#gotta be prepared for anything even the impossible

[pokepara]

I want you to know

If you name your pokemon something like Gentleman Pancake

Or Mr. Murdermitts

You make my day 10x better.

Thank you.

-Professor Clove

[carcarrot]

do i really want to make individual drinks again

[3minsover]

back on my steddie bullshit fr

Thinking about hope(ful)less romantic Steve driving to Eddie's trailer in the pouring rain to finally confess his love after months of dancing around each other and almost-confessions that crumble on the tips of their tongues before they can become anything real.

Steve finds himself pacing around the ground floor of a house that's too big and too quiet, thinking about a guy who should never, ever have taken up as much of his brain as he currently does. It's a Friday night, and Eddie's most likely out at a gig, or at a bar, or doing nerd shit. He's most likely doing anything but thinking about Steve. And yet here Steve is, entirely preoccupied with the reckless marvel that is Eddie Munson.

Fuck it.

It's been four months since Vecna, and everyone seems to be okay again. It's been long enough that it wouldn't be weird for Steve to make a move, right?

Before Steve can really consider what it is he's about to do, he has his keys in hand and he's heading out towards his car. He doesn't even realize it was raining until he steps out onto the porch, tugging the door shut behind him. And there's not much thought that goes into any of it, really. It's instinctive, the way Steve knows the route to Eddie's place by now. Regardless of the thrashing of his heart, there's an easy kind of familiarity in the sodden streets and jutting roads. Steve's windshield wipers are working double time, fending off the sheets of rain that pile down amidst the humidity of late July; it'd been a cloudless day until the sun set. But like the heaviness of Steve's heart, the clouds had begun to weigh themselves down with water, waiting for the moment where the heft of it all became too much.

Steve hadn't quite beaten those clouds to the punch.

He arrives at Eddie's with really no recollection of how he'd gotten there, only that he needed to see him and nothing was going to get in his way. Eddie's already sitting out on the porch when he pulls up. The dusty ground is darker, saturated with fat, relentless raindrops. Eddie sits on the steps of his trailer, only just covered by the awning. The toes of his sneakers shine with wetness.

"Why are you out here?" Steve asks, clambering out of his car. It's all he can think to say. It's not the words he wants to purge, not the things that have been itching in his throat every time they've been alone together for the last however-many weeks. But it's what comes out.

"Wanted to hear the rain," Eddie responds, a cigarette pinched between his thumb and pointer finger. It's a simple enough response. Shouldn't warrant a reaction. Only, Steve's standing a few yards away, dampening by the moment, and he needs to just get it out.

"I need to- I gotta talk to you," Steve stutters, drifting closer. Eddie's eyes narrow.

"About what?" he asks, clearly skeptical.

"About you. Or, me. Us. I- shit, I used to be good at this." Steve raises a hand to swipe over his mouth: it comes away wet. He's fucking soaked, standing defenceless against the onslaught from above. Eddie flicks the cigarette and the butt lands at the base of the steps. He hinges upright, dropping down a step until the raindrops begin to splatter onto his curls, landing like spits of silver against the glow of the street lamps overhead.

"Good at what?" Eddie calls through the low rumble of the rain.

"Good at- I dunno, confessions? I told Nancy how I felt about her no problem. Robin was a little tougher, but I still got through that, but with you," Steve gushes, entirely unsure as to where he's going with this, "I just can't seem to find the words."

For an impossible amount of time, Eddie stares. His pretty features seem to go through about a half dozen emotions before he settles on something that Steve's soul recognizes as pity. He prepares himself for inevitable rejection.

"You're telling me you can't find the words?" Eddie asks, incredulous, "Dude, i'm a songwriter, a fucking wordsmith, and I've been drawing a blank on you for months!"

Steve squints, a little at a loss.

"What?" he asks, feels stupid for not getting it straight away.

"Steve, I should be able to write songs about the guy I love, right?"

"Well- Yeah- I- Wait, what?" Steve starts before Eddie's words catch up. The rain's growing heavier, beginning to sting his cheeks a little, but he's fixed to the spot, not daring to move any closer. It's Eddie that draws nearer, dropping down the final steps until they're on even footing.

"If you hadn't- If you didn't come over here tonight, I was gonna- I was gonna come to you. I had this whole fuckin' speech planned out - I'm pretty sure it was stupid, honestly, but I wrote it anyway, because I have all these goddamn feelings about you, Steve. And I couldn't find a way to make them sound like anything other than what they are." Eddie's waves are flattening by the second, darkening under the weight of the water falling from above. Steve's heart pounds against his ribs, threatens to break free altogether.

"But I- I came here to- You're- Eddie?"

"Fuck sake, Steve. I'm-"

"Wait." Steve interrupts him, his brain catching up all at once, overfilling and spilling over. "Wait, just let me- Can I say what I was gonna say?"

Eddie folds his arms around himself, chilled by the rain despite the thick warmth of summer around them.

"Sure. Shoot."

Steve heaves in a breath.

"Okay. Eddie. I've been thinking, and you and me, we're good, right? Like, for each other." A droplet of rain catches between Steve's lashes, forcing him to blink it away. Eddie's slim figure remains in front of him, proving that this is real, this isn't some hallucination, some daydream borne of an idle brain. "I think you and me could be something good. Great, even. And I- I- I think I- I know you maybe said it already, and I shouldn't even be-" Eddie strides forward, closing the space between them in a breathless moment. Steve's breath catches in his throat. Eddie's dark eyes dart frantically between Steve's own, so round and wide and beautiful. Steve's so in love with him. "Eddie, I'm- I think I've... fallen in love with you." Steve skates his palms over Eddie's biceps, up and over his shoulders, until he's cradling the sides of Eddie's neck. "Yeah, I'm sorry. I'm in love with you."

Where they're so closely matched in height, Steve's eyes are crossing just to keep his gaze focused on Eddie, who's looking more like the proverbial deer in headlights right now.

"Shit, Harrington," Eddie breathes, and Steve feels it warm against his rain-chilled lips, "took you long enough."

It's a kiss that follows, soft and hesitant, like Steve would do anything but lean into it, like he's anything but head over heels, absolutely and embarrassingly in love. it's a kiss, and it's wet and a little too cold, a little too out in the open, but Steve wouldn't change it for anything.

[kittyscupcakeandbunny]

CRAZY OVER YOU x MIN YOONGI

[HYBRID AU]

PART ONE

Love at first bite

Side Characters: Namjoon/doctor, Seokjin/doctor, Taehyung/Hybrid Tiger.

Warnings: Smut, mentions of blood, sharp objects, rut, beast behavior, medical experiments, meds.

Genre: Fantasy, hybrids au, smut.

SUMMARY》 Yoongi is a black mamba hybrid one of rarest species of hybrids, who’s about to be put down due to his lack of interest in living. But everything changes after the new medical assistance (y/n) takes a liking to him. Meeting after meeting he realise his feelings for her are not the only thing growing.

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My feet hurt. I’ve been running back and forth around the clinic way past my working hours already.

To be honest I think the assistants work more than the doctors, I should have gone home by now. My shift ended four hours ago. Yet i couldn’t go home.

Lately the clinic has been very busy, hybrids were coming in and out of the clinic to get treatment and the fact that so many rescued hybrids from the outside were coming, made the ones we had already been taking care of at the clinic agitated. With their higher level of hearing and smelling it was impossible to completely hide the different cents.

The world we live in is not the same anymore, we exists between hybrids. And I work in a clinic that takes care of them.

The biggest hybrid clinic in our city, is was more then just a clinic for hybrid species. It was a hospital, lab where scientific studies and research took place, and a clinic for treatments.

It was late at night when things seemed to have cooled down. I decided to drink some coffee at the cafeteria on the first floor.

Sitting down in one of the tables I put my hot coffee over it, taking the files of my patients for tomorrow morning in hand reading their appointments and preparing for it.

- yn! - I look up to see Hoseok, one of the assistants that worked on the especial cases.

- hey hobi - i greet him, he sits down in front of me looking more exausted than ever. - oh you look awful…

- don’t even tell me about it - he said - guess who was my patient today?

- no idea… - I tell him, taking a sip from my coffee.

- the snake hybrid - he said, I almost gagged in my coffee.

- no way! What is like? - i asked, the most special hybrid in our clinic was the rarest one. The black mamba hybrid.

- an asshole? - he said, I chuckled at him - no seriously, he’s so difficult to treat like he doesn’t eat because he doesn’t like the food, always complain about the people around him… and today, he bit my colleague be cause he didn’t like that way he smelled.

- he bit him? - i asked, completely amused.

- yes, he’s in the hospital by now - at his words I looked up at him worried.

- so… - before I said anything my phone start to ring. I sight tiredly - gotta go.

He only nodded understanding as I got up from my seat to leave.

- hey… - I say as I take the call. I threw the plastic cup of coffee in the trash can as I leave the cafeteria.

- boss is looking for you - he tells me. It was one of my coworkers.

- I’ll go then, thanks.

I turned off the call making my way to the elevators in the hallway. By boss he meant Seokjin, it was a nickname we all agreed on since he’s the director of the clinic. As I walked towards the elevators i kept wondering why he asked for me at this hour, Jin was usually so busy I could bearly talk to him not did I ever seen him having lunch break or any break at all. He always made sure the hybrids were well treated at the clinic and worked really hard for it.

From afar i notice Namjoon standing there in front of the elevator doors waiting for it, he was looking through some papers on his hand too focused to even notice my presence beside him.

- hey - i greet him.

- hey… - he reply, not looking my way. He had a hard expression on his features.

Once the door opened in front of us we both get in the elevator, me fallowing right after him. I press the bottom to the third floor.

- what is this? - I ask him intrigued, as he seemed completely focused on the paper to notice his surroundings.

- my new patient - he sighed now looking at me - he’s one of the rare hybrids we have and it looks like he’s going to get put down.

- what? Why? - I was genuinely surprised, rare hybrids were so special in the clinic one of them being put down could only meant one thing - is he sick?

- no - he said getting out of the elevator once the door opened at our desire floor, i fallow him - just an asshole.

- oh? - i was genuinely confused, but didn’t push him to tell me - You going to Jin’s office?

- yes - he said, lookin stressed - he called me to discuss this patient, what about you?

- He called for me but, I don’t know yet - i reply, we walked the long corridor till were finally standing in front of Seokjins office.

After nocking on the door and receiving a low “come in” from Seokjin we both made our way inside his office. Namjoon opened the door for me to get in first then he fallowed me behind, shutting the door. Jin sat on his desk, hands on his face as he covered his eyes in despair looking more tired than ever, a look i never thought I would see on his face.

- Jin you look… - he didn’t let me finish.

- I know - he sighted, now looking at us both in front of him.

- why did you called us? - Namjoon asked.

- I need your help with this rare hybrid case - He said.

Jin started walking around his desk to sit down.

- my father passed to me the responsibility of taking care of the… euthanasia of him.

- but why? - i asked.

- well… it’s been years and he never once put it in the effort to live - he said taking a few papers and giving it to me and Namjoon, the hybrid records - he’s not eating anymore, doesn’t get any heats, makes no effort on mating and doesn’t let anyone help with his shedding .

- Shedding? - i asked, so he means… the rare snake hybrid.

- yes. He’s now in your hands - Jin said, looking at me and Namjoon.

- you want us to do exactly what? - Namjoon asked - from the looks of it, doesn’t seem like we can do anything about it.

- you both will be working on this case with me, the big boss - he made a sing pointing up, signaling the higher ups, his father - found a female rare snake hybrid and he wants them to reproduce before euthanizing him.

I felt sick.

- are you kidding me?! - i said, stunted - you’re just going to… - I couldn’t even say it - after all theses years?

- I know that’s why i want you guys to work on it, - a long sigh left his lips - i only trust you both with this.

- maybe we can help him out and not put him down? - I tell him.

- believe me y/n - Jin looked at me deep in the eyes - we tried but…. Sometimes is better this way, is hard on him too.

I looked down at the papers in my hands.

Min Yoongi - snake hybrid.

Code: RED. Dangerous species. Specie: Black mamba.

Date of birth: Unknown. Male.

Current status: to be put down. Date: three months from now.

Resume: This patient needs to be prepared for a mating season as he had never had one, to ensure the precision and higher chances of reproduction of the rare hybrid species. The black mamba hybrid is to be taken care of from now to the time of mating, every side effect must be related to the one in charge of the case. To ensure assurance that this case will be dealt with assertiveness.

I felt sick.

….

I couldn’t help but think about it for the rest of the day. The fact that they would just give up on him after all these years of testing and keeping him lock up in here that he simply didn’t want to make any effort to live anymore, and how the clinic was just going to put him down not giving a single care about him for real.

They are going to end him right after they get him to reproduce, just to ensure they still have a rare hybrid of his specie. Another one to end just like him.

Looking down at the food in front of me I felt sick in my stomach at that. How could they?

- you look deep in thought - Namjoon said over me, he sat down in front of me after putting his tray of food on the table.

- sorry i just can’t stop thinking…

- about the hybrid? - he said - look I know you and I’m sure that’s why Jin chose you to assist me with this case but, let’s just make sure he at least leave in peace okay?

- okay..

No.

I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I did. You don’t know me Namjoon, I’ll make sure that hybrid lives.

No matter what it takes.

- we’ll meet him later right? - i ask him, he looks at me over his lashes as he holds his phone looking at it.

- yeah, after lunch - he takes off his glasses - are you ready to see the snake hybrid for the first time?

- yeah - I wonder what he looks like, most hybrids have some feature that help identifying what kind of hybrid they are. Does the snake hybrid has scales all over him? - he shouldn’t look too scary right?

Namjoon only giggle at my question, a knowing smile growing on his lips and my mind quickly realizing it.

- Kim Namjoon! You’ve meet him already! - i stated.

- of course I did, he had an appointment at six in the morning. - he said, a sight leaving his lips - What an ass.

- why so early? - knowing Namjoon hates waking up too early, he must felt stressed. Especially having to take care of a hybrid that demands so much more care.

- His sleep circle is different… - he started - and since we are trying to get him to feel the beginning of a heat so he can mate, his room was changed to acommodate him.

- oh… - realization hits me - so it will give the illusion of his heat beginning?

- yes, we also changing the room temperature to make it happen as naturally as possible - he said - the hotter the better.

- no way… - i said - I’ll have to work in hell too?

- trust me.. it doesn’t need hot temperatures to make it hell. - Namjoon looked at me - he’s good at that on his own.

- is he that bad? - he couldn’t be… right?

- I’ll let you see it for yourself - was all Namjoon said.

After lunch Namjoon passed me the instructions of our appointment with the snake hybrid, since he wasn’t eating he had to take vitamins straight into the blood.

To be honest i felt sad at that. You don’t eat when you don’t have an appetite, is he that bad in condition to not even eat? They’ve been neglecting him for so long and now are trying to force him to mate.

More and more i questioned if what i was doing was right.

I walk beside Namjoon towards the elevators, special hybrids stay on the sixth floor so that’s where we’re headed. They need to be separated from the other hybrids as their instincts are a lot more higher and demand more care, you can’t put cat hybrid in the same place you have a wolf hybrid. So we divided the floor for special species, wild hybrids in a floor and domestic hybrids in one. Of course there’s the special cases divided by codes, the snake hybrid was a code red which meant he was dangerous. Code reds are usually the hardest one to work with because they can and will hurt their doctors and especially other hybrids. Some don’t really mind the doctor but, other hybrids. Like a lion who sees a deer. They will always see them as a pray. So we have to keep them separate.

I look in front of me over the silver tray with the meds and vitamins he must take everyday, today Jin won’t be joining us he only will when much more serious procedures are to be taking action.

Namjoon is the one with the code to the hybrid door, each hybrid had their own room to accommodate all their individual needs. The snake room wasn’t different.

As soon as the door is open a heat of hot air hits me, the room is a bit dark but the lights get brighter as we enter, Namjoon walks towards the hybrid who lays on a big bed in the center of the room. Almost looking like a nest with all the covers and pillows around it.

I make my way to the table beside the door to prepare the meds and vitamins.

- good afternoon Yoongi - Namjoon says to the hybrid - time for your meds and vitamins.

- i don’t need it…. - a deep male voice says, the hairs in the back of my neck shivering at the sound of him - who’s is that?

He meant me. My heart skipped a beat at getting his attention. He is the first special hybrid I’ve ever meet. One of the most dangerous one too.

- that’s my assistant - Namjoon tells him, he’s talking about me - everything ready y/n?

- yes Joon… - i turn to him taking the silver tray with me.

Stopping in my tracks as I take in the figure of the hybrid. He didn’t look like anything i imagined, he didn’t have weird snake eyes and not was his skin full of scales like the reptile. He looked almost human… if it wasn’t for the almost unnoticeable scales on his neck that fallowed up to his ears so delicately, as he moved his head to the side eyes locked over my figure the scales shined a bit. A color of white pearl and soft grey.

He wore something different from what I was used to see on the other hybrids, while the others wore a type of pijama white clothing he whore silk shining bottom up shirt and pants.

Realizing i wasn’t moving and just staring rudely at the hybrid I quickly made my way to Namjoon to give him the meds. My checks burning.

- no - the hybrid said looking at Namjoon with a bored expression - i don’t like the way you smell… i won’t take anything from you.

- you still need to take your vitamins - Namjoon insisted taking one of the syringe from the tray.

- i said I don’t need it - the hybrid growls, coming closer.

- your condition tells me otherwise - Namjoon said to him, both looking at each other. The temperature seemed to rise even more as they looked almost like provoking each other. A silent fight.

The hyrbrid eyes found mine staring at his, he looked at me up and down no expression on his face. Than turned to Namjoon.

- she can do it - he said, a bored expression coming back to his features.

- she’s not in charge of that - Namjoon said, a stern lock on face - I’m the one who is, so get over it.

I looked at him chocked. He seemed angry. Namjoon who usually is calm and careful with his patients was now the complete opposite, he stood his ground and faced the hybrid as if trying to prove he was the Alfa.

And for the first time I was angry at him, not only this was a delicate case. The hybrid could attack if he felt threatened. That could only worsen the situation for the hybrid.

- I can do it Joon - i tell him quietly turning to him lifting the silver tray for him to take it. I gave him a nod of assurance. He looked at me than the hybrid.

- are you sure about it y/n? - he asked me, worry over his face now.

- of course i can - i assure him - I do it all the time.

His eyes locked with mine as he talked. I heard Namjoon sighed as he turned to me taking the silver tray from my hands.

Giving him a small smile I took the vitamins syringe, the hybrid stood in front of me opening his white shirt one bottom after the other eyes locked with mine to catch my reaction, I tried not give any reactions and keep my gaze eye level but it was impossible when he stood right there exposing his beautiful skin for me.

He wasn’t covered in scales as many would’ve imagine but definitely had a few on his ribs that fallowed down to his v line, just like before they shined a bit over the light a white pearl with silver. I gulped down eyes looking back into his as he stood in front of me reveling his left arm for me to aply the syringe. His eyes never once left mine, he had eyes so dark I couldn’t tell if there was any color in them black light the night sky.

I held his arm to insert the syringe into his skin, he didn’t move at all. During the whole processe he didn’t broke the eye contact. Cleaning the small bit of blood that came after taking the syringe off his skin. Namjoon gave me the next one, i apply it into his skin once again. After the last one, I cleaned and put a small piece of medical tape over it so it doesn’t bleed.

- I’m done… - i say, standing next to Namjoon. He gave me the tray and I took it to the table beside the door.

The hybrid began to bottom up his shirt. Namjoon look it up the papers for the hybrid next appointment as I took the small white cup with he’s meds walking back to the hybrid I held the cup up for him to take. He took the cup from my hand brushing his fingers over mine, his hand looking much bigger than mine, I kept my focus on that too nervous to look up into his dark eyes again. I held the water up for him, which he took it again brushing his fingers over mine. He drank it my eyes fallowing up at his neck starring at the scales over his skin. They looked so delicate almost like a painting over his skin, closer you could see that little silver that shined over the light. Not realizing he came closer until I felt his breath hitting over my face, making me look at him immediately. Dark eyes staring into mine with boredom, he tilted his head to the side coming closer inspecting my face.

- you’re not afraid? - he whispered, only for me to hear. My breath got stuck on my throat.

- should I be?… - I whispered back, swallowing hard. He looked down at me than back into my eyes, tilting his head to the other side black orbs staring deep into mine i fallow his move tilting my head to the same side. Complete hypnotized by him.

