#or was he just trying to talk about his daughter again

[zeroseuniverse]

My Dad Is Single!

Word Count: 643 Summary: "You should date him. He's very handsome. Like a prince! And he makes really good pancakes!" Pairing: Single dad s.coups X Fem Nurse reader

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S.Coups had been through a lot in his life. He'd survived years in the music industry, guided twelve chaotic members through countless debuts and comebacks, and endured the existential crisis that came with turning thirty. But nothing—absolutely nothing—compared to being the father of a six-year-old girl who had just woken up from surgery and was completely loopy on pain meds.

"Hey, ma'am," his daughter, Haneul, whispered dramatically to the nurse standing by her bedside. She squinted at the woman as if she were plotting something grand. "You're really pretty."

The nurse, a kind-looking woman with a warm smile, chuckled as she checked Haneul’s IV. "Well, thank you, sweetheart. That's very sweet of you."

S.Coups, who had been sitting at the edge of the hospital bed, rubbing his temples, immediately sensed danger. His dad instincts were never wrong.

"Haneul, sweetheart—"

"My dad is single!" she blurted out before he could stop her. "You should date him. He's very handsome. Like a prince! And he makes really good pancakes!"

S.Coups groaned, slumping forward dramatically while the nurse let out a surprised laugh. His face felt like it was on fire. "Haneul… we talked about this. You can’t just—"

"He’s lonely," his daughter continued with a very serious nod. "He watches sad movies at night and sighs a lot."

The betrayal. The absolute betrayal.

The nurse raised an amused eyebrow, looking between the little girl and the mortified man beside her. "Is that so?"

"No, it is not so!" S.Coups finally found his voice. "I don’t sigh that much."

"You do," Haneul insisted. "You sigh when you fold my laundry. You sigh when you help me with math. You sigh when grandpa asks why you're still single."

S.Coups groaned again and dropped his head into his hands while the nurse struggled to hold in her laughter. He had never wished for a hole to open up and swallow him whole more than he did in this moment.

The nurse patted Haneul’s hand gently. "Well, your dad sounds like a great man. But I’m sure he’s perfectly happy just taking care of his wonderful little girl."

Haneul gasped dramatically, gripping the nurse's wrist like she had just heard the most tragic news in the world. "But he needs love!"

"Oh my God," S.Coups muttered, looking up at the ceiling like it might offer him divine intervention.

The nurse gave him a playful look. "Well, I suppose if he ever needs dating advice, he knows who to ask."

S.Coups sighed for what felt like the millionth time that day, shooting his daughter a deadpan look. "See? Now you've scared her away."

Haneul only giggled sleepily, her eyelids starting to droop again. "I just want you to be happy, Appa."

And just like that, his frustration melted away. He reached out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "I am happy, Haneul-ah. Because I have you."

She gave him a drowsy smile before her eyes finally fluttered shut. He exhaled in relief, running a hand through his hair before glancing at the nurse, who was still grinning at him.

"Sorry about that," he mumbled. "She's, uh… a little too invested in my love life."

The nurse laughed, shaking her head. "She’s adorable. And she clearly loves you a lot." She paused, then added teasingly, "And for the record, I do like pancakes."

S.Coups blinked, completely caught off guard. "I—what?"

She just winked at him before making a note in Haneul’s chart. "I'll be back to check on her in a little while. Try not to sigh too much in the meantime."

S.Coups sat there, stunned, as she walked out of the room. Then he looked down at his sleeping daughter, shaking his head with a small smile.

"Unbelievable," he muttered, chuckling softly. "She's really my kid, huh?"

[aangelinakii]

SAFEHOUSE.

— at least you've got each other.

summary : daughter of the mayor, who'd had an attempt on her life, bruce has tasked his son with protecting her in one of his various safehouses around the city. he's never had to do this before, and it doesn't help that you're sort of cute...

note : fem reader if you cannt tell very sorry znd also they're both teenagers like 16 ish

note 2 : also possibly a little out of charscter ? i haven't consumed a lot of damian media 😪 but i also do think he would behave a little differently when he's older compared to when hés like 9

work for robin was changing.

damian wayne expected to be running across rooftops, kicking bad guys in the face and eavesdropping in vents. not sitting around in a safehouse, protecting the mayor's only child.

for the amount of lying around they did, damian wouldn't really call it protecting. it seemed more like just hanging out.

his knee bounced a mile a minute from where he sat at the empty table in your quite non-descript box of a safehouse, eyes flickering over constantly to your frame in front of the cuboid vhs-playing television — what an old thing it was.

it had been quite difficult trying to harbour a relationship with you; of course it would be, having to go into hiding with a random teenage boy your age after having your life threatened by the usual gotham terrorists.

with a sigh, he got to his feet, and you glanced up from your old black and white movie. he stepped up to the door, fingering the locks to make everything was in place, and then past the curtains, which swayed slightly with movement, but were thick enough to keep out the light from outside.

these days it was difficult to even tell what time it was.

he did this a lot, probably as a way to pass the time, probably cathartically; checking the locks, checking the curtains were still heavy in front of the windows, giving the small apartment you stayed in the impression of being empty.

when he was done he turned your way, stepping boredly toward the back of the couch, where you'd already redirected your attention back to the television.

this was an old hitchcock one from the forties — quite bland, actually, but it wasn't like you didn't have anything else better to do.

when you first got here, neither of you having seen a vhs player before, it took a good hour to figure it out, and, at the time, you'd thought you and damian would get along well, laughing along together when you finally managed to insert the tape. now, after almost two months, you'd found barely anything to share a laugh about.

the cushioning on the back of the couch beside you sunk, and you peered over to see damian leaning against it, eyes glued to the pixel-ridden screen. with a huff and a few more moments passing, he spoke, glancing down at you from the corner of his eye. "i'm sorry i'm... not much help. i'm not really used to this whole protecting thing."

he stepped away, and you craned your neck to follow him. he began to pace from behind the sofa, talking with his hands as he kept his eyes on his feet. "i'm used to protecting people outside, not confined in here. i'll be honest, i'm going a bit mad in here."

an involuntary chuckle brushed past your lips, and he glanced up. "i completely get it," you returned, resting your arm on the back of the couch. "i'm not used to this, either. usually i'd be with my friends, or something — but i'm not even allowed to reach out to them. they probably think i actually did get shot."

you don't miss the way the corner of his mouth turns up as he circles around and continues his pacing.

this might be the most conversation you've had in three weeks.

where you think he might speak again, you can only hear the tinny voices of laurence olivier and joan fontaine, but your eyes continue to follow his movements. he seemed antsy, nervous; all he seemed to be these days.

"hey," you said out of nowhere, grabbing his attention, but he doesn't stop walking or cracking his knuckles. "why don't we do something you'd usually do?"

he considered your words for a moment, but kept pacing. "like what?"

your eyes trailed off, glancing around the room. it consisted of a small kitchen area and a little two-seater table, but you mostly stayed on the couch, getting through the wicker basket of tapes beneath the television. in the corner was a door to the bathroom, and two other doors to each of your miniscule bedrooms.

but in all the limited space within the main room, between the table and the couch, it was empty enough for movement.

"you said you're used to protecting outside," you hummed, looking back at him. by now, he'd stopped his pacing and was eyeing you inquisitively. "what do you ususally do?"

damian gave a shrug. "hit... people?"

with a shrug of your own, you jumped up to your feet. "why don't we do that? hit each other?"

once again, the corner of his mouth perked up. "hit you? i'm supposed to be protecting you, don't you remember?"

a laugh passed your lips as they curved into a smile. "no, no." and you walked around the sofa to face him. "you can just pretend. like, show me your moves. or teach me something."

your teenage bodyguard sized you up for a moment, flesh sinking beneath his mouth as he chewed at his gum pensively. after a few beats, he began to nod slowly. "if you think that will help."

"sure it will," you smiled as you reached out for his hands, palms slightly rough in yours, and dragged him out into the little space between what was supposed to be the dinner table and couch.

once you were out of the way of anything too valuable — like the tv — you let go of his hands and took a few steps back. "so how do we start?"

it seemed when being prompted to do so in a safe environment, damian struggled to get in the headspace of a fight. he'd been raised by assassins, it usually came as second nature.

perhaps it was that he was being watched, where it was only him and you.

sheepishly, eyes focusing on a spot on the wall behind you as opposed to actually you, damian took on a wider stance and carefully bent his legs. he looked agile, lean, and when he brought his forearms up to the sides of his head, his hands didn't curl tightly.

like this, he seemed to morph; from that quiet, almost shy, awkward boy you'd spent the past month and a bit with in, to a viper ready to strike.

instinctively, his eyes narrowed and his jaw set, like he were really about to attack.

with less ease than him, you attempted to match damian's stance, bending your knees slightly and bringing your forearms up to shield the sides of your head. but this only caused damian to let out a huff of a laugh.

"what?" you hummed, unable to stop the corners of your mouth lifting.

before you, damian's shoulders fell lightly. "nothing, it's just... no, it's not funny." although you could still see that smile behind his shielding arms, he made an attempt to compose himself.

your previous casual stance returned, your arms falling to your sides and your back straightening. "hey, i'm trying my best here!" you retorted, but a laugh slipped out. "not everyone is batman's side-kick."

"i know," damian responded, watching as you resumed your mirroring of his stance. "i think i forget not everyone has trained like us sometimes, because i'm constantly immersed in it. usually."

testing the ease of your knees and the weight of your shoulders, you opened your mouth to speak again. "what next?"

after a few beats, damian gave his reply. "well... i suppose you'd attack."

with a gesture of your fingers, you beckoned your opponent forward. "attack, then. give me your worst."

despite his dismissive chuckle, damian edged forward, however uncertainly. "absolutely not," he joked in return.

useless in this position, all you could do was watch damian as he silently made to assess his next move; lid covering eye, your lashes fluttered past with your blink and damian appeared much closer, his slow attacks falling purposely short as he pretended to strike various areas of your torso and up.

after a false kick brushed off your side, you straightened up again. "how could i protect myself? if i ever needed to." and at this moment in your life, it seemed very much that this would be helpful information, just in case your life is tried again.

closer than you'd seen him, damian's hair had messed with his shadow boxing. he had dark hair, the colour he shared with his father, but its untidiness must've been inherited from his mother. he owned a perpetual tan, olive in undertone, darker contrasting freckles dotted once below his left eye and then a smaller one merging into the skin of his lip. he was both boyish and owning feminine qualities; the untidiness of a boy, but the sharpness of a woman you'd never want to cross.

with a soft cough in the back of his throat, he reached out an arm, extending it past your ear. "if i was going for an attack here, you would take your other arm and push me away."

as he spoke, you followed his instruction, bringing your arm up, forearm against forearm, to hit him back and dodge out the way.

"a lot of it is timing," damian spoke again, slowly bringing his other arm up to jab at you throat without actually making contact. "timing, reaction and reading. you need to anticipate the action of your opponent before they even make it; that's what makes a good combatant."

your hand came up to take damian's wrist, stopping it where it had stopped anyway, and pushed it up over your head. "i'm not very good at this," you chuckled sheepishly, feeling a little stupid at this slow-motion combat.

pulling his arm back to his side, twisting it just as carefully as he had been to lose your light grip. "you don't have to be. you're just learning now."

as your fingers fell from his skin, your eyes met.

for a moment, damian stumbled upon his words. "but i could teach you if you wanted; something we could work on while we're holed up in here."

[kamisobsessed]

I Don't Get Jealous

Summary: Takes place in S4E6 "Poetic Justice" when Tim takes Officer McGrady out on patrol, he meets McGrady's daughter Ashley who invites Tim over for dinner to thank him for taking her dad back out on the streets. Tim eventually agrees to go, but runs it by you first. Then after they find the treasure, the station celebrates Jerry's retirement. Tim does Jerry's end of watch and Ashley thanks Tim again. You are standing nearby talking with Harper and Chen, but you see Ashley flirting with Tim and you don't hesitate to stop it. (I am so bad at summaries)

Some other background info: You and Tim are engaged, you're a metro sergeant/metro liason at mid-wilshire, he's an LAPD sergeant at mid-wilshire. Ashley is obviously clueless to your relationship, you don't really show your relationship at work.

Pairings: Tim Bradford x Metro Sergeant!Reader, no use of y/n.

Warnings: jealousy, fluff, kind of implied possible smut at the end?, follows the plot of S4E6

A/N: My first Tim Bradford fic! Also, I hate Ashley and hated her and Tim's relationship so I had to go with this prompt from @reignsboy19, "Y/n being a badass and shutting down Ashley who was trying to flirt with Tim (her boyfriend) and Tim just being proud of her and everyone else just laughing at her jealousy" though I changed it up a little. Hope you enjoy!

