dancing in your voice.

“Seriously, you should give it a try. I think you will like it actually.”

“I might just take you up on that,” you say, your heart racing with the idea of sharing something with him. “Maybe I’ll start it over the holidays,” you reply, smiling at him. “I could use some good escapism.”

He smiLes at you, but you don’t get to talk more about it. The train begins to slow as it approaches your stop, and Marcus shifts slightly, his arm brushing against yours again. You feel a warmth spreading through you, a sense of closeness that makes your heart flutter.

As the doors slide open, you both step out into the crisp night air. The walk to his place is short but filled with light-hearted banter and laughter.

Finally, you reach his townhouse. Unlocking the door, Marcus leads you inside, turning on the light of the hallway as he closes the door behind you. He takes your coat hanging it on the coat hanger while you take off your boots before showing you to the living room. The cozy setting, filled with soft light and comfy looking furniture, feels welcoming and familiar.

Marcus moves to the kitchen, and you take a moment to look around. The walls are lined with shelves filled with books, and a few framed pictures catch your eye—some of him with friends, others of family, and one of him as a kid with a goofy grin on his face.

“Make yourself at home,” he calls out from the other room, you can hear the clink of glasses.

You settle onto the plush couch, feeling a wave of contentment wash over you as you sink into the cushions. The warmth of the room envelops you, and you can’t help but smile softly as you take it all in. 

Moments later, he reappears with two glasses in hand, a bottle of whiskey perched under his arm. “I hope you like it neat,” he says, pouring a generous amount into each glass and handing one to you. “Cheers to a surprisingly delightful holiday evening.”

You clink your glass against his, the sound ringing with a sense of promise. “Cheers,” you echo, taking a sip. The rich, smooth flavor warms you from the inside out, and you savor the moment. “Thank you for having me, and thank you for saving me from Harold earlier.” 

Marcus chuckles, the sound warm and genuine. “Anytime. I’d take a night with you over compliance protocols any day,” he replies, leaning back against the couch, his glass resting comfortably in his hand.

“Ditto,” you smile in response. You watch him, the way his eyes light up when he talks, how he seems to genuinely enjoy your company. The atmosphere is relaxed, filled with the soft hum of distant holiday music coming from his speakers. The tension you felt earlier at the party has melted away, replaced by a sense of ease that envelops you both.

“You know…” Marcus’ expression changes as he leans forward to put his glass down on the coffee table. “I was thinking… Since you are spending the holiday alone, and I’m spending it alone, and you said you were scared that it might get lonely…” He takes a deep breath before continuing and you feel your heart fluttering in your chest as you realize where this is going. “Maybe... we could make it a little less lonely together?” His voice is soft yet hopeful, and you can see the sincerity in his brown eyes.

Your heart skips a beat at the suggestion. “That sounds nice.”

“It does?” 

“Yeah, it really does,” you respond, your voice steady despite the fluttering excitement beneath the surface. “I’d love to spend the holiday with you. It sounds… perfect, actually.”

A smile spreads across Marcus’s face, a mix of relief and joy that makes your heart swell. “Yeah, really perfect...”

Unbeknownst to the two of you, this would be the first of many, many holidays spent together.

[dior-luxury]

Pretending To Flirt With A Guy Online

Part 1 . Part 2

( ✧ ) ────── 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 . 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚 .

- [𝐜𝐡.] cater diamond . lilia vanrouge . floyd leech . rook hunt - [𝐩:𝐬] jealousy . hopefully no mentions of pronouns!

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: It's been a while since I've written for Twisted Wonderland, so I may have forgotten all of the lore and stuff... but I will try my best!! So apologizes if any of this is out of character!! And please tell me via: messages or dms!! (＾▽＾)

Cater Diamond

You found yourself at Cater's house during the vibrant and bustling days of spring break. The sun streamed through the window, casting a warm glow on Cater as he lay sprawled across his bed, absorbed in the captivating world of social media on his phone. Meanwhile, you were downstairs, rummaging through the kitchen to prepare some snacks for the two of you, the scent of chips and sodas filling the air.

As you made your way toward his bedroom door, an intriguing idea fluttered into your mind—a prank! A mischievous grin spread across your face as you entered the room, placing the drinks on the table with a soft clink. Cater glanced up from his screen, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. "What got you so smiley?~" he asked, a playful lilt in his voice as he momentarily set aside his phone, sensing that something was amiss. You brushed off his question, opting instead to cozy up beside him on the bed.

"Magicam reels? Again, Cater?" You teased, casting a playful glance at his screen before meeting his gaze. He chuckled and pulled you closer, his arm draping over your shoulder like a comforting blanket as he returned his focus to the mesmerizing video in front of him.

You watched him for a moment, contemplating the best approach for your prank. Knowing that Cater was sharp and could easily detect any insincerity, you pondered your options. After a moment of scrolling through ideas on your phone, one particularly mischievous prank caught your eye: pretending to be on a phone call with a guy!

With a newfound determination, you slid off the bed and strolled over to Cater’s desk, picking up some books and pretending to study while casting surreptitious glances in his direction. But instead of paying attention to you, he was engrossed in yet another video on his phone.

Deciding to take a more direct approach, you set the book down and began texting your friends, hoping that one of them could participate in your scheme. Ace responded almost immediately, eager to join in on the fun.

A few moments later, your phone buzzed with a call from Ace. You took a deep breath, positioning yourself for the prank to unfold. "Hey~," you said, infusing your voice with a flirty tone, intentionally drawing Cater’s attention. He turned his head, confusion furrowing his brow as he tried to decipher who you were on the phone with.

"Y/N~ Who's that?" he asked, now lying on his side, his curiosity piqued. You pretended to be fully engaged in your conversation, feigning ignorance to his lingering gaze. As he waited for you to respond, you could feel his growing irritation—especially when you casually referred to the person on the line as "love."

Cater’s eyes widened in disbelief, his mouth falling open as he reacted with mock offense. "Y/N-Chan! Who is this?" he demanded, his tone a mix of surprise and hurt as he sat up and snatched your phone from your hands.

"Hi~ Y/N-Chan's boyfriend Cater here~," he said, his voice dripping with passive aggression as he spoke into the phone. Your jaw dropped at the unexpected turn of events. As he glanced at the caller ID, his eyes bulged in shock. “Eh?! Trappola?!” he exclaimed, annoyance flashing across his features as he directed an indignant glare at you.

Cater returned your phone with a hint of frustration, crossing his arms in a pouting manner as he flopped back onto the bed. "Next time you're pranking me, choose someone other than him~" he huffed, his earlier cheeriness momentarily overshadowed by playful indignation. The tension in the air softened as you both couldn’t help but chuckle at the situation, the lightheartedness of the moment restoring your camaraderie.

Rook Hunt

It was the heart of a dull history lesson, the kind that made the minutes drag on like hours. You were doing your utmost to stay engaged with Mr. Trein’s monotonous lecture about the book spread open before you, but your eyes had long since glazed over. Instead, they wandered aimlessly across the printed words, boredom causing you to unconsciously doodle in the margins of your notebook. Swirls, hearts, and little critters peeked out from beneath the textbook, tiny expressions of creativity born from your restless mind.

Despite the class's tediousness, there was a silver lining in the presence of Rook — your boyfriend and partner-in-crime for those once-a-semester group projects. The moments spent working side by side with him were often the highlight of those history classes, not only because he was diligent and inspired productivity, but also because you treasured the time shared with him.

As you once again found your gaze drifting back to the densely packed pages, your mind began to roam free, brainstorming ideas that could alleviate the monotony of the lesson. An impish thought crossed your mind, a semi-harmless prank aimed at your boyfriend. You couldn’t suppress a soft giggle at the image of his surprised expression playing out in your mind.

Your attention shifted to the phone nestled in your pocket, a rush of excitement causing your heartbeat to quicken as you envisioned the prank’s potential outcomes. Would it flop spectacularly? Or would it unfold perfectly in your favor?

Just then, the sharp ring of the bell broke the spell of history class, jolting you back to reality. You hastily gathered your belongings, tossing them into your bag with a sense of urgency, and made your way toward the door. However, just as you reached for the handle, a hand landed gently on your shoulder, halting your escape.

"Trickster, where are you off to in such a hurry? Didn’t you say we’d be walking to lunch together?" Rook's voice flowed smoothly, enriched with warmth and a hint of playful challenge. He leaned in closer, his distinctive smirk lighting up his features, his eyes sparkling as they locked onto yours.

Feeling a rush of adrenaline, you quickly excused yourself, claiming you needed to take an urgent phone call. Rook’s expression shifted into one of mild surprise; he hadn’t expected to see you flustered. Usually, his gaze lingered on you with curiosity and affection during class, without any hint of stress. Your sudden urgency puzzled him.

You slipped out of the classroom and pressed yourself against the cool wall of the corridor, your heart racing as you fumbled for your phone. You had recently discovered a viral app that simulated a fake messaging conversation, and it seemed like the perfect tool for your little prank.

With a playful smile curling your lips, you opened the app, purposefully positioning your expression to catch Rook’s eye. As if drawn by an invisible thread, he walked out of the classroom, his gaze locking onto you and the device in your hands. A knowing smirk began to spread across his face as he approached, his steps slow and deliberate.

Even as he drew nearer, you remained committed to the prank, a soft giggle escaping your lips as you typed away. Rook paused just two feet in front of you, leaning over slightly to get a better look at your screen, a soft, musical laugh bubbling up from his chest. The sound startled you momentarily, causing your gaze to snap up to meet his.

“You’re quite amusing, you know,” Rook remarked, a genuine smile lighting up his face as he focused on you rather than the phone. It was clear he suspected you were up to something; his eyes sparkled with playful mischief. “But I must say, your true smile tells a tale far different from this,” he added, teasingly gesturing at your feigned grin on the screen.

Lilia Vanrouge

It was summer break, and the air was thick with excitement as you decided to join Lilia, Silver, Malleus, and, surprisingly, Sebek for an adventurous camping trip near the enchanting Briar Valley. The thought of venturing to the very land where they hailed from filled you with a sense of wonder. The scenery that unfolded before your eyes was striking, with steep, craggy cliffs jutting into the sky and rugged mountains cloaked in a veil of mist. Despite being summer, a surprising chill hung in the air, hinting at the valley's secrets. The forest where you all set up camp loomed around you; it was dark and foreboding, nearly pitch-black beneath the intertwined branches of ancient trees.

You hadn’t chosen this somewhat ominous location, but it had a haunting beauty, with shadows that seemed to harbor untold mysteries—one could imagine the lurking presence of mythical creatures just out of sight. Thankfully, you were accompanied by formidable sorcerers, each of them a beacon of strength in this eerie setting. Days passed pleasantly filled with unexpected joys, a stark contrast to the foreboding first impression. One sunny afternoon, you found yourself canoeing with Malleus, gliding over the glassy surface of the water. Lilia couldn't resist capturing the moment on camera, snapping a precious shot of you almost toppling into the lake, while Silver rested peacefully nearby, wrapped in a serene slumber.

The absence of Wi-Fi made it feel like you had stepped into another world, far away from the digital distractions that usually crowded your life. But to your surprise, the lack of connectivity allowed you to fully appreciate the companions around you and the natural wonders.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the campsite, you all gathered around an outdoor table for dinner, relishing the satisfaction of the fried fish you’d prepared together. Laughter and chatter filled the air, but as you sat there, an idea sparked in your mind, mischievous and thrilling. You thought, What if I pretend to flirt with someone to prank Lilia?

Hatching this plan, almost an hour later, you found yourself looking out over the water for more fish bait when you noticed a stranger about twelve feet away. Summoning your courage, you approached him, curiosity bubbling within you. He looked to be around your age, and you learned that he was a college student from a school you had never heard of. The conversation flowed easily; cheeks warmed with laughter as you played your part, leaning in just a little too close and giggling at his jokes with feigned intrigue.

You completely lost track of time, engrossed in the lively exchange until a soft voice broke the bubble, sending a chill down your spine. "Nice to meet you, sir~,” Lilia chimed in, his tone sharp yet playful, almost tinged with a sense of mockery. The stranger jumped, widening his eyes at the sudden interruption. "I’m Y/N's boyfriend~," Lilia declared, his smirk daring the guy to challenge him. The stranger’s face flushed as he offered a clumsy, awkward smile before hurriedly excusing himself from the situation.