- any changes in your shedding? - Namjoon asked the hybrid, while writing something down on the paper. - it should have started already.

At hi voice I came back to reality, turning quickly with the two cups. Taking them to the table beside the door to despose of them int he trash can.

Making my way back to stand beside Namjoon once I was done, my eyes going back to the hybrid standing in front of us.

He had the same expression as before, unbothered.

- same as always - he answered tiredly, going back to his bed.

I saw the way his plain answer made Namjoon clench his jaw. He wasn’t making any effort to cooperate with Namjoon, I notice he was difficult but not an asshole. It was painful to watch them interact, Namjoon clearly didn’t like the way the hybrid acted but, I have dealt with a few difficult hybrids before this was only a way to protect themselves after going through so much.

This behavior seemed to be common with Wild species, I’ve seen it before with a lion hybrid I took care of before.

Sometimes you just have to be persistent, and careful.

- I heard it could be painful if not taken care of, is everything alright with it? - i asked this time, which made both males look at me.

The hybrid looked at me not saying anything for a while. Than he smirked and walked towards me making Namjoon stand closer to me protectively. He looked at Namjoon smile slowly falling forming into a bored expression again, showing how the presence of the other male affected him.

- I don’t want any of your help with it - he said, eyes locked into mine - last time…

- you almost killed one of our doctors - Namjoon interrupted the hybrid, one arm closing around me to put me back.

Almost…

- he shouldn’t have touched me - the hybrid said eyes burning over Namjoon, anger on his face.

Hands closing into fists, he walked closer to us standing in front of Namjoon. He was ready to attack if needed, if something is not done it could end very badly Namjoon doesn’t notice but with this behavior he is provoking the hybrid to act instinctively.

It is clear that the heat season has started for him and in mating season hybrids tend to get more competitive and sensitive, a male showing up to his space staring dominance wouldn’t do any good.

- you both stop - i said releasing myself from Namjoon standing between them both, turning to the hybrid I said - please, Yoongi let me treat you okay?

He didn’t like when people crossed his boundaries i get that, sometimes it could be very overwhelming. But knowing what they are going to do to him because of that behavior, i just couldn’t help but get in between them. It was something we could work out and maybe if i succeed they won’t put him down anymore.

- it is important that you go through your shedding the easiest way possible - i tell him - so I’ll be in charge of it okay? How is that?

He looked at me for a while, slightly turning his head to the side. Pundering the idea in his head. For some reason he looked me up and down before looking at Namjoon behind me, a small smile making its way to his lips.

- only if is you - was all he said before going back to his bed.

A sight of relief leaving my lips, even though I cloud feel the stare of Namjoon a glare over my back.

…

To say Namjoon didn’t like that idea was an understatement. He hate it.

Insisting it was a bad idea to proceed with hybrid treatment by myself, that could be dangerous not only that but the fact that the hybrid had poison on his teeth just like a snake would. It wasn’t lethal but enough to cause discomfort, and it was what had happened the last time they tried to help with his shedding.

But that didn’t changed my mind. Not after I actually meet him, it seemed to me he didn’t want any one close that felt threatening to him. He wasn’t just any kind of hybrid, not a dog that loves attention and touch but a snake one. Snakes always acted out when feeling threatened. Attacking was their only defense.

So it made sense to me that he would be reluctant to let anyone get too close, especially after heaving so many tests on him without his consent. He’s been so mistreated and now they want to put him down.

It angers me.

I decided to chose an hour where i knew Namjoon would be busy in a meeting to do that. No long after we had left the hybrid room he began to lecture me on how dangerous Yoongi could be, that i shouldn’t act like that when he was the one in charge of this case. It slipped his mouth that the clinic simply started to give him vitamins when he stopped eating so he wouldn’t die.

It came to me how neglected he’s been this whole time. After that i decided to secretly go to the hybrid and feed him, which was where i was headed now.

I made sure no one was around once i stopped in front of the hybrid door. Using the number code I saw Namjoon used before to open the lock on it. It made a sound before opening.

The hot air hitting my face as I entered, they had turned higher this time it was hotter than before. The lights slowly began to light up as I walked in, the door closing behind me automatically.

At that the hybrid came up from his bed looking confused at me. Of course. I shouldn’t be there.

- hey - i greet him. He doesn’t say anything.

I walk up to him, stoping in front of the nest looking bed. A sing of his heat starting. That was a good sign. He held himself up with his arms looking my up from the bed.

- why are you here? - his voice was low and heavy.

- I just… - I trailed off as he fully lifted his body form his laying position, now sitting on his bed. Shirt open and sliding off his shoulders, not showing much but enough to see his scales.

He looked me over his lashes checks a bit red and sweat falling over the side of his face.

- i brought you something… - a sight left his lips - are you okay?

- yeah… what did you brought me? - his curious dark eyes following my body as I came closer.

- it’s tangerines - i say, showing him the two fruits i held in my hands.

- what’s a tangerine? - he asked eyeing them closer.

- you don’t know? - i gasped. Sitting beside him i slowly began to open one in a half giving it to him, he smelled before looking at me not knowing what to do.

- I never seen one… smells nice - he said.

- you eat it - i tell him, taking one and holding in front of his lips. He didn’t move at all, only looked at me.

For a moment I thought I had crossed his bounderies, for a moment I thought I was just being stupid. But then it came to me, he hasn’t eaten in years. He don’t even know what a tangerine is.

Maybe he didn’t even felt hunger anymore. Maybe he’ll throw the stupid fruit at me.

My checks were getting warmer as I felt nervous but, slowly he smelled the fruit in my hand taking a careful bite of it. Still looking at me, the juicy fruit spilling a bit in my fingers.

I watched him expectedly, wondering if he will like it or hated. He swallowed and looked at the fruit in my hand.

- that’s good… - he said. I sight of relief left my lips.

- you want more? - i asked him, he nodded slowly making me smile.

He didn’t move a single finger to eat though, I had to feed him the two tangerines the whole time. It didn’t bother me though, I felt so happy seeing him eat something other then taking those vitamins.

It means so much in the process of a hybrids treatment that they are feeding themselves, i couldn’t hold my happiness as I watched him.

Once he eat all of them he looked at me then at my hands, dark eyes shining under the light.

- sorry it was all I got - I tell him. - I’ll bring you more if you want.

- you will? - his eyes shining bright as he looked at me. I nodded at him.

- can i ask you… why you don’t eat? - i said, he doesn’t look at me turning to look at the floor.

- I don’t… feel like it… - he simply said.

He looked so sad now. No appetite wasn’t good. When in the absence of sickness it could only mean he was very depressed. They wanted to put him down because he was depressed.

I wouldn’t let them.

- You don’t seem to mind me around you… - I comment.

- you smell good. - he said, turning to look at me - and delicious, like tangerines.

I chuckled at his comparison. He watched me attentively, a different light on his dark eyes now.

- okay… I try my best to take care of you - i tell him. For a moment he only stares at me.

Red checks and bit of sweat on his chest, he turned his head to the side still raring at me. I fixed my glasses feeling a bit intimidated by his deep stare.

- You… - before he could end his sentence the door opened.

Namjoon entered the room looking at us confused, his eyes falling over my presence there. I shouldn’t be here. It’s what I read in his eyes.

- yn? - he asked, confusion clearly on his voice as he walked closer to where I was with the hybrid.

- Oh hey I was just… - i tried to make up an excuse but he cut me mid sentence.

- Leaving, right? - he interrupted. I swallowed nervous. He was never hard on me, hearing him be like that wasn’t nice.

- Yeah… - i murmured, taking the fruit peels with me as I got up from the hybrids bed.

- No… - Yoongi held my wrist stopping me, turned to look at him but he stared at Namjoon.

- You have an appointment with me now, it doesn’t include y/n so let her go… - for some reason Namjoons way of putting what he was doing there made me nervous.

I know he would never hurt a hybrid, but yoongi was very reluctant to any one else being too close to him. Namjoons display of dominance could make him defensive and things might not go well.

- maybe I could help - i tried to sound calm.

- y/n, your here to assist me not take over the procedures - Namjoon tells me, his words sending a sharp sting in my heart.

I couldn’t find words to reply his. Too embarrassed by his words to me in front of the hybrid, i bit into my lower lip. Not looking at them.

- Let her go yoongi - Namjoon said walking towards us.

At his words I realized Yoongi was now standing behind me, hand still around my wrist. His slow breathing hitting my shoulder. I lifted my gaze to Namjoon who now seemed a bit worried. But the hybrids closeness to me wants what made me uncomfortable.

- Yoongi… - Namjoon warned.

- Joon don’t - I tell him holding my hand up for him not to get closer - can you wait a bit?

He looked at me reluctant before nodding, still not taking his eyes off the hybrid. I turned to Yoongi slowly, a small smile on my lips as I stared into his deep dark orbs, to make sure he knew I was fine.

- Are you okay? - he asked me, I looked at him surprised. - he hurt you with his words.

I couldn’t hide my surprise at his words, he could tell from just that?

- It’s okay… I don’t care about his words - I whispered o him, giving him a small smile.

I tried to take my wrist from his hold but he didn’t let go, not to hard to hurt me. I could tell he was being careful not to use his full strength on me.

- Will you came back? - he asked, eyes looked into mine.

- Of course. - i tell him.

With that he let go of my wrist.

I turned to Namjoon taking his arm to leave the hybrid room. He reluctantly fallowed me towards the door of the room. Once we were both outside I kept my hold on his arm taking him with me around the corridor towards the elevators.

- where you taking me? - he asked, as if nothing had happened earlier.

- To Seokjin, we need to have a talk - i tell him, anger boiled over me.

- We? - he pushed his arm out of my grip - You’re being the irresponsible one not me!

- I’m!? - I stopped in the middle of the corridor, turning to him anger building up through my body.

- Yes! - he stated, closer to me - Do I need to remind you of your position here?

- Do I need to remind you of your stupid ego standing between the safety of a hybrid and your pride?! - i yell at him.

At that he went quiet.

- were talking with Seokjin now. - i state - I won’t let you make this whole processe more difficult than it has to be just because of your pride.

I held his arm again, taking him with me to the elevators. He didn’t say anything else anymore, I could tell he was angry but so was I.

The whole time he was only stating dominance over Yoongi, I was tired of them all thinking that could just hurt the hybrid even more now just because she was going to be put down.

I wouldn’t let them.

The walk to Seokjins office was quiet except for the tense energy around us, once I stood in front of his door I don’t bother to nock. Entering with anger burning under my skin.

Seokjin gave me a curious look, as he was folding some paper on his desk.

- sorry Jin - i say. He looked at me and Namjoon a questioned look on his face. - we need to talk about Yoongi.

- oh, right - he says - what is it?

- She’s being… - Namjoon started, but I interrupted him.

- Yoongi has been showing clear signs of discomfort with male doctors - at that Namjoon scoffed, I looked at him angry turning my gaze to Jin as I continued - he say he will do the appointments as long as I’m the one closer to him.

- I see.. - Jin thinks for a moment before continuing - what’s the problem?

- Namjoon is not letting me - i tell him, arms crossed over my chest.

-She just went into his room without any one knowing and… - Namjoon began.

- And gave him food - i say, looking at him. We both shared a look of hatred before Jin interrupted.

- What? - Jin asked.

- He eat… - I tell him.

- He… he eat food? - they both looked at me surprise.

- Yes, I’m sure I can help a lot more with this case if you let me take charge of the procedures that involves more… closeness to him, he’s been through a lot and seemed more calm around me.

- I see… - Jin pondered the idea first - then as long as you’re not alone for safety reasons, I don’t see a problem with you taking charge of his appointments.

- But she’s.. - Namjoon says, but is cut by Jin.

- Namjoon, y/n has been taking care of hybrids for years she knows what she’s doing, please I need you both working on this together - Jin says, sounding tired.

Namjoon only nods.

- any updates about him? - jin asked.

- i can tell that his heat i starting - I say - his behavior at least shows me that.

- okay… we’ll than we are almost there - Jin says - keep that good work and please, do this together.

- thanks jin - i tell him, he gives me a nod and i make my way to leave the office.

Namjoon stayed behind. I didn’t payed much mind to it. Quickly making my way out of there walking to the elevators, I had a lot of work to do other than Yoongi case.

More patients that needed treatment just as badly, not the he wasn’t just as special to me.

…..

It was late at night again.

I wasn’t planning to staying late again but, a hybrid was just checked in after being attacked by a another wild hybrid. The same case has happened before, that is way wild hybrids where never up for adoption. Yet some people always manage to get them, usually never for good reasons.

The poor hybrid this time was a bunny one, I was surprised when I first saw him. Usually bunny hybrids where the smallest species to exist but, this one was big. Not too tall but very muscular and strong.

When he was checked in he was still in defense mode, attacking every one and very scared. They had to apply a sedative on him to finally be able to put him on his room.

You could guess my reaction after I was told the story and short after that, Hoseok told me I was the one in charge of his case.

My shift ended hours ago and yet here I was cleaning cuts on the face of a bunny hybrid who seemed to know nothing about shutting up.

- such a pretty doctor I have.. - he said, a smile on his lips as he looked at me.

- Jungkook stop talking I’m trying to apply the med on your lip… - i tell him for the fifth time already, he only chuckled.

I sight taking a clean cotton with med to clean the cut over his eyebrow, he was sitting over his bed as I stood between his legs to clean his bruises.

He shouldn’t be awake. He was sedated before but, no long after he was wide awake and talking none stop, he commented on my but and how lucky he was to be treated by me.

I only sighted. That was knew. Usually my patients where too scared to be treated at first. So I just brushed off his comments.

Jungkook was abandoned when younger by his last owner, he then grow up in an underground fighting club where clandestine fights were held. He told me he was the best one there, a lot of people bet on him at the fights until he got in trouble with this one wolf hybrid.

- how did you end up here again? - I asked him.

- I was… - his checks went red and he looked down - to be honest I’m still.. ah, I was in heat…

- oh.. - I looked at him, still no understanding. He was shy, ears dropping beside his head.

- I was trading to mate but… so was the wolf… - he said.

- but you’re…

- she wasn’t like me… - he tells me, realizing what he meant I felt a warm wave up my checks.

Different species trying to mate, that was the first time I heard that, the underground has a lot going on than.

- well… it could happen - I say, making sure I cleaned every bruise on his face - here in the clinic we help our hybrids with all their needs, so don’t worry.

- oh.. will you treat me than doctor? - he asked, amused.

- yes, you’re my patient - i tell him, taking his file to prescribe him his medication and future exams.

- humm… - he only murmured - doctor are you in heat?

His question gets me by surprise and I look at him, mouth opening and closing. Just what was going on now? Did he perhaps hit his head too?

At my expression he chuckled one arm closing around my waist as he pulled me closer to him, I gasped feeling his nose against my neck. Not knowing what to do I held my hand up in the air, too afraid to even touch him. The smallest reaction could start something I wasn’t intending to.

- I can smell in you… - he says over my ear, my checks burning hot - hum, ready to be filled…

At his words i tried to push him, hands over his chest only to find his eyes staring deep into mine his checks where red and pupils full. It hit me. He was still on his heat.

That explains his behavior the whole time. How could I not notice earlier?

- you’re still in heat - i state. He only chuckled.

- am i? - he came closer to kiss me but i immediately pushed him down the bed - oh, I like that… doctor you’re making me fall for you…

I ignore his nonsense as I made my way to grab a sedative, bunnies were the hardest ones to deal with when on their heat, first I would have to put him to sleep before giving him the medicine to lessen his heat. At least till we are done with his treatment. Then we would put him to mate the right way.

Coming back to him I stared at him think where I would apply it, he didn’t stop moving. I stood between his legs holding the sedative behind my back.

- Jungkook… - i tried to get his attention, he looked at me immediately- I need to do something for me okay?

- yes pretty doctor- he tried to get up but I quickly held his chest down, he smiled at me. He looked as if he were on drugs, high on his heat.

It could only mean things were getting worse, he wasn’t on full rut but was getting there. It would be impossible to treat him if he’s on rut.

- don’t move okay? - i tell him, his hand held mine over his chest as he nodded.

Without him noticing i insert the syringe into his thigh, he’s so into his heat to even notice the pain.

I count ten seconds in my head before releasing my hold over his chest, he doesn’t try to get up.

- oh I’m sleepy… - he says, hand falling from mine as he closes his eyes slowly going into deep sleep.

A sight of relief leaves my lips once he falls asleep. I prepare some medicine to calm his heat, I wasn’t a fan of suppressants but in this case is needed. Just until we are done treating him. Than I’m sure he will be put into mating process so he can have a safe and healthy heat.

After I’m done giving him his medicine, I write it down his next appointment and a new prescription.

Leaving the room I sight, my right hand massaging my neck. I look over my phone to see the time realizing it was way past eleven. Walking down the corridor to the elevators, my ringtone woke me up from daydreaming about my comfort bed.

- yes - o took the call.

- hey y/n - it was Jin - did you check on the special hybrid?

- wasn’t Joon going? - I said, confused at his words. He told me he would.

- no he head an emergency at home and had to leave - Jin explained, I sight.

- oh, i will than - i tell him.

- you seem tired y/n do you want me to go instead? - he offers.

- no is fine… - i tell him - he die a know you yet, it could make things difficult.

- okay - Jin says - call me if anything happens.

- I will, thank you.

I turn off the call, getting in the elevator. I push the bottom to the floor of the special hybrids where. My eyes feeling a bit heavier, I tried to push it away. Just one last check up and I can go home.

The elevators doors opened at the floor, the sound waking me up from my tiredness. I quickly made my way through the long corridor with doors to Yoongis room.

Pressing the code on the lock beside the door, it opens making a sound. The hot wave of air hitting my body as usual once i made my way in, the lights slowly turning back on.

Once they’re on I made my way to his bed, panicked at not seeing him there or any sing of him at all.

- Yoongi? - i call out his name, locking around the room but still no sight of him.

My heart begins to beat faster, as my mind runs different scenarios of what might have happened. Worry filling my body as I throw the papers i gel in my hand on the floor, taking my cellphone to call Jin as I turn to leave the room.

Still with eyes locked on my phone i don’t notice the lights slowly turning off, nothing takes my attention from the cellphone until arms close over my wrist turning my around.

My phone falling on the ground as he pushed me against the wall, both hands holding my wrists over the wall above my head.

- Yoongi?! - I stared into his dark orbs, relief filling me up. - I thought something happened to you…

He didn’t said anything. A hard look over his features, I couldn’t decipher what it meant. He held me tighter coming closer to my face.

- why do you smell like trash? - he spat.

- what? - I was so lost.

I knew I worked late but, is not like didn’t look out for myself. Working at the clinic I had to make sure I was always clean. I couldn’t understand what he meant.

- you stink of male rut… - he spat at me, hissing at the end. Eyebrows furred into an angry expression.

I should’ve thought about that before coming here stray after treating a hybrid on heat, shit. Knowing how Yoongi was sensitive about others males I should’ve at least put on some perfume.

- it’s not like that… - i tried to lessen his anger but it only seemed to make it worse.

- I don’t care… - he pushed himself away from me - don’t ever come back here smelling like that again…

- I won’t - i tell him, still not moving I watched as he walks back to his bed. - im sorry, I didn’t have time to… wash this off.

He doesn’t say anything, sitting on ver his bed he looks at me from afar.

- tomorrow will start your shedding treatment… - i tell him, still not moving from my spot.

At the smell of another male it was better did I kept my distance so it wouldn’t be too overwhelming for him who had a much higher sense.

- i just came to check on you, to make sure…

- come here - he interrupted, he voice sounded heavy almost a growl.

I would be lying if a said I wasn’t afraid, my phone was lost somewhere in this room and I had no way of calling for help if something happened. Although I knew he wouldn’t do something to hurt me i couldn’t be sure, the situation was a lot different now.

I could say something but, his instincts would say another complete different than mine.

Still I made my way towards him. Stopping a few steps away from him.

- closer… - he sighted. Dark eyes looking me up and down.

I gulped down, making my way closer to him. Stopping in front of him.

He looked up at me boxers getting up from the bed, close enough to kill me if he wanted to.

- was it a patient of yours? - he asked, voice low and raspy. He meant the smell.

- yes… - i manage to whisper, I felt so small in front of him. Like a pray.

- you’ll see him again? - he asked, taking a step closer. No distance between us. His breath hitting my face.

- yes… - i tell him, my eyes finally looking up at his.

He only nodded understanding.

