#i still. haven’t beat boss rush

[a-cryptid-called-magetha]

every friendgroup got one of these

[sanguineterrain]

angel of small death | jason todd

Summary: You can't remember what it was like to be human. Until Jason returns. Now, he's the only thing tethering you to this world. And you won't let anything happen to him.

Pairing: Jason Todd x shadow monster!gn!reader

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings/tags: monster!reader, canon-typical violence, codependency, reader attacks Batman, reader accidentally hurts Jason, stalking, suicidal thoughts, crying, hurt/comfort, somewhat happy ending.

A/N: I wrote this in a day so if there are any grammar mistakes please feel free to lmk!

the divider

You feel it when Jason returns. 

No one else seems to. The Bat (his… family?) doesn’t sense anything is different, but you do. 

And just as quickly as you feel him, he’s lost. His grave is empty. You scour Gotham for him, his body, anything. But he’s gone. Stolen. 

If you were more powerful, free from this wretched body, you would find him. Hunt down whoever took him, then bring him back to Gotham, so he might rest. 

For a short day, your limbs had felt like flesh. The void that is your mouth had smiled. You were human again. 

Jason is lost. You scream in mourning. 

He’s back. 

You’re awake.

“Go through the side!”

Hood’s men scramble to obey, armed and ready. They’ve planned this ambush for three and a half weeks. Black Mask made himself scarce after Hood made it clear he wouldn’t leave him alone. You watched in pride and worry as Jason threw himself into his revenge. 

He’s stronger than in your memory. He’s big, bigger than most opponents. Bigger than the Bat. He’s good with a weapon. Good in combat. Scarred all over. Brutal. 

But he’s angry and hurt, and he’s human. He may have the Pit inside of him, but he is no monster. You would know.

The Bat is hunting him. You will tear him apart, if necessary. You will tear apart anyone who hurts Jason. 

You slip through the shadows, letting your limbs stretch as long as they can. They make awful shrieking noises when you stretch too far, and it makes the men below nervous. 

One of Jason’s men looks right at you. You look back. He gasps and runs back to the van.

These men are loyal but they’re nowhere near strong enough to protect Jason. You’d prefer to eat them all, but Jason seems to trust them. So you gut a lackey in a clown mask and silently remain on the highest balcony across the street from Black Mask’s lair.

Once, you permitted yourself to watch Jason in his apartment, in his bed, while he slept. He cried through a nightmare. You tried to chase the nightmare away, but you’d only made it worse. He awakened, sweating and gasping, and screamed as soon as he saw you.

You haven’t revealed yourself since. 

You are lonely. You want to die. You’ve wanted to die for a long time. 

But you won’t. Not before you see Jason home safe.

Automatic gunfire echoes from the lair. You rush to the unlit side of the building. You peer in through the window. 

It’s mostly Black Mask’s men on the floor, bleeding. You slip inside to eat the death. 

“The fuck is that?!”

You look up just as three bullets pass through you. You scowl at the offending gunman, who drops his gun and runs. Rude. 

You wouldn’t normally enter like this, make your presence so obvious. If someone were looking for you, they could easily track you after tonight.

But nothing matters except Jason. 

There’s shouting outside. You soar to the ceiling and through the skylight. 

“Shit, shit, fuck! Boss! Boss, you alright?”

“Shut the fuck up, Garett,” Jason says, helmeted head lolling against the brick. Three of his men crowd him.

You speed to the shadow, carefully avoiding the light casted by the overhead streetlight. You’ve stepped in one before and the fluorescent lights sting.

Jason is bleeding from his gut, where his armor separates to allow movement. 

You creep closer. If you still had a heart, it would beat fast. You remember how it felt. You don’t feel fear often these days, but now you know for sure that it was never gone.

You scream.

The streetlight shatters. Jason and his men cover their ears, shouting in pain. His men start to bleed from their ears. It doesn’t take much for you to strike them down, knock them into a fitful slumber.

“Who’s there?”

Jason immediately pulls out his gun, despite his injury. You try to stay on his side, so he won’t have to see your yellow, bottomless eyes. You’d close your eyes if you weren’t so afraid of hurting Jason further.

“I ain’t scared of you!” he says, and you’d be inclined to believe him if your teeth weren’t peeking out at the scent of his fear.

You swallow and focus on his injury. You stretch your fingers to two thin points. Then you reach into his stomach and pull out the bullet.

Jason yells in pain and fires. You ignore it and keep going. 

“Sssssss-sssor–ry,” you rasp.

Jason turns his head and looks right at you. He panics, trying to squirm away. You quickly hold him down so your fingers won’t rip through his intestine.

“Let go a’me! Let go!” 

He fires until the cartridge is empty. You are crying. 

“Sss-sssor-sssorry.” Then you sear Jason’s wound closed. 

That’s when he passes out, the pain overwhelming him. Black tears run down your face and join the dark. 

As soon as the wound is cauterized, you slink to the darkest corner of the city, inside an abandoned warehouse. 

You let yourself grow into your full form, showing your claws and exposed tendons and the hole in your chest.

Then you cry, cry, cry. The windows explode, the bricks become dust, and still, you cry into the rubble. You cry until morning.

You can’t stop.

You should. You’re fearsome and ugly and Jason is already entrenched in grief. You’ll only make him worse.

But after the ambush, you can’t rest. You have tried to return to the dirt, to where you had lain for so long. You swim to the bottom of the ocean and try to sleep with the creatures there. That doesn’t work either. 

So you follow Jason instead. You follow him every night on patrol. You snipe anyone who gets too close, intending to harm. Jason returns home with a full magazine, most nights. You know he should take care of his adversaries on his own to keep in practice, but you throw up iridescent black oil when you try to let go and not protect him. 

“I know you’re there.”

You’re crouched on an apartment’s fire escape two stories above. Jason has stopped. He’s been frozen for several minutes. 

You look around, trying to find who Jason sees. But the alley is empty. 

“I know…” Jason takes a shaky breath. “I know you’re there. I feel ya watchin’ me.”

Then he takes off his helmet and tosses it aside. He takes off his holsters and removes his knives and tasers and drops those next to his helmet.

You crawl on all fours down the apartment building, claws scraping the brick. You can smell his fear from here. 

You rattle a loose screw at the end of your climb. Jason turns in your direction. He gasps, eyes wide. 

You freeze. Neither of you move for a long minute.

“You’ve been followin’ me,” he says. 

You nod. You’re not sure if he can see you in the dark.

“Who—what are you?”

You crawl closer. Jason wants to move away, you can tell, but he doesn’t.

On your hands, you come up to his head. You wish you could make yourself smaller.

Jason swallows hard, chest rising and falling quickly.

You’re not good at speaking. You used to be. Used to have all the words. Now they’re gone. Your tongue is too big for your mouth.

“I feel… shit, I feel like I know ya,” he says. “You know me?”

“Rrrrrrrob–rrobiiii—robiiiiin.”

He inhales sharply. “Yeah. You knew me then?”

You reach for him. Careful. So careful. You use the blunt side of your claw to touch Jason’s scarred cheek. He’s so warm. So full of light. 

He steps back. Your hand falls. 

You start to cry. You can’t help it. 

Your claws dig into the pavement, tearing through asphalt. 

“Waaaan–wantttttt. Tttt. Jaaaayy. WAN—TTTT. WA—JAY. WANNN—”

You try to speak softly, but it comes out like a shriek. Jason grunts in pain, covering his ears. Red seeps through his fingers. 

You stumble backwards at the sight. You must go. You must try again and see if the ocean will take you.

“Wait! Wait, wait!”

Jason runs around, holding up his hands in front of you. You stop, black tears pooling into a puddle at his feet.

“It’s okay. It’s alright. I know you.”

You want to speak but you’ll hurt him if you do. So you cry in silence. Jason waits.

“‘S okay,” he says again. “You didn’t do it on purpose. Shh, shh. Don’t cry.”

His fear is lessened. Not gone, but not grown. 

“Hey,” he says softly. “Hey, honey.”

The tears keep falling. Jason keeps waiting. 

“‘Course I remember ya,” he says, and pets you where your cheek should be. “How could I forget you?”

You moan quietly. It doesn’t hurt Jason this time.

The night that the Bat finds Jason brings a thunderstorm with it.

You’ve followed Jason for weeks now. He’s no longer afraid when he catches glimpses of your endless mouth and shapeless eyes. Sometimes, on patrol, you get nervous. When you’re too close to people, to noise, you get restless. You want to run, but you can’t, because Jason will be alone. And so will you. 

Jason has begun to hum when you get nervous. You get closer when he does, looming over him, but he no longer smells like fear.

“Y’smell like peaches, y’know that?” he’d said a few weeks ago. 

You’d just pitched your head lower to show you were listening. 

“Yeah,” Jason had said. “Like peach pie. I was so confused the night you removed the bullet. Craved peach pie for days. Ain’t that the weirdest shit you’ve ever heard?”

Honestly, yes. After everything, that is definitely the weird part.

“Gooo—g-g…” You’d swallowed, frustrated. Jason had hummed.

“‘S okay,” he’d said. “‘M listening. Take your time.”

So you’d tried again. “G-good?” 

“Yeah, honey. Oh, yeah. So good. You’re so good.”

That hadn’t been what you meant. But you’d gotten the feeling Jason knew what you were asking and decided to answer another question anyway.

It’s pouring tonight. The rain doesn’t bother you, but if lightning starts, you may have to retire for tonight. 

That’s only in an extreme circumstance, however. For now, you’re right there with Jason. 

“Shit, ‘s really comin’ down, huh!” Jason shouts over the rain. 

He swings to a rooftop and almost slips on water. You rush to him, but he holds up a hand, laughing.

“‘M fine, ‘m fine. I gotta finish the southside. You can dip if you want.”

You don’t respond. Jason sighs.

“Alright, fine. C’mon.”

You’re two blocks into the southside when a dark blob lands in front of Jason. You stay hidden, eyes sharp. 

The blob is a man. The Bat. 

“Jason,” Batman says. Jason stiffens.

You feel a screech working its way out, but you stop it for Jason’s sake. You will intervene if he needs help.

Both of their fear levels have shot up. 

The Bat steps forward. “You lied to me, Jason. I can’t believe it’s you going around Gotham killing—”

“Oh, you can’t?” Jason spits. “You can’t believe your little bird that’s back from the dead is angry that no one fuckin’ cleaned up this city? The clown is still alive, Bruce!”

Thunder cracks the sky. You stay silent, keeping your grip on the side of the building light. You’d offered to kill the Joker for Jason. Ki–lllll clo–own? K–ill?

But Jason had told you no. Had said that it wasn’t your responsibility. So you’d refrained. 

The Bat is quiet for a moment. Then, “I’m sorry, Jason. I know you’re upset, but—”

“Fuck you. I don’t wanna hear your attempts at peacemaking. I’m not gonna stop no matter what you say.”

“Jason,” the Bat says. “You have to stop killing.”

“The only way I’m gonna stop is if you kill me.”

You scramble down as soon as you hear armor clash. A batarang strikes Jason’s chestplate. Jason’s increasingly aggressive, forcing the Bat to defend himself harder. 

Thunder strikes again. Jason knows all of the Bat’s weak points. And while the Bat is distracted, it doesn’t stop him from fighting well.

The moment the Bat draws blood, you stalk out of hiding and howl.

Three streetlights explode as you grow to your full, terrifying size. Both the Bat and Jason cover their ears. You slam the Bat down on the ground, claws shredding his cape and suit. You’re furious. You will kill.

One of your claws punctures the Bat’s thigh. He shouts in pain. You’ll tear him apart for making Jason bleed.

Rain beats down on you. You heave over the Bat, shaking with fury. 

“Stop! Fuck, fuck. Stop it!”

Jason pulls at your arm, which is nearly the size of his entire body. His helmet is cracked, his exposed eye bloodshot. That rekindles your anger, but Jason quickly intercepts. 

“Stop, please. It’s okay. I’m okay. Don’t kill him, please. Don’t kill.”

“Miiiiii—m—miiii-ine. Mine.”

Jason nods. He pulls off his helmet and tosses it. 

“Yeah, yeah, I am. I’m yours. He’s not gonna take me away from ya. He wouldn’t kill me.”

The Bat coughs, spitting blood. “N-never.”

"Mine," you say, tremulous, blood under your claws. "My Robin."

Jason shakes you. "Yours. I'm yours. C’mon, peach. C’mon, love.”

It would be so easy to end it now. End you and the Bat. And you would do it if you didn’t think it would end Jason too.

His fear is high. You pull your claw out of the Bat, who groans. You let Jason lead you away. He holds your darkness.

“Scaaaar—sc-ared. Scare-d?”

“Yeah,” Jason admits. “Little bit.”

You close your eyes. “Ba-ad.”

“No, honey. You’re not bad. You’re scared.”

You dig your claws into the roof, cracking the concrete. You let yourself shrink, so Jason can wrap his arms around your neck. You don’t trust yourself enough to touch him back. 

He’s crying. Jason is crying.

You pull back a little, so you can see his face. 

“Cr-y,” you say, feeling like weeping yourself. “Cry cr-y c-ry.”

You want to say so much more, but you can’t. Your words are gone. You know Jason doesn’t judge you for that, but you need to tell him. Tell him how you feel.

You lick Jason’s cheeks. They taste like salt and rainwater. You lick more. Lick until he stops crying.

“Son,” the Bat says behind you. 

“‘S okay, B,” Jason says. 

Rain drips down his face and suit. He’s beginning to shiver. You try to shield him as best as you can. 

“We’re okay,” Jason says, this time just to you.

“Sc-scaare—”

“No, no. Hey, peach. ‘M not scared. Y’hear me?”

You slowly drape your arms over Jason’s back. He strokes your wrist that droops and stretches unnaturally. 

“Yeah. You know me. I’ve never been afraid of the dark.”

[honeyboylovee]

‘Sleep well, baby’

Pairing: Wonwoo x gn!reader

Word count: 600ish

Genre: established relationship!AU, fluff

Warnings: none

A/N: I had this in my drafts for way too long. I had my exams and just couldn’t finish it. So here it is now that I’ve a little time. Feedbacks are very appreciated. I hope you enjoy! Thank you for reading.

The sound of the elevator dinging reaches your ears. You have reached your floor. With the last ounce of energy you have in yourself, you drag your aching feet till you reach your apartment door.

As you enter, you notice Wonwoo’s shoes in the shoe rack. He is home early today, you think. You take off your shoes and hang your coat before moving towards the kitchen. You’re hungry and there’s food. That’s all you see. The last meal you had was seven hours ago. You really have faced the consequences of not carrying a snack to your work today.

He’s wearing his headphones and the bright light from his monitor illuminates his face. He doesn’t notice you yet. On reaching near his gaming chair, you gently place your hand on his shoulder so you don’t startle him. His attention shifts from the game and almost immediately, his smile that you love so much graces his face.

He pulls you on his lap and wraps his arms around your waist. Soon after, he saves his progress in the game that he was playing and exits it. Now all his attention is focused on you.

‘How was your day, baby?’, he asks you.

‘Long, like really fucking long. I haven’t even showered yet because I was starving and just wanted to eat.’

‘Hm…I understand. You worked for almost 12 hours today, didn’t you?’

‘Yes, I did! And you know what, my lame excuse of a boss still thinks that’s not enough.’, you say with a raised voice as you let your frustration out.

‘No way! Does he want you to live in your cubicle now?’, Wonwoo exclaims, completely invested in your rant about your senior.

You chuckle at his comment. If there’s one thing Wonwoo is the best at, it is to validate your frustration. He never makes you feel unheard even though sometimes your rants become repetitive.

‘I don’t knowww’, you whine, as you snuggle your head into his shoulder. The warmth he radiates immediately comforts you. One of his palms shifts to draw little shapes on your arm. On nights like these, all you want to do is to sleep in his arms with his scent and warmth engulfing you. The rythmic thumping of his heart calms you down.

‘Want me to run a bath for you, baby?’

‘Mhm no, gonna shower real quick..’, you say as you get up from his lap.

‘Gonna wait for you in the bedroom, hm?’, he says sweetly.

‘Yeah baby, I’ll be super quick so I can be in bed faster’

Shower was tiring, to say the least. All you did was stand under the showerhead for ten minutes like that would get rid of all the dirt from the day. As you got out, you saw Wonwoo laying on the bed with his phone and his glasses on. He was wearing a white shirt looking comfy as ever. You rushed the process of putting on your night clothes. And now, you could be in bed. Finally, you could be with your boyfriend who looked so comfy from afar.

‘This is the best part of my day’, you whispered.

‘Sleep well, baby’, he told you, eager for you to get some rest.

As you slipped into a slumber listening to his heart beat, Wonwoo made a mental point to let you sleep in on the weekend and get your favourite food delivered.

[suzukiblu]

okay FINE I'll do "think pink" for tomorrow's WIP Wednesday, hah. But also now I gotta post the cONTEXT so I can continue it from there, so y'all are just gonna have to have all this content and this here read-more, oh nooooo~ 💖

Kon shifts back on the mattress and lays himself out on his stomach, propped up on his elbows with his head not quite in Tim's lap, but definitely down on eye-level with his cock. His mouth feels that eager, greedy way again and he bites his tongue just to keep himself from licking his lips. He wants to do this right. He wants Tim to like this. 

He wants to be good for him. 

Tim's hand is still resting on top of his head, and he threads his fingers through Kon's hair again. Picks up his camera again too and snaps a few shots. Kon resists a stupid urge to duck his head or squirm; smirks up at him instead, and then sticks his tongue out at him. 

Tim takes a picture of that, too. 

“I realize this is a stupid thing to say given the whole nature of your creation and the fact I know you’ve been cloned yourself, but Jesus, do you have any idea what you look like right now?” Bernard says, rubbing at his own jaw and watching Kon intently. Kon feels warm and heated under that look, but also has to stifle a laugh at the thought. 

“Can’t say Match and I have ever gotten along this well, so no, not really,” he says with a wry grin, wrapping a hand around Tim’s cock again and giving it a few long, slow strokes from root to tip. Tim hisses very, very quietly and takes another picture. Kon is immediately overwhelmed with options and has, actually, no idea what to do here. Or at least no idea where to start, anyway. Tim’s cock is a warm, perfect fit in his hand and he is having a very hard time not obsessing over just where and how else it might so perfectly fit, and he just wants to make him feel good, wants to make him like it, wants to make him happy–

He really, really wants that. 

“Well, there’s a mental image,” Bernard muses consideringly. Tim’s fingers curl and his nails dig into Kon’s scalp. Kon pushes into them without really thinking it through, and Tim hisses again. 

“Pet,” he says, his voice just a little bit strangled. Kon wants to make it crack. Kon wants to make him crack. He wants to know exactly how carried away Tim can get. 