Once he was out of earshot, Lilia turned his full attention to you, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "I knew you were up to something, but I think the other guy took it seriously, beastie." Lilia couldn’t hold back a giggle as the thrill of your prank swirled in the air between you, laughter mingling with the sounds of the forest.

Floyd Leech

The end of your first year at NRC had arrived, and your relationship with Floyd had blossomed into something sweet and meaningful over the past three months. One day, during a cozy conversation filled with laughter and shared stories, the topic of family surfaced. Floyd, with a bright smile lighting up his face, suggested that it might be time for you to meet his parents. The thought struck you like a bolt of lightning—wasn't it a bit too soon for that? The prospect of meeting his family so early in your relationship sent a ripple of nerves through you.

Despite your initial hesitation, Floyd's cheerful demeanor was contagious. He reassured you that "it wasn't too soon to meet someone's parents," and he added playfully that the customs of his world were probably quite different from what you were used to. You eventually agreed, wanting to immerse yourself in the culture around you and understand the norms that shaped his life.

As the week stretched on, the day before the meeting loomed closer, filling you with a mix of excitement and anxiety. It was a lazy afternoon, and boredom settled in as you lay sprawled across your bed, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. Meanwhile, Floyd had ventured off to fetch sodas for both of you, leaving you to your musings.

An idea, mischievous and playful, suddenly darted through your mind: "What if I prank him?" A giggle bubbled up from your lips at the thought, and your heart raced at the thrill of it. You pulled out your phone, glancing nervously at the door, eager to know when Floyd would return. While you knew that pulling a prank right before meeting his parents might not be the most tactful choice, a wave of exhilaration washed over you as you decided to set it up.

Just as you heard soft footsteps ascending the stairs, you quickly activated the playful calling sound on your phone, your pulse quickening with anticipation. The door swung open, and in strode Floyd, balancing two cans of soda in his hands, his face beaming with curiosity. "Koebi-chan~ What are you doing?" he hummed, a look of intrigue crossing his features as he glanced at your phone.

"Calling someone; is that alright?" you replied, trying to hold back a grin.

"Sure~," he answered, his tone neutral yet his eyes sparkling with question, placing the cans down with a soft thud on your desk before flopping onto your bed like he had a hundred worries to shed.

Holding the phone up to your ear, you adopted an overly flirty tone, drawn into the fun of the moment. "Hey~." The playful shift in your voice caught his attention, his brow furrowing in confusion as question marks seemed to float above his head. Floyd let out a theatrical groan, a mix of exasperation and curiosity. "Koebi-chan, who is that?~ And why are you talking to them like that?~"

The sight of him, half amused and half bewildered, made your heart flutter. With a giggle, you glanced at him, the sheer joy of the interaction warming you from within. "It's nothing, Floyd."

In that moment, you realized you didn’t want to go through with the prank after all. The playful atmosphere was too precious to disrupt, and you decided to turn off your phone, letting the moment linger in the sweet, budding newness of your connection.

[celestialglow24]

••• Even Still •••

Frank Castle x AFAB reader

Frank is upset with you when you put yourself in harms way

once again i was in my frank feels and got a little carried away with this one. enjoy xx

“Don’t.”

He cut you off before you could even finish saying his name. You bit your tongue hard as you watched him insert another stitch on your forearm.

The pounding in your head was relentless and you did your best to ignore the buzz emitting from the lights in the bathroom.

It felt as though it was right in your ears.

Your chest rose and fell slowly — each breath feeling like a knife was being jammed into your side. More than likely you had a few broken ribs.

It hurt to talk and smile but at least your split lip had finally stopped bleeding. The soreness around your eyes reminded you of the probable bruises that would be there to greet you tomorrow morning.

You hadn’t planned on getting hurt. You hadn’t really planned on any of the events of tonight.

But when the opportunity came up for you to go after the men who killed your brother, there was no way you could turn it down.

You didn’t think about the possible consequences.

You didn’t care.

All you could see was the vision of your brother’s mutilated body. All you could hear were the screams from your mother when the police had come to deliver the news.

So you sought your own justice— with help from a certain red vigilante that your boyfriend wasn’t particularly fond of.

The tension in the bathroom was palpable. You wanted so badly to say something sassy, but Frank was the one with a needle and thread in his hand.

While you knew he would never purposely inflict pain, you wouldn’t put it past him to fix you with a little more pressure and force than was probably necessary.

So instead you waited until he finished covering your stitched wound with a bandage and gauze.

You didn’t move from your seat as he started cleaning up the supplies and you refused to look at him. You kept your gaze off to the side, looking toward the bathroom window at the few cars that drove down the quiet midnight street.

“I don’t understand why you’re so angry? I thought you would understand more than anyone why I did what I did.”

It was a low blow and you regretted it as soon as the words left your mouth. It wasn’t fair to throw that in his face but it also wasn’t fair that you got the cold shoulder when you weren’t all that different.

You couldn’t comprehend why it was okay for him to consistently put himself in dangerous situations but god forbid you do it one time.

He didn’t respond. He just continued to clean. For some reason that irritated you more than if he would’ve bit back with something even lower.

“Frank.” you prodded, this time finally turning to look at him. Again he ignored you, shoving the first aid kit back under the bathroom sink.

“Is this really what we’re gonna do? You’re gonna pretend like i’m not he-”

He grabbed your chin and jutted it up toward him. It didn’t hurt you, just startled you more than anything.

“Why didn’t you ask me?”

His voice was low, and while he tried to keep up his usual tough, stoic demeanor, you detected a hint of hurt in his voice.

You weren’t sure what to make of it.

“Hm?” he squeezed your chin gently when you hadn’t responded.

You avoided his gaze now, uncomfortable with his searching eyes. He could always see right through you. No matter how much you tried to close him out, it never worked.

“Because I knew you would’ve said no.”

As the words left your mouth you could hear how dejected you sounded. You were tired and really didn’t want to get in a screaming match with Frank tonight. You were just happy to be home and alive.

“You’re damn right I would’ve.”, he quipped. “It was a stupid thing to do.”

You scoffed, finally pushing his hand off your chin and crossing your arms.

“I did what was necessary.”

“No, you got fucking lucky. I mean what the hell were you thinkin? You really thought you could take on a group of those guys by yourself and win? You were just a doe heading straight into a lion's den.” he said incredulously.

“That’s why I didn’t go by myself, Frank.” you rolled your eyes. “I’m stubborn, not naive.”

“Oh right. ‘Scuse me. You and Red. The dynamic fucking duo.”

He was definitely hurt. There was no denying that. From the outside you could understand how it looked. Turning to someone he couldn’t stand for help instead of coming to him.

You realize now he wasn’t asking why you didn’t ask for his permission.

He was wanting to know why you didn’t ask him to be the one to go with you. Why did you go to Matt Murdock of all people?

But if you had gone to Frank you know he would’ve stopped you. Those men would still be alive right now and on their way to hurt someone else. To destroy some other family. You couldn’t let that happen.

Matt tried to stop you too but you had a bit more leeway with getting him to go along with you than Frank.

You knew even if he objected to it, Matt would reluctantly follow alongside you.

Frank would’ve tied you to a chair and locked you in a room.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you by going to him for help but you said it yourself. There’s no way I could’ve done that on my own. I needed someone who could join me and handle a fight. Not someone who was just going to tell me what I could and couldn’t do like I was some incompetent child.”

Frank shook his head. “Yeah and i’ll deal with that motherfucker later. He’s an idiot for letting you put yourself in danger like that.”

“He wouldn’t have let anything happen to me.” you shot back.

All he could do was run his hands down his face before turning to look at you. “Do you hear yourself? He ain’t some magic shield that would’ve kept you from getting shot or stabbed. What if there had been more men? What if he had gotten hurt and you were left to try and fight off those scum bags by yourself?”

“I think i handled myself pretty well when he was occupied.”

You knew you were being difficult. You also knew Frank was right. It was a bad idea all around, but at the time it didn’t matter. You just wanted to hurt them.

Sure there was a part of you that felt invincible having someone like Matt with you, but as you got more clarity you realized how lucky you had been to get away with the injuries you had. It really could’ve gone a different way.

Still, you hated the way Frank was making you feel right now. Like a child being scolded by a parent. You know it’s cause he loves you and you scared him, but it doesn’t make it any easier right now.

You figured he’d be a little upset but you also thought he would be proud of you.

The look he was giving you right now showed you anything but that.

“So do you feel better?” he asked, following you as you limped out of the bathroom. “Huh? You get what you wanted out of it?”

“Frank.” you sighed.

“No I wanna know.”

He grabbed your arm and spun you around. He loosened his hold when he saw you grimace from the contact, god you ached like a bitch, but he still held his intense stare.

“Was it worth it?”

You knew he was trying to rile you up. Get some sort of angry response from you. He was pissed now and was ready to let you have it but you weren’t giving in that easily.

“I don’t feel anything right now.”

Which was the truth. Besides the obvious physical pain, you didn’t feel anything about tonight. There was a rush of adrenaline as you fought, as you punched and kicked and dumped the last body into the river.

But now? As the high wore off and reality was sinking in? You just felt empty.

“You think about anyone else before you did what you did? You think about me or your friends?” he nodded toward the dog bowl for Rocco, the pitbull that you shared. “You think about him, how he’d search all around the apartment and wonder why you never came home?”

You turned your back to him and headed toward the bedroom. You just wanted to get out of these uncomfortable clothes and you wanted this conversation to stop.

“Enough, Frank.”

He didn’t listen, he just kept going. God is this how he felt when you nagged him for coming home close to death after a mission gone wrong?

“What about your mom, huh?”

That made you pause.

“You ever stop to think how she’d feel having two dead children?”

Your stomach dropped and the blood in your veins suddenly felt ice cold.

“How dare you.” you asked angrily, spinning around to face him. It took all the strength you had not to slap him.

“You don’t understand sweetheart. I’ve been where you are. I did what you did and it doesn’t stop the pain. It’s there like a gaping wound that won’t fucking close except now you’ve got something else on your conscience.”

“You think I don’t know what’s going through your head right now? The rush is gone and you’re left feeling like ‘what now’? He ain’t gonna call you up. He ain’t gonna walk through that door.”

You move to sit on the bed now, not even bothering to fight the tears as they rolled down your face.

“It doesn’t end there. No, because now you just took 3 men’s lives. Men with families. Men with people who are gonna want to know what happened to them. Men who work for people that don’t take well to being threatened and they’re gonna want to find whoever did this.”

“They ain’t gonna care that you were getting revenge for your brother. It’ll take them all but 2 seconds to put a bullet in your head and drive away like it never fucking happened.”

You hated that Frank was right but you didn’t understand the self righteous talk. Why does he do what he does if this is how he feels about it?

“How is this any different than what you do huh?” you spat angrily. “You think I don’t sit here worried about you when you disappear at night? Come in looking like you’re knocking on death’s door?”

“You’re not me!” he shouted. “I’ve already made the mistakes I made and I deal with it. I never wanted you anywhere near that world because it’s not for people like you. I already accepted my fate a long time ago.”

Frank knew he was being hard on you but he just couldn’t help it. He was so angry that you put yourself in that situation and he was angry that as much as he tried to protect you, there was nothing he could do for you now.

You were still processing everything but because of the kind of person you are, he knows tomorrow you’re gonna wake up feeling the guilt wash over you like an unrelenting wave.

It wasn’t that Frank was only trying to keep you safe physically—that was part of it— but he wanted to protect you from the emotional trauma that comes with taking a life. He’d buried that part of himself a long time ago.

But you? You were too sweet for this life. He was worried that it would break you. He knows better than anyone that it’s not a piece of you that comes back. You’re changed forever.

Your lip trembled and suddenly the sob you had been holding in came rushing out. The tears stung like hell as they fell down your face and this would no doubt make your headache a million times worse, but there was nothing you could do.

“Shit, baby.” Frank cursed, rushing over to you. He pulled you up into his arms, kissing your head and rubbing your neck. “Just let it out, I got you.”

Your whole body shook as the grief consumed you.

“I’m so sorry Frank.” you cried. “I’m sorry. I just wanted them to feel what he felt. What I feel. It’s not fair. It’s not-” you couldn’t even finish the words. You sounded like a blubbering mess.

“I know sweetheart. I know.” he whispered, rubbing his hand up and down your back and lightly rocking you back and forth.

He wished he could take this away from you. It hurt to see you hurt.

“I’m sorry for the harsh things I said. I’m not the best with words.” Frank said, resting his forehead against yours.