[This is not proofread or edited, I'm too busy for that, I just wanted to post this]

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

When Sergeant Grey told Sergeant Bradford to talk Officer Jerry McGrady into retirement, Tim thought it would be easy. Until he had to actually talk to McGrady about it. Instead of discussing retirement, Tim asked him to go on patrol with him.

You always made sure to see Tim before he goes out on patrol, so you were waiting by the doors to his shop when you saw McGrady coming over with war bags and gear.

"Officer McGrady, no kit room duty today?" you ask him.

"Nope, Sergeant Bradford asked me to ride with him today," he says.

You raised your eyebrows and held back a chuckle, "oh really?" you say.

"Yep! It's truly an honor! I'm glad to be able to hit the streets again," he says.

"Well, you be safe out there Jerry," you say with a smile.

"Will do!" He says, and he went into the garage to set up the shop.

Tim came over after talking to Grey.

"I thought Grey told you to talk him into retirement?" You ask him, raising an eyebrow at him with a smirk.

"I told Grey I got this, he'll be thinking of nothing but retirement after today," he says.

"Right," you chuckle, knowing Tim just couldn't bring himself to rip the bandaid off.

He just grinned a little shaking his head, "Don't you have some metro op to do or something?" he asked.

"Nope," you smile. He just playfully rolls his eyes and opens the door to the garage.

"Be safe out there sarge," you say to him.

"You too, sarge," he says with a small smile looking back at you before the door closes.

-

You were in your office at the station when Tim knocks and walks in.

"Hey, how was riding with Jerry, he retire yet?" You ask him.

"Not yet, turns out he may be of some help on the treasure hunt case," Tim said, "But, once that is over, I'm sure he will retire," He says.

"Right, I'm sure," You respond sarcastically.

"Are you judging my ability to make someone leave the job?" Tim asked, "Should I remind you when I was your T.O., you almost washed out on day 2," he says.

"That's not the same, I was a rookie, I wasn't on the job for multiple decades like Jerry," you say.

"After this treasure hunt thing, I know Jerry will be ready to retire," he says.

"Okay, I believe you," you chuckled, "Now what has you in my office Sergeant Bradford?" You ask him, "Not that I don't like seeing my favorite person," you smile.

"Jerry and his daughter, Ashley, invited me over to have dinner, a thank you for me getting Jerry back on the streets. I said yes, just wanted to let you know," he says.

"I'm sure Jerry will like that," you say, "I'm gonna be late getting home anyways, have so many reports to catch up on, this treasure hunt has the city going mad," you sigh.

"Well, I'll see you at home later then," he says coming over to you and leaning down to give you a kiss.

"okay," you say giving him another quick peck on the lips.

"I love you," he says before he goes to leave your office.

"I love you, too," you say back before he heads out.

-

Tim was at dinner with Jerry and his daughter. Jerry was sound asleep on his recliner and Tim was helping Ashley clean up.

"You know, riding with you today was the highlight of dad's year," Ashley says, "Hell, his last 5 years."

"Yeah, I don't get it. Most cops who stay on the job this long, they don't have anything else waiting for them, but I'm sure you'd love to be able to spend more time with him," Tim says.

"Mm, because I've got nothing going on in my own life?" Ashley snaps back, jokingly.

"No, no. That's- that's not what I meant," Tim says defensively with a chuckle.

Ashley laughs, "Relax. It's a joke," she says. She lets out a sigh "No one ever gets my jokes," she says.

"I guess I'm just used to jokes being funny," Tim jokes back, "I guess that's why I got confused," He says and they both laugh as she throws a towel at him playfully.

Ashley sighs, "Honestly, I think my dad regrets not retiring 15 years ago when he was still on the street," she says looking over at her dad, "Like all his buddies did."

Tim understood and he looked over at Jerry who was softly snoring in the chair.

-

The treasure hunt case was finally closed. Jerry McGrady was officially retiring.

Tim had called Ashley to come to the station for when he and Jerry got back. Then he had Harper gather everyone at the station.

"Alright folks, attention please," Harper announced, "Turn your hand packs to the district channel," she says.

Lucy goes over to Ashley and Jerry, "I need to borrow your dad for a second," she tells Ashley and Ashley nods.

You stand next to Nyla as the station gathered around looking at Tim who was standing on the platform of the staircase.

"Control, 7-Adam-100," Tim spoke into his radio, his voice echoing out of everyone's radio pack in the station, "I am privileged to announce the retirement of Officer Jerry McGrady, badge number 9944. After 43 years and 9 months of service, this concludes his final shift," he continues, "Officer McGrady, you, sir, are End of Watch," Tim says, "Congratulations!"

Everyone cheers and applauds for him. Jerry just looks around, letting out an emotional sigh.

"It's been an honor serving this great city all these years," Jerry says, "so, take care if her now that I'm gone."

Everyone cheers and applauds for him once more.

People go up to Jerry to give him hugs and congratulations.

You went over to him and gave him a hug, "Congratulations, Jerry, we'll miss you around here," you say.

"Thank you, sergeant, I'll miss you all, too," he says.

You stand there with Nyla and Lucy as they talk, but you don't listen as you watch Ashley go up to where Tim is on the platform of the stairs.

"That was really beautiful," She says to him, "Dad won't forget it, and...neither will I," she smiles at him.

"It was my honor, your dad is a hell of a guy," Tim says.

"Maybe you could...stop by the house sometime, see how he's handling retirement," Ashley says.

"Yeah, that'd be great," Tim says.

Nyla and Lucy both see you looking at Tim and Ashley.

"Oh, someone's getting jealous," Nyla says.

"I don't get jealous," you said, "I'll just...be right back," you say and you walk away toward the stairs.

"She's definitely jealous," Nyla says.

"I think it's cute, she and Tim never show any affection at the station, they're both so professional," Lucy says.

"Maybe, you and I could grab dinner sometime?" Ashley asks Tim.

"Oh, I- um..." Tim says flustered, but you come up behind him.

"Ready to head home babe?" You ask Tim, you look at Ashley, "oh, sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt," you say.

"Uh Ashley, this is my girlfriend," Tim says introducing you "She's the metro liason sergeant."

"Oh, hi, it's nice to meet you," Ashley says, "I better go find dad, thank you again for everything, Tim," she says.

Tim nods, "it was my pleasure," he says.

She just nods and awkwardly smiles at me as she goes down the stairs.

Tim turns to you with a smile on his face.

"What?" You ask him with a chuckle.

"You're pretty cute when you're jealous," he says.

"I- no, I wasn't jealous, I just- she- she tried asking you out," You say, fumbling over your words.

"I was going to turn her down, you know," he says.

"I know you were, I was just-" you say but he cuts you off,

"Jealous?" He asks, smirking at you.

"Shut up," you say nudging him playfully and you both laughed.

"Let's clock out and head home and relax, yeah?" he says taking your hand.

"Yes, sir," you say with a grin as you walk with him down the stairs

"Watch it, or we'll do more than just relax," He says lowly so only you hear as he smirks at you.

"Is that a promise?" You say back.

"Hmm, maybe," he says with a wink.

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

A/N: My first Tim Bradford fic! Idk, I'm kinda proud of this. I took a LOT from the show obviously, but I saw that prompt and had to write it. So glad he and Ashley broke up...otherwise we wouldn't get Chenford. And I swear if Chenford doesn't get back together in season 7...Anyways, hope you enjoyed reading :)

Tags: @justwhisperingfantasies

[lolitastories]

Ripples

Rafe Cameron

Part 1. Part 3.

“People can be such assholes!” I groan, slamming the interrogation door behind me. “Get him back in a cell,” The novice officer nods and rushes past me.

“You’re bleeding,” I lean against his desk, giving him an annoyed look.

“Really?” I roll my eyes, placing my hand on my forehead again. I could feel blood coming from my eyebrow. “Jon be a good boy and tell the Sergeant I got something.” He turned in his chair, huffing out. He hated talking to the Sergeant and that's because for some reason he got on his bad side. He was a good officer but very nosy too.

“Don’t go bleeding on my desk!” I smile moving away and falling into his chair. I scavenge his drawers looking for the first aid kit. We had thankfully found the fisherman and arrested him with no problem. The problem came when he got pissed after spending almost 2 hours being questioned.

“Hey!” My fingers freeze as I sit up hearing a well known voice call out to me. “Julie just told me you finished with your interrogation.” I twisted my head, “I was worried so I decided to wait-” His expression changed and I flicked my head back avoiding eye contact.

“You waited since I left the country club?” Although he has done it before, it still warmed my heart.

“Yeah…”My hand awkwardly moved around the paperwork on the desk trying to act busy. “What happened to your face?” From the side of my eyes I felt him try and move closer but I was quick to slip out.

“I got work Rafe,” For a split second I turned to give him a smile and began to walk in the opposite direction. “I will talk-”

“No. There is no, I will talk to you later,” He sped up and blocked me from taking another step. I twist my body but his hand grips my chin and pulls me to look up to him. “Did that guy do this?” I don’t know why but the way his eyes were inspecting my wound or the way his thumb slightly caressed my chin, it was such a simple act but I melted. “My sweet girl,” My body felt like it was floating, like if he were to walk away I would follow like a lost puppy. His demeanor was so calm, so different from what many people in this island think Rafe could ever be.

“I’m okay Rafe,” It was a whisper but due to how close we were I knew he heard me. “Nothing that hasn’t happened before,” I grip his wrist and pull his hand away. I knew he was going to say something about it but thank god someone interrupted us.

“Detective,” We both turned our heads hearing the voice of the Sergeant behind me.”Nice to see you Mister Cameron,”

“How are you Sergeant?” They smile, shaking hands and I feel like a third wheel on the side. 

“Can’t complain,” He lets out a laugh. He turned his head towards me. “Other than a future bruise, you got something else?” I smile hearing the humor in his tone.

“He was telling us nothing at first until I showed him the video footage from the country club. He offered her a ride on his boat. He said she freaked and jumped out. But I know there is more that he is hiding”

“I know how persuasive you can be so I know that didn’t earn you that” He pointed at my wound.

“I might have slipped in his daughter in the conversation. I wanted to ask if you can do something about the warrants?” The fisherman had a prior charge involving his daughter. It ended with him not being able to see or even contact her until she is of age and can make the choice herself.

“You got it. And how about next time you play nice?”

“You got it Sergeant.” I simply nod. I take a turn to the side to allow him to move past me.

“Can I have a word?” My brows furrowed, what does Rafe have to talk to him about?

“Of course Mister Cameron,” I watch them walking away together.

“What the fuck?” I throw my hands up in confusion. Deep down I was feeling a little disappointed.

“What? Pouting because your boyfriend didn’t give you some kisses for that boo boo?” I laugh at Jon’s stupidity. Maybe there was some truth in his words but I was too prideful.

“What are you, 5?” I opened his bottom drawer where I had seen the first aid kit. “I wasn’t pouting.” I opened it up and pulled out an alcohol wipe.

“You choose to deny the pouting but not that he is your boyfriend?” My jaw dropped. 

“Noted.”

“Shut up.” I throw the wrapper at him, earning a laugh. “Stop laughing and get the fisherman into integration again,” We only have a certain time to keep them detained and I needed more answers.

“What?’ I drop the wipe at Jon’s sudden jump from his seat. “They signed his release 20 minutes ago.”

“Who did?”

“The officer said you told him.” When the fuck did I do that?

“I told that dumbass to put him in a cell, not to sign him off.” I slam my fist on his desk. I let out a heavy sigh and looked over to Jon. “Try and find out where he is and I will get the Sergeant to hurry with the warrant so we can have a reason to arrest him again.”

“You don’t think he would willingly agree to be questioned by you again?” I let out a fake laugh.

“Get to it. I don’t want to fire two people today.” He puts his hands up in defense before rushing away. I pick up the clean alcohol wipe and trash it before walking towards the room the Sergeant and Rafe walked too. As I walked closer I could hear faint words. I lean my ear against the door,

“Fuck the, innocent until proven guilty. Those people should be handcuffed while being in there. He shouldn’t have been able to hurt any woman let alone mine.” My eyes fell shut. A little smile played on my lips as a warm tingle formed in my chest.

“How can he sound so casual when all I have done is pushed him away?” I mean other than the kiss but that was less than 3 hours ago. I cleared my throat pushing the door open. “Sorry to interrupt Sergeant.”

“Your good detective, what happened?” I awkwardly forced my eyes to stay on something other than Rafe. I could always feel the amount of warmth when he was looking at me but at this moment It became more evident.