Exactly how carried away Tim wants to get. 

“Tim,” he says, and licks his lips after all. It seems like such a dumb, cliche thing to do, but Tim and Bernard’s hearts both skip a beat watching him do it, and their pupils dilate in unison. 

It’s a bit of a confidence booster, to put it mildly. 

“Tim,” Kon repeats, leaning in just enough to nuzzle Tim’s cock before pressing a kiss against the side of it. It’s a lot more than just making out with them or jacking himself off to put on a show for them, and it feels like it should feel weird, but it just makes his gut twist and flip and heat. Tim letting him touch him this intimately, Tim letting him touch him at all . . . Tim letting him do all this is . . . 

Fuck, pink kryptonite really is Kon’s new favorite thing. 

“Told you I haven’t done this before, right?” he says even though he knows he did, then flicks the flat of his tongue out against the head of Tim’s cock. It twitches against his tongue, and he feels a rush of eager heat coiling low in his gut. “You gotta tell me how to make it good for you. How to be good for you.” 

“Fuck,” Tim mutters under his breath, his fingers nearly slipping off the button of his camera. 

“C’mon, you’re the boss, Robin,” Kon coaxes, and Tim exhales. 

“Holy shit,” Bernard says with a breathless laugh, shaking his head. “You are a menace, you know that?” 

“Kiss me again, pet,” Tim says, his voice gratifyingly rough and his fingers tightening in Kon’s hair. There’s no possible way he could yank it hard enough to hurt him, but his grip is still so careful. 

Kon feels several fucking ways about that fact. 

He presses another kiss to Tim’s cock, obviously, just above his own loosely-circled fingers, and then mouths up the length of it as he tightens his fingers around him again. Tim grunts, flattening his hand against his hair and sliding it around to cup the back of his head. 

“Good boy,” he says. “Use your tongue.”

Kon does; ducks his mouth again and then drags his tongue back up Tim’s cock, broad and flat. Tim grits his teeth and knocks his head back against the headboard–against Kon’s jacket–and Kon feels like there’s something buzzing under his skin, like there’s something he can’t quite contain inside himself. It’s . . . been a while, he thinks. Since he felt that so much, he means. Like, it’s been a while since he fucked anyone at all, much less anyone he liked this much, but it’s been a while since he felt it like this. 

Probably since he was with Cassie, come to think, which kinda makes sense.

He slides his tongue up and around the head of Tim’s cock and Tim chokes on another grunt. His hips don’t push up, but they do just barely shift. Kon feels even more of that buzzing warmth and kisses Tim’s cock again, wet and messy this time, and Tim curses under his breath and snaps a few more pictures. Kon winks up at him, not even trying not to smirk against his dick. Bernard laughs in delight and bites his knuckles. 

“Holy shit,” he repeats reverently. Kon kind of wants him to put a hand in his hair too, maybe, or at least touch him some way or another. 

“Good boy,” Tim repeats himself too, though in his case he has to do it through still-gritted teeth. Kon thinks about the fact he’s making Tim react this much, controlled and collected and always-prepared Tim, and the thought is one he really fucking likes. If he can affect Tim this much, if Tim likes what he’s doing this much . . . 

Yeah, he definitely likes that.

“You listen so well. And you’re so eager,” Tim murmurs, his tone low and approving and spine-melting as he strokes through Kon’s hair again even more spine-meltingly. “Show me how much of me you can take.”

Kon doesn’t hesitate; doesn’t even wait long enough to crack a dirty joke or make a flirty comment. He just opens his mouth and drops it down over Tim, around Tim, letting Tim inside him, and . . . 

And fuck, Kon thinks fleetingly, and then wraps his mouth fully around Tim’s cock and presses his tongue up against the underside as he slides down, and Tim’s hand tightens in his hair again, and–

Kon doesn’t really have a gag reflex, either because of the half-Kryptonian thing or because of the whole “weaned on a feeding tube” thing when he was initially being developed–who knows which–and he doesn’t really need to breathe all that much anymore either, so if Tim’s telling him to show him how much of him he can take . . . 

Well. The logical thing to do is to really commit, isn’t it? 

It feels–weird, a little, and kind of awkward and strange, but . . . 

“Tilt your head back a bit and relax your throat,” Bernard advises, reaching over to tap a couple of fingers gently against the corner of Kon’s jaw, and Kon just–does. Because again, not much of a gag reflex, and also he can sort of just use his TTK to ease the whole process, so–yeah. He tilts his head and relaxes his throat, and pulls Tim’s cock into his throat. 

It really does feel like a perfect fit, he thinks a little bit hazily, and then he swallows around him. Tim curses. Loudly. 

“Okay, so Kryptonians can deepthroat on the first try,” Bernard observes conversationally, his fingers curling against Kon’s jaw. “Good to know. Useful information. Also, oh my god.” 

“Good boy,” Tim says roughly, stroking a heavy hand through Kon’s hair, and Kon feels warm and buzzed and a little bit dazed, and just . . . rolls his tongue up tighter against the weight of his cock and swallows around him again. He should bob his head, he knows, but he kind of doesn’t want to. Just having Tim in his mouth like this, in his throat like this . . . “Fuck, pet. Look at me.” 

Kon flicks his eyes up to Tim’s face again, though they’re heavy and unfocused-feeling, and finds himself looking into his camera lens again. Tim takes a few pictures. 

Maybe a lot of pictures, actually, Kon’s vaguely aware, but he’s a little bit distracted right now. Just–Tim’s cock is a warm, solid weight in his mouth and on his tongue, hard and throbbing for him, and Tim told him he was good and told him to look at him and that’s . . . really all he’s worried about right now, yeah. 

He sucks, obviously. Swallows around him; rolls his tongue up and tries to swallow him down farther, even though his nose is already practically pressing into Tim’s stomach. It’s just a reflex, more than anything else. Bernard’s fingertips are still on his jaw. He likes them there. 

It’s a lot different from going down on a girl, obviously, but it gives him that same heady rush and feeling of usefulness he always gets from pleasing someone, which–well yeah, of course it does. The pink K is changing what he’s attracted to, not what he likes to do. So like, of course he’d still like giving oral and getting told he was doing a good job and all that stuff. It’d be weird if he didn’t. 

Kon can’t really focus on Tim’s face past the camera, but Tim’s free hand is still in his hair and he can feel him through his TTK–him and Bernard both–and hear both of their accelerated heartbeats and quickened breathing. Tim's are more-so than Bernard, but Bernard isn't currently getting his dick sucked, so Kon figures that’s understandable. 

He wants to touch him too, and considers reaching into his lap or just using his TTK to feel him up a bit, but he also wants to concentrate on this and make it as good as he can, do it as right as he can. He wants Tim to really, really love this. To think he’s doing well. To be pleased with and proud of him. 

If he can make this good for Tim, be good for Tim–

Kon really wants to do that. 

He makes himself bob his head; sucks tightly and doesn’t even pretend not to be using his TTK too, mimicking the same licking he’s already doing with a phantom tongue working in counterpoint to his own, and he cups and rolls Tim’s balls in his hand and lets another little tendril of TTK press up behind them and rub in along his taint. 

Tim curses. 

“That into it already, babe?” Bernard teases, sounding amused. Kon glances towards him a little muzzily and feels even warmer at the sight of the heated look on his face, but for obvious reasons keeps most of his attention on what he’s doing to Tim. 

What he’s doing for Tim, more like. 

“TTK,” Tim grits out, his voice a little strangled and fingers twisting just a little bit tighter in Kon’s hair. 

“Oh,” Bernard says, his eyes widening. “Ohhhhh. Well, okay, that’s incredibly distracting. Jesus.”

“You're doing so good for your first time, pet,” Tim says, tight and tender, and Kon feels that heady rush again and lets out a stifled moan around his cock. Tim hisses, his hips twitching against the mattress, but the fingers he has twisted tight in Kon's hair stay careful. Stay gentle. 

Kon would be perfectly fine with Tim yanking his hair as hard as he wants right now, but honestly, the fact he's keeping the totally unnecessary promise of being gentle with him is really doing it for him.

Like. Really. 

He moans again; swallows Tim back down as far as he can and flexes his tongue and his TTK around him, and Tim makes a choked noise in the back of his throat and drags his fingers through his hair very, very gently. Kon is pretty sure he'd let Tim hold a kryptonite razor to his throat at this point in their lives and just assume if he decided to slash it, it was for the best. 

So that's . . . definitely a way to feel about the guy whose dick is currently down his throat. 

Fuck. 

Kon squirms, just a little, and presses his hips down into the sheets as his own dick decides it's getting a bit more interested in the current proceedings. His refractory period is quick enough that he's surprised it took it this long to, frankly, because the whole experience of having Tim like this is more than a little overwhelming. 

“So good, pet,” Tim grunts, and Kon's dick is definitely interested in that. “Don't stop. You look so pretty like this.” 

“I feel like you could go with a much stronger descriptor than ‘pretty’ here,” Bernard says, trailing his fingers down under Kon's jaw and pressing his thumb in against the stretched-open corner of his mouth. “I don't know, ‘mind-meltingly hot’ or ‘fucking gorgeous’. ‘Probably illegal in half the sector and should be if you're not’, maybe.” 

“Perfect,” Tim says, which is stronger enough that Kon nearly chokes before the bastard starts elaborating. “Always just what I need. Always so good for me. Always my boy. I can trust you with anything.” 

Kon doesn't moan around him this time; he whines. Tim strokes his hair back off his face and he's vaguely aware of the camera shutter going off, or maybe having been going off this whole time, but all he can actually think about or do is suck Tim off. He digs his fingers into Tim's thighs and swallows around his cock and makes more near-pleading whining noises, and doesn't even care if it makes him sound stupid. Tim said he was doing good. Tim said he was perfect. 

Yeah, no, Kon really doesn't give a fuck about anything else right now. 

He really does wish they could've skipped the condom, though. The idea of Tim very literally coming in his mouth is–is a lot. And Tim said he wanted him to taste him. 

Kon would absolutely do that for him, if it weren't like, a health issue or whatever. 

His jaw doesn't ache, because he's too Kryptonian for that, and his mouth isn't going to look like he's been sucking cock because again, he's too Kryptonian for that. But they both feel used and sensitive in a new and unfamiliar way, and the tight slide of Tim’s cock along his tongue is weirdly hypnotic, and the hands they both have in his hair and on his jaw make him feel restless and eager and needy, and everything Tim says just sounds so, so good right now. 

Kon wants him to keep talking as bad as he thinks he’s ever wanted anything in bed, so he puts in the fucking effort and does his best imitation of all the best blowjobs of his life; doesn’t hesitate or hold back or shy away, goes in hard and puts in the work, doesn’t half-ass any of it. 

Lets himself be as eager as he feels. 

But also takes his time, just a little, and savors. 

“Fuck,” Tim chokes, and his head hits the headboard hard. His cock twitches in Kon’s mouth and gets even harder, and Kon feels–feels–“Good boy.” 

Like that, yeah. He feels like a good boy. 

Like Tim’s good boy, specifically. 

That is actually doing even more for him than it usually would be. Like–Cassie-levels of “doing it for him”, again. Which still makes sense, obviously, but is just a lot. Kon should’ve expected it, probably, just . . .

“Oh, pet,” Tim breathes out roughly, petting his hair so gently, and Kon stops caring about anything else. Tim’s petting his hair and letting him touch him and putting up with him crashing his weekend, and that’s all that Kon gives a fuck about right now. 

That and the way Bernard keeps tracing his fingers up his jaw and down his throat, anyway. 

“You are an unfairly quick learner,” Bernard says, all delighted admiration and approval, and Kon tries to figure out if he can swallow Tim down any farther. Obviously no, because he’s already got every inch of him it’s possible to in his mouth and throat, but he really tries. Tim curses a few more times. Kon . . . 

Kon doesn’t quite do it on purpose, but his TTK starts to sort of . . . wander, a little. Or–reach out a little, more like, and wrap itself around Tim and Bernard both and just sort of . . . hold on, maybe. 

“Oh,” Bernard says, sounding breathless, and digs his nails in against Kon’s impenetrable skin. Kon can feel every inch of him; every inch of him and Tim both. “You really are a flirt, huh. And a real multi-tasker, too.” 

Kon would do something to live up to the “flirt” rep, maybe, but it is just so much more important to suck Tim’s cock right now. 

Like much, much more important. 

He wonders how long Tim’s going to let him do this. Wonders how long he’s going to last, wonders if he likes it as much as he wants him to, wonders if–

Tim strokes the hand in his hair down the side of his face to cup his jaw and snaps another picture or five. Kon feels warm and heavy and electric. Tim likes it. Tim likes him. Tim’s petting him and taking pictures and–and he’s–

“Such a good boy for me,” Tim says, his voice a low, heated rasp, and Kon feels the kind of buzzing bliss he usually only gets when he’s way deep into a scene with somebody who’s really, really put the work in. Cassie got him there this easy, the handful of times they’d tried this kind of play, but . . . “So sweet. So obedient. Just what I want you to be.” 

Kon definitely whines around Tim’s cock again, and definitely does his best to live up to that compliment. He’s dizzy and warm and his mouth is too full to talk past and his throat is too full to talk past, and Tim’s cupping his jaw and taking pictures of him and Bernard is drawing his fingers along the other side of his face and pressing the pad of his thumb in against his lower lip. It’s wet and slick with spit and Kon wishes it were wet and slick with Tim. Wishes Bernard were touching him more. Wishes Tim would fuck his mouth as gently as he’s petting his face right now. 

“Just perfect,” Tim murmurs, and Kon swallows around his dick and grinds his own down into the mattress without really meaning to, because how could he ever listen to Tim talking to him like this and not do that? He wants touched more. He wants back between the two of them. He wants–

He grinds his hips down again, swallows Tim down again with a lingering shudder, and Tim–pauses.

“Pet,” he asks very, very carefully, his voice still a low rasp. “Are you . . . getting off on doing this?” 

It’s not really a question Kon understands, because of course he’s doing that. Obviously he is. But he’s being good for Tim, being good for Tim is all he wants to do, so he just purrs in reply and bobs his head and works his mouth around him until Tim’s hand tightens against his jaw and his heartbeat is doing things Kon’s never heard it do before. 

“Babe, I love you, but you are asking questions with very obvious answers right now,” Bernard says wryly. 

“Pet,” Tim says tightly, back to breathing like the doors are gonna blow in and smoothing a hand back through Kon’s hair again. It feels so, so good. “Can you come like this for me? For my cock in your mouth like this?” 

Kon definitely can. 

And it’s not going to be much longer ‘til he definitely does, the way he feels right now. 

Kon sucks harder, swallows tighter, works his mouth more and uses his TTK to help it out, and Tim hisses under his breath and still doesn’t yank his hair. Kon likes that so much. 

Likes him so much. 

He can’t keep himself from grinding his hips down into the sheets, it feels like, but Tim asked him if he could get off like this, so it’s not like he’s trying to stop or be patient. Not like he’s trying to hold anything back or behave. Tim wants him to do it, right? Wants him to get off like this. For this. So he’s–behaving, by doing this. 

Being good by doing this. 

Kon makes a noise. A tight, strangled one that he doesn’t quite know how to define. Tim trails his fingers along his temple and then back down to his jaw, soft and gentle, and this time Kon whimpers. He digs his fingers into Tim’s thighs again; drags them down and swallows him down. Tim curses. His camera goes off, though the lens isn’t aimed as carefully as before. Kon whimpers again and wants Tim to yank his hair, fuck his mouth, come in his mouth; use him like a thing and treat him however he wants and tell him how good he is for it. 

If he’s a pet or an animal or just some stupid idiot humping the sheets while Tim and Bernard pet him and Tim’s cock fills up his mouth and throat–if he’s good, a good boy, Tim’s good boy–if he’s doing what Tim wants him to be doing–

If Tim is still, still, still being so gentle, just like he promised . . . 

Well–then Kon is going to absolutely lose his fucking mind and melt into this fucking mattress, is what’s going to happen here. 

But not before he makes Tim come. 

He wants to make Tim come. He wants to see what he looks like after he does; wants to hear how he sounds, find out what he’ll do and say and–

“I need you to know, I am going to go actually insane before we’re done here,” Bernard informs Tim, shifting into his side and pressing a kiss in behind his ear as he curls his fingers in behind Kon’s ear. Kon feels weirdly, weirdly obsessed with that particular little parallel. “Like I’m feeling about a hop, skip, and a jump away from getting a gimmick and going full rogue here, that’s what’s happening in my head right now.” 

“The only reason I haven’t lost my mind yet is because we had to use condoms,” Tim says very, very evenly. 

“Really?” Bernard asks, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Because I’d have thought having to use condoms while thinking about how your boy didn’t want to would’ve shoved you right over the edge there, babe.” 

“. . . ngh,” Tim mutters, tightening his grip in Kon’s hair as Kon shudders. 

“Seriously,” Bernard says, biting his lip for a moment. “Like, the fact that if we were all less responsible people he’d be letting you come in him is really making me–” 

“Ngh,” Tim says, screwing his eyes shut, and Kon thinks about how that might feel, about the idea of Tim coming in his mouth or maybe–

He muffles a heated groan around Tim’s cock, and Tim hisses through his teeth and knocks his head back against the headboard again. Back against Kon’s jacket again. 

Kon really wants to ask him to wear it for a little while, and not because of any practical reasons like keeping the pink kryptonite in its pocket in close and doing its radioactive magic or anything like that. 

“Just saying,” Bernard says, and Kon wants to feel him up and kinda wishes he could get both their cocks in his mouth right now or maybe–maybe–

If he'd waited, maybe they would've been up for trying out a spitroast kind of setup. Maybe they'll be up for trying that out later. Maybe–

Fuck, he wants more. Wants everything they've both got. 

If he does this good enough, maybe they’ll give it to him. 

“You look so good like this. I wish I could see my come on your face,” Tim murmurs lowly, trailing his fingers along the arc of Kon's cheekbone. “Wish I could make you drip with it.” 

Kon and his total lack of gag reflex somehow actually choke. Tim's eyes flare. 

“Don’t hurt yourself, pet,” Tim says as he strokes Kon’s face again, all tender and gentle like that’s actually something Kon could ever do this easily. It makes him feel–weird. Several kinds of weird. 

It makes him feel like something that maybe could get hurt that easily, or maybe just something Tim doesn’t want to risk getting hurt no matter what, which is . . . a weird way to feel, honestly. 

But he doesn’t–mind it, or anything. Doesn’t mind feeling like something that Tim wants to be careful with, something he wants to make sure not to break; not to hurt. 

Yeah. No, he definitely doesn’t mind that at all. 

“Fuck, you look good like this,” Bernard mutters. “I am definitely going to lose my mind and die over this, I need a rogue gimmick, like, yesterday. What’s one nobody’s done yet, I don’t wanna be derivative or whatever.” 