You breathed together, slow and steady. You could feel yourself start to calm down, the edge of the panic attack starting to subside. You slumped against Frank’s chest as the energy had been zapped from you.

“I’m sorry too.” you replied, “I wasn’t exactly making it easy on you.”

“No, but that’s my girl.”

He brushed your hair behind your ear and tilted your chin up to look at him. For a moment neither one of you said anything and you couldn’t decipher the look on his face.

“You drive me so fucking crazy sometimes.” he said quietly, “Even still, I don’t think I could survive losing you too.”

It felt like a kick in the stomach to hear that. You really had been selfish. You didn’t think about anyone else in your life that would’ve been affected if something had gone wrong.

It made the tears come again and Frank pulled you into him. He tried to soothe you, telling you it was going to be okay. You were safe, nothing was going to harm you.

After a while he helped you get out of your clothes, changing you into one of his big t shirts. You really wanted to shower but at this point the exhaustion was overwhelming. You could barely stand up straight.

So the two of you laid in bed. You laid on his chest, the top of your head resting in the crook of his neck.

You played with the chain around his neck, twisting and twirling it around your fingers while he absentmindedly ran his hand up and down your back.

“Frank?” you asked quietly.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Those men, do you really think someone will come after me now? Or my mom? What if they try to hurt her-”

“Nobody’s gonna do a damn thing, sweetheart.”

You rest your chin on his chest, looking up at him with tired eyes, you honestly weren’t sure if they were even open all the way.

“But what if-”

“Don’t do that.” he shushed you. “I promise nobody is gonna touch you or your family. I’ll take care of it.”

You decided to drop it for now. It’s not that you didn’t trust Frank. You know without a doubt he would die before letting anyone hurt you or the people close to you.

But you still couldn’t shake this gnawing feeling that something bad was going to happen. You hated the thought of him having to fight a battle on your behalf. Especially one that wouldn’t have even happened if you had kept your emotions in check.

Still, you decided to believe Frank in the moment. Everything would be okay.

Besides, you never felt safer than you did in his arms.

As the breeze from the outside moved through the curtains and over your back, you finally agreed to let sleep overtake you.

You drifted off to sleep to the sound of his heart beating. You felt a light kiss planted on top of your head along with a string of mumbled words,

“No one’s gonna lay a finger on my girl.”

[mononijikayu]

chapter (1) — rumours.

GENRE: alternate universe - actors/celeb au!

WARNING/S: not safe for work (nsfw), r-18 and above, singers au!, romance, fluff, minor angst, slow burn, humour, slice of life, will they won't they, light-hearted, flirting, playful, possessiveness, teasing, explicit content, possible, kissing, sexual content, innuendos, drama, feels, hurt/comfort, falling in love, love, happy ending, actor/singer! sukuna, actress/celeb! reader;

WORD COUNT: 3k words.

NOTE: this was a request by a good friend of mine here, midnight-138; honestly, this was fun to write but i realized it wasn't going to be fun without a series happening. since jjk ended, i like to think its just a tv show with actors and everything. anyway!!! enjoy it!!!

masterlist

hey lover! series

SOMEHOW, ITS VERY COMMON TO HEAR YOUR NAME IN ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING. Headlines are always buzzing about your on-screen chemistry with your beloved co-star Ryomen Sukuna in Jujutsu Kaisen.

The two of you are practically inseparable on set, sharing private jokes and glances that fans swear could only belong to people who are more than just co-stars. Every Instagram post and tag, every red-carpet, every bit of interaction sends social media into a frenzy.

A blurry paparazzi photo of the two of you leaving a restaurant together? Uproar. Sukuna’s hand on your back at a press event? Uproar. Matching accessories spotted in your latest selfies? Uproar.

Fans dissect every interaction, convinced that something more than friendship is brewing. Because why wouldn't they? Everything felt like a clue. Everythjng felt like it was a mystery that needed to be solved when it comes to you two.

But the worst part about it is that you and Sukuna remain silent. Neither confirming nor denying anything. When asked about your relationship during interviews, you both just smile—maybe even exchange a playful look, adding fuel to the fire.

You leave fans in a constant state of guessing, teasing them with cryptic posts that seem like inside jokes only the two of you could understand.

In the quiet privacy behind the cameras, though, whether there’s truth to the rumors or not is a secret only you and Sukuna hold close. And maybe that’s part of what keeps everyone so hooked.

As social media explodes with theories, fans take it upon themselves to become full-time detectives. Suddenly, every frame from behind-the-scenes footage becomes evidence.

"Did you see the way Sukuna passed her the water bottle? That’s definitely a boyfriend move." People zoom in on grainy images like they're solving a mystery for the FBI.

A single, innocent tweet of yours like, "Had sushi today!!! 🍣🥢" is met with immediate chaos:

"GUYS, DIDN’T SUKUNA POST A PICTURE OF CHOPSTICKS TWO DAYS AGO?? THEY’RE EATING TOGETHER, CONFIRMED!!"

"Sukuna wears black, she’s wearing black. THEY’RE MATCHING."

"Doesn't she live in the East Side and Sukuna has a shoot in New York too? I bet he slept at her place, that's why they're together!"

You can't even breathe without someone connecting it back to Sukuna. Once, you posted a picture of your mother's cat, and someone commented, "Wait, Sukuna said in an interview last year that he likes cats. Coincidence?? I THINK NOT."

And the funniest part? You and Sukuna seem to be in on the joke. And still, STILL, not confirm anything. Not one thing. NEVER.

At every red carpet event, you both manage to “accidentally” coordinate outfits or just happen to walk into the venue within seconds of each other. On set, you pass him your coffee to share and the fandom collectively loses its mind. Yet, in interviews, your answers remain as vague as ever:

“So, there’s been a lot of talk about you and Sukuna. Are you two seeing each other?” The interviewer asks you, a certain mischief in his eye.

You looked at Sukuna, who raises a teasing brow. “We see each other every day on set, yeah.”

Sukuna grins back at you. “Sometimes even during lunch. At your trailer."

"Well, depends on the day." You added, grinning back. "I mean, sometimes we get messy in there so...."

Your fandoms spirals further.

Of course, fans don’t stop. A blurry photo surfaces of someone who might be you two walking through a park, closely packed together in a very close skinship The comments section erupts:

"THAT’S THEM. SUKUNA POSTED A PICTURE OF THOSE BENCHES A WHILE AGO!!!"

"No way, that could be anyone!"

"Look at the way they walk. That’s dating posture."

"Dude, it's just two blobs in a park."

"Only their blobs could look that in love."

Eventually, the theories get so wild, people start making compilation videos of “proof.” You sit back, watching them, popcorn in hand, thinking, They really think they’ve got us figured out.

But until the day you decide to spill the beans—or not—the internet will just have to keep guessing. And you and Sukuna? You’re having way too much fun letting them.

One day, you both find yourselves in a meeting with the producers, and the topic of fan theories comes up. They’re considering incorporating some of the drama into the show. With how your characters are, it was very easy to just make it happen.

“You guys are basically a couple already in their eyes. Why not lean into it?” one of the producers suggests, chuckling.

Sukuna leans back, a mischievous glint in his eye. “So, what you’re saying is we should start holding hands on screen? I mean, don't we do that already?"

You can’t help but laugh. “i mean that depends, you know? Only if we get matching outfits. I’m not going out there without a coordinated look.”

The producers are writing down ideas, completely serious. “We could do a whole segment on you two fighting each other and you know......sexual tension. Very exciting.”

"We already have that anyway." Sukuna snickers back at the producer. He looks at you. "I mean......have you seen how we get down?"

"Yeah, we don't need anything to be scripted." You grinned back at Sukuna before standing up, walking towards him and placing a kiss on his cheek. "I have to go sit at the make up chair first. Bye!"

In that moment, even Jujutsu Kaisen's producers weren't sure. Are you guys datng or not?

And Ryomen Sukuna refused to say anything. He merely smiled. Proudly.

Later, during a shooting break, you and Sukuna can’t stop giggling about it. “If we did that, the fandom and our fans would explode.” you say, shaking your head. “We’d really end up causing a generational fall out."

Sukuna smirks, “Let them have their fun. I’m sure they're enjoying how we have fun too."

➽───────────❥

PROMO SEASON CAME AROUND FAST. And even during this time, you and Sukuna were never escaping the allegations. At one of the major press eventa later that month, you both decide to play with fire once again. Once more, rumors were little but they burnt like wildfire.

At exactly 9:00 am, you had to be there in the agency building to get ready. You show up wearing a shirt with a giant cartoon cat on it, and since Sukuna and you have the same agency, when Sukuna arrives, he’s wearing a matching shirt with a dog. The cameras flash, and you both strike a pose, arms crossed, looking like a bizarre couple straight out of a sitcom.

The internet goes wild.

“ARE THEY ADOPTING A PET TOGETHER?!”

In the frenzy, you hear someone yell, “What’s the cat’s name?”

You look at Sukuna, who gives a dramatic sigh. He snickers. “Guess we'll have to say something about our pet, darling.”

You both exchange a look, trying to suppress your laughter. “Oh, but don't we already have Noodle?” you suggest.

"We do.” he replies back, mischief in his eyes. “But only make sure you only feed him on your side of the bed.”

The whole thing spirals into a hilarious Twitter thread: “Sukuna and (Y/N) are definitely getting married and adopting a cat named Noodle.”

This entire thing creates media frenzy. Because what do you mean there's a marriage? And not to mention, a cat? That makes it even more serious!

The following week, you’re both asked to do a Q&A session with fans at a media event.

The moment someone asks, “So, is Noodle a real cat?” you both exchange a look, then burst out laughing.

“Listen, Noodle is a very busy cat.” you respond, trying to keep a straight face. “He’s got modeling gigs and a busy social life. And very busy building his collection of balls. He’s basically the star of our lives.”

Sukuna adds looking at you. “Yeah, he’s too good for us. He's definifely giving us a run for our money in acting. Oh, if you can visit our house and see his acting chops! He'd replace me as Sukuna!"

By now, the memes have taken over. “Noodle the cat is the real star of Jujutsu Kaisen” trends on Twitter, complete with fan art and even a fake merchandise line.

Every time you and Sukuna scroll through the latest memes together, it feels more like you’re in a sitcom than reality.

And it happened again when you both came live on Instagram after a long shoot together. You were eating convenience store ramen together. 

“We should probably just embrace the whole ‘cat dad’ angle for you, bub.” you suggest one evening while going through a particularly funny thread.

“Only if you’re down to play the role of the supportive girlfriend.” he teases.

“I’d do it for Noodle!” you laugh.

At the end of the day, the speculation continues, but now, it feels like a shared inside joke. And who knows? Maybe there’s a little truth buried in the fun.

Until then, you and Sukuna are happy to keep the mystery alive, letting the fans run wild with their theories while you enjoy the antics of being in the spotlight together. And just be together.

➽───────────❥

YOU DON'T LIKE PRESS TOURS. Because they get longer and longer the more you're in them. But it's part of your job and you can't ignore it.

As the promotional campaign for Jujutsu Kaisen heats up, the marketing team decides to do a special segment where you and Sukuna read some of the most outrageous thirst tweets from fans live on social media.

You both gather in a cozy studio set, a couple of drinks in hand, ready to dive into the wild world of fandom obsession.

The camera rolls, and the host introduces the segment with a laugh. “Today, we have two of the hottest stars from Jujutsu Kaisen! Let’s see what the fans are saying about them.”

The first tweet pops up on the screen:

“Why do I want to fight Y/N just to get a date with Sukuna? Like.....Let me touch those pecs too, Y/N! #ThirstyForSukuna”

You smirk and turn to Sukuna, raising an eyebrow. “Looks like I've got some competition, buddy. Who knew you’d be a heartthrob?”

Sukuna leans back, feigning nonchalance. “What can I say? I’ve got that bad-boy charm everyone just falls for, you know?"

The next tweet scrolls by:

“Y/N could step on my neck and I’d thank her for it. #JJKThirst”

You nearly choke on your drink, laughing uncontrollably. “Wow, I’m basically a neck-stomping goddess now?”

Sukuna grins, “I might need to step up my game. Do I have to start practicing neck-stomping moves?”

You grinned. "Why not? We can start now, baby boy."

"Hang on, lemme kneel in front of you."

The host chuckles, and the viewers can feel the playful tension in the air. The next tweet appears:

“Why is Y/N so cute? I just want to put her in my pocket and carry her around. #ProtectY/N”

You lean over and poke Sukuna playfully. “Looks like I’m the cute one. What are you going to do about it?”