“The rookie released the fisherman and I need you to check on the warrant to see how soon we can get him back.” If things like this always fell back on my I would have worry line all over my face but the Sergeant was always good at keeping calm.

“Consider it done. Have you sent out for a search?” I nod as I release my hold on the door knob to let him through.

“Yes, when we find him I will be waiting outside for your call.”

“No.” I step back, seeing him pause. He turned around as I was halfway through the door frame. “Jon will take care of that. You will go home and take care of that wound.”

“But-”

“Take care of yourself. You will have your fun again when we get him back here and that could be hours so go home.”

“Yes sir.” He nods accepting my look of defeat. He has never sent me home for a simple cut or a bruise. My eyes open in realization. “What did you say to him,” There goes another door slammed as I walk towards Rafe. A grin was already playing on his lips. “What did you do Rafe?” Oh that blind affection I was feeling a moment ago was long gone.

“I didn’t do anything,” He shrugged. His tall figure moved closer, one hand cupping my face and the other removing my hair from it. “But he is right, you need to go home and rest.”

“Rafe I am not a little girl, this is my job and I have to be here. I don’t need you messing around with this.” It came out like a whine but I didn’t care.

“But you are my girl.” Okay, I am blind again. Fuck wondering how the hell he does this everytime. My arms falling like a ragdoll to my side. “You haven’t taken a day to yourself in months and you heard him, as soon as they catch him they will call you.” I let out a sigh of defeat. “You need to learn how to shut that pretty head of yours and not try to control everything.” I roll my eyes at the feeling of being scolded.

“I am not your girl Rafe,” I looked him up through my lashes.

“Yet.” He moves his body closer until I can feel his chest against mine. “Take all the time you want,” His hands slide down my neck, shoulders, until the circle around my waist. His warm breath moved to whisper in my ears. “I can wait.” I shake my head denying his words. My head didn’t want to believe he said that, no. What he did was demand me. Demand that I grip the front of his black shirt. Demand me to pull him closer until our lips touched once again. Demand that I stumble back with him until we bump into the table behind me. As he grabs my waist and places me on the table he demands that I wrap my legs around his waist and not to let him go.

“Baby,” He pulled away but didn’t he just ask me not to let him breathe? I pull him back into a more intense kiss. My fingers gripping the back of his neck as my tongue slides into his mouth earning a moan. My hip pushing against his and in seconds I could feel him. “Wait,” He pulls away once more. “As much as I want to fuck you right now-” He lets out a moan as my fingers slide past his waist line and into his pants. It was tight but I found a way to wrap my hand around him. “You are making it fucking difficult.” He groans. He grips my chin forcing me to look up.

“Want me to stop?” I bat my eyelashes and I begin to move my hand up and down with a tighter grip. He lets go falling forward. His hands grip the table on both sides, caging me. His forehead fell to rest on my shoulder and I could see how he was trying to control his breathing. “Shit,” I moaned, feeling him rub up against my core with his bulge. It sent a shiver down my spine but I couldn’t allow him the satisfaction, not when I loved the feeling of him coming undone with only my hand.

“No!, Faster,”My pace increased with every noise escaping his lips. My toes curled and the room around us became hotter. His thrust against my core became sloppier making my breath hitch when I felt my core tighten.

“Rafe?” I bit my lip holding back a moan.

“Keep going baby,” He whined. So soft, so good.” I swiped my thumb over his tip causing him to gasp and linger his thrusts with more force. “Don't-” He said dryly, shaking his head. “Don’t make this quick for me. Been waiting so long for just a touch,” I smile loving how he wasn’t afraid to show he needed me.

“Really?” I tease slowing down.

“Mh-hm” He nods eagerly, pulling his head up to find my eyes. As I admire how tightly he closes his eyes my mind moves to imagine how beautiful he was. I paused for a moment and took my time scaling my fingers up and down. Feeling every vein, curve, counting the inches, how thick he was to not fit in my hand. “Do what you want with me, I am here for you.” He lets out a sigh of relief when I continue pumping his dick. Now with more meaning and purpose. “Yes baby,”He stuttered out. His brow furrowed trying to hold back but I knew it couldn’t be for much longer. My fingers glazed effortlessly up and down with the help of his precum coating his dick.

“So good”He twitches at my words telling me he was done for. With a deep groan his lips parted. I sped up my hand the best I could in the confinement of his pants.

“I’ve been good,” He nods eagerly. He began to throw whimpers and curses as he came all

over my hand. Hot ropes of cum smearing through my fingers. I held back a satisfied laugh as I continue to work him through his orgasm, “You’re a dream, a fucking dream.” My hand slowly came to a stop once I knew he was done. I removed my hand and waited until he opened his eyes, a prominent tint of his cum right on my finger. I ran my tongue teasingly cleaning it up, catching how his breathing got caught up. “Baby you do that again and I will have to put a baby in you.”

[claramelooo]

WOVEN FATES

Here I aaam! Remembering that the posts will be every Saturday.

So, enjoy it!

*I'm a little drunk rigth now, so, I'm sorry if you find mistakes*

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Pairing: AgathaRio X Fem Reader

Summary: A serie of events makes you fall into the good graces of two older women.

Hey! I've a masterlist

Fascination

You wake up to the first rays of sunlight slipping through the gaps in the curtains. Your bedroom is small, just 23 square meters, but it’s the only space in the world you can truly call your own. A study desk pushed against the wall, shelves crammed with books and notebooks filled to the last page, and plants scattered in every corner—ferns, succulents, and a small cactus that stubbornly clings to life even when you forget to water it.

After stretching, you get up and head straight to the window, where your plants greet the day. You talk to them in a soft tone as you mist them, almost as if expecting a reply. “You look beautiful today. I promise I won’t forget you again.”

Lucky, your overly talkative black cat, meows at your feet. He wants nothing but your attention, and you oblige, stroking his head with a tired smile. “Good morning, Lucky. Seems like you’ve got a lot to say, huh?” He meows back, and you laugh.

In the comfortable silence of the morning, your mind drifts, as it often does, to the past. You grew up in the suburbs, in a small house that was always full. Your father did his best to raise you and your five older siblings, but there was a gap that was never filled: your mother. She left when you were just a child, and though no one in the family spoke openly about it, her absence was a constant shadow in your life.

You remember the nights when your older siblings would laugh and argue in the living room, while you, the youngest, hid in a corner with a book or a notebook. Writing was your escape, your way of creating a world where you had control, where mothers didn’t leave and bad things always had a solution.

She left when you were little, leaving behind you, your five older siblings, and a father who never knew how to handle her absence. You remember the nights when the silence of the house was broken by questions no one dared to ask. Why did she leave? Was it us? Was it me?

No matter how hard he tried, your father couldn’t fill the void she left behind. He worked all day, came home exhausted, and did his best to keep the house running, but affection and kind words were never his strong suit.

“You’re strong. You don’t need to cry over this,” he’d say every time tears threatened to spill. Gradually, you learned to swallow your tears and convince yourself that you needed to be strong, even when everything inside you wanted to collapse.

Her absence shaped much of who you are today, though not in a way you like to admit. It’s hard to look in the mirror and not feel... inadequate. You wonder if she left because you weren’t good enough, because you weren’t good enough.

These thoughts are like shadows that appear at the most unexpected times, especially when you try to open up to someone. Intimacy is terrifying. You fear that if people truly know you, they’ll abandon you, just like she did.

In school, this made you shy and reserved. You always felt like a puzzle with a missing piece, unable to fit in. Your siblings tried to shield you from the worst, but they had their own battles to fight.

You were the youngest, the “baby” of the house, and yet you never had the chance to be treated as such. While they laughed and argued, you hid in your room, writing stories that transported you to worlds where mothers didn’t abandon their daughters.

This absence also gave you a fierce determination. You promised yourself that if no one was there to take care of you, then you would take care of yourself. You studied late into the night, devouring books on screenwriting and filmmaking from the public library.

When the college acceptance letter arrived, it felt like the world had paused for a moment. You’d made it. The first in your family to set foot on a university campus. Despite the pride, the insecurity is always there, lurking. The fear of not being good enough, of failing, of being discarded. You work hard because you feel you have something to prove, even if no one asked you to.

The sound of the bell above the door announces another day of work at the small café. You walk in, adjusting your apron with a resigned sigh. The air smells comforting, like fresh coffee, but the weight of the shift ahead is always present. You do everything there: serve tables, clean counters, even organize the stock. Your boss is an unpleasant man, known for his sexist jokes and invasive behavior. But you need the money, so you swallow your anger and keep going.

América, your coworker, is the opposite of you. Rebellious and fearless, she confronts the boss without hesitation, even knowing it could cost her the job. You make an unlikely team, but somehow it works.

As you wipe down the counter, you hear the sharp click of heels echoing through the café. The sound has a weight to it, cutting through the usual hum of the room. A barely perceptible pause spreads through the space, as if the air itself had been suspended for a second. It’s not just curiosity—it’s reverence.

Your gaze lifts almost instinctively, and it’s impossible not to notice the woman who just walked in. Tall, with perfectly styled dark hair and a black blazer that looks tailor-made, she exudes power. But it’s more than that. There’s something in the way her eyes sweep the room—a sharp coldness, as if she could dissect everyone there with just a glance. And people notice her. Some whisper her name, others try not to stare too long.

You swallow hard, trying not to seem intimidated. But when her eyes finally land on you, it’s as if the world around you has disappeared. She doesn’t look away, and the intensity of that moment makes your stomach churn. For a split second, it feels like she knows exactly who you are—all your fears, insecurities, and dreams laid bare before her.

Summoning what little courage you have left, you adjust your apron and force a smile you’ve practiced hundreds of times. “Good morning, what can I get for you today?” Your voice sounds calm, but your heart is racing.

The woman continues to stare at you, silent. Her dark eyes analyze every detail: the slightly worn apron, your hands gripping the notepad too tightly, even the stray strand of hair that escaped your bun. It’s unsettling, as if she’s assessing every tiny aspect of your existence.

“A caramel latte... and a black coffee. No sugar. To go.” Her voice finally breaks the silence. It’s low, gravelly, like distant thunder, and carries a strange familiarity—as if she’s used to being obeyed without question.

You nod, trying to stay professional. But as you prepare the orders, you feel her eyes on you, watching every move. The weight of her gaze is almost unbearable, like a test you didn’t know you were being forced to take. Your hands start to tremble, and an anxious heat spreads through your body. The feeling of being judged grows.

When you turn to hand over the drinks, the tension in your muscles is so tight that your hands falter. Before you realize it, the hot coffee cup slips, spilling the brown liquid all over the woman’s immaculate white blouse. The sound of the cup hitting the counter is muffled by the low, controlled sound of frustration that escapes her lips—not a scream, but a deep, restrained noise.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!” you exclaim, your voice trembling. Grabbing napkins in a panic, you lean in to clean up the mess but freeze when you see the stain spreading across the expensive fabric.

The murmur in the café grows louder. Someone lets out an audible sigh, while another mutters something about “the mighty Rio” being treated so carelessly. The name hangs in the air, and only then does it fully hit you.

You knew she seemed powerful, but you hadn’t realized you were standing in front of Rio Vidal—one of the world’s most renowned visual artists. Like her wife, Agatha Harkness, she’s an icon. Together, they’re one of the few openly gay couples to dominate and be celebrated by the industry. Her fame precedes her, and now you’ve just spilled coffee on her.

The woman doesn’t say anything immediately, but her eyes—once analytical—now seem to pierce through you. There’s something terrifyingly calm about the way she looks at you, as if she’s deciding how much of a reaction you’re worth.

Before you can stammer out more apologies, your boss’s voice cuts through the air. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” he shouts, his anger exploding. “How can you be so clumsy? A client of this caliber, and you do this?! I should fire you right now!”

The embarrassment spreads through you like the coffee on her blouse. Your eyes well up as you try to explain, but the words won’t come. All you can do is look at the woman, hoping she’ll say something—anything.

She, however, doesn’t even glance at your boss. Her eyes remain fixed on you, as if he doesn’t exist. Finally, she breaks the silence with a low, sharp voice: “That really isn’t necessary.”

Your boss stammers, surprised. “But, ma’am, she—” He doesn’t finish the sentence. Her gaze silences him, and for the first time, you see a man who thrives on authority shrink back.

You try to catch your breath, your face burning with shame. With a thread of courage, you murmur, “Please, come with me. I—I can fix this.” Your voice falters, but there’s something in your insistence that makes her tilt her head slightly, as if weighing your determination before nodding.