“Good luck finding that,” Tim snorts breathlessly, shaking his head. His thumb slides back along the arch of Kon’s cheekbone and it’s such a little touch, but it feels so–so sweet, for lack of a better word. Feels like Tim’s still being so careful.

Makes Kon feel like . . . 

He grabs Tim’s hips and tugs hopefully at them, not sure if he wants the other to fuck his mouth or just wants to make sure he isn’t going to pull back or pull away. He bobs his head faster and swallows around his cock again and again, and Tim hisses sharp little curses under his breath, and Kon can’t help grinding his own cock down harder into the mattress. 

“Fuck,” Bernard muses, pressing the pad of his thumb in against the corner of Kon’s stretched-open mouth again. “You’re really into this, huh.” 

“That was a question?” Tim huffs, and Kon feels warm and good and warm. 

“I was talking to Kon, babe,” Bernard says, and Tim hisses through his teeth and covers his face with a hand. “At this rate I think he’s gonna come before you do.” 

He might be right, the way Kon feels right now. He doesn’t know if he even needs to worry about his cock to get himself off, if Tim’s gonna keep acting like this about everything. 

“Pet,” Tim rasps, sliding a hand over the back of Kon’s neck and splaying his fingers across it. “Do you want to come like this? Do you like it?”

Kon would actually have to pull back to say anything in answer to that question, obviously, but he really doesn’t want to. He makes the most eager, encouraging noise he can figure out how to with his mouth full and swallows Tim down to the root and swallows around him, and Tim chokes roughly and knocks his head back against the headboard again. 

Kon still can’t get over the fact that Tim doing that means he’s leaning back against his jacket. 

Tim’s hips roll up into his mouth, stuttering and barely-controlled, but still gentle. Still careful. Still–

Tim’s fingers curl in Kon’s hair, and Kon’s whole fucking brain shorts out and he comes into the sheets with a choked, gasping moan, and has no idea why having Tim’s cock filling up his mouth for it feels so good. It all feels so good, though, and he doesn’t really . . . he’s not . . . 

“Shit, Kon, did you just–” Bernard starts while Kon’s still shuddering his way through it and kind of forgetting how to think, sounding delighted, and– 

“Fuck!” Tim groans, and comes too. 

Comes in Kon’s mouth. Because of him. Because of how he’s touching him and how he’s using his mouth and how he’s being good for him. 

Kon whines around his mouthful of cock and lets Tim ride out his orgasm completely before he lets his cock slip out of his throat and wipes the spit off his face. Tim is panting. 

Kon . . . nuzzles him. 

His dick, he means. He nuzzles that. 

“Jesus fucking fuck, Kon, I . . .” Tim trails off with a groan, putting a hand over his eyes. Bernard was very right about how good he looks after coming. Like, if anything, he undersold it. Kon presses a careful little kiss against the root of Tim’s softening cock before nuzzling it again, feeling blurry and buzzed and so, so good. He doesn’t want to stop. He wants to make Tim come until the other kicks him off, and then he wants to see if making Bernard come will feel even half this good.

He bets he could make sure it would, he thinks, and licks his lips. 

Tim groans. 

“Maybe I should’ve told Supergirl to expect you next Monday,” Bernard says, openly staring. Kon still feels too buzzed to properly preen under the attention, but it makes him feel warm anyway. 

“Mmmkay,” he hums, feeling just a little . . . floaty, maybe. Like, in a good way, just . . . floaty, yeah. “Whenever y'want. Just keep me 'til y'get bored or whatever.” 

“I dunno, dude, you already said you weren't the marrying kind,” Bernard says wryly, reaching out to pet his hair again. 

Kon feels warm. 

“Mmmmm, alright, then just tell me when you need that party favor for your bachelor party, 'kay?” he murmurs, nuzzling into Bernard’s hand with a little shiver before returning his attention to Tim’s cock. “Bet Superman'll gimme pink K for that.” 

“Ngh,” Tim says.

Kon’s kinda starting to like that sound, he thinks. 

He kisses the base of Tim’s cock again, then lifts his head to drag his tongue over the tip, where his come is trapped inside the condom. Wonders what Tim’s refractory period is like. Wonders if–

“Stop,” Tim rasps, and Kon would feel disappointed, but being good for Tim is just as good as getting him off. “Just–c’mere, pet. Head in my lap, and roll over on your back.” 

Kon doesn’t know why Tim wants him to do that, but he’s not really worried about it. Tim always has the best ideas, after all. So he shifts up a bit as Tim strips off the condom and tosses it before tucking his cock away again, which seems like a shame, and then Kon rolls over and ends up stretched out across the bed with his head in Tim’s lap, just like he asked. Tim wraps his arms around him, which is nice, and smoothes his hands down his chest. 

“Color?” Tim asks. Kon doesn’t understand what he’s–oh, right. 

“Green,” he hums contentedly, pressing up into Tim’s hands and tipping his head back against Tim’s stomach. Tim sighs. He sounds a little relieved, for some reason. Kon’s not sure why. There’s no way he’d be anything but green right now. 

“Good,” Tim says. “Bernard, can you grab the–oh, thanks. Pet, Bernard’s going to clean you up a little, alright?” 

Kon wonders what Tim wanted, but then Bernard’s leaning over him and it doesn’t seem important anymore, so he just hums again and lets his eyes half-close as he hears a little ripping sound and then Bernard is running a wet wipe over the mess of come he got all over himself.

He’d be embarrassed that he wasn’t handling his own mess, maybe, but it feels nice. He was kind of sticky, he guesses, especially after coming in the sheets while grinding in them. So . . . the bed’s also kind of sticky, he guesses. And he’s pretty sure he’s still at least halfway lying in his own come, considering. 

He doesn’t really care. Tim’s hands are on his chest and Bernard’s being nice enough to clean him up and he just feels warm and good and like he’s being good and . . . and it’s nice. Really nice. 

So yeah, he doesn’t care. 

Actually, he doesn’t care about much of anything right now, except for how nice this is. 

“Good boy,” Tim says, smoothing one of his hands up Kon’s chest and throat and then stroking his hair again. Kon feels even nicer, and hums softly in response. He assumes Tim wants a response, anyway. Probably. Maybe. “How do you feel, pet?” 

“M’good,” Kon sighs contentedly, though he only bothers with saying anything at all because he wants to be good for him. It feels really good and really nice and Tim is just . . . he really likes this. So much. 

He never gets treated this nice. Or at least, hasn’t in a really long time. 

Well . . . he hasn’t been dating much, he guesses, so . . . like really, he’s pretty sure the last time he went out with anybody was before Tim and Bernard even started dating, so . . .

. . . actually, huh. It was, wasn’t it.

Kon frowns, very briefly, and thinks . . . did he actually . . . stop dating people right when Tim got a boyfriend? Like . . . what, as an actual triggering event? Why would he . . . ? 

“I cannot believe how good you are at being good for me,” Tim mutters, stroking his hair again, and Kon forgets what he was thinking about and tips his head back again to peer up at him as Bernard tosses out the used wet wipe with a snigger. “Shut up, Bernard, you don’t know how many goddamn problems this could’ve solved for Young Justice back in the day. You have no idea.” 

“Oh, could it have, babe?” Bernard asks, and cackles. Tim scowls at him. Kon . . . Kon has some slightly inappropriate thoughts about the idea of Tim ordering him around in the Robin suit in possibly inappropriate ways and places and times back in the day and . . . and, uh . . .

“Yeah, guess that would’ve been a good way to shut me up when I got too mouthy, huh?” he tries to joke, feeling a little–weird, maybe, and Tim’s fingers curl gently behind his ears. 

“I was more thinking the team would've had a mutually enjoyable way to reward you for good behavior,” he replies matter-of-factly. 

“. . . oh,” Kon manages, and feels his face burn. And then he has a lot more thoughts that are a lot more inappropriate about . . . about maybe just . . . about what that might’ve been like, maybe, if he’d been good and earned a reward for “good behavior” and then Tim had–Robin, because they hadn’t even known his name then, actually–and then Robin had just . . . let him be good for everybody else too, maybe. Like, they’d had enough of those team sleepovers, they could’ve just . . .

He’d have been so good, he thinks. He’d have taken care of all the girls just how they wanted and done anything Robin told him to and–well, maybe it would’ve been a little weird with Bart, he’s not sure how that would’ve worked, but Robin could’ve just told him what to do, again, and . . . 

Like–he could’ve, that’s all. 

Kon’s pretty sure he could’ve done that without the pink kryptonite, if he was just, like–doing what Robin told him to do for Cissie or Cassie or “Suzie”. Like . . . even if it might’ve been a little weird and he couldn’t have gotten to touch him, that would’ve been . . . 

That’s just–a thought, kind of.

Well, he guesses his next sex dream’s gonna involve getting to play the starring role in a team gangbang. Good to know, he guesses. 

Or mortifying, maybe. But . . . 

“Real missed opportunity, there,” Tim says, and Kon bites his lip to repress the urge to squirm. He thinks about the idea of Robin telling him how to kiss Suzie or go down on Cissie or fuck Cassie, and it’s . . . 

Fuck, it’s a thought, isn’t it. 

He wonders if Robin would’ve told him what to do for Bart, too. Like–if that would’ve been a thing, if it’d ever come up. He wonders how that would’ve felt. Just . . . doing whatever Robin told him to, pink kryptonite or not, and . . . 

That is a very weird thought, Kon recognizes, and then Bernard leans forward a little and he remembers–shit, Bernard’s been waiting all this time, he needs to–

Tim strokes a hand through his hair, and Kon–hesitates. Settles, slowly. Bernard grins at Tim, and Tim smiles back at him. Kon watches them. 

He likes how they look at each other. He’s never gotten to see it, except in the sense of seeing Tim smile at his phone sometimes when he’s texting Bernard. Finally seeing Bernard’s half of the equation is . . . affecting, kind of. 

And really nice.

Tim deserves to get a grin like that directed at him, so–yeah. Definitely nice, Kon thinks, and settles a little more. 

“Pet,” Tim murmurs, his voice all soft and gentle as he strokes Kon’s collarbones. “Do you want to stay in my lap like this while Bernard gets you ready for our cocks? Does that sound nice?” 

Kon nearly bites his tongue. 

“Yeah,” he manages to croak, reaching up to wrap his hands around Tim’s wrists and half-reflexively spreading his thighs as he does. “I–yeah. That sounds–yeah, I wanna do that.” 

He really wants to do that, actually. 

“Fuck,” Tim and Bernard mutter in unison. Kon would laugh, but the way they both say it is just really, really fucking flattering.

[hareofhrair]

Help Me Choose An Internet Stunt

I want to do something crazy to try and raise money to make my life less bad! Proceeds go to: getting a cleaning service to un-fuck my depression nest, buying a self cleaning litterbox, and food!

So here's the concepts that are in the lead so far:

Curse of Strahd Any% Randomizer with Ice Traps— I DM my very first ttrpg, and it’s curse of strahd, but the plot elements, characters, and encounters have all been randomized, I’m marathoning till we kill strahd but the pool of players drops in and out as they feel like it, and also chat can donate to hassle everyone in dubiously humorous ways. Pros: could be real funny? Cons: could go on actually forever and then I’d die. All the players decide to go have lives at the same time and i have to play by myself. Also I still haven’t finished the curse of strahd campaign I’m in so I’d get spoiled :( --Some of my friends I play DnD with seem interested in this one, so that's good! This is definitely the nuttiest option that would require the most work and has the highest potential for being a complete disaster.

First Boss Boss Rush— I play a bunch of games trying to get to and beat the first boss as fast as possible. Pros: likely to take a long time and be very entertaining to people who enjoy watching people be bad at video games. Cons: might suck for anyone who does not like watching people be bad at video games. --Need to work on a list of games for this. Thinking Hades, Cult of the Lamb, that kind of thing. What are some games with notoriously pain in the ass bosses?

Modathon— I start a game of Fallout 4 or Skyrim and at every donation milestone add more mods until the game crashes or I complete it. Any% to start, stretch goal for 100% --I'd make it New Vegas but that shit is so unstable to start with I worry we wouldn't get far lmao.

I Make A Quilt— I learn how to quilt and marathon until the fucking quilt is done. Donation incentives to make me watch the Room while quilting. For every fifty dollars I add another square. Pros: i have. a quilt at the end. Cons: probably boring. Hand pain. --This one isn't a complete ass pull. I recently inherited a ton of quilting supplies and I need to learn anyway so I can help finish a relative's legacy project, for anyone worried I was foolishly offering to jump empty handed into a craft that requires an enormous initial investment. I'm just foolishly offering to marathon an incredibly labor intensive project that generally takes even skilled craftsmen months of work!

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 23: Moral Compass

Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/sl-newsie/739551758747090944/american-woman-thomas-shelby-x-american-oc?source=share

Lord, why? Why does he have to be so fucking stupid?

I’ve always found hospitals to be quite eerie. They’re meant to provide a comfortable environment but as I wait for news about Thomas I can’t help but shutter at the sight of this dreary place. It’s been a whole night of waiting. Waiting to know if my boss’s heart still beats. I don’t know who he pissed off this time but they mean business.

“Hello again, Ms. Steenstra.”

It can’t be.

“Inspector Campbell,” I greet coldly. “I see you haven’t been scared off for good. You’re here for Thomas, I imagine?”

The inspector, now with a very noticeable limp, looks at the door across from me. “That is private business.”

Of course it is. Always business. Not a worried soul hoping Thomas might be alive. I guess it's just me.

A nurse walks by and pokes her head into his room. “Are you ready for a visitor, Mr. Shelby?”

“No,” a gruff voice answers. Thomas.

I get up and call softly: “Not even a concerned friend?” 

The nurse stands aside and lets Thomas see my face. “I’ll make an exception.”

I can’t wait any longer. I rush to his bedside and take in his broken face. God… He looks so weak.

“Jesus Christ! Thomas- What happened?”

“Sabini,” he mutters, his torn lip making his voice sound different.

He lets me take his hand. “How are you not dead? These injuries… they’re not just simple scratches.”

He ignores my worried thoughts and his eyes flicker over to the door. “Campbell…”

“Inspector Campbell? He’s outside right now, wanting to see you.”

This triggers the injured gangster to sit up and try to spread out the wrinkles in his sheets. Is he preparing for a hospital visit or a job interview?

“How do I look?”

I give him a pointed stare and rub his temples. “Like you just avoided death. Does your mouth hurt?”

Thomas shakes his head. “Not so much anymore. Does the scar look bad?”

“No amount of scars can make you look any less handsome. Don’t flatter yourself.”

Thomas is trying to keep a stern face but a smile slips out nonetheless. Good to know his happiness isn’t completely dead yet.

The door opens and the nurse is back. “Mr. Campbell will see you now.”

That’s my que to leave. 

“Feel better, Thomas.”

I give his hand a final squeeze and exit the room, but not before giving the inspector one final glare.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

“Come on. Pick up.”

Why is she not answering? Polly said Ada’s home.

Harry walks by with a few other Blinders and I have a sneaky suspicion they have the answer to my question.

“Hey!” The three men turn around. “Where’s Ada?” No response. “Where is Ada?”

The two unknowns exchange glances and Harry’s the one to answer. “Mrs. Thorn, she was abducted. But she’s safe now.”

Abducted. This has to be Sabini’s work. Even Campbell isn’t dumb enough to attempt that. 

“Where is she?” I demand.

Harry holds up his hands defensively. “Easy, Ms. Steenstra. She didn’t want any more from us so she went off to her flat. There’s a guard outside.”

That doesn’t explain why she didn’t answer the phone.

“I’m going over there.” Harry tries to stop me but my own icy glare stops him dead in his tracks. “That goes without question. If you wish to complain, go see Polly.”

Thump thump thump.

Muffled footsteps echo from the hall and-

“Thomas?” I’m speechless. “How-?”

“Checked out early,” he explains quickly and goes for the telephone.

“You did what? Thomas, you can’t just-!”

He puts down the receiver and faces me with determined eyes. “I can’t just wait in that hospital for Sabini to kill me. I need to head to Camden Town.”

My jaw drops. “In your condition? You could die.”

“There’s a man there who I think can be a useful ally. Name’s Solomons.”

Solomons? That sounds familiar. If I remember right he runs a brewery business as well. He might know Uncle Colon. 

“There’s other news,” I say slowly. “There was an attempt to abduct Ada. Harry says she’s fine now but I’m going over there anyway. From what I hear Ada wants nothing to do with you.”

Thomas’ scarred face smirks and he raises his eyebrows. “She’ll lighten up once I give her the key.”

I frown. “Key?”

“To the house.”

“House?” My voice rises. “You bought Ada a house?”

Thomas taps the side of his head thoughtfully. “Economics, love. You of all people should understand. All the same I’d appreciate it if you stayed with her a few days. Just in case, for both of you.”

I- I’m touched. Thomas thinks of me as the same level as his own sister. Or is it because he trusts me to keep her safe? 

“You keep yourself safe,” I order when he reaches for the phone again. Please promise.

“I will.”

Knock knock.

“Ada. I know you hate Thomas’ guts right now but please let us in.”

I hear a lock being undone and the door opens to reveal an older Karl.

“Hello, Karl! Remember me?” I smile and kneel down. “Is your mum home?”

He nods eagerly and scampers down the hall, leaving Finn and I to follow. Inside we find Ada lounging on the parlor couch. 

“Verena? Finn? What’s going on?”

“Sorry for the pop-in. I tried to call. I heard what happened and wanted to make sure you’re alright. And catch up a bit, if I’m honest.”

The Shelby sister stands up and engulfs me in a hug. “It’s good to see you.”

“I brought Finn because he can’t wait for another lesson. Do you mind?”

“No, not at all. It’ll keep Karl occupied too.”

She reaches over to pour some fresh tea and I’m glad to say there’s no sign of physical harm on her.

“So? What happened?”

Ada rolls her eyes. “Some bloke tried to grab me on my way home. Gave him a good kick to the balls he won’t forget.” She pauses to give me a look-over. “Tommy’s still got you working after all? Aren’t you tired of all the killing?”

“If you still question my tolerance for your family’s business then you still have a lot to learn about Americans. I just hope it’s remembered-”

“Verena, you have become more trustworthy than actual blood members of us Shelbys. You are just as big a part of this family. Ah!” Ada stops me from arguing. “You are.”

“She’s right,” Finn agrees. “Can we do a lesson now?”

“Like school?” Karl asks from the doorway. 

“Oh it’s not like school,” Finn assures him and pats a spot on the sofa next to him. “It’s loads better.”

“I appreciate the enthusiasm,” I comment. “What might today’s topic be?”

Ada excuses herself and walks out just as Finn says “philosophy.” I think after being married to Freddie she’s already heard an earful about the subject.