“Pocket-sized? I’m pretty sure I could lift you up and carry you around. I’d be the pocket protector.”

The host raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the banter. “This is some serious couple energy right here!”

More tweets flash on the screen, and they’re getting wilder:

“I’d let Sukuna ruin my life and then ask for more. #JJK”

“Y/N and Sukuna need to date in real life. They have undeniable chemistry!”

You read that one aloud, rolling your eyes dramatically. “It’s not like we don’t have undeniable chemistry, right? I mean, we just got it, you know?"

Sukuna leans closer, lowering his voice, “You’re right. It’s almost like we’re living in a rom-com, and I’m just waiting for the big confession scene.”

The chat is blowing up, and you can see fans losing their minds over the playful flirting. Comments like, “THEY’RE SO IN LOVE!” and “CAN THEY JUST DATE ALREADY?!” flood the screen.

Next up is a tweet that reads, “Y/N can do no wrong. I’d let do anything for my queen to step on me! #ThirstyForY/N”

You turn to Sukuna with a playful smirk. “Looks like I have my own little army. How do you feel about that?”

He leans back, crossing his arms. “I’m not worried. They can love you all they want, but who’s the one sharing sushi with you?”

The two of you break into laughter as another tweet rolls in:

“Okay, but if you and Sukuna don’t end up together by the end of JJK, I’ll riot.”

You look at Sukuna, eyes wide. “Looks like we’re starting a revolution!”

“Right? How about we take the revolution to the next level? You and I should go on a ‘date’ for the cameras and really stir things up.”

“Imagine the tweets! ‘The romance is REAL!’” you exclaim, giggling.

By the time the segment wraps up, fans are in a complete frenzy. The host turns to the camera, “You’ve seen the tweets, now let’s see what the fans will do with this energy. You guys are absolutely hilarious!”

As the cameras stop rolling, you and Sukuna lean back, grinning at each other. “You know, I think we just made a lot of people’s dreams come true,” you say, still buzzing from the fun.

Sukuna winks. “Just wait until the next promo event. We’ll really give them something to talk about.”

With the buzz of excitement surrounding you both, the thrill of flirting, and the chaos of fandom, it’s clear that the jokes and playful banter only add fuel to the fire of the romance rumor mill, and you’re both having the time of your lives

As the promotional segment wraps up, you and Sukuna step off set, still riding the high from the chaotic energy of the livestream.

Fans are already trending the hashtag #YandSForever, and you can’t help but pull out your phone to check the latest tweets.

“Look at this one, Su!” you say, reading aloud. “I need Y/N and Sukuna to take a couple’s selfie like right now. Make it happen!” You smirk. “Should we make that a thing?”

Sukuna raises an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “A couple’s selfie? What, are we going to match our outfits again?”

“Absolutely! Let’s go full rom-com with hearts in the background.” You both burst into laughter, and he nudges you playfully.

“Okay, but only if we can throw Noodle into the picture for added cuteness.” he says, mock-serious. “Can’t let my cat-dad image fade. After all, we have a three soul family!”

As you’re scrolling through the tweets, you come across one that reads, “If Y/N and Sukuna were a snack, they’d be the whole charcuterie board—gorgeous, a little salty, and definitely irresistible.”

You snort, shaking your head. “Okay, that’s actually pretty clever.”

“Salty, huh?” Sukuna leans in closer with a smirk, “You think they’re implying something about me?”

“Only that you’re a snack, Sukuna.” You wink, enjoying the banter as you both stroll through the studio’s backlot.

Suddenly, someone yells, “Hey! Are you two dating, or what?” It’s one of the crew members, clearly getting in on the joke.

You both pause, exchanging a look. “We’re.....interesting, right?” you say, nudging Sukuna.

He smirks, “Yeah, just interesting. Especially together. Interesting together as we definitely share sushi and matching outfits.”

The crew member laughs, shaking his head. “You’re both ridiculous. Just make it official already!”

You can’t help but grin, feeling a mix of warmth and excitement at the thought. As you continue walking, you check your phone again and see another trending tweet:

“Sukuna’s hand on Y/N’s back at the premiere was a whole mood. I’m not okay.”

“Hey, I think we were just trying to navigate the crowd.” you say, laughing as you elbow Sukuna. “Or maybe I was just trying to keep you from tripping on your own ego.”

He feigns shock, placing a hand over his heart. “My ego is as solid as my acting skills! But it’s nice to have someone as cute as you around to keep me grounded, darling."

Your cheeks flush at the compliment, and you decide to lean into it. “Well, I’ll just have to make sure to keep your ego in check. Maybe I’ll start charging a fee for my services.”

“Oh? What’s the rate?” he asks, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“A dinner date sounds fair. Noodle can join too!”

Just then, another crew member walks past, overhearing your banter. “Wait, are you two actually going to have a date? I’ll start a betting pool.”

Sukuna leans in, whispering dramatically, “How much are they betting on us? Better be big money we can share.”

You break into laughter again. “I’m betting they’ll think we’ll end up together by the end of the season. That’s practically a guarantee.”

As you walk back to your trailer, you can see fans gathering outside, hoping to catch a glimpse of you both.

“Looks like we’ve got an audience, Su!” you say, glancing at the growing crowd.

Sukuna gives you a sly smile. “Let’s give them a show.”

You both step out onto the steps of your trailer, and the fans cheer, holding up their phones to capture the moment. Sukuna eagerly wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close as you both pose for a picture, flashing playful grins.

The fans go wild, shouting your names and yelling for you to kiss.

“Maybe next time, guys! I'm hungry!” you shout back, grinning. “Tough luck but you’ll have to settle for selfies!”

"Yeah, everyone!" Sukuna whispers, a sly smile on his face. "Can't let my darling be hungry now, can't I?"

You both pose for a few more pictures, enjoying the energy and excitement radiating from the crowd. As you glance at Sukuna, you can’t help but feel a rush of adrenaline.

This might just be a fun little game for you both, but with every shared laugh and inside joke, the lines between friendship and something more seem to blur just a little more.

Later that evening, you’re scrolling through Twitter again, and the excitement of the day sinks in as you read the latest updates:

“I’m not saying Y/N and Sukuna are endgame, but… I’m not NOT saying it either.”

“Someone tell me how I can apply to be the third wheel on their sushi dates! #LifeGoals”

“Can’t wait for the upcoming JJK season! Also, please, can they just kiss already?”

You smile, a mix of joy and mischief bubbling up inside you. With Sukuna by your side, the adventure has only just begun, and you can’t wait to see where it all leads. After all, isn't that the fun?

[silkscreaming]

[ID: Trigun fanart of a Pushing Daisies AU. Vash and Knives are shown in a cafe, both wearing aprons. Vash is smiling at Wolfwood as he prepares a strawberry pie, and Knives scowls at Vash while holding a covered box which flies are buzzing over. Over them is the cursive text "Love and Pies." In the background, Wolfwood is staring at Vash with a lovestruck expression, and Kuroneko is sleeping on a diner chair. End ID]

there once were two pie makers who shared a gift: a touch that brought the dead to life.

the facts were these:

-the twins share the power. they discovered it as kids when Rem died suddenly, and learned its limits when vash hugged her goodnight. he blames himself, and doesn't like toying with the power.

-nai got involved in some unsavory business trying to find clues after their sister tessla went missing.

-enter wolfwood: a man with ties to the organization that has to do with tessla's disappearance. except: he's dead.

-nai brings wolfwood back to question him right as vash walks in to the wake. nai is unable to kill wolfwood again within the 60sec time limit. (he also has extremely foggy memory of his death and the events leading up to it)

-vash is a slight exception to the rule: he can give his own life force to bend the cost rule. nai loses the minute holding vash back from giving his entire life to keep wolfwood alive and spare the cost of someone else's life.

bonus things that didn't fit in my twt thread:

-nai is in touch with milly and meryl's detective agency to keep a tab on any clues. they are frequent customers at the pie shop.

-vash brought kuroneko back to life when they were kids. she immediately chomped on his finger. vash freaked out thinking she would die again but black cats have 9 lives and are also exceptions to the rule because i think its funny.

-like canon, vash can be pretty reckless when it comes to helping people and avoiding deaths. running into burning buildings and pushing people out of the way from cars running lights.

-wolfwood wears his sunglasses to hide his identity. it is extremely hilariously not effective.

-vash still has a prosthetic arm. wolfwood can hold One hand.

also here is the first sketch i drew of this concept way back in april where i simply had not figured out how to draw these two yet lol

[ID: Slightly sketchy Trigun fanart of Vash and Knives from the same AU, shown walking past each other against a light pink background. Vash smiles as he looks at a strawberry which is surrounded by sparkles, and Knives is scowling while carrying the box flies are buzzing over. End ID]

[lillmirey]

„Partners in Justice“

summary:Under the pressure of a difficult case, Casey snaps at her closest ally, Detective Y/N threatening their growing bond. As the case reaches a turning point, they must reconcile their feelings and find their way back to each other.

Pairing: Casey Novak x fem!reader

Content Warnings: Mentions of assault (case-related, no graphic details), Emotional conflict and stress, Brief argument and hurtful words

Word Count: ~3000

Authors Note: This may not reach many people but idc. i love Casey Novak

The squad room was alive with its usual frenetic energy, a hum of phones ringing, keyboards clacking, and tense conversations. Detective Y/N Y/L/N stood at the whiteboard, drawing a timeline of events for the latest case—a brutal assault that had rocked the community.

Her phone buzzed on her desk, the name Casey Novak flashing on the screen. Casey, the ADA assigned to the case, had been under immense pressure to prepare for the upcoming trial. They’d been working closely for weeks, but lately, Casey had seemed… distant.

Y/N opened the text:

“Come to my office ASAP. We need to talk.”

Frowning, Y/N grabbed her coat and headed upstairs.

Casey’s office was a mess. Papers and folders were strewn across the desk, and a half-empty coffee cup balanced precariously on a stack of files. Casey herself looked just as frazzled, her hair slightly out of place and her normally confident demeanor marred by a furrowed brow.

“Detective,” Casey greeted curtly without looking up from the document she was reviewing.

“Casey,” Y/N said, stepping into the room. “What’s going on?”

Casey finally looked up, her green eyes sharp. “The defense just filed a motion to suppress the victim’s testimony. If the judge grants it, we lose the case. Everything we’ve been working on falls apart.”

“Okay,” Y/N said calmly. “Then we fight it. What’s our angle?”

Casey slammed the file down on the desk. “That’s easy for you to say! You’re not the one who has to stand in front of a jury and salvage this disaster!”

Y/N blinked, taken aback. “Casey, I’m trying to help you.”

“Are you? Because it feels like I’m the only one who actually cares about winning this case!”

Y/N’s jaw tightened, hurt flashing across her face. “I don’t deserve that, Casey.”

Casey’s expression softened briefly, but the tension didn’t leave her shoulders. “Just… go, Y/N. I need to focus.”

Y/N stood there for a moment, the sting of Casey’s words making her chest ache. Without another word, she turned and walked out, the door clicking shut behind her.

Back in the squad room, Y/N buried herself in work, the sting of Casey’s outburst lingering. Olivia Benson noticed the tension and approached her desk.

“You alright?” Olivia asked.

Y/N shrugged. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Olivia raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. “Let me know if you need anything.”

The hours dragged on, and eventually, the squad room emptied. Y/N stayed late, combing through witness statements and evidence, anything to keep her mind off Casey.

But she couldn’t stop replaying the argument in her head. Casey’s frustration wasn’t new, but this time, it felt personal. And that hurt more than Y/N wanted to admit.

Two days later, the trial began. Y/N didn’t see Casey before she entered the courtroom, but when the ADA strode in, she was back in her element—composed, confident, and razor-sharp.

Y/N sat in the back of the courtroom, watching as Casey dismantled the defense’s motion with precision. Her arguments were airtight, her delivery flawless. By the end of the hearing, the judge ruled in their favor: the victim’s testimony would stand.

When Casey turned to leave the courtroom, her eyes briefly met Y/N’s. There was relief there, but also something unspoken.

That evening, Y/N was back in the squad room, finishing up paperwork, when Casey walked in.

“Detective,” Casey said softly, standing near the edge of Y/N’s desk.

Y/N looked up, her expression guarded. “Casey.”