In the restroom, the silence between you is heavy but not empty. You grab the spare blouse you always carry and try to gather your thoughts, but when you turn around, the air seems to leave your lungs.

The woman unbuttons her blazer with precise movements, and when she removes the stained shirt, she reveals a black silk blouse so delicate that the light highlights the curves of her collarbone and the edges of her lace bra.

Your gaze involuntarily drifts to her shoulder, where the skin reddened by the coffee looks almost fragile. The sight is intimate in a way you weren’t prepared for, and your face burns.

“I... I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have...” you begin, but your voice falters. Your mind is torn between the embarrassment of the accident and the hypnotic presence of her, which seems to fill the small space of the restroom.

“Do you always get this nervous?” Her question is unexpected, her voice low and laden with something you can’t decipher. It’s almost a challenge, a test, and her gaze remains fixed on you, as if expecting more than a simple answer.

“I... I don’t know. Maybe?” You look away, shrinking slightly as you hand her the clean blouse. It’s cheap fabric but carries the faint scent of your homemade perfume. When her fingers brush against yours as she takes it, a shiver runs down your skin, quick and unexpected.

She puts on the blouse slowly, unhurried, and her words follow like an echo: “You shouldn’t apologize so much. Especially when you don’t know what for.” The statement is intriguing, almost disconcerting. Your heart races, as if you’ve just stumbled upon something you don’t fully understand.

Before she leaves, you blurt out, the words tumbling out in one breath: “Please... let me wash your blouse. I want... I need to make it up to you.”

She pauses at the door and turns, her eyes locking onto yours once more. There’s something different now, a genuine interest, almost calculated.

Without a word, she pulls a black card from her pocket, elegant and scented with a faint woody aroma. “When it’s ready, come to this address.” Her voice is low but layered with meaning you can’t interpret.

She leaves before you can respond, her posture impeccable and her steps controlled, as if every movement were rehearsed. You’re left alone in the restroom, holding the card that feels heavier than it should.

Rio Vidal.

The name echoes in your mind. A short, strong name, as enigmatic as she is. And for some reason you can’t explain, you feel like you’ve just opened a door to something that will change your life in ways even the worst coffee spills couldn’t predict.

A few minutes later, you gather enough courage to leave the restroom. Your heart is still pounding in your chest, as if trying to remind you of the disaster that just happened.

You find your boss standing near the counter, wearing the same disdainful look that always makes your skin crawl. But something is different today. He doesn’t explode into shouts as you expected.

“Rio Vidal. The Rio Vidal—” He crosses his arms and sighs, as if he can’t believe what he’s about to say, “—said it was fine. And she was very clear that you shouldn’t be punished.”

You blink, confused. The black card in your hand feels heavier now. Why would she do that? Was it pity? Some kind of veiled charity because of your desperation? Or... something more?

The woody scent of the card wafts up to you, a tangible reminder of the woman who, even with coffee spilled on her expensive blouse, had remained impassive and enigmatic.

“Get back to work before I change my mind,” your boss grumbles, but his tone has lost its usual edge. You don’t argue, just tuck the card into your pocket, still feeling every embossed letter like a secret waiting to be unraveled.

[...]

You practically run to the university. Your legs ache, but it doesn’t matter because today is important. When you finally reach the worn-down building that houses the film department, you can barely catch your breath. The room is packed with anxious students, and excited whispers fill the air.

“You’re almost late!” Darcy whispers, pushing a notebook aside to make room for you. Her eyes are wide, nervous. “Agatha Harkness is already here.”

Her name makes your heart race, in a completely different way from the panic you felt before.

Agatha Harkness.

The legend. The queen. The woman who made actors cry on set and screenwriters question if they were good enough to write even a single line of dialogue. She was a monster… but undeniably a genius. Everything that came from her hands was masterful, and you secretly harbored an absurd admiration for her.

Peter, sitting in front of you, whispers to Darcy, “Do you think she’s going to rip someone’s heart out today? She did that the last time she visited a university…”

Darcy, next to him, makes a face. “On the first day?”

“Without a doubt,” Peter replies, shrugging.

Before you can respond, the door swings open. The sound of her heels is the first thing that fills the sudden silence. And then she enters.

Agatha is everything you imagined and more. Tall, dressed in an impeccable purple suit that seems to radiate authority, with a smile that borders on cruel and eyes that scan the room as if evaluating every soul present. Her presence is a punch to the stomach, yet at the same time, something in you feels magnetized by her. It’s impossible to look away.

She wastes no time with warm introductions. Instead, she tosses a stack of papers onto the desk and begins speaking. Her voice is deep, firm, and filled with an intensity that makes the air feel heavier.

“Writing is an act of courage. And from what I’ve heard, many of you have been content with mediocrity.”

The students exchange nervous glances. Darcy practically sinks into her chair beside you. You, on the other hand, feel your heart race even more. There’s something hypnotic about the way she speaks, as if every word is carefully sharpened to cut.

“Now, here’s what you’re going to do.” Agatha steps up to the blackboard and writes something with an elegant pen. “Write a scene. Any scene. But make it something worth reading. Because if I think you’re wasting my time…” She lifts her gaze, and the silence that follows is more threatening than any word. “—your nonexistent careers won’t even start.”

Agatha picks up the first stack of papers and starts reading in silence, her eyes moving rapidly from side to side. The room is absolutely silent, so quiet that the sound of students breathing feels deafening.

After a few seconds, she lets out an almost exasperated sigh and lifts a paper, holding it up as if it were evidence of a terrible crime.

“Who wrote this?”

A girl in the back of the room timidly raises her hand, almost regretting existing.

Agatha narrows her eyes at the paper, then at the girl. “Is this a love story?”

The girl shakes her head, mumbling something about the plot being deeper than it seemed.

“No. It’s not.” Agatha cuts in, her voice as cold as steel. “This is a cheap fanfic disguised as a script. Characters with no substance, dialogues recycled from a teen drama. Where is the humanity? Where is the real conflict? This isn’t writing. This is a murder of art.”

The girl seems to shrink into her seat.

Agatha tosses the paper onto the desk and picks up the next one. This time, she doesn’t read for long before looking up. “Who thinks it’s acceptable to start a scene with ‘Once upon a time’ in an academic assignment? Are you trying to sell an idea or put a child to sleep?”

A boy in the front row tries to justify his choice, but Agatha raises a hand, cutting him off.

“I’m not here to hear excuses. I’m here to see talent. And so far, I’ve seen nothing worth my time.”

The silence in the room is palpable. You see Darcy whisper something to Peter, probably something like “Yeah, definitely heartless,” but you can’t focus. Your own script is in your hands, and the weight of the paper feels like lead.

Finally, your turn comes. With trembling hands, you hand the sheet to Agatha Harkness, feeling as if you’re handing over a piece of yourself. She takes the paper with an almost deliberate calm, and for a moment, you’re sure she’s going to toss it onto the “failures” pile without even looking.

But then, something in the title seems to catch her attention. Her eyes, previously indifferent, narrow slightly, and she begins to read.

Seconds turn into eternities as you watch her. The room around you fades away; all you can hear is the sound of your own heart pounding against your ribs. Your mind drifts back, inevitably, to the moment you wrote those words—the weight of the story, the piece of your soul you decided to share.

Agatha turns the page. Once, then again. Her silence is like a knife. You don’t know if this is good or bad.

When she finally finishes, she places the paper on the desk. Unlike the others, she doesn’t discard it immediately, but she also doesn’t show approval. Her eyes lock onto you, assessing, and there’s something new in her expression: a trace of curiosity.

“Interesting.” Her tone is neutral, but there’s something hidden in it—a hint of intrigue, perhaps? She leans forward slightly, crossing her arms. “Are you trying to tell a personal story?”

Your face burns instantly, and you feel the weight of all the eyes around you. Still, you find the strength to nod in confirmation, even as shame nearly swallows you whole.

“Hmm.” Agatha raises an eyebrow, pressing her lips into a thoughtful line. “You have no technique. No structure. The writing is messy, almost amateurish.”

Her words cut deep, and you bite your lip hard to keep the bile from rising in your throat.

“But…” She pauses, looking at the paper with unsettling intensity. “You have—” then, she focuses on you, and seeing those ocean-blue eyes so close makes your body tremble. “—something.”

Her choice of words is as vague as it is provocative, and you feel the weight of that “something” hanging in the air between you. She narrows her eyes, as if trying to figure out exactly what it was in the text that caught her—or in you.

“Stay after the bell rings.”

Her voice is final, like a sentence, but there’s no hostility. She dismisses you with a slight wave of her hand, and you feel a mixture of relief and anxiety as you return to your seat.

While the others hand in their scripts, you remain restless, trying to decipher Agatha’s expression and the reason behind her words. What in your text could have caught her attention? The room around you is filled with muffled murmurs, but in your mind, it’s as if you’re trapped in a storm.

As soon as the bell rings, only three people remain in the room besides you. The silence is dense, heavy with expectation, as Agatha moves with the same deliberate calm as before.

Of course, she already knows exactly what she’s doing. This special, hand-picked mentorship was clearly a strategy to appear more "kind" to the public, even though, so far, there had been nothing friendly about her approach.

You watch as she begins the individual feedbacks, calling Darcy first. The girl in front of you seems to be caught between hope and terror but agrees to step forward. As Agatha starts speaking to her, you try to distract yourself, but you can’t stop your eyes from wandering back to the director.

She is... magnetic. Even as she crushes Darcy’s creative dreams with precise, cutting words, there’s something about her that simply demands attention. And then it happens.

For a moment—or perhaps for all eternity—her blue eyes meet yours.

Your throat goes dry instantly. It’s impossible to interpret what’s in that gaze, but it hits you hard. Curiosity? Judgment? Or something else? You try to look away, but it’s as if you’re trapped. She stares at you for only a few seconds before returning to her conversation with Darcy, as if nothing had happened. But you know it did.

Your heart pounds so loudly it feels like it echoes in the empty room. Nervousness is consuming you, but there’s something else, a sensation you weren’t expecting. A tightness in your stomach.

Desire? Nervousness? Anxiety?

You close your eyes for a moment, trying to take a deep breath and organize your thoughts, but it only makes things worse. It feels like she has pulled a piece of the air around you away with just that look.

Time moves slowly. Agatha finishes Darcy’s feedback, moving on to the next student. And then, when your turn finally comes, you don’t know if you’re ready—or if you ever would be.

She calls your name firmly, and you stand up. Your legs feel weak as you walk toward her, carrying the weight of her expectation and your own desire to impress her.

“So,” she begins, crossing her arms, her sharp gaze settling on you. “Let’s talk about what you wrote.”

As soon as you sit before her, Agatha picks up your sheet of paper, holding it carefully, as if she were carrying something precious—or something dangerous. She doesn’t say anything right away, just fixes her eyes on the text for a few seconds before beginning to read again, this time out loud:

"One day, I had a dream about my mother. She was married to the man she truly loved, and without children. There, I had never seen her so happy."

Her voice is deep, but it carries a softness you didn’t expect. It’s as if she’s savoring each word, analyzing every nuance.

When she finishes, Agatha places the paper on the table with a controlled gesture and looks directly at you. The silence that follows seems to last an eternity.

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of that gaze, as if she could see every secret you tried to hide.

“Is your mother the main character here?” The question is direct, blunt—like everything about her.

You feel your face heat up, looking away. “I... maybe?” you murmur, the words hesitant.

“No need to lie,” she interrupts, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. “The text screams it. Every line, every word choice… it’s as if you were exorcizing a ghost. Tell me, is that what you tried to do? Exorcize the guilt of loving and hating at the same time?”

The brutality of the question leaves you speechless. You shift in your chair, uncomfortable, but she doesn’t seem inclined to ease the tension.

“Did she leave you?” Agatha presses, her eyes locked onto yours, as if she could pull the truth out of you by force.

You hesitate but finally let out a shaky sigh. “Yes.”

For a moment, her face seems to change. Something in her gaze softens, but only for a fraction of a second before she composes herself again.

“And yet, you chose not to hate her.” She tilts her head, as if studying a particularly intriguing piece of art. “That is… rare.”

“I think that… she did what she thought was best for her,” you reply, your voice almost a whisper. “I don’t blame her for seeking happiness, even if it hurt me.”

Agatha remains silent for a few moments, as if processing something. There was something in the text—or maybe in the way you spoke—that seemed to touch an old wound in her. A shadow passes over her face, but she quickly pushes it away, replacing it with a neutral expression.

“You have talent,” she declares, breaking the silence. “Still raw, but it’s genuine. And, more importantly, you have courage. The kind of courage I’m looking for.”

You blink, confused. “Looking for?”