- I don’t like this smell on you - i says, making me gulp down as i looking into his eyes. - but i understand…

He pushes me against him it happens so fast, once I notice he is pressing me down on his bed. Both his legs on each side of my hips, he held my arms up against the nest of covers and sheets.

Keeping them up he slides his hands down my arms over my sides, one finger playing with the bottoms of my shirt.

- you look healthy… - he murmurs eyeing me up and down.

- what…

He didn’t let me finish. Opening my shirt he went down over my chest, I gasped in surprise. Turning my face to the side, I expected anything except what he did.

I slowly opened my eyes at the feeling of his hot breath over my neck, my own breath got stuck in my throat the moment I felt the wetness of his tongue sliding over my chest up my neck.

- what are you doing? - I asked, my voice was only a whisper.

- taking that disgusting smell off you - he said over my neck.

- oh…

- but you’ll see him again… - he said, I turned to look at him.

- I have to, his my patient - i explained.

- than this won’t do… - he whispered more to himself, one hand holding my chin up he slowly turned my face to the side.

With my neck on full display for him he came closer, this time whispering over my ear.

- have you ever been bitten by a snake?

At his question my mind rushed with realization, my heart beating faster as his lips brushed over my skin. I tried to move my legs but he only used his body weight to held me down, my hands over his shoulders trying to push him away were quickly held up over my head with his left hand.

He chuckled at my useless try’s to get away from him.

A gasp leaving my lips immediately at the feeling of his sharp teeth carving my skin, tears filling my eyes at the painful sensation of his teeth inserting his venom on me. His hands slowly leaving his hold over me, i couldn’t move.

Once he took his teeth out of my skin, I groaned in pain. Feeling the warm liquid fall down my neck, he licked over the bite. Hand holding my chin to look at him.

- don’t worry… it will feel good soon - I looked up at him, his voice was a whisper in the dark.

My mind felt dizzy, vision getting blurry the heat of the room wasn’t helpful. My whole busy was burning, I tried to push him away but as soon as my hands came in touch with the silk over his skin my entire body responded, a wave of electicity coming up from the tips of my fingers to my whole body.

- Yoongi…

My eyes began to get heavier and heavier, hands falling beside me as I fell asleep.

Not before I felt his warm finger trace my jaw softly, his voice so far away I couldn’t make out what he said before I fall completely asleep.

Am i dying?

Next?

Notes: YES FINALLY!! Hehe I’m sorry for any grammatical typos! ☺️💖

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[shidouryusm]

𓆩♡𓆪✿༝༚༝༚-> tending to gojo satoru when he's sick and you're lovesick

Satoru x gn!reader

1.5k (Y'all shouldn't even be fazed atp im mentally ill ofc I'll write like crazy)

content- fluff, sick!gojo, banters, mentions of death (but not in any angsty way), too corny for its own good.

a.n -> this is way too self-indulgent. I just plastered a piece of my daily delusions with satoru in words. hope y'all will enjoy this little piece mwuah. I'm so lovesick for this idiot im not even embarrassed. a ginormous kiss to @stsgluver and @planetnini for proofreading and nini fixing all the little things. she is my second pair of eyes :3

Gojo Satoru. The strongest sorcerer of his age. The man bestowed with Six Eyes and Limitless, literally untouchable with a millimeter of radius separating him from the physicality of the world. The absolute one man army — is currently whining with a wet towel wrapped around his forehead, rolling over the bed with a mere fever. 

“Baby, I think I’ve reached my end. We gotta prepare for my funeral” Satoru mumbles groggily, his eyes partly covered with a damp towel. 

“Don’t just say anything, ‘Toru.” you hum, sitting by his side as you massage his head over the towel. He whines with his hands wrapped around your waist, nudging you closer to him. 

Your boyfriend has always been an overdramatic nuisance in regards to everything ; a little too spoiled for his own good and a concealed face from the world that always yearns to be babied by you. Yet you cave, almost 9 out of 10 times, for how unconditionally lovable he is and manages to be everytime.

As of now – when he’s all theatrical with a cold fever, lips jutted in a small pout. Face scrunched up — which is scrunching a bit more…his forehead crinkles and nostrils flare-

“ANCHEWWWWW-”

His upper body jolts off the bed from the intensity, spraying droplets of sneeze in the air, the towel from his forehead dropping down to his lap.  

You crinkle your nose momentarily from the two second snot hurricane that he just spewed everywhere but you continue to rub gentle circles on his broad back. 

His body slumps into the mattress again as you put the towel back on his forehead. Toru shakes his head, “I'm telling you, baby. This is your final moment to write an obituary for me– how your boyfriend was the strongest as he stood resilient against the invisible sickness, and he stepped into the endless journey to the afterworld with the pretty face, hot body-”

“”Toru, do you ever shut up?” 

“No I don't. I thought you knew” he pouts before sniffling audibly due to the cold. 

You roll your eyes, exhaling a sigh. Nearly impossible to fight against him, even when he's knocked down in the bed. Rather, you decide to run your hands through his snowy white hairs, all splayed out on the mattress. He basks in the touch of your soft hands, humming gently. 

“A millions of curses failed to do that and you think a simple virus would? That’s pretty underperforming coming from you, don’t you think, ‘Toru?” you quip amusedly, earning a little scowl from the man.

“Curses are child’s play for me. Your boyfriend isn’t the strongest for no reason.” Satoru grumbles. 

“Yet can’t deal with a cold?”

“Now. I can’t fight biology, can I?” a hint of indignance in his voice.

You chuckle as you pinch his cheek,“Just playing with you, sicko boy.” you ruffle his hair before idly playing with them again, your fingers threading through the strands like some soft cushion.

The moment stills into the air with comfortable silence except from the little sniffles Satoru is occasionally letting out. You take in the beauty of this quietude.

The room lits with the mellowy rays of the sun – the slanted, golden beams cutting through the white blinds as it bounces off the white walls, leaving a  warm brightness around.

The dust particles dance along the reflecting light on one of the corners and little chirps of birds outside melts into the air. There’s an endless blue casted on the sky and a remarkable silence veils you that is nothing but homely to revel in. 

Moments like this are hard to catch like those dusts under the sunlight but living through them feels nothing less than walking into a dream and experiencing every minute humane feelings. 

Every note of inanimate objects mixed with the soft song of nature makes your heart bloom with gratitude for feeling through them, especially with Satoru … despite how beat up with fever he may look right now. 

You look at your sleeping boyfriend, his face morphing into an expression of comfort and content. Lips partly open to breath due to his congested nose. His chest heaves from the breaths and one of his arms strew across your lap, keeping the warmth of your body close to him. 

You marvel at the effortless beauty this man possesses. 

Even with a nasty cold, loose t-shirt, sniffling nose and disheveled hair, he managed to look like the most beautiful boy in the world.

Your beautiful boy. 

Trailing your hands down his cheek, you gently cup them in your hands, your thumb runs over the rosy swell of his cheek, moving up to his eyelids. his snowy eyelashes brush against the pads of your thumb while you tenderly caress them. 

“So beautiful…” you whisper into the air, looking at his sleeping figure with utmost fondness. Completely in awe with your ability to love him to the point of stretching infinity. 

-

Hearing the two words escape your mouth, Satoru couldn’t help but break out of his character. His broad hands wrap around your wrist and he opens eyes with a squint, adjusting to the brightness. A teasing grin breaking out in his face. “Hehe, heard you~” his cerulean eyes brightens on seeing you a little flustered. 

Way to ruin the tranquility of the moment. 

He pulls your wrist close to his mouth, delicately kissing the inside of your palm, “You know, it’s not bad. I could definitely use some of that kindness every once in a while.” Satoru hums. 

“What are you talking about? I didn’t say anything” you feign innocence, not really knowing why you feel the need to deny it. 

“Mmhmm. Sure. I just heard voices in my head” he hums sardonically, his hands still tangled with yours. 

“Yes. you were dreaming. Fever dreams are pretty common in illnesses.” you counter.

Biting back at Satoru’s remarks was second nature to you, regardless of how lame the topic has to be. As if it’s like the very first time you both have met, setting foot into the relationship with little remarks. The spark that never extinguished in your conversations: of the banters that never goes amiss.

One of the constants in the ever changing wave of your relationship with Satoru. The relief from the turmoil the serious jujutsu world throws at you both.

“anything else, dr.google? the way you are forgetting things you did two seconds back, it’s you who needs to get checked. You were making the most googly eyes at me I’ve ever seen” you gasp, smacking his chest lightly, pulling away your hand from his grasp. 

“You’re gonna pass the sickness to me from your mouth, and for the record– I didn’t.” you  scoff in defiance, clutching your hand away from him. 

“Is this how you treat a sick person? I am wounded, baby,” mock hurt dripping from his words before he starts laughing. His laughter contagiously induces a chortle from you too. 

The sound fills the room to the brim as if you guys weren’t cross talking just a minute back. 

“That is so childish, why hide? Just accept you were being lovesick” Satoru adds. The laughter dies down a little and he’s back with his armor of words. 

“You’re so impossible, ‘Toru. how would you know whether I made googly eyes or not? Your eyes were closed.” 

“So you did make googly eyes, for you to be saying that? Such lame comeback. A bit underperforming. coming from you, don’t you think, baby?” he grins, tossing your own words back to you.

You narrow your eyes at him, fighting the urge to bite back your words, knowing the more you will drag it, Satoru will play along. 

“Sometimes I feel the only response is to strangle you. What happened to you feeling sick to the point of death? Isn’t it affecting you right now?” you scorn. playfully so.

“Talking to you is the way to my recovery, baby. Your words bring me back from sickness. feel my heart– it’s so alive” Satoru grins like he replied with the most appealing answer ever. 

He takes your hand, putting it over his chest. The murmurs of his heartbeat right underneath your palm. 

“Well that was repulsive and corny.” you wrinkle your nose. yet, planting your hands right where he kept it.

the feel of his sturdy chest and soft thuds of heart soothes you. He's insufferable but nothing would have you trade such fleeting moments with him.

“Doesn’t matter when I’m hot.” Satoru mutters, his face inches from yours as his nose nudges the side of your cheek. 

He’s not wrong but you’d be damned to accept that right now.

“We both know who’s bringing the hotness in this relationship.” you turn around and flick his forehead, getting up from the bed to bring him his medications. 

“Yes, it’s me. I am literally quite hot right now”

“Whatever floats your boat, babe", you chuckle. The sound of your laughter ebbing into the hallway as you walk out of the door and Satoru couldn’t feel any more healed. 

a.n.2-> if I'm being dead honest to y'all, I intended to make it angsty as fuck by turning the whole thing as a flashback reader has after gojo died 💀💀 but I will spare myself and others for this time.

comments, likes, reblogs are appreciated

tagging : @stsgluver , @kuroosexuall @shotorus + @satoruhour @hannzai + any of my gojo girlies im amnesiac baby i actually forgot yikes

[mysteryshoptls]

SR Lilia Vanrouge - Ceremonial Robes Vignette

"It's a showdown!"

[Classroom]

Lilia: Ooh, I see you've brought donuts from the Scalding Sands today, Kalim.

Kalim: You know your stuff, Lilia! It's a syrup-covered donut called awamat.

Cater: Looks tasty, but feels like it's a snack that's way sweeter than sweet.

Cater: I think I'll start off with the candy that Lilia-chan brought. Down the hatch…Mm?

Cater: [cough, gasp, sputter]! Ack, this flavor's crazy!

Lilia: Kufufu, it's licorice. One bite and you're already hooked, huh?

Cater: No, I'm saying it's bad crazy! It's salty, and tastes like rubber…

Lilia: Does it? I actually quite like it. …Nom. …Hmhm, yep, it's definitely tasty.

Kalim: How can you eat it all happy like that～? I can't with this, either. It doesn't even smell like it's edible.

Lilia: That's a shame, all I wanted was to share my favorite snacks with my clubmates.

Cater: Oh, right. Speaking of club stuff, what're we gonna do to try to pull in new members this year at the club showcase?

Kalim/Lilia: …?

Cater: Hey, come on! We met up today specifically to talk about what we were gonna do for that!

Lilia: And uh, what club were we again?

Cater: You don't even remember that!? We're the Pop Music Club!

Lilia: Oh right, I remember now. I can't help forgetting 'cause even when we meet up for our club like this, we're usually just lazing about anyway.

Kalim: Yeah, I feel like we haven't really played much music since I joined the club, either.

Cater: Seee, that's why the Headmage was on our case～

Cater: He said that since there's only three of us and we don't really do dedicated club activities, if we don't get more members this year, our club'll be disbanded!

Cater: That's why we absolutely need to get more folks to join us at the club showcase! Especially since it's basically impossible to get any of the older students to drop their clubs and join us, anyway.

Lilia: Plus, it feels like the students here aren't really geared towards joining a band, either.

Cater: Yeaaaaah～ Fights would break out even before we can even set up a live performance.

Lilia: Every time someone opens their mouth, it's just "our musical tastes are just different" and they leave. None of them are team players.

Kalim: And then in the end, it's just us left over.

Cater: Just us three easy-breezy boys～

Cater: 'Sides, it was Lilia-chan's performance from last year's club showcase that was the problem.

Cater: It totally threw everyone off when you just went all screamo and smashed your guitar! We only got Kalim-kun out of all the possible newbies 'cause of that.

Lilia: Nonsense. That scream is my specialty.

Lilia: Thrash metal isn't thrash metal without all my guitar strings snapping.

Cater: There's no way I can keep up with something as hardcore and heavy as that. Doesn't really feel like many people'd like it, either.

Kalim: I totally thought your performance was pretty cool, Lilia! I'd never seen anything like that.

Kalim: It really surprised me when you just leaped off the stage into the audience, too! Ahaha!

Lilia: Oh yes, the best part of a live performance is the stage dive.

Lilia: I was just as surprised that I fell straight to the floor because no one tried to catch me. Kheehee

Cater: 'K, we really gotta stop with goin' down memory lane now. Keep this up and we're really gonna lose our club, y'know?

Cater: I don't wanna lose our precious space to hang after classes. There's no way I'd even consider joining an athletic club～

Lilia: I hear you, I hear you. Then, I guess we should hunker down and prepare a band performance for the club orientation showcase.

Lilia: So, if we're putting together a three-piece band, who should be in what position?

Kalim: Well, obviously…

Kalim/Cater/Lilia: I'D BE ON MAIN VOCALS!

Cater: No way, c'mon, we can't all be vying for the vocalist spot!

Lilia: Well, we may be "easy-breezy boys" as you say, but in the end, we're still Night Raven College boys.

Lilia: Well, if we're picking a vocalist, it only makes sense that whoever can sing best takes the spot.

Kalim: Well, then that's gotta be me! Whenever I sing, I got Jamil, my parents and my siblings all sayin' I'm amazing!

Cater: Ehhh～ Don't think we can really go off of what your family and close friends say, can we?

Cater: But then there's me. Whenever I go sing karaoke with someone, it's a mad party!

Lilia: Wait a moment, you two. I've already proven that I can sing at last year's club orientation showcase.

Cater: No way, I already told you that your zombie-like shouting's only gonna scare away any potential newbies!

Lilia: Looks like we're at a stalemate…

Lilia: Well, guess there's no other choice… It's a showdown for that prized vocalist spot!

Kalim/Cater: Eh!?

[Classroom]

Kalim: So, what're we doin' to win the vocalist spot?

Cater: I'm gonna pass if it's a physical fight!

Lilia: Well, since we're looking for the best voice, it should be sufficient enough to do a singing competition using a karaoke app to score us.

Lilia: We each sing once. And we should each pick out a song we're good at singing.

Cater: Ok, we just gotta pick a song we know front to back, huh! Cool, so let's get this shindig started～♪

Kalim: You already decide what you're singing, Cater?

Cater: Yup, I'm thinking of doing the new song my favorite band just released this week. It's perfectly in my range 'n all.

Cater: …Oh, wait. It looks like it's not in the karaoke app yet, though.

Lilia: Guess you need to look for another song. What about you, Kalim?

Kalim: Mmm～ I thought about it, and…

Kalim: I'm way better at dancing than singing, y'know. Can I do that instead?

Cater: No, absolutely not! That's not what we're looking for at all!

Lilia: Kheeheehee, you're a silly lad, as always. Well, you still have time to pick out a song after I've finished singing.

Lilia: I'll start up the karaoke app, and… Hm. Would a lullaby from Briar Valley be considered a folk song?

Cater: A lullaby!? That's totally on the other side of the music spectrum from your usual metal music!!

Lilia: Lullabies are my specialty! I can instantly send a crying babe back into dreamland.

Cater: Wow. I wasn't expecting that.

Lilia: Ehehe. The secret is that I ad-lib some screaming shouts as I sing it.

Cater: But it's a lullaby!?

Cater: You're saying there's a baby out there who can listen to your screamo and actually sleep!? You sure they didn't just pass out!?

Lilia: Rude. He was sleeping away so peacefully. Ahh, how nostalgic.

Kalim: Oh, do you have much younger siblings too, Lilia?

Lilia: Well, no, he wasn't a sibling… But I did live with a babe for a while.

Kalim: I'm always trying to sing them lullabies to get them to sleep, but they never do. You'll have to show me your tricks later!

Lilia: Sure thing. How about I show you now… Hm? Looks like Briar Valley lullabies aren't in this app either.

Cater: Aw, man～ Guess it's just a little too specific, huh?

Lilia: So, neither me nor Cater can sing what we want. Kalim would rather dance…

Lilia: Well, some competition this turned out to be. Why don't we just do rock-paper-scissors to decide, then?

Lilia: It only makes sense that he who is the luckiest should shoulder the fate of our band's future.

Cater: That was out of left field...

Kalim: Well, why not? It's easy and we'll be done in a flash.

Cater: Fine… I guess leaving it up to something random like this is more our style anyway.

Lilia: Okay, here we go. Rock, paper, scissors…

Kalim/Cater/Lilia: Go!

Lilia: Yaay～ I win! I get to do the vocals!

Kalim: Maaan～ You're so lucky, Lilia.

Cater: Don't smash up the guitar this year, mmkay～?

Lilia: Yeh! …But after all that, I think the bass or drums would suit me better after all.

Cater: Then what was with that celebrating just now!?

Lilia: I just like snatch the win from those who wanted it, I guess.

Cater: If you need to be the center of attention like that, then maybe the singing guitarist position really does suit you after all?

Lilia: You don't get it, huh. Based on my research, the leader of the band is most often the bassist or the drummer.

Lilia: Also, they got this quiet and mature vibe, which also seems cool to me.

Lilia: You can be the main vocals, Cater, since you'd probably know all the popular songs right now.

Cater: Yaay～ Thanks, Lilia-chan! Then I'll be singing and on guitar! Kalim, what about you?

Kalim: If I'm not the lead vocalist? I only really know the instruments we got back home in the Scalding sands. I'm pretty good at the darbuka.

Cater: What's a darbuka? That's the first time I've ever heard that name.

Lilia: It's a type of drum that makes an exotic sound. I saw it once a long time ago when I visited the Scalding Sands.

Cater: I hate to be that guy, but aren't we gonna stray from the standard three-piece band if we use more specialized instruments…?

Lilia: Well, if you're good at percussion, then you should be on drums! I'll teach you how to play it.

Kalim: Thanks, Lilia! I can't wait to play a new instrument!

Lilia: So that means I'm the bassist and the leader of the band!

Cater: You're really hung up on being the leader, huh～ Okay then, Leader. What should we wear, then?

Lilia: Hm… Good question. Whatever it is, it should be flashy and cool.

Kalim: We can just special order some super fancy costumes! What if we sew on some gems to give them some serious sparkle?

Cater: Nice idea～♪ But there's no way that's in our budget…

Lilia: Yes, unfortunately, we're a small club that's in danger of being disbanded. Probably the only thing we can afford with what little we have is instrument upkeep.

Kalim: So, what, we have to do it with whatever we already own…?

Cater: Our dorm uniforms look cool… But they all clash～

Lilia: What outfit do all of us own that match despite being from different dorms… That's also cool… Hmmm…

Lilia: Oh yeah! What about our ceremonial robes!?

Cater: Lilia-chan, great idea!

Kalim: If you guys are good with it, so am I!

Lilia: Alright, now that we've figured out our costume, we just gotta practice every day until the club orientation!

Kalim/Cater: Yeah!!

[Diasomnia Dorm – Lounge]

Lilia: …Is something that happened once.

Silver: I see, so that's why you weren't on guitar and vocals this year…

Sebek: I found your professional level bass playing to be an unforgettable sight to witness, Lilia-sama!!!!!