Casey shifted awkwardly, holding a manila folder in her hands. “We won the motion.”

“I know,” Y/N said. “I was there.”

Casey nodded, setting the folder down. “I wanted to say thank you. For all the work you’ve done on this case.”

Y/N leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Is that all you wanted to say?”

Casey sighed, running a hand through her hair. “No. I wanted to say I’m sorry. For snapping at you the other day. I was stressed, but that doesn’t excuse the way I treated you.”

Y/N studied her for a moment, then softened. “I get it. This job can mess with your head. But, Casey, I’m on your side. Always. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

Casey’s lips quirked into a small smile. “I know that now. And I’ll try to remember it next time.”

“Good,” Y/N said, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment before Casey spoke again. “Are you hungry? I owe you dinner. As an apology.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You? Apologizing with food? I might have to take you up on that.”

Casey chuckled, the tension between them finally dissipating. “Come on. I know a great place down the street.”

Over dinner at a cozy Italian restaurant, the conversation shifted to lighter topics. Casey told stories from her law school days, and Y/N shared some of the more ridiculous moments from her time as a rookie.

As they walked back to the precinct, the city lights casting a warm glow, Casey hesitated. “Y/N, I meant what I said earlier. About not being alone. You’ve been my rock through all of this, and I don’t think I’ve told you how much that means to me.”

Y/N stopped, turning to face her. “You don’t have to say it, Casey. I already know.”

Casey smiled softly, her eyes shining with something unspoken. “Still. I wanted to.”

They stood there for a moment, the bustling city fading into the background. Then, Casey reached out, her fingers brushing against Y/N’s.

“Thank you,” Casey said.

“For what?”

“For being you,” Casey whispered, her voice barely audible over the city’s hum.

Y/N smiled, intertwining their fingers. “Always.”

They didn’t need to say anything else. Whatever label they put on their relationship could wait. For now, they had each other—and that was enough.

[mentanol]

Saw you in a dream. Reader! X Kyle 'Gaz' Garrack.

Saw you in a dream. Awkward/ Awkward / Quiet reader! X Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

You were handpicked by a specialized company that thrived on discreet operations. Working for years upon years - you enlisted the second you could which was young, you built up a load of skill. The company you worked for was hired to work with select teams for a good sum of money normally, but you preferred to work on your own. Flying solo for years and working on lone missions due to your innate passion for reliance on only yourself.

Then, you were hired for the 141, an event that to your surprise was way different from the usual mission. You had to work with them, no lone wolf option - not anymore, at least.

Still, nonetheless, you rarely were at the base they resided in , all called for a special operation, you would disappear for weeks at a time after missions with the TF141 and a certain man was always silently wondering where you were.

It was an early morning in the base, the hallways buzzing with rookies. The TF141 specifically were in a barracks. Some were sitting on beds, resting their backs against the wall as they cleaned off guns or knives, others smoking despite the clear rule not to, and others just bickering. Johnny's head turns at the sound of the door opening, and Ghost just nods at Kyle walking in having seen him in his peripheral vision.

Kyle's frown deepened as he leaned against a rough wall near Price, voicing his concern about your absence,

"Where the hell is y/n?"

Johnny, ever the joking one, shrugged nonchalantly, quipping at him, "You think they just vanished into thin air or something?" A brief exchange of glances passed between Gaz and Price, the latter continuing to diligently care for his knife.

Price's frown mirrored Gaz's, his gruff voice joining the discussion, "I've no clue where they bloody are. They are worse than Ghosts for disappearing. The job gets done, though. I must admit." He grumbles more on the last part, checking behind him in the reflection of the knife.

Kyle couldn't get you out of his head, he kept having dreams about you - kept thinking about who mysterious you were and how he needed to get past that shell. To get his mind quiet - he just wanted you. Wanted to know the real you behind your mask of loneliness.

. . .

It was early morning, so early not even the soldiers were awake yet with their ass crack of dawn schedule. A long cold mission was what your goodnight was, spending the night sneaking and leeching around has exhausted you but break time wasn't a given in your line of work. Instead, you simply chose to go to the kitchen. As you were soon to enjoy a nice cold drink, a low-toned voice cut through your ears making you look over your shoulder - stiffening slightly due to your lack of familiarity with socializing often.

Honestly? He was surprised to see you. He looked at you similarly to how you would see a ghost for a moment before speaking , seemingly detecting you were not going to speak first.

"What are you doin' up this early, mate? no sane person wakes up this early." He questioned, nodding to the clock in the corner which read 3:00 AM.

Hesitating before speaking, your voice rose up bluntly unsure on how to carry a conversation,

"Back from a mission. Getting some energy in ,before my next one, I mean." You stumbled on your words a tad, you could speak to anyone clearly so why in the hell were you struggling with the idea of speaking to a teammate?

ever since you began showing up in his dreams, he felt a strange pull to you. He had to talk to you atleast once before you disappeared again, he needed too.

should i finish this ? I'm kind of unsure if the plot is too flat or if it's enjoyable enough for me to not scrap it. 😓

[xoblondie]

Little Dove

Dark! Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Summary:

TW: this part is mainly story building and there will be a few parts. (I’m thinking 3ish?) Smut in next parts though ;)

A lantern flame illuminated your face as you shuffled between pages of old parchments.

Stuck behind a makeshift desk on a dingy ministry basement floor, the leaking of old pipes was the only thing keeping you company. You had applied to work as reporter for the Daily Prophet, always having a passion for writing, but yet you found yourself as an intern. Your job had you filing others articles, as you sat alone in a secluded office in the corner of hundreds of filing cabinets and bookshelves.

The sound of wings startle you from your work as an owl swoops between the lines of wooden shelves. Dropping a note on your desk and swooping back around the shelves out of site, leaving you alone yet again. Picking up the scribbled parchment you read it and almost jump with joy. The note from your boss giving you an excuse to escape your mildew prison.

Meet me in my office.

- R. Skeeter

You almost trip as you pull yourself out of your desk, not wanting to keep her waiting long. Smoothing your skirt and tucking back your frizzy hair with a scrunchie, you walk through the maze before you to the other side of the room. Before you the golden elevator Gate appears and you step in, taking the enchanted elevator up to Rita’s private office. When you get to her door, you to move your knuckles up to the large wooden door but with a swift motion, you are pulled within.

“No need dear, I knew you were here.” Her mewling voice chimed as she peered up from her green frames. Her bright blonde hair glittered in its pinned curls, accentuating the crimson lipstick she wore. Behind her, her magical quill was scribbling down your every move hastily, as to not miss a single movement you made. She smiles at you as she sets down her own papers and a chair appears with a quick flick of her wand, opposite from her.

“Now have a seat.” You sit down across from her at the chair she conjured, crossing your ankles to appear more mature.

“From what i remember you were a slytherin correct?”

“Yes, most of family is, but we do have some Ravenclaws.” You confirm her statement.

“So I expect you’re quite smart then too?” Rita says with a playful smile. And you sheepishly nod.

“So you may remember Mattheo Riddle? He’s about your age is he not?” You feel your face flush with colour at the mention of your Hogwarts upperclassman, who had been on the front page of the Prophet many times since his time in Hogwarts. The Son of the dark lord and his right hand man. A total opposite image of the older boy you had known at Hogwarts.

“We kind of knew eachother, but he graduated before me and we didn’t talk much.”

Rita gets up and walks over to a shelf picking up a journal and bringing it back over to the desk.

“Oh dear, you’re perfect!” She almost squealed. “I just knew you would be the one for the job.”

“What job?” You shift in your seat, smoothing your skirt again.

“There’s been rumours that lavish death eater parties have been happening, but I think there is more to that story. And obviously they wont let me in. It’s all very hush-hush but you, my Dear, would be the perfect little messenger bird to send in! It’s been the talk of the town for the last week and I MUST be the first person to get my hands on the details!” Rita slides the journal over to you and you open it, skimming through her pages of notes filed with gossip of these events. You can feel her excitement buzzing off of her body. She was like a teen gossiping about her crush with you, rather than your boss.

“It’s been so tight kept that not even a, let’s say a beetle, could get into them without being detected. I can’t even polyjuice myself with the security spells they have! That’s why I need you! Slytherin family, fresh out of Hogwarts, and quite pretty! It’s the perfect mix.” You put her journal down and look up at her as she rambled on. Her hands expressing her words as she paints you her picture.

“So you want me to sneak into a couple parties and tell you what’s happening? That’s it?” Rita stops and thinks for a moment, her emerald dress sparkling in the sunlight of her office.

“Well I am asking you to go into a Death Eater party where any of them could figure out what you’re up to. I mean there is a reason no one knows what happens there Darling.” She eased back into her chair, her red lips curling up again.

“And if I say yes, what’s in it for me?” You cross your arms, waiting to hear out your options. On one hand it wouldn’t be too hard of a task to complete. But on the other, what if you were caught by the Death Eaters. She ponders for a moment, before her eyes sparkle with an idea.

“I’ll publish your work and you can become my own personal assistant.” You feel your jaw drop, failing to hide your temptation. If you were her personal assistant, you could get out of the dingy basement and write your own pieces. Without a second thought you reach your hand over to her and she takes it within her own.

“Deal.” You shake her hand and she jumps out of her seat again.

“Perfect. Let’s get you ready, you have lots to learn before the next one!”

-

If you had told yourself a month ago that you would be standing in front of the Riddle Manor, you would have checked yourself into St. Mungos immediately. The black dress that had been delivered to your office earlier that morning had somehow hugged you like it had been sewn on your body. An alteration done by Rita, no doubt. But what it had in beauty it lacked in concealing your shivers as the menacing estate welcomed you into its jaws.

On the arm of a man from the ministry, you head towards the doors with the rest of the crowd, fleeing from the cold night. He was your ticket in, a pure blood with family ties to the Dark Lord, earning himself entry. All it took was a little wing manning from Rita and he was wrapped around your finger.

Inside the decor was lavish and dark, creating a powerful ambiance around each of the death eaters and their company. Your family was not pure blood, and had never followed the dark lord like other wizarding family’s so this type of glamour made you feel like a fraud. Stuck on your dates arm, you did your best to note down everything, knowing Rita would want every detail.

As per your plan, he introduced you to others and you played up being his ditzy date.

As the night progressed you noticed high ranked Death Eaters slip away into the halls of the manor. You knew they were up to whatever Rita thought they were and knew this was your ticket to getting you big scoop. Your date had long over drank and was sitting amongst his old school friends. You sat off to the side, with the other girls who had no interest in their dates drunken states. You spot another Death eater slipping out and you decide to follow them out, telling your date you were going for some fresh air.

You watch as the man saunters down the hall, not even bothering to check behind them. When they turn the corner, you pull out your enchanted note pad and start mentally taking notes as you scurry down the hall to follow him. Your note pad starts filling up pages with the scribbles of your thoughts as you note everything you saw in the ballroom.

You follow him down a few hallways and he slips around another hallway, as you go deeper in the Labyrinth of the Manor. However as you round the corner, you are met with a dead end. A hallway where the doors had no light peeking through and no sign that anyone had been down there at all. You walk to the end, where the wall stopped your tracks and tried to inspect for any hidden doors. Anything that might lead you to find where he went and what he was doing.

As you take a step back defeated, you could feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You softly whisper the spell to hid your notepad and you feel someone’s hand slink its way around your waist. Startling you but stopping you from turning to see who had made contact with you.

“Who let you in here, darling.” A cold hand covers your mouth, pulling your back against his body with both hands. A muffled shout escapes your lips as you try to pull yourself away. You could feel his body language shift as he grips you tighter.

“Seems like a little birdy got out of her cage.” You could feel his hot breath against your ear. You were a mouse caught in a trap as his arms pulled you into on of the unoccupied rooms you had just passed.

As you are dragged into the room, his hand leaves your face. Turning you and pushing you against the door, your eyes make contact with Mattheo’s hardened features. This was not the boy you remembered, but a grown up and dangerous man.

“Hello little dove.”

A/N: sorry for the mini hiatus with my fics (didn’t stop me whining on my blog though haha) my life literally went to pieces with midterms, being sick and breaking up with my BF. Anyways I haven’t started on part 2 yet but I’ll definitely start that soon. As for my Theo fic, I’m stuck with the smut so that’s awkward lol.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 118 (The Calm Before)

Life continued for Heather and Conrad after their eventful trip to the city. Conrad couldn't be the one to canvas his old apartment building in San Myshuno, but he made arrangements with his partner, Detective Spangler, before he, Heather, and Ash had even returned to Brindleton Bay.