“To begin with, consider this: Americans are the ones who invented the electric chair in New York in 1888 and executed William Kemmler in 1890 because they were seeking a more humane method of execution instead of hanging. They succeeded, though after many trial-and-errors with gruesome results. What moral issues might this cause?”

Karl raises his hand. “Killing is mean.”

“You’re right, Karl. It is mean. People go back and forth about whether it should be a form of punishment.”

“I say yes,” Finn inputs. “If someone kills a person I care about, they deserve to die too.”

“Another fair point. Now. There are three moral theories I’d like to tie to this. Mill’s moral theory about consequentialism believes that the action that produces more utility is good. It asks  “Will doing this result in greater overall wellbeing for all of those involved?” By executing a murderer, we will be eliminating the threat of more innocent lives being in danger.”

I take a breath to gather my thoughts. Both boys are hanging on my next words. “Now consider Kant’s moral theory. This theory of deontology says that religion is separate from morality. Instead of religious rules, Kant suggests using the basis of ‘what is right’ in terms of consideration of other people. ‘Will this action become a universal law?’ If one murderer is being executed for his crimes, then so should every other murderer after him. No exceptions.”

Another breath. “The last theory I’ll bring up is Aristotle’s virtue ethics. This focuses on character development and the task of morality, and overall being a good person. He thinks that we are programmed with a want to be virtuous, and the idea of being virtuous is having a balance of honesty and courage. ‘Will killing this murderer help for the executioner to be a person of better character? Do you both understand what I’m saying?”

Finn, sitting with his fist on his chin, nods slowly. Karl keeps staring with wide eyes.

“Wow.”

“I agree, Karl. Wow.”

Thank goodness that satisfied Finn for the next few days. I’m no proper teacher so there’s no time to plan lessons. We’ve been far too busy for that. Every hour I expert word to say that Thomas will be returning in a coffin.

Thud thud thud.

More footsteps enter the house and my heart soars.

“You're back!” I gasp when Thomas pokes his head in. His wounds have healed up nicely and he looks to have gotten his strength back. “Thank God. I heard rumors you’d been killed but I didn’t believe them.” 

He offers a quick smile but there’s something else. A glint in his eyes that tells me his trip was successful. “You’re up to something.”

“Don’t know what you mean, love.”

My eyes narrow and I put my hands on my hips. “Spill, Thomas.”

The gangster squeezes my arm and goes to pour himself some tea. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

@meadows5

[shentheauthor]

Ranking the boss fights in nine sols, worst to best.

Disclaimer: these are all my own opinions, and I love ALL of these fights. I just love some more than others!

8-Goumang. I love her to bits and pieces but oh my god those soldiers are ANNOYING. Fuck OFF. It’s completely doable, but it pisses me off regardless.

7- Yanlao. I love this one as well, but the lasers get annoying and that stupid claw just does the same move over and over. There’s very little variation in its attack patterns.

6- Yingzhao. It’s a great intro fight to the game, and it’s REALLY fun, but all in all, it’s not my favorite! It’s the least difficult fight and I love a challenge. Plus Yingzhao as a whole isn’t even a character. It fits Kuafu well, but idc about Yingzhao. Rip. Also there’s one attack that’s a little scuffed because you have to parry way sooner than you think you do, and it fucks me over every time.

5- The Fengs. They are some of my faves, because I love the rhythm of their fight. Fuxi’s slow, well-telegraphed moves pair well with Nuwa’s projectiles, and it’s just a blast to get the hang of.

4- Eigong. She’s ONLY this low because she kicks my ass every time. Banger fight, 10/10, I just have others that I love more. Still, I love how you can clearly tell Eigong taught Yi how to fight. She uses the same moves, and it hits different to be on the receiving end of a talisman blast. Absolutely impeccable fight.

3- Jiequan. This might surprise some people considering how little I talk about it, but good GOD I love his fight. There’s this huge rush I get when I beat him fair and square without using the gene eradicator. It’s the first boss fight we get with unbounded counter, and it really throws you into it fast. Also his boss theme FUCKS.

2- Lady Ethereal. Do I even need to say anything? It’s so chaotic, but once you get the hang of it, it’s incredible. Learning her attack patterns is so fun for me. I haven’t had this much fun learning a boss’s moves since Nightmare King Grimm, and that’s saying something because that fight is one of my favorite video game battles ever.

1- Ji. My intense bias shows. The little lifelines he gives you during battle are great, and the patterns really feel like a dance after a while. Parrying Ji’s sword attacks is so satisfying, and the mechanic of choosing their attacks is so creative! It might be odd to rank this one higher than Lady Ethereal since I compared to her my favorite boss fight ever, but Ji gets bonus points for the creativity.

[delphiniumarchangelmoon]

More Hyrule Warriors thoughts because I’m still in the hole

I’m now at the point in the first two adventure maps where the only things left to do are insane boss rushes and I’ve realized now that I only beat the legend mode end bosses out of luck. I have no idea how either Ganon fight actually works. I’ll look up a tutorial sometime but not right now.

In the meantime I started the first normal rank map. It’s annoying. Fuck off with your “no heal” challenges I SPENT SO MUCH TIME GETTING ALL THOSE ILLUSTRATIONS TO GET BETTER POTIONS AND YOU TAKE THEM AWAY??? I’m gonna eat you.

Also in those maps LEVELING IP FIESNT EVEN HEAL YOU I’m going to make someone TASTE THEIR OWN LUNGS

I have like 5 fairies but I only use the first one I got cause she has an ability that instantly revives you if you die and none of the others have anything even close to that good so far. Plus she’s the one wearing the Ghirahim cosplay.

I haven’t changed any of the default names of the fairies cause it feels Weird. Like “hi I just saved your life now serve me eternally also your name is now Lorraine”

One of my fairies is named Chomp :) I love her. Shes useless, but I love her

I haven’t gotten many hats. It bugs me cause none look good with the Ghirahim cosplay. Why can’t I just get like, a red headband or something???? Why did I have to get a random skull???

I’ve finally gotten a huge string of weapon upgrades so a lot of characters are useful for the first time in the entire game and I’m having SO MUCH FUN WITH IT

Specifically I’m really liking Twili Midna! I didn’t get her moves at first but I’ve started to really vibe with it now that she has some decent damage output (also that X special is OBSCENE just annihilate an entire room no biggie)

I have Toon Link in his blue lobster shirt, all is right with the world :)

I found out you can go over level 100. I thought I was doing okay with keeping the gang leveled up (I go in 5 level jumps where I’ll sell a shit ton of weapons to get rich then level the entire roster up at once) having everyone at a minimum of 40, but it turns out I was wrong and now Link is level 102 and I don’t know how to plan for this future the disparity is so much larger than I anticipated (I stopped playing as him much but I keep finding maps that require him)

So right now I’m maining Sheik at like 65 or something, then once they hit like 90 I’ll probably go to Ganondorf or Impa (I finally figured out how to play her giant blade god bless)

Primarily right now I’m jumping between going back to maps I didn’t get a-rank on and replaying them and going through free mode getting every stage done on hard + getting skulltulas I abandoned during legend mode, it has actually gotten me pretty good levels

I cannot however finish the level to upgrade Volga’s weapon, I need to A-rank a goddamn full level with a close-quarters imprisoned fight at the end like BLOCKING DIESNT DO SHIT WHEN ITS ACTUALLY EATING ME! IM IN ITS MOUTH THERES NOWHERE TO RUN IM IN A CAVE

[virgoilluminati]

Belongings

Chapter 12: You can let it go… you don’t have to be sorry for leaving and growing up.

Series Masterlist

A/N: HELLO, I just wanted to say a massive massive fucking thank you (excuse my language) for everyone who has read, liked or even seen this fanfic at all. This fanfic was kinda like my redemption and proved to me how my ideas are valid and deserve a place to be shown. This story has actually become something I will not ever be able to forget, the first ones always seemed to be the strongest and leave a permenant mark. This chapter takes place over a period months, hence the common ****, throughout but for some context, this is basically a massive part about y/n finally accepting she cannot change what happened to her mum. And punishing herself by not following her dream of singing, to focus on continuing her mothers dream of having a bakery, which even her father no longer wants, is no longer right. So basically it’s a bunch of angsty shiz. But I love it. Ps. Belongings part 2… is coming. I just haven’t come up with a name yet haha 😂

Word count: 10.3k (she’s a big gurlie)

Warnings: Angsty shiz, hospitals, mentions of symptoms etc. people being shitty & y/n being sad.

(Music recommendation - anything angsty about growing up and moving on from trauma… yeh lighthearted stuff am I right)

______________________________________________________

As soon as she woke up, after a long night talking with Harry she realised how much, the bakery actually meant to her. Not only was it the continuation connection to her mother but it also played the most important role in the beginning of her relationship with Harry.

Y/N reluctantly prepared for a long day at the bakery, still feeling the effects of her hangover from Florence's 18th birthday celebration a couple of days prior. While Florence had the luxury of taking the day off, Y/N, being the boss, couldn't afford the same luxury.

Her father, seeing her condition, offered to ask her mother to cover her shift. However, Y/N knew deep down that it wouldn't be fair to burden her mother, who was also not feeling well. So she mustered up her strength, put on her apron, and braced herself for what seemed like an arduous day ahead.

Her annoyance and weariness were palpable as she opened the bakery's doors, but that all changed in an instant when she saw him walk through the entrance, followed closely by another member of the boyband. Harry Styles, with his piercing green eyes and a wild mop of curly hair, seemed to radiate an undeniable charm.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat as her eyes locked onto his. In that moment, time stood still, and all her previous weariness dissipated. The weight of the day's tasks melted away as she found herself captivated by his presence.

Harry approached the counter, flashing a warm smile that sent shivers down Y/N's spine. He ordered a cup of coffee, his voice carrying a hint of an accent that only added to his allure. As Y/N prepared his order, their eyes would occasionally meet, causing a rush of excitement within her.

Their conversation was brief, just a few pleasantries exchanged, but the connection between them felt electric. It was as if fate had orchestrated this meeting, defying Y/N's initial reluctance to work that day. She couldn't help but feel that something extraordinary had just unfolded before her.

As Harry and his companion left the bakery, Y/N couldn't help but watch them go, feeling a mix of longing and wonder. The memory of that chance encounter would stay with her, etched in her mind, as she wondered if their paths would cross again.

Little did Y/N know, that seemingly ordinary day at the bakery would mark the beginning of a remarkable journey, intertwining her life with Harry's in ways she never could have imagined.

*****************

With a heavy heart and trembling hands, Y/N mustered up the courage to speak to Will once more. She knew that honesty was her only path forward, no matter how painful the truth may be. So, after quickly texting Harry and telling him she had gone to the shop to pick up so groceries she found herself standing before Will and his family, their eyes filled with curiosity and judgment.

Y/N took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts before uttering the words that would change everything. Her voice quivered as she addressed Will, hoping he would understand her turmoil.

"Will, I need you to hear me out," she began, her voice filled with a mix of apprehension and sincerity. "I never intended to hurt you, but my heart has led me down a different path. I can't force myself to love you, it wouldn't be fair on me or you."

Will's mother gasped in disbelief, her eyes brimming with disappointment. "How could you do this to us, Y/N? We treated you like family, and now you're tearing us apart!"

Y/N's eyes welled up with tears, her voice cracking as she responded, "I never wanted to cause pain or destroy what we had. But will and I, we never truly understood one another. I was his safe option for you too! ."

Will's face contorted with anger and hurt. He clenched his fists, his voice dripping with bitterness. "Your kidding? I was your safe option! As if I was some object - no, no y/n. You weren't my safe option, believe me - you were the last person my parents wanted me to end up with. With your clingy shit and- it took me years to get them to like you! And now! You think I'll just let you walk away with the rights to the bakery?!"

In a desperate attempt to salvage the situation, Y/N implored Will, her voice filled with vulnerability and longing. "Please, I'm begging you to find it in your heart to forgive me. This was my parents, this is mine!"

But Will's resentment burned deep within him, refusing to be extinguished by Y/N's pleas. His voice grew cold and threatening. "Your tears and apologies won't change anything. I won't give up the bakery. If you won't back off, I'll turn it into a set of flats. Maybe then you'll understand the consequences of your actions."

Y/N's heart sank as she realized that a peaceful resolution might not be possible. The weight of the situation bore down on her shoulders, threatening to crush her spirit. With a heavy heart, she turned to Will's parents, seeking solace and understanding.

"Mr. and Mrs. Johnson," she implored, her voice filled with desperation. "I know this situation is difficult for all of us. The bakery holds not just my memories but also the legacy of my parents. It symbolizes their hard work, their dreams, and their love. Please understand, I was never going to be good enough for your son. He-We didn't work. But he's using this as bait.

Will's parents exchanged glances, their faces etched with a mix of sympathy and contemplation. Will's mother spoke with a softened tone, her voice carrying a hint of understanding.

"William-."

"No mother! She's out of order! And to come to talk to me about it whilst I am with family- out of order!" Will cuts her off before getting his siblings to escort y/n out the building. With a heavy heart, y/n accepted that playing nice and asking for forgiveness was not enough. She was going to need Harry and what's worse, admit to her father she had been lying about everything.

*****************

"You ok?" Harry asks as they pull up outside her childhood home, about to confess everything to her father and also convince him to get on board with the whole reselling the bakery thing.

Y/N nods quickly, smiling. Pretending everything is ok as she goes to leave the car.

"Don't do that." Harry stops her locking the door.

"Don't do what?"

"Pretend your okay when your not. Don't hide from me dove. It's you and me remember,"

"M just scared Harry. What if this is it, everything is over."

"It won't I promise. I won't let it happen,"

Y/N looked into Harry's eyes, finding solace and strength in his unwavering support. She took a deep breath, letting his words sink in, and allowed herself to be vulnerable.

"You're right," she admitted, her voice tinged with a mix of fear and determination. "I'm scared, Harry. Scared of losing everything we've worked for, scared of disappointing my father, scared of what lies ahead."

Harry gently cupped her face with his hand, his touch bringing a sense of comfort. "I understand your fears, dove. But we're in this together, remember? I won't let anything come between us or stand in the way of our dreams. We'll face this together, and we'll find a way to make things right."

A tear escaped Y/N's eye, her voice trembling slightly as she spoke. "Thank you, Harry. Thank you for being my rock, for always believing in me. I don't know what I would do without you."

Harry leaned in, pressing a tender kiss on her forehead. "You don't have to thank me, love. Just know that I'm here for you, through thick and thin. We'll get through this, and we'll come out stronger on the other side. Trust in us, in our love."

Y/N nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. With Harry by her side, she felt a renewed sense of hope and determination. Together, they would face her father, have an honest conversation, and find a way to convince him to support their plan to resell the bakery.

As they walked hand in hand towards her childhood home, Y/N couldn't help but feel a glimmer of optimism in her heart. No matter what obstacles lay ahead, she knew that with Harry's unwavering love and support, they could overcome anything. Their bond was unbreakable, and together, they would navigate the challenges and emerge stronger than ever.

As they entered the familiar surroundings of the living room, Y/N's palms grew damp, and her voice trembled. She took a deep breath, gathering her courage, and turned to face her father. "Dad," she began, her voice quivering, "there's something I need to tell you."

Her father's brows furrowed with concern as he looked at her. "What is it, Y/N?" he asked, his voice filled with a mixture of curiosity and worry.

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes, and her voice cracked as she spoke her truth. "I... I haven't been entirely honest about my relationship with Will," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "The truth is... I'm in love with Harry."

Silence hung heavily in the air, as her father's eyes widened in surprise. The weight of her confession seemed to settle upon them all, leaving a profound stillness in its wake. Then, a wave of emotions swept over Y/N, and her resolve crumbled under the weight of her vulnerability. She burst into tears, her body trembling with a mixture of fear, relief, and the overwhelming realization of her love for Harry.

Her father's expression softened, and he enveloped her in a comforting embrace. "Oh, Y/N," he whispered, his voice filled with understanding and compassion. "I've always wanted what's best for you, my dear. And if Harry is the one who makes you happy, then I trust you."

Once Y/N's sobs had subsided, her father motioned for Harry to join them. They shared a meaningful glance before Harry followed her father into the next room, leaving Y/N alone to gather her thoughts.

In the private confines of her father's study, the atmosphere seemed charged with a mix of apprehension and anticipation. Harry's heart raced as he waited for her father's words, uncertain of what to expect.

With a calm yet paternal tone, Y/N's father began, "Harry, I've always seen something special between you and my daughter, even when you were just kids. There was an unspoken connection, a bond that went beyond friendship. And now, seeing the depth of Y/N's feelings for you, I know that my intuition was right."

Harry listened intently, his eyes fixed on Y/N's father, hanging onto every word. He felt a weight of responsibility settle upon his shoulders, a profound understanding of the trust being placed in him.

"Y/N is fragile," her father continued, his voice filled with genuine concern. "She needs someone she can rely on, someone who will keep her safe. And I believe, Harry, that you are that person. You have always been there for her, and I hope you'll continue to be there for her in the future."

Harry nodded, his voice filled with a mixture of gratitude and determination. "I care deeply for Y/N, Mr. Smith. I will do everything in my power to protect and support her. She means the world to me."

A smile graced Y/N's father's face, a blend of pride and relief. "I know you will, Harry. And I trust you to be the rock that she needs. Just remember, her heart is fragile, so cherish it."

Y/N stood at the doorway, her eyes glistening with determination, as she overheard the conversation between Harry and her father. The weight of their words hung heavy in the air, stirring conflicting emotions within her.

"I understand your concerns, Mr. Smith," Harry said, his voice tinged with empathy. "But I also want what's best for Y/N. I want her to have the freedom to pursue her dreams, to be a singer."

Her father sighed, his gaze filled with a mix of affection and concern. "I know, Harry. And I want that for her too. But if she buys this bakery, she'll be tied to it. It might limit her options, her chances of exploring her true potential."

Y/N's heart ached as she absorbed their words. It was true, her passion for singing burned brightly within her. Yet, the bakery held a special place in her heart, carrying memories of her mother who had poured her soul into those walls.

Unable to remain silent any longer, Y/N stepped forward, her voice resolute. "Dad, Harry, I appreciate your concerns, and I understand the risks. But this bakery is more than just a business to me. It's a tribute to my mother, to her passion for baking. If I let it slip away, it would feel like losing a part of her."

Her father's eyes softened, and Harry looked at her with a mix of admiration and support. Y/N continued, her voice unwavering, "I can't abandon it, not when I know how much it meant to her. I will fight for it, not just for myself but also for her memory."

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes as the weight of her decision settled upon her. "I know it won't be easy, and it might mean sacrificing certain things. But this bakery represents resilience, love, and a piece of our family's history. I have to keep it going, for her."