Lilia: And rightly so, of course. Kheeheehee.

Requested by @olivebranch311.

[atwas-gaming]

Sonic Movie 3 Preliminary Predictions

I saved the craziest one for last:

This COULD be Shadow and Gerald bending over Maria's body, but that doesn't sound right to me.

The Ark is big enough to hold large vehicles like this:

But I think a battle big enough to leave this kind of wreckage might do major structural damage to the Ark.

Also, if this is when Maria died, wouldn't the GUN soldiers be aiming AT Shadow and Gerald? Looks to me like they're aiming past them, at something in the distance.

And look at the body. I think I can make out what looks like a very round, small head:

Could this be Sonic's body? Do they think he died in the final battle?

Because all we've seen in the trailer is Shadow as a supervillain, and that is NOT who Shadow is.

Black-hearted evil, Brave-hearted hero, I am all, I am all I am.

Look, Eggman might be working with Team Sonic for a time...

But he's gonna turn on them all. "If I can't rule the world, I might as well save it!" Yeah, sure, Eggface, just saving your own butt, and the second you find an opportunity to try to rule the world, you're taking it. Because that's what Eggman ALWAYS does. His ONLY purpose in life is trying to rule the world.

He wants POWER. He's gonna take that thing and do something with it. And while I like the theory that he's building a Metal Sonic with it, we clearly won't see it in this movie. (Maybe movie 4...?)

But I think I do know what he IS gonna build in this one:

Look behind Tails.

See it? Most prominently on the right side?

The MOUSTACHE?!?

It's the DEATH EGG.

So Robotnik's gonna build the Death Egg, Team Sonic's gonna have to fight him, and somehow, Shadow's gonna realize he has to join Team Sonic.

Not really surprising, that's usually the gist of every game with Shadow in it. But I gotta wonder why I haven't seen anyone talk about that shot of the Death Egg. I KNOW y'all have been analyzing the trailer frame-by-frame. I must just be missing the discussion somehow. I even googled "sonic movie 3 death egg" and got nuthin.

(My theory is that Eggman's gonna turn the Ark into the Death Egg, but we'll have to wait and see.)

This calls into question lines like "when we're done, there won't be anything left," and "what I had to."

What's Shadow gonna do???

And does it have anything to do with this?

Why are they tied up like that??? If that is, as I've seen people say, not a black hole, but rather a ring portal that Shadow opened into space, then I can't imagine Shadow gave enough warning for these three to tie themselves down.

So what if they were tied down in preparation for Shadow opening this ring portal as part of the final battle against the Death Egg? Maybe to suck Eggman's robots off the planet or something?

Notice that there's no humans in this picture, either. My guess is that they got Tom and Maddie and GUN crew out of the area before Shadow opened the portal. Because Sonic and Co. can survive in space, but nothing else can.

With only 2 minutes of the movie currently at our disposal, it's impossible at this point to be certain of anything about the overall plot. But I know what Shadow and Eggman are both like, and the trailer is leaving out half their characters. Unless the plot goes completely off the rails and totally disregards every bit of character building Shadow ever had in the games, he IS gonna join Team Sonic, and there WILL be a final battle against Eggman.

If only because he promised Maria that he would protect Earth.

[ahqkas]

Hey queen, I was wondering if you could write a Theodore Nott fic (oneshot or blurb, pref blurb) about him dating a fem!reader that is a dancer and insanely flexible, like a damn contortionist type of flexible.

You don't gotta write this, it's completely fine and understand if you don't want to write this. <3

NOTES! hi lovely thank u sm for the request && i hope this is something you were looking for !! 🫶🏻

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

THEODORE HAD ALWAYS BEEN CAPTIVATED BY YOUR GRACE, the way you moved through the world with an effortless movement that seemed almost unreal. it was as if you were made of water, bending and flowing in ways that defied the usual limits of the human body. when you first told him you were a dancer, he’d pictured something traditional — ballet, for example. but the first time he saw you really dance, he realized just how unique your talent was.

you had invited him to watch one of your rehearsals, and he’d eagerly accepted, curious to see this side of you. the space was a large, airy studio with floor-to-ceiling mirrors and smooth wooden floors. sunlight streamed in through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room as you stretched and prepared for your routine. theo sat off to the side, his legs spread to adjust on the bench he occupied, forearms resting against his knees.

as you began to move, theo was mesmerized. you didn’t just dance — you transformed. your body twisted and contorted with a precision and control that left him breathless. every movement of yours was a perfect blend of strength and art, as though your muscles and bones had been crafted to bend in ways that defied nature.

you flowed from one position to the next, folding yourself into impossible shapes with a calm, focused expression, as if this level of flexibility was nothing out of the ordinary. when you executed a flawless backbend, your hands brushing the floor as your spine curved into an elegant arch, theo felt his breath hitch. he’d never seen anything like it, and he found himself completely entranced.

after your rehearsal, you walked over to where he was sitting, a slight sheen of sweat on your forehead but otherwise completely composed. you plopped down beside him, your body still warm and loose from the exertion, and gave him a curious look, waiting for his reaction.

which was something that reminded you of a little version of him during christmas. “that was . . . incredible,” he finally managed to say, his voice thick with awe. “i’ve never seen anything like it.”

you smiled, pleased by his response, and stretched your legs out in front of you, casually folding forward until your chest was flat against your thighs. theo blinked, still getting used to the sight of you in these positions that seemed to defy human anatomy.

“i’ve been dancing for as long as i can remember,” you explained, resting your chin on your knees. “flexibility just kind of came naturally, but i’ve worked hard to get to this level.”

theo nodded, though he was still wrapping his mind around how effortless you made it all look. “i can see that. you’re . . . well, you’re incredible.”

he wasn’t the type to gush, but he couldn’t help the admiration that laced his words. you blushed slightly, not used to such direct praise, and shifted your position, pulling your legs up and folding them neatly beneath you with the ease of someone used to maneuvering their body into complex shapes.

over time, theo grew accustomed to your flexibility, but he never lost his fascination with it. sometimes, he’d catch you stretching absentmindedly — pulling your leg up behind your head while reading a book or doing the splits while chatting with friends. it became a familiar sight, one that made his heart swell with a mix of pride and awe.

his girlfriend was the coolest artist he’s ever seen and he would be a fool to not show such a talent to the rest of the world.

[iris-of-bliss]

𝕋𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝔸 𝕃𝕠𝕒𝕕 𝕆𝕗𝕗 [𝟙𝟠+]

Summary: Hwoarang deals with an irritating headache after his fight with Jin. Perhaps he could use a helping hand from you?

Pairing(s): Hwoarang/F!Reader

Warning(s): Smut, Foreplay, Teasing, Creampie, Fingering

Word Count: 1.5k

Hwoarang made his choice to match Jin for an upcoming tournament. This time, Kazama gained the upper hand through every round. They were at Yakushima with you and Xiaoyu watching over their every move. Although Hwoa has been a bit sloppy, you rooted for him regardless. Xiaoyu has done the same as Jin, who performed well on his part. It was a heated duel, just like last time. Both fighters still had a decent fight, showing off their skills and capabilities. After the match was over, you and Ling applauded them while approaching. The men pat down some of the dirt from their clothes. Hwoarang looked rather irritated, but your presence makes him feel a lot better.

“You did a good job today, boys!” you congratulated the fighters.

Xiaoyu followed, “Yeah, you two were great! So, we will meet up again next week, yes?”

Hwoarang sighed, “Sure, we gotta get back home. I’m starting to get a pounding headache.”

You and Ling exchange goodbyes as you follow your boyfriends. You could hear Ling catch up to Jin before bringing up a discussion about eating steamed buns. Hwoa was rubbing the back of his neck with his head hung low. It seems like he needed some rest. Maybe Jin went a little too rough? You place a hand on his back and question his state, “Are you feeling alright, babe? You don’t look too good.”

“Of course not. Must have caught a fever during the fight,” he insinuated, “Hop on so I can lay down when we get home.”

—

“Alright, Hwoarang. I’ve prepared an ice pack for you.”

Approaching the worn-out and shirtless Hwoarang, you place the pack against his forehead. He immediately grabs your hand to press the cooling bag against the aching pain. A relieved sigh slips from his mouth. His eyes open to see you while giving a small smirk.

“Hey, (Y/N),” he responds softly, “You got other ways to cure my headache besides a pack of ice?”

“Well, I can serve some soup if you want,” you came up with the best answer you could.

A chuckle emitted out of Hwoarang, “Oh, babydoll, I wasn’t talking about that kind of cure. I was wondering about the pleasurable variety.”

“Oh?”

Your eyes widen with a faded blush across your face. He swiftly grabs you by the wrist to get on top. You sit up facing Hwoa, his smirk widening more feverishly. He didn’t seem motivated to sleep. Just seeing you was enough for him. His hands trail over your hips before firmly squeezing them.

“H-Hwoarang?,” you hesitated, “What are you even scheming?”

“You know what this is, (Y/N). It’ll be worth it.”

You suddenly feel the redhead thrust his erection against your crotch. Gasping from the tease, you latch his wrists, still gripping your flesh as he continues to give a few more shots. He’s a quick thinker and knew about your weaknesses in bed before. It was impossible to hold back from keeping up with his rhythmic movements. Hwoa smirks and places the ice pack on the bed stand. He then pulls you down to hold you close while returning the favor. You can still smell his sweat from the match. Even when you convinced him to shower, he refused due to his headache. Without thinking, Hwoarang turns you over to the bed on your back, another surprised gasp escaping your lips. He now towers above you before leaning down your jaw to kiss. You already missed the dry rubbing between your thighs, so you end up doing the work yourself. The wet spot grew warmer as you wrapped your hands around his neck, the sweet sound of your moans teasing Hwoa’s ear. He groans against your skin and grabs your hips again, lifting them upward.

“You gonna be a good girl for me, baby?” the redhead whispers.

As you begin to feel your face heat up, you quickly nod, “Yes. Anything for you.”

He chuckles, “Now how about that?”

Hwoarang brings a hand between your thighs to rub your dampness. You allow him to keep you wet and close your legs around his working hand. You grab his face and share a hungry French kiss together. During the kiss, Hwoarang’s hand unzips your pants before sliding down further under your panties. It causes your voice to shiver at the touch. A pair of fingers gently tease your folds. They inch in to rub your walls before pulling away for your folds again. He loved listening to your frantic whimpers. Luckily for him, there was more to come.

Hwoa hums, “So, you’re ready to take me?”

“Please, do it!” you plead.

Hwoarang sighs and removes his pants to spring his erection out. He even lent a hand, taking off yours, too. Each cloth left your body as he slid them away. After the pieces of clothing were tossed aside, you immediately felt his cock rest over your entrance. He grinds into you all the while kissing your cheek. The stream of slickness coats underneath him as he kept going. You can even feel yourself getting hot from being close to your boyfriend.

“Heh, I feel big, don’t I?” he teases.

You were in the middle of mewling, so of course he didn’t need an answer when it was right there. He aligns himself and presses into your entrance, settling between your legs. The more you got filled up, the louder your cries became. Hwoa bites his lip after noticing how tight you were. From his perspective, this felt perfect.

“Better hold on tight, sweetheart.”

A few seconds after being completely filled, Hwoarang’s thrusting starts rough and hard. He claws at your shaking hips while exchanging kisses with you. Your breaths were already hot from the intensity. The kissing got sloppy due to your boyfriend’s wild pounding. As he did so, he smacked the side of your rear and gave you a gentle squeeze. Your fingers scratched into his shoulders, yet this did not lead him to flinch in the slightest. Both of you were overcome by the heat inside and out. Hwoarang lifted himself up as he kept up with his thrusts. Looking down at you, he grins at the exhausted state you are in. What a sight to see.

“Like what you see?” he teases.

Your words were struggling to piece themselves together, “Y-yeah. Please, more- oh!”

He emits a chuckle at your reply. You felt a knot form in your stomach. It was such a pleasing view, Hwoarang couldn’t resist while kneading your skin. It bothered him that you were still in your shirt, so he slowed down to pull that off as well. Leaving you in your bra was just enough. He bends down to kiss you, all the while sneaking his fingers under your bra, finding their way to your nipples. The redhead scratches your pebbled skin. You moan in his mouth, your body arching up to him. Though your eyes remain shut, you trail your hands to his hair to undo his bun. The rest of his red strands drape down in the process. Fuck, he looked so hot. You take a handful of his hair and comb through it. Your legs wrap around his torso for him to go deeper. Hwoarang pulls his hands away to embrace you. He groaned due to his hair being messed with.

Hwoa keeps fucking you harder, close into attempting to bottom you out. He breaks the kiss with a string of saliva falling off. Panting for air, he tries his best to speak, “Do I feel good? Huh?”

You were trying to catch your breath, “Y-Yes, so good…”

You move some of his strands to the back of his ear for a better view. He takes your wrist in order to place a kiss on your hand. The both of you embrace each other again, the session continuing on. Hwoarang starts kissing and biting your jaw, urging you to give him access to your neck. You grant his wish before he abuses your weak spot. He managed to earn plenty of moans, and they drove him wild. The tightening of your walls around his cock. He growls in your flesh like an animal, almost reaching his climax. After giving a rough hickey on your neck, he rests his forehead along yours to lock eyes. Breaths arose while you two were about to release. Your cunt flutters when you stare into his brown eyes. Everything about Hwoarang was perfect to you.

“Hwoarang, I love you! I-“

The sentence was cut off by the sudden finish, loud cries erupting from pure pleasure. Hwoa’s cum spurts out after you are quickly filled. He didn’t care much, though. Overfilling you would eventually satisfy him more. As you finally settle down, you kiss your boyfriend once more. The fatigued redhead pulls out and collapses on his stomach beside you. He brings you close by your torso, careless to move around any longer. You hold onto his arm before looking back at his smirking face.

“Thanks to you, my head isn’t pounding any more,” he chuckles at you.

You hummed, “If that’s the case, maybe we could try that method next time? Whenever it comes back, of course.”

“Heh, good girl.”

He plants a kiss on your head as you sigh yourself to sleep. From now on, Hwoarang has a favorite cure he can make use of next time. That sneaky tease he is.

[argisthebulwark]

Taste You Better

summary: tbh was talking to @feralteapot about touch starved Miraak and ooghhh they all gotta be touch starved and horny now. feat: Miraak, Brynjolf, Vilkas, Erandur, Arnbjorn warnings: explicit sexual content, minors shouldn't read or interact. a bit of overstim perhaps

"Slow." Miraak panted, eyes squeezed shut against the onslaught of sensations. You paused, breath hitching in your throat when you saw the deep red of his cheeks. "Be slow with me." "Been a while?" You jested, ignoring the eager anticipation shivering just under your skin. You couldn't recall long it had been since you'd touched another - heart racing from his thumb swiping over your wrist. "You have no idea," he groaned, trapping your hand against his chest. Undone robes revealed the skin beneath, stained with swirls of black ink across scarred skin. Just the sight of him was enough to heat your blood. You'd never felt anything like him. Decades ago in your youth a romp in bed with some flirtatious partner had done the job but this was slow, deliberate and drawn out. Miraak's fingers dragging over your skin left you quivering more than any quick fuck ever had. It felt like nothing compared to the lifetimes he'd spent stuck in Apocrypha. He gazed up at you, lips parted and dark hair fanned across the pillow, and something terribly similar to love slithered into your heart. One roll of his hips left you nearly undone. Your thighs squeezed as curses flew between your lips. In the heat of the moment you'd seated yourself atop him but hadn't prepared for that. "Too much?" You hardly heard him through the pounding of your blood. Arousal stole away your senses, narrowing everything down to the throbbing deep between your legs. "No." You gasped, cautiously grinding your hips into his. Miraak's groan was filthy, a low rumble you'd never heard before. Somewhere beneath the layers of clothing his cock pulsed against you, hips rolling in a comfortable rhythm that set your nerves on fire. You didn't even need him to fuck you. The grinding of his hips into yours, cock needy under all those robes and breathy little sounds enough to send you close to orgasming. It was more than you'd ever felt, heart pounding in your chest in time with whispered praise dripping from your lips.

"Hold on, love." Brynjolf chuckled, the casual tone of his voice betrayed by the unabashed lust in his eyes. Your cheeks burned when firm hands gripped your jaw, holding you in place. "It's been quite a while since someone was eager to get in my armor, go easy on me." Your fingers stilled over the waist of his pants. His dick was already throbbing through the armored pants you'd practically been pawing at, fueling the fire within you. He gazed down at you, clutching that lovely red hair away from his face before nodding. "Alright," he gulped, eyes fluttering closed when you thumbed open his pants. "Carry on." You should continue, remove those pants and revel in the skin beneath, but there was something awfully arousing about his hips grinding needily into your face. The cock trapped under his pants twitched against your cheek. Brynjolf's skin was hot where your fingers played along his stomach. This moment, his hips bucking in search of contact, was far more intimate than any filthy fantasy you could have summoned. You were making a mess but couldn't stop. Brynjolf groaned your name, rings tangled in your hair while he clutched your face to his cock. The muscles in his thighs flexed as half formed curses fell from his lips. Shivers ran up your spine and fuck, you knew you were messy but this felt better than any sex you'd ever experienced, breath hot and face buried against his cock. Brynjolf was completely undone when your tongue dragged over his clothed dick, hips shuddering and head falling back in pleasure.

Face buried in the mattress, Vilkas' groan sent a shiver up your spine. Your hands stilled on his back - had you truly heard that? His muscles tensed impossibly tighter under your palms as you waited for whatever came next. You hadn't anticipated anything more than helping him - he'd been complaining about his back since he'd dragged you halfway across Skyrim after that awful encounter with too many bandits. A back rub to relieve some of that pain was all you'd intended, though it would be a lie to deny your excitement at seeing him shirtless. "You alright?" You asked, trying to be cautious despite the alluring sight of his bare back. "Did I hurt you?" "No." He grunted into the heap of blankets. "Sorry, you can continue." Getting to touch all his muscles was glorious. You struggled not to notice the sharp line toward his waist despite practically straddling it. It had been a while since you'd been intimate what anyone but just the sight of him was enough to fluster you. Flexing your fingers and attempting to work the knots out of his muscles, you heard that guttural groan again. Arousal shot through your body as Vilkas' hips ground down into the mattress, fingers clutching desperately at the blankets as he fought to contain it. Fuck, he looked pretty. Your little crush on Vilkas exploded when he moaned your name, hips rolling seductively under you. "I'm so sorry. That was foolish. I shouldn't have -" Vilkas blurted. Instinctively your hand pressed to his back, keeping him firmly against the mattress. You knew he could easily throw you off but he stilled, muscles tensed as he awaited your response. "Don't stop." You panted, glad he couldn't see the deep blush in your face. Slowly, you continued running your hands down his back, applying just enough pressure to wring every little sound from him.

Erandur's voice made your name sound poetic, even beautiful when it slipped between clenched teeth. Your legs were tangled around his waist, teeth scraping against the sensitive skin of his throat. You knew he would scold you for leaving marks, perhaps Lady Mara and her entourage of priests would disapprove, but the sounds he made were entirely worth it. He made you feel electric. Simple touches were more arousing than the more intimate ones you'd shared with anyone else. Delicate fingers tracing up the back of your neck sent thrills down your spine, shivering in his lap while he caught his breath. "You are too generous with me," he panted, though his head tilted back to allow you further access. The front of his robes parted and you caught a glimpse of that delicious chest, eager lips trailing down his collar bone. He was intoxicating. It had been years since you'd last considered companionship, longer since you'd bothered to think about sex - but he'd ruined that. Erandur had smiled at you, nervously admitting to his feelings and you knew you were ruined for all others. "Darling." He groaned, petting through your hair. His skin was slick with sweat and the aftermath of messy kisses, making it far too easy to sink your teeth in - just enough to make him whine. "You are too good to me - too good for me, Lady Mara forgive me."