He believed they would find Ximena there, but they had to be discreet, and his team worked with San Myshuno PD to watch the Arts Quarter and confirm their suspicions.

They felt life at home might soon return to normal, so Heather started to think about that wedding and kept up her workouts. Spring would come soon enough, and she'd be able to go for jogs with Gord once the weather warmed, too. Gord couldn't wait for that, either.

Conrad would be able to turn his focus to Rafa and George Brindleton without the threat of Ximena breathing down their necks. While officers worked behind the scenes, the Nesbitt-Gordon household buzzed with contentment.

With the family always happy to see him, River paid a visit to talk with Hazel about her break up. Heather wanted to help, but she had to admit to herself that she was disappointed in Hazel for cheating.

Only 'Old Man River' could find the right words to express disappointment without a hint of judgment, and when he walked into the bedroom, Heather got up to make herself scarce.

River glanced at his younger sister with concern. He could see she was beating herself up and wanted to hear her side of things.

"Why didn't you leave your wife before you called Suri again?"

"I think a part of me wanted to hurt Nicola for how she treated me," admitted Hazel. "I know how terrible that is, but she made me dread coming home some nights, and we kept talking about trying to make it work, but we never did. She was too high maintenance and trying to meet her needs was costing my sanity. I think, more than anything, I was just mad at her, but I feel sick about how much I hurt her. I left town, but she's stuck there trying not to hear everyone whispering about her."

"I wouldn't worry about Nic," River said. "I ran into her mother at the Crumpleclones' flower stall yesterday. She took a sabbatical from the school and Mike's class will have a substitute teacher until she's back. If she comes back. I guess she's going on a show called Dating Deanna that starts filming in Tartosa soon."

Hazel reeled. "Nicola?! On a dating show? Does she know they usually put contestants through their paces and people...people cheat?"

"Maybe she thought her usual ways weren't really working for her anymore."

Hazel considered this with a nod. It was suddenly all too clear why he'd come to see her. "I hope Nic finds someone who makes her happy."

"And is Suri a rebound? Or are you really interested in her?"

"I don't know. I really like her and we have more in common than Nic and I did." Hazel shrugged. "I hope it's real, but we're giving each other space right now, after everything fell apart so publicly."

"That might not be the worst idea, but don't punish yourself and miss out on something that might be really good. You made a mistake and you have to learn from it; it's really that simple, but you're not a horrible person." River offered his little sister a hug, and Hazel accepted it willingly. "Maybe one day you and Nic can get closure for the way everything broke down, but you're on different journeys now, and you both have a chance to find happiness and really discover who you are. That's what really matters."

"Thanks, big bro. I know I'd deserve it if you were all mad at me."

He shook his head with a warm smile. "No you wouldn't. You didn't do anything to us. Just Nic. Maybe Suri, if you dragged her into this for nothing."

He stayed for dinner before heading home, leaving Heather dancing to the aerobics channel on his way out.

Lavender loved to be outside, and if her mom focused too long on her exercising, she'd usually sneak outside with her coat on to play around in the snow. One evening, she found a snowman Ash had built and promptly destroyed it - much to Ash's chagrin.

"I worked hard on that snowman!" he cried, pulling a frightening face to try to scare his little sister. Lavender peeled back in surprise.

"I sowwy, Ashy."

Ash scowled, but he couldn't stay mad at her, and immediately pulled her in for an autonomous hug. "It's okay, Lava. Just try not to do it anymore."

"I'll twy."

The next day, Ash invited his friend Arron Kalani over after school, excited to show off his brilliant new invention. "It's a remote control that will melt the snow!"

He pressed a button. Arron glanced outside the sliding patio doors in the living room and frowned at the white powder that had coated the town since the start of winter. "I don't think it works."

"It's solar powered. When the sun returns in the spring it should power up easier."

Arron turned up his nose in confusion. "What's the point of it working in the spring when the snow will be melted already?"

Lavender sat on the couch and giggled happily. "Ashy took ice-chippy!" she tattled.

Arron chuckled as Ash laughed at his oversight. "It's still pretty cool," Arron insisted. "I bet your next model will work better."

Life was always good, but the Nesbitt-Gordons couldn't help but feel as though things had never been better. For once, they weren't afraid to be hopeful. Heather kept working hard at Buttercup Pet Clinic, and Conrad focused on some other cases at work.

He had just finished looking over Officer Adler's notes on the recent Mercury Gratz assault case when the text they'd all been waiting for came in from Detective Spangler.

"We got her, Lieutenant. She was booked at San Myshuno PD first thing this morning." ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

NOTE: Arron is the son of Zoe Patel and Mitchell Kalani, and he has younger twin siblings Isabelle and Xavier.

Thought I'd end the year on a high note with Ximena behind bars! The second batch of year-end favourite screenies comes tomorrow before the story continues on New Year's Day, but the last one could rival any of the last 25, in my opinion.

[xtra7s]

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 ★ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

pairing: Renee Rapp x Reader

Synopsis: Y/N comes to Renee's house to write more lyrics, having more fun than she thought she would.

content: literally just fluff.

word count: 2000+

masterlist | previous part

Sunlight, unwelcome and insistent, lanced through the blinds, dragging Renee from the depths of a dream filled with unfinished melodies and Y/N's sharp, enigmatic smile. Groaning, she swatted at the offending light before surrendering to wakefulness. The events of yesterday, the tense collaboration with Y/N, flickered back to life. Their creative sparks flew, but so did their barbs, leaving an uneasy truce instead of the harmonious flow Renee had hoped for.

Yet, a melody hummed beneath the surface of her mind, insistent and tantalizing. It was unfinished, a single verse born from their clash, and it held a raw honesty that resonated with Renee. She couldn't shake the feeling that Y/N, despite her aloofness, held the key to unlocking its full potential.

Sitting up, Renee grabbed her phone and sent Y/N a message. It was a gamble, a tentative olive branch extended across the chasm of their differing personalities.

Renee: Coffee and unfinished business at my place? Noon sharp? ☕️

Blinking away the remnants of sleep, she sat up, the unfinished song from yesterday humming beneath her skin. Excitement warred with apprehension; Y/N, notorious for her cool indifference, was coming over to write again.

Pushing back the covers, Renee stretched, the morning chill sending goosebumps erupting across her skin. A quick glance at the clock sent a jolt of urgency through her. Time to ditch the dreamland and embrace reality.

The bathroom buzzed with the energy of her determination. Toothpaste frothed into a minty cloud, the rhythmic whirring of her electric toothbrush chasing away the last cobwebs of sleep. As she splashed cool water on her face, a nervous tremor ran through her hands. What should she wear?

Clothes flew like colorful birds from her closet, landing in a haphazard pile on the bed. Each outfit felt wrong, too casual, too loud, and not good enough for the enigmatic Y/N. Finally, her eyes landed on a simple black and white striped sweater, paired with comfortable sweatpants.

Her phone remained silent for an agonizing hour. Just as doubt began to creep in, Renee's phone pinged.

Y/N: Fine. But the coffee better be good. ☕️

A small smile curved Renee's lips. Challenge accepted.

Makeup was kept minimal, a touch of concealer to chase away dark circles, a swipe of mascara to open her eyes. Her hair, usually cascading down her shoulders, was instead pulled into a messy bun. She looked in the mirror, not the polished star, but the artist ready to create, vulnerability mingling with defiance.

By noon, her apartment buzzed with nervous energy. She had brewed her secret coffee blend, the one guaranteed to jolt even the sleepiest soul, and laid out their notebooks and instruments like offerings on an altar of creativity.

The doorbell rang, and Renee braced herself. Y/N stood on the doorstep, looking as effortlessly cool as ever in ripped jeans and a leather jacket, a scowl permanently etched on her face. Yet, there was a flicker of curiosity in her eyes as they swept over the prepared workspace.

"Nice digs," Y/N muttered, stepping inside. Renee detected a slight softening in her voice like the sun trying to peek through storm clouds.

"Thanks," Renee replied, trying to ignore the nervous flutter in her stomach. "Coffee?"

Y/N nodded, accepting the mug with a surprised grunt at the first sip. "Damn, you weren't kidding about the good coffee."

A small laugh escaped Renee, and for the first time, the air felt less charged, a sliver of tension dissipating. They settled onto the couch, guitars in hand, facing the unfinished melody like adversaries about to engage in a duel.

But instead of clashing, their instruments intertwined, weaving a tapestry of sound that surprised them both. Renee took the lead, her voice raw and emotional, pouring the frustration and vulnerability of their collaboration into the lyrics. Y/N responded with sharp counterpoints, her melody echoing the defiance in Renee's words.

Taking a deep breath, Renee picked up her guitar, the wood familiar and comforting in her hands. Today wasn't about impressing; it was about the music, the shared journey into unknown territory. she met her reflection with a determined smile, let the melody begin, imperfections and all.

 Renee's fingers danced across the guitar strings, the melody from yesterday echoing in the room. The air crackled with creative energy as she and Y/N exchanged ideas, tossing lyrical darts at the metaphorical board of their song.

"This conversation's classic," Renee sang, her voice laced with a mix of amusement and frustration. "I can predict this shit, line by line."

Y/N nodded, her brow furrowed in concentration, nodding as a smile grew on her face.

Renee strummed a chord, a wry smile playing on her lips. "I like a straight jacket," she sang, "comfortable but confining. Keeps us safe, but suffocates the soul."

Y/N's eyes lit up. "Exactly! That shit for real!"

Renee's fingers flew across the strings, weaving a new melody around the existing chords. "But it feels like it's a little tight," she sang, her voice gaining an edge of finding. "Oh yeah, you're boyfriend's cute"

Y/N raises an eyebrow, hopping in as Renee makes faces of concentration.

"Oh, shit, yeah, he can come too"

"You'll be his in the morning anyway" Renee responds as she smiles at Y/N, placing down her guitar with a sigh.

As they continued their collaboration, the song evolved, fueled by their shared desire to break free from the confines of expectations and societal norms. The lyrics became a tapestry of raw emotions, vulnerability woven with defiance, a declaration of their artistic freedom.

The room was filled with the soft strains of a melancholic song as Renee and Y/N lounged on the couch, sharing a quiet moment. The lyrics, rich with emotion, hung in the air, prompting a thoughtful silence between them.

Renee turned to Y/N, her eyes reflecting a depth of understanding. "Do you understand the lyrics?" she asked, her voice carrying a sense of reflection as she tilted her head.

Y/N, trying to suppress the subtle flutter in their chest, nodded. "Yeah, it's quite powerful. Each word seems to tell a story, you know?"

Renee's gaze lingered on Y/N, a quiet acknowledgment passing between them. "It's funny how music can capture feelings that are sometimes hard to put into words. Like, it's easier to express things through song lyrics than in a regular conversation."

Y/N took a moment before responding, "True. Music can be a way to say what we might be afraid to say out loud."

Renee, her eyes searching Y/N's face, detected a hint of something unspoken. "Yeah exactly. The constraints of that shit are crazy."

Caught off guard, Y/N hesitated for a moment, then decided to open up a bit. "Well, you know, sometimes lyrics resonate with you more when they mirror your own experiences. It's like the songwriter reached into your soul and put your feelings into words."

Renee nodded knowingly. "I get that. It's like finding solace in someone else's pain or joy because you can relate."

As the conversation continued, Renee subtly steered it towards a more personal topic. "Speaking of relationships, do you ever feel like societal expectations put constraints on who you can be with?"

Y/N, suddenly aware of the weight of the conversation, chose their words carefully. "Yeah, definitely. It's like there are these invisible rules that dictate who we're supposed to love, and it can be suffocating."

Renee sighed, her eyes reflecting a mixture of frustration and understanding. "I feel that too. Being a lesbian, it's like society has this script they want us to follow. But love shouldn't have rules, you know?"

Y/N's heart echoed Renee's sentiment, resonating with the struggle of hiding one's true self. "I get that, I think. Sometimes it's harder for some people to break free from those expectations."

Renee, sensing a shared understanding, placed a comforting hand on Y/N's shoulder. "There are people who understand and accept you for who you are, I think. They're the shit."

Y/N met Renee's gaze, silently grateful for her empathy. At that moment, the lyrics of the song took on a new meaning, weaving a connection between them that transcended the spoken words.

Both Renee and Y/N sat back, chests heaving with creative exertion and smiles mirroring each other's.