A profound silence enveloped the room as Y/N's words lingered in the air. Then, her father stepped forward, his eyes shimmering with a mixture of pride and understanding. He placed a hand on her shoulder, a silent gesture of support.

"Y/N, my dear," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "If this is what you truly want, then I will stand by you. Your determination and love for your mother are admirable. We'll find a way to make it work, together."

*********************

After a failed attempt to discuss things rationally between Y/Ns father and Will - the two current owners. Harry decided to take things into his own hands, curious to whether if he apologised for his part to play also, Will may be more willing to give up his fight.

Harry, determined to settle matters regarding the bakery, requested a meeting with Will, hoping for a civil conversation. As they sat across from each other in a local café, tension filled the air. Will's demeanor was immediately confrontational, his annoyance palpable.

"You took her away from me," Will sneered, his voice dripping with bitterness. "And now you're here, trying to steal the only thing I have left of her."

Harry maintained his composure, his voice steady. "I didn't take her away, Will. Y/N made her own choices, and she chose to be with me. We're here to discuss the bakery, not our personal lives."

Will's eyes narrowed, anger flashing in his gaze. "You think you can just swoop in and take what's rightfully mine? I may not have ended up with y/n but I did end up with a fine bakery.”

As the conversation deteriorated, the exchange of words escalating into a heated argument. Accusations were hurled, emotions ran high, and it became clear that finding common ground would be impossible. With a heavy sigh, Harry realized the futility of reasoning with Will.

"I see we're not getting anywhere with this," Harry finally said, his voice laced with disappointment. "If you're not willing to have a reasonable discussion, then I'll see you in the bidding war for the rights to the building."

With those words, Harry rose from his seat, leaving Will seething with anger and frustration. It was clear that their encounter had not achieved the desired outcome, but Harry remained resolute. He would do whatever it took to secure the future of the bakery and honor Y/N's wishes.

As he walked away from the café, Harry's mind began to strategize, his determination burning stronger than ever. The upcoming bidding war would be a battle, but he was prepared to fight tooth and nail for the chance to keep the bakery alive, not just for Y/N, but for the memories it held and the dreams it represented.

With each step he took, Harry steeled himself for the challenges ahead. The confrontation with Will had only strengthened his resolve. He would go head-to-head with him in the bidding war, armed with determination, love, and the unwavering belief that the bakery deserved a second chance.

Or maybe was he really just realising that y/n needed a second chance and if this is what would give her it than so be it?

As Harry contemplated the challenges that lay ahead, doubts gnawed at the corners of his mind. He realized he had stepped into a battle without fully understanding the legal implications or if he would even be eligible to argue for the rights to the building. Uncertainty loomed over him, yet he clung to a glimmer of hope.

"Y/N! I've done it! I've figured it out!"

"Did you get him to do it!"

"No. But! I figured out when your mother died,you became the second owner of the bakery right?! Well Will can't legally be the owner of the bakery without both of you having your signature drawn."

"But he's owned it for weeks. With documents and everything!"

Y/N's eyes widened with a mix of astonishment and hope as Harry shared his revelation. The weight of the situation suddenly felt lighter, and a surge of excitement coursed through her veins.

"You're brilliant, Harry!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with a newfound sense of determination. "If Will forged my signature, then he's in deep legal trouble. We have a chance to reclaim the bakery!"

Harry's face lit up with a triumphant smile, his eyes sparkling with pride. "I knew there had to be a way, Y/N. We just needed to uncover the truth. We'll fight for what's rightfully ours, and we'll expose Will's deceit."

As they rushed to gather the necessary evidence to support their claim, Y/N couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude towards Harry. He had not only been her rock throughout this challenging journey but also the key to unlocking a path forward.

"I love you, Harry," she whispered, her voice filled with genuine affection and gratitude. "Thank you for standing by me, and even when you don't understand it helping me keep my mum alive."

However deep in both of their minds they both began to wonder whether keeping her memory alive, wasn't really a blessing but a barricade.

Harry immediately began working on the legal battle against Will, helping to get fiancial aid and continue to fight against his control of y/ns life. Y/Ns father also helped trying to help y/n have somewhere to call her own. However the more they went into evidence the more they began to doubt one another, unsure of whether there was anything illegal about what was going on and whether this was all worth it.

As the clock ticked past midnight, Y/N, Harry, and her father found themselves surrounded by stacks of files and scattered documents in the quiet solitude of the bakery's archive. The dim light from the desk lamp cast long shadows on their fatigued faces, highlighting the weariness etched into their features.

Harry glanced at Y/N, concern evident in his eyes. Her once vibrant spirit seemed to dwindle with each passing day, her exhaustion turning into an unyielding anger that fueled her relentless pursuit of the truth. He exchanged a worried look with her father, silently acknowledging the toll this legal battle was taking on her.

With a sigh, Y/N slammed her hand on the table, frustration seeping through her every word. "I can't believe he got away with burning or displacing those contracts! How can we prove anything without evidence?"

Harry's voice was gentle, tinged with sympathy. "Y/N, maybe it's time to consider other options. This legal battle is taking a toll on you, physically and emotionally. We've done all we can, but sometimes letting go is the healthiest choice."

Her father, a weary but compassionate figure, nodded in agreement. "Sweetheart, I know how much this bakery means to you, but your well-being matters more. It's important to consider what's best for you in the long run."

Y/N's eyes welled up with tears of frustration and exhaustion. The weight of the battle, coupled with sleepless nights, had taken its toll. Her voice cracked as she replied, "But this bakery is my home, my dream. I can't just give up on it."

Harry reached out and gently held her hand, his touch offering a comforting reassurance. "No one is asking you to give up on your dreams, Y/N. We're just suggesting that it might be time to explore other avenues, to find a path that doesn't consume you entirely."

Torn between her desire for justice and the mounting evidence of a fruitless search, Y/N hesitated for a moment. The fatigue and doubt weighed heavy on her shoulders. Finally, she took a deep breath, wiping away a stray tear.

"I can't Harry. If I get rid of this bakery. I have nothing left of her. She is gone." She admits tears threatening to fall down her face. Admittedly she had never said those words outside her mouth anymore, but her heart hurt, unable to still come to terms with her lost.

It was then Harry and her father realised that until she got rid of the bakery, she would never be able to truly grieve her mother. But, knowing how much they loved her they continued looking until the early hours of the morning.

"Maybe that wouldn't be for the worse." Harry admits, quietly looking away from y/n. Unable to see her tiredness anymore.

Y/N's internal struggle intensified, her emotions reaching a boiling point. Despite the genuine concern and support from Harry and her father, she couldn't bring herself to let go of the bakery. The idea of parting with it felt like losing her mother all over again, and the pain was too raw to bear.

Frustration and desperation mingled within her, and in a moment of heated exchange, emotions spilled over. Harsh words were exchanged as Y/N lashed out at Harry and her father, accusing them of not understanding her grief and the significance the bakery held in her heart.

"You just don't get it, do you? This bakery is all I have left of her! I didn’t even get to say goodbye, how can you expect me to let go?"

"Y/N, we understand how much it means to you, but holding onto it is tearing you apart. We're worried about you.

"Well don’t me. It's my mother we're talking about! How can I just abandon everything she worked for?"

Her father, his voice filled with concern, stepped in: "Sweetheart, no one is asking you to abandon her legacy. We just want you to find a way to heal and move forward without sacrificing your own happiness."

"I need some space. I can't be around either of you right now."

Without uttering another word, she gathered her belongings and made her way to her friend Florence's house, seeking solace and a temporary escape from the tense atmosphere.

*****************

Y/n woke up feeling a heavy weight of sadness upon her, seeking solace and a way to lift her spirits. Remembering the joy her mother's famous brownie recipe had always brought, she decided to give it a try. It was a favorite treat from her childhood, a comforting indulgence shared countless times with her best friend, Florence. The memory of coming home from school to find a fresh batch or enjoying them as a makeshift dinner during sick days with Florence by her side was etched in her heart.

As y/n busied herself with gathering the ingredients, Florence, her best friend, stirred awake. Intrigued by the mouthwatering scent that filled the air, Florence followed it to the kitchen. There, she found y/n singing one of Harry's songs, her voice resonating with remarkable talent and beauty. Florence had always known that y/n had a knack for singing, but she had never realized just how good she truly was.

Approaching y/n with a warm smile, Florence's heart swelled with pride. It became evident that it wasn't the act of baking that had brought y/n into her element—it was the music. The lyrics and melody intertwined with y/n's soul, offering a cathartic escape from her sadness. Florence couldn't help but be amazed by the depth of y/n's talent and the emotional connection she had with music.

In that moment, the enticing aroma of freshly baked brownies mixed with the melodic sound of y/n's voice, creating a serene atmosphere that embodied their shared love for music and the treasured moments they had experienced together. Florence felt a surge of happiness, realizing that y/n had discovered a way to uplift herself—one that celebrated her talent and forged a deeper bond between them as best friends. As y/n's voice filled the kitchen, the weight of sadness gradually lifted, replaced by a renewed sense of joy and comfort. The baking session turned into a harmonious journey of healing, reminding them both of the enduring power of friendship and the magic of music.

Florence watched intently as y/n stepped onto the stage, captivated by her powerful voice. But just as Florence prepared to interrupt and compliment her, her phone buzzed with a text from Harry. It read, "Hey, have you heard from y/n? Is she okay?"

Suddenly, Florence's mind filled with concern. She realized that y/n had never actually explained why she was so upset when she appeared on Florence's doorstep the previous night. As the text sank in, Florence's excitement for the performance transformed into worry.

She quickly replied to Harry, "She’s been quiet since last night. She seemed really upset. I'm not sure what's going on, but I'll check on her.”

Florence's attention darted back to the kitchen, where y/n was pouring her heart out through her singing. A mix of admiration for y/n's talent and anxiety for her well-being swirled within Florence. The urge to rush to her side and provide comfort grew stronger with each note y/n sang.

As the performance ended, Florence decided to approach y/n, hoping to unravel the mystery behind her distress. She made her way over, her heart pounding with a mix of trepidation and determination.

Florence's interruption startled y/n, who had been lost in her thoughts while stirring the brownie batter. Initially taken aback, y/n relaxed upon recognizing Florence, setting aside the wooden spoon she had grabbed as a reflex.

"Flo... you scared me," y/n said, their voice carrying a hint of surprise and relief.

"Guess we're scaring each other then," Florence replied with a wry smile.

Confusion filled y/n's eyes as they questioned Florence, "What do you mean?"

Florence took a deep breath, her concern evident. "You went missing for a week, with haz, wills best man, came back no longer engaged and now dating that same best man! And now that same best man has just texted me, asking if you're okay. Not to mention you never explained why you showed up on my doorstep last night. What's going on, y/n?"

As the weight of Florence's words settled in, y/n's gaze dropped to the batter, their mind grappling with how to articulate their emotions. They realized it was time to open up, to let Florence in on the tumultuous thoughts that had driven them to seek solace at her place.

Setting the bowl aside, y/n met Florence's gaze, their voice quivering slightly. "Will. He's taking my bakery, and everything I have of a mother is slowly drifting away."

Y/N then began to unravel all of the other things which had proceeded to happen in the previous weeks. Starting from the moment at the bakery, until the trip to London. And where they stood now.

It amazed her how in such a short period of time, her whole world would change forever.

As the weight of their intertwined secrets hung in the air, Florence took a deep breath, realizing the importance of complete honesty in this pivotal moment.

"If we're being completely honest right now, then I should be too," Florence confessed, her voice filled with regret. "Me and Will... we've been talking for a while. I knew you two were engaged, and I felt so bad about it. But after the engagement party, it seemed like things were on the rocks between you and Will. And I knew you had feelings for Harry, so I thought... I thought maybe I could have a chance. I wanted to shoot my shot."

The room fell silent as y/n absorbed Florence's confession. Conflicting emotions swirled within them, but amidst it all, they found the strength to respond.

“I’m sorr-“

"Don't be," y/n uttered, their voice filled with a mix of resignation and acceptance. "Me and Will should never have happened in the first place. Our relationship was flawed, and deep down, I think we both knew it. We were clinging onto something that wasn't meant to be."

*****************

As Y/N quietly entered Harry's studio, a mischievous smile played on their lips. They held a tray of freshly baked brownies and a balloon that read "I'm sorry." Harry, startled by the surprise, interrupted himself mid-sentence.

"Y/N, what are you doing here?" he asked, clearly taken aback.

With a sincere expression, Y/N replied, "I wanted to say that I'm sorry. I didn't realize how irrational I was being. Regardless of whether I get this bakery or not, I shouldn't be tearing you down. If anything, I should be thanking you for your kindness and support."

Harry's eyes softened as he listened to Y/N's heartfelt apology. He set aside his work, appreciating the sincerity in their words. Slowly, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"I appreciate your apology, Y/N," Harry said, his voice filled with warmth. "I know I will never understand why you want this bakery so bad, but I also know that it’s important your mum remains an important part of your life.”

He adds on another smile before drawing in the distance between them, pulling her in for a warm hug,”I have to say tho, y’know she’d be fucking proud of you right now-, for standing up for what you believe in.”

“She was the first one who knew I liked you-“

“Was she?”

Y/N, their face turning a shade of red, mustered up the courage to ask, “Do you remember the time you came into my bakery and ordered an iced bun?”

Harry, intrigued, replied, “Yes?”

Y/N took a deep breath and confessed, “Well, I may have kept the cash from your payment in a separate envelope and told my dad not to use it. My mum found it and asked why I was so adamant about a fiver but immediately she knew-.”

Harry burst into laughter, finding the confession amusing. “Y/N, why would you do that?”

Blushing even more, Y/N responded, “Because everytime you came back into that bakery, I had a massive crush on you. And the more famous you got the more I presumed you were well, seeing someone - so I kept it as a compliment. Like hey, at least I got Harry Styles’s fiver.”

Harry smirked, playfully mocking her childlike behavior. “Did you?”

Y/N nodded, feeling a little silly. “Mmhm. It feels stupid, but I still have that fiver in my cash register. Never let it go.”

Chuckling, Harry teased, “That’s what crazy people do.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, but before their insecurity could take hold, Harry continued, “But don’t worry, I did something similar.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. “You did?”

Harry nodded, his expression softening. “Remember that time when you handed me your number at work?”

Curiosity filled Y/N’s voice as they responded, “Yes?”

“Well,” Harry confessed, “I kept it… for the last 7 years. It’s been in my drawer because I’ve been hiding it from you, not wanting to acknowledge these feelings until now.”

Y/N’s heart soared as the weight of their shared secrets lifted. A smile graced their lips as they realized the significance of their interactions at the bakery.

“Guess, in some cheesy way, our bakery and those interactions brought us together,” Y/N said. “It was as if it was fate.”

Harry’s eyes twinkled with affection. He reached out and gently brushed Y/N’s hand, intertwining their fingers. “Perhaps it was. Or perhaps it was just a coincidence. Maybe the bakery is beginning of our love story. But it doesn’t mean it’s our final destination.”

“Harry. That bakery-“

“Is everything to you, I know and we’re gonna make sure you get it back. But just know it doesn’t determine your future and most importantly doesn’t determine us! If this doesn’t go our way, it isn’t the be all that ends all. “

“I know Harry. But we have to try.”

****************

In the frozen moment of the dream, as a soft spotlight gently illuminated Y/N’s mother, her beauty became even more captivating. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat as her mother’s lips began to move, and a tender whisper escaped her mouth, reaching Y/N onstage.

“Let it go, Y/N. Be happy,” her mother softly urged, her words carrying a profound weight.

Y/N felt a surge of emotions welling up within her. It was as if her mother’s voice transcended time and space, speaking directly to her soul. The love and wisdom in those whispered words resonated deep within Y/N’s being, bringing both solace and encouragement.

Tears glistened in Y/N’s eyes as she absorbed the significance of her mother’s message. She realized that she had been holding onto pain, grief, and self-doubt for far too long. Her mother, with her ethereal presence, reminded Y/N of the importance of finding happiness and letting go of the burdens that weighed her down.

Y/N’s sobs echoed through the dream, tears streaming down her face as she desperately clung to the memory of her mother. The pain of loss felt raw and overwhelming, making it difficult for her to imagine a life without the weight of grief.

Her mother, her ethereal presence shimmering with love and patience, reached out to gently touch Y/N’s trembling arms. “Y/N, my dear, you are strong,” her mother spoke with a soothing tenderness. “But you have grieved for too long. It’s time to find your voice and let it be heard.”

Y/N’s heart ached at those words, the bittersweet truth hitting her with a forceful impact. She realized that her mother wasn’t asking her to forget or erase the love they shared but encouraging her to honor that love by embracing her own strength and talents. It was a call to break free from the confines of grief and let her spirit soar.

Through tear-filled eyes, Y/N stared into her mother’s eyes, searching for the guidance she desperately needed. She could sense the unwavering belief her mother had in her abilities, the confidence in her potential to create something beautiful out of the pain she carried.

Drawing a shuddering breath, Y/N summoned the remnants of her strength. She knew it wouldn’t be easy, but she also understood that her mother’s words held a truth she couldn’t ignore. With determination etched on her face, she whispered through her tears, “I’ll try, Mum. I’ll try to find my voice and make it heard.”

In that moment, the dream world seemed to swell with a renewed energy. The stage brightened, and the audience’s anticipation grew tangible. Y/N’s voice, previously quivering with grief, now trembled with a newfound resolve. She could feel the empowering presence of her mother surrounding her, guiding her every step of the way.

With each breath she took, Y/N summoned the courage to share her pain, her hopes, and her dreams through her music. The dream stage became a sanctuary where her voice echoed, touching the hearts of all who listened. It was a cathartic release, an affirmation of her resilience and a testament to the enduring love between a mother and her child.

As Y/N sang, her voice resonated with a strength she hadn’t known before. Through the music, she embraced her mother’s love and found solace in the realization that her own voice held the power to heal, inspire, and touch lives.

And in that moment, Y/N made a promise to herself and to her mother’s memory. She would honor her strength, her love, and her guidance by living fully, letting her voice be heard, and finding happiness even in the face of loss. It would be a journey of growth, of self-discovery, and of embracing the legacy of a mother’s love.

Y/N had never been religious or a fan in anything supernatural but her mothers words remained with her long after she had woken up. What did she mean let it go? Deep down she knew her inner demons were warning her, that getting this bakery back was a bad idea.

***********

A couple of weeks later, as the weight of the impending court date settled upon them, Florence and y/n found themselves engaged in a phone conversation that touched upon deeper emotions and unexpected revelations.

"When's the court date?" Florence asked, her voice filled with concern.

"Tomorrow ," y/n replied, their tone carrying a mix of apprehension and resignation.