Arnbjorn was not one to be rushed - taking your time was necessary. You'd spent quite a few years focusing solely on climbing the ranks of the Brotherhood, casting silly thoughts of companionship out the window and narrowing yourself down to a singular focus. Not even becoming the Listener broke your concentration - apparently only he could manage that. "I'll be careful." You insisted, though you were practically quivering from the simplest of touches. Arnbjorn huffed out a laugh when he watched you, somehow making the few inches of bed between you seem like miles. "I'm not fragile." He grunted, though his eyes nearly rolled back when your hand slid up his chest. Sucking in a deep breath Arnbjorn allowed you to scoot closer, fingers trailing up his neck to trace his lips. Gods, he was beautiful. You couldn't say it aloud - he would have some snarky retort, but watching his cheeks heat while you traced his features was stunning. A large hand clamped down on your hip and dragged your body to his, muscled arms wrapping around you. You could drown in him. Arnbjorn buried his face in the crook of your shoulder, a sinful moan escaping his mouth when you tentatively combed through his hair. Everything felt like it drew him closer and closer to the verge of being too much. You'd never heard him make such sounds, hips grinding yours into the mattress and demanding hands exploring every inch of you. "Seems it's been too long." You joked, listening to Arnbjorn pant merely from your hands wandering toward his waistband. You felt him shudder, sharp teeth scraping against your throat in a mock threat.

[simonsrosebud]

andrew finding out what nicky did after neil got drugged at the nightclub in book one. probably after the events of the book

prefacing this: Neil's reaction in this shouldn't be confused for forgiveness bc it's not, Nicky does not need to be forgiven for what he did. This was quite hard to write because trying to imagine how Andrew or Neil would react is kinda impossible- Andrew has limits and rules and Neil's approach to these kinds of things is almost just blindly accepting that it happened and moving past without confronting it (for ex: Jean participating in waterboarding Neil but Neil still looking out for him in TSC in his weird way. Nathan almost killing him and Neil kind of blocking it out after Baltimore is over bc the Foxes are his again and he has championships and Andrew to focus on. Granted, so very different than this, but Neil is very different)

All we know of Neil and Nicky's interactions after Neil's first night in Eden's is what Neil tells us, and he really doesn't say much about it afterwards. The reactions from both him and Andrew are very much up to interpretation from person to person. I can't begin to get into their minds and thoughts about this, which is why it's in Nicky's perspective.

cw: talk about past SA, confrontation about past SA, choking, knives, bit of blood (pls lmk if i missed anything else)

Nicky doesn’t do it on purpose.  Spill the beans, that is.

Well, to be clear, he doesn’t mean for Kevin to spill the secret on purpose.  Nicky himself, however, had kind of been prepared to take this to his grave.

Kissing Neil was inadvisable.  Kissing Neil to drug him was inexcusable, and kissing Neil after Andrew told him no was just asking for it at that point.  Neil hasn’t forgiven him, he doesn't think, even a year and a half later, but Nicky doesn’t expect him to.  It hasn't been brought up since that fall, after all. He doesn't want to bring it back up. He wouldn’t have forgiven himself if he was Neil, he just didn’t know how else to get the cracker dust into his system when he was being so adamant about not drinking.

Well, and then Nicky found out that Andrew already succeeded in drugging Neil which made him feel worse because he could have avoided that kiss entirely and-

Nicky takes a breath.  Betsy has shown him techniques on how to breathe in a way that doesn’t tear his lungs apart.  God, Nicky can already imagine the look on Erik’s face if someone has to tell him that his fiancé died because he couldn’t get a grip.

Nicky pinches his thigh and glances at Andrew, tight muscles and face vacant of anything- it’s what scares him the most.  He doesn’t know what lies underneath.  And really, Nicky should have just told him least year, but a drugged Andrew was more unstable than a sober one.  He didn’t wanna be stabbed.

Until Kevin.

“Never have I ever kissed Neil,” Matt says, and no one except for Andrew drinks.  Neil doesn’t even glance by Nicky, doesn’t even care to acknowledge it because they haven’t since Nicky apologized, because the thought of being kissed by anyone makes him swivel his head towards Andrew so fast that he almost forgets about anything else.  He’s happy and healthy and enjoying the tinge of pink on Andrew’s ears until Kevin suddenly has a hand on Nicky’s shoulder, drunk and slow and saying, “You gotta drink, Nicky.”

Nicky can feel the exact moment that Andrew clues in (which, of course, is right away).  He zeroes in on Nicky and his grip on his whiskey glass tightens.  “Something to share, Nicholas?”  

Nicky flits his eyes between Andrew and Neil, both sitting still and stony, and tries not to throw up right there.  “Um, it- at Eden’s,” he says quietly.  “The first time he went.”  And he wants to explain.  Wants to tell Andrew that he didn’t know how else to drug someone without being caught, because even the shadier Eden’s workers wouldn’t appreciate seeing him pour cracker dust into someone’s mouth.  That he was feeling lonely and thought it was a creative solution; that trying to justify it in his head only worked because he was wasted and high; that he felt nauseous the entire next day from the moment he told Erik on the phone.  Saying it out loud made it real, and making it real only made the guilt in his stomach feel like molten lead.  Heavy and constricting and sickening.  And then Neil avoided him like the plague every time he blocked out the image of blown pupils and fear and worked up the courage to apologize to his face.

Except he can see in Andrew’s eyes that he doesn’t need to explain, that Andrew doesn’t care for his pathetic excuse, and Nicky winces because he knows.  Andrew had been with Neil from the time they’d gotten there to the time he released him into Nicky, Aaron, and Kevin’s hands, drugged and slippery.  He knows that any kiss shared after that couldn't have been shared mutually.

In German, Andrew says, “Give me one good reason not to kill you.”

Fuck, shit, this is not how he planned this day to go.

Nicky wipes the tears welled in his eyes at the look on Neil’s face, guarded and a little pissed off, he thinks.  It's deserved, Nicky knows, but that doesn't make him feel any better.

Your feelings are the least of their concerns, he tells himself.

“I-I just did it to get the cracker dust in his mouth- when we took him to Eden’s the first time!  You-You told me to keep him high and-“

“I told you what I’d do if you touched him.”

Nicky flinches as Andrew stands.  He knows Andrew keeps his promises and just because he’s finding out a year and a half late does not mean he won’t still apply it.  Now he’s moving quietly towards Nicky across the room, and his heart is pounding so loud he barely hears the cracking of the glass as Andrew drops it at Nicky’s feet.  He thinks he hears him say whoops, but then Nicky is hauled to his feet and slammed against the wall.  He fits into the drywall in a way that he suspects might lead to a hole behind his ass, but then he’s got more pressing matters because there’s a tight hand around his throat and he’s pretty sure he’s got a blade to his abdomen, but if he just doesn’t breathe he won’t feel it.  If Andrew tightens his grip he won’t be able to, anyway.

Nicky’s voice comes out brittle and thin, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Andrew don’t-“

“Andrew,”  Neil says, and his voice comes through Nicky’s foggy brain loud and clear.  It’s not enough to stop Andrew from digging his fingers into Nicky’s throat and teasing his skin with the tip of a knife, but it’s enough for him not to push it all the way through.

Andrew doesn’t exactly sneer, because his facial expressions are far and few between, but Nicky can feel the rage roiling through him regardless.  “I will kill you,” he says, so low Nicky isn’t sure anyone else hears it.

Neil says, “Andrew,” again.  He comes to stand beside them, not getting too close because he knows this isn’t between him- it’s all Nicky.  In German, “What he did was not okay,” Neil is saying and god Nicky hopes that just this once, God will help him out because the air is tipping into the same dangerous territory that it did when Allison slapped Aaron; when Andrew choked Kevin; when Andrew almost killed those four men.  “Let him go anyway.  This is between me and him.  You said you’d stop fighting my battles.”  Nicky clenches his eyes tight, praying that he’ll live to see the end of the day.

“I said I’d kill him for touching you, too.”

Neil is closer, now, by the sound of his voice when he says, “Fine, then you should hit me afterwards.”

Nicky hears Aaron softly, saying the fuck? and Andrew is looking fiercely at Nicky when he peeks an eye open.  His lip twitches in anger, but he freezes.  “Neil,” he warns.  Nicky doesn’t know what it’s supposed to mean- has Neil done something similar?  But no, he wouldn’t.  He-

“You told us not to touch your things.  A lot, actually.  But me and Kevin have gone at it, and I punched Aaron at the cabin last year.”

Good god, Neil, this was not the same.

Nicky can feel himself trying not to hyperventilate.  He looks at Neil instead, a safer target, almost.  Not any less scary, but his attention is fixed on Andrew instead.  “Let him prove himself.  He’s kept my boundaries thus far, hasn’t he?  I don’t- He did it to me, Andrew.  Not you.  It’s not your decision on what happens to him because of it.”  Then quieter, more icy, “He was listening to your orders, after all.  You should have left the task to Aaron if you wanted someone drugged the way you wanted.”

The look Andrew shoots Neil is borderline murderous, but Nicky can feel the hesitation in the grip on his neck.  Neil’s accusation is harsh and puts partial blame on Andrew, something that Nicky hopes they get through as a couple or… whatever they are to one another.  Having Andrew and Neil on the loose again without each other’s voices of reason was terrifying.

Andrew’s grip bruises Nicky and makes him wheeze when he tightens his fist for a few seconds, but when Nicky finally reaches up to claw at his hands he finally lets go and steps back.  Andrew’s hand is bloody, fingers pressed too tightly to the blade he held.  He drops it to the ground, wipes his hand across Neil’s shirt and effectively ruining it, if the blood stain says anything, and slams the door open on his way out.

Nicky isn’t surprised that the only ones at his side as he crumples to the ground are Aaron and Renee.  Kevin too drunk to be of any help and Matt and Dan too shocked by the whole encounter.  Matt knows all too well what it’s like being drugged by Andrew, and Dan knowing the feel of crackers on top of her existing resentment of the Monsters.

Neil looks down at Nicky, fingers flexed at his sides and face almost as blank as Andrew’s gets.  “This,” he gestures between himself and Nicky.  Saving, Nicky assumes he means.  He’ll never be able to repay the debt.  He’ll move across the country if Neil asks him to, he thinks.  Perhaps Germany will be far enough.  “Will never happen again.”

[czenzo]

Secrets

[ao3] [Maekyart's art] [dreamoo's art]

summary:

Lucy is hiding something. Potty is certain it’s a sinister secret, while Placid isn’t so sure. Either way, Alfendi is determined to get to the bottom of it… but with repressed feelings and fears clouding his vision, will he be able to solve Lucy’s complex puzzle in time?

words: 9,856 rating: T

notes: this was written for @proflaytonbigbang 2024! I had so much fun participating and it was an honour to be teamed up with such incredible artists, @dreamooarts and @maekyart—their art for this fic is amazing, please go check them out and give them so much love! :)

Lucy was hiding something from him.

It became apparent to Alfendi first thing that morning. He favoured arriving at the office early and settling in while everything was still quiet and calm; it gave him ample time to prepare for the day before his colleagues burst in with a barrage of questions, unsolved cases, and a mishmash of other responsibilities that somehow fell under Alfendi’s authority.

The Mystery Room was tucked into a far corner of Scotland Yard, rendering the route to the dingy office long and convoluted, but Alfendi knew it like the back of his hand. Humming a tune under his breath, he relished the calm atmosphere as he made his way through the winding corridors. 

Taking a quick detour into the staff kitchen along the way, he popped the kettle on and retrieved two mugs. A teabag in each; a teaspoon of honey in his, two sugars in Lucy’s. He poured the boiling water into his mug and left the other for Lucy to fill and pick up when she was due to arrive in—Alfendi checked his tattered wristwatch—forty minutes.

He fished for his keys in his coat pocket as he turned the corner and approached the door to the Mystery Room, but stopped short of sliding the key into the lock upon hearing voices on the other side.

“No, he can’t find out. Gotta keep it all nice n’ hush-hush.” It was Lucy’s voice, clear as day—Alfendi would recognise it anywhere. She kept it a low murmur, which was just as unusual as her being in the office right then… if Alfendi knew anything about Lucy Baker, it was that she was loud, proud, and almost always running at least ten minutes late.

He checked his watch again and gently smacked it. Had he forgotten about daylight savings? Was he, in fact, the late one? No, no, that couldn’t be it; he hadn’t encountered anyone else on his way here.

“Good luck pulling that off.” The second person was even quieter and hard to make out, but the whopping sneeze they followed up their reply with tipped him off: Florence. “Al’s impossible to sneak anything by.”

Alfendi startled, grip tightening on his mug to prevent it from shattering at his feet.

‘They’re hiding something from us? What in the hell are those two going on about?’

He shook his head; it was both an answer and an attempt to deter his rousing alternate self. The other Al—or as Lucy liked to call him, Potty Prof—had begun to stir, and he brought along with him the beginnings of a headache. Alfendi scrunched his brow and pressed his ear closer to the door.

“Oh aye, but I bet we can give it a good go. I know it’s normally dead hard to hide stuff from Prof, but he’d never suspect summat like this.”

“I suppose if anyone can do it…” Florence paused to blow her nose; Alfendi waited for her to continue with bated breath. “It’s you. Al’s always been quite fond of you. He’d let you get away with murder.”

‘Fond? Hah! What a load of codswallop.’

No, he had to admit he’d become rather close with his assistant since her appointment. They were approaching one year since Lucy joined him in the Mystery Room, and now Alfendi couldn’t imagine working without her. Fond, however, was a word he would have struggled to come up with by himself.

Lucy let out a laugh. It was a sudden jump in volume from her secretive whispers and sounded much more like the Lucy he knew. “Ee, bit extreme, Flo.”

“I’m right and you know it. Anyway, he’ll be here soon. You’re never here to see it, but Al runs like clockwork in the morning. Always gets here at the same time. I’ll make myself scarce, and you ought to have a good reason for being here so early or he’ll be on your case in seconds.”

“Right you are, Florence. See you in a bit.”

Florence’s wheels creaked as she approached the door. 

Alfendi’s head whipped around in a calculating panic. With his long legs, there was a 74.3% chance he could make it around the nearest corner and be out of sight when she emerged into the hallway. If he stayed put, there was only a 47.8% chance he could provide a convincing reason as to why he was lingering by the door. Florence’s gaze had a way of unnerving him at the worst of times, making her remarkably hard to lie to.

‘Christ, you’re making this difficult. Move over.’

Lucy once asked him what it felt like to switch between Placid and Potty. It was hard to articulate, but after a long moment of thought and a few sips of tea (good for the mind, according to his father), he described their control over the body as driving a car. While one was driving, the other sat in the passenger seat, watching passively. Upon heightened emotion or stimulus, the passenger would switch their seats and take control of the car. A more recent development was the discovery they could take the wheel through sheer will and force, which led to Alfendi taking a rare week off work on account of the constant switches and never-ending migraines. In the end, Lucy was the one who helped pull them out of their cerebral war.

It felt like a dagger through his brain as Potty hauled Placid out of the driver’s seat and stomped on the accelerator. In a matter of seconds, he threw himself down the hallway and around the corner, then pressed flat against the wall as he tried to steady his shallow breath and racing heart.

Al listened to Florence roll out of the Mystery Room, close the door behind her, and head off in the opposite direction. 

He heaved a sigh and gave himself a well-deserved gulp of tea. Those sneaky pests had been talking about him. About hiding something from him.

‘It’s alarming, but I’m sure it’s nothing a bit of communication won’t fix.’

Al stared at the ceiling, listened to his calmer counterpart’s reasoning, and immediately brushed it off as the words of a hypocrite. Neither of them were capable of clear communication, it’s what got them into most of their messes.

‘You’d think we would learn a lesson from that.’

Not today. Al steeled himself, took another swig from his mug, and strode back over to the door.

‘No, no. Let me handle this.’

He rolled his eyes but grudgingly complied, handing over the reins to their shared body.

Alfendi gently opened the door.

Lucy was nowhere to be seen. He reminded himself to act naturally despite her unexpected absence—after all, he wasn’t supposed to know she was there. Still, he moved with caution as he went through the motions of settling in for the day.

He leisurely sipped at his tea as he booted up the crime scene reconstruction device and wondered just how long Lucy planned on staying hidden. Was she going to try and sneak out and waltz in through the door at her actual start time? Or—

Lucy sprang up from beneath her desk and Alfendi choked so hard on his tea he feared for his life. Placid was once again flung to the passenger seat.

“Morning, Prof!”

“Lucy!” Al spluttered. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Eh-up, Potty! Good morning to you, too.” She smiled from ear to ear and adjusted her wonky cap. “I got you right good there, didn’t I?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he hissed as he made a futile effort at wiping the tea from his clothes (maybe now, he thought, he’d have a good excuse to change out of Placid’s awful attire). “Wasting company time surprising your superiors is not a good look, DC Baker.”

“Ooh, don’t DC Baker me. Besides, it’s not my working hours yet, int’ it?” Lucy gently took the mug from his hands with a grimace. “I didn’t expect you to be drinking summat, though. I’m dead sorry, Prof.”

“You’d better be.” He yanked it from her hands, drained its measly dregs, and dropped it back on his desk. “Why are you early? What are you up to?”

“Gonna interrogate me like some crook?”

He stood up, leaning forward to emphasise the extra height he had on her. “Maybe I will, Baker.”

‘Stop antagonising her.’

Al knew Lucy could take it. She looked up at him with a defiant grin. “Do your worst.”

A twinge of pain in the back of his head signalled a switch, and Alfendi gently shook away the pain. “Enough of this. Good morning, Lucy. Could you help me wipe all this tea from my desk?”

“‘Course, Prof. I really am sorry about that.”

“Water under the bridge, Luce. Though I am curious as to why you’re here early in the first place.”

 “My desk’s been all wobbly these past few days, but I’ve had no time to get round to fixing it, you see? Thought I’d pop in a bit earlier to sort it out before getting stuck in our work.”

“Then I arrived, and you thought it a fantastic opportunity to practise the art of surprise?”

“Exactly!” Then came another one of Lucy’s big toothy grins, and Alfendi almost completely forgot about her strange, secretive behaviour.

‘I’ve taught her well. She delivered that lie with a terrifying amount of confidence.’

Of course, he couldn’t let the blatant lie slide. Despite Lucy’s charm and swift conversational skills, Alfendi was still determined to get to the bottom of her hushed exchange with Florence. He simply needed subtlety and patience—both of which Potty lacked, so it was vital to keep him chained to the passenger seat for as long as possible.

—

“Christ, Prof, this one’s hard to crack.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Alfendi reluctantly peeled himself away from the crime scene reconstruction and out of the horribly hunched position he’d been stuck in for far too long. He held back a groan as he stretched his aching back, which let out a series of satisfying pops.

‘You’re making us look like an old man. Fix your damn posture.’

Much easier said than done. When engrossed in the intricacies of methods, motives, and murder, sitting straight was hardly high up on Alfendi’s list of priorities.

Staying put in his wheeled office chair, he pushed himself back over to his desk. Just a few feet away, Lucy perched on the edge of her desk with several papers in hand, teeth worrying the chapped skin of her lips as she concentrated. While Alfendi inspected the nooks and crannies of the crime scene, she had been tasked with analysing the many disturbing letters supposedly written by one of their culprits. Alfendi knew where he currently stood with them—there were too many inconsistencies for them to be genuine, though he was yet to determine who the true writer was—but he valued Lucy’s insight, so kept quiet about his suspicions to see if she arrived at the same conclusion, or was able to point out something he’d missed.

“We’ll find a weak spot in this case somewhere, I’m sure of it. We’re a rather formidable team, if I may say so myself.”

Lucy grinned. “Right you are, Prof. Though if I go on any longer without another cuppa, I might not survive the day.” She hopped off her desk. “Want one?”

“That would be lovely, Luce. Thanks.”

The door shut behind her, rendering the room oddly quiet. He’d worked here for years before Lucy’s arrival, not just in the Mystery Room, but out on the field, across various departments, with the burning determination to make something of himself—just like his father—helping him gain experience and succeed in (almost) everything he attempted. Lucy had only been by his side for a fraction of his career, but she’d crash-landed into it and made such an impact on his entire life that her absences were now painfully noticeable. 

Alfendi filled the sudden Lucy-shaped hole with paperwork, as it was rare for the office to be quiet enough for him to concentrate on it. 

The minutes ticked by, and Potty became increasingly agitated. ‘Get back to the crime scene.’

Alfendi pointedly ignored the demand.

‘This is my body, and I refuse to let its time on this Earth be wasted looking at reports and stupid official documents. Get back to the murder—I want to take a closer look at the body’s surroundings.’

“You sound like a child on the verge of a tantrum,” Alfendi murmured, absently tapping the tip of his pen against his lower lip.

‘And you sound like a condescending knob.’

Charming.

‘At least get up to see where Baker’s gone off to. It doesn’t take fifteen minutes to make tea unless you’re brewing up for a whole bloody army. She’s up to something.’