A comfortable silence settled between them, the kind that comes after shared creation and vulnerability. An idea sparked in Renee's mind. "You know, writing is thirsty work," she suggested, glancing at the clock. "How about we refuel and keep the good vibes going?"

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a hint of a mischievous grin playing on her lips. "Pizza? It's practically mandatory for songwriters."

Renee laughed. "Nah, something less predictable. What about Chinese?"

Y/N considered it for a moment, then shrugged. "Why not? As long as there's General Tso's."

A quick scan of delivery apps later, they were sprawled on the couch, plates overflowing with spicy goodness. "Game of Thrones?" Renee suggested, grabbing the remote.

"Only if you promise not to spoil anything," Y/N warned, eyes already glued to the screen.

Laughter filled the room as they navigated the treacherous world of Westeros, their easy banter punctuated by groans at character deaths and cheers for unlikely heroes. The initial tension between them had completely dissolved, replaced by a newfound understanding and respect.

The soft glow of the TV bathed the room in a cozy ambiance as Renee and Y/N settled onto the couch to catch up on their favorite show. Y/N couldn't help but sense an unusual tension in the air. Renee, typically confident and self-assured, seemed oddly nervous.

Y/N glanced sideways at Renee, an impish smile playing on their lips. "Is there something you're not telling me, Renee?" they teased, raising an eyebrow.

Renee's eyes widened slightly, and she attempted to play it off. "What? No, nothing. Just enjoying the show," she replied, feigning innocence.

Y/N scooted a bit closer, the teasing glint in their eyes undeterred. "Hmm, spill the beans, Renee."

Renee let out a nervous laugh, realizing she couldn't escape Y/N's playful interrogation. "Okay, fine. Maybe I'm a little nervous," she admitted, looking down, keeping eye contact with Y/N and smiling with her teeth.

Y/N's grin widened. "Nervous? Around me? What are you really, hiding Renee?"

Rolling her eyes, Renee playfully nudged Y/N. "It's not like that! I just... I didn't want to mess things up or say something weird."

Y/N chuckled, enjoying Renee's flustered state. "Mess things up? With me? Come on, Renee, I'm obligated to be here."

Renee couldn't help but laugh at Y/N's playful banter. "I guess you have a point."

Y/N shrugged dramatically. "It's a gift, really. But seriously, no need to be nervous. We're just bitches watching a show."

Renee laughed, grateful for Y/N's lighthearted approach. "You're right. Thanks for putting up with my nerves."

Y/N grinned, nudging Renee back. "Yeah, yeah, Renee. Now, let's focus on the show before I start making fun of you some more."

As they settled into the episode, the playful banter lingered, turning an ordinary TV night into a delightful exchange of teasing and laughter between two friends.

Between bites of kung pao chicken and tense dragon battles, they talked. Not just about music, but about their fears, their dreams, and the things that kept them up at night. They discovered shared passions for obscure documentaries and a mutual hatred of airport security lines.

As the credits rolled after watching too many episodes, a comfortable silence descended. It wasn't the awkward quiet of strangers, but the companionable stillness of two people who had just discovered a connection they hadn't expected.

"Thanks for today," Renee said, a genuine smile on her face. "It wasn't what I expected, but it was way better."

Y/N smirked. "Neither was it for me. But who knows, maybe this collaboration's the start of something."

With a shared understanding that stretched beyond the song they were writing, they cleaned up the remnants of their feast, the melody of their unexpected alliance humming in the air. The unfinished song waited, a blank canvas ready to be filled with the story of two artists who had found common ground in the most unexpected place: over takeout and dragons.

[anonymous-dentist]

Bleeding Heart Part Five

Part One | Previous Part

-

"Mr. Balanar?"

"Yes?"

"Hi! I'm the nurse at your son's school, and-"

"What!? Is Richarlyson okay? What happened?"

"Well, unfortunately your son did have a bit of an incident this morning. He threw up all over his clothes, and he's running a slight fever. I'm going to have to ask you to pick him up."

"Of course. I'm on my way."

-

Cellbit lets out an anxious breath and slumps into a seat. His foot taps against the floor, his other leg bounces. He wipes his palms on his jeans and flashes a fake smile at the concerned secretary.

It's only been an hour and a half since Pac dropped Richarlyson off at school. Cellbit knows this because he knows Richarlyson's schedule better than Richarlyson does, he knows precisely when school starts, and he knows that Richarlyson has only actually been in class for an hour. The first half hour of his day is a school-provided breakfast.

It's only been an hour and a half, but Richarlyson has somehow developed a fever in that hour and a half. He wasn't sick earlier, obviously, so.

Is his son dying? No, right? He's fine. It might have been the breakfast. Richarlyson complains about it all the time, he hates it.

Maybe Pac just missed the fever. Richarlyson has a habit of not mentioning he's feeling sick until he's ready to be thrown into an ambulance; Cellbit understands, he feels the same way. Hospitals are too... cold.

So it's logical that Richarlyson is sick now. It's logical. Cellbit doesn't need to be worried.

Cellbit pulls out his phone to text Pac an update: 'Waiting in the front office now. Taking Richas home, I'll take care of him'

Pac, of course, wants Richarlyson to go to a doctor. But Pac also knows that nobody in the family can exactly afford a doctor; Bagi is the only one with health insurance, but it doesn't cover anyone but her.

(Pac also knows that Richarlyson can't so much as smell antiseptic wipes without acting out. So him going with Cellbit is probably for the best; nobody else understands just gets it.)

Cellbit doesn't react as the secretary buzzes someone else into the school. He doesn't react as the door opens beside him, and he doesn't react as he hears a small group of people walk into the office muttering amongst themselves. He keeps looking at his phone, mostly so the secretary doesn't feel obligated to try and calm him down.

But:

"Mr. Balanar, hello!"

And, suddenly, he can hear his own heartbeat and nothing else.

Slowly, Cellbit lets out a breath. He smiles, polite, and he places his phone screen-down in his lap. He looks up, and he nods oh so politely.

"Cucurucho," he very politely greets.

In all white stands C.B. Cucurucho, the Federation's 'civilian liaison' and Cellbit's worst enemy. The goddamn bastard.

They're smiling, because of course they fucking are. Their teeth are absolutely blinding- straight and white as a military graveyard.

"What a surprise to see you here!" they exclaim.

They lean closer, hands behind their back, head cocked slightly to the side. "Did you get my email?"

Nobody knows what the 'C.B.' stands for in their name. Nobody knows what their powers are. They're an enigma even down to their appearance: sleek, white hair down to their mid-back straight out of a shampoo commercial; pale skin akin to that of a corpse's; long, sharp nails like claws; and a pair of eyes constantly hidden behind black circular sunglasses. Their suit is sharp, their heels are pointed, and their lipstick is red.

Cellbit hates them.

Behind Cucurucho, their group of Federation employees all go to sign in to the front desk. There's a handful of people in suits and two heroes in goofy outfits who do not look like they want to be there. Newer ones, probably. Less popular than Bluebird, too, or they wouldn't have to be doing school events.

Cellbit nods. Doesn't say anything.

He and Cucurucho have beef. He hates Cucurucho, and Cucurucho doesn't really acknowledge beyond him being Detective Bagi Webber's twin brother. He wants Cucurucho dead, and Cucurucho sends him and Bagi Christmas cards every year. He wants to squeeze the life out of Cucurucho's shitty fucking heart with his own bare hands, and Cucurucho keeps adding him to the Federation promotional email list.

He and Cucurucho have beef.

The group of Feds all filter out of the office and into the hallway beyond, following the secretary to wherever they're supposed to be going, but Cucurucho stays behind. They're tall on their own, but them being in high heels and Cellbit being seated makes them loom above him almost imposingly. Their glasses are so dark that he can see his reflection in them, and he looks so small, somehow.

Cellbit bites back a shiver. Even with a jacket on, he's so cold.

"I hope you consider my offer," Cucurucho says. "I'm sure your camera has been returned to you by the police department by now. There shouldn't be any trouble getting those pictures over to me."

"Just ask Bagi for them," Cellbit politely huffs.

Cucurucho shakes their head. "And take the credit away from you? Come on, Mr. Balanar, who do you think we are? The Federation of Heroes takes pride in its civilian associates and their work. You'll be credited and compensated."

Kill yourself, Cellbit thinks. Fucking die already.

"I'm not interested," he flatly says.

Clicking their tongue disapprovingly, Cucurucho sighs and stands back upright.

"You know," they say, "I made an effort to look through your records before emailing you. It's a shame it never worked out between us, but I do think that a collaboration would work. You have talent, Mr. Balanar. The Federation could easily put it to use."

Cellbit shivers, pulls his coat closed across his chest subconsciously.

He doesn't respond. He just watches as Cucurucho turns to the front desk, flipping their hair back over their shoulder as they go. They sign in.

As they turn to follow their group into the school, Cucurucho pauses to give Cellbit one last look.

"I'll be in touch," they say.

And, with that, they leave.

Cellbit folds over in his chair as soon as they're gone, head falling into his (shaking) hands and shoulders tense and heaving. He can't fucking breathe-

The door to the school opens again, and Cellbit snaps his head up just in time to see the nurse leading a very embarrassed Richarlyson into the office with her hand on his shoulder. His clothes are damp, and his face is visibly shining with sweat.

Immediately, Cellbit is out of his seat and swooping in to pick Richarlyson up. He takes Richarlyson's backpack and slings it over his own shoulder.

"Come on, filho, let's go home," he murmurs.

"Yeah, 'kay," Richarlyson whimpers.

The nurse waves them off with a worried frown.

Richarlyson is so light, he always has been. But today, he seems lighter, somehow. Oh, God, is he dying? That's just what Cellbit needs, a dying son. Great. Great!

As soon as they're on the street and away from the school, though, Richarlyson starts wriggling and begging to be set down.

"What?" Cellbit asks. "No, you're sick, and I'm your dad. Shut up."

"But I'm not!" Richarlyson whines. "I made myself sick! Put me down!"

He kicks and writhes until Cellbit is forced to set him down on the sidewalk. Almost immediately, Richarlyson's face is back to normal. No sweat, no sickness, nothing.

On a hunch, Cellbit unzips Richarlyson's backpack and sees an open notebook in it. With. With a sick Richarlyson drawn inside it.

He narrows his eyes at his son, who just shrugs and puts his hands in his pockets.

"I didn't wanna go to the Junior Heroes presentation," he explains. "Fuck that."

"Oh," Cellbit quietly says.

The Junior Heroes... ugh. Everything about them makes Cellbit's stomach turn uncomfortably. They make him sick, actually. And it's not the kids' faults, but. But what kind of parents actually sign their kids up for what's essentially a war on crime?

Richarlyson jumps up to get his bag back. Cellbit lets him; he faked being sick, he can carry his own shit.

They start walking again, towards the subway that'll take them back to Cellbit's apartment.

"I didn't know they were coming today, or I would've skipped," Richarlyson continues. "I only found out after breakfast, and apparently they're recruiting or something? Today was supposed to be some huge presentation trying to get us to sign up, but, like, nah. Fuck that."

Cellbit nods. "Fair."

It explains why Cucurucho was there, at least. And the two heroes are probably graduates of the Junior Heroes Program.

Cellbit has beef with Cucurucho.

He extends his hand towards Richarlyson, and Richarlyson takes it.

"Come on," he tells his absolute genius of a son. "I'm proud of you for getting out of there. Let's get ice cream."

"What, really?" Richarlyson gasps.

Cellbit smiles at him. "Yeah, 'really'. You basically tricked Cucurucho. That deserves a reward."

Richarlyson cheers, and Cellbit cheers with him. Sure, they look stupid jumping and fist-pumping and shouting in the middle of the street, but if being annoying was a crime, Cellbit would have been arrested years ago. Richarlyson is a kid, he should get to be as annoying as he wants to be. He deserves that much, at least.

"You're my favorite dad ever!" Richarlyson exclaims.

"I'll be sure to tell Pai Felps that you said that," Cellbit teases.

Richarlyson gasps and shakes his head. "Noooooooooooooo, he's my actual favorite, you can't do that!"

"Sure I can. It'll be your punishment for abusing your powers in public."

"But dad!"

"You know the rules, Richas. If I have to follow them, so do you."

Richarlyson groans, but he knows that Cellbit is right. He hates it, but Cellbit is right. Cellbit hates it, but Cellbit is right.