A brief silence hung in the air before Florence inquired, "Are you ready?"

Y/n shook their head, a hint of vulnerability in their response. "Nope. But it's alright. Me and Harry, we're okay. I'm just tired you know. And I think whatever happens, it will be for a reason."

Surprised by y/n's philosophical perspective, Florence couldn't help but ask, "When did you get so philosophical?"

A bittersweet smile graced y/n's lips as they shared a deeply personal moment. "I had a dream about my mom," they revealed.

Realizing their mistake, Florence quickly interjected, "Oh, I'm sorry."

"Don't be," y/n assured her, their voice filled with a sense of wonder. "It was amazing. In the dream, she was speaking to me, telling me to let go. I'm not sure what I was holding onto, but I was singing on stage, and she was looking directly at me. You know, I never sang to her— I was too scared she would hate it. But even in the dream, she was there, listening to me. Maybe if the bakery doesn't go our way, it's her way of saying she's proud of me. I’ve never even had a dream about her for years. Maybe all of this bakery stuff is helping me to grieve her properly.”

Florence listened attentively, touched by the significance of y/n's dream and the newfound sense of purpose it bestowed. Their connection to their late mother, the courage to sing, and the possibility of finding pride and solace in the face of uncertainty intertwined in their words.

Moved by y/n's revelation, Florence reached out and gently squeezed their hand. "Your mom would be incredibly proud of you, y/n. No matter what happens tomorrow, know that you have my support, and I believe in you."

With the strength of their shared experiences and the warmth of their bond, Florence and y/n faced the impending court date, ready to confront the challenges ahead and embrace the unknown with hope in their hearts.

As the day of the court hearing drew near, an unexpected twist emerged in y/n's and Harry's plans. Harry received news that his band had a last-minute rehearsal for their performance at the Brit Awards. Apologetic and filled with a mix of excitement and obligation, he informed y/n that he had to attend the rehearsal but assured her he would be back in the afternoon with plenty of time to help her prepare.

"I'm so sorry, y/n," Harry said, his voice laced with sincerity. "I just found out about this band rehearsal for the Brit Awards. It's unexpected, but I promise I'll be done by the afternoon. I'll come back as soon as possible to help you get ready for the court hearing."

Y/n nodded, a supportive smile on their face. "It's okay, Harry. I understand. This is a big opportunity for you, and I want you to give it your all. We have plenty of time in the afternoon to prepare. I'll be okay until then."

Relief washed over Harry's features as he visibly relaxed. "Thank you for being so understanding, y/n. I really appreciate it. I promise I'll make it up to you."

As y/n processed the situation, a subtle shift took place within them. The realization that she too desired the pressures and thrill of pursuing her own musical dreams began to dawn on her. With Harry's upcoming performance at the Brit Awards and the recent events they had gone through, the transformative power of music had become increasingly evident.

"You know, Harry," y/n began, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Seeing you prepare for the Brit Awards and everything we've been through lately... it has made me realize something. I think I want to start singing again, maybe do gigs at the bakery or something."

Harry's eyes widened with surprise, his supportive nature shining through. "Really, y/n?" he exclaimed, his voice tinged with excitement. Deep down, he felt a sense of comfort and ease, knowing that she was finally finding her voice and beginning to grow. He recognized the potential for their relationship to evolve and strengthen as they pursued their individual dreams.

Y/n smiled, feeling a surge of determination and exhilaration. "I think so," they replied, their voice filled with newfound conviction.

"That's amazing!" Harry exclaimed, unable to contain his enthusiasm. He pulled y/n close, his hands gently cradling their face, and planted an excited kiss on their lips. The connection between them intensified, fueled by their shared dreams and unwavering support for each other.

As Harry prepared to leave for his rehearsal, he spoke with an unwavering commitment. "If that's what you truly want, y/n, I'll be here by your side, supporting you every step of the way. You and me against the world, baby!"

Y/n's heart swelled with gratitude and a sense of belonging. They cherished Harry's unwavering support and the love that radiated between them. "Thank you, Harry," y/n whispered, their voice filled with emotion. "Having you in my corner means everything to me."

With a final touch and a shared understanding, Harry placed his shoes on and headed towards the door, ready to tackle his band rehearsal. As y/n watched him go, a newfound sense of purpose filled their heart. Having the bakery sync singing seemed like the complete compromise.

But why did it not feel like that.

******************

As y/n was deep in thought, contemplating their upcoming court hearing, there was an unexpected knock at the door. They opened it to find Will's mother standing there, a contrite expression on her face. She held out a beautifully wrapped gift, an apologetic gesture for her son's actions.

Y/n accepted the gift graciously, appreciating the gesture. "Thank you," they said sincerely. "I understand that you may not have had any control over Will's actions. It means a lot that you would apologize on his behalf."

Will's mother nodded, her eyes reflecting a mix of remorse and regret. "I truly had no idea things would escalate to this point," she admitted. "I didn't realize how stubborn and uncompromising he had become. Please accept this pie as a token of my apology."

Y/n nodded, maintaining a composed demeanor. "Thank you again," they replied, their voice measured. "I've always wished I had gotten to know you better. You seem like a lovely lady."

Deep down, y/n harbored animosity towards Will's mother, but in this moment, they chose to remain humble and cordial. The courtroom battle was still ahead, and it was essential to maintain a composed and respectful attitude towards their opponent.

Will's mother smiled softly, her eyes glimmering with appreciation. "Good luck with the court hearing," she said sincerely. "I'll see you there."

With those parting words, she turned and walked away, leaving y/n standing there with conflicting emotions. While the gesture of the gift and the brief exchange seemed amicable, y/n knew that deep down, their paths were still intertwined as adversaries in the courtroom.

Taking a deep breath, y/n closed the door, their focus shifting back to the upcoming court battle. They understood that remaining composed and strategic was crucial as they prepared to face the legal challenges ahead. The gift from Will's mother served as a reminder of the complexities and nuances of their situation, further fueling their determination to fight for what they believed in.

As y/n prepared for the crucial court hearing, she decided to try a slice of the pie given by Will's mother. Curiosity got the best of her, even though deep down she knew that her father's chocolate pie would always reign supreme. Taking a bite, she immediately winced, realizing that baking was not the forte of Will's mother. The taste was far from enjoyable.

****************

The day seemed to pass by in a blur as y/n focused on getting ready and preparing her father and Harry for the court proceedings. However, as the day progressed, a sense of unease settled within y/n. As y/n continued with her preparations, a subtle itchiness started to manifest on her arms. Unbeknownst to her, a nasty rash had begun to spread beneath the fabric of her long-sleeved top. Engrossed in the stress and anticipation of the day, she barely noticed it, attributing the sensation to anxiety or nerves.

Assuming it was just a temporary physical manifestation of her emotional state, y/n brushed off the discomfort, determined to maintain her composure.

As y/n and Harry prepared to leave for the court hearing, Harry couldn't help but notice a subtle change in y/n's appearance. Concern etched across his face, he asked, "You alright, y/n?" His eyes scanned her face, searching for any signs of distress.

Y/n nodded slightly, attempting to mask her growing discomfort. Pulling Harry in for a quick kiss, she tried to convey a sense of determination. "Let's do this," she whispered, her voice filled with resolve.

However, as she pulled away from the kiss, a sudden sting jolted through her lips. Looking in the rearview mirror, y/n noticed that her lips had swollen and taken on an unnatural appearance. Alarm bells started to ring in her mind, but she suppressed her growing concerns, determined to focus on the importance of the day.

Suppressing the rising discomfort, y/n did her best to ignore the symptoms, pushing them to the back of her mind as she mustered the strength to face the court hearing. With each passing moment, however, the physical manifestations became increasingly difficult to disregard. The stakes were high, and she couldn't allow her health to overshadow the battle ahead.

"You ready?"

As y/n stood on the threshold of the courtroom, summoning every ounce of courage within her, a sudden wave of nausea engulfed her. The urgent need to vomit surged through her body, overwhelming her senses.

"Uh, could you just give me a minute."

In a desperate bid to find relief, she darted towards a nearby restroom stall, her mind racing with apprehension.

In the solitude of the stall, y/n's thoughts spiraled, her anxiety escalating. A haunting question echoed in her mind: "Please don't let me be pregnant." The possibility of an unexpected pregnancy loomed over her, intensifying her panic.

With trembling hands pressed against her abdomen, y/n battled conflicting emotions—fear, uncertainty, and a profound sense of vulnerability. The weight of the impending court hearing seemed to intertwine with the fear of an unexpected life-altering revelation, leaving her grappling with overwhelming emotions.

As the court hearing commenced, Harry couldn't help but feel a growing sense of concern. Y/n had excused herself to the restroom but had not returned, leaving him anxious about her well-being. Her absence and noticeable change in demeanor weighed heavily on his mind, casting a shadow over the proceedings.

Glancing at the courtroom entrance, Harry's worry deepened as he contemplated what could be causing y/n's prolonged absence. He knew she hadn't been feeling herself earlier, and the sudden urgency to visit the restroom only added to his unease. Time ticked away, each passing minute amplifying his concern.

Fidgeting in his seat, Harry contemplated stepping out to check on y/n, but the proceedings prevented him from doing so. His attention flickered between the court proceedings and the courtroom entrance, hoping for any sign of her return. The gravity of the situation heightened as he realized the significance of her presence, not just as his partner but as a key player in the legal battle they were fighting.

Unable to fully focus on the proceedings, Harry's thoughts became consumed with worry for y/n. He silently hoped that she would soon emerge from the restroom, ready to face the challenges ahead. As the court hearing unfolded, his concern only deepened, underscoring the importance of her presence and well-being in this crucial moment.

"Where is Ms Smith?"

"She uh- she is in the toilet let me go get her." He responds, beginning to panic.

*****************

As y/n's breathing accelerated, her lungs struggling to maintain pressure, panic consumed her. The realization struck her with a jolt — this was not a mere panic attack; it was a severe allergic reaction. But to what? She hadn't consumed much, except for the ill-fated pie. The pie must have contained nuts, triggering the life-threatening response coursing through her body.

In the midst of her escalating panic, y/n's voice cracked as she screamed for help. The urgency in her pleas reverberated through the air, but with each passing moment, her body grew weaker, her surroundings blurring. Desperation and fear intertwined as she fought against her failing body. Her instincts told her to reach for the EpiPen she had brought, but it was within the confines of the courtroom where she had left her coat.

"Help!" y/n cried out, her voice strained, aware that with each word, her lungs had to struggle harder to draw in oxygen. She knew that if she continued to scream, her ability to breathe would be compromised further.

As the world started to fade into darkness, tears streamed down y/n's face, a final plea for salvation. She clung to the hope that Harry would come to her rescue before it was too late, her life hanging in the balance.

"Y/N! Fuck!"

Harry's heart pounded in his chest as he witnessed y/n lying motionless, the color draining from her face. Panic surged through him, threatening to overwhelm his senses. Fear gripped his heart as he realized the gravity of the situation—his worst fear was unfolding before his eyes.

"Y/N don't close your eyes. Stay awake for me alright."

His mind raced with a torrent of thoughts and emotions. He couldn't bear the thought of never seeing y/n again, their dreams and future together slipping away. The weight of his love for her bore down on him, amplifying the intensity of his anguish.

"Please don't leave me, dove, it's you and me remember, come on stay away with me,"

But amidst the turmoil, a surge of determination ignited within Harry. He knew he had to act swiftly to save y/n's life. Without a moment's hesitation, he reached for his phone and dialed the emergency services, his voice trembling as he relayed the urgency of the situation. Time seemed to stretch endlessly as he navigated through the conversation, providing vital information to ensure help would arrive as soon as possible.

"They're coming dove. Please please stay awake for me,"

As he hung up the call, a newfound clarity took hold of him. The gravity of the moment pressed upon him, compelling him to action. With a deep breath, he collected himself and focused on the task at hand. He hurriedly made his way back to the courtroom, searching for y/n's coat, her lifeline within it—the EpiPen that could potentially reverse the course of this life-threatening situation.

Adrenaline surged through his veins as he retrieved the EpiPen, his hands trembling with a mix of anxiety and determination. Time was of the essence, and every second counted. Returning to y/n's side, he carefully administered the life-saving treatment, praying for a response.

In the ensuing moments, as the ambulance siren wailed in the distance, Harry knelt beside y/n, his gaze unwavering. He whispered words of love and reassurance, hoping that somehow his voice would reach her, even in her unconscious state. Fear mingled with hope as he held her hand, promising to stay by her side, fighting for her recovery.

As the ambulance arrived and paramedics took over, Harry's heart clenched with a mix of fear and hope. He entrusted y/n's life to the capable hands of the medical professionals, their expertise now crucial in the battle for her survival. With a final glance and a silent prayer, Harry followed the ambulance, determined to be with y/n every step of the way, clinging to the hope that they would emerge from this ordeal stronger than ever before.

As Harry followed the ambulance, his focus remained solely on y/n's well-being. The gravity of the situation had stripped away all distractions, leaving only one thing of utmost importance—her safety and their unwavering bond. Not once did he look back at the bakery or the possessions left behind in the courtroom. In that moment, nothing else mattered.

The realization hit him like a wave crashing upon the shore—life's material trappings were inconsequential compared to the love and connection they shared. The future they had envisioned together paled in comparison to the present struggle they faced. Harry understood that their strength lay in their unwavering support for one another, transcending any material possessions or external circumstances.

As the ambulance raced through the streets, Harry's thoughts centered on y/n. Memories of their shared moments flooded his mind—laughter, joy, and the unconditional love they had cultivated. He couldn't fathom a world without her by his side, and his determination to be there for her only grew stronger.

Arriving at the hospital, Harry remained by y/n's side, unwilling to leave even for a moment. Every beep of the monitoring machines and every word from the medical staff filled him with a mixture of anxiety and hope. He held her hand tightly, offering silent reassurance and unwavering support.

In that hospital room, surrounded by the sterile environment and the uncertainty of what lay ahead, Harry knew he had found his true purpose. The love he felt for y/n transcended any physical possession or worldly ambition. It was a love that demanded sacrifice, resilience, and unwavering devotion.

As the medical team worked tirelessly to stabilize y/n, Harry vowed to remain by her side, navigating the unknown together. No matter what lay ahead, he knew that their love would be their guiding light, providing strength and solace in the face of adversity.

In that moment, Harry understood that the only thing that truly mattered was being there for y/n, supporting her through every triumph and challenge, and cherishing the precious moments they shared. The bakery and the possessions left behind were mere trappings compared to the depth of their love and the resilience of their bond.

******************

Y/n's eyes fluttered open, greeted by the warm presence of her father, Florence, and a visibly exhausted Harry. The dull ache in her body reminded her of the ordeal she had gone through, but their presence filled her with comfort and relief.

"You're awake!" Harry exclaimed, a mixture of relief and joy evident in his voice. He quickly signaled for a doctor to attend to her, ensuring she received the necessary care.

As the doctor worked to ease her pain, Harry leaned in close, his voice a gentle whisper in her ear. "You scared me for a minute, dove," he said, his touch soothing as he tenderly brushed away a strand of hair from her face.

Y/n mustered a weak smile, grateful for Harry's presence and the reassurance he brought. Her gaze then turned to her father, a longing for answers in her eyes. "What happened? Did we get the bakery?" she asked softly, her voice laced with a mix of hope and uncertainty.

Harry began to explain, his words filled with a sense of responsibility and determination, but before he could fully articulate the situation, her father intervened. He stood up tall, a stoic yet pained expression etched on his face as he looked down at his only child, his voice filled with a mixture of pride and sadness.

"No, Harry, I will tell her," her father declared, his voice steady yet heavy with emotion. He took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts before continuing. "I sold my rights to Will."

Y/n's eyes widened in disbelief, a surge of conflicting emotions flooding her heart. She reached out for her father's hand, holding it tightly, her voice trembling with a mix of gratitude and guilt. "You sold your rights? But why, Dad?"

Her father's gaze softened as he met her eyes, his love for her shining through. "I did it for you, my dear," he replied, his voice filled with a depth of emotion only a parent can convey. "The only reason we kept this bakery was to make sure your mums memory lives on. And what you never let me tell you was, is it did. The bakery was only the beginning, but She lives in you y/n. Everytime you sing, it reminds me of her.” He begins to choke up, before continuing,

"She'd want you to pursue your dreams without the weight of the bakery holding you back."

Tears welled up in y/n's eyes, a profound sense of gratitude washing over her. She knew the sacrifices her father had made throughout her life, but this act of selflessness touched her to the core. It reaffirmed the unwavering love and support she had always received from him.

Florence, standing nearby, chimed in softly, her voice filled with empathy. "And besides even if you did get the bakery, you’d need a whole new staff. Because I quit. Both the job and Will.”

Y/n's heart swelled with a newfound sense of clarity and purpose. The realization that the bakery was no longer her path was liberating, and the unwavering support of her loved ones only solidified her decision.

She looked at her father, a mix of gratitude and determination in her eyes. "I’m sorry. You're right, Dad," she said, her voice filled with conviction. "The bakery was our past, mum would've wanted us to move on-."

Her father's face lit up with a proud smile, his eyes glistening with a mix of relief and hope. "I've always believed in your talent, y/n," he replied, his voice filled with a father's love and unwavering support. "You have the voice of an angel, and it's time for the world to hear it."

Florence, who had been a steadfast presence throughout their journey, chimed in with enthusiasm. "You have an incredible voice, y/n," she said, her eyes shining with excitement. "I've seen the way you light up when you sing. It's time to embrace your gift and share it with the world."

Y/n's gaze then turned to Harry, whose unwavering support had never wavered. The love and belief in his eyes filled her with a sense of strength and courage. "And you, Harry," she said, her voice filled with a mix of gratitude and love. "You've been my rock, my inspiration."

Harry's expression softened, a tender smile gracing his lips. "I'll always be here for you, y/n," he replied, his voice filled with warmth. "and I'll be your biggest fan."

As y/n basked in the love and support surrounding her, a sense of purpose ignited within her soul. She knew that the road ahead wouldn't be easy, but with her family's unwavering belief and Harry's steadfast love, she felt invincible.

And as she closed her eyes, imagining the journey that lay ahead, y/n felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the love that had carried her through. With her family and Harry by her side, she was ready to embrace her destiny and let her voice soar, knowing that the best was yet to come.

"Alright then. Let's do this."

I’ve done it mum. I made you proud, now it’s time for me to move on.

[parasiticjustice]

[RGG Online Translation] Boss Rush Event · Ravenous Beasts, Greedy Monsters (Ichiban & Miss Tatsu)

Summary: Ichiban is approached by Miss Tatsu, who is looking for help with a particularly strange debt collection. All of her colleagues have attempted to collect the debt, but have come back mauled, as if besieged by a savage beast... Featured Characters: Ichiban Kasuga (RGGO version), Miss Tatsu, Hirata, Tiger, Teru Yamada (OC) Spoilers?: There’s a few light references to another story from RGGO, but they’re not really spoilers.