Alfendi double-checked his watch. He made a good point. She had been gone for a while, but fifteen minutes wasn’t the end of the world.

‘It is when she’s hiding something from us, you moron. Go and find her, or I will.’

He grudgingly gave in to curiosity and obliged. 

As he headed for the door, his eye caught on the papers Lucy left on her desk. They were photocopies of the letters—the real ones were stored away somewhere, safe from the threats of spilt tea and other miscellaneous stains—with red pen scribblings in the margins. 

Where words written by Alfendi were small, spiky, and appeared to be running away from something, Lucy’s were large, rounded, and demanded attention. Admittedly, her notes were always much easier to read. He skimmed her annotations and was pleased with what he found; she’d already taken notice of the inconsistencies, and though she was yet to work out what it all meant, Alfendi was confident she wasn’t far from it. A small smile graced his face as he continued towards the door.

As Alfendi approached the kitchen and heard two distinct voices having a hushed conversation—or at least, a poor attempt at keeping it hushed—he was struck by a wave of deja vu. He pressed himself to the wall beside the doorway and caught the tail end of Lucy delivering the same rundown she’d given to Florence that morning. “…and you’ve gotta keep your lips sealed tight, yeah? Don’t want him to catch wind of what we’re doing.”

“Mum’s the word! You can count on me, Lucy.” A stomp and a whoosh of air followed—it didn’t take much to work out it was Sniffer, giving a mock salute. “The Inspector will be none the wiser.”

‘What the fuck.’

Indeed. Alfendi narrowed his eyes.

“Aye, that’s what I like to hear. While you’re here, d’you want a cuppa?”

“No thanks, caffeine sends me a tad haywire. Detective Lawson never let me— ah. Oh.” He took a deep, shaky breath, and sniffed away tears.

Potty mentally rolled his eyes so hard it almost physically hurt. ‘Not this again.’

A spoon clattered in a mug. “Ee, Sniffer, you know he’s not worth all this.”

“I know, I know, but he was my old gaffer for years. Crook or not, it’s no easy feat adjusting to working without him. You’d be the same if it happened to Inspector Layton.”

“I suppose, but… I’ve already proven Prof’s no criminal. If he left this place, it’d be on his own terms.”

“And you’d crash and burn without him.”

“Absolutely not,” Lucy scoffed. “I’d do just fine without him. This gal could thrive anywhere, with anyone, thank you very much!”

It was undeniably true, but that made it no less hard to hear. Alfendi resisted the urge to put a stop to the conversation.

“Ouch! Salt straight in the wound! We don’t all have that ability, Lucy.”

Sniffer was moving back towards the subject of Lawson. Since the incident, Alfendi had learned the best tactic for dealing with Sniffer and his strong feelings towards his ex-boss was to keep him distracted. If he were in Lucy’s shoes, he would gently swerve the conversation in a different direction, wrap it up quickly, and retreat back into the office ASAP.

“Maybe not, but you do have the ability to help me with that project I mentioned.”

The execution was flawless, but the new—or rather, rehashed—choice of topic was questionable.

“Aye aye, cap’n! Just send the deets on over and it’ll be smooth sailing from here. Hopefully. Potentially.” A long, uncertain pause followed, interrupted only by the sound of Lucy stirring mugs of tea. “His shenanigan radar is hyper-sensitive. It’ll be hard to sneak all this under his nose— oh, that was a dodgy turn of phrase. I wasn’t taking the mickey, honest!”

Alfendi slowly raised a hand to the centre of his face as he heard Lucy stifle a laugh. He felt Potty reach for a snarky insult to direct at Sniffer before faltering as the pang of self-consciousness hit him too.

He found one eventually. ‘Dickhead.’

“Don’t fret, I know you meant nowt by it.”

“Oh, it’s all quite thrilling, isn’t it? Our own little espionage mission! Keeping secrets from an Inspector!”

“Eh-up, Sniffer, keep your voice down,” Lucy hissed.

“I’m sorry, Lucy, but I’m all riled up now! This’ll be one of the highlights of our career!”

‘I’m not listening to this any longer.’

Placid was shoved aside. Al waltzed into the kitchen.

Sniffer had his back to Al as he gesticulated wildly; he was none the wiser to the sudden extra company. Lucy’s eyes widened as she caught sight of Al over his shoulder.

He loomed over Detective Sergeant Hague. “Highlight of your career, you say?”

Sniffer yelped and practically shot ten feet into the air. “Inspector Layton! I didn’t hear you come in, you’re sneakier than a—”

“What were you talking about?”

‘Go easy on him, please. Whatever they’re hiding, I’m sure it’s nothing serious.’

Placid could shove his optimism. Al was—in Sniffer-speak—going to squeeze the lad until he squeaked like a mouse on helium and spewed his guts all over the floor.

‘Christ.’

“Tea’s almost ready, Prof! I’ll be back with you in a sec. Just got caught up telling Sniffer all about our tough case.”

“Oh, really?” Al cocked his head. “What does he think about the letters?”

Sniffer’s gaze darted nervously between the two of them. “The… letters?”

“Yes, the letters. A crucial piece of evidence our dear Lucy’s been poring over the past few hours. Surely she must have mentioned them? It would be difficult to thoroughly discuss the case without doing so.”

“Er, yes! Of course, the letters, the letters… They were very… suspicious?”

“Much like the man stood in front of me. What were you really talking about, Detective Sergeant?”

Sniffer blanched, and for a moment it looked like he was going to take the gut-spewing metaphor and make it disgustingly literal.

“Lucy’s the ringleader! She’s in charge, I’m merely a lackey! Have mercy, Inspector!”

Lucy guffawed. “By ‘eck, Sniffer, you made that well too easy.” Before Alfendi could rain hellfire upon the suspect, Lucy shoved a mug into his hands and steered him out of the kitchen.

The press of her hand on his back and the warmth of the mug seeping into his palms calmed him, and soon Placid had the reins again. They walked side-by-side back to the office.

“I’m terribly sorry, Lucy. I didn’t mean to pry. You were gone for quite some time, so I…”

“Thought you’d have a grand ol’ time earwigging instead of working?”

“I didn’t come looking for you with the sole intent of eavesdropping, but if you heard your name in a hushed conversation, you’d be tempted to listen in, too.”

Lucy paused. “Er— yeah, alright. I’ll let you have that one.”

Alfendi gently scoffed and sipped his tea—she’d brewed it perfectly. “Am I allowed to be privy to whatever you’re masterminding?”

“I haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about, Prof. Me, a mastermind? Give over!”

“Sniffer distinctly referred to you as a ringleader—”

Lucy opened the office door with a flourish and bounded over to her desk. “Oh, Prof, I realised something while I were in the kitchen!” She waved the photocopied letters in the air and stabbed a finger at her scribblings. “These bits, they’re inconsistent with what we know about the victim’s death, and the handwriting doesn’t match our other samples at all. It’s a fake! A forgery! If we find out who really wrote it, I reckon this case’ll come flooding open!”

Shit. He couldn’t resist the pull of being so close to cracking a case.

‘Don’t let her gaslight us. We know now she’s definitely hiding something. It could be sinister.’

Alfendi would figure it out; he just had to play his cards wisely. 

—

While most people would rather gouge out their own eyes than continue toiling away in the office after hours, Alfendi didn’t really mind it. Late evenings in the Mystery Room weren’t dissimilar to the early mornings—quiet, peaceful, and subsequently a prime time to be productive.

Their previous case, as Lucy predicted, was relatively simple to crack once they’d figured out the person behind the forged letters. The next one to be dropped on their desks, however, was proving to be much more frustrating. They had scoured over every detail in the paperwork, every nook and cranny of the crime scene, and between them had consumed at least fourteen cups of tea, but come five p.m. their leads were close to non-existent. 

It was a Friday, which meant that any work left unfinished would plague the back of Alfendi’s mind through the whole weekend, and as such he was determined to finish the working week on, at the very least, a slightly satisfying note.

Just one lead was all they needed, then they’d be set to kick off the next week refreshed, well-rested, and with a clear thread to follow.

Finding one, however, was much, much easier said than done.

“How d’you feel about pizza, Prof?”

Alfendi looked up at her over the soft glow of the reconstructed crime scene. “In general?”

Lucy gently scoffed. “No, I mean for tonight. Can’t keep slaving away without a bit of grub for energy, eh?”

“That’s not a bad idea, actually. Would you mind placing the order? My card is…” He faltered. “Er, I’m actually not sure.”

“I’ll hunt it down, don’t you worry! How’re things with the crime scene?”

“So far, uneventful. Every time I think I’ve found something of interest, it either leads to nothing or something entirely unhelpful. It’s frustrating; no killer is perfect. They must have left something.”

‘It’d be easier to solve if you’d stop gawking at this screen and view the actual crime scene. Your aversion to fieldwork is downright embarrassing.’

Alfendi wasn’t fond of acknowledging Potty as his ‘true’ self; but it was common knowledge among the veteran staff of Scotland Yard that prior to the incident, Al was a real go-getter. He had been allergic to being cooped up in an office, with an insatiable hunger to get out there and see crime scenes and victims in person. Now, with Placid in control most often… he was the complete opposite. Alfendi wasn’t sure where it came from, but he knew he now enjoyed the comfort of the Mystery Room far too much to frequently leave it.

‘It’s pathetic, really.’

Alfendi rolled his eyes; it wasn’t unusual for Potty to get rather snappy after a long bout of staying inside.

As he zoomed in on the suspiciously warped floorboard beside the body, he was hit by a sweet scent and a sudden weight at his side. Startled, he spun in his chair, only to find Lucy pressed close to him as she dug around in his lab coat pocket.

“Card’s not in your bag, or your proper coat, so…” She rummaged around some more, before moving onto the other side. “By ‘eck, Prof, you keep a right load of tat in here. It must weigh you down a ton!”

Alfendi purposefully kept his line of sight locked off to the side; Lucy was deep into his personal space, and the angle at which she leant forward screamed unprofessionalism. “Lucy,” he said slowly, “you could’ve asked me to check my pockets myself.”

“Yeah, but you were busy,” she countered. “Besides, I’ve always been curious to know what you actually keep in them— eh-up, is that a mini stapler?”

He thought her incredulity was misplaced. “It’s handy to have when dealing with paperwork.”

The office door swung open and crashed against the adjoining wall. Dustin Scowers backed into the office, rear end protruding into the room accompanied by a jaunty whistle. Along with the rest of Dustin came a cleaning cart decked with the standard supplies that allowed Scotland Yard to keep a pretence of being organised and in order. 

Alfendi caught his eye. Dustin cursed and practically shot into the air.

“Jesus, I thought everyone’d gone home! Sorry to barge in on yous—” Dustin paused. His gaze darted to where Lucy was practically bent over Alfendi’s lap, digging deep into his pockets. Alfendi became painfully aware of how awful the scene looked from Dustin’s line of sight and felt heat flood his face. 

Dustin grimaced. “Er… is it a bad time?”

Lucy shot up straight, the prized debit card held aloft with pride. “Found it! Oh, hiya, Dustin.”

Dustin’s eyes narrowed. He spoke with a hint of uncertainty. “Hiya, Lucy. Al.”

“Dustin.” Alfendi plastered on a polite smile. “Will we be in your way if we stay?”

“Nah, you’re alright. Don’t mind me.”

Lucy retreated back to her desk to order food and resume work; Alfendi missed her warmth at his side more than he cared to admit.

It was considerably harder to concentrate with the cleaner’s incessant whistling coming from the other side of the room. The promise of impending pizza, however, was helping keep Alfendi’s mood (and Potty in general) in check.

Clearly, he appeared far more engrossed in his work than he actually was; Dustin began to talk to Lucy as if Alfendi couldn’t hear him at all.

“Everything still going to plan with the— the thing?” he said conspiratorially as he wrestled an overflowing bin bag out of its container. Alfendi kept his head down and pretended to be unaware of the conversation unfolding a few feet away.

“Er…” Lucy swivelled in her chair to check that Alfendi wasn’t looking, then turned back to Dustin with a whisper. “Yeah. Keep your voice down, though.”

“Gotcha. You’re dead good at all this, Lucy. Proper little mastermind, you are.”

“Ee, don’t, it’ll go straight to my head. D’you need a hand with that?”

Dustin grunted and strained, and eventually, the bin bag came free. He tied it with practised ease. “Pro bin-emptier, me. Don’t need no help. But if you need any more help with… you know what, I’m your guy, yeah?”

“Aye. Glad I can count on you, Dusty.”

Dustin beamed. “‘Course.”

‘What the fuck.’

Indeed. Alfendi continued staring at the crime scene but was taking in none of the details; his brain had gone blank, aside from repeating the conversation he’d just overheard.

‘Do they think we’re dense? Do they genuinely think we couldn’t hear that?’

With anyone else, the notion would’ve been absurd, but with Alfendi… he’d gained his workaholic reputation long ago. If anyone were able to be so engrossed in their work to become completely deaf and blind to the obvious goings-on around them, it would be him.

Alfendi stole a glance up at Dustin, only to find that he was looking right back at him. The cleaner startled, grip tightening on his duster, and attempted a casual lean against the wall that was, by a long shot, not casual whatsoever.

Right by Dustin was the Mystery Room’s calendar, full of notes scribbled in three distinct colours: green for Lucy, blue for Placid, and red for Potty. It was the epitome of organised chaos.

Dustin nodded towards it. “Big day coming up, eh, Al?”

Lucy visibly tensed and shot him a deadly look. All that time spent working with her meant Alfendi knew she was holding back the urge to, in her words, “completely wallop the lad”, though he couldn’t ascertain what exactly had elicited that reaction from her.

Alfendi frowned. “Big day?”

Dustin gave him an incredulous look and pointed to a square in next week’s row, filled with a crudely drawn gift, balloons, and cake. It was entirely green, with not a fleck of blue or red to be found. Scribbled at the top was ‘PROF BDAY!!!!!!’.

‘Since when was that so close?’

Alfendi truly wasn’t sure.

“How’s it feel to be almost thirty?” Dustin grinned.

“Er…” He faltered, then glanced over to Lucy, who was still glaring daggers at Dustin. She must have felt his gaze on her, however, and quickly turned to grace him with a smile.

“Thirty int’ that old, Prof, don’t worry.”

‘Liar.’

“You got any plans?” Dustin asked, before giving Lucy a ridiculously conspicuous wink. With the pressure of their current case already weighing him down, Alfendi couldn’t work out what was going on between these two for the life of him. Maybe, he thought nonsensically, Dustin had inhaled one too many dust particles.

“I’m afraid I don’t,” he admitted. “I’ve never been one for celebrations. Birthdays are just like any other day.”

“Oh.” Lucy’s shoulders slumped. “That’s dead sad.”

“Right?” Dustin said. “Someone oughtta do something about that.”

Something snapped within Lucy. In a split second, she crumpled the nearest piece of paper into a ball (please don’t let that be an important document, Alfendi silently pleaded) and lobbed it at Dustin’s head.

“The office looks spick n’ span now, don’t you think? You should get a move on to the rest of the building,” Lucy said to him, a not-so-innocent smile plastered on her face.

‘Oh, that was a fantastic shot. Do you see that deadly look on her face? She’s incredible.’

Lucy Baker was incredible, Alfendi had to agree, but she was also downright puzzling. What on Earth was she getting up to?

—

“A field case! Prof! We get to go outside!”

Alfendi grimaced at Lucy’s high-pitched squealing. “You were outside just ten minutes ago before you entered the building.”

“That int’ the same thing and you know it,” Lucy insisted, shoving the case-info papers into his hands. They had been hand-delivered that morning and detailed a case that was far too complex to recreate from the comfort of their office, requiring them to go and visit the crime scene in person.

“Oh, this is well exciting! It’s in a dead lovely part of the city, too—oh, we could grab lunch while we’re out! Or a coffee and fancy little pastries… Maybe we could even shop and jazz your wardrobe up a bit!”

‘Couldn’t agree more with that last part,’ Potty mentally chimed in. ‘If you wear this god-awful striped jumper one more time, I’m offing us both.’

“Lucy,” Alfendi said slowly. “A whole family was brutally murdered in their sleep.”

“Ee, yeah, my heart goes out to them. Proper sad stuff, that is. Which is why we should make sure to do some fun things while we’re out, so we don’t make ourselves dead depressed!” Lucy grinned, clearly pleased with her line of reasoning.

A half-hearted protest began to leave Alfendi’s mouth before he realised she made a good point. He skimmed the case information again, and caught a glimpse of a photo of one of the victim’s stuffed animals, covered in…

“On second thought, a pastry sounds quite nice.”

Lucy’s celebratory cheer could be heard throughout all of Scotland Yard.

After far too long a journey on the humid, overcrowded tube, followed by hours of poring over the nauseatingly disturbing crime scene, Alfendi’s brain was well and truly fried. The tragedy visibly took its toll on Lucy, too—as they left the building and stepped back out into the bustling London streets, she was uncharacteristically quiet.

“You did well in there.” He spoke softly. “You noticed some crucial details I’d completely overlooked. I’m glad to have you by my side.”

Lucy looked up at him, wide-eyed. Her mouth wobbled for a split second before it stretched into a smile. “You flatter me, Prof.”

“I mean it, Lucy. Now, shall we find a cafe?”

Seeing her face light up was the highlight of his day—no, week.

They struck gold with the first cafe they came across. Though London’s dreary weather stopped them from picking an outside table, the inside was a sight to behold. Soft instrumentals danced through the air while people stirred steaming mugs and chatted to one another surrounded by plants adorning the walls and windowsills. Normally, so many people, noises, and generally being in public would be something Alfendi avoided at all costs, but with Lucy by his side, he found he didn’t mind it one bit. She deeply inhaled the scent of baked goods and brewing tea before grabbing his hand and pulling him over to the counter.

The cashier smiled at their arrival. “My, you two certainly make a cute couple! What can I get for you both?”

‘What?!’

Alfendi blanched, subconsciously tightening his grip on her hand and praying his weren’t too clammy. Any attempts at protesting or explaining their situation were futile, because his mouth refused to work.

Lucy simply laughed. “I’ll have a breakfast tea and, ooh… there’s so much to choose from! I think I’ll go with some of that lemon drizzle, please. What about you, Prof?”

‘Why didn’t she correct the cashier? Why are we still holding her hand?’

There were too many things to think about at once, so Alfendi tried focusing on the most prominent one: placing his order. “Er, an Earl Grey and… an almond slice, please.”

‘Boring.’

While Alfendi retreated in on himself, Lucy struck up a full conversation with the cashier, who seemed more than happy to reciprocate her cheer. It suited Alfendi, who had never been one for socialising.

‘Speak for yourself.’

Soon enough, they were seated. Lucy had picked out a table tucked away in the corner, furthest away from most people. Whether she purposefully did it to suit Alfendi’s preferences, he wasn’t sure, but he appreciated it either way.

“Oh, that lemon drizzle looked so nice. I can’t wait to demolish it.��

She was back to her usual spirits, which was a comforting sight. However, Alfendi was soon distracted by the thing that had been plaguing his mind since they stepped up to the counter. “Lucy,” he said slowly. “Why didn’t you correct the—”

“Breakfast tea and an Earl Grey?” A waitress materialised beside them, carefully placing their mugs and saucers on the table. “The rest of your order will be with you shortly.”

Lucy took a sip of her scalding drink straight after thanking her. The regret was immediately visible on her face; she fanned her mouth as her eyes widened.

‘It’s incredible how someone so good at her job can have no common sense outside of it.’

Once her panic died down and she forcefully gulped down the boiling hot tea in her mouth, Alfendi tried again. “So, Lucy. About what the cashier said—”

A jaunty jingle emitted from Lucy’s pocket. She started and, upon checking the caller ID, looked puzzled.  “It’s the Commissioner...?”

Alfendi frowned. If he was calling about their current case, it would make sense for him to call Alfendi first, as he was Lucy’s superior. So why was he—?

‘Unless he’s not calling about the case, you idiot. Have you already forgotten all about Baker’s secret little escapades? What if Barton’s in on it, too?’

Now that was highly unlikely. He could easily imagine Florence, Sniffer, and Dustin following Lucy like sheep, but the Commissioner? Alfendi held back a scoff. No way in hell would he—

“Hello? Ah, yes! Er—it’s not the best time… is it urgent? Oh. Oh! Okay, one sec.” Lucy lowered the phone and muffled the speaker with her hand. “Prof, I need to take this. Be back in a jiffy, alright?”