Agatha leans forward, her eyes gleaming with dangerous intensity. “I’m assembling a team for my next project. I need minds that think like yours—that see beyond the surface and aren’t afraid to explore the shadows. Would you be interested?”

Your heart races. Working with Agatha Harkness? The woman you admired, even feared? It was more than you could have imagined, but the answer was obvious.

“Yes,” you respond quickly, barely able to contain the excitement in your voice.

Agatha smiles, and the gesture is as enigmatic as the rest of her. “Good. Get ready, little gem. I’m going to shape you piece by piece," The way she spoke was hypnotic, pulling you in. “and it will be… painful.”

As soon as you answer affirmatively, Agatha pulls something from the pocket of her purple blazer: a business card. It’s blue, with purple lettering in an elegant cursive font. The floral scent of the paper fills the air as she slides the card across the table toward you.

“Come to this address tomorrow,” she says, her voice firm but low, as if each word were chosen with care. “Seven at night. And don’t be late.”

You take the card with trembling fingers, its weight feeling heavier than it should. The moment you touch it, a wave of déjà vu washes over you. The texture, the scent, even the sophistication of the design remind you of the card Rio gave you earlier.

Two women so different, and yet… so similar. Both had a presence that seemed to capture the room, leaving you breathless. Both seemed to see through you, as if they could decipher your deepest thoughts with a single look.

You feel your heart speed up, confusion mixing with excitement. Why had these women, so powerful and enigmatic, captivated you so much? Rio had left something in you—a sense of unresolved mystery. Now, Agatha was doing the same, but in an even more intense way.

“Something wrong?” Agatha’s voice cuts through your thoughts, bringing you back to the present.

“N-no,” you reply quickly, slipping the card into your backpack. “I’ll be there.”

She only tilts her head, her eyes lingering on you for a moment before turning and leaving the room. Her silhouette disappears through the door, but the weight of her presence still lingers—heavy, inescapable.

As you gather your things and prepare to leave, a single question echoes in your mind: What the hell were you getting yourself into?

And more importantly, why couldn’t you stop feeling excited about it?

~*~

Y/n... How lucky you are, huh?

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[rebelliousstories]

Same Face

Relationship: Logan Howlett/ Wolverine x Reader

Fandom: X-Men

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Mentions of Death, Drinking and Alcohol, Brief Strong Language

Word Count: 1,072

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Summary: Taken from your timeline with your adopted daughter was bad enough. Now you have to deal with a man that looks exactly like the one you lost. Complete with the trauma.

Consider Donating: Here

The void was a rough terrain for anyone. A desolate wasteland where everything came to die, and no one lived for too long. This was where she had found herself and her adoptive daughter. When Laura had brought new survivors to the hideout, she almost could not believe it. He was here; Logan had returned.

But as she hid in the shadows while that man in the red suit continued to yap, she quickly realized that this was not her Logan. Not only was he younger, without the advanced adimantium poisoning that her’s did, but everything about him was off. Sure, her lover drank like a fish, but not like this. He never did it to forget entirely. And he would also not be caught dead in yellow spandex.

Laura made herself known to the group, but her adoptive mother did not. She just continued to stay in the dark, where she was most comfortable. Whoever this red suited merc with an endless supply of witty comments was, she did not care for him. Her eyes just stayed on the man that looked so eerily like her lost love.

“That’s- that’s her, Logan. That’s X-23. Wait, if you’re here, then…” Wade gasped dramatically, “is NightMaere here?”

The way he said it, it almost sounded like excitement. But the woman refused to reveal herself just yet. Logan grumbled behind a gulp of whiskey, “who the hell is that?”

“You didn’t have one of her in your world?” Deadpool was now utterly confused. But the Wolverine just shook his head, and took another swig.

Upon hearing this, she just slinked further back into the shadows, and went into a dark corner. She was not sure which would have been worse; for him to have one of her and possibly have lost her, or for her to have never existed in the first place.

Either way, she did not care to stick around.

It was not until nightfall that she was seen again. And that was only because Laura had come to seek her out. The younger girl crouched down to where the older woman was sitting. Following her eyes, Laura could not help but smile as she saw that she was looking at the new Logan.

“You should go talk to him.” She suggested, knocking her shoulder into her’s.

“Yeah, cause that worked out so well for you.” Her mom chuckled.

“Seriously,” Laura smirked, “it would do you both some good.”

Looking at the young girl that she had to raise, the woman smiled. Everyday, no matter how long it had been, she saw more and more of Logan in her. A brief kiss was pressed to Laura’s head, before she walked out into the open night, and towards the bonfire.

“Kid, will you just let me be?” Logan grumbled, behind the lip of his bottle.

“I’m not Laura.” She clarified, taking a seat on the same log. There was a long period of silence shared between the two of them. Neither one knew quite what to say, or who should talk first.

“Did you… um, did I really not exist in your universe?” The question on her mind was tentatively asked.

Logan took in a deep breath, that he released in a long sigh. “It’s more complicated. You were around but we were never a thing.”

“Ah, so we were just friends?”

“Yeah. Not that we didn’t try to be more.” Now, she was confused.

“What happened?” Another deep sigh.

“You got corrupted by your power. Literally, all the nightmares that you could make starting haunting you, even though you tried not to. It got to the point where you would have these fits and would send visions into peoples minds. You never meant to. It was just the side effect of your condition. Eventually, you had to be confined to- well, it was basically a cell. One crafted by Magneto, and reinforced by Chuck. You died in there.”

The pain in his voice, the tears brimming his lashes, the anguish he lived with. “You had to kill me, didn’t you?”

Not trusting his voice, Logan nodded. His throat tightened as he let out a shaky exhale. “We got one dinner before you died. One small date when you were lucid,” he spoke before clearing his throat.

“Wasn’t too long after that everything went to shit.” They both stared ahead at the crackling fire.

“We were married, ya know. Not legally, but Texas has common law marriages. You were my lifeline throughout the end of mutants. Until Laura came along, you were the single most important person in my world. Then she did, a little Logan, and we promised each other that no matter what, no matter which of us died, we would do whatever was best for her. I got to show her your Canadian roots, but we moved around a lot. Trust me, teaching her to hid her mutant ability was not easy. That child was feral for a time.” She joked, thinking back on the mutant’s childhood.

“Yeah? She seems like a spitfire. Not afraid to speak her mind.” Logan commented.

“She got that from you. Or rather, our Logan. There were definitely times that I asked if I could do this. Then I remembered how I made a vow to myself that she wouldn’t become an orphan again.” Finally breaking her eyes away from the fire, she looked at Logan’s face that was also turned towards her.

That face that was so familiar, but so different. This Logan had wrinkles in places that her’s did not. But he also had smooth skin in places her’s did not wither. But those eyes. Those were the same. She hoped, just in her mind, that she would be able to find those eyes no matter where in the multiverse she was.

“You did a good job raising her. You should be proud.” He muttered, a soberness taking over that was not there before.

“Thanks,” came her soft reply. “Listen, I need to get some sleep and check up on her. I hope you do what’s right tomorrow. I’d hate for Laura to be proven wrong.”

A gentle hand tapped his suit covered knee a couple times before heading back to the building that their ragtag group had claimed as their own. One final look was thrown over her shoulder, where she caught Logan watching her leave. She smiled, and continued on anyways.

[madthetruemad]

Hi hi! It’s your tenant living in your asks box again. I saw that your requests were open. Could I request a mafia boss!Jing yuan with a reader who his men kidnapped by mistake. Like they thought she was the daughter of some politician who wronged them so they kidnapped her by mistake. I imagine Jing yuan would go:

“you know too much, but I would hate to kill you…be my wife?”

I think mafia!Jing yuan would be a manipulative person so he would have his men try to intimidate reader so he could swoop in and save her, kinda like a good cop bad cop and he’s her knight in shining armor.

Song inspo: shameless by Camila cabello

As always, have a nice day <333 and it’s fine if you don’t fulfill the request immediately or you’re uncomfortable with writing this.

There's not a lot that makes me uncomfortable. In fact, there was one instance that made me drop my phone. It was when I was talking with someone on here (they were telling me about their oc and who they ship their oc with) and then they started talking about kinks all of the sudden and sent me collar and leash pictures without any warning whatsoever and even asked me to pick a color and style of collar and leash 😭

Point is, talking about kinks isn't what makes me uncomfortable, it's asking me to pick a color and style for the collar and leash while sending me pictures of said things

MOVING ON I'm cool with talking and writing about anything just don't send me pictures of ... stuff

For clarification, the pictures you send are fine cause they are like normal and cute, you know? And I genuinely like seeing the jy merch you collect and the jy pictures you send

Sorry for the rant... 😔

side note, I love that song! I listened to it yesterday!!!

Mafia Boss!Jing Yuan x Reader

cw; reader is referred to with she/her pronouns

“This isn’t her, you idiot!”

“H- huh? But- but- look at her hair! It’s the same color and style as the daughter’s!”

“Yeah, but daughter is fifteen years old! Does this look like a fifteen year old to you?!”

“No…”

“Right! You just kidnapped a college student! From a college campus! With her college book bag as she was leaving her college class going to the college bus where she will most likely go to her car with what she uses to go to what? College!”

The man who was yelling slapped his hands to his face in defeat, he didn’t know what he was going to do. If they let you then the cops will be on them and the boss already got them off the first time…

“Ok, so I messed up, what are we going to do now?”

The man looked to the one who messed up and then at the door to the room that you were being held in.

“We’ll just have to get rid of her. Hide her body some where and chalk it up to a college student dropping out and running away from her problems.”

“Will the news even believe that?”

“College students have done worse to get out of their studies.”

The man (we’ll call him Dave), grabbed his gun while the one who messed up (he’ll be nicknamed Charlie), followed after him.

“We’ll shoot her in the head to make it quick,” Dave said as Charlie nodded in confirmation.

Opening the door, however, they were greeted with a different sight.

You were already out of your restraints and laughing at some stupid joke, and their boss was sitting with you and smiling in such a way that was unknown to them.

“B- boss?!”

Dave was quick to holster his gun and hide it beneath his jacket.

Jing Yuan’s gaze shifted to the two men, his smile turning into one that was a bit more strained. Oh, they were in trouble.

“Boys, this lovely lady here was just telling me all that has happened to her in the past few hours, to ease her trouble mind I let her out of her restraints and even told her a few jokes to pass the time until you both came back in here.”

“Listen boss, we-,” but Charlie cut himself off with one sharp look from Jing Yuan. His words dying within his throat in milliseconds as he shrunk a little under Jing Yuan’s scrutinizing gaze.

“This mistake will not happen again,” Jing Yuan said as he stood up and held his hand out for you which you found yourself happily taking. Leaving this room with Jing Yuan definitely beat staying in it.

“Yes sir,” the two mumbled as you both passed them by.

“Thank you again, Mr-“

“There is no need for formalities,” he said as he led you up some stairs and away from the dark rooms that you were held in.

You nodded as you continued to hold his hand, “I- I know that you are probably not a good person in the eyes of the law and everything, but- but I promise not to say anything-“

He hushed you gently as he led you down another hall, this one a bit more brightly lit than the other one.

“I’m afraid that isn’t possible.”

“But why-“

He stopped then, making you stop with him as he turned to look down at you. His free hand came up to grab your chin and make you loop up at him. His thumb slowly moving to press against your lips as his eyes lingered there for a moment before flicking up to meet your eyes.

“Because I have many enemies, my dear, and the moment you’re seen leaving and it’s not in a body bag, then I’m afraid you’ll just become a target and hunted down by people who will torture you for information you do not have.”

What he was saying was scaring you, but what you didn’t know was that Jing Yuan was both resourceful and influential. If he wanted to, then he could make it seem like you were invisible as you left his headquarters, but he wouldn’t let you know that.

“So what- I’m supposed to stay here? What about my school? My friends and family?”

“Oh, I’m not saying that those things are being taken from you. In fact, you’re free to go back to your classes and visit friends and family anytime you want once we make sure it’s safe. However, with that in mind, you’ll also be affiliated with me.”

He stopped pressing his thumb to your lips and tugged your chin and you hand he was holding at the same time, forcing you two be even closer to him.

“Affiliated how?”

“News around the town is already saying how you’re my wife, and to better protect you, we might as well make those rumors a reality.”

“Your what?!”

[ghiblinsm]

Objective 1: Make Anya's lock

Mouthwashing x Jimmy's Daughter! Reader

part 1-ish?

word count: 2,526 words and 13,690 characters

"Reality, such a strange thing to me,"

warning: jingle bob, reader is morally grey but not in a pussy curly way, you may end up hating her depending who your favorite character is.