On this episode, Ichiban and Miss Tatsu team up to fight a tiger, and I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.

In case you’ve forgotten who Hirata is (which is completely understandable) he’s somewhat notable for being the first enemy you ever fight in the whole series: Kiryu is introduced collecting a loan from him in Yakuza 1. Hirata resisted, so Kiryu did as Kiryu does.

Usual Disclaimer: I'm coming at this with little more than crude Japanese knowledge, a machine translation cocktail, and an insatiable desire for more RGG content. This will by no means be a decent translation, but it should at least be serviceable.

Notes:

This is set in 2018. Even though she looks the same as she did back in 0, Miss Tatsu will be in her 50-60′s here.

This is also a slightly alternate continuity where Ichiban is fighting the Omi Alliance in Kamurocho instead of getting hustled over to Yokohama. This is relevant because of the specific point that the police are in bed with the Omi, which is touched upon in the Epilogue.

Yamada makes reference to knowing Noa Amon, of the Amon clan. This is referring to one of the Daily Life substories where the two worked together to beat up some goons. You can read it here if you’d like, it’s the one at the very bottom.

------------------ PROLOGUE ------------------

Scene #1: Kamurocho · Nakamichi Street

Narration: One holiday...

Yamada: [smile] Thanks for coming along to my special training, Kasuga!

Ichiban: No problem. Just, you know, maybe tone it down a little- Ugh! [pained] My ass still hurts from how hard you kicked it...

Yamada: [frown] Oh, uh, I’m sorry?

Ichiban: Noa still won’t train with you?

Yamada: Yeah... “There’s no point in getting into the practical when you still haven’t mastered the basics.”

Ichiban: [smile] Ehh, that’s pretty cool. I should remember that. If that’s the case, why don’t you focus on laying down a foundation? I’m always happy to help you train, so you don’t need to rush.

Yamada: [smile] ...You’re right. Thanks, Kasuga!

?: Kasuga!

Ichiban: Oh, Miss Tatsu. What’s up? If you haven’t eaten yet, wanna join us?

Miss Tatsu: ...That works. I just wanted to ask you something, not stand around and chat.

Ichiban: Hm?

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

Scene #2: Kamurocho · Restaurant

Ichiban: [confused] A troublesome collection?

Miss Tatsu: Yeah. My colleagues are getting pummeled by them, one after the other.

Ichiban: Hmm... So now it’ll be your turn?

Miss Tatsu: That’s right. Actually, the request just came in.

Ichiban: You took it, yeah?

Miss Tatsu: [frown] Well... I’m not sure.

Ichiban: [confused] You’re unsure? Is he really that dangerous?

Miss Tatsu: That’s just it, the debtor is a completely average old man. At least, from what I’ve gathered.

Ichiban: Then why...

Miss Tatsu: The people who went to collect his debt came back mauled, as if they’d been attacked by a wild beast...

Ichiban: [confused] Beast...? What, does he have a Doberman?

Miss Tatsu: I’ve seen their injuries. No Doberman could do that.

Ichiban: ...What then?

Miss Tatsu: [frown] I don’t know. That’s why I’m indecisive. Even when I tried to talk to the victims, they all clammed up like they were afraid of something. So I wanted to see if you’d know anything... but it seems like you don’t.

Ichiban: Sorry, I’ve got no clue. But hey, if you’re gonna fight the guy, I can lend a hand. [smile] Maybe the old guy’s a werewolf. I’m curious to find out, hehe.

Miss Tatsu: ...It would be nice to have your help, but...

Ichiban: Then it’s settled. I’ll be fine - if things get bad, I’ll run away as fast as I can.

Miss Tatsu: [smile] ...Heh, I got it. Looking forward to working with you. We’ll split the fee fifty-fifty, alright?

Yamada: U-Um!

Ichiban: [confused] Huh?

Miss Tatsu: Ah, sorry miss. Talking about something this gory over a meal.

Yamada: No, it’s not that, you’re fine... Anyway, can I come with?

Miss Tatsu: [surprised] You?

Ichiban: No, it’ll be dangerous... Leave this to us.

Yamada: Please, I won’t do anything risky! [frown] I know I’m still a novice, but that’s why I want to become strong as soon as possible, for everyone’s sake. So-

Miss Tatsu: [smile] Hehe, you’re a proper youngster. Almost hurts my old eyes to see... Teru, you said?

Yamada: Yes ma’am.

Miss Tatsu: Will you keep your promise to not do anything risky?

Yamada: Yes ma’am!

Miss Tatsu: [smile] Okay then, let’s go. I know where he’s hiding. I can count on you when the time comes, right Kasuga?

Ichiban: [smile] Heh. I gotcha.

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

Scene #3: Kamurocho · Docks

Miss Tatsu: ...Here it is.

Ichiban: This is where we’ll find the truth of the old man werewolf.

Miss Tatsu: His name is Hirata. He’s the president of a credit company called Peace Finance.

Ichiban: [confused] Huh? Feel like I’ve heard that name before.

Miss Tatsu: You’ve got a good memory. Yes, he ran the same company about 30 years ago. He was a bastard with a bad reputation, and one day he up and disappeared. And then, recently, he reappeared out of nowhere.

Ichiban: And he’s right back to his bad behaviour. Guess a tiger never changes its stripes. You alright, Teru?

Yamada: [frown] Y-Yeah...!

Ichiban: You can head back home if you want.

Yamada: It’s fine, I’m fine...!

Miss Tatsu: [angry] Okay then, let’s go...!

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

Scene #4: Kamurocho · Warehouse

Miss Tatsu: [angry] Hirata! Come out! I’m taking back the money you owe!!

Ichiban: [confused] Hm? What’s that smell...?

?: Hi, hihihi...

Ichiban: !

Hirata: You collectors never learn. No matter how many of you come, it’s always the same...!

Ichiban: You’re Hirata, yeah? ...I see, you really are just an old man.

Miss Tatsu: [angry] An old man with the cash to rent a warehouse like this. Let’s get you to pay back one month’s interest first.

Hirata: You all say the same thing... so your fate will also be the same.

Miss Tatsu: ...?

Yamada: [surprised] ...! Watch out!!

[something growls]

Ichiban: [confused] Wha?!

Miss Tatsu: [surprised] What is it now...?!

[the tiger growls again]

Miss Tatsu: [angry] ...Teru. We’re running.

Ichiban: [angry] Tsk...! We’re not letting him get away, are we? He’s a fucking lunatic. [raises fists] We have to fight it, Miss Tatsu. Teru, you stay behind me, alright?

Yamada: [frown] O-Okay...!

Miss Tatsu: ...Hirata. I’ll ask just in case. You aren’t gonna give the money back?

Hirata: No way that’s happening...!

Miss Tatsu: Fuh, then it can’t be helped. [angry] Sorry to that big guard dog over there, but I’m about to give his master a hell of a beating! Let’s go, Kasuga!! 

Ichiban: Oouh!

Hirata: Aren’t you scared of my pet at all? ...Fine, if you think you can get past him, then just try it!

------------------ 

[And so, Ichiban and Miss Tatsu beat up Hirata and his pet kitty about a hundred million times. I can’t place the battle music off the top of my head, but I do know the main menu for the event played Debt Cleanup, which is still a certified :catjam:]

------------------ EPILOGUE ------------------

Scene #5: Kamurocho · Docks

Ichiban: I wasn’t sure when I reported it, but it seems like the police have a handle on things.

Miss Tatsu: He didn’t have anything to do with the Omi, after all. Besides, it’s not like they could leave a tiger alone.

Ichiban: That’s for sure. I can’t believe he got a freakin’ tiger to fight off debt collectors instead of a guard dog. How did he even tame it?

Miss Tatsu: [frown] I’m sorry, Teru. You must have been scared.

Yamada: [frown] It’s fine...

Ichiban: [raised eyebrow] Hey, you don’t look fine. What’s wrong?

Yamada: ...I was thinking about what I could do while the two of you were fighting so hard. But in the end, I couldn’t do anything...

Miss Tatsu: Teru...

Ichiban: [smile] ...Heh, your heart’s in the right place, Teru. But you don’t have to rush yourself. Noa said it too, right? The basics are important. If you weren’t up to it today, you can try again tomorrow. And one day, you’ll be the one to help us out when we’re in a pinch. I’ll be looking forward to it.

Miss Tatsu: [smile] Feh, that’s right. We’re not getting any younger, after all. I’m counting on you, Teru.

Yamada: ...Yeah! I’ll try harder! [yell] Alright, I’ll get right back to my training! Starting with a run back home! Farewell!

[she runs off]

Ichiban: [confused] Hey! How many kilometres does she think that is...?

Miss Tatsu: [smile] Heh. She’s a good girl. I’m looking forward to her future.

Ichiban: [smile] ...Well, us old-timers are exhausted. What say we enjoy an after-work drink together?

Miss Tatsu: Sounds good. At least that’s one advantage to being an adult!

------END------ ------------------

Ichiban: And he’s right back to his bad behaviour. A tiger never changes its stripes. 

The original saying here is “三つ子の魂百まで”, which translates literally to “the soul of a child of three (is the same) at 100″. In other words, someone’s nature as a child never truly changes even when they get older. The tiger saying seemed to be a decent equivalent, and also added a delightful bit of dramatic irony, hehe.

Anyway, let’s talk a little more about Hirata. He actually showed up one more time in the main series, in a Yakuza 3 substory. After Kiryu kicked his teeth in, Hirata ran off and became homeless while his family suffered under his debt. Circa 2009, his son tried to kill him in revenge, but Kiryu stopped him and father and son reconciled after Hirata apologised for what he put his family through.

So then, why did he return to his old scam another ten or so years later? One could just say he relapsed, going along with Ichiban’s point that a person’s true nature never changes. However, I think it honestly might be because RGGO did its Yakuza 1 retelling just two months before this event. Why stoop to some generic mook when they have a fully animated model for an actual Yakuza baddie, you know? Really sucks to be that family of his, though.

[petrichorium]

ngl it took me SO LONG to beat Kafka in the sim uni. she kept annihilating everybody. final round, Welt (who was my hard-hitter against her) was out. Asta was out. Bailu was out. Fire-Stelle was down to a sliver of health. I was so sure it was over. and then Kafka died because she was on fire. I'll take the win tho

TBH IM STILL NOT THERE YET LMFAOOOO genuinely I’m in no rush to build chars or grind anything yk so I haven’t even tried cocolia pfft and half the time when I do win it’s accidental I’ll start a run anticipating to lose to the boss and set it to auto and then come back and wait I won? hang on—

We take any win tho!!!! Honestly sometimes skin of the teeth wins r more fun rlly get the adrenaline pumping LMFAOOOOO but it’s also sooo satisfying to start a boss you’ve been struggling with and realize you have it in the bag; first time w svarog after rlly building dan heng was crazy tbh

[suchtragedy]

to: @fatestln marisela location: envy

"Thought I’d bring you a drink. Consider it a repayment on my part," he said, his voice light but laced with an undercurrent of nerves. His gaze flickered to the cup in his hand, a cheap plastic thing, as though it carried the weight of something far greater. Then, after a hesitant beat, he added with a wry smile, "But if you want to negotiate terms… I wouldn’t exactly oppose it. You’re the boss out here."

The sheepish grin tugging at his lips was uncharacteristically humble, a sharp contrast to the usual cocky smirk that seemed permanently etched on his face. He extended the drink toward her—a peace offering, perhaps, or maybe a poorly disguised excuse to linger in her orbit. Marisela, with her bright, striking eyes and a presence that could command a room without a word, had a way of unraveling his confidence in ways that baffled him.

He could still recall their first meeting—how he’d fumbled his words so badly during rounds that he was certain she’d pegged him as a total idiot. He’d paused, openly staring like some starstruck fool, and then stuttered through what was meant to be a concise medical summary. Even now, the memory of it made his ears burn. Something about her—maybe the sharp wit behind her poised demeanor, or the quiet strength in her every movement—turned his brain to static. It wasn’t just admiration; it was gravity, pulling him closer no matter how hard he tried to play it cool.

“Uh, repayment for… you know, saving my ass. Repeatedly,” he continued, his words spilling out too fast. “Pretty sure you’re the only nurse on your unit who doesn’t entirely hate me. Plus, I haven’t forgotten the baked goods you let me swipe from the break room. Those alone probably kept me alive through last week.” He was rambling, and the realization hit him like a brick. Heat rushes to his face, provoking him to clear his throat awkwardly, trying to reel himself back in.

“Anyway, it’s a triple. Vodka cran. As prescribed by your local neighborhood resident doctor.” The grin returned, lopsided but genuine, and for a moment, he wondered if she could hear the faint tremor in his voice.

[freyayuki]

Final Fantasy Record Keeper Labyrinth Dungeons Clears Part 3

In the Final Fantasy Record Keeper (FFRK) mobile game, there are still a lot of fights in the Labyrinth Dungeons that I have yet to clear.

After hearing the news that Final Fantasy Record Keeper was gonna end its service on September 29, 2022 (I talk more about that in another post), I wanted to finish as much of FFRK’s content as I can.

I know it doesn’t really matter, but still. For now, I don’t want to say goodbye to Final Fantasy Record Keeper yet. Heck, I wish this game didn’t have to end, at least not anytime soon.

Anyway, so I started going through the Labyrinth Dungeons, checking each quest and looking to see which ones I’ve already cleared. Will try to do the ones that I haven’t cleared yet. Also trying to see if I can sub-30 these fights.

Labyrinth Dungeons Info

The Labyrinth Nexus fights in the Labyrinth Dungeons come in 2 quest levels - 580 and 650.

There are fights that require you to bring a Final Fantasy realm team and fights that require either physical or magical elemental teams.

Labyrinth Nexus S1, Part 1 Info

The boss of this fight is called Kalavinka Striker (Labyrinth). He is weak to the earth element.

There are 2 versions of him, one that’s weak to physical earth and another that’s weak to magical earth. Well, there are 4 versions of him if you’re also counting the 2 quest levels.

Physical-Weak Quest Level 580 Kalavinka Striker Fight

Decided to take on the physical-weak, quest level 580 version of Kalavinka Striker (Labyrinth) with the following team:

Galuf Halm Baldesion from Final Fantasy V

Tyro from Final Fantasy Record Keeper

Tifa Lockhart from Final Fantasy VII (#ad)

Gladiolus Amicitia from Final Fantasy XV

Aeris or Aerith Gainsborough from Final Fantasy VII

Tifa and Gladio served as my main DPS since I have multiple BDL relics for them. They did really well on this fight.

Have the following relics for Tifa Lockhart:

Dual Awakening Soul Break (DASB), Awoken Meteor Arts

Synchro Arcane Soul Break 1 (SASB1), Zangan’s Infinitude

SASB2, Limit Combo

Awakened Arcane Soul Break 1 (AASB1), Meteor Arts

AASB2, Chain Somersault

Arcane Overstrike Soul Break (AOSB), Platinum Strike

Ultra Soul Break 1 (USB1), Meteodrive

Overstrike Soul Break (OSB), Meteor Strike

Glint+ Soul Break 2 (G+2), Rockcrusher Grasp

Burst Soul Break 1 (BSB1), Meteor Crusher

Default Soul Break, Beat Rush

Legend Materia 1, Heroic Devotion

Legend Materia 2, Fighter’s Instinct

Legend Materia Relic 1 (LMR1), Brawling Barkeep

LMR3, First-Class Fighter

And I might or might not have Tifa’s LMR2, Friendly Fighter, but can’t remember for sure anymore. I talk more about this in another post.

Anyway, although I have both of Tifa’s Syncs, I could only bring 1 to this fight since each char can only equip 1 SASB at a time. Tifa’s Sync 2 is way better than her Sync 1 so the former was what I brought to this quest.

For Gladiolus, I have his Dual, Awakening, Sync and a few of his other relics. I also have his physical earth Chain Soul Break althought IIRC, didn’t have him use this since Galuf served as my Chain holder for this fight.

I have Galuf’s Chain, 2 of his Awakenings, and his Sync. As aforementioned, he served as my Chain holder. Galuf deals decent enough damage but he doesn’t hit as hard as Gladio or Tifa. Still, he did very well as my secondary DPS and Chain holder.

Aerith and Tyro served as my buffers and supports. Aerith was also my healer.

Have the following relics for Aerith Gainsborough:

Dual Awakening Soul Break (DASB), Awoken White Materia

Awakened Arcane Soul Break 1 (AASB1), Star Pulse

AASB2, Planetary Pulse

Ultra Soul Break 1 (USB1), Hidden Bloom

USB2, Innocent Cure

Glint+ Soul Break 1 (G+1), Refreshing Breeze

G+2, Star Whisper

Burst Soul Break 1 (BSB1), White Materia

BSB2, Prayer of Salvation

Super Soul Break (SSB), Pulse of Life

Unique Soul Break, Planet Protector

Unique Soul Break, Fury Brand

Unique Soul Break, Dragon Force

Unique Soul Break, Healing Wind (VII)

Default Soul Break, Seal Evil

Legend Materia Relic (LMR), Flower of the Slums

Legend Materia 1, Daughter of the Ancients

Legend Materia 2, Motherly Protector

I’ve even max honed one of Aerith’s Awakenings so it can be used twice per fight instead of just once. I talk more about that in this post.

Aside from keeping everyone alive and providing Last Stand, Aerith can also speed up the physical attacks of her allies.

Tyro can increase the party’s critical hit chance. He can also Entrust his gauges to his allies.

Have a few of Tyro’s Soul Breaks, including his Awakening and Ultra Soul Breaks.

I have 1 copy of a Level 99 Neo Bahamut (Ultra Attack) Magicite and 1 copy of a Level 99 Neo Bahamut (Ultra Magic) Magicite thanks to being able to clear the Neo Bahamut quest level 600 fight. I talk more about this in another post.

So for this Labyrinth quest, I brought Neo Bahamut (Ultra Attack) as my main Magicite. Having him really helped to increase the damage output of my chars.

This fight was only quest level 580 so it really wasn’t that hard, especially since my physical earth elemental team was pretty stacked and I even have a Neo Bahamut Magicite already.

So I was able to get the win in 25.45 seconds. Yay for being able to sub-30 this fight.

Labyrinth Nexus S3, Part 1 Info

The boss of this fight is called Alexander (Labyrinth). He is weak to the dark element.

There are 2 versions of him, one that’s weak to physical dark and another that’s weak to magical dark. Well, there are 4 versions of him if you’re also counting the 2 quest levels.