‘She wouldn’t need to be secretive if this was a case-related call.’

Alfendi internally thanked Potty for stating the painfully obvious.

He watched her through the cafe’s front window as she took the call. Nothing else seemed amiss, until he saw her mouth distinctly move in the shape of his name.

‘They’re talking about us. Why the hell are they talking about us?’

His unique name meant when her mouth moved the same way again, there was no denying it. She was talking about him to Commissioner Barton.

Alfendi narrowed his eyes and ignored the strange look given to him by the waiter who stopped by to put their cakes on the table. Lucy became more animated as the conversation went on, saying Alfendi’s name a few more times, until—

No.

It couldn’t be.

Lucy grinned, then said it once more. Again, there truly was no denying it.

Hershel.

Not only were they talking about him, they were also talking about his father.

By the time Lucy had returned, Alfendi’s tea was untouched and lukewarm. Lucy was still jovial as ever, chatting on as if nothing was wrong.

Along with his almond slice, the odd exchange with the cashier was forgotten in favour of once again dwelling on what on earth Lucy Baker could be hiding from him.

‘We need to get to the bloody bottom of this, or I swear—’

Alfendi cleared his throat to cut off Potty’s passionate ranting before plastering a smile on his face for Lucy—she couldn’t discover his suspicions, or it would hinder everything.

—

Lucy failed to stifle a yawn while tugging on her coat. As she wormed an arm into a sleeve she almost knocked over her empty, forgotten mug on her desk—after this particularly long day, neither she nor Alfendi could be particularly bothered to go and do the washing up, so that duty was delegated to their tomorrow-morning selves.

“Took us a while, but we’re starting to get somewhere with this case, eh, Prof?”

Alfendi stood and stretched his aching back. “Indeed. I’m sure everything will be smooth sailing from here on.”

Lucy unhooked Alfendi’s coat from the wall and threw it at him; he only just managed to catch it in time. He slowly put it on and made a show of powering down the crime scene reconstruction device before switching off the office lights and following Lucy out the door.

The cool evening breeze greeted them as they left Scotland Yard together.

“Have a nice evening, Prof.” Backlit by a nearby street lamp, Lucy turned to him with a smile. Alfendi found he couldn’t look away. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“You too, Lucy. You did well today.”

Her smile grew into a bold grin before she set off down the street, waving goodbye. Alfendi waved back as he headed in the opposite direction. 

As soon as he saw Lucy turn a corner, Alfendi spun on his heels and hightailed it back to Scotland Yard. His day was far from over; he still had a case to crack.

He sped through the winding corridors, frantically unlocked the door to the Mystery Room, then rushed inside, throwing it shut behind him as he wrestled off his coat. He got going immediately, shoving off all official work-related papers from his desk, stripping their shared pinboard bare, and hauling out an obscene amount of flashcards and red string from the depths of a drawer. Lucy had once bought it for him as a joke—“All the best detectives use this in the films, Prof, I swear!”—assuming it would never seriously get used, but Alfendi was not about to let it go to waste.

‘Red string. Red fucking string. This is so painfully cliché. Are you aware I despise you?’

Alfendi ignored Potty’s whinging and began to set everything up.

Florence. Sniffer. Dustin. Barton. Even Hilda. Alfendi had caught her in cahoots with Lucy earlier that day, which had well and truly tipped him over the edge. Each associated party received their own card containing everything Alfendi knew about their involvement, with red string connecting those he’d seen conspiring together. At the centre of it all: Lucy Baker. 

His colleagues were up to no good. They could exclude him all they wanted, but Alfendi was going to get to the damn bottom of it.

‘I can’t remember the last time you were this riled up, actually. It’s almost exciting.’

Next to each individual were as many important quotes Alfendi was able to recall them saying recently. He scanned each and every one of them for possible common threads.

“Al’s always been quite fond of you. He’d let you get away with murder,” Florence had said, while Sniffer had declared it an “espionage mission”, a “highlight” of their careers for which Lucy was the “ringleader”—or, in Dustin’s terms, the “mastermind”. The conversation with Barton had brought up Alfendi’s father, while what he overheard with Hilda that morning involved discussions of Forbodium and Alfendi’s old self—stumbling upon that conversation had struck him with overwhelming nausea as the memories, mistakes, and regrets all flooded back. When Lucy found him later, he was lying bleary-eyed on their office couch.

Alfendi took a step back and squinted at his red-stringed concoction. Time was ticking. He’d noticed Lucy becoming more restless by the day, and he needed to solve this before whatever she was planning unfolded and caused a disaster.

‘For all we know, she could be plotting a murder.’

Hah! The thought was laughable. Lucy Baker, masterminding a murder? That was about as likely as—

Hold on.

He scanned all the information laid out in front of him once more. Her disposition screamed nothing but innocence, but surely that made her the perfect criminal. Undetectable, unsuspectable—

‘That isn’t even a word, you utter ninny—’

With her knowledge and experience stemming from her time working alongside him in the Mystery Room, she was a flawless culprit.

Almost.

Her decision to employ their colleagues was her greatest shortcoming; whilst Lucy was more than capable of sneaking something like this under Alfendi’s nose (‘Stop using that fucking turn of phrase,’ cried Potty) on her own, the rest of Scotland Yard’s staff weren’t so capable. Florence was restless, Sniffer was obnoxiously oblivious, and Dustin was the complete opposite of inconspicuous. Barton was still far too awkward and uncertain around Alfendi, terrified to accidentally push the wrong button, and Hilda still clung to resentment for what Forbodium cost her—all of them, flawed and imperfect, had let slip far too much information around Alfendi. Individually, each detail was useless, but when pieced together they painted a bigger, more sinister picture. As of now, he was still missing many pieces, but from what he already had he could still garner something…

Slowly, Alfendi added another card to the pinboard. 

‘MURDER?’

Potty was uncharacteristically quiet for a moment. ‘We need a victim, method, motive, location, time. Treat this like any other case.’

Was he truly suspecting his colleagues of plotting something so dire? Was there no better explanation for their conspiratorial whispers, sneaking around, discussing his family and dark past, distancing themselves from and avoiding him, Lucy insisting she’d be perfectly fine without him…

Alfendi huffed a small, disbelieving laugh.

He had been so terribly, utterly blind.

He pulled the MURDER? card from its pin, wrote on its other side, and stuck it back up by Lucy’s card.

LEAVING?

Potty wrestled Placid out of the driver’s seat. Al yanked the new card back off the pinboard, brows scrunched so tightly it almost hurt, before crumpling it and throwing it across the room in the general direction of the waste bin.

“Don’t be fucking stupid,” Al hissed to his calmer counterpart, who had already thrown the towel in and accepted miserable defeat. “Why would she be leaving? Why would that spark a mass conspiracy among all our colleagues behind our back?”

‘Look in the mirror. See how you just reacted at the prospect of her leaving? So volatile. There is your answer.’

Al faltered. 

‘You—we—are often unpredictable. As much as both of us hate to admit it, we’ve become rather attached to Lucy Baker. If she announced her genuine departure, neither of us would handle it in the best manner. Hence the secrecy. I’m 98.6% certain this is the true explanation for everyone’s recent strange behaviour.’

“But—” Al ran a hand through his hair, beginning to pace. “Why would she—”

‘Similar reasons. Look at us; I can’t imagine it’s particularly pleasant, working with someone who switches so rapidly from one extreme to the other. We become far too engrossed in our work, avoid socialising or venturing outside—‘

“That is entirely your fault—”

‘—but my point still stands. You are me as much as I am you. For someone like Lucy, so amicable, sociable, lively and full of unbridled passion, our presence must be a terrible damper on her spirits. If she wanted to leave the suffocating confines of the Mystery Room—of us—I would not blame her one bit. Even if it well and truly devastated me.’

Al silently stood in the middle of the office, surrounded by red string, discarded cards, and the shattered pieces of his heart.

After what felt like a lifetime, he took a breath, steeled himself, and did what his father would do: he made a cup of tea.

Going through the motions of putting the kettle on, prepping the mug, and letting the tea brew was quite meditational; he’d done it so many times in his almost-thirty years he could do it upside-down and blindfolded. 

Scotland Yard was dead. This late at night, Al was the only living soul wandering its corridors. The silence was both comforting and disconcerting—it gave him time alone with his thoughts, something which, after Lucy’s departure, he would have in excess.

“Would Barton find a replacement?” Al murmured before taking a sip. He recalled how Lucy had flailed at the cafe after gulping scalding tea and laughed into his mug.

‘A genuine smile. I was unaware you were capable of those.’

“Oh, sod off.”

‘It’s hard to discern how Barton would handle it. On one hand, though we used to be capable of working on our own, we’ve become so accustomed to Lucy’s help we may drown without some kind of assistance, but on the other…’

“He’d have a damned hard time finding someone willing to squeeze into a tiny box office with a psychopath.”

‘Not the word I’d have personally chosen, but yes, that was my gist.’

Al eyed up Lucy’s mug by the sink; he’d brought it to the kitchen to give his hands something else to do. Once his tea was drained he busied himself with scrubbing away the tea stains, wrists caked in suds. As he caught a glimpse of the writing on Lucy’s mug—WORLD’S BEST DC—the reality began to truly sink in, and Placid sombrely took the reins once more.

“Wherever she ends up will be lucky to have her. It’s the right thing to do—it would be selfish to keep her cooped up forever.”

‘And if I want to be selfish?’

“We’d be delegating her to a life of misery. We want her to be happy, yes?”

‘You talk about her in such a sappy way. At this rate, anyone would think you’re in l—’ Potty stopped short, startled into silence for a long moment before simply saying, ‘Oh.’

Alfendi gently placed Lucy’s mug on the draining board, gripped the edge of the counter, and murmured, “Oh.”

‘What kind of inspector are we? It took us far too bloody long to figure that out.’

“It did indeed,” Alfendi said softly. “I can’t decide whether to be relieved or remorseful that this revelation changes absolutely nothing.”

In the dim kitchen, Alfendi came to terms with this realisation in the state he had been for so long, and after Lucy’s departure, he would return to: completely and utterly alone.

—

Friday had finally rolled around again. For the last hour or so of the working day, Alfendi hunched over his desk, burying his head in paperwork to distract himself from the Mystery Room’s silence. Lucy had left early with a terribly flimsy excuse. Alfendi saw right through it, knowing she wanted to get away from him and the office and start her weekend early, and simply let her go. After all, the last thing he wanted to do was to hold her back or push her further away.

‘Has that watch always ticked so loudly? It’s driving me mad.’

Alfendi ignored Potty’s whinging and continued with his work.

‘Stop bouncing your leg. It’s irritating as hell.’

A sharp exhale left Alfendi’s lips as he tightened his grip on the pen.

‘She left her coat.’

That startled Alfendi enough to make him look away from his paperwork. “What?”

‘Lucy’s coat,’ Potty said, ‘it’s still on the back of her chair.’

“So it is,” Alfendi replied slowly, eyes narrowing. 

Off to the side was their shared pinboard, painstakingly put back together after his late-night crisis. The red string and cards had been shamefully hidden away, shoved to the back of one of his drawers. He shook away the thought of them, checked his watch, and found it was almost the end of the working day. Lucy would be long gone. But why on earth would she have forgotten her—

The door burst open and slammed against the adjacent wall. “Prof!” 

Alfendi didn’t need to see her to know who it was. He was on his feet in an instant. “Lucy?”

“There’s an emergency!” she cried, hands gripping her knees as her chest heaved.

Alfendi’s eyes widened as he left his desk. “What? What’s happened?”

Lucy shook her head. “I can’t— You need to come and see. Please.”

In the blink of an eye, Lucy grabbed his hand and tugged with alarming force, sending Alfendi stumbling behind her as she sped out of the office and darted down the winding corridors. Her other hand held steadfast to her cap, stopping it from flying off behind them. It all happened so fast that Alfendi barely had any time to process it, but—

‘She’s holding our hand again. She needs us for something.’

—there were a few small details he was able to make note of.

Countless times he almost flew straight into a wall as Lucy rounded a corner with more dexterity than he could muster, but eventually, she screeched to a halt outside a door. It took a moment for Alfendi to work out where in the building they were relative to the Mystery Room, but once he did he deduced this was the door to an old meeting room; Lawson had used it most, but since his departure, most employees had forgotten about its existence.

Until now, apparently.

“Lucy,” Alfendi panted. “What’s going on?”

Not saying a word, Lucy dropped his hand (noticing the devastating loss of her warmth in his palm, Alfendi desperately ignored the urge to grab it again) and reached for the handle. It creaked as she slowly pressed down, before squealing as she pushed it open, and…

“I can’t see anything, Lucy. It’s pitch black in there.”

Glancing back at him(‘Wait,’ Potty cried out, ‘is she smiling?!’), Lucy reached for the light switch, and—

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” yelled a crowd, followed by a much quieter, “for tomorrow!”

Alfendi’s head almost hit the ceiling; he startled so violently he was sure he’d pulled half the muscles in his body.

“Surprise!” Lucy turned to him with the brightest grin. “You didn’t think we’d forget it’s your thirtieth tomorrow, did you?”

With Placid scared into the passenger seat, Potty had taken the wheel. “What the hell is this?”

As he recalled tomorrow’s green-covered square on their shared calendar, Al realised every single one of his colleagues was present. Florence, Sniffer, Dustin, Barton, even Hilda, and many other familiar faces were crammed into the meeting room, which had been spruced up with banners and bunting. Alfendi’s favourite music played in the background, while a table positioned against the furthest wall contained a large array of food, all clearly homemade with care. 

And standing amongst it all was— ‘No,’ Placid said softly. ‘It can’t be.’

“Alfendi, my boy,” Hershel Layton said with a smile. “It’s so good to see you again.”

“We brought gifts!” cried Flora, who, with the help of Luke and Kat, held a teetering tower of presents.

“What—? How—?” Al blinked, slack-jawed, as a sea of faces he knew and cared for smiled back at him.

“Took quite a bit of planning, it did,” Lucy said, somewhat sheepishly. “You’re well hard to keep a secret from, Prof. But if anyone deserves a birthday celebration, it’s you! This place’d crumble without your help.”

“This is what you’ve been hiding from me?” Al said, incredulous.

“Aye! Had a few close calls”—she cast sharp glances at a certain few people—“but you didn’t suspect a thing, eh?” She gently nudged him with a wink.

‘Not quite.’

Once the initial shock and confusion subsided, the meeting room truly transformed into a social hub as food was passed around, music was sung along to, and everyone who had left a mark on Alfendi’s life over the years mingled and had fun. 

After Potty subsided and Placid returned, Alfendi did the rounds greeting and thanking everyone before retreating to a corner to observe from a safe distance. He eyed his father, who was engaged in an intense discussion with Barton, and made a mental note to properly talk with him later when there were fewer people around. 

Gently shaking his head, he internally chastised himself. He still couldn’t quite believe this was Lucy’s secret plan, and, despite the overwhelming amount of obvious clues before him, he had failed to figure it out. How had he gotten so caught up in ridiculous theories, when the truth was right in front of him? What could possibly have clouded his thinking enough to hinder him at what was practically his job?

Lucy meandered over to him with a plate of cake and icing in the corner of her mouth. As she grinned, the pieces suddenly fell into place. Lucy Baker. If anyone was capable of masterminding a secret plan right underneath his nose (‘Ha, ha.’), it was her. It was always her. Perhaps he’d even let her get away with murder. 

An easy smile spread across his lips as she approached, pressing the plate into his hands.

“Sniffer made it,” she said, gesturing to the red velvet slice. “He made everything, actually. Who knew he had as good a nose for food as he does clues? And Flo’s in charge of the music, of course, she’s the only one who shares your weird music taste. Dustin did all the deccies, too. Maybe we should quit all this crime-solving malarkey n’ set up a party business, eh?”

“If anyone can do it, you can,” Alfendi said. He took a bite of the cake and had to suppress an obscene noise upon realising how good it tasted. 

“You know it!” Lucy puffed her chest out with pride.

‘That icing looks ridiculous.’

“You have a little—” Alfendi gestured to the corner of her mouth, where the icing still sat. 

“Oh, do I?” She wiped a hand on the wrong corner, missing it completely.

“No, the other side.”

Another complete miss.

“No, er— Sorry. May I?”

Lucy nodded, and Alfendi carefully brushed away the icing with the pad of his thumb. She went visibly still.

“Oh!” She quickly snapped out of it, leaving Alfendi to wonder whether he’d completely imagined that odd moment. “I almost forgot, I have one last surprise for you, Prof.”

Alfendi’s eyebrows shot up. “Another? You’ve already outdone yourself, Lucy.”

“Oh aye, I know. But an extra little something can’t hurt, eh? Come on, follow me.”

His weak protest died in his throat as she grabbed his hand once again (she’d been doing that a lot lately, though Alfendi wasn’t going to complain), leading him back out into the corridor and away from the hubbub of the packed room. Once the door shut behind them the noise was muffled incredibly well—Lawson had always been a fan of good soundproofing—giving the illusion they were completely alone.

“You know, I did actually attempt to uncover what you were hiding,” Alfendi admitted.

Lucy nodded slowly. “That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest, Prof. What was your top theory?”

“Well—” Alfendi coughed, suddenly feeling awkward. “I may have entertained the thought of you plotting a murder.”

“What?!” Lucy cried out, before bursting into laughter. “A killer? Me? As if I’d rope all our colleagues into seeing someone off!”

“Yes, yes, I know. It was rather ridiculous, in retrospect. But I soon moved on to a more sensible theory.”

“Go on,” Lucy said, eyes wide with curiosity.

‘Don’t say a word. Don’t—!’

“Ah, well. I… I thought you might be leaving. The Mystery Room. …Me.”

Lucy’s silence made his stomach feel nauseatingly heavy.

“I presumed you wouldn’t want to tell me due to how I may react, so everyone was keeping quiet about it. A rather silly theory, wasn’t it?”

“Oh, Prof…” Lucy sighed. “You really thought that?”

Alfendi looked away.

‘Stop that. This is bloody embarrassing.’

“How would you react?” Lucy cocked her head. “Hypothetically.”

He steeled himself and caught her eye. If there was ever a time to be honest, it was now. “Truth be told, Lucy, I’d be devastated. You claimed this place would crumble without me, but it would implode without you. I’m unsure how I ever managed before you arrived.”

The fondness in her smile made his heart stutter. “You flatter me, Prof, though I’d sooner keel over than leave this place. You’re stuck with me for a good while, I swear!”

Alfendi attempted a nonchalant shrug, as though the relief of that statement didn’t make him want to sink to his knees. “Anyway, what was this extra surprise you mentioned?”

Lucy raised an eyebrow. “What, you haven’t figured it out yet?”

“I trust you. I decided to not treat this one like a puzzle. So, go on. What have you got left up your sleeve?”

‘Is she moving closer?’

“Oh, just this.” Lucy firmly gripped the collar of his white overcoat and pulled until their faces were level. She kissed him the same way she did everything: with unwavering energy and passion. After an initial moment of shock, Alfendi sunk into the kiss, cupping her face and matching her feverish pace.

When they broke apart to catch their breath and slow their spinning, woozy heads, Lucy pressed her forehead against his.

“Happy birthday, Alfendi,” she murmured. 

The smile on his face made his cheeks ache. 

Perhaps his thirties wouldn’t be so bad after all.

end note: a huge thank you to the Layton Big Bang team for organising this wonderful event, and another massive thanks to @maekyart and @dreamooarts for choosing to create such beautiful art to accompany this fic—we make a good team!! <3

[alldoll3dup]

Yelloooooooo!!!!!! I got a request. Can you write a brozone x pop/rap troll fem reader?? Where there related to the bros? I honestly can't think of anything else, but ik for sure theres gotta be crazy angst and comfort!!!

P.S. LOVE YOUR STORIES

▐ Do you mean all of them together or the separate reaction of each of them? I'm going to do it all together as a one shot kisses 🫶🏻 (but if not, you can make another request)

P.S THANK YOU SO MUCH

໑୧﹒★﹒Brozone x pop/rap!Reader - Headcanon's/one-shot ᰍ﹒∿

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - You are a pop and rap troll, you were already considered part of the family by brozone what would be their reaction? Lets see right now

𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 - Trolls band togeter

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - GN!Reader, angsty, platonic

★ When you told them...