You jerk awake look over to see Curly heaving and groaning in agony, thrashing as much as he can with...well with his situation. His pained sounds are like nails on chalkboard as you walk over to the small pile of pain killers on the table grabbing one and stepping towards Curly.

"Ok Grant, open wide..." The grossest part is having to touch his nasty jaw to open it wide enough for him to take the pills. Popping one in and closing it back up as shiver crawl up your spine from the sound of his swallowing. "eugh.."

You sit down on a spinning chair near Curly and rest your head on your hand, needing to wait for him to stop heaving and thrashing to know if the pain killer worked, again. God... He smells like shit, guess that's what would happen though if one were practically skinned and lost four limbs and couldn't shower.

He finally stops thrashing and his heart rate returns to normal, his staring problem hasn't been fixed though, his singular eye staring intensely at you and your permanent scowl which deepens as he continues to stare. You stand up and kick the chair away while maintaining eye contact with Curly's eye.

"...What? What'd you want?" His staring continues as his mouth breathing seems to be getting louder and more unbearable. "well?! Speak up!"

"The voices in my head,"

You look at him then to the table and back at him, sighing in frustration as your fist clench. It would be dumb to get mad at him for doing the only thing he can do, stare.

"Whatever," you finally turn to leave as his eye follows your movement, "Anya will come by later, have fun till then I guess."

The door closes behind your retreating figure with Curly still looking in your direction.

You walk past Anya and Swansea talking about Curly and Repairs or something, and head to the main area, where Daisuke is sitting down by the big screen that's displaying a sunset into water and playing on the small console you made a while back with only a singular pixelated game that crashes if the smallest thing goes wrong.

You could care less where he is so that doesn't matter right now.

Despite clearly seeing what Daisuke is doing you still ask, "Hey, Daisuke. What-um whatchu up to?.."

"My friends from my dreams,"

"Hey! Yeah, I'm just trying to get passed this level but it keeps crashing..." He looks a bit slump but hopeful as the game crashes again from one of his choices. "But I swear I'm gonna get it this time!-"

"uhuh, thats nice. Hey, when you were with Swansea earlier, did you guys find any extra parts that weren't needed for the ship to function?..." you lean against the wall to try and seem as if you don't care what the answer is but truthfully...you really need a few parts, to create at least one lock.

Daisuke looks at you for a moment, as if contemplating whether to tell you or not. On one hand, Swansea had told him not to give you any extra parts anymore because quote, 'who knows what she's doing with those parts', but on the other hand you haven't done anything weird with scraps yet...

"Nah, we didn't find anything, are you trying to make something?" Maybe if he knows what you're trying to make, then Swansea will let him give stuff to you!

"Nothing, nothing...was just wondering, don't worry about it i'll- i'll figure something out," you head to the door to leave the main area barely muttering a goodbye.

"Bye?..huh" Daisuke watches as you leave then focuses back on the botched console.

"They whisper to me,"

You mindlessly roam through the empty halls, deep in thought but not thinking of anything in particular. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, you hear this agitating, grating voice from this greasy haired, internalized homo bitch.

"And what are you doing?" you sigh out in annoyance at the slight accusatory tone in his voice.

"The devil's on my shoulder.."

You look up at his face, his brows furrowed but his eye's show irritation. "Nothing, Captain." you learned pretty quickly, after he appointed himself Captain, that for him to leave you alone most of the time, just fuel his ego to be better than Grant.

"Have you made what I asked for yet?" Right...his 'need' for a master key to the rooms that can lock.

"No, I haven't gotten to it." And even if you had the materials, his key wouldn't exactly be a priority.

"And why haven't you gotten to it?" Ugh, the piss baby's getting upset.

"I haven't gotten to it because there hasn't been as many free materials for me to use." Before he speaks you continue, "And even if I had the materials, Anya was the first to start bitching to me about something she needs."

That grabs his attention, what would Anya need? Before you can leave, he grabs your shoulder and turns you back around to face him. "What exactly did Anya say she needed?" his eyes with a sort of craze look.

"How the hell should I know? I told her not to bother me until i've got materials, which seem to be nonexistent anymore on this barren ship." Thats a lie, you know exactly what she wants and why, but you hate Jimmy more then you dislike Anya so why would you tell him?

He stares intently into your eyes, like he's trying to detect if you're lying or not. "You better not be lying."

"I'm not, she's only priority because I had her save her spot by trading me a few pills..." God, when is he going to leave you alone.

He finally backs up and walks away, purposefully knocking into your shoulder to make you stumble.

"But I like the way he sings,"

With a small, irritated smirk, you try to find Swansea. Considering the state of the ship, it's hard to believe that they truly haven't found any scraps you can use.

You find Daisuke and Swansea in a storage room, Daisuke halfway inside a vent and Swansea watching from below, holding the ladder and instructing Daisuke on what to do.

"Hey, Swansea?" He barely jerks in surprise but turns his head to look in your direction, still keeping a grip on the ladder Daisuke's on.

"What do you need?" His gruff, slight accented voice sounds tired...whatever anyway.

"Have y'all found any scraps? Anya has a request for me and I don't have any materials." You know Swansea knows that something happened to Anya, just not exactly what happened, so hopefully he'll give you something.

He contemplates for a bit, likely debating the pros and cons if you're lying. There's silence apart from Daisuke yelping from almost shocking himself which snaps Swansea back.

He's sighs and nods to his left, a pile of scraps that they did indeed find. "it's over there."

"Great, thanks.." Daisuke almost slips off the ladder from the tone of your voice, knowing his lost aura points with you and most definitely fumbled from lying earlier.

"Love me endlessly,"

You grab all the scraps, using your uniform jacket as a bag of sorts to carry the metal and frayed wires.

Once you leave the room Daisuke peek down the vent to look down at Swansea and whines. "You made me fumble the huzzzz."

Swansea looks at him with a confused look, "I made you fumbled the, what the fuck?"

Anya was in the medical room watching over Curly when you come walking in with the scrap, a few tools, and the pills she traded you for the lock.

Anya looks up at you from beside Curly with her half lidded, very much tired, eyes. They widen with some kind of hope at the sight of your splayed-out scrap and tools on the only table in the room.

"What kind of lock do you want?" You get some water from the sink to take one of the pills which will hopefully kick in before you start working so you focus better.

"Um, I guess any that can lock from inside the room." Anya's obviously apprehensive, not to blame her, it's not exactly reassuring to have someone on drugs, making a safety lock that supposed to be a secret from the captain whom she is also related to.

She receives a hum from you then turns back to Curly, surprised at the slight rise in his heart beats per minutes. She stands and walks over to the pile of pain killers. "How long has it been since you gave him his medicine?"

You look up from your botched looking layout to Anya, "what time is it now?"

"And when I wake, have my soul to keep,"

She groans and grabs about 2-3 pills and walks back to Curly but hesitates to touch his jaw, quietly gagging. Annoyed at her for taking so long and acting like a baby you get up from where you were sitting and walk over, "I got it, just don't throw up in here."

She rushes out the room with a trashcan, leaving you to once again touch Curly's buck nasty bloody, burnt, bandaged jaw.

After giving him his medicine, and Anya has yet to return, probably yakking her guts out. The drugs start kicking in and well, the thin filter you had sorta slips as you get to making Anya's lock.

"This was your fault, know," Curly's one eye looks over at you as you talk to him, "you were the one to enable him," you turn in the spinning chair to face his direction but not looking up from a stubborn sheet of metal that won't bend correctly.

"I may have known what he did, but Anya didn't tell me, she told you, and you barely believed her until you saw him having a pussy breakdown in the halls." You look up from finally getting the metal into the right shape and see Curly staring at you with a shaky chest.

"You're worse than me." He sees your dilated pupils before you turn your back to him again as Anya enters.

"Desperately, they beg me not to leave,"

"Hey, Anya?" She turns to see you holding a few weird mashed pieces.

"Hm?"

"Where do you this to be placed?" Oh! oh... that- that does not look like it'll keep her sleeping quarters locked...

"Uh, yeah, just over here." She walks you over to her sleeping quarters and opens the door. Turning once you got inside and points to a spot on the door frame. "Can it be placed here?"

"Yeah, I guess," you grab a soldering gun to attach it to the frame, "here's the key," your hand pulls out a small key from your pocket with your other holding the soldering gun. "DON'T LOSE IT, I don't have enough materials to create another one."

"Okay, thank you." There's a hint of gratitude in her tone as she grabs the key and leaves her sleeping quarters.

"The fire in my eyes,"

You easily attach the new lock onto the door and frame and make sure it's not loose or anything, otherwise some people may be able to break in. It's still weird that the sleeping quarters don't have locks but at least you can actually add them now without getting credits docked, considering pony express, dumb name btw, went bankrupt.

You leave her room and see Daisuke trying to act nonchalant and leaning on a wall nearby...he's not subtle in his motives with the way his eyes rapidly glance at you to see if you're looking. looking at the look then back at him you get an idea.

"Hey, Daisuke?" you're surprised at how fast his head turns to you with the most...irritating small smile rather than his usual, goofy, big one. "Can you help me test out this lock?"

He tries to cooly stride over but stumbles over a few dead wires and then just walks over. "Yeah! totally, what do I need to do?"

"Go into Anya's room, lock the new lock on her door, there should be a latch option.., and tell me when so I'll try to barge in. Tell me if the lock loosens or twitches or something." you make sure to explain in the simplest way possible, so Daisuke understands.

"Got it!" He enters the Anya's room and you hear a fumble of a switch, another sound of a switch, the jingle of the lock, and then the latch.

"is burning at my feet,"

A heavy sigh leaves from you as he probably thought something else was the lock, something turned on, so he turned it off, looked at the keyhole of the lock then finally saw the latch. "Ready!"

You back up a bit then throw yourself into the door, repeating a few times till getting an answer from Daisuke, a very scared Daisuke who genuinely felt a tad afraid from the aggressiveness of the shoves into the door, like you actually were trying to break it down instead of checking the lock.

He comes out a bit shaken but acts really tough, "Didn't even move an inch," he seems a bit proud until...

"You or the lock?" you snicker at his faux offended look on his face.

"For your information, the lock did infact stay put and so did I." He crosses his arms proudly but melts when he hears your words.

"Mhm, you were a very brave baby." you said it jokingly, obviously, so he quickly regains his composure once he realized.

"miles away from his life,"

You bend down to grab your tools as Daisuke seems to want to ask you something but is hesitant to. "He-Hey? do you want to come to my-"

Here comes the father-in-law, the fun crusher, the erratic homo, Jimmy. "What's going on here?"

Daisuke stifles a snicker at the sight of you rolling your eyes as you turn towards Jimmy's direction. "Nothing, I was talking with Daisuke about dumb stuff."

Seems like he grew something down there since he starts demanding shit you definitely ain't gonna follow. "Listen, I am the captain now and my key should be made first, it should be top priority!-"

Shaking your head you cut him off, "Yeah, yeah, you're right, once I get the materials, I'll get started on your key right away." a big fat lie since you definitely won't be working on it anytime soon, it'd be a waste of time and a waste of material. It's better to just put it off and say stuff to make him happy.

"without his love i'm not alright,"

"You better.." wow. . . so ominous and scary better get to work on that key card right away!

"Don't worry your pretty lil head, okay Jimmy? I've got it, you just go do your important little captain things, okay?" you gently start pushing him back towards the cockpit till he eventually grumbles and walks away.

You turn towards Daisuke, "Get a load of this guy." pointing your thumb back at Jimmy's retreating figure. Daisuke bursts into laughter(calm down it ain't that funny) and you two head to the main area.

Objective completed:

Anya will remember your generosity.

.

..

...

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Curly's relationship with you:❤️❤️

Becoming strained as your rambles become more personal and targeted.

Anya's relationship with you:💜💜💜

She trusts you enough and doesnt hate you but can't help but feel uneasy around because of yimpy.

Swansea's relationship with you:🧡🧡🧡

Doesn't hate you but because of your relationship to Jimmy he doesn't always trust you to give you scraps.

Daisukes relationship with you:💛💛💛💛

He's glad to have someone near his age to talk to and hang with that knows what references he makes, his heart beat raises when you two talk.

Jimmy's relationship with you:💙

Very strained from y'all's relationship, he didn't exactly raise you, was only obligated to give you shelter when your mom died, but when you were 18 you moved away and y'all only met again 2 years ago when his was 'introduced' to you from Curly before a shipment trip.

A/N: i feel like daisuke is the most out of character, oof.. but yay! first mouthwashing fic!

[chosaraki]

The Reunion.