With Richarlyson complaining, they turn away from their subway station and towards the street leading to Richarlyson's favorite ice cream parlor. With any luck, Bad won't be working today, so Cellbit won't have to explain why he's there with his son when he's supposed to be editing and Richarlyson is supposed to be at school.

(As they walk towards the ice cream parlor, Cellbit swears he sees a shadow following them from on top of the nearby buildings.

He flips the shadow off.

Fucking creep.)

--

A/N: Let me know what you think in the tags or in my inbox! I want to hear your theories, thoughts, opinions, everything!

[heallearngrow3]

a complicated enigma

part 4 | a complicated enigma

pairing: Connor x f!Reader

summary: “But somehow you managed to get under his artificial skin”

warnings: swearing

notes: I’m currently bedridden and have so much time i’ll probably write a lot for this series. also this is slow slowburn, like so slow you can’t even see it coming, so you’ll need all of the patience in this world for this

chapters: 1 , 2 , 3

The androids on the market were imprints of you. Straightforward, indifferent. Everything you’ve implanted in their software was a carbon copy of your own self, an outstanding remake. The qualities that made them the obedient, intelligent machines were concepts of your genius.

You remembered the planning of Connor. It was an unique proccess, one of its kind and you overachieved your own expectations with the outcome. He was a never-seen-before android, one that offered crucial insights and analysis on crime scenes, one that never got tired of the chase. Infact, his mission was above anything else. Your uncle’s face was in front of your eyes when you finished putting him together, his badge resting on the table next to you. He was the greatest investigator you’ve ever met: He was obsessed with his work and saving others, and that was the irony of it all. His life was lost, wasted, because of a drug addicted nobody who valued his poison more than a human life. When they arrived to your family home that night to tell you that your uncle was shot dead during a house search, you were devastated and angry. So angry that you wanted to kill that asshole with your bare hands, and keep the blood on your palms as a permanent reminder.

Connor was the very first android to take the lead as a detective but he wasn’t the last. You’ve had plans, dreams for many others to follow, but you had to put it to the side for the time being, mainly because there was a more pressing issue to deal with.

You locked your storage room, and found models to replicate the broadcast androids. The JB300’s laying on your table, their biocomponants spread out on the surface looked exactly like the ones you were hiding, except they were never activated. You had to put on an act to keep the three androids - and yourself - safe from the hungry hands of the repining humans starving for gratification.

You made fake reports with made-up calculations and false numbers. Your file ended with the cause of their conduct being inconclusive and you wrote remarks on their so-called interference and accomplice, calling it questionable. There wasn’t any iron clad evidence of it, and their software was compact and undamaged, leaving it up to you to decide if they had any role in the attack or was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. The substitute androids were put in a container, with their wires and limbs carefully separated, and you sent your report to Fowler, ending the message with expressing your pity for not being able to find out more.

After cleaning up your laboratory, you opted for your much more comfortable office, and turned on the TV. The news were all about the Stanford Tower invasion, debating the terrorist threat, and you watched as they replayed Markus’s speech over and over again, his face solemn and determined even without skin, his eyes never leaving the camera. His tone was confident yet gentle, and you’ve wondered if he had a somewhat leader position, fight with his people for justice. Your phone was buzzing, your colleagues worried, and you were sure that these events definitely had an effect on the outlook of the company and made the public reconsider if the utility of the machines was worth the risk. It was fascinating, even amusing, how one instance could overshadow years of hard work and time invested, destroying the image of a futuristic company dedicated to progression.

You needed a distraction to take your mind off the present moment and to forget. Alcohol was never your posion of choice, but smoking? Oh, you could never say no to a cigarette, especially after such eventful few days. You also had to go home: do laundry, check on the lady in the house next to yours, and eat something more substantial than granola bars. At the back of your mind your father’s worsening condition was also encouraging you to pay him a visit, but you were unsure whether it was a good idea.

On the way back, you were driving on autopilot, your legs moving independently, hands turning the steering wheel from memory. Lafayette Avenue was on the blatantly pompous side of the city, the street always busy and well-kept. The trees were cut, the bushes were incised, and to the naked eye it was the american dream materialized. The number 8941 was engraved into your mind, and you could not mistake the mansion for another. Carl Manfred’s home reminded you of a warm hug, and his paintings decorating the whole place made it even more welcoming. He was a celebrated, world-known artist after all, despite his troubled past. A past that you were a part of, an unfortunate consequence, and an uncomfortable reminder of his past life that he tried so hard to get out of.

You didn’t bother with knocking, the wooden doors opened before you with the always present gentle female voice.

“[Name] detected. Welcome home.”

You crossed the hall, going straight into the living room. The giant giraffe statue standing in the corner was glaring at you with accusing eyes, following you until you stepped into the studio, and you felt your muscles loosen a little bit.

“What a pleasant suprise!” Carl’s voice ranged genuinely, his eyes locking on yours. “I haven’t seen you in ages, [Name].”

Your father’s impending death loomed over him, his features slowly fading, the bags under his eyes getting darker and his coughing less bearable. In front of you wasn’t the shaken up man you’ve met ten years ago but a living corpse, clinging to his brushes and canvases with shaky hands and rotting nails.

His accident and weak health was just a fragment of his suffering. He was hunted by his memories - you were sure of it - and was forced to relive it day by day. You couldn’t pity him: it was his own doing. His decisions led to his fate and considering how he had no problem with abandoning his own children, his mutts, and years later try to recandle long dead realitonships, you were positive that he deserved his drawn-out agony.

“Yeah, it’s been a busy month.” you weren’t entirely lying. It really was eventful. “How have you been?”

Carl wheeled himself closer to you, seemingly lost in thought.

“I tried calling you, but you didn’t pick it up.” he put down the brush he was holding. “Markus was shot. Leo broke into the studio and tried to steal a few of my artwork. I thought he was dead…turns out he wasn’t.” you could tell it was entertaining to him. “Markus…it was inevitable. Just a question of time. I always knew he was more than just a servant.”

You didn’t say anything, keeping your eyes on him. Markus was never just an ordinary android to him. He was the perfect son, created for him by Elijah in the name of their friendship, and he filled in the position of a nurse, a companion and a child all at the same time. Markus was fascinating, you knew that, always curious, always willing to engage in Carl’s banters, always learning. To many, treating a machine like family was foreign, but your father has been a peculiar man his whole life, shedding off the expectations and choosing his own strange ways.

“I saw the speech…” your drifted off. “He made quite an impression on the public. I wonder where all of this will lead to.”

Carl turned his wheelchair around, rolling to a cabinet and opening one of the drawers, picking out a brush.

“I told him to paint something. Something from his soul, not his memory.” he held up the small piece of wood and horse hair like a trophy. “He made that.” he pointed to a canvas in the corner. “He has talent. Just like you.”

You ignored the last bit of his sentence, measuring up the painting. It was impressive, the shadows and strokes in a perfect mess of order. The screaming face, the LED on the side glowing like a beckoning light of the lost was gut wrenching and peaceful at the same time.

“The police is looking for him. And eventually when they find him, he’s gonna be destroyed.” you stepped in front of him. “You had a hand in this, Carl, and don’t you dare deny it. Markus’ deviancy is rooted in your lessons.” your last word sounded like a hiss. “Your dreamland means hell for him and his kind. Your ideas…they are venom.”

You backed away, keeping your eyes trained on his form.

“I can’t be everyone’s hero.” you said and without casting another look at Carl you stepped out of the studio.

You were the result of a drunk one night stand, a mistake, but you had something that Leo didn’t possess.

Dignity.

You decided to smoke and treat yourself with a burger downtown that definitely didn’t pass the health regulations. Chicken Feed was no better than a bodega, but Gery definitely had a talent to make the oily food full of fat taste like heaven.

Parking right next to the food truck, you got out while tucking a string of hair behind your ear. The best burgers in town - you thought, and readied yourself to resist Pedro, who was standing nearby. His bets were a losing game, you’ve never won and called his business crap one time, which didn’t leave the best impression.

“[Name]!” he already started to walk towards you, and you thought about getting back into your car to run him over. That might have shut him up. “I got a shit-hot tip for you, girl!”

You shook your head.

“I’m giving you jack shit, Pedro. Get off my ass.” you ignored his shouts, trying to convince you to invest in another bet. “Hey Gary!”

You leaned on the counter, looking at the menu.

“Got something for me?” you raised your brows playfully. “Something high in calories, I’m begging you.”

He smiled widely at you, already picking up a bun.

“Of course, sweetheart. Give me five, and you’ll get the best burger you’ve ever had.” he winked at you, turning to the stove. Your heart fluttered at the term of endearment, grateful for Gary’s easygoing nature.

“Thank God. I’m starving.” you sighed. Your eyes scanned the area and immediately noticed the two familiar silhouettes.

Connor and Hank were standing next to one of the tables under an umbrella, too far to hear their conversation, but judging from Hank’s pained expression, it wasn’t a nice chat.

“Hank’s got a new buddy.” you whipped your head to Gary, who was also looking at the pair. “He called the android a fucking poodle. Fitting if you ask me.”

Knowing what Connor was capable of, the comparison was strange. But from what you’ve learned about Hank, he wasn’t a fan of technology and machines, not after what happened to his son, therefore forcing to have a partner - an android, nonetheless- was less than ideal and certainly irked him.

Your burger was truly ready in a few minutes and biting into it felt like a long awaited relief. You edged closer to Connor and Hank, listening in on their conversation.

“Why did they make you so goofy and give you that weird voice?”

Hank’s sarcastic question was answered by the unartful Connor. His wording was your making, and hearing his carefully chosen words, you’ve wondered if you had done a better job than you’ve thought.

“[Name]!”

The RK800 was always aware of his surroundings, paying close attention to the details, and it didn’t come as a surprise that he noticed you.

“Hello Connor.” you looked at the gray haired man beside him. “Hank.”

The older man seemed to be too busy with his burger, disregarding you with a small nod. Connor was infatuated with your presence though. He knew who you were, your position at CyberLife was impressive and your hand seemed to reach far, but he was made to ignore non-important humans and details, his focus was supposed to be solely on his mission. But somehow you managed to get under his artificial skin, always appearing to be a complicated enigma, leaving him to wonder if you were truly who you showed to be or if it was just a well created facade, made for distraction and deception. He was troubled by you, and the software instability notifications in his vision didn’t help his case.

“How’s the investigation? Found anything?” Hank’s mouth was full, his chewing louder than his words.

“I’ve just finished the report, I’ve already sent it to the captain. I found nothing.” you shook your head in false disbelief. “It’s weird. How about you? Do you have anything new for me?”

This time Connor was the one to answer.

“We didn’t locate any other deviants.” he was scrutinizing your face, looking for a reaction.

Just a short nod, that was all you had to offer.

“But you are not giving up, are you?”

Connor was staring at you with wide brown eyes.

“I don’t intend to.” he replied. “My mission is important, and solving these cases can lead to preventing a war.”

You accepted his response without a comeback, not wanting to make the situation more awkward.

“Do you think there is a connection between them? Something tying all of these androids together?”

“What they have in common is this obsession with rA9.” Connor looked at Hank like he was asking for permission to share something intimate. “It’s almost like some kind of… myth. Something they invented that wasn’t part of their original program.

Hank finished his burger.

“Androids believing in God.” he wiped his mouth with a shaky palm. “Fuck, what’s this world come to?” he looked at you. “Have any idea what rA9 could be?”

You remembered them talking about if rA9 could be Markus back in the broadcast room a few days before, but other than that, this was the first time they mentioned it.

“No. Unfortunately I do not. We didn’t code that in their software, that’s for sure.” your lies were silky, flowing in the air like a breeze.

“An android we questioned said that rA9 will set them free to make them the masters.” Connor’s LED was yellow, and it reminded you of the last rays of light before dawn. “I just can’t figure out what it could be.”

You took a few steps back, ready to leave. You didn’t like where this conversation was heading, and you didn’t have the energy to keep up with it.

“I gotta go.”

You didn’t hear their replies, already walking to your car. After getting it, you turned up the radio to drown out your thoughts.

rA9 was not worth mentioning. And it had to stay like this.

You pulled out the glove department and pushed the black album full of photos further in. You had to find a better hiding spot incase someone decided your Honda was worth snooping in. It was the clue the police was so eager for and what you were guarding for years. The images inside were sacred to you, something that had to be locked away.

You pressed the gas pedal and glanced back in the review mirror to take one last look at the duo.

Connor and Hank were going to be a problem.