– You were really nervous about telling them this, but Poppy and Viva were encouraging you

– Ok you were freaking out, Poppy and Viva got them together and said you had something to say, what were they thinking??? You wanted to stick your face in a hole and never come out

– The two left leaving you there with the confused brothers, you took a deep breath and started telling them

"Okay then well, I wanted to tell you this, because you are like brothers to me and I think you will support me in this"

– John Dory has already started to panic, she has already started to imagine a million things

💭 "IS SHE DATING? DOES SHE NO LONGER TRUST US? DOES SHE WANT TO MOVE AWAY???"

"Well, I'm a pop and rap troll" - you said looking a little embarrassed and JD's jaw dropped to the floor

"Ah, what a silly thing, y/n, everything is fine" - said branch carelessly with a hand on your shoulder (I didn't know what color to put on him, srry)

"SILLY?? NO ITS NOT SILLY HOW CAN YOU BE BOTH? IS THIS POSSIBLE?" - JD didn't understand anything

"Calm down, John Dory, this is normal, I, for example, am a pop and rock troll" - Floyd said, smiling slightly and you were a little sad about JD's reaction (I have a hc that he is a rock troll)

"WHAT YOU ARE A ROCK TROLL???" - He said turning his head to Floyd

"Hey man, relax, this is more common than you think" - Clay said looking angry at JD because he noticed your sad reaction

"My kids sing all kinds of music all the time" - Spruce said with a nasal laugh

"John Dory, you're making Y/N uncomfortable stop it" - he said quietly to John Dory with a sideways glance

"Okay, it doesn't enter my head either you're a rap troll or you're a pop troll, or you're a rock trolls or you're a pop troll"

"Why not both JD?" - you and Floyd said at the same time

"Because it's confusing and strange, it doesn't make sense to be both"

"Okay, that's enough of trying to change other people, John Dory" - Clay said, already irritated

"Clay just relax, okay? It dont make the argument worse"

"But he's right, John Dory is crossing the line!" - and you remained silent watching them argue and left with Floyd

★ When you went out with Floyd...

– He comforted you even though he was also sad about the situation

"Hey, it's okay, don't mind Dory, he'll understand soon"

"But why fight like that? They can't argue without fighting..."

"I know Y/n... it's okay" - he hugged you gently and you hugged him back

– You stayed there until the branch appeared because he got angry about arguing with John Dory

★ A few days later...

– You hadn't spoken to John Dory for a few days and she was really sad about the way he treated you

– He studied a lot about this being more than one thing and thought it was really cool

– He felt horrible about the way he treated you and asked Spruce and Clay for help on how to apologize to you

– Clay didn't want to help at first, but Spruce convinced him to help

– Of course, Floyd and Branch joined in on this, Branch would distract you along with Floyd, Clay and Spruce taught John Dory how to say sorry (which was an almost impossible mission)

– They prepared a "little party" with a huge sign saying "WE ACCEPT YOU Y/N AND FLOYD"

– When you got there JD practically jumped on you crying and apologizing saying how proud he was of you (he had done this to Floyd before the party)

– You ended up getting emotional and forgave him and promised that you would teach him more about being a troll with two musical genres

▐ That was hard to write, huh? Hope yall liked it

▐ Sorry if there are any grammatical errors love you guys ♡

★ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ★

- Read this before making a request

[crimsonwolf715]

I Wanted To Do It Because They Took Me Away From You

(Part 1 of Adventures of the Batfamily)

Bruce Wayne POV

“Damian’s gonna stay here since he’s still feeling under the weather,” Dick says as Bruce comes out of his office for patrol. 

“Sounds like a good decision,” Bruce replies. 

“Also, come say hi to Tim.” 

Bruce walks over to Dick, who holds his phone out. “Hello, Tim.” 

“Hi, Bruce. I heard that the Demon Spawn can actually get sick.” 

“He’s had a cold pretty much since you left,” Bruce says. “And be nice.” 

“Eh…” 

Dick laughs. “They mean it lovingly when they call each other mean names.” 

Bruce sighs. 

“I’ll try to talk them into being more civil,” Dick whispers. 

Bruce nods. “Thank you. Tim, how is the mission going?” 

“Fine. We’re almost done. Just another day or two and I should be back home with everyone else,” Tim answers. “I’ve missed you guys, even Damian.” 

“That’s what happens when you live with a bunch of people and then go somewhere else for over a week,” Dick replies. “I’ve had it happen a lot of times.” 

“I’m gonna head out on patrol. You two behave and make sure you check on Damian while I’m gone, Dick.” 

“I will. He’s mostly over it so he should be fine in the morning.” 

“I know, just make sure that he gets some rest and doesn’t spend all night talking to his many animals.” 

“I will.”  

Bruce wakes up with a sick feeling in his stomach. He opens his eyes and everything around him is blurry. 

“Wakey wakey, Batsy.” 

The Joker appears in front of Bruce and he tries to back up, only to find himself stuck where he is. Another Joker appears next to the first one. 

“Wow, that really did a number on you, Bats. I can’t even tell if you know what’s going on.” 

Bruce tastes metallic, then spits blood onto the floor. He doesn’t feel injured, but the taste is still in his mouth and he can see the blood clearly. 

“Oooo, so high, Batsy.” 

Bruce’s eyes force themselves closed, like there’s some kind of weight on his eyelids. 

Twelve year old Jason jumps out from behind the Batcomputer. “Boo!” 

“Nice try, Jason,” Bruce says, holding a mug of coffee. He takes a sip as Jason starts pouting. 

“You’re impossible to surprise,” Jason says. 

“Not true. You’ll just have to pay close attention,” Bruce replies. 

“Dick has managed to surprise me in this cave twice.” 

“I gotta ask him how he did that. He’s so cool.” 

Bruce smiles and shakes his head. Jason’s eyes are bright as he jumps around in his costume, preparing to fight crime. 

Bruce opens his eyes to see Dick across from him, tied up in his Nightwing costume. 

“Two caught, one to go,” Joker’s voice says, even though he’s nowhere to be seen. 

Dick looks worse for wear. Bruce can see that most of his face is bruised even though his head is down and his arm is in a position unnatural for an arm to be. 

“Nightwing,” Bruce says. 

He doesn’t say anything or pick his head up. Joker walks back in and throws Damian on the floor in front of him. 

“Got them,” Joker says. “Now you can all die together as the happy family you claim to be, on the anniversary of the worst day of your life. We miss baby Jay-bird, don’t we?” 

Dick Grayson POV 

“Please tell me you’ve got something,” Nightwing says as he and Damian take a break on a rooftop. “We’ve been looking for almost twelve hours and there’s no sign of the Joker.” 

“Well I’d love to tell you good news, hot stuff, but I don’t have any.” 

Damian groans and turns his comm off. Dick rolls his eyes where Damian can see it. 

A moment of silence. 

“You alright, Oracle?” 

“Hold on,” Barbara says. 

“Hold on?” Dick asks. 

Damian switches his comm back on. 

“The computer finally figured out where he is, but I don’t know that you’ll get there in time.” 

“Where is it?” Dick asks. 

She rattles off a location and how to get there. 

“I can do it. Come on, Damian. We’re never telling Batman how fast I’m about to drive with you in the car with me.” 

“Go speed racer,” Damian says as they head towards the Batmobile. 

They get to the Batmobile and Dick starts racing towards the warehouse. “Keep watching the feed for me,” Dick says to Damian. 

Damian pulls his phone out and turns on the news. “Twenty minutes until the timer goes off.” 

“We can get there in twenty minutes,” Dick says hesitantly. 

“You don’t sound sure,” Damian points out. 

“I’m sure,” Dick replies, hiding his concern behind a quick smile. 

Damian nods, clearly unconvinced. Gordon calls so Dick puts the video in the corner of the screen towards Damian. 

“We got an anonymous tip on where Batman is,” Gordon says. “We’ve got officers already on the way and I was supposed to contact you earlier, but got busy.” 

“No need to worry. We know where he is and we’re on the way.” 

“That’s good.” 

“How close are the officers?” Dick asks. 

“About fifteen minutes out,” Gordon answers. 

“We’ll meet them there but they are not allowed to go in without us. Joker will kill them without hesitation if he finds them.” 

“I know the rules. I’ve already alerted them that they can’t go in without you guys until the timer hits five minutes. If it hits that point and you guys aren’t there, they’re gonna go in without you.” 

“Wouldn’t want it any other way,” Dick replies. “Bye, Gordon.” 

He hangs up and picks up speed once he gets on a straight road. 

“Weee,” Damian says sarcastically. 

Dick shakes his head, but laughs for a moment.  

Jason Todd POV

Jason turns on the TV and sees Joker on the screen with a bloody and beaten Batman. 

“One hour left until The Batman dies,” Joker says. “Nightwing and Robin are nowhere to be seen and if they’re not quick about it, they’ll get to watch just like everyone else.” 

Jason recognizes the room Batman’s being held in. It’s from the “Funhouse”. Jason doesn’t grab his helmet or take any of his normal tools with him. He grabs one of his pistols off of the table and runs to his motorcycle. 

After securing the pistol in its holster, he speeds towards the warehouse. He weaves through traffic with expert ease and makes it to the Joker’s “Funhouse” in record time. He walks into the warehouse, memories of his brutal beating at the hands of the Joker flashing before his eyes making it hard to concentrate on the task at hand. 

He searches each room until he finds Joker, laughing as he’s telling the camera that there’s only one minute left until Batman gets executed. The method of execution is something else. A cannon-like contraption that’s got smiles and laughs painted on the sides, but instead of a cannonball it has five knives inside of the barrel. Jason grabs the knife out of his pocket and cuts the wires to the camera as Joker pokes Batman’s face while taunting him. 

“You’ll have the same death day as your son,” Joker whispers. “A fitting end, if you ask me.” 

It takes a moment, but Joker hears the camera feed in the corner of the room cut so he turns in that direction. Jason runs towards him and kicks him into the wall. 

“Five… Four…” 

Jason looks around the room to see the timer on the cannon still running. One thought crosses his mind as he makes eye contact with Bruce, who looks like a light breeze could take him out. 

Joker won’t take anything else if I can help it.  

He runs towards Bruce as the timer keeps counting down. 

“Three… Two… One…” 

Jason grabs at his chest, where the knives found home after being shot from the cannon. Joker, who’s getting up after being kicked into the wall looks shocked, then angry. Jason’s vision blurs, then stumbles back. Joker starts raging and throwing things around. 

“I killed you! You’re supposed to be dead!” Joker shouts. “How are you still alive?” 

Jason flips Joker off. “I’m just that awesome, shithead,” he chokes out. 

Police sirens can be heard, so Jason pops three shots off at Joker. One manages to find home in his arm, so he tucks tail and runs. Jason takes one of the knives out of his chest and cuts Bruce free, then falls onto his back. 

Bruce shakily gets on the ground. “Jason?” 

“Heh, I cut the camera feeds so you can feel free to pass out until the police show up with Bluebird and your new brat,” Jason says. 

“How are you alive?” Bruce asks. 

“Ra’s woke me up.” 

“What…?” 

“I had this grand plan to take control of Gotham’s underworld and kill the Joker. I know your stupid rule of no killing, but just him. I wanted to do it because he took me away from you.” 

“Jason, you’re gonna be fine. You can’t die again.” 

“You’re acting fairly normal for a man so high off his ass that he couldn’t untie a rope tied like a child tied it.” 

Bruce’s breathing gets heavier and faster, so Jason slaps him. It’s weak by all standards, but it does the trick. Bruce comes back to reality and starts checking Jason’s condition. 

“Stop it, old man. I guess this is how it should have ended. Dying to protect my family, I like that. I still hate you for replacing me and leaving that scumbag alive, but at least nobody has to lose their dad today.” 

Jason turns his head to the side, then starts coughing up blood. 

“Father!” a voice calls from somewhere else in the base. 

“Damian,” Bruce mumbles, then turns in the direction of the door. 

“I hope you don’t remember this when you wake up,” Jason says. 

Bruce turns back towards Jason and he slams the butt of his gun into Bruce’s forehead. Bruce blacks out almost instantly and crumples into a heap. 

Bruce Wayne POV

Bruce wakes up to the sound of a heartbeat monitor. Steady heartbeat, and someone is holding his hands. He opens his eyes and he’s surrounded by his children. Dick, Tim, and Damian are all sitting in the room around his bed. Dick and Damian have a hold of his hands while Tim’s sitting at the foot of the bed with a book in hand. All of them are asleep in various uncomfortable looking positions. Damian blinks his eyes open and stares at Bruce for a minute before seeming to fully wake up. 

“Father!” Damian lets go of his hand so he could use both hands to reposition. 

Bruce ruffles Damian’s hair, which he accepts with a small huff. It only takes a minute for the other two to wake up thanks to Damian’s ruckus. 

“How long was I out?” Bruce asks. 

“Almost thirty-six hours,” Dick answers after a quick glance at his watch. 

“It took you so long that Drake was able to come back from his mission,” Damian adds. 

“What happened to Jay?” Bruce asks. Dick stiffens up while Tim and Damian look confused. 

“Who?” Damian asks. 

Recognition crosses Tim’s face, then it turns to confusion. “What do you mean?” 

“He was there. He got me out.” 

“Jason wasn’t there, Bruce,” Dick says quietly. “You were the only person there and the feed cut suddenly, so we figured you got yourself out. You were pretty high, so you can’t really trust anything you saw.” 

Bruce furrows his brows, but only acknowledges the statement with a nod. The subject changes to his recovery, which will take a couple weeks so says Dr. Thompkins. Bruce doesn’t say much, letting his kids do the talking. Tim tells him all about the mission he was on and how well it went, while Dick and Damian talk about adding trackers into the suits so they can keep up with each other. 

Everyone quiets back down after a while and eventually falls asleep, so Bruce is left alone with his thoughts. Thoughts about the fact that there should be a fourth kid here with him and there isn’t. That Jason would be here with his brothers if Bruce hadn’t been so reckless and careless. 

Jason POV 

Jason stumbles into his base and people start rushing towards him. 

“Boss, what happened?” one asks. 

They take him to the clinic down the road and the doctor treats his wounds. Once the doctor clears him to leave, he heads back to base. Everyone’s waiting, and looks concerned. 

“How are you planning on protecting us from the Bat like that?” one asks. 

“Bat’s gonna be out for a while,” Jason replies. “He’s being replaced by Nightwing, and I’m pretty sure that you guys can handle the week that I’ll be out.” 

“A week?” another one cuts in. “You look like you’ll be out for at least a month.” 

“I heal fast,” Jason says. “I’ll be back to working in no time. I’m thinking that we change our tactics a little while waiting for the Bat to come back. I want things to be a little more discreet. Give the heroes a false sense of security.” 

He explains the plan to them and they all seem pleased with it. 

“Someone keep tabs on whatever you can find about the Joker while I’m out,” Jason says. 

He heads back to his tiny apartment and crashes.

[doodle-pops]

Alright, now I had another thought about what the elves would think if they accidentally chopped their s/o's hair off? Like perhaps they were training together with swords and their blade nicked their s/o's hair, or they had a beef with another elf and they threw their weapon away, which accidentally came too close to their s/o, and their hair got cut that they had to get it shorter. (Would it be considered an act of disgrace and would they plead for forgiveness, even if their s/o didn't consider it a big deal?)

You’re making scenarios to turn these poor (already traumatised) elves grey faster than anything else 😂. I but to do say with the whole “not a big deal” for their S/O, it would ease the guilt they feel on the inside, not.

However, be prepared to hear and be shown, “I’m sorry” in millions of different ways. Let’s skip them panicking after the incident—though it’s impossible to get the image of them falling to their knees, apologising and seeking forgiveness tenfold—you wanted that horse. You got ten the next morning. If you want them to spend more time with you, it would be best to include that it would aid in faster hair growth. They would cancel their entire day. If you want them to relax and not panic so much. They wouldn’t so easily 😅

You could say with this incident, you got them wrapped around your finger with all their, “I must redeem myself. I must prove how much I care about your hair. The regrowth of your hair is the only way to prove my atonement…” Pretty dramatic if say. You gotta HOLD them and give a good SHAKE, for some calmness to settle into that brain of theirs.

Maybe style your hair with all those pretty hairpins to show that your hair hasn’t changed and still looks beautiful. Crack a few jokes. You still have strands on your head; all haven’t been chopped off 😅. If all was removed and you ended up bald…you might as well be sending them into Mandos lol. No amount of wigs or reassurance could ever make them relax. Consider it an “I’ve sinned,” type of moment (as if it won't regrow lol).

[ckret2]

To be honest, it seems so impossible to picture billford actually happening right now. I trust you! But it's hard to envision the path ahead.

I'm not gonna lie the reason it took me months & months to commit to taking the fic that route is because I didn't want to go "no yeah I'm doing this" until I was sure I did have a path, and it is hard to envision lmfao. It's a very twisty and very narrow path that they're only gonna just barely squeeze through.

Without giving any spoilers, as far as I see it, any reconciliation between Ford & Bill—platonic or romantic—requires three things:

a reason for Ford to stop fearing Bill

a reason for Ford to stop hating Bill

a reason for Ford to like Bill.

We don't need anything on Bill's side, he's all prepared to like Ford as soon as Ford likes him. All he has to do is, y'know, give Ford all of those reasons.

#3 is the easiest one! Ford already has reasons to like Bill: they're all of the reasons he used to like Bill. He's an alien with infinite knowledge. That's great. But Bill could give Ford a million reasons to like him and they won't do a bit of good as long as Ford hates him. If you stab someone in the gut and give them a flower, you stabbed them in the gut. If you stab someone in the gut and give them an entire field of flowers, you still stabbed them in the gut. It's actually more insulting to get flowers than it would've been to just get stabbed. Gotta do something about the stabbing.

#1 was also pretty easy to figure out. All it takes is trapping Bill in a scenario where he's forced to demonstrate he no longer wants to kill the Pines, in a way that makes it impossible to think that it could have been an act or a lie. Easy.

#2 is the only hard part. Ford has a lot of very good reasons to hate Bill forever. Why would he even want to stop hating Bill? And that's the key:

4. a reason for Ford to WANT to stop hating Bill

The hardest and MOST IMPORTANT part. A reason for Ford to go, fine. One last shot. If you want me to think anything is different, then show me—and no more chances to slip up. He can still hate Bill at this point! Bill still has to climb that mountain. But now Ford's simply standing at the top of the mountain glaring at Bill with his arms crossed, waiting to see if he can make it to the top, rather than using a long stick to shove Bill back down every time he gets close.

Let's talk about redemption arcs!

There's a thing I believe about redemption arcs and redemption in general, which is that saying "they shouldn't get a second chance unless they deserve it" is impossible. "Deserve it" means they're good now, "deserve it" means they've already done the work to improve themselves and make amends for what they did wrong. But in the real world, somebody needs to give you a second chance BEFORE you deserve it in order to have space to work on yourself and become worthy of it.

That doesn't mean Ford, of all people, owes Bill a second chance. He was never gonna be the first to offer Bill a hand. He couldn't be, he shouldn't be. And nobody owes Bill a second chance—but in order for it to be possible for Bill to have a redemption arc at all, SOMEBODY had to give him one anyway. The whole fic is the result of people extending a hand to Bill so that he can become worthy of the help he was offered. He wouldn't be alive if the Axolotl hadn't given him a second chance. He'd still be curled up in the corner of the attic day after day waiting to die if Mabel hadn't given him a second chance. Over and over he's gonna get chances he doesn't deserve, from people who have no reason to offer them, when he regrets nothing, when he's apologized for nothing—and that's what will save him.

SOMEBODY ELSE had to offer Bill an unconditional second chance first. But—once Ford has seen that Bill might have potential—he can, if he wants, offer Bill a limited, conditional second chance. I just have to get him to want to.

After that it's smooth sailing. Get the two of them as far as "okay we can attempt having a positive relationship again" and past that it really doesn't matter what kind of positive relationship it is, platonic, romantic, sexual, whatever. "Do you think they might wanna bone or not?" is a much less important and much less difficult question than "What would it take for Ford to stop despising the triangle who ruined his life?"

Personally, I want 'em to make out nasty style. But that's far and away the least important part of this whole arc, because it was important to me that that not be a motivating factor in their reconciliation. Like I've said, I'm deliberately playing on hard mode here, and "I'm kinda sorta motivated to forgive him because I'm attracted to him" is a cheat I'm not allowing. I'm too ace to tolerate that kind of plot unless it's in a story about the frustrating folly of desire. The attraction can only come after reconciliation; and it also won't prevent them from continuing to have the kind of ongoing issues you'd expect out of two guys with a long history of heartless betrayal and murder attempts.