—————————————————————————

The rain fell heavily on the Yamazaki residence, washing the blood scattered on the floor. The air was loaded with the metallic smell and tension of a battle that had just been won. Gun Park was at the center of it all, his breathing controlled, but his heart beating fast.

His jacket was torn and dirty, the sleeves folded up to the elbows, revealing the tense muscles. He wiped the blood from his cheek with the back of his hand, his cold eyes sweeping the environment. Bodies of the members of the Yamazaki clan lay on the floor, some unconscious, others lifeless. In the center of the room, Shintaro's motionless body.

The old bastard was finally dead.

But Gun didn't feel relief. Not even satisfaction.

Because he still didn't know the answer to the only question that mattered.

Were you still alive?

Fear, a feeling he rarely experienced, burned inside him. Two years away. Two years without knowing if his biggest nightmare had come true. You were pregnant when he left—he never knew what happened next.

Without wasting time, he advanced through the corridors of the mansion, his steps echoing through the wooden floor. His fingers closed into fists. He was prepared for the worst.

He opened the door of his old room tightly. The environment was dark and empty. No sign of life.

For a moment, the overwhelming silence was all that existed.

So, he heard.

A voice. Soft, familiar.

"...Gun?"

Time seemed to stop.

He turned around, his eyes wide—and there you were.

You looked different, but at the same time, exactly as he remembered. His gaze still carried that unmistakable kindness, but also a strength that was not there before. You were standing, firm, and behind you...

Gun stopped breathing.

Two girls.

Two children who had the same eyes as him.

They were small, but not fragile. The oldest, Muichira, wore glasses, her hair in two well-organized braids, and her expression was calm, observant, serious. The youngest, Yoriichi, was the opposite—rebellious hair, bright and curious eyes, holding the sleeve of her kimono with a shy smile.

He looked at you, then at them. And then, for you again.

"They are..." His voice failed, something that never happened.

You nodded slowly. "Our daughters."

Gun felt something he had never felt before. Not anger, not satisfaction. Something deeper, more overwhelming.

His hands trembled slightly as he faced those two small versions of him mixed with you. He didn't know what to do. He, who always knew how to deal with any situation, who never hesitated in a fight, who never had doubts. Now, I was lost.

Muichira looked him up and down before fixing his glasses. "Are you our father?" His voice was neutral, as if he had already accepted that fact, but waited for a logical explanation.

Yoriichi tilted his head, studying him as if trying to fit his image with something he had heard before. "Mom talked about you sometimes."

He didn't know how to react. He, who always knew how to face any opponent, who never hesitated in the face of violence, was now... lost.

His gaze returned to you.

His face was serene, but his eyes said it all—pain, longing, maybe even a little anger.

"I didn't know if you would come back," you said, your voice calm, but full of weight. "I didn't know if I should tell them about you."

Gun ran his tongue over his lips, trying to find words. But the weight of the truth was overwhelming.

"You were pregnant," he murmured, as if only now his brain was processing what had happened.

"Yes," you simply answered.

He closed his eyes for a moment. His jaw contracted.

So, he did something he never imagined he would do.

He knelt down.

In front of the daughters.

Muichira raised an eyebrow, intrigued. Yoriichi just watched, his eyes shining with curiosity.

Gun watched them, absorbing every detail.

"...Sorry for the delay." His voice was low, but firm.

Muichira crossed her arms, pondering. "Do you intend to take us with you?"

Gun looked up, surprised by the maturity in his daughter's voice.

So, he looked at you.

You stared at him, waiting for his answer.

Gun stood up, closed the distance between you, and before you could react, he held your face firmly.

He didn't hesitate.

He kissed you.

It was an intense, strong kiss, loaded with everything that was stuck in these two years.

It took you a second to correspond, as if you were testing if it was real. Then, your hand went up to hold it by the collar of the jacket, pulling it closer.

When the two walked away, you were panting, but you didn't look away from his.

Gun kept one of his hands on his face, his thumb sliding gently down his cheek.

"I'm going," he said, his voice loaded with certainty.

You blinked, surprise.

Yoriichi smiled broadly. "Does that mean dad wants us?"

Gun turned to the girls and, for the first time in years, a small smile crossed his face."It means that no one will take me away from you."

And at that moment, Gun knew.

He had returned to Japan for revenge. But what you found was something much more important.

Your family.

And he would never leave her again.

—————————————————————————

Gun Park's return to Japan is like the rebirth of a broken man, returning to the home he onced knew, but which is now marked by absence and fear. In the heavy silence of the rain, he crosses a path of blood and destruction, not in search of revenge, but of a single truth: his family is still alive. Shintaro's death is just the prelude to something deeper, something Gun didn't know how to face until that moment.

When he finds the room empty, a sigh of despair takes him. But then, when you hear your voice, time bends, and the past is revealed. His beloved, with eyes as gentle as before, is there, alive, stronger, but still the woman he lost. Behind her, two small figures with his eyes, but with his mother's hair, reflect everything he feared and desired most—the legacy of lost love.

In an unexpected gesture, Gun kneels, as if the weight of responsibility, absence and guilt made him less before them. The silent question he has carried for years finds its answer in the eyes of his daughters, and the moment he faces them, the pain of the past dissolves.

The kiss with his wife is the fusion of what was never forgotten, the promise that, despite the lost time, he can finally be the man he promised to be. And there, in the heat of a reunion, Gun finds his reason to live: no longer out of revenge, but for the family that, against all odds, is still waiting for him.

The rain outside continues, but inside his heart, a new storm calms down.

—————————————————————————

The names of their daughters have nothing to do with the characters!

I only put it because I like the names!

……………………………………………………………………………..

[uselessmoonlight]

Stranger part 17

Reader is Telemachus' friend, and when he leaves for his "diplomatic mission" he asks her to watch over his mother. Later, once the king has returned, she stumbles upon an injured Poseidon.

Previous / series masterlist / character sheet / next

☆☆☆

Content specs: she/her pronouns used, afab reader, Platonic! Telemachus x reader, Epic!Poseidon x reader, possible OOC!Poseidon, Polites’ daughter! Reader, unrequited love, blood, fighting, nudity, illusion, possibly more?, trying to avoid using y/n, slowburn, suggestive themes.

☆☆☆

When she did not show her face the next day, the towns people thought she was tired from the festivities of the day before. When she did not show her face the day after, they decided she was likely ill. The day after that, Irene went to Ónoma’s home, a basket with necessities in hand, but her friend did not open the door.

Concerned, she approached the prince and enlisted his help in contacting their mutual friend, but to no avail. Ónoma was not in her house, nor had anyone seen her. Perikles was no where to be found, either. Irene had hoped to find the man and ask him about Ónoma, but now she feared that he might have taken her.

She was proven wrong when the next day her friend appeared for her duties at the temple, then disappeared again. The village started to feel the strain of her absence. They’d known she was a great help around town but had not realized just how much they relied on her.

The day after the ritual, Irene and Telemachus set out to find her. With the help of his mentor, Telemachus was able to track her down in the woods of the island. When the two confronted her, she was not as emaciated as they’d expected, just downcast. Neither had seen their friend in such a state before.

“What happened?” Irene asked softly. Ónoma had been in some sort of trance and had not heard their approach. She tensed at the unexpected company, but did not look up at them.

“Nothing.” Barely a whisper came from her.

“Nothing happened?” Telemachus retorted. “So you’re just hiding for the fun of it?” Irene wanted to interject, not agreeing with the prince’s anger. Her friend looked broken, fragile, she needed soft words, understanding, not this. But before she could say anything of it, the prince continued.

“My father was about to send out a search party, confront that man himself.” He spat the words, disdain for Perikles clear. “But it wasn’t even him, you just ran away, like a coward.”

“Man? He didn’t even tell you what happened, then?” Ónoma countered, looking up now, eyes blazing, but cheeks still tear streaked. “You come here to chastise me, yet you don’t know what happened.” She spat at her friend.

“Oh stop the dramatics.” Telemachus was angrier than she’d ever seen him, but there was no reason she could think of that could have angered him so. “You’re never this emotional, what makes this man so special.” Once again he spat the word, and something clicked.

“You’re jealous.” She stated, followed by a humourless laugh. “I’m more emotional than you’ve ever seen me, clearly in need of a friend, but instead you yell at me because you’re jealous?” Her voice turned venomous. “Was I ever really your friend? Or was it all because you liked me?”

She looked even more hurt now than when they’d found her. Telemachus paled, this was not what he’d wanted to happen, he’d thought she’d snap out of it at his words. Irene was scrambling to find a way to calm her friend.

“Perhaps it’s best if you leave us, prince Telemachus. You two should talk again once you’ve both calmed down a bit. This is not helping.” She decided on. The prince wanted to refuse, but the look on Irene’s face halted him. She was right, he would only make it worse.

☆☆☆

Irene and Ónoma had sat in silence for a long time. The former having moved to sit beside her friend on the ground, she’d worry about her dirty dress later, or perhaps she’d let Ónoma worry about it, as payback. Ónoma had moved her head to rest on Irene’s shoulder, silent tears dripping down her face.

“Will you tell me what happened?” Irene asked, softly.

“Always the peacekeeper, huh ‘rene?” Ónoma tried to joke, only to be met with a stern look. “I was a fool, that’s what happened.”

“I gathered as much.” Her friend joked.

“Oh so you’re allowed to make jokes, huh?” Ónoma replied, a soft smile growing on her face. “Fine, I’ll tell you everything. Promise you won’t judge?” Irene said nothing, but interlaced her pinky with Ónoma’s.

And so she went into a long explanation, telling her all that had happened between her and the man, and how she discovered that his name was not Perikles, how she now doubted everything he told her, everything he’d done, and everything he may have intended to do. “It’s why I left for the woods, he’s been knocking on my door all hours of the day, I just got so sick and tired of it that I left. It’s been surprisingly peaceful here, I even started practicing my archery skills again. Perhaps I’ll become a priestess, like my mother always expected. I wouldn’t have to deal with men anymore, or at least not like that.” She rambled.

“You’d have to work with Apollo, last I knew that was something you did not want to do.” Irene replied, emphasizing the not.

“I’ll manage, it’s better than this at least.” Ónoma countered, though in reality she realized the flaws in her plan. Irene smiled at her, recognizing the joking tone.

“Have you let him explain his side?” She asked.

“What is there to explain? He deceived me, then expected me to just welcome him back with open arms. He thinks I’m a fool, too, or he would not have expected that of me.” She said, dejectedly.

“Perhaps you should hear what he has to say, not now, but just, he’s still a God, alright. What if he gets mad at you for not hearing him out?” a hint of fear palpable in the girl’s voice. “With that said, I need to get back before dark or my mother will freak out, but just think about it, okay?”

“I’ll think about it, thank you, Irene. Don’t worry about me too much, will you?”

“With how much trouble you get into? How can I not?” She teased. “Bye Peach! Love you!” she yelled behind her as she walked away.

“She’s right, you know. You are pretty ballsy to deny a God like this.” A familiar voice sounded, the mischief surprisingly comforting. Ónoma smiled. Hermes.

Next.

☆☆☆

Taglist:

@apollos-dodgeball-target

@barrythestrawberry041

@doodle-with-rhy

@h0ne4bee

@isla-finke-blog

@keikeiluvyou

@suckerforblondies

@trashcannotbealive

[in-hos-wife]

A lost Puppy in love

Gi-hun x best friend! reader

Summery: Y/n is deeply in love with his best friend Gi-hun, but Gi-hun can't figure out why they are following them everywhere

Word count: 901

You and Gi-hun have been friends since your second year of high school but you developed feelings for him in your last year of high school. You didn’t want to believe it, you liked a you liked your best friend. So you never told him how you felt, and then you guys went your separate ways. When you two did see each other you were inseparable but then he got married he didn’t have as much time anymore but you guys made it work, hanging out every now and then. A few years later he had his daughter you guys went from hanging out once to twice a month to once every three months but you didn’t complain he’s a dad now that was till his daughter was ten and he go divorced, you still didn’t see him that much but when you did you guys hung out together he got into gambling and start asking you for money you’d give it to him when he asked sometimes he didn’t, if you heard him and his mom were struggling you’d give him cash. He’d always say he’d pay you back but you always told him not to you just wanted to make sure they could live

Then two years ago he showed up to your door with a bag you invite him in while you guys are talking he hands you the bag, you look inside and it’s cash “what is this gi-hun?” He stayed silent for a moment than he speaks “the money i owe you” you look at him for a moment you told him he didn’t have to pay you back, but you knew how stubborn he is so you take it and hug him and he hugs you back. After that you to started hanging out once a week you don’t know why but he’s changed he’s not as childish he looks like he has a weight on his shoulders. Everytime you ask him what happened he ignores it or changes the topic so you didn’t fight it. You thought that even if he won’t tell you staying by his side will hopefully help whatever he’s going though, so for the past two years anytime he needed you, you were there you were always around recently even if he didn’t call your there daily like how it was in high school this confused him. He doesn’t understand why you wanna be near him so much, following him like a lost puppy, and his not wrong your a puppy in love again with a man you believe you’d never have but you might have a chance if he could ever see you that way

Now you guys are going to his motel the walk is quite you want so badly to hold his you let you pinky touch his then you move your hand away and try’s to start a conversation and it works you guys start talking. After you got to his motel your sitting in his room, your watching him pace back and forth in front of he’s security cameras footage he look’s the camera and sits down, you decide to talk to him see what he’s got going on in his head a thought of telling him how you feel but you push that down you then go to sit next to him to sit and smile “you ok? You look worried about something” you look at him “I’m fine just wondering things don’t worry about me” when he’s says that you know he’s lying “you don’t have to lie to me I care about you a lot more then you know and I want you to trust me even if it’s not right now” he look at you when you said that he sigh “I trust you but I can’t bring you into this I care about you and don’t want you getting hurt and I do trust you I trust you so much” you smile and lay your head on his shoulder it makes his heart flutter and that makes him confused.