Physical-Weak Quest Level 580 Alexander Fight

Decided to take on the physical-weak, quest level 580 version of Alexander with the following team:

Sephiroth from Final Fantasy VII

Shadow from Final Fantasy VI

Ravus Nox Fleuret from Final Fantasy XV

Tyro from Final Fantasy Record Keeper

Aeris or Aerith Gainsborough from Final Fantasy VII

Have the following relics for Sephiroth:

Limit Break Chain (LBC), Woven Bond: Sephiroth - Dark

Limit Break Overstrike (LBO) or Limit Break Over Flow (LBOF), Dark Illumination

True Arcane Soul Break 1 (TASB1) or Arcane Dyad Soul Break 1 (ADSB1), Super Nova or Sunburst

TASB2, Jenova

Synchro Arcane Soul Break 1 (SASB1), Demonic Lord

SASB2, Crimson Octaslash

SASB3, Dark Carmine Blade

Awakened Arcane Soul Break 1 (AASB1), Stigma

AASB2, Underworld Guardian

AASB3, Flames of Nibelheim

Arcane Overstrike Soul Break 1 (AOSB1), Setting Sun

AOSB2, Purgatorial Flames

Ultra Soul Break 1 (USB1), Heartless Angel

USB2, Zanshin

USB3, Crimson Lotus

Overstrike Soul Break (OSB), Heaven’s Light

Glint+ Soul Break 1 (G+1), Shimmer Flash

G+2, Fervent Shadow

Glint Soul Break (G), Jenova’s Might

Burst Soul Break 1 (BSB1), Reunion

BSB2, Octaslash

Super Soul Break 1 (SSB1), Black Materia

SSB2, Transience

Unique Soul Break, Nibelheim Nightmare

Unique Soul Break, Hell’s Gate

Unique Soul Break, Shadow Flare

Default Soul Break, Oblivion

Legend Materia 1, Fallen Hero

Legend Materia 2, Jenova’s Echo

Legend Materia Relic 1 (LMR1), Fateful Secret

LMR2, Apocalyptic Hero

LMR3, Cruelest Cut

LMR+, Refinement (Sephiroth)

Yeah, I have basically all of Sephi’s relics. The only one I’m missing for him is his Dual Awakening Soul Break 1 (DASB1), Awoken Octaslash. I really hate that I wasn’t able to get this.

And it’s definitely not for lack of trying. When Sephiroth’s Dual first showed up in Final Fantasy Record Keeper, I tried pulling for it.

I talk more about that in this post, but the main point is that, sadly, no matter how many times I pulled on the banner said Dual was featured in, was never able to get it.

Went 10 pulls deep on that banner, spending hundreds of mythril, until I was all out, and yet I couldn’t even manage to get all the relics featured there.

Was really frustrated and annoyed about that. Still am, really. Eff the crappy, trashy rates on this game. And now that FFRK is ending, I’ll never be able to get Sephiroth’s Dual. Sigh.

Anyway, Sephiroth served as one of my DPS for this fight. He’s a really good physical dark elemental attacker although he also dabbles in the fire element.

Shadow served as my physical dark Chain holder. IIRC, also have his Awakening and Sync plus a few of his other relics.

Can’t remember for sure anymore and unfortunately, the game is over by now, so can’t check the relics list of my chars anymore.

Tyro and Aerith served as my supports again. And, as usual, they both did very well in buffing and supporting the party.

Ravus served as my main DPS since I have most of his relics, including his Dual, Awakening, Sync, and TASB.

My physical dark elemental team is pretty stacked and this was only quest level 580 so found this fight pretty easy.

Was able to get the win but was really, really annoyed that my clear time was 30.30 seconds. Argh! Was so close to being able to sub-30 this quest. It really sucks that I wasn’t able to.

I know I can just try again and see if I can lower my clear time somehow but decided to just move on to a different quest for now. FFRK is ending really soon, so I’m running out of time.

Would like to clear as many Labyrinth Dungeons quests as I can before the end. If I get more time, I’ll try this fight again.

Physical-Weak Quest Level 650 Alexander Fight

Took on the physical-weak quest level 650 Alexander fight with Sephiroth, Aerith, Shadow, Ravus, and Tyro. This fight turned out to be much, much harder when compared to the quest level 580 version.

It took 42.35 seconds before I was able to get Alexander down to 9.8% HP. By then things were looking kinda dire because the effects of my Chain just ran out and I had yet to get it back up.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, Aerith somehow ended up getting afflicted with the stone debuff so she couldn’t move or do anything anymore.

But since the rest of my chars were all still alive and well and the fight seemed to be nearly over already, decided to keep going.

Well, the good news was that my DPS were able to get Alexander’s HP down to 4.9%. The bad news was that they were all nearly dead now.

As can be seen in the screenshot below, the Last Stand for Sephiroth, Ravus, and Tyro just got triggered. With Aerith out of commission, it was gonna be near impossible to get my chars back to full health.

Tyro does have Soul Breaks that can restore the party’s HP but he can’t provide Last Stand and he’s not really a healer like Aerith.

At least it looked like my chars still had Aerith’s HP Regen buff active on them but I still needed to get them back to full health ASAP before Alexander attacks again.

Was able to get Shadow to cast his Chain again. Ravus and Sephiroth managed to get Alexander’s HP down to 2.3%.

Unfortunately, my chars were still at low HP. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, Shadow and Ravus also got paralyzed.

Tyro has a Soul Break that can remove debuffs but before I could cast that, Alexander managed to kill the rest of my party.

Argh! Was so close already. Alexander was already at 2.3%. My chars had been able to deal 97.7% damag to him already. Just a little bit more, and I would have been able to win. Ugh. Eff this fight. So frustrating.

Since I was so close to winning this fight already, decided to try it again. Thankfully, this time, was able to get the win. Hell, yes! My team managed to beat Alexander in 42.10 seconds.

Missed out on the sub-30 but it’s fine. I’ll just see about trying this fight again later on.

Anyway, clearing or mastering this fight for the first time also gave me a bunch of rewards, including a Realm/Elemental x11 ticket and unlocking more tiles from the Record Boards of select chars.

Labyrinth Nexus S3, Part 4 Info

The boss of this fight is called Earth Guardian (Labyrinth). He is weak to the wind element.

There are 2 versions of him, one that’s weak to physical wind and another that’s weak to magical wind. Well, there are 4 versions of him if you’re also counting the 2 quest levels.

Physical-Weak Quest Level 580 Earth Guardian Fight

Decided to take on the physical-weak, quest level 580 version of Earth Guardian with the following team:

Cloud Strife from Final Fantasy VII

Aeris or Aerith Gainsborough from Final Fantasy VII

Bartz Klauser from Final Fantasy V

Vaan from Final Fantasy XII

Tyro from Final Fantasy Record Keeper

Have the following relics for Cloud Strife:

Limit Break Chain (LBC), Woven Bond: Cloud

Limit Break Guardian Soul Break (LBGS), Guardian Choco-Mog

Dual Awakening Soul Break 1 (DASB1), Awoken Finishing Touch

DASB2, Awoken Darkpetal Bloom

Chain Soul Break+ (CSB+), Bond (Cloud)

True Arcane Soul Break 1 (TASB1) or Arcane Dyad Soul Break 1 (ADSB1), Omnislash

TASB2, Apex Hazardous Darkness

Synchro Arcane Soul Break 1 (SASB1), Apex Slash

SASB3, Mako Strike

Awakened Arcane Soul Break 1 (AASB1), Angelic Synergy

AASB3, Dark Side Braver

Arcane Overstrike Soul Break 2 (AOSB2), Eye of Darkness

AOSB1, Sonic Braver

Ultra Soul Break 1 (USB1), Ultra Cross Slash

USB2, Climirage

USB3, Darkpetal Bloom

Overstrike Soul Break 1 (OSB1), Finishing Touch

OSB2, Cherry Blossom (FFT)

Burst Soul Break 2 (BSB2), Cloud Cycle

BSB1, Fenrir Overdrive

Super Soul Break (SSB), Blade Beam

Unique Soul Break, Climhazzard

Unique Soul Break, Cross Slash

Unique Soul Break, Braver

Glint+ Soul Break 1 (G+1), Aerial Fang

G+2, Jenova Cell Power

G+3, Truth and Illusion

G+4, Triple Slash

Glint Soul Break 1 (G1), Mako Power

G2, Mako Abyss

Default Soul Break, Sonic Break

Legend Materia Relic 1 (LMR1), Sprinting Wolf

LMR2, Truth Surmounted

LMR4, Broken Illusions

LMR5, Borrowed Blade

LMR6, Self Forgiveness

Legend Materia 1, Lone Wolf

Legend Materia 2, Mantle Bearer

Have most of Cloud’s relics. The only relics I’m missing for Cloud are his LBO, Sync 2, AASB2, BSB3, and LMR3. Too bad I was never able to get any of these before. And now I’ll never be able to because the game is ending already. Sigh.

Anyway, Cloud is a really good physical DPS. He has Soul Breaks that deal either wind or dark elemental damage. He’s better as a wind DPS though. In fact, he’s one of the best wind DPS in this game.

Cloud’s Ultra Cross Slash USB gives him BDL9. IIRC, he and Sephiroth are the only ones in FFRK who can get up to BDL9. For Sephi, his Zanshin USB is the one that gives him BDL9.

So for this fight, Cloud served as my DPS alongside Bartz. Like with Cloud, also have a lot of Bartz’s relics. Unlike with Cloud though, I’m missing a lot of Bartz’s Soul Breaks.

Bartz dabbles in multiple elements. IIRC, I have 2 of his Awakenings and a few of his Syncs, including his wind one. Also have his wind DASB.

Vaan served as my physical wind Chain holder. Aside from his CSB, also have 2 of his Awakenings. So he was also able to help deal damage to the enemy.

As usual, I brought Tyro and Aerith to support the rest of my chars. And as usual, the 2 of them did a really good job. Everyone else did really well too.

This fight was pretty easy. Was able to get the win in exactly 33.00 seconds. It sucks that I missed out on the sub-30 by 3 seconds though.

Ah, well. Will just have to see about trying this again later on. Anyway, as part of the mastery rewards for clearing this quest, I got another Realm/Elemental x11 ticket and was able to unlock more tiles from the Record Boards of some chars.

End of Final Fantasy Record Keeper Mobile Game

And that’s it. It’s all over now. At the time I’m writing this part of this post, it’s way past September 29, 2022 so FFRK has just ended its service. Ahh, I still wish that this didn’t have to happen now or anytime soon.

I tried but sadly, wasn’t able to finish all the content in Final Fantasy Record Keeper before the end. I talk more about that in another post.

Couldn’t even finish clearing all of the Labyrinth Dungeons quests. Yeah, there are lots of things that I’m just never gonna be able to do now that FFRK is over. Sigh.

Another thing that’s really upsetting is the way Final Fantasy Record Keeper ended. Its end feels so anticlimactic. Truly a letdown of epic proportions. The game could have tried to do more before everything ended.

But instead, even before the end, FFRK felt dead already. We stopped getting any new events long before the end.

We got a special banner and some tickets that we could use to pull on said banner. I talk more about that in another post, but we’d get like 1 ticket per day as part of some login bonus campaign or something.

That only lasted for like 30 days or so though. But why couldn’t they have made it last until the end? Why couldn’t they have given us more free pulls?

Why couldn’t they have adjusted the rates or something? Why couldn’t they have made it so that these daily free 10-draws would give us at least 1 6-star or 7-star Soul Break or something?

They didn’t even refresh the Realm and Elemental banners or given us more mythril and Realm/Elemental x11 tickets.

The game could have gone out with a bang but it feels like it all just ended in disappointment.

Conclusion

So what about you? Have you done any of the quests in the Labyrinth Dungeons? What do you think about these fights? What do you think about the fact that Final Fantasy Record Keeper is all over now? Feel free to share your thoughts and opinions by leaving a comment below or by reblogging or replying to this post.

Notes:

screenshots are from my Final Fantasy Record Keeper game account

[sourstars]

HI LOML DORI HIHIHI i promise i saw ur ask and i was literally yk the meme emoji like O_O that was me when u sent that ask!! ive been busy bc ive actually been on my shit nd studying 4 my classes like a girl boss!! i saw u posted the writers thingy and i wanted to ask: it doesn't let me start a new line on here but numbers: 8. 14 (i hate letting ppl borrow my books bc they never give it back), 21 and 24!! sorry if its alot im just super curious bc i really like ur writing style!! - dango anon

HELLOOOOOOOyes i was hoping you’d see it eventually, i was like that meme with the kid that’s side eyeing everything while drinking his soda (??)

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

i would totally attempt one without dialogue, that seems so challenging and could potentially so sick istg i toooootally will not add that to my to-write list like i don’t have a million things to do already 😵‍💫

14. Do you lend your books to people? Are people scared to borrow books from you? Do you know exactly where all your “lost” books are and which specific friend from school you haven’t seen in twelve years still possesses them? Will you ever get them back?

YES I DO. I KNOW EXACTLY WHERE THEY ARE. i have an ex who i let borrow my anniversary edition of fahrenheit 451 which is one of my all time favs and the mf never gave it back and i KNOW he never got around to fuckin reading it either. gave him a bookmark to use w it and everything. never AGAIN >:(. on a happier note, i do let friends and peers borrow books but i have a mental blacklist of the ones never returned and i still know exactly where they are even though i’m not DIRECTLY looking for them yk??? sixth sense typa beat LOL will i ever get any back? short answer; probably not but it’s an excuse to shop

21. Could you ever quit writing? Do you ever wish you could? Why or why not?

in general, hell no LOL it’s actually helped me cope through trauma and depression so it’s one of best hobbies and i’d like to keep it around as long as possible—HOWEVERRR i do think i won’t write fanfiction forever, which is why i deleted the really short and (personally) cringy or hated works because if i’m to stop eventually i want to leave behind the ones i’m real proud of like inerrata or yearning man (could list all of my favs actually) because in writing them i literally used a piece of my soul and past to shape the lesson i wanted to have people read, whether i was the only one who got it or not. so really, maybe in the future i might ever get the urge to write an actual book but i don’t see myself quitting any time soon, just maybe the occasional break (like rn :’)) for burnout. however i am active and might post things on ao3 first or only on there sometimes like series because unless you’re already big they do NOT do well on here LOL

24. How much prep work do you put into your stories? What does that look like for you? Do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?

so if you’ve ever seen the show bones. i’m brennan if she was just averagely smart LOL yes i study everything to understand even if only the basics because sometimes underlying plot or details are what drives my story. researched for a week on the five stages of grief just to see how it manifested in different temperaments and environments and in another wip i studied engineering basics because it was the driving force or that fic’s reader’s struggle and upcoming. it mostly looks like slouching over my laptop with a thick ass notebooks making rushed notes and ending up drying my pens in the process LOL i do enjoy it but i do NOT enjoy the having ti but pens every month or so :’) it’s mostly the drive for knowledge for me because i already live learning in general. if given a timespan i think it takes about a week of searching before even writing out anything

writer asks!

[hareofhrair]

So I don’t actually want to like, Be A Streamer or what have you. But I am. Desperate for income. And ready to get

creative

about singing for my supper.

So, current ideas for some sort of Charity Stream But The Charity is Me:

First Boss Boss Rush— I play a bunch of games trying to get to and beat the first boss as fast as possible. Pros: likely to take a long time and be very entertaining to people who enjoy watching people be bad at video games. Cons: might suck for anyone who does not like watching people be bad at video games.

Curse of Strahd Any% Randomizer with Ice Traps— I DM my very first ttrpg, and it’s curse of strahd, but the plot elements, characters, and encounters have all been randomized, I’m marathoning till we kill strahd but the pool of players drops in and out as they feel like it, and also chat can donate to hassle everyone in dubiously humorous ways. Pros: could be real funny? Cons: could go on actually forever and then I’d die. All the players decide to go have lives at the same time and i have to play by myself. Also I still haven’t finished the curse of strahd campaign I’m in so I’d get spoiled :(

Marathon Tarot Reading— I just keep prognosticating until we raise enough money to buy me a self cleaning litterbox. Taking viewers questions and or just makin shit up. Donation incentives to replace my cards with various absurdities ie the sesamerot, yugioh cards, uno cards, recipe cards, bonus incentive we try out geomancy (where you draw a bunch of symbols on the ground and then spin in circles and see which ones you fall on)

I Make A Quilt: I learn how to quilt and marathon until the fucking quilt is done. Donation incentives to make me watch the Room while quilting. For every fifty dollars I add another square. Pros: i have. a quilt at the end. Cons: probably boring. Hand pain.

What If I Just Did Donkey Kong 64 100% Like HBomberguy— why reinvent the wheel ya know?

What sounds more entertaining to you? Vote on your phones now!!!

Quick, give me your best ideas for stupid internet stunts someone could do to fundraise. Of the “I’m going to marathon myself playing a game im bad at for days” variety.

[greg-montgomery]

omg pls part 2 to u being aaron’s secret admirer it’s so cute 🥺🥺

part 1: here <3

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Being alone in the car with Hotch was always nerve-racking for you, and not for the typical reasons. It wasn’t the fact that you were alone with your boss that made your heart beat like crazy against your chest; it was the fact that you were alone with the secret love of your life.

You kept stealing glances at him the entire ride from the witness’ house back to the station, hoping he wouldn’t notice. All you wanted was for him to take your hand in his and keep it there on his thigh while he was driving.

A pout took over your face at the thought, as you let out a heavy sigh.

“You okay?” Aaron asked you, turning his face for a second to look at you, before directing his gaze back at the road.

“Yeah…”

He didn’t reply so you figured he’d drop it. But he didn’t. Just a few minutes later, he pulled over at the side of the road.

“You haven’t eaten anything all day. Come on, let’s grab something together,” he suggested.

“Hotch, it’s okay,” you rushed to say. “I’m just a little tired, that’s all.”

He openly ignored your words and took out his wallet to grab some cash. “I’m buying you lunch.”

Before you had the chance to protest some more, your eyes caught something you didn’t expect. It was a little card inside his wallet. You could recognize that card anywhere. It was the first one you had left for him almost six months ago; a bright pink color, not at all Hotch’s style.

But he still carried it with him…It made you realize that your cards meant a lot to him just like they did to you.

You couldn’t stop the sweet smile you were trying to hide from spreading across your face.

He noticed.

You glanced at his wallet one more time and then looked into his eyes with a shy smile. “You still have it.”

He breathed out a laugh. He didn’t seem surprised to find out it was you, but he seemed to be relieved.

“I have all of them,” he replied sweetly. “But this one is always with me.”

“Hotch…”

“You sweet thing,” he said, cupping the side of your face with his palm. “Why didn’t you tell me anything?”

“I was embarrassed,” you admitted, lowering your gaze.

“Your little gifts are the best parts of my day, sweetheart,” he said and before you knew it his lips were on yours.