After a few days he slowly realizes he has a thing for you and now that’s he’s watching you more he can tell you like him too and you have for awhile that’s why you were following him like a lost puppy. You where both sitting in your bedroom and you look over to him “wanna cuddle and play trivia like how we did when we were kids?” He nods and you guys start to cuddle while playing trivia, as you both play trivia you start jokingly hitting him as he chuckles you both look at eachother and you decide to give into your inner thoughts and kiss him it was quick and then you look at him “I’m sorry….i just really..I have feelings for you” he looks at you and your worried he’s gonna hate you and that he’s never gonna talk to you again, but then he puts his warm kinda soft hand on your face and smiles “you dork I like you too” *you both chuckle “wow we act like teenagers” you say smiling at him “you know I always wondered why you followed me like a lost puppy” he chuckles and lays you into his chest “then I guess I’m a lost puppy in love” you smile and kiss him then lay on his chest.

Tagged

@pixiepipedreams

[ravennaortiz]

2/1 A: I told my friend I would go on this stupid date/this is my problem why? with Chibs requested by @privatetruths As always 18+

You had barely stepped out of your car before Tig Trager was pouncing. His blue eyes full of mischief and lust as he looked you up and down. A playful smirk on his face as his wild black curls swayed in the breeze that had your skirt starting to billow. “I need to talk to the Scot” you stated firmly as you barely managed to keep your skirt down.

“Aww, come on Doll. I can give the cops daughter a better time” purred Tig as he batted his eyes at you making your roll your eyes before shouldering past him.

Stepping into the Teller-Morrow garage you pushed your sunglasses on top of your head as your eyes adjusted to the light.

“To what do we owe the pleasure of the local Sheriffs daughter? Daddy doesn’t have someone on the payroll for his babygirls car?” sassed Chibs, disdain dripping with each word. To say a love hate relationship had formed between you and the Sons was an understatement. The last time you had been here had ended with a raid of not only the clubhouse but all their homes. A night of fun and rebellion for you had landed them in serious hot water with your father.

“You don’t have to be a dick. It’s not my fault my dad overreacted” you snapped as you crossed your arms as you glared at him. Mentally kicking yourself for not containing your fiery temper when you were here to ask a favor.

Chibs chuckled as he wiped his hands of grease. “I think you and I have very different versions of fault and how to be accountable Lassie”.

You sighed before slumping down into a metal chair. “Look. I know ya’ll hate me. I get it. It was stupid of me to have used ya’ll in my little rebellion plan. I knew it would get a reaction but I didnt expect him to go nuclear with ya’ll. You stated looking down at your feet before looking back up at him as he leaned against the car he had been working on.

“Whats this got to do with me?” asked Chibs curiously.

“My friend is going on a date with this guy she just met. And I’m the only one in the group single now….and I told them I wasn’t cause they were teasing and shit, trying to hook me up with this loser of a guy. Ughh this is so stupid. I told them I would go on a double date as proof” you rambled out as you looked anywhere but at eh man in front of you.

“And why is this my problem?” laughed Chibs roughly as he turned back to the car again.

“Cause I told them I was dating a SON……and older man……with an accent” you replied quietly daring a glance up at him at the end. His eyes meeting yours with something in them you couldn’t quite place.

Chibs looked back to the car. Silently considering your words as he feigned interest in something on the engine. You were about to give up and leave, maybe try it out with Tig when Chibs finally spoke.

“Don’t know Lassie. I’m not a man who likes to be played with.” Stated Chibs his eyes still on the engine. “Besides I don’t need your father busting in and cutting my dick off and sending me to Stockton” he added with a shake of his head. “Yer pretty but not worth the risk Lass” he added before moving to the office.

You couldn’t help but flinch at his words. They cut terribly and hurt more than you expected. While you understood, you couldn’t help but fill challenged and you were not above begging.

“Wait!” you called as you hopped up and ran in front of him. Grabbing the front of his uniform you dropped to your knees. “I’ll do anything if you say yes” you whispered eyes on his as you started to fumble with his belt.

You almost had his boxers down before hands grabbed yours. “No need for this” stated Chibs looking over your shoulder at Tig and Gemma who stood watching. Your cheeks burned with shame as you followed his gaze. What the hell were you thinking? “I’ll do it. Just get up and have some dignity Lass” rumbled Chibs as he stepped back from you and walked out of the garage.

Three Days Later

Chibs would never admit it but he was actually having a decent time with you. Though he would love if the other couple would leave, they had done nothing but bicker the whole time. You and Chibs had exchanged secret smiles and texts about how bad a match they were. Things got worse and your friend excused herself to the bathroom as tears started to slip, you had gone after her.

When you both returned your friends date and his food were gone and Chibs looked apologetic as he looked at your friend.  Chibs had been very gentle in his explanation that her date had got his food to go and left. Wanting Chibs to pass on a message that they were done and not to contact him. Your friend had been inconsolable and Chibs had gotten all of your food packaged up and taken care of the bill as you held her. He even had one of his club brothers swing by to drive her home since the two of you had ridden on his bike.

“Wanna come in and finish dinner? I have beer in the fridge” you offered as he pulled into your driveway.

“I don’t” started Chibs before you shot him a pout.

“Please” you dragged out “I wanna make this night not as miserable for you” you begged.

“Fine. One beer and we finish dinner then I’m leaving” stated Chibs firmly as he got off his bike.

“Deal” you stated eagerly as you clapped your hands and moved to the front door making him chuckle.

"So much for just dinner and a beer" you laughed as Chibs flopped over next to you on your kitchen floor. Both of you out of breath and sweaty from the feral fucking you had just endured.

"Well had to see what else that mouth could do besides cause trouble" replied Chibs as he pulled you on top of him. His cock already hardening again as you ground against him. "Also figured I might as well go all the way with the Sheriffs daughter" he added before groaning as you slid down his length, nails tracing his tattoos.

[ladydaybreaker]

Projects for the Future

Alright so...I kinda got bit by this a while ago but have been mulling it over with some friends. These are by no means going to get published any time soon but with some...questionable...things that have been put out lately I kinda wanted to show my take and how I would have done them.

These are both Role swaps by the way and because I'm me...

That means an absolutely heavy amount of Khori.

(put below the "read more" for mobile people's ease!)

First Story:

Role swap where Uzi had been the one that died that night Nori should have. Now I know what you're thinking, "but lady, you said Khori things..." and you'd be right! 'Cuz Khan's not Uzi's dad in this one. Our DDs are Serial Designation: K, Serial Designation: A and Serial Designation: L (that last one might get changed). Better known as their canon counterparts Khan, Alexei and Liam (again, last one might change). Nori is still the damaged 002 from CFL and Yeva is still 048 as well. What had happened was when Nori and Yeva escaped the labs, Nori was damaged in a way that her memory had shorted out and she barely remembered anything from it...just that there was some dark place that she didn't want to remember and that she had met Yeva there. They had escaped both with two UNNs who became known as Uzi and Doll. At least...Nori came out with Uzi. Her father is unknown (mainly because Nori's memory is damaged) and likely perished in the wake of the collapse trying to get Nori and Uzi out.

Uzi ends up dying as a child from one of the Disassemblers and it absolutely breaks Nori. Nori insists her daughter is ok and alive just...unable to come home. So she waits for a good amount of time every day by the doors until Yeva takes her home or she falls asleep (which Yeva picks her up and brings her back to the apartment). Yeva does not have the heart to tell Nori that Uzi is dead nor does she have the heart to talk about what happened to them down in the labs...about the Solver and everything. Nori's Solver seems to have regressed (but a lot of this is Yeva slipping oil into Nori's drinks and food to make sure she doesn't go into rampage mode). Doll and Yeva's husband (unnammed atm) end up dying to one of the Disassemblers (haven't decided...but it's probably going to be the third one, whether that's L or whatever person I give that swap to). So yay Doll swap is now Yeva.

Nori one day ends up running out of the colony, in a daze probably mourning her daughter and husband when she runs into K. Ends up beating him with a wrench and knocking him into a clear state (or she ends up saving him from a bad hunt where he was injured because she knows that look...and she hates that look of loss and defeat.)

Cue the whole thing of them figuring out what the Solver is yada yada. Ends up going to the labs where K ends up running into (and getting saved by) a very small and grumbly Solver core...Nori was right, Uzi survived. Barely. She's...none too happy her mother's dating a freaking sky demon because "THOSE THINGS KILLED YOUR FREAKING DAUGHTER!" But eventually comes to accept her Mom is...happy. And even more happy with both her AND K in her life...will eventually get it so Uzi gets her own body again. Yeva ends up connecting with A, the big bear of a Disassembler who...may have lost just as much as she did before. Eventually ends up with them having a kid who Yeva names after the daughter she lost long ago.

Second Story

So, this one is also a swap au but...with a tiny little twist. It's an age swap. Yes yes I know this is cringe af and weird but hear me out. I know there's an age swap with Uzi being the Mom and Khan being her son but, imma be blunt, I don't think it...feels like a proper swap. Rather it just...took the original personalities of the person they were swapping with and gave them to the person playing the role. Ain't happening here. The idea is Khan Doorman is the shining star student, valedictorian genius of his class beloved by everyone in that bunker, kinda...weird in the way he's too smart for his own good but he's charismatic. . . and then there's his absolutely batty insane mother Uzi who is a pariah menace to society and everyone fears to get on the bad end of her little 'projects' (she has magnetized people to the ceilings because they pissed her off). Khan and his mother have a strained relationship...mainly because she thinks he's boring and needs to lighten up a bit and he thinks she's a bit...wild...and lashing out ever since his father Emmett Doorman died years ago. But they do love each other and would do anything for each other. Which...is why Khan gives chase to his absolutely insane mother when she sneaks out of the safety of the bunker to kill a Murder Drone. He ends up instead finding Tall, Dark and Pretty Serial Designation (Nori. I haven't quite decided what letter to give her because well...technically it'd be N because first letter). And her squadmates Serial Designation Y(eva) and (haven't figured out who the third one is yet, whoopsies...possibly L for Luke or A for Alice).

Of course, Khan is infected with the Solver, Uzi I haven't decided if she is or not...part of me is like "give her a break and have her just be awesomely crazy and angsty on her own that she made 002 fall head over heels for her". And SD Nori finds Core Emmett in the mines...which would lead to a heartbreaking Nuzi moment later as Uzi actually...breaks the edgy angry persona and shows vulnerability as she hugs the love of her life close to her...as she thought she'd lost him forever. And me being me, Y ends up being enamoured with Khan's best friend and madlad sharpshooter Alexei because you can pry him from my cold dead hands...

I haven't really gotten much on those swaps other than the bits of where Khan, Nori, Yeva, Alexei and Uzi fit in. But I wanted to share them because they've been rattling in my brain long enough...

[iwasbored777]

My biggest disappointment with ATSV is that they didn't let Peter finish his speech "as the father of a daughter and the son of a mother" cuz I really wanted to hear where the f was he going with that

[backpackingspace]

headcanon that vassago has been trying to be friends with stolas for at least ten years.

[juney-blues]

fist of the north star is super funny because it has a satisfying ending halfway through, but then it just kinda keeps going. and the actual ending it has kinda fucking sucks so every adaption ever just pretends it ended when it